My mother never went back to her hometown in the province. Whenever I asked her about it, she said that there was nothing there worth coming back to. When she died, she left me a treasure trove of recipes. Her culinary prowess was legendary, and I attempted to recreate her dishes, but often fell short of her magic touch.

One day, as I sifted through her recipes, I stumbled upon a peculiar drink. Its ingredients were a concoction of wild herbs and bizarre animal parts (almost like witchcraft, if you believe in that sort of thing). Curiosity piqued, I did some research on the internet and discovered these herbs were native to the region of my mother’s province.

It was a time in my life when everything felt bleak; I’d just graduated college and landed a soul-sucking job at a call center. The world seemed askew, so out of place, that I made a spontaneous decision to visit my mother’s hometown and seek out any living relatives.

Upon arrival, I became an object of fascination to the villagers. They regaled me with tales and, unsurprisingly, requests for money. Poverty and desperation hung heavy in the air, amplifying my sense of alienation and paranoia. It felt like I’d landed in a forsaken, gloomy corner of the earth.

Then, one day, amidst the whispers and stares, I met a young man a few years my junior. He was the son of the local bakery owner—cute and unassuming. I thought, why not have a bit of fun and flirt a little? He showed me around the province, and I’d never felt so free and wild as when I rode on the back of his motorcycle. The disapproving looks and gossip only added to the allure.

Our encounters became more frequent, each conversation peeling back layers of the village’s hidden past. With some reluctance but a yearning for connection, he hinted at a hidden world lurking beneath the surface.

Feeling a newfound trust, I eventually asked him about the wild plants from my mother’s recipe. If anyone knew about them, it would be him. His expression turned troubled, as if memories long forgotten were resurfacing.

One evening, under the luminous glow of a full moon and in the throes of my own monthly period, he invited me to a secluded grove. There, under the gnarled branches of an ancient tree, he brewed a drink from mysterious herbs and innards harvested in the wilds.

“This,” he murmured, offering me a cup, “will open your eyes to the truths that lie beyond our mundane world.”

With a mixture of apprehension and exhilaration, I drank. The world around me shimmered and shifted, colors swirling in ethereal patterns. As I closed my eyes, reality melted away, and I found myself transported to a realm where reality blurred with dreams.

In this altered state, a presence loomed beside me. Opening my eyes, I beheld a figure of immense power and ancient wisdom – The Wild Horned God. Magnificent and terrifying, he embodied the unknown forces of nature.

“I seek people who will follow me,” the Wild God’s voice echoed in my mind, a lament tinged with anger. “For my followers have abandoned me, their Ancient Lord, for the New God of foreign lands.”

My heart raced as I realized the truth. The villagers, my mother among them, had once worshipped the Wild God in a secret cult. But time had eroded their devotion, replacing it with the allure of modernity.

Overwhelmed by this revelation, I turned to the young man, who watched me with a mix of anticipation and sorrow. “Will you join me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

In that moment, I felt a primal connection, a yearning for something untamed. I looked into his eyes, seeing the reflection of my own desires mirrored there. Without a word, I took his hand, and together we offered ourselves to the Wild Horned God, who then began to play the most awesome music I’ve ever heard.

As we danced beneath the starlit sky, I knew that I had found a magical place in the world. In the embrace of Pan and the young man, I discovered a truth more profound than anything I had ever known – the beauty of surrendering to the wild, awakening forgotten desires, and embracing the supernatural power that still lingered in the forgotten corners of the earth.

But deep down, my mother’s memory tugged at me. I knew my heart belonged elsewhere. Amidst the intoxication of that night, I made my choice – to follow the lights that called to me, leaving behind the timeless allure of the Wild God’s world.

One unforgettable holiday, I found a love that echoed through the fields and forests, a love mine to cherish in this fleeting moment of eternity. And as dawn painted the sky, I whispered my farewell to The Wild Horned God, knowing that some passions are meant to be remembered, but not relived.

— Text by Masi