My Nix

    My Nix comes from the oldest part of the world.  There a darkness grows in the depths of the Earth, spreading to all corners of the subterranean chalice, dimming out the last fragments of light that its birth created, like the rays of sunlight outdistancing each other in the oldest of universes, where everything is so spread out that the night sky appears perfectly black.  Then my Nix will be free, it will stop bugging me, it will be so lost in the darkness that material things won't attract it anymore.  My body will be at peace, just like the family I disinherited, that long line of divergent thinkers born out of ancient Israel, frustrated for thousands of years by stronger Nixes that disgraced our dignity with each visit in the night.  Where it comes from, where it is going, is no matter to me.  I simply receive its punishment, not knowing what my ancestors did wrong, whether if it's because my father disrespected God, or all the other false prophets before him, or all the misanthropic traditions my people indulged in, properly punished for something I can't even control, for something I thought was brave, that I tried to do right by meeting my biological father in the flesh, the skin hanging off his tired soul like the Nix had possessed him long before it ever tried to possess me, long overdue for an exorcism that would release those demons from his past, open his heart to the gifts of compassion, humility, stability, and all those other things that a graceful soul like Jesus had, all the things that could release it from our line of blood, sending it back to the darkness from whence it came, to be locked forever in an abyss of sin from which it can't escape to torment us mortals with its psychological warfare; the sheer terror it spreads, paralyzing innocent victims who simply wanted to know where they came from, what kind of people their lost family was like, how freakishly similar they might be to themselves; and that's when it all makes sense, when you realize these are your people, that without all this ancient baggage they are exactly like you, that perhaps it's better that they had nothing to do with raising you, or you'd turn out to be somebody the Nix wouldn't bother harassing because you'd have been so corrupted that it wouldn't be attracted to another lackluster aura which is sure to be bound for the sixth circle of Hell.  My Nix is a dark ghost who visits me in the night, reminding me that I deserve to be punished and never explaining why.