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Tag: The Moon-Eyed Ones
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This is a new weekly segment I’m starting here on the blog, every Monday I’ll cover a mystical or magical element that are featured in my books. Kicking off the segment, we’re going for a throwback to The Moon-Eyed Ones and its namesake, The Moon-Eyed People from Cherokee myth. Let’s get started!
The Moon-Eyed People were first mentioned in Western records in 1797, but the best Western source can be found in James Mooney’s 1902 book, Myths of the Cherokee, though Mooney notes that while the tradition of the Moon-Eyed People isn’t extremely detailed, it’s a consistent tradition based on the idea of predecessors in Appalachia before the Cherokee arrived or made their presence dominant in the Southern Appalachians. Western sources disagree as to who these people may have been, as Cherokee descriptions of them mainly note that this group was called “moon-eyed” due to their blue eyes that caused them to see poorly during the day. The Moon-Eyed People were said to be nocturnal due to this, and some ancient stone structures in Tennessee and Georgia are credited to their civilization by the Cherokee. But the question remains: Who were these people?
Many Western sources say the Moon-Eyed People were early white or European settlers, such as the Welsh, who may have found their way to the Americas before other Europeans began to settle the Appalachians in the 1700s. Other early sources say they may have been Indigenous people with a form of albinism, some say they were a separate tribe who assimilated with the Cherokee, some even say that the Moon-Eyed People were a mythical race of supernatural humans, similar to the Nunnehi (lit. “The people who live everywhere”). Every source does agree, though, Cherokee included, that whoever they were, the Cherokee expelled them from their mountain homes and wiped them out either through war or through cultural assimilation. Still, no one knows for sure who these people were, but theories abound even to this day as to who, or even what, built the stone structures and mounds that populate the forests of Tennessee and Georgia. So how do they tie in to The Moon-Eyed Ones, which takes place in the 1830s, well after the Moon-Eyed People had disappeared?
Silas is often called “Moon-Eyed” by the Cherokee characters throughout the book, and he is first introduced to the myth through Waya, Amadahy’s brother-in-law. The Cherokee name Amadahy gives him, Nvdodikani (pronounced Nuh-do-di-kahn-i), even means “sun/moon-gazer,” as nvdo is the Cherokee word for both the sun and moon, the only difference is that one is the nvdo for the day, and the other is nvdo for the night. As Silas speaks to Waya and Inola, the matriarch of the Kingfisher family, he asks if he is one of these Moon-Eyed People, because while the myth is vague, it fits his family’s history: the Vanovers and the other Melungeons of Hawktail Ridge were driven from their home to hide in the mountains where no one could find them, not by the Cherokee, but by the settlers of Ellistown.
Silas also mentions in the book’s opener that his family had been in the mountains after the Cherokee, but before the other European settlers came in from the colonies according to the stories passed down to him by his parents. Either way, Silas also fights the myth of all Melungeons having vivid blue eyes and inhuman traits, something that was used to other Melungeon people from both the whites and Natives of the Appalachians, and is still even used today. Despite the blue-eyed myth being true in his case, the Moon-Eyed People of the book’s universe were an indigenous group, not necessarily foreign settlers from a European expedition. It is hinted that the Cherokee of Cedar Hill often considered their Melungeon neighbors to be descendants of this mysterious tribe, while also recognizing that they were mixed-race individuals that didn’t quite fit in anywhere.
As far as the title is concerned, it also references the literal meaning of “moon-eyed,” meaning “having eyes wide in wonder,” as Silas and Amadahy go through learning experiences throughout the entire book. Still, no one in Cedar Hill can answer who the Moon-Eyed People really are, and whether Silas and his family are descendants of this group remains a mystery.
I hope y’all enjoyed this first Mystical Mondays segment! I’ll be back this week for Four Gods Friday, and next Monday we’ll be moving on to China and the importance of trigrams and divination in The Four Gods universe. See you then!
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Christmas Eve is in ten days, so that’s the perfect time for a short story! This is a little 2,500 word, rough blurb of how the Vanovers and much of Sully Hollow celebrate Christmas. A reminder that in the 1830s and especially in the South, Christmas usually took place the first week of January. And if you want to hear the song that Silas and Amadahy sing at the end of the story, you can listen to that here. Enjoy!
We were met with a heavy snow in the
hollow after the New Year, the mountains growing bare and silent. The blanket
of white drove everyone inside to their hearths, but my brothers and I saw the
calm as an opportunity. As the sun cast the snow sparkling in her morning rays,
I met my brothers by the iron bell in the center of the hollow. Our weapons of
choice were metal buckets, our wives’ wooden spoons, hammers, and a few hand
drums. Waya agreed to come with us, but his brow furrowed in confusion when I
passed him a hammer and a bucket instead of a hunting rife.“So…what are
we doing exactly? I thought you said we were going hunting.” He grasped the
hammer and gave it a light swing, testing out how he might throw it at an
unsuspecting deer.“We are
going hunting, but not for meat or skins,” I smiled and waved my small drum at
him. “We’re going serenadin’. It’s a Christmas tradition of ours.”“And what do
all of these things have to do with singing?”Vardan threw a set of cowbells around his shoulder
and smacked Waya on the back. “We ain’t singing to anybody. You’ll see. Now
which house are we going to first?”We all snuck
down the hill, the only sound being the snow crunching under our shoes. Isaiah
said we should serenade our parents first, but Vardan had a different idea.
Running up to my door, his mouth curved upward in a mischievous grin as he
pointed wildly. My head immediately shook, and I hissed a scolding a him as
quietly as I could.“No! We are
not serenading Amadahy! She’ll kill me!”Vardan stuck
his lower lip out in a pout, and Waya, now realizing what our tools and
instruments were for, raised his eyebrows as he lifted his bucket and hammer up
in the air, ready to strike. “What’s wrong, Silas? Where’s your sense of fun?”“Galilahi
would skin you alive if you woke her like this on Christmas morning, and you
know it.” I retorted, as I stepped back toward our parents’ cabin. “Besides,
Amadahy didn’t get to see serenadin’ the last time she was here for Christmas.
It’ll scare the daylights out of her.”“All the
better to introduce her into a true Vanover Christmas.” Varden swung the bells
down, sending an echoing clang through the hollow, and then all hell broke
loose. Waya banged on his bucket, whooping and hollering like he was charging
into war, and my brothers all yelled while banging on their instruments,
creating a cacophony so loud I’m sure we even woke up all of Ellistown.Having no
other choice, I pounded down on my drum, trilling and whooping along with my
brothers. After what seemed like an eternity, the door of the house swung open,
and Amadahy stomped outside into the snow, her hair undone and her eyes wide
with a mix of fright and anger.“Danistayohihv ale alihelisdi itse udetiyv’asadisv!” I exclaimed,
smiling as I raised my drum to block any blows Amadahy landed on me for scaring
her so badly.“Don’t you
start that ‘Christmas greetings’ with me, Silas!” She scolded, her voice
strained as if trying to catch her breath, and she put her hand to her chest. “Aquadanvdo! I nearly jumped out of my
own skin! What in Heaven’s name do you think you’re doing?”“It’s
serenading,” I explained, glaring at my brothers and Waya, who had all backed
up to a safe distance so they were out of reach. “We do it every Christmas. The
idea is that we go to houses and make a racket. If we don’t get caught, we’re let
in for hot drinks and treats. If we are caught, we get nothing.”I barely had finished my explanation
of the obnoxious tradition before I was met with the sting of a face full of
snow. My brothers burst into laughter as I spit the icy powder out and rubbed
it out of my eyes. Once I regained my sight, Amadahy stood triumphantly, her
hands solid on her hips.“There’s your treat. And now that
you’ve woken me up, I guess I have no choice but to join you.”“You want to come along?” I balked.
“What else am I supposed to do until
all the cooking starts? Besides, I really should have thrown you face-first
into that there drift, but I’m feeling a little more fun-loving today.” She
winked, and my brothers snickered, which earned them the evil eye from me. But it was settled, and we decided to pick out
our next target. Forgoing my parents’ cabin, we decided to serenade the Bell
family, who lived down the opposite hill from me and Amadahy.The heavy layer of snow
muffled our footsteps and Vardan hushed all of us as we neared the Bell’s
place. We were given the signal, the count of three, and then we let loose. We
shot off as many bullets as possible and banged and yelled as loud as we could.
Amadahy joined in on the racket, trilling and banging her drum, and all Waya
could do this time was laugh. After a few minutes, Mrs. Bell opened the door,
pretending to be angry at us for making such a ruckus.“I swear, all you Vanover
boys do is cause trouble ‘round here!” She eyed Amadahy and Waya, “You two
enjoying the serenades?”“I don’t quite understand
how this is serenading anyone.” She replied, “They certainly scared me more
than anything.”Mrs. Bell laughed. “Well,
come inside for some cider and cake before y’all freeze to death out here.
We’ll explain everything.”Once inside, I told
her, “We believe loud noises scare away bad spirits, so we like to serenade to
bring good luck. But we turned it into a game to scare the neighbors with.”“Interesting…” She mused
before taking a bite of cake. “And you do this every year?”“Yep.” I smiled, happy that
she was now more in the spirit of things. “It’s one of the many things we do on
Christmas Eve. We still have a lot to accomplish after this.”Heading back toward my
family’s house, the sound of crackling logs could be heard from the bonfire
that Pa had started on at sunrise. Once we had all returned home from
serenading, the bonfire had grown to a towering pillar in the center of the
yard. The smell of fresh bread wafted from the windows, and a few of the
Collinses had come over for a visit. As soon as I walked in the
door, Delilah jumped out from around the corner and tapped me on the
shoulder before shouting, “Christmas Gift!”I jokingly pulled out my
empty pockets and shrugged. “Sorry, no Christmas gift this year.”She pouted, but I pulled a
small string of beads from my pouch. “Just kidding.”I smiled and patted her
shoulder, to which she immediately pulled her lower lip back in and uncrossed
her arms. She grabbed it from me and nudged me with her elbow, giggling. “No
Christmas gift means bad luck, Si.”Once again, Amadahy looked
extremely confused to which I explained. “It’s another game that we play.
Someone has to sneak up on you and shout “Christmas gift.” If they succeed in
surprising you, then you have to give them a small gift.”Isaiah entered the house
and stomped snow off of his boots, and he shivered. “Ooh, it’s cold! Well, that
should do it for the fire. I don’t think it’s going to get any bigger.”I gestured out the window
and told Amadahy as she snuggled in a blanket, “And Pa’s bonfire is to try to
signal to the sun that we want it to return quicker, so it ain’t so cold and
the days aren’t so short.”“Makes sense to me.” She
pulled the blanket over her head and nodded toward the window, “Hopefully
she listens.”I plopped down next to her
and warmed my hands in front of the fire. She leaned over on me, her eyes
wandering through the cabin. “So what do we do now?”“We can just relax until
after supper, maybe help around the house if need be.” The fire sparked and I
jerked my hand away. “Now the festivities won’t continue until sundown.”Mama made a great spread of
food, but she placed the bread she had made early that morning up on a shelf away
from everything. I told Amadahy, “So the bread baked on Christmas Eve has
healing powers. We use lye from the fire to bake it and we often save it
for the rest of the year to use in healing. Of course, the one in front of us
is fine to eat.”After we ate, Amadahy and I
sat by the bonfire, which was still burning strong. She leaned in on me and
smiled. “I like these traditions of yours better than hibernating. We get to do
more.”“Christmas is a busy time
for us. Since the New Year is five days earlier, we have a lot of things to get
done before celebrating.” I looked across the yard and then above us to see
where the moon had risen high in the sky. “But…we have to be quiet now.” I
raised my finger to my lips, lowering my voice to a whisper.She glanced around the
hollow, her eyebrows furrowing. She whispered, “Why?”“The animals are praying. We have to be quiet so we don’t scare
them. Also to see if we can hear them sing.” I cupped a hand around the back of
my ear and she followed suit. The only sound was the snapping of the fire
behind us, and the light chatter still coming from my parents’ cabin. Her eyes
travelled from one end of the hollow to the other, and she shrugged.“I don’t hear anything.”
“You ain’t really supposed to. But we like to stay up sometimes
to see if we can hear anything in particular…usually after midnight. Also,
water turns to wine at midnight and angels sing around the pines.”“Ah…” She turned her gaze toward the stars, the night being
cold, but clear. “And if we’re around for all this?”“Well, it’s bad luck.” I rubbed my arms with my hands,
trying to get some warmth back into them as a chill rattled my spine.“Everything is about luck with your people,”
she chuckled.“The Cherokee have their superstitions, too. Especially ’round
the New Year. But yours is earlier than ours.” I said.“Yes. When the leaves start to fall. We’re usually well into our
wintering by this point.”“That’s true. This year is good for you to celebrate with us.
Next year we can stay in if you like.” I said.“No. I like this celebration. We could, but we should come out
for Christmas.” Her attention was gotten by a crowd of some of the young
girls chatting excitedly as they headed toward the Mullins’ hog pin.
We watched as the girls filed over to the split-log fence, bundled up in their
shawls. Their giggles echoed down the hill and the snow glittered
in circles around their lantern flames.“Is this something I need to do?” Amadahy asked, grinning.
“They look like they’re enjoying themselves.”“Not unless you don’t want me anymore.” I laughed. “That’s for
single girls to do. They go to the hog pin to see who they will marry.”“Oh…and how do hogs let them know that?” She wrapped her arms
around my waist, signaling that she didn’t want livestock to determine our
future together.“Each girl approaches the pin and asks what kind of man she’ll
marry. If an old hog grunts first, her husband will be an old man. If a shoat
grunts first, then her husband will be a young and handsome man.” We looked
toward the group and a groan of disgust suddenly arose from a girl in the
center followed by an eruption of laughter from her friends. “And I reckon it
ain’t going well for her.”“But isn’t it bad luck to hear the animals singing?” Amadahy
asked, giggling, “Won’t they have bad luck being near all the hogs like that?”“Responsive grunts don’t count as singing. If you hear them
singing hymns, then it’s bad luck for you. Just like if you see water turn to
wine in your cup. If you don’t see or hear any of it, then you’re safe.” I
explained, pulling her in.“What kind of hymns? Just any old song?”
“I don’t know, something like,” I hummed in my throat, but soon
slowly sang a verse from one of the few carols that I knew. But trying to
impress Amadahy, I tried to sing it in Cherokee.“E la we sv no
Ga lv quo di yu
Do hi nu s dv
Tsu lv sa da
Yv wa du wi dv
E tsi a yo li
Ga lv quo di yu
Usdi wa nai
Hi lv na do hi dv
Ga lv la di do hi dv…”
“Silent Night.” She noted, “I’ve heard Dr. Driscoll sing it
around Christmas time. It’s fitting on nights like these, I think.” She
snuggled up to me and tightened her grip on the blanket. “Though the song
should mention that it’s a silent, holy, and cold night.”“It is cold, but the stars are pretty at least.” I noted,
turning my attention to the sky to distract myself from the chill. “Those right
there…” I pointed up to the center of the sky, “They seem to be brighter than
usual.”“It’s the two dogs,”
Amadahy said, tracing her own finger over the stars, “They guard
the Nightland and the afterlife. Maybe they’re joining in on the
festivities.”“Maybe they are. They
look like they’re dancing.” I grin, and our breath clouded around us in puffs.Amadahy suddenly stood,
the snow crunching beneath her boots. She dragged the blanket along with her,
much to my dismay.“Where’re you going?” I
ask, my teeth clattering once my warmth was taken. I scooted myself closer to the
fire, the heat a welcome feeling. “At least bring the blanket back!”I see her shadow near the
house and she comes back around to our spot, drum in hand. “If the star dogs
are dancing, I figure we could, too. Ring in a new Christmas tradition, maybe?”Brushing the snow from my
trousers, I grin. “Sure. Anything in mind?”She hit the drum with her
striker, then pounded consistently so a thundering heartbeat echoed across the
hollow.“Ya hey weya hey
Osda weya heya hey!
Yi ga da yi das tlasda
Alsgisti wo di ya
O tsalsgi osda da
Ale hiya wo di ha!”
As she sang, her feet
shuffled through the snow and like we did at Green Corn time, she started to
circle the fire. At first, she was drumming, singing, and spinning alone, but I
couldn’t contain a shivering laugh as I joined her in the fire light.“Ya hey weya hey!
Osda weya hey
Yi ga da yi das tlasda
Alsgisti wo di ya
O tsalsgi osda da
Ale hiya wo di ha!”
Our drumming
and singing drove a few of my siblings outside, and a number of lamps across
the hollow lit when they heard the commotion. The next thing we knew, Waya had
joined us with his drum and Vardan was dancing along with me around the fire.
Amadahy’s sisters, who had remained inside their cabin most of the day,
ventured out wrapped in their shawls. Delilah had even dragged Mama out into
the snow, and the girls who were still by the hog pin stared at us with mixed
expressions of confusion and wonder. A few more families who were still awake
celebrating ran out with their lanterns in hand, and soon we had a full-scale
ceremonial dance in the hollow. Our one drum had multiplied to three and our
two singers and dancers now numbered more than ten. The moon served as our second
sacred fire, and I think even the animals and angels were dancing with us. As
Sully Hollow’s heartbeat continued throughout the night and our fire burned
strong, it would prove to be a Christmas none of us would forget. -
Don’t forget that my giveaway for The Moon-Eyed Ones started today! You can win a free, signed copy and the giveaway ends on October 29th, so enter if you want a chance to win! 😀
Book giveaway for The Moon-Eyed Ones by Julie K. Johnson Oct 16-Oct 29, 2017
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Hi, all! So I promised extras from TMEO, and for this one is a blurb from an opening scene of an inkling I had of a sequel. This is in the perspective of Silas and Amadahy’s eldest daughter, Aurelia. The idea for the sequel was scrapped, but I hope you enjoy this scene. 🙂
I
frequently dreamt of the mountains, but my visions were always clouded by fire.
Pa always was the first to console me in the wake of my nightmares. His
soothing voice and his ageless sky-filled eyes were always so compassionate.
Mama was too, but she joked that he was a far better child-raiser than she
would ever be. To her, we were Cherokees. No doubt about it. My father was a
different story. He spoke Cherokee with such a nasal twang that it almost
became its own dialect, his people were my mother’s people, but also not.
Mixed-bloods. Melungeons. Whatever that meant. Nevertheless, we were raised in
the towering, smoky blue mountains as the people of this land. The smoke grew
thicker, the air hazier…Fists meeting wood shot me from my thoughts,
and my pulse quickened, bringing me back to my senses. I had never in my entire
life seen my father lose his temper with my brother or me. Everyone had left
their peace behind with the start of the war, and I had to admit that I was the
first to tire of such trifles.“No,
no! I won’t stand for this!” He didn’t even bother to scold my brother in
Cherokee. He was truly angry. And rightfully so.The
newest edition of The Phoenix was
splayed across the table, the page in question crumpled into a ball. “The
Nation decreed it so, Pa. We’re obligated to serve the Confederate Army as
Cherokees. Chief Watie said so. Chief Thomas has said so.”“This
Watie is not our chief, neither is this Thomas. We are not part of this Nation,
East or West. Maybe one day we will be, but I will not serve the army that
threaten to enslave my children in a rich man’s war! East Tennessee is part of
the Union. If you are called to fight, you will not smear our people’s
reputation by fighting for the Confederate Army! Do I make myself clear?” His
eyes almost glowed when he lost his temper. It was a piercing, venomous gaze
that usually prevented him from shouting or beating us in the past. All we
needed to get in line was that single sideways glance.Mama
kept quiet. Her temper was worse than Pa’s was, and I could tell from her
pursed lips and deepening stress lines that her teeth were clamping down onto
her tongue.“You
have no right to tell me who I can and cannot fight for!” Now my brother was
shouting, “The Cherokee Nations have called for us to serve the Confederacy! I
can’t believe out of everyone in this settlement, you would be the first to
denounce your standing as a warrior of the Cherokee people!”“I
left my warrior days behind me after Removal ended. And you forget, Asher, that
you do not just have a duty to your mother’s people, but to my people as well.
Would you so endanger them as to fight for a cause that wishes to march them
away in shackles? You would not be valued among their ranks, but only as cannon
fodder for their more valuable white men. To them, you are only a lowly
Melungeon. What part of that don’t you understand?”Mama
finally spoke. “He’s right, you know. You forget since we have lived so
peacefully here that you are not a white man’s equal in their eyes. You are still
considered lesser because you are colored, Indian. We all are.”That
was the day our house became divided. My little brother shortly left to fight
for the Confederate Cherokee cause. Mama was distraught. Her heart was pulled
in two different directions, and much of the settlement was the same. Though
most agreed on one thing: only become involved when it became necessary. Unfortunately
for my family, necessary came sooner than we would have liked when my father,
and all the other men in our town, were conscripted as manpower for the Union
cause.“Silas
Vanover, Mixed-blood Cherokee. Age forty-two. Assignment: United States Colored
Troops, First Alabama Infantry.” -
It’s finally here! The Moon-Eyed Ones is now available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle formats! If you’d like to buy it, click below! If you’re unsure about purchasing the book, you can always read the first three chapters on my website for free to see if you’d like to read further. Thank you to everyone for your support!
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Countdown to release day! 4 days to go (I know I missed yesterday and I apologize): What initially inspired me to write The Moon-Eyed Ones was my love for genealogy and the research I did on my own family. My maternal great-grandmother (my mother’s father’s mother) always spoke of our Cherokee ancestry, and for most of my life, I was proud to be Native. Well, with research and a DNA test, that Cherokee ancestry turned out to be Melungeon, a mixture of multiple heritages (ours includes Scots-Irish, West African, and Romani. We have a connection with the Powhatan tribe way back, but from my research, it only involves a marriage or two). Mixes like these are common in Melungeon families.
From this discovery, I got a story: a Melungeon boy encounters Cherokees on his adventures and tells them he is Cherokee because that was what he’d been told and so on. Well, the Cherokee girl he meets is skeptical, and thus begins an odd friendship between the two. Ironically, despite my protagonist being a fifteen-year-old boy, the history that inspired the story was mostly from the women of my family, so I decided to post some photos that fueled my creativity. (Side note: I also fell in love with the photos of Melungeon people by Doris Ulmann during my research, and if you have the time, look them up.)
The Moon-Eyed Ones will be released on Amazon on October 10th and the first three chapters are available on my website for free reading!
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Countdown to release day! 6 days to go! #bookreleasesoon #themooneyedones #bookquote
AUTHOR | HISTORIAN | ARTIST 