TigerLily
The Fae
TigerLily
~ Part One ~
Kira and her faeries
Looking back and remembering is one of the things I do when I sit in this chair every night, staring up at the moon. It’s…oh, I’m not really sure what to call it, or how to describe it. It feels as though I’m walking through this tunnel, and all around me are televisions, playing back certain parts of time, ones of which I was a part, and ones of which are to come.
My friends call me crazy. But, I don’t really care. At least, most days.
Anyway, on with the beginning of the story.
I was sixteen when I first truly learned of the existence of the fae. I mean, I was a normal little girl with the fascination with fairy tales, and in princesses, but as I grew older, and years passed, I was told that none of it was real, and to grow up. So, of course, I did, grudgingly. To begin with, I tried not to think of faeries, magical castles, lands far from here that were filled with potions and lovely flowers. As I grew older and learned of places and things that make you forget anyhow, like rainy days in the arms of a lovely guy, walks around the lake on a calm day, or just sitting and reading in my chair, it became easier to not think of the fae, and the places I had but dreamed of when I was younger.
But, that all changed when I was in my sixteenth year. I had a fair faced friend named Kira, who was very interested in studying the occult; things like faeries and spells. My mom thought she was a bit strange, but there always seemed to be a sense of mysteriousness about her that made life fun. Maybe it was but her brilliant green eyes, which seemed to radiate a power that was not of this world.
One day, in the spring, if my memory doesn’t fail me; it never has, though, I had been over at her house, my legs curled beneath me, the cool breeze from the open window caressing the sun-starved flesh. I was looking through one of her many books of the subject of fae and I continued to flip through one, I continuously asked her question after question. Finally, she gave me this exasperated look and pulled one small book from the black depths of one of her drawers.
"Read this, Gabrielle, this may answer some of your questions, and if it doesn’t, I’ll lend you the book you’re holding, though I don’t think it’s as good." I stared at the book she handed me. It was definitely from one of the occult shops that she was known to frequent. Dusty and ancient, it was thoroughly intriguing.
Everyone always told me that I was easily intrigued by things. It was part of who I was. I was curious about everything, and wanted to learn about it all. The brain below my heavy black curls was always itching to gain more wrinkles. Today, the gray matter is still easily tickled, but I don’t seem to remember as well. I guess the wrinkles are so full of memories that nothing else can hold fast.
But back to this antiquated book that I held in my hands. The title was etched in the cover and read "The Fae and You," or something really dumb like that. I looked at Kira and rolled my eyes. "C’mon, this won’t answer any of my questions, Kira."
"You let your eyes deceive you, Gabi, and you can’t let that happen. When you finally open your eyes, you will be amazed at what you will find. When the blinders are removed, you will find so much which will amaze you. But until then, I can’t help you. It’s got to come from here," she said as she touched her heart. I looked at her, perplexed beyond belief. Kira had never really been much of a philosopher, nor that profound. In all the years I’d known her, which, I think, was about six years, she had never said that much about her beliefs, or what she held in her heart.
She glanced at me, an introspective look on her face. "You know, Gabrielle, I’ve looked at you, and I’ve seen magic around you. I’ve never been fortunate enough to spot the fae, or even to glimpse one, though I believe in them wholeheartedly. It feels, though, when I’m in your presence, that’s when I’d have the greatest luck. You just have, as I said, a magic around you. If you were to ever study the magical sciences, I’d be surprised if it didn’t come easily."
I searched her face, trying to understand what she was saying. Understanding the words, but not the meaning, I wanted desperately to grasp what she was revealing to me. This was all so new to me. Yet, the longer I held that little book in my hands, the more comfortable and soothing it became to me. There was a radiance coming from the book, and to this day, it is still not something I can explain. There was this feeling that I just never understood, never fathomed. It was the feeling as though I were finally coming home, somehow, after having searched for this home all my life without knowing it.
That afternoon, I left with the book snug against my hip in my purse, and a sense of fear in my heart. I don’t know, again, to this day, what is was I feared, or what I was scared of. It was, as I said, a sense of coming home, and also, of this foreboding sense of adventure that I had never felt in my entire life. I guess I felt kind of like Bilbo Baggins in The Hobbit, when he first left his little hobbit hole, bound for the mountain. He knew not what was in front of him.
When I got home, I went upstairs to my room and looked around. Somehow, it all seemed different. The walls were whiter, and bedspread softer. I sat down cross-legged on my bed and pulled the book from my purse.
How was I to know the adventure I had truly decided to embark upon?
***
That entire night I spent reading, and rereading, and rereading again, that tiny little book with the stupid title. My eyes were opened to this sense of self and of something much grander than self. It was kind of like finally seeing things you had but heard of. Try to describe the sunset to a blind man, and the picture will be muddled and hazy. It takes a sense that he does not possess for him to truly grasp the concept. That’s how I felt after I had read the little dark and mysterious book from Kira; as though her words finally made sense.
My entire body tingled with a charge that night, and has since that evening. Maybe it’s magic, maybe it’s just a huge force of electricity stored from turning the pages so quickly that night. Who, truly, is to know?
To be continued...
Last update : July 13, 1998
* the first line *