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a fictional journey between modern life and old world fairy tales |
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Introduction War, since the dawn of time lands have been shaped by the triumph and defeat of each rivalry. One needs only to glance across the horizon of a war torn land to actualize the effects. Buildings toppled, growing fields torched, families divided and the weary expressions on the faces of exhausted survivors. Keran, her body distorted from the effects of a long hard life sits upon the step of her doorway. Most dismiss her ramblings the product of being brainsick, but there are those who regard her ancient stories with avid respect. Keran speaks not of the blight of war that ravishes this land, rather the war within the war. The war fought within the margins of realness. They are known as the Shadow Runners. “This is war between malefic and benevolent forces, neither of which most of you recognize,” Keran states in bittersweet tones. Her facial expressions change to a pensive and venerate stance. “She has brain fevers and speaks of old magic, do not listen to her” shouts a passer by. Keran folds her arms around her knees and begins to rock back and forth. “They were five, they were five, they were five……”she mutters over and over. I was only trying to ease the stiffness in my legs, forged by a week of sitting on that blasted train. What is it that has drawn me to audience this crazy old woman? Of all the things I could be taking in, why am I compelled to watch this beldam in tattered clothes, sitting upon a brick perch babbling? “They were five, they were five they were five” Keran continues in unison with the motion of her rocking. “Momma” came a voice from behind me, “lets take you inside” Turning I see a young woman in her twenties, far to young to be the daughter of this old woman. Reaching down to aid Keran in standing. Our eyes met with inquisitive yet distrustful welcomes. A labored smile crosses the corners of her mouth. “Momma, let us go inside”. A wrinkled, misshapen finger reaches out and lands upon my hand, “They were five”. “Please” I begged of the young woman, “who is this five she speaks of?” Chapter One “Do not light a fire that you cannot yourself put out” ~Gaelic Proverb Keran, still holding my hand seemingly searched through me. Studying not my eyes, rather looking through them and into my soul. “Momma?” Caitrina asks of her mother. Keran then guides me through the open door with a gentle grasp. The inside of their home was sparse, an old wooden trunk with a slab of stone laid atop served as a table. A chipped glass vase held a bouquet of wild flowers with a bowl of ripe plums next to it. A wooden rocking chair, in need of repair and three small stools served as seating for guests. Caitrina motioned for me to take a seat upon one of the stools and asked if she could get me some refreshments. Not waiting for my answer, she dismissed herself and made busy preparing the mid day meal. Keran asked me few questions, yet I felt she was studying me in great detail. Caitrina announced the meal was ready and assisted Keran to the small table near the hearth. Champ and coffee awaited us upon chipped china and miss-matched cutlery. I had to admit, I was famished, but doubted boiled potatoes and onions would curb my hunger. Growing impatient, I asked again who these five were. Almost as soon as I opened my mouth Caitrina waived a hand indicating silence. Keran placed fork upon plate and looked at Caitrina, “I must rest now”. Caitrina dutifully rose to assist Keran to her room. Rest? She must rest? I had answered this old woman’s questions, dined with them. I was grateful to share a meal with them, with their poor surroundings and meal, I knew that feeding another mouth must have been a great hardship upon them, but they graciously offered and in return I graciously accepted. Now she wants to sleep? What about my questions? When Caitrina returned, she asked if I wouldn’t mind assisting with the cleanup. As we washed the pans and dishes, carefully dried each one and stored them away in their proper place, Caitrina seemed deep in thought but remained silent. When the last crumbs were wiped from the table, Caitrina ushered me back to the stools. With weighted heart, Caitrina began telling me about Keran. “Momma does not trust strangers” looking towards the door that stood between them and Kerans bedroom, Caitrina continued. “She has not invited anyone into our home for many, many years.” She looked at me with compassionate yet challenging eyes. “I do not know your purpose, but she sees through facades, you will do well to show your true purpose now for deceit will produce most undesirable consequences”. With that she sat in silence, as if she were waiting for me to take my leave. My thoughts wandered in a few hundred directions. How poorly people must have treated them to bring them to live such a guarded life. When I left the hotel, my only goal was to relieve my sore muscles of the long journey I had made, never had I intended to be taken into the hearth of a local. I came to this isle with the desire to start a new life for myself. Seeking only to comfort my mind and seek solace for my soul. When my husband died I found it hard to feel at home with him no longer at my side. I sought only to make a home for myself in a land where no family could dictate the direction of my life and be in constant reminder of my dear beloved Hagen. He was a good man with an impossible family. “Caitrina, my name is Sorcha and I assure you I have no ulterior motives. I don’t even know who your mother is. I was simply drawn somehow to your mother this afternoon while on a walk..……” I explained to Caitrina how I came to be here and what my hopes were. I tried to catch myself, why was I telling a complete stranger my life’s tale? Somehow I felt instant kindred to these two women. Perhaps I was going a bit mad, as Hagen’s family had made me feel. But I felt there was a higher purpose to my life, which had yet to declare itself to me. I had not realized the time of day until Caitrina rose to light the candles, night had come and the light of day was waning. She left the room and returned with a plate of sliced cheese, fresh fruit and stale bread. “Dear Sorcha, why you selected these war ragged shores to find peace I will never know,” she hesitated a moment, searching for the answer. “Perhaps fate has led you to our humble home. What ever the reason our paths have crossed, may we all be blessed by it”. We ate our light evening meal together in the dance of shadows upon the walls from the flickering of candlelights. She invited me to join them in the morning on their journey to the shore and with that, I took my leave to return to my room at the hotel. ……The lights entangled the women, stars shooting across the reach of the night skies. In the distance, orange and black plumes rose from the great fires, yet on they went with their chants. In the distance the sound of warhorses galloping, their hooves labored with the weight of both their armor and the armor of their riders. As their sound drew nearer, the women’s chant became more frantic and purposeful. Blue smoke danced around the feet of one before shooting up to the stars, she cried in pain, yet on she chanted. Soon, green smoke came from another, she emitted the same cry in pain, yet on she chanted…” Sorcha awoke with a start. It was that dream again, why has that dream always haunted her? No matter, she had left her past behind and was about to embark on a new life, one filled with joy with her nightmares behind her. She would not allow them to hold power over her any longer. Hagen had held and comforted her after the haunting images came in her sleep, but Hagen was no longer here to help her. Sorcha wanted more than anything to be at peace from them. Did she dare to tell Caitrina and Keran of her dreams? Would they think her as demented as everyone else had? Booming from thunder in the distance awoke Sorcha from her slumbers. Flinging the bed sheets from her body, she rose and went to the window. Damp winds brushed her face, bringing the smells of moss and salted rain with them. Waves were crashing upon the shoreline in a race to moisten the rocks first. Colors of orange, yellows and reds blended with the few patches of blue skies. One dense section of clouds had opened up and was pouring its contents upon the water, stirring it up like a kitchen blender. Storms had always brought beauty and a lighter step to Sorcha’s heart. Music wafted up from the dock to her ears, soothing her soul like tender kisses from fond family members. May there always be someone who loves you. May there always be work for your hands. May you always be dealt with, with kindness as you travel throughout these lands. May there always be food on your table, and always a friend you can hold. May your body always be able and your spirit always be bold. May the road rise up to meet you. May there always be a wind at your back, May your journey never be lonely, and we pray that you keep coming back. May your heart be loving and gentle, may your children be wise and be kind. If your heart is heavy with sorrow, remember it is all in your mind. And we wait for you to come back. It was as if the song were being sung just for Sorcha. Traditional Celtic music had a way of singing to their listeners, as if they were the songs intended audience. Hurriedly Sorcha dressed and made her way through the halls of the hotel, racing to the pub where the music was being played. The doors to the pub were closed. Letting out a long drawn out sigh, Sorcha turned on her heels and headed back to her room. Changing into her exercise gear, Sorcha headed out for a brisk jog. The morning storm was beginning to take its leave, patches of sun shown through the clouds, drenching the landscape in warmth, rays bouncing off the rising fog from the water. The paths took her through the forest, with trees covered in a rich green moss, through fields fragrant and heavy with heather, through sheep enclosures where tiny lambs were suckling. Enjoying the quietness of her new surroundings, the seemingly slow pace of this country that refused to meet the modern landscapes that had taken over much of the globe. Sorcha imagined life here had not changed much for many centuries. Was this lands people so poor they were unable to upgrades their lives? Or did they simply refuse to accept the cold, mechanical assistance in the day to day with modern machines? It didn’t really matter to Sorcha, it was in the old ways she hoped to find her solace at last. By mid-morning, Sorcha was on her way to greet Keran and Caitrina for their journey to the shore. Stopping at the market, Sorcha wanted to present them with a small gift. Through the small windy cobblestone paths, flowers of all colors tickled her nose with their sweet fragrances. The smell of cooking fires wafting from the chimneys of the few homes that residents occupied near the town center. On the center of a stone bridge over the water, Sorcha took a few moments rest and watch the ducks swimming together. She wished she had some breadcrumbs in which to feed them with. Here on the bridge she was shelter by the long dangling fronds of the trees and bushes, their neglect and overgrowth bestowed a stunning old world charm. A wry smile crossed Sorchas brow, for here she was certain she would find just what she was looking for. The farmers market was filled with produce, cheese, breads, jams, sweet confections and so much more, it was difficult to select the perfect gift. She didn’t want it to be so large that Keran and Caitrina would feel impoverished or that she was better then them somehow. From the corner of her eye, she caught sunlight dancing from the etched glass of a beautifully shaped vase. This was it; Sorcha purchased the beautiful flower vase and a small bouquet of flowers to present to the women for their kindness. She also purchased small portions of smoked meat, a loaf of bread and sweet cheeses to help provide what she too would consume on their journey to the shore. Laughing, Sorcha caught herself half skipping like a young girl down the old street to the home of Keran and Caitrina. Keran greeted Sorcha from her perch on the front step. Reaching up with her hand pulling Sorcha to sit next to her. “We wait here, Caitrina is fussing” Keran stated, then eyed Sorchas packages. Her eyes turned a slight tone of melancholy, but she forced a gracious smile. “What is all this?” Keran inquired. “Caitrina, come greet our guest” she called out. Catrina wiping the moisture from her hands on a tattered towel met the women at the open front door. “What have you here Sorcha? You do not need to bring anything, you are our guest….” Sorcha cut Caitrina off mid sentence. “The rays of the sun insisted I make this purchase, they forebode acceptance and joy”, Sorcha replied. Her voice filled with joy as she handed Keran the small package wrapped up in brown paper, tied with white string. She then handed the bouquet of flowers to Catrina. “The rest is for our bellies” Sorcha stated with a chuckle patting the canvas bags she had purchased from the market. Keran didn’t know what to say when she opened the package reveling the beautiful vase Sorcha had brought for them. The tears welling up in her eyes were all Sorcha needed to know she had selected the right gift. Sorcha asked where she could put it. Keran thought for a few moments and then replied “You have given it a home, now you must find its place”. Surveying their front room, Sorcha didn’t know where to put it. If the chipped vase on their makeshift table held fond meaning, she might offend replacing it. The furniture was so sparse; there were few locations in which it could be displayed. As Sorcha was walking through the room, trying to decide where it belonged, the sun once again shone through the etched glass, sending radiant shards of light dancing around the room. It belonged in the sun, that was certain, but what to place it upon. A small rickety lamp table stood in the corner of the room with a single candlestick resting upon it. “May I move this small table?” asked Sorcha. Keran nodded and with that Sorcha moved the table and displayed the vase and candlestick together upon it. Caitrina brought a pitcher of water and the bouquet of flowers to complete the display. The dancing shards of light covered every wall of the small room, all three women stood motionless soaking up the display, it was as if the moon and stars were frolicking with the sun upon the walls of their home. |
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