Shuffled: When the Cards Talk You Must Listen

Mists of Fae

It's Saturday and the world is still a dreary misty, foggy day. I bundled up and decided to do a bit of self-care out on that rock, that I'd dubbed my own. I needed to think. My brain was overflowing with questions and troubles. Not just school stuff. I mean the things with the "pack" and the blonds were always there but so was how oddly comfortable I'd become with my friends so soon. I've never felt comfortable with anyone, especially girls before. Here I am thick as thieves, and I don't know how it happened.

The stuff with my mom was also weighing on me. I mean I knew that she had been on some kind of downward spiral. I just didn't know how bad, and now that she has been in the psych ward for like two weeks it's becoming, well... real. I kinda feel like I failed her. She has been the only person in my life for so long. I feel like I've taken her for granted. I should have been more attentive. I should have realized that she needed me more. My stomach twists just thinking about the should-of, would-of, could-ofs.

Then there is the issue of the stuff moving around in our house? That is really weirding me out. Maybe there are faeries, or ghosts. I'd rather it be that then someone breaking in and moving stuff around. Usually I wouldn't really care. I mean I've moved so much that something randomly getting lost is no big deal. But now that I have those little books something has changed. I feel oddly protective of them. I've even started hiding them in my window seat UNDER a bunch of stuffed animals and a few blankets I put in there.

Yes, my life has definitely taken a turn for the strange. So here I sit huddled in a ball, with gloves on, my leather journal open, and pencil ready to write, but I can't. My eyes are focused, yet unfocused as I look out over the little meadow that is just through the trees beyond my clearing.

I immagine sprites dancing with wood, so I ditch the journal and pull out my sketchbook and charcoal. I think I'd rather draw this idyllic scene my brain is conjuring. It was nice ignoring all the troubles of my regular life, and just focus on this whimsical world of fairy tales.

At one point I almost climbed off my rock to join in the festivities. Everything was so innocent and sweet, and realistic. Of course I knew none of this WAS real, but I drew it like it was. I even drew some of the dryads and other forest creatures coming over to talk to me. They spoke in sweet soft voices; voices welcoming me, voices rejoicing that I'd 'come home', and how they had been waiting for me. I think my mind was losing it. Maybe I've become so stressed out that I conjured little people who wanted me and loved me and sent peace my way. Yep I'm pretty sure I'll be the next one checking in with my mom.

Then, as the sun set, it was like everything got too still, too quiet. I watched an old woman, dressed in black flowing fabric stride into the meadow. Above her a large number of black birds, either crows or ravens, I couldn't tell from here, swirled counter clockwise above her in the sky. The ruckus they created echoed through the clearing. For a moment the wind they created lifted the misty fog and things looked clearer. It lost some of its fantasy-like feeling; now feeling far too real, and far too threatening.

I wish I could say that she was just a version of the lady of the night. Beautiful and serene. Someone that brings peace and tranquility for those around to rest and restore themselves in the softness that comes when the darkness wraps around you and you drift into a sweet slumber. But this woman felt more sinister, malicious, soul sucking dark. My skin shivered with more than just damp cold. It was like a cascade of goosebumps rippling down my body, starting from my head down.

I sat transfixed as she reached out and grabbed one of the little creatures that had frozen in fear when she entered the meadow. It was this little bunny-like creature, with large eyes and long ears, but it walked on two legs instead of four. It wore clothes just like Benjamin Bunny, and seemed to love passing out carrots to others in the meadow. He was terrified of this malevolent being. I watched in horror as that woman picked poor Benjamin up and ripped his head off before drinking his blood like she was drinking from a cup. I was too frightened to move. It was so horrific. I was frozen. That is until I heard a very little voice right beside my ear.