Good Luck Mr. Snowman

Two

Cool air brushed past my skin like a tender caress. My hands met soft greenery as I opened my eyes. The moon stood directly above me, the leaves on the trees swaying in the breeze as they created a moving border around it. A voice whispered on the wind.

Clover Patricks, your job is to bring luck to the children of the world.

Everything was quiet for a while, so I decided to take in my surroundings. I was in the forest, on a bed of clovers, and next to me on my right was an ornate golden staff with an emerald gem at the top. It was nestled in the middle of thick golden vines that protruded from the top of the staff. Only one word came to mind when I looked at the masterpiece. Beautiful. I picked it up with my right hand and felt power surge through me. I could feel the golden glow emanating from within me for a moment before it died down and faded to my natural pale complexion.

The glowing brought my wandering gaze upon myself, and I noticed I wasn't quite the same as before. Wavy red hair spilled over my shoulder like magma flowing from a volcano. It was different than my previously dark brown hair, but it was just as long. I lifted my left hand to twirl it through my new locks, but something stopped me.

There, upon my left wrist, was a tattoo.

My eyes widened, the last thing I remember being there was the bandage from the snake bite. Now, in the middle of my wrist was a large four-leaf clover, surrounded by three smaller three-leaf clovers to the right and two to the left. Three four-point stars were on both sides, and blue-grey wisps swirled throughout the tattoo. It was almost like a bracelet, only the ends didn't touch. It surprised me, but so did waking up in the forest after I felt my heart stop beating.

I continued on with the examination of my surroundings and saw a pair of clothes on the ground a few steps away. I exchanged them for my green dress so that I was wearing a rich forest green long sleeve shirt that stretched across the top part of my hands to connect to plain golden rings on my middle fingers. There was gold embroidery along the collar of the shirt, which exposed the tops of my shoulders to the nice cool wind. I also wore matching plain green pants down to just below my knees and brown calf-high boots with gold trimming along the top.

Once I was finished dressing, surprised at how comfortable pants were, the only thing left on the forest floor was a black top hat with a green band around it. I stared at it for a while before giving in and plopping it on top of my head. Talk about typical Irish wear, I thought.

Sighing, I leaned on my staff and looked around for something to occupy my now bored mind. The only thing around were trees, so I picked a random direction and started walking. As I walked slowly, I noticed that my feet weren't on the floor. My eyes widened and I dropped the short distance to the floor.

Let's do that again, I thought with a smirk.

It took me about ten minutes to figure out how to do it, but once I did I was riding on the wind with clovers circling from my waist down like a tornado of green. I could have done without the clovers, but hey, I WAS FLYING! I flew up past the trees and surveyed the land before flying to the nearest town.

It turns out that the nearest town was my hometown. Dungloe in Donegal, Ireland.

I floated nearer to the ground and landed, smoothly transferring to a walk. There were few people walking that late at night, but the ones that were seemed drunk. Yup, it's definitely St. Patrick's Day. I rolled my eyes at the people coming out of the taverns, stumbling along the sidewalk to their homes. One of them didn't see me and walked right into me... or, through me? What?

Confused, I walked up to a man standing with his eyes closed on the side of the street. I attempted to ask him what time it was, just trying to get some words out of him, but he didn't respond. By now I was slightly peeved, so I decided to tap him on the shoulder, maybe he didn't answer because he was asleep? My hand just passed through him, almost like I was a ghost. A chill ran down my spine, I wasn't a ghost... was I?

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