Oh Look, It Finally Cracked
A Gypsy Tale
By Alenia Dark
“’Grandma, tell me my story again,’ a small girl ran up to an old woman, her grandma. ‘The one about my Gypsy Egg!’ The little girl’s voice sparkled with excitement.
‘If you say so my dear.’ Her wise and old voice seemed to creak from disuse, but something about it was soothing. ‘Once there was a princess. She wasn’t a real princess, mind you; she was merely a girl with a heart of gold. She was wise, and loving, and caring, and that is what truly makes someone a princess. But she was just a baby princess, born seven years ago today. She was greatly loved and many people came to give her gifts when she was born. Some gave her baubles and sparklies, things you would imagine giving to a baby. Some gave her expensive gifts, like fancy necklaces and bracelets; some even had her name, Dashuri, inscribed into them.’
‘That’s me.’ The child whispered, joy and appreciation spread on her young face. Her grandmother merely smiled at her, already used to this routine interruption, then continued.
‘She loved them all,’ Grandma’s wise voice spoke again. “Or more her parents did, for she was still too young to know even what a bauble was. But there was one special gift, given to her by her very own grandmother, a marble egg, swirled with brown, no bigger than the size her grandmother’s thumb. It was her Gypsy Egg, an egg given to her or any other gypsy child for that manner; at birth, with a piece of her soul attached to it. It was the egg of her life, only to crack when she would die.
It was put into a necklace, gently wrapped in elegant gold wire, and slipped onto a golden chain. Dashuri wore that necklace from birth, never removing it, for it was far too precious. As she grew, it seemed to grow with her. It never changed size, but the stripes seemed to change, moving along with her. She would always compare it to her mother’s egg, a green egg striped with gold, and sit and wonder about it. There was never much to wonder about, but she did it anyway, enjoying the soothing quiet of her thoughts. She was wise for her age, but it did not make her solemn. Instead, it made her even more joyous and cheerful, for her imagination was vast, and I must say, her acting skills were quite up to par as well. As little Dashuri grew up, never losing her spark; her mother grew old and frail, soon falling ill…’
‘You can stop now grandma.’ Dashuri interrupted, her bright smile gone without a trace. ‘I know the rest.’
‘I know you do little one, as do I. But I do not think your mother would be happy to see you so sad. Cheer up, she’s still with you, in your heart.’ Grandma’s wise words were soothing and Dashuri once again smiled.
‘She is, isn’t she?’”
I faded out of my daydream, a sad smile on my face. Whatever happened to that girl I used to be? I asked myself as I sat on a sturdy tree branch, keeping watch over my fiancé and my shared tent. I used to be so cheerful and hopeful, but now I…
But now I what?
I was still a joyful woman.
On the outside.
I still am optimistic.
Only with your words.
At least I’m still alive.
But is your heart?
I sighed, once again defeated by my own mind.
“What’s wrong?” I was yanked out of my reserve by the two strong, welcoming arms that wrapped around my thin waist from behind.
