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Date Posted: 08:29:48 05/26/09 Tue
Author: celtgirl
Subject: Jamie's journal excerpt- just a wee snippet of back story told through the pages of Jamie's journal>>>>
In reply to: celtgirl 's message, "I've opened the windows to air the place out. The geraniums are blooming in the windowboxes, and the lace curtains are steeped in spring sunshine. The tea of course is on- not sure who is coming by to visit, but I'm quite certain someone is. :)" on 15:07:55 05/25/09 Mon

copyright 2009 Cindy Brandner


June___, 1962

I was out for a solitary ramble this evening, when I came across a most enchanting sight. At first I thought I was seeing things- always in the realm of possibility with my quixotic and unreliable grey matter- and even rubbed my eyes to be certain I wasn’t hallucinating. But no, the vison remained. There was a creature dancing on the small shingle just down from my hut, dancing light and joyous under the full moon that was rising on a twilit sky. She can’t be of this realm, she seemed impossibly ‘other’, as though she had never tasted of man’s disillusion or bitterness, and knew no such word as pain. I told myself a pretty fancy, as I stood there watching her, that she was born of the seafoam, and rose right there from the mysterious waters for a dance on the solidity of the earth and that when she was done, she would slip back into the waters with barely a sigh in her wake, and return to that deep blue kingdom from whence she had come. And there was I, mortal clay, having caught a young oceaniade cavorting on the sand.

I could be forgiven my fancy, I believe, because she looked like no earthly child, carved out against the background of dark, dreaming pine and old mossy stones, with the surf foaming around her ankles. Her hair was wet, and streaked like seaweed down her back, the colour of indigo in the odd light. Of course I would find her dancing there, on the edge of the earth, feet in the water- that place where two elements meet and are neither here nor there, has long been considered a place of magic and making of the impossible, possible.

How long I stood there, I do not know, but suddenly she turned, as though she sensed human interference in her fairy revels, and her eyes cut across the gloaming, so that I was certain she had spotted me. I couldn’t have moved though, not for all the tea in China, for I recognized her and the recognition rooted me there. There is no way to say this without sounding foolish, or mildly insane, but it was one of those moments that do not come in all lives, where I just knew someone- all of them, and knew that if she could see me, she would know me too- without words, or explanations- as though we both belonged to another race, in another time and were the only two survivors left here, stranded on a strange planet, where neither of us truly understands the rules.

A fool’s fancy, and sitting here now, with the fire crackling away, and a very prosaic cup of tea at my left hand, (unable as I was to find mead in the these sensible cupboards) I feel a fool even writing the words. Perhaps she was merely a vision, born of a wildly romantic night of moonlight and amber-scented pines, and the great wild body of the sea, not to mention the lack of medication in my bloodstream.

Perhaps.

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