Tuesday, 5 June 2012

Knocking on Faerie Door Part 12

Butterpetal Bloom all at once dissolved her temper; it fell from her like the leaves on an autumn tree, caught in a wisp of wind. Her arms circled the back of my neck. A feeling of pure peace cocooned me.

All was still.

“I’m sorry” the words slid from my mouth like a serpent in the hot desert sands.

“Don’t worry little one,” her soothing tone further calming my now peaceful spirit. “You have been chosen: this is your destiny!” Suddenly I was no longer at peace, my stomach does somersaults, and my palms are clammy once more. “Every single one of us wishes you well in your quest!”

The questions I need answering are about to rush out, when Butterpetal Bloom holds up a finger gesturing me be still. “Come” she says, meekly I follow her (I recall how this mess all started) into that wonderful little door, which had so intrigued me.

This time we move more slowly, the smell of cookies and cinnamon fill my senses. Butterpetal Bloom, or BB as I’ll call her from here on in, sees my reaction to the smell and says quiet nonchalantly “yes, we all smell like that” How enchanting and bewildering I find it all.

This space which I had previously been rushed through, I can now take in. All is a wonder, even more opulent than the dreams I used to have before my 1st real visit.

The Faerie folk were busily getting on with their chores. The tailor was measuring yard upon yard of the finest silk, seemingly woven from pure gold. The cobbler was banging his latest pair of faerie shoes together using what appeared to be solitaire diamonds, only little ones to be fair, but wow!!

As we meander slowly along the ever winding passages, it occurs to me how much has been going on in that old oak tree, all these years. We pass the farrier who is shoeing …. What? That’s no ordinary mini horse; it’s a unicorn… my heart misses a beat. Unicorns everywhere…they are just beautiful, they are tethered by golden chains, and float and drop as they please until their turn comes for their new platinum shoes. Standing glued to the spot, BB urges me on. Gently she says “come my dear, we need to talk”. Remembering the reason for my visit to the old oak tree, I obediently follow her dainty footsteps as she leads me through passage after passage of magical intrigue.

“Here we are my dear” she says sweetly as she swings open a jewel encrusted door. I enter and take a seat on a goose down filled chair. My tears have dried; my heart feels full of joy. My questions no longer hang like a yolk about my neck. Now they are as matter of course.

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