The Red, the White, the Green…
Some things have to be believed
Before they can be seen…
…‘To bring something back into the world that was lost,’ she had said as a prelude to adventure.
“We’ll be in touch,” she had said, before drifting into the twilight at adventure’s end…
That was three months ago.
And who was this ‘we’ anyway?
The witch of the wood?
The thought of the old crone and the momentous events of a half moonlit clearing nearly three months ago still make me shiver.
Except, perhaps, for the odd ‘padding’ sound that appears to accompany my every move.
No one else seems to hear it, although they do keep their distance.
And so, I find myself alone, a lot, now too.
I have been out to the croft a couple of times.
I watched for quite a while last time and considered approaching.
She has probably gone away.
With the witch?
That seems unlikely, and if I thought I had any chance of finding that clearing again I would go back to look, but I do not and so I will not.
It will have to be the croft then…
…The garden looks incredibly well kept for somewhere that has been deserted and the door when I approach is unlatched…
So I enter.
Feeling like a trespasser which is precisely what I am.
What is my excuse?
I did not even knock!
There is no one home.
And in some ways I am relieved.
A mad, adventurous, night which ended as it should have done.
On the kitchen table is a piece of parchment.
It lies flattened, held down at the top by a black iron and at the bottom, by a heart shaped stone.
The parchment feels like it has been left for me although that, I know, is impossible.
On the parchment is inscribed a word.
A Latin word with an elaborately illuminated capital ‘I’ and ‘N’.