I am watching the mass of people that have gathered here today expecting something new and unique to show them. They are watching me with patient curiosity as to where I will take them today, the man who is slightly balding in his mid-forties is grinning with anticipation and scratching gently his wrist around his watch and the beautiful auburn young lady in her early twenties beams at me and clasps her hands in front of her. I shan’t disappoint them, or the many others besides.
There is an icy chill in the air, a large bonfire crackles in the moonlight behind me and I turn to it to add another log to the fire, a scent of lavender fills the air as a beautiful blond lady in blue silks and a medieval gown throws a large bundle of lavender into the fire. We sit down, this lady and I, upon felled wood and I play upon a pear wood recorder as she begins to recite a poem sang in beautiful Latin about the coming of snow, it is a haunting piece which fills the gathered audience with solemn peace and nostalgia, though they don’t audibly understand the words she is singing, they can understand it by the lilt and chill of her voice along with the biting of the air around them. The young lady with auburn hair is almost overcome by the power of the ladies voice and others take in deep sighs and close their eyes as they soak in the night air.
Men dressed in blue velvet and silver medieval court clothes pass around toasted vanilla flavoured marshmallows to the audience, a taste of warm sweet snow, a great paradox to the subject of the song. The marshmallows fill the audience with hope of warmer climes to come, a glimpse that it shan’t be forever cold, that tonight is just an interim and those come and go quickly.
I drew a skeleton but it came out as a cartoon style skeleton, wasn’t my intention, I had hoped for it to look like some serious gothic artwork, but no, it’s comical instead.
Then a few days later I drew a cartoon style hedgehog and the expression on its face is more sinister than my attempt at the gothic skeleton, funnily enough I put both of these into a drawer and forgot about them for several months, then when I was sorting through my drawers I came across the two pictures and put them into the art pile I made, both were cut out and around. I didn’t realise it until I walked away and came back with a drink, that they both, together looked rather comical. The hedgehog was between the legs of the skeleton looking upwards at it, the skeleton looking nervous and the hedgehog sinister, made me think of a silly idea for a short story about a demon hedgehog gynaecologist and this skeleton being its patient – however, this idea is too dumb; I am not going to do it.
Shards of moonlight glimmer through the night forest canopy, silver lights my path towards the centre where the agaric grows and now at this midnight hour, I see them glowing. I hear little titters of laughter around me, gently little folk enter the toadstool circle and surround me. Smiling, cheerfully, welcoming me to their magic circle.
A young girl elf holds out her hand and greets me, smiles at her brother as she leads me to join hands and join in with the moon dance.
Merriment was made there that awesome night.
What a grand thing to be a witch.
Grey stone lay beneath my feet. My feet are cold and bare as the fog gently surrounds me in the frosty night. I look on in the patchy darkness, but my vision is obscured by the fog more and more. I settle myself down upon a rock by the big oak tree and I ponder life and my existence.
I miss you more and more.
Your death has made me hollow and changed me in a way that I don’t understand. People think that I am strange; I certainly have developed strange habits. I don’t take mourning you easily.
People tell me that as time goes by the loss of you will hurt less, or at least I’d learn to cope. But at the moment all I can think of is that it was only last week I saw you last, each day that goes on is more and more torture for me to bear, I can’t imagine not seeing you for a month, a year, a decade, half a century or however long I shall live.
Perhaps my new found madness shall kill me? If not that then the cold will.