Saturday, November 8, 2008

The Apprentice

I think back to that night. The night a diaphanous fog slipped in through the window, humming a tune I was sure I should know. But I’d never seen or heard such a thing. I thought it whispered my name as it circled my head, rolling itself into a playful ball, and then unfurling into the shape of an arrow, to point toward the garden. 

I pulled myself from the tangled sheets, eyes wide, transfixed and staring. I reached out - to see if it was real but it sensed my nearness and pulled backward. It shimmied out under the window, evading my touch. I rose up on my knees, the chill of the windowsill warmed by the heat from my palms as I leaned hard against it. My nose touched the icy pane and I can still see the circular fog of my breath on the glass.

 I looked out to the garden and that’s when I saw you, alone in the yard, the moonlight rippling through the emerald tear that swung from the loop of gold in your ear. You cradled the ivory horn in your arms, and it dimmed and glowed, dimmed and glowed, like it were purring. You held up a hand and you beckoned me to join you, out in the garden, under a moon that held no secrets. So I did, and that’s how it all began…

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