The following is the continuation of a story I began as a result of a prompt given by Kellie Elmore. I continued this story writing as she encourages people to do: with no editing and no backtracking – to write until you can write no more. (If you missed the previous posts, here are the first and second)
I feel the power building inside of me as the tranquillity settles in my mind. The mists swirl around me. Covering me and protecting me. I bring forth the moisture and I feel the fine raindrops begin to fall. The angry shouts begin to falter. I sense the fear: the fear that turns the hate into uncertainty. The fear adds to the misty barrier that I have created between them and me. The crowd halts, uncertain of whether to continue.
And I look skyward, confident in my attunement with nature. And then I see the crowd begin to blur. Their faces and hostile bodies begin to fade. I see through the forms and stare in wonder as, bit by bit, they disintegrate. The hate-filled crowd is gone; yet I still keep myself shrouded in my blanket of mist. For I have come to realise that I had just faced my biggest fear: my fear of being mobbed because of my gift; my fear of not being understood.
It is only those who have a weak mind that are unable to cross this bridge. I had just passed some sort of test, I am sure. I grab a handful of berries from my pouch and eat them slowly, one by one. I must not let my guard down until I had crossed over this magical entrance to the city I wished to visit. I am uncertain of what other fears are locked away in the deep recesses of my mind.
I walk the entire day shrouded in mist, the cool air keeping my body from overheating. I am able to drink from the moisture in the air, and eat from my pouch. I do not stop as I am eager to reach my destination; eager to meet the person who is able to control minds from such a great distance.
It is almost twilight when I see the lamp posts standing guard at the other end of the bridge. My footsteps quicken with renewed energy. At last! As my foot leaves the bridge, two figures materialise in front of me.
“Welcome traveller. We have come to guide you to our Queen.”
What do you think the Queen will be like?
© Colline Kook-Chun, 2012