Diane Cresswell speaks of the ethereal nature of love lost, especially its magical qualities. The Kingdom of Fae can only be entered by true believers, who can successfully blur the distinction between what is real and what is imagined. Tis not my imagination however, to inform all of you staring into the looking glass that tomorrow is the last day to enter the contest. We have a backlog of stories still to post, but all entries must be received by midnight tomorrow, the ides of March!
The Madness of Love
by Diane Cresswell
“Have I gone mad?” asked the Hatter of Alice? That line runs through my head for it is a question I cannot answer.
I remember taking my walk through the redwoods on a misty day. Walking among the trees has always been a release for me. My imagination takes flight. I find fairy portals and rings which help feed imaginative possibilities. I know that one has to be careful of wishing for something as magical as entering the Kingdom of the Fae, but I couldn’t help myself. The redwoods provided that element of magic within their ancientness.
After that the next conscious memory I have was being in a hospital and informed my baby daughter fine and healthy. How could I be pregnant and not know it? How could I not remember what happened or who was involved? How did I go from walking in the woods to having a baby?
Over the early months of my daughter Sophie’s growth, I began to have spurts of visions: an unusual underground abode, dancing under the moonlight with a man, happiness that went beyond having this precious child in my arms. Later as she grew I found myself having more of these visions of which explicit details were further revealed: a tall man of incredible light and build, his long hair reflecting colors – shimmering colors. Love flowed between us, intense, strong, gentle; sustained with laughter and fierce passion. People of usual facial contours exhibiting regal demeanor or earthy simplistic mannerisms glided through these visions. Confusing… yet somehow natural.
I’d hear him say a name spoken with devoted love in his voice – a name I did not know, a name that felt as if it carried magic within – Sabariel. My name is Mia, but this name… this exotic name identified me also. Madness and sanity fought equally in my mind. The precious soul known as Sophie Celine would soothe me.
The seasons passed swiftly for the two of us. Sophie personified a child of light, a reigning princess who took people by delightful surprise, a magical bundle of creative energy inspiring everyone around her, wise and then a mischievous devil the next. We clashed as parent and child will do. Arguments never lasted long – how could they when dainty hands and arms would suddenly encase me, giggles bubbling out with “I love you” melting into my heart. In those moments I would receive more visions; then gone as my child left to be with her friends.
It took me awhile to figure out the visions. They only happened when my daughter would hug me. Her energy, a part of her father’s heritage, was the catalyst that brought them on. I had love – a love so deep that nothing in this world could compare to it. Love lost, yet not. I walk between two worlds – visions and reality. Do you now understand my madness?
Alice said to the Hatter, “I’m afraid so, but let me tell you something, the best people usually are.”