The Crossing
     THE CROSSING: by Gail Fattori

     I woke up one night, it was 2 o'clock in the morning, at least that was the time that flashed repeatedly on my clock, like after a power surge.  I rubbed my eyes, but the sleep lingered there making it hard to focus on the shadows in my room, which suddenly began to shift.  I felt like I was catching a ghostly image that I was not meant to see. 
     I waited a moment, hoping, although fearfully, for the shadows to move again only they didn't, not at first.  Just as I began to relax, and lay my head back down on my pillow, I heard it.  A strange tinkling sound echoed from the shadows.  I ventured a glance over the edge of my bed, and that is when I saw the shadows moving across the floor. At first it looked like shadows thrown around the room with the passing of lit headlights from the road, but then they stopped suddenly.
     "I must have eaten too much dessert after dinner," I discuss with myself, my blanket tucked up tightly around my chin and knees. 
But then, I felt a pulling on the blanket.  Then I felt the mattress shudder, as my room suddenly seemed to come to life.
     The posts of my bed stretched and changed until they looked like the trunks of trees.  The ceiling began to open up and as the edges folded and fade away, revealing the sky, the stars, and the moon.
     As I looked up, amazed by what I was seeing, I neglected to see the shadow coming up over the edge of my bed.  It looked like a shadowed vine that once it was close enough, wrapped itself around my hand, twisting between my fingers.  At first I was scared, but then I suddenly felt a wave of comfort wash over me, as the vine pooled, rose up, and then solidified into the figure of a small girl.
     As her features became clear I could see that she was wearing fairy wings, she wore a dress made of vines and leaves, flowers in her hair, and her smooth cheeks sparkled in the moonlight.  She batted her feathery eyelashes, and smiled a warm smile.
     She stepped forward, and quietly invited me to follow her. Still holding my hand, she began to lead me out of my bed covers, onto a path where my rug lay just a moment before.  We stepped slowly from one stone to the next, and as we did, the walls of my room faded from view. In its place appeared a thick, yet serene forest.
     We walked for a while in silence, and I watched and wondered as the world change around me.  Enchanting creatures watched us from their hiding places, and their whispers, too quiet to make out, buzzed around me like insects in the night.  With each step I knew that I should feel frightened and afraid, but I was not.  In fact there was a part of me who found great comfort in this magical place.  I even found that I was eager to see, and know more.
     As we walked the path began to widen, and as we stepped out onto the rise in the path, I could see, like I had never seen before.  It was as if the earth had shed its beautiful, though dull in comparison, facade revealing it's magical, enchanted, spiritual form.  What I saw beyond the rise defied description, or comparison to anything I had ever seen before.  I could not have dreamed this type of grandeur.  It was as if God himself had let his imagination loose upon this place.
     I stood, in absolute stunned silence, tears of pure joy straining my cheeks as I strained to take it all in.
     Then in a whisper, the fairy girl, who still lovingly held my hand in hers said, "Welcome home."
     I had heard what she said, but I was not sure what she meant. As I struggled to comprehend what she was trying to tell me, I remembered something like a lingering, memory.  It seemed to be an insignificant thought now, but as my thoughts became clearer, I turned and looked back down the path.  There, like a distant memory, from long ago, and almost forgotten, was my room.  Only now I saw the image of myself.  I still lay in my bed, only my hair is white, the red long stripped from my locks.  My skin is worn, wrinkled and thin, with a transparency that only time can cause.  My blue eyes have faded now, the sparkle no longer shining in them. 
     I recognize my grown children as they sit by my side.  Tears of relief, and sorrow flow, but are wiped away, by their hugs, and memories we've shared.  I overhear mentioned moments of silliness I caused, and loving moments that are to many to recall.  My heart swelled, as I run my hand over my renewed skin, wiping away the rush of tears. I then smoothed my flowing red hair, a nervous action I did often, when I felt emotional and did not want anyone to see.
     With a feeling of love that threatens to overtake me, I blow my loved ones a kiss.  I whisper to them all, "I will wait for you..."
     Then with a last glance I go.  There is music and laughter, joy, and peace.  I am greeted by countless numbers of family members, long past.  After a brief reunion a man steps forward, His face is one that I have imagined during many a prayer. He takes me into a loving embraces, which comforts me in body, and soul, removing any lingering fear of the unknown. In my heart I know that this is what my heart has always longed for, and I know that now my journey is only beginning. 
     Then he whispers, just loud enough for me to hear, "Well done my faithful servant.  I have come to take you home."
     As I take his hand and cross through the veil, crossing the eternal borders, I offer one last prayer for you all.  My prayer is that your crossing will be as peaceful as mine has been, and that one day when it is your time He will come to meet you, and say the words that I have always longed to hear, "You have done well my faithful servant. I have come to welcome you home."

StarPoet   StarPoet wrote
on 7/14/2009 12:17:15 AM
So touching and poignant. To be taken like this means one truly was a good servant. This is the best way to go, by far!

Short Story
writing bigred7
Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.
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Hi, I wrote this story and it just evolved. I hope you like it. It's the story of a woman, and a magical event that happens to her. Enjoy, Gail Fattori
A Word from the Writer
I am so grateful for the time that you have taken to read this.
Published Date
7/13/2009 12:00:00 AM
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