She started the fire with her lighter listening to the pops and crackles as it took blaze. From her satchel she grabbed a bundle of sage, lit it by the fire and placed it in a burning shell. Annabelle stood up with feather in one hand and the shell in the other. Four times she walked the circumference of the room fanning the feather over the smoldering shell. As she traveled she could hear the voices of the past, of her Great Dream. Little snippets of conversations surrounded her as if the characters of her leather bound book were present in the room.
You are merely the muse.
The fire crackled in the middle of the room.
Remember to drink your water.
The Jingle is in the Mingle.
In a distance, the wood chimes clamored together.
Breathe, child breathe. You must stay calm; it will all be over soon.
Your wheels fell off.
Tears gathered in her eyes as she remembered how bitter those words were to swallow.
Why are you wearing your father’s socks?
Take only what you need and give the rest away, it will come back threefold.
Annabelle sat back on the bean bag placing the sage near the fire. She picked up a pen and drafted two separate letters, her hand moving fast across the page. She folded the letters in thirds and wrote “Tucker” on one and “Simon” on the other. Then she placed each letter on top of a copy of her Great Dream book and placed them both in shipping boxes. She read her deceased grandfather’s prayer card aloud to herself for strength and courage as tears streamed down her face. She knew there was no turning back now; it was time to share her story.
A Warrior Princess