by C. L. Collar
Finding Fey
If you can place a lady slipper
On your foot you may,
Find a lighted pathway
Into the land of Fey.
If you can play a melody
On a fluted reed
And sing yourself to Fairyland,
You just might succeed.
If you can catch a moonbeam
Sleeping on a dream
And climb upon it to the stars,
You’re where the Fairies sing.
If you can catch a falling star
And hold it in your hand,
Then you know you have arrived.
You are in Fairyland!
Into the Light
By C. L. Collar
©2014 by C. L. Collar
All rights reserved.
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The following is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, to factual events or to businesses is coincidental and unintentional.
The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author.
Cover Design: Brandy Walker
www.sistersparrowgraphicdesigns.com
Interior Design: C.L. Collar
Into the Light
Celeste rocked back and forth cradling her body, her soft brown hair sticking to her bloodied face. The sharp pains rocketing through her head were finally easing, but Vincent’s ugly words were still there. They would remain there, branded into her brain forever.
“You stupid bitch. You call that food? You are as bad a cook as you are worthless as a wife. Look at you. You never fix your hair or even try to look pretty for me. And you always wear those stupid old clothes. If you had any pride in yourself, you’d wear something decent.”
The words came out before she had time to think of the consequences. “You won’t buy me anything decent to wear.”
That was when the blows began, ending with the slamming of the door as he went out to get, “something actually edible for supper.”
Vincent had been gone for almost an hour. Using extreme caution, Celeste began the painful crawl to her hiding place. Slipping through a secret door in the back of the kitchen closet, she sighed. Now she would be safe.
Celeste had discovered this secret room while cleaning the house before they moved in. At the time she had thought that it would be the perfect place to store her canned goods and potatoes. Instead it became a place to preserve her sanity.
The darkness wrapped around her like an old friend. There was no one here to condemn or hurt her in any way. She slowly unraveled her body and stretched out onto a pallet of soft quilts. Celeste had hidden these precious quilts here when the beatings began. They were a gift from her grandmother, and she knew that he would have sold them not only for the money, but also because he didn’t think she deserved anything so nice. Now that her sweet grandmother had passed, these quilts and her precious memories were Celeste’s only comfort. She would try to sleep away the pain. She knew he would not look for her. He would come home too drunk to care about anything but his bed. In the morning he would act like nothing at all had happened.
Celeste closed her eyes. She was hovering on the verge of sweet escape when a small beam of light settled around the doorway to her hiding spot. She shot up from her makeshift bed and scurried into a small dark corner. The sudden movment caused another stab of pain to shoot through her skull.
Had he found her? The question reverberated through her aching body. Trembling, her soft brown eyes glared at the door that hid her from the outside world.
The door did not open. The beam of light slipped under it and swam through the darkness straight into her corner. Celeste scooted away from the light. He must not see her. The light followed her into the corner as the door vanished in the darkness.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” her voice quivered through the air.
The beam of light gathered into a soft golden-white globe and floated over to her.
“Why do you hide in the darkness, Celeste? Come, follow me into the light.”
“No! The light will show him where I am. I have to hide until he isn’t angry anymore. The darkness is where I belong. I must try to be a better wife. I am a failure. I can’t do anything right. Now go away before he sees you and finds me.”
The globe expanded to form a large white oval. Celeste scooted farther back into her corner. Now what was coming for her? Should she try to escape through the door? What if Vincent was back? No, anything would be better than what awaited her there. She made herself as small as possible shrinking into the hard rough wall. Celeste held her breath as she stared intensely at the bright oval light.
A hand emerged holding a white willow wand. A dainty foot dressed in a blue satin slipper followed the delicate hand. Finally, a glorious fairy emerged. She was clothed in a gown of pure white and subtle hues of blue. Her dark hair was adorned with a sparkling crown of blue feathers edged in bright white light. Feathered wings of blue tipped in the pale pink shades of dawn flowed from her back. As she stepped through the oval, Celeste gasped. She was magnificent.
The fairy pointed her brilliant wand at Celeste, flooding her with light. “I am Queen Brighid the Bright, and I have come to help you.”
Okay, he has finally driven me mad. The unspoken works echoed through Celeste’s mind.
“No, dear, you are not mad. You just need someone to show you the truth. I am here to do that.”
“I already know the truth. I am a failure. Everything I have ever done has been wrong. I was my father’s mistake, my mother’s disappointment, and now I am my husband’s worthless wife. It would be a better world if I were dead, then no one would have to endure my presence.”
“Is that so?” asked Brighid, tapping her wand in her hand. She stopped tapping and held it out in front of her. “You see this wand? The white of my wand represents purity, its straightness justice. Let us see what my wand has to say about your life. First, let us visit a memory of you with your father. I believe Jack is his name.”
Celeste cringed as Queen Brighid brought the glowing wand closer to her and lightly tapped her throbbing head. Instantly the pain ceased, and she was floating through the air. Flashes of beautifully colored light darted all around her. When they stopped, she found herself sitting in a hunting blind.
Oh, no. Not this day, she thought.
She was twelve, and her dad had decided that girl or not, she was going to learn how to hunt. He wanted a hunting partner, and she was the only child he would ever have so like it or not, she was going to learn. Celeste watched herself shivering in the early morning air. In her hand was the gun her dad had learned to shoot when he was her age. She was scared to death of it.
Jack peered through the binoculars, searching for just the right buck. “Here he comes. Now steady your gun on that rest and aim, just like I taught you with the target.”
Celeste raised the gun and peered through the sight glass. Yes, there he was. He was beautiful with his gorgeous eyes and stunning antlers. She took a deep breath. You
can do this. When you do, Dad will be so proud of you. Celeste closed her eyes and pulled the trigger. She screamed as the gun’s stock plummeted into her face knocking her violently to the ground. Her dad’s words echoed through her mind as she faded into darkness.
“You missed him. How in the hell could you miss a shot like that? Now don’t go getting all girly on me and go to crying. I told you that old gun had a kick to it. Celeste, get up. It isn't that bad.”
Celeste had sat speechless until they were almost home. She had a huge cut on her cheek, and her eye had started to swell shut, but that didn't hurt her nearly as much as the words that had come from his mouth.
“I should have known better than to try to teach you to hunt. Girls aren’t built for it. You need strength in your arms to control a gun, and nobody can hit anything with their danged eyes closed. If only you were a boy, then we could really have some fun. Don’t worry. Your face will heal in no time. Buck up and quit sniffling. You’re fine.”
The vision faded, and once again Celeste found herself in her sanctuary.
“See. My father hated me. He wanted a boy, and I couldn’t even be a tomboy.” The tears trickled down her face as the memory of that day brought back the emptiness she felt in her heart. After their hunting trip, her dad had lost interest in everything she did. She might as well have been dead to him.
Queen Brighid sat down on a chair that had miraculously