When Cinderella opened her eyes, she and the Fairy Godmother, were filled with a numinous current. The forest and gardens glowed with life. Bees buzzed. Flowers swaying their fragrance exploding, Cinderella heard the long hitch of breath as her silently screaming body suckled oxygen available again.
The Fairy Godmother tumbled out of the hiding spot curled up around her core. She trembled and twitched. Her skin had turned the color and texture of parchment. Muscles slack. Lips colorless, Cinderella feared the Fairy Godmother was dying.
In the distance she could hear Blackie frantically barking, searching for her. She whistled. She didn’t wait for him. She was certain he would find her shortly. Laying down in dirt and sage, she curled herself around the huddled, shaking body of the Fairy Godmother. Her central nervous system would absorb, encased in this physical body. It would guide the restoration of the Fairy Godmother’s spirit with her physical body.
Hundreds of thoughts assaulted her. One by one she expelled them. Consciously, forcefully she entered the spiral. She lost herself dancing its edges and envisioned the Fairy Godmother dancing with her. With one-pointed focus, immersed in flow she brought the Fairy Godmother back from the eye of the spiral returning to the edges filled with the demands and requirements of the South. When they were securely bound in time and space their spirit inscribed across nerves and synapse, fortified by reciprocity, Cinderella fainted.
Blackie was licking her face when she came back to herself. She pushed herself up and peered over at the Fairy Godmother. Breathing evenly now her face had the glow and warmth indigenous to the Fairy Godmothers of the South. Cinderella fell back in a boneless heap. Blackie continued ministering to her, restoring her with his wet tongue. She was sticky with saliva. She closed her eyes. She could feel the imprint, the spiritual weight of the mystifying symbols drawn across the time and space of her spiritual embodiment.
The Fairy Godmother screamed. “Argh…” Coughing and choking she sat up. Cinderella was so relieved she was laughing and crying. She lay in the dirt kicking her legs in the air. When the Fairy Godmother laughed Cinderella knew she was restored. Blackie was nudging her, sniffing her belly. “Blackie! Stop. What are you doing?”
The Fairy Godmother sat forward with interest. Blackie was rubbing his face in Cinderella’s tummy. The Fairy Godmother clapped, “Let’s see!”
Still faint with exhaustion, tugging on her toward a yielding oblivion, she complained, “What? See what?”
Scratching Blackie’s fur the Fairy Godmother said, “Let’s have a look at whatever Blackie’s pointed out.”
Cinderella looked around. “Now?” she asked. The Fairy Godmother nodded. Blackie stared with intensity at her belly. “Okay,” Cinderella sighed.
She wiggled out of her dress and looked down. Etched in white was a spiral. A sacred spiral, dripping and glistening starlight, was imprinted across her abdomen! They stared in fascination. Cinderella focused. Gathering her intention, the spiral echoed its luminosity.
Appalled Cinderella started tugging her dress down. Reaching for the chain she’d designed into a spiral she found it too was generating a cosmic light. Carefully gathering the chain rope to her, wrapping it protectively around her belly, she looked at the Fairy Godmother. Her eyes were round with shock, wonder and dismay. “I’m so embarrassed!” she wailed.
How could she explain? She felt inadequate. She sensed the engraving of a cosmic spiral on her abdomen was rare. It carried a conduit to the powers of the universe, as needed, in small doses, she hoped. She didn’t deserve, or maybe the truth was she didn’t want the responsibility of this extraordinary tool.
Blackie and the Fairy Godmother were watching her intently. Cinderella felt a hum generated in her torso. Now the Fairy Godmother’s focus was fierce. Heat and light bloomed from the spiral etched across Cinderella’s abdomen, shining through the lightweight material of her dress. Cinderella’s checks flushed pink. “Stop it!” she yelled.
The Fairy Godmother looked away. The heat left Cinderella’s body with a whoosh. She dropped to the ground and burst into tears. The Fairy Godmother reached down and pulled a limp Cinderella to standing. Then she slapped her face.
“Crack,” the thunder of the slap could be felt throughout the Kingdom. She said, “Wake up you silly girl. Do you think everything just happens to you? The Chimera blew its way into the Kingdom. What do you think happened to the Prince? What happened to the Royal family? Where is the Chimera right now?”
The Fairy Godmother clenched her hands to still their shaking. “We’ll find the Chimera’s trail. First we find the Prince.”
Cinderella was trembling. The Fairy Godmother was merciless. Gripping Cinderella’s shoulders with the iron strength of fingers born of pruning and weeding gardens over the eons of a Fairy Godmother’s life, she whispered in a voice horse with restraint, “Do you know why the Chimera targeted you?”
Wordlessly, numb with the exhaustion of her magical endeavors, Cinderella shook her head. The Fairy Godmother strained for a semblance of calm, “Because the Prince loves you. The openness, the vulnerability that comes with love, that’s where the Chimera strikes and smothers life. We have no time for your childish tears! You’re going to learn and learn fast.”
Grabbing Cinderella’s hand she dragged her toward the house talking the entire way. She said, “Marked with the spiral is big protection. Do you know any thing about divination?”
Terrified, heart pounding, she knew she didn’t have these skills. Cinderella shook her head. “I don’t understand a word you are saying.”
“Well,” the Fairy Godmother sighed, “within the friction of what you don’t know and the requirements of these tasks, the spiral will help.”
The anxious look she threw at Cinderella over her shoulder left Cinderella shaking. They were clattering down the basement stairs into a work room. Beakers, glass pipette, and Bunsen burners for the distillation of herbs were scattered across one long table bisecting the room. More herbs were tied to a simple laundry line. Bookshelves were on either side of a fireplace. More shelves lined the long wall. Floor to ceiling: shelves were stacked with books bookended by large pieces of petrified wood or other gems and minerals.
Paper-note books, crystals, a plethora of various oils, and other supplies Cinderella didn’t know how to identify were also neatly stacked and organized in spaces between the books. Her eyes slid over beautiful furniture cabinets. At the far end were glass doors and a walk out to the lower gardens and sunshine.
Cinderella reached for the chain around her waist and felt only the material of her cotton dress. Had she left it in the dirt? Alarmed she turned, poised to flee back into the forest. The Fairy Godmother’s arm shot out, “looking for this?”
She held out the braided white-gold diamond druze encrusted rope and Cinderella sighed with relief. Reaching out she had to forcefully tug it away from the Fairy Godmother.
Glaring at Cinderella, was it with contempt? The Fairy Godmother growled, “This is a powerful tool. It has been imbued with the Sacred Spiral. In the wrong hands it would be deadly. You have a responsibility to guard these tools with your life. Other people’s lives, and your life, depend on it. Right now your Prince and the entire Kingdom are in danger. Because the Chimera used you, an uneducated apprentice, you are the only one who can destroy it.”
She leaned forward, “Am I getting through to you?”
Cinderella hated the wobble in her voice when she said, “yes.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
A Chimera’s Sticky Web
The Fairy Godmother sighed, “And you know nothing about working with crystals or divination?” Cinderella shook her head. “Well, you do know how to dream?”
Cinderella nodded.
“I guess that will have to be good enough,” the Fairy Godmother snapped.
Without waiting for a reply she turned her back and began rummaging through cabinets. She waved Cinderella away. “Go. Sit by the fireplace. Pray. Do you know how to set up a
circle of protection?”
Cinderella nodded. The Fairy Godmother could see doubt clouding Cinderella’s face. She wasn’t well versed in setting up protection. “Babies,” she muttered. “They send me babies with little understanding of the balance between the sacred and ordinary.”
Turning away from her search the Fairy Godmother gathered her own strength and calm. She gave Cinderella a sunny hug. “Go. Start the fire. First find tools, using beauty as your guide, and fill the hearth with them.”
She took a deep breath and long exhale. “The doors lead to lower gardens. Pick flowers and put them in water on the hearth with the other artifacts. See if you come across flint rocks and bring in four if possible.
“While you gather items for the altar, center and focus your skills. Set up the chain in another spiral. Just as you used your intuition outside to create a spiral, use your intuition to arrange this altar. I’ll be with you shortly. Oh.” She gave Cinderella a lopsided grin. “Thank you for saving my life this morning.”
She spun Cinderella around and gave her a shove toward the fireplace. Shouting over her shoulder, “Every second counts. Don’t dawdle.”
Cinderella surveyed the room with her mind observing, seeking artifacts. Then she opened her heart and walked the room. Finally she let her belly lead her to specific objects. She found a gemmy blue celestite crystal. What had her mother taught her about celestite? “Cinderella, celestite provides a connection to the angelic realm.” Yep, she needed celestite. Gently she set the delicate blue stone on the fireplace hearth.
Should she light the fire before she collected more items? Checking to make sure the flue was open she found a hunting knife and using flint left on the hearth, scraping the edge of the knife against the grey rock. Sparks flew. Wood shavings lit. Cinderella gently blew across the shavings bursting the kindling into flame. Satisfied Cinderella continued her hunt. She had left the altar within the protection of fire.
Outside the French doors she found gardenias. The plant leaves were a deep waxy green. Huge white flowers unfolded in various expressions of bloom. The fragrance was heady and Cinderella breathed in the sweetness deeply. Together with roses bordering the house she floated them all in a bowl of water.
She searched the edges of the garden where the cultivated met the primordial forest.
In a gully, washed and tumbled for eons she found flint. Rocks, grey speckled with red. Squinting, Cinderella nodded, and collected four with the deepest reds and grey. “What did father tell me about flint?”
She could see him standing in a gorge. Just outside a forest dripping with diamonds of water from the recent rain. Wrapped in waxed canvas coats and rubber boots, they’d spent the day rock hunting. The grey sky was now vivid blue. The air was crystal clean. Her father stood etched against boulders twice his size. Cinderella caught her breath. It hurt to remember, but it hurt more to forget.
He’d said, “Flint is grounding. An all purpose stone it repels negativity. It is protective. Wear it in times of strife or danger.” He’d handed her a stone that fit easily in the palm of her hand or pocket. Then he’d said something strange, “Flint is a stone united by earth to carry the light of fire.”
What had he meant? She still wasn’t sure. So many memories of the years with her parents had come flooding back to her since she’d left her stepmother and moved into the castle. Living with the Royal family she’d been torn between love-relief-safety and the reawakening of the trauma of losing her parents. Not to mention the seven years of suffering under her stepmother’s dominion gripping her in its talons.
Back at the Fairy Godmother’s hearth she placed the flint at the four corners. She called the power of earth and the light of fire to guide and protect them. She sat for a moment gathering her love; for her family, for her Prince, for their Kingdom.
Flint spoke the language of sparks. What did spark mean across the dimensions? Spark was the incandescent attraction, wild and joyful, for her and the Prince. Since they were children; the sparks of adventure, arguments and attraction, success and failures, all bound her to the Prince. Another spark of love tied her to all the Fairy Godmothers and Blackie.
Love for her parents flowed within and around the perimeters of their shared life. Love for nature. How many times had she been enamored with nature sparkling with life and health? She bowed her head and gave thanks. Then the Great Mystery: the container of all life, known and unknown, guiding and protecting her. Gratitude spilling through her she crafted the spiral at the hearths center point.
Uncanny accuracy had her looking up to find Blackie patiently waiting at the French doors. Letting him in, she gathered him in a hug squeezing them together. He leaned into her, absorbing their love. Standing she stepped outside and took a moment to pick up several fallen roses. Back at the hearth she carefully plucked and scattered petals across the stone fireplace.
Clapping her hands together, she stood, and continued her search for the tools that would help her combat the Chimera. She no longer felt tearful or afraid. Primed, purposeful, focused.
A strange gift came from living with her stepmother. A volatile, dangerous woman Cinderella learned to read the environment and the subtle facial tells that gave away clues to her stepmother’s moods. Maybe it was her attunement. Walking into the cottage, stepping over the threshold, she could feel the negative vibrations reverberating the hallways, permeating the rooms, destroying the harmony her parents spent their lifetime building.
And the smell, Cinderella’s stomach rebelled at even the memory. A noxious stench surrounded her stepmother. Was it the smell of rotting feelings? Did destructive behaviors leave a stinky residual? Was it the accumulation of negativity and dastardly deeds?
Most of all Cinderella learned how to function in emergencies. Her stepmother created a life filled with emergencies of every sort from dangerous and life threatening to comic and absurd.
Alternately there were times when nothing happened, not a peaceful nothing. No the stillness was smothering. A heaviness that demanded watching, any moment it could transform into deadly vitriol. The environment toxicity threatened to creep its way into Cinderella’s belly staining and polluting. The Fairy Godmother of the East talked about forgiveness. Cinderella shook off the memories clinging like soot.
Walking the South Fairy Godmother’s work room she found candles and brought them to the altar. Gleaming crystal candle holders reflected their light. She found a ceramic pair of turquoise Foo Dogs, reminding her of her visions in the East. Another pair in red she installed them at the four corners. Foo Dogs, also known as Chinese Lion Dogs, were similar to Tibetan mountain dogs, they too were thought of as guardians. The females are guardians of the young and the males are guardians of the outer world.
A flash of lightning and simultaneous thunder rocked the Fairy Godmother’s house. Grabbing the farmhouse wood mantle for balance, Cinderella bi-located, being both at the Fairy Godmother’s home and standing on a stone turret with the Prince.
Mesmerized she put her hand out and felt the rough stone aggregate tower. She gripped his wool sweater. Where was the terrible stench coming from? It hit her gag reflex and she swallowed against it not wanting to let go of the Prince’s sweater for any reason.
Looking down they could see hundreds of people were gathering at the castle. They shouted warnings of unearthly screams filling the forest. Pounding-foot-steps jarred their minds. Children held their heads in anguish unable to metabolize the dissonance. The rotten smell smeared over, Cinderella struggled to perceive, “Their spirit. Their spirit is layered, like icing on a cake, with this disgusting stench.”
Most disturbing of all: Cinderella could see a web, black and tarry thrown over the Prince and now that she looked closely, it spread across the stone too. Entwined in the Chimera’s web the Prince was a prisoner and didn’t know it. Smothered, depleting his power, the Prince fed the Chimera.
Cinderella whimpered. She was going to have to destroy the net. She reached for her whip only to
remember it was at the center of the altar on the South Fairy Godmother’s basement fireplace hearth.
As soon as she remembered the altar she was thrown, telescoping backwards with supernatural speed, slamming into her body. Stunned she looked around her in confusion. The Fairy Godmother was coming toward her with a giant-clear-quartz-ball. She set it in the center of Cinderella’s silver-braided-spiral. Light caught the fractions and spilled rainbows.
While Cinderella told her what she’d seen the Fairy Godmother picked out three gardenias from Cinderella’s flower arrangement placing them interspersed within the spiral. Still listening she gathered oversized pillows and dragged them to the fireplace. The fabric, blues and greens in wavy patterns alternating with circles, was perfect for dreaming. Down feathers wrapped the interior of silk creating a plush surface perfect for sitting on the floor. Gauging south she knelt on the floor.
Pulling out two pillows for Cinderella she said, “Take a moment before entering the arena of life and death. A moment before the work begins.”
The Fairy Godmother continued dropping puffy cushions surrounding Cinderella creating a perimeter of comfort at the fireplace edge. “Now there’s time for rest. The other Fairy Godmothers will be her shortly.”
There was a fuzzy wool shawl nearby and she offered it to Cinderella.
Hit anew with the memory of the Prince covered in a black stick web and the hundreds pouring into thousands of distressed people. Cinderella swallowed past the lump trapped in her throat. She whispered, “I saw him. He was covered in the Chimera’s sticky-black netting. But he didn’t seem to notice or see how it was draining his life away.”
She put her hands in her face. “Is this my fault? Thousands of people are anguish with every step the Chimera takes within the Kingdom.” Choking back a sob, “The Prince… Oh Fairy Godmother what can I do?”
The memory of being held in his arms was so visceral he could have been standing right behind her. The world falling away until there was only the sound of their thundering hearts. His hand would push a strand of hair away from her face, the moment unfolding into a kiss. Lost in the imagery of the kiss Cinderella watched his hand cradling her head pulling her closer, an electric current flowed, jumping the narrow gap between their bodies. He tugged her closer, whispering in her ear, “Charlotte,” before his voice broke.
Fairy Godmothers of The Four Directions Page 17