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A quote: “Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.” ~~ Mark Twain
I’ll start with a story …
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The caterers had already cleaned up and left when she closed the door on the last guest. The party she threw for the small town’s VIPs was as calculated as her making sure to hire every local contractor as she renovated the long-abandoned mansion from moldering ruin to something out of Architectural Digest.
“Cynthia!” she calls to her companion, “Did you see? So many of my guests bear fair resemblance to their greatgrands.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“No more forbidden house on the hill. They know every inch.”
“Purloined letter?”
“100 years of exile has taught me well. The town is mine.”
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe stock standard license
Navig8r says: “It is good to be home, but we will always remember that kindly artist who took us in during our exile.”
“Yes, she was wonderful to us, and to all the magical beings she took in. Such a humble mountain cabin, but oh, the views. And she painted our pictures with such empathy. I do miss her. Sad that with all our powers, we can’t turn the clock back to those happy times.”
“No, but we can visit at Summer Solstice, remember, and be remembered. Then, every year, the locals still include us as part of celebrating her legacy.”
(Cheating a little here and including some truth with fiction. Try different combinations of internet search terms “Neal Forsling,” “Crimson Dawn,” “Red Witch,” “Casper, Wyoming” for more background.
Cameron says: “Is this how you remembered it?” she asked. A long flowing red dress that drew attention to her femininity without exposing much.
I nodded in response. “That’s the dress,” I whispered. “And the hair is perfect.”
She smiled shyly in turn. “I took it from your mind. I hope that’s all right.”
“I’ve missed you so much,” I said as I felt the tears flow.
She held out her hand and the pain faded as I stood. “Then let’s go already. Come home.”
In the nursing home, the doctor nodded at the orderly who drew the sheet across my face.
Fletch says: A voice called to him from the alley. A young voice. Too young…
She seemed tired, as if life had become a burden. “Hey mister, you want to have a good time? I give you what you want for $20.00. We have a party…”
The man stopped, but not to buy. He stopped to explain – to tell her of good things in the world – and to gift her with the vision of something… better.
“She waits for me,” he said. “My Lady in red, she waits for me. Everything else is naught but shadows. You understand. I will not stay. She waits for me…
With that, he turned and walked away. Behind him the girl whispered to herself, “What if someone would wait for me…”
dribbl3r says: “How can she be ascending?” asked one auld bitch. “She was wearing the scarlet letter after all. She had been judged!”
“And she is wearing scarlet – a mark of sin!” chimed in another stiffed-faced compatriot.
“She is forgiven,” replied the left behind daughter. “Being shunned her, she read the Bible. ‘Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.’ She couldn’t trust you or her pastor so she turned to the Bible.”
I bid you ‘adieu.’” Hester’s daughter turned her back and took a first step toward her future.
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