I awoke to the wind howling. The dark of night surrounding my cabin. It was if I could faintly make it a voice. I was sitting down in my couch. The fire crackling the wood as it burned, giving me warmth.
Who would of that this crazy old man would be here, preferring the solitude of the forest. The adventures that I took now as passing memories. Tales now written down and stores upon hearts and books to be remembered as legends.
I found myself trying to ignore the noises of the world outside my cozy cabin. The glow of the fire filling the dark room. I held on to my blanket and closed my eyes, embracing the warmth.
“My prince…”, I opened my eyes to find nothing but my thoughts to keep me company.
I knew I was getting old, but I wasn’t getting crazy, I thought. The wind does play games with your mind. Yet amidst my notions, the voice haunted me. It reminded of a time so long ago.
I turned to the fire and found myself captivated. The flames seem to take shapes as my imagination intertwined and they both danced in unity as a telling of a story.
There she was, as beautiful as I have ever seen. The fire around her seemed to revolve her every move. Wrapping itself around her luscious being and allowing me to feel a warmth that the sun found comforting. She was more enticing than a star. Her smile as the moon, reaching men in a crescent descent from the heavens from which she came. Her hips as if God himself sculpted as she matured. And her voice as the angels.
They called her a fire harpie. Though at the time I was told that being in her presence made men fall into her spell. For she was much more than magic, her eyes as mysterious yet she cowered behind her wings. Always in watch as she came to drink from the well every winter. Men would come to see her from all areas but few could approach for they were burned. Every attempt revealing who she was and though some feared, I found myself drawn to her.
There, one winter’s day, I was at the well. I was unaware that her return was emminent, I was preparing to collect enough to make my way back into town. I noticed a light that basked me. I turned slowly as I noticed her beside me. She smiled and looked at my drawings I had laid out on the floor.
“You draw?”, at first I was shocked she spoke to me.
“Yes”, I replied. Smiling back, noticing someone seeing past the scars of war that ravaged my body and face.
She smiled and as she drank from the well, her company allowed me the warmth that needed upon such a cold night. We began to talk and what spawned as seconds, were not so, but stretched to hours.
But again it was her time to go and we parted ways.
Years went by and again I found myself at the well every winter. And just like a timing of need for one another, we would meet and spend our time talking, laughing, and enjoying our company. She would tell me about her flaws and how men would be attracted but retreat or use her in ways she would never entertain. Yet to me she remained a gem.
I found myself, one winter, wanting to kiss her as she asked what I though about her. Finding my soul to be drawn by the fire. Imagining our bodies as one and taken in flight to the sky. My hands holding her against me, our chests being the wall that kept our hearts at bay. My leg intertwined, each between our thighs and our hands finding a place to hold on to as we climbed in bliss. My lips feeling her own til I found them passing words on her neck and she was tasting my own.
But reality sweeped in. I awoke from the dream or fantasy and had to make peace at each moment. We were never as lovers but became something else to each other, though I’ve always wondered.
My age hit me after years in the battlefield and I had to retire. She stopped coming to the well after awhile and retreated to my cabin. And here I am, yet still there’s nights where I still feel her warmth. Her eyes looking back within the fire. Her smile piercing my soul. Dancing gracefully amongst the stars as she would depart, flying in the sky. The heaven’s calling her home as I stayed grounded in my home.
I smiled as the wind brushed against my door, awakening me from my trancelike state. The fire harpie, princess of the sky, a red rose in the garden and a mermaid in the ocean. Words cannot describe but an attempt can be made. But then again, I’m just an old soul remembering tales of long ago….