River Mist Tales: The Lantern

Come in, come in, the mist is rising from the river, but here you’ll find some warmth, some tales, so make yourself comfortable. There’s tea in the pot, or perchance, you brought some wee dram of your own.

The chairs by the window give the best view, allow the best hearing. Ignore the cats, no matter what they say, and don’t open the window for the crows.

I’ll be working at the table in the corner, if you have any need, or she knocks upon the door. And until you stop by again, may your wonderings be bold and your imaginings be wise.

Until your next visit, until the next photograph, the next 12-line story, good fortune and safe wanderings.

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The Lantern

With its pale patina glowing in the moonlight, the sea washed bones of the long dead tree stood alone, silent.

Abigail studied the massive piece of driftwood, observing throughout the day, entranced throughout the night, especially when the full moon caressed the curving root tentacles, the sun bleached remains of its dense trunk.

As a silver veiled moon danced across a blue velvet sky, the brine kissed tree bones shimmered, swaying to music Abigail could not hear.

You can capture the song of the moon, her aunt had told her. All you need is a strong piece of driftwood and an empty lantern.

Following her aunt’s instructions, Abigail had painted the found lantern, painted it a pearly white. She had removed all the dead electronic bits and pieces, polished the glass panels.

Abigail hung the lantern from a large thick upward shooting boney root, and began her vigil.

As the night grew strong, the moon rose full, dropping her silvery viels across the backyard, taking up residence upon the massive, lonely, silent driftwood.

The lantern glowed bright disappearing into the embrace of the drifting wood, dancing with the moon.

Abigail, stilling her breath, listened, watched, but all she witnessed was the the passing of the night.

Waking to the touch of dew, Abigail retrieved the lantern, delighted with the blushing silver white blooms and the midnight blue leaves growing inside, finally hearing the distant chime of sweet silver bells.

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