And pale as Lily flowers to see...
Save us all from Fairy thrall..."
Sir Samuel Ferguson
Irish Fairy and Folk Tales
W. B. Yeats
Thought I'd post a snippet from my next lot of fairy tales: More Fairy Tales for Freya, to keep anyone who stumbles across my blog entertained--somewhat briefly--until my return.
The old woman’s departing breath coiled up like a luminous silken thread above her lips, awakening her from dreams of youth and age, and a passing of the days.
As she saw the thread of her breath wisping across the room, one end already slipping beneath the door and into the darkness beyond, the old woman reached up and caught it, twisting a silken loop around one finger. Although the wind howled outside her door and the midnight’s hour held all in slumberous thrall, she rose up, and winding as she went, followed the thread into the night.
Immune to the frigid elements the old woman walked out into the darkened meadow, her bare feet padding across the frosted grass, leaving no sign of her passing, her eyes upon the sickle moon above and the wheeling of the stars, seeing the heavens anew, and all the while following the path of her final exhalation….