The pond was thick with kelpies today. I’d look away and hear a noise or splash just beyond my vision, but when I turned to see it, it had dived back under. Some were coming on land, too, which they don’t usually care to do. It was the mist, you see. It was the rain, the damp, the coolness. It was calling them. They were slithering among the reeds, just out of my reach. I could see the paths they were taking as the reeds were trampled down, but they always kept just ahead of me. Or behind me.
I didn’t stay long, not with the memory of the first contact from the other day still fresh in my mind. No, I have not forgotten, and yes, I am
working on a plan to meet my ally. I
realize I should not have gone down to the pond today, but the memory is
haunting me. Sometimes I leave my house
and go in the opposite direction, only to somehow find myself at the pond
again. If you’ll recall, I ate a
mushroom that day. I thought I’d picked
it in the forest, but now I believe it was one of theirs brought from their own
land and placed there.
Which means I’m lucky to even be here at all. Whether I want to meet them or not seems
irrelevant. The fact is that I will. How I can turn this around to a meeting I
orchestrate is something I’m still trying to figure out.
Pond filled with kelpies. |