The Call

Her name was Beatrice. Her parents called her Bea for short. She was headed to the woods alone again. As an only child, she had become content finding ways to entertain herself. In fact, she was quite comfortable being alone, and being alone in the woods suited her just fine. She wore her favorite skirt today. A long blue cotton one with yellow and white flowers on it. This one was her favorite because it had pockets (she always found that she needed pockets any time she went into the woods). She walked barefoot, as usual, to the path that led her into the woods.

Stopping at the old wooden sign marking the entrance to the woods, she noticed something different. It always read: ENTER: BY WAY OF THE DANDELION PATH. Today, the letters (carved into the wood who knows how many decades ago) looked off kilter. She placed her finger on one of the letters and the small piece of wood that displayed the letters D-E-L-I-O-N fell, and was now dangling from an old rusty nail, revealing the word: D-A-N-G-E-R, that had been hidden underneath. She had been roaming these woods for most of her childhood and she had never felt threatened or in danger in them. They brought her comfort in her solitude. She hesitated to enter for a moment, but she trusted these woods, and besides, she had exploring to do. Rocks to find, salamanders to chase, trees to say hello to, dandelions to pick and wishes to make. She had always felt comfort in being with the trees and flowers. She especially loved dandelions. On the path, the trees let in enough sun to let the dandelions grow. Most of the time, she left them alone for the bees and butterflies, but sometimes she picked them. Especially when they had reached the “wishing” stage. Today, she found a pappus to pluck. Making her wish, she blew the cottony ball, watching the feathery hairs scatter into the wind. They looked illuminated. Shiny and sparkly, like glitter floating through the air. “How magical!” she thought to herself, as she continued down the path.

But as she walked, a strange feeling came over her that she couldn't quite put a finger on, and it seemed like it was darker than usual for this time of day. When she got to the place where she had to jump the creek, she stopped to look for rocks. She did this often if she was not in a hurry. Bea loved to stop here and step into the water. She would ground herself there in the creek bed, feeling the stones on the bottoms of her feet, watching the salamanders, letting the cool water rush across her ankles. She would look for stones peeking out from the water. If she found one to her liking, it usually ended up in her pocket. Today, she thought she had time to be slow, and for a moment, she forgot about the darkening path.  As she scanned the creek bed for stones of interest, she saw a shiny, black stone with two points at the top and a rounded bottom. It stood out in its shiny blackness, and it reminded her of the face of a cat. When she picked up the stone, a voice came out of nowhere. Was it inside her head? Was it whispering in the breeze that had just come through to say hello to the leaves on the trees? Was it Veronica? Bea was an only child who had a secret imaginary sister. Her name was Veronica. Veronica was who she normally talked with in her thoughts. “Come child,” the voice said. Despite just coming from the cool waters of the creek, the stone felt warm in her hand and had a vibrational sound. Almost like a cat purring. She rubbed it between her thumb and pointer finger, feeling its smoothness. “Ok, shiny black stone, you will come home with me,” and into her pocket it went. Stepping out of the creek, she cut her foot on a sharp rock, jarring her back to the fact that she needed to get moving. She wished she had worn some shoes today.

It was early afternoon, but it was getting dark, and the trees were closing in on the path. Her foot hurt, and her familiar surroundings had become strange, and she realized she was lost in her own woods. This did not feel like the DANDELION path, and panic began to set in. She reached into her pocket to make sure the black cat stone was still there. It was, much to her relief, and as she touched it, and felt the vibration, a warm feeling and a calm came over her. Bea started to think that the trees were closing in to protect her. “Keep going child. Down the path. You must continue,” the voice said.

Bea walked on in confusion but feeling the warmth of the stone in her pocket and trusting the trees, she finally made her way into a clearing that revealed a small cabin she had never seen before. It looked dark and lonely, but something told her to enter and hesitantly, she did. There were many items in the cabin, all covered in a thick coating of dust. There was a bench, under which sat a pair of dusty old boots that looked to be falling apart at the seams. There were pots and pottery that looked as if they had once housed several types of plants, and shelves of pottery, dishes, and bottles. An old wooden chair sat in one corner and a broom encased in cobwebs was propped up in another corner. As she glanced at the broom, the voice made itself heard once again. “Sweep child, sweep,” it said. “You must clear out the confusion and cobwebs.” She took the broom from the cobwebby corner and gripped it with her hands. There was the vibration again, coming from the broom. The same kind of vibration she got from the cat stone. As she began to sweep, her mind began to clear, and her fear of the darkening afternoon began to dissolve. Her foot no longer hurt, and looking down at it, she noticed the cut was no longer there. She swept and cleared all the corners from top to bottom, along with the bench, the dishes, bottles, pottery, and the chair. She found an old piece of cloth and dusted off the old boots. The more she swept, and the more she dusted, the lighter the room got. As the light came through, the dust motes floating through the air became shimmering particles of light, spreading throughout the little cabin, like the ones of the dandelion pappus from earlier. Glancing out the window, she noticed the tree branches began to open back up to the oncoming light.

Bea began to feel drowsy. Feeling warm and unafraid now, she decided to lay down on the bench and rest for a bit. Soon, she drifted off to sleep. She dreamt of the DANDELION path, the trees, the cat stone, the darkness and confusion, and the mysterious little cabin she had stumbled upon in the woods. As she entered the cabin, this time in her dream state, a woman sat in the chair Bea had seen in the corner. On her lap lay a sleeping black cat. The woman was dressed in black velvet and wore a black hat. Her skin was smooth and beautiful, but it was not normal. It was ever so subtly an iridescent green, refracting peacock blues, golds, and oranges, like a Labradorite stone. Her eyes were hazel, speckled with topaz and green. They glowed with a warmth Bea had never quite seen before. “Come child,” the woman beckoned. “Take my hand and let me get a good feel for you. We do not have much time.” Bea slowly walked toward the woman and took her hand. Her hand was warm, and a loving feeling came from it. It was the vibration that Bea was now getting accustomed to. She felt it so strongly that she thought she might faint into a dream within a dream (somehow, Bea knew she was dreaming). “Yes child,” said the woman, “You do know the old ways. Go back into the world and do what you can to help. Do not ask yourself how or why. It will awaken in you. You see child, there is no DANGER on the DANDELION path, but there are always obstacles, trials, confusion, and sometimes fear. You will work through these. For you already know the dandelion is a good weed of healing and resilience, and in its dying state, it is a bringer of wishes granted.” The cat jumped off the woman’s lap and the woman took Bea into her arms and kissed her ever so slightly on the cheek, as the cat circled and nudged around both of their legs and ankles. She asked if she could see the black stone that Bea had placed in her pocket. Bea handed the stone to the woman, and she folded her fingers around it as she closed her eyes and smiled. “You will be awake soon” she said. “Goodbye, sweet child.” As Bea awoke, she heard herself calling out: “But wait! Please! what is your name?” 

Bea sat up on the bench disappointed that she had woken up before the woman could say her name. She looked down to find that the old boots were now polished to a beautiful shiny black, and had found their way onto her feet and were a perfect fit. Next to her sat the black cat. The cat wore a collar made of beautiful Labradorite beads. Reaching for the tag on the collar and turning it in her fingers to read the engraving, it revealed the name “Veronica.” Bea smiled and stroked the cat. When she checked her pocket for the black stone, it was gone. “Well, Veronica,” she said, “I guess it’s time to for us to go home”. Bea stood up and feeling the magic coming from the boots tingling on her feet, she took the broom into her hand and walked out of the cabin and back to the DANDELION path with Veronica by her side. As she looked back, Bea saw the cabin slowly begin to disappear. It vanished back into the trees, to be discovered again one day by another little girl walking along the DANDELION path brave enough to trust her instincts, who may likely find a shiny black stone with two pointy edges and rounded bottom, which reminds her of the face of a cat.