The Fairy Pendant

I wake up in a sweat. Not because I’m cold or afraid, but from a damn hot flash. Off go the covers, again! So annoying. As I try to cool down, I focus on my breathing. In for ten, out for ten. In for ten, out for ten. The heat slowly dissipates, the sweat begins to dry, and I continue to breathe normally. Now I’m cold. I grab the covers and pull them back up to my neck. I finally close my eyes and fall asleep.

I suddenly feel that I’m being lifted out of my bed, through the roof, and up into the sky. I can’t tell if I’m still in my body or not. The sensation is surreal but somewhat blissful. I have the odd thought that I’m glad I wore my nightgown and didn’t sleep in the nude, as usual. Strange… Did I subconsciously know I was going to go somewhere tonight?

I’m pulled towards a shimmering light with a mix of white, purple, and blue. At first, I’m blinded by the brightness and have to shade my eyes till they adjust. When I can finally look around, I see that everything—the trees, the leaves, the flowers—is surrounded with a soft white glow. It looks magical!

When I touch down, I can feel the cool blades of bright green grass under my feet. I pinch myself to see if it’s real. Yup! I felt that.

I slowly walk around and run my fingers against the bark of an oak tree. I get a whiff of some decaying leaves and the moss on the ground. I hear birds singing and the whooshing sound of water. If this isn’t real, I sure wish it were.

I smile and run like a child to discover what’s ahead. I can see a large rock protruding in the middle of a small lake or pond. I walk to the edge, and the powdery grains of white sand creep in between my toes as I wiggle them around. I move closer to the water and dip my big toe in. It feels warm. Small pebbles wash up against the shore. I’m amazed at the beautiful scenery surrounding me.

Wow, this is the best dream I’ve had in a long while! Well, maybe after the one with the sexy guy, the wine, and the fireplace. But this is a distinct second.

I splash around in the water. It’s fun and so freeing. I’d love to take my summer vacation here. Or better yet, have my own little cottage with vegetable and flower gardens. Oh, and a dog—a chocolate-brown labradoodle. Might as well throw in the sexy guy and the fireplace too. It’s my dream!

I’m startled out of my reverie as a hand with long, bony fingers pops out of the water. I quickly move backward onto the beach. The hand is holding something. I don’t have my glasses, so I can’t quite make out what it is. Weird. Shouldn’t my vision be perfect if I’m in a dream?

Anyhow, the hand is sticking straight up, so it can’t be a dead body. I’m not sure if I should be more scared of a dead body, or if it’s attached to something alive. I look around; there’s no one else in sight. The birds are still chirping. That’s a good sign, right?

A feeling comes over me: I need to wade out towards it. Really! I think. This better not be one of those stupid horror movie dreams. I deliberately don’t watch those for this reason.

I slowly step forwards, into the water.

The closer I get to the hand, the more creeped out I feel. Part of me wants to turn around and get the hell out of the water—or even better, end this dream. But I continue until my outstretched fingers can almost touch it. Loosely cradled in the hand is a small, ornate gold box. Should I take it? I wonder.

Then I see the word “AMY” carved on the lid.

Holy crap! That’s my name, or maybe I’m just remembering the girl with the same name in the movie I watched last night? Anyhow, I tell myself, nothing really bad can happen in a dream. Can it?

Still, I don’t want to get too close, in case a body does pop up. I stop and stretch out my arm and hand, just close enough to grab the box. I snatch it and run back to the beach.

My heart is racing. When I turn around, the hand is gone.

OMG! Why am I still in this dream?

I take a moment to examine the box. It’s a small treasure chest made of gold and silver metals with a lock on it. There are strange symbols on the outside of the box. I have no idea what they mean.

When I look up, there is a tiny flying creature buzzing in the air in front of me. It’s the size of a fairy but also kinda looks like an elf. What, am I now in some fantasy story? The creature flies around me, then I hear it whisper something in my ear. It’s in a strange language, so I can’t make out what it’s saying. It flies down to the box, holds out a key and unlocks the chest, then flitters away.

I remove the padlock but hesitate to open it, unsure what I’ll find. When I finally lift the lid to peer inside, I’m wide awake. It’s now morning, and I’m sitting up in my bed with the chest on my lap. Okay, this is really weird; I thought I was dreaming? I look into the box and reach in to find a chain with an ornate gold locket. There’s a small, emerald-green gem on the front. It looks very old. I open it to find a painting of a young woman. Does she have pointed ears? Gran, is this one of your tricks?

Unlike my mother, Gran loves to dabble in witchy stuff. She has a huge collection of crystals, incense, and oracle cards. When I was young, she would show me how to mix herbs and essential oils together. She said we were making special magical potions. I once made one we called “Skunk Gunk,” which smelled horrible. I gave some to my brother for his birthday, as a joke. Of course, he proceeded to spray it around in school and got detention for a week.

I close my eyes for a moment, smiling at the memory.

I slide my legs over the edge of the bed and slip on my poufy sloth slippers. I get up, put the locket back in the chest, and place it on the edge of the night table. I grab my blue plush Cookie Monster bathrobe and head for the kitchen. I’m going to need a really large black coffee with a shot of expresso.

As I prepare it, I try to recall what happened last night. I had dinner alone while binging my favorite series, The Rings of Power. I’d gone through my usual rituals: taken my progesterone and calcium pills, slathered on my estrogen gel, done a few stretches, said some gratitude prayers, and gone to bed. I wasn’t thinking of Gran before I fell asleep. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

But then I think, Even if it was Gran, I’ve never seen this chest or locket before! And how did I end up with it in my hands this morning? I take a huge sip of my coffee, then another. I go get the chest, sit it down on the coffee table, and grab my cell phone to call Gran.

After the fifth ring, she answers.

“Beyond and Back Again Crystals. How may I help you gain more clarity?”

“Hi Gran, it’s Amy!”

“Oh! Hello, my wonderful star child. How did you sleep? It was such a beautiful harvest full moon last night,” she replies.

How is it possible that she’s always so bubbly and cheerful?

“Things are fine,” I tell her. “But I did have a really strange dream.”

“That’s not unusual during this celestial configuration.”

I love her, but more than half the time, I’ve no idea what all her mumbo jumbo means.

“Well… in my dream, I was standing near a pond and a bony hand came out of the water. It handed me a chest with a locket inside. The chest had my name on it. Isn’t that weird?” I go on to describe the items.

There is silence on the other end.

“Gran? Are you still there?”

“Yes, yes! Sorry, I have a customer. I’ll have to call you back! Have a sensational day, my dearest!” She hangs up.

I put the phone down, a little disappointed. I grab my coffee mug and take another sip. I pull the locket from the chest and stare at it.

A few hours later, I can no longer stand the suspense. I get dressed, put the locket and the chest in a tote bag, and head over to my gran’s shop. When I open the door, the sound of fairy bells chime.

I haven’t been here in over a year. I used to love coming to the store when I was younger. I would check out all the crystals, the books, the tarot and oracle cards, smell the many scented candles, and imagine all the fantasy figurines holding a feast somewhere in a faraway land—many of them elves and fairies.

I see Gran serving a customer and decide to look around. I spot a colorful witch ball hanging in the window. That’s new! There’s an amethyst crystal mobile hanging from the ceiling. I look at the price tag. Wow… 175 bucks. Business must be good! I keep browsing, when all of a sudden, I feel something or someone looking at me. I turn around, but there’s no one there. All I see is a little twinkle or a light, something like the one from a firefly.

My gran spots me and heads over. She’s slightly taller than me and kind of looks like a German matron. She puts her arms around me, and even though she’s now seventy-nine, it still feels like she’s hugging the stuffing out of me.

“Hi, Gran! I was hoping you’d have a few minutes to chat? I need to show you something.”

“Sure, I always have time for you! Let’s go to the back room. Maybury,” she says to her long-time friend and associate, “you remember my granddaughter, Amy? She’s retired now—and a writer!”

“Oh, yes. We haven’t seen you in a while. Welcome back!”

“Thanks,” I reply. “Been a little busy,” I tell her. Then I smile.

“Can you please take care of the customers for me while we go and chat?” adds Gran.

“Of course!” Maybury replies with a smile back at me.

I follow my gran to the back room. The door is open, and we have to pass through a garland of silvery stars and moons. Inside, it looks more like entering a fortune teller’s studio than an office. We sit at a table with a red tablecloth on it. Gold star decals are sprinkled all over the top, with a half-burnt sage candle and a box of wooden matches sitting in the center.

“Are you still doing readings?” I ask her.

“Not many. I leave that to the new star children now!” she says with a smile.

I take the chest out of the tote bag and put it on the table. I open the lid.

Gran peers at it. She looks perplexed. “Where did you say you got this chest?” she asks me.

“I woke up with it in my hands this morning.”

“Amazing!”

“Yes, but I don’t know how it got there. Did you bring it to me?”

“No! But I know who it belonged to: my mother! Her name was also Amy. Actually, it was ‘Aimée,’ French for ‘beloved.’ You look a lot like her. She was from France, and she was fascinated with the stories of fairies and elves. One day, she decided she was going to travel the world documenting stories about them—her parents were well off, so they let her do as she pleased.”

Gran opens the chest and removes the locket. She holds it as if it’s a cherished heirloom.

“I haven’t seen this in over fifty years.” She slowly opens it. “Oh my! How beautiful she was.”

“Who is she? She has pointed ears like an elf or is she a fairy?”

“Well, you’re probably not going to believe the story… I didn’t when my mother first shared it with me. While your great-grandmother was traveling through England, she came upon a fairy glen somewhere near a place called the Tor. It was a large mound surrounded by a crystal blue lake with a tall rock tower that stood at the top. She’d heard stories from the nearby townsfolk about a group of fairies who lived there. While your great-gran was exploring, she fell into the water. Nearly drowned. But a young fairy named Loryndiel saved her.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“My mother painted her portrait and put the image in this locket. The runes on the chest spell Loryndiel’s name.”

“But how did I get it? It came out of nowhere.”

“There’s a lot we don’t understand about the world and all the amazing things in it, my dear child. We often don’t believe what we can’t see. Or is it that we don’t see what we can’t believe? If this has come to you, it’s because you’re meant to have it.”

She gets up and rummages through some old journals sitting on a shelf of an overstuffed and dusty bookcase.

“You may as well have these too,” she tells me. “They were my mother’s journals about the fairies and elves. I think you may find them interesting. They might even spur your imagination. I remember you used to love making up stories about all the fantasy figurines when you came into the store.”

Pages are sticking out every which way in one of the three journals. As I open one of them, a sheet of yellowed parchment falls out. There is a pencil sketch of a fairy on it with notes scribbled here and there.

“She was a pretty good artist.”

“Yes! But as she grew older, the joy and wonder she held about this fantasy world she’d discovered turned to anxiety and sadness once she became trapped in the real world with my father. He was a practical man who had no use for flights of fancy. In his mind, a woman of good standing shouldn’t waste her time with frivolous thoughts and pursuits.”

How could he stop her from doing something she enjoyed? I wonder. But then I remember such a time in my own life. Relationships aren’t easy. Sometimes, they demand too much sacrifice and compromise. But now things are different. I’m retired and on my own. I can do anything I choose. In my old job, I wrote communication strategies, administrative manuals, correspondence, and business articles. Maybe it’s time to try writing about something less stuffy and more fun. Something I’ve always thought only existed in my imagination—until now.

“I still don’t understand how the chest and the locket ended up in my bedroom!”

“Is it that important to know where they came from? Why not simply think of them as a gift? To me, it didn’t matter if my mother’s stories were real or not; they always made me smile. When my father died, she gave me the money to open this store. She said that life should be an adventure, and she always encouraged me to search for my own truths.”

We chat a little more, then hug and say goodbye. I promise I’ll be back soon.

I head back to my apartment. I put the chest on the mantle of my faux fireplace and sit down with the journals. I catch myself smiling as I pour through them, amazed at the possibility that my great-gran might have actually discovered a whole new world. I’m excited and inspired. I go and grab the locket and put it on.

I open it and peer at the image.

“Great-gran, thanks for sending me this gift. Hello, Loryndiel! I’m pleased to meet you. Thank you for saving my gran so that I might read your story.”

I go to sit down at my computer and start typing:

Chapter 1

I didn’t know my great-gran very well, but someone tried to put out her light. I’m going to try to re-ignite it by telling you about something she was passionate about and her wonderful adventures into a realm beyond imagination...