Yellow Wood

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by,”

Rhiannon stared at the sign in front of her, an overwhelming sense of dread blossoming inside her chest. The Yellow Wood was famous, or infamous, depending on how you viewed it. She sighed and readjusted the pack on her shoulders. Indecision was paralyzing her to the spot and the sign in front of her was neither ominous nor helpful. It was a single wooden pole with two weathered signs that directed travelers in opposite directions. The one that read The Road pointed to a well-worn and bright walkway. It was paved with light cement and was lined with beautiful flowers of every variety and color. Even from a distance, Rhiannon could tell that it would be an easy, comfortable walk that would be neither too hard nor too easy.

The other sign said The Road Not Taken and pointed toward a significantly less appealing path. This one was overgrown with bushes and vines making it difficult to see where the path even was. The canopy barely allowed any sun in, giving it a much more frightening appearance. It was obvious that this route had rarely been traveled by anyone. Something about it made her shiver. No, that was the drop in temperature she was causing. Rhiannon shifted and tried to focus on something else. 

Underneath both of these signs was a smaller, newer plaque that caught her eye. Made from a completely different material, someone else had added this to the old signpost. On it in black ink the phrase, Everyone Must Find The Path was written. Rhiannon sighed and scowled at it. What the hell did that mean? She knew this journey would test her, she just didn’t realize it would happen at the very beginning.  

Rhiannon tilted her head up to the heavens. What do I do? Somewhere, far away, she heard her grandmother's voice tell her to walk. That was her advice when Rhiannon approached her a week before about her dizzying feelings of being alive.  

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Grandma,” she’d said with more despair in her voice than she liked. “I don’t understand why I’m not good enough. I’ve learned to control my emotions. My visions are still a struggle, but that’s why the conservatory would be beneficial. Why am I not good enough for these people?” Rhiannon had tried, and failed, for a third time to enroll at the Conservatory for Emotional Behavior. As she spoke, snow began to trickle down outside the window even though it was the middle of July. Her grandmother, Ida, peered at her with her milky blue eyes. There was a familiar sparkle in them that made her look younger than she was.

“My queen, have you ever considered that perhaps, they are not good enough for you?” She asked. Despite her advanced age, Ida spoke with clear, well-earned authority. Unlike Rhiannon, Ida was a skilled visionary with thousands of people coming to see her in her youth. They sought advice, guidance, and sometimes clarity on everything. Like all the women in her family, Rhiannon had inherited her grandmother's fantastical gifts, but none of her control. This time, however, Ida did not know what she was talking about. Visionaries would only be good enough with other visionaries. That’s how it had always been.

“If that were true, then I’d be accepted there or at another visionary school, wouldn’t I?” 

“Maybe, maybe not. But just because it didn’t work out here doesn’t mean you aren’t strong enough. Look, you’ve made it snow in the middle of the summer.” Ida pointed out toward the yard with an arthritic, crooked finger. Rhiannon’s head whipped around and she groaned. That wasn’t supposed to happen anymore. She dropped her head on the armrest, defeated. Her grandmother chuckled and stroked her hair. 

“Perhaps it’s time you took a walk through The Yellow Wood.” She suggested. Rhiannon pulled her head up quickly, pulling a muscle in her neck. She clutched it and attempted to shake her head. 

“No, I can’t do that. What if I get lost? Or what if I can’t find my way back home?” She said. Ida simply smiled. She dropped her hand from the gold St. Catherine pendant that she was playing with, reached out, and cupped Rhiannon’s cheek with her small, aged hand. 

“Oh my dear, what if, indeed,” she said. 

–

Rhiannon hastily swiped away at hot tears that were flowing down her cheeks. She had always listened to her grandmother, always took her advice to heart, but this time was different. The unknown lay before her and she was terrified. She looked at the sign again, Everyone Must Find The Path. Again, she looked to the sky and knew what to do. Butterflies took off in her stomach as she finally made her decision. “Guide my feet so that I may find my way” she whispered, kissing the St. Catherine pendant that now circled her neck before striding forward into the thicket. 

Three days on The Road Not Taken and the path was still overgrown with weeds and bushes and other foliage. As she entered the Yellow Wood, she realized her shorts and socks were no match for the overgrowth. Every day they swiped and scratched at her ankles until the skin felt like it had been dipped in battery acid. Still, Rhiannon marched forward, in search of the end of her journey. That’s what it was all about, right?  Finding the end, finding herself, finding what she needed to be accepted by others as a true visionary. So, she trudged on. She was surprised to see every once in a while another sign like the one at the trailhead. Everyone Must Find The Path reminded her every so often of her confusion. What path was she supposed to find? Wasn’t she already on the path? 

The longer she remained on the road, though, the more it began to open up. All the overgrown foliage fell away to reveal something resembling a clear path. Eventually, Rhiannon came to a place that looked nothing like the path she’d been on. Here, the sun filtered through the trees creating a boca effect on the leaves along the path. It made it feel as though Rhiannon was walking through an impressionist painting. Her eyes didn’t know where to land amongst all the beauty. There were colors like she’d never seen before raining down around her. Beautiful hues of gold and green created a stained glass-like effect on her vision. Rhiannon was so distracted by everything that she failed to notice the fallen tree trunk that blocked her path. 

Her shin connected with the bark first, biting into her skin and knocking her off balance. She toppled forward, over the trunk, head-first into the dirt. Groaning, Rhiannon lay where she fell, completely dazed by the impact. When she attempted to push herself up, her vision swam and her head throbbed. “Ow,” she moaned, lowering herself back down. While she lay there, the weather began to change. The sky began to darken, the temperature dropped, and the wind whipped her hair around her face. 

“Hey! Are you okay?” A voice called out. Rhiannon’s eyes shot open. Panic set in. She hadn’t heard another voice in days…weeks? A while. How hard had she hit her head just now? Oh my god, she was concussed, delirious, hearing voices that weren’t there. She was able to push herself to a sitting position, but a wave of dizziness crashed down on her. 

“Whoa, take it easy,” the same voice said, now closer. “You took a pretty nasty fall.” 

“I’m fine,” Rhiannon said, shaking her head. Nope, bad idea. She moaned and put her hand on her temple. Suddenly, hands were on her shoulders and she froze. The hands felt real. Slowly, she opened her eyes, squinting against the painfully bright sunlight. In front of her was a young woman, probably only a few years older than her with naturally bronzed skin, long, coffee-colored hair, and lavender eyes full of concern. A fairie. So she wasn’t delirious. 

“There she is,” the woman said. “Can you tell me your name?” 

“Rhiannon,” she replied though her mouth felt like it was coated in cotton. 

“Like Fleetwood Mac? Right on,” the woman’s head bobbed as she spoke. “I’m Faye.” 

“Faye the Fairie?” Rhiannon asked skeptically, but Faye simply smiled at her. 

“Yeah, my parents weren’t super creative,” she shrugged then turned her attention to Rhiannon’s forehead. “You’re pretty banged up after that fall. Let’s hang out here for a few minutes.” She threw her legs out in front of her and sat down on the trail next to Rhiannon. 

“You don’t have to stay with me,” Rhiannon said. Faye, who was already pulling a snack out of her pocket, tilted her head to face her with a soft smile. 

“I know, but everyone needs a friend. Especially when they’re down on their luck,” she said. “Or down on their luck because of a stupid tree.” She added. For the first time in a while, Rhiannon felt laughter bubbling up inside of her. She didn’t want to let it out, but it came anyway, loud and medicinal. Faye joined her and their combined laughter filled the air around them. It was, much to Rhiannon’s surprise, helping the ache in her head. 

“So, what brings you out here?” Faye asked after she’d calmed down. Rhiannon shrugged. 

“Just out for a walk,” she said, and Faye’s head bobbed in understanding. They sat in silence for a while. After finishing her snack, Faye tugged at blades of grass and shredded them between her fingers. While she sat there, Rhiannon thought about everything that led her to this moment. All she wanted was to fit in, be good enough, and yet with every step she took on this forsaken road, she felt herself growing further and further away from those she wanted to be around. Faye was the first being she’d encountered where she didn’t feel like an ‘other’ and it was comforting. 

“Well, I’m starting to feel better,” Rhiannon said after the weather began to even out again, an indication that her emotions were also evening out. “I think I’ll be on my way.” 

“Sure, let me help you up,” Faye jumped up and extended a hand to her. Rhiannon accepted it and allowed herself to stand. After sitting on the ground for so long, her hips were sore and her head still ached, but thankfully she was no longer dizzy. 

“Thanks for sitting with me,” she said and Faye waved dismissively. 

“It’s no problem. Besides, it was fun!” She smiled wide. “Take it easy and watch where you’re going.” She added, pointing to the trail ahead. Rhiannon nodded. 

“I will,” 

“And hey, don’t worry about the conservatory. They wouldn’t know what to do with you anyway,” 

“Thanks. Wait,” Rhiannon paused. When did she mention the conservatory? 

“You didn’t,” Faye said, answering Rhiannon’s unasked question. “I know it’s really rude to read without permission, but you were hurt and I had to make sure I at least knew your name in case anything happened. Plus, you’re thinking really loud right now.” Her comments left Rhiannon stunned. She was a reader? 

“I can’t believe you’re a reader,” she murmured. “And we’re having a civil conversation. Readers and visionaries hate each other.” Faye shrugged. 

“That’s the beauty of it all, right? We can be different and still fit in,” her lavender eyes sparkled with joy. “Well, anyway, good luck on your travels.” She waved before padding off back into the woods. 

“Yeah,” Rhiannon muttered, mostly to herself. 

“Oh,” Faye stopped and turned back. “You’re not a visionary, by the way. I don’t know who sold you that idea, but you are an empath. A beautiful, wonderful, and extraordinary empath.” And with that, Faye stepped back into the woods, disappearing as quickly as she arrived. 

Rhiannon stayed where she was, glued to the spot in shock. So much happened in such a short amount of time that she had no idea where to begin processing it all. What did Faye mean she wasn’t a visionary? Of course, she was! That’s the gift her grandmother had passed on to her! Just as she’d passed it on to her mother, her sister, and her cousins. Rhiannon was a visionary. Huffing, she grabbed her pack, ignored the dull throb that was still in her head, and marched on down the path. It was time to find the end of this journey once and for all. 

–

Faye’s words were still with her weeks later when she stumbled onto an abandoned campground further on down the road. She didn’t have a tent, but she didn’t need one thanks to the makeshift hovel that remained after someone else’s feeble attempts. Rhiannon dropped her things and began setting up for the night. Dusk was settling in and she wanted a fire immediately. Occasionally, she thought of Faye’s words and audible grunted in annoyance. 

Where did that fairie get off speaking to her like that? She was a visionary. That’s what she’d been studying her whole life. So what if her emotions manipulated the weather from time to time? Everyone did that, even readers! Okay, maybe not readers, but other powers did. Frustrated, Faye sat with her head in her hand, staring at the flames as they danced around the fire pit. When she was finally ready to lie down, she climbed into the hovel. Her hand brushed against something. Startled, she reached for it and pulled out a small, well-worn book. Rhiannon clambered back out to the fire for more light where she could make out the title on the cover, The Collected Work of Robert Frost Vol. 1. She ran her fingers over the words and smiled to herself. 

The spine was cracked and almost non-existent as if the last owner had kept it perpetually open. The edges of the pages were yellowed and frayed with several corners dog-eared. She opened the book randomly to the poem The Road Not Taken. The words were comforting. They reminded her of her grandmother and all the advice she bestowed upon her over the years. Rhiannon found herself crying again. Around her, rain battered down on the campground while a perfect circle remained around herself and the fire. Rhiannon looked up to the inky black sky. Trees blocked her view of the stars yet she knew in her heart, her grandmother was looking down on her. 

Rhiannon went back to the poem, reading a line that stuck out to her. “Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.” She thought about her motivations when beginning this journey. All she had wanted was to fit in, to belong somewhere, to something. She wanted to be good enough for those around her. Would she ever be? That afternoon she’d spent with Faye had been one of the best experiences she’d ever had. The conversation had been effortless and the connection had been real. According to the conservatory, that wasn’t supposed to happen. Different powers didn’t get along. If you weren’t good enough for your own kind, you wouldn’t be good enough for another. But she was good enough for Faye. She didn’t understand it, but maybe she was starting to.  

The next morning, Rhiannon set off of the path again. While she walked, she hummed a little tune to herself, a song her grandmother used to sing. She was barely a hundred yards away from the campground when she came upon another one of those signs, the ones that read Everyone Must Find The Path. She stared at it, a sudden sense of excitement sending electricity through her. Quickly, she pulled her rucksack around and dug through until she found what she was looking for. A pen. When she was done with her task, she smiled before setting off down the path for the next one, the end of the path no longer on her mind. The sun burst through the canopy above with a force like nothing Rhiannon had ever seen before. She realized she was doing that. Her visions had never been this powerful–she had never been this powerful. She continued on her journey, excited to see what waited for her ahead. There would be pain and struggle, she knew that, but there would be more of this feeling as well. 

In her wake, signs along The Road Not Taken would now read, Everyone Must Find Their Path. A hopeful reminder to anyone who followed in her footsteps, there was no end to this journey. And that was good enough for her.