The Earring and the Gypsy Ghost

How can I find the words to describe it? It was infinitely worth millions, an enlightenment in an otherwise ordinary world. It was an escape into fantasy, an abundance of memories derived from the unimaginable realm of another reality. Thus, my unexpected journey began.

It was an ordinary night, like any other, but unusually dark and eerily quiet with an ominous foreboding of the otherworldly. My mistress slept in her antique bed. Only the smallest sliver of moonlight escaped through the blinds, illuminating the room. Unable to sleep, I lay on the mahogany dresser alongside my other half, comfortably situated. I was dozing off when she leaned over and stared at me. Without the slightest warning, she swooped me up and dangled me before gleaming eyes, smiling mischievously. Clutching me tightly in the palm of her opaque hand, she disappeared into a parallel spectrum where I’d never been. Patia, the kidnapping gypsy of a ghost, had taken me captive, away from all I knew. It was only me she’d taken. I was alone and terrified whilst my sleeping companion and mistress were oblivious of my predicament.

I found myself in a new world where Patia laid me in the palm of her hand to study my shimmery artwork. She appeared well pleased with her find as she lifted me, placing me in the hole of her right ear. There I hung gracefully, despite the horror housed inside my delicate frame.

We were next in a dimly lit room where Patia stood before a long mirror. I was able to study the ghostly sprite who’d abducted me, and I could scarce take my eyes from her reflection. She wore a billowing white linen shirt that fell off delicate shoulders and a purple skirt that billowed around her slender frame, reaching her ankles. A colorful sash was tied tightly around her waist, and she was barefoot. No wonder she had tread so silently! Golden hair composed of ringlets cascaded past her shoulders. Though she was obviously older – maybe middle-aged - she was captivating. The irony struck me. How could she look so enchanting despite the fact she was of the other world - literally dead - and from her dated attire, had been so for long years?

I was contemplating an escape when Patia laughed and began to spin, dancing to music rippling across the air. It was a rhapsody - Hungarian - a haunting yet brilliantly bold composition played on a violin by a man standing before a campfire. Many others, also specters, filled the circle, drinking, dancing, and conversing. Patia was completely relaxed, enthralled by the music and blazing fire. I dangled from her earlobe, spinning with each turn she made. A tall man with broad shoulders and wavy hair approached until he stood directly in front of Patia. Extending his arm, he encircled her waist and pulled her nearer. Patia smiled brazenly and moved provocatively against him. Horrified, I was forced to watch as the two locked lips in a passionate kiss. I felt every heated breath, every sensuous movement. My silver filigree grew warm. My mistress had never behaved in such a way. How could this ghostly gypsy be such a wanton seductress? I had no idea spirits acted with such abandon.

It was a long, eventful night. If I’d had real eyes, I would have kept them shut. Instead, I became privy to sensual delights and heard words of desire. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but it was quite the experience and an education to say the least. You may badger me endlessly, but I’ll never admit how it made me feel. I will tell you, however, it was divine, pure unadulterated bliss, derived from that which others only whisper of in secret.

The three of us watched the sunrise on the crest of the hill near the caravan. The man’s arm never left Patia’s shoulders as his breath fell on me often when he whispered endearments in her ear. I could feel the shiver of excitement course through her form. It was no wonder she’d wanted such beautiful trinkets like me to entice such a handsome spirit. I was contemplating why Patia would not choose to stay with this man forever when she abruptly switched our location. I found myself along for the ride.

I was dangling in the wind from Patia’s earlobe, looking out over lapping waves of water, the slight sound of their movement hitting the stone canal walls, the smell of fresh fish and salt water filling the air. Gondolas moved over the glasslike water as men who propelled them forward sang beautiful love songs. “O sole mio / Sta nfronte a te”. I suddenly longed for my other half as the words lifted and moved across the Italian skies. We were in Venice. It was such a lovely city.

Patia began to walk along the cobblestone streets, pausing by a local vendor’s booth as she admired an array of beautifully crafted masks. It must be Carnival! Oh, but this was wonderful. I had always longed to see Venice during Carnival. Swiftly, without notice, Patia swiped an emerald green, silver threaded mask and placed it across her ghostly visage. Like myself, the mask disappeared into the other realm. As throngs of people began to fill the walkway, she moved much like I imagined a fairy or nymph would, weaving in and out amongst the crowd. Here and there, one or two living creatures gazed in surprise at my new mistress, and I quickly realized they could see Patia despite her ghostly form. Music filled the air, food was in abundance, and drink overflowed wherever we turned. The night was dark but lit with a thousand candles and torches – a celebratory event to be sure.

Eventually, Patia stopped in front of a shop. Her face was full of dark apprehension as she made her way up the steps and entered the store. Scattered as far as the eye could see was an array of candles. Tarot cards were spread on every table while an old woman, her face painted harsh with makeup and her clothing completely black, sat alone at a table slowly turning the cards over. She never looked up, never paused in what she was doing, but still she spoke, “Benvenuta, Patia. Take a seat at my table and allow me to tell you segretos - secrets your soul longs to hear.”

Patia eyed the old woman cautiously, but still, she took a seat, not surprised that the old woman could see her or knew her name.

After long minutes, the fortune teller looked up, her eyes as crystal blue as newly bloomed violets. She smiled. “I’ve been waiting. They told me you would visit questa notte.”

I was astonished by the fortune teller’s second sight, but Patia seemed unimpressed as she leaned forward across the table, resting her chin on her hand. “Tell me something new, old woman. I long for a segreto that is not yet known to me.”

The old woman flipped a card over and studied it. Eventually, she looked up and spoke. “You were cherished by many but seen by few whilst you lived. Once a noblewoman, you sought freedom from those chains. You were a fiore blooming in a dry dessert. A flower cannot, however, survive without sustenance, and thus you succumbed to the hunger. In another realm there is one who still calls your name, longing for you in the dark of night. I can lead you, mia cara….”

I was listening to what the old fortune teller was saying, completely enraptured by her words and wondering who called Patia’s name each night – and if I’d ever be able to find my way back home if she ventured forth - when, to my utter astonishment, Patia stood up so quickly she upended her chair. I dangled precariously from her earlobe.

“You old, nasty strega,” she said, venom dripping from her voice. “I was not born to this world today. I see you for your witchy wiles and wicked ways. I will not go where you seek to lead and be trapped for all eternity.”

The old woman immediately began to utter a string of words, but Patia’s laughter filled the room as she turned and left. I could feel the strength that emanated from her form as she escaped the incantations of the witch.

We were now somewhere completely different, surrounded by a flowing river and many buildings. Without missing a beat, Patia had left the old crone behind. Looking to the right, I saw the Eifel Tower and realized we were in Paris. Excitement moved through me. People filled the walkways and tables of outdoor cafes, drinking and eating delicious food. Lights twinkled all along the Seine River. The ambience was one of artistic delight, creating a sense of pure freedom.

Patia moved with ease, unnoticed, down the walkways, the voices of local patrons a blur as she did so. From inside a small café came the sound of a lively jazz song. Drawn by the music, Patia entered the establishment, taking a seat at a table where two gentlemen sat, drinking of the forbidden green fairy or absinthe. One was a tall, slender man with blonde hair. He was more than attractive – there was a charismatic nature to him that radiated with every word he spoke and every smile he made. The second gentleman was a bit shorter and stockier with dark, wavy hair and a thick beard. Patia leaned forward in her seat and playfully touched her hair, twirling a ringlet round her finger. The dark haired gentleman suddenly paused in the midst of the intense conversation and turned toward her. At first, I wondered if he could see Patia, but at the confused look in his eyes, I realized he felt her presence – or sensed something unknown - but could not see her. How in the world could such a ghostly creature enrapture the attention of an earthly man? It was unthinkable, yet completely fascinating. Patia smiled mischievously and softly blew the man a kiss.

The bearded man shivered, then leaned back in his chair. Looking down at his drink, he smiled. I knew he was wondering just how much he’d drunk and all because of Patia’s teasing ways. He lifted his gaze and looked all about the room before turning to the other man.

“Damn, Scott! I swear I just felt the tender touch of a woman! For Christ sake, just how many drinks have we had tonight?” I watched him shake his head as he spoke, clearly perplexed by the situation at hand.

Patia leaned back and crossed her arms in front of her, laughing with delight. This must be one of her most favorite things to do. Surprisingly, I could not help but think it was all that, and a bit more, of mischievous fun.

The blonde haired gentleman threw back his head and laughed. “Good God, Ernest, there’s no woman within easy reach of our table. Perhaps the fact that we touch on the sordid topic of love all too frequently in our writing has twisted your mind. Zelda would say you’ve gone delusional on us, old chap. As for me, I think mayhap you’ve had a bit too much to drink, and I should just finish this off instead…..” he said as he reached for the other man’s drink.

The bearded man growled and grabbed ahold of his drink, downing the rest without interruption. Scott laughed and ordered another round.

Suddenly, a light bulb was lit in my nonexistent head, and I realized just who these two gentlemen were – they had to be none other than F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway. Oh be still my heart! Everything indicated it was the roaring 1920’s, and we were in gay Paris. Ironically, my dreams were fast becoming a reality in this otherworldly realm. However, before I could enjoy the wonder of it all, I found myself whisked away with Patia to yet a new location. And just when I was so over the moon. Why, Patia, why? Could you not have lingered a little longer with Fitzgerald and Hemingway? Oh, but the secrets their conversation would have divulged!

Looking all about me, I saw we were now in a very old European city. Cobblestone streets and Gothic styled, fantastical, avant-garde architecture surrounded us. Once again, I heard strains of music drifting across the air, the haunting notes from a Spanish guitar. Catalan Spanish could be heard as people walked down the streets, talking amongst themselves. We must be in Barcelona, Spain. The city was well known for its ancient history, dating back to the Iberian and Roman Periods. Yes, Patia was quite the travel agent in this, my unexpected travel endeavor.

We strolled down the darkened walkway until suddenly, Patia stopped just beneath a lantern, and whispered, “Juan Luis!” I felt fear and a shudder move through her and immediately sought the source of it. Directly in front of us, just away from the lantern’s light, I saw a tall, dark figure. He wore a cape, a hat, and carried a cane. Why on earth was this man dressed as though he lived in the 18th century?

“Buenas noches, mi dulce cosita,” the man said, his thick Spanish accent dripping with something akin to venom. It was all really quite strange, especially considering the fact he had just called Patia his “sweet, little thing”. I could feel the shivers that began to rack her slender, translucent form, and I knew it was not excitement but a horrible, encompassing fear instead.

The stranger stepped into the light, his eyes turning into gleaming pools of black coal as he eyed my shiny, silver finish – or was it the length of Patia’s neck he watched so closely? He smiled. It was a deadly, evil, hungry smile that I instinctively realized was reflective of nothing but death itself. The man’s mouth opened and fangs protruded as he took another step toward Patia, his purpose becoming quite clear.

It took all I could to move myself in an attempt to awaken Patia from her trancelike state, but move I did, thrashing about in her earhole and hitting the side of her neck. Startled, Patia took a swift step backwards and snapped her fingers before we disappeared again. All I could think was that I’d had no earthly idea that vampires were a part of any reality, less alone on the other side. Still, regardless, I realized we'd just escaped an evil end with this creature of darkness.

I wanted to close the eyes I did not have and shut out the world - no matter where we were going next, but of a sudden, I realized I was at home again. Thank the heavens! Relief embodied my shiny existence as Patia carefully removed me from her earlobe and placed me on a shelf on the wall in my mistress’s bedroom. She gave me a glance of fondness, as if she realized I had saved her from an unfortunate fate, before she lightly touched me and disappeared into the night. It was evening and all was quiet, but I knew it was no longer the same night I’d been abducted. Just how long had I been away, I wondered. Exhausted from my travels, I eventually dozed off.

I awoke early the next morning, startled by my mistress standing beside the shelf and peering at me. As she smiled, I was amazed to find that in the time I’d been away, many more fine lines had filled her face and her hair was streaked with more fine spun silver. She lifted me and made her way to the jewelry armoire where she reached inside and pulled out my partner before laying the two of us, side by side, on the mahogany dresser.

“There you go. I am so glad I did not throw the other one away,” she looked pointedly at my partner. “I just knew I’d find you one day,” she added, turning her gaze to me, “But however did you manage to end up on that shelf - and after so long?”

I looked at my twin questioningly, perplexed that she might have thrown my other half away after less than a day or two.

“Where have you been?” he screamed. “You’ve been gone for nearly two years!”

Good God – two years! Had Patia and I really been traveling over the course of that time? I was shaken and could not begin to hide my surprise. I suddenly realized that what had seemed like one night had actually been much longer on the other side. Considering everything, I also knew that what I’d experienced with the gypsy ghost named Patia had been worth a lifetime of memories – both delightful and frightening. Patia had taken me to places to which I knew my mistress secretly longed to go. Each time she’d worn me, I had sensed her innermost, heartfelt desires for such pleasures all the way to the initial layer of my silver finish. This was likely what had drawn Patia to me in the first place, and it had not been due to the mere fact that I was so dainty and hung so attractively from her earlobe.

I looked at my partner and smiled. I now had secrets, and I was not so sure that I would share them with anyone, even my other half. Patia had given me a gift that I would never forget – a gift worth everything and more. Not just any earring could be so fortunate. I smiled as prettily as I could and using my best, sultry voice, I said, “You may call me ’gypsy’, dear mate, for my heart now desires to wander this earth endlessly even though I am confined to an ordinary, everyday existence.”