A Personal Account of an Earring's Journey to the Other Side

How can I find the words? It was infinitely worth millions, an enlightenment in an otherwise ordinary existence – an escape into fantasy or an abundance of things derived from an unimaginable realm. In an experience unlike any other, it was thus, my journey began.

The night was ordinary, much like any other, but dark and quiet with an ominous foreboding of something otherworldly in the air. My mistress slept in her ornate antique bed with only the smallest sliver of moonlight to illuminate the room. Unable to rest, I lay on the mahogany dresser alongside my other half. Comfortably situated, I was about to doze off when she leaned over, staring with rapt interest and picked me up, dangling me before her, smiling mischievously. Quickly, she disappeared while clutching me in her palm, into a parallel spectrum of time. Patia, the kidnapping ghostly gypsy, had taken me captive, far away from all I’d ever known. Surprisingly, it was only me she’d targeted and taken. I was terrified, all alone on this unbidden, undesired journey whilst my companion and mistress were oblivious of my predicament.

I found myself in a different world. Once there, Patia laid me out in the palm of her hand to study the shimmery detail of my intricate artwork. She appeared well pleased before she lifted me, placing me in the pierced hole of her right ear. There I hung quite gracefully, despite the horror housed inside my delicate frame. What had drawn this gypsy spirit to me?

We were suddenly transported to a dimly lit room. Patia stood before a rectangular mirror, so I could study the ghost who had abducted me, and I could scarce take my eyes from her reflection. Though a mere ghost, she was beautiful and brilliant nonetheless. She wore a billowy, white linen shirt that fell off creamy shoulders and a purple skirt that fell nearly to her ankles. A sash of vibrant, multi-colors was cinched around her narrow waist, and she was barefoot. No wonder she had tread so silently! Golden, small ringlets of hair cascaded past her shoulders. Though she was middle-aged, she was mesmerizing in every sense. The irony struck me hard and fast. How could she look so enchanting despite the fact she was of another world - or quite literally, dead and most likely had been so for many years?

I was contemplating an escape when Patia began to laugh, spinning all about as she danced to the sound crisp music rippling through the air. It was a rhapsody, Hungarian - a haunting yet bold piece played on a violin by one man who stood before a campfire. There were others, too, also specters who filled the circle, also drinking, dancing, and conversing. I could sense the emotion running through Patia, knew she was enthralled by the music and blazing fire. I dangled freely from her earlobe, spinning with each sharp turn of her form as she swayed to the rhythm of the music. A tall man with broad shoulders and thick waves of dark hair approached until he stood in front of Patia. He extended his arm and pulled her nearer. Patia smiled brazenly as she moved against him. Horrified, yet unable to look away, I watched as the two locked lips, their kiss passionate and full of fire. I felt every heated breath, every sensuous nuance of movement. My filagree grew warm from the intensity. My former mistress had never once behaved in such a way. How could this ghostly gypsy be such a wanton seductress? I wondered if all on the other side acted with such abandon?

It was a long, eventful night. If I’d had real eyes, I would have shut them, but instead, I was privy to sensual secrets, delights, and desires I never knew existed. I am too embarrassed to dwell on such, but I admit it was quite the experience Educational to say the least. Ah, you may badger me for days, but the only thing I’ll admit is that it was pure unadulterated excitement, derived from dreams about which one only whispers in secret.

Later, the three of us watched as the sunset rose on a hill’s crest. The man’s arm never left Patia’s shoulders and his breath fell across me often while he whispered endearments. I could feel the shiver of excitement course through Patia. It was no wonder she had wanted such beautiful trinkets to entice such a handsome, manly specter. I was wondering why Patia would not choose to stay with this man forever, when she abruptly snapped her fingers, switching location. I found myself on a journey to heavens knew where, unable to do otherwise.

I found myself still dangling in the wind from Patia’s earlobe while we looked out over lapping waves, the slight sound of their movement hitting stone canal walls. There was a strong smell of fresh fish and salt water. Gondolas moved over the glasslike water as men who handled their oars sang love songs able to move the stoutest of hearts. 

“O sole mio / Sta nfronte a te”. 

Longing for my other half filled me as the words drifted across the Italian skies. We were in Venice, and it was truly lovely.

Patia and I strolled along the cobblestone walkways. She paused at a local vendor’s booth, admiring an array of crafted masks. Oh, but it must be Carnival! How glorious!  Swiftly, without notice, Patia swiped a green, silver threaded mask and placed it across her ghostly visage. Like myself, the mask disappeared into the other realm. Throngs of people began to fill the walkway while Patia weaved in and out of them much like a goddess or fairly like nymph would. Here and there, a living creature would gaze at her in surprise, and I realized some were aware of Patia’s ghostly form. Music reverberated all around, food was in full abundance, and drinks overflowed a plenty everywhere we turned. The dark night was lit with a thousand candles and torches - a celebration to be sure.

Eventually, Patia stopped at the entrance of a shop, her face full of apprehension before she made her through the doorway and entered the store. Scattered as far as the eye could see were lighted candles and tarot cards lined every tabletop while an old woman wearing black clothing and her face painted with heavy makeup, sat alone slowly turning a stack of the cards over. She never looked up, never paused, but still she spoke, “Benvenuta, Patia. Take a seat and allow me to tell you segretos - or secrets -your soul longs to hear.”

Patia eyed the old woman cautiously as 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 cornflowers. She smiled a twisted smile of irony. “I’ve been waiting. They told me you would make an appearance questa notte.”

I was astonished by the fortune teller’s abilities, but Patia seemed unimpressed and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Tell me something nuovo – or new - old hag. I long for a segreto not yet known.”

The old woman flipped a card over, studying it. Eventually, she looked up. “You were cherished by many but seen by few whilst you lived. The same is true of you now. Once a noblewoman, you sought freedom from chains. You were a fiore – a flower blooming in a dessert. A flower, however, cannot survive without sustenance. Your hunger was vast and you eventually succumbed. Still, in the other realm, one calls your name and longs for you in the dark of night. If you allow me child, I can lead you, mia cara….”

My attention was completely focused on the old fortune teller, enraptured by her words and wondering who the devil called Patia’s name each night when to my surprise, Patia stood up so quickly she upended her chair. I dangled from her earlobe.

“Witch! You old, nasty old strega,” she said with venom lacing her voice. “I was not born to this realm today. I see you for your evil wiles and ways and will not go where you seek to lead and trap me for all time!”

The old woman immediately began to utter a string of words, but Patia’s laughter filled the room as she turned, escaping the incantations with a strength of force emanating from her form.

We were suddenly somewhere different, surrounded by many buildings where the sound of a nearby river could be heard. Without missing a beat, Patia had left the old crone far in the dust. Looking about, I could see the Eifel Tower across the river and quickly surmised we were in Paris. Excitement coursed through my metallic framework. People filled walkways and tables of outdoor cafes, drinking and eating delicious smelling food. Lights twinkled all along the River Seine. A delightful and artistic ambience flowed all about, creating a sense of pure freedom and creativity.

Patia moved along the sidewalks with ease, unnoticed, the blended voices of local patrons drifting across the night air. From a small café came the sound of lively jazz. Drawn by the music, Patia entered the establishment and took at seat beside two gentlemen who sat, drinking the forbidden green fairy or absinthe. One was a tall, slender blonde-haired man whose charisma radiated and only served to heighten his attractiveness. Each word he spoke and every smile was charming. The second gentleman was bearded and shorter and stockier with dark waves of hair. 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 two men’s heated conversation and turned toward her.

I was surprised, wondering if he could see Patia, but then I saw the confusion that surfaced in his eyes and realized he felt Patia’s presence - or sensed something unknown - but he could not see her. How could such a ghostly creature enrapture the attention of earthly men, too? It was unthinkable, yet fascinating. Patia smiled mischievously and softly blew a kiss the man’s way.

The bearded man shivered, then leaned back in his chair. He looked down at his drink and smiled. He lifted his gaze, turning it all about the room before he spoke to the man seated with him again.

“Goddamn, Scott! I swear I just felt the sweet, tender touch of a woman! For Christ’s sake, just how many drinks have we had tonight?” I watched him shake his head, clearly perplexed by what he’d just experienced.

Patia leaned back and crossed her arms in front of her, laughing with delight. This must surely be a favorite thing to do. Surprisingly, I had to agree. I was enjoying the mischievous nature of Patia’s actions.

The other gentleman threw back his head and gave a drunk laugh. “Good God, Ernest, there’s no woman within easy reach of our table. Perhaps, because we’ve touched on the beast known as love too frequently while writing, it has twisted your mind. Zelda would say you’ve gone delusional, 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 it. Scott laughed and ordered yet another round.

Suddenly, a light bulb found light in my nonexistent head. These two gentlemen were none other than F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway. Oh, be still my heart! Everything screamed it was the roaring twenties, and we were in gay Paris. Strange how my dreams were fast becoming a reality in this otherworldly realm. Before I could enjoy the wonder of it all, however, I found myself whisked away to yet another place. Why, Patia, why? Could you not have lingered a little longer with Fitzgerald and Hemingway? Oh, but the secrets they would have divulged!

Looking about, I realized we were now in a very old city, most likely in Europe as well. Cobblestone streets and Gothic styled, avant-garde architecture loomed around us. I heard strains of haunting notes from a lovely Spanish guitar. Catalan Spanish could be heard as people walked down the streets, conversing. Maybe Barcelona, Spain? The city was well known for ancient history and architecture and dated back to the Iberian and Roman Periods. Yes, Patia was quite the traveler in this, my unexpected travel endeavor.

Together, we strolled down a darkened walkway until suddenly, Patia paused beneath a lantern, and whispered, “Juan Luis!” I felt the shudder of rampant fear that moved through her and immediately sought its source. Directly before us, out of the lantern’s light, stood a tall, dark figure wearing a cape, hat, and carrying a cane. The thought hit and stuck: why on earth was this man dressed as though he still lived in the 18th century?

“Buenas noches, dulcita,” the man welcomed Patia with a thick, venom laced Castilian accent. His tone was odd considering he’d just called Patia his “sweet little thing”. I could feel shivers begin to rack her slender, translucent form, and I immediately knew it was due to horrible, debilitating fear.

The stranger stepped into the light, his orbs liquid pools of black as he eyed the slender frame of Patia’s neck ever so closely. He smiled - a hungry, evil smile I knew intuitively that this man was reflective of only death. His mouth opened and long fangs protruded. He took a step toward Patia, his marked purpose abundantly clear.

It took all I had in an attempt to awaken Patia from the trancelike state, but move I did, thrashing about and hitting the side of her neck. Startled, Patia took a swift step back and quickly snapped her fingers, and thankfully, we disappeared again. I’d had no earthly idea vampires were a part of any realm, less alone the spirit one. Regardless, I knew we'd just escaped an end desired by this dark creature.

I wanted to shiver from the fright and close the eyes I did not have, but of a sudden, I realized I was back at home. Thank the heavens above! Relief embodied my shiny exterior as Patia removed me from her earlobe, placing me on a shelf in my mistress’s bedroom. She gave a final glance of fondness, as if fully aware I’d saved her from an unfathomable fate before she disappeared. It was evening and very quiet, but I knew without a doubt that it was not the same night in which I’d been abducted. Just how long had I been away? I was too exhausted to ponder the question for long, however, and fell fast asleep.

When I awoke the following morning, my mistress was standing beside the shelf and peering questioningly at me. When she smiled, I saw fine lines now filled her face and noticed there were many finespun strands of silver in her once mostly brown hair. She lifted me and made her way to the jewelry armoire where she reached inside and pulled out my partner. Carefully, she laid us side by side on the mahogany dresser.

“At last! Now you’re back together. Thank goodness I didn’t throw you away,” she looked pointedly at my partner. “I just knew your other half would appear out of nowhere one day,” she added, turning to me. “But pray tell, however did you manage to land high on that shelf?”

I looked at my other half, pleased beyond measure to be home again - in my original place of abode.

“Where on earth have you been?” the other earring screamed. “You’ve been gone two years!”

Good God! Two years! Had Patia and I really been traveling over the course of two years’ time? I was shaken and surprised as I suddenly realized what was one or two nights on the other side was much longer here in reality. I realized a few nights spent with Patia had been a full lifetime of memories though equally delightful and frightening. Patia had taken me to places 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 finish. Clearly, this was what had drawn Patia to me, in addition, of course, to the fact I looked so pretty dangling from her earlobe.

I smiled at my other half. I had secrets and was not so sure I wanted to divulge them to anyone. Patia had given me a gift I would never forget – something beyond worth or value. Not just any old earring could be so fortunate.

I smiled charmingly and using one of Patia's most sultry tones, I said, “You may call me ’gypsy’, dear mate, for all my heart desires now is to wander endlessly even though I am confined to this mere, ordinary existence.”