Wildflowers and the Gossamer Lady (Working Title)

Wildflowers and the Gossamer Lady (Working Title)

A Story by Arron Steep
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A woman is haunted by the repercussions of a mysterious encounter from her childhood. (A short story inspired by the fairy tell "The Elfin Grove" by Grimm brothers)

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“What is that, mum?” 

Rosie broke from her daydream and met the curious eyes of her daughter. Rosie looked down and her fingers touched at the jewelry around her neck: to the silver ring about a fine chain. “Oh, this?” she hastily hid the item. “Oh, it’s nothing important. A gift from an old friend. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

Once the child was pacified, Rosie settled down to read. It wasn’t long before her husband, Matthias, returned from his work outside. He said hello and removed his overcoat. “You’re quiet tonight. Something wrong?”

Rosie looked up, returning again from a far-off wondering. “Hm? No, I’m fine. I was remembering… something… from years ago.”

Matthias nodded and came close, sitting down at the seat’s armrest.  “You mean the accident?” His question was tenderly asked, and hesitant, as if he dreaded the answer.

“No… its not that.” Her reply was slow and half-hearted. “Not exactly. I just�"” she bit back her words.

He sighed. “I know, Rosie, you can’t talk about it. And I’ve made my peace about that.” He squeezed her hand. “I just don’t want to lose you again, that’s all.” He caressed her cheek, gently holding her chin. “It was just so hard, you know. For all of us.”

Rosie didn’t need reminding. The subject of her past, the accident, which had left her so disconnected from the life she had known as a child�"it was a burden which had never left her. The details of her time away had grown hazy, dream-like, in the years since. She hadn’t been able to say what had happened upon her return, but not for the reasons they all thought. Nothing they could imagine would account for her symptoms: the anxiety, the depression, and ever wandering mind. She couldn’t tell them the truth, but she allowed them to believe what they would. Rosie allowed this mostly because she herself could not fathom the truth; but also, because of the promise she had made.

As Rosie lay in bed that evening, like so many other sleepless nights, her hand found its way to the ring resting at her breast. The narrow band of silver was engraved with patterns of intertwining vines and blossoms. The ring was her only connection to the past, to her life before the disappearance. 

Sometimes Rosie would remember things. Fragments of memories�"of running through the woods, the whispering wind in the trees and the fragrance of wild flowers. The memories bled into focus, like a still-wet watercolor, sensory recollections both vague and vivid at the same time. She would remember the path by the river, the thicket not far from her parents’ home. She remembered frolicking there, a child alongside her playmate, Matthias. Happy times had been found there at the riverbank. 

Yet to consider those memories now, and to think of the price she had come to pay… Rosie shuddered. 

Her parents were shattered, and poor young Matthias haunted. The community had formed search parties to penetrate the wooded lane along the river for miles on end. The police had also tried to locate her. Missing child reports had gone out across the county and further. But it was all for nothing. There were no leads to follow, no clues to what had happened to missing Rosie. There was nothing to do but for hope’s descent to misery and despair. She was gone.

Rosie had been drawn into the joyous revelry, amusement, and wonder of that enchanted grove. She had returned thinking only a few hours had passed. But the world outside had changed far more than she realized. No mere hours, but years had passed. Seven years. She, too, had experienced the same malapropos transformation, from that of naive child to an adult.

Her parents had wept hysterically. They grasped at their daughter, refusing her release lest she once again slip away. They hardly recognized her as the women she had become. The transition was very difficult. Despite the joy of reprisal Rosie faced all the consequences of her tragedy: the failing health, finances, and marriage of her parents; the protective suspicion and worry that marked their faces, inquiries from the police, the years of counseling, therapy, re-education, and the prescribing and testing of new anti-psychotic medications.

During this time, the relationship between Rosie and Matthias blossomed. They were married not long after she returned. They took ownership of Rosie’s old home, caring for her aging parents until they were no longer able to do so. Her father passed away and her mother was soon to follow. But in all that tragedy, Evie was their silver lining.The struggles wrought from those seven lost years were made more bearable by the beautiful, golden child.

Evie was indeed a special child, she always had been. Rosie had taken to calling their daughter ‘my little sprite’ and had long found the small child’s interests and demeanor a source of immense joy. Evie was Rosie’s redemption, her deepest love which she could not even express to her husband�"even after seven years of marriage. But Rosie was also troubled by the child. There was a distance between mother and daughter that Rosie sought to rectify but found herself powerless to accomplish. Evie reminded her too much of herself, from before the disappearance.

* * *

Rosie and Matthias were eating breakfast one morning. Amidst an otherwise quiet meal, Matthias suddenly declared, “So, it’s our anniversary next week.” 

“Hmm,” is all she managed, staring out the window in her typically distracted fashion. Matthias eyed her sadly. 

Matthias cleared his throat. “Seven years. That’s quite a feat, huh? It’s wild to think, isn’t it? The irony of it�" you were missing seven years, before you came back to me. And now seven years we’ve married, and… Rosie!”

Rosie snapped back into focus, shaking her head. “Oh, I’m sorry dear! Yes, our anniversary. It completely escaped my mind. I’ve just been so preoccupied with… everything… I’m sorry!”

Matthias smiled sympathetically. “I’m not upset, Rosie. It’s fine.” He squeezed her hand, speaking slowly and methodically, like a man awaiting judgment. “I’m surprised is all. I know we haven’t had it perfect all this time. We’ve had our challenges to overcome. But you’ve gotten the help you needed: the counseling, the psychiatrists, the medication�"and I know we’ve had our ups and downs. But we’ve made it through alright.” He trailed off as if in question. “We do have it alright, don’t we? We’re alright, you and me?”

“Aw, Matty,” Rosie stood up quickly, embracing Matthias and kissing him. “Yes, we ARE alright�"more than alright, we’re wonderful. You’re wonderful. Oh, I love you, dear, you know that, don’t you?” She was feeling so guilt-ridden as often was the case, embarrassed and ashamed of herself. How could Matthias believe her when she was always elsewhere, never there in the moment with him. “Oh, God, I’ve been a horrible wife to you! I don’t deserve you.”

Rosie cried into his shoulder, as Matthias stood to embrace her, as he often had. His strength was a comfort to her�"an anchor when the darker memories pervaded her thoughts. But sometimes the darkness was too heavy for even such consolation.

* * *

A few days later, Matthias was at work and Rosie was dressing little Evie. Removing the child’s pajama top, Rosie led out a silent cry of alarm and dropped the clothes. Around the child’s neck was a thin chain and silver ring. She snatched at her neck, a rebuke riding on her lips for the girl’s theft. She was consoled, however, and then slowly unnerved, to find that her ring remained hidden beneath her blouse. Evie noticed her mother’s gaze and turned bashful at the questioning. Evie mumbled something of having found the trinket in the garden at the back of the house.

Rosie felt suddenly ill, and moved with blind abandon to the bathroom. She hunched over the sink, taking ragged breaths, her heart palpitating wildly. It couldn’t be! No, no�"it couldn’t�"!

Evie stood in the doorway. There was no sign of the chain and ring. She sniffled, lips pouting, and eyes tearing up. She reached out arms to be held and her pout turned to crying.

Rosie quickly reclaimed herself, for Evie’s sake. She hugged her daughter and consoled her. “It’s okay, my little sprite. Mum is sorry for scaring you. Everything is okay…”

* * *

But later that day, after studies and lunch, Evie wandered out to the yard, where lay just down the hill, a thicket which met the river. Rosie peered out from the house with mounting disquiet, as her daughter sat in a shady spot near the tree line.

A shadow formed from the shadows. Rosie was about to cry out, her heart instantly clasped in fear for the child’s safety. She moved to the door to call out to Evie, when suddenly the ring at her breast stunned her with a intense heat. Rosie fought the intensity, and her eyes seemed now to pierce the shade with newfound keenness. 

The shadowed figure resolved into the form of a woman, dressed in a chiffon gown, with long, flowing hair. Her garments flowed like gossamer. The woman’s mien was sharp and yet likewise tender; A smile like sunshine lit up the woman’s face as she handed Evie a wildflower.

Rosie felt weak, and moved for the support of a chair. She was still mute, but was regaining control. The sight of the woman’s face burned in Rosie’s chest a flash of emotions; raw, brilliant ecstasy which clashed with a clinging fear and rancid guilt. She knew that face, she knew that woman: the Gossamer Lady. The elusive memories from her past came crashing back, nearly too much for her to bear with conscious resolve.

When at last the warmth had fled her chest and she could wipe the water blurring her vision, Rosie fought again to the doorway, and called Evie. But Rosie found that the girl was once again alone, playing as she had before with no sign of the women from before. Rosie met the girl at the wood’s foreboding edge and told her it was time to come inside.

* * *

Rosie refused Evie’s requests to play outside for several days, but at last she could not refuse her. And when the young girl returned to the thicket’s border, as before, the Gossamer Lady returned. The heat at Rosie’s chest also returned, seeming to emanate from the ring at her chest. Her hands felt sluggish, too heavy to move. Yet, no longer was the warmth an affront and a hinderance, but a soothing calm. It seemed to reassure her that everything was alright.

Every day for the next week, the figure returned, playing with Evie just beneath the wooded shade. The sylph-like Gossamer Lady danced and sang and played with Evie. As these visits continued, Rosie keeping a close eye on Evie, her passions abated but not entirely beyond suspicion.

While the visits of the Gossamer Lady persisted, Rosie had yet to tell her husband. And yet during this time, Rosie and Matthias drew close again, rekindling a passion and tenderness not felt in many years. The wonder of her childhood re-opened Rosie to his love. The occasion of their anniversary was a beautiful and refreshing time. And so predisposed, Rosie felt guilt-ridden at keeping the secret or for keeping all the secrets she had kept these many years. Matthias had, in the meantime, noticed the difference in Rosie’s behavior, as well as the oddity and secrecy from his daughter.

One morning, laying in his arms, Rosie finally told her husband everything. Matthias was shocked and full of disbelief; his face clearly bore the sign of fear that Rosie had relapsed into her earlier delusions. But Rosie begged him a chance for proof.

Later that afternoon, Rosie took Matthias to the back door and pointed to the shady spot. As often was the case, the Gossamer Lady was playing with Evie. Matthias was troubled, and he fumbled with the door and started to call away the stranger. But the figure looked up in their direction with a hard look�"stern, but also sad. She knelt beside Evie and hugged the girl. Once the figure ran into the woods again, Evie came running back to the house crying. 

Rosie knew why the girl cried. The ring at her breast, pulsing warmth, imparted the truth clear enough: the Gossamer Lady was gone, and would never return again to their home. Not to Rosie nor to Evie.

Mother and daughter held each other, wordless and in tears. They understood one another as never before. But Matthias was not content to remain, he couldn’t understand. Not yet. Moved by the stranger’s daring and by his weeping wife and child, Matthias leaped down the hill and into the thicket in pursuit of the strange woman. He found nothing there, of course, though he searched long and hard. The sky turned immediately dark, a fierce storm crashing over the woods and river. Matthias returned home, his clothes soaking wet and his anger quenched�"replaced with a fear for his safety and that of his family.

There was no more secrets after that. Rosie explained again to Matthias the truth of her disappearance and the reasons for her secrets. True, she had been in shock at what had happened, but her guarded thoughts and far-off wanderings had always been in respect for that magical fairy grove, with the fun and felicity she’d known there�"if even only so briefly. She had been warned not to tell, for fear the Gossamer Lady and her people should flee never to be found again. But alas, the deed was done. 

After this, Rosie had found resolution and a lasting comfort in the love of her husband and daughter. Matthias had recovered the love of his life, and the healing of a family once near breaking point. What’s more, as a family, they found peace. And even though the sylph-like figure of the woods never returned, Rosie and Evie could still sense a lasting reminder�"a sound like a song, a faraway chorus joined by bells and harps, which rode on the evening wind and smelled of wild flowers.

© 2018 Arron Steep


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Arron Steep
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Added on February 20, 2018
Last Updated on February 20, 2018
Tags: grimm, fairy tale, elf, magic, marriage, struggle, relationships, family, daughter, healing

Author

Arron Steep
Arron Steep

Owlington, MN



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