disclaimer: not mine!
Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame!
W.B. Yeats
Chapter One: A Brief Encounter
The first thing that went missing could have easily been forgotten - a simple hurried sketch on the back of a wrinkled binder paper Hermione had rushed through. But whether by fluke or by fate, Hermione did not forget. It was a simple landscape sketch, a soft abstract mess of yellows and greens that exactly mimicked the dry, hot California summer that she loved and lived in. Hermione only noticed it was missing because she had wanted to transfer the illustration onto more durable paper for more professional appreciation. But, try as she might, the sketch was nowhere to be found. In fact, she had strewn the contents of her shoulder bag and folders on her bed and looked through everything several time again times in the hopes that it was tucked into a novel or her pencil bag, and yet the sketch remained missing.
Initially, she thought she had misplaced it as she had swiftly gathered her things underneath the shade of that willow tree before rushing to class. First and foremost, Hermione was smart, but certainly forgetful, a girl with her head down in the books or up in the clouds. But, after a few more visits, an apparent pattern of unfolded. The second time she sat under the tree, three more sketches went missing. The third, her watercolor palette. By the fourth, she lost a beloved crystal fountain pen and her most important possession of all - her patience.
At first glance, the willow was not particularly remarkable. Though unremarkable as it might be, it was an old tree and with deep, strong roots in the earth that peeked through the weeds and grass surrounding it. It was located in a small park filled with succulents and tall trees in the small town of Los Arboleda in the region of northern California, which was nestled against the coast of the Pacific. The thick trunk was carved into numerous times, wearing countless oaths of love and friendship of passerby. During sunset, a golden sunlight streamed through the branches and streaked across the books that Hermione would bring with her. But other than those rare moments of fading daylight, it was a tree like any other. The air felt different around the tree, like the calmness one might feel when they look at the ocean or the full moon on a clear night. It felt like something that had always been there - a state of being that predated humanity itself.
Though a firm believer of the unseen and unknowable, Hermione attributed her faithful return to the tree to her love for all that is natural and green and lush. She did not know why she she kept coming back to that particular spot, but perhaps it was much simpler - the calm and quiet and nestling cloud of leaves that cloaked her from the rest of the world. It was the only place she liked to gather her thoughts and, strangely enough, inspiration always struck her in those few moments she guided her pencils on paper in that cool shade. Since her first encounter with the tree, her sketchbook was filled with the mysteriously mythical - obscure fantastical creatures and a great wilderness etched upon the smooth pages, almost like a lost depicted tale of ancient legends.
But the most beautiful and inspired of her work did not leave with her, she realized. Was it squirrels? she wondered. But what kind of squirrels sneak away paper instead of the ripe plums or blood orange slices she brought? Could it have been birds? Mice? A persistent raccoon? Hermione could only guess. Whatever it was, she was not deterred, but rather determined to make her stance.
Fairly distraught over the entire ordeal, Hermione regaled the tale to a close friend, Luna.
Luna was a rather open-minded, outspoken woman of eighteen years old. She spent her days in floral skirts and dresses, eyes darkened with an assortment of colorful eyeliner, and hair curled into bright coiling waves. Though Luna was usually sympathetic to her friend, her only suggestion was to simply find another tree to sit under or a nice bench even. After a short frustrated explanation of the sheer weight of inspiration that struck Hermione underneath that willow tree, Luna decided to take it upon herself to experience her friend's strange but fruitful muse.
And, oddly enough, Luna lost her entire purse after an hour underneath the tree.
Affirmed in that she was not simply losing her mind, she decided to embark on a fifth attempt in understanding exactly what was occurring around the strange tree. Determined, she kept her eyes and focus on her possessions. And so she waited for five minutes, then ten, then twenty, and sunset became a lingering cool twilight. A luminous crescent moon peeked over stray gray clouds on a dark horizon. Just when she thought she might be losing her mind, a branch snapped. The soft snap of branch would have gone unnoticed had she not been paying close attention. After three faltering breaths and a rush of adrenaline readying her to scare away the small but pernicious animal she was expecting, leaves rustled and a lone leaf tumbled down and fell on the dry grass in front of her.
And that is when she noticed the tree.
Or, to be precise, what the tree was doing. The great towering willow shook just enough that her eyes caught the movement - as if it had inhaled and then exhaled. Wide-eyed and disbelieving, Hermione place her hand against the trunk, felt the rough bark moving beneath her weary fingertips. She traced her hand around a carved heart with unintelligible initials written in the center. She dropped her hand, but the tree's long strands of leaves then gently swayed, brushing against her arms as if welcoming her back. She nearly screamed, because there was no wind. The air was stiflingly warm and still - the perfect summer night. Crickets were chirping their ode to summer, a songbird crooned to another, and the distant spray of sprinklers filled Hermione's ears. Nothing was amiss, but the air suddenly felt heavier, almost filled with electricity. Something was wrong. She held her breath as her heart hammered in her chest. Then, in the hanging green strands and darkness, she saw a dark silhouette, tall and masculine, against the city's soft glowing light. He was hanging from the branches directly above her, eyes peering down at her. Hermione's breath caught in the place between her lungs and throat and she nearly tripped on herself as she tried to move away.
"Stay away," she said shakingly, trying to grasp the pepper spray that she had clipped to her car keys, but her fingers were not moving as intentionally as she wanted them to. Fear coursed through her, pushing her to move away as quickly as possible. He did not respond but after a moment, he moved, just enough that a street lamp's glaring yellow glow lit his face. Hermione gasped. His skin was an ashen green, his eyes completely black, and his bright, almost white hair curling along the sharp angles of his face. He was suspended in the air and then he dropped down silently. She had left her bag on the ground and she almost ran back to pick it up and run but he followed her gaze to settle on her bag. When he turned away from her to look down at her things, she noticed his pointed ears, pierced with small wildflowers.
Just when he picked up her sketchbook, which was filled with her ideas and illustrations and personal thoughts, bravery struck her and she stepped forward and sprayed the strange man with the spray.
He screamed and dropped the sketchbook, moving to press his hands against his eyes. Though the spray stung Hermione's eyes as well, she grabbed her bag and sketchbook and ran. When she felt distant enough to look back, she could no longer see the man that had sat above her and stolen her things.
notes: tbc! let me know what you think! :)