Once Upon A…chapter 1
(Aislin's View)
I have always been able to take care of myself, having learned from a young age. My mom died when I was five due to cancer; and my dad was off roaming the world looking for ancient artifacts. Well that or teaching "young eager minds" the wonders of the old worlds and myths and for those select few female students, the wonders of the bedroom; leaving me in the care of different nannies through out the years. I left the place I used to call home and started working as a waitress at a local dive bar; started college right after high school, and am living now in a place that few could call hospitable.
It's Christmas Eve and for some strange reason I am standing in my father's living room, that happens to be filled to the brim with people that I don't know; trying not to roll my eyes or snorting in a very unlady like kind of way at the ridiculous things my father's "friends" talked about. Why? Because that ass guilted me into coming to his annual "look at me" bash. The house is also full with his latest finds and conquest; she just arrived from England with a crap load of old smelly artifacts. Honestly history never really captured my attention during school or ever but one piece kept causing my attention to waver. There in the corner of my father's living room lay, against the wall, an old walking stick that had an mystic looking orb of some kind on the top that seem to just call to me. I doubt if it is truly that old, I thought to myself as my eyes took in every inch of the smooth wood; it just doesn't look like it could have come from a time where knights and other ancient things took over the lands. Sighing I took a drink of the wine that I had snatched off of a waiters tray, grimacing slightly at the bitter taste. Sure I was only 19 but hey if I was going to make it through the night I needed something in me to loosen me up. I really wish I could be at the cave (that's the name I gave my house) curled up on my comfy couch with my little dog Wicket or even at the Tavern (the bar I work at not a very creative name I know, but hey I didn't choose it) pushing some drunk off of one of the girls I work with or myself. At least I'd be enjoying myself, unlike now. I threw a fake smile at my father as he passed patting my shoulder awkwardly, not bothering to hiding the stolen alcohol from him; his conquest hanging on his arm like a cheap handbag. As soon as he disappeared from my line of vision the fake smile faded away as my face returned to it original bored expression before I knocked back the rest of my wine. Now were did that waiter go?...
Finally after what seemed like forever, in actuality it was only about 1; people started filling out, say their good-byes to my father and his handbag before leaving quickly. I knew I would not be so lucky as to slip by without first helping clean, which is the real reason my father invited me to this thing anyways. I have cleaned up after these shindigs since I was ten. It was always the same thing year after year; my father would throw these big parties and I would be left to clean them up while he crept off to the after party with one of his many conquest. Muttering bitterly to myself, I started the mundane task of gathering the used dishes and glasses from each room; shoving them all into a large garbage bag, not caring if my father wanted to keep said dishes and cups before dumping the bag in the kitchen. I leaned against the sink for a moment thinking of how shitty my life was before grabbing an old rag from one of the many cupboards to wipe down the many tables that seem to spring up for these occasions. As I left the large kitchen my father never used, and entered the living room once more; passing the walking stick I was stuck by the yearning to grab it. To reach out and touch it. So I did; I twisted it in my hands, running my fingers over a large knot on it's middle. I closed my eyes and wished I could go somewhere, a place that would bring me happiness and adventure. I stood there for a moment before opening my eyes and sighing at the ridiculous thought, wishing didn't get me anywhere when I was younger, it's not gonna do me any good now. I held the stick a few moments longer before reluctantly putting the walking stick back down against the wall and began to wipe down all of the tables soundlessly and alone; as I had seem my father walk up the stairs to retire for the night earlier. Merry freakin Christmas to you to dad I thought stoically as the clock told me it was now almost three. I stretched, yawning before kicking off my black pumps; I was bone dead tired. I curled up into a ball on the leather sofa that was just horribly uncomfortable to sleep on, and drifted off to into a deep sleep.
**Dream**
There were trees all around me covered in moss, and the air was thick with fog that held a unusual blue tint to it. I knew I was dreaming because I lived nowhere near a forest especially once like this. I started my journey, moving through the dense trees hoping to come to the edge of the forest sooner rather than later. I could hear what sounded like animal cries, and a sound that I could not figure out. I looked around trying to see if I could make out anything through the fog. I hesitated knowing that I shouldn't go towards the strange sounds but I needed to see what was happening. I got this feeling like I should continue, like something was pulling at me; telling me which way to go. Suddenly ahead of me a figure stepped on the path I was following, as if by magic the person seemed to just materialize. I could tell as I got closer that it was an old man that seemed to expel power as he stood there silently. In his hand he held the walking stick that was now sitting against a wall in my father's house. At first I thought he must of though he was alone but then instantly he turned around to face me; his face and body was covered with strange blue markings. His eyes reminded me of my mother's; while hers were warm and had held love and affection this man's eyes were cold and held a great amount wisdom in his powerful gaze.
"Ní mór duit saoire anois leanbh nach bhfuil sé fós do chuid ama a bheith anseo. Ach luath agus a bheidh tú isteach ar ár ndaoine agus an chúis cuidiú." He spoke to me, his voice raspy but strong as he reached out to me as if I could understand what he had said. I opened my mouth to respond but suddenly everything around me swirled into a blue haze and the old man's gaze turned so that he was looking at something behind me. His mouth was moving but no sound came from his lips. I wanted to turn to see what or who he was speaking to but he looked at me once more before he vanished into the fog and my world faded into darkness.
I shot up breathing heavily, a cold sweat caused my hair and clothes to stick to me; I could feel my heart pounding as I looked around frantically taking in my surroundings before realizing that I was not in a dense creepy forest but thankfully in the living room on the leather sofa at my father's house. I looked at the digital clock, squinting in the darkness. The neon lights flashed six am, causing me to curse softly to myself; I needed to get home I had work tomorrow. I stood from the sticky leather couch, I stretched once more, smiling as my back satisfingly popped before I slipped my shoes back on and headed for the door. I looked one last time around the still messy room snorting to myself, my father could clean up his own mess. I shifted my gaze towards the walking stick, my dream of the strange old man flashed through my thoughts. Sighing I shook my head as if to clear it and turned letting myself out; locking up behind after and headed home for a few more hours of much needed rest.
The words that the mystery man spoke are in Gaelic...(Ní mór duit saoire anois leanbh nach bhfuil sé fós do chuid ama a bheith anseo. Ach luath agus a bheidh tú isteach ar ár ndaoine agus an chúis cuidiú.) roughly means "You must leave now child it is not yet your time to be here. But soon you will join our people and help the cause."
Thank you for reading! I would love to hear your feedback and any helpful criticism would be great