Friday, January 21, 2011

CLEO’S COMING


It was a bright, starry night that the traveling circus rolled into town. Cleo watched from the distance. She wasn’t able make out the details of their faces, but she could tell by their silhouettes against the setting sun and the tingling feeling in the air that this was no ordinary circus. It was one of witches, magic, faeries and vampires; of fortunes and dreams, and wonder and fate. It was the coming that Cleo had been dreaming about, that she’d been waiting for, but never imagined could be true.

It was early September and Cleo Harrison had just turned thirteen. The onset of Fall was calming to her. Stepping into the season had always been like slipping into a second skin for Cleo. Her true skin. She felt comfortable and whole amongst the orange leaves and whispering winds when the air was crisp and just cold enough to make her feel alive with wonder.

Cleo had been dreaming about the magic since she was seven, or maybe even sooner. She’d begun waking up with vivid memories and a knowing from the night. Her parents dismissed Cleo’s gift, but deep down inside her mother knew was true. Cleo was special. From a very young age she’d exhibited an unconscious command of not only her five senses, but of her sixth and seventh as well. From the very beginning of her life Cleo understood where she was in space and the universe as a whole. She knew she wasn’t merely a little girl in a small town that was just a spec on the map of a big world. She understood that she was a force of nature and that she would come to understand what that meant over many years. What Cleo hadn’t quite realized was that she was a witch.

Cleo’s mother knew. She’d heard stories about her grandmother’s mother and the special abilities she’d been born with and mastered over the years. Every time she saw Cleo take notice of the detail in a flower, react to the wind as if it was a part of her soul and look off into the distance as if she could see so much more than anyone around her, she remembered those stories and knew that her daughter had been touched by the magic of tall tales and hushed realities buried in her family’s history.

Cleo climbed out of her bedroom window and walked across the field of sunflowers and pumpkins that led from her house to the road. With each step she took, she could feel more of their energy and they more of hers. The circus had not rolled into town or down the old dirt road and past Cleo’s house on that particular starry night by mistake; not at all. This was the faeries. This was fate. This was the awaking of Cleo’s coming.

Cleo moved through the circus with ease. The faeries lined her path while the towns people passed by her unaware of the secrets the child held. Cleo walked by the tarot card gypsy, the old Shanakee telling tales, and through rows of flowers, lanterns and magical stones. She made her way beyond the swirl of energy to the edge of road where a small back tent sat beside a single lotus flower in the center of a sparkling silver path that led inside.

Cleo stood at the entrance. She looked down at the vibrant ground beneath her, then up to the flower waiting to welcome her, and then Cleo stepped inside. There she found a woman, tall and slender, with had a youthful beauty and the wisdom of an ancient soul. She was both still and inviting. Her name was Silva and Cleo was the reason she was there. Without a word Cleo sat down, understanding that she was an invited guest. Sliva smiled and took Cleo’s hands in hers. Cleo looked in Silva’s eyes and she saw her own, and then she felt it. Cleo felt her connection to the earth, the moon, the stars and her fate. In that moment she knew her abilities were extraordinary and that her greatest challenge and her ultimate liberation from that moment forward would be deciding what to do with them. Anything was possible.

Cleo reached over to a small table and lit the silver candle that had been waiting for her. She closed her eyes and let the possibilities surround her, and then young Cleo woke up.

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