Tag Archives: Enchanteur’s Bag

Encountering Enchanteur


One moment I was telling some fellow Lemurians that I would like to run off and find a Gypsy encampment, that I would like to be dragged off to adventures I could write about, along the lines of my favorite genre – fantasy. But hey, I have a lot to do. I’m a very busy person. I can’t be running off fooling around as if life is just for the exploring. We all know it’s much more serious than that. So I returned dutifully to the article that has to be sent out Wednesday or my life is forfeit. I was preparing to go over it yet again — ah, the whole premise of it is starting to curdle like last month’s cream. I somehow clicked in the wrong place on my computer, though. I don’t know how it happened, but this image appeared on my screen – the one you see above.

When I saw it, my heart started beating faster. I don’t know why. I’ve never even been to that place. But just seeing it, a strange sensation ran through me. It was as if my body was turning to smoke, I had no substance. I don’t remember if I closed my eyes but I was incredibly cold and in absolute darkness. Then I was standing facing – I swear – the very towers you see in the photograph. Near the towers stood a tall slender figure wrapped from head to foot in a dark hooded robe, beckoning madly to me. Believe me, I thought about turning and running the other direction but there was only mist behind me and the person’s beckoning was so urgent and commanding that I found myself running forward. The face was hidden in the folds of the hood but she (or he – I don’t know. I thought it was a woman) must have been well over six feet tall. The wind lashed around us as I drew closer. I heard the sea crashing beyond the towers. Gulls circled, crying, and the salt air stung my face as I pushed forward against the wind. As I reached the robed figure, she put out an hand which held a warn velvet bag. She/he pressed it into my hands, whispering hoarsely, “Quickly! Take this bag and do not lose it, whatever you do. You will need what is in it more than you can imagine. Do not let it get into anyone else’s possession. Especially not … Well, just not anyone. Do you understand me?!” Dark eyes flashed at me above a thinly set mouth that seemed like it might have known laughter in the past, but not now, not this day. Then s/he was gone and I was left alone by the crumbling towers in the punishing wind.

As darkness was growing into night, I stepped carefully toward the towers to see if I could find shelter, but they gave little protection as they had no roofing left. I looked down to the sea below, crashing and ominous. Down the shoreline, I thought I saw a faint glimmer of light, coming and going in the moving mist. Was it a boat or a tavern, a welcoming home or a den of thieves? I did not know. I was alone. And I was stunned. What about my article?!

I decided to slide down the cliff and make for the light. It was not easy. There were few handholds or ledges. Eventually, scraped, teeth chattering, I made my way to the rocks below, doused often by crushing waves. A storm must be rising, I thought, with a sea like that. I slipped along the wet rocks, trying desparately to reach the sandy shore before all was blackness. Wind lashed at me trying to tear me from the rocks and into the sea swells below me. But I at last leapt onto solid wet sand and, panting, took stock, searching for the light I had detected from above. Salty wet gusts lashed my eyes making it hard to penetrate the growing darkness so I ran twenty paces up the sand, edging into the trees that lined the shore, grateful for their lightening of the wind. Standing pressed gratefully to a wet trunk, I thought I heard music coming from deeper within the forest, though it was dificult to tell over the rushing of the wind. Did I also see lights in there? I wasn’t sure. Should I follow the dim lights and hint of music in the woods or keep to the shore? I was still gripping my mysterious bag and, remembering the strange warning by the intense personage on the hill, I fumbled to tie it securely around my waste. Then I pulled my singularly inadequate plaid Pendleton shirt down over it to hide it. My yoga pants were already damp and clinging to me and my bare feet ached from the cold. Briefly I wondered what was in the bag but as it did not have the feel or size of warm clothing, I put the contents out of my mind and instead stood, shivering, in indecision about which way to go.

And that is where you find me.