Back in May, I channeled a poem. As I was finishing my work day I had an image of a gargoyle appear in my mind, and then a movie scene from Ghostbusters. If you aren’t familiar, there’s a gargoyle who comes to life, crawls down off a building, and terrorizes the city. It was this imagery with words describing a fairy and a prince in the woods that gave me the short story I put in my book this year. It ended tragically and I always hoped there would be a second part.
Part two came to me while I was out for a walk in the woods a few weeks ago. This is how I meditate, walking in the woods. It’s difficult for me to quiet my mind, so I’m always excited when things like this come through. I have an audio file with my voice telling this second part roughly, the fall leaves crunching beneath my feet. At some point my voice chokes up and I’m crying. The energy in the channel was deeply loving as it ended this time, the opposite of the way the other one ended, but there were no details for how it would end. I sat down this weekend at my favorite coffee shop to write it down.
The Fairy & The Gargoyle II
He straightens his bow one more time
As he feels the choke of it again
His suit doesn’t fit, but he doesn’t complain
This world has never been his friend
A triple knock at the chamber door
Signals an hour left of this life he’s leaving behind
The entourage is unrolling a silver carpet downstairs
Waiting for his gargoyle bride to make him their kind
Behind him in the mirror a porter pries open the door
And slides a glittery box to rest aside the other gifts
He wonders where it could have come from
The others have no ribbon at all, proud symbols of thrift
His mirror has a crack from that time it fell in the woods
"But it’s fitting," he told his sister,
“Because I’m a bit cracked too.”
She nodded in agreement as sisters often do
Saying this is just how gargoyles are
“We’re smelly, hairy, and hunchbacked too.”
His fairy’s tender laugh suddenly ripples through him
And an electrical current awakens something inside him
It’s been two years since he left her at the edge of the woods
Months since there’s been something to remind him
“Don’t look now, my love, you’re not the monster you think you are,”
Comes her soft breathy voice that so gently haunts him
Intuition says she’s right, but he’s still in fight or flight
And he has yet to reach a place her words don’t still taunt him
A shake of his head returns him to his room
And an intuitive nudge turns his head to the left
Where his eyes hasten from the mirror to the window
Across the courtyard he sees a brute watching his bride from below
A grin on his face like a lover in a trance
Something familiar in this moment, his heart is now in limbo
Looking up, he sees her watching him just as intently
A smile on her face he’s never seen
Reserved for someone else, of course
He can see clearly now what this means
Leaving his coat, he rushes down the stairs and across the snow
He races to her room and bursts in to face her
She cackles at him the way she did last night
When he had doubts and she said he’d never replace her
Grabbing her by the hand he asks about the beast
Mouth stuffed with muffin she seems to want to savor it
He asks her again, but her eyes dart away and she swallows,
“Oh don’t be silly, you know you’re my favorite.”
His stomach drops as he remembers what his brother once said
Something about an old lover of hers, what did he mean?
What does he not know and how long has he not known it?
How did he not see this is who she’s always been?
His brother had been the one to introduce them
The family all in knots about his hopeless love for a fairy
This family of gargoyles so sure he’d be ruined
She’d see him for the beast that he is and he would never marry
This gargoyle princess was more like him, they said.
She’d wallow in the mud with him
Never ask anything more of him
And with her, he would never leave and disown them
He’d forget the fairy soon enough
And never worry about losing her love
Because here, he was everything the mirrors have shown him
He suddenly remembers the shimmering box left by the porter
And he races back to his room to find it
Boots leaving a trail of melting snow
He nearly slips on the steps of the stone
Desperate to get at the wrapping and see what’s behind it
He claws at the paper, thicker than fabric
Revealing a glass this kingdom has never seen before
Beams of light fill the chamber
Washing away the rest of his anger
And he sees the mirror that’s been sent from across the shore
It’s the fairy’s mirror with the ornate gilded edges
The one she had so proudly hung in her hall
He saw himself in it every time he visited her
And each time he left her he felt ten feet tall
He jumps back for a moment
An old fear pulling at his wounded heart
But the prince in the glass stares back, his jaw firm with pride
What has he done and how to undo it?
He doesn’t belong here in this dreary old fortress
This isn’t his life, that isn’t his bride
A clamor of claws come skittering into his chamber
His family all in arms at the news of the bride’s other lover
“You can’t back out now,” says his brother
And his father implores, “Never in this life will there ever be another.”
The prince looks at the mirror again as it leans against the wall
He sees his shimmering humanity
The absence of his depravity
And smiles at the brilliance of his fairy’s trickster mind
She didn’t send this gift just for him
It wasn’t a flighty thing done on a whim
She’s always had a purpose for everything all this time
With a grin, the prince grabs hold of the mirror
And tells his family to hold very still and not to look away
He turns the glass to face his dubious clan
And watches their faces alight with wonder and dismayYep, that’s it. Sorry! As I said, these things just come to me. The last couple of stanzas were completely unknown to me until I wrote them yesterday. This is the magic of channeling. I didn’t know what would come of the story, if it would even have an ending yet. I just began to write and trusted that it would pan out, as it did with the first one. Initially I had hoped we’d get to see the gargoyle reunite with his fairy, but I think there’s still more to his story, and hers.
I try to take creative license sometimes, but if my ego steps in to change the story, there’s a swirling in the pit of my stomach that reminds me I’m living authentically these days and things don’t always work out well if I try to step in and do what I think is best. Intuitive living is the path of least resistance. Going with the flow, they sometimes call it.
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