posted on Oct, 25 2007 @ 03:33 PM
The Gypsy Mother
The smoke rose from the fire in the form of the endless illusions the mind could fathom. The children sat listening intently to the stories of the
lady dressed in strange garb. At each moment of intensity they would flinch, or turn, or bring their hands closer to covering their eyes. The adults
sat mesmerized watching the children and the fire.
The woman had the look of a gypsy, waving her hands in the air with big gesturing movements. Weaving her story into whispers before opening her
hands and eyes wide while bellowing a deathly part of the tale.
No one knew the woman but they sat listening to her story as though she were a loved relative.
“Release the chains from the souls”, she whispered. “Hold no past prisoners.”
Chains of smoke puffed from the center of the fire. One parent turned to noticed, but it was too late. The smoke had encircled her feet and then
her hands and bound her to her place. She could not scream for the soot had sealed her mouth. The rest were quickly imprisoned as well. Their eyes
wide and scared.
The children were dancing around and outside the circle of parents. Chanting and singing unaware of their parents dire circumstances.
There were other events at the Halloween festival, but no one approached the story teller fire pit once the children started dancing. In fact they
seemed to create a haze, like when you wake up from a dream. This haze affected most of the crowd, and the parents sitting seemed to mellow as well.
The gypsy started to dance around the fire, slowly at first and gaining speed until she looked like the blur of a fan. Gray and smoky she appeared
now, hypnotizing to the point where the parents closed their eyes and rested there heads, and passed out.
The gray smoke that was the gypsy shot to the center of the fire and into a woman in her early thirties. Her eyes flew awake. She stood immediately
and moved to dance around the fire.
Leaving behind in her place was the perfect image of a smoke gypsy. The ghost stood and floated towards the fire until it reached the center. It
floated there until the Woman who was dancing sat back down.
At once the fire extinguished and the parents opened their eyes to their children sitting next to them. The story teller was gone and no one could
quite remember what had happened. Except for one woman who stood and grabbed her new daughter's hand and walked towards their car in her new
The smoke rose from the fire in the form of the endless illusions the mind could fathom.
“Good evening my lovely children and partners. Would you like to be scared to night?” Said the woman dressed in gypsy garb.
“Mommy, that lady looks like someone I used to know.” said a little girl. “Yes she does”, replied the mother, grabbing her daughter's hand
to leave before the storytelling began.