Story, Serenity

She usually came in late autumn. Just when the last leaves were giving way to the mighty storm winds of the west. She never stayed for more than a few months and always left as the first flower broke through the ground. She came from the north and officially it was to avoid the cold weather of her homeland that she visited each season, but somehow people didn’t quite believe that one. Because when she came the winter intensified. Not the cold or the snow, but the Winter. The winter magics of snowballs and snowmen, candlelit evenings and warm cocoa by the fire. It was like the whole town came to a different sort of life, a fairytale existence. She didn’t even need to be physically present to make a change in people’s attitudes about their lives. All it usually took was the first sighting of her in one of the local stores and the whole population would start to simmer and bubble with new found joie de vivre. There were parties and dancing, dinners and activities. People went to visit each other more frequently, started to cook so that the food would always be enough for at least one person more around the dinner table. Few ever spoke about it of course, but everybody knew that it was ‘that northern lady’ that did it. No one knew how or why or what exactly happened, but each time you met her or even saw her you came away feeling more alive, more human than ever. But like with all the old magics you didn’t talk about it too much for fear it would somehow break the spell.

She had long auburn hair and eyes like the clear ice of the river at high winter. When she smiled she did it with her whole face and when she laughed you could hear it for blocks away. She always had a kind word for every person and if ever there was some trouble stirring up in the community she just happened to be there to stand up for the wronged and soothe the troubled spirits. She was a healer too, or that was how the whispers went. When she treated it a blooded nose stopped running, a cut wound mended without a scar and worn out muscles were warmed by her warm singing and her red hot palms. Hot cocoa was her trademark. If and when you saw her out at a café somewhere it was sipping some hot cocoa with whipped cream and marshmallows while reading a book, writing something down with a small mysterious smile on her lips, talking with someone in an animate manner or just looking out on the people and the world with serenity written on her face.

Some said she was royalty from some distant line that no one had heard about. Maybe the grand daughter of Anastasia or some other exiled heir to a far away throne. Others, often the oldest people and the ones with roots in some mysticism or another claimed that she was a fallen goddess that had chosen to walk on Earth in human form to help her people and charges. Or that she was a powerful sorceress that you might do well to stay away from if you were not of the purest heart and intentions. Other still said that she was simply a drifting spirit who’s primary purpose in life was to experience and to share her experiences with the world. A few disgruntled voices meant that she was nothing but a traveling writer looking for inspiration and her magics was just the work of overactive imaginations and wishful thinking. But they all watched and listened as she came every autumn. They watched and listened as she left every spring. And they all kept quiet once she left. Guarding the magic for another season until the time when she would return and brighten their spirits once more.