YOUR NARRATOR:  

Well, my friends, it's happened already. 

I've run into something of a conundrum. 

First, and foremost, I would like to say hello to you. I would like to ask you how you are doing, despite the fact that I cannot hear the answer. How are you doing? Are you staying well? Are you happy? Are you rested? I hope so. If not, perhaps that is something that we can help with here a little bit. 

I think I need to get right to the point, today, otherwise perhaps I will never get there. 

As you know, it's been a long time since I've left my little home within these tree roots. I'm not sure why. Something has simply been telling me for the last five weeks or so that it's best for me to stay put. That I'm not ready. That I must have patience and wait. And because that has been so easy for me, I wonder if that little voice telling me to wait was simply my own fear. 

Fear of what? 

I'm not sure. I don't know. 

Anyway. As I said. Getting right to the point. 

I was in my home, because of course I was, I just explained. And I was, or at least I believe that I was, alone. And I decided to choose a card for this week. 

I was so excited to see which card surfaced, of all of the cards in the deck. I was so excited to muse on a theme, and recall an appropriate story based around those themes; a tale to inspire, a tale to thrill, a tale to take you somewhere else before you drift away towards that cloaked figure known as Rest, so elusive and sometimes so frightening in appearance, but truly gentle and kind at heart. I was so excited.

And then, I drew the Ace of Cups again. And, once again, it was reversed. 

This card. This card, again.

I know that I had absolutely no right to be, but I was outraged when I first saw it. 

Emptiness. Repression. Containment. Again, again, with these themes, these themes I'd like to move away from. 

But that's not how these cards work. I need to remind myself that. They are not here to tell me what I want to hear. They are here to tell me what I need to know. 

The Ace of Cups, Reversed, once more. 

How ironic, of course, that the card symbolizing a blockage of some kind has proven to be, quite literally, a blockage to me telling a new story this week.

There must have been something that I did not learn last time. There must be a reason that the Ace of Cups has once again appeared, upside down and empty....other than, of course, to prove to you that I am randomly drawing these cards every week to help me decide what story I tell you. 

But the bereft Ace of Cups is sending a message to me, loud and clear. 

There is something I have not realized. There is something I'm missing. And, unless I find it, this card will haunt me just as fervently as the fiery spectre who comes and listens to my stories and waits outside my little nest. 

After I drew this card, I don't remember quite how, but I think I fell asleep and I think I dreamed. I don't remember lying down and closing my eyes. I don't remember when I switched from waking reality to dreaming fantasy, but I did. I must have, for the next thing I remember, I was standing out in the open air, reveling in the space. I don't remember crawling through the tunneled thicket of brambles and briars and weeds and thorns to get out, so my belief that this was a dream was seemingly confirmed. 

The air on my skin was exceptionally delightful, and the moonlight seemed so bright that my eyes stung only for a moment, until I could feel them adjust. My eyes, reflective like a wolf's or a cat's, shone yellow back at the moon. They shine yellow all the time, even if there is no light on them. I'm not sure how I learned this. Perhaps I saw my face in a stream, once. I know that my eyes are yellow and bright, because....I just do. 

And the rest of the forest, apart from the moon, was so dark, and so calm, despite the symphony of sounds I heard all around me. The sound of owls, of crickets, of flies and birds and bats and creatures whose families have made these woods their home for thousands of years. 

I thought I might just enjoy the dream for what it was; a little escape from hiding, an escape from solitude and quiet. 

But then, I saw a light in the forest. Far away, quite distant indeed, but bright. Bright and flickering, changing from yellow to red to orange.

I had to go to it. 

Why?

...because it seemed so lonely, out there, in the night. And, as much as I haven't been able to put a name to my feelings lately, I think I can admit that I, too, have been lonely.

I walked towards the light. 

And as I walked, the path ahead of me seemed to keep stretching onward and onward, as though I would never reach that light. And that is how I knew that, surely, this was a dream. 

That, and the fact that there seemed to be music, as distant as the light was. Music, on a piano, or...or something like a piano. Out here in the woods. How unusual. Music that sounded familiar, yet not familiar... 

[A theme is heard on piano; distant and haunting]

And the truth is that the music seemed to help me feel less alone. 

Someone was playing it, after all, weren't they? Even if it was in a dream? 

I didn't mind the path stretching ahead of me, because it meant that I got to listen to that music for even longer. 

I noticed a rabbit beside me, running comfortably. 

And to the other side of me, a wolf, calmly pacing at my side.

Above me, a crow flew overhead. 

A few moths trailed behind me, hovered around my hair and hands.

Already, I felt less alone.  

I think I could have done this forever. That is, if it weren't a dream.

As the music grew louder and the path no longer stretched unnaturally before my eyes, I knew that the flame I saw in the distance was growing closer. Or, rather, that I was growing closer to it. I fancied that it might perhaps be whatever creature or spirit it is who visits me and speaks to me in my little home. 

But when the light split into three points as I grew closer, I was slightly disappointed, realizing it was not him. Whoever he is. Or, at least, it was not him in anyway that I could recognize. 

Disappointment was overtaken by curiosity, as I realized that the light came from three little wooden torches, planted in the ground. And that light was amplified by the reflection of a mirror, a mirror that I realized I had been steadily walking directly toward this entire time. 

Humble but lovely with a simply decorated frame, and a clean surface. 

Seeing myself walking towards myself was a strange sight. 

I saw my green skin, and wondered if it was always like that, or simply dyed from living among the grass for however long I had. I saw my fingertips and my lips, a blend of red and brown, and wondered if it was from blood or mud, or both. There were scratches along my legs and arms, hands and feet. and I realized that I must have climbed through the exit of thorns after all, yet I could not remember it. The little blossoms and sprouts that grew along my elbows, knees, temples, collarbone, and sharp bony places on my body - they had grown numerous, and I stared admiringly at them. They climbed up from my skull and out of my hair, brown and green, and thick with mud and dirt and moths and now flowers and leaves, too. 

For a moment, a different figure flashed before my eyes in the mirror. She made me scream.

All in black, with black eyes and hair and clothes. 

Sharp as a needle, her fingers much longer than mine and her nails overgrown and pointed like claws. 

Her smile was full of sharp teeth. Not like a wolf, not like a lion, not like something on the land that has some pointed teeth - like something in the sea that has only pointed teeth. 

And, in that split second that she appeared to me, the most startling thing was the way in which her huge black wings jutted out and assaulted my eyes. 

But she was gone in a moment. 

And it was Me again. 

Small, by comparison. Not nearly as imposing. Not really as splendid, perhaps. 

Or, perhaps, much more splendid. It's hard to tell. 

For a moment, I was ashamed of just how small I appeared to myself, after seeing Her. 

I was impressed by how effectively I had scared myself, really, and I wondered if this new Me had that same kind of power. 

But what power would that be?

All around me, green things grew because I let them. Animals ran and sang and came to me and stayed around me for I made them feel more alive. 

And you know what? I remember a time when anything green or living died when the creature in black that flashed before my eyes just now touched it. I remember a time where she brought death and decay and fear, and I remember hating her for it. I hated myself for it. 

How much more powerful a thing, to help things grow and thrive. 

I smiled, and though my teeth were stained green and brown, I thought it was a pleasant smile. 

Now, perhaps you've never stared into a mirror by yourself, late at night. The image is so still and the light is so dim that what you see begins to morph before your very eyes. Now, some say that this is a form of divination in and of itself - I have not tried it enough to know for sure what can be gained from this sort of scrying. But, it is mesmerizing. Too mesmerizing, perhaps, too hard to look away from. As your eyes are fixed on your eyes looking back at you, it's almost impossible to look away as everything except for your eyes dissolves into nothing but shadow and mist. And then, other images appear. Unclear. Most likely nothing except an optical illusion. But still worth looking at, if you have the spirit to try.

It may have been a dream. I thought it was a dream. But in a sacred clearing in an ancient forest, with mysterious torches and the light of the full moon, and a mirror that came out of nowhere...It is no small thing to gaze into such a mirror in such a place as this. I don't pretend to understand the nature of magic. I don't pretend to understand the secrets of the natural world. But I can at least acknowledge that the act I was in the middle of performing was a very powerful one, indeed. Even in a dream. Especially in a dream. 

I saw many things in this dream. In this dream-mirror, in this dream-wood, in this dream-self. 

I saw someone I almost recognized, someone with eyes and hair and a body like mine and yet completely unlike it. Skin that resembled real flesh, eyes that were simply brown and human, hair that was simply hair. No mud or plant-life or green or blood streaked here and there on her. Her appearance was accompanied by the sound of a strange click-clack, tip-tap, click-clack, tip-tap; but she and that sound were gone just as soon as they came. 

And then it was just me. 

Just me,

And then,

A silhouette behind me. 

A silhouette that grew and grew, with orange/red fiery eyes. 

The torches blew out one at a time, instantly, and I was surrounded by darkness once more. Even the light of the moon was gone. 

I turned around to look at it directly. 

All I remember is seeing a huge, empty, shadowy grin - a grin that was not malicious, but certainly not born of joy. 

I'm not sure why, but I remember screaming as loud as I possibly can. And the sound that came from my mouth was not my voice, but I know that it was the sound of a hundred birds shrieking in a flaming forest, all at once. 

And suddenly, I woke up in my little home. 

I woke up screaming with my own voice.

Relief washed over me as I realized I was safe and in the privacy of my home. 

I sat up. 

And saw my own reflection.

The mirror was in my home. 

Someone had brought me home safe. 

And that someone had brought this gift with them. 

A gift...

You know something, I believe that a hundred stories ago, I told you a story about a creature; a creature, and a girl who became a creature. And a Tower. 

A hundred stories ago. 

A lifetime ago. 

And almost a hundred stories ago, perhaps more, perhaps less, someone gave me the gift of a mirror. 

I don't know if I want it this time. 

I think I was obsessed with mirrors. I think I was obsessed with whatever I was at the time. The mirror won't trap me again. I don't want to be trapped within myself. 

The Ace of Cups, when it is reversed, means that we need something. Something that feeds us. Something that will help us find happiness, something that will help us grow. I have been missing that something - or else, the Reversed Ace of Cups would not be banging down my door to send me a message. I have not yet dealt with the one thing that will allow me to live with peace. The thing that will make my heart whole. I am, as it turns out, trapped. 

But I've trapped myself, haven't I? 

I found a little place in which I've felt safe, and I've been hiding here. 

I can still hide here, when I want, but I think what I need is....is out there. 

I tore at the brambles and briars and thorns that formed that tunneled entryway. Enough of it. Though it bloodied my hands and fingers more, I ripped at them until there was, simply, a doorway. No more crawling in and out. Even if it means someone could come in and find me - let them. 

Afterward, I decided to improve the image in the mirror. Not because I was ashamed, but because my body hurt, and I realized that it was time. I did not want to look like I was hurt any more. Looking at myself in the mirror, with crooked, aching fingers that forgot how to do such a thing, I tried to tidy myself a little. Unpracticed hands and cracked fingernails learned how to braid my hair in places, to perhaps try and improve whatever frightening impression I might make. I have a little water in my home, collected from times of rain, and I used it to clean the cuts along my skin and feed the little sprouts that grow along it. I cleaned the blood and mud from my lips, and realized that that was just their colour. I took care of my hands and feet in such a way that almost felt decadent. 

And I left.

Again, not for good. But just...for now. 

I went for a walk.

And I thought, and I thought, and I thought. 

What am I missing? 

What am I not realizing that I need?

What will make that upside-down single cup turn itself right back around, and allow itself to be filled again?

And I heard a little voice, laughing. 

So I hid. 

I hid within a cluster of trees and bushes, kneeling, waiting.  

And I saw a little human running through the woods. 

A little child. 

She was laughing in the dim light of the morning, seemingly oblivious to the sound trailing behind her of adults, concerned, searching for her. 

I watched quietly as she knelt to allow a furry green caterpillar climb across her fingers. She let it crawl off them, too, and away from her hand. She laughed, and did it again. 

I watched, and could not help but smile. All this creature wanted to do was see a caterpillar walk. Feel its little feet on her skin. But she did not even dare pick it up. she just let it continue on its journey. And in her eyes was only wonder. She had no desire to control the insect, or take it with her. She just wanted to witness it. It was a lovely thing to see. 

And then, she raised her eyes and looked in my direction.

I'm certain that she saw something. Perhaps my face in the leaves. Perhaps my shining yellow eyes. Perhaps my feet, sticking carelessly out from a shrub. 

For a moment, I was terrified that she might scream, and so I prepared to run away. 

But she didn't. 

She just looked right into my eyes. 

Grinning, she reached around her wrist and removed a little charm bracelet. 

Nothing most adults would call valuable. It was a child's bracelet. Woven from colourful string, with a few little flowers made of some material I didn't recognize dangling here and there. 

She walked over to me slowly. Meanwhile, her parents' voices grew louder and louder, calling her name, growing more and more concerned. She glanced over her shoulder. I took a small step away from her, again, prepared to run, should more humans come into my ancient forest and find out the secret of my life here. 

But she simply came and draped her bracelet over a branch. And she smiled, perhaps only a foot or two away from me now. 

She looked right into my eyes, and she whispered: 

"Hello." 

And then her parents ran into the woods, relieved beyond anything to have found her. She laughed and ran to them. They scooped her up and, in tones that were alternating between loving and scolding, they swept her away as quickly as she had come. 

[The piano theme from before, returns.]

And I don't know why or how, but I started whispering. I started whispering a little blessing. I don't know what language it was, or if it was language at all, but I know that in my heart I wished health and prosperity and joy to this mischievous little soul who brought me a gift. No, I didn't wish these things. I offered them. I bestowed them. And I knew they would come to pass. 

I took the bracelet and brought it to my home. What a lovely little tribute. I don't know why she thought to give it to me. I don't know what it was about my presence in those woods, or with whatever innate knowledge she had, but the gift made me feel so honoured and so seen and appreciated, that I had to help her in return. I had to give her a blessing. That was my gift. And I was so glad to give it. 

And when I returned and looked in the mirror, I saw a creature in it now - clean and natural and part of the woods and beautiful and ornately decorated with flowers. And I felt a wave of pride as I said out loud: "I am the spirit of this forest." 

Is that what I am? 

A mythical creature? A monster? A nymph? An elf? A faerie of some kind? 

I don't know. 

Those are all words that I didn't invent, and I don't think there's a reason that I should fit under any category that anyone other than myself has created. 

But I know that a kindness was done to me today, and I returned it in kind with my own kindness. My own gift. 

I think that may be what has been missing. 

I want to meet people. I want to engage with people. I want to help people. That's what mythical creatures who live in the ancient places of the world should do, is it not? That, or mischief. And I'm not in the mood for mischief unless mischief is done on me, I don't think. 

But perhaps, from a distance. Perhaps from the shadows. I can't help that I'm still afraid and unsure. But I think the only way I will improve is by doing it. 

My door is open now. I'm not sure if anyone will walk through, but I will be ready. 

Goodnight, my friends. 

For you, I wish the gift of good rest tonight. 

Sleep well. See you soon. 

(Host speaks out of character, as Kristen:)

Hello everyone - this is Kristen Zaza here now, the writer/podcaster/creator behind On a Dark, Cold Night. I hope that you're doing well, and I hope you enjoyed hearing her talk about her new life now. We're all changing, aren't we? That Reversed Ace of Cups is certainly a persistent card. I hope that this obstacle has been overcome. Perhaps. We'll see. I have to accept that I don't have any control over it.