The Misty World of Arial Hollyberry

Night was quickly closing in around me and the path leading down to the little town of Willowmeer was becoming harder to see. If it weren’t for the kindness of the monk I met on the road I would have been lost for sure. I rubbed my eyes and glanced quickly around me. The deepening shadows must have been playing tricks because it seemed as if he materialized out of thin air.

With a humble nod, he greeted me silently,  palms pressed together in front of the Celtic cross that hung  around his neck. His tunic and cowl were dark gray. He wore the hood up, covering his head and obscuring his face.

“Brother, thank goodness you’re here. I had to park on the side of the road a ways back.”  I turned to point back the way I had come and continued. “There was sign posted saying that Willowmeer was a kilometer down this path. I had no idea a kilometer was so far or I would have waited until morning to make the hike. Could you tell me how much farther it is to the town?”

This mysterious friar moved closer, sending a chill breeze before him. It looked more like he glided than walked, then he stopped suddenly, close enough that I could hear his rasping breath. He gestured down the path, indicating with his fingers that it was only a short distance around the curve. I found it curious that he he wouldn’t speak, then remembered that certain monks take a vow of silence.  That must be it. I felt a little embarrassed that it took me so long to understand and said, “Please excuse me for my ignorance Brother, I understand, you’ve taken a vow of silence.”

He smiled. It was a sad smile. I could see his face a little better since he moved closer and there were deep lines of sorrow etched around his hazel eyes. With his hands stuck inside the large cuffs of his robes, he bowed, then started up the path that I had just come down. I held up my hand to stop him and touched the sleeve of his tunic. When he turned, it felt like my hand passed through his arm and  a shiver ran down my spine. I shook off the chill that had come over me, telling myself that there was nothing to fear from this mild monk. “It’s getting very dark, will I be into town before I lose my light completely?” He nodded and reached into a pouch that swung from the rope tied around his waist. When his hand emerged, he was holding a small lantern with a white candle. He brought the lantern close to his mouth and blew on the candle. I am not joking when I say that every hair on my head stood out as I watched the candle burst into flame.

I stood, frozen, looking at the monk for what seemed to be a eternity, then hesitantly took a step forward to take the glowing beacon he offered. He nodded at me and smiled that same sad smile, then turned again to make his way up the path. When I looked up from the light, he was gone, it was like he turned to smoke and vanished into the murkey forest.

The sun was low on the top of the hills that surrounded the little valley and the deepening shadows seemed to slither through the pines like ghostly wraiths.  A grassy meadow sloped down from the path and opened into a wide stretch of farmland dotted with small houses that had thatched roofs. As the shadows grew longer, a mist reached up from the ground with thin curling fingers and crawled through the glen, swallowing barns and fields, creeping closer to where I stood. I was startled from my thoughts by the quick, sharp hooting of an owl.

Holding the lantern out in front of me, I hurried down the path and around the bend. Looking back I thought I saw the form of the monk , hood up, arms tucked inside the sleeves of his robes, wavering on the edge of the trees.

© Tami Ruesch, The Misty World of Arial Hollyberry, 2009.