#willowisps

I do not remember how I got here or why I am here or what I am. I feel like it has been this way for all of eternity, both my confusion and also my existence. This enigmatic feeling that plagues me also fosters spells of boredom and mischief and I don’t mean it, you know I don’t. What would anyone else have done with eternity and the ability to go through with it with no punishments, no retribution? I can hardly be blamed for any of the misfortunes caused to the beings I come in contact with. That is unfair and unjust and all other words that are the opposite of right and good.  My existence has become one of a prankster and if I had to choose whether or not this is something I would choose for myself or not, well I wouldn’t be able to tell you. I just know that sometimes, things are out of our control and when that happens, the best form of action is to indulge. Do not tempt the fates.

In folklore, I am known as the ghost light- a being of gas above a murky swamp. I float, hypnotically above the waters and mystify anyone who can spot me. I don’t mean for people to become mesmerized by my dance. They just do. And I can’t be blamed for them falling into marshes when they want to come and join me.

I am the Jack-O-Lantern- floating fire in the night sky. Reflecting off of the still water, I frolic playfully and invite any traveler to come and play. Sometimes they don’t, but when they do, I get a short moment of excitement, because for that split second, I am not alone. I am noticed and I am real. There is a difference between the word of an eye-witness and the word of mouth. Sometimes they are connected, like village gossip. Sometimes they are completely different, like if I am real or not. If I can help my cause in any way; if I could just prove to them it isn’t just a myth, then I have more of a purpose than most my kind. 

Once, I peeped at a man trudging through my marsh whose movements were languid and irregular. He carried a large parcel on his back that was wrapped so delicately, I knew it was worth something. It had meaning and an important destination and I remember thinking to myself, ‘What is the story behind that package? What could possibly be in it? What secrets did the wrapping hide?’ I needed to know.

Creeping closer to the man, I noticed his thin limbs. How the muscle and bone could be seen in his arms and neck and calves.  Was it because of the package? Did it have some sort of seed-like power that sucked the life right out of whoever was near it? The questions piled up and up until I was so close I could see my own glow reflecting off of his scruffy chin. His eyes had swept over to mine (if you believe I have eyes) and stayed locked onto me for a long moment. There was a cold silence. I could only tell you so because a visible chill racked his thin body.

He had reached out like he was going to pluck me out of the air and I wafted back to avoid his hand. The man then rubbed his eyes and blinked then turned his gaze upward at me again. It was like he could not believe I was there, floating in front of him. He reached out to swipe at me again and I danced back. This continued, with the man grabbing at me with each hand, one after the other and me, hopping backwards in the air, a trail of light slinking behind me. It followed my every move, just like the man.

‘Tell me what is in that package, sir and I will let you pet me!’ I remember trilling but he did not respond. Man had lost the ability to hear us ages before I was made. I spoke to him, anyway. The act made the experience more fun. He would speak to me, as if talking to himself and I would respond and pretend he could hear what I was saying. The conversation went on like that as he followed me deeper into the marsh.

He cursed when he had stepped in a deep puddle and his shoe was soggy from the mud and water. I spun around his ankles and his attention was back on me and my little dance. I willed my light to be brighter the deeper in we got to keep him from focusing on my boring, old swamp. I was why he was here, not the reeds or the giant roots or the mud! Who wants to pay attention to mud? It does nothing, but I swim in the air and what is more fun than that?

I giggled when he lost his shoe in a particularly deep sludge and I did a loop when he fell to his knees and yelped in surprise. Still, the package was wrapped tightly onto his back and the contents of it continued to be a secret.