Into the Void (A Gypsy Tales Chapter)
The cosmic and planetary forces quivered.
Time stopped awaiting the trigger to resume as Lillith entered the unknown, buffered within the serene garden that was her womb.
with a bucket full of sand dry as ash.
His attention halted, as did the wind. The birds quelled,
daily sounds of village work and play, and the sky flashed.
All around his life stopped. Only his breath and prayer
could he hear as a force pulled him to turn and look across the field,
where at the height of the burnt wheat a movement of blonde hair
moved toward him slowly, bobbing up, concealed.
His eyes riveted unable to blink or turn away
as out from the field stepped a young girl.
She was merely waist high: a sun ray.
Their eyes locked, hers of blue: an untouched pearl.
The little girl smiled and raised her hand, palm spread
as only they moved within the air around their mind's land.
She moved closer to the farmer and said,
“Why are you holding a bucket of sand?"
The farmer was startled to hear her speak his command,
for their village was far from others and theirs was versed.
Kneeling down with the bucket, he filled his hand with sand
and held it out to her and spoke, “Our well is dry and we thirst.”
“I too, thirst for a drink,” she whispered.
“Please empty the bucket except for what my hands can hold.”
Not clear why he did as she asked, the farmer complied.
“Now that you hold this dry sand and I, an empty bucket, how shall we quench our thirst untold?”
and held them over the arid land.
She leaned her face over them a glow of devout.
A single tear dropped into the sand.
She put her hands together and squeezed,
dropping the sand back into the pail.
“You must return this bucket of sand diseased,
back within the well it has come from, so it may not fail."
The farmer was dumbstruck, but did what was sought.
He lowered the bucket with rope back down the hole
until bottom was reached and the rope not taut.
“Why have I played this child’s foolish game?”
He played his role.
Turning back to the child he put his hands on her skin
and remarked, “Well, young lass, we have played your game.
What is your name and where are your kin?"
“I am here, you are now my folk, and what is my name!” she exclaimed.
Having young ones himself, he was used to their games.
“Yes, you are here, we have played this game with sand.
So Sammie is what shall be your name!
But, curious little Sammie: is the game end in hand?"
“Why, good sir this game ends by you pulling the rope
and bringing the bucket back into this good place,” she asked.
The farmer picked up the rope and pulled with little hope.
The harder he pulled, the more it stayed slack.
When he thought he must be at the rope's end
it became taut and weighted.
Pulling and lifting, the bucket appeared,
tipped, and water poured out unabated.
The farmer dropped the rope, steadied the vessel
and leaned over the edge of the well.
There, an arms length below the rail,
was water, clear and pure, with a sweet smell.
Dazed, amazed, and wonder transposed,
he turned to this mother’s daughter
to see her laughing and curling her toes
in the muddy sand from the spilt water.
“Kind Sir, may I quench my thirst with water found
from your well, if it is not a bother?”
Quickly the farmer lowered the bucket to the ground
And kneeling before her, he whispered, “You may call me Father.”
“Father, may I stay with your family and protect me as such?”
The farmer turned and looked all around; so still the lea.
He turned back to Sammie and whispered as much,
“My life is your life and nothing shall harm you before me.”
Sammie reached out her palms and placed them on his face.
“These are the words of kindness I have received and deemed
Father, for I am of one and will help as needed in this place.
You and I own this moment in time, you will have dreamed.”
As Sammie released her hands, a ripple moved across the land.
All returned to normal: the wind, sun, birds, and village alike.
Lillith assumed her human image formed from mud in the sand.
A small step forward to a future, Nephilim preparing their strike.