Saturday, May 03, 2008

Mystic Lake

It was lucky that Felicia found Abigail Harrison first. The girl, barely old enough to take her GCSEs, was sat on the edge of the lake to the south of the house, staring across the water just as the sun crept over the horizon. She cast off her wolf form and stood erect, naked but for her scars and the i-pod around her neck. Silent, unseen through the morning mist, she slipped off the consumer electronics and slipped into the water, swimming below the surface to rise head and shoulders through the ripples to greet the girl.

“Why have you come?” she asked.

“To seek the lady of the lake.”

Felicia paused. Harold had only dug the lake the previous year. It hadn’t had time to build up a viable ecology, let alone a myth of several centuries. “Um, she’s not here.” Felicia could have kicked herself. For all her education that’s the best she could come up with?” “She keeps to the waters of Avalon, until the prophesy comes to pass.”

“What prophesy?” said Abigail, jumping to her feet, but Felicia had already slid back beneath the water. “Wait?”

Felicia climbed out at the other side and looked back to see the girl searching the shore for another visitation. There was no prophesy she was aware of. Prophesies were tools for lazy writers but she was sure the girl would find one to match her experience.

Perhaps she’d become a writer one day.

Or a priest.

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