The Fool's Journey

 This is a short story from my first year of uni. I have a weird love/hate relationship with it because of how much my professor was distressed that this seem less like a short story and more like an excerpt from a novel. I really like cliff hanger endings and let the reader wonder what the true conclusion is. Ugh, I don't know. It's a skill I need to hone.

oOo

Superstition was something that Olive found fascinating. Regardless if someone considered themselves completely rational and deny the existence of magic or deific figures of organized religion, they still harbor some amount of belief in the unexplained. Black cats are less likely to be adopted than their white or tabby counterparts. Ouija boards will forever be seen as a metaphysical key to the realm of demons. Parents still make offerings of their children’s teeth to the tooth fairy. Okay, maybe that last one was a little dark, but it still paints a picture of how superstition plays a role in modern society. This still doesn’t stop people from raising a skeptical brow at those who claim to be witches, or psychics or, like herself, tarot interpreters. Olive had never been called a charlatan but she could guess that it was most people’s initial judgement of her particular choice of work. These were the lines of thought Olive had been finding herself traveling along since she and Evander came to Bruyere Village. Rural Italy wasn’t exactly “old world” but many people still used home remedies, visited the apothecary weekly, and carried cornicello charms to ensure good luck.

Shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand Olive surveyed her surroundings. The swish of grass blowing in the wind could be heard faintly above the calls of the quails hiding in the brush. The afternoon sun shone bright and unabated by the wisps of cirrus clouds. Olive had made a habit of following the creek that ran through Bruyere during riposo; even as a child she could never nap. She decided to follow the creek out of the village to the south. She spent the last couple days exploring the copse of chestnut trees to the north. After scraping up her knee pretty bad from tripping over the uneven ground pitted with roots and rocks, Olive felt like her exploration of that area was complete.

Eyes fluttering shut Olive inhaled the scent of sun-warmed soil and algae from the creek bed. Although this trip to Italy technically counted as a business trip, Olive was grateful that Evander didn’t expect her to assist in whatever alchemical creation he was synthesizing. She was more than happy to excuse herself when Evander returned from the butcher with a sack full of hooves to use for something called “philosophical calcination”. A sudden loud hum of some buzzing insect flying past her ear startled Olive from her reverie. Eyes snapping open she swatted the air at nothing in particular before continuing on her trek.

Stone pines and chestnut trees dotted the trial Olive walked. Her footsteps were muffled on the yellowed grass, and she slowed to a stop once more as her eyes fell upon a low wall. It looked to be as old as The Florid Folletti Locanda; an old inn turned tavern that had been standing in the heart of the village since the 1200’s. The stone was weather worn and crumbling, giving the illusion that it had sprung up from the ground. A small crease formed between Olive’s brows as a vague sense of familiarity washed over her. Her gaze danced over the rough cracked ridges of the chestnut tree bark as she followed the overgrown path besides the crumbling wall.

I know this place, Olive thought to herself.

It was a ridiculous thought because Olive had never traveled outside of the country before, but this path felt as familiar to her as the steps leading up to her grandmother’s house. Steps she had ran up a thousand and one times. A soft tinkling of metal hitting metal drew Olive’s gaze to the strangely bare branches of one of the trees that had grown close to the ancient wall. Tied to the gnarled fingers of the wizened wood were tarnished silver spoons crafted like a homemade wind chime.

Huh. That’s definitely not weird or creepy at all. Olive thought to herself as she eyed the blackened utensils with mild apprehension.

The scene felt like a dream half remembered, or one of Olive’s earliest memories. She stood stark still, chewing the inside of her cheek as unease bubbled up beneath the overpowering sense of familiarity. Her gaze followed the path as it curved, and between the spoon decorated trees she spotted what looked like an old hunting lodge.

Olive felt propelled forward as if tugged by some unseen hand holding a string tied around her middle. With each step Olive took the sounds of the Italian countryside seemed to fade, leaving only the quiet tinkling of the spoons in the trees. She strained her ears to hear the chirps of sparrows or squawks of the corncrakes, but all that could be heard was the ‘ting ting’ of the spoons. Olive kept her eyes glued on the hunting cabin, taking in the long grasses and wildflowers growing against the timeworn walls. There were shingles missing here and there, and the roof drooped beneath a small pile of dead leaves. It was clear that it hadn’t been used for many, many years and had fallen into disrepair. A twig snapped under Olive’s foot as she stopped a few yards from the empty, warped door frame. The brightness of the sun made it difficult to make out what the interior of the cabin might look like.

A sudden breeze picked up and blew Olive’s pony tail over her shoulder. For a brief moment Olive had the feeling that the gaping maw of the cabin’s doorway was trying to suck her in. The longer Olive stared into its depths a ringing filled her ears, and she took a staggering step forward as if she might fall. She could have sworn she heard a whisper beckoning her to step over the threshold. The shiver that ran up the length of her spine had nothing to do with the beads of sweat that traveled down between her shoulder blades.

Nope. Nope nope nope. Thought Olive as she promptly spun on her heel and all but ran from the dilapidated cabin.

.o.

The sleepy village was humming with the socialization of shopkeepers setting out their sandwich boards once more now that riposo was finished. Olive pulled at her shit, unsticking it from her sweaty skin. A pleasant breeze was fluttering through leafy plants and flapping table cloths. The blistering rays of the sun streaming between the leaves on the trees speckled the old cobblestone roads with spots of light and shadow. It was positively picturesque that Olive momentarily forgot about the unease that followed her from the hunting cabin. It wasn’t the type of uneasiness she had expected with confronting an undoubtedly haunted structure. The feeling was more akin to that of forgetting something important. Almost like standing in the checkout line at the grocery store and swearing you forgot something even though the shopping list is all checked off.

Olive dug through her shoulder bag for her phone to check the time. She wanted to call Jacelyn and tell her about her strange encounter, and she wanted to make sure it wasn’t the middle of the night back in the States. Olive was greeted by a message from Evander telling her that he had gone to Ehsan’s to do his synthesizing, and that she should join him when she returned to the village. The thought of sitting beside a pond with the wind blowing cool air across the surface was far more appealing than returning to their stuff hotel room. Besides, Evander might have some insight to why she felt some vertigo when she peered into the hunting lodged. He might not be as attuned to the supernatural as Jacelyn, but Olive knew that the alchemist had dealt with his fair share of the unexplainable. Wiping idly at the sweat at the back of her neck Olive turned her steps from the direction of the hotel to stone bridge leading out of town.

There weren’t many people on the path. Olive passed a group of laughing children with fishing poles and sunburned noses, followed by a tired looking sheepdog. One of the boys was pinching his nose and pointing at another in the group. Being the youngest of two brothers, Olive didn’t need to guess what they were accusing their friend of doing. A pungent smell like rotten eggs and burnt hair overpowered the wild rosemary and pine scent. Olive knew immediately that no living creature could produce such a foul stench. Her stomach clenched painfully and she covered her mouth and nose as she quickened her steps. By the time Olive reached the apothecary the smell had dissipated, but she couldn’t help the frown of disgust that pulled down the corners of her mouth.

“The smell of Evander’s cooking has reached the village, I take it?”

Olive lifted her gaze from the dirt path to the pond where Ehsan and Evander sat in cafe chairs drinking what looked like lemonade from glasses slick with condensation. Evander mocked laughter in response to Ehsan’s jest, and Olive couldn’t help but smile.

“Under normal circumstances synthesizing is done inside where smells are more easily controlled,” said Evander while giving Ehsan a pointed look.

As Olive sat in the spare chair besides the alchemist she then realized that he was dressed simply in a dark V-neck t-shirt and black harem pants. Her gaze flitted over the minimalist style tattoo of the solar system on Evander’s inner forearm. The few years she had worked for Evander she had never seen him wear so little layers or his tattoo so clearly.

“I understand, dear heart,” began Ehsan, a smile on his tanned face. “But like I said before: I much rather have the whole countryside smell like cow slurry than contaminate my livelihood with your philosophical calcification.”

Olive brought her gaze to Ehsan as he spoke. His inky locks were pulled back messily in a bun, and his eyes were heavy lidded as if he had just woken from a deep sleep. He wore a black gauze kaftan, and Olive found herself momentarily distracted by the sharp edges of his collarbones. Ehsan’s voice drew Olive’s eyes to his golden pools.

“You’re looking a little sun kissed,” Ehsan remarked, eyes dancing over Olive’s features. “Let me bring you some aloe and we’ll see if we can stop that burn in its tracks.”

As she watched Ehsan glide away Olive reached up to gingerly press at her cheeks. Her skin felt hot beneath the pads of her fingers and ached a little at the pressure she applied. She should have known that SPF 50 sunscreen wasn’t going to stand up to the scorching rays of Mediterranean sun for very long.

“See anything interesting on your walk?” Evander asked before taking a drink from his glass.

“Funny you should mention it,” replied Olive, shifting in her chair to face Evander. “Something totally weird happened!”

Olive recounted to Evander what happened when she noticed the stone wall. She did her best to be as specific as she could with describing the sensations she experienced. Evander was leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees as he listened. Every so often he would swirl the ice in his glass but he kept his gaze locked on Olive’s. Ehsan joined them once more when Olive got to the part of her story where she felt like she was being sucked inside the hunting cabin.

“It was super weird,” Olive said, taking the small tin of salve Ehsan held out to her. “It felt like something was telling me to go inside. And when I got back to town, I felt like I had forgotten something back at that place.”

“You didn’t go inside to see what it was?” Evander asks coolly.

Fingertips slick with the salve Olive stills to stare incredulously at the alchemist. She flicks her gaze to Ehsan who is wearing the same curious expression Evander is.

Olive began slowly, “Uh, no, dying in a haunted house is definitely on the bottom of my list of things to do in Italy.”

A look was exchanged between Ehsan and Evander. The alchemist pressed his lips together while Ehsan’s forehead wrinkled. Olive narrowed her gaze at the pair. The look almost read as disappointed.

“What?” asked Olive, glancing between them. “It was just deja vu.”

A strange silence falls over the three of them. It isn’t exactly companionable but it isn’t uncomfortable either. After a short moment Evander asks softly, “How do you think people come to my shop?”

Olive sat straight, eyes going round. She thought about the Gilded Willow. It was a strange shop. The shelves were lined with typical apothecary goods; bulk herbs in glass jars, flower essences and essential oils, that sort of thing. Then there were cabinets full of crystals, shelves lined with objects that you might see for sale in an antique shop. There were types of people who came to the Gilded Willow. The ones that came for the herbs and oils walked past the display cases and overladen tables as if they didn’t see that wonderfully strange things that were there. Then there were the others that acted as if the objects were the only things that were worth looking at in the store. There was an old vase with a beautiful Japanese textile pattern of a moon that went home with an old woman who nearly wept when she saw it. A red aluminum bat with the words “Executioner’s Sword” inscribed in black paint went home with a black eyed teenager wearing a Catholic school uniform.

“They needed something,” Olive’s voice was soft when she replied.

That was the only way to describe it. No one came to Gilded Willow to merely browse. They didn’t pick up and fondle objects or point out things that they thought looked neat. They walked slowly, eyes scanning until they found what they were looking for. The “artifact”, as Evander calls them, which calls to whoever takes it home.

Evander nodded slowly. “One, single thing, whether it will have its uses right away or not. The only thing that is for certain is that they know they need it.” His green eyes glittered as he put emphasis on the word. “Do you think these people seek these artifacts out, know where to even look for what calls to them, by coincidence?”

Olive felt pinned beneath the intensity of Evander’s gaze. She swallowed against her dry throat, tongue feeling fat and useless in her mouth.

“There is no such thing as coincidence in this world,” Evander continued, tone firm and sure. “Everything is inevitability, as being the driving source in the world.”

Olive’s mind reels. She was finding it hard to believe that someone like Evander, a man capable of creating his own reality, would believe in something as romantic as “fate”. If Evander’s words were true and there is in fact no such thing as coincidence or déjà vu, what is the reason for her to be in Italy? What reason did she have to stumble across that abandoned hunting cabin, and why did she feel like there was something inside? A moist chill against her bare knee startled Olive from her thoughts. Her violet eyes snapped to the glass of lemonade Ehsan was pressing against her skin. Olive’s cheeks heated up. She hadn’t even noticed when he had left and came back again. She mumbled her thanks as she took the glass.

“Perhaps you should consult the arcana,” Ehsan offered, smiling down at Olive. “Trust your intuition to guide you.”

.o.



Olive held her tarot deck in her right hand. She sat cross legged on the hotel room floor, a fabric altar mat spread out before her. The rattle of the rattle of the air conditioner was the only sound the broke stillness as Olive fanned out the cards. In one breath she gently blew on the card edges to clear away the old energy. Putting the cards back into a neat pile, still holding them in her right hand, Olive firmly knocked once on the top of the deck. It was a ritual Olive practiced every time she took out her cards to do a reading. She found it difficult to clear her mind and manifest a strong connect with her cards if it still contained the energies from her last reading. Flipping the deck face up Olive thumbed through the colorful illustrations until she found the sixth card of the Major Arcana: The Lovers.

Olive studies the image of the couple standing in a beautiful garden in a solemn silence. Before coming to Italy she took her intuition for granted. She chose to read tarot because she liked the art and symbolism hidden within. It was a fun gimmick, and she knew she could make money off people desperately searching for coincidences. Or, at least that was what Olive always thought until she came to Italy. An unease had settled on her bones. She knew deep within her very being that what Evander said was true; there is no such thing as coincidence. Feelings of déjà vu were just moments aligning with the universe to tell you that you are exactly where you need to be in that moment in time. A moment when you are completely synchronized with the driving force of all things. It was frightening to think about. It took the fun and some of the mystery out of it, and Olive figured that was what made her feel the most uneasy.

Laying the card on the fabric mat Olive focused her intention. Since the world is beyond what Olive had conceived she needed to decide whether or not to continue to live as if there was no grand design set in place by the universe, or open herself completely to the fantastic. Olive shake herself physically in an attempt to rid herself of the dark cloud of uncertainty that was looming over her. This decision needed to be made with a light, pure heart. The Lovers card was a symbol for following the wisdom of your heart. Olive shuffled the remaining cards and cut the deck twice with her left hand, and stacked the three piles together. Drawing six cards from the top of the deck she placed them around the Lovers in a diamond shape.

“What are my choices, and how do I choose?” whispered Olive.

The card directly beneath the Lovers represented Olive’s question. She flipped the card from left to right, and was greeted by the 8 of Pentacles. Olive knew the card meant an opportunity to gain new skills. As she gazed at the figure, “the apprentice”, in the illustration her intuition told her that building knowledge and expertise could mean moving away from comforts to hone skills in an unsure atmosphere. Chewing her bottom lip Olive gently tapper her finger on the card. The 8 of Pentacles was telling her that she was being offered an opportunity. She flipped to the left of the Lovers. It revealed itself to be the 9 of Swords, and represented the background to the present situation. The 9 of Swords signified a worry that encompasses all or many aspects of life. Olive’s greatest attribute was also the thing she felt the least confidence in, and that was her intuition. The Knight of Wands was flipped over next, followed by the 10 of Cups, the 5 of Swords, and the 5 of Pentacles. These cards told Olive to control fiery impulses, and to focus on intuition and emotions. There was growth and wisdom in experience, to be curious and explore. The cards encouraged her to proceed even if there will be disappointments. Something is still waiting to be discovered; invisible now but may be revealed later.

Olive drummed her fingers on her knees as her gaze flicked from card to card. The silhouetted door frame of the hunting cabin stood in her mind’s eye as she mulled over the interpretation of the cards spread before her. She had questions, and the answers were ones that only she could seek out herself. No answers would come to light by inaction, so Olive carefully re stacked the cards. She wrapped them in the reading mat as she pushed to her feet. It was time to do a bit of urban exploration.