Legend of the Wood Nymph

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Legend of the Wood Nymph

Postby Miki Yamuri » Wed Dec 01, 2021 9:19 am

Legend of the Wood Nymph

It is whispered softly in the hovels by the Saxon Moors, there is a sprite who dwells within a sacred tree. A kiss she gives and a change it brings, for the old be young and a new gender be.

Here is what happened to me when I searched for the sprite.

I had gone on a vacation to England with my girlfriend Lisa. She and I had longed to see it and walk among the places we had only read about. We had finally come upon a place that had been designated a National Park of England called The North York Moors.

The land is absolutely beautiful and remains much as it has for centuries. There is no hustle and bustle of the city. The air is crisp and clear. The town’s folk simple and friendly and willing to share, a bowl, a pipe, and a story or two by the fireplace firelight.

We stayed at what was once an ancient castle built centuries before by the Anglo Saxons. If you listen carefully, you could hear the voices of old whispered on the wind. The ivy covered walls speak of centuries past, of Knights, of Honor, and Chivalry.

The old inn keeper and his wife were more than willing to tell us tails of magic and mysteries of the Moor. He told of a sprite that lived in a tree. In a place deep in a sacred wood. A spire of stone would mark her place for all the travelers to see.

He warned that a youth may never return for a kiss she will give to them. For the old will be young and a new gender be and the young shall have youth beyond their years.

Lisa and me really enjoyed this tail as we drank humming ale from an oak cask and ate mutton cooked on the hearth. The cheese was aged to perfection, the meat cooked through. The bread was sour dough with home churned butter served.

The Innkeeper’s wife escorted us upstairs to our room by rush lantern light. It was a beautiful room with a huge bed that had the softest Ida Feather filled mattress we had ever slept on. The bed was so large it could have had its own zip code. The room was lighted by a friendly fireplace fire and several sputtering tallow candles.

We put out the candles and lay in the bed. We watched the warm firelight dance and weave a soothing spell and quickly fell asleep.

The next day, Lisa n me wanted to see this pixie spire. The Inn Keeper wouldn’t say where to go. His wife took Lisa by the arm and pulled her aside. She told her of a trail that lead deep into the woods. She said when we had gone a mile and could turn around on the side of the hill and barely see the keep, to follow the setting sun and we would find it.

The air was cool and crisp and the sound of songbirds were everywhere. We actually found the place on the side of the hill and could just barely see the keep. And true enough the trail split and one led towards the west. We followed it into the valley. The forest was absolutely beautiful. A mist lay full and thick all along the ground.

We came upon a place within a glade, where the trees made a cave. At the very end a huge Old Oak tree stood. We walked into the opening in the trees to see this huge old oak tree.

Lisa found something she wanted to see and stopped to examine it. I continued to the tree. I never in my wildest dream expected to ever see the thing I saw. A fire burned suddenly, hovering in the air. Came right from the trunk of the tree right up to me and lit on the ground.

There she actually stood, right before my eyes. Magical and mysterious, the sprite of old.

A kiss she gave to me, right on my lips. Such a wondrous kiss I have never had as it filled my soul with love. I felt it as it coursed through me, strong and powerfully.
My head buzzed like a hive of bees, then I noticed Lisa on her knees. She helped me back on my feet, but something was very wrong.

I was now not a man but a young baby girl of 3. Lisa was so surprised. She had seen it all, and still didn’t believe. I stood in my clothes all baggy and loose. I had no choice but to believe.

If you’re ever in York Moor, beware of the pixie spire. For in a tree there dwells a nymph with a kiss. The old are young and a new gender be.
Miki Yamuri
 
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