Rainey, An Enchanted Encounter

I glance into my muse and her enchantment of me

O

ne of my friends stopped by to drop off eggs from a neighbor’s backyard flock. When I opened the carton, I was shocked by their appearance. The eggs were colored, not dyed or painted like Easter eggs. No, these were obviously natural pinks, greens, and azures. Over these deep pastels, the shells were covered in swirling filigree of silver and gold. They were not as elaborate as a Fabergè but not far from their intricacies.

“Wayne. What the heck is this? They are quite pretty, but Easter was weeks ago. Not sure I want old eggs, even if they are gorgeous.”

"Oh, Joey, they are fresh… Heather said her chickens are laying them just as they are… she says it happened after the hens rushed in and ate a crazy wild orchid she accidentally dropped in her yard. She found the flower while fishing. But the looks are not the incredible part. Wait until you taste one!” Wayne stopped and took in the surroundings like he was searching for Red Dawn Spies before he continued. “You know that warmth that consumes you after some really great sex? Well, that’s what it feels like after even one bite.”

The next morning, I held the fork in front of my mouth, and the bite looked like my normal scrambled eggs. I briefly held the sample under my nose; nothing was unusual. I pushed in the fork, gleaning the morsel from the utensil. The second my mouth sealed and my tongue pressed the sample between it and my palate, the explosion of warmth and tranquility consumed me. My quest began an hour after I had hidden the remaining eggs deep inside the back of my refrigerator.

I’d always been a wanderer, intrigued, lured by the whispers of the unknown. So, I searched the web and our local museum’s historical society databases for information about this magic flower. Heather had called it an orchid, but I found nothing concrete. I put my garden snips and binoculars in my backpack. I didn’t know exactly where these magic flowers were, but there was no doubt about my looking for them.

It is not a long trip to the Peace River bridge. I locked my truck in the small roadside park and strolled past the picnic benches to the riverside path. My search began at where Heather said she had fished that day.

I had driven past these woods a thousand times, but nothing prepared me for the enchanted world I found two hours later. The tales I’d heard in my youth—of magic woven into the earth, of beings beyond imagining—felt like distant dreams until I stepped beneath its canopy. The air buzzed with a strange energy, thick and alive, while a soft rain painted the world in silver mist. Wildflowers exploded in color beneath my boots—yellows, oranges, pinks, purples, reds—each glistening like tiny jewels, stretching into the shadows of ancient trees that seemed to hum with secrets.

I was deep in the forest, caught between awe and a flicker of unease when a faint glow and a sweet melody hummed in the distance. My heart thudded as I pushed through the mist that rose from the river’s edge. I bent low, inching my way along the path, looking for the source of the enchanting song pulling me onward. A few tentative steps later, she appeared … a fantastical vision that stopped me cold.

Her wings shimmered, large and translucent, glowing with pinkish-red hues, their delicate patterns dancing in the light like a butterfly’s dream. Her red hair flowed like molten fire down her back, stark against the forest’s muted tones. She cradled a flower—yellow tipped with red—her face serene yet captivating, eyes deep as the woods and lips hinting at mysteries. Her silvery-gray gown clung to her like a whisper, ethereal and alive. She was beauty itself, a piece of the forest’s soul.

But when her gaze landed on me, fear flashed across her face. Her eyes widened, she stumbled back, then turned to flee, her wings fluttering in panic.

“Wait!” I shouted, my voice slicing through the quiet. “Please, don’t go. I need you. I need your help!”
She froze mid-step, glancing back, her body tense, ready to bolt. Her expression was wary and distrustful, and I knew I had only a heartbeat to reach her.

I raised my hands, stepping forward slowly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just exploring, and then I saw you. You’re… you’re incredible. Are you some kind of angel?”

She tilted her head, skepticism etched in her features, but she didn’t run. Her silence urged me on, and I let my heart spill out. “Your wings,” I said, my voice trembling with wonder, “they’re like nothing I’ve ever seen—shimmering with colors that dance like the first light of dawn. They’re alive, aren’t they? Part of this magic. And your hair—it’s a cascade of fire, burning bright against the green like the forest gave you its wildest flame to wear.”

She blinked, her guard still up, but I saw a flicker of curiosity. I took a breath, desperate to hold her there.
“You’re not just beautiful,” I pressed, my words tumbling free. “You’re the heart of this place. I saw you with that flower, how you held it—like you breathed life into every petal and leaf. You’re the soul of this wood, its pulse, and its glow. I’ve never felt anything like this forest, and it’s because of you. Please, don’t leave me standing here lost and alone. I’d give anything to walk this path with you, to see this world through your eyes, even just for a moment.”

Her lips parted slightly, and she turned fully toward me, her eyes searching mine. The fear ebbed, replaced by something softer—intrigue, maybe trust. After a long pause, she spoke, her voice a melody on the breeze. “You speak kindly, wanderer. Perhaps there’s more to you than I feared.”

Relief washed over me, and I smiled. “I’m Joey.”

“I am Rainey, guardian of this wood,” she said, her tone warming.

“Will you… Can you… Show me more?” I asked, hope rising in my chest.

She nodded, a small smile breaking through. “Come, then. Let us see your true heart first.”

She offered her hand, and I took it, a spark igniting where our skin met—cool, smooth, like the flower she’d held. She led me to an ancient tree, its bark rough and wise. “Touch it,” she urged, pressing my hand to the trunk, her fingers over mine. The world tumbled with a rolling, rumbling sensation—the tree’s life surged through me, its roots deep, its branches vast, centuries pulsing in my veins. I gasped for air, my chest heavy with the fog surrounding me. My body sank into the soil until it reached my waist. Rainey was obviously pleased with my restraint and reached out, unbuttoning my shirt, she pushed it off.

Next, she knelt by the river, dipping her fingers in, before returning to me. Holding her hand an inch above my heart, she said, “To the disenchanted, this can be difficult, even painful to some. Do you still wish to know me? I must see your true heart first.”
“Yes, test me! Please, I beg of you… I must know you, know you are real.”

Her fingers pressed to my chest, and I was instantly transported to 1960 and my great-grandmother’s house. As my mother and grandmother watched, I raced my old metal-bodied pedal car. I could hear my laughter echoing off the stucco retaining wall beside the sidewalk. Next, the scene changed to my first day at school in a flash, like a movie in fast-forward, my life streamed by… my time in the Navy, my wedding day, the births of my children, the sorrow at the passing of my grandparents, parents, and brothers washed over me. All that I had experienced so far in my wondering about this vale we call life.

At last, our shared vision came to the moment I saw her standing on the path. It was at that point that I sensed the carnal emotions welling up inside me. My eyes darted to hers, hoping she was not seeing the urges I had fallen prey to. But it was too late. I saw the animal inside me leap upon her as she pulled her hand from my chest.

“Oh, please forgive me. You are so beautiful and alluring that I cannot resist your enchanted powers.”

Rainey’s face brightened, the corners of her mouth pulling toward her ears. She took a rose from her bouquet, dipped it into the water, and then returned to me. “You need not be embarrassed at being a man. The lust in your heart is placed there by our maker. He knows that without it, the males in our world do nothing but eat, sleep, or make war on their fellow creatures. Without our maker’s lust, there would be no humans.”

Rainey knelt and took my hand, holding the dripping rose over my fingers. With my hand in her right, her left pulled her gown aside to expose her breasts. “I have seen your heart and know it is good … mostly good. Once you have touched mine, know there is no return. We are linked until time no longer travels the skies. Are you sure you want this?”

“I am ready, please. I must know you.”

The enchanted nymph placed my hand over her heart, and lightning flashed through us the instant my skin touched hers. Our bodies became one, and I was floating about the forest floor, below me, flowers and smiling faces of more elfin children all clapping gleefully. It became clear what they celebrated; this was a young Rainey taking what I guessed was her first successful flight in their forest.

As it was when Rainey touched my chest, and my life replayed before her. So it was with me. I saw each step of her life, her mother, father, all her past loves and lovers. At the end of the vision, I lay next to her in a bed of flowers. I reached out to pull her close to me. I hungered for the taste, the sensation, the magic of her lips upon mine. There was an excitement rising, the anticipation one might have just before going over the falls of a great river.

She faced me, her gaze locked and intense. “Now, know me,” she whispered.

Cool and pure, a joyous current of life coursed through, no, that is too weak to describe what was happening inside me. The sun and the moon had collided, and I was in the center of the blast. I was invincible; the vim and vigor of my youth rushed through my veins. Next to me stood an image of our maker, something I claimed to know and want in my life, yet I had only experienced it in my dreams before this moment. Rainey’s hand pulled my fingers away from her breasts, and I was again standing in the clearing beside the river.

A wave of emotion hit me—her joy in the forest, her curiosity, a desire that echoed mine. It was raw, overwhelming, baring my soul to hers. I stepped closer, and she met me, our breaths mingling. We embraced, her arms around me, her wings brushing my back like silk. Her warmth seeped into me, her heartbeat steady against my chest, her scent—wildflowers and rain—flooding my senses.

I tangled my fingers in her soft and glowing hair, and she leaned into me, a sigh escaping her. Our faces neared, lips brushing, but she pulled back with a teasing smile. “Not yet,” she murmured. The forest has its time, and so must we.”

My heart sank. I knew the pangs of the vampire, for no oaken stake could have rendered more pain to my soul than her admonishment as I held her close, savoring the electric promise between us. When she stepped away, her eyes sparkled. “The wood welcomes you, Joey. Return as you may, and we’ll see what lies ahead.”

She faded into the mist, her laughter lingering, leaving me with her memory—the softness of her touch, the fire of her presence, and the burn of her tease. As I left, sunlight broke through the rain, and I knew I’d come back, drawn by her, by the magic we’d only begun to explore. So, on the rare chance that you might read something I composed, it delights or entertains you. Know, that I am down yet another Filagree-covered egg and wandering the riverside of the Peace River valley under the total enchantment of Rainey, my muse. I may or may not return later, it is a question of how much teasing my heart can withstand.