On one occasion, I found an elf who was strangely interested in my task. Our property in the country had roughly six acres of land. Most of it needed mowing. Luckily, the landlord provided a riding tractor and other equipment to complete the task and would discount our rent in the summer months. From cleaning sticks to mowing to weed-whacking, it would take well over four hours to complete, usually more with breaks in the hot summer days.
Towards the cemetery stood an old oak tree, one of the oldest trees on the property. I would mow out there where the ground, covered in moss, would have patches of wildflowers and clovers jutting a few inches towards the sky. I kept the mower on a higher setting and lifted it when I passed over them. My greatest regret with renting the property was not allowing the entire thing to grow, which is against the wishes of most humans in our culture. There was tremendous potential in turning it into a field of flowers for the bees and other creatures to harvest.
One day, I’m out there lifting the mower over these flowers when I suddenly see an elf out of the corner of my vision. He walks up to the oak tree, leans against it, and pulls out a piece of wood. Dressed in what I would consider traditional wood elf garb, green vest, pants, brown boots, and a belt, he stood there whittling away on the wood while I mowed. His brown hair dropped along his back pressing against the tree.
I acknowledged his presence with my mind, wondering why he came after all this time. We had been at the property approximately four years, and I never encountered an elf. Their secret nature presented itself once again. While he watched, I wondered about other things I haven’t seen in the woods. One of those was a stick bug. I had yet to see a stick bug there and wondered if there were any out that way. As I thought about the camouflaged creature, I heard, “We’ll send one your way.”
Shaking my head, I wondered, Did I just hear that?
The elf watched me for the next hour while I finished mowing. We never communicated again. I knew not to approach and to leave him be. He was content to lean against the tree, watching as I tried not to smash the flowers, kill the bees, or shred the moths, stopping the tractor from time-to-time to help the little ones out of the way.
A couple days passed. I don’t remember why I went outside at night. Usually it was to take scraps to the woods, go on a walk, or stare at the stars. Sometimes I just checked the perimeter of the property when I felt something moving around in the energetic world. When I opened the door and stepped onto the porch, I walked straight up a cement path leading to the garage. I hadn’t taken a few steps, when suddenly, right in front of me, I found a walking stick heading my way. Not only was it heading my way, it was on a mission. It was on a mission it refused to deviate from. It completely ignored my presence and headed straight for the door of my home.
Shocked, I watched him walk along for a minute before realizing the elf sent him. Not only had he sent him, it was obvious this walking stick would have nothing less than making it to my doorway.
To help out, I reached my arm down and the stick immediately turned to crawl up. He wasn’t afraid of my movement. He didn’t think I was a predator. He immediately turned and ascended my arm.
We spent the next several minutes together. He climbed my arm to my shoulder. I placed him back on my hand, and he would try to ascend once more.
It was a beautiful experience with a delicate, hard-to-find creature. After a while, I walked him back to the woods and placed him in the leaf litter, where he disappeared.
One who denies the existence of the Fae might suggest two things. Maybe this was just coincidence, and I happened upon a brown walking stick… at night… in the middle of my sidewalk. Maybe the walking stick was attracted to the lights of the house.
I’d argue this.
If someone can explain why a walking stick was easily one hundred feet from the woods, one hundred feet from the leaf litter it lives in, passing several trees, my garage, finding the walkway to the house in a sea of grass, and showing zero concern for my presence—not even freezing like they do when predators are near—then, maybe then, I’ll consider this was a random act of nature, but you need to ask yourself this question.
Why did an elf tell me, “We’ll send one your way?”
Read more experiences like this in The Fae(ry) Experiences, book one of The Awakening series.
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