Katharina stared blankly at the picture prompt.
Inspiration these days is like an elusive butterfly, flitting from one idea to another but never staying long enough to allow her mind to paint a single pretty picture.
“Maybe I’m getting too old for this!,” she sighed.
Truthfully, twenty-six is hardly old but in there, she’s considered ancient.
She stared at her reflection in the glass. With no little trepidation, she wondered how she would fare in there… Will they dismiss her as some old crone desperately thirsting for a smidgen of youth. Will they stare at her and whisper about how drastically she’s changed? Will they remember her at all?
“Just one minute…” she urged herself, “Just enough inspiration for one final story.”
Shaking off every last paralyzing particle of fear, she stepped inside.
The blithesome melody of bagpipes greeted her ears… the exhilarating scent of chamomile wafted in the air. With her gossamer wings and hair of silv’ry sheen, the lovely Faerie queen descended from her fragrant throne of sweetbriar most elegantly and in a voice soft as the kiss of a midsummer breeze, she sang “We’ve been waiting for you to visit again.”
She’d been here before… the world in the other side of the mirror. A place where fantasy is actuality, where a mirage is tangible and where imagination is inevitable. In here, to stop dreaming is to cease to be.
Katharina gave in to the seduction of the alabaster moon and drank the honeyed crystal dew from golden cups of forsythia… Spellbound, giddy with delight, she let the frolicsome wood nymphs pull her in their carefree circle dance… Round and round she skipped and whirled, cheeks reddened and drowned in a sea of giggles… Her laughter sprung forth from the very depths of her heart… For she knew… in her head, she had more than enough stories to last a lifetime.