She strides towards me, gathering form as she approaches. Her feet sink just below the surface, kicking up tiny splashes with each step. I should be afraid, but I’ve shifted beyond fear. When she stops, the wind dies, and she hovers like a wingless angel, waiting for something.

“I should have come earlier,” I hear myself confess into the pause.

“Mam, no,” calls my daughter, but I ignore her.

“Yes, you should.” The Sidhe-woman’s voice is the sound of birdsong, of babbling brooks and the throbbing puls of rain. I shiver to hear it. “You disregarded my messages. That was unkind of you.”

“I didn’t understand them.”

A smile of contempt curls her ethereal lip. “Yes, you mortals never did learn to trust the power of dreams.” She stares and I know she is appraising me. Then she says the thing I have dreaded all these years. “You stole from me that which you had no right to take. Now you must make amends.”

Well, reading Letting Go by Ali Isaac really had me smell the scent of Ireland!

It’s a short story with a lot of lore, images that are so familiar to me, a spiritual world that also is very familiar… if, like me, you had read a certain kind of fantasy especially in the Nineties.

I like the way the spiritual world merges naturally with the human world (this is always an aspect that I like in stories) and I certainly appreciate the final twist. It’s a good story.

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