When we are young we are taught that there are rules. Their rules. Since the first day you learn to walk they are driven into you, what you are allowed and what you are most defiantly not. Avoid the rings of flowers or mushrooms, don’t go intrude in the woods, and always lock your doors and windows on the full moon. These are the big rules, there are many more, things engraved to our minds, so common but so strange. We are to obey them and are never to break them or fear the consequences. We live around them.

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            Our society though is slowly moving away, a lot of the young people now do as they wish, ignoring where they once came from. Fairytales, they say. Hogwash. Why believe in things you cannot see? They ask rolling their eyes. They call the believers senile, crazy old coots. There’ve been a lot of missing children recently.

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            It’s chilly, brisk and foggy. Not uncommon of the coastal weather. I’ve been sitting on the cliffs since the first small ray of sun. I’m supposed to be finishing my novel that was the only reason I took this holiday home. I thought the fresh air would help my creative process kick back in gear; so far it’s not working. Thick salt air fills my lungs, taking a deep breath as I watch the seals on the rocks.

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            Selkies. I think lightly. I want to believe they still frequent these shores. Grandmother used to tell us stories when we were little, said if we stayed very quiet and watched for very long we could see them, watch as they shed their seal coats, and show their human legs. I realized later she only wanted to keep us quiet while she cleaned house. Gwen still swears she saw one, human eyes she used to gasp, a woman’s body she would add. I called her a liar; grandmother smiled and said she had a special eye.

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            Gwen still likes to believe all of it, all of the stories grandmother told us, all of the myths we learned in school. For me though, sure a part of me always will, it’s my heritage, my blood, I would be hung if I ever forgot but the passion I had as a child, sadly has dwindled like dull embers in a hearth. Simply turning foggy with age. Maybe it’s because I moved away, across the sea to New York. I fought with my mother for months about my choice, said I was too young (I was 21), grandmother was old and needed help, my family was here and so many more reasons. She holds it against me doesn’t talk a lot when I visit, mostly curses at me in Gaelic thinking I’ve lost my tongue. I think she’s disappointed I didn’t marry a nice Irish lad and have a family, join the family business. Nope, instead I decide to move across sea and be a writer.

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            It’s so quiet now. The foggy mornings of the coast, the waves crashing against the sand before racking back leaving only small traces it was ever there. It’s almost unsettling compared to the loud sirens, the people, and languages flooding the air of the city streets. I would say I miss my home here. Grandmother says I’ve simply lost my way and I will find my path again if I stay home.

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            My breath comes out in a puff, sighing as I shrug my shoulders. Curling my knees to my chest, gripping my hands to keep them warm. What am I even doing out here? Why did I wake up so early to just to stain my nightgown with the morning dew? I haven’t even brushed my hair or teeth.

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            I shift my gaze to the forest. Off limits. I think of my grandmother cursing at us for even thinking about stepping in there. A universal rule throughout this small town. No humans entered there and came out, or well came out the same.

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            Its dark, filled with large old trees, always gives off an eerie feel, certainly nothing natural about it. Sometimes when I was little I used to swear I could hear singing, parties, enjoyment coming from within the dark roots. Apparently I tried to sneak out once, Gwen caught me, and Father dragged me home, my ass was sore for a week after that. I don’t remember it though, only the beating afterwards because I didn’t know what I had done wrong, I never left my bed I could have sworn. It was a full moon, mother told me as if I would understand.

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            My body contorts lightly; a cold chill runs down my spine. I’m alone but I can’t help but feel someone’s gaze.

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            “Hello?” I call, a cloud of breath forming in the air. The grass is cold against my feet as I hoist myself up. “Is someone there?” my gaze is fixed on the forest. Searching for something. For what? I don’t know but something.

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            I grip my arms lightly, rubbing them gently. I should have grabbed my jacket; I thought I would be used to this. I know it’s cold, especially on the coast at this time but I can’t help but feel the air has grown even more chill. Maybe I’m losing my mind, being paranoid but I can’t shake the feeling.

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            My feet move on their own. Timid at first, I shouldn’t break the rules. They speed up, a quick pace, soon to a run. A heavy weight in my chest, something calling me, something telling me to be bold. Adrenaline fills my blood as I run into the dark forest, ignoring the twigs and dirt scattered floor jabbing my bare feet. Jumping and hopping over roots and fallen trees. I don’t know where I’m going but I know I can’t look back or fear I’ll lose whatever soul I have left to the fae. Finally my feet come to a halt.

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            A large clearing, swimming in the morning light, a hazy fog covering the air. Only realizing now how small I truly was standing next to trees that could easily swallow me, it is really unsettling almost. A muted buzz fills the air, no signs of animals, and no signs of people. Alone, barefoot, still in my nightgown and in the middle of the fae lands.

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            Why? Why here? I look around, there is no one. Nothing. No answers.

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            “What the shit?” I shake my head, almost laughing at myself. The salty air must be getting to me, lightheaded probably. “This was so stupid.”

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            I want to laugh as I turn on my heel to head back home. Evaluating how far I had really run, it was as if the forest swallowed up the outside world, I couldn’t even see a glimpse of the ocean or cliff side. Had I really moved that fast? I only take one step before I shriek, hands quickly shoot to cover my mouth in fear. Staring at it lying on the ground, cold and lifeless, as if it were a sleeping doll. A head.

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            I act without thinking, kneeling down, carefully taking it in my arms. Smooth ivory skin, a rounded face framed with red colored curls, long and almost tangled with flowers and vines. How long had it been here? Where was the body? It’s warm. Alive. I should leave this here, act like I never saw it and not ruin the peace.

            “Saoirse!” Gwen’s voice breaks my thoughts. “Saoirse, where are you?” worry floods her usually melodic voice. Her bright red curls falling from the tight bun promptly placed atop her small head. Spitting image of our mother I think.

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            Her emerald eyes swim with tears as she runs over to me. It’s only then that I realize I'm on the outside. I glance behind me, no one is there. How did I get here? Was I dreaming?

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            She hugs me tightly, standing on her toes to reach her arms around my shoulders. Though she was the older one she was the shorter one. Short and plump, or curvy as she likes to emphasis. Pale as paper and speckled with freckles and gap between her front teeth.

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            “Sheesh, I haven’t been gone long, I just went for a morning walk,” I shake her off, shrugging out of her grasp.

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            “It’s almost noon Saoirse,” her face contorts to that look, the one where we both know she’s right but I also won’t admit it. She’s just like our mother. “We’ve been looking around the whole town for you, you’re not even dressed, and you know you could have been injured, the cliffs aren’t safe you of all people should know that.”

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            I roll my eyes, shifting the wrapped bundle in my arms. “Calm down, I’m 23 years old, I can make my own choices, I am not a child,” I can feel my face set to a scowl. She and mother were always like this, lecturing me as if I was a five year old. “I was unable to sleep this morning so I went for a walk, the air was nice, no harm done, I’m fine, and I just got distracted.” She rolls her eyes shaking her head lightly before she simply sighed.

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            I glance behind us once more at the forest. Had I really been gone that long? I don’t remember what happened, how did I get out, when did I leave? Maybe I am losing my mind after all. I sigh before following her back across the field to the house.

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            She didn’t seem to notice the bundle in my arms. Who wrapped it? Why did I take it? My grandmother will murder me if she knew I broke a rule. I hold it tighter as we step through the door.

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            The house smelled of fresh bread and honey, it was always warm and inviting. Always noisy though whether its my mother yelling at my dad, talking with my grandmother or scolding one of us, it has never been quiet. Ever since I was a young girl, always filled with people and always loud but it was always warm no matter what was going on.

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            “Where on earth have you been?” Mother asked, her hands on her hips, standing with her long aged orange curls loosely tied behind her head, a simple dress an apron covered in flour. She never dressed up, except to go to church on Sundays and holidays but other than that it was always the usual mom attire. “We’ve up and down the whole town looking for ya, worried sick, what were you thinking running out before dawn, nothing but a nighty and your knickers?”

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            “Ma, relax, I’m adult I wanted to clear my head,” I sigh walking past her to head to my room. “So quit nagging like a banshee, you might turn into one ya know.”

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            I shut the door quickly ignoring my mother for a moment. I have to hide it, I can’t let anyone know about it. They would have my own head if anyone knew.

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            “You’re so beautiful,” I sigh lightly carefully unwrapping the bundle. A Dullahan’s head. This is most certainly my own death warning, but I guess its better then a bucket of blood on my doorstep. “Where’s the rest of you?”

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            It’s official I have gone mad. Talking to a sleeping disembodied head. Just the fact I have someone’s head on my bed is just another thing all together. What am I even supposed to do with this? Why me? But I guess this will make for one hell of a story to finish off my novel. I will just have to wait it out, maybe she will come to retrieve her head, and maybe I can explain the misunderstanding. Maybe.

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            I grab a throw pillow from my bed and set it on my desk before I carefully rest her down on it. My stomach twists, it’s as if I’ve stolen something from a museum. I’m not sure what to really do with her. I have no time to think, I toss the blanket she was wrapped in over her quickly before I move to rejoin my family. I’ve only been home for two days and I’ve already screwed up. Life goals accomplished right there.

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            My mind won’t move away from what I’ve done. All I can think about is her head up in my room. Poking at my lunch lightly listening to father jokingly trying to marry me off to some friend’s sons, or daughters he likes to add. Adoption is great too mother throws in. They are not good with subtle hints, or hints at all, they go full force bluntness. I argue back they have Gwen and her, I think, five children. If there’s one thing this family doesn’t lack it’s children.

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            Waiting it out might not have been the best of plans. It’s been almost two weeks, and I still have the head. I take her with me everywhere, luckily no one asks about the bundle in my bag, but I can’t just leave her at home, mother or someone else might find her or even be punished for what I’ve done. She’s been getting really hard to hide and people are starting to realize something is wrong. Children are going missing, the fog hasn’t let up in days and the sky seems to be forever set in grey hues as if it swallowed up the sun all together. Some say its an omen from god, other’s say it’s the devil, and then there’re the ones who know it’s the fae. Rumors spread like wildfire in small towns. Everyone has a story. Someone messed up. Broke a rule.

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            “Something on your mind chickadee?” Father asks as he sits beside me on cold grass, his third cup of coffee in his hand and her head in mine. “You seem bothered lately, always coming out here early mornings,” he looked out at the ocean, watching the waves in their melodic movements. His slate green eyes full of sleep and worry. “When you were little this was your favorite place to come, whenever you were upset or wanted to be alone, same spot I swear your butt was engraved in the dirt,” a hardy laugh escaped his lungs. I smile a little hearing it. He’s like a giant gingered bear, a stereotypical Irish lumberjack, who loved checkered shirts and coveralls.

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            “I think I’m going crazy,” The words leave a metallic taste in my mouth. No one ever wants to admit they’ve gone crazy. “I’ve done something bad, this is all my fault.”

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            “Nature is not your fault,” he retorted quickly though I felt him turn his gaze towards me. “What happened? Someone hurt you? I’ll get the gun I swear just tell me,” his friendly voice turned slightly cold, it gave me chills, he never spoke like that. Fear in his voice.

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            “No da, no guns, it’s nothing like that, no one hurt me,” shaking my head lightly, my hands gripping the bundle in my lap. “I broke a rule, I went into their territory,” my words are as heavy as my chest feels, as if someone poured sludge down my throat. “That day I disappeared all morning, I have no idea what happened my feet just moved on their own, my whole head is blank, one minute I'm in the middle of nowhere and then I’m standing next to Gwen and she’s telling me it’s the middle of the day.”

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            He let out a heavy sigh setting his mug on the ground between us. “Saoirse, it’s not the first time this has happened,” he spoke up. “When you were little we had to always keep an eye on you, cuz you would always run towards that place, we never knew why but it just seemed to call you, and there were times you went missing for days but you’d always come back un-phased as if time hadn’t passed at all, no clue how worried you had made everyone, don’t you remember at all?”

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            I shake my head it’s all news to me. I turn to look at the forest, moving some of my black curls out of my face. Why didn’t I remember those memories? What was really in the forest? “Do you think it’s their doing? The fae?”

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            “No fucking doubt about it,” he sighed glancing at the forest his face contorting to a grimace, pain filled his eyes. “They like to take things from humans, whether it’s children, money and sometimes even shoes, sometimes they trade of equal value most often not, we’re like games to them.”

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            “Is that why the towns’ children have gone missing? The Fae?”

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            He halfway shrugs. “Kinda, that is probably due to the kelpie, a Dullahan is coming, everyone knows,” he leans his head back lightly. “You know the legends, the myths, the headless rider that comes in the night to take the souls of the dammed to the afterlife, well they say they have a kelpie companion, a horse like creature with a taste for human children, luring them and drowning them before eating off their flesh.” My body cringes at the thought. All of those poor children, those families I can’t think about it, all of that pain. “So my guess is someone pissed off the Dullahan or someone’s about to die, either way, it will pass like everything else, it’s life my little one.” He smiled gently petting  my head before he stood. “Better get inside though, gonna storm and these cliffs get dangerous,” he cautioned before he sauntered off back towards the house.

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            That’s who she is. The Dullahan. Of course she wants her head back, I should have never stolen it. I unwrap it looking at it. She hasn’t woken up, always sleeping, well I say sleeping but I’m not sure if that’s what you would actually call it.

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            “I’ll get you home, I promise, I never wanted to steal you,” I sigh leaning back, laying her on my chest lightly. “I should have left you, should have taken you back, never should have brought you home, or taken you with me all over the place. You’re probably going to be really mad, and I totally understand that, I would be pissed if some mortal human intruded into my home and stole my head, yea I’d kill them too.”

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            It’s probably bad for her to be away from her body like this. I wonder if she feels pain like this though. I hold her above my head, I braided her hair to keep from tangling it anymore. An icon of death? A woman with the face of a goddess, I can’t really believe it. Maybe it’s magic, maybe that’s why she’s headless she’s too pretty to be scary.

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            I laugh at the thought sitting up, hugging her lightly before I stood, forgetting to bundle her. I head towards the forest, without thinking. My mind can’t help but wonder if she will remember this when she returns to herself. Remember the pointless conversations I’ve held with her or with myself, all of the places I dragged her around and me messing with her hair, even washing it in the sink and washing her face. It’s kind of creepy now that I look back on it all now but then again she is a head, partial neck and as creepy or crazy I still feel a little attached to her, like a friend, nervous what’s going to happen to me, what’s going to happen when she is returned.

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            I have no idea where I am going but I have to try and return her to where she came from. Slowly her once warm flesh had started to become cold, it worried me that maybe I was killing her. I grip her tighter like a mother bird trying to warm an egg.

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            My heart beats rapidly, pounding against my rib cage, faster with each step forward. Why am I nervous now? I’ve obviously never feared the forest so why now do I feel like I’m going to be swallowed and never returned.  Should I have said goodbye to my family? Probably. Maybe I’ll be the next missing person report, my face plastered on the milk cartoons, posted to each lamp post on the street. Slowly dissolve into nothing but rumors in the air or whispers in the night.

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            I look up from my thoughts to find I’m back where all of this started. The one bright clearing in the dark forest. The sun is warm against my face; I smile lightly taking it in. Though I only relish in it for a moment before I bring myself back to the task at hand, the head.

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            “Hello?” I call out, to who I have no idea, anyone really. “Is anyone there?” fear rings in the dead air. I grip her tighter, holding her close to me, a sense of delusional comfort.

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            No one responds it’s still as silent as it had been before. I sigh slouching back against a large tree root. Sinking to the forest floor, curled at the base of a tree, hiding in the shadow out of fear. Clutching her in my arms, my own body beginning to grow cold like stone. My heart beat slowed with my breathing, my eyelids dropping, heavy to keep awake so I give in.

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            The air cracks with the sound of the boney scythe, the earth shakes with the thunderous beats of the kelpie’s hooves and the trees shake with the storm I know is coming. I almost lose grip as I am jolted awake. No more grey hues, it was as though the sky had turned red with blood casting a rose veil over the world.

            I’m too afraid to look up from my grove in the root. Wanting to believe I am invisible, to believe she will not see me, to believe she will not kill me too.

            Her boots crunch against the fallen leaves, brooding towards me. The metallic armor clinks together with each step until eventually they stop. Things fall silent again; the air is so think molasses would be thinner.

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            Carefully I peek an eye up towards her. Towering above me easily, six, no seven feet maybe. Covered with a silvery armor, a blood red cloak pinned at the base of the neck with a broach engraved with the word of the fae, her families crest maybe. No head, instead a black fog floods from her neck into the air, swaying lightly around where her head should be. A gloved hand held out to me. Demanding. Her other hand gripped firmly around her scythe, almost as tall as her, made from spine.

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            My hands shake, my soul quivers and my moth falls dry. Carefully handing her the bundle, averting my gaze from her to the forest floor. I yank back my hands once the weight is gone. Still cowering, waiting for her to slice me with the scythe, to rip my head from my shoulders, yank my soul out of me. Anything.

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            “Aisling,” a voice broke the air. It was soft to my ears, like a teacher tending to a child. “My name,” she added sensing my confusion probably.

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            I look up to see her talking; head formed back, a black ring around her neck. I’m lost for words as I stare up at her, looking at the silvery blue gems that stood out among her ivory face. A breath of fresh air leaves my lungs, relived I had not damaged her much.

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            She hands me something, a small smile on her doll like face. It’s a plum. I know I shouldn’t, at least not here, but I can’t refuse. “Eat,” she speaks again.