Moon White: Color Me Enchanted with Bonus Content Read Online Free PDF Page B

birthdays, Christmas, Easter, and now I must have close to a hundred fairies in various forms throughout my room. I suppose I should’ve outgrown them, but forwhatever reason, I haven’t.
    Maybe my love of fairies is related to my love of ballet, or maybe it’s something else, but I’ve always admired the delicate grace and sweet beauty of woodland fairies, and when I was little I used to actually pretend that I was one of them. Wearing an old tutu and a set of homemade wings, I’d go flitting around my mom’s flower garden, picking a few blooms and further decorating my costume. My mom even took some candid photos once. She used to keep one of them in an engraved silver frame by her bedside, although I have no idea where it is now.
    The fairies seem to take on a new life in the flickering candlelight, and it’s almost as if I can sense a newfound energy in myself as well. Maybe it really is a result of the combination of the color and scent in this candle, or maybe it’s just my imagination, but oddly enough I feel like dancing. I’m still wearing my leotard and tights and, feeling strangely energized, I put on an old Enya CD, one I scavenged from my mom’s music collection, and I begin to dance. I dance and dance and dance until my legs feel like wet noodles.
    And then I flop down onto my bed and begin to write in my new Book of Shadows. I fill up three pages with writing, and to my surprise it’s about my mom. It’s all about my mom. I describe how much I loved her and how I miss her and I go into quite a lot of detail about how guilty I feel sometimes, especially when I think of all the things I could’ve done differently while she was alive. But more than anything else, I write about how I wish I could talk to her right now. I wonder what she would tell me, what direction she could give me about Lucy, about ballet, about Augustine and Dad, about everything. I might even want to ask her about Wicca. Mom and I never really talked about spiritual things. I know she prayed and even read an old family Bible sometimes, especially as the timeof her death drew near. But she was never a churchgoer, and to my knowledge she wasn’t a Christian. At least she never told me she was. If only she could speak to me now.
    I finally close my Book of Shadows and let out a long sigh. Even though it was hard to write all that stuff down, I actually feel better. It’s like a load has been lifted. Still, more than ever, I have this longing to communicate with my mother. But then I see my U.S. history book sitting on my computer desk, and I have a feeling if Mom could talk to me right now, she’d say, “Quit wasting time and do your homework.”
    So I blow out my inspiration candle, turn on the lights, change into my sweats, and hit the books. But as I’m researching online for a report on the Louisiana Purchase, I see a pop-up ad that says, “You can talk to the dead.” Like a dummy, I click on it. Of course, I can tell it’s a stupid rip-off to get some poor unsuspecting idiot (like me?) to fork over money to some scam artist who pretends he can connect me to my long-lost loved one. Yeah, right. Then, as long as I’m distracted, I check my e-mail, thinking maybe Lucy apologized that way. But there’s nothing. Not even a piece of junk mail. It’s like no one wants to talk to me. I consider writing a note to Lucy, saying that I won’t hold her words against her.
    But instead, I begin to wonder if there might be some legit website about communicating with the dead. I type in the address Willow gave me, and the heading of one particular link there catches my eye. “Eliminate the Middle Man — Talk to the Dead On Your Own.” So I click it and am impressed with the no-nonsense approach of this site. Plus they’re not trying to sell anything. It’s like they simply want to give you the tools to do it yourself. So I print out their short list of guidelines and set it aside. First, I realize, I must finish my homework. I