After the long journey, you arrive at a fork in the road. Vague senses of déjà vu wash through you as you decipher the aged road sign. To the left is “Begin Again” and to the right is “The End.” The journey thus far has been painful, and you desperately want it to be over; however, the mistakes you’ve made getting here haunt you. Before you’ve fully decided, your legs are already en route to “Begin Again.”
Twisted overhead branches engulf from above while a rolling fog sweeps toward your feet. It’s not raining, but the air feels heavy with dew, and your feet stick to the muddy ground with each step. In the distance is a faint golden glow of a lantern, and as you near, you see the outline of a small creature holding it. The shadows of the golden flames catch the reflection of this creature’s bulging eyes positioned on top of its head. You wait for welcomed fear to overtake you, but it doesn’t; unable to take control of this fated moment. “Welcome, weary traveler,” the creature calls out to you. Like a moth to the flame, you shuffle forward. “Who are you?” words float from your mouth, feeling foreign. “It is I, Bennigan, your guide to help you begin again,” This reply hugs you in its warm embrace, fueling the absolution that this was the right way.
As you draw closer, you see the body that houses the familiar voice. Bennigan is a plump, moss-green frog with large expressive eyes that shimmer like dewdrops, standing approximately three feet tall in vibrant red rain boots. Bennigan stands upright like any ordinary man in an enchanting dandelion yellow raincoat that fits snugly around his torso. “Shall we?” the frog gestures forward, waiting for you to take the first step.
The two of you, side by side, continue forward with the glow of the lantern providing a veil of safety. The antique lantern is made of tarnished brass or maybe even gold. The glass panels are etched with intricate swirls, and within, a soft, otherworldly glow emanates. “Curious, isn’t it?” Bennigan says, noticing your transfixed eyes. “Legend has it that this lantern was found deep within a forgotten well, and when my ancestor touched it, their insides swelled with ancient magic. Creating a generational force for our kind to roam rain-soaked forests, seeking lost dreams and unraveling the riddles whispered by the wind.”
“Why am I here?” you ask. The frog looks up at you. “Ah, a riddle indeed. Because you turned left at the sign.” Light raindrops begin to fall as you chew on this. It is true. Unable to pinpoint why, but for some reason, you know you had to venture this path. To go back. To begin again. “Perhaps it is because there is something you wish to redo?” Bennigan suggests as if he had already heard the thoughts formulating in your head. And there was—there was much you wished to redo. No matter that you can’t see the faces or the names of those mistakes you want to make right…you know they are there. “Perhaps,” you say.
The path begins to open; rocky cold terrain softens to moss, bare trees begin to bloom, and a feeling of warmth from the sun peeking through the canopied brush overhead. “Where are we going?” Bennigan gestures forward to a cave that seems to appear from nowhere. “There.
Inside the cave ahead. Where a natural spring can be found deep within, some call it the spring of eternal life. But for those like me, we call it home.” Climbing over the jagged boulders to the cave entrance, your legs ache, a gentle reminder of your fatiguing humanity.
Bennigan waits for you at the entrance of the cave. “You live here?” you ask. “Some of the time,” Bennigan gestures for you to move forward, and cool luring calls from deep in the darkness beckon you onward. Further into the cave, right before the light from the entrance ceases, a new glow appears—aquamarine traces of light glow against the jagged slants of the cave. You feel the spring’s presence, and it whispers overwhelming waves of nostalgia. The glow of icy water settles into your vision as it lightly laps with bioluminescent waves, however, the waves appear to move in reverse as if to call you closer. At the spring’s edge, you fall to your knees. “I have been here before.” “Correct,” Bennigan says as he sets the lantern down on a slanted rock nearby. “So then…I have already begun again?” Bennigan drinks in your expression. “Many times.” Grabbing a lily pad from the water, Bennigan begins to craft it into a cylindrical shape, and as the reflection from the water dances on the leaf, it transfigures into the form of a chalice. Bennigan places one webbed finger into the spring, and swirls it in a lazy circle, creating a whirlpool that grows deeper and stronger within seconds. He scoops the chalice into the center of the whirlpool and serves it to you. Your hands wrap around the chalice and it’s unexpected warmth. There is but a splash of clear liquid in the cup, but it appears to be inhaling and exhaling in unison with you. “Am I destined to relive this mortal chapter until I get it right?” You ask, already well knowing it’s truth. That long ago, you had chosen this purgatory disguised as immortality. “Things are as they are until you choose to go the right way,” Bennigan nods at you, at the cup. You lift it to your lips and breathe it in. With a promise to yourself that next time, you will choose the right path, you drink.
The journey has been long, and you arrive at what appears to be a fork in the road. To the left is “Begin Again,” and to the right is “The End.”