Now
From this day forward, you're going to live your (Second) life "in the now." What exactly do you mean?
Waiting
We arrived at the suspension bridge and could see the famous yellow fairy waiting on the other side and so we ...
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Waiting
We arrived at the suspension bridge and found the famous yellow fairy waiting on the other side. We prepared for the possibility we might have traveled all this way only to be turned back with nothing to show for our efforts.
We might cross the bridge and the yellow fairy might allow us to pass without comment. This seemed to be the least likely scenario.
We might cross the bridge and be given a verbal confrontation or some other type of mental activity. We feared we might not be prepared for a battle of wits.
We might cross the bridge and be forced into some physical battle and the odds would be in our favor accounting for our numbers.
We might begin crossing the bridge and suddenly find ourselves in all manner of torment as she shook the unstable looking erection, or set it ablaze, or simply disconnected the far end and watched as we tumbled into the crevasse.
We didn't need much discussion on any of these points.
We intended to continue our journey and to reach our destination. We nodded to one another and set foot onto the planks suspended on the cables. As we moved closer and closer to the yellow apparition in the distance, my heart began to race and my mind began to calculate in finer details the possible consequences of our actions.
We'd talked to a handful of locals who knew the hills well and who all said the same thing. If we intended to cross the bridge, we would face the famous yellow fairy. They all told us the same story. She'd been sitting at the bridge for many years waiting for her lover to return. He'd apparently been kidnapped by the army and forced into battle. When we told the people of the land we'd never seen a fairy and didn't know they even existed, we learned the hills in the area served as home to dozens, maybe hundreds, of fairy folk in large and small sizes. Some of the fairies, the yellow and red ones, treated humans with dignity and respect and brought joy everywhere they went. The green ones caused chaos. And we were told to fear the purple fairies for they wished to do nothing but harm anyone they met.
"But if she's a yellow fairy," I asked, "why should we fear her?"
"If you cross the bridge, you will understand."
And so we crossed.
Each step seemed more difficult to take than the next and I felt my hands shaking as I grasped ever tighter onto the cables. Then, with only a few yards between her and our troupe, I suddenly could see her clearly.
She wasn't a fairy at all.
She was a painted statue.
Angrily I rushed across the bridge to find a note rolled up neatly in her metal hand.
"Gotcha! Fairies don't exist numbnuts."
I could hear giggling and scurrying feet dashing away into the forest.
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