The Mistletoe

As we sat on the train, I could only look out the window, still with Laura’s kiss in my mind, and I gazed at the book in front of me.

“You don’t have to read it; you can have it,” suggested my father.

“It’s okay. It helps me remind myself of what is real and what isn’t. Since I was there, I developed a liking for reading.”

My father looked at me and said, “What matters is not whether it was real or not, but what you gained from that experience. Reflect on what you learned and how you think your life would be without it. Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.”

Dad was looking at a list of museums to visit, and I kept reading the original novel, trying to see the relevant points where things had taken a different turn, and I thought, “I really messed up big time from here. It seems like everything went to hell.” I unintentionally let out a smile.

I heard a big, burly man emerge from the bathroom, wearing a black hoodie, and this hood covered his face partially. He also wore ripped jeans, and he smelled of alcohol.

He sat next to me, making me uncomfortable. He started reading some kind of comic. The guy seemed to suffer from some illness or was crazy because one foot had a sneaker, and the other had a large boot. While laughing at the comic with a very deep voice, he asked me,

“Do you like comics?” with a slight smile.

My father signaled me to play along, and I said, “Yeah, I like Spiderman and Superman.”

“Boo...” he exclaimed. “You don’t know Thor? That’s my favorite superhero. You know he died fighting that giant serpent? It was epic, man...” He spoke as if he were really there, clearly a bit unhinged, and I couldn’t stand the smell of alcohol.

“Look, kid. I’m reading this one; it’s pretty good. I made it myself; I love drawing. People sometimes throw away useful stuff on the street, and I managed to collect several good colored pencils. The notebook I got from a dumpster,” he said, showing off all his colored pencils. “I love the part where the guy kills the wolf. I hate wolves; one killed my father, but I avenged him.”

“Here, take it, it’s a gift!” he said while letting out a burp, and people looked uncomfortable.

The man finally got off at the station, letting out a fart as he walked, dragging the big boot. The last thing I saw was his striking neon blue eyes before he left, just as mine.

“If I were you, I’d wash my hands after touching that,” my father told me.

“You know I don’t get sick,” I said with a smile, opening the notebook.

“I say that in case you touch me or touch something of mine, gross...” my father looked at me with a disgusted face.

I read the title, “The Epic of the Half Blood.” What a strange name, I thought.

When I opened the notebook, the first thing I saw was a very familiar castle, a boy fighting against vampires with an axe. There were mentions of a sword called “Gram” and the “Apple of Idunn.” There was also an image of a Valkyrie rescuing the boy and helping him recover from a battle.

“Oh God,” I thought. “It can’t be, it can’t be.” I felt a shiver down my spine.

“What’s happening, Miguel?” my dad asked.

“Look, look!” I said almost exclaiming.

My dad made a disgusted face and said, “No, please, I don’t want to see nasty stuff!”

“It’s not that! Everything is here... everything!” I whispered. “It’s not in the same order, but it’s all here!”

My dad took a look and didn’t understand anything. “Well, the guy draws very well. What do you mean, everything?”

“What I experienced in the Victorian era, in Carmilla’s novel... Look,” I insisted.

“Are you sure?” he asked me.

“I’m not crazy, look, look at the woman. Who does she remind you of?”

My dad looked at the Valkyrie figure, took off his glasses, and wanted to touch the image. A tear rolled down his face, moved.

“Hilda... It can’t be.”

My father stood up to look for the man, but I stopped him.

“He’s not here, he already got off the train,” I finally replied.

Both of us were in shock. We could see a paper coming out of the notebook; it was a note with an address.

“It’s a museum,” my dad said, looking at the map.

When we arrived at the hotel, it was already late, so we settled in. I put the comic aside and began to take note of all the elements in it and those I had remembered. My enthusiastic father took his smartphone and started recalling events from my mom’s life when she was little.

“Let’s see. Your mother is portrayed as a Valkyrie. Right? And did you see her when you traveled to the past?”

“Yes, I thought she was an angel,” I said.

“Where did he say he lived?” He thought, “Fólkvangrsburg...” He removed some letters and said, “Fólkvangr... It’s the palace of the goddess Freyja. Your mom used mythology to invent the place, she’s using mythological references.” Then he asked, “And who gave you the apple?”

“My girlfriend... I mean... friend... She told me my grandmother gave it to her.”

“Give me her description,” he asked.

“Redhead, well-dressed, very pretty... Oh! She was wearing a kind of coat with hawk or bird feathers.”

“Okay...” My father thought. “Let’s see your grandfather, Mr. Baldwin Solberg...” Then he thought, “Um... mistletoe blessing, charismatic, a good guy. I loved the mead.”

“The crow, Dad, the crow! He communicated with me using mistletoe twigs!”

My dad took some notes without saying anything, started laughing, and continued writing.

“What?” I asked him. “No, no, go on...”

“Um... The sword... my vision with the man killing the dragon, I used it against the Beast, it was surrounded by mistletoe!”

My dad continued taking notes and laughed to himself, saying, “Hilda, you like to play with me...”

“The comic... the epic of the Half Blood.”

Okay, I got it,” he said while laughing. “This is absurd, but I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me.”

“First, the notes suggest that your grandfather, Mr. Solberg, would be the god Baldr. Your grandmother would be Freyja, and your mother their daughter, probably a Valkyrie. But we must interpret the mythological messages, this is probably something metaphorical from your mom, but why?”

“No!” I told him. “Dad, it makes sense. The vampiress I fought was investigating me using stories of mythological heroes.”

“Which ones?” he asked.

“Hercules, Achilles, um... the guy with the Minotaur... and a Gigamess.”

“You mean Gilgamesh and Theseus?” he said.

“Yes, yes, those.”

“They are all demigods...” He looked at me seriously.

“Dad, it makes sense, my strength, my abilities... now I understand!”

“Son, it’s mythology, not reality. Your mom was probably speaking in some kind of code.”

“How do you explain that my grandmother visited me in the past? Why does the crow always carry mistletoe? How can I travel to the past myself? And the comic? It makes sense.”

My dad was very confused by all of this and very skeptical. Despite having an open mind, he didn’t believe in these things. He enjoyed them, but mostly out of a love for knowledge.

“Okay, okay. Tomorrow we’ll go to the address in the message, to the museum, and see what we discover there, but I still think your mom used mythology metaphorically,” he insisted.

We finally went to sleep. Well, he did because I couldn’t stop thinking, even considering the possibility that maybe, just maybe, I could visit Laura once more.

We woke up early and headed to the museum. My heart was racing, and I walked quickly. The museum focused on the Victorian era and supernatural themes.

There were hardly any people, and the ticket wasn’t very expensive. As we walked through the place, I saw different portraits of people, and there she was, portrayed, her beautiful and innocent face, Laura.

She looked older, and my heart leaped for joy. “It was true, it wasn’t a lie...”

My father stood beside me and whispered, “Is it her?”

With teary eyes, I said, “Yes, it’s her.”

Laura had a long life and passed away naturally at the age of seventy-six. She left no descendants but created a foundation for orphaned children and helped many girls and young women facing sexual abuse traumas.

A museum staff member walked over and said, “Isn’t she lovely? I love that picture.”

I felt a great relief and a peace that I never thought I’d feel. I smiled and told my father, “Let’s go, I’ve seen what I needed to see.”

We left during the sunset, and my father said, “What an intense day. What do you think of the city, son?”

After thinking for a while, I said, “I’d like to study here; there’s something I love about it.”

“You have to decide what to study and then see if you can do an exchange. But let’s not think about that now; let’s enjoy our vacation, and when we get home, we’ll continue with your mother and all this stuff.”

“Yes, Dad, let’s go.”

As I walked, I was sure, and I understood everything. The puzzle fell into place, and I could feel it inside me—my mother, my grandparents, everything. Slowly, I could see my destiny.

Upon returning to the hotel, we stretched out, and my father looked toward my bed.

I thought about my experiences with Carmilla and Laura, and how this affected my

life, about being an immortal, and the great weight upon me.

I checked my accounts on my social media apps and decided to erase mostly of them and put my last one in private. The notifications annoyed me. I needed peace and more time with my dad.

“Miguel, is there a letter for you on the table? Hmm, it has little hearts; it must be an admirer.” Said dad.

“Huh?” I said, so I went to check the envelope. It had some sort of CD, and my dad said:

“Let’s put it in the player; it could be music, dedicated to you.”

As he played it, he frowned and said, “Wagner...? The Ride of the Valkyries?”

After I removed my account on the MOBA game, I opened the note with a heart drawing on the envelope and read:

“I’ve missed you so much, my love; centuries have passed without seeing you. I wish to see you again; would you like to go on a date with me?

P.S.: I already know your little dirty secret. With love, Allmirca...”

My smartphone rings suddenly, I tremble but I answer.

“Hello..”

“Hi.. look at your window..” I hear the familiar sweet voice with a giggle.

And there she was, casually dressed, with her smartphone in her hand looking at the distance, smiling. After a short gaze from each other, she swiftly vanishes again on the beautiful viennese night.

I got pale for a moment, but then I sight upon the revelation…”There is no space for love to me, it was never meant to be.”

Yes, I am different, I am part divine, but also only flesh. My enemies will always be after my blood, my path is going to be a thorny one. Love’s surrender is not defeat but a courageous choice to relinquish the familiar for the uncharted realms of a greater calling, but I always keep those memories in my heart, forever.

TO BE CONTINUED…