Ian Macfarlane's story about The Mists of Avalon

“The Mists of Time” by Ian Macfarlane

Moving house. Filling boxes. Discovering long lost memories, stored away in the darkest corners of cupboards…darkest corners of my mind. A bookmark falls out of a book, a photo of a beautiful young girl on a pony. On the back are the words, “I hope you like this as much as I do.”
I have only read The Mists of Avalon once. I have been scared to read it again I was nineteen, she was seventeen. I was so much in love, my first love. I told her as much knowing she might never utter the words. She was too perfect, too free spirited to weigh herself down with such heavy words. Seasons blurred and youthful emotions grew strong and bold. We promised each other the world, everlasting dreams of romance and naïve hope. I thought it was impossible to be any happier. I was wrong.
“I want to give you something”, she said.
I could see she was nervous, fidgeting in that adorable way, knowing she was fighting to defeat her weak, treacherous emotions.
I had to promise I would not open it until I was alone. When I did, I discovered the book and the photo. I had always believed books to be an individual pursuit, not to be shared with others – mixed tapes were how we conveyed our confused feelings. Again, I was wrong.
I stayed awake for hours, desperately looking for hidden messages within the text, signs of her undying love for me. Yet somewhere in the mists of reading, I discovered a world of love and magic which made me forget my own quest. A world full of hurt, betrayal and darkness and yet balanced by a sense of hope, dreams and of legends come to life. The strong female characters, so believable in this land of myth all seemed to encapsulate in some way the girl I loved. And now I understood. She truly loved me. She had bared her soul by allowing me into this world. No medley of songs could ever have produced the understanding and bond that this book created.
“I love you so much,” she told me two weeks later.
“I know.” Unlike Camelot we would be together forever. No sorcery would be able to break our love…
I have not seen her in years. My first love. The mists of time have healed all the pain and heartache. I pack all my books in boxes, to be hidden away for another ten years. Except one. I pass the book to my beautiful wife. “I think you might like this.”
I thought it was impossible to be any happier. I was wrong.