Once upon a time, a history teacher and collector of tapestries and cat bumper stickers named Gerald decided to attend a renaissance festival.

He dressed as a squire: a weathered green padded leather jerkin, riding pants, welding gloves, heavy boots, and a single spaulder – as it turned out to be immensely more difficult to create his own iron armor plates from old junk metal than he had anticipated. Last time, he had tagged along with a group dressed like Star Trek characters, which was funny, but hadn’t quite strummed the metaphorical chords of his heart.

The day was hot, and Gerald was sweating in his leathers before he’d even gotten through the ticket-line. He was alone this time, but he didn’t really mind. He wandered through the market space, past booths of leather workers and purse makers, cape embroiderers and foam sword sellers. Only half of the attendees were dressed appropriately as monks or maidens; his favorite was the detailed horse costume.

Gerald watched the main stage for a time, where acrobats and singers full of bardic inspiration performed until the jousting began. Trained performers and their horses competed through obstacle courses and choreographed fights while a jester commentated on the events with a microphone they had all silently agreed to ignore.

By midday, Gerald was famished. He bought a plate of sesame chicken over rice that he doubted was historically accurate and wandered into a portion of the festival shaded by the trees. While cooler, this section had taken on a more fairytale persona with singing fairies, cackling witches, and hippy old ladies selling blown glass. It was here that a booth caught his eye, decorated in elaborately designed tapestries and a sign that read: “The Flying Carpet: Fortunes and Tarot.”

Gerald slipped inside to find a wrinkled old man in a poorly-wrapped white turban that looked like a giant cloud. “Come in, come in. I can tell you have questions I can answer.” Gerald wasn’t impressed with the setup, but he was also too polite to leave, and he took a seat on a mat. The old man pulled out a set of tarot cards and began to shuffle them on the low table between them. “Ask.”

Gerald blinked a few times, his mind blank.

“Perhaps you wish to know about love?” the artist asked.

Gerald nodded, but even as the man began to pull cards and paint a colorful picture of his alleged future, Gerald’s thoughts had already wandered off. He wondered how much this pedantic little story was going to cost him. He wondered if the man had everything memorized or just made things up as he went. He wondered why he’d even stopped here, alone as he was, and not honestly that interested in love.

His eyes meandered across the tent flaps and over the embellishments of the tapestries. He wished the serious old man’s tale was as beautiful as those, where whole cities came to life in brilliant shades of reds and golds. And then he realized why he’d come in.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry,” Gerald interrupted in an apologetic but confident tone. “But could I buy one of your tapestries?”

“Ah, my predictions came true sooner than even I had anticipated.”

Gerald blinked at the old man again.

“You found what you love, and it is beautiful,” the fortuneteller pointed to the tapestry and laughed.

Struck by the absurdity of the situation, Gerald laughed with him. “Sure, why not.”

That Which Began the Thoughts