Source: www.textfiles.com
Original Title: Nymph
Author: unknown
Editted and revised by Sonarflash2026

My parents often said they thought I was a changeling. Perhaps they were right. I was born in Ireland, 18 years ago, only 2 years before my parents immigrated to the United States. I’ve always grown up with the stories of the wee folke and their mischief, as well as more serious tales of the Faye. As for myself, my parents named me Erinn, after their beloved land, and I grew up a woodland child. My parents moved to the state of Maine, in the US, near a rural town.

Fortunately, my father bought a house with more land around it than we ever thought a person could own. I had a pony from the time I could walk, and I was always outside, riding in the woods, curled up in a tree, reading, or swimming in a large pond on the property. Until I grew up, that is. When puberty struck, with it the knowledge that I had to at least ‘try’ to fit in with the girls at school, should I ever want a boy to look at me, I tried to be less of a tomboy and took to wearing skirts and heels, and speaking nicely. Those American social customs grated on me. I wanted little more than to throw on a pair of jeans, saddle up my second horse, Brightwing, then ride through the local forest for days at a time.

Unfortunately, there was school. I could see the forest. It called to me--I swear it.

When I graduated from high school at seventeen, my parents paid for a trip to visit my grandparents in Ireland. They still alive, living in a country cottage. That was my graduation and birthday present.

I arrived a month past and I do love it here. ‘Tis beautiful and fresh, and makes me want to believe the stories about the little folk, fairies and the Faye. And though I am not sure about the existance of the little folk, I must admit to a belief in magic, and the mystical, for what else could it have been?

My grandfather had an unusually fine gelding descended from racing lines. I’d been allowed freedom, riding out to a local patch of woods. After dismounting, I sat below a copse of trees. Below me was the bank of a slow river. I was relaxing, soaking bare feet in the water, oblivious to sights and sounds. I felt liberated, wearing only cutoffs and a t-shirt without bra or panties.

As I basked in sunlight, I longed to strip entirely and immerse myself in the cool stream, and the more I thought about it, the more inticing that idea seemed.

Finally, looking and listening carefully until I was positive no one was near, I stripped, tossing t-shirt and shorts by my socks and riding boots. The water was cool, and pleasing, sensual and erotic in the way a gentle current lapped against my hot skin.

I swam for a while, then a chill swept through me. The current seemed to take the pleasure away. So, I stepped out, the water dripping from my skin. I sat on a slab of rock overlooking the stream and basked in summer heat.