Inspired by a picture showing a skeleton facing away and an upper body tilted to the right, with flashes of light

The hand of the Lord was upon me ……… Prophesy to these bones, and say to them ‘O dry bones: Behold I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. And I will lay sinew upon you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall love; and you shall know that I am Lord. Ezekiel 37. 1, 4 to 6

 

“Oh, Mother, will you not speak to me? Will you not look around you and see your children, and grandchildren? We love you, we miss you. And our children would so love to have had a grandma to talk to them, tell them tales of the past. Now they are grown, and starting their own families, will you not try to hear and see us? What of your great-grandchildren? They would love to know their Granny. Oh, please, Mother, come back to us!”  Mary sighed, kissed her mother’s cheek, and rose from her knees wiping the tears from her face.

It was over thirty years since their father had died, killed fighting a fire in a school. He had saved three children, somehow getting them out to safety, injured but alive. They had recovered, but he had not. Mother had wept for days, hardly eating and leaving all arrangements to her sons and daughters. She seemed unaware of what was going on during the funeral, and for months had not seemed to be aware of anyone or anything around her. They had had to hire a nurse to care for her while they worked, and made every effort to lead normal lives.  At last she had recovered enough to be able to bathe and dress herself, but would forget to eat. So Mary and her family had moved into Mother’s home, and cared for her.

But recently, she had gone back to the way she’d been right after Father’s death. They had done everything, called in doctors, psychiatrists, even the priest, all to no avail.  She moved when someone helped her, accepted the bathing, dressing and feeding, all without response. And she was eating less and less. The only thing they ever heard was a low murmur, and they could only catch a word or two. ‘dead’ and ‘love’. Mary thought she was mourning her husband’s death.

Mary walked back to where the rest of the family were sitting discussing what could be done for Mother. “Mary, you should put her in a residence where she can be cared for. It is too much for you alone, all day every day, even with the part time nurse, and your daughter,” Jack said. He was worried about Mary, who was looking worn and older than her years.

“Jack, I can’t send her away!” Mary exclaimed. “It would feel like I had abandoned her. She stuck by me when Dennis left me. How can I not stick with her? I don’t think she has much longer to live, let it be here, in her own home.” Mary sighed, looking across at Mother, who still sat, staring out the window.

“What is she looking at?” Jack’s daughter Sarah asked. “She always seems to be looking in the same direction, what is it she sees?”

“Hmm…that’s a good question,” David said. “Let me see” He got up and walked over to stand behind Mother, and followed her gaze. “Oh, no!” he gasped.  He walked quickly back to the others. “She is looking at the cemetery – it is just barely visible on the side of the hill by the church!”

They were all stunned, and Mary said “Oh, no. That is why she will never sit anywhere else! I have tried and tried to get her to sit by the living room window, and she refuses to sit.  She goes stiff and will not move, until I turn her, then she walks willingly to that window.” She put her hand up to cover her eyes. “I should have known, because she always murmurs ‘dead’ and ‘alive’!” She looked at the others. “What else can I do?” her voice was filled with despair.

“Nothing – you can do nothing other than what you are doing, Aunt Mary.” Hannah’s voice was soft, gentle. “If sitting there, looking perhaps at where Grandpa lies gives her peace, then let her sit there. Maybe she is thinking that soon she will join him. Just do as you are doing, Aunt Mary. I think she is as happy as she can be, and she is aware that your love and care surround her.” She got up and hugged Mary. “Be at peace, Aunt Mary. You are giving her all that she needs. And we all know that she will not be with us much longer. Let her last days be calm and peaceful.” The others nodded, and agreed. Mary sighed and accepted their approval.

The phone rang a third time and David lifted it. “Hello,” he said. Mary’s frantic voice filled his ear. “Mother is missing! I had to go out for an hour, leaving her with Becky, the nurse. When I got home, I looked at her chair by the window, and she wasn’t there. I called Becky and asked if Mother was in bed. She said no, she had been sitting in the chair as usual and Becky went up to make the bed. When she came down, she went right to the kitchen to make tea, and had only just found that Mother was gone, when I got here. Please, please, come and help search! She is not safe outside alone!”

“Ok, Mary, did you and Becky search the house? What about the attic, where Dad’s things are stored?”

“We’ve searched top to bottom, and even in the garage. She is not here!” Mary was sobbing. “I should never have left her! Becky can’t keep an eye on her all the time! My shopping could have waited!”

“Mary, calm down. Neither you nor Becky can be watching her ever second. And when was the last time she did anything on her own? I’ll alert the rest, and we will spread out. We can cover the entire neighbourhood, and knock on doors and ask people on the street. What was she wearing?” David kept his voice calm and even, trying to calm his sister.

“She was wearing the violet silk dress Dad loved so much. She wears it as often as she can, and is cranky and uncooperative when we have to put something else on her; her usual black oxfords and a white shawl over her shoulders. She does feel the cold, even in this mild weather.” Mary was calmer now, and took a deep breath. “Thanks, David. I’m going to go out now and start with the nearest houses. I’ll leave Becky with instructions to stay by the phone so we can all be in touch. Don’t forget the cell phones!”

“Right, Mary. We’ll be there in a short while. I’m sure we’ll find her safe, in one of the old places she and Dad used to go to. Hang in there, sis.” David hung up, then immediately started calling the family and getting them organized to search.

His daughter Hannah put her jacket on and headed out the door almost before he had finished telling her what had happened. He called to be sure she had her phone with her, and she turned back and waved it at him, then kept on going. I’m sure I know right where to find Grandma, if she can make it that far. I’ll start at Aunt Mary’s, and look for her. She ran on, certain that she would find Grandma. But whether the old woman would still be alive was the question.

The rest of the family gathered at Mary’s, and then set out, on foot and in cars, checking every street in a spiral from the starting point. Those on foot knocked on doors, and accosted pedestrians, asking if anyone had seen a little old woman in violet silk and white shawl, with white hair and black shoes. None had, and the search went on. Mary called the police, and the patrol officers kept their eyes open for the lost grandmother.

They searched through the afternoon, and it wasn’t until sunset that a call came through. “Dad it’s Hannah. I’ve found her, but…uh…I can’t explain. Come to the cemetery as fast as you can.” Hannah sounded excited, strained and worried, and David called everyone telling them to go to the cemetery.

It was a strange sight that met their eyes as they gathered several feet away from the old woman. She was standing beside her husband’s grave, her face glowing with happiness, and her arms out. In front of her was a skeleton that, even as they watched, slowly took on flesh and features. When it was fully formed they could see that it was their father, as he had been before the fire that killed him. He smiled at her and held out his arms. Her body wilted and fell to the ground, but they could see her, glowing and ethereal, as she drifted to him. They embraced, and faded from sight. The family stood, awestruck and mute for several seconds then with a chorused sigh, they went to the body. The old woman’s face was calm, peaceful and wearing the first truly happy smile they had seen there in thirty years. The body was tended properly, and two days later she was interred beside the husband she had loved so well and so long.

 

 

 

 

 

from a challenge to write a coming of age story

This story is based on a large store of flat rocks stored in a cave near a 1966 Archeological dig in a small village of Pit Houses, in what is now Mezhirich in central Ukraine, overlooking the floodplains of the rivers Ros and Rosava. Buried deep among the rocks was a plastic wrapped parcel containing three modern notebooks, giving a fifteen year history of the lives and doings of the clan who lived there at the end of the Upper Paleolithic age. The archaeologists had been stunned; they couldn’t understand how prehistoric rocks could have modern writing engraved on them, until they found the notebooks. Carbon dating had placed the rocks at around 25,000 BC.  When Paul Anderson opened the first notebook, he gasped, and exclaimed “It’s written by Mary Duncan, our archaeologist who disappeared last year!  She wrote it and buried it among the rocks, in hope we would find it.” Professor Henry Gibbson hurried over to look at the notebook. “It is amazing that paper has lasted so well for so long. Mary did a good job of preserving it. I am so happy to find out what happened to her. It will be interesting to read her account” he said.

With the help of the notebook, the team was able to sort the rocks chronologically and get the entire story of the lives of the Tall Tree Clan. A young boy of the tribe found Mary and, though afraid, brought her home to the tribe. Here is a quote from the notebook. “Somehow, I was temporally displaced and I am now in the actual village we were unearthing. At first I panicked, and ran around pounding on all the rocks that looked like the one I bumped into when I stumbled in the tunnel. A little boy about four years old, managed to get me to follow him, and took me to his home. The people calmed me down, bowing and making offerings to me; they seem to think I am a goddess, and have given me an honoured place in the tribe. I know that I will spend the rest of my life here, so I will keep records and preserved them as well and as long as I can, to help those in the future who are on that dig. I hope this lasts for them to find” This story was recorded ten years after her arrival, and is the tale of how Grg went on a hunt, and went through a coming of age event.

Grg was terrified. He hoped he was hiding it, but still, he was so afraid he could hardly breathe. The Mammoth was huge; taller at the shoulders then any of the men and the body even longer than the height, and it was very heavy. And it was coming straight for him; head down, big, sharp horns aimed at his chest, snorting and bellowing in anger and pain. In a daze, he raised his spear thrower, aimed and shot with his eyes closed then stood waiting for those horns to hit.

This was the biggest Mammoth the Tall Tree Clan had ever hunted, and they were short three men, who had been injured in a previous hunt. That is why Grg, Prt and Nig, three novice hunters, had been included; usually they were only in hunts for smaller game, like reindeer, foxes or hares. Grg had been on two such hunts, and even those scared him. Suddenly he became aware of two things; first, he was still standing and hadn’t been hit, second, the others who had been stationed at the rear of the mammoth were all yelling and slapping him on the back. He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was the Mammoth, horns only about two feet from his toes with his spear in its left eye. He was stunned. He’d killed it? HE’D KILLED IT!!! He was both stunned and overjoyed; he had made his first big kill. How Wonderful!

The noise and excitement died down as the adult males, who had been in front of the animal waiting for it to charge in their direction, away from the annoying spears and rocks thrown from the sides and rear arrived. Instead, a spear Prt had thrown by hand had hit it in the most vulnerable spot beneath its tail, and caused it to leap and turn back to put an end to those puny, insufferable things that had caused it so much pain. The surprised adults had stared in amazement, and when the noise broke out among the lesser hunters, came at the run, thinking the younger hunters were in trouble. During that run, Ulf, the master weapons and tool maker, had caught his foot in the entrance to a burrow and fallen, breaking his leg. They left him there, but when they saw that the mammoth was dead and the hunters all safe, two went back to bring him to the site of the kill.

Rph, the chief of the clan, stood for a moment staring at the excited younger hunters, amazed that one of them had killed the huge beast. He soon realised that Grg was the lucky hunter, and his heart swelled with pride. Walking over to Grg, he put both hands on his shoulders. “Grg,” he said, “I am so very proud of you, not only as your chief, but also as your father! Welcome, you are now a Full Hunter!” He grinned at Grg who looked stunned for a moment, and then grinned back, shoulders straightening in pride.

Rph turned to the others. “Start butchering the kill, we must start back soon. There will be a heavy load for each one to carry.” He looked at Ulf, sadly. “My friend, you are one of the most valued members of the clan, but we can’t carry you and the kill.”

Ulf looked up at him, face set firmly to hide the pain. “I know, Rph, it was my own fault, I should have been watching for burrows. Mft’s skills in weapon making are developing well, I’m sure he will be able to take my place. Be easy, friend. I know my fate.”

Everyone stood staring, muttering sadly. Mft was coming along well, but he was nowhere near skilled enough to make all the weapons and tools the tribe needed. Grg looked from Ulf to Rph, hesitated, and then said “Father, I helped Oogtag when Mrg broke her arm, and Blt was tending granfer. I can fix Ulf’s leg, if some of the others can gather googlegum tree leaves, a lot of them. And a stick long enough to go from his knee to his ankle. It should be as thick as your thumb and split lengthwise down the middle. Then I can fix him a stick to help him walk back home. He might need someone to help keep him steady.”

Rph looked at Grg for a moment, and asked “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Grg said. “I am very sure. And if the mammoth is skinned carefully, perhaps I can suggest a way to get it all back home, even the bones and tusks. Remember how I used to move things for Mrg when they were too heavy for me?”

Rph laughed. “Yes, I do. I thought you were wasting time until I saw how well it worked. But those were small sticks. You couldn’t move that big animal on them.”

Grg grinned. “No father, but we could do it with those.” He pointed to a stand of ten very straight trees, with boles about ten inches in diameter, and a good five feet long from root to the first branches. “If the meat and as much else as possible is wrapped and tied in the skin, it can be pushed along by Brsh, Lrg, Luf, Drf, Zlt Vrk. With Prt, Nig, Flt, Wift, Volf and me; we can catch the logs as they roll out and run them to the front. That leaves you, Zrsh, Trg and Srv to help Ulf and carry the large bones and the tusks. Wouldn’t that be all right?”

“That would be perfect, son.” Rph turned to the others. “OK, you heard him everyone, get to work, we have a lot to do before we can go home.”

Grg quickly set Ulf’s leg, wrapped it in the googlegum leaves which stuck together when pressed, and contained something that promoted healing. He took the strips of wood and wrapped them in place on each side of the leg for support. Then he found a small tree, with a bole of about three inches diameter and branches that stuck out opposite each other. Trimming it down so that only two branches were left, he wrapped the leaves around the Y shape at the top and made a handy crutch for Ulf to use.

(Editor’s note: an insertion by Mary Duncan – I had been watching and listening to it all from hiding as I often did for the hunts, so I quickly gathered some of the googlegum leaves and joined the hunters who welcomed me with reverence. I offered to help Grg but he was managing well, so when the liver was extracted, I made a fire and cooked it, as was the tradition. The hunters always ate the liver of a kill on site, and with great ceremony, honouring the beast who gave it. Everything went as Grg had suggested, and the hunters returned in triumph with an abundance of meat, a huge hide, many bones and the ivory tusks for the making of handles for weapons and tools, and the full tribal celebration ensued. The beast weighed about 2,500 pounds!)

One of the younger boys was on the watch at the village, and shouted the news when he saw them coming. This brought everyone out to see the triumphant return of the hunting party, and they were awed when they saw the size of the bundle, and the way they were moving it along. One of the older men, not agile enough for a big hunt, had taken some of the younger boys out on a small game hunt and had brought back two hares and a fox. The women and older girls had been gathering fruit, berries, nuts and roots, to add to the food store. When they saw the men returning with a mammoth, the women quickly went back to the cook fires. By the time most of the mammoth meat was stored in a hidden, cold cave, the feast was ready. Everyone fell to with gusto, and after the worst of the hunger was appeased, Prt, the joker and apprentice storyteller, gave a lively, humorous account of the killing of the mammoth accompanied by much laughter and great enjoyment of the tribe. The feast ended with fresh red berries, and fermented grape juice.

 

After the women had cleared things away, Bft got out his bone flute and started playing. Soon Stph, Grg’s sister, started singing. Then some other flutes joined, and Dlg started hitting a Cave Bear skull with the palms of his hands, adding a driving beat. The whole tribe sang, crooning in harmony, thanking the Gods, their resident Goddess, and the Mammoth for the feast, and the good Ideas Grg had had to get everyone home safely.

Inspired by a picture of purple flowers

Katy really hated going to Great Aunt Agatha’s. It used to be fun when Great Uncle Bertie was alive, full of light and colour. The gardens were masses of colour, there were forget-me-nots over half the front lawn, and morning glories growing along the fences in white, pink, purple and blue. Then, ten years ago, Uncle Bertie died, and everything changed.

Now, there was nothing but shades of purple. Lilacs, violets, larkspur, pansies, purple tulips, no other colour, just purple, some such a dark shade it was almost black. And inside, it was dark and dusty. The shades were drawn or shutters closed to block out all the light, with only dim bulbs in a few lamps. You could hardly see your way past the furniture, and most of it was covered in dark cloth, unusable. Katy sighed. Today Mother had to come, because Aunt Agatha wanted to change her will. And there was no school today, so Katy had to come too.

Mr. Carter was already there, with a lady he said would be a witness. Mother went with them to Great Aunt’s sitting room, and Katy headed for the back door. At least in the back garden, there would be sunlight. True, the only colours would be shades of purple and green, but some of the flowers had beautiful scents, and she could hear and see some birds.

She wandered along the paths, reaching to smell the lilacs, brushing a finger along a petal here and there, and remembering. Uncle Bertie would walk here with her, before the big rhododendrons were planted, and they would look for fairies, hiding among the blossoms. Then, you could see the sidewalk and road, and the people and cats and dogs going by. Sometimes they would stop and chat with Uncle. The place felt full of life. Now, even with all the healthy growth, it felt dead. Katy sighed again. No fairy would, or could, live in such an environment.

“Katy,” Mother called. “You must come in now, Great Aunt Agatha wants to see you, and we have something to tell you.”

Katy walked back to the house, and followed her mother along the dark hall and into the dim sitting room. There was a lamp on a table with a pile of papers, the only really bright spot in the room. Mr. Carter was standing by the table, with the lady who came with him, and Mrs. O’Malley, great aunt’s housekeeper.

“Hello, Katy, we have some good news for you.” Mr. Carter said. “Your Great Aunt wants to be sure this house stays in the family, so she has willed it to you. She still owns it until she dies, of course.  Until then it will be in trust with your mother and me as the trustees. It will be yours when you turn twenty one. Or, if Mrs. Wilson lives another seven years, it will go to you on her death.” He smiled, looking at her waiting for her reaction.

She glanced at her mother, and then at Aunt Agatha. Aunt Agatha looked proud, and as if she thought she had given Katy the most wonderful gift in the world. Mother just looked apprehensive. This great, dull, dismal place, hers? She knew she couldn’t let Aunt Agatha know how much she didn’t want it; she had to put on a good act.

“Thank you, Aunt Agatha, that is a most wonderful and unexpected gift. I hope I have to wait many years before it becomes mine.” That part she meant with her whole heart.

After everyone had had a small glass of wine, it was time to go. Katy kissed Aunt Agatha and said how grateful she was, again, and then she and Mother were out on the street.

“Mother!” Katy wailed. “What am I to do with that dark, dismal old house? I don’t want it; I don’t even like being there for an hour. Can I sell it when I inherit?”

“You could, and it would bring a good price, Uncle Bertie made sure it was kept in perfect condition. But, I know you don’t like it the way it is now. Aunt Agatha was so heart broken when Uncle Bertie died that she really didn’t want to live. That is why she did away with all the cheerful colours, and uses only a few rooms.

“But Katy, when she is gone, and it is yours, you could redecorate, open the shutters and put up the blinds. You can let the sunshine in, and plant roses and daffodils, and all the colourful flowers that used to be there. You could even have the rhododendrons removed. Though I think they are beautiful, and with the traffic blocked out, the garden is much more restful. You have time yet. Remember how it was when you and Uncle Bertie used to wander there imagining all sorts of things Then, when it is yours, you can redesign it your way.”

Katy walked in silence for a while, and then looked at her mother, smiling. “You’re right, Mother, I can. I am going to draw out designs, starting today, until I get it exactly the way I want. Thanks, Mother, now I can look forward to my legacy, whenever it comes. Not for at least ten years, though. I want Aunt Agatha around for as long as possible. I do love her, and I’ll try to be more understanding. I am growing up; I’m not a little girl anymore.”

Her mother smiled, and sighed. Katy was right; she wasn’t a little girl any more. In too few years, she would be a woman grown.

 

On a dare from a friend inspired by  pictures  of tepees shining in snow

Jonny Sun Dancer checked on the fire, making sure it was properly banked, checked the oil lamp to be sure it was in a safe spot, did up his parka and picked up his big bear-skin blanket. Quietly, he slipped out of the tepee, leaving his Grand Aunt Sally Running Deer and his two young siblings sleeping. Once outside, he carefully closed and fastened the flap, and set out for the big, brightly lit tent, where his grandfather lay dying. Once there, he settled down on the piece of log he had placed earlier in the day, wrapped the bear-skin around himself, and waited, fighting back the tears.

He had begged his father, Chief Running Bear, to let him wait with the leaders in the tent. Grandfather had been chief for many years, until ill health caused him to step down. His son was elected unanimously, so now he was chief. Jonny and his grandfather had been very close. The old man had taught Jonny the history, legends and traditions of the tribe. They had spent many hours together, and often, Jonny had sat to one side listening to the elders discussing tribal matters. But father had said no, this was a time for adults only, and Jonny was to go to bed and sleep. As if he could sleep when his best friend in the world was dying, leaving him. So he had quietly made his plans, set the log in a shadowed spot, and pretended to obey.

He could hear the women singing the song of Chief Standing Tall’s long life, all of his accomplishments and wise decisions. He sank deeper into the shadow as the flap opened, and old Martin Sly Fox, the oldest man in the tribe, came out. He stood, looking up at the sky, hands raised, as he beseeched the Great Spirit to welcome grandfather’s spirit home. He turned and went back in, to finish the ceremonies and prepare the body. Jonny was thrilled to see the spirit dancers, faintly at first then growing brighter and brighter, until they covered half the sky, dancing in welcome. Inside the tent the chant turned to keening.

Jonny sat, staring up at the wavering green lights as they danced across the sky. Green was the colour of life, new growth in spring. Did that mean….? Wow! He thought. That must mean that grandfather is now alive, with the spirit dancers! He stared for a long time, lost in awe at the wonderful idea. Then he became aware of someone standing beside him.

“Oh, Dad!” he looked up at his father. “I couldn’t go to sleep and not say goodbye, I just couldn’t, Dad!”

“I know, son, I saw the log, and knew what you were going to do. I wanted to let you be with us, but it is an unbreakable law, only those who have made their first kill can be there.” Father patted him on the shoulder. “And yes, I know you have killed rabbits and such when you’ve been out with grandfather, but that doesn’t count. A first kill has to be something big, and maybe dangerous. Like a stag, or a bear. Now, off to bed with you. You may come with us when we lay him on a chief’s platform tomorrow.”

Jonny stood up, hugged his father and said thanks. Then he headed back to their tepee. He was ready to sleep now. He paused before going in, to look once more at the dancing, glowing green lights. “Goodbye, Grandfather,” he whispered, and went in. Soon he was sleeping, dreaming of the great times he had had with that wonderful old man.

The next day was sunny and cold, and he dressed warmly after eating his breakfast. When he stepped out of the tepee, he saw his father and mother with the elders, just coming out of the big tepee. Four braves were carrying the wrapped body. He hurried over, and fell in beside his father, who smiled at him. They went some distance from the camp, into the forest. At last they came to a large tree where a platform had been built between two branches, high enough to keep animals from the body. While the women keened and chanted, the braves lifted the body, and set it carefully on the platform.

Father stepped forward, and prayed to the Great Spirit to give grandfather welcome into the spirit land. Slowly, they all turned and headed back to the camp, all except Jonny and father. They both stood for a moment, silent. Then they turned, and Jonny gasped.

“Father, look!” he exclaimed. “What is it? It’s so beautiful!” There in the sky was a fiery, dancing rainbow. “What is it, Dad? What does it mean?”

Father smiled. “The weather man calls it a Fire Rainbow. It only happens on rare occasions, under special conditions. To us, it means that your grandfather is already accepted by The Great Spirit. He is dancing with the spirit dancers now, young and healthy again. And he will be watching over you as long as you live.”

“Oh,” Jonny sighed.” Grandfather, I‘ll miss you so much. I love you. But I’ll remember everything you taught me. And I am so happy for you. Farewell for now; I know it isn’t goodbye.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

now

Inspired by an abstract picture showing a tree trunk and spreading boughs with coloured bubbles and shapes

There is a tree, a very special tree that permeates the Universe. No wandering astronaut would see it, but it is there. It appears as a giant tree on planets, its branches spreading over acres of land, and from it life comes. No intelligent being ever sees it, but where it is, life is lush. This tree, in its many guises, produces, nourishes and protects life.

The life this tree creates comes in many forms, from such creatures as the gnat, to the elephant, or the giant blue whale. Out in space, where the tree actually exists, brilliant bubbles float off and drift around until they contact a planet. On some planets, the bubble sits and nothing happens, until a strong wind blows it off into space again. When a bubble lands on a planet where life can grow and develop, the bubble bursts, and minute particles spray out, spreading far and wide. From these particles the first forms of life come.

On some planets, grass like growth covers the ground. Other particles grow into trees, and flowers. Primitive life forms appear, and so on. Intelligent life only appears on planets where conditions are right; water, and temperatures that do not get too cold or too hot, and food sources are plentiful.

These intelligent beings are not all the same in appearance. Some would seem grotesque to us here on Earth, perhaps having tentacles instead of arms and legs. Or with eyes spaced all around the ‘head’, and a slit for a nose, and a mouth filled with two or three rows of teeth.

But whatever the form, or the appearance, the Tree treasures them all. The Tree is aware of everything that happens to any part of its creation, but more so of the intelligent life. It is in some ways strongly alive in them. When an intelligent creature is harmed, the Tree feels the injury, and weeps.

Many of the bubbles spreading out from the Tree hold teachings for them, telling them how to get along together, and to accept life forms not like themselves. The bubbles also have healing powers, and whenever possible will brush against an injury and heal it so completely it is as if it had never happened.

There are stories I could tell about some of these creatures. Perhaps I will, another day; a story about Flextoo; or Binh, who could easily be from Earth. Or the Greenleaves, who have no individual names. But those tales will have to wait. Perhaps, another day.

Tree of Life – Binh

Robert Clarke tamped the tobacco down in his pipe as his eyes roved over the children. Johnny was staring disconsolately out the window at the rain. It was coming down in sheets, as it had been doing for the past three days. The other children were on the floor desultorily colouring, putting puzzles together or reading. Susie had been staring at the same page for five minutes.

“Great Granda,” Johnny said as he turned from the window, “do you suppose it will ever stop raining?”

Rob drew on the pipe to get it going as he turned to look at the boy. “Well, now, son, I don’t know. Might be, it will rain for forty days and forty nights. The river is already flooding the low lands. Maybe we should go out to the barn and start building us an ark.” His eyes twinkled as all the children gasped, staring at him, wide eyed. “Well, probably not. The Good Lord did promise never to do that again. It will probably rain for a couple more days, though.”

Johnny sighed. “I’m so bored, Great Granda! If Mom and Dad were home, maybe they’d take us to town, to a show, or even just to the shopping centre. I want to go climb trees and chase the goats, or something!” He flopped down on the floor, as the other children voiced their agreement.

“Well, I guess I could bend the rules a bit and tell you about one of my trips in space. Would that help?”

The children sat up straighter, faces brightening, and cheered. “Oh, yes, please, Great Granda, please!” they chorused.

“All right, I will.” Rob settled more comfortably in his chair, took a sip from the glass by his side, and smiled. “I’ll tell you about the Kaptites, as we called them. They live on the planet Kap Three. It obits the M1 star Kapteyn, in the small, faint constellation now called Pictor, Latin for painter. Originally, it was called Equuleus Pictoris, the ‘painter’s easel’. It is about 13 light years from Earth.

“Since Kapteyn is a smaller, cooler star than Sol, Kap Three orbits closer to it than Earth does to Sol. We were looking for more planets where humans could settle, and this was the first possible candidate. However, when we orbited the planet, we saw signs of intelligent life. Since our mission included trying to make friends with other intelligent species, we went closer, and tried radio contact, with no result.

“The captain called for a landing party, and I was chosen as the botanist. We had a couple of linguists, a geologist, and other scientific types, and a squad of twenty marines. We landed in an open, empty field within sight of what appeared to be a small town, disembarked, and waited.

“After about two hours, we saw wheeled vehicles coming from the town, four of them. The second one had some kind of flag or pennant flying from the windshield. ‘Looks like someone important is coming,’ Lieutenant Nelson said. ‘Look sharp, people, we want to make a good impression. All weapons holstered or grounded, we do not want to seem threatening.’

“The vehicles arrived, and the people got out. There was a loud gasp from everyone. They looked a lot like us! Any one of them could have been dropped in the middle of any city on Earth or Mars, and blended right in.

“They formed up in ranks and surrounded the one who was dressed in what seemed to be a formal suit. It was one piece, in a very deep red, with gold piping on the collar, sleeves and down the outside of the legs. He stepped forward, a pace or two in front of the others, and raised his right hand. He was about five foot seven inches tall, with faintly reddish skin, a round face and dark red hair. His eyes were a deep blue, and when he spoke, his voice was in the tenor range. The language was strange to our ears.

“’Tien glomet Binh. Dreet braggin pless wegrain, barishen,’ he said.

“Lieutenant Nelson turned to Sergeant Brown, the linguist. ‘Can you make anything out of that?’ he asked.

“Brown looked at his translator. ‘My name is Binh. Much pleasure gives welcome, stranger’, according to this.’ He tapped the translator. ‘Never had it work so quickly, Lieutenant,’ he looked up with a grin. ‘This might turn out to be easy.’

“We stayed there three months, and it was as easy as Brown predicted. Binh was the Blenishtreen of Kap three, or President of the world. He invited us all to his city, where we mingled with the citizens; we were accepted freely by all, and feasted at least once a week by different people. Not all of the feasts were given by those in government, many of the citizens invited groups into their homes. Usually they were botanists, geologists and other scientists, gathering together to compare knowledge with ours. Some were just ordinary folk, shop keepers, woodworkers and such. I enjoyed those banquets more than the formal ones.

“At last the Captain radioed saying we had to return to the ship, as the astrophysicist aboard had found indications of another possible planet approximately 32 light years away. We said our reluctant goodbyes, and told Binh that Ambassadors from Earth would arrive within a few months. They would set up trade and communication with the Kaptites. He expressed his pleasure at that, and his sorrow that we must go.

“And that is the story of Binh, the Kaptite.”

“Thanks, Great Granda,” Johnny said. “Will you tell us some more?”

“Not now, Johnny. I have talked as much as I can, for now. Another time, perhaps.” The children chorused ‘aww!’ and then thanked him.

“I would like to see those Kaptites,” Billy said. “I want to be like you, Great Granda; I want to be an astronaut.”

“That would be good, Billy. But to do that, you have to do really well in school. Study hard and you just might make it. Now, I must rest.” Rob settled back in his chair, touched a button and the chair adjusted so he was reclining, and closed his eyes. The children went quietly back to their colouring and puzzles, content for a while. But they still wished the rain would stop.

Tree of Life – Greenleafs

It was summer holiday time for the children, and the whole family was gathered in the solarium. Since they didn’t have to be up early for school, the children were allowed to stay up late. They were all laying on an opened out double sleeping bag, so they could look at the stars easily. All the adults were seated in recliners, relaxed and at ease, drinks at hand, and Great Granda Rob was puffing contentedly on his pipe.

The solarium was all glass except for the wall leading into the rest of the house, giving an incredible view of the night sky. It was a clear night and the only light in the room was a dim glow from the dining room, so the sky was like a huge sheet of black velvet, covered in a myriad of sparkling diamonds.

“Grandfather,” Paul, the children’s father, said “I think tonight it would be good if you would tell us all something about your experiences in space. I know we usually ask you not to as they do too much bragging in school. But with such a view as we have tonight, it would be an appropriate subject. Will you, please?”

“Oh, yes, please, Great Granda,” the children lifted their heads and gazed at him, eyes begging.

“Yes, I agree. Especially since tonight we have such a clear, sharp view of the constellations.” He picked up a laser pointer, and aimed it, saying: “This is Aquila, The Eagle, can you see it?” They all looked, and after some help, even the children saw it. “All right, see that very bright star?” he aimed the pointer at the star. “It is called Altair, and it is the southern-most star in the Summer Triangle. It is 16.73 light years from earth. It’s a variable star. That means that it is sometimes really bright and sometimes fainter. Its surface temperature varies from 6,900 to 8,500 Kelvins. That would be, at its coolest, 11,960.3 degrees in Fahrenheit. So it can get really really hot.

“We found a planet that was just in the habitable zone. It had more water than earth, and was very hot and humid. We found an area partly up a mountain that was solid enough for a landing craft, and put down there. From space, we could see that where there was land, it was green, so we thought it might do for human settlement. Higher up the mountain was drier, and rockier, but the slopes around us were covered in trees, very like the pines, cedars and other firs of earth.

“Lower, the trees were more like oaks, maple, and beech. We followed a river that ran down the mountainside, and eventually came to a large delta area. Here the trees were different. The leaves were somewhat like elms, but they were very thick. On some branches, they were small, and almost normal elm leaves. But as they grew bigger, they thickened, until they were fat. At the stem end, they were as big around as two green apples, joined; about four and a half inches wide by four inches thick. Where the stem was, there was a dip that went down in a crease back and front, forming two separate but joined heads. And I mean heads.

“At first we didn’t realize it, but when we looked closer, we saw that there was a set of eyes on each side of the front of the head. From there the ‘leaf’ narrowed like an elm leaf, until it was about two and a half inches from back to front, and about two inches wide. From there it divided into two floppy legs. In all, they were about six inches long.

“From where an ear would be on a normal head, a tentacle grew, about three inches long, with six small tentacle fingers. Later, we saw that they had retractable thorn-like claws. These were used for digging, or fighting the insects and other pests that would have infested the trees.

“When a Greenleaf, as we called them, was fully grown, it dropped from the tree, and immediately started working. Some of the insect types were domesticated, so some tended them. They were used to pull their version of the plow, and wagon, and as food and fertilizer. The tentacle arm could attach to an insect and all the liquid was sucked out though it. What was left they piled around the roots of the tree as mulch.”

“Great Granda, I don’t think it was nice of them to do that to their tame insects,” Susie said.

“Hmm. Susie, do you like roast beef?” Rob asked.

“Sure, it’s really good!” she grinned.

“And where does the roast come from? And I don’t mean the butcher shop.” Rob waited.

“From the farmers,” Susie said

“Where do they get it?”

Susie paused, then he saw it come to her. “From the cows.” She was sad.

“Right and we used the skin for shoes, and belts, and other things. Even the bones can be ground up and added to fertilizer. So the Greenleafs were only doing the same as we do.

“That’s how we realised that they were intelligent. They herded ‘cattle’, protected their families, fought predators, and gathered food for the herd. When the big rains came, we saw them build levees to keep the water from drowning the home trees, and their crops and herds.

“They didn’t have mouths, so they couldn’t talk, but we did communicate with them. Several of us had been hearing high toned, almost bell-like sounds, from the first contact. Sarg. Brown turned his translator’s audio to the highest sensitivity, and was suddenly hearing voices. It took a while, but eventually we were able to talk with them. They were excited to meet people from another planet.

“Some of them had spent years studying the stars. They could see the other planets around Altair and had come to the conclusion that there must be other worlds around other stars. We carried some of the elders up the mountain to see our landing craft, and showed them the mother ship through the telescope, where it orbited the planet. They were highly impressed, but sad, too. They knew that they would never be able to make such vehicles themselves.

“We spent the better part of a year there, and arranged for an ambassador and crew to come. The forests on the mountains were a big draw, as earth had few forests left, and most of the planets we’d settled were still short on them, too.

“When we left, they were looking forward to the ambassador, making plans for trade, figuring out what we could bring them.” Rob leaned back in his chair, and took a sip form his glass. “Now, I understand, we have a small thriving colony there, and trade is good. They were very pleasant folks, the Greenleafs. I like to look at Altair, and remember them.”

They all sat in silence for a while, looking up at the sky, and thinking about the strange little leaf-like creatures who lived far away on that hot, humid planet.

Tree of Life – Flextoo

Once again it was a holiday for the children, and the family were gathered around the fireplace. The only light in the room came from the fire, and the big Holiday tree in front of the large window. The children were on the floor with books, though none were reading. Mother, Father, Grandfather and Great Granda sat in silence, contemplating the tree, and the Tree of Life that it represented.

Susie put her book aside and got up, walking over to the tree. She gently fingered some of the ornaments, lifting one cupped in her hand. “Great Granda,” she turned to look at him, “this looks like the one you told us about on the planet near Kapteyn. I think you called him Banh.”

She dropped that one and lifted another, higher up and farther around the tree. “Oh, and this one is like the Greenleafs! It’s cute, I liked them they were so funny.”

The other children went over to the tree, and began studying the ornaments. Many of them represented everyday things, animals, birds, people, but there were two dozen new ones that caught their attention. With exclamations of delight, they examined them.

Rob lifted his cane, stood, and walked over to join the children. “I had them made,” he said, “so you could see what other people in the universe look like. At least, the ones I helped discover. Now that you have stopped bragging about me, I can tell you about all of my trips.”

The children cheered. “What about this one, Great Granda?” Johnny reached up, stretching as high as he could, to touch one that was shaped like a tortoise. “Where do they live?”

Rob reached over and lifted the ornament from the tree. It did look like a tortoise, with a yellowish brown carapace and lighter shade plastron. The head, neck, legs and tail were chocolate coloured. It was depicted with its neck stretched up, standing on its back legs.

“That is from my last trip. I was Admiral of the fleet by that time, and we were on a long trip. Their star is Kepler 69, found by the Kepler satellite in the first quarter of the twenty first century. It is 2,700 light years from Earth, and it took us five years to get there. We would never have made it, except for the advances that made it possible to travel through hyperspace.

“There are four planets orbiting Kepler 69, but only Kepler 69c is habitable. It is mainly a water world, but there are places where underwater mountains break the surface as islands. Many of these have sandy beaches, and that is where the females go to lay their eggs.

“Like the sea turtles of Earth, once the eggs are laid, they are left to fend for themselves. Their main enemy is a huge bird that nests in the higher regions of the islands, and at hatching time, they fly over the area, watching for the hatchlings as they try to make their way to the water.

“Each female lays two to three hundred eggs, so even with death flying and diving overhead, at least half make it. Once in the water, they are mostly safe from predators, though there are some fish that snack on them when they can.

“We found an island big enough for the lander and a few shelters. Once there, we launched boats, and did our best to make contact. We had seen structures on the beaches that were not natural, so knew there was some kind of intelligence there.

“We finally made contact with the head of one clan, Flextoo by name. At least, that is the closest we could come to his name. He was 8 feet long, and about five feet wide, and his eyes were large and emerald green. It was odd to see him on land, as there he stood on his hind feet, and could use his front feet like hands.

“I had many long talks with him, and found him highly intelligent, and eager to hear of other worlds, and other peoples. They used pearls to decorate their shells, the biggest pearls I had ever seen. I suggested that they could use them, and the nacre from the shells, as trade items. We showed him many things we could trade for them, and he was intrigued with some of our tools.

“In the end, we figured out how they could be adapted to fit their feet instead of hands, and how to power them using the ocean water. I know you have seen the decorations on the city Holiday tree, in the main square.”

“Oh, yes, Great Granda,” Lilly said. “They shine so, and I can see so many colours in them. The tree looks like it has little lights on even in the daytime. They are beautiful! And the orb on top, it glows, and it’s so big!”

“Right,” Rob said. “The decorations are made from the nacre from the shells of the oyster-like creatures that make the pearls. And the orb on top is one of the pearls. I like to look at them, and remember that I was in command of the fleet who found Flextoo and his people, and made friends and trading partners with them.”

Rob carefully hung the ornament back on the tree, and stood for a moment contemplating it. Then he turned and made shooing motions at the children.

“Sit down again, youngsters; it’s time for the Tree of Life pledge, and the life drink.”

Johnny grinned up at him. “Aye, aye, Admiral sir! He saluted, giggled, and ran back to the fireplace. The adults were all standing and smiling, glasses in hand. They raised them in salute, “To the Admiral!” they all cried, tipped glasses to lips, and drank. Rob smiled. He was so proud of his family, and pleased that he had been able to see a fourth generation well on its way. His daughter in law busied herself refilling glasses for the solemn ceremony to come.

The project was to story of a robbery from the point of view of the criminal, trying to convince the reader that his actions were justified.And I used a picture of gargoyles on a roof.

A trap door in the roof opened, and a dapper young man emerged. He was movie star handsome, with light brown gold flecked eyes, and wavy, deep auburn, shoulder length hair. He was not dressed as one would expect for climbing around on dirty roofs; he wore expensive grey slacks, a navy blue jacket, a white shirt with a tie in blue and grey stripes held in place by a gold tie pin with ‘IV’ on it in tiny diamonds, and shiny black dress shoes.

“Back again, are you?” a deep voice growled. It sounded like several large rocks grinding together.

“Yes, Gargy, I’m back again,” the young man chuckled. “I need your help, if you would be so kind. I have to make a confession, and it must convince the listener to agree that everything I did was justified. I want to read it to you. If I can convince you, I can convince any judge, or anyone else, for that matter. May I read it to you?”

As he talked, he moved forward, settling down just behind and to the right of the gargoyle. There were several gargoyles on the top of the old bank building, but this one had its mouth open, and was the only one that seemed to be sentient.

“One of these days that old attic and trap door are going to be found, and your secret escape route will not be secret anymore.” The gargoyle growled. “And I said not to call me Gargy!”

“Yes, that is a problem. I try not to leave footprints in the dust, and only use it in emergencies. And I don’t know your name, so what am I to call you, if not Gargy?”

“My name is Anaxagoras, meaning master of speech. On my far right is Gregorios, who is watchful, vigilant, and speechless, and between us is the female muse of astronomy, Ourania. They are as aware as I, just voiceless. You may call me Anax, since you do not seem to like using full names.”

“Ok, Anax it is. But I really need your help today. If I can’t convince the main people concerned, like judges, I’ll likely spend the next several years in prison, and I am loath to wear that horrible prison garb; to say nothing of the terrible food and wasting a long part of my life in such plebeian conditions.”

The young man thought highly of himself; he was, after all, from an old and once powerful family. Unfortunately, the family fortune had been lost when his grandfather, Rhett Owen Ghayas Ulysses Endicott, second of that name, sold a valuable antique belonging to his wife to pay off gambling debts. His father, third of that name, managed to re-build the fortune to the point where he was able to offer twice what the bowl had been sold for. His offers were refused.

“All right, I don’t have anything better to do – go ahead and read,” Anax growled.

“Right, here goes. To Whom It May Concern: My name is Rhett Owen Ghayas Ulysses Endicott IV. Our family fortune was lost when my Grandfather, Rhett Owen Ghayas Ulysses Endicott, second of that name, sold a valuable antique belonging to his wife to pay off gambling debts. My Father, third of that name, managed to re-build the fortune to the point where he was able to offer twice what the bowl had been sold for. His offer was refused, as was the offer of three times the purchase price. The object in question is a blue faience bowl, ten inches in diameter, made about 1450 B.C showing a pool and lotus blossoms.

“The antique bowl has been handed down from daughter to daughter since it was first brought into the family by the Egyptian Princess Aneki, daughter of the Pharaoh’s Royal Consort who was hated by his First Wife; she had tried to kill the princess twice. It was handed down as part of the bride’s dowry and was to remain in her possession; each groom had to sign a legal document agreeing to that requirement. I know how much the bowl means to my Mother and Grandmother, and after trying legitimate ways to get it back, I resorted to thievery.

“In the first place, Grandfather had no right to sell the bowl, he stole it. In the second place, the buyer should have considered the illegality of that sale and agreed to sell it back. In fact, he should, if he were honest, have given it back, since I had the documents to back up my story. I went to lawyers, and the police to try to recover it legally, and was brushed off with a ‘if it was sold by the owner it was a legal sale.’ I showed them the documents he and my Father had signed proving that my Grandmother and Mother were the owners, and they refused to look at them.

“So I took the only road I could see that would return the bowl to my Mother’s keeping, where it now belongs. It was passed on to her when she married my father. I went to the home of Mr. Charles Robert Campbell, and using a set of burglars’ tools, broke in when the family was away.  I found the bowl on a pedestal locked under a clear glass dome, worked out the key to the lock, took the bowl and relocked the dome. I then made my way out, carefully relocking the door and resetting the alarm. I harmed nothing, broke nothing; all I did was to recover an item that had been illegally obtained and held.

“My Mother and Grandmother were both ecstatic when I gave them the bowl, and have locked it in a safe place. There it will remain until it is recognised as legally my Mother’s. I ask you please to consider my story, and exonerate me, finding me not guilty of robbery.

“Thank you for listening to my story, and reading the accompanying documents.

“Rhett Owen Ghayas Ulysses Endicott IV”

Rhett looked at Anax, anxiously waiting for his reaction. Anax sat in silence for a few minutes; then slowly turned his head toward the other two gargoyles. “What do you think?” he growled, and paused. Turning his head again, he said “you have convinced all three of us. You took the only path the law left you. We all hope the humans you read this to will agree.”

(To see the bowl, go to) http://www.britishmuseum.org/explore/highlights/highlight_objects/aes/f/faience_bowl.aspx

 

Inspired by a picture of native cliff dwellings.

I had been traveling through the southwest on a belated winter holiday, enjoying the warmer temperatures and the burgeoning growth. It was such a wonderful change from the cold winter weather of Southern Ontario, with calf deep snow and bitter winds. Now I stand in the Verde Valley, looking at the new growth of spring, and feel the joy of new life, new beginnings. All around me there is evidence of spring; on the ponderosa pines, the pinyon Jupiter. The grassland is greening, even the desert scrub shows new growth. The banks of the river and the wetlands nearby echo with the sounds of life, with the silvery tones of the water as counterpoint to the twittering of birds and the clicking, buzzing and rustling of unseen creatures.

Yet as I stand there, immersed in the stark beauty, it is the rocky cliff that draws my heart. The dwellings there pull me, call me. It seems to be welcoming me home. Yet I have never been here before. What is it that calls me, pulls me? Pondering, I move closer, unconsciously following the faint remains of a path, until I am close enough to see the ruins high up in a huge cave opening, facing south. They bring up confused pictures in my mind, a rapid kaleidoscope of people; warriors returning from a hunt, mothers tending children, grinding corn, sewing clothing, elders in deep discussion – a montage of life. And some of the faces that flash through my mind I know. Yet how can that be? Those people were obviously Native Americans I am English/Scottish Canadian. What connection can there possibly be?

I pause, staring in wonder, then move closer until I am standing at the foot of the great cliff. Looking up, I can see places where one could climb, places for hands and feet, leading up. I feel such a strong pull, that before I realise what I’m doing, I am making my precarious way up the cliff. It is a long and tiring climb, but at last I stand on the ledge, looking at the remains of the building, and the feeling that I know this place is stronger than ever.

I walk along the ledge, and find an entrance into the building. I can only see a little, where the sun of early afternoon lights it, but it seems to be empty. I take one step closer, and suddenly, I hear voices – a woman’s voice, chiding a child; several men’s voices, discussing the day’s hunt. As I listen, it comes to me that they are not speaking English – it is a language I think I have never heard. How can that be? The only language I know is English, so how can I understand what people are saying in another language? Fear grips me, and I stand just on the doorstep, unable to move. The voices continue, and my sight starts to fade, until at last, there is nothing but darkness. I feel nothing, my body is gone. What is happening to me?!

 

Deja Vous – part 2

Darkness, nothingness, drifting; what has happened, where am I? Who am I? Am I dead? Is this Limbo? I can feel nothing, no hint of my body. I’m still drifting, but now I can hear something, faint, a soft sound, like fine hair lifted by a soft breeze. I stir, and realise that I did move, so I must have a body. I am not dead. I try again, moving my fingers, and feel something smooth, padded. I am lying on my back, on …. what? Slowly, oh so slowly, things start to come back.

I am … Cheveyo, Spirit Walker? Jamal Spanbauer? Why do both names feel like me?  I shake my head and moan, and a soft hand rests on my forehead. A familiar voice whispers “easy, my son, rest easy, you are home.” I struggle to open my eyes, blinking away the fogginess. Yes, it is my Mother, Algoma, valley of flowers. The name Jamal fades, the almost memories of confusing scenes of many oddly clad people, things moving very quickly along hard wide pathways, tall, impossible buildings that have been haunting me fade and disappear. I am Cheveyo, I am home. I turn to my mother and ask “what happened?” My voice is little more than a whisper.

She sighs, stroking my hair. “My son, we do not know. You went out hunting and disappeared. All the men and older boys went out searching, but all they found was where you had camped last. Your footsteps were found leading away from there, but stopped at a fallen tree.  Then, yesterday afternoon, you came staggering in and collapsed. Do you not remember what happened to you?”

I lay and thought, remembering again those terrifying, impossible scenes. “I remember standing at a corner, the paths of some hard, white material, with wide places between them. They were darker, and filled with some kind of carts or wagons. They moved at incredible speeds, I caught glimpses of people inside. Some were very large, with many people, some smaller with only one or two. There were big square ones, with things painted on the side. The paths were crowded with people in very odd clothing.

“When I looked down, I saw that my skin was dark, and I was dressed in the same odd clothing. Someone beside me called me Jamal, and I knew I was Jamal Spanbouer. This was my home, a place called Tor-on-to-on-ta-rio-can-ada. I was so afraid, and confused, because I knew I was Cheveya Spirit walker, but I was also this Jamal person. We went to a large open place, full of grass, flowers and trees, and started throwing some kind of ball around, I missed the ball, and it hit my head. Now I am here again, and very glad to be home. I never want to see that place again.”

“Rest now, my son. Akula the shaman has been tending you, and you are well now. Rest today, and tomorrow you can go out with the hunters again.” Algoma smiled at her son, relieved that he was himself again.  She touched his cheek and left him. He lay quiet, thinking about what had happened. Was I in the future? he wondered. If so, I am very glad that I will never live to see it happen. Sighing, he drifted off to sleep.

Cheveyo lived a long and happy life, and married Amitola Rainbow, the maiden he had loved for a long time. Together they raised a son Chezmu witty and a daughter Cholina bird. He became chief of the tribe, a wise and fair minded ruler, and the tribe prospered. But always, deep in his mind was the memory of that terrifying place where somehow, he had lived for a short time.

No one ever found out what had happened to Jamal Spanbouer, after he collapsed on the basketball court.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As told by Sokni Hvitaskald to Florence Simpson

Hello, my name is Sokni Hvitaskald. I am the fourth son of Odovacar and Dagmar Hvitaskald. I have two older sisters, married and living far away, two younger sisters and an infant brother. My father and three older brothers were killed in battle. I started training as a warrior when I reached my eighth winter, starting with a small, dull war axe, blunted dagger and lance. I also learned combat without weapons. By the time I reached manhood, none could surpass me with the war axe, and few could equal me in any of the other forms of battle.

I want to tell you of a thrilling adventure I had before I reached manhood. It was in my eleventh year when I saved the lives of my Mother, three younger siblings, and myself. Father and my elder brothers had been killed in a battle the fall before, and Granfer died six weeks after Yule. I was left as the man of the family in what Granfer told me was the most dire winter in living memory. It was three months after his death that I had my adventure.

By that time spring should have started and we should have been preparing the ground for planting, but the snow was still waist deep on me. The food was gone, all but some very tough dried meat. Mother and the young ones were ill and weak from hunger, and I was not in much better condition. We still had one old cow, but her milk was needed for the babe, still in his first year, since Mother could no longer provide enough. I determined to go out on a hunt, to try to bring back meat for us all.

I made the house as secure as I could hauling in a good supply of wood and water. Mother could still milk the cow, and keep the fire going. She made sure I took a supply of the dried meat and two good fur rugs. These I lashed to my sledge, then kissed Mother goodbye, strapped on my skis and harnessed myself to the sledge. With a last look back at the house, I set off across the heath, headed for the woodland in the foothills several miles away.

It was hard going, but the snow was frozen solid in many places, and once I was able to find them, I moved faster. It took me two days to reach the foothills and the beginnings of the forest. The snow was not so deep there, so I removed my skis and tucked them under the ties around the furs. I made my way along a trail in among the trees, and just as the sun reached its highest point, I heard a great bellowing and thrashing up ahead. I pulled the sledge to the side of the trail, and made my way toward the noise.

There, with its huge rack of antlers entangled in a large bush, was the biggest stag I had ever seen. It was as tall at the shoulders as a tall man, and big in proportion. This, if I could bring it down and get it home, would see us through until the first harvest of fruit and greens. I moved stealthily, to get as close as possible so that my spear would have enough force for the kill. But the unchancy wind suddenly changed and brought my scent to the animal. With a mighty heave, it broke free of the bush. Instead of fleeing, as I expected, it charged. With prayers to Odin, Thor and Freya, I threw my spear and leaped to the side. Its shoulder knocked me off my feet, and I scrambled back up just in time to see it coming at me again.

I leapt out of its way. There was no way I could get to my spear, as it was incredibly fast in stopping and turning. With another quick prayer, I made ready, and as it came near, I jumped to the side again. When it was passing me, I gave a great leap, and landed on its back behind the mighty head. It started to buck and toss its head back, trying to unseat or gore me. I ducked under the flailing antlers and reached around until I had a firm grip on its throat, just under the muzzle.

Pulling with all my strength I encouraged it to bend its head back more. Then, taking a great chance, I let go with my right hand and drew my big knife. I had to grab its ear to keep from being thrown as it increased its effort to dislodge me, but I managed to stay on. When I felt more secure, I let go again, and struck with the knife, into the side of its neck. It gave a great bellow as the blood gushed out over my hand and I let go, allowing myself to be bucked off. I landed, rolled and was on my feet in one movement. The stag ran forward, ignoring me, and I took up its trail. It would not go far, with its life’s blood pumping out.

In a short distance it was staggering, and after a few more steps it dropped to its knees, and soon fell to its side, not very far from the scene of our battle. I waited until it was still then cut its throat. I cut into it and removed part of the liver, made myself a fire, and ate. I couldn’t leave it like that, or it would quickly be too frozen to move. I tied a strong vine around its legs, and with every bit of strength I could summon, pulled it back to the trail and the sledge.

I took everything off the sledge and after great strain and effort, got the carcass in place, and tied down. The moon was full, and enough light came through the trees so I could see to make my way out of the forest. Then I wrapped myself in the furs and slept for a while. I was more tired than I had ever been, but I was proud that I had brought down this Monarch of the deer family. However, it wouldn’t be of much use if I didn’t get it home.

I woke myself well before the night was over, with the moon still giving plenty of light on the frozen snow. I packed up the rugs, harnessed myself to the sledge, and set out. The going was not too bad during the hours of night, but after the sun came up, a warm breeze started blowing, and the snow started melting in the first signs of the belated spring. I trudged on, pulling my load behind me, every muscle in my body screaming for rest and release from effort. But in my mind I could see Mother’s thin worried face, and the little ones too weak from hunger to cry, and I forced myself to go on.

Finally, by traveling through the night when the snow had frozen again, I came at last to our house. But there was no sign of life, not even smoke from the chimney. I pushed forward, heart pounding, and dropped the harness at the door. Fearful of what I would find, I pushed it open, and found them, huddled near the fire trough where the last of the wood was almost burned away. They looked at me as at a ghost, then Mother smiled, and all was well.

Once more I prayed to Odin, Thor and Freya, asking for the strength to finish my task, and thanking them for their help. I chopped more wood, and soon the fire was roaring, and we were all sitting around sipping broth made from the rest of the liver and small pieces of the stag. A large pot of stew was simmering at the side of the fire, and the rest of the meat was hanging in the back room, where it would stay good until Mother could look after it.

I was praised as a hero, and got a new vest, breeches, and new boots made from the skin, and Mother got several bone utensils that I made from the antlers. The meat stayed good, the spring finally came, the crops grew and we had our first harvest. And that is how I saved my family, in my eleventh year.

I do have an odd problem, though, that started after I reached the age of manhood. I am completely inept and clumsy when sober. Yet when I have had at least six large horns of beer or mead, I am steady, and can do many fancy stunts with my war axe, and never harm myself or anyone else. This began to cause problems, and eventually I was forced to leave home, after I accidentally injured the son of the chief of our town.

My family gave me as many skins of beer and mead as they could gather, food enough to last me to the nearest port, and many gems and as much gold and silver as they could spare. We were second only to the Chief in terms of wealth, so I had wealth enough to last for years. I have been home again several times over the years. My mother was still living and healthy the last time I was there. She had remarried and had two more sons, and my sisters are married to good, prosperous young men. But they still praise me as a hero and recount the tale of how I saved them all, in my eleventh year.

 

I am Greydon Graham Gordon, top reporter for the Tri-Borough Gazette, in Greater Riverdale. Last week the Archbishop of St. Brendan’s Cathedral in this city, called my boss and asked for a reporter to go to Little Humber and check out the tales of hauntings in the basement of St. Bridget’s Church there. Apparently, the sexton and several ladies of the Ladies Guild who have had occasion to go to the basement late at night have been having terrifying experiences.

 

the way now, talking into my tape recorder, and will continue to report everything as I go along, So I have been assigned to go and spend the night in the basement and see what’s what.  I am on once I am settled there. I have brought my reclining lawn chair, a blanket, water and some snacks, and will try my best to stay awake. I am sure nothing will happen that all the ‘terrifying’ events were caused by the vivid imaginations of the country folk themselves. There are no such things as ghosts, as any intelligent modern person knows. I will play back what is on the tape recorder to write my article.

 

Ok, I am now settled and comfortable in the church basement. The Priest, sexton and many of the members of the congregation were gathered to meet me, and they held a special service asking God to protect me from the evil that has taken over their basement. I went along with it, but it seemed really silly. Still, it calmed them enough to allow me to go ahead with the job.  I expected to be in complete darkness, but there are two small red lights burning, one over the door to the crypt and the other at the foot of the stairs. Now I will stop talking and read for a while, using my little reading light headband. If I need more light, I’ll use my phone.

 

Heaven preserve me and dear Lord keep me from ever having another assignment like last night. I now believe in ghosts, and now know that evil will out. The evil that caused my terrifying experience will be told, and amended when today’s issue of the Gazette appears. I promise to see that it is done. The sexton and ladies who had experienced it were so overcome with fear that they were incoherent, unable to tell it all, so the Priest didn’t know the full tale. He was shocked, and overcome with grief that he had done nothing to help those poor souls. I told him not to worry, it would be done now.

 

So I wrote my report, and put the blame where it belongs, on Lord Suffingham, and his heirs. Let them own up to his crime, pay recompense to the families and pay for a special service to release the imprisoned souls and cleanse the Church. This report has been published in today’s Gazette, and already there is a great outcry from the public, and it is growing. They will be avenged, and released.