“The story below was requested by Donna’s close friend, Marian. Donna is currently in ICU on a ventilator and quite depressed.  She is an artist, very bright, outgoing, and very creative.  She has had a difficult life involving divorce and has a son in his 20’s who has a hard time with her chronic illness issues. Donna has severe osteoporosis from steroid use in treating her allergies, asthma and lung conditions. She is in her early 50s.   She also has a lot of pain due to osteoarthritis/osteoporosis and sequelae. I think her dream would be to have shop when she could work as an artist and sell her artwork/crafts. She draws/paints beautifully and is incredibly creative with decorating and crafts. She makes her own greeting cards when she feels up to it.”

The sound of the respirator filled Donna’s ears morning, noon, and all night making it difficult to sleep well. Her chest hurt, actually her entire body hurt and life looked very, very bleak and hopeless.  Donna glanced out her door at the nearby nurse’s station, wishing she could trade places with any of the people she saw standing there instead of having to be tethered to a machine simply to breath. How she longed to be free of her chronic illnesses and to just live and be creative with the gifts God had given her.

It seemed like her life was in a wasteland of limbo and she was worried about her son who had had to put up with a mom who, through no fault of her own, had been chronically ill with respiratory issues most of his life.  Now all the medication she had taken to help her in the short term was taking a toll on her body in the long term.

A single hot tear of frustration rolled down her cheek, instantly dried by the air of the ventilation mask. At that moment she felt a gentle hand brush her cheek and remove the mask. For an instant she panicked, knowing that the removal of the mask spelled big trouble but when she looked up to see who had removed it, her heart nearly stopped. It couldn’t be. Was she dreaming? Did she just die?

The figure half sitting on her hospital bed smiled at her and that smile sent waves of glorious, intense love flowing over her like a mighty river. His eyes gazed upon her with a brilliance of pure, unadulterated love and total acceptance.

“Take my hand, Donna,” said the Savior, reaching for hers. She didn’t think twice but laid her small cold hand inside that of her Redeemer’s. It was warm and the touch of his hand upon hers sent a thrill coursing up her spine. “Come with me,” he said, standing. Donna stood, unable to tear her eyes away from his face, drowning in the pulsating waves of love that flowed outwards from Him and surrounded her in a warm cocoon.

Suddenly she found herself in a different place. She was in an art studio – a studio that made her pea green with envy for it was everything she had always imagined for herself were she healthy and rich enough to have it. It was filled with glorious light and had everything an artist would ever want or need.

“This is all for you,” said the Lord, putting his arm about her shoulders and turning her about so she could see everything.

“Lord,” said Donna, totally confused. “Did I just die? Am I in heaven?”

“No,” He smiled at her. “This is just a little vacation.” He gestured to all the art supplies. “Enjoy yourself and make something for Me.” He said, giving her a wink. In that instant He disappeared. Donna stood in slack jawed amazement and regarded her surroundings again, going from drafting table and then from shelf to shelf to inspect everything more closely. Outside birds sang and the breeze smelled of honeysuckle and orange blossoms. She suddenly jumped up and down in glee, rubbing her hands together. She felt great! No pain, no difficulty breathing, no aches! She had never felt so physically free in all her life! She got out the acrylic paints and a blank canvass and proceeded to paint something beautiful for her wonderful Lord. She soon lost herself in her work and painted with gusto.  After what seemed hours she paused and stepped back to see what her hands had wrought and frowned. This is not what she had been trying to paint! The colors were all different than what she had used and the painting made absolutely no sense. It looked like an angry child had taken a bunch of finger paints and used every color there was until it all blended into one large blackish/greenish mess. She just couldn’t figure out what had happened! She set the canvass aside; there was no way she was going to give that as her gift to her Savior! It had turned out hideous!

Perhaps a different medium? She went to the cabinet and found stamping supplies, a heat gun, glitter, ink pens and embossing powders. She would do an elaborate Valentine card to Jesus to tell Him how much she loved Him!

She sat down at a different table and worked meticulously. She didn’t want to over do it and make it look messy and cluttered; she wanted it to express her heart of gratitude for this respite away from her sickbed in the hospital. Hours later, when she felt it was perfect, she looked upon it and cried aloud in pain and disappointment. It was hideous!! What was wrong with her? Nothing she put her hands to do to make for Him was turning out right! Donna felt like crying with frustration. This surely wasn’t heaven! Heaven was not supposed to be a place of frustration! She looked around the room again.  She would try one last time to make something lovely and meaningful for Him.  She found a potter’s wheel and a lump of clay on it. She had never worked with clay before but since nothing had turned out right in the mediums she was good at, perhaps this time would be the charm.

She put on an apron, sat on the stool before the gently spinning wheel and began to experiment. First she tried a bowl but it came out lopsided. Then she tried a vase but her hand bumped the clay just as she had it almost the way she wanted and the entire thing collapsed into a misshapen mess. Donna was frustrated beyond belief and so disappointed with herself. Somehow she knew the time was quickly approaching when Jesus would return and she had achieved nothing but making a mess of everything she had tried to make for Him. Her head hung low with shame and she began to sob hot angry tears of frustration and grief.

“Do not weep, my beloved,” said a gentle voice behind her. Donna half-jumped out of her skin in surprise but was instantly calmed as His arms circled about her and lifted the lumpy misshapen object from the Potter’s wheel to admire it.

“I’m so sorry, Lord!” she said, trying not to sound like a whiny baby. “I tried so hard to make you something beautiful because I love You so much and nothing came out right!”

“I do not know what you mean!” Jesus replied, his eyes looking at her with a knowing smile. “It’s absolutely lovely!” Donna looked from His face to the clay back to His then did a double take. In His hands the clay had become an exquisite long-necked urn with swan-neck handle from which to pour water from. Donna’s mouth hung open…at a total loss as to what to say. Jesus turned and went to where her painting sat on the easel, covered with a cloth to hide it’s ugliness. He threw back the cover and admired it with a great big smile. It was a lovely pastoral scene of sheep grazing peacefully in a flower bedecked field under a cloudless sky.

“Beautiful!” He said, turning about to smile upon her. He then crossed to the drafting table and lifted the large Valentine card she had made for him. He read her words in silence, closed His eyes in sheer delight and then gave her such a grateful smile it took her breath away.

Donna did not understand what was happening at all! Jesus again reached out his hand to hers and she walked forward into His warm embrace.

Suddenly they were back in her hospital room and He was again sitting on her bed.

Lord, she thought in her head since she couldn’t speak with the ventilator over her mouth, this was a lesson of some kind for me, wasn’t it?

Yes, He nodded, holding both of her hands in His. Even though you think what you created as gifts for Me seemed to be a mess, because you did them out of  love, they are exquisite in My eyes. Now let us take your life…do you think your life is a mess?

Donna hung her head, nodding, feeling deeply again the depression and hopelessness that had been her companion for so many years.

In My eyes you are perfect! Gorgeous. Exquisite! He said, his silent words piercing her dark heart like a beam of sunlight. You are the clay in My hands and though the way I fashion you may seen harsh and ugly, it is beautiful in My sight. I am making of you a heavenly vessel. You may think you have become useless and decrepit but I see you as gold in the refining fire of my love. It isn’t pleasant and it doesn’t feel fair but when you come out on the other end, you will be My treasure. Can you now see what measure of trust I have placed in you to allow you to endure so much for Me?

For you, Lord? Donna responded. But I thought that this was all just bad luck and living in a sick sinful world. I could do so much more for You if only I weren’t sick all the time!

But you already do as much for Me as I would ever want! responded the Savior, cupping her cheeks in His hands. Despite all the pain and all the suffering, you still demonstrate child like trust in Me. How could I want anything more than that?

Donna had no come back for that. Suddenly a nurse entered the room to check on her. She took no notice of the Savior sitting on the bed but before leaving, Jesus whispered something only she seemed to hear and she tucked the covers around Donna’s perpetually cold feet and legs and then paused to bow her head and offer a silent prayer before leaving the room again.

Did you give her the idea to do that, Lord?

Yes, of course! Came His gentle response. Every act of kindness, every thoughtful gesture, every visitor who comes to see You to offer their love and encouragement is my personal emissary so that you will know that I am acutely aware of you at every moment of every day. I will send them to you now and then as a gentle reminder of My eternal love and care for you. While I may allow you to have suffering in this life, it cannot be compared to the glory that awaits you in the next. Continue to trust in Me, beloved. I will never fail thee nor forsake thee and when this brief life on earth is over, that art studio you visited today will be waiting for you.

With those words of encouragement branding themselves upon her soul, Donna fell into a peaceful sleep, feeling as though her Savior’s arms were wrapped about her like a blanket with His warm cheek next to hers.

THE END

My daughter, Violet, was born 8/6/75. She was beautiful. We spent most of our time together.  She was very smart in school,good grades and she was in nursing school the last two years of high school.She was my best friend. 

She got married on Valintines day 1993 and died March 31 1993.  She wasnt 18 yet but told me she always wanted to marry on Valentines day and didn’t want to wait for another year after she turned 18 in August. So I signed the papers she needed to marry. She and her husband were very happy for the final month of her life. They had bought our house in Oak Hill and we was still there waiting for our home in Jackson to be ready. I was there when she passed.  She had come home the night before and talked with me.  I always waited up for her to come home.She worked at a nursing home as a nurse aide, and she said she was hungery and then she would go to bed, her husband had fell asleep on the couch,she didnt wake him. The next morning my husband came to me and said her husband couldn’t wake Violet up for school.  She had 10 more days to go.She was on the floor beside the bed (she would sometimes lay on the floor if her back hurt).  When I got hold of her leg to shake her she was cold.  I gave mouth to mouth and screamed call 911!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  But my baby was gone. 

After 3 long months the doctors could find no reason for my daughter’s passing. So I will never know why.      I used to pack her around on my hip until she was 6 or 7. She was small and I loved holding her. 

She was beautiful, kind, smart and taken way to soon from this earth.I miss her dearly, I will for as long as I live. I pray the good Lord reunites us one glorious day.

Violet approached the Savior, her heart full with the need to ask something of Him. Although she had been exulting in the joys of Heaven for what seemed like only moments, she somehow knew that significant time on earth had passed and that a major milestone was approaching.  He turned and gazed upon her with His wondrous eyes of love and smiled. His eyes and smile never ceased to move her soul deeply. She could feel the love pouring forth from Him as if she were the only soul in all of heaven and as though He had eyes for no one but her.

“Come here, beloved.” He said, holding out his arms to her. Violet ran forward and threw herself into His embrace.

“Oh Master!” she said, her heart bursting with joy at His touch.

“I know why you are here,” He said, stroking her hair, his voice soft in her ear. “I have been expecting your visit.”

“It has been almost 17 years on earth, Master, would it be alright if I visited just this once? It would mean so much to her!”

The Savior drew back and looked down upon her with infinite compassion. “Just this once, beloved,” He agreed.

Upon the utterance of His words, Violet found herself standing in the familiar kitchen of her mother’s home. It was morning and Donna was standing at the sink doing the dishes when suddenly her shoulders slumped in abject sorrow. Her head bowed, heavy with the all too familiar grief. Although time had softened the pain slightly, she still suffered in silence the gnawing ache of sorrow and longing; she missed her daughter so.

Violet’s soul clenched with sympathy for her mom.  If only she knew! If only she could but experience just a moment, just a second of what heaven was really like and know how soon they would be reunited when all her tears would be brushed gently away by the Master’s own hand!

Violet slipped her arms about her mother’s waist and laid her head upon her shoulder.  “It’s okay, mommy,” she said. “Don’t cry!”

So gentle was the embrace, so soft was her voice that it took Donna a moment to even realize that she was not alone anymore. For a moment she was taken back in time to a season of her life when her daughter’s love filled her world with sunshine.  She twirled around and stared in shock and unbridled joy.

“VIOLET!” she shrieked, dropping the dish in her hands onto the floor. Her arms flew about her daughter and the tears she had swallowed down for almost 17 years flowed down like a cleansing river.  Violet stood there, content to let her mom vent her sorrow; knowing the tears would bring healing. She rocked her gently back and forth and cooed soothingly in her ear as if she were the mom and Donna were the child, patting and rubbing her back. In a few minutes Donna quieted down and she stepped back to let her eyes drink their fill of her long-missed daughter.

Violet smiled at her; a smile of pure radiant joy. “Don’t cry for me anymore, mommy,” she said, plucking a Kleenex from a nearby box and dabbing at her mom’s eyes. “I am SO HAPPY in heaven! You just have no idea how incredible it is! Our Savior’s peace and overwhelming love permeates every fiber of your being there!”

“How…what….are you real? Am I dreaming all this?” choked Donna, clutching her daughter’s hands; never wanting to let go. She was more beautiful than she remembered and glowing with a soft light that surrounded every inch of her.

Violet smiled. “No, mom, this is not a dream. I asked the Master for permission to pay you one visit before we are reunited in heaven together. I have waited for this moment since the day I came home!”

“Home?” Donna repeated, not understanding.

“Yes, our heavenly home.” Violet clarified. “Now, I get to spend an entire day with you, what would you like to do?”

Donna was at a complete loss for words or ideas. One day? That was it? Shopping? NO! Eating out? Another dumb idea. Earthly food probably tasted like dirt compared to what Violet was getting in heaven…HEAVEN FOR GOODNESS SAKE!

“Let’s just sit here and talk!” suggested Violet.  Donna nodded dumbly and allowed her daughter to lead her out the front door to the porch swing. They sat together side by side and rocked. Violet laid her head on her mom’s shoulder while hugging her arm against herself.

Donna closed her eyes and listened to the music of Violet’s voice as she talked on and on about being in the presence of their Lord and all the famous people in the bible as best she could in human terms.  As she spoke, Donna felt every hurt, every wound dissolve away and thoroughly heal from the inside out as if every syllable were a balm sent straight from heaven. The ache she had borne since the day she had seen her daughter’s lifeless body on the floor disappeared for here she was; more beautiful than ever and telling her about the wonders of heaven.  Exquisite peace flowed over her soul like a cool river filling her soul until she felt she would burst with joy. What a precious gift the Lord had given her in this beautiful girl; however brief on earth; she knew now they would have each other for eternity and for the first time since that awful day, eternity seemed more real than life here on earth.

Donna suddenly opened her eyes when she realized that Violet had stopped speaking.  Hours had passed in what had only seemed like a few minutes.

“Mommy,” she said, gently removing her arm. “It’s time for me to go but I have one last gift for you before I do.”

Despite her disappointment Donna did not feel sad.  She smiled at her beautiful Violet, wondering what could possibly be any better than the day they had just spent together in each other’s company. Violet grinned at her in a delighted, mischievous way and clapped her hands together, just once.

Suddenly a cloud of butterflies flew up and surrounded them both; all different colors and sizes. They whirled about, alighting then taking flight again while mother and daughter gasped and laughed in sheer delight. Then as Donna watched, utterly charmed, the butterflies began to rise higher and higher in a spiral with Violet floating upwards with them, waving her goodbyes with a magnificent smile.

“I’ll see you soon, mommy!” she called, her voice as clear as a bell. “Every time you see a butterfly from now on, just know that it’s me blowing kisses to you! Don’t forget!”

“I won’t, dearest one,” breathed Donna, clutching her now whole and healed heart with joy and gratitude. “I love you!”

“…and I love you!” came her last words on the soft summer wind.

THE END

            Gwyn watched in mounting frustration as her brothers August and John took turns practicing against each other with their mock swords.  They had been “training” for the better part of the morning and still had not gotten around to working in the fields as their father had commanded them.  They hated field work and longed to be off serving as squires at arms to the local Duke. Their father had sent Gwyn to “deal” with them.

            “Get off with you lazy lads! To the fields with ye!” she chided them in her lilting brogue. The brothers stopped and regarded her with annoyance.

            “Lazy?” repeated August, making a great show of sheathing his practice sword. A dulled ugly thing in comparison to the ones he had lusted after at the blacksmith’s shop a fortnight ago when last in the village. She could barely haul him away, so consumed he was with lust at the gleaming blades and bejeweled hilts. “Have ye not regarded with what gusto we have trained these past few hours?”

            “Aye! Lazy me arse.” John guffawed.

            “You’ll not be addressing me so cheeky!” Gwyn said, stepping forward, a menacing look on her face.  The faces of both brothers instantly quelled and went white as a banshee’s.  Their eyes round with horror. Gwyn hesitated…surely she didn’t look that fearsome! She only wanted them to get to work in the fields; not terrify them!

            “Gwyn!” squeaked John, looking past her; his body trembling. Gwyn turned and looked about just as she felt arms of iron wrap about her body and physically haul her up onto a horse so that she lay stomach down like a trussed sow.  With sudden terror, she looked behind and saw her brothers experience the same fate. Marauding English slavers had entered their land by stealth and taken many captives. She saw a long line of her fellow villagers tied to one another by a common rope, their wrists bound and their faces gagged so they couldn’t cry out a warning.

            “Let me down off this flea infested nag or I’ll cut off your ear’s just as soon as soon as I draw breath!” she managed to growl to her smelly captor.

            “Shut yer pie hole, wench!” he growled right back at her, taking a stave and smacking her smartly on the rump. “If you don’t mind yer manners I’ll sell ye to a cathouse instead of as a serving woman to a fine manor house!”

            Gwyn was ready with a smart retort but thought better of it. She was in no position to indulge her vast vocabulary of insults on a knave who held her and her brother’s fate in his grimy hands. She pressed her lips together in a firm line and concentrated on drawing breath in the most uncomfortable position she had ever assumed on a horse.  If only she hadn’t worn her corset that day; the combination of both was making her light-headed for lack of breath.

            The slavers didn’t even pause to rest for the knight, knowing the hot-tempered Celts would be on their heels like hounds to recover their loved ones. They paused only long enough to tie Gwyn up with her brothers to the rest of their unhappy countrymen and made to march triple time until they reached the sea.  It was almost nightfall and the slaver ship was almost invisible beyond the surfline. A waiting coracle; large enough to seat 20 (if crammed in like sardines) waited upon the sand for the slaver’s “catch”.  As they herded their captives into the freezing cold surf to get into the boat, Gwyn, August, and John finally got a brief moment together again.

            “You alright, lassie?” August asked her with concern. Gwyn nodded, putting on a brave smile.

            “You?” she asked both brothers. They nodded; unable to hide the naked fear in their eyes. They were all being taken from their homeland and would probably be split up; never to see each other again once upon the other shore or know of each other’s fate. It made Gwyn’s blood boil with fury. What right did these vermin think they had to kidnap and enslave freeborn Irish to work in their slaughter houses and brothels! What gave them the right?

            At that moment, the chief slaver caught hold of her arm to pull her into the coracle. Gwyn shook his arm off with a scowl and spat in his face. A hush descended upon all; except for her brothers who perked up and bellowed with laughter at the insult she had dealt him.

            Their laughter was silenced with a brutal blow to their heads and they were unceremoniously bullied into the boat. Gwyn stood her ground, arms akimbo, legs spread wide, prepared to do battle without so much as a dirk. She had grown up with two rough and tumble brothers and knew well how to handle herself. The slaver regarded her with wary eyes; trying to assess just how much damage she might be capable of doing to him. He crouched low as if he were about to spring and nodded. Gwyn realized her stupidity too late. It had been a ruse.  She was grabbed from behind by a smelly bear of a man while another grabbed her by the ankles and lifted her bodily off the ground and dumped her on top of her brothers and the other captives in the boat.

            She screamed and struggled with a fury like a she-cat as they hog-tied her, bruising both herself, her brothers and the other captives by her struggles.

            “Easy Gwynnie!” August protested, grunting with pain as her knee connected with his ribs. “It’s us you be hurting not them!”

            “Aye!” grumped John, rubbing his now black and blue one with the side of his arm. The next thing they all knew the coracle was being pushed into the arms of the waiting sea and rowed to the slave ship. There they were all pushed and herded down into the bottom-most parts of the ship and chained together with leg irons. If the ship went down in a storm they would all certainly drown. The only small blessing was that Gwyn and her brothers were shackled together. They huddled in cramped misery in the bitter cold, trying to keep other’s spirits up and their bodies warm in the sickening plunge and yaw of the ship as it slowly made its’ way to Britain.  It was a miserable trip. Just about everyone ended up sick and vomiting, causing even those without seasickness just to retch from the stench. The smell was overwhelming, the trip unending and no sleep was to be had. They were all cold, hungry, miserable and covered with filth by the time they reached shore two days later.

            Several of them had gotten sick and were now shaking with chills and fever. Gwyn and her brothers were a little worse for the wear but otherwise unscathed (except for their clothing which had become so rank it was only fit for the dung heap). They had neither eaten, drunk nor slept since the moment of their capture but instead of defeating their morale it only made them more furious. Gwyn was chafing for an opportune moment and then heaven help the poor sot when she was done with her tongue lashing!

            The next day, after a brief rest where they cleaned themselves up as best they could in a nearby stream, given stale mead and hard bread; they were then forced to march again where one by one they were sold off to various farmers, merchants and tradesmen as slaves.  The slavers pocketed less than they would have liked and were saving Gwyn and her brothers for last, hoping their strong bodies and fine looks would bring a better price from the Baron to whom they hoped to sell them as a threesome. Gwyn as a maidservant/serving wench and the boys for whatever menial labor the master could think of.

            It was late afternoon after two more days of trudging when they finally reached a large estate. The seneschal had been expecting them and was waiting impatiently by the gate with a disdainful scowl. He gave August and John a sneering once over, wrinkling his nose in distaste at their “ripe” fragrance which only served to make the hackles rise on the back of Gwyn’s neck in protective indignation.

            To be sure you wouldn’t be smelling as sweet as a rose either if you had been captured, shoved into a stinking ship’s hole and made to sit in your own reek for days with naught but a dirty stream to wash in! She fumed.

            As if he had heard her thoughts, the seneschal turned about and glared at her. “You!” he said with a sneer. “Come hither!”

            Gwyn may have had shackles are on her wrists and ankles but she was no man’s slave to be commanded! She crossed her arms and stood with her feet firmly planted a shoulder length apart in absolute defiance. August and John shared a knowing look. There was no messing with Gwyn when she got her head up…

            The seneschal scowled at her, obviously unused to be defied. He slowly walked up to her, swung his arm back and backhanded her. The blow sent her reeling backwards, tripping over her shackles and sprawling onto her backside into a mud puddle. Mud spattered everywhere. August and John were incensed and lunged forward but were restrained by their slavers who had been expecting a reaction.

            “Gordon!” snapped a voice that left no doubt it came from a much higher authority. The seneschal immediately bowed and remained bowed as a large man in rich clothing brushed past him to where Gwyn still lay flat in the mud puddle, fighting back her tears of anger and humiliation.

            “Give me your hand,” he ordered, extending his to her.  August and John sucked in their breath, wondering what their sister would do next. They hadn’t long to wait. As the master bent lower to grasp her hand, Gwyn clasped hold with both of hers and yanked down as hard as she could, catching him totally off guard. He wound up sprawling in the mud beside her, completely ruining his costly tunic and velvet cloak. All stared in hushed silence except for August and John who were practically bursting with the need to laugh out loud.

            Gwyn had shown them all who was boss!

            The master regained his composure, sat back on his haunches and regarded Gwyn with nonplussed look on his face.  The seneschal grinned, anticipating that a good whipping would now be in store for the impertinent  little strumpet!

            A bellow of laughter punctured that hope and deflated it instantly. The master bent forward at the waist and continued to laugh with abandon, completely surprising and disarming Gwyn, his laugh taking all the fight out of her. He stood to his feet, still offering his hand to help her up, which she accepted with deep chagrin.

            He pulled with all his might, pulling her up and then lifted her and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of meal. Turnabout, after all, was fair play. Gwyn took to this new humiliation with renewed rage and flailed and kicked at him while he marched her past the seneschal, her brothers, the other slavers and captives all the way into the main house, through several richly appointed rooms and into a courtyard where he unceremoniously dumped her into the fountain.

            She landed amongst the lily pads with an enormous plop that sent a backslash flying up to drench the Master who stood there with his mouth hanging open in mid guffaw.

            “Hah!” Gwyn shrieked at him in triumph, crossing her arms.

            “Hmph,” was the only response she got. He left her sitting there dripping and shivering and returned a short time later with a large blanket. He lifted her out of the fountain (since it was impossible for her to climb out with shackled ankles) and set her on her feet, wrapping it around her. If her teeth hadn’t been chattering so hard she would have shoved him away but all she could manage was a sneeze. He began to lead her back into the main house but the shackles made progress agonizingly slow. With a sigh of exasperation he stopped and scooped her up, carrying her into the house, up the stairs and into a room where a surprised chambermaid stood with her mouth hanging open in shock.

            He stood Gwyn back on her feet. “Get her cleaned up, into a fresh pair of clothes and bring her back before me when she’s more presentable.” He instructed, with a cocked eyebrow in her direction.

            “Yes, mi’lord,” curtseyed the maid, eyeing Gwyn in fear. Gwyn realized at that moment that her fate had been sealed. She was his property now…well,  she wasn’t going down without a fight!

            She picked up the nearest thing at hand and flung it at the head of the Master where it crashed against the doorframe at the precise moment the door closed behind him.

            “I’ll be dammed if I ever bow to the likes of a fusspot like you!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs. The door reopened and Gwyn found herself ducking as an urn came flying at her head.

            “I believe you just did, mi’lady!” replied the Baron with a devilish grin.

     Hannah and Haley sat in the food court of Mall St. Matthews, people watching and sipping their diet sodas.  They had had a successful day of shopping, having spent hours in clothing boutique and purchasing about 2 pairs of jeans and a cute top each (matching of course) after long and considered deliberation.

     “What about him?” asked Haley, indicating a tall young man walking through the mall with a Nike bag in his arms.

     “Too skinny,” concluded Hannah and Haley together in unison.  They looked at each other, giggled and made the “owie-owie jinx” symbol.  One after another they looked at prospective love interests only to find a major flaw (either evident or just made up for fun) in each one.   They had come to the mall that day to see a special event.  An author of a medieval fantasy/fiction called “The Victor” was supposed to appear at the Barnes & Noble later that day to do a book signing.  They were saving the rest of their cash for later when they would get an autographed copy of the book.  The mall had gone all out and had decorated the area in front of the bookstore with medieval banners.  Their attention was suddenly drawn to the opposite end of the mall where they saw the crowds of shoppers hurriedly parting like the red sea before Moses to make way for what had to be the last thing they ever expected to see coming down the mall corridor. A man on a runaway horse…in a full suit of armor!

     “What the….?” exclaimed Hannah and Haley together, eyebrows on the rise. The horse was coming at them full speed and it too wore armor and had gold and scarlet trappings that hung from the reins and which flew behind it. It whinnied loudly but instead of feeling terrified, Hannah felt a thrill go up her spine. Her breath caught in her chest.

     “Boy whoever manages the mall must really like this book to hire someone to do this!” yelled Haley, springing up to get out of the way of the charging horse. Hannah remained rooted where she stood, a strange feeling coming over her.  The mall about her began to spin and she felt herself becoming increasingly dizzy and disconcerted. Just as her knees buckled and gave way, she found herself scooped up into the saddle by the knight. His charger wheeled around and she held on for dear life as it reared and let out a loud neigh.  At that moment, everything disappeared.  The mall, the shops, even her friend Haley and she found herself clinging with all her might to the back of a mail clad knight on the back of a white horse that was now galloping on sod under a canopy of arched trees to a distant hill upon which stood a lofty castle.

     What did they put in my diet coke? She wondered. She looked down at herself and instead of blue jeans and a t-shirt found herself in a gorgeous, dusty lavender gown of velvet, with a silk chemise that streamed back in the wind.  Her hair flowed out behind her but she didn’t dare let go her grip to touch what surely must have been a circlet with attached veil upon her head for fear of falling off. The white horse snorted and the knight slowed down to give the animal a rest.

     “Easy, easy…Glimraith” soothed the male voice inside the helmet. It was deeply masculine if albeit tunnel-ish sounding. He patted the magnificent beast and twisted about in the saddle, lifting the visor to reveal a pair of striking blue eyes. Hannah blinked, her mouth dropping open. If the eyes alone were any indication of what he looked like (they were fringed by jet black lashes) she was in for quite a treat when he took off the rest of the plumed helmet.

     “Are you injured, milady?” he said, his black brows knitting together in concern. Hannah shook her head and shut her mouth so as not to look like an idiot by still gaping.

     “Forgive the manner of my coming to fetch thee,” he continued in a gentle baritone. “But my quest was in earnest. We must make the keep before sunset and the day is already far gone.”

     “Keep?” replied Hannah, puzzled, still trying to figure out where the mall had gone.

     “The Court of St. Matthews…” clarified the knight, dismounting with ease. “Since you have naught but your gown and eventide is fast descending, you shall no doubt be warmer if thou ridest before me.”

     With his assistance, Hannah scooted forward until she was sitting in the saddle. The knight remounted with ease behind her, drew his large cloak about both of them and urged the horse onwards into a fast cantor towards the magnificent castle which grew larger with every league they covered. Cottage fires in the surrounding village began to light as a deep purple dusk settled about them.  Hannah closed her eyes, thoroughly confused but strangely at ease.  The strong arms of the knight were about her and his body heat and cloak kept her warm.  She had no clue what or how this was happening but instead of feeling panicked she had a strange sense of déjà vu and anticipation. She glanced down at her clothes and marveled at the gorgeous silver stitching all over the front of her bodice and the pearls which glimmered here and there.  They arrived at the castle, now lit from within by torch and candlelight. The white horse clattered over the cobblestones, across the drawbridge and into the main courtyard. The knight (whose name she still didn’t know) dismounted and before she could blink had grasped her about the waist and gently lifted her down. To Hannah it seemed like the entire process was in slow motion.  She felt his strong hands about her waist and was unable to tear her eyes away from his as she slowly slid down and finally landed on her feet. She swayed for a moment, a wave of dizziness coming over her again. Apparently time travel made her seasick. Her knees buckled but he was attentive to her every need and without a word scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the castle. He seemed to know his way around without even looking.  His eyes never left hers the entire time until the moment he carried her into a gorgeous chamber room and set her carefully upon her feet, keeping his hands about her waist until he was sure she would not tip over again.

    “Milady,” he said, bowing over her hand and kissing it gently. “I will attend thee later, in the meantime, make thyself ready for a feast is to be held in thy honor,” he said. Hannah finally found her voice.

     “My honor?” she repeated. “Please,” she said, grasping his arm as he turned to go. “How did I get here? Where did the mall go and my friend Haley? My mom and dad are going to freak if they don’t hear from me soon! And…and… what is your name anyway?!!” Her voice began rising in near hysteria. At first she thought she was just daydreaming but now it was looking like she had actually gone through some kind of time domain transference of some kind with no clue of how to get back to her real life. 

     The knight paused, regarding her with deep concern. He removed his plumed helm and Hannah gasped at the sight of his handsome face. His eyes were the deepest blue she had ever seen and his hair, whiskers and brows ebony.  His finely chiseled face was both beautiful and incredibly masculine at the same time. The kind understanding smile he bestowed upon her made her heart feel like it was melting into a molten hot puddle of mush. He took both of her tiny hands into his and held them both up to his lips.

     “Fear not, beloved,” he said, his voice soft and very reassuring. “All will be well.  Tonight is for thee but on the morrow all will return to what has been. Can you not be content to simply enjoy what has been given thee and let tomorrow worry about itself?”

     Hannah nodded, falling under the spell of his eyes and his voice once again. A smile creased his face making her heart skip a beat.

     “I shall leave thee to thy maid servant and return for thee later,” he said, gently brushing her cheek with his fingers. The heavy oaken door closed slowly behind him and Hannah sighed…finally turning around to take in her room.

     “O..M…G!!!!” she squealed out loud. It was the most exquisite room she had ever seen in her life.  The stone walls were covered with gorgeous tapestries all in shades of dusty blue, lavender and moss green.  The canopied bed was covered in a deep midnight blue velvet coverlet embroidered with silver thread, pearls and gemstones with curtains that matched but what really caught her attention was the multitude of vases filled with flowers in complimentary colors and the candles which glowed on every available surface.  It looked like an enormous valentine in jewel tone colors.  If only Haley were here!

     “OMG, HANNAH!” screeched a familiar voice. Hannah whirled about and found herself facing her best friend, similarly attired in an emerald green velvet gown and matching headdress, her hair longer, thicker and curling all the way past her waist. “Can you believe all this??!” The girls grasped hands and jumped up and down for joy.

     “Did you see him?” Hannah asked, meaning the knight.

     “Only a glimpse but ohhhhhhhhhhhhh boy, Hannah!” Haley giggled, her eyes alight. “An honest to goodness knight in shining armor!”

     “He told me to get ready…ready for what?”

     “Birthday celebration?” Haley guessed, taking her friend over to a gorgeous dressing table where brushes and beautiful bejeweled combs awaited her. Hannah sat down and allowed Haley to comb out her long tresses. The girls then changed into their banquet clothes, red for Haley and a gorgeous pale pink for Hannah with matching veil that drifted down almost to the floor like a cotton candy cloud.

     A knock came upon the door and with a wink, Haley went to answer it like a good lady-in-waiting. Hannah could hear her gasp of awe even from where she stood on tip toe, trying to get a glimpse of the knight whose name she still did not know. He entered the room and it took her breath away. He wore a dark blue tunic edged in gold with knee high kid-skin boots and a black cape clasped at the throat with a golden chain. From his waist hung a magnificent sword but what really caught her attention was his face and eyes. He had eyes for no one but her and he walked forward bearing a bouquet of reddish/black roses wrapped with a red organza ribbon. Their sweet smell filled the room.

     He went down on one knee before her and presented the roses to her. Hannah took them, trembling then gave them to a waiting Haley who put them into a nearby pewter vase. The knight arose and tucked her arm through his.

     “Shall we?” He said, with a deliciously handsome smile. Hannah nodded and allowed him to accompany her through numerous hallways and corridors with Haley right behind grinning like a Cheshire cat. When they got to the main ballroom both girls almost (almost) screamed with excitement.  Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty had nothing on this castle. The ballroom stretched up above their heads four stories high with large leaded glass windows that let in the full moon and stars.  Candles and torches flickered everywhere and the room was filled with Lords and Ladies in the most gorgeous clothing and jewels they had ever seen. Upon their entrance everyone turned around and welcomed Hannah, Haley and her knight with warm applause. Then the music started.

     The knight put his arms about Hannah, prepared to lead her into a waltz. Hannah froze, terror seizing her heart.

     “Wait!” she hissed, “I don’t know how to waltz!” The knight grinned at her and pulled her closely against him.

     “Trust me.” He smiled. The music began and Hannah found herself being swept about the room as if she had grown wings. She closed her eyes and let the music and her handsome knight take her away. She was barely aware of the other couples spinning about them on the floor except for every now and then when Haley would come flying by in the arms of a good looking young courtier.  The evening passed swiftly. Hannah and her knight waltzed together and also with the other couples in group dances.  They broke for a late dinner and sat side by side at a long table, sharing a trencher while acrobats, jugglers and jesters performed for their pleasure.  The food was nothing like the fast food Hannah and Haley were used to at all but was rich, flavorful and creatively presented.  Not sure what to do, Hannah allowed him to select morsels for her and had to stifle an embarrassed giggle as he even peeled a large purple grape for her with his fingers and popped it into her mouth with a grin. She never wanted the evening to end but found herself yawning with exhaustion. 

     “Come,” said her knight, standing to his feet and offering his hand. Hannah stood up and put her hand back into his. His fingers closed about hers gently and possessively. They felt so warm as they wrapped about her own.  They walked together and soon she felt his arm slip about her waist and draw her close to his side. She leaned her weary head upon his breast and stumbled suddenly with exhaustion.  It had, after all, been quite a day. She felt his arms go under her legs and he lifted her effortlessly into his arms to carry her the remaining distance back to her bedchamber.  He carried her through the door and laid her gently upon the bed, covering her and removing her slippers.

     Just before he left the chamber, he lifted her palm up to his lips and kissed it gently, his eyes looking deeply into her own which were heavy with sleep.

     “Fare thee well, my love,” he whispered, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

     “Wait!” said Hannah, struggling to remain awake for one more moment. “You never told me your name!” She saw his lips move in reply but could hear no sound. Sleep overwhelmed her like a wave at sea, sweeping her away from him upon its’ irresistible tide.

     She awoke the next morning back in her own bed with the sun streaming in her window and birds singing outside. She sat up on her elbows and wondered to herself if it had all just been a dream or some kind of magic spell. She shook her head…it must have just been a dream… she concluded with a sinking sad feeling and then she froze. Upon her dresser sat a pewter vase and in it was the gorgeous dark red rose bouquet the knight had brought to her the night before. She flew out of bed and gazed at them, blinking in wonder and disbelief. Sitting propped up next to them was an elegant piece of parchment paper with script flowing across it.

     “Dearest beloved…” it read. “…wait for me!” And below this he had written his name…

THE END

               

          iguel walked into the back of the RYTMO house with an internal sigh of relief. This place had become a second home for him. It was a place of peace and refuge, of learning and feeling wanted and appreciated.

                “Hey, Miguel!” called out Joey with a broad smile in his direction. “I got some good news for you!”

                Miguel walked up closer where he could see Joey beaming at him like a proud father. He held up his hand and in it was an official looking letter. Joey was practically jumping up and down with glee. He thrust the letter into Miguel’s hand.

                Trying not to let his hand tremble, Miguel lifted the letter and his eyes fell upon the logo:

                Miguel read the letter in silence while Joey rocked with glee up and down on his heels.

                “It’s a full ride scholarship to study graphic arts, Miguel!” he said, pounding him on the back. “I sent them some of your stuff and a letter and the graphic arts director called me a week ago. After I told him about you and your brother, and how hard you have both worked and turned your lives around, they wanted to give you a full scholarship! Isn’t that cool, mijo?!”

                Miguel didn’t know what to say. Nothing could have prepared him for this enormous gift. He fought back the tears but did allow Joey to hug him and pound him on the back.

                “Let’s get you something to eat and then we can discuss it if you want.” Joey practically skipped away muttering out loud to himself over and over “Miguel is going to The Art Institute! Holy Mackerel!!”

                Miguel stood before the gleaming glass building both excited and terrified. It was his first day of class at the prestigious college with a brand new backpack and laptop that had been donated to him when news had reached the supporters of RYTMO that one of their own had earned a full-ride scholarship to The Art Institute based purely upon the calligraphy and graphics he had created both on computer and by hand.  He tried to look calm and casual but inside he was trembling with mingled terror and joy.

                “Are you just going to stare at it or ya going to come in?” said a cheerful voice behind him.  He turned around and found a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at him and a bemused smile.

                “I’m Jessica!” said the pretty blond, sticking out her hand to shake his. “You must be new here!”

                “Uh…yes, I am,” said Miguel, shaking her hand briefly. Her smile widened and Jessica hooked her arm through his.

                “C’mon!” she said, propelling him into the building. “I don’t have my first class for another hour. I’ll show you around!”

                For the next hour Jessica gave Miguel the grand tour of The Art Institute, showing him the registrar’s office, classrooms for the culinary institute, fashion design, and last of all, the media arts (Miguel’s career choice). Last of all she took him to the cafeteria (located next to the culinary institute’s kitchens). Incredible smells were emanating throughout the room and Miguel’s stomach grumbled so loudly it made Jessica giggle.

                “Let’s get you something to eat or your stomach will be interrupting your instructor’s first class!” she said. She shoved a tray into his hand and led him to the food counter. “Don’t eat anything that has the name Debbie next to it!” she hissed, nodding at a rather disgusting looking side dish made up of what he didn’t know what! “She likes to experiment with really weird stuff. I can’t believe she hasn’t gotten kicked out of the school for food poisoning yet!”

                Jessica chattered on happily while piling more food on his plate than Miguel would ever be able to eat. It all looked and smelled incredible and his stomach rumbled loudly again. They took their trays to a table and while he ate, Jessica plied him with questions he couldn’t answer because his mouth was too full.

                “Hey, Jess!” a voice called out. Jessica and Miguel looked around to see a red-headed girl come towards them with a big smile.

                “Are you new?” Beth asked, sticking out her hand to shake his. Miguel nodded his mouth too full to answer.  

                “I was just showing him around but I have to get to my next class.” Jessica said, standing up.  “Since you’re on break – could you help Miguel find his first class? You guys are both in media arts.”

                “Coooooooooooool!” responded Beth, giving Miguel a huge dimpled smile. “If you’re done eating, get your gear and come with me!”

                Miguel was reluctant to leave all the great smelling food but he managed to tuck an apple and muffin into his coat pocket before shouldering his backpack and laptop.  He followed Beth down the hall and stepped into a classroom filled with students hunched over their laptops, talking animatedly and admiring each other’s work before the instructor walked in.

                Beth showed Miguel to an empty seat at a table, helped him log into his new account on the Institute’s website and got him set up for his first class before returning to her own seat.

                The instructor entered the classroom with his own laptop. Once he got online, he motioned for attention and waited while the students quieted.

                “Good day, class!” said Mr. Bledsoe, smiling at all of them. “Before we begin, let’s all welcome our newest student, Miguel! “

                “Hey Miguel!” the class chorused. Some waved others gave him a “thumbs up”.

                Not sure what he should do, Miguel nodded in acknowledgement and waved back, smiling shyly. The formalities having been dispensed with, the class began and Miguel, feeling welcomed as never before by a bunch of strangers, felt a warm feeling come over him and an emotion that had come late to him in life: hope.  His life lay before him and it was filled with hope and promise…and it had all started in a little house in Anaheim that was known as RYTMO where he had been given a second chance and loved just for himself.  He would make good on their investment of trust and he would succeed and excel in his chosen field.  And perhaps in the near future, he could go back to RYTMO and help some of the new kids there know that there was a different kind of world out there than the ugly, dark and hopeless one they were used to. A world where anything was possible…

Miguel is a young, gifted teenaged boy who lives with his brother, Rene and his other family members in a one-bedroom apartment in a bad part of town where gangs are prevalent.  He and Rene both participate in a ministry called RYTMO which is a music-based outreach to youth to give them skills, a safe place to hang out, positive reinforcement and unconditional love and acceptance.  Miguel is a very gifted graphic artist and because of his work in creating a logo for the organization, I thought this story might plant a seed in his mind and his heart to aim for higher things in life. Here is Miguel in his own words:

“I have always had my mind on success with getting a career so that I may support them. As you know, I am interested in design and art. When I was young I was a sketch artist that drew realistic and symbolic art, mostly political of life in my city, through my own eyes. Now a days, I do graphic work of all kinds. I hope my talents can land me a career someday.”

If you liked this story you might also like my book

Click image

                Loriena scowled at the old milk cow in front of her.  Benna was being unusually obstinate and uncooperative that morning and Loriena was out of patience.  The stupid animal had kicked the milk bucket over for the third time in what seemed like an intentional act of ruining her already miserable existence while her impoverished family tried to  eke out a living on the tiny farm.  Benna mooed loudly, shifting from one hoof to the other; her udders aching with the need to be milked but agitated by some unseen pest.

                “Benna, so help me, if you don’t stop your bawling and fussing, I’m just going to let your udders explode!” growled Loriena, setting down the milking stool for the tenth time. Benna finally settled down long enough for Loriena to fill the pail with the milk. Relieved, she stood up, shoved away the milk stool and bent to lift the pail when Benna mooed loudly again and kicked it  over, dumping all the milk onto the barn floor.

                “ARGH!!” Loriena shrieked, frustrated beyond belief. Her father was going to be sore-vexed with her for this. She reached down through the straw to fling the first rock she could find at the stupid cow and raised her arm to let fly but the rock in her hand suddenly went white hot. She dropped it with scream and jumped back.  It fell onto the mud-packed floor and rolled a few feet away but the green glow coming from it was unmistakable in the early morning light.

                Was she seeing things? She crept forward; hardly daring to breath, not caring that she was dragging her skirts through the spilt milk and mud.  She crouched down to study the rock closer. The glow was starting to fade now. She touched it tentatively; afraid of burning herself again. The rock was now simply warm but still pulsing with a beautiful green light. She cradled it in her palms, studying it; a strange feeling building in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly a tiny crack appeared, then another, then another until it began to resemble an exotic egg that had broken. A tiny puff of smoke issued from the biggest crack and Loriena gasped in mixed terror and delight.

                “Loriena!” snapped the voice of foster father, Jarrod. “What goes on here? Where’s the milk?”  He got his answer when saw the large puddle spreading slowly across the barn floor. “Ye gods, girl, what has gotten into you?” he demanded, striding up to her to yank her up by the arm. Instead his attention was diverted to the green glowing oval rock which Loriena was also staring at in astonishment. The cracks had grown so large that now she could see the creature wriggling inside; fighting to free itself. Jarrod froze in his tracks.

          He had been warned long ago when he had first agreed to foster Loriena that this day might come, he just had never really truly believed it would! He watched in horrified fascination as the creature finally freed itself from its egg casing and looked straight into the eyes of Loriena, imprinting itself upon her. Loriena stared right back, transfixed as if in a spell.

                “Loriena,” said, Jarrod, his voice hoarse with the realization of what was about to happen. “We must get thee away, quickly! Today! Before you are discovered and word spreads about your beastie there.” He grasped her arm and carefully put the tiny dragon into a leather satchel where it squeaked in protest. 

                “Huh, What?” she replied, too mesmerized to respond. Unable to think of anything else except the sight of the beautiful, tiny green dragon that had looked right into her soul. She half-ran, half-stumbled along as Jarrod hauled her back into their farmhouse, talking out loud to himself the entire time.

                “…she’ll need at least a month’s supply of food and water and a safe place to hide until it’s full grown. The caves of Kirtan should serve well and there is a spring nearby…” he muttered, flinging supplies onto the shaky wooden table.

                “What are you doing? Where are we going?” Loriena pleaded, suddenly coming out of her stupor.  Jarrod was making plans for her life without so much as her say-so!

                “You must remain in hiding until it’s full grown and it can protect you!” he repeated, his eyes round with fear. “The Urgal’s have kept watch on this place for years. If they find out you have a hatchling, they will come after all of us!”

                “Hatchling? Urgals?” repeated Loriena, nonplussed. “What are you talking about and what is that creature you put in your satchel?”

                “No time to explain!” hissed Jarrod, stuffing cured meats, dried fruits, and wayfarer’s bread  into a leather backpack at frantic speed. He added to this a warm woolen cloak, a flint rock and some kindling all the while muttering a constant stream of oaths.  When he had everything packed, he pushed her out the door again and led her behind the farmhouse and into the thick woods of Kirtan which bordered the property.  The pace he set was almost impossible for Loriena to keep up with; some unspeakable terror was driving him and she had no choice but to go where he led her. They marched the rest of day and took no rest until late afternoon when they reached the mouth of a large cave that was half-hidden by heavy forest and brush.

                “Here you must stay, Loriena.” Jarrod commanded her, flinging the leather satchel and what looked like a strange saddle into the mouth of the cave.

                “You’re abandoning me here?”  Loriena began to cry, her eyes filling tears. “What have I done wrong? I’m sorry about the milk!”

                Her tears seemed to bring Jarrod back to the present. He regarded her with pity and cupped her cheek in his hand. “Have you never wondered why you didn’t look like either of us?” he asked, gazing at the beautiful child he had fostered for the past 14 years. Loriena shook her head. She had never seen what she looked like, except in a wavering reflection of a brook or pool of water. “You were brought to us as an infant, for safe-keeping.” He said, trying to explain as best he could in a short space of time.

          It was getting dark and he did not want to be caught in the forest at night. “We have taken care of you as if you were our own, Loriena, but you are elf-kind!” He took her hand and placed her fingers at the top of her ears which were elegantly curved into points. She gasped, having never paid attention to them before. She stared back at Jarrod whose brown eyes were now filling with tears. “It is no longer safe for you to be on our farm with that hatchling. Word will get out and they’ll come looking for you. I will come back as soon as I can and bring you fresh supplies but you must stay hidden here until it is full grown.”

                “Until what is full grown?!” Loriena demanded with a scream, bringing him up short.  The whole day had started off like a nightmare. First the cow and the spilt milk, then the rock that had burned her hand, then the tiny green glowing creature and now Jarrod prattling on like a crazed lunatic with every intention of dumping her in this god-forsaken cave.

                “YOUR DRAGON.” He growled, pointing to the creature wriggling out of the satchel. Loriena eyes followed to where he pointed and found the creature staring up at her with an intensity she found both compelling and frightening. She was utterly transfixed, unable to tear her eyes away from it. It’s skin was a sparkly emerald green and it’s pale green eyes piercing.

                Loriena! Said a tiny voice in her head. She gasped and the tiny dragon blinked at her.

                “I must go now!” Jarrod said, backing away. “I’ll come back in a week to see how you’re getting on. Stay hidden and learn well!”

                Loriena barely noticed him leave, still caught in the spell of the little creature. She squatted down and held out her cupped hands.  It crawled forward and with a flick of its tiny tongue, settled itself into her hands. She straightened and carried it into the cave.

                Fire, said the voice inside her head. Obediently she knelt down, arranged the kindling Jarrod had carried with them and set it ablaze with the flint rocks.

                Hungry, came the next thought after the fire was crackling merrily away. Loriena searched inside one of the satchels and found a strip of cured meat. She tore it up into tiny pieces and put it before the tiny dragon which snatched it up and gulped it down without chewing.

                The days and nights passed swiftly, so intent was Loriena on bonding with the dragon which grew at an exponential rate. When the day came that Jarrod returned with fresh supplies, he was obviously taken aback at how swiftly it had grown and was terrified at its sheer size.

                “Father, come closer,  Emerelda won’t hurt you,” Loriena said, patting the neck of the dragon which now towered a full man’s height above them. It was a magnificent beast and only a third full grown. It was going to be a nightmare when it reached full maturity! Jarrod balked at the idea of coming any closer but the dragon merely stared at him with benign eyes.  He laid down the satchel of fresh supplies and rubbed his beard, suddenly realizing that he had not brought enough food. The beastie alone could eat every morsel and still not be sated; leaving Loriena with nothing.

                “Emerelda, eh?” he said with a grin in Loriena’s direction. “It suits her well.” He looked at the meager supplies he had brought. “I don’t think there’s enough here for the two of you…”

                Saddle! Hunt! came the words into Loriena’s head. She went into the cave and came back out carrying the odd saddle Jarrod had left a week ago. “Is this for my dragon?” she asked, laying it at Jarrod’s feet.

He nodded, looking over the fine leather and stitching.  “It will protect you from the scales.” He answered, hefting it up. He put it into her arms. “She will allow only you to put it on her.” He said, backing away. As if on cue, Emerelda went onto her belly and allowed Loriena to lay it upon her.  Speaking mind-to-mind, the dragon instructed her on how to fasten it securely then lay down again so Loriena could mount.

         Hunt now! No sooner had the words appeared in her mind that the dragon took off for the first time, flapping its’ great wings like a giant bird of prey. Loriena held on for dear life, barely able to open her eyes because of the streaming wind. The landscape of the forest suddenly lay far below them and clouds swiftly passed underneath as they sped through the air. It was freezing up so high but the dragon’s warmth enveloped her and kept her comfortable as they glided. Loriena could suddenly see from Emerelda’s viewpoint and with her eagle-like eyes, she spotted a large buck grazing in a meadow.

        Suddenly a shadow covered them, blotting out the light of the son.  A mighty roar issued from what only could have been another dragon. The noise was deafening.

         With streaming eyes, Loriena watched in amazement as a blue dragon swooped down to the same level as she and Emerelda. On its’ proud back was another rider just like her, only it was a young man with a large sword and his dragon was wearing armor!

          Eragon and Saphira wants us to land in that glade below, said the voice of Emerelda in her head. Without further hesitation, the two dragons folded their wings and wheeled down in spirals until they both reached the meadow. The young man leapt off the saddle of his dragon and strode over to her.

          “Saphira heard the heartbeat of your dragon a week ago; we have been watching and waiting for you.” He said, removing his helmet.

          “Why would you be waiting for me?” asked Loriena, her head spinning with the sudden cataclysmic changes in her world. She had gone from lowly farm-girl to looked-for elf and dragon-rider in the space of a single week.

         “You have been kept in hiding until the day you could join us in the war against Galbatorix.”

         “War?” squeaked Loriena. At the mention of the word, both dragons lifted their long necks high into the sky and roared, sending plumes of fire rising high…

 

          The door to Tessa’s room flew open with a bang causing her to suddenly sit up in bed in alarm.

          “Tessa, time to get up!” her mother’s voice rang out as she marched down the hall. Tessa looked around her room, temporarily bewildered. The meadow, dragons and Eragon was gone. Reality hit hard and it was a huge disappointment. It felt too real to have been just a dream! She had often day-dreamed about being in such a story after reading the book, Eragon but she had never had a dream of such detail before.  With a resigned sigh, she swung her feet out of bed and attempted to stand up but instead fell over, tripping on a small round object.

          She looked down and felt her heart nearly stop. With shaking hands she squatted down and picked up the large, round egg-like rock which began glowing and glittering in her hands as if it were lit from within with green fire.

“Uh oh!” she said.

This particular story was requested by Hannah, a friend of Mirriam/Earwen’s who starred in her own story called The Magic Quill.  Hannah loves the Japanese culture and hopes one day to meet and marry a nice Christian Japanese man. This story is different from all the others in that I did not take her character out of reality and into a magical world but placed her in Japan on an student exchange program. Enjoy!

      Hannah looked wearily out the window of the Boeing 747 window.  The excitement and thrill of flying to Japan on an exchange student program had worn off and been replaced by jet lag, flying fatigue and a bit of anxiety. It seemed like she had been trapped in her tiny coach seat for a week although it had only been 9 hours. Her back was stiff, her legs cramped and all she wanted to do was to climb into bed and sleep!

     Her host family, the Nakaguchi’s promised they would be waiting for her at the gate with a big sign with her name on it but now she was worried because at the last minute her flight had been canceled due to mechanical difficulties and she had been forced to board another carrier to make it to Tokyo on the same day.  She had not been allowed to use her cell phone to call ahead and forewarn them about the change.  If she hadn’t felt so exhausted she would have been freaking out in panic. She couldn’t read or speak Japanese and her flight was arriving at a completely different terminal than what her host family was expecting.

     She shut her eyes and prayed again. Please, dearest Lord, help me to find my host family. Please send an angel or something to guide me!

     Two hours later the flight finally set down in Tokyo and along with all the other travel-weary passengers, Hannah lugged her carry on luggage down from the overhead compartment, almost decapitating a little Japanese man in the process and it fell out of her grip.

     He let loose with a stream of angry Japanese, scolding her. Hannah felt like crying. Going to Japan for an entire year had been such a dream for her but it was starting off like a nightmare!

     She finally made it off the plane and into the terminal.  The outside air within the airway between the terminal and the airplane was hot and very humid. In the space of just a few moments, she had sweated through her clothes. OMG! She had been warned about the humid weather in Japan but nothing could have prepared her for walking into what felt like a sauna!

      She reached the terminal and looked around, hoping that by some miracle God had communicated to the Nakaguchi’s her new arrival status. She saw signs but none of them were in English and none had her name. Her heart sank. She turned around to take a 360 degree look around, lost her balance and found herself falling over someone.

     “Ouch!” she cried out, feeling a sharp pain in her ankle. She looked down and could already see it starting to swell and turn blue. Great, just great. First the plane change and now this! What else can go wrong?

     “Please excuse me!” cried a young masculine voice. The next thing she knew, she was being gently lifted to her feet by one arm by a total stranger. “I apologize for making you to trip!” he continued, helping her to balance on her good leg. Hannah suddenly came eye to eye with a strikingly handsome and young Japanese man. His mouth fell open in surprise and shock for a moment and then 5,000 years of ingrained Japanese politeness came to the fore. He bowed briefly then helped to maneuver her over to a seat in the terminal. Then he knelt down and propped up her injured ankle onto her suitcase so it was elevated.

     “One moment, please!” he said, bowing again.  He raced off to a local concession stand and came back with a towel filled with ice cubes. He laid it gently upon her ankle. Stealing glances at her every few moments, he set about to arrange her luggage neatly around her then he stood and bowed again. “I humbly beg forgiveness, Miss American,” he said, turning red. “I did not attend to cause you injury.”

     Miss American? Hannah giggled despite the pain. “Uh, it’s okay…it was an accident,” she said, peering at her now bloated ankle and wondering how on earth she was ever going to find her host family now.  She tried calling them on her cell phone but she had never used the international features before and needed her guide sheet on all the number to dial. She looked at the chagrinned young man and suddenly noticed how handsome he was. He stuck out his hand to her, American style.

     “Akihiko,” he introduced himself. “It translates as bright prince.”

      Hannah blushed deeply and shook his hand. “Hannah….uhhhh….just Hannah.” She said, wishing she had an exotic meaning for her name as well. Bright prince!!!!

     Akihiko smiled at her and Hannah felt her heart skip a tiny beat. “Is there anything more I can to do you?” he asked in his faulty English. Hannah stifled another giggle, tempted to tell him that no, a twisted ankle was sufficient, but then she thought better of it.

      “Yes, Akihiko,” she said, nodding earnestly. “Could you help me find my host family?” She then explained to him as simply and as clearly as she could what had happened with the plane change and how she was supposed to have been in a different terminal 1 hour from now to meet them. Akihiko nodded every now and then, making mental notes in his head. When Hannah was done, he stood up and flung his arm across his chest in a knightly salute.

     “Never fear!” he intoned with a solemn face that made Hannah want to giggle some more. “Akihiko is here! He will save your day. Wait here!” With that he ran off and rounded up several airport employees.  One went down to baggage claim to get her luggage so they could help her through customs and the other ran for a wheelchair. In no time at all, Hannah found herself being wheeled through the terminal at breakneck speed with Akihiko half riding/half pushing from behind while barking a stream of orders in rapid-fire Japanese.

      With Akihiko’s help and that of the kind air terminal employees, Hannah was fast-tracked through customs and then they were speeding on their way to the other terminal to meet up with the Nakaguchi’s before they ever knew what had happened!

     She and Akihiko actually came up from behind them. The entire family was there, the two parents, daughter (who was the same age as she) and son a few years older.

     “Mr. Nakaguchi!” Hannah called from her chair, waving her arms. “I’m over here!”

     The entire family turned around in shock and gaped at her, wondering where she had come from and why she was in a wheelchair. Of course, being Japanese they wouldn’t think to even ask such intrusive questions but merely bowed in greeting before turning to Akihiko.

     “Konnichiha, Akihiko!” exclaimed the brother of the family, a grin spreading from ear to ear. They bowed to another and then clasped hands like they were old school chums (which they were). He and Akihiko obviously already knew one another and began jabbering away in Japanese. The other family members listened politely and oohhhhed and aw-soooed every once in a while, nodding as they looked from Akihiko to Hannah as he explained what had happened.

     Finally Mr. Nakaguchi turned his full attention to Hannah. “Welcome to Japan, Ms. Hannah.” He said, bowing slightly. “Akihiko has apprised us of everything.  It was good that it was he whom you ran into; he is a long time friend of my oldest son, Kamiko. They were classmates and lives with his family near our apartment.”

     “Oh!” said Hannah, unable to think of anything else to say. She looked over at Akihiko and found him looking right back at her with curious look on his face. Awkward pause.

      Taking the silent cue, everyone took a hand in picking up her luggage with Akihiko pushing her wheelchair like a proud tour guide.

     They negotiated their way out of the concourse and then to a long black limousine that was large enough to fit everyone. Feeling solely responsible for Hannah’s injury Akihiko took it upon himself to help her get in and then when they arrived to get out and half-carried/half-walked her to the elevator that led to the Nakaguchi’s apartment.  To her amazement, he even held her fully in her arms while the Nakaguchi’s daughter, Hitomi, helped to carefully remove her shoes before entering their home.

     Hannah hopped inside on her one good leg until she found a chair to sit on. From that moment on, the entire family took charge. Hitomi and Kamiko brought all her luggage into the room she would share with Hitomi who  unpacked everything for her, putting her clothes, shoes, and personal hygiene items away as unobtrusively as possible. Hannah was absolutely mortified but there was nothing she could do about it until she could walk again. Once unpacked, she was led back to her room and shown the blow up air mattress they had gotten especially for her. 

     Exhausted she crawled into bed and slept for the next 12 hours.

      The next evening she woke up feeling completely discombobulated. Her body clock said it was morning but the window in the room showed a dark night sky.  She looked over at the Tatami matt next to her where Kamiko was sleeping; her mouth slightly open. The alarm clock was in Japanese but it looked like it was 2am. It was going to be a long night.  Suddenly she was struck with inspiration.

     She got out her cell phone they had placed near her (along with the directions on how to call international) and dialed the number of her friend Mirriam.

     It should be the early afternoon and Mirriam should be home and done with school…

     “Hello?” answered her friend’s voice on the other end.

     “Earwen!” whispered Hannah, trying not to wake Hitomi up.

     “Hannah?”

     “Yes.”

     “So you got into Japan okay? What time is it there now?”

     “Two am.”

     “Jet lag is awful isn’t it?” Mirriam responded compassionately.

     “I can’t talk long because Hitomi is sleeping,” Hannah whispered, glancing over at Hitomi who showed no sign of waking up. “But I just had to tell you…I hurt my ankel but I think I’ve met my Prince Charming!”

     “Shut UP!” squealed Mirriam, knowing how Hannah had always longed to meet and marry a Japanese Christian man. The sound carried well out of the earpiece and Hitomi stirred.

     “Gotta go!” whispered Hannah. “Just wanted you to be the first to know! I’ll email you later all the details!”

     The next morning (for real), a doctor friend of the Nakaguchi family came over and inspected her swollen ankle which was now a nice black and blue color. His gentle prodding evoked a few squints of pain but he seemed satisfied that it was nothing more than a sprain.  He wrapped her ankle up tight, told her to ice it regularly then left bowing.

     Hitomi helped her over to the low table where the family sat politely waiting for her.  She sat cross-legged since she still couldn’t kneel on the ankle and smiled thanks at all of them. They smiled back then bowed their heads and said grace over their meal.  The Nakaguchi’s were one of the few Christian Japanese families that had opened their home to exchange students from America. The prayer was in Japanese but at the end everyone said “Amen” in English.

     Hannah was famished; she looked at the food before her; a bowl of brown rice and hot Miso soup and of course, tea.

     Just as they all finished their meal there was a polite knock at the door. Kamiko got up with a barely suppressed grin and opened the door. In the doorframe stood Akihiko.

     He entered the room bowing to all but his almond brown eyes were fixed upon Hannah. She felt her cheeks begin to flame.  Hitomi took her arm with a smile and helped her to their room, closing the Shoji screens behind them.

     “Akihiko has asked if he may take you to a traditional Japanese Tea Room for your first day.” She explained, trying to hide her grins. “I think he is smattered on you.”

     Hannah burst out giggling but quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. “I think you mean smitten.” She grinned.

     With Hitomi’s assistance Hannah got cleaned up and changed her clothes. The doctor had left both crutches and a wheelchair for her use. She hobbled out on the crutches while Akihiko carried the wheelchair out the front door. Armed with her camera, guidebook and purse, the family bowed and waved goodbye as Akihiko helped her into her chair.

     It was all happening so fast her head was in a whirl. He maneuvered her and the wheelchair into the elevator then out to the street where he took her to a local train station.  Hannah should have felt nervous, after all, Akihiko was practically a virtual stranger, but it all seemed fine somehow and she had God’s peace that passes understanding. Soon they were both on a bullet train and speeding into the Japanese countryside.

     Soon Akihiko was pushing her chair towards an old Japanese tea house that had a gorgeous view of Mount Fuji. It had dark wood walls and a green tiled roof. She left the chair outside and Akihiko helped her into a small room with Tatami mats. They made her as comfortable as possible and then the ceremony began.

     A beautiful geisha sat down inside the room and played a traditional Japanese song upon her Shamisen. Another geisha entered the room, sliding the shoji screens aside silently, and carried in a tray that contained the tea implements: the chashaku (tea scoop), sensu (fan), chasen kusenaoshi (whisk shaper), chasen (bamboo whisk) and fukusa (purple silk cloth) as well as the green tea powder.

     Hannah watched in wonder at the elaborate preparations to prepare a simple cup of tea and could feel Akihiko’s eyes upon her the whole time. It was not proper to speak during the ceremony so they both were silent.  The hot tea was first passed to Akihiko who after sipping, turned the bowl three times in his hand then offered it to Hannah.

     She accepted with a shy bow and sipped the slightly bitter, hot liquid. Once the ceremony was completed Akihiko helped her back into her chair and took her further into town to a noodle house where they could talk freely and eat.  They spent the rest of the day together and when the sun began to set, they boarded the bullet train again back for Tokyo. They reached the Nakaguchi home by 8pm where the entire family greeted her at the door and assisted her in.  Once she was settled in a chair, Akihiko clasped her hand in his, placing a small parchment wrapped gift in her hand.

     “Thank you for accompanying me today.” He said, smiling shyly. “I leave you now in the good hands of the Nakaguchi family. I hope to see you again many times before you return to America.” With another bow to her and the rest of the family he showed himself out of their apartment.

     Hannah looked down at the little bundle in her hands and carefully unwrapped it as Hitomi looked on. Inside was a delicate gold necklace upon which hung letters in Japanese:

 

     “What does it mean?” asked Hannah turning to Hitomi.

      “In your language it means Destiny.” Hitomi replied.

 NOTE:  Hannah loved her story(above) so much that she requested a second chapter.  She just couldn’t stand not knowing what would happen next.  So here, by popular demand, is the first “chapter two” to a wish fulfillment story…

CHAPTER TWO

 

“No way!” squealed Mirriam’s voice over Hannah’s cell phone when she had finally gotten a moment to herself to call her best friend. “He gave you a gold necklace??! Hannah!” she continued in her best Darth Vader impression. “He is your DES-TIN-EEEEE!!”

Hannah giggled, the whole experience from the moment she had gotten off the airplane up to now had been rather surreal and it was just now starting to hit home that she may have, indeed, met her “Mr. Right”.

“Did he try to kiss you or anything?” Mirriam interrogated, wanting to know every last teeny tiny detail.

“Of course not!” Hannah replied shocked. “No one kisses me until I’m married! Not even on the cheek! Which reminds me, I need to call my parents and let them know I got here safely.”

“Are you going to tell them about HIM?” Mirriam asked.

“Well yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees,” replied Hannah, wondering how she was going to break the news to her parents about Akihiko.

“Well tell me ALL about it after you do!” Mirriam said. “I have to get going and update my blog now. This author put me in a “wish fulfillment” story and I want to blog about it.”

“What’s that?” Hannah asked, curious.

“I’ll send you the link over email.” Mirriam replied mysteriously.

“Okay, bye!” Hannah said then dialed her parent’s house. She had sent them a quick text message that she had gotten there okay but knew they would want to talk with her too.

“Hi Dad!” she said when he answered the phone.

“Hanny!” he exclaimed, overjoyed at hearing her voice. “How was your flight? Did you get to catch up on your sleep? How are you liking Japan?”

“The flight was long and uncomfortable, I’m not quite caught up on sleep yet and I LOVE Japan!!” (Of course she didn’t say why.)

“That’s wonderful, honey. We’re very proud of you. I bet by the time you get back you will be fluent in Japanese!”

“I hope so…” Hannah hemmed, trying to think of an appropriate way to broach the subject. “Uh, Dad, I have something rather important to tell you.”

“So soon? You’ve only been there a few days,” he replied. “What could have possibly happened in that short time already?”

“I think I may have met…uhhhh…ummmmm…HIM.”

“Him?” repeated her dad. “Who-him?”

“Him-him!”

“Honey, you’re losing me. Give me a hint here.” Said her dad, completely bewildered.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad, you’re not making this easy.” Hannah moaned. “Remember all those talks we’ve had about when I get old enough for boys to take an interest in me?”

“Yes,” came the reply. “Are you trying to tell me that there is already someone interested in you in Japan after only 2 days?” His voice was incredulous.  Hannah then described everything that had transpired from the plane change up to the present moment, leaving nothing out. When she was done the silence on the other end was almost deafening.

Then her dad cleared his throat. “Well, Hanny, I trust you to live and abide by the morals and guidelines we discussed and agreed upon together. If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have agreed to let you go to Japan. I’m glad you have been open and forthright with me and I have no doubts that you will act responsibly. Mom and I love you very much; and all the animals here send their greetings. Have a great time, soak up all the local flavor and come home safely to us.”

“Okay, dad!” Hannah said, relieved. “I promise to keep things appropriate. I’ll bring everyone back some great souvenirs.”

“That’ll be great, honey. Goodbye and keep in touch and take good care of that ankle.”

“I will, dad. Love to you and mom.”

Hannah hung up the phone and fell over onto her side with a big sigh. Well that was over with and it went better than she had expected. Now she could move forward with a clear conscience.

Akihiko called upon the family the next day and spent the day with all of them and especially his school buddy, Kamiko, but his brown almond eyes constantly flitted back to Hannah, causing her to blush with pleasure constantly. Just as he was bowing and saying his goodbye’s, he finally turned his full attention upon Hannah.

“Please excuse my forwarding,” he said, with a formal bow, confusing his English words. “May I ask the pleasure of accompanying you to a Kabuki performance?”

“Kabuki?” exclaimed Hannah, unable to suppress the joy in her face. She had always longed to see a real Kabuki play but there was no such thing back where she lived. The closest she could get to seeing such a thing would be to recent a National Geographic DVD or something similar.

“I would like to escort you to see a performance of Kanadehon Chūshingura at the National Theater this coming Saturday.”

“May I have your permission to do so?”

“Oh! I would LOVE to!” Hannah exclaimed, reminding herself not to jump up and down on her injured foot. “Thank you!”

The smile that spread over Akihiko’s face went from ear to ear and he almost seemed relieved. He bowed low and to Hannah’s amazement and shock, lifted her hand and kissed the top as if he were a knight in medieval England. A thrill raced up Hannah’s arm, then neck and through her hair. She could almost swear that every strand was suddenly standing on end as if electrocuted! She could hardly wait to tell Mirriam!! Kabuki and a kiss on the hand in the same day!!!

Hitomi was almost more excited than Hannah was. To see one of the most famous Kabuki plays at the National Theater was no small deal.  She took Hannah shopping the next day to find a suitable dress to wear (one could not go to the National Theater in blue jeans and cotton shirt!) she explained.  They found a lovely pale pink dress with cherry blossoms printed on it that was both modest and very feminine.

The morning of the play, they both got up early and Hitomi fussed over her, styling her hair up in a French chignon and placing delicate pink enamel combs on either side.  They had become as close as sisters in one week Hannah wore no makeup or jewelry except for the beautiful “Destiny” pendent Akihiko had given her.  When the doorbell rang signaling his arrival, she found herself hardly breathing she was so excited.  By now she was able to walk unaided and with only a slight limp but he treated her like fine porcelain, tucking her arm into his and steering her in the right direction with his hand on the small of her back.

They arrived at the National Theater (where Akihiko’s uncle worked who had arranged for the last-minute tickets). Hannah couldn’t believe how incredible and imposing it was. Because of Akihiko’s uncle their seats were fabulous, 5 rows back right in the middle. Because the programs were written in Japanese, Akihiko explained the plot of the play.

“Kanadehon Chūshingura or the “Treasury of Loyal Retainers” is famous story of the Forty-seven Ronin who track down their lord’s killer, and exact revenge upon him before committing seppuku as required by their code of honor upon the death of their lord,” he whispered as the curtain went down and the lights dimmed. The music began and the actors (all male) took their places upon the stage.

Hannah had a difficult time understanding everything that was going on but midway through the play she ceased to care because all she could think about was Akihiko taking her hand in his and holding it throughout the duration of the play.

It had been one of “those” days. Sandra’s students had been exceptionally rude, uncooperative and snotty all week and she was done.  It had taken every ounce of strength she possessed to keep her cool and deal with them according to the current parameters. How she longed for the days when principals and teachers could paddle their young charges into better behavior but now the inmates were running the asylums!

It was Friday afternoon and she had a short weekend in which she must cram grading of papers, reading challenges, dealing with family, cleaning house, etc., before it all started over again. Something had to give. She felt like a rat on a treadmill!  She was burned out and needed some kind of retreat.  She lugged her papers, books and laptop to the car and drove home, going over in her head all the things she needed to take care of before she could go to bed. She was exhausted just thinking about it.

When she got home, she checked the mail and found nothing but a brightly colored envelope in her mailbox. No junk mail, no circulars, nothing else. She looked at it closely.  Her heart practically stopped when she recognized the handwriting of her sister, Gloria, on the envelope:

“Special surprise inside for my little sister, Sandra”

All the other items in her arms slid out and fell unnoticed onto the pavement as she began to shake.  If this was Brad’s idea of a joke, it wasn’t funny! She began to fume. She ripped open the envelope and suddenly the world around her began to spin faster and faster. It felt like she was caught in a tornado but instead of dust, rooted up bushes, and farm animals swirling around her, the wind was glittering like fairy dust.  When the whirlwind finally stopped she struggled to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding and she felt dizzy. She looked around and sucked in her breath.

“Toto, I don’t think we’re in Florida anymore …” she murmured to herself. She didn’t know where she was! She looked around and saw beautiful, undulating meadows as far as the eye could see, weeping willows scattered here and there and in the midst of it all, a lone white clapboard cottage with a wrap-around porch, a white picket fence, geraniums growing in the black window boxes and lacy white curtains blowing in and out of the windows with each sigh of the wind. Under the eaves an orange canary was trilling a beautiful tune in its cage. With a surge of nervous anticipation, Sandra walked up to the front door and raised her hand to knock.  Before her fist could meet the door it flew open and she found herself enveloped in a giant bear hug, her vision obscured by a cloud of curly, golden brown hair.

“Sandra! Sandra! Sandra!” cooed the familiar and beloved voice rocking her in strong arms. Tears burst out of Sandra’s eyes and she pushed herself back enough to take in the view. Standing there, alive, healthy and beaming was her dearly departed sister Gloria! “Welcome!” Gloria bellowed, her grin spreading from ear to ear.

“What, who, when, how-“ screamed Sandra looking her up and down over and over again, sounding like a journalist pursuing a story.

“The Master decided you deserved a weekend retreat quilting, crafting, talking and eating!” Gloria announced, her face beaming. “I have all the supplies we need, all our favorite foods but no television, no phones, and no surly students.  Just the two of us! Two peas in a pod!”

“How is this possible?” Sandra demanded, allowing Gloria to pull her into the house by the hand.

“With God all things are possible!” Gloria responded with a mysterious wink, making it quite clear Sandra was going to get no further explanation.  She entered the cottage and oogled at its’ cozy charm. White painted floorboards, bright area rugs, white wainscoting, cheerful yellow walls with red accessories here and there, a large quilter’s table with two chairs with a quilt already started stretched across it. There was a smaller crafter’s table with supplies spread all over it, a cheery fire in the fireplace, and a sideboard loaded with all the comfort food one could want.  In the background soothing Christian worship music was playing.

“The Master thought of everything!” beamed Gloria, rubbing her hands with glee. “I’ve have been longing for this day for over a year!”

At these words, sobs bubbled up outside of Sandra and she covered her face with her hands, remembering the sorrow and grief at losing her sister and best friend in the whole world and the day of the funeral when she had had to say “goodbye”.

“Gloria-“she choked, unable to express what she was feeling. Gloria’s smile didn’t fade but her eyes became tender and understanding.

“I know it hurt to lose me, Sandra…” she said, enfolding her sister in her arms again to comfort her. “But I really am in a better place.  Heaven is more lovely than I could ever express and doesn’t it make heaven seem that much more real now that you know that someone you love is there waiting for you?”

Sandra nodded feebly, unable to speak.

“We won’t be parted much longer,” Gloria said, rubbing her back tenderly, “and you will always have this time together again to look back on and find joy and hope when you need it.  Now, dry your tears, sit down and let’s start! What do you want to do first?!”

With that the sister’s sat down and spent what seemed like an entire week talking, laughing, quilting, eating and just enjoying one anothers company.  Sandra never saw her sister cook anything but every day and at every mealtime there was new and wonderful food all prepared, piping hot and then mysteriously cleaned up so that they could spend their time just having fun.

It all came to end too soon for Sandra and the day arrived when there was no more food prepared and all the craft projects had been completed, much to the sister’s satisfaction. It was the best time Sandra could ever remember having, completely free of responsibility, deadlines and interruptions. Just “Sandra and Gloria” time. She was sad to have it end.

“There is one more thing…well, several more things, surprises really, we have for you before you return.” Gloria said, sitting her down in a large, overstuffed cotton chintz floral chair.

“What?” asked Sandra, wondering what on earth could possibly be better than the week she had just spent with her sister? Her soul felt thoroughly refreshed but she was still apprehensive at having to leave and face the real world again. The pressure, the deadlines and the students who acted as if they were felons serving a prison sentence instead of being given the privilege of getting an education that would help prepare them for life…

“Just wait and see!” Gloria grinned, sitting down in a chair next to her, clutching Sandra’s hand to her heart with excitement. At that moment the doorbell rang, practically making Sandra jump out of her chair in fright. For an entire week there had been no noise but the sound of their chatter, laughter, music and eating. It was so abrupt it really startled her. With a grin and a wink, Gloria went to the door, and flung it open to reveal a tall, distinguished looking executive.

He was dressed in a gorgeous pin-striped business suit, was clean-shaven and had a suitcase in his hand. He walked right up to Sandra’s chair, got down on one knee, took her hand in his and in a wavering voice said just two words: “Thank you!”

Sandra was speechless and didn’t know how to respond. After him came another man, this time it was a professor of literature, then a woman in a nurse’s uniform; on and on it went until the room was filled with professionals from all walks of life of varying ages, all standing there and looking down at her with eyes brimming with tears and smiles of gratitude.

“Gloria…” Sandra said, rising to her feet, her voice shaking. “Who are all these people?”

“We have all been students of yours at one time or another or are yet to be,” explained the nurse, gesturing to all those around her.

“I don’t understand…” Sandra said, although she was beginning to get an inkling of what was happening.

“At one time, during the course of our lives as your students, (both past and yet future) you gave each one of us either an encouraging word, a helping hand, or maybe just an understanding smile that made all the difference in the course of our lives,” said the first man. “We were on a road that was leading us nowhere but the fact that you gave of yourself to us as a teacher and mentor changed everything.  We have all asked for special permission to come here and tell you thank you so that you will know that your labor has not been and is not in vain.”

“Thank you Ms. Stiles!” they all chorused, gathering around her.

Sandra turned and looked at Gloria who was crying and laughing at the same time, beaming at her little sister. “Never forget, little sister, just how very proud I am of you!” Gloria said and held her close for one last long embrace.

In that moment, Sandra knew that everything was going to be better no matter what the circumstances of life might bring.  She closed her eyes…ready to finally part if only for a little while.

Gloria wasn’t really gone, she was just on the other side of the veil, waiting on the day when Sandra too would join her and their reunion would be permanent. For now, it was sufficient to realize that all she did day in and day out at school, in her church and at home had a meaning and purpose much greater than she would ever be able to know this side of eternity and for now…that was enough.

Mirriam Neal and I became friends as a result of her writing into the Whispered Roars Blogspot to win a copy of The Victor.  Though we are many years apart in age, we have very similar interests and passions (especially the Lord of the Rings).  I sure would have loved to have a friend like her when I was much younger!  If you would like to visit her Blog (which I suggest you do since it is so very clever), the link is Thoughts of a Shield Maiden Blogspot (link on the lower right column).

The Magic Quill

                Mirriam sat on her bed with one of her two best friends, Keaghan, staring at the blank parchment before her.  The blank page stared right back at her as if it had just won a “stare out” contest.  Her most newly acquired treasure, a genuine fountain pen, was poised just above the page, waiting for the words to flow out of her head onto the paper.

                “C’mon, Mirriam!” encouraged Keaghan. “You’ve never had problems writing before now! What’s going on?”

                Mirriam closed her eyes and set the quill down carefully so as to not drip any of the black ink on herself or stain anything else. She had gotten the gift little more than a week ago for Christmas but couldn’t seem to bring herself to start writing with it. It was such a special gift and so “Elvish”; it could only be used for a very, very special story; especially since she had also purchased some really expensive vellum paper that looked like real parchment. It couldn’t be just any old story…

                “Just start writing something!” whined Keaghan, becoming exasperated.

                Mirriam sighed and put the glass quill onto the page and began to write: Lothlorien was aglow with golden afternoon light of a late summer day…

             Suddenly both Mirriam and Keaghan gasped aloud; their eyes widening in wonder. Instead of black ink flowing in shaky print onto the vellum, a gorgeous script of foreign letters of living light blazed and glowed across the page in a foreign language that seemed eerily familiar to Mirriam.

          “Look!” shrieked Keaghan, pointing to the bedroom wall.  A portion of Mirriam’s bedroom wall had completely faded away (or become invisible) for instead of looking at her neighborhood, she was staring at the limbs of a giant Mallorn tree.  Keaghan nudged her in the ribs, still gaping.

          “Write some more!” she hissed. Shockwaves of nervous excitement running through her veins, Mirriam again began to scratch out whatever words came into her mind. She wasn’t sure, but she could feel magic crackling in the air about her.

…the flet upon which Earwen and Keaghan sat was crowded with the company of other woodland elves, their bows and quivers at the ready as a company of orcs marched under their position, completely unaware of the doom which waited to rain down on them from above…

       Mirriam and Keaghan again looked up and watched in amazement as the walls of her home completed melted away into nothing-ness only to be replaced with a 360 degree view of the most amazing golden forest they had ever laid eyes on.  Their vantage point was at least 100 feet above the forest floor and stretched away as far as the eye could see in every direction. Mirriam tucked her long hair behind her ear to get a better look and felt something strange. She gazed at Keaghan’s face whose eyes were practically bulging out of her head in mixed wonder and terror.

         Mirriam felt her ear and practically dropped the bow in her left hand. Her ear was pointy!  An elf directly to her right turned round slightly and gave her a warning look. Not a surprised look at seeing a total stranger crouching next to him but a warning look as if to say: CONCENTRATE!

         The signal was suddenly given to attack and all the elves surrounding Mirriam and Keaghan stood as one and sent arrows raining down upon the unsuspecting orcs.

          “Earwen!” hissed an elf behind her. “Let fly!”

          Without a second thought, Mirriam stood, aimed and sent her arrow flying into the neck of a large black orc. The elve’s attack was over almost as soon as it had begun. The entire company of orcs lay dead upon the footpath below and had been so swift and deadly that not one of them had been able to shriek, sound a warning horn, or escape. Their war party had been completely decimated by the elf-arrows of the Galadrim.

          “Well done, Earwen!” said the elf behind her, squeezing her shoulder.  Mirriam turned about and her mouth fell open.  Standing at least a full head taller than her was someone she had never thought to see in real life, Legolas.  She stifled a giggle.

          “Is that who I think it is?” whispered Keaghan in her ear. Mirriam nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the finely chiseled face and striking blue eyes of the elf-prince.  Legolas smirked at her and waved a hand in front of her face so as to wake her from her trance.

          “Awake, Earweeeennnn,” he murmured, leaning in closer. A lightning bolt of electricity jolted up her spine, freeing Mirriam from her trance. “It’s time to go! The lady Galadriel and Celeborn are waiting for our return.”

          “What do we do now?” panicked Keaghan, grabbing onto Mirriam’s arm.  Mirriam finally looked at her best friend. Her hair too was also down below her waist but enough of it was tied back for her to see that her Keaghan’s ears were pointy as well. Mirriam stifled another giggle.

          “Just do what I do,” she whispered, shouldering her bow.  To her amazement, Legolas reached back and clasped hold of her free hand and held it for the duration of the trek.  With mounting excitement, she followed his lead down the stairs from the flet to the footpath where the orcs lay dead. She plucked her arrow from the neck of her one kill, wiped the black blood off onto the grass and put it back in her quiver.

         Legolas studied the helmet and iron collar for a moment then flipped the body over.

          “You felled the leader, Earwen,” he commented with a congratulatory nod in her direction. “Not too bad for your first day out but my count is 13 to your one; leader or no!”  Mirriam found herself grinning at him, his comment familiar and strangely reminiscent of the rivalry between he and Gimli in the Lord of the Rings on the number of enemy combatants they each had killed in the war of the Ring. The forest was quiet now except for the cry of birds and the subtle sound of a quill still scratching on vellum which only Mirriam seemed to notice.

          She and Keaghan followed the line of woodland elves as they made their way back to Caras Caladon to report to Galadriel of their success. Every chance she got, Mirriam would steal a glance at Legolas as well as her own body. She was clothed in the grey cloak and golden/brown attire of the Galadrim that blended into the colors of the forest and her legs were clad in knee-high, kid-skin leather boots. Her friend Keaghan was similarly attired with long hair, pointy ears and a bow and quiver that had gone unused.  It took the better part of the day and was nightfall before they reached the gigantic Mallorn tree where the Lady Galadriel and Celeborn ruled the golden realm. Silver lanterns lit up all over the forest illuminating their way and the welcoming cry of the Galadrim reached their ears as they made the long climb up to the top flet.

          Legolas and the other elves of their warband stood at attention and then bowed with respect as the Lady Galadriel appeared before them.  Then he laid the iron collar and helmet of the orc that Earwen/Mirriam had shot at the feet of Galadriel. She regarded them for a moment then lifted her golden head with a beatific smile.

         “Whose arrow felled the Captain?” she asked, looking from one glorious elven face to another.

         “Earwen,” spoke up Legolas with undisguised pride in his voice since Mirriam found herself tongue-tied in apoplectic glee. (Her arms was already black and blue from the nonstop pinching she had given herself throughout the trek to Caras Caladon, unable to believe she was inside Middle Earth in a story of her own creation.) She could still hear her quill scratching on the vellum but it seemed like the sound was more inside her head now than in her ears.

          Galadriel turned her liquid eyes upon Mirriam/Earwen and smiled. “Well done, Earwen, elven daughter,” she said, her voice as beautiful as a bell. She laid her hands upon Earwen’s shoulders in blessing. “You are the first daughter of the Galadrim to wield bow and arrow to successfully slay one of our avowed enemy and an  Orc Captain at that! For this I have a special reward…”

         Mirriam cast a quick glance over her shoulder at her best friend, whose face was a study in mixed shock, wonder and disbelief. She turned back to face Galadriel and Celeborn who held forth a wooden box with a silver leaf upon its lid. Mirriam lifted the lid and inside found a crystal ink bottle which was filled not with ugly black ink but a brilliant light which pulsed and glittered in her upheld hand.

          “Mithril ink,” Galadriel explained, turning it this way and that so it caught the light. “With this ink you will be a mighty story teller and whatever you write shall come to pass.”

          Mirriam was speechless as she received the gift with shaking hands. She bowed again in thanks to the Lady Galadriel and Celeborn and turned to face Legolas who still stood behind her. In his eyes was great pride and something else Mirriam couldn’t quite put her finger on.

         “I am so proud of you, beloved,” he said, caressing her cheek with his warm hand. The quill scratching in her head came to an abrupt halt the moment his arms went about her.

          “Mirriam! Mirriam! Wake up! Are you okay?”

          Mirriam turned her head to face Keaghan, completely disoriented. The room slowly stopped spinning and she looked down at the page before her. The ink on the parchment was now just an ordinary black but words filled the page in what could only have been Sindarin Elvish script that not even she could translate; even if she spent 50 years trying.

         “Who wrote all this?” she asked Keaghan, holding it up in wonder.

         “You did!” exclaimed her friend. “You just sort of went into some kind of trance and began writing as if you were possessed or something!”

          Mirriam stared down at the page of strange writing again until she got to the last line which suddenly began to waver and change before her eyes until the Elvish script became English.

“…for when thou dost set nib to the page; the magic shall be renewed.”

          “What does it say, Mirriam?” asked her friend, unable to read a single word. Mirriam closed her eyes and hugged her legs, her heart skipping a little beat as she thought again of Legolas warm hand upon her cheek.

         “Earwen,” Mirriam corrected her, opening her eyes and smiling at her best friend.

        “Huh?” asked Keaghan. “Come again?”

         “My name is Earwen,” clarified Mirriam. “… and I am a shield-maiden of Lothlorien.”

THE END