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Journey of Fairy Tales

Copyright © 2019 Laura Botsford.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-9822-3411-9 (sc) ISBN: 978-1-9822-3413-3 (hc) ISBN: 978-1-9822-3412-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019912737

Balboa Press rev. date: 04/13/2020

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1 Rendezvous Chapter 2 Festival of Leaves Chapter 3 Ceremony of Whispers Chapter 4 The Shallows Chapter 5 Kingdom of Lootoop Chapter 6 In Light and Sound Chapter 7 Departure Chapter 8 Linkalee Alignment Chapter 9 Return to Emeria Author Biography

A Place of Make and Believe

CHAPTER 1 RENDEZVOUS

he journey was challenging, not even the brightest bird could follow across the stormy seas, yet in Isla’s heart was a brave, and bold resolve to make it across the turbulent waters however tumultuous the ride may become was no matter. Isla was determined for she knew this was a treasure far more important than she, but for all the children and evolution of all humankind. The wind was picking up speed, forcing the ship steadily forward as if a long towing rope was reeling it in. Isla closed her eyes in the spray and felt the water cleanly on her skin, salty like tears, resplendent in the ancient sea. She wrapped herself in the wind, timeless in the moment, breathless in expectation, warmed only by her Hinduri shawl given to her at graduation by her Beneficial, Alden with its special protective powers woven in blue, green, and gold metallurgical fibers. It protected her from extreme temperatures and negative energies, acting as a shield designed only for her. She warmed herself with the shawl and called upon Captain Ines, “Traverse two degrees south, please, we will go faster; with the wind at our backs, we will be perfectly positioned until the messenger boat comes for us as planned.” The first pastel wash of twilight was upon them. The sky blended in ribbons of pink, faint indigo, as the last of golden sun rays filtered through the sea mist. There above them was the eternal Emerian moon, now waxing in a softer violet shade like lilacs newly blooming, pale purple then darker with time. All change is beginning now, approaching its alignment in its quiescent celestial moment. “How promising is the sea with all its uncharted lands, how deep is the ever-evolving romance between the Creator and all of humankind, and how does the attention to every detail become a matter historically poignant in the grand scheme of Creation? Peace at what price, resolution at what sacrifice?” she reflected thoughtfully out loud to herself, wondering how all this would unfold in the days to follow. Kingston was unaware that this moment in time would become a healing time for him as well, for these emotional scars had wounded him since the days of

Truid leaving a cringing shadow of darkness that still shadowed his mind, rendering his emotions into a hidden, and guarded mistrustful mood. Yes, the first breath of battle was still grievously with him, it fixed in his mind a dark chasm of sadness that at times he could not help falling back into. The first hurt can cut an everlasting wound of despair that is so deep that it prevails like fog in a dense forest. The loss of his parents at such an early age had shadowed him sometimes in a veil of gloominess with a palpable inconsolable emptiness that he slipped sadly into now and then. He didn’t know if they had died in the battle of Truid or were being held captive along with the Leaves. It did not seem so long ago now as he looked back standing on the shoreline waiting for Isla to arrive, reflecting on that fateful day. He was only a child of seven, a time when laughter was as a natural spring, bubbling freely down a hill, as unstoppable as the first winged journey of a baby eagle eagerly learning to embrace the wind sculpting the air between his tickling feathers. It was a time of innocence, complete trust, with much joy and love that he never felt alone. He and Isla had shared that time together, those days when they played in tall green fields with wildflower boats skipping stones thrown into silver streams of pristine water, laughed all the time in silly abandon. He thought back to that time long ago when they piled stones in a wall, watching the water sift in rivulets between the gaps throughout them, each a different sized spiral coursing gently around the oddly shaped random rocks they had chosen. “Kingston, watch the water change as it streams through the stones; they are ribbons!” Isla gleefully clapped her hands, and the stones turned blue, making a kind of music that lifted into the air. Kingston watched in amazement. “How did you do that?” “I don’t know,” she said. “It just kind of happened.” Isla was just as struck by the occurrence as he was. The music got louder as an emerald light appeared upstream coming closer. They stood transfixed in the water as a pilgrimage of fairies floated in a tiny boat towards them. Each fairy brightly dressed in shimmering dresses netted in diamonds, sapphires, and ruby jewels that sparkled in reflection on the river as they floated downstream. “Oh my, are you seeing what I see,” Isla asked Kingston?

“Yes, but I thought they were only in dreams, not real or anything you might someday see,” Kingston said, his voice shaking a bit with the awe of it all. “I’m sure we were meant to see them, don’t you think?” Isla said with sincere resolve. “But why?” wondered Kingston. The tiny boat was about to enter the channel of the stones when it stopped. One of the fairies looked up at Isla and told her with her nodding head and telepathy that she should make a note of this. “Oh yes, I will,” she said and took out her drawing pad, “It’s a good thing I am an artist, or I would never where they are later,” Isla concentrated on the age and kept drawing. “What do you think we will need this for, I mean later, like when we grow up or something?” Kingston asked with a bit of trepidation in his voice. “I’m not sure, either,” Isla said. “But the fairy says it is important, and we are to .” Kingston waded out to the stones and looked down on the rocks again. “Something isn’t right,” he said, then submerged into the stream, held his breath, and looked at them up through the water, his eyes focusing on the position of the stones. He rose briskly from the water, his eyes wide open. “What did you see Kingston?” asked Isla, curious, with an eager fervor that trembled her body with excitement. Kingston was pensive, wiping the water from his face, throwing back his dripping hair. “It’s odd, there is only one place in the stones that is wide, and deep enough for age,” he said, pointing to the place in the stones. “The age through is at the bottom with a careful right, and slowly up to the left so that the current can carry one safely through; any other way the boat would have crashed. But it can only be seen from underneath where the bottom is wider.” Isla drew a new perspective, one from above as a bird would see, and another looking up through the water as a fish would see. “I think I have it now Kingston,” she said, showing the drawings to him. “One is from above and one from below,” she said, pointing to each. The fairies smiled at them as they weaved and waved to them, going on their way through to the other side. “Yes that’s it,” he said, waving back to the fairies with a wondrous

delight. “Who would have imagined they were real?” Isla said with a wondrous sigh. Off in forest, they heard the owls’ sing-song to each other, in between the hoots was Kingston’s mother calling them. “Kingston, Isla, where are you, come home.” They gathered up their things leaving the stones in the stream. They turned once more to see the fairies slowly fade into an emerald mist, disappearing as quickly as stars at dawn. The stream returned to its usual sounds as if nothing had ever magically appeared

CHAPTER 2 FESTIVAL OF LEAVES

e were by the stream, and I went to check on a turtle stuck on a rock that could not get over to the bank,” Kingston explained in his best, not true storytelling voice. He dared not tell her of the fairy boats they had seen slipping through the stones in the river. “Next time whistle back, I can hear that naturally, it carries in the air better. Now change your clothes for the festival; we are leaving on the next ship to Truid. Isla your father will meet us there,” Ingrid told them in her ever motherly way. The Festival of Pages was an annual celebration in the Milka Galaxy that people from every region gathered to each year in the forest of Emeria to share their rhymes, their stories, and their songs. It was a joyous occasion that not only celebrated their cultures but also held the sacred space of all imagination and creative powers. The Ancient Ones had brought their stories with them, and every year each generation, young and old told them to each other. It was also a time when new stories were imagined, shared and sung in plays and performances in the Mingli Meadow. There were high-flying acrobats and spinning Ferris wheels that lifted high above the clouds. All the children played with homemade toys, ribbon wands, bubble globes, and rode on elephants and giraffes. Fresh food carriages loaded with Tipleeah ale, walop gourds full of berry creams, and loaves of seed bread and nuts were piled deliciously on wagons for all to share. The tribal nations harmoniously honored their people by keeping old traditions alive. The children were taught from the pages of the Book of Leaves from ancient days in their studies. In them, all the mysteries of life that ever were known were ed down. The celebration culminated in a procession to the Tree of Leaves, which was a tall tree with many branches, and on each leaf were the words from all the fairy tales and mythology ever to be written in the history of humankind. Offerings made of food and glowing candles were placed on altars. Everyone sipped a tea steeped of the natural flowers that grew on the Tree of Leaves. Fibrous twigs that had fallen below were made into a compound then ground to make sticks of incense that emitted an exquisite scent that mingled

with the evening breeze as the smoke curled up into the sky. “Kingston!” Isla joyfully called out. “Ride with me on the giraffe.” This was no ordinary giraffe it was unique all on to itself; it had a unicorn. “Climb on, and we will go for a romp. I hear this one likes to run.” “Are you sure you know how to steer it?” Kingston said, slightly cautious of Isla’s capabilities, after all, she was younger than him and a girl.” “Sure, it’s easy.” She tapped him on the neck, and he bent his head down. Isla whispered in his ear, “Let’s show him what we girls can do.” Kingston got on and held tightly to Isla’s waist. The giraffe took off in a lumbering gait as they whisked away through the valley, barely missing low hanging branches and scattering quails hiding in the undergrowth. “Whee!” Isla yelled, giggling in the spree with delight. “Wow, you sure you know what you are doing?” Kingston yelled, holding on even tighter. “I can’t feel my fingers.” “Have a little faith,” said Isla picking up speed. “I can’t feel my ears,” Kingston exclaimed fearing they had blown off. “Silly, you could never lose those,” laughed Isla teasing him, something she liked doing often, just for fun. “Really?!” said Kingston, clasping his ears with both hands. They whooshed and whooped, darting around trees and woke up a nearby herd of cows who were not amused. “Make way legends of cream and butter, we’re coming through,” Isla shouted. Kingston had to it that he was having fun and Isla did know how to ride. “Whoo-hoo onward and upward,” he yelled as they took off from the top of the hill, soaring mid-air for what seemed forever until they landed, bounding briskly through the meadow for the path leading home. “Aeronautic!” Kingston yelled out in supreme joy. Now it is wise to just how spry Isla is, strong beyond her years and smarter than the average boy. “How’s that for a girl?” Isla and Kingston laughed, galloping on fearlessly

through the valley, parting the tall grasses like a scythe at harvest time. “I should never have doubted you Isla; you ride like the wind!” Kingston cheered mostly out of surprise. They sauntered into the edge of the Mingli Meadow where the elders had begun the writing ceremony with the prayer of becoming artfully realized. Oh, Creator, Source of all beauty, wisdom, and truth, inspire us with your grace and fanciful fair of all that is colorful and worthy in your sight. They celebrated until the full pink moon began to rise in the sky, each child writing on a bare leaf a new storyone of enchantment, or one of public mischief by fairies who delved into dreams, teasing and toying with all that hopped about, untangling the imaginations caught in webs. There were stories of wild animals who hunted the plains with prowess; their mighty jaws stilled as they gently carried their cubs into dens. The elders retold the historical tales of the vast fleet ships that had once sailed to uncharted universes that fearlessly brought them through the dark days of Namerus when freedom to express oneself was crushed, taken away in a wave of anger and grief forcing them to seek new land, one called Emeria. The children wrote of fantastical museums, theme parks made of silk and cloud castles with staircases that led to virtual realities of magical times yet to come. How wonderful is the imagination, unfolding like moon butterflies of light, alive in all that is exciting, good, true and colorful? As much as one wants it to be is the answer. Kingston ed those happier days when everyone and everything alive and marvelous was close at hand, understood, felt, and deeply cherished. The Tree of Leaves knew this and held it all in her every living cell. The people of Emeria loved her, taking great care to keep their homes and their world clean, loving and joyous. When each page was written with every word intended, the people laid them at the feet of the Tree of Leaves, where she absorbed their words and pictures into her roots and one by one all the stories ever to be written appeared in pages upon her vast branches. The tree also produced flowers and fruit from which Tipleah oils and tinctures were made for healing and nourishment. The Tree of Leaves was their greatest treasure, their dearest friend, their master plan, their salvation. She held all their past, present, and future well being, and kept the record of their

stories still to be discovered. In the late iris colored evening, when twilight was waning, and darkness had settled in, the Harmies of Namerus descended upon them without warning. Their frightening shadows intruded stealing what had always belonged to everyone, their beloved pages from the Tree of Leaves. The Angerdahs thought they were separate from the people of Emeria and truly believed that all the works created should be kept and controlled by them. They mistakenly perceived that the Leaves should be theirs alone and the knowledge found in them should belong to no one but them. The Angerdahs were the Harmies of Namerus that sought to capture everything free, everything loving and natural, they clouded minds with hate and fear, division and violence, attempting to destroy all that is good and rightful for every living thing. The Tree of Leaves opened her heart trunk. All the children ran into and safely hid as their mothers, and fathers kept Namerus soldiers at bay with their fists, stones, ropes, and poles. The Tree began to close her branches as Kingston looked on his mother’s face for the last time as she cried out to him, “I love you.” “Mother, come back!” Kingston yelled. Then, all was silent. The children were sobbing; their hearts were breaking with the loss of their parents and the Leaves; it was all too much, and this violence was horrific to their gentle souls. They wept confused and frightened. Isla was beside herself and Kingston took her hand in his to comfort her. The Tree of Leaves spoke lovingly to the children. “You are safe here; no harm will come to you while you are inside my heart.” “But what about our parents, what will happen to them,” asked Kingston? “My dear one, stay here and rest, all of you will return when it is safe, but for now, my dearest’s sleep.” She emanated the fragrant air of Tipleah as the children yawned rubbing their eyes, and curled up together on a feather bed made from all the birds that had roosted in her branches. They were soothed with a lullaby of sweetest birdsong, dreaming of nothing, and fell into a peaceful sleep. Kingston drifted off into slumber; he put his arms around Isla and held her close. “It will be all right Isla, we will see them again, I don’t know how or when, but there will come a time that we will regain the Tree’s Leaves, and our parents returned,” he said, hugging her even tighter, trying to keep his own tears away so as not to upset Isla more.

“I hope so too Kingston, right now I just want to sleep, and pretend that it never happened,” Isla said, squeezing his hand.

CHAPTER 3 CEREMONY OF WHISPERS

he Harmies of Namerus confiscated every leaf off the tree, and bound up the people of Emeria, dragging them into the ship as prisoners. They were chained tightly together, and sorely bereft. “Kingston’s Father, Sir Manning took his wife’s hand as the ship, Dark Cloud went up through the sky in a blurry of gray. “We will see Kingston again, they will come for us,” Manning said with a hushed feverish belief. “What can we do Manning? We are helpless against Namerus; we have no weapons, no ships, and no armies of our own!” Lady Ingrid sobbed weeping tears of loss. “It is not going to be that kind of battle, our children know the answer,” Sir Manning looked out the round window at the stars. “They will find us, and they alone have the vision to free us and return the Leaves.” “But they are children,” Lady Ingrid spoke with much trepidation, and angst, “We are supposed to protect and lead them, not the other way around, they are so young and must be so afraid now; without us, they will perish.” “They are strong, they are safe in the Tree of Leaves, she will not let any harm come to them, I’m sure,” Manning said most confidently. “Now is the time for them to learn about themselves and grow into their natural understanding; someday they will return and rescue us and the Leaves. “How will they know, who will show them, how did this happen Manning, what could Namerus possibly want with all of us and the Leaves?” Ingrid asked with a heavy heart. “There is only one stream, and it is a stream of well-being, they have forgotten that, and now they think they must possess all things to feel secure. We thought they were gone; we were certain that they would never find us after we moved far out into the Milka galaxy so long ago to live in peace and harmony. We believed our destiny was faithfully protected in the knowledge of the abundant power of the mind. They were gone from us for a while, but there have been

those born that chose to resist their wellbeing, and now the wall grows thick with negative vibrations,” Manning shook his head, dropping his chin to rest on Ingrid’s head. “We will not give up hope, for there is a beam of salvation that our children will follow to find us again.” The ship creaked in sympathy with Manning and Ingrid’s thoughts, like all things vibrational, there is a cadence to time as it continues to unfold. Outside the ship there appeared falling stars. “Make a wish Ingrid,” Manning said. “I wish to see my child again. I want to go home and breathe the sweetness of the Tipleah Tree blooming in the Tree of Leaves. I wish that everything would go back to how it was before when life was simple, and kindness prevailed over all the land,” Ingrid said, laying her head on Manning’s shoulder. “Everything might not be what it once was, but we will let our hearts stay open and not closed, always ing to keep our love alive, only this will call them back to us someday, trust that they will be coming back to us someday.” Manning hugged Ingrid in a warm embrace. “Let us rest and be patient, the opportunity will come back to us.” Isla, Kingston and all the children, were kept safe for thirty days. When the Tree of Leaves opened her branches to let the children out, they were met with a changing world. The city was empty, and all the leaves were gone. They were alone in their ghost village, with no parents around and they were quietly frightened. “What are we to do now, without our parents, how will we eat?” Isla asked. “This is so sad,” said a little boy who stood beside them, “I want my mommy.” “We will have to find help,” said Kingston. They began walking to the Palace; all of the children were completely quiet. The doors to the Palace were locked, so they banged on the door, waiting hopefully for someone to answer. From inside they heard a voice. “Who is it?” “We are the children of Emeria, please let us in,” said Kingston. The doors opened and before them stood a beautiful raven-haired woman with violet eyes and a crown of feathers. She was Princess Bindi, guardian of the woodland animals and lost children. Come in children, you are safe here, and there is food in the courtyard. The children rushed to the table laden with walop

gourds and butter, fruit and Tipleah nectar, loaves of bread of every kind and ate until they were full. “Come with me; I will take you to boats now where you will be kept safe in the Universities until the time is right to go back out into the world and change what has been done. The boys will stay with the Carnelians’ in Seanan, and the girls will stay with the Opalites in Moonrovia.” “But I don’t want to be away from Kingston,” Isla said with an earnest ring of determination tinged with a sincere sadness that filled the courtyard and rang out like an echoing bell high from a tower. “It is only for a short time in the grand scheme of things, and then you will be reunited when your paths are wheeled in by the casting star. There are things to learn, to know and be ready for the day you can return to Emeria and find your parents,” the softness in Bindi’s voice swept through their spirits and troubled minds, “It is just life, so keep dancing through. “It will be alright Isla, I will see you again,” Kingston said and hugged her close. They gathered their food into baskets and followed Princess Bindi down the trail to the harbor. Then, as if by magic, she waved her wand and the boats changed into birds that rose from the water and took off into the sky. It was at their Universities where the Laws of Attraction, Sciences, and Mystical Arts were taught along with survival skills. Kingston learned to move objects with his mind, and use extrasensory vision to sense the location of people and things were even in utter darkness. As Kingston grew in knowledge and skill, his body strengthened, and his mind sharpened into focus. He easily made friends and gained respect by being truthful, and kind; never faltering from his convictions. He practiced daily his studies with diligence for he believed that it would be necessary to know as much as possible to regain the Leaves and his beloved parents. Kingston’s Beneficial at Seanan was named, Trumbo, the old and wise one that held him in his guiding steadfast vision of Kingston’s wellbeing. He was mindful of the hurt his heart had incurred but always saw him as a whole person, smart and sure, steady and strong, kind and wise. “Kingston, get very quiet and allow your mind to drift off where it will go, pay

attention to your breathing, breathe in for four seconds, hold for four seconds, then exhale for four seconds, feel the silence that follows, and feel the lightness of simply being present. Soothe your thoughts with another breath if your mind starts to wander, and exhale any disturbing thoughts as they are but shadows of a past that have no place in the present moment of just being you.” Beneficial Trumbo watched him slowly release all the anger and hurt out into the air, and asked him, “It is the deep breath before the plunge. What do you see?” “I see a wall, a wall beneath me made of dense emotions like clots of dirt all mortared together with cement and stones. I see beyond it a golden road, illuminated in light with tall trees growing alongside it and iridescent stars shining above. I hear the water and smell the Tipleah Tree, and as I walk along the road, the fragrance grows stronger.” Kingston smiled, knowing that he was getting closer to knowing where the Leaves were kept in his mind’s eye. “Well done Kingston, you have regained your true sight, one that is constant, no matter what the experience is; one that will always be there in darkness or day. For that great wisdom speaks to us all and can only be heard if one tunes into its vibration unresistingly and listened to,” Alden Trumbo said with pride. Isla was taught to transform energy, heal with her hands, and send thoughts telepathically. Communicating with animals was her favorite, as they all loved to talk to her. In the secret garden where all dreaming was done, lived many animals. Isla would visit them in the afternoon and draw their portraits. “Hello, what is your name?” She asked one little rabbit. “My name is Thumper because I am always thumping. “I can hear why you are called that, she laughed and nuzzled him with a bunny kiss. She put her face into the flowers and bumped into a little skunk. “And who’s this, are you a flower?” She asked. “He’s not a flower,” Thumper laughed. “That is ok; she can call me a flower if she wants,” said the little skunk. “I don’t mind.” “Pretty… pretty flower,” exclaimed Isla with a laugh.

“Gosh,” said the little skunk. They all laughed and chased each other around in the flowers. Thumper hopped up on Isla’s shoulder and put a flower in her hair, jumped down and began to hold his little paws up into a square as if he was framing her for a picture. Isla posed as Thumper said, “Click. Yes, because you are pretty too, even if you have funny ears.” “Oh these old things, my mother gave them to me,” Isla smiled pulling them out and made a cockeyed face. The evening bells began to ring, it is time for me to go home. I have supper waiting and homework to finish.” Isla gathered up her sketchbook and gave them each a little kiss before she went back down the sandy path to her boarding school. “Goodbye, for now, I will see you soon my furry little friends.” to bring us treats when you visit us again, I like carrots,” said Thumper. Isla ran down the path back to be in the procession. It was a nightly service that they participated in giving thanks for the day, laying flowers and burning incense at the altar, placing healing gems and pictures of their heart’s desire for days to come. As Isla grew in years and knowledge, these ceremonies became more meaningful; for her heart’s desire still was unfulfilled until the day she was ready to receive their coming true. Beneficial Alden spoke. “We have gathered today in the Hall of Circles to give our appreciation to our Creator and offer up our wheels to move to their rightful alignment with each student. Your wheel will with one that you have not met, or once knew from before to now go out into the worlds and fulfill your heart’s desire; the match is decided on by who you have become now.” The wheels all began to turn, moving closer towards the one that is in simpatico vibrational alignment with it. “This is a grand day; each of you will be matched with another to begin a journey with another in the everlasting Ceremony of Whispers made of your dreams and desires into its unique and destined fruition.” Kingston’s wheel spun and moved closer to Isla’s then lit up on the map of Milka, right alongside hers in perfect balance. “Isla, you will travel to the seas of Emeria to meet Kingston and together you will embark on a journey that will change time. Go with our prayers and the wisdom you have learned in these halls, take with you all our love and Lourdes’s

of the elements, Zea of Sea and all waters, Aine of the wind and breezes, Abha of Earth, Sand, Stone, and Tree and Nuri, Lourdess of fire. Now, years later, the day was finally upon them. Sir Scott’s Wherry was steadily approaching, coursing through the water in an even stride bringing it to the port side of Isla’s ship. She boarded the boat carefully with her book tucked into the pocket of her cloak, mindful of her necessary resources for the journey. Isla sat upright as a sublime subtle, summer breeze blew her hair back as the boat coursed briskly through the water towards the shore. There was certain braveness in her stature, upright and calm that was fully lit up by a pink moon now grandly glowing above them, casting an iridescent halo around her hair. Sir Scott tied the boat securely to the posts. Isla took her first footsteps on land in months, lifted her head, and closed her eyes, deeply breathing in the smell of the salty beach. She took her shoes off to twiddle her toes into the white sugar sand. Kingston smiled from where he stood briefly transfixed with a flood of childhood memories of his friend. Kingston approached her in a straight line across the beach, walking on top of the sand as if it were water, gathering the vision of her coming closer as she knelt down to pick up a shell. He stood before the kneeling woman as she looked up at him slowly, speaking softly to him. “You know,” she paused, there are very few of these left, Zea has moved these to a new world.” Kingston extended his hand to help her up, as Isla embraced his warm palm; the shell shimmered in opalescent splendor. They faced each other for the first time in eleven years. “It is good to see you again Isla,” he said, touching her shoulder. “It is good to see you once more Kingston; it has been a long time between moonbeams.” Isla touched his face and then hugged him. Kingston let out a surprised laugh, he was glad she hadn’t lost her knack for fanciful quips, and a little overwhelmed with emotion, that he quickly distanced himself by stepping back and spoke more seriously.” Sir Scott, you may return to the ship and tell the crew that Isla has arrived safely.” Sir Scott smiled and nodded yes, and said, “As you wish.” “Yes, it has, you must be weary from your travels, and we will have supper at my table after the Ceremony,” Kingston said collecting himself. “Thank you, I would like that,” Isla said still absorbing the warmth of this

mutual greeting that Kingston couldn’t contain, despite his efforts to hide his overwhelming happiness of seeing her once more. He felt safe in her presence; familiar bonds of their shared childhood gave him a true feeling of belonging that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. They walked along the beach arm in arm towards the shelter under the canopy of banyan and pineapple trees. The tent was open to the winds that floated through in a salty mist. There was fruit on the table and fresh bread from the baking kilns. This was no ordinary bread, it was made of almond flour and genius extracts from Emerian Purple Cab fields that tasted sweet with a fresh green grit of ground flour. “It is time for the Ceremony of Whispers,” Kingston said approaching the altar, where they each lay a hand on it. “When the light of the stars meld into one, where hearts are truly in agreement and place their trust in each other; we will find a way,” Kingston and Isla said in unison. They stopped at the candles that they lit together, and then broke the bread, leaving one piece that they placed on the altar board beside the sage, temple bowls, and crystals. A destination wheel floated above the carved wooden altar, beside it was a holographic map of Constellation Linkalee reflecting the changing star pattern in real-time slowly moving eastward. Isla told Kingston, “Our time is nearing, there soon will be a kinetic flux generated by Namerus, their shadows seek to cloud the stars, making it difficult to penetrate the atmosphere. My Father is wise, prophetic in his knowledge of this day Kingston,” Isla humbly said, gently squeezing his hand. “He came to me in a dream when I was with the Opalites, he said, ‘I am not far away from you my child and someday we will meet again when Linkalee aligns.’ I believe he is alive,” Isla smiled and looked up into the sky. “Not much longer and we shall reclaim the Leaves,” she said steadfastly with conviction and went on to say, “Namerus is placing its unjust contemn around the stars as we stand. They are unfairly shoring up all the residual bitterness, absorbing them into the wall that is reflecting upon the universe. It will take an army of light workers to transmute the wall and bring all our people back with the Tree of Leaves. We must nullify them before they get too much momentum into the universe.” Kingston took the book Isla had brought from their childhood day in the river with the stone pictures, and opened it to that particular page; the stones turned into stars lifting from the page and overlaid across the map of Milka, each one

leading to the exact place in the sky where they must go. “Wait, Kingston, we are forgetting something, the depth, when you were in the river and went under the water?” Isla said. “You saw something underneath… what was it? Kingston’s eyes widened with remembrance, “Yes, the depth, lower than the entrance, and angled in a higher plane the boat can through, that is it, it’s tricky, but if done carefully, it will work,” he exclaimed. They looked at the map overlay again where Isla had sketched the stones, in the corner of the page appeared the very same fairy boat they had seen on that day. It was moving on the map, plotting the exact course for them to take. In her hand was a wand that emanated a beacon that lit up the path in blue; the first star to the right, through the center quadrant of Linkalee. Isla recorded the map in her book. Kingston touched the start of the blue line that she had drawn, absorbing it into his skin that began to travel upwards making a colorful tattoo of the map on his right forearm. But they could not do this alone. Isla raised her hands to the air and then outwards with her palms down. “The elemental Lourdes’s can be summoned to the sounding pool where we will all agree to play the ancient song together.” Isla bowed her head, breathing in deeply with the sea waves, in and out, in and out, slow and sure, relaxing with each breath. Her light began to flow from the crown of her head with Kingston’s too, pouring like a fountain down onto the sand, and out into the sea. The waves became faceted in prisms, rolling steadily outwards, deeper into the ocean, carrying its light, and sound to all lands for all light workers to hear the call. Isla lifted the sage burning on the offering stone, as it billowed; she blew it into the heavens, chanting her purest intention to Source. The Offering was sent to Zea first in its purest sound and light. Lourdess Zea heard the calling in every droplet of water and answered them in each ebbing wave, pool, and every lakeshore, sending her response out across to ever living liquid. Zea, guardian, and protector of all waters, who was born out of stardust, and dreamt into being by the Creator in the foundation of time, she is the bearer of all life; she is the embryonic journey, the metamorphose materialization and evolution of all beings. In her, all creatures live and flow electromagnetically in pure natural velocity. The waves breathed in the renewed soothing waters of the alchemy taking place, splashing on the breast of beaches with gentle tenderness. For in the absence of

negativity, the phosphorous platelets’ moved in the beckoning song into a waterless light, that rose above the sea, traveling into space in a silver mist. It hovered, waiting patiently for the other Lourdess to in its essence. The vibratory consciousness of the elemental Lourdess’ was being called through the water, and all of creation began their call back in their own elemental languages. The air sang in a bell tone of So, the earth in a bell tone of Fa and the fiery heart of all creation sang La. Above the dreamt of skies, in the absolute glory of kingdoms to come, the map lifted from the book and moved in a circle. It hovered over the altar flame and caught fire, but did not burn, and then, in a halo, soared off into the spaciousness of sky, farther across the vibratory map lighting the stars one by one making each one brighter, and more radiant than ever focused and beaming an undeniable path. Through sound and light, through prayers and visualization, and with the synchronization of the harmonics in the Constellation Linkalee, they would know the plan and assist in helping Kingston, and Isla transmuted the forces of Namerus until they would at last recover the Leaves and most hopefully their parents. The Earth Goddess, Lourdess Abha, rose up from the core of the earth and in her ionate heart embraced all nature of flora and fauna from the core of her warmth. Abha’s face appeared in the trees, on rocks and in the flowers that stood along the winding river, her gentle strength looked out from every mountain and her eyes filled the desert in a careful keen watch. Kingston and Isla tingled in the transmission, knowing that what was taking place had indeed communicated to all creation their plea for assistance. “We are one, we are with you,” they said all together humming in harmony. The stars twinkled brightly in the sky. “Kingston, I often wondered how I would feel when I saw you again, you have grown so much since we were children, we are different now and we don’t know each other anymore, so there is a question I must ask you before we go to Namerus, do you trust me?” Isla gazed deep into his eyes, waiting for an answer her senses combed his being in the warmth of love, one that penetrated his skin and caused him to feel vulnerable for a moment, shying away from her eyes he said, “I have lived hopefully waiting for this day, wanting to fulfill my heart’s desire to return the Leaves and rescue our parents knowing that I would be matched with someone to help me.” Kingston paused, and said, “I just didn’t

know it would be you. I only know you as a child, and there is so much that needs to be done, that I wonder if we are both ready?” Time has a way of changing things, people grow apart having been cast into new environments with unshared experiences, they sometimes don’t share the same beliefs, or purposes they once held dear. Kingston stood before Isla, face to face looking deeply into her clear blue eyes that softened into violet around the edges in a halo of mysterious beauty. “It’s daunting I know, but this will be an adventure that we can do. when we rode through the Glen on the giraffe?” Isla asked. “Yes, it was a wild ride, I didn’t know if I was going to fall off or go flying into a tree,” he laughed. “But you held on, that is how I want you to feel about me now, you can trust and have faith in me; I have trust in you.” Kingston nodded, Isla reached over to touch his arm where the star chart had tattooed their map and traced her finger gently along its path across his arm. “It is my heart’s desire too,” she said softly. “I believe in us.” Kingston smiled. A little bird flew down on to the table and Kingston fed him a berry. “Here you are.” The bird stopped mid-bite and looked out into the jungle. “Do you hear something?” he whispered as the bird flew away. “I don’t see or hear anything,” Isla said, her voice hushed yet steady, but her heart was flitting about like a butterfly. “How can you see so far?” Isla irably asked. “Another one of my newly honed skills,” he chided. It is the Shadow Sweepers, quick, let’s leave for the south shore where my ship is waiting,” Kingston said as he grabbed the books. “Take my hand,” Kingston said, grabbing hold of her hand like the string of a kite in a strong wind, “Don’t let go!” Isla was not accustomed to being led blindly through utter darkness, but she willing followed taking each step behind him as he zigzagged around trees dashing through the thick foliage down a narrow path. Breathing in a deep willing breath of courage, she uttered in a gasp, “Trust… right,” Kingston laughed, for it would take both of them to mutually trust in each other. Suddenly he heard a noise and quickly turned his head to see a large shadowy figure ominously coming closer.

CHAPTER 4 THE SHALLOWS

amerus had sent his Shadow Sweepers out into the galaxy as spies to seek out those that would threaten them, suspecting an uprise. “We will have to leave now Isla, the Shadow Sweeper is nearing, and he won’t find us or the book. We will go into the Shallows and board my ship. The crew has been waiting in the bay.” Kingston took her hand, and led her through the dark with his intuitive second sight vision, every step he took, she took, and not until then; she was helpless in the dense jungle. “I can’t see,” Isla yelled. “I’ve got this, just hold tight onto my hand and follow as I go in each step I take.” Isla was uncomfortable, she was accustomed to making her own decisions and felt uneasy surrendering for guidance to anyone, even Kingston, but none the less she resisted not; moving when and where he did. They scurried stealthily down the banks, and out into the shallows, where the boat was docked standing ready. “My ship, Kingston; what will become of my ship?” Isla shouted. “We will come back and retrieve her when we are safe. Come now the Shadow Sweeper is getting closer. Raise the Mainsail!” Kingston readied the crew. “Be present, hold your center, fear is an illusion and laugh.” Everyone began laughing and the more they laughed the faster and farther away they got from the shore. The Shadow Sweepers approached them with macabre sounds of darkest void, insolent and embodied dissonance that sought only to rob one of hope, create confusion and bereft their hearts. Kingston’s crew worked tirelessly to escape, their muscles taut from manning the sails stood steady as they headed into the wind. The Shadow Sweepers could

be hiding anywhere along the coast, and some were stronger than others; their thoughts vastly dark and encoming could swoon an unsuspecting innocent in a moment of doubt and fear, causing them to fall into their whispers of gloom. The Shadow Sweepers were known for their bewitching brain bludgeoning tactics of throwing spears and nets of darkest emotions, loneliness, grief; yet the crew was stout-hearted, trained to be clear in a force of darkness that outshined any sun with resolute focus. The Crew of La Spira heard their ancestors singing them along, chanting in rhythm with the ship encouragingly calling out to them. La Spira reigned in the steady course between the center of the buffering waves that stood hundreds of feet high where the faces of all that had lived before spurred them on, trumpeting the song of Emeria throughout the deluge of the Shadow Sweepers nets of desperate darkness. She heard the voice of her Beneficial Alden speak to her from within her mind. ‘Fear not for I am with you, raise up your heart-be weary no more-lift up these shields of grace-take strength in this descendants place-travel in the light where all sadness is dissolved, for love is forever fearlessly found.’ Isla held her hand out to the incoming nets, closed her eyes and sent a deep resonating wave of love dissipating them in mid-air into dust then fell into the sea where they became transmuted into silver lights, falling like comets into the vast sea into a new vibration. “Prepare for flight,” Kingston yelled out, his gaze focused on the wheel. He touched the coordinates and spun the wheel clockwise, which screeched and hummed in harmonious tones, vibrating the ship, and then lifted high above the stormy sea. “It’s rising,” Isla said with wondrous awe, she had heard of a ship in the Milka galaxy that could fly but thought it to be a myth until now. Higher and higher Le Spira flew, barely missing the oncoming nets. “I didn’t think it possible!” she laughed turning to Kingston who smiled knowingly. “Yes, I didn’t know until now myself for sure,” he said, both of them laughing. He turned the wheel to adjust to the wind current. Le Spira leaned to the left before he was able to level her into an even wind-stream; catching the draft in the transition was tricky as they had never taken her into the air before. The crew cheered and stood on the deck, joyfully absorbed in the sight of marshmallow

clouds below them. Above them was the ephemeral aura of Aine blowing them along in a kiss as the nets fell far below into the sea, each one dissipating in a spark of fire the aqua waters. “The Shadow Sweepers nets are changed, they will not be the same, they are forever transmuted and refined by the clarifying air of the ancestral song,” Isla observed, telling Kingston who was looking at her in a complete state of amazement. “I see you have picked up a few skills yourself.” “Just a little thing I learned at school,” she casually quipped. “Zea’s power is greater when touched with human hands that care for her well being; we can’t have that kind of trash floating in the sea.” “We are nearing the high tech city of Lootoop, which is protected by Lourdess Aine. We are to meet with Elisa, the Overseer for her help in furthering our plan to retrieve the Leaves,” Kingston assured her, knowing she was wondering if they were going to stay in the clouds forever. “That’s just what I was thinking.” Isla smiled, happy that Kingston was intuitively picking up on her thoughts as she had hoped he would begin to again; Kingston winked. Kingston turned to his crew and shouted. “Tether the sails to the mast; we won’t need them to land.” The crew looked perplexed but willingly followed his command. They had never entered waters without their sails before and not knowing how this was going to work made them feel uneasy not having been trained in this new docking procedure. Artagnan approached Kingston with a questioning look on his face. “How are we to land?’ Artagnan asked. “Don’t we need the sails to slow us down in our approach to the shoreline?” “Let’s see what happens, we can float in on the guidance system.” Kingston said adjusting the dials on the wheel, trusting his intuition along with his training at University. “What fragile and unknown threads the destinies of nations and the lives of men are suspended,” Artagnan wryly replied. La Spira heaved steadily downwards through the air in a thrust, carving the air currents, leaving a backdraft behind them that howled as they descended. “Grab onto something solid and hold on,” shouted Kingston to the men, who quickly wrapped loose ropes around their hands and arms and held tightly to the masts of the ship. La Spira rocked back and forth only for a moment as they

neared the water. Below them they could see the turrets of the Kingdom coming ever closer, birds flying out of range of the ship as it soared above the trees, but the control dials were not enough. “Kingston, take my hand,” Isla urgently said to him. He looked perplexed uncertain as to why, but when he looked into her eyes, he knew that he must. “Take my hand,” she said again, a little louder with a coaxing directive in her voice that Kingston found amusing and commanding all in the same instant as he willingly grabbed her hand. Standing together a great silence came upon them. Kingston and Isla looked upwards to the sky where a golden mist descended upon them in a shimmering light that beamed down and all around where they stood. “It is the golden vein of Aria, she is holding us with her love and protection,” Isla said, lifting her other hand high into the air, closing her eyes gently and breathing in the light that began to empower them with a strength not felt before by one but as two. She swayed slowly in the vibration a bit, almost swooning in the intensity but stood still accepting the flow as one would slipping gently into a warm bath, surrendering all aches and weariness to be soothed by its healing waters. The ship coasted effortlessly into the bay, the crew cheered, hugging each other in an embrace of pride and achievement. They had received a new collective consciousness together, one that only could have been brought on by a willingness to allow it to happen, and one that could only occur because of their devoted agreement they shared in steering the first flight of Le Spira. It could be done, and now this was something they were sure of when they all stood together in Make and Believe.

CHAPTER 5 KINGDOM OF LOOTOOP

he unfolding dawn spanned across the water as the sun shed golden rays from one horizon to the next, dolphins swam alongside the La Spira, gleefully jumping and diving in unison. A comet streaked across the sky, surely sent by Lourdess Nuri, the fire of joy. In the remote valleys beyond the city, the Tipleah flowers opened all at once, by the fertile roots of Lourdess Abha, Goddess of Earth, who held all of them on her carpet of greenest grass in one embrace. Birds lifted high above their heads falling precisely into a V-shaped pattern, their sign of unity, covering the sky in a magnificent flock of victory. Kingston took Isla’s hand in hers and helped her off the ship, her fingers wrapped around his tenderly without hesitation. She stepped carefully into the longboat with Kingston as the crew began to row the distance between the vessel and shoreline, sloshing through waves in a spray of saltwater. “There will be many celebrations on our arrival in Lootoop, we put on quite the show,” Kingston smiled, realizing the success of the landing now that it was over and was quite proud of their achievement. “I can only imagine that this journey will become even more interesting,” Isla laughed, her long hair blowing in the breeze, curling in corkscrews as they went along towards the shore. Zea rose from the water behind them and placed a garland of tiny seashells and coral on her head. “Oh my, Zea, thank you very much, I appreciate your kindness.” “You have done well my dear, and deserve a crown,” she said then disappeared in a sweeping superluminal whoosh into the ocean, casting it into a deeper turquoise as far as the eye could see. “Imagination is the key, our focus, and unity of vision. We are in Lootoop because it is the hidden province of science, their overseer, Elisa is a woman with imaginative resources of the space-time continuum, technical know-how with inventions for us to best utilize our natural and intuitive capabilities,” Kingston said, anticipation rising in his eyes with a sparkle. He was excited

about learning something new and grandificent. “I have been introduced to this at University in the holy temple of Adah. It is the momentum of the highest love density focused on quadrants, and shapes. No one could accurately manifest it, but we knew its possibility,” Isla said quite fascinated with the opportunity now to learn how. Elisa approached them from the shore, her long hair flowing in white silver, her violet eyes radiant with a warm embrace that met them midway across the sands. Children gathered at the knees of Isla’s dress, handing her flowers and fruit. “Thank you.” said Isla, “You are all as sweet as Tipleah flowers.” Isla bent down as one young boy gave her a button and kissed her cheek, “Here is your button.” “Oh my, I will treasure it always,” Isla said, touching her cheek and hugging him back. Elisa smiled as Kingston began to bow to her. “Now, now we will have none of that, after all, you are here to confer, converse, and otherwise hob-nob with our brother wizards,” she said and walked arm in arm with Isla and Kingston into the Great Library. From floor to ceiling were hundreds of books with a floating ladder that took one to any shelf safely. Now it might be wise to note that everyone in Lootoop was skilled in something. It was a matter of personal pride. Even the animals had a purpose. Out in the Conservatory, there were Lomgigans, furry little balls with long feathers that flew around and dusted off the sensory equipment and mechanical doodads. Rikikoos lived in the gardens and stood on their hind legs with their wings spread out gathering the air from the plants, and sending it out into the sky like an antenna boost, to purify the atmosphere. They also breathed in nervous energy and exhaled peace upon anyone who needed it when necessary. Umbles are low to the grass with long trunks who scurry along the ground picking up loose sticks and leaves then carried to the paper factory to make into pages for more books, and houses; there was nothing wasted, and everything was recycled. “This is a busy place, so efficient, and well kept,” Isla said. “We have a place for everything, and everything in its place,” Elisa said, dusting

a shelf as she went by it. A Lomigan followed close behind her, inspecting her work with satisfaction, inhaling the flittering specks of dust. Elisa stepped back as Kingston and Isla walked towards the doors that suddenly began to hum, pulsating in colors to form a pattern different than Elisa’s. With a magical bell sound, they freely opened up to them. Once inside they were astounded to see the inventions, whirring and lighting up the room with gold and emerald lights, and tiny sparkles faceted in prisms glowing in mid-air before them; they gasped in surprise! “Fascinating, how do the doors learn what will match, and what doesn’t?” Kingston asked. “Like-mindedness, if one is knowledgeable of the forces of productive nature, their auric field is recognized and the doors open.” “What does this do?” Isla asked dazed and cross-eyed, blinking in vain to focus, and increasingly becoming spaced out. “That is a Trickmistro, a sophisticated kind of hypnosis beam that casts a kaleidoscope of images and frequencies to distract someone from focusing on the present preferably joy of living. Many a wandering mind has been caught here for hours. Elisa took hold of Isla’s hand, and she began to feel stronger, more focused. Suddenly she was free of the trance. “I see what you mean,” that’s pretty effective,” Isla said, rubbing her eyes with relief. “Over here is the Ramulator, it transmutes negative energy into a positive momentum. We still haven’t tested it because everyone here is positive. But the concept is this. Do you see that eye on the top? It reads memories. When there is a dark, sad, or angry one, it begins to sing through its mouth here,” Elisa said tracing the lips of the machine. “It sings the perfect song for the person who is being watched by the eye transmuting their shadow places back into the light. The Ramulator may prove to be very useful in your mission to Namerus, or it could be devastating. What we don’t know is that if the person who is being read strongly resists if they will survive. They might get lost in the memories and never return from them, in which case they dissolve into liquid gas. What do you think?” Elisa asked Kingston, sensing his discomfort was more than the untested Ramulator, but something that had to do with him. “It would be worth taking it to Namerus and trying it out at least.” Kingston did not indicate that he might fail such a test, a shadow clouded his eyes briefly, and he went on asking more questions. “How does one start it?” “That’s another possible glitch we haven’t figured out yet entirely. Whoever

starts it has to stand beside the person they are trying to transmute first. Then the strength of such transmission requires that two people be present, one to start the transmission and another to direct the beam towards the intended person or thought-form, but everyone feels what is transmitted, so it’s important not to get caught up in the emotions or resist the transformation. “Kind of like a petition right, an energy space bridge,” Isla thoughtfully remarked, musing over the implications of it all going badly if one couldn’t stay centered. She intuitively raised her hand and moved in a clockwise motion. “It could move one from past distraught memories into a present moment of joy.” “If our parents are alive yet caught in the Lost Grid what do we do then?” Kingston asked, his eyes glistening with a tear that he quickly blinked away. “This stick pendant is filled with the essence of Tipleah; its nectar will help revive those in the Lost Grid. One only has to uncork it, and the aroma will fill the air for them to breathe. Elisa took it off her neck and put it around Isla’s soft skin, centering it over her throat where it began to pulse sending out long resonating bell tones. “It will ground the lost spirit, guiding them into their own wellbeing once again. “Thank you, Elisa; I hope that they are still there. It is a long journey to the edge of the galaxy, and they might be too weak to survive the despondent force field.” “My father told me that those that enter the field around Namerus must keep their best attitude and hopes up or else they too become one of the blocks in the wall around the city,” Isla remarked with a steady voice, knowing that they would not surrender their hope. Elisa hugged her as Isla went on to say in her affirming way, “They are far stronger than we know; after all, we are their children, and they taught us well. They were the first generation to escape the Harmies of Namerus with The Tipleah Tree long ago when the armies of Namerus created the crunch that ended the first world universe. “Only a few souls squeezed through as it collapsed taking with them the Tipleah Tree and the knowledge of all that had been before. We would not be here if it hadn’t been for them, and it is their legacy that is our divine bloodline. “Yes, you are the story continued, the cherished descendants of many before you and the heritage of times to come emanating a sound, a spiritual light, unlike all others. You are brighter now than ever before with a true sense of vision that can

manifest many things. What you are about to see now works with intended words that must describe in alphabetical order what will appear, look to your feelings and you best study the emotive Dictionary, “Elisa chided giving him a quick wink.” Come out into the Playing Field, and I will demonstrate. The Playing Field is an expansive open meadow that spanned out into the horizon with plenty of room for any thought world to unfold. Elisa opened her eyes wide and looked upwards, the sword wand, raised high above her head. She lowered it slowly in front of her, pointing outwards through the center of the field. Out of the tip flowed a prismatic rush of color and music as she called out her words. “Ailanthic Brushed Cosmos, Decoupages Engraved From Gardens, Halos, Imaginaries’, Journeys Kaleidoscope, Lacerta, Magnifique Nebula, Odyssey, Planetarium, Queens Repose, Stars Temple, Unions Vow, With Xylem Yielding, Zeal.” Out in the field, the scene unfolded in gardens brushed and blended in blooms across the lawn as the sky filled with clouds shaped like trees across a lizardshaped constellation on the edge of a nebula spinning in rainbow colors. On the once empty lawn stood a Planetarium where the telescope became a kaleidoscope that spun the stars into architectural temples of every shape. Two Queens lounged in the shade of an Ailanthus tree that one could see through. They joyfully watched the xylem rise in a brilliant emerald green throughout from the deepest roots to the very top. In the sky flew a ship with two people in it holding hands and pointing west through the mathematical coordinates for their journey into space. “That’s the story of us,” Kingston said, amazed at the unfolding of her words into real things all around them. “Yes, it is a virtual reality storybook that you can co-create in real-time,” Elisa laughed joyously seeing the manifestation appear just as she intended. “We could change Namerus with this sword, Kingston, just imagine the possibilities. Where there were walls, we could create stairs, or where there were cavernous ravines we could create bridges. Does one need to use the whole alphabet to manifest a world, Elisa?” Isla asked. “No, not at all, only that which you need,” Elisa spoke quietly reassuring them with a huge smile.

“Genius emeritus,” exclaimed Isla. Elisa handed the sword wand to Kingston who respectfully took it in hand exclaiming, “Sine qua non, you have given me the essence of all essence, thank you.” “You are welcome. And , miracles happen when we surrender to love. we melt into another world, an omnipresent realm that is already within us. The world changes when we change. The world softens when we soften. The world loves us when we choose to love the world.”

CHAPTER 6 IN LIGHT AND SOUND

own in the harbor, the crew assembled along the shore for departure. Above them, the emerald moon of Lootoop was turning into a soft rose color; an extended period of calm hushed in its orbit. But now, in the converging time of the constellation, was the moment that they had prepared for and hoped to succeed in. Isla gathered her book and the Gadgets and put them in her satchel. She touched the pendant around her neck, giving it a little pull to make sure it was securely tied. “What about my ship Kingston? It must be rescued away from the island. Perhaps we can tow it somewhere safe, and hide her from the Shadow Sweepers? My crew will be wondering where I am and if I am alive,” Isla told Kingston with much concern for her people. “Yes, let’s get them to safety where they can’t be seen,” Kingston said as he changed the coordinates and flew to where the ship still stood. Isla sent one of the Rikikoos named Ricardo, to tell her crew that they were on their way to help them. “Tell Captain Ines that we are on our way, and to lower the sails and bind them tightly to the masts; oh I do hope this works,” she worriedly said as this too had never been done before. “Do not worry Isla, never give up and good luck will find you,” peeped the Rikikoo and inhaled all her worries, blowing back a clean, confident breeze around her, then flew off to the ship. Kingston put his hand on her shoulder, “I am certain we can raise her carefully above the sea out of harm from the Shadow Sweepers. There is a vast cave deep enough to hide your ship until we return. But being that your ship cannot fly, she will be vulnerable to the rise, and must be cloaked.” Kingston turned on the Ascension Beams, setting their coordinates to the exact location of Isla’s ship, and began moving it steadily upwards slowly dissolving into invisibility. Le Spira ascended into the azure sky, where all around the ship clouds appeared in the shape of cats, steering La Spira through the air making a safe path through the sky, avoiding the scan of the Shadow Sweepers who were drawn to

movement and fearful apprehensions. They were mindful of the consequences and turned on the Romulator, sending a whirring sound throughout the ship. Kingston and Isla stood together, holding hands, each of them allowing the Romulator to take their fears and doubts and transmute them into confidence and faith even as the Shadow Sweepers were amassing below them, groaning loudly in complaint and distraction. “This could work; the tricky thing is getting down low enough to tow her without being spotted,” Kingston said, eyeing the shoreline for the Shadow Sweepers, who were cloaked in a sickly gray, which appeared on the surrounding landscape fading in and out of focus in a flickering smear. “Open your hearts and see in your mind’s eye the connecting point between our ship and Islas,” shouted Kingston to the crew. Le Spira was circling the coast, edging slowly in a sweep. Isla was looking through the spyglass and spotted her ship, anchored far off from the shore. She closed her eyes and sent a telepathic message to Rikikoo Ricardo. “Steer left of the jetty into open water, and fold the sails.” Ricardo flitted around the Captain. “Steer left she says, that way, go!” he said excitedly breathing in the nervous air around Captain Ines and letting it out in a pink cloud of positivity that Captain Ines was soothed in, even becoming a little dreamy-eyed in the process. “Hi Ho, Hi Ho it’s off to the caves we go,” he sang, chuckling afterward as if he just discovered his tummy button. She hoped that he had received her message, waiting in a steadfast vision for what seemed an eternity, until she saw that the ship was finally moving to the left. The sails began to fold inwards like a bird wrapping itself in its wings to sleep, shielding in a cozy warmth against the wind. They could see from the sky the Shadow Sweepers were gathering along the shore below, stealthily approaching the edge of the beach in a dark wave of static, dimly humming; searching for any takers of their lower disturbing vibrations. If they succeeded in casting their nets of despair, La Spira would also be pulled down and kept in unimaginative darkness. “We need a squall, a wash of rainstorms to ease their momentum,” Isla said, pondering her options as her ship moved ever closer to the cove, clinging to the ascension beams, thrusting them both forward. She stretched her hand before her

to touch the face of her Beneficial Alden who spoke to her. “Inside of you is everything you need, go within and call upon your intuition to guide you.” Isla closed her eyes and felt the presence of Lourdess Zea. “My dear, all you have to do is ask, and I will be there, for you are the hand that touches the sea and I am your servant.” “Zea, a storm wall please, diffuse the Shadow Sweepers and blind them from all sight,” Isla spoke, and Zea answered with a mighty seawall of water that spanned as far as the eye could see with a roar growing taller and taller. La Spira creaked with the weight of Isla’s ship. The Shadow Sweepers, blinded by the wall of water screeched in disappointed anger, dissolved one by one along the beach, bellowing and bleeding their last tears into the sand. Isla’s ship hovered in the air, moving slowly to a nearby cove where a cave was. Kingston released the grip of the ascension beams in a rippling staccato of chiming bells until it was safely on the sea waters. It unfurled its fulgent sails, and with the breath of Lourdess Aine coasted gently into an illuminated cave. “We made it Captain!” Ricardo said with much joy and relief. “No one will find us here.” Captain Innes and the crew cheered. “But you must go back and be with them on the Journey to Namerus. They will need your talents Ricardo to help keep them centered; until we meet again my friend.” Ricardo gave him a high five wing and circled around the ship one last time breathing in the air and letting out one more positive cleansing vibration, then flew up through a skylight opening in the cave as they waved goodbye. Higher and higher he flew towards La Spira, knowing in his heart that everything was about to change. This might be the last time he saw them and his beloved land of Lootoop and friends. It made him sad and yet he knew that things must change sometimes in order to move forward, and that felt exciting. Isla reached out her hands to Ricardo sending a path of beaming light for him to fly in. She told him with her mind, “Fly up to me my little love, come home and together we will change the world, making it safe and beautiful for all to begin again.” “Feel the sands of time” he began to sing with all his heart. Sometimes we have

to leave the ones we loved and always will, forever and always. Hold close the hands that held you and cherish each moment for life is a treasure, only a skip through eternity. And though we part from those we shared our time with they are with us always in our hearts until we meet again in the Aftertime. We might meet them from time to time in memory while walking into a room, smelling there the sweet essence of them, feeling their warmth hugging us close. We might see them in a bird flying by that lands right in our window and sings I love you. Even when the nights are long they will come to us in dreams, and laugh with us when we are funny. But never will they cry or miss us, for where they are, has no sadness or pain; only love, and eternal well being. Forever and always we can talk to them and the more we think of happy times, the closer we become. “Feel the sun” he sang, hold my hand, time will slowly go, but life goes on, be your friend, see me glide, all will change you know, so let it grow, let me show you why love is here to stay with, our spirits bright and shinning on throughout eternity. Ricardo quickly moved up into Isla’s arms and rested his head on her shoulder for a moment of rest. “I’m ready now, let’s go and get those Leaves and your parents, come what may, I am brave, I have courage, I have vim and verve!”

CHAPTER 7 DEPARTURE

a Spira was ready to take the flight to Namerus, where the wall was thickening its defense of darkest emotions. No longer than an eyelash and sooner than a blink they were off at super-speed towards Constellation Linkalee. Shielded by the crystal bubble that enveloped the ship; Isla looked out into the deep space that lay before them. The Linkalee alignment was already beginning. “There is the wall Kingston, as dense as any beach with millions of grains of sand,” Isla said. Kingston took in a breath and exhaled it slowly, preparing for what might become. Isla brushed her hair out of her eyes and swept it into a mound on top of her head fastening it with the tincture stick pendant Elisa had given her in Lootoop so it would be easy to get to if she needed it. The ship reeled deftly ascending into the Milka Galaxy, surging forward in its path around stars and astutely deflecting surrounding fragments of displaced thought forms like dense meteors still seeking a gravitational attraction like them. “Get the book out, and speak from it as I steer,” Kingston spoke in a clear voice, focusing on the tattoo on his arm, committing it to memory with his mind in a snapshot. He shut his eyes, to make sure that he could see it fully before him in his mind’s eye so that he would be able to navigate even in complete darkness. As Isla spoke the tattoo became animated and illuminated, moving with each word. She began reading, slowly, in a voice that sounded like a stream flowing steadily behind them in a loud and clear voice. “One view from above and below is the entrance; see the wall from up and down both ways to be able to pinpoint the opening. How can this be, it’s all rushing by in the same flow as a dust storm?” She closed her eyes as the wall approached ever closer to swallow them in its constant current of hurling negative thought-forms amassing it into one sullen consciousness. “Above and below,” Kingston repeated. “Light and dark, joy and sorrow, love and hate, what understands them all? What is strong enough to feel them simultaneously and not go under its force? He closed his eyes for a moment as

well, trying to find the center of the wall with his inner vision, deftly sensing the vibrations and sorting through them as the ship entered its field. Isla laid her hand on his back, tuning into the rhythm of his sight, believing and knowing that a feeling would reveal a way in. But what felt right? Was it their love for their parents, their desire to find the Leaves, returning them to Emeria, or was it surrendering to the path of least resistance? Kingston was slowly becoming engulfed in the sad memory of seeing his parents captured by the Harmies of Namerus. The wall became thicker in the convoluted vibrational search. The Romulator began to whir and hum, pulsating with light and sound as they struggled for the right blend of intentions to dissolve the wall. “It is our feelings that are aligning. Above and below, we are below; caught up in the loss, let us expect to be successful. Let us feel the joy of seeing them again, the peace of home, the abundant love that is always with us,” Isla said taking hold of Kingston’s hand. He let go of the steering wheel as they stood together, ing their happiest moments in Emeria. Parts of the wall began to dissolve with each memory as they beamed upon it like a projector. “There is us playing in the stream, there is us riding the giraffe, there, you see the Tree of Leaves magnificently standing with all her pages and the wagons of food and tinctures made from her flowers and fruit,” Isla said, beaming with each memory. Kingston began his remembrances, “There I am playing with my father in the field, gathering up wood for the winter solstice celebration, there is my mother toweling off my hair and hugging me at my graduation.” Their vibrational memories began to emit a beam that slowly penetrated a hole in the dense wall band around Namerus. “It’s working!” Isla cheered happily with all the joy in her heart. But as the ship got closer the emotions intensified. Suddenly the Shadow Sweepers appeared, amassing densely around the opening, throwing out nets of not so fond memories. They saw the sorrow in their parents’ faces as they were dragged away by the Harmies of Namerus, they heard the screams and the cries, the horrific clap of lifeless air being sucked from behind as the Tipleah tree enfolded them into her trunk. They were once again back there, alone and afraid. La Spira creaked and groaned, wobbling in the uncertainty of their feelings. Isla

turned on the Trickmistro aiming a it at the wall. The Shadow Sweepers slowed downed their intensity, hypnotized by their own emotions. “Kingston, hold on, imagine how you want things to be,” Isla took hold of his hand and stood with him, just as Elisa said they must do in order to stabilize their emotions in the slip. Artagnan let out a breath of hope desperately trying to hold Kingston and Isla’s attention for a solution; he fixed his gaze on them, praying they would steady the ship. Ricardo buzzed around inhaling as much negative thought as possible until he swelled into a big round ball. “Take the Word Wand out, speak the words of how we want it to be, Kingston,” Isla spoke comfortingly to him, knowing that at this moment only tenderness could ease heartache and only true love steers from the past into a brighter presence of wellbeing. Kingston drew out the wand from its scabbard, and held it out in front of him at eye level and began speaking out his imagined world. “Accordant Bliss Cascading Down Ebulliently From God, Home, Inventions, Justice, Kindness, Love, Miracles, Nature, Offerings Placed Quietly, Rhymes, Songs, Treasured Universal Verses, Wisdom, Yielding Zeal. There above, below, to the left and the right of them a great light poured down from the galaxy as the vibrant and illuminated constellation Linkalee aligned. In the beams that whirred before them, were the dreamt of stories and things yet to be, balanced in algorithms of numbers, and bell tones, harmonious ecosystems between forests and oceans that spilled gently onto a shoreline in the future. Many great lands appeared on vast continents; trees grew and lush foliage rose from the earth. Kingston and Isla saw themselves holding the Tipleah Leaves in their arms and placing them in this new land where they were taken up by people who scribed upon them astounding works of literature and poetry. It only took one shift of thought with their united imaginations and just one turn into Make and Believe to feel the long-desired future of their Emeria. There were many cities of peace and harmony that reigned splendiferously side by side; each caring for the new land with love and respect, responsibility, and most of all the deepest generosity from a kind spirit. The second star to the right twinkled in the galaxy as they witnessed the transformation taking place. “Do you see it Kingston?” Isla said in wondrous awe. “It’s all before us; we have moved creation into a leading sphere of well-being! People will come to these places and write of their worlds and worlds to come. They will know what it feels like to hold a pen that is mightier than a sword.”

“It is beautiful in here,” Kingston said, his eyes overflowing with appreciation and love.” It is more than I could have ever imagined on my own; it’s because of all of us Isla, imagining together.” “We did it!” Isla said and flung her arms around his neck and hugged him close. The wall faded, rapidly disintegrating, each piece of dense thought-forms lit up before disappearing in a vacuous whoosh into an invisible hole, humming in a faraway dissonant sound leaving the Leaves behind that shimmered and floated above a golden temple.

CHAPTER 8 LINKALEE ALIGNMENT

sla heard her mother call out to them from. “In here, where water cannot wet, wind cannot dry, and fire cannot burn.” “They are in the Temple,” she said to Kingston who had his sword wand up once more. “Make us a bridge Kingston,” Isla told him. He held it up high and began to speak, “Abundant Bridge, Chart Downwards, Exhibit Ferroelectric Gate,” Kingston call out in certain clarity. There before them spanned a bridge across space from La Spira down to the gate of the Temple. Isla and Kingston ran down the steps into the depolarized field that wove itself around the bridge and kept it from slipping into the hole. “Mother, Father are you in here, come out, we are going home,” Kingston yelled, but the door stayed shut. The Temple shone even brighter, blinding them almost in the vastness of its light. “How do we get in Isla?” Kingston tried to turn the huge doorknob. He swung at it with his sword wand, bashing it again and again in vain until he fell. Again they heard their people chanting from inside. “Water cannot wet, wind cannot dry, and fire cannot burn.” “This is useless,” Isla said. “This is not the way, what is it that water cannot wet, wind cannot dry, and fire cannot burn?” Kingston and Isla were at a loss, how could they have come so far, and defeated so much as to not succeed now? Not knowing the answer Isla bowed her head to look down at the tincture pendant Elisa had given her, starring at its long faceted crystal shape, noticing that its top had three prongs all the same length. She held it up to Kingston, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “It’s a key!” Kingston held it up to his eyes studying it closely. “It is, with three prongs.” He rose from the ground and walked to turn it in the door, but it would not budge. “There must be words that go with it,” he said scratching his head. “Man, if I

know what they are,” he sighed. But when he had said, man, there was one click, and again the chanting began, “Water cannot wet, wind cannot dry, and fire cannot burn.” “They are trying to tell us something, it is a clue,” I wish in all creation I knew,” he said. “That’s it Kingston, Creator, say, Creator,” Isla told him, her eyes wide with hope. Kingston confidently spoke the word, “Creator”, and it clicked again. “There is one more prong, one more word needed to turn the key.” Scratching her head Isla said out loud. “What have we learned?” Isla reflected on the events that had taken place. “With the help of natural forces the Lourdes helped us through the storm, helped us sail through the sky and though a thousand nets of Namerus’s Shadow Sweepers had been slung at us, we were able to dissolve and escape from them because we believed in our selves. We listened to clarity, feeling with faith and worked together as one.” Kingston thought too and affirmed out loud with her. “We overcame our fears and sadness. We allowed our higher wisdom to guide us and were receptive to guidance, open to signs and clues” La Spira vibrated as if it had been struck by a tuning fork, resonating with a steady note. Isla lifted her face and looked directly into Kingston’s eyes. “Hello, the word is Spirit.” He turned it once more as he spoke out loud the word, “Spirit” and the door opened. His mother and father stood before them with all the people of Emeria standing beside them, all joyfully cheering. Kingston and his parents hugged each other weeping happy tears. “We knew you would come for us, we knew you would find a way to us son,” Sir Manning told him, smiling with love and pride. “I have known in my heart that this day would come,” his mother, Lady Ingrid said, laying her head on his shoulder and embracing Kingston once again in a long maternal hug. “I believed that you would find a way to dissolve the Wall, and lead us home.” “Some journeys take us far from home; some take us to the leading edge. You have done very well my son; I am very proud of you,” Sir Manning said, hugging him once again. The people cheered loudly in ebullient joy as the Linkalee alignment completed its last position. “Let us gather the Leaves and go home!” Kingston said to the people. As anything imagined and wondrous begins, they closed their eyes and envisioned

the Leaves back in their hands. The Leaves floated down from above as each person gathered them in their arms and held them to close to their hearts. The pages then turned into seeds that the people put into their pockets. “Everyone, let’s get on the ship, we are going home,” Kingston said and waved the wand speaking loudly where all could hear, “Moving Now On Perpetual Quixotic Stairs.”

CHAPTER 9 RETURN TO EMERIA

he people of Emeria descended down an opalescent stairway, beaming brightly in a myriad of colors. Isla searched each face moving past her. She turned to Lady Ingrid, “Where is my father, I don’t see him,” she cried, her heart beating louder. Lady Ingrid put her hand comfortingly on Isla’s shoulder. “He didn’t get on the ship, I don’t think they captured him and we will find him back in Emeria.” Isla looked into Lady Ingrid’s eyes, “Are you sure?” she asked. “I’m sure, he may have gone on to find you, but we will find him.” Isla nodded, “Yes, he will be found,” she said hopefully. “There is a way I can know just where he is when we get there. Elisa gave me a homing sensor before we left, it tracks anyone I focus on and leads me to them.” La Spira was ready with everyone safely aboard. Ricardo buzzed around them, singing out, “It’s time to go, home again, home again rigety jig, jig.” The ship hummed and rose slowly into space, pointed to the first star to the right that marked their beloved Emeria in the sky. They could see the remnants of Namerus moving away from the beauteous beacon of La Spira, a grey fog, dissipating far off into space like filaments to a magnet, sucked into a dark hole and not likely to bother anyone for a long time. It had no power here, for there can be no darkness where there is light, and there can be no sorrow where there is a joy. The Angerdahs only exist if that is one’s point of attention and the people of Emeria were joyously anticipating a fresh new beginning, from a place of well being that they all shared. They moved swiftly through space towards Emeria each of their hearts and minds safeguarding The Tree of Leaves seeds as they approached the orbit of Emeria. Below them, their world shimmered in a welcoming fusion of excitement and mirth. The children and animals had returned and were gathered around the Mingli Meadow, each calling out to them in cheers of bleats, moos, and applause as La Spira descended into the Meadow. “They are all here to greet us, look at those adorable little faces!” Isla said. Bindi stood with them as she is after all the guardian of lost children and animals.

“Welcome home, we have been patiently waiting, anticipating your arrival. We watched as the Linkalee constellation aligned and saw the glow of the final turn of transformation,” Bindi said smiling her shinning warmth on them all. There was great jubilation as the now-grown children rushed out to hug their parents. “I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I wanted to return to all my life, though I never knew it till now… I’ve come further up, come further in! They held each other close, appreciative of their reunion and praised the Creator of all things for their safe return. The little boy who once said, “I want my Mommy, hugged his mother and feeling the seeds on her person, laughed and asked, “What has it got in its pockets?” His mother took out the seeds and put them in his hands. “These are the pages from the Tree of Leaves, I don’t know why they have turned into seeds, son but I am sure we will figure it out.” Then suddenly with a glow, the Tree of Leaves opened her barren branches and spoke. “Bring the seeds here to the trunk of my tree and lay them at my roots.” The parents all put the seeds into the hands of their children who returned them to the Tree. The Tree of Leaves spoke once more.

“Roads go ever, ever on, Over rock and under tree, By caves where never sun has shone, By streams that never find the sea; Over snow by winter sown, And through the merry flowers of June, Over grass and over stone, And under mountains in the moon. Roads go ever, ever on,

Under cloud and under star. Yet feet that wandering have gone Turn at last to home afar. Eyes that fire and sword have seen, And horror in the halls of stone Look at last on meadows green, And trees and hills they long have known. The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began Where Tales are told and errands meet

Can you Make and Believe? Imagine, being true to yourself and treat each other with respect and consideration; for dreams come true with the best of intentions Inside each seed was a story and each story was given to the Children of Emeria. They held the seeds in their hands and with one breath by the Tipleah Tree blew them up into the sky, where they spiraled up into the air and turned into vibrating comets of imaginative thought, heading onward to distant lands. Once upon a time in the land of Make and Believe where wishes are dreams coming true and time is not, a comet streaked boldly across the horizon shattered and showered a humongous giant meteor into the sea. Water swept over the land, mountains heaved up high from the oceans, and Zea’s shells from Emeria opened up their unique life forms crept onto shore and overtime became people. Seasons came and went, people laughed and wept and in each turning day someone wrote on clay tablets or drew pictographs on rock walls. Isla’s father was one of those who in his search for his lost daughter, rescued her ship and traveled far to Terra Firma to teach to those who were willing to learn all that

they knew and with all that could be inspired and someday would come to know. In every land, people began telling of life in words ed down generation to generation, noted in stone, papyrus, and volumes of pages throughout the ages. It is known that for every thought that is thought, every word spoken and every deed done is ed forever in the air, but to hear it is one thing, to read it is another. It is true that new stories are wanted, sired by this immortal strain from the very beginning from the Tipleah Tree and the people of Emeria. It is found in dreamscape desires for an enlightened universe that is knowledgeable and kind. It is the heart that leads the way and this power of Make and Believe begins with a sincere feeling of intention. You are a living story, fairy or not, one that is loved in any language. Though many stories have been written since the Journey of Fairytales began there are still many to be written. Perhaps one is inside you now; freely it is offered, divinely it is sent, faithfully it is pursued. Hither and yon, once upon an Aftertime it all began not so long ago in forever. To this day Kingston and Isla spin the wheels of attraction, matching up stories, miracles, and wondrous adventures from Emeria. In your heart is the beauty of all possibility and your very own, unique and wondrous spirit knows the way. Keep your mind still and your heart opened, pen ready and your imagination as wide as there are stars in the diamond sky of everlasting love.

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY

Laura is a multidisciplinary Artist in Residency with the Arkansas Arts Council. She resides in Portland, Arkansas with her husband and cat writing books and plays with and for children for 27 years. Her United Imaginations Workshops provides children with imaginative teamwork. Laura’s joyful and mellifluous approach to teaching theater craft, book publishing workshops are infused with a commitment to well being and moral imagination. Laura is available for speaking engagements in creative workshops for teachers, PTO’s and s in the Art of Writing with and for children and curriculum enhancement. “This is a fantastic concept, having children create their own books within a structured program that, nevertheless, permits them to utilize every aspect of their imagination and then experiences the great satisfaction of seeing their creations materialize to be shared by others.” Lois Duncan ~ Author Laura studied at the Mhail School of Performing Arts in the city of Minneapolis, Minnesota, and taught a summer early childhood Arts program at the Minneapolis Children’s Theater, attended El Camino Junior College in California majoring in Early Childhood Education and Development. She completed Workshops in curriculum enrichment, inspiring activities for autistic, behavioral challenged and hearing-impaired students. She is a graduate of the Governors Leadership School. She is also the President and founder of a nonprofit Arts Agency, Neverlands Inc. from 1992 to the current year.

PUBLISHED BOOKS

Lakeside Poetry Book Truth in Changing Stars ~ Vera Lloyd Presbyterian Family Services Inspirational Calendar Make and Believe ~ Tale of the Magical Sunflower Aftertime Tales Portland Power Tales Eudoraium Plotwit Tales with J. Austin White Cultural Center She Journeys Unicorn Giraffe You Are My Little Sunshine. Yoshiko The Ice Fishers Eternal Flame 12 Plays

Website: https://idoc-pub.mejorapp.org/cdn-cgi/l/email-protection" class="__cf_email__" data-cfemail="b7dbd6c2c5d6d5d8c3c4d1d8c5d3f7ced6dfd8d899d4d8da">[email protected]