Griffins are flying high! Free: THE GRIFFIN'S BOY

I am very pleased to have the opportunity to assist a favorite author in her launch of a FREE promotion, March 1 - 5. Julia Hughes is the author of some of my top-shelf novels yet also, she is an avid supporter of other indie authors. I count it a privilege that Julia has also graced me with an interview.  

Readers met The Rider in Julia Hughes’ extraordinary tale, The Griffin Cryer, yet were left with many unanswered questions as to his past. Book two of the Griffin Rider’s series take us back in time, as Julia reveals the young Rider’s earlier years. In the second thrilling tale of this series, the story is set on Ella Earth, our world’s twin in most respects – except, both evolution and science have taken a different path. On Ella Earth, an elite troop known as the Griffin Riders patrol the spiritual conduits known as ley lines; they separate the two worlds.  

The Rider, whom we learn to be a boy named ‘Neb,’ seeks to find his place amongst those who work with griffins. Instead of attaining a low status position, though, Neb is thrust into challenge after challenge, striving to survive what ends up becoming the adventure of a lifetime.

 

Neb will risk his life, then his soul and, finally, his heart in a quest to become, ‘The Griffin’s Boy.’

Julia is offering a special promotion of this masterful tale, March 1 through March 5. Download The Griffin’s Boy FREE from Amazon using this universal LINK

Special Bonus Offer: Book one, ‘The Griffin Cryer,” is an award-winning urban fantasy and can be downloaded during the promotion for $.99 (US) or 99p (UK). This highly rated novel has received over 85 reviews, averaging 4.7 stars. Click on this universal LINK to nab a copy of one of my all-time favorite tales!

SYNOPSIS: The Griffin’s Boy is The Rider’s story and is set on Ella-Earth – our world’s twin in an alternative universe. Evolution has taken a different path and mythical beasts exist. Britain remains an island of mists, populated by Celtic tribes and governed by a strict feudal hierarchy. Only noblemen’s sons are recruited into an elite troop known as the Griffin Riders. The best a nameless nobody like Neb can hope for is to become a griffin’s lad. But then his fate becomes entwined with the mischievous grey griffin, Balkind, who everyone knows is trouble….and sure enough, Balkind disgraces himself on recruitment day and is rejected by Griffin Master Romulus. But Neb is determined to change Romulus’s mind. Telling himself and anyone who will listen that Balkind deserves a second chance, Neb steals the beast and flies off on the adventure of a lifetime. He quickly realizes that riding griffins isn’t for the faint-hearted and girls are complicated beings, best treated with respect.

My interview of Julia:

I am an avid reader of Julia’s novels, loving the thrills of adventure in settings that are so vividly described that it feels as if I am there, in the stories themselves. She graciously agreed to answer of few of my questions.

Q: After finishing book one in the series, ‘The Griffin Cryer,’ I fell in love with griffins and have had a series of amazing griffin riding dreams. In ‘The Griffin’s Boy,’ the second tale you’ve created that features a griffin as a central character, there are some extraordinary griffin scenes. How did the idea to use a griffin in a tale come to you, and what is it about griffins that make them special?

A: I've always loved the statues that litter London – griffins are my home town's traditional guardians. I remember reading a story called "The One Eyed Griffin" as a kid, and of course, I wanted a griffin of my own. It's fairly surprising that they don't feature more in fantasy stories. However, that made them even more appealing for me. My ambition is to become an authority on griffins!

In my opinion, Julia, your ambition has been fulfilled. The griffin flying scenes are phenomenal and Balkind's griffin-affectations always make me laugh!

Q: There is a new character in 'The Griffin’s Boy’ that I find to be quite compelling. You’ve been masterful in the way you have scripted Samara; she is cast as somewhat of an enigma and I am curious as to how she will be featured in a third book (hint, hint!). Where did this character spring from?

A: Samara's self-contained and unafraid. She's realized early on that knowledge is power, and has also learned how to charm at will. She's looking pretty dangerous to me – and I've no idea from where she sprung!

NOTE: Take a free peek at this new character! ‘Samara’s Salvation’ is a short story that can be downloaded free on Smashwords or on Julia's site.

Q: I’ve read all of the books in your Celtic Cousins’ Adventure series and the two in the Griffin Rider’s series. Aside from the fantastical roller-coaster rides of adventure those reads have taken me on, an unexpected pleasure is your wonderfully vivid weave into the story of British history, culture and terrain. Which seed for a story comes first: the characters, the essential storyline or a snippet from history, a vision of place?

A: Thank you Dody. :-) I'm very grateful for your kind words. I think I was lucky to grow up surrounded by adults who lived to a great age. It wasn't unusual for three or four generations to live in the same house. You learn old legends, old songs, and then your – or my – mind just goes sleepwalking.

Q: I’m an American reader who can hardly wait for the next book from Julia Hughes to hit the shelf. An unexpected delight for me during my reads is coming upon an arcane, obscure British term (and thank you for expanding my vocabulary!). In keeping with the historical references, are these terms used because they add a unique flair to the tale?

A: I don't consciously set out to use arcane or obscure words. They present themselves and appear to me to sit well on the page – apart from "The Griffin's Boy". In this story, set in a parallel universe because the Norman Conquest never happened, certain French terms don't exist in the English language (beef, pork, etc. spring mainly to mind). At the risk of making dialogue appear stilted, I also imagined that the “old-time” speech would be more formal. It's good to know that you're enjoying the odd ‘odd’ word. J 

Q: I have to ask! I’m hearing whispers that a new DI Crombie story (from the Celtic Cousins’ series) might be in the works. Can you offer a few crumbs of storyline – please?

A: Of course – anything for you Dody! :-) It's really about time that the story of Crombie and The Great Elephant Stampede was told – do you think the world's ready for it though?

Indeed, I am always thirsting for more of DI Crombie, Julia. To me and anyone who asks, he is 'my Crombie!' I’m quite sure that many others agree with me.

A word from Julia: “As a Londoner, I’m enchanted by the legend that griffins are the guardians of this ancient city. In my mind, they combine the characteristics of two of our most beloved animal companions: horses and dogs – with an added bonus, of course, as griffins have wings. As anyone who has read The Griffin Cryer knows, if you believe in yourself against all odds, help arrives from (very!) unexpected sources. If you have self-belief, then you have the will to succeed – and you will succeed! So dream big and fly high – the only limits are the ones we place on our imaginations.
                                                 
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Visit Julia on her website by clicking on her photo at the top right of this page.

Follow Julia on Twitter: @tinksaid

Words Unlimited is a wonderful site to visit as it's purpose is to help indie authors launch and promote their work. If you have a promotional event or Back Story for your novel, memoir or short story that you'd like to be featured, it is easy to complete a request. "140 Little Words" is a fun page where authors can tantalize us with fascinating snippets.
Here is the Link.

Reverie - a short story by Kathy Jensen

After a bit of arm-twisting, my sister, Kathy, allowed me to post her short story. The story poignantly portrays a slice in time out of a young girl's life. The names have been changed to protect the 'not-so-innocent.'

                                              

                                                 REVERIE

            I was getting ready for the party at my friend Sara’s house, and as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, I noted with approval my striking cat eyes; they were a light green, edged with a darker green around the rim, giving them an intensity that my grandmother used to say “talked.”  For most of my life, I had felt embarrassed about my beauty, and couldn’t receive compliments gracefully.  Somehow, I didn’t feel that I deserved them, and perhaps I just didn’t want to be singled out in any way; it felt safer to simply blend in with everyone else.  As I grew older, I began to see myself one-dimensionally; my outer appearance seemed to me to be the only attribute worth mentioning, and I watched with envy the girls who had witty personalities, who seemed at ease with themselves, and who were the life of the party.  Admittedly, I was the one responsible for limiting myself, but at the time of puberty, I couldn’t see that, and it was very painful.  Somehow, I managed to grow up, and now, at forty years of age, divorced, and full of more self-knowledge and wisdom, I am beginning to enjoy myself in all of my aspects.  

            As I continued applying the makeup that I now used for enjoyment, rather than to cover up, I grinned at my reflection, auburn hair tinged with red, and flying in all directions, due to a perm that took really well.  After my divorce, I had experimented with different hair styles and clothing, and as I ducked my head down, shaking my hair, I emerged looking like some kind of wild animal-I loved it!  For energy, I chose a pair of red canvas tennis shoes, and topped off my khaki pants with a bright red sweater.  I felt wonderful, and free to be myself.

            Sara was a good friend.  We had both been in relationships that had, for various reasons, not worked out.  This had been very painful for me, because I still loved Steve, and had wanted to marry him; however, I had taken the time to mourn the loss, and was now ready to open myself to other men.  As I contemplated how I had changed, how I had grown, I felt comfortable with my new-found sense of inner strength, and I looked forward to meeting the single man Sara had told me would be at the party.  It’s amusing to me how my approach, and my taste in men have changed; where once, I actively sought them out, now, if they happen to be in my space, I gingerly observe them for awhile, and then gravitate towards the quiet, unassuming ones.

            As I made a final check in the mirror, I looked into my eyes and felt myself slipping back in time; I saw the little girl who first noticed boys and actively pursued them.

            It was during the summer of my tenth year, and my sisters and I were packing for our summer vacation to a nearby springs resort area.  I had one thought, and one thought only; to find a boyfriend, and I knew that I had to be quick about it, to catch him before any other available females had a chance!  But I had confidence in myself, even though I always managed to look and act so innocent.  In reality, I was a hawk, eagle eyes always on the lookout for prey, and full of ferocious intensity to swoop down on my innocent victims.

            This particular spring was a favorite of mine, and as we all squeezed into the car, I was excited, and even the usual fight over who got to sit next to the window failed to dampen my spirits.  It took us about an hour to get there, but back then, it seemed like an eternity, and by the time we drove down the dirt road leading to the spring and the cabins, we were all spitting and clawing like a bunch of cats.  My mother screamed at us, “If you kids don’t behave, this is the last time we ever take you anywhere!”  This served the immediate purpose of getting us to be quiet, but we knew that she didn’t really mean it; she needed to get away as badly as we did, and didn’t have any other choice but to take us along with her.

            As I looked out the window (I had won a coveted window seat), my adrenalin was surging, and I took in the familiar sights:  on my right, the crystal water of the spring, shades of blue and green mingling; carpets of green forming where the grasses joined together to provide hiding places for the crabs we would later catch and eat; the blue, where the springs bubbled up

from underground caverns.  On my left, I could see the cabins dotted here and there amidst a generous cover of trees, providing privacy and shade.  Not only was the beauty of the area breathtaking, but the feeling I most remember was one of peacefulness, for we were far away from the daily reminders of work and survival.

          As we pulled up next to our cabin, I could barely contain my enthusiasm, and jumped out exuberantly, intending to make a mad dash for the water; however, my parents had other plans for me, and I reluctantly joined in on the tedious job of unloading the car.  I didn’t need to change into my bathing suit, because, as usual, I had worn it underneath my clothes.  Gleefully now, when we were finally given the go-ahead signal to take off, we kicked off our shoes, dug into the Florida sand, and bounded down the hill, racing madly to see who would be the first one to dive into the water.  As we neared the swimming area, I decided to slow down and let someone else win-I wanted to check out the “scenery.”  Slowly now, I began my shy approach, noting that there were, indeed, some fine looking prospects.  As I dreamily looked around me, I was jarred out of my reverie by my sister, Jody, who shouted at me, “Hey, Katie, aren’t ya comin’ in?”  And with that, she bravely executed a racing dive from the end of the dock.  I say bravely, because the water was so cold, it took your breath away the moment you entered.  Not one to be the cow’s tail, I took off in a sprint, momentarily forgetting about boys; I wanted to get the agony over with right away, for I always had to talk myself into going in.  “Geronimo,” I yelled, as I, too, showed off with a perfect racing dive.  We were all members of the AAU; that stands for the Amateur Athletic Union, and meant that we spent our summers swimming with the local swim club, traveling to nearby towns for swim meets.  We were very proud of this fact, and showed off whenever possible; however, my prowess as a swimmer was diminished, as I came up sputtering and shivering, and made an immediate exit from the cold water.  “Wow, that was fun,” I exclaimed, while running for my towel.

            Now that I had proved my bravery, I took the time to continue my search for “the One,” the lucky boy who was destined to spend the next two weeks as the object of my fantasies.  I spread my towel out on the grass in front of the water, locked my arms around my knees, and nonchalantly scanned the area.  To my right, I noticed a couple of boys who I could tell out of the corner of my eye were checking me out.  Now, I must add that I am very picky, and neither of them were what I had in mind.  One of them was a veritable beanpole, with a shock of blond hair that he continuously flicked to one side as it fell over his eyes, and on the end of his nose I could see a ripe and ready pimple-yuk!  As for his buddy, I knew he was too young to be drinking beer, but from the looks of that white belly hanging over his bathing suit, I could have sworn that he was belting it down every day!  I also knew that he was too young to be in the army, but someone had taken a buzz saw to his hair, and if he didn’t lather it up with suntan oil, he would get a sunburn that would rival the one he was sure to get on that white belly of his!  Now, to my horror, they were approaching me with their best swagger.

            “Hi,” the pimply-faced one began, trying to put his hands in the nonexistent pockets on his swimming trunks.

            Now, I am not a heartless person, and was not about to make fun of him or his buddy, but I was faced with the dilemma of getting out of engaging them in conversation, and subtly letting them know that I was not interested.  Understand that I was an inexperienced ten year old, myself, and didn’t know how to get out of this sticky situation, so I did the only thing I knew how to do;  I simply stared straight ahead of me and pretended that they did not exist.

            “Hey,” the beer belly insisted, “My buddy here is talking to you.  Ain’t you got any ears?”

            I sat rigidly in my space, staring intently at the water, praying that they would get the message and leave me alone.

            “Ah, she ain’t worth it, George.  What a stuck up little creep,” he said disgustingly, and with that, they shuffled off to the store.

            Slowly, I began to breathe evenly again, but I was still somewhat irritated at their rude interruption, when Carla, another sister, teasingly called to me, “Hey Katie, all of the fish are here in the water.  Better come in before I catch all of them!”

            After glancing around one more time, I resignedly decided to cool my heels for awhile.  I liked to tease Carla as she was such a good sport, so I took a running start and did a jackknife right in front of her face.  With that, she grabbed my leg and jerked me under.  I came up sputtering and laughing at the

same time, only to be joined by Jody and Mary, the fourth and youngest sister.  Then it became a free-for-all, bodies tumbling and thrashing about, creating whirlpools of frothing water.  Well, at least I wasn’t cold anymore, and I was glad to see that it was going to be lots of fun, even if I didn’t find Mr. Right.

            There was a new addition to the dock this year-a diving board, and I was thrilled, because I had been working on some new dives at home.  For awhile, we took turns playing “Jump-Dive,” a crazy game whereby as one person made his approach, and bounced once on the board, another person called out to him either “jump,” or “dive.”  It was soooo tempting to cheat just a little, and as Mary took her turn at the board, I waited until she was in mid-air before calling out the signal, whereupon she proceeded, with a look of shear panic, to land flat on her face!  I laughed so hard it brought tears to my eyes, but Mary’s response was to pull herself indignantly out of the water, yelling, “That wasn’t funny, and I’m not playing anymore!”

            Well, I apologized, but she had had enough, and the game wasn’t quite as much fun after that, so I turned over and floated on my back.  The warmth of the sun on my face was relaxing, and I lay there looking at the clouds, taking pleasure in finding different shapes in each one.  I thought, “ Wouldn’t it be fun to just think myself up there, and in the blink of an eye be walking on air?”  My head was still in the clouds when I heard a voice say, “Wanta ride on my raft?”

            Hastily, I turned over, practically drowning myself in my hurry to identify the mystery voice.  I found myself looking into the most gorgeous chocolate brown eyes I had ever seen; it was him, “the One,” and here I stood, mouth agape, wet hair streaming over my eyes, and I was speechless-again!  Somehow I managed to sputter at tentative, “Yes,” and climbed aboard.

            For the remainder of the two weeks I ate, slept, swam, and played with only thoughts of Seth.  He had an older sister who alleviated her boredom by playing Cupid’s assistant, encouraging us to hold hands, sneak kisses, and take long rides on his raft.  We were Tarzan and Jane, Roy Rogers and Dale Evans, inseparable partners, exploring new territory and storing up memories which would last for a lifetime.  It was a wonderful time in my life, and I cried when we had to leave, promising to write to one another; and we did, for a short time, but as our tans faded, so did our love, and I never saw Seth again.

            A deep sigh escaped my lips as I came out of my reverie, and once again gazed at my reflection.  The big difference between then and now was that I no longer felt the need to impress, hoping to be found desirable and pretty; I was no longer looking for “the One.”  I was simply having fun just being me, and as I applied the final touch of red-my lipstick, I took one last look in the mirror and smiled.  It was going to be a great party…because I would be there.

Kathy Jensen can be contacted on Facebook.

The first photo of Silver Glen Springs is courtesy of the St. John's River Water Management District.

The second photo of Silver Glen Springs is courtesy of Harley Measn/FDEP.

"Is the noise in my head bothering you?"

There are moments in which I am driven crazy by the cacophony of noise in my head; when the demands to get this and that done is almost nonstop. Until a line from the movie, The Gods Must Be Crazy, bursts through the noise: "Is the noise in my head bothering you?" This is my signal to stop trying to 'do' - to pause - to breathe and step outside for some fresh air.

 

                                     Watch a big blue heron in flight.....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Catch the sparkle of the sun's rays on the leaves of a tree.....

 

 

 

Take pleasure in the visits from those who require no words.....

 

 

 

                   Enjoy a pleasant dive into the part of my soul where peace dwells.....

 

 

 

 
 





 

 

 

 

 

 

Julia Hughes is back, with a new fantastical tale!

         THE GRIFFIN’S BOY FLYING BOOK TOUR!

Ever have any flying dreams? Once in a while – not often enough, my dreams take me into flight – I soar – and there is nothing else like that experience. Nothing else, that is, until I read The Griffin Cryer by Julia Hughes. When The Rider tosses Frankie onto Balkind to get her out of a very dangerous situation, I jumped on Balkind, too, and soared aloft, as if I was there, in the book…..

For those who enjoy soaring and mysterious encounters – plus fast-paced adventure in their tales, The Griffin Cryer is free to download through Sunday, December 15.
               [In the right margin, click on the book cover to access for download.]

Since that first read – along with other griffin rider wannabes, I have incessantly pestered Julia Hughes to write a prequel. The young Rider is such a compelling, mystifying character (and a handsome one too). I wanted to know: How did he become a griffin rider? And how did he end up with a mischievous yet lovable griffin named Balkind? All we really know is that the Rider was not born a nobleman and he has no name; called, ‘the boy,’ by the Griffin Master. All else has remained a mystery – until now.

On Sunday, December 15, our wish will be fulfilled – The Griffin’s Boy hits the cyber bookshelves. Even better news is that there is a griffin Giveaway contest! Two lucky winners picked at random by Rafflecopter will have the opportunity to adopt and name a griffin; "be griffin owners - in literature, not literally," says Julia. Runners up will receive a free e-book copy of The Griffin's Boy.

It is easy to enter The Great Griffin Giveaway contest! Click here! Home page - Griffin Riders.


Julia tells us the Rider’s story is a one of hope, faith and friendship triumphing against overwhelming odds....

SYNOPSIS: The Griffin’s Boy is The Rider’s story, set on Ella-Earth – our world’s twin in an alternative universe. Evolution has taken a different path and mythical beasts exist. Britain remains an island of mists, populated by Celtic tribes and governed by a strict feudal hierarchy. Only noblemen’s sons are recruited into an elite troop known as the Griffin Riders. The best a nameless nobody like Neb can hope for is to become a griffin’s lad. But then his fate becomes entwined with the mischievous grey griffin, Balkind, who everyone knows is trouble….and sure enough, Balkind disgraces himself on recruitment day and is rejected by Griffin Master Romulus. But Neb is determined to change Romulus’s mind. Telling himself and anyone who will listen that Balkind deserves a second chance, Neb steals the beast and flies off on the adventure of a lifetime. He quickly realizes: Riding griffins isn’t for the faint-hearted, and girls are complicated beings, best treated with respect. One single courageous act earns Neb his heart’s desire – but then he ruins everything. When his new friend, Samara, is abducted, Neb rushes to her rescue – with disastrous results. The youngsters learn they are to be sacrificed in a macabre ceremony. Their only hope is Balkind. Although clever, Balkind has always been difficult to control. Will the griffin answer boy’s summons?

 

Note: This compelling cover was creatively adapted by Laura Wright LaRoche, from an engraving by Gustave Dore. 
 

Some answers to my questions:

I happened to take advantage of Julia’s earlier offerings -  free reads of some chapters from THE GRIFFIN'S BOY. A bit of curiosity became assuaged when Julia graciously agreed to answer a few questions:  

Q.  In the Celtic Cousins’ Adventure series, historical events and mysteries are woven into the tales. For The Griffin Rider’s Chronicles can we expect to see more of these kinds of influences? Are there historical references in THE GRIFFIN'S BOY?

A. THE GRIFFIN'S BOY takes place in a Britain where the Iceni revolt against the Roman Empire succeeded. Thanks mainly to the Griffin Riders' vigilance, the Norwegian and Norman Invasions were also repelled. Britain is populated by Celtic tribes. With only minimal Roman and Norwegian influence, and none at all from the Norman French, British culture and history is very different.  This might seem an excuse to rewrite history, but instead, I've leaned heavily on what is known of Britain prior to the Roman Invasion.

Q. Initially, one of the main characters in THE GRIFFIN CRYER was a young man called “The Rider;” known as ‘the boy’ by the griffin master. This story takes us back to his roots, his early years. How did you decide on the unusual name, Neb – does it have a specific meaning?

A. When the Rider is first introduced in THE GRIFFIN CRYER, we never learn his name. I couldn't continue calling my main character "The Boy" or "The Rider", so gave him a name that literally means, 'no-one, son of no-one'. There's obviously a mystery here; I'm looking forward to solving it!

 As am I, Julia...you are masterful at leaving us hanging; you tantalize us readers very well! 

 Q. There are quite a few intriguing twists and turns in plot and several fascinating characters who show up later in the tale. When you begin a new story, do you start with a basic outline of scenes from beginning to end? Do your characters ‘talk’ to you about their roles?  

A. Thanks Dody! Telling the story of THE GRIFFIN'S BOY meant asking The Rider to relate how he, a nameless nobody, achieved his elite status. Usually only noblemen's sons are invited to join the Griffin Riders. Something quite unusual and special had to have happened for Neb to earn the title of Balkind's Rider. Usually I do outline plot lines and then fit characters to suit. THE GRIFFIN'S BOY was an entirely new experience for me, as the character and part of his story was told in book one, THE GRIFFIN CRYER. But as you observe, there's new characters – and they have a whole new story to tell.

Q. I loved THE GRIFFIN CRYER; it is one of my all-time favorite tales. Frankie is an amazing character in her own right. Will she be featured in future Griffin Rider's Chronicles books? Could Frankie become the first female griffin rider?

A. Thanks again – you're very kind!  THE GRIFFIN CRYER was intended to be a stand-alone title. I didn't intend a follow up, but readers clamored to know more about the mysterious Rider. His story began as a short; but took on a life of its own. Since the Griffin Master, Romulus, hints that he would have no objection to recruiting girls into his elite troop, providing they can make the grade – who knows?

A Perspective on Christmas

Grateful this year for everyone whose path has intersected with my own.

 

                      A Christmas Poem

  In the weeks before Christmas, I’ve run to and fro...

not bothered too much by the rain or some snow.

‘Tis the season you see when I gather some gifts…

as gestures of love though now mostly for kids.

Sometimes it’s a pain ‘cause it’s one of those days…

when a ton of the worries snarl the thoughts in my brain.

At the end of such days when I rest for a while…

some scenes come to mind that finally bring on a smile.

I got bumped and then shoved when I picked up those gifts… 

then next heard apologies, got smiles – unexpected lifts.

My giggles start then and laughter breaks out…

as I suddenly realize what Christmas is all about:

No matter our worries or frantic pursuits….

Our bumps into each other are part of *God’s loop.

A bump then a shove that results in a smile…

is one way that *God’s love gets shared for a while.

 *God of your understanding

 

A DAY OF DREAMING

A fanciful short story originally written for my sister, Kathy...Dedicated to all who soar high, travel far and take joy in the art of dreaming.

Once upon a time by a river near the southern sea, the fairy-like beings that lived in Cypress Point almost got a long-held wish fulfilled.

    In this small village lush with flora and fauna, the residents and other creatures that inhabit this part of the earth work well together; their village is one that thrives.

    Most of the villages have inhabitants that are deemed, ‘unusual’ or, ‘odd’… Cypress Point was no exception. If asked to describe Sade, most villagers would say, ‘precocious’ – and follow that with: ‘Sade keeps to herself, spends all her time dreaming,’

     But very few complained out loud about her oddities because Sade always did her part for the village and, often, did her task better than others. Sade had an important task: keeper of accounts, ensuring that each resident received an equal share of silver-edged stones, ones that served as the currency of the time.

   

It was easy for Sade to keep to herself once her work day was over. She was one of the few villagers to build a nesting spot way up above the ground, high in the top of a tall cypress tree. Most residents built their nests on the ground, cozily abutting the trunks of the trees. “Being close ensures the safety of our village plus, it’s easier to visit with each other,” these residents would say to any newcomer.

    When Sade was asked, “But, why is your nest up so high?” her answer was a nonchalant response: “To be closer to the realm of dreaming.”

The villagers of Cypress Point are, for the most part, a congenial bunch. After the daily tasks are done, many villagers gather to play games or engage in the centuries-old tradition of nest-visiting, the common way to relax. To the puzzlement of some villagers, however, Sade usually chose to head up to her nest after work. Usually when a neighbor asked her to stop in and visit, Sade graciously declined, thinking:  I need time to clear my mind in preparation for dream-time.

    The recognition for Sade was that dreaming soothed her soul. The few villagers who took the time to observe Sade, her inherent cheerfulness, came to understand her choice.

   Truth be told, there were a few who were secretly jealous of Sade’s ability to dream; they often tried to force themselves but, alas, were unable to remember any dreams and thus, had nothing exciting to reveal. If any had bothered to ask, Sade would have explained that dreaming deeply cannot be forced…lack of success is due to a desire for outer results, not inner experience.

    The other villagers had grudgingly come to accept her oddities yet still made the effort to entice Sade to join them in playing forest games or neighborly gatherings. Sade assented just often enough to placate their pleas. ‘Placating’ was a lesson that she had learned early on, in her growing-up years.

    As in most communities, there are the few who resort to badgering those who do not conform to the norm. “Sade, you need to grow up, be like everyone else – It’s our way,” one creature named Rastus often whined when the subject came up though it was rare for Sade to respond. From her observations, she knew that Rastus merely liked the sound of his own voice…It’s the only time he gets noticed was her unspoken thought.

    Admittedly, it was difficult at first for Sade to handle the constant enticements and badgering from others – in the past, she had often felt stirrings of anger and guilt. Instead of arguing back or challenging their views, however, Sade had learned to follow her mother’s advice: honor and assuage the urgings of your own inner nature; let their arguments go dancing off into the wind. Thus, with practice, it was now easy for Sade to temper any residual reactions; she merely listened, and observed. 

    Now, many villagers choose to let Sade handle their accounting issues for she was kind and always helpful; and they usually walked away with a smile or a bit of laughter. Which brings up another oddity about Sade that a few still puzzled over: why was Sade always chuckling to herself? No one who thought this odd ever had the nerve to ask her.

    Here is the main reason for Sade’s chuckles: she was content with her own self and rarely saw a reason to stay mad or upset. Over the years, observations had shown her that every villager had their own personality quirks. Behind her chuckles was usually the thought: Each of us is unique…I fit in quite nicely!

  

On one fine day off after a stressful week of handling more than the usual accounting issues, Sade awoke and, instead of writing down her dreams, stood up and gazed out from her nest. The morning light sparkling on the river below beckoned and her eyes followed the dazzling sparkles down-river until they became tinged with sunrise orange, at the place where the river met the sea.

     What would it be like to dream upon the river? Sade wondered. Do I have to be up so high to dream? “Well, I won’t know until I try!” she said and excitedly began running around the nest to get ready.

     The villagers were quite surprised to see Sade flitting down from the cypress tree that held her nest. “It’s not an accounting day so what is Sade doing?” they wondered aloud to each other.

    Sade merely smiled at those she passed and went into the woods collecting armfuls of large branches and strong vines, making a pile on the river bank. Though no one said anything to her, most were sneaking quick glances at Sade, curious to see what she was up to. When she felt that she had enough materials, Sade began to lay out the larger branches and then cross those with the smaller ones.

    “Aha!” said two of the more curious villagers – “She’s building a raft – finally!” And they set off, running about in the village to spread the news.

    Sade finished tying the branches together using the vines then stood up and pushed the raft into the river, tying it off on a branch with the end of a vine.  Almost right – one more thing, she thought and began to gather a bunch of soft grasses and leaves.

    By then, quite a crowd had gathered. The residents were whispering to each other, excitedly thinking that Sade was finally going to join them in the day’s river games.

    “Why else would she be making a raft,” one villager said out loud, peering around at another who stared then responded: “But what is she going to do with all the tall grasses and leaves?”

    Neither had an answer; this was indeed puzzling.

     Sade stay focused on her task until she had gathered a nice-sized pile. Carefully now, she tossed the leaves onto the raft and, using a long pole, smoothed them into an even layer in the middle of the raft. The soft grasses were next tossed atop the leaves.

    “How smart – what a great idea! We could all use a soft seat,” said one of the residents, clapping his hands; but the rest held back, still unsure.

    Sade looked up at her fellow villagers and smiled then said, “It’s such a good day for dreaming.”  She chuckled excitedly, stepped lightly onto the raft and, using the pole, pushed away from the bank and out into the river. With a final wave to the others, she put down the pole and lay down upon the grass bed.

   Stunned into silence, the villagers looked at each other, shrugged and went on about their day, most still hopeful that Sade was just taking a short nap. “Well, she did work hard building that raft,” one said out loud. “Sade needs to rest awhile, and then she’ll join us in some games – it is still early.”

    Sade, however, was not exhausted at all. She was in a state of exhilaration as she prepared to dream, loving the sensation of being gently lulled by the flow of the river. The gentle rocking motion of her raft sent Sade quickly into the land of dreams.

Unformed segments of dreams began to unify into sequence while Sade was asleep, drifting down the river. By the time her raft reached the sea, Sade was fully into her dream-state.

    Sade was a seaman, a human in charge of a large boat with many sails. Under a brilliant blue sky, she furled and trimmed the sails, billowing winds carrying the vessel quickly across the sea towards a foreign land.

    As the ship was about to touch upon the land, the dream shifted and Sade transformed from strong, bulky seaman into a woman of older-age, her head tilted back in a fit of delightful laughter. Silver white hair swirled about as this Sade turned to thank a waiter as he served a plate of steaming broiled lobster and succulent spiced shrimp. Lifting her glass of merlot, Sade inhaled the combination flavors of dark berry fruit, light spices and smoky-toasted oak.

    Just as she tilted her glass to drink, the dream-curtain shimmered and Sade was now a khaki-clad woman in a canoe, paddling on a lush wide river. She dipped the paddle into the river just as an elongated body with prominent whiskers on a dark face popped up beside her and, after emitting a shrill, chattering call, rolled onto his back.  Making a chattering sound back, Sade dropped her hand into the river and the giant river otter paddled over for a …

    The curtain shimmered again ever so slightly and Sade became an otter, swimming effortlessly underwater then suddenly popping up to the surface, cavorting in play with a family of otters.

Atop the raft, Sade – the dreaming fairy-creature – sighed deeply on the bed of grasses, a smile upon her face. The deepest states of dreams are the most captivating; one can actually taste, see, touch, hear and smell…as if the dreams were indeed real.

    On the raft, Sade’s smile broadened…the dream-curtain had shimmered once more, transforming Sade into a young woman walking in a sunlit field hand in hand with  a man – my lover Sade thought. Even in sleep, her mouth formed the words.

    Provence – I am in Provence! was the young woman’s thought as she took off running in circles around her lover,  her  fingers running gently through the many flowers bright with shades of the color purple.

    And then the dream curtain shimmered again – Sade was herself, a fairy creature, though back on the sea, on her raft.

    It was dark…the sea reflected a rage that came out of the sky: explosive booms of thunder and flashes of lightening intermittently lit up the dark, with rambunctious waves churning all around. The raft was falling apart; Sade tried valiantly to keep herself from falling into the tormented sea.

     “It’s going to eat me,” she screamed, and, at that moment, the raft splintered and the stormy sea pulled Sade under. As the surging tides from beneath grabbed her body and sucked her down, Sade’s terrifying thought was: This is my end.

And it was, yet only in the dream.

     The raft was bucking and water was splashing all around yet not because of a storm.  Villagers had jumped onto the raft causing Sade’s dream to seem more real than usual. She awoke from her dream with a cry expecting to be drowning in the sea; instead four of her neighbors’ faces were peering down at her. “Are you okay – you were screaming,” said Faustus.

    Sade began to laugh then and, in an effort to catch her breath, sat up. The villagers scrambled back to move out of her way, making the raft rock even more. This set Sade off on another bout of laughing until finally she caught her breath, wiped tears from her eyes and spoke: “I went out-of-body; it was so glorious, my dreams – I was so many people, went to so many places – even to my death.”

    The four villagers looked away, shocked…shaking their heads. They don’t understand Sade thought to herself as she stood up, giving each one a smile.

    “Thank you,” she said to each villager as each stepped back onto their own rafts. Still shaking their heads in puzzlement, each of the four began to pole their way back down the river to Cypress Point’s shore.

    Sade chuckled aloud at the sight of the four villagers moving away in the rafts, sitting atop their own piles of leaves and grasses.

Sitting back down, Sade dug into her satchel and found her journal intact. Shaking off the drops of water, she took out her favorite quill. “This is one for the books,” she said out loud, still chuckling. Dipping the quill into an ink-filled acorn, she began to write.