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[Earthwoman]

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[Mellinda]

My journey to Cerridwen

I see a large open space with trees in the distance. There are ten small stones in a circle around a large stone in the middle the small stone are used for sitting on by the wise Druids, they are look at the large middle stone.

The middle stone has lots of carvings on of swirls and pictures of animals at its base. Also offering of flowers and food. And a small fire in a large oval dish smelling of herbs. The Elder/Master Druid welcomes me and invites me to sit and talk with them for a while. Later he stands up and asks me to follow him. He Leeds me along a winging path deep into the Forest, on we go past Deer, Wild boars and lots of different animals. We then come to a stream running through the wood, there is a rickety bridge to cross, over the other side is a cave entrance. He tells me to cross over and enter the cave. He doesn’t follow me he sits down. I turn and look at him he gestures me to enter, don’t be afraid I will wait here for your return.
I walk slowly across the creaking bridge to the cave entrance, and look in, it’s very dark and the floor is wet and slimy and slopes down, I see a glimmer of light in the distance and smell of smoke and a pungent smell. I also here chanting I make my way slowly to the light, a large chamber now opens up before me.
I feel the heat of a fire and see a large cauldron hanging over the fire, suspended by a strong chain fixed to a hook in the caves ceiling.
A figure of an old woman in the shadow by the fire, she is stirring the contents in the cauldron and saying these words.

Make this potion strong with the essence of life
Make this potion strong with the essence of Death
Make this potion strong with Knowledge of wisdom
Make this potion strong with knowledge of magic
Make this potion strong with knowledge of music
Make this potion strong with knowledge of trees
Give all that are worth the knowledge of Ogam

I start to cough on the sickly fumes rising from the contents of the cauldron a dark liquid swirling around. The old lady stops chanting and looks at me. I start to tremble as she looks deep into my soul.
“so what brings you to my cave?” Her voice like thunder echoes around the cave. “Do you wont Riches or do you wont health or is it something else.” I will ask you three question and you must answer with you heart. If you know who I am then you can ask me for a gift. You may have three attempts at answering them. But if you fail you must give me 10 years of your life. You can leave my cave now and never return or stay and take my test. “So what do you choose,” I look around the room the fire light casting shadows on the cave walls, “I will take your test as I was brought here for a reason.” I say.

“So tell me the answers to my questions?”

Am I old or a young woman?
Am I Rich or Poor?
Am I a Witch or a Goddess?

I’m feeling sick and giddy the smell from the cauldron is very pungent, I’m trying to focus on her questions.
“Ok your appear old as you have experience much but I see youth in your eyes, so id say young.”
“Correct,” she gives me a smile and ladles some of the dark pungent liquid into a beaker

“Next one’s tricky, am I Rich or Poor.”

“Rich with the knowledge of magic.” Hope this is right as I’m not to sure she doesn’t answer me. “Try again.” Ok Poor in the way you live with nature.
“Wrong try again.” I must get it right, my head is aching. “Rich in the knowledge of all nature.”
“Correct.” She adds more liquid from the cauldron into the beaker, “last question if you get it wrong you will lose 10 years,” I feel my legs shack.
“Who am I a witch or a Goddess.”
I look at the cauldron its very big not a regular one but one made for the Gods.
I look at her face and answer, “you are the Goddess of the Cauldron.” At this she transforms into her true form so beautiful with long red hair and eyes of fire. I kneel before her. She takes my hand, “you have answered wisely,” handing me the beaker of dark liquid. “Now drink every drop.” The liquid is bubbling and swirling around as I raise it to my lips and I take a large mouthful and swallow every last drop. “Now what gift would you like?” “Knowledge,” I say, with this she gives me a leather bag and tells me to go and gather all knowledge and put it in the bag.

“Now leave me to my work,” she waves her hand and I find myself outside, by the stream were the elder Druid is waiting. He gives me a stone to put in my bag, “This is your first gift of knowledge learn from it,” I take the stone and put it inside my bag. Then I take my leave. I awake from the dream, I’m feeling very thirsty it’s been a long journey to the land of shaman.

This was my dream quest to Cerridwen on my Shamanic journey.
By Lynda F Tallis (Mellinda) © Copyright 2011

[Lunaria]

The Storyteller

The large market square from Tarna was hive of activity. Town traders erected their stands. The streets from the town gates to the market square were full of farmers from the vicinity. Although sometimes it appeared as if the square wasn’t big enough for so many people, everyone seemed to find a last small corner to trade their wares.
A handsome dark haired warrior was a witness to these scenes as he came up from the harbour. His sword was strapped to his backpack and his bundle, wrapped in a foxfur, hung from his shoulder. The foxtail swung jauntily with every step he took. He’d arrived on the last boat, and was on the way to his next mission. He didn’t rally want too stay for long, but he needes supplies, and so took the time to strall over the market square. If you had watched him closely you might’ve concluded that he had already fought in many wars, as now and again a scar was visible under his clothes. His purposeful stride seemed to suggest he knew his own worth, although something in his eyes and his posture seemed to be searching. Although it was still early delicious cooking odours filled the air. At one stall there was roast meat and vegetables, a little further on pudding, baked apples with cinnamon. He bought an apple an d strolled on.
At the back of the market square he found a recess, where an old storyteller sat. A throng of children and grown ups clusteres round him, intent on his every word. As the warrior passed the storyteller came to the end of his tale and a boy leapt to his feet and cried,“ When I’m grown up I’ll be a famous warrior. Everyone will admire me. Please, tell us a story about a great warrior and his famous battles, please !“

The storyteller gave him a thoughtful glance, noticed the interested gaze of the warrior, who stood at the entrance of the recess and replied. „I know a story about a famous warior. I could tell it to you, but there are two sides to this story, and you must hear both of them. He looked directly at the warrior as if to say ‘sit and listen’.
Hesitantly the warrior seated himself against the wall of the recess and reluctantly listened as the storyteller began...

„Far, far away to the south, in a distant land lived a boy like you,“ he began, with a glance at the boy, „who also wanted to be a great warrior. He thought of nothing else, and worked steadily to achieve his goal. His three or four friends supported him as best as they could. They trained with him, encouraged him when things went badly, and were always there for him. When he became of age he joined the Kings army and was soon sent to the next battle. The king was hungry for new lands an d needed many soldiers to fulfill his dreams. Ans so it came to pass that our young warrior, we’ll call him Arius, fought in many battles. But he was still just one soldier among many, and no one noticed him. One day however he finally had his chance to prove himself. His troop was split up into many smaller unit, and each were given a different task. His unit was to enter the enemy camp unseen and overpower the guards, and under his command this task was completed so well that he was promoted. At last he had been noticed !
So Arius was given task after task, and everything he did was crowned with success. His reputation grew, as did his wealth. Every promotion, every successful task earned him more riches and priviledges. The king won many new lands through his expertise, and rewarded him richly. Arius was allowed to sit in the kings presence and finally became one of his closest advisors. When the wars finally ended he was a famous man and everyone admired him and rejoiced when he passed.
Now Arius had finally achieved everything he wanted he looked foor someone to share it with. Before he had had no time for friends or family, he had a lot to catch up. After a while he found a beautiful woman and fell in love. He began to woo her. He sent her fragrant flowers from his garden, jewellry and choice sweetmeats. One evening he gathered all his courage and went to ask if she would be his wife.
As he went past a half open door he heard his name, which made him stop and listen. Inside, the maid of his beloved was talking to her friend, and what he heard caused him much pain.
Her mistress, said the maid, thought highly of Arius and would probably marry him, but only because he was one of tthe kings favourites, and her reputation would profit from the marriage. Also he was rich, and if he failed to return from the next, inevitable, war well then she want for nothing.
Arius had headr enough, and returned to his lodgings, sad and disappointed. To tell the truth, everyone hung on his every word just because he was the kings favourite. They all wanted to bask in his glory and his friendship with the king. Nobody wanted to know who he really was, they all wanted to use him to unprove their own positions.
But Arius wanted someone to love him for himself, not because of his reputation or his riches. He wanted someone who would still love him when all that was gone. But although he tried his hardest he could think of noone, in the Palace or the town who fitted this description. He didn’t even have any real friends, he decided. The men he know were either jealous of his position, or only used him to further their own ends of which he was ignorant. He suddenly realised how precarious his own position was, dependant on the kings goodwill. It was all to much, wasn’t his own man anymore. He had learnt the dark side of success.
„And what did he do ?“ interrupted the boy, „did he show them all what he thought of them ?“
The storyteller smiled gently at him, „ No just the opposite. He turned his back on the Army. When the nicht fell he packed his bundle and crept unseen out of the castle. The king would never have let him go, so long as Arius could be useful to him. Soon he was on the way home, just like earlier when he was a normal soldier. First he went to see his friends.
They were overjoyed to see him and it didn’t take long before he felt completely at home. Soon, though, he became restless and started his travels. But now he worked as a mercenary. In nthis way he could choose who he worked for, and only undertook missions whose purpose he agreed with. He changed his name, so no one would know who he really was, and called himself ‘The fox’ . The fox carried out many missions and soon had a reputation to match Arius, but hardly anyone knew who ‘the fox’ really was. He returned regularly to his friends and spent many happy hours with them. And all the time he looked for a woman with a humble and honest heart.“

Here the storyteller finished his story. The children looked a little puzzled, espesially the little boy who clearly wasn’t satisfied with the way it had ended. The had reached its zenith and much of the audience went to find food. The children hurried to their parents and the warrior too, made preparations to leave. Before he did though, he went over to the storyteller.
„Tell me, wheree did you hear this story ?“
The old man looked up. „ This story came to our Princess Ranya from a land far away. I had the honour of hearing it from her.“
He looked at the warrior seachingly. The warrior hesitated, as if he wanted to leave, then turned back once more to the old man.
„Did the warior in your story find a woman he could love ?“
The storyteller smiled back gently. „ He met many good women, who he could trust and who didn’t disappoint him, and sooner or later he’ll met the right one for him. Sometimes the answer to problem is so obvious that we overlook it.“
„I thank you“ answered the warrior an left the recess thoughtfully.

And so the warrior, at first still lost in his thoughts, then with purpose went to buy his supplies and to leyve the town for the South.

[Sciethe]

The Penultimate Lesson

I have spoken to you, beloved child, of the Great Disaster, a thousand years past. Its heroes and losses, and now I pass on to the greatest loss of all.
Know o precious child that there were once on earth great and beautiful beings ten times the height of a man and more. Gentle they were, and they breathed and sweetened our sour air, and we took their sweet air and made for them food: they ate our breath: just that- breath, water and the light of the sun were their food. Such was their magic that this thin diet made them very mighty and long lived, although they did not walk but spread their long toes deep into the earth to drink the water that, in those strange days, fell from the sky and penetrated the earth. They stood together in great congregations called forests, and gladly gave their shade and their bodies to innumerable creatures, now long lost, to be their home. Many kinds there were, some solemn and green, some graceful and quivering, and they gave us of their bodies to make things, for the stuff of them was hard, clean and durable. And they gave us food of their bodies each according to its kind, making wonderful sweet refreshing fruits, or creamy nuts, and for these things they asked nothing but a place to stand. They spoke in a strange tongue that man could understand, and I must teach their words to you so that you will know them one day in the otherworld.

Haa Corr-k Sweth Gasp Aaaashan
see how I stand before the gale and revel in it, how I flex my limbs as the force bears down, my leaves swaying back and forth

Ssss sss Haahmmmm Wrrroar,
and how my branches tune the wind on my bark like many discordant flutes

crrhha tssss tssss
how the wind drinks from my flailing leaves

Wrommm mmm
the ground holding my straining roots, my rootlets clinging and drinking with the urgency of a thousand needy mouths

Our foolishness and greed… Do not interrupt! Yes, ours. Oh greed! Oh foolishness! Their voices are still. Bitter impossible shame! They were lost. All lost. Ah, it was the time of the Garden of Eden, beauty bloomed, fruited and grew on every side, and men wanted for nothing.

Now I look to you, dearest child, for a learning from the past? Ah. You do not disappoint. The text is apposite:

“And GOD said unto his Angel: I have softened my heart towards the renegades. I shall banish them not from their birth-right that I have made for them. Yet I shall put scales before their eyes that they think themselves cast out of MY Garden, until they make their own eyes to see, that they may dwell in misery until they stand before to ME in wisdom.

Aaah! Misery! Man’s profoundest folly!

It falls to you, the youngest and soon to be last of our kind, to close humanity’s book, it’s last Priest and King. Therefore you are to know and recite its memories, as we your tutors have taught you, even to the most deadly and shameful secrets, there at the end of mankind’s journey. Draw on yourself the fivefold sigil, what I must now tell you is un-holy and taboo. Good.

I have long ago spoken to you, beloved child, of the respect, love and admiration that we have for our ancestors whose resourcefulness and indomitable strength of will gave us hope and brought us to the Divine in this hard and barren world. Tomorrow is your last lesson, after that I can teach you no more. I see you realise that I weep. I am bitter because you are to truly learn hatred, repugnance and loathing for the first time, and perhaps the deepest and cruellest compassion, for I must regretfully teach you of our other ancestors : The Tribe that Consumed Eden.

[Frog]

I recently bought a little Lego set that contained a small bunny rabbit and this made me think - are we the only species that believes in Gods and spirits? So I built this little model and wrote this short story.

IMG_3686.JPG (36.11 KiB) Viewed 715 times

Why Rabbits eat Carrots

“Follow me” said Scratch, the old rabbit.
Sunwise did as she was asked – she knew that there was much to learn from Scratch who had spent many years in and around the warren. Rumour held that he had been one of the leading tunnelling rabbits when the warren had been built many, many seasons previously – and that his eyes had seen many, many things. Scratch worked his way down the tunnel, his legs kicking occasionally at the rough ground, disturbing some more earth. At the fork of the two tunnels he turned right, this would be new ground for Sunwise as she had only ever turned left and into the nest. The smells were unusual and she felt the need to keep a little closer to Scratch in case he suddenly disappeared and she got lost. She realised that in any tunnel system there was always the option to go back – but in her mind she thought that this may be a labyrinth maze with plenty of dead ends to trap the unwary.

Eventually Scratch led Sunwise to a large area. It was huge in comparison to any of the nests within the warren – about six rabbits long, about four rabbits wide and with a huge domed roof which was obviously making the structural strength to this area. Sunwise started to think that this would be a fantastic area for her brothers and sisters to play in – when she realised; Scratch was standing still – not even his nose twitched. He slowly lowered his head until it lay flat on the ground and stretched out his neck. He hissed through the side of his mouth for Sunwise to do the same – which she did, which was when she saw the reason why they were prostrating themselves. Ahead of them at the far end, was a mud platform, shaped and squared off with a precision that seemed so out of place in the rest of the warren. On the top of the warren was a carrot – a very old, withered carrot, the years having wilted the liquid from the orange body and the green ears hanging down lank, having long gone brown. Sunwise wondered why this old vegetable was being held in such regard, when Scratch spoke.

“Many, many seasons before this warren existed, before this field was here the Father and Mother Rabbits were hungry. Father Rabbit realised that the only thing available to them was the sun, and so he took it from the sky and they ate it. This kept them satisfied and they were able to carry on. Father rabbit realised he could see in the dark and so set off to create the first warren. But Mother Rabbit felt hungry again. She wondered if she could eat the moon, so she stared at it, wondering how she would be able to reach up and take the moon from the sky as Father Rabbit had done with the sun.

“But as they had eaten the sun, it was cold and Mother Rabbit froze to the spot, staring up at the moon, permanently wondering how she could eat it. Father Rabbit was distraught and spent the rest of the dark season in mourning. But Spring came again – and Father Rabbit was surprised to see that the sun was able to grow and rise again from the edge of the field.

But also, he spotted something else in the field – plants that contained the orange glow of the sun and he realised that as long as these carrots existed, he would be able to eat the sun and that he would not need to eat the moon.”

“But why this carrot here?” asked Sunwise.

“Because this carrot was the one that Father Rabbit placed here so that we would always have at least one carrot to feed us.”

And that is why rabbits eat carrots.

[wyeuro]

Whatever happened to Sheila?

‘Daughter, what would I do without you? You’re my only comfort now that your three brothers have left home. How cosy we’ll be with just us.’

‘Well, Mama, what if I marry?’

‘Who would marry you? You are too skinny and ugly. Besides there’s no one for you here that isn’t your cousin or nearer. Even if there were there’re prettier girls in the towns. A man not smart enough to look there isn’t worth having. You stay here with me.’

‘Well, Johnnie Ransome catches up with me sometimes when I’m going for the mail, and we walk to the post office together. He’s nice. I think how it would be to be married to him, and what our babies would look like.’

‘Johnnie Ransome? Never. He’ll be like his dad, a lazy drunkard with no ambition and no manners. I would never consent. You don’t need a man. Stay here with me. Was that someone knocking?’

Sheila got up from the table and crossed the room to the door. An icy wind came bustling into the cottage and swirled some snowflakes across the floor. Sheila leaned out and looked right and left and then closed the door.

‘Can’t see anyone,’ she said, ‘It must have been a branch hitting the window,’ and returning to the table she began to clear it, but her mother stopped her. ‘We’ll have our coffee first, then we’ll clear away.’

She was pouring it when something began to clatter at the door and it didn’t sound like a branch tossed by the wind. Sheila was sent once again to open the door, but found no one there.

They were settled either side of the fire with their coffee mugs on their knees listening to the keening of the wind when they both heard the knocking again. ‘Well it can’t be a branch,’ said Sheila, ‘because there isn’t one that could hit the door.’ She opened it again and this time she looked not only left and right and straight ahead, but also up and then down, and she screamed.

There on the step was a tiny man not quite up to her knee.

Recovering herself she remembered her manners and invited him in. Another swirl of snowflakes followed him in and she shut the door quickly. Her mother stared in amazement.

‘Step up to the fire!’ Sheila said. ‘I’ll get you a seat.’ She found the kitchen stool and a feather cushion and brought them to the fire. They looked far too big for the tiny man at first, yet when she had placed it for him he sat right down upon it and it was exactly the right size, though nobody saw anything change. The tiny man smiled gratefully. He wore pin-striped trousers and tails and carried a tall top-hat and cane. His shoes were well-mended and polished. ‘Terrible weather to be out in. Kind hearts you have indeed!’

‘Well, I hope so!’ said the mother, fully recovered. ‘Have you had tea? We have but little but what we have we share. Sheila, bring the man a plate of something.’

Sheila put some fish and a piece of bread and butter and some salad on a small plate for him. It looked enormous as she handed it to him but as soon as he took it it appeared just the right size, though nothing changed.The food cheered him, and they found they had some beer for him, and they passed the night in pleasant conversation, the two women hardly noticing that he told them nothing about himself but made them tell him everything about everyone in the district. He was clearly enjoying himself – even got up to sing a song. At last everyone was tired and Sheila made him a bed by the fire. It seemed very big but when he got in it looked just right and he went straight to sleep. The women tidied the cottage and went to bed.

Sheila awoke in a strange bed in a weird little room all angles and planes and the little man bringing her in a cup of tea. He seemed very pleased. The teacup looked hopelessly tiny, but as she reached for it it became just the right size, yet didn’t seem to have changed. The tea was delicious and gave her strength. The little man showed her a beautiful dress and told her to dress and come downstairs. She did so. The staircase looked like a doll’s house staircase, but as soon as she stepped onto it, it was the right size for her. The room downstairs had the same weird proportions as the room she’d slept in. The little man was playing a harp but he stopped when she came in and smiled.

‘Where’s my mother?’ she asked.

‘There!’ He pointed to a mirror, and Sheila was amazed to see her mother in it. She was staring at Sheila’s bed wringing her hands and weeping. On Sheila’s bed was a wooden stick.

‘Oh, my poor mother!’ was Sheila’s first thought. ‘Now she’s got no one!’

‘She’ll be all right,’ said the little man, taking up his harp again. ‘This’ll make her famous for miles around and all the neighbours will suck up to her for some of the reflected glory.’

‘You’re a wicked, bad fairy, and you’ve carried me off. What do you want with me.’

‘Better manners than that! You should be grateful. You never had that nice a dress before, or such good shoes.’

Sadly she said, ‘They’re wasted on an ugly girl like me.’

‘You’re not ugly. Johnny Ransome didn’t think so.

‘Oh Johnny!’ For an enchanted moment she imagined him seeing her in the new dress. Vanity! ‘But now I can’t have him!’ she cried.

‘Your mother was right – he’s not worthy of you.’ He played a splendid crescendo of golden notes. Sheila went further under his spell and became lost in the beauty of the melody, emerging when it ended to find a sumptuous breakfast laid out on a tiny table that was just her size when she sat at it. She was getting used to the strange interplay of proportions.

As she ate she glanced at the mirror again and saw her mother’s cottage full of neighbours, police, clergy and reporters, and her mother playing up to them like a starlet. Sheila drank some delicious fruit juice and returned to the mirror just as the cottage faded and the road she should have been on at that time appeared instead, at the very place where Johnny was accustomed to meet her.

Johnny was there and yet it was pretty Maggie Mason who came along, just minutes after she would have, and she heard their conversation.

‘Where’s Sheila this morning?’ ‘Haven’t you heard? She’s been "taken". You better go and see her ma.’ ‘"Taken"?’ Maggie explained and Johnny’s eyes grew wide but then he shook himself and smiled at Maggie. ‘So I will – later on, but I think right now I’d rather go with you.’ He leered at Maggie and she gave him her arm and off they went billing and cooing like two lovers.

‘So he didn’t want me,’ sighed Sheila. ‘And you wouldn’t want me. You’re the wrong type. I want to go back to my mother.’

‘Don’t take on,’ said he, but Sheila began to cry and to complain and to expostulate until it took all his most strenuous harp-strumming to calm her. She finished her breakfast and washed up, putting things in cupboards as happily as she did at home. Then he gave her a book to read.

How bright and detailed were the pictures, how evocative the prose. Sheila was captivated, running across scented fields with golden dogs, riding a fine white horse towards a moated castle, dancing among beautiful ladies and handsomer youths than she had ever seen. Page after page she turned, getting more and more deeply absorbed in what she read until she could smell the flowers, hear the birdsong and the music of the fifes and harpsichords and see the beautiful faces of the characters.

Once she remembered herself, just as she was identifying as one of the fairest damsels of that magical fairy kingdom being presented at court, and to chasten herself, looked at the mirror to see her own face. But the face that stared back was that of the fairest damsel she’d ever seen, and she gasped. The fairy smiled and stroked his harp strings. She returned to the book and was soon lost in it, and lo, from among that glorious crowd of fairy dancers stepped the handsomest young man of them all, and bowed low. Though he used a language she’d never heard before she found herself understanding every word.

Soon however the music swelled and the dance began. Sheila found that she knew the steps and was soon gazing into the young prince’s eyes and never doubting that he was falling as deeply in love with her as she was with him.
And suddenly, when there she was, in the arms of this prince as truly as she’d ever been anywhere, she heard the book slammed shut with a comfortable thud behind her, just like a closing door! Turning quickly, in the final fluttering of its pages she saw the last of the leprechaun’s smile, and caught the fading echoes of his rapidly disappearing harp. But then her young prince swept her away in his arms and they danced their dance of pure, pure love…

[Earthwoman]

NOTICE: Any entries below this post will be ignored and/or deleted.

[Earthwoman]

NOTE: The short story "The Smell of Olives" by Brianna has been deleted, at Brianna's request.