Mystical Realms Newsletter for July, 2015

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Greetings!

And welcome to my newsletter for July, 2015! Please feel free to forward this to anyone whom you believe might be interested in keeping up with me! To receive these newsletters regularly, drop me an email or subscribe online from my website ( www.JefMurray.com ) or at: http://groups.google.com/group/Mystical_Realms  .

 

Pitchers ===============

  •      I’m very slowly adding some additional images to the gallery page of www.TheFramerunners.com, but a lot of new work will probably need to wait for this fall, when the second book in The Framerunners series will begin posting.

 

Prospects ===================

  •      On September 19, I will be speaking at the Tolkien and Lewis Celebration conference at Aquinas College in Nashville, TN. Other speakers include Dale Alquist, Kevin O’Brien, Devin Brown, and Joseph Pearce. You can find out more here: http://www.aquinascollege.edu/calendar-event/tolkien-lewis-celebration/
  •      For those who have been following the ongoing tales of The Framerunners (see www.TheFramerunners.com), the first book in the series, In the Company of Angels, was fully online through its conclusion (Episode 16), but will only remain online for a couple of weeks. Publication of the tale in book and ebook forms is scheduled for this fall, and more complete details will follow.
  •      In addition to the main storylines, there are a number of “Vignettes” featuring the characters from The Framerunners. These are posted periodically, and can also be accessed at the main website at: http://jefmurray.com/framerunners/vignettes/ . The next big story arc, which will be book 2 of the series, will start posting in September. It is entitled The Door to Eternity.

 

Ponderings ==============

“And that is how the people of Orbaratus destroyed themselves.”

Charles sat looking at the old man across the table. Thunder rumbled outside the diamond-paned windows of Charles’ Oxford flat, and the deep purple light of the approaching storm contrasted eerily with the flickers of gold and red from the fireplace and the lighted candles on the mantel. Upon the table, between the two friends, sat an ancient book, bound in black leather, that Azarias had brought with him. It was a medieval collection of spells, he had told Charles.

Azarias’ tale of the demise of Orbaratus — that ancient world in another galaxy — had not taken long to tell, but, in truth, the events he had recounted on that world had actually spanned many decades.

“So, let me get this straight,” said Charles. “The folk of Orbaratus were, even by our own standards, deeply religious and in tune with God and with the needs of their own people. Theirs was a blessed and thriving culture. What happened to change that? Yous say this ‘greatest generation’ as you called them, the very ones that overcame oppression and saved their world from evil, allowed their guard to lapse? They allowed their own children to lead them down the road to annihilation?! How could that possibly happen in a single generation?”

“It isn’t that difficult to understand if you recognize where the process began,” said Azarias. “Beginnings are very important. Never forget that! If you overlook the very first stirrings of change in a culture, all that follows seems hopelessly inexplicable.

“Change always begins with values. The people of Orbaratus went from revering God, loyalty, honor, and self-sacrifice, to, instead, worshiping individualism, ‘self-realization’, and a utopian tolerance for novel — and dangerous — ideas. After all that they had renounced to achieve their victories against a rising despotism in their own generation, the elder Orbaratans became deeply war-weary. And the Enemy took advantage.”

“How?”

“As I’ve told you. The Orbaratans had seen horrors, and they yearned to make sense of them. So, theories of the nature of existence that had previously been ignored took on new appeal — particularly the view that individuals were ruled by psychology, not by natural law or by God. There arose in their midst the equivalent of a Sigmund Freud, who promoted a secular and mechanistic view of human nature. This, on the deepest possible level, swept away the God-centered underpinnings of their whole civilization. Not immediately, mind you, but slowly, insidiously, and inexorably.

“Demons were replaced with psychological disturbances; sinful thoughts and actions were attributed to unconscious urges stemming from childhood trauma; behavioral prohibitions that promoted societal well-being and order were discarded in the name of equality, tolerance, and progress. But the moral grounding — the very nature of what they believed about themselves — had to change before the society could begin destroying itself legally, politically, socially, and militarily.”

Charles shuddered. “But weren’t there those who saw the danger and called for caution? Couldn’t anyone see where the new values would lead, ultimately?”

“Of course! But, once the great majority of society no longer looked to natural law and to God for guidance, such folk were either ignored or marginalized. The irony was that those who dissented from the herd behavior of the new majority were labeled ‘intolerant’ and ‘haters’. The ‘enlightened elites’ who promoted the new secularism never once recognized the irony and hypocrisy of their own intolerance and hatred.”

Outside the flat, the storm rolled in upon the town, and blue lightning struck in the distance, casting a queer light upon Charles and his guest. Azarias, at such times, appeared like some ancient Methuselah; it was a look he carried well.

“But once the laws began to change and the dissenters were overruled, what happened?” asked Charles.

“Societies in distress always look for scapegoats, and all the more so when they know, deep down inside, that they themselves are the ones to blame for their own ills. On Orbaratus, with each new riot in the streets, those who questioned any aspect of the new progressive worldview, were, themselves, sacrificed on the altar of public opinion. Even modest dissent was soon wiped out as fear of persecution became all-consuming. Evil is always capable of twisting the mindset of the masses to its own ends once a society has severed its moral roots.”

Lightning again struck, more closely this time, and Charles heard, or thought he heard, whispered voices riding the winds of the storm outside the window. A sudden down-gust forced smoke from the chimney into the flat, and the smell of burning wood and ozone — with just the slightest hint of sulfur — enveloped the two confidants.

“Ah! I see that we have stirred the ire of the Enemy, even with this modest tete-a-tete here upon our own world,” said Azarias.

“Oh, come now!” said Charles. “We aren’t talking about supernatural forces here; we’re talking about social and cultural shifts.”

“Are we? Aren’t the two fully intertwined?”

“Well…no! That’s absurd!” said Charles. You’re suggesting that, fundamentally, some supernatural agency was responsible for toppling Orbaratus? And that somehow that agency is ‘listening in’ on our conversation even now? That’s more than a bit paranoid, don’t you think?”

Azarias looked at his young friend. “No, it’s not, although I wish it were. You find it so because of your own upbringing and the culture in whcih you have been steeped all your life. I am much older than you — old enough to have seen that what happened on Orbaratus is already happening here as well. And I know that the conflict is, first and foremost, a spiritual one. I can even prove it.”

“How so?”

“You happen to believe in God, do you not?”

“Certainly.”

“But, tell me, do you also believe in demons? Or in the devil?”

“No, not particularly.”

“So you would find it ridiculous for me to suggest that I could recite one of the spells in this book and summon a demon into this very room?” Azarias patted the cover of the leathern volume he had brought with him. Gold letters and symbols on its black surface glittered in the candlelight.

“I would be very skeptical, certainly. That’s a medieval manuscript filled with some pretty quaint notions, as I recall — very pre-scientific. It’s not likely that the incantations it contains would have any supernatural power over us in our own day, it seems to me.”

“On the contrary, my dear fellow, I assure you they have lost none of their potency because of their age. Recite any of the spells from the book’s pages, and you could quickly find yourself in the presence of forces — powerful forces! — whose existence you might never before have suspected.”

The two sat in silence for a few moments.

“I’m not sure I believe you,” said Charles.

“Ah! Well! Then you have proved what I’ve known to be the case for some time now; in fact, since first I came here to work with Father Hildebrandt and the Benedictines.”

“And what is that?”

“Simply this: that the devil has never achieved a greater victory than in convincing the people of your generation to disbelieve in him and in all of the dark forces that he controls. It is that disbelief — that very skepticism — that will ultimately lead us down the same path as Orbaratus.”

Lightning struck again outside the flat, but the delay before the thunder rolled in was greater than it had been.

“The storm is passing,” said Charles.

“Alas, my friend, I fear it is only just now breaking upon us,” said the older man, rubbing his eyes.

And in the gloaming, Charles noticed, due no doubt to some trick of the firelight and the smoke that had blown into the room, that a halo had formed around the venerable head of his friend. And he wondered then what trials the coming months might bring them both.

 

Mystical Realms Newsletter for June 2015

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Greetings!

And welcome to my newsletter for June, 2015! Please feel free to forward this to anyone whom you believe might be interested in keeping up with me! To receive these newsletters regularly, drop me an email or subscribe online from my website ( http://www.JefMurray.com ) or at: http://groups.google.com/group/Mystical_Realms .

 

Pitchers ===============

  •      I’ve added quite a few sketch and painting images to The Framerunners gallery at http://jefmurray.com/framerunners/the-gallery/ . These images are mostly taken from the ongoing story saga, In the Company of Angels, which now has 27 episodes (13.5 chapters) online. The finished novel, including some if not all of the illustrations used online, will ultimately be available in book and ebook formats.
  •      I’ve added 2 new painting images to my website at www.JefMurray.com . These include Star Kindler, and The Wanderer. The first of these can be found in my Middle-earth -> The First Age gallery; the second can be found in my Fairy Tales gallery. You can also find them all by going directly to http://www.JefMurray.comand clicking on the “Newest Works -> Paintings” link at the top, left.
  •      In addition to the above, I’ve added 6 new sketch images to my website. These can be found in the Middle-earth Sketches, Fairy Tale Sketches, and Soul & Spirit Sketches galleries, or you can see them all by clicking on the “Newest Works->Sketches link at the top left of my website.

 

Prospects ===================

  •      For those who have been following the ongoing tales of The Framerunners (see www.TheFramerunners.com), the first book in the series, “In the Company of Angels”, is entering its most climactic phase. The full text of the book should be completely posted, in weekly installments, roughly by the first Friday in July. To read the first episode of the book (subsequent episodes can be accessed through a link at the bottom of each page), you can begin here: http://jefmurray.com/framerunners/general/episode-1-a-rumpus-in-the-library/
  •      In addition to the main storyline, there are a number of “Vignettes” featuring the characters from The Framerunners. These are posted periodically, and can also be accessed at the main website at: http://jefmurray.com/framerunners/vignettes/

 

Ponderings ==============

Lorraine had noticed the bird before, but this last week the sparrow was back. It was attacking the side view mirror of our car. It would perch on the mirror, and then fly forward to hover in front of its own image. Tap! Tap! Tap! went its beak against the glass. It wasn’t clear whether the bird was attempting combat or courtship, but we could see that it was not going to go away; at least not as long as it could still see itself in the mirror.

It occurred to me that this “Tap! Tap! Tap!” was some sort of a signal…a coded message I should pay attention to. I’ve been swept up in preparations for the release of my next book. I’ve been hoping that my stories and illustrations will be well received; that folks who read the book will be kind; that I won’t have to pretend to be something or someone that I’m not.

I really don’t know how I’ll behave if I end up being asked to talk about the book on radio shows or online. I’ve had my ego stroked by the many kind comments about the online chapters of the book and the concept of series as a whole. These are temptations to a subtle losing of one’s way: to bask in “recognition” and perhaps to alter the course of one’s work so as to continue to claim accolades and awards.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

The bird has made a mess of the car. Because it’s obsessed with the image in the mirror, it neglects to notice that its droppings have covered its perch and even partially obscured its reflection. But it doesn’t stop. It can’t seem to get away from that other bird…the one that seems always to be just out of reach.

It occurs to me, and not for the first time, that we can become fixated on the events in our own little lives, and whether we love the movements of our current existence or hate them, the fixation itself can wreak not-so-subtle havoc. G. K. Chesterton likened the mind of an insane person to a ring, endlessly enclosed upon itself, whereas a healthy mind is like a cross, expanding to reach out to others, horizontally, and to God, vertically.

Peter Kreeft expands on this idea in his book “The Philosophy of Tolkien” by pointing out that in Tolkien’s The Silmarillion, the move from a flat, “mythical” earth to a round enclosed world represents the Fall. It also represents the ascendency of the materialist viewpoint over that of the supernaturalist.

This exaltation of the material over the supernatural is a great temptation for all of us, but particularly for artists and writers. Author and artist Michael O’Brien once described knowing creative folk whose work deteriorated because they chose to pursue recognition, accolades, and sales: these rather than remaining true to their original vision. And a truly original vision always involves the recognition that all talents are gifts from God, not something we’ve “made” ourselves and are thus entitled to exploit.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

I need to take a deep breath and remind myself of a few things. The most important of these is why I began painting and writing in the first place. My hope was to tap into my deepest sense of what the supernatural world, the real world, is all about. And that, for me, is most fully encompassed in the “fairy tale” known as Christianity.

The work we are put on this earth to do has nothing to do with self-obsession. It has nothing to do with working ourselves into an early grave to gain recognition, money, and awards. It has something to do, rather, with exploring the deepest realms “beyond the veil”, and bringing back some shard of the beauty and excitement we find there to share with others.

If we do this faithfully, then it doesn’t matter whether we love or hate the immediate circumstances of our lives; what matters is why we do what we do. And if the focus is on understanding the incredible world that God has created, and passing on this understanding, awe, and gratitude, then the circle is broken; we’re able to walk away from the self-obsessions, the self-doubts, the self-aggrandizements. In fact, we can walk away from self entirely.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

I went outside yesterday and washed off the mirror. The sparrow watched from a nearby limb. Once the mirror was clean, I draped a washcloth over it and went back into the house. The bird returned, but only briefly. Without the image to fixate upon, it remembered the larger world around it and quickly flew away.

 

Mystical Realms Newsletter for May 2015

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Greetings!

And welcome to my newsletter for May, 2015! Please feel free to forward this to anyone whom you believe might be interested in keeping up with me! To receive these newsletters regularly, drop me an email or subscribe online from my website ( http://www.JefMurray.com ) or at: http://groups.google.com/group/Mystical_Realms .

 

Pitchers ===============

  •      I’ve added quite a few sketch and painting images to The Framerunners gallery at http://jefmurray.com/framerunners/the-gallery/ . These images are mostly taken from the ongoing story saga, In the Company of Angels, which now has 23 episodes (12.5 chapters) online. The finished novel, including some if not all of the illustrations used online, will ultimately be available in book and ebook formats.

 

 

Prospects ===================

 

 

  •      For those who have been following the ongoing tales of The Framerunners (see www.TheFramerunners.com), the first book in the series, “In the Company of Angels”, is entering its most climactic phase. The full text of the book should be completely posted, in weekly installments, roughly by the end of June. To read the first episode of the book (subsequent episodes can be accessed through a link at the bottom of each page), you can begin here: http://jefmurray.com/framerunners/general/episode-1-a-rumpus-in-the-library/

 

  •      In addition to the main storyline, there are a number of “Vignettes” featuring the characters from The Framerunners. These are posted periodically, and can also be accessed at the main website at: http://jefmurray.com/framerunners/vignettes/

 

 

Ponderings ==============

 

We are, it would seem, living in a golden age of science fiction and fantasy stories. Films exploring other worlds and other times regularly explode onto the big screen, with each offering seemingly more spectacular and frenetic than the last. Even when the original source material for such films is modest, as with J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit, the final products that assail us from towering 3D IMAX screens seem ever less like stories and ever more like amusement park rides. Is this a fundamental problem with the science fiction and fantasy tales themselves, or is it a result of losing track of the original, salutary literary functions that they once served?

Science fiction and fantasy books and stories have always excelled at schooling readers in wonder and awe. That has traditionally been their hallmark. At their best, they offer up perspectives and paradoxes that prod us to ponder deeper issues than we are wont to do: issues that we often neglect when dealing with the “wild animals” of our immediate life concerns. As C.S. Lewis reminds us, we wake up each morning and are flooded with urgent thoughts: What should I do at work about my troublesome co-worker? How are we going to get the baby to the doctor’s office? Will dad ever be able to work again? Can I get the rent paid this month? Should we put mom in a nursing home? How will we survive Aunt Myrtle’s visit next week?

Science fiction and fantasy stories have traditionally supplied for us those things that J.R.R. Tolkien associates with traditional fairy tales: namely, recovery, escape, and consolation. They take us out of ourselves, but not as does a trip to the amusement park. Rather, their effects are much more profound and long-lasting. They allow us to regain perspective on what is important in life (recovery), to break out of our normal ways of seeing things (escape), and, at their best, provide us with a glimpse of what our lives can and ought to be about (consolation).

Of these qualities inherent in the best of science fiction and fantasy tales, the one that seems most to have been neglected, especially on the big screen, is that of consolation, and particularly of consolation (at its greatest level described as eucatastrophe, or the unexpected happy ending) as understood from the perspective of a Christian.

This was not always the case, either in print or on the big screen. On the contrary, C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia explore the question of how Christ might appear to a world very different from our own. J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings similarly offer us adventurous tales that are set in a world that is deeply informed by Tolkien’s own understanding of the highest functions of fantasy, as well as his own Catholic faith. Walter M. Miller’s A Canticle for Leibowitz is a dystopian adventure and science fiction tale that explores the nature of sin, but that also supplies us with staggering glimpses of grace.

So, what’s missing in our own golden age of science fiction and fantasy? Why do so many of the films we encounter, and so many of the books and other source materials on which they are based, fall so short of achieving that glimpse of evangelium, that conviction of the reality of joy and the final impotence of evil that Tolkien suggests is possible in the greatest of science fiction and fantasy works?

Perhaps there are not enough authors attempting to create such things; or if they exist, they may not have perfected their craft enough to break through to a wider, largely secular audience. Alternatively, works that strive for deep and worthy statements of Truth may be prevented from reaching wider audiences by those who are inimical to such truths. And in a world that appears more to value violence, prurience, and corruption over fortitude, chastity, and virtue, adherence to a strong moral compass in any tale may be anathema and doomed to ultimate economic failure.

Yet, I cannot believe it to be so. The Chronicles of Narnia remain perennially popular; A Wrinkle in Time still is a favorite among all children’s books; The Lord of the Rings is even more popular today than at any other time in history. That movie adaptations of such works often gut them of the spiritual scaffoldings upon which they were built does not mean that those underpinnings are unnecessary; it means that we live, as ever, in a world that hates Christ’s message and wants it buried, burned, and banned.

In which case, it seems clear that those of us who aspire to spread the good news by writing and publishing morally-grounded science fiction and fantasy tales must work that much harder. We must continue to pray for and ask for support from like-minded people of faith, but not so that we may produce mediocre tales in the name of Christ. Instead, we must challenge our best and brightest to produce great works of literature and art, works that eclipse the finest that the secular world has to offer. In that way, and in that way only, we may ultimately break through to our brothers and sisters who so desperately need to hear the good news of hope, of charity, and of love – that glimpse of final victory — that is so often missing from our current batch of 3D IMAX science fiction and fantasy extravaganzas.

 

Mystical Realms Newsletter for April 2015

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Greetings!

And welcome to my newsletter for February, 2015! Please feel free to forward this to anyone whom you believe might be interested in keeping up with me! To receive these newsletters regularly, drop me an email or subscribe online from my website (http://www.JefMurray.com ) or at: http://groups.google.com/group/Mystical_Realms .

 

Pitchers ===============

•      I’ve added 2 new painting images to my website at www.JefMurray.com . These include The Wizard’s Tale, and The Ring Goes South. The first of these can be found in my Fairy Tales gallery; the second can be found in my Middle-earth -> The Third Age -> Lord of the Rings gallery. You can also find them all by going directly to http://www.JefMurray.com and clicking on the “Newest Works->Paintings” link at the top, left.

•      In addition to the above, I’ve added 8 new sketch images to my website. These can be found in the Middle-earth Sketches, Narnia Sketches, Fairy Tale Sketches, and Soul & Spirit Sketches galleries, or you can see them all by clicking on the “Newest Works->Sketches link at the top left of my website.

•      “Seer: A Wizard’s Journal” 2nd Edition is now available! Plus, there are bundles of items that include many of the new color illustrations that you can purchase with the book (mugs, bookmarks, art cards, Christmas ornaments, etc.)! To see what’s available and to order yours, see: http://olorisbookshop.com/collections/books/products/seer-2nd-edition

 

Prospects ===================

•      For those who have been following the ongoing tales of The Framerunners (see www.TheFramerunners.com), the first book in the series, “In the Company of Angels”, is entering its most climactic phase. The full text of the book should be completely posted, in weekly installments, roughly by the end of June. To read the first episode of the book (subsequent episodes can be accessed through a link at the bottom of each page), you can begin here:

http://jefmurray.com/framerunners/general/episode-1-a-rumpus-in-the-library/

 

•      In addition to the main storyline, there are a number of “Vignettes” featuring the characters from The Framerunners. These are posted periodically, and can also be accessed at the main website at: http://jefmurray.com/framerunners/vignettes/

 

 

Ponderings ==============

 

“Tap, tap, tap….”

Sam stirred ever so slightly from his sleep.

“Tap, tap, tap….”

At first he thought it was a bird, but then he remembered: it was pitch black outside, and other than owls, no birds should be stirring. He sat up in bed.

“Tap, tap, tap….”

Sam looked around but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He noticed the faint electric glow of starlight streaming through the windowpanes onto the wooden floorboards. But there was something else there as well: something blocking the light. He couldn’t tell what it could be.

“Sam! Open the window!”

Sam rubbed his eyes. He flung aside the covers, pushed himself out of bed, and stepped toward the pool of starlight on the floor. As he approached the window, he saw a figure huddled just outside among the bushes: a dark silhouette.

“Sam, open the window. It’s cold. I need to come inside.”

He knew the voice, but he hadn’t heard it for quite a while. Was it his cousin?

Sam lived with his Uncle Charles. They shared the house in which his uncle had resided for decades. It was the house with the strange and ancient chest in the attic, the one filled with magical artifacts. The chest had been entrusted to his uncle by someone else, many years before Sam had been born. Sam had borrowed something from the chest once: a book filled with the most amazing stories. He had read it all night long. But the next morning, when he awoke, the book had vanished. It had returned, of its own accord, to the chest. That had been Sam’s first experience of magic: real magic.

Now he squinted into the darkness. It was an April morning and it had been unusually warm, but there was no warmth near the window. In fact, he thought he saw frost at the edges of the panes. But just a few inches beyond the glass, Sam could make out a pale face with eyes that reflected the light from the stars in an odd way: a spooky way.

The face appeared to be that of his older cousin; yet it was not his cousin. His cousin was overseas, he remembered. He was staying in the home of friends in Italy, where he was studying the writings of the desert fathers.

“Come on, Sam, let me in…,” whined the voice once more, and the creature continued its eerie tapping upon the windowpane, with fingernails that looked more and more to Sam like claws….

He realized that this was not some dream; nor was it something that he might ever be able to truly understand. The night was passing, but he suspected that his thinking was still not sound, and he didn’t entirely trust his natural first impulse: to help someone who appeared to be in need of shelter. “Things, and people especially, aren’t always what they appear to be,” his Uncle Charles had once told him

.He shook his head to clear it and then looked around at his bedroom. His eyes came to rest upon a small icon of St. Michael the Archangel on his bedside table. It had been given him by Father Hildebrandt when they had first.

Father Hildebrandt had looked deeply into Sam’s eyes, and had then stepped to the wall beside his desk, on which had hung this icon. He had removed it and handed it to Sam. “This may come in handy someday,” the Abbot had told him.

Sam stepped away from the window, took up the icon, and knelt with it by his bedside. He began to recite the prayer that he had learned long ago from his uncle: “O mighty prince of the heavenly hosts, St. Michael, we beg you to protect and defend us….”

As Sam continued the prayer, the tapping upon the windowpane slowed and then ceased. Soon he thought he could detect the faintest sweet scent in the air around him. What was that? Frankincense?

He completed his prayer and looked once more, with trepidation, toward the window. But there was no longer any figure huddled outside. Instead, the faintest blush of dawn was showing upon the horizon. Whatever creature had assailed him during these darkest hours of the early dawn had been vanquished.

Sam, grateful that he had been spared any greater trial, returned to his bed, and he fell into the deepest and most untroubled sleep he could ever recall having had in all of his tender years….

Mystical Realms Newsletter for March 2015

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Greetings!

And welcome to my newsletter for March, 2015! Please feel free to forward this to anyone whom you believe might be interested in keeping up with me! To receive these newsletters regularly, drop me an email or subscribe online from my website ( http://www.JefMurray.com ) or at: http://groups.google.com/group/Mystical_Realms .

 

Pitchers ===============

 

 

 

 

 

 

Prospects ===================

 

  • The Finnish Tolkien Society is putting the finishing touches on a new short film about Tolkien and Christianity that will be featuring my work. Stay tuned for more info!

 

 

 

 

Ponderings ==============

 

 

The child had been sitting quietly in a corner of the room for most of the evening. Jill had seen him, but in the bustle of friends and family at the St. Patrick’s Day potluck, she had not had time to learn who he was.

 

“He’s Jason’s brother,” her cousin Kate had told her at one point in the evening. “His name’s Gabriel.”

 

“What’s he doing?” Jill asked.

 

“I don’t know. But Jason says he lives in his own world. He’s always in his head. You wouldn’t believe the stories he comes up with.”

 

“But what is he, like, three years old?”

 

“Yeah, maybe. Anyway, the whole family’s a bit odd.”

 

Jill had laughed. “And ours isn’t?! My dad disappeared over a year ago, and you have to put up with Rusty and his antics all the time! I don’t know…seems to me like every family I know of has weird things they have to deal with….”

 

Kate had smiled and shrugged. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But at least we have families to come home to. So…maybe strange isn’t such a bad thing.”

 

From that point forward Jill had kept an eye on Gabriel. And when she managed to get away from some of her friends, she wandered over into the corner where the little boy, barefoot, was sprawled out on the floor. Sheets of paper surrounded him like barrier islands: each with a scrawled image of a person, or a tree, or mountains, or clouds.

 

“Hey there, Gabriel!” Jill said.

 

“You belong there…” said Gabriel. He pointed to a sketch of a room filled with what looked like paintings and books.

 

“Uh…OK. I just wanted to say hi….”

 

Gabriel continued to work on another sketch. Jill couldn’t tell what it was.

 

“Is that a doorway, Gabriel?”

 

There was no answer. Gabriel kept sketching. Jill was about to walk away when suddenly the little boy reached up and tugged at her skirt.

 

“You’ll need this,” he said. He looked up at her and handed her the sketch. It was of a doorway with strange markings on it. They reminded Jill of hieroglyphics.

 

“It’s the Door to Eternity. You need to remember the password. Otherwise, you’ll never get back.”

 

“What password?”

 

“The one that the genie gives you. Don’t forget it.” Gabriel pulled a fresh sheet of paper from a stack beside him and began work on yet another sketch.

 

Jill, perplexed, watched Gabriel for another minute, and then left him. She looked at the sketch he had handed her. It was of a doorway like those her father had told her about: false doors were carved by the ancient Egyptians into tombs and pyramids. Then she remembered; those doors were supposed to lead into the spirit world….

 

Mystical Realms Newsletter for February, 2015

 

Polydora_and_jill_lo_res

Greetings!

And welcome to my newsletter for February, 2015! Please feel free to forward this to anyone whom you believe might be interested in keeping up with me! To receive these newsletters regularly, drop me an email or subscribe online from my website ( http://www.JefMurray.com ) or at: http://groups.google.com/group/Mystical_Realms .

 

Pitchers ===============

 

  •      I’ve added 2 new painting images to my website at www.JefMurray.com . These include Ulmo Rises, and Old Man Willow. The first of these can be found in my Middle-earth -> The First Age gallery; the second can be found in my Middle-earth -> The Third Age -> Lord of the Rings gallery. You can also find them all by going directly to http://www.JefMurray.comand clicking on the “Newest Works->Paintings” link at the top, left.
  •      In addition to the above, I’ve added 12 new sketch images to my website. These can be found in the Middle-earth Sketches, Narnia Sketches, Fairy Tale Sketches, and Soul & Spirit Sketches galleries, or you can see them all by clicking on the “Newest Works->Sketches link at the top left of my website.
  •      “Seer: A Wizard’s Journal” 2nd Edition is now available! Plus, there are bundles of items that include many of the new color illustrations that you can purchase with the book (mugs, bookmarks, art cards, Christmas ornaments, etc.)! To see what’s available and to order yours, see: http://olorisbookshop.com/collections/books/products/seer-2nd-edition
  •      The 2015 Fantastical Beasts & Beings Calendar is still available! To learn more and to purchase your copy, you can go to my website and click on the Fantastical Beasts Calendar image on the front page slider, or go directly to the following link:

http://sales.jefmurray.com/books/calendar_2015_Jef_Murray_Fb.html

 

 

Prospects ===================

 

 

Ponderings ==============

For those of you who enjoyed reading “Seer”, and for everyone that enjoys epic fantasy tales, I am posting a new serial saga online that includes characters you already know from “Seer”, as well as many new ones. Ant there are ten episodes already online!

The series, entitled “The Framerunners: In the Company of Angels”, can be seen at www.TheFramerunners.com. This series is for young adults and for the young at heart. If you or others you know loved The Hobbit and the Chronicles of Narnia, please come and follow the adventures of Jill, Sam, Luke, and Polydora!

To get started, you can go to www.TheFramerunners.com, or to read the first episode (links to subsequent episodes are at the bottom of each page) go to:

http://jefmurray.com/framerunners/general/episode-1-a-rumpus-in-the-library/

 

 

Mystical Realms Newsletter for January, 2015

 

13_11_4259s_The_bard_of_avon001_BW_enh_800

Greetings!

And welcome to my newsletter for January, 2015! Please feel free to forward this to anyone whom you believe might be interested in keeping up with me! To receive these newsletters regularly, drop me an email or subscribe online from my website ( http://www.JefMurray.com ) or at: http://groups.google.com/group/Mystical_Realms .

Pitchers ===============

 

  •      “Seer: A Wizard’s Journal” 2nd Edition is now available! Plus, there are bundles of items that include many of the new color illustrations that you can purchase with the book (mugs, bookmarks, art cards, Christmas ornaments, etc.)! To see what’s available and to order yours, see: http://olorisbookshop.com/collections/books/products/seer-2nd-edition
  •      The 2015 Fantastical Beasts & Beings Calendar is still available! To learn more and to purchase your copy, you can go to my website and click on the Fantastical Beasts Calendar image on the front page slider, or go directly to the following link:

 

 

http://sales.jefmurray.com/books/calendar_2015_Jef_Murray_Fb.html

 

  •      EWTN broadcast a new special on the Catholicity of J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Lord of the Rings” last month. It aired on Dec 14 9pm and Dec 16 5pm, and a DVD of the program should be available from EWTN soon!

 

 

Prospects ===================

 

  •      For those of you who enjoyed “Seer: A Wizard’s Journal”, and for those who will be reading the new, colour edition soon, please note that I am posting episodes of a new epic tale each week on the site www.TheFramerunners.com. The tales that will appear there will include some characters you already know from “Seer”, as well as many new ones. The first story arc in the series, entitled “In the Company of Angels”, can be read at http://jefmurray.com/framerunners/the-stories/.

 

These tales are suitable for young adults and for all who are young at heart. If you loved The Hobbit, the Chronicles of Narnia, and A Wrinkle in Time, but also enjoy other fantasy tales and science fiction, please come and follow along as we chronicle the adventures of Jill, Sam, Luke, and many others! You can join our email list by going to TheFramerunners.com, or by dropping me a line.

 

  •      I will be presenting a Thomas Aquinas college on the trials and tribulations of illustrating the works of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis in September of this year. Stay tuned for details!

Ponderings ==============

Yesterday was Epiphany, the date on which we observe the coming of the Wise to the birthplace of the Word; the ultimate confrontation of thought with the unthinkable. The term comes from the Greek “epiphaneia”, which means a manifestation or a striking appearance. We use the term to denote a sudden apparition, a cataclysm, a moment of powerful illumination that disrupts our normal way of seeing things.

Such moments are fraught with danger. Epiphanies confront us with events or realizations beyond our usual boundaries. And in such gales of illumination, our dead layers are stripped away, laying us bare. This happens whether we like it or not…whether we are prepared for it or not.

Such is the moment described by C. S. Lewis when the protagonist of his book Perelandra realizes that he is trying to match wits with a demon. This demon can counter his every argument, and is clearly on the verge of causing a second Fall. In a moment, Ransom understands what is at stake, and how ill-equipped he is to prevail.

Such also was a night I remember long ago, when I was on the phone with my best friend Robert. We went on to become co-Valedictorians of our high school class, but that night, we were trying out our nascent philosophical wings. This was the 1970s, and with the winds of secularism that came with those times, even so-called Christian high schools were importing teachers who scoffed at faith. Robert and I were both nominal Christians, but that night we struck on a thought. What if there was no God? What if God was simply made up by frightened
people…a comforting illusion in a merciless void? A vast vacuum filled only with careening stars that guided no one?

  1. K. Chesterton asserted that we were given a mind by God not so that we could constantly question, but so that we could discern Truth…so that we could clamp our teeth down on something real and hold tight. But often we would rather not follow the paths laid out before us. We think it’s easier to try to get along, to seek comfort, to seek safety, to seek mediocrity.

That’s when Epiphany often forces us to choose.

While watching The Fellowship of the Ring recently, a friend’s daughter asked why Frodo didn’t just throw the One Ring away when he realized the dark riders were after it. Chris saw this as a teachable moment. He explained that if Frodo had thrown the ring away, he might have saved himself, but he would have put all of Middle-earth into greater peril.

This is the crucial point. As Gandalf says, “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” But decide we must, and how we decide tells us, not the nature of our adventure, but the nature of ourselves.

Epiphany hangs us on the razor’s edge of choice. And each choice brings us closer to truth, goodness, and beauty, or closer to nihilism, hubris, and cynicism. With each choice, we embrace the Light or flee from it.

It is my prayer that, with the coming of our individual epiphanies this year, we will make the right choices; that we will recognize our failings and limitations, yet will find the strength to choose the best path rather than the safest. And I pray that we remember, as Sam Gamgee did in Mordor, that there will always be things that are pure, that are good, and that are worthy of striving for, even if they sometimes seem beyond our reach.

The Portal – Part III

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[Part II of this tale was published on October 24, 2014. You can read it here]

Wendy returned to her apartment above the print shop, deep in thought. She didn’t notice the two young men watching her ascend the stairs. Nor would she have noticed, even if she had bothered to look out her window, that the two panhandlers seemed to be spying upon her apartment from the street.

Wendy spent the evening looking through her possessions, and she soon realized how little truly bound her to her world. Her most cherished possessions were her books, and she searched through these until she found exactly three that she thought she could not live without. The first was the Bible that her mother had left her. The second was a collection of beloved fairy tales that she had had since she was little; she had found it in an old antique store when she was very young, and it was the first book she had ever purchased. The last was an epic fantasy novel that had been given to her by the kind shopkeeper; it was his favorite book in the world, and one she thought Rowena would love.

The next morning dawned chill and grey once more. Wendy went down to the print shop as usual, but when a quiet moment came, she asked if she could speak with the shopkeeper. Timothy led her back to his desk and listened to her story; Wendy could not refrain from telling him the full tale, since she was sure now that she would not be returning to the shop again.

“Well, my dear,” Timothy told her, “I knew something was up with you. It always seemed to me that you were here for just a short while. I realized early on that you had found something at the Village that you were meant to find, and I am delighted that you have found it! Is there anything I can do to help you? I mean, are there any doubts you have about leaving that I might be able to quell?”

“But, I thought you would be astonished at what I’ve told you!” said Wendy. “You make it sound like magical portals are an everyday affair!”

“Oh, no, I don’t think they are, but I suspect they are not as rare as you seem to believe. There has always been magic at the Village; that’s why I love it, too! But I have to say I do rather envy you the chance to go to a world filled with elves and dwarves; what fun!” Timothy beamed, and then he stood up.

“I’ll be happy to give you a ride there after work, my dear, if you’d like. But, would you mind my giving you a goodbye hug now rather than then? It will be easier on me, for I shall miss you, and I don’t expect we’ll have much chance of keeping up once you go….”

Wendy gave the shopkeeper a big hug, and she saw tears in his eyes. She realized that she had come to love this man. “But maybe, just maybe,” Wendy thought to herself, “I wassupposed to love him. Maybe all of this was planned from the start.”

 

                             …

 

The trip to Shaker Village that afternoon was uneventful, although the weather remained grey and foggy and snow was expected. Timothy kept asking Wendy if the few things she had with her would be enough. She assured him they would be. He said he would offer her money if he thought it would be of any help to her, but he rather suspected that Ladydale folk, if they used money at all, would only recognize gold and silver as payment.

“And I’m afraid I’m completely out of silver pennies,” he chuckled.

They arrived at the Village parking lot just as the evening was settling in. Wendy left Timothy’s car, came around to the driver’s side, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You’ve been very good to me,” she said.

“Remember me to Rowena, and to that wizard fellow,” he replied, “and I’ll keep you in my prayers. I know all shall be well, but I’ll be keeping an eye on the Village in case any more of those portals open up anytime soon.”

Wendy waved goodbye to Timothy as he drove away, and then she turned toward the Village road. She didn’t notice the battered Chevy that had pulled into the parking lot, nor the two seedy-looking young men that emerged into the gloaming and followed her.

Wendy was nearly at the portal. It was just getting dark, and she glanced anxiously at her watch. Sunset was at 5:21 and it was just now 5:15. She then noticed the date: it was December the 13th. “Saint Lucy’s Day!” she exclaimed, “what a wonderful day for travelling between worlds! Saint Lucy, pray for me!”

She reached the portal and stooped down. Azarias was there, with Rowena. They seemed relieved.

“I was so worried you weren’t coming!” said Rowena.

“Yes, and so was I,” exclaimed Azarias. “Have you decided?”

“Yes, I have. And, yes, I want to come with you!” said Wendy.

Rowena clapped her hands together in joy.

“Then, my dear, there’s not a moment to lose,” said Azarias. “Rowena, contain your excitement, you’ll have plenty of time to express it once we are finished…”

“What must I do?” asked Wendy.

“Sit down on your side and draw your cloak up around you. I’ve already prepared everything. Now, reach your hand through to me.” Wendy put her hand through the portal. But just then she heard a twig snap, and she looked down the road. The two young men were walking rapidly toward her

.“There are two men coming,” she said to Azarias.

“I know. Ignore them. Grasp my hand.”

Wendy held the wizard’s hand tightly and closed her eyes. Her head spun, and then she heard, as if from a very great distance “Now, let go, dear. You are safe….”

His words seemed to fade as she released his hand. She opened her eyes. She was sitting on the grass, just as before, but the air was warmer, and the light, though fading, was not grey, but gold and blue. For a moment she thought that the wizard’s spell hadn’t worked, but then she saw Rowena sitting next to her, and in the next moment they were hugging each other tightly.

“It worked! It worked!!!” Wendy said.

“Welcome home!” said Rowena.

After a few moments the girls stopped hugging and Wendy looked around her. “But where is Azarias?” she asked.

“Gone,” said Rowena. “He told me that, in order to bring you here, someone from Ladydale would have to take your place. He’s on the other side now.”

Wendy looked horrified, then glanced through the portal. But all she saw was the golden light on the other side of the fence; the portal had closed.

“But, that means he’s stuck there! I didn’t mean for that to happen! It’s not fair to him!”

“Well, he didn’t seem to mind – he is a wizard, you know – besides, he said that there was some business he needed to attend to on your side. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine! But now, we must get home. Mother and father and Rowan are all desperate to meet you, and I expect you’re famished; I know I am!”

The two young women stood up and began the short walk back into town, arm in arm, laughing and bringing smiles to all they waved to in the gloaming. And Wendy noticed that the evening star was shining brightly before them, leading them home.

 

             …

 

That is the essence of the tale as it was told to me by Michael. I was curious as to how he had come to know so much of it, since it seemed to me that there were virtually no witnesses to most of the events of the last days of Wendy’s time in Harrodsburg. But Michael insisted that the tale was true. He had heard much of it from the shopkeeper, Timothy, who was a regular visitor to Shaker Village; also, he was reasonably sure that he had met Azarias, at least once. But, aside from these, there was the matter of the two cats.

Shaker Village, despite having been a functioning farm in its heyday, never had had a problem with rats, and the proprietors had always declined offers from local farmers and households to provide cats in order to control their populations. But, the morning after Saint Lucy’s day just a few years before, two black cats had suddenly appeared in the Village. No one knew where they came from, and every time Village folk tried to give them away or take them to an animal shelter, they would reappear again in the Village. You are very likely to see them there to this day, prowling about the stoops of the Village Dwellings in the cool evenings and rolling languidly upon the sun-warmed stone steps.

Michael claimed he had asked Timothy about the cats, since the timing of their appearance seemed to link them to the events surrounding Wendy’s disappearance, and here is what he was told:

“Oh, yes, yes, I’d forgotten all about that,” said Timothy. “You’re quite right you know, the cats were involved. And in fact, I was there. You see, when I dropped Wendy off and started to leave, I noticed the two men getting out of their car. They made me uneasy, so I pulled back into the parking lot and followed them. Sure enough, they seemed to be trailing her along the road toward the West Family Lot. I saw them round the corner in the road, near where the portal was located, and when I was able to see them again, they were closing in on Wendy, who was sitting on the ground in front of the portal…or so I thought.

“What happened next is difficult to say for sure. I saw a bright flash of light, and the person I thought was Wendy stood up, but it couldn’t have been Wendy, because the figure was far too tall. I heard a word of command spoken, and then there were two more flashes of light. The two men that had been there were gone; in their places were two black cats. The beasts were terror-stricken, and they immediately shrieked and bolted away and took shelter in the bushes beside the road.

“I came closer. The figure beside the fence stepped onto the road and I could see that it was an elderly fellow with long grey hair and a beard. He had a stout walking stick that he leant against.

‘You’re the shopkeeper, aren’t you?’ the man asked.

‘Yes, I’m Timothy. But who are you? And what has happened to Wendy?’

‘Ah, I think you already know the answer to both of those questions. Come, let’s go back into town. I’ve much to learn from you about Kentucky….’”

 

[The End]

 

The Portal – Part II

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[Part I of this tale was published on October 17, 2014. You can read it here]

 

It took the two some time to sort everything out, but it soon became clear to Wendy that, as impossible as it might seem, Rowena lived in completely different world: in a place called Ladydale, on the edges of the Blackshear forest. It was mostly rural countryside, but Rowena’s father was a knight of sorts, and theirs was a prominent family in the nearby town. At least, that was the best Wendy could make of what Rowena told her.

Rowena herself seemed to be fascinated with what Wendy shared about Kentucky, and about the Village and the surrounding town. She didn’t seem to know anything about automobiles, or what a print shop was, or — and this caused a big lump to form in Wendy’s throat — or what it must be like to live on one’s own without a family.

“But how ever do you take care of yourself?! Don’t you have friends there who love you?”

Wendy stared off into the autumn mist on her side of the fence. She immediately thought about the print shop owner, but other than him, no one came to mind. Wendy considered that, although she wasn’t particularly shy, she was a very quiet person, and this sometimes came across to others as unfriendliness. Her many months of living on her own had always seemed to be about movement; from one town to the next. There never had been time to make friends, and she knew next to nothing about her own family; her real family.

Wendy shook her head, and for the first time since she was a small child, she felt tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Oh dear! Oh dear! Now look what I’ve done!” said Rowena. And as Wendy was wiping the tears from her eyes, Rowena reached through the portal and touched her arm.

“Here, I have a handkerchief,” she said, and Wendy took the soft cloth and daubed at her eyes. They sat in silence for a few moments.

“I’m sorry,” said Wendy, “it’s just been such a very long time since I’ve talked with anyone. You must think I’m very strange. I mean, you live with your mother and father and brother, and you have such a…well…such a lovely life it seems. And everything you’ve told me about Ladydale makes it sound like something right out of a fairy tale, and I do love fairy tales. I’m an orphan you see, so I’ve never really known what it’s like to have a loving family around me. Are there no orphans in Ladydale?”

“There are orphans everywhere, I think. But, in Ladydale, we try to take care of them. We have a special holiday once a year for those whose parents have been lost or who are in need of a family, for whatever reason. The whole village gathers, and we feast and play games together. And after the feast, any child in need of a home is taken in by a family, and they are raised from that day forth as a son or a daughter of that household.

“But everything here isn’t perfect, Wendy. For instance, I’ve never had a sister, and I’ve always wanted one. I should love to have someone like you as a sister; someone who is strong and can take care of herself and is wise and can teach me things. I’d like that very much!”

Wendy laughed. “I’m not so sure how wise I am, but I’d like that, too. I never wanted to live alone; I’ve just never known much else.

“Nevertheless, we seem to have one big problem: I am living in one world, and you’re in another one entirely, or I’m very much mistaken. And this hole in the fence is far, far too small for either of us to fit through, even if we wished!”

“Well then,” said Rowena, “we’ll just have to find a solution. I’m sure something can be done. I mean, I can’t imagine we’d have met in such a surpassingly strange way for no reason at all — unless it was part of some bigger plan. Maybe this is our destiny: to find a way to either get you over to Ladydale or get me to Kentucky!”

“I think Ladydale sounds better,” said Wendy.

“Then Ladydale it shall be! I’ll ask father; he knows some of the King’s counsellors, and even some of the wise folk who travel through our realms from lands far, far away. One of them is just bound to know something about magic portals!”

“Do you think so? Have you ever heard anyone speak of such things before in your world?”

“To be honest, no….” The two girls looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“…but…but,” said Rowena, gasping for breath, “I have heard of other strange and magical things! And, come to think of it, Azarias may be able to help us!”

“Azarias? Who is he?”

“A traveler, a story-teller, and some say a very great magician. He knows every language spoken by men, and elves, and dwarves…”

“You have elves and dwarves in Ladydale?!”

“Sometimes. Don’t you have them in Kentucky?”

Wendy shook her head. She glanced away from the hole in the fence and looked at the bleak landscape around her. She had always loved Shaker Village, but now its charm was dulled and muted by the grey autumn mists. “How wonderful it would be,” Wendy said aloud, “to live in a world where elves and dwarves and magic were all real….”

“Oh, but Wendy…they are! They truly are!”

 

 

Wendy and Rowena made a promise to come back to the portal the next day, and then the one after that and the one after that. Soon it became nearly impossible for either of them to think of missing their visits with each other. They shared stories, admired each other’s clothes, and even shared their favorite foods: Rowena brought mead, and wild mushrooms, and ripe cheeses; Wendy brought maple-cured ham, and saltine crackers, and tuna in cans, and salsify.

The two women were temperamentally near-perfect complements, as Wendy’s quiet moodiness was lifted by Rowena’s sanguine spirits, and Rowena’s frivolity was tempered by a growing compassion and love for her new friend.

The weeks passed, and still the two met each day. And each day, Wendy’s yearning to experience Ladydale for herself and to meet other members of Rowena’s family and community grew, and her satisfaction with her own life in Harrodsburg withered. The economy in Kentucky was not good, and even though her job at the print shop seemed secure, there were many people out of work; Wendy noticed more and more people asking for handouts in the streets. She tried to be as generous as she could, especially with people that she personally knew, but there were many others she did not, and some of these frightened her.

Nevertheless, she continued her daily visits to Shaker Village, and after some weeks had passed and winter was peering over the edges of autumn, she was startled to visit the portal one evening and find Rowena there with someone else.

“This is Azarias,” said Rowena, nodding at the elderly man sitting beside her. “You remember? I told you that he might be able to help us….”

“Oh, yes, I do remember! I’m very happy to meet you, Mr. Azarias,” said Wendy.

“Just Azarias is fine, my dear,” said the old man, “and I’m delighted to finally meet you! Rowena has spoken of no one else since word of your situation reached me.” His long hair was grey, and he had a closely cropped beard. His green eyes were kindly, and he took Wendy’s hand through the portal and kissed it gently.

“But this,” he said, gazing at the portal, “this is something I’ve not seen in many, many ages of men.” He stroked his beard and brushed his fingertips against the stones of the portal, whispering words Wendy could not understand as he did so. Blue sparks sprang from the stones as his fingers passed over them.

“What year is it in your world?” asked Azarias, abruptly.

“2014,” said Wendy.

“Hmmm, 2014. I think that’s just before…ah, yes…that’s not good, not good at all.”

“What’s not good?”

“Let me think. Might I take hold of your hand once more, just for a moment?”

Wendy reached out her hand, and Azarias held it lightly in his own and closed his eyes. Wendy felt a curious sensation, a slight dizziness, and she saw shapes flitting through her mind, almost as if a dream was intruding upon her waking consciousness. Then Azarias released her hand and the sensation passed.

“Rowena, I will need to retrieve certain tools in order to do so, but I believe I can help you and Wendy, if that is what you both desire.”

“Do you mean you can bring Wendy to Ladydale?” asked Rowena.

“If she wishes it, yes. But this is no trivial matter, and it must be carefully considered. We can only bring her here once, and she would, thereafter, be unable to return home again. The portal, once used in this manner, would henceforth cease to be.” Azarias peered intently through the portal at Wendy. “So you see, my dear, you will need to carefully consider whether this is something you earnestly desire.”

Wendy lifted her gaze and looked around her at Shaker Village. She still loved it; but would she miss it and all of what she had known in her own world if she decided to leave? She looked back through the portal and saw Rowena’s glowing face.

“I do desire to come, but I need a little time to be sure, and to prepare myself.”

“That is as it should be, since, even if you wished to come immediately, I would still be lacking the time and tools to make it so. But….” Azarias hesitated.

“But, what?”

Azarias glanced at Rowena and whispered something into her ear. Rowena went pale.

“Is that true?” she asked Azarias. He nodded. “Then she must come over at once! We cannot take any chances!”

“What are you both talking about?” asked Wendy. “You’re making me nervous. Is there something wrong?”

“No, my dear, nothing that can’t be managed. We have until tomorrow at the very least, and perhaps a bit longer. Do you think you can decide by then? In any event, even if you are unsure, you must meet us again here before sundown. Is that understood?”

“Well, yes, I think so. But, what’s so important about sundown?”

“Just trust Azarias, Wendy,” said Rowena. “He’s…well…he’s seen something that might happen on your side after tomorrow, and it would be best if you were here, at the portal, before then.” Rowena glanced at Azarias and he nodded back at her.

Wendy was not an anxious soul, but she remained curious, and concerned. “But, you’re sure I have until then? Is there nothing more you can tell me?”

“I would prefer not to,” said Azarias. “Events in time, and especially those that involve other worlds, can so easily be disrupted by second-guessing them. If you can, dear, try to trust me. Come tomorrow before sunset, and I’ll be able to explain everything then, regardless of what you decide.”

“And do, do decide to come here and be with us!” said Rowena. “I don’t know why there seems to be no magic in your world, but there is here, and you’ll be so happy! You will be my sister, and I yours! Do come…do!”

“Thank you, dear Rowena! I do so want to…but I must be sure. I’ll be here tomorrow in any event. But if I am certain that I wish to be in your world, should I bring anything with me?”

“No, my dear, nothing other than any keepsakes you may wish to retain. Everything else you need in Ladydale will be provided to you by Rowena and her family,” said Azarias.

“Thank you. Then, there’s nothing more to say…I’ll see you both tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes, my dear. We’ll be here. Oh, just one more thing: have you a cloak? Something that you can put around you for warmth and to hide you from prying eyes? Yes? Then bring that along too. And, remember, you need to be here by sunset, whatever decision you come to.”

 

 [ To read Part III, click here…. ]

 

 

The Portal – Part I

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The land surrounding Shaker Village in Kentucky might have been pulled fresh from the pages of one of J.R.R. Tolkien’s tales. It encompasses rolling hills, small farm buildings, pleasant forests and streams, and ’round about its many pastures are dry stone fences that have stood for centuries. In a few spots along these fences, those who built them creatively worked round portals into the stone so that one could stoop down and see through the fence to the pasture or roadway beyond.

Passing one of these curious spots on a walk the other day, I was reminded of a tale I once heard regarding them; or at least, regarding one of them in particular. It was told me by a local fellow — Michael, I think his name was — in the Trustees’ Hall one night when Lorraine and I were supping there. It was a curious story about a very young woman who worked in Harrodsburg, but who dearly loved Shaker Village. She had no real family (Michael thought she might have been an orphan), and she had moved to Kentucky because…well…because the countryside here simply called out to her. And she loved taking long walks through the Village, never minding if there were reenactments going on, or festivals, or hayrides, or even Elves and Hobbits strolling the dusty paths until late into the evening.

Her name was Wendy. She was a quiet, introspective soul, and she managed to eke out what little living she required by working at a local print shop. The proprietor was quite kind; he seemed to understand her love of the Village, so he often let her off work early so that she could hike the wild trails there.

All was well with Wendy until, on one particularly chilly October afternoon, she was strolling away from the Village beside one of the dry stone fences, and she came upon one of the round portals that I have mentioned. And it was only then, and perhaps only because of the peculiarity of the weather at the time, that she noticed a curious thing: although the day was chilly, overcast, and damp, the light shining through the portal was bright and golden. It struck her as quite odd. Puzzled, she knelt down and peered through the opening in the stone wall; and at that moment, her life was changed forever.

For, you see, there on the other side of the wall, Wendy saw, just as clearly as you or I might see the sun rising on a clear winter’s day, a young woman looking right back at her. The girl was dressed in unusual garb, as if she was one of the costumed folk that sometimes attended festivals in the Village, but she seemed just as startled to see Wendy as Wendy was to see her.

“Oh, hello!” said Wendy.

“Hello!” the young woman replied.

At that point both of the young women did exactly the same thing; they stood up so that they might speak to each other over the top of the fence. But that is also when they received a shock. For, as Wendy stood and peered over, all she could see on the other side was damp pastureland rolling gently away from the road. There was a bit of fog and a donkey in the distance, but no other living thing, and certainly not a cheerful-looking young woman wearing a cloak.

Incredulous, Wendy bent back down and peered into the hole in the fence once more, and just then the other young woman did likewise. They both started speaking at once:

“How can you be there?!” asked Wendy.

“Why can’t I see you over the fence?!” the other young woman asked.

They both then promptly stood up to look over the fence once more, suspecting some sort of illusion or, in Wendy’s case, that she must be asleep and having the strangest sort of a dream. But, nothing had changed; the pasture and the donkey were still there. And although she could actually lean over the fence and look down at the grass directly below it on the other side, there was no young woman hiding at the base of the stones.

She stooped down for a third time, and the other girl was back.

“What’s your name?” Wendy asked her.

“Rowena,” the girl replied. “What’s yours?”

“Wendy.”

“Well, how are you managing this trick, Wendy? Or am I just dreaming? I suspect that the mead my brother gave me at dinner must have put me sound asleep, and that you are just a fairy tale spun of herbs and honey….” Rowena’s voice was sweet and musical.

Wendy was disconcerted by the girl, who appeared to be near her own age, or perhaps a bit younger, but she liked her immediately. If you have ever encountered someone in your life to whom you took an instant liking, but you didn’t exactly know why, you’ll know how Wendy felt. Even though Rowena had something like an English accent (to Wendy’s ears, at least), and she seemed to be wearing an outlandish outfit, Wendy thought suddenly that this sudden tug of affection must be what it felt like to have a sister of her own.

“I am not a daydream, Rowena, but I don’t know how I can possibly explain your being here in front of me! Let me think. So, you aren’t able to see me over the top of your side of the fence either, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Well, what can you see?”

Rowena stood up for a moment and the space in front of the portal was left open. Beyond the fence, Wendy descried golden pastures, not unlike those she might have seen over her own fence, but in Rowena’s world it was sunny, and the sky was a clear, deep blue; there also appeared to be sheep grazing in the distance. After a few moments, Rowena’s face reappeared.

“Well, I see pasture land…and sheep of course. And I think there’s a cart coming up the road from the west.”

Wendy stood and looked to her right. There was no cart coming. The road was empty and muddy. She stooped back down again.

“There’s no cart coming on my side at all!”

“It looks rainy on your side,” said Rowena. “Is it?”

“Yes, it is. But it’s sunny where you are?”

“Certainly! We’ve had not a bit of rain for two weeks!” Rowena laughed musically.

“But where is ‘there’? And, who are you? I mean, where did you come from?”

 

[ To read Part II, click here…. ]