We arrived at a Path that split the world in three...and opened a doorway onto another world, where we were remembered...

 

'Well do hurry up my good fellow,

I have been waiting for aeons after all...

and it is bloody cold!

They don't like to be kept waiting either,

and we were sure that you had found the notice...

no???

Did you look in the broken panel behind the cupboard?

Or even...surely you searched the 127th page of Jennie the book...

no?

Well you are slack aren't you...?

but never the matter,

somehow you are here now...

and I mustttt lead you on.

To where??

Why dear good fellow - and alright yes -

madamss too if you insist...

to travel through the white we must do before the second hour past midnight,

for if we have not passed through...

perish the thought,

of the deals that would be required to be struck...

to ensure your safe return home,

for we have never promised a completely safe wayy...

and more likely than not you'll get lost before then,

but see here good fellow, Madame...

hurry about it now,

and grab onto one of my coat ends...

that way Jack frost won't be tempted to rip you away from me,

for what or who is more hopeless or hapless than one without a guide...

in a storm like this?

 

Ahh but fear not...

for the storm is only a reflection of the storm in yourself,

and in the end I am merely a guide...

so off we go.'

'Through blizzards and wind-ice,

we find ourselves moving...

hasten all the more,

lest your feet touch the floor...

I hear you yess,

crying out to me over the wind...

no need to shout,

as these old ears of mine are equipped to hear the softest of whines...

It is the Sinister Meeting Room that called you good lad,

for Heavens sake...

who else would go to this much bother and at this hour so late?

Ah and you see already that our storm is clearing,

feel the way the snowflakes grow thinner...

and the pale path we have followed melts,

for really good friend...

it is not Winter we are in,

but a little bit of Masque by dear little BellFeral...

she is the one,

who bundles the Summer awayy...

performing enough antics,

to make the trees drop their loads in embarrasment at the herasayyy...

and engaging the wind in races at great speed,

teasing and begging it to rip and throw away loose sheets of paper...

or perhaps the odd umbrella or poem or piece of fabric,

BellFeral is a horder you see...

but please don't tell her that,

for her moods are as fickle and sudden as the way she weaves...

 

we perhaps shall run into her,

down the road we pace...

or perhaps she shall keep to herself,

yet oh!!

See there she is over yonder...

between the little moving stream and the aging tree,

she has been young of spirit for a very long time you know...

so don't fear,

and be careful what you sayy...

see the way her skin is the colour of ivory and bronze,

and her eyes the sky of Autumn...

while her frock is one of dying leaves and dark wood,

and aren't her tiny elk horns beautiful?

She whispers...

I hear,

the smallest of sentances...

'would you climb the wood,

pass the fence...

go beyond,

and stomp in every puddle...

for me...?'

Travel on we must though,

and watch well as she disappears...

for it is few women that have seen BellFeral,

and even fewer men to tell...

so take your time wisely,

ah but see we come now out of the dark...

and to a wood of silence,

with a carpet that may as well be velvet for all its' hue...

and I see,

that you have dreamt of such a place before too....

 

It is the wood that lies at the heart of each soul,

to wake us inside the sleep of our know...

we must travel on through,

the silence of this land...

until we come to a more wayward place still,

yet ware good friend...

for this forest expands the mind,

and when we get through...

you may well know how to solve the mystery of eighty-two,

even perhaps your world...

but there is an aquaintance awaiting us,

between the trees...

a creature born and bred,

from the Sinister Meeting Rooms' halls...

we walk a hundred paces due east,

then turn around once and head straight west...

before we stop and retrace our steps back two paces,

then about turn...

and there he is,

 

with a table set quaintly for us...

this is Sir EverBlue of the forest floor,

and he bids you right  welcome of your own accord...

listen well to his words please do,

'I happened to be sipping my tea the other day...

when I recieved from the Sinister Meeting Room, a call,

I was told that I was to deliver you a message...

in the most hurried of ways I assure,

good sirs and madames you must cross the mountains...

to see the other side,

to know what you must...

and must what you know,

and give a toast to the one you most hate...

and the one you most love as well.'

We bid Sir EverBlue well and endearingly,

and decline his offer of a cigar...

and trudge on through the wood of red,

until we arrive again at a path...

we follow it on through valleys and inlets,

pass ways and moods and shames...

until the land crawls higher,

about our sides...

and we've left the safety of the ground,

 

 

the air it stills here...

and makes its' breath new,

a pair of lighter lungs for you I give dear Sir, Madame...

and a trailing ribbon to garuntee your wayy,

through what abyses may...

drag you back along your way,

head for the highest of peaks...

and the only way on is a noble heart,

to see what is not there yet...

is a gift,

treasure that dear friend...

hold it close,

and perhaps...

you can re-start,

but harken away not yet, not yet!

Do not begin your journey here...

instead come with me,

one last little time...

to the cliffe precipice that awaits us,

just over there...

look yonder,

past the grassy rise...

we walk a few minutes to reveal a view of startling and divine surprise,

 

 

see the water crashing...

and wonder at the brilliant sudden light,

oh yes it is past sunrise...

but hidden over here,

is a stone that holds a surprise...

a mug of cloudy moon-tea,

for you to commit the toast...

and I it seems shall join you if you wish,

for there is not just one mug but two...

 

 

raise your toast to the sun,

and raise the  mug to your enemies...

raise it to the ones you care for,

and the ones somewhere in between...

believe in hope for once,

and don't fear the hand that takes...

listen to the early morning breeze,

and endure a slice of silence amongst the eves and trees...

drink deep and drink long,

sing a song...

if you wish,

and please dear sir...madame...

do not be alarmed if you feel somewhat drowsy now,

for I believe you forgot the condition of the Sinister Meeting Room...

that anything drunk between its' walls,

enables one to fly...

but takes them back home,

to the start...

tooo,

so I bid you farewell...

my good and faithful friend,

and I hope to see you again once more...

perhaps for a small turn of events,

focus instead on the butterfly...

she will guide you home,

through dreams and bridges...

weaves and fortresses,

until you are safely returned to your bed.

Goodnight...

and do not forget.

 

 

 

 

 Much Love and hope Dear ones...

Miss CLScarlett xx