Mnemosyne’s Stream

If there is somewhere you would rest,
it is beside Memory’s molten stream.
William Michaelian

When I left the Ouroboros’ cave, Joey stood waiting for me, a look of inquiry shining in his eyes. “Everything good, Bo? Want to talk?”

“I’m fine, Joey, but I don’t think I want to talk just yet. I need to think before I say anything.”

“Then climb aboard and I’ll give you a ride. I’ll be quiet and you think all you want. Once we reach the valley beyond that hill, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised and feel quite revived.”

But I was concentrating on other ideas. “Eternity, night and day, completion.” That was my message from Ouroborus. But I didn’t understand. I could only ride along the Serpentine Road and contemplate the serpent underneath the ground. He had been kind, but so mysterious.

Joey and I had been traveling nearly an hour when he turned off the road and followed a narrow path covered with weedy overgrowth. The forest became darker as we moved on, the trees grew closer together, nearly obliterating the trail. Joey picked his way through the dense cover.

“Joey, where are we going? Can you find your way?” I could barely see Joey’s top hat from my perch on his back.

“Yes, Bo. I could walk to our destination blindfolded. I have been here many times. Lie your head upon my neck and rest. I will wake you when we arrive.” I only realized it when he spoke those words, but I was dead tired. I leaned against Joey’s shaggy mane and closed my eyes. I awoke when Joey came to a sudden halt.

The sky was lightening and sunrise would soon streak the sky. The air had taken on a fresh, salty smell and I could hear constant rumbling ahead. “Bo, it’s time. Please get down. We can walk side by side, and come upon the grand sight together. That seems a fair way to proceed.”

The trail was wide in this part of the woods. Evidently someone had taken a scythe to the overgrowth as fallen grasses were lying on the side of the road. Masses of sea daisies and sandwort popped from the sandy earth. I recognized the sound of waves sloshing to and fro as the moon’s gravity pushed and pulled. When I peered through the thinning trees, I caught glance of a large stream, surrounded by grassy stands of sand. Just as there had been a handwritten sign at Ouroboros, another simple sign was tacked to a lone tree near the stream. I slipped on my spectacles and read ‘Steam of Mnemosyne’. Always a puzzle. I couldn’t grasp the message from these cryptic signs.

Joey had advanced to the sandy ground, and whistled when he read the sign. “So we are here!” he brayed with delight. We were lost for a few hours back aways, but that was truly a grand piece of luck. We’ll sit by the Stream of Mnemosyne and enjoy the sunrise. Let’s rest first. I do believe there’s a Red Delicious Apple in my pack which I would love to munch. And rummage deep. Do you see the tomato juice and cheese sandwiches? Those are yours. I admit not breakfast fare, but I daresay you’re hungry enough to eat just about anything.”

Joey, of course, was right. I scarfed down the juice and sandwich in record time, even going so far as to lick the crumbs from my fingers. “What has happened to me? I eat like a savage.”

Joey laughed so heartily, he got the hiccups. They he could control himself, though barely, nodded and replied, “Yes. We are a bit on the wild side, though I anticipate we will be more so at the journey’s end.”

We both found this bit of information quite hysterical, and laughed hanging on to each other for support. Joey in his glee rolled over and over in the sand, and I followed suit. “What a fun time we had together”, I thought. We haven’t laughed so hard since the day Joey found me at the Outpost, the day we were re-united after several long years. “Oh, Joey. I haven’t felt so happy in such a long time.

“Before us is the Stream of Memories. Come gain knowledge from Mnemosyne. She is waiting for you.”

I looked at Joey askance. “How can a stream anticipate my arrival? More tricks up your sleeve?”

“No, Bo. This is legitimate and sponsored by She-Who-Knows-All. Perhaps she has tricks up her sleeve, but I am unaware of such. I am only to direct you to sit on the stream’s bank and dip your burning feet in the cool waters. Perhaps you recognize the name Mnemsyne?

“Why, of course. In addition to being a Goddess in her own right, she was the Mother of the Great Muses. Muses celebrating and encouraging music, dancing, poetry. Others that I can’t recall, but I think they were nine in all.”

“Good girl! Absolutely right! But the Nine Muses represent the Muse of History and Epic Poetry, (Cleo); the Muse of astronomy and astrology, (Urania); the Muse of the Tragedies; (Melpone); Calliope, the Muse of heroic poetry and the head of all the Muses); Euterpe, The Muse of flute playing; Erato, the Muse of lyric poetry; Tepsicone, the Muse of dancing and choral singing; Thalia, Muse of comedies and pastoral poetry; and Polyhymnia, the Muse of music and dance.”

“Joey, I’m truly surprised. How do you know such things?”

“We donkeys are trained in myth and magic.”

“Is that true? You can snap off the nine muses and what they represent? I smell a rotten fish.”

“No, Bo, not a fish, though perhaps a donkey fits that bill. Ahem! All the donkeys are capable of encyclopedic memory. And when that fails, there’s always Google. Tee-hee.”

“Google? As in the search engine Goggle? Never mind, Joey. I don’t think I want to know.”

“Whatever. Now go dip into the stream. I think it will be most eye-opening.”

“Joey, is is eye-opening good or eye-opening bad?”

“Stop procrastinating, Bo. Just go. Think I’ll take a dip myself. Can’t hurt.”

So Joey and I stumbled through the thick grasses and reeds at the river’s side, and reached the Stream of Memories.

“Hey, Joey it’s beautiful. Sparkling clear, lovely rock bottom. Maybe I should take a swim myself?”

“Uh, Bo. I think you should dangle your hands and feet in the water first. Ponder the thoughts that enter your consciousness. Then perhaps a cooling swim if that is still your wish.”

Was I Joey’s leader or was he leading me? He knew a lot about our trip. And obviously Enchanteur trusted Joey more than she did me. I supposed it didn’t matter, as long as we reached the House of Serpents safely. Okay! To the water!”

With Joey’s brown eyes watching me, I pulled off my socks and boots and dipped my feet in the stream. So refreshing, almost tingly. Then I danced my fingers upon the water, occasionally picking up a small pebble and skipping it across the waves. Funny how this stream had waves, but in Lemuria anything can happen and I had grown to expect the unexpected.

I became so relaxed, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Instead I moved into a state halfway between sleep and awake. Everything was quiet for a while. Then a woman’s gentle voice whispered in my ear. I was in a trance, but I could hear and understand what she said.

“Bo, I am Melpone, the Muse of the Tragedies. Let me speak. Although tragedy does refer to performance art, I like to think it applies to everyday ups and downs, too. I know of your tragedies and can shed light upon your concerns and worries. Would you like for me to continue? Nod your head if this is your intent.”

I nodded.

“Very, very good. You have been dealt much tragedy in the last half-century. You have walked through the fires of calamity and at one time, these feelings conquered you and you were ill for many years. You have risen above your condition through sheer will. You have walked through the fires of calamity and despair and, with courage, you have re-appeared unscathed from your trials. You are very brave, very strong. I recommend you travel the Serpentine Road until its’ final destination. You will re-enforce the skills you have accomplished. This is within your power.” Melpone disappeared and all was silent.

From the highest reeds, emerged a second woman. I could feel the presence of another Muse as she approached me on cat’s feet. “I am Cleo, the Muse of heroes and heroines, epic poetry, and history. Would you like to listen to my words?”

Again, I nodded yes. More self-assured this time.

“So be it. You are a heroine in your own right, but your role of heroine is not complete. You have conquered personal loss and have saved many a lost soul by channeling their energy into constructive art projects for their benefit. You are well thought of in that circle of friends. Yes, they are friends, for your compassion and love transcended barriers and your clients now count you among their friends. It is with pleasure that I commend your work with those less fortunate. Your understanding and acceptance are acts of a heroine. Take my words and believe.” Her words faded and there was quiet. Only the waves lapping at my feet.

Soon a translucent figure came to me, walking lightly on the flowing stream’s water. “I am Erato, the Muse of poetry and lyrical poetry. You are a poet, yes?”

I nodded, though I felt unsure of my answer. Yet, I could not help but nod.

“Your poetry, of which I am aware, is truth-sharing, compassionate, and demonstrates your gifts of self-found strength and your large capacity to love your fellow humankind. Your openness and strength are signs of good spirit dwelling within you. You writing will multiply and bear fruit. You show determination and hard-working skills. Use these gifts wisely.” The Muse walked into the forest cover and disappeared from sight.

A womanly shadow stood by my side. She sat and slid her bare feet into the running water. “Do not mind my audacity at using the stream of memory. I am Polyhymnia, an old woman, the eldest of the Nine Muses. I am the final muse you shall meet this morning. Do you wish for me to share my words with you?

This was an easy question by now. “Yes, very much so.”

“I am the Muse of Music. Do you like that alliteration - muse and music? I send melodies to you and watch your response. You are very moved by song, a sign of acceptance of your feelings. As a child, you were thwarted in you determination to play a musical instrument. You were admonished with words of “There’s no money?” “Why do you want music - no one else in the family is musical?” and “You don’t have musical talent and you can’t carry a tune in a bucket.” There were also words of discouragement when you spent your time pursing art. “Stop wasting your time!” and “You can’t make money as a starving artist. Be practical. Put that nonsense out of your head and study a career.”
While these harsh words daunted your creative abilities, you are no longer a child listening to angry parents. You make your own decisions. To pursue a career in the arts is of importance to you. You have never let go of your dreams. It is time to pick up your pen and brush and create. It is time to play sweet melodies with an instrument. One is never to old. Remember my words. You are a creative woman and your art will bring you peace and joy. The Muses must now bid you farewell.”

There was braying in my ear and Joey brushed his soft face against mine. “That picked up your spirits, didn’t it? So what did they say?”

I wanted to share my excitement with my buddy. “Melpone said I was courageous, brave and strong. Cleo called me a heroine and praised my compassion and ability to love one and all. Erato said I was open-minded, determined to succeed in my own way and hard-working. And, oh my, Polyhymnia claimed I was creative. Oh, Joey, is this really true? I feel so inadequate most of the time.”

“The Muses are always correct in their evaluations. Now you must take your special set of skills, and improve on them, accept them, use them.”

“Joey, you are such a brilliant donkey. We make a grand team, don’t we?”

“Yes, Bo, a grand team. And now that you accept your abilities - courage, determination, compassion, and creativity - we shall conquer our enemies, both inner enemies and those from the outside. Success is yours if you use your talents.”

“But Joey…”

“We shall celebrate our journey now, Bo. Just you and me.”

Ouroboros

I was in a grump. As we walked the beginning of the Serpentine Road, Joey contentedly hummed his donkey repertoire while I sulked in silence. I couldn’t shake my dispirited and bleak feelings; they stabbed at my thoughts and I was unable to staunch the bleeding. I was so absorbed in feeling sorry for myself, I ran smack into Joey’s rump as he called a halt.

He turned his head towards me. “Problems, dear Bo? You should stay alert on this journey. Oh, and you won’t bang into me again, will you?”

“Umm. Yes. I mean no. What I really mean is yes to the problems and no to banging into you.”

“Not an eloquent speech, Bo, but I understand what you say.” Joey peered at me through his tortoise-shell eyeglasses, the ones with no lenses. I sensed he saw more than he let on.

“We shall stop at this spot for awhile, Bo. I’m going to munch on that patch of luscious grass. There’s a flask of carrot juice in my pack. Why not have a drink before you look around? And there’s a handful of peanuts in the bottom. Are you hungry?”

The thought of carrot juice and peanuts brightened my visage. My throat was parched and my stomach was empty. I glugged down the carrot juice in three swallows and nearly ate the peanut shells in my haste to chomp on the salty nuts. Feeling a bit revived, I looked at my surroundings more closely. We were in a wide spot in the road, a clearing of sorts. There was, as Joey had already discovered, a snatch of overgrown grass waving above the road and trees fringing the circle of trampled, bare earth. The Northern winds had subsided and a pleasant warmth emanated from the shining sun. There was nothing much to see. Road, sky, trees. That was all.

Joey watched me from the corner of his eye. “Perhaps you should examine the…”

But I interrupted him mid-sentence. “Hey, there’s a sign on that ancient green oak.” I could read the rough lettering from where I stood, thanks to my long-distance spectacles.

“OUROBOROS. It says ouroboros, Joey. What in the name of Enchanteur does that mean?”

“Bo, get involved here!” After that not-so-gentle reprimand, Joey rolled over on his side and yawned. “I’ll be taking a teeny nap, Bo, as the road ahead is uphill. Go study the sign. Maybe you’ll be inspired to do more than mope. Now dear, don’t give me such a look. Just go. But do call me if you need my assistance. I’ll keep my ears pricked high.”

I shrugged. I was weary of fighting Joey at every turn, so I followed his bidding. “Bad funk,” I mused. “Really, really bad funk.” But I grudgingly admitted to myself that Joey’s intuition was often right on target. I dragged my feet as I walked to the sign. ‘Ouroboros’. Now what did that mean? As I moved closer to examine the scrawled writing, the toe of my boot struck a hard surface and I stumbled, landing squarely on my hands and knees. A metallic sound rang in my ears. Surprised, I brushed aside forest debris and discovered a manhole cover upon the wooded ground.

“What the…? A manhole in the woods? Wait! An ouroboros? Is this the ouroboros? Joooeeeyyy?”

But my donkey was happily sleeping, curled up tight with his top hat covering his eyes. I didn’t see any ears pricked high. “Guess I’ll let him rest. Perhaps this is a solo adventure.”

I pulled off my sweater and wiped carefully at the metal plate. An intricate design appeared before my eyes. The detail was breath catching. A serpent wound its way along the circumference, tail in mouth, reminding me of the circle of infinity. A lotus woman sat in the center amidst a depiction of the four seasons. Around that, there was a wide circular band imprinted with birds, clouds and sky, moon, sun and stars. Perhaps the symbols offered a message. But what?

As I intently studied the cover, I noticed a mild depression in the center - a depression in the shape of a hand. Curious, I placed my own hand upon the mark. My hand fit perfectly. I felt a rumble beneath my fingers and heard a mild grating sound. I jumped away, startled. The lid slowly slid open. A hole under the metal cover was pitch black inside, though I could make out a steep stairway of stone by the light of the sun. I glanced back at Joey, but he was still oblivious to the world.

For the first time since the conception of this journey, I was mesmerized. I felt a surge of excitement, of fascination. I knew instinctively that I must descend the steps and see what lay below this magical stone. Grappling in Enchanteur’s bag, I found the candlestick but no matches to light its’ wick. Without thinking, I shoved the candle in my pocket and cautiously descended the steps. As the sunlight disappeared, a small glow emanated from my pocket. The candle had lit itself, a tiny flame throwing off dim light. Just enough that I could see. I was in a deserted cave, maybe eight feet in diameter. As I squinted in the darkness, I saw a pair of glittery emerald eyes staring intently at me. I wasn’t alone. I hurriedly turned to leave, but the opening was closed. There was no escape route.

Then I heard it. “Hisss. Hisssssss. Come to me. Come to me.”

I felt pulled in the direction of a large shadow and trembling, I crept across the cave. As I approached, my candle’s flame was snuffed by a hot breath of air. A florescent-glowing serpent lay before me, loosely coiled with its’ mouth swallowing its’ tail. It rested on a heavy carpet and I vividly saw Egyptian figures snaking in a dance across the edges, moving figures, dancing, waving their arms in gestures of supplication. Again I looked into the serpent’s eyes. This time I could not look away.

“You have come. It is good. A lesssson. I shall teach you.” I shuddered at the idea of a lesson taught by this immense serpent. It noticed my discomfort. “You are ssssafe. I am Ouroborossss.”

Instinctively, I bowed to this beautiful creature. Its’ body was the size of a muscle man’s arm, thrice over. Its’ scales shimmered, like those of a mermaid just surfacing from the sea, and they melded into a dazzling array of metallic rainbow colors.

“Ssssit.” He motioned ever so slightly to a small hassock embroidered with gems - diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and especially, with emeralds the color of the serpent’s eyes. “Lisssten,” it murmured.

I could not help but listen. I was under the enchantment of Ouroboros.

“You are a traveler with Enchanteur.” It was not a question.

I took a deep breath and stammered in a strangled voice. “You…you kn-n-now Enchanteur?”

“Yesss, Bo. I know Enchanteur. Lemuria isss Enchanteur. Enchanteur isss Lemuria.”

“And…and…and you know my name? But how…”

“Yessss, Bo. I know of you. I know of your struggles. I carry a messssage for you. In time, you will underssstand.” He paused, then looking down at the Egyptian dancers he said in a sonorous hiss, “Eternity. Night and day. Completion.”

A headache was creeping behind my eyes, suddenly making concentration difficult. “But…I don’t…”

“In time, Bo. In time. I give you this gold bracelet as a reminder of our conversssation. ” Ouroboros closed its’ eyes. “Go to your donkey. And Bo, be kind. Joey loves you.” Again, I startled as the serpent spoke a familiar name. Then the glow from the serpent faded and a flame lit my candle. By its’ light, I saw the cover to the Serpentine Road was open.

Puzzled, but feeling a serenity I had felt only in a very distant time, I rose out from the cave. Ouroboros had wrapped his gift tightly about my wrist and I could not remove it. The bracelet shone with rows of emeralds, all reminding me of the glint in the serpent’s eyes. I felt his eyes upon me as his words floated with me.

My heart skipping erratically, I went to wake Joey.

Conquering Casper Mountain

I am shaken awake with a quivering motion under me. An earthquake? No, it’s Joey signaling me. “Hey, Bo. Time to move on. We’re at the Casper Mountain pass so we’ll walk awhile. I don’t want to be spotted in the sky in daylight.” He frowned deeply. “There are those who take pleasure in downing flying creatures with their weapons.”

“But Joey, you told me only I could see that you are a unicorn. It would be so much faster if we could fly.”

“You’re right, Bo. Only you know I’m a Golden Unicorn… except for my fellow Unicorns. They all know and it’s dangerous country, Bo. Plus I have you to guide. We have a mission to pursue and we must continue. Here, have your breakfast.”

“Joey, what am I eating? It looks like soap wrapped in straw. Strange taste, too. Like sawdust.”

“It’s unicorn food, Bo. Best in Lemuria. I’ll look out for some berries or rickstack for you to munch with your morning sip of Unicorn wine.”

“Rickstack? You want me to eat rickstack? By the way, exactly what is rickstack?”

“A nice soft grain. Nutty taste. We can pick it when we see it and carry it until we’re hungry. It lasts forever.”

I groan, but try to be polite. “If you say rickstack for breakfast, Joey, then rickstack it is.”

“Quiet, Bo. Someone’s nearby, may be listening. Use your telepathy.” Joey leads me to the entrance of the pass. Gray granite stands upright, covered with slippery lichen. A crack in the rock, no wider than a stick, splits the stone. There is no room to squeeze a squirrel through, much less a full size Unicorn and me.

“This won’t work, Joey.”

“Of course it will. Stand near the stone and push your hands against the rock. It will squish apart like a marshmallow, and you simply slide right through. When you’ve moved forward, the granite will return to its proper consistency. This path was made by Golden Unicorns. Just keep feeling your way in the stone, and follow the rock under your feet. We’ll stop for lunch at the springs in the depths of Casper Mountain and be back in the forest by tomorrow.”

“Joey, I hear something behind us, do you? Something smallish.”

As the entrance to the pass nearly seals itself, a raven flies in and lands on my forearm. I nearly scream, but Joey covers my mouth with his nose. Then he nuzzles my neck to calm me.

“Who is your mistress?” the bird asks Joey, speaking silently in language that I suddenly understand.

“My mistress is Bo on whose arm you are perched.”

The raven studies me intently, speaks to me silently and listens as I reply. “Yes,” says the Raven. “She is a suitable mistress for a Golden Unicorn. Guard her carefully, though. We may be in danger. I have a loaf of bread, fresh baked at Duwamish Inn this morn. Do you wish to eat it, Bo?”

I grab the loaf and gnaw on it, hoping to assuage my hunger. Then I realize the Raven watches me, and I proffer him half the loaf. He accepts graciously.

“Joey and I must speak alone. Sit here and eat while we walk ahead.” Joey shakes his head in disagreement, but Raven insists. The two magical animals are gone an hour before the rock separates and they re-appear, sour looks on their faces.

“We must take a detour, Bo. There are hunters at the exit into the forest. One of them is Vldditer, a unicorn who has been banished from our race because of deceit and willfulness. Yet as a former Unicorn he knows many of our secrets. Luckily for us, not all of them.”

The Raven nods solemnly. “I will lead you through the upper passage, Unicorn will follow me and you must follow Unicorn. But first show me Enchanteur’s bag.”

I glance at Joey for re-assurance, then expose the bag hanging from my neck.

“Retrieve the set of gossamer wings and attach them to your arms. They will prove necessary as we move vertically or if we run into unexpected guests once we leave Casper Mountain.” The Raven watches me follow his instructions while Joey nods encouragement.

Raven gives us our instructions, and although they seem dangerous they also seem doable. “Casper Mountain is quite dense in its middle regions. As I work my way straight up, I shall have to peck to loosen the rubble of stone and mud. Unicorn, although I know you consider your twisted horn sacred, I must ask you to follow behind me and drill a larger path in order for Bo to fly behind us.”

Without further conversation, this is exactly what we do. Raven pecks vertically, Joey drills behind him, squeezing through smaller spaces than I think possible. As he opens the passage, Joey swirls his lion’s tail and brushes the hole large enough for me to fly through. I look back one time, but can see nothing but rubble and mud. The path disappears once we pass.

After hours of drilling, we all stand together on a narrow ledge and eat our remaining food. The rickstack Joey scrounged is passable food, and seems to fill my stomach. Joey has some Unicorn wine that he shares. The ledge is too small to sit or stand on, so we move above through the darkness without a rest.

When the stone lightens in color and becomes sandy, we break through the Mountain. I feel like squealing in delight, but both Joey and Raven warn me severely. We are on the peak and can see Lemuria and in the distance the Murmuring Woods. A misty fog hides us partially from the hunters at the exit of Casper Mountain.

Raven stares into the depths of the valley. “We will fly from here. Bo, make sure your wings are still fastened tightly. You must fly under your own power.”

We glide off the peak and soar above the green mist. Again the reflection of the jeweled stars shine on Raven’s feathers. That is a fatal mistake.

As we lower ourselves to cruise above the red-leaved trees, a gunshot rings throughout the forest. Several shots follow, and a gold bullet whizzes past my face.

“Down! Go down! Use only silent language. as we must make no noise. I will meet you under the largest tree in the middle of the forest.”

By the time I reach the tree, ( I am unpracticed at flying) I see Joey nosing the Raven, attempting to arouse him. Joey’s tears wet the Raven’s darkening feathers.

“Joey, what has happened?”

“Oh, Bo. It is so sad. Raven was struck by a bullet by Vidditor and the bullet has pierced his heart. We have only a few minutes together to formulate our plans.”

Joey leans close to Raven, trying to keep him warm as they communicated silently. After a few minutes, Joey asks me to pick the largest palm leaves I can find. I wrap Raven’s body in the plants and place him under a rock cairn. We spread blown leaves over Raven to keep him hidden, and sadly plan the next extension of our trip.

Joey earned fresh news from Raven’s last words. “Enchanteur again sends Raven to lead us and he performed his job satisfactorily. If we complete our mission, Raven will be there to congratulate us.”

“Huh?” I don’t understand, but I don’t question Joey. He understands Lemuria and its creatures better than I do.

As evening approaches traveling by flight becomes safer and we whiz through the underbrush without further problem. It is past three a.m. when Joey calls a halt to our travels. “Let’s finish our food and spread my blanket on the ground. Looks like rain, so we’ll cover with your rain poncho. And here, drink a sip or two of the Unicorn Wine.”

“Bo. One more thing before we sleep. Get your dream seeds from your bag. Eat a few and spread the rest under your head. Not only will you sleep soundly and safely, you may have a dream with a message.”

Before my head touches the ground, I am asleep. Joey stays awake until the wee hours of the night, thinking and guarding me. Just before dawn, I dream that Joey and I have a joyous reunion with Raven. I awake with a smile. Joey notices, but askes me no questions. Not even silent ones.

We each nibble on our depleted stores of food and then explore the forest grounds near us. Joey finds seven black mushrooms, as tall as a man, and assures me they are non-poisonous. We eat them quickly and quaff our thirst at a whitewater stream.

“Let’s go,” says Joey as he paws at the ground. “You can ride on my back now. I feel we are safe while we stay on the ground.” Joey trots on an animal path, and then abruptly halts.

“I want to check this tree ahead. I do believe I hear clanging behind that wide trunk. Whatever creature makes that noise?”

A man peeks from behind the tree. He is oddly clothed, covered in sauce pans and frying pans. He does a jig and sings a welcoming ditty. Then he points upwards. The tree is so tall, it’s top is lost above the clouds.

“Land of Fairy Tales through the portal in the clouds. Don’t you know?”

“Yes,” replies Joey stiffly. “We are both aware of the Faraway Tree and it’s lands beyond. I take it we may climb?”

“That’s what I’m all about. To direct all to the tree. Go on up. There’s others already there.”

Joey looks at the tree and then at his hooves. He had to climb. In the Murmuring Woods, Unicorns had little power and horses weren’t allowed to fly.

“Bo. Open your bag again and retrieve the spectacles. They will provide you with the eyesight of a Unicorn, very good in dark places and in brightness, too.”

“Okay, Joey. The spectacles are on. I’m ready.”

“Well, Bo. I’m not ready nor will I ever be. But I must complete my mission. I will follow you.”

I start scrambling up the tree and soon come to a tiny hut tucked into the leaves and branches. I look to the ground and Joey is still eying the tree top in the clouds and muttering. “I don’t mind flying as a Unicorn, but I’m not sure about climbing a tree as a horse. I’m really not sure.”

“Hurry, Joey. It’s time to climb. I’ll wish you luck from up here.”

from Bo

I

An Unexpected Flight

We, all four of us travelers, seat ourselves in a banquet room in the Inn. We do not talk to each other. We make no sound. We all intently listen to the rain fall on Duwamish Bay, while we watch for the long-waited approach of Enchanteur. When I stare out the window closest to me, the rain pours with more force and red lightning dances in zigzags between the darkened gold clouds. The jeweled stars are still visible, although a low mist envelops the town. As lightning lightens the ground, I see a shadow out in the garden. Slowly, it approaches the window and I watch it carefully. Is it Enchanteur?

No, it’s Joey! Rainwater streams down his coat as he neighs softly. His green eyes are studying me seriously. When he spots me near the window, he bumps his nose slightly against the pane and turns his head as if I am to follow him.

I excuse myself from the banquet, although I have yet to see a morsel of food and I my stomach is growling with hunger pangs. As I reach the side door of the Inn, I realize I am dressed in my ball gown and high heels. Not exactly the kind of outfit to go flying in the air on the back of a horse.

I open the door an inch. “Joey. I need to change my clothes. I’ll hurry.”

“Bo! Really, really hurry. It’s important. I’ll get my blanket and meet you by that old shed. And don’t forget Enchanteur’s Bag.”

We meet outside in less than five minutes. I carry my emergency plastic poncho and wear my exploring clothes. My heavy traveling shoes are caked with mud, but they seem to fit better than usual. My toes aren’t pinched. I settle our outerwear around us. Joey’s blanket is mysteriously dry,and my bit of plastic somehow warms both of us. Once we are dressed, we huddle next to the shed. The eaves partially spare us from the wicked weather.

“We’ll stay here for a little while, Bo. No one will hear my tale. I spoke to a black Raven not fifteen minutes ago. He was gleaming with such magnificence, I could see the jeweled stars reflecting on his feathers. I knew he was a Messenger the moment I spied him. Did you know that Ravens and I share one of the magic languages?”

“I’m not surprised, Joey. What did the Raven say?”

“He passed on surprising news, a rather complicated story if I say so myself. I understood much of what he said, but he was speaking in an awful accent and I might have missed a bit.”

“Joey, I’m feeling testy. What was the message? Who was it from?”

“Anonymous, Bo. It was from Anonymous.”

“Tell me the whole message or I’ll notify Tillie that we aren’t compatible. Do you want me to demand a different steed?”

“No, Bo. We’re a team. I’ll tell you everything. A very large raven, double the size of most ravens, flew into the open door of the barn and landed on my back. He asked my mistress’s name and then gave me this message. “Leave immediately,” he said. “Prepare for a journey of great distance and difficulty. Do not travel above the rain clouds for it is not safe. Stay just above the trees for camouflage and keep your eyes alert. Travel only in dim light.”

“Anything else, Joey?”

“There are extra supplies stashed for us. They are in a bundle on the second branch of the fifth maple tree east of the crossroads between Duwamish and the trail through Casper Mountain. Or maybe it was the fifth branch of the third oak? I can’t be sure, but we as a team can find it. No problem.”

I try to keep my spirits from sinking, but I do wish Joey listened to instructions. He repeats himself. “We are a team. No problem.”

“So where is our destination?”

“Ah, that I remember clearly. I even carry a map the Raven supplied. We head through Casper Mountain pass until we reach the Murmuring Woods. There we search for the Faraway Tree. It is the tallest tree in the woods and shan’t be hard to locate. The two of us must climb the tree, (although climbing trees is not one of my better tricks,) until we come to an opening in a thick ring of clouds. There we will enter the Land of Fairy Tales and there our adventure will begin in earnest.”

“But, Joey. We’ve just reached Duwamish Bay. It seems a shame to leave without exploring and crossing on the ferry.”

“A mystery for you to ponder, Bo. Now one last command from the Raven. Fetch the medallion of the unicorn from Enchanteur’s bag. Look carefully at the unicorn.”

I gasp in alarm. “It has a remarkable resemblance to you, Joey. Is this an ancestor of yours on the medallion?”

“For now, that is a question I choose not to answer. Sorry, Bo. Looks like I do know more than once appeared. Now place the medallion over my neck and wrap us with your poncho to keep us dry. The trip will sorely test us. Climb on, Bo. I do believe the ending of the tale is worth the danger, or I would not allow you to come.”

I take a glance back at the hotel, as more travelers arrive for the feast. The banquet hall is lit like a Christmas Tree, and music floats through the air. “Oh, Joey! I was so looking forward to the banquet.” I nearly weep.

“Do not fret, Bo. There will be other banquets for you to attend.”

I look at Joey as he takes a running leap and then he slides between the raindrops and into the sky. I stare hard. Joey’s coat has turned the color of gold and he sports a spiraled horn and a billy-goat’s beard. His swishing tail is that of a lion. Joey sneaks a look at me and winks.

“Yep,” hoots Joey. “I couldn’t tell you first off, but I am a Golden Unicorn. I shall be at your service, and you shall be at mine.”

I try to clear my mind from incoming confusion. “Do I still call you Joey?”

“Bo, I must travel incognito. All who see me see a horse and all call me Joey. No one sees a golden unicorn, except the one who placed the medallion upon his neck. When our adventure is complete, I will grant you one wish for being the Assistant to The Golden Unicorn.”

I am flabbergasted, but I follow the instructions and soon we find the supplies. I gobble down four peanut butter sandwiches and two yellow pears. Joey eats what appears to be a bar of soap wrapped in hay. He tucks his remaining energy bars and a white flag under one wing, and promises me more food when we reach the mountain. He takes out a bladder flask and we drink slowly of red unicorn wine which warms me and heightens my awareness. Now I can understand the words Joey thinks to himself, so we need not speak aloud when in danger.

Joey consults a hand-drawn map and follows the tracks which eventually lead us to Casper Mountain’s pass. For once, Joey concentrates and pulls no pranks. I can’t believe I am flying on my Joey who now is transformed into a unicorn. As we fly over the tree tops, I lean into his soft mane, promising myself that I will close my eyes only briefly. Then I fall into a dreamless sleep.

The Abandoned

Cars- they never do what they are supposed to, unless what they are supposed to do is strand you in inconvenient places or eat your money. I was very unhappy with my car as I tapped on the peeling paint of the door in front of me.  This place looked so abandoned that I would swear no one could possibly live here, but you never know.

When no one answered, I pushed on the door, found it unlocked, and went inside. The inside was as derelict looking as the outside. I thought I saw someone in the kitchen, though, and I said, “Hello?” and went in that direction. There was no one there. Funny, it had looked just like a guy with a well-oiled duck tailed hairdo, blue jeans and a white t-shirt. But, well, I just caught a flash out of the corner of my eye. Maybe I had caught my own reflection in the window- I was wearing jeans and a whit shirt, and my imagination is legendary.

The kitchen only held a rusty sink with a dripping tap, a slightly dusty oil-cloth covered table, and an old- fashioned refrigerator with rust spots all over it.  I could see out the back window, though, and it looked like a junkyard out there. There were at least a dozen old cars back there, with vines growing all over them and  weeds knee-deep around them. Funny, though, how none of them looked smashed. They were all whole, just rusty and tied in place by Mother Nature.

The house was completely silent, and I decided that there must be no one here. As I walked back toward the front door, I glanced up the stairs, For a moment, the dust that was swirling around from me walking on the floor looked like a man in a driving duster, cap and goggles from the early 1900’s. It looked weird, but was gone as soon as I thought I saw it.

This place really had my imagination going.

I heard a slight thumping from upstairs and decided to make one last try at seeing if anyone was home. Maybe the owner of the house was elderly and had fallen or something and needed help. That would explain the dust and neglect.

I went up stairs. The stair carpet was so old and dirty that the pattern was completely obscured. Clouds of dust came up with each step I took, and I was sneezing by the time I reached the top of the stairs. I turned down the hall. There were several open doors lining it, and I looked in each one in turn. Empty rooms, dusty old dressers and rusty bedsprings- there wasn’t even anything here to interest a flea market salesman.

I was thinking that what I heard must have been a rat or maybe a bird caught in a room, because there was nothing here. I turned around to leave and saw a flash of dark blue suit and fedora turning into a room. This place was starting to creep me out seriously, but I had to pass that room to get to the stairs, anyway.

I trotted back down the hall and peered into a room that I had already looked into. From this angle, I could see what I had missed earlier. The owner of the suit and fedora was nowhere to be seen, but there was an old man, sitting in a rocking chair looking out the window. My car, stalled out on the main road, was in plain sight. He was just sitting and rocking.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” I said, “But my car has broken down. I need to call for help, and I didn’t know what else to do. I did try knocking.”

The man looked at me and smiled toothlessly. “I know,” he said in a quavering voice. “I was watching you come up.” He kept on rocking.

“Ah- do you have a phone so I can call for help?” He was making me even more nervous.

“No, I never felt the need to call out to the world. It just comes to me.” He gestured to the window.

I looked out, and saw a collage of images from the road to the house. There were all the cars I had seen in the back, but fresh and new looking. There was even a horse and buggy and a farm wagon. The 57 Chevy, the Cadillac with tail fins, a car that looked like it would belong to a mobster in the Roaring Twenties and Prohibition Thirties, were all there. I saw a Model T, a Model A, and a beautiful candy apple red Mustang, all souped up and looking ready for a race. A hot rod was up close to the house, and as I looked, a man with a well-oiled ducktail and blue jeans with a white t-shirt got out of it and walked towards the house. People were getting out of the other vehicles now. I saw a man with a duster, cap and goggles, and another man with a blue suit and fedora. There were a flapper, an old fellow in overalls and straw hat, and a man in a dapper suit with a high tight collar and bowler hat. They were all flooding towards the house, now.

Panicked, I turned and ran. The old man was laughing maniacally as I pelted down the stairs and out to my car. The lane was dusty and empty as I ran back down it- none of the cars, none of the people were there now, just dust and weeds.

My car started as soon as I turned the key and I sped away.

I made it home safely, and everything seemed normal, but, well, my days seem kind of foggy, and not quite real. Maybe it’s because I’m not sleeping well, because of the dreams.

I keep having dreams about that house and all the people. They seem to be living in it, and I seem to be living there with them. It’s awfully crowded.  Funny, huh?

 

Posted by She Wolf