From March 8, 2013 until February 14, 2014
Most of the stories have the links back to the original entries, but some of them I apparently didn’t post in the book (on my writing.com portfolio) with the links. I apologize for that.
This entry has stories from 6/14, 6/28, and 8/30.
Tipping her head, Gwenhwyfar closed her eyes and opened her mouth, allowing praise for her goddess to pour from her soul. Praise first so her goddess would be more willing to listen to her entreaties when she asked. She allowed her boat to drift, trusting in the current.
Here she was closer to nature, closer to her goddess, and she could request assistance for the knights, for the squires, for them all to stay safe as they went into battle.
She knew her husband wouldn’t approve with his Christian ideals, but this was how she could help. So she sang.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Abby asked as she stood at the edge of the water.
“Why wouldn’t it be safe? They’ve stood for hundreds of years, first as a castle and then…” Emily started.
“And then as ruins, Emily. Ruins! I don’t think it’s safe.”
Emily finished stripping off her socks and shoes and bent to roll up her pants. “Stay here then. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Did you really have to say that?” Abby complained.
“Look I want to see what I can find. Salvage rights.” Emily finished adjusting her clothes and stepped into the water.
Abby paced back and forth on shore as Emily made her way out to the middle of the ruins, watching as her lover made it to the centermost column.
It was an impatient Abby who waited for a sound from Emily, but she didn’t expect the scream that echoed across the water. Frantically she kicked her shoes off and splashed into the water, yelling Emily’s name as she ran towards the column.
Leaping up, she pulled herself into the opening and looked around. Emily was standing just inside the doorway, grinning. “I knew I’d get you out here!”
The mists rolled through the mountains, almost obscuring the waiting petitioner as she waited before the door. Her colorful wings were at rest as she trusted the carpet to hold her aloft, her friend and companion at her side. It had been a long trip to the door of the wise one and she still didn’t know if he would see her.
The door stood on the edge of the mountain, nothing around it, but she couldn’t see beyond it to where the wise one resided. There were no walls, but something prevented her from seeing anything but the door and a blank space.
“Shall I knock?” she asked as she eyed the door with trepidation.
You’ve come all this way, Shalaan, the companion replied. If you don’t knock, what was the point?
“It let me get away from the People. And out into the World.”
Then you made the journey, but you have nothing to prove from it. Knock on the door and come away with an answer.
“And how do I know I’ll receive an answer I want or like?”
You don’t. But that’s part of life and part of what you accepted when you decided to undertake this journey.
Shalaan considered the door for another minute, contemplating. She still wasn’t positive she should knock on the door.
It’s a decision only you can make.
Raising her hand, she knocked loudly on the door, watching as it swung slowly open, revealing a young man sitting behind a table, a long cone hat perched atop his head. “Yes?” he asked.
“I’ve come to see the wise one.”
“You’ve found him.”
“You’re the wise one?”
“Age does not denote wisdom. Step forward and ask your question.”
Shalaan stepped forward, knowing she had just one chance, and this was her only one. “Thank you, wise one.”