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The Seventh Stone

Page 3

by Darrel Bird

we can show you the way to the home of the Prince. He will come and live inside you.”

  “Don’t be silly, little girl. Now get out of my way and don’t bend the weeds that hold the Ellen pods we must eat! Now off with you!”

  The girls saw that it was useless, so they rushed on home to tell their parents.

  “Mom, Mom, we found the home of the Prince!” Isabelle screamed as she entered the living quarters of the house. “The sky moves and everything!”

  Her father looked at her sternly, “Young lady, where have you been?”

  “We were outside the sky!”

  “There’s no such thing as outside the sky. Now we must read from the books of Ellen. Go wash up and forget your foolishness.”

  “But won’t you believe me?”

  “Yes, child. I believe you are a child and have the mind of a child, but when you are older, you will see that we have to read the red books of Ellen and gather the pods from the weeds to eat, then place the seven stones on the post. That is all there is.”

  Her father had a hint of sadness in his voice as he spoke sternly but gently to his daughter. He loved her very much, but she must forget the foolishness.

  That night she dreamed of the Prince’s world once again, only this time the Prince himself came to her in the dream and said, “Do not be disheartened when they do not believe you, my child. I will send you to many. Some will believe and some will not, but do not be afraid; I will be with you here,” he said, and laid his hand on her chest. She felt warmth go all through her, and she felt such peace as the living Prince faded from her dream, but remained inside.

  The next day Jackie found her by the old stagnant pond, crying. “They did not believe you, did they?”

  “No, my friend; they did not.”

  “We must go from this place. We cannot stay here under this painted sky. We do not belong here anymore, now that we have seen the sky that moves. You know that, don’t you, Isabelle?”

  “Yes, I know it, but I am so sad to leave my family. It makes my heart hurt so much.”

  “I know, I am the same way, but we must hurry to get through under the dome before the sands close off the other world from us. Come, let us be going. Hurry!”

  They rushed through the streets with its plastic like trees. The weeds grew wildly everywhere, and they tore at the girls’ clothing as they passed. The weeds sprang up taller before them, and groped at their hands, feet, and legs.

  They passed the stagnant water of the lake, and it stank so bad their stomachs revolted against the smell. The foul water moved out from the shore to grope at them to hold them in that land. The air had turned foul, but the workers did not even notice as they tended their gardens of weeds, and gathered the weed pods that did not give sustenance.

  “Hurry, Isabelle; we must escape from this place!” Jackie called back as she ran wildly on toward the hole at the edge of the dome. The painted sky looked down on them mercilessly as they ran. The painted clouds refused to move, the painted sun refused to light their way, and it grew darker and darker.

  They arrived at the hole, and already it had grown smaller; there was just enough room to squeeze through. They came out on the other side and the sweet wind kissed their cheeks as they stood looking back at the dome that was round. They realized that it was really a prison created by that Ellen person. The sands began to fall back and cover the hole under the dome.

  An elderly gentleman came by with a basket and said, “Have faith my children. Here have some faith fruit.”

  “What is your name, sir?” Jackie asked of the elderly gentleman.

  “They call me Methuselah, my child.”

  “Why do they call you by such a funny name?”

  “Because I have been here such a long time. I wait for the people that make it through the dome to offer those fruit just as I did you.”

  “How long is long?” asked the ever curious Jackie.

  “Long is long enough.” The old man said with a twinkle in his eye as he handed them each a fruit to try.

  “But where do you grow the fruit? I don’t see any weeds.”

  “Jackie, be quiet and don’t ask so many questions of the man,” Isabelle said with a frown.

  “Oh, it’s no trouble at all, my child. There are no weeds here; the fruit grows there in your heart,” he said as he pointed to Jackie’s chest.

  “Oh, that seems silly, how can fruit grow in here?”

  “Yes, I guess it does sound silly to the ones who come through the dome. I must be going. There will be others who come through the dome.” The old man walked on.

  They tasted the fruit, and the delicious juice ran down their throat. They walked on alone, hand in hand, survivors of the great dome of Ellen.

  Over the years they would meet more survivors, and they prayed that it would not be too late for the many who remained behind, under the lifeless dome of the painted sky.

  The End

 


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