by Jack Challis
had she. Shades of fire, sea and sky; paid she no heed of mortal
me as over passed: A thousand spangles lit her wake. Tis Angharad the
Fairy Queen I knew; by the spell she cast: but alas I dare not keep
her pace and watched the night take her away.
‘Don’t worry my cariad,’ answers Grunwalde, ‘the Centaur will take you to Nymphs’ hill. You will see a large rock – stand upon it and face the bright star in front of you – I will make the star sparkle. Just close your eyes and spread your arms cariad.’
Blodwyn’s stomach churned at the thought of returning to Earth alone! She quickly collected her rucksack and changed into her own clothes: the Centaur was waiting; pawing the ground. Blodwyn climbed onto his back and held on.
They went at full gallop through the enchanted, moonlit, surreal forests and meadows; splashing across silvery-ribbon streams, in the golden glimmering moonlight.
Reaching Nymphs’ Hill, Blodwyn climbed the rock. The Centaur smiles: turning, he gallops away without a word.
Blodwyn felt alone and very frightened. Tilting her head back, she faced the bright star. Stretching out her arms and closing her eyes as instructed by Grundwalde: she waited.
Blodwyn felt herself spinning – then becoming dizzy, she felt her body rising up and up – then falling as if into a black abyss – was she dying? Terrified, Blodwyn was forced to open her eyes. She was falling into a dark void of nothingness, down and down. She heard distant noises, groans of despair, mingled with cries of joy. Above this terrible din she thought she could hear the Ava Maria being sung in dulcet tones by some invisible host of angels – or was she dreaming?
In the distance a multitude of people of every race and creed, including, aliens and alienoids! All were crossing, or waiting to cross some kind of fragile land bridge over a great chasm that seemed barely able to support them, and it seemed to be raining! To Blodwyn’s horror, she began floating slowly towards the multitude waiting to cross the fragile bridge – she was not ready yet! She had not died – or had she?
Then to her relief, Blodwyn passed over the scene. Was this a dream, her imagination, or a glimpse of reality? But she was being logical – rational – it had to be real. But she knew this argument was not proof – Blodwyn was always logical and rational in her dreams!
“So judgment day was constantly ongoing: not just at the end of the world!” Some of the spirit souls, heavy with sin, were falling through the delicate surface of the bridge. Despair and terror distorted their faces! Their terrified screams, and out-stretched hands: pleading to their family or companions for help.
But no one was able to give assistance. They could only reach out in desperate sadness at the loss of their loved ones, or companions, as they fell and disappeared out of sight. Looking more closely, Blodwyn was sure she saw eight Galla Qualls crossing, holding tentacles – the exact number that had died! Blodwyn began to hope this was all a dream and not actual reality. On the other lighter side of the chasm, more beings with fainter outlines beckoned and encouraged the crossers. It seemed to Blodwyn that souls laden with sins were too heavy for the fragile surface, and fell to the depths and out of sight – never to return or see there loved ones again!
Other souls made it two-thirds over the fragile bridge only to fall – but they fell onto a desolate dim barren plain: where thousands milled around aimlessly. “Was this purgatory?”
Suddenly, Blodwyn noticed above the whole terrible scene, a faint outline of a giant being – bigger than any mountain – who seemed to be looking down! The rain was coming from the being’s face – or was it tears! Was this her imagination again? Blodwyn’s heart raced – this was a nightmare that she couldn’t seem to get away from! ‘Suddenly, the young flame-haired girl she had met in True Arcadia appeared and gently held Blodwyn’s hand. To her relief, the flame-haired girl guided her away from the terrible scene below; Blodwyn than became an observer not a participant.
The scene passed away in the distance and the young girl disappeared as mysteriously as she had appeared. Blodwyn closed her eyes again – had she witnessed judgment day?
A voice seemed to penetrate through the blackness.
‘Blodwyn – wake up – it’s Saturday morning – I have a job for you.’ Her mother’s voice drifted up the stairs. Blodwyn felt she was now in her own bed but afraid to open her eyes!
‘I won’t tell you again,’ she heard her mother say. Blodwyn could have shouted for joy; she was back in the beautiful valley where she was born, in lovely Gwynedd. ‘Mum,’ says Blodwyn entering the kitchen, ‘how old was I when Grandma Jones passed away?’
‘Look – Grandma Jones did not pass away – pass over – pass under – or pass out – she died…. you were four,’ her mother answers. ‘Now get a move on, I have a job for you.’
‘What did Grandma die of, mum?’ Blodwyn asks.
‘Old age of course – what do you think – she was ninety eight!’ her mother answers.
‘What were her favourite flowers?’ Blodwyn asks. Her mother stops, and gives Blodwyn a look! ‘Wild wood peonies, she picked from the wood by the pool – that is why your father insisted you were called Blodwyn – white flower in honor to his mother. Now no more questions – I have a busy day ahead – I want you to take a leg of lamb to Sgt Thomas Thomas’s house. And early tomorrow morning you will find a nice fat bird hanging in the barn - leave it in the usual place. I don’t know how the Widow Owen is managing to cope.
‘Yes Mum,’ answers – then had a sudden thought. Blodwyn rushed up to her room and whipped the duvet off the bed – on the sheets was a single wilting white wood peony!
It was a bright sunny June morning outside, the wild flowers in the hay meadow gazed up at the warm sun who in turn smiled down on them. Was the young girl with the golden hair, her Grandmother? Had she really witnessed the terrible judgment of souls?
Was the giant indistinct being that watched the scene of judgment with such sadness – God: the Dom Maximus? Or was it just her vivid imagination playing tricks. After all, what would be the point of her faith if she knew for certain God existed? At the end, she still had no clear answers – only the white wood peony. All these thoughts raced through her mind as she walked across the wild meadow on that beautiful warm June morning on her way to Sgt Thomas’s house. Would the Galla Qualls come for her one day? Would she really want to travel back in time? She was looking forward to her seventeenth birthday. Blodwyn took a deep breath of scented morning air and looked up at the clear blue sky and wondered if she would ever return to outer space - but that is another story!
– END –
All rights reserved
Copyright © Brian Devereux, 2011
Brian Devereux is hereby identified as author of this work in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
ISBN: 978-1-908596-22-2 in epub format
The book cover picture is copyright to Brian Devereux
This book is published by
Grosvenor House Publishing Ltd
28-30 High Street, Guildford, Surrey, GU1 3EL.
www.grosvenorhousepublishing.co.uk
This book is sold subject to the conditions that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the author's or publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library
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