Story) Journey to the Secret Place . . .

Another picture-book story from my series:
THE STORYSPINNERS OF EVERLAND
                                             
       Marcos and the Dove
         Journey to the Secret Place

A SMALL BOY set off on a journey. He wandered from his home in the Candlewoods, up through the sun-kissed meadows and up to the Purple Hills where the grass thins and becomes all heathery and rocky. He was not alone. The grey ringdove the friend of the moon-spinners flew after him. 

   ‘Where are you going, Marcos?’ she asked him.    

   ‘I have heard a sound,’ he answered, ‘and I am going to find it and see what it is.’    

   ‘Then I will come with you’ she whispered, softly, ‘and share your journey.’   Following the sound no ear could hear Marcos and the dove soon reached the craggy tops of the Purple Hills. They looked up to see the great, white, snowy peaks of the Mountains of Sensennae. He must find the way through them to find what he was looking for.  

   ‘Where is the way through? Do you know?’ he asked the dove. 

   ‘Through?’ she answered, her heart swelling with joy.   

  ‘Yes. Through . . .’ said the boy, ’the way through the Mountains to the secret place where all things can speak the language that has no words. For I must find the sound I hear and learn what it is. Perhaps, it is there?’    

   So the Dove flew up, high into the air to search for the way through. With her loving-knowing eyes she soon saw what must be the way. She flew back to the boy to lead him into a narrow place up in the mountain tops.    

  It was like a tunnel. Starry-lit with tiny glow worms all the way along it. Through this tunnel, a valley of shadow, dark and narrow they made their way. After a long and fearsome time they came to the end and saw where it had led them. Below was a bright grassy place with a very large pool in the middle. One, single, tree with silver-gold leaves stood at its edge. 

  Marcos gasped! Here was the sound. This was where it was coming from. It was in the pool.    

  Treading softly, he went down the long slope, to the pool of the still small voice, and knelt beside it. It was like a mirror and he saw his face reflected upon its silvery-bright surface. He met his tears.    

   ‘What does it mean? What is it?’ cried the boy. The Dove flew down to him. 

  ‘This is the sound of the World,’ she said. ‘It is the sound of your own heart crying. It has led you here. The pool is made of the tears of the World. They are speaking the sound you heard in the language no ear can hear. The tears are the thoughts of your heart. All are precious. All are counted and kept. They help the World.’ 

  In a quick-bright flutter of her shining wings the Dove flew up to the single, silver-gold tree . . . ‘They are like seeds . . .’ she added, whispering faintly.    

   ‘. . . Waiting to be sown . . . ,’ the echo he caught fainter still.    

  Though he did not know what it meant, Marcos was listening with all his heart; and with his eyes, too. All at once, in the long flowery grass, beside the pool, he spied a small glass bottle, carved with a strange and intricate pattern clasped in a fine filigree of silver. It was beautiful!    

   ‘Dip this bottle into the pool and fill it,’ said the Dove, who was watching. For all along she knew what it was, and she rejoiced. ‘Take it back with you to the Candlewoods. You must help the World. Each droplet spilt from it will be a seed. When all the seeds are sown the World will know how much it is loved.’ and she flew away. 

   The boy did not understand what the Dove had told him. But he obeyed. He filled the little bottle; and sat back down again, holding it in his hands. A great sigh came from deep within him. ‘How can I help the World?’ he cried. ‘This is impossible!’ And he shook his head with a great sadness for the World. Suddenly, from it hundreds and thousands of sparkling seeds flew up! Caught by the breeze, they went floating along upon the living Path of the Wind, until they fell to the earth, and sunk into the ground. The loving thoughts of his heart were seeds! And because this was Everland, where all things can be, and all things were possible, the seeds sprouted, at once. They sprung up and grew into the most splendid flowers. 

  The flowers bore seed. The Wind carried them, further. They drifted and danced . . . far away . . . all over the secret place beyond the Mountains of Sensennae. More and more flowers of every kind and colour grew up; tipping the balance, turning the tables, changing things, everywhere! Solomon, in all his glory was not arrayed as one of these: the first flowers of Everland, speaking wonders, which have no end. 

   Marcos looked on. He saw what happened to the seeds. He understood. And he knew now what he would do. The boy smiled. He picked up the small glass bottle and set off with the grey ringdove upon his new journey, full of joy. When your heart is pure wonders can happen.    

  Back through the dark narrow passage they went, down the Mountains of Sensennae, down the Purple Hills, and along the sun-kissed meadows to the Candlewoods, and on and beyond, to help the World with his tears.  

                                                        *

See Below...  (12. March, 2018)...  my picture book story, titled:  The Naming Well
The Naming Well  is the 7th book in the series: THE STORYSPINNERS OF EVERLAND. 

These stories are so new that I am still in the process of editing them; so please, re-read, for you'll find further pieces enriching the whole.


                                    *