Category: ‘Books’

SING ME HOME!

09/25/2011 Posted by mindsinger

 

Terah’s body lay in state before the thrones in the Hall of Song.  Washed and dressed, the wounds were left visible as tokens of his sacrifice and honor. He lay on a rectangular block of pure amethyst. The thrones behind him were empty for the King and Queen stood with the assembly that packed the huge hall.  Shoulder to shoulder they stood in silence. The Alari, sized down to miniature, hovered just above the people. Except for Angari. He stood between the thrones; his robes were glistening white, his hair and body golden. His wings were spread wide and his hands were raised, palms upward, to Heaven. He was not the blindingly bright creature revealed when the Great Bells rang in unison, but he was undoubtedly an angel.

Now, he began to sing. His words were unintelligible to the humans, but sounded like bells and music. The King and Queen joined him then, and, slowly, sweeping from front to back, the whole assembly joined the stately chorus. When the music had swelled so that the building vibrated with power, Angari stepped forward, lifted the broken body of Terah, and flew over the heads of the people. Escorted by myriads of Alari, he disappeared through the doors.

Silently the fallowfolk left the Hall until only the King and Queen and the Thomases remained. “Oh, John,” whispered Sarah, “there are no cemeteries. There are no cemeteries on Windfallow! How beautiful!”

c.2011 excerpt from The Deceiver; Book III, Volume I, The Windfallow Chronicles, Donna Swanson

THE WINDFALLOW CHRONICLES

09/02/2011 Posted by mindsinger

 

A small planet spins in a rainbow-hued nimbus.  Her name is Windfallow; sister world to Earth, fashioned by the same Creator and given innocence as her cloak.  In the dim past the worlds were connected and their inhabitants passed to and fro upon both worlds.  But planet Earth was tempted, fell and was corrupted by evil.  The gates between the worlds were closed by the Fallowfolk themselves to prevent that evil from wounding their world.

The world of Windfallow differs from Earth in three respects.  She never fell to the temptation of sin.  There, angels are still visible, and the common building material is gemstone.  Many lifetimes and generations of lifetimes have passed on Windfallow, where time is measured on a scale more closely resembling that of the Eternal Plane.  Windfallow is not Heaven.  But Windfallow is magnificently innocent.

Now, a demon has discovered the tiny planet and despising its peaceful inhabitants, claims it as his own.  Only allowed into the Barrier Wood which surrounds the planet at the equator, the demon known as Jackal brings in thugs from Earth to seduce the world.  Using the fabulous gemstone as bait, he manipulates its destruction.

Through what he believes is an accident, Zachary Thomas, a teenager from Earth, arrives in Windfallow shortly after the first incursion.  Four times the demon seeks to destroy Windfallow.  And four times he is defeated by Zachary, by the Angari, (And Alari or Angel), and the council of fallowfolk convened to resist the invasion.  The fourth attempt ends as the demon is cast into outer darkness and annihilation.

A few more centuries pass and a space ship happens to see a planet surrounded by a ‘curious light’.  An away team sets down to explore and one of the crew happens to have an antique family idol…

The double trilogy, The Chronicles of Windfallow will be published in two volumes.

 

Vol. I:   Book One: The Great Bell of Fellowship

Book Two: King of the Barrier Wood

Book Three: The Deceiver

Vol. II: Book Four: Carnivore

Book Five: A Curious Light

Book Six: Angari’s Temptation

 

Both mss are complete and ready to publish.

 

PROLOGUE

 

“It’s no use!”  The professor of antiquities threw down his pen and walked away from the table.  “We’ve tried every ancient language known on earth and alien worlds alike and none of them fit!  No language, no code, no nothing!”

The offending book lay open on the big table in the union hall of the University.

Beside it was a wooden box – old, heavy, with a simple key lying beside it.  A scent as fresh as springtime still lay on the remaining five books it contained.  The box had been uncovered by archeologists exploring an old space center in the western desert of New Iberia.   No markings could be found on the box but the key had been found in a small easily opened compartment.  Lying amid dust and mold in the ancient vault, the box remained clean and untouched by age.

The archeologists found six books inside filled with unintelligible writing.  The box with its contents was brought here where all had been studied in minute detail.  The wood itself made the box special and marked its age; for what trees remained were no longer used for lumber.  The binding of the books was another puzzle.  The coverings were not leather, but some kind of vegetable product with properties similar to leather or a form of synthetic.  The pages were fine linen and the lettering was done with regular ink.  Regular that is, except there was no fading and no apparent aging of the documents.

Professor Keanoe left the enigmatic objects lying on the table and walked across to the refreshment console.  While he dialed up a stimulant, a young student staffer took the opportunity to dust that portion of the table.  His eyes fell upon the ancient manuscript and he stood there studying it.

“Get away from that!” Keanoe strode back across the room.

“But what is it, Professor?  It looks like an interesting story.”

“None of your business…What!?  What story?”

“Well, it says here The Chronicles of Windfallow: a history of our world.”

 

Thus it was discovered that certain individuals could read the ancient writings with ease.  A group of them was gathered to transcribe the manuscripts and the following documents are the fruit of their labors.

 

 

 

In the Woods

07/28/2011 Posted by mindsinger

 



I can hear the spring wind building before I feel the freshening breeze upon my face.  It stirs the trees in the orchard and sends before itself a million soft sighings.  And, as it passes on, I sit in the calm once again even as I hear it moving on to ruffle yet another tree-clad hillside.
I feel the wind, I hear it, But I don’t know its origin or its destination. Why, then, must I labor so diligently to understand God’s Spirit which he tells me to accept as freely and as innocently as a child free in the springtime? Why should I fear the ceasing of words when it was not I but the Spirit who caused their appearance?
O Father, make me as free, as trusting, and as pliant as the tall sycamore swaying gently in the caressing wind!  Standing there on the creek bank, its roots exposed by years of springtime flooding, it offers me its gift of hope.  Help me to remember it when my own floods come.  Or when the soft breezes of the spirit become gales of sorrow or pain.
It is beautiful here.  No sound but the busy scurrying of last year’s leaves as they tumble and dance before the wind.  The trees, bare of leaves, create their own beauty as each stands in the uniqueness of its construction.
And through it all flows the living water.  The soft sound of its voice soothes my mind and stills my soul.  And I rise renewed.  Was it so with you, Jesus?  Is that why you withdrew to those wilderness mountains?

Exceprt from SPLINTERS OF LIGHT c.2011 by Donna Swanson

http://mindsinger.com/book-store/splinters-of-light-book/