Category: ‘Books’

Chapter two PP 3,4

04/27/2012 Posted by mindsinger

THE GREAT BELL OF FELLOWSHIP

Chapter three PP 4

“Oh, you didn’t oversleep. You’re right on time.  Just follow me.”  With a wave of her hand she walked out the door and into the hall. It really didn’t look much later than when he had been taken to his room, but how did the clothes get dry and how had he slept so well?

“Don’t you remember Queen Gwendolyn telling you that time moves differently here?” Sure enough, around the corner came Stilts, blue robes swirling around his old legs, cane tap tapping on the marble floor.

Zach has been napping after bathing in a marvelous waterfall bath.  He awakens with a start believing he has slept the day away and kept the fallowfolk waiting.  An Alari maiden floats into the room, reassuring him.  The Alari, or angels, are the windfallow equivalent to our angels.  However, they are visible and interact with the fallowfolk.  They are dressed in varicolored leggings and colorful tunics much like the fallowfolk.  The characteristic that sets them apart visually is a pair of wings, with soft brown feathers and barred like those of an owl.

The time flow in windfallow is quite different than on earth.  Since the planet is so near to the eternal plane,  time is of little consequence.  This sets the scene for humor at times, at others it works to their advantage.  For example, while time is passing on earth, time is flying on windfallow.  A few weeks on earth can equal centuries on her sister planet.

Another characteristic of the fallowfolk is their ability to communicate at times with telepathy.  They do not peer deeply into another’s private thoughts, but  surface thought is used to communicate over distance or with the humans.  Their real speech sounds to humans something like wind chimes or bells.  Zach does not realize it at the moment but takes ‘hearing’ their speech as normal.

Stilts is one of the main characters in The Great Bell of Fellowship.  He is an elderly fallowman with a feisty temperament along with much wisdom.  Instead of the common attire of younger fallowfolk, Stilts and other elders wear a longer robe and carry a staff.  He is not a wizard, though dressed like one.

Questions:

1) What do you think a ‘waterfall bath’ would look like?

2)What would it be like to live in a world where thoughts was used to communicate?

3) Do you get the feeling that age is respected on windfallow?  Why?  How is that different here?

4) What would it be like to have angels visible here on earth?  Would they have wings?

Sung Home

04/16/2012 Posted by mindsinger

An Alari, or angel, from Windfallow, after centuries leading and protecting his beloved planet is ‘sung home’.  The end piece of the Chronicles of Windfallow, a double trilogy, soon to be released in print; now on Kindle.

 ~*~

          Angari and his glorious companions rose through the blue-green sky of Windfallow.  As the home he’d known for centuries grew small and remote, the Alari concentrated on the brilliant light toward which they moved.  Brighter than a billion stars, it beckoned them onward.  When they had reached the outermost brilliance, his companions halted.  Golden put his hands on Angari’s shoulders and spoke for all, “My brother, we are now parted for a time.  You go to the Creator as His beloved servant.  We will meet again when all have come home!  Farewell!”

          Angari was alone in the brightness.  He walked now on lush grass surrounded by sights and sounds so pure it made him weep.  Far ahead he saw figures coming to meet him.  Could it be?  Stiltz?  Sparrow?  Zach?  One by one they came to meet him.  Silent, but with smiling faces and outstretched hands, they walked with him.  Others joined them, kings and queens he had known through the centuries, joined in song and the brilliance increased.  It came not from stars but from the multitudes who came to greet him.  And there was more.  He knew the One who waited for him.  Yes.  He was home.

          As Angari moved into his home, a small planet slipped into orbit around the light.  Bathed in swirls of color, she shone with ruby, diamond, emerald, amethyst….

 

THE WHITE BIRD by Donna Swanson c.2011

01/13/2012 Posted by mindsinger

 

The morning sunlight made the white bird’s feathers shine and sparkle.  But the white bird’s thoughts did not shine or sparkle.  She was sad and worried.  Her master had tossed her up into the air several days ago and now she had forgotten what she was supposed to do or where she was supposed to go.

 

“I do not see anything that is familiar to me!” she cried.  “And I can’t even go home for I’ve forgotten that as well!”  A tear glistened on her cheek feathers as she looked once more at the meadow beneath her tree.  A little child was standing there looking at her.  A tear was on his cheek as well.

 

“Oh, beautiful white bird! Can you help me find my way home?” he called.

 

The white bird flew down to his shoulder.  “Which way did you come?” she asked.

 

The little boy pointed.  “Over there.  But I cannot see my house now!  I think it must be gone!”

 

“Oh, no, little one; I think it must be over the hill where you cannot see it.  But it is still there!  Let me fly to my tree branch and look.” The white bird flew back to the tree and looked in the direction the little boy had pointed.  Yes, there was a small cottage.  “Just turn around and walk back the way you came,” said the bird.  See, I will fly ahead of you!”

 

The little boy clapped his hands.  “Thank you, beautiful bird!”  And together they found the path that would take the little boy home.  He waved goodbye as he ran up the lane.

 

The white bird flew back to her tree.  Her heart was lighter now for helping someone; but she still did not know where she was or what she was supposed to do.  She did know she had been sitting in this tree too long.  “Perhaps if I fly farther I, too, will find my home.”  So off she flew over the meadow and over the next few hills.

 

But nothing familiar came into sight.  She did find a wheat field and ate a few grains for her breakfast.  As she pecked at the wheat she heard a sad sigh.  She looked up and saw an aged farmer cutting the wheat.  He looked very sad as he worked.  “Oh, my!” she heard him say, “The crop is so poor this year and the work remains just as hard! If only I could hope for a better day!”

 

The white bird fluttered up from the ground, “How sad you look, Grandfather!  Surely there is something good to think about!”

 

The farmer dropped his scythe and let the white bird sit on his hand.  “How beautiful you are!” he exclaimed.  “What a wonder my field has hidden within it!”  And the old man smiled at his guest.  “What are you doing way out here in the fields?  Surely you live in those fancy houses rich men keep on their rooftops in the city!”

~*~

White Bird is on a journey that will take her through time and over many lands.  Her destination is a mystery for she cannot remember where she is going or from where she has come.   She knows only that she must continue to fly West.  Journey with her and meet those who help her along her way.

If you are interested in learning more about THE WHITE BIRD and its use as a worship tool, contact Donna Swanson at swan2son@gmail.com