Mountain Talk

Chief Yellepit

He took me to a high place, easily 200-300 feet above the river and the lake. In the distance was a pointy mountain with a plume of smoke. He said they called it Hood. They called it some word with S’s in it… There were times when the ash would fall like rain and it would make the water in the river dangerous quicksand. It was truly a beautiful sight, brutal and elemental but awe-inspiring

He told me to look with my new vision; I wasn’t sure what he meant and continued to look around, taking in the splendour.

“Idiot savant” he said and pushed me with his stick. He was irritating me; everything seemed to be in riddles.

“Relax and see as you do when you adjust to see auras “he said with more kindness

I found it was easy to switch and was aware of his incredibly strong aura, which engulfed me. Through the ripples and colours of his aura, I took in the landscape below. It was now much more vivid and three-dimensional. In fact, it was living, breathing, and full of energy. I understood and words were not needed. I noticed that the colours came from his spirit centres or chakra’s and made up the colours of his aura. His was very powerful.

“I was once an ‘idiot’ too… look” and he moved his hand and the scene changed. He took me and we watched a clumsy teenage boy wandering aimlessly through the camp.

“Before the white man and the trains there was a time my soul slept. This day that I show you was an important day for me. I was bitten by a snake, fought my demons and dark energy, passed over, and came back with the knowledge to lead my people. I knew what I needed to do after that just as you do. I was a leader; you are a healer but have been given the gift of words and storytelling. It will continue after you pass just as I continue to lead and teach”

I was trying to work out what year it was. I could have spent longer in the camp; I wanted to see how one of the women was erecting a trellis beside the fire to smoke the fish?

He smiled “this life began in 1753, I have not had another human existence since this one, and my teaching comes from elsewhere now.

We were up high on mountainous rock; we sat at a clearing between two sharp rock faces that framed our view. An eagle came and hovered close by.

The Chief said that even though they come to me, it is always polite to ask before I use their bodies to fly. I felt embarrassed briefly, for I had never asked and felt foolish that I had unknowingly been rude.

He wanted to show me how to fly and I felt myself merge with the energy of the eagle, making sure I asked permission first. Just as I almost finished my transition, he sent the eagle away and I was left dangling in mid-air. He pulled me towards him telling me

“Not that way” and that we didn’t need to join with air spirits, we didn’t need them.

As we talked, I was aware that we had moved our energy centre off the ledge of the rock and were suspended in thin air. On realising this, I dropped and the Chief caught me laughing at me again.

“Have you learnt nothing?”

His comments were not helpful.

“You are touchy because your spirit energies need more work” he held me around the middle; I was very thin in this dream state. Your aura is fractured and you picked up dark spirits when you went to retrieve soul fragments… you didn’t know the dangers…I did the same, you are lucky they are low level. You need protection; I will not always be around to look after you.

“Why not?”

He just looked at me

“I knew the answers”

I knew I would need others to help me brush the demons from my back that hid from me and that this was a waste of his time. These were low level, an irritation, and a drain more than anything. I also knew I had a friend that would soon join me. Her own teacher that would come to her but she needed to have the fracture mended to her solar plexus Chakra that was affecting her aura and her soul retrieved. My friend’s path wasn’t clear to me yet, A warrior, protector, leader, full of sexual energy and creativity, she could be anything she wanted to be.

“Are we Shaman” I laughed

“Some might call us so”


500 word challenge

500 word challenge

Inside its current form, a child’s stuffed toy, the vile, malevolent darkness waited…

It had watched as the putrid flesh from the rotting carcasses had decomposed, revealing twisted skeletons, lying just as they had fallen.

The smashed bones, could allow the replaying of the final scene, so satisfying and sweet.

It would wait… it was all it could do. Its energy slowly depleting…needing… aching… craving new fresh blood.

Next time it would make the deaths and suffering last much longer. It imagined new and exquisite executions. It had learnt that killing quickly offered less in terms of satisfaction. It had time to think and plan and would curb its future maniacal instinct.

There would come a time when it could attach to organic forms and transitions would be rapid. As each new night began its hatred grew.

Splatting flies into walls and watching their bodies explode into puffs of blood became its main amusement. Honing its skills and creating macabre mosaics on the crumbling plaster became its purpose… for now.

It remembered its own death and how its own anger had spoilt that transition. If only it had known its soul was so dark and foul it would be allowed only one. It was proud that its soul was so unworthy and heavy it would never own a form again… merely use them. It waited for that night to come.

The ritual of killing was like a three course meal. The fear of the shocked mortal a delicious aperitif. The energy it stole a taster for so much more. The decision to kill or prolong and how, the main, a mouth-watering menu of delights. Its last killing, replayed so many times became an erotic fantasy. A simple swift heart removal smashing through the ribs. The beating heart still pumping not knowing it was dead… and then the dessert. The sweet taste of a human soul, always hidden through flesh and blood. It took a moment to reveal itself and then the delicious ecstasy of the milky, pure soul. Eventually it would be quick enough to capture it all. For now a scrape would have to do. It was an insanely addictive drive that compelled the bile festering malevolence to demand souls.

But for now it would wait…

A car door and noises downstairs excites the demonic rage. Suppressing laughter. It needed to be silent not to fear the coming souls.

Anticipating the sight of faces shocked by death, almost too much to bear.

The door was sticking, the vile beast’s laugh broke out.

“What was that? Did you hear that? There’s someone in there?

A young male soul with an aura of pure love came into the room. Stunned, shocked, bent over and vomiting, he dropped his camera to the floor.

That was all the energy the vileness needed.

From inside the camera it saw the toy where it had spent so many years. Stronger now and thoroughly entertained. The waiting was over…

Josh Delaney

In a single moment, the bad tempered rain clouds made peace and the sunlight wearing ballet shoes tip toed delicately over the faces of the suddenly silent new-borns at St. Cyprian’s maternity ward.

All was very calm and quiet and the air had a smell that something very important was taking place. It started with a small giggle. The red eyed midwives tending to Mrs Faith Delaney, were still carrying the burden of two stillborns earlier, felt a wave of healing energy and recorded the birth of Josh Delaney 6lbs 6oz at 06.06 am on the 6th day of June.

The giggle grew and became a belly laugh that spread from room to room, ward to ward and soon infected the whole hospital. The most uncontrollable belly laugh in the history of laughter.

The doctors were baffled! There had never been a child recorded as being born laughing, it simply wasn’t possible! Babies are born with an instinct to cry not to laugh. Laughter comes much later.

As they cleaned this delicious laughing baby they noticed amongst his mop of black hair a striking mass of white. The child had been born with grey hair. Josh winked at the midwife and giggled when she drew attention to it. His deep dark brown smiling eyes screamed a knowledge, a wisdom and an enthusiastic interest in all around him.

Faith had every reason to be proud for she had a most unusual son in so many ways. He had come late to her as she was 42 and already had a daughter Joy, who was grown and making her way in the world. Josh had been the last and loveliest thing her beautiful husband Alex had done for her. Sadly her husband had died suddenly of a sub arachnoid haemorrhage at the moment of conception. His last moment, an expression of pure love had created Josh. She knew at that moment when they took her husband away that she wasn’t alone, as she sobbed into her hands.

She didn’t grieve as people seemed to imagine as she had this little soul inside her to keep her company. Outwardly her appearance changed drastically as overnight her black hair turned white but her inner feelings could not explain why this happened. It was as if from the womb Josh was saying all the right things, speaking soul to soul and instilling her with a wisdom that was not her own.

As josh got older, the only noises he made were cheerful sounds. If you gave him something he didn’t like he would laugh so hard it would take two nappies to stop the laughing…. And that of course he found hilarious. He delighted in his bodily functions, changing nappies had never been such fun.

She didn’t know where she ended and he began, the bond and symbiotic love was so powerful and so pure. At night he slept next to her and brushed his little fingers through her hair gently as she became wrapped in sleep. So gentle and so caring was his manner.

One June morning when even the sun was happy Faith was tending to the lawn Josh came to her and took instinctively her by the hand. He led her to the area where the wild flowers grew, pointing out a nest of new born hedge sparrows on the way. He smiled and studied her and lifted up a leaf to show a struggling butterfly fighting the last of its cocoon. They watched mesmerised standing vigil over the butterfly, silent and vulnerable, waiting for its wings to dry and to be strong enough to fly. It was as if Josh was using this as a metaphor that it was time for him to fly.

From then on four year old Josh, slept in his own bed.

When he was at school, although he never spoke, it didn’t stop him excelling in his work. He was loved instantly by everyone who came in contact with him. He carried a huge calming aura that extended well beyond his own personal space. On entering a classroom the other kids would immediately settle and focus on their work.

On paper though, because of his silence and that he would often seem to be in a world of his own, he was given a diagnosis of Autism. Faith and his teachers knew this was wrong as Josh was a powerful communicator. Faith asked him why he wouldn’t speak and implored him to start for she feared it might cause him problems in the long term. Josh just wrapped his mum up in a huge hug kissed her lightly on the cheek and chortled gently.

When his mum went to her little study later she found the printer had chugged out two quotes. One unknown “he who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words” and another “when you talk you are only repeating what you already know but if you listen you may learn something new” Elbert Hubbard.

Faith never asked him to speak again.

He was certainly a unique soul, receptive, intelligent and very beautiful with his two tone hair and captivating eyes and ready smile.

At school he continued to perform brilliantly academically, and to teach more than he was taught. He liked to sit alone and watch and listen to nature’s music and drama but students and teachers would seek him out to be near him or to confide in him.

Faith had received a phone call from the school stating there had been an incident. Apparently another boy had brought a gun to school and intended using it against his teacher. Josh was in another classroom and despite his teacher’s protestations had continued heavily with a purpose. He walked silently and calmly to the boy with the gun. Standing between the boy and a Mr Gaines, a cruel and unpopular teacher, the gun pointed at Josh’s forehead.

As the rain clouds gathered above, Faith’s fragile heart that had seen so much pain…… suddenly stopped.