Night Ride to the Baba Yaga

One cannot resist what L’Enchanteur bids, so I made my way down to the stables at the Duwamish Inn where I was staying. It was big and airy and many ears perked up and bright intelligent eyes turned my way as I entered. An elderly woman, small and spry, emerged from a stall with a loaded shovel.

“Don’t mind me—doin’ a little housekeeping for my guests….” She disappeared out a side door and came back a moment later, shovel empty.

“Now, what can I do for you, madam?” she chirped.

“I’ve been asked by L’Enchanteur to come here and pick out a horse.”

“Ah, yes. L’Enchanteur—smart lady, don’t you know. But, madam, you should know—you don’t pick the horse, the horse picks you.”

I sighed. “Yes, I’ve had experience with picky horses. My dumb luck I’ll get another ornery one. Just as long as this one doesn’t talk, I’ll be fine.”

“Talk? These horses don’t talk….except one youngin’ in the back. Still tryin’ to figure who his sire is. Odd little bugger. Won’t shut up. Anyway, let me open the stalls and we’ll see what happens.”

The stablewoman moved from stall to stall, tripping the latches and opening them all. Then she and I waited. Just as I was starting to fidget and flashback to school days when I was last to be chosen for a playground team, one horse, a long-legged blue roan, clopped out of the stall and stopped in front of me.

“Ah, Syren—who would have thought her? Well, madam, you will be well pleased if not a bit surprised with this one. No doubt, you’ll have a….wonderful… night ride.” The stablewoman looked a bit nervous and hurriedly scampered off.

“Wait! Night ride? What’s that? I thought I’d come back tomorrow and just take her for a little trot. Hello? Ma’am?”

The stablewoman was out of sight. I stared at Syren for a moment. “Night ride, huh? Can’t be any scarier than a ride on a thunderbird.”

Syren tossed her head and snorted. I think she was laughing at me.

Syren let herself be quickly saddled and then she rocketed out of the stable before I was properly mounted. I held on to the horn with one hand while trying to grab the reins with the other.

We pounded down the Inn Road, dark silhouettes of alder trees whipping past us. A waning gibbous moon raced along with us from behind the leaves. My vision could not pierce the darkness ahead of me, and I futilely tried to rein in Syren. Instead, she picked up speed. It seemed as though her legs had stopped moving and she was merely skimming along the surface of the road. The trees swooshed by faster and faster until they merged together into a blur.

I thought I heard voices, whispering actually, familiar whispers from long dead relatives, snippets of laughter from friends and enemies--I do not know which. Faces, like phantoms, faded in and out, faces of family and friends now forgotten, some by time and others by will.

I called out, "Syren! Slow down! Whoa!", but the blue roan was out of my control. Wind whipped my face and after all time seemed to stop, I could no longer catch a breathe. Darkness descended and I no longer knew anything.

When I came to, I felt something soft and warm beneath me. I sat up and wiped a fine, sugary sand from my face. Syren stood next to me and watched with inquisitive eyes.

"Syren! What's the deal!?" Before I could let loose with a barrage, I turned and was made speechless by the sight before me.

"We're not in Lemuria anymore, Syren!"

The horse snorted and stamped a forefoot. I stood up on a beach and stared at the sea that stretched into forever. Not a breeze stirred, not a wave moved upon the shore. All was eerily still and completely silent. Islands in the distance reflected with total clarity in the stillness of the water. The moon, devoid of her ancient markings, a perfect white sphere, floated over the horizon, poised to set, yet there was no movement. It was like being trapped within a photograph.

Yet, something was familiar. I had seen this in a dream. And the water, the shore, the moon-- these were all images that had at one time or another found their way into my artwork and writing.

Then it hit me: "Syren! This is my unconscious!"

Syren softly whinnied.

"But I'd thought there'd be more. You know, archetypes flitting around, or one of those quest characters, like the Trickster, hanging around-- all that stuff Jung talks about."

Syren shook her steely gray mane.

"No, wait, you're right. That would be the Collective Unconscious. But.... if this is MY unconscious, then why's it so dead? There's nothing going on. No wonder I get writer's block-- my Unconscious is a freakin' bore!"

"Great!" I picked up Syren's reins and prepared to mount. "I'll just pack up and head back to the Real World. Plenty to draw on there--- war, pestilence, global warming,-- who needs this place!"

My eye caught something. I paused and squinted. Away in the distance flashed a white and yellow light. At the extreme end of a point of land was a structure.

"What's that? It looks like a lighthouse." The light pulsed like a heatbeat.

"I knew there had to be SOME action here. Let's go check it out!"

I mounted Syren. "Sweetie, your re-entry really needs some work, so let's keep the speed down, shall we?"

Syren and I shot off down the beach toward the light.

Being in the backwaters of my own mind, distance had no meaning, and Syren delivered me to the lighthouse almost immediately. We stopped in a clearing in front of the lighthouse, a single tower of stone with the light I had seen on the beach still pulsing at the top. Like the beach, there was no sound and no other movement.

I dismounted and slowly approached the door. Embedded on the door was an intricately decorated tile with a calligraphic symbol embossed in the middle. I fingered the symbol and studied it.

“Destiny.”

I jumped and spun around. Standing behind me was an old woman. She was red-cheeked and wrinkled, wearing a dress and apron that reminded me of traditional Russian peasant garb. She carried a bucket of water in each hand.

“It means ‘destiny’. Could you please open the door?”

Still staring at her, I pushed open the lighthouse door. The old woman set the pails of water on the ground and stepped through the open door.

“Could you please bring those dear?”

I picked up the pails and followed her in.

“Set them there. Could you throw some wood on the fire and get a kettle going for tea?”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” I said. “First, who are you?”

“The Keeper of the Lighthouse, of course. Fetch me my wrap please. It’s a might cold.”

“You’re the lighthouse keeper? Excuse me, but it doesn’t seem that you get many ships out here from what I can see. Not much action of any kind. So what’s the need for a lighthouse?”

“Oh, no, we don’t get any ships out here; you’re right about that. But I need to keep the light burning, nonetheless.”

“Why?”

“Oh, you know why, my dear.”

“No, I don’t. What’s so special about that light?”

“Please, don’t trifle with me. I know why you’re here. You’re here to steal the light.”

“What are you talking about? I just came out here to look around.”

“You can’t have the light! I’m the Keeper!”

“Fine, whatever.” I edged towards the door. Things were getting a little weird and I wanted to jump on Syren and go.

“No! You can’t leave. You’ll tell others about the light.” The old woman advanced towards me.

“No, I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“You lie!” Suddenly, the woman’s face contorted. Her chin began jutting outward until it had curled up over her mouth. Her nose began growing until it hooked down. Her face took on the appearance of a large-mandibled insect.

Her eyes turned puss-yellow and her finger nails grew out until they curled under into claws.

I screamed and scrambled to open the door. Just as I slid out, I felt something grab the tail of my shirt. I yanked away and called out:

“Syren! Let’s get out of here!”

The horse bolted toward me and I swung up and into the saddle. “Go!” I commanded.

Syren took off down the beach. I craned my head around looking for our pursuer. I remember the tales told by the other travelers at the Inn. This must be the Baba Yaga and what she did to her victims was horrific beyond description.

Suddenly, a thought hit me so powerful that I reined Syren to a skidding stop.

“Syren! What’s wrong with all of this?”

Syren bellowed.

“Yeah, I thought so too.” I wheeled her about and we headed back to the lighthouse.

When we arrived, the hag was gone and the old woman, placid and calm, sat in front of the door peeling potatoes. I jumped off the horse before she had come to a complete stop.

“Hey! Listen to me, you old bat! This is MY unconscious; therefore, this is MY lighthouse, and if I wanted that light it would be mine too! Now, take a hike!”

The old woman dropped her knife and potato. She laughed so hard she had trouble staying on the stool.

“Of course, my dear, of course it’s your light!”

“What?”

“Yes, I wondered how long it would take for you to figure it out.”

“Excuse me? Did I miss something?”

“Apparently, not until today. Yes, that is YOUR light. It is the light of your intuition. It’s been here in your unconscious all these years, pulsing, waiting for you to come claim it. Here.” She handed me a lit lantern.

“Well….. I’m confused…. Why all the theatrics?... Why didn’t you just say so?”

“If I had just offered it to you, you wouldn’t have wanted it. I had to make you work for it. I had to make you want it. With the light of your intuition in hand, this world in your mind will now come alive. Just wait and see.”

With that, the Baba Yaga started laughing again and then vanished.

Still holding the lantern, I climbed aboard Syren. “Let’s go home now.”

Syren whinnied. I looked into the sky just in time to see a purple pig with polka dots fly by.

Images and Text: Lori Gloyd (c) 2006

Sacre Coeurs, " Please Pegasus, lets land just for a while. I want to walk in the foot steps of some of my favorite artists in the Montmartre district. 

The world faded from view as Pegasus speeded towards my dream location of Paris during the time period when artists dominated Montmartre. I feel a very vulnerable, perched so precariously on the back of this fast moving horse but my mind was also filled with expectations which kept me from calling out to demand Pegasus return to the gypsy camp. My fists were getting cramped from holding on so tightly but finally I could feel Pegasus slowing his unearthly speed and slowly descending. As the night lights of Paris slowly came into view Pegasus glided in large circles over this sparkling jewel and gave me closer and closer views of the city. Mental maps spread out in front of my mind as I tried to get orientated, Yes, there is the Eiffel tower, and Arch de Triumph on the Champs-Elysees, the river Seine�OHHH. And there is The Iles and Notre-Dame on the Isle�the left bank�and;;;THERE���There is the Sacre Coeurs white domes beckoning under floodlights. �� Sac le Coeur is near Montmartre. Please Pegasus. .Please set down and let me see, smell and feel the atmosphere of the Montmartre.  

Heather's Night Ride

Piper's Call

When le Enchanteur is in Pied Piper mode there is electricity in the air and Pegasus cannot resist coming to take someone with her, on the wings of imagination. Le Enchanteur is playing a tune that the hardiest of travellers will find hard to resist. Follow her and go for a night ride, beyond that Harvest Moon, with Pegasus. Pegasus will take you anywhere in the world. He is yours for the night.

Captain and Black

Riding through the woods in the dark of night is eerie to say the least, especially when my mount's name is Black, but more about that in a moment.

The trail was narrow in places and hemmed on either side by trees so tall they obliterated the stars. Then there were times when we were out in the open, when the moon guided our progress. Here the trail was narrow, the drop-off dizzying. Black though seemed sure-footed so I gave him his head ands allowed him to pick his own way. Why he seemed to prefer the drop-off side of the trail was unfathomable to me. Perhaps he was testing me and my faith in his sure footedness. Whatever it was I wish he would accept my faith in him and lean toward the up-side.

Soon enough though, I got used to his ambling gait and nodded off in the saddle. I think I nodded off, but maybe it was that I time-traveled back to my childhood and remembered another Black. Captain and Black were a team, a team that stayed in my memory. Here is their story and part of mine, too.

Captain and Black

Captain and Black,
Shires true and stout-hearted,
pulling their load,
bringing coal by the cartload
for warming the hearth.

Once or twice every month,
they pulled that old cart,
so heavily laden,
from town.
While there at the gate,
I was waiting
to be lifted,
to ride in style
on Black's back
all the way to the house,
and back.

I waited for the load to be dumped
in a corrugated enclosure.
Then, with their load lightened,
I fed each, Captain and Black,
a hard, juicy apple.

Then, once more I would ride
high on their backs,
sometimes on Captain,
sometimes on Black.
I was a knight
on a stout-hearted war horse, a warrior
with arrows and bow,
a dreamer on Pegasus' flight.

All too soon
the fantasy ended.
We had reached the gate
and this knight was dismounted.
Captain and Black,
pulling the cart,
went off down the road
with a spring in their step
and much tossing of heads.

Was it me or my apples
that lightened their steps?
As an old woman I know
it was really because
of the coal left behind in a pile.
Captain and Black,
I know you're long gone.
Proud Shires true-hearted,
harness adorned
with high polished brass.

Are you now
pulling chariots of angels,
your harness adorned
with the finest of gold
and stardust galore?

Captain and Black,
I'll never forget you,
prod Shires you are,
stout-hearted
and brave.

And now as I ride Black through the night, I'm willing and able to believe that I've been on Black's back before, a long time ago. It was a time when we heated our houses with coal and he and Captain pulled the load so we wouldn't run out and be cold on those long winter nights.

The moon casts its shadow and yes, I'm sure that Captain is beside us, carrying his share of the load.

Vi
©September 10, 2005

Güarionex, the steed who took me to the Hermitage - Alexandra Roman

There is a strange thing about horses I do not understand. There are very mysterious and if you don’t see my point just look at them straight in their eyes. Their eyes have stories to tell but since they can’t speak they are silent. Still some creatures can speak to them and hear their stories and transmit them to others like me. They are called the Horse Whisperers, a rare species among humans. One of them introduced me to Güarionex, my golden steed, the one who will take me to the Hermitage.

I felt scared as I approached Güarionex for I have always been afraid of horses. If they don’t trust you there is much that can happen. I look deep into his black eyes at the same time as he stared at my green eyes. A moment of eternity passed between us while we gaze upon each other reading our souls.

Suddenly he made a nod and I came out of the trance. “He will let you ride him”, said the Horse Whisperer. I smiled for what I saw in his eyes was a story so extraordinary that was uplifting and inspiring. This horse was no ordinary steed he was a warrior who was a companion to legendary warriors. I felt unworthy of such an honor of being able to ride him.

“We must go know, is getting late”, the Horse Whisperer added as he climbed up his white horse. “The trail is long but inspiring. Let Güarionex feel the road and do not be scared for he will take good care of you. He has seen something special in you.”

“Why you say that?” I asked.

“He is letting you ride him. Last time he let someone ride him was a century ago by a great king of kings.”

“Maybe his bored and want to feel the road under his hooves.”

“No. He saw something in you so do not think of yourself as entertainment for him. He knows when someone is worthy of him.”

I look at Güarionex once more wanting to ask him what he saw in me. But as I gaze upon him I felt a warm feeling inside my heart that took my fears away. I smiled, he nodded.

I climb on to his saddle and waited for the Horse Whisperer to tell me what to do. He just said, “Hold on and seat tight, is a bumpy ride.” Suddenly the horses started running fast. I hold tight on to the rope in order to slow him down but Güarionex did not give in.

“Loose him up”, the Horse Whisperer shouted.

I did not want to do that. A chill went up my spine as the only thing I could do was hold on. I got closer to his neck trying not to fall down for I knew it was going to hurt a lot if I fell.

“You have to let go.” The Horse Whisperer shouted to me.

I looked at him not understanding what he said. I was really scared, the wind blowing hard at my face. The road passed fast underneath us as Güarionex rode faster and faster each passing second. The valley was hard to admire at that pace. Everything was a blur because you could not distinguish one color from the other, a wild flower from the grass. The only steady things were the sky above and the mountains beyond. They looked as if they were spectators looking down on us not wanting to miss the action that went on in the valley beneath them.

The Horse Whisperer’s words echoed in my mind as I tried to understand their meaning. “Let go.” I said to myself. “Just let go”. As I said that my hands relaxed their grip and loosened the rope on Güarionex. A sense of freedom revolved around me and confidence took over my soul. It felt great! I let go of my fears and enjoyed the ride letting Güarionex ride faster than before and trusting myself to him.

A rush of adrenaline flew thru my veins as the wind in my face felt exhilarating. Then it came out of my mouth like it had been there all my life trying to get out but never had the chance. A loud scream, yes I screamed so hard it was heard through out the valley as we rode fast through its green pastures.

The Horse Whisperer laugh and I joined him. “Oh, this is awesome!” I exclaimed.

“Every time, every time” He repeated with a huge smile.

“Can he go like this for a long time?” I asked out loud.

“A little longer!” He answered.

“Well then let’s have a race!” As I said that I let out a “Hia!” and Güarionex started to go even faster. It was a glorious experience that uplifted my spirits. The Horse Whisperer caught us in seconds and he pointed to a group of trees for us to stop and for the horses to rest.

We stopped at the chosen spot and when I got down Güarionex caress me with his face. I smiled and said to him, “Thank you too.” I kissed him in his forehead and hugged him. We stayed there for an hour eating and laughing. The Horse Whisperer told me of his craft and talents, of his family and how he was chosen to be a horse whisperer. He explained to me that they choose a name that only the horse appointed to him must know. But I could call him Rob. He was taught at the University of Centaurs by a legendary old centaur. He told me that the centaurs are the only creatures capable of teaching that craft for after all they are half horses.

The road was waiting for us and we climbed up on our horses but this time, for we were closer to the Hermitage as we covered most of the road in our ride, we took it slow. I wanted to enjoy the sites as we past beautiful trees and enchanting roads. Soon enough the sanctuary of the Hermitage was visible in the distance. It look beautiful, I smiled as I saw it. I was finally there and my heart was full of joy to gaze upon it.

“When we get there I will attend to the horses. You go in and relax and enjoy your stay. It’s a good place for meditation so take advantage of your time.”

“I will”

“I will see you when you and your party are ready to live.”

“Thank you for this wonderful trip”

“Don’t thank me, thank him.” Rob, the Horse Whisperer, said pointing to Güarionex.

I smile and gave Güarionex a pad on his mane. We entered the Hermitage and left the traveled road behind.

~Travels~ - Patricia

~Map to the Hermitage~
Arriving at the Hermitage was not an easy journey. I passed through many strange and curious places.

Leaving the cave my first stop was The Land of Prey. Incrediable birds of great girth and height reside here. Their main oject is the hunting of cats. Yes, cats ! I am relieved I gave second thoughts to bringing my dearest friend, Big Moma. My journey would have been very short.

Second Stop - District of Dolls
Third Stop - Village of Dwellings

Forth Stop - City of Chairs. I had to show identitification, have my passport stamped, a finger print was taken, and my small baggage checked.

Thinking I had plenty of time, as the Hermitage was only one hour away, I took Heathcliff to a nearby blacksmith where he could be watered and fed oats. I walked across the street to a diner, washed up in the rest room and sat in the most elegant of chairs to order a proper meal. The food was delicious. The wine and cheese after dinner seemed to revive my spirits. I was ready to continue.

I must have read my map wrong, as I ended up in the township of travel. I asked an elderly gentleman for directions. His manners were that of a prince and he was so well spoken. His directions were none of the above and again I was to become lost in the Village of Crowns.

I took some extra moments to study the map carefully. As I traveled back I once again noticed the elderly gentleman. This time he was riding in a vintage car, waving and smiling as he left me in a cloud of smoke and dust.

I reached the Hemitage around midnight. My first thoughts were for Heathcliff. I am thankful there was a groom to meet me. To say the least, I am tired and in need of a comfortable night's sleep.

Ms. Lovelace ( Patricia )
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Detour...... - Lisa J

Oh I am so sorry to have seemingly disappeared the last few days!! That great brute of a horse took it into his head to take a bit of a detour and go galloping all about the country side :) I have recieved a message from heather and we have (hopefully!) figured out a way to control him, so I will catch up with you all and be at the Hermitage very soon!!

Gramma rides easy - Fran Sbrocchi

Gramma rides easy
Originally uploaded by FranSb.

Arriving at the Hermitage

~Leather & Lace~ - Patricia

~Heathcliff~
Sitting on a bench, with the sides shaped as horses, I am adding the final stitches to my costume. A plain box wrapped in brown paper was left on the writing table in my room. My name was written on the lid. Various printed pink and orange cloth, tulle, ribbons and a strand of pearls are among the contents in the container. A small card lays among the folds of tissue paper. It simply states, 'For your dress. Keep in mind you will wear this at your presentation. Search your heart, search deep and compose a poem to read aloud at the performance. Tomorrow morning wait by the gardens and horse stables for further instruction.'

I clip my last thread and hold the costume out - it's beautiful. I brush the hair piece of brown curls. There is enough material left for a long sash to tie around my head. I sit the curls carefully in the box among the crinkled tissue. I replace the lid.

The vegetable gardens are lovely and bear oversized fruit in between the story book leaves shaped like long hearts. Yellow summer squash gleams in the sun. Two men gently lift one squash from the vine. I see beads of sweat along their foreheads. They shift their balance and tightly grasp the highly varnish vegetable. As they pass me I see morning dew on their prize weight.

The sound of hoofs coming from the white washed stable catches my ears and I turn my head. A white and brown spotted horse is being led by a groom. He stops in front of me and hands me the reins. 'His name is Heathcliff - take care.' He nozzles his cold nose in my hand - his nostrils flare as he breathes in my scent. I scratch between his eyes - what deep brown jewels these are - the color of amber and night. Black oblong pupils stare into mine. His mane is off white, shining, well brushed. One braid shows itself with three dangling bells. It is hard to say how many hands tall he is.

The saddle is English style and smells of soaped leather and oil. An empty saddle bag awaits my custom box. On the opposite side the bag holds a canteen of water, what appears to be a ration of food and a well worn map.

I mount the beast, at once I know I have become his burden as he moves slightly from side to side. I give the time he needs to ajust to my weight. In only a matter of seconds we are off, slowly, surely following the garden path toward an open iron gate.

Patricia ( the picture of the woman in the framed film strip is my Grandmother )
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Distant bells - Luna

A distant pounding of earth.
A jangle of bells.
The breathing of a dragon.
I look up and see my ride,
A white beauty with brass bells.
Festive designs decorate her forehead.
Her ears perk forward as I reach out.
I pull out a carrot and flatten my palm.
Her large brown eyes blink those lovely lashes.

My guide hoists me up and we are off.
My beautiful mare runs across a field.
The moon is new and it’s very dark.
Light magically emanates from the trees.
Freedom! Exhilaration!
My hair falls free of braids and feathers.
And we are in darkness moving with the night.
My skirt blows around like a small storm.
I lean in closer to hear her breathe.
In this moment, I feel truly alive.

A Gentle Soul - Vi Jones

The smell of well-worn leather and horse flesh excites my senses as I succumb to the rhythmic movement of the line-back dun beneath me. He has a gentle animal soul and is patient with the likes of me who haven't been on the back of a horse for many years. There was a time in my younger days I would have leapt unaided into the saddle and with a 'Hi Ho and away we go, galloped off into the sunset.' But things are different now. I need a boost. When Oliver, that's his name and what a peculiar name it is for a horse, turned his head and stared at me with those big eyes, he snorted and I thought, I'm screwed … he's going to give me a bad time. He's going to buck me off the first time the trail gets close to a drop-off. But Oliver has turned out to the gentle, caring soul he is and I'm able to sit back, relax, and enjoy the journey. Thank you, Oliver.

My Secret Companion Rides with me - Bobbi

My secret companion, I thought hidden well

Was brought on this journey for stories to tell

For he begged me to take him on this mystery ride

So he could write poetry and song by my side

For grown ups and children, a passion so strong

To write from his soul is what he does long



This owl called Salish, a bird of the night

A shy and hurt being, he must be carried at light

He makes observations from silent high perch

At his home, in the Soul, of the Cafe..... his church

He watches the patrons and weaves story and song

from the wise and understanding conclusions he's drawn


Now Salish and I are being whisked far away

by Wizard and Stallion and owl, Aday

through snow and forest, to where this journey will end

to new lands and adventures, a warm Inn and good friends

Bobbi (and Salish_the_Owl)

The ride to the Hermitage - Lisa J

well a messenger finally found me in the caves and I rushed back to my room and quickly packed my rucksack!! It can hardly fit another thing in it, so I certainly hope i don't find anything that I need to bring back with me or I'll have to leave something else behind!! I followed the passage and went through my door back out into the sunshine - squinting and blinking at how brilliant the light was after so long underground! There I saw my horse that I am to ride - and he is beautiful!! The guide is already astride her horse, and is a creature of beauty herself. She is lithe, with dark skin and kind eyes and long long flowing hair. I try my hardest not to stare, for not only is she beautiful beyond description, she is adorned in all sorts of handmade jewels and feathers of all different sorts!! As I gape at her she explains that my horse is wild, he will not allow a saddle or bridle to be put on him, I must ride bare back. I must ask him carry me, and if he agrees I may name him and ride him. If he agrees, he will allow no other to ride him as long as I live. I approach the great horse tentatively. He whinnies and stomps, throwing his head and his tail about and rolling his eyes back in his head. I am afraid, but I slowly move closer until I am right in front of him. I feel like I should say something formal, and am thinking hard how to put the words right. Suddenly he calms and levels a direct gaze at me. I return it, then, as if he had read the question out of my mind, he bows his head and kneels so I may mount him. I climb onto the great creature, and can feel him breathing heavily beneath me, as if he simply cannot wait to break into a gallop. I gently stroke his neck and murmur soothing words, calming him slightly. My guide smiles at me, turns her horse and heads off through the forest. I follow, and soon we leave the trees and enter a vast green plain. My horse whinnies in delight and breaks into a full gallop, faster than I've ever seen a horse go before. I can feel his muscular body stretching and reaching underneath me as he flies across the fields, turning everything into a blur of green. Such freedom!! I inhale it deeply and enjoy the feeling.

Treasure and Traveler's Tail - AshleyShea

I had just completed carving the Asian characters for Wisdom on my walking stick when I was notified that the riders were approaching. I grabbed my backpack and started making my way to the passage way that I traveled, was it only 24 hours ago?, on my way into this cave. But before I could enter the passage, I felt the familiar tug I had felt in the Conference Room (which, by the way, I've changed the name to Wisdom's Lounge). I looked to the hole in the stone walls that lead in Wisdom's direction and something caught my eye. It looked like a piece of ivory amongst the scattered rock. The tug wouldn't let me leave without inspecting.

Picking up the rectangularish ivory shape, I felt warm radiating from it. I knew immediately that it was a gift from Wisdom. It was her tug that made me find it and I knew her radiant love. Flipping the ivory over in my hand, I gasped in surprise.

On the back of the stone was carefully etched an image of Wisdom. I knew in my heart it was her. Her stunning beauty was familiar, even though I hadn't seen her during our conversation earlier in the day. So as not to keep the other travelers waiting, I put the stone in my pocket and made my way out the cave thanking Wisdom for her precious gift all the way.

The bright sunlight was a shock to my eyes as I exited the cave. But the even greater shock was the immediate discomfort in riding the mare. "Hey, where's the cushioned seating?" I wanted to ask of my guide. Just like an American, I thought, always looking for First Class accommodations. I tried putting my mind to something else like enjoying the view or deciding what I would perform for the Queen. But my thoughts were always brought back to my tail bone with each pothole (of which there are many on dusty paths). I decided, "I do not have to ride on a mare like a Princess. I can walk, at least until my legs become to tired." I signaled to my guide to stop for a moment so that I could get off the mare. At first he took it as an insult that I wanted to walk instead of ride but somehow I was able to communicate to him that, for my health, it was better for me to walk, at least for a bit. I gestured to my leg and pretended it had a cramp I needed to walk out -- rather than point to my butt and try to pantemime great pain. I'm not sure that that would have translated as well.

Walking alongside the mare and my guide felt great! My legs were well rested from spending a day in the cave, so it was nice to stretch them. Plus, I had the added benefit of taking pictures along the way -- an impossible feat perched on a bouncing merry-go-round mare.

I took turns riding and walking during the long trip to the hermitage. I'd get on the mare when my legs were tired and got off when my tail bone could no longer stand the pain. I was relieved when we passed a cave with this image painted on its side.

I took it as a sign that the hermitage was getting closer. By the looks of this primative map, the hermitage would be just past a marshy land and a campsite. Sure enough we were approaching wetlands, so I hopped onto the mare's back with glee. It couldn't be long now.


P.S. The image of Wisdom arrived today as a gift in my non-virtual world. It is a transfer on the back of a domino made for me by a friend -- Maureen Doerr.

Ride to Amazon Queen's Camp - le Enchanteur

Everyone in the cave must have heard the commotion, the clatter of hooves as the riders came into the cave ready to take residents to the camp of the Amazon Queen. There are twelve of them waiting in the stables with stable women.

It will be a long journey and you must travel lightly. You need to bring a light bag with a wig and a costume inside. When we get to the Camp of the Amazons we will be performing for the Queen who I believe is currently preparing a banquet to welcome us and celebrate our arrival.

Don’t be daunted by this. You could do a poetry reading, tell a story, sing a song, read her Tarot, tell a fairy story or an old wives tale. The only requirement is that you make a presentation using your distinct voice. This is a stage you see, and I agreed to bring you because I figured you are all here because you are looking for a stage door, eager to walk out into the spotlight and be heard. You could just tell the Queen about your doorway or the vista that greeted you as you entered the cave or do a dance for her. I am sure you will be innovative.

Bookings have been made and we will be staying at the Lemurian Hermitage, recently occupied by a Hermit who will greet us and allow us to rehearse within the Hermitage. The good news is that members from the group who are currently staying at The House of the Serpent will fly in on ravens wings to join the preperations. They will not, however, accompany us on the the Queen's camp.

The Cathedral - Anita Marie Moscoso

This place is known as the Cathedral and I came in by foot.

I came here in search of Spirits and Ghosts.

I want to know them and learn how to tell their stories and I've been told unless I do this correctly I could find myself in a world of trouble.

Actually the word used was " cursed "

It's a journey my Grandparents would have approved of so I took it and this is what I found.

I started my journey on horseback, it had been given to me back at Camp and I was told it was a Blood Mare. " Like the drink? You know...Bloody Mary? " I asked the Stable Woman.

The Stable Woman shook her head, " You must be Anita, " she mumbled and she helped me up and I settled into the saddle. " The one who thought she was going to ride a motorcycle into the Cathedral. "

I just laughed and at full speed raced away from the stables into the Night.

I wondered later how she knew where I was going, I hadn't told anyone.




When that bad tempered animal and I got to the road leading into the Forest it refused to step off the Path. I tried bribing it and I tried pulling and pushing and all it did was show me it's teeth and it rolled it's eyes up until all I could see were the whites and strange as it may sound...I think it growled at me.

So I went in alone and when I turned back in the hope the animal would follow me I saw it was gone and in it's place I saw a woman in black. Her clothing was black, her hair was black and black gloves covered her hands. Her face was so dark it almost looked blue and she wasn't looking at me.

She was looking past me.

Into the woods.

It took me three days to reach the Cathedral and in those three days I saw animals with too many heads, I heard voices coming from the trees and horrible maniacal laughter coming from the rivers and streams and ponds.



I saw things caught up in the tree branches and in the bushes and lying on the path in front of me.

I saw nooses hanging from trees sometimes knives and guns were up there to. I saw clothing and shoes and strands of hair, I saw children’s toys and books other things that touch us as we move through our lives.

Then I saw graves.

I saw old graves marked by weather worn tombstones, I saw freshly dug ones waiting to be filled. I saw funeral pyres and tools from a trade I practiced when I was a Mortician littering the ground too.

At the end of the trail I came to the Cathedral and something came at me from my left and seemed to wrap itself around me, like a snake.

I couldn't move and I could hardly breathe and I found it wasn't important I do either one here in the Cathedral.

" How do you like it here? " a voice asked me and I knew it wasn't sane.

" I don't "

" Very smart of you, very wise...the living should never feel at home in the house of the Dead."

The thing turned loose of me and then I could feel it standing next to me.

" I came here to learn to tell stories " I said, " Will I be welcomed here? "

It was quiet and I could hear the sounds of the world...the wind, airplanes, running water and birds and in the distance a train’s whistle. " We've been teaching you since you left the camp...haven’t you been listening?”

“That's all you have to learn to do, that's all the permission you’ll ever need. "

I could hear it moving away from me and I began to move in the opposite direction and when I got back to camp I began to write more then I ever have in my entire life.

And of course now I Listen...there is so much, after all, to hear.

Night Ride - Karen

Chinese Horse by Su Yah Ping (colorized)

When I went to the stables, I found a spirited mare with a certain look in her eye that drew me to her. Her name was Mahdohkt, "Daughter of the Moon." I mounted her and whispered in her ear, "Take me to where the dream begins, Mahdohkt." She started for the wood, and soon we were in a canopy so dark the moon could not penetrate it. But Mahdohkt herself gave off a pale, silvery light, illuminating the path ahead just enough for safe journey. We rode for several hours, my hands twined in her silky mane, listening to the night noises. I felt completely safe with her. Eventually we stopped, and I dismounted. Before me was a cave, and Mahdohkt made it clear I was to enter. I left her at the mouth of the cave, and made my way forward. The cave was dimly lit, from what source I did not know, and I could feel a faint, stale breeze against my skin. I walked on nervously, wishing for the comfort of Mahdohkt and her pale gleam. As I moved deeper into the cavern, I heard singing, faint at first, then stronger. It was ethereal and brought tears to my eyes. I walked more quickly, until I reached a chamber that was lined with gleaming minerals, and in the center was a woman, spinning in circles and singing. As she sang, starlight spun from her lips and swirled about, eventually making its way up and out of the cavern through an opening in the ceiling. I accidentally kicked a rock, and the woman turned and abruptly stopped singing. She had long flowing hair which covered part of her face. She brushed it back and looked me full in the face. I gasped. Except for her hair and flowing gown, I was looking at myself. She smiled, and as she did, starlight spilled from her eyes and blazing light shot from all of her fingertips. As she looked at me, she took my hand and began once again to sing. Immediately, I was filled with such longing that I clutched my chest, throwing my head back in suppplication. All of my hopes, dreams, and hidden yearnings were present, flowing though me. The epiphany struck me like lightning--she was me. I created my own dreams, singing them into life in this beautiful but dark chamber, hidden deep within my soul. The dreams rise as song to penetrate my consciousness, often in subtle and ethereal forms I cannot readily decipher. But despite all of that, she--I mean me--I continue on, dancing and sending messages to myself, waiting for my brain to catch up with my soul, waiting for me to put the words to the music, which I do best when I sit down to write. She--I--am where the dream begins. And ends.

Night Ride with Fireheart - Gail Kavanagh

I must admit I quailed when I saw the horse that was waiting for me. I love horses, but she looked as she had come straight from Hell.
Her hooves were striking sparks on the ground, and when she reared up, it looked as though she was enveloped in flame.
Even the stablewoman didn’t want to get too close.
``Her name’s Fireheart – and she’s all yours,” she said, and bolted back into the stable.
Fireheart had no saddle or bridle and I am long past being able to vault jauntily onto the back of a naked horse, but as I stood there hesitating, her head suddebly whipped round and she grasped the back of my robe with her teeth. She flung me up on to her back and I grabbed at her silky mane. It looked like I was going for a ride.
``Take me – “ I hesitated. ``Take me to the Source,” I said.
She leapt away, and I held on with all my strength. Her hooves left a trail of flames as we raced off into the night.
All I could do was hang on, my hands twisted in her mane, my legs turning to jelly with the effort of staying on her back.
Finally we stopped, and I slid to the ground with more gratitude than grace. We had come to a place that looked terrible and bleak.
The sky was stormy, a bilious colour that seemed foreboding. Below me I could see the mouth of a dried up river bed which I thought was the Serpent’s Way. In the distance I saw the glassy gleam of the ocean – but that offered me no comfort, as it usually does. It looked so cold and threatening.
A road led down to a ruined tower, standing like a blackened, rotting tooth against the night sky. I drew close to Fireheart and she breathed a long warm breath on me, giving courage, then she nudged me in the back, toward the tower.
The road was sharp and stony, with jagged bits of flint poking up. I cut my foot and I was limping as I drew close to the entrance of the tower – that was just a black gaping hole in the wall.
A chill air gripped me as I walked inside. The air I was breathing felt like fingers of ice clawing at my lungs. I paused to try and get accustomed to it, and a figure loomed out of the dark.
She was dressed in a shroud, shreds of the grave hanging about her, her hair long and loose around a face so wasted it looked like a skull. Her long bony fingers clutched at the air – I saw she was blind, her hollow eyes milky white and staring.
``Who comes here?” She said. Her voice reminded of the wind sighing through a cemetery.
``I’m one of the travellers from Duwamish,” I said. ``I was given a horse to take me anywhere I chose, and I chose the Source.”
She laughed, a thin keening sound that rippled through my head like a banshee’s wail.
``But all I find here is destruction and ruin,” I said. ``What has happened?”
``The Source has dried up, traveller,” she said. ``It must be sung back into being.”
She moved away, and I went back out into the night, where Fireheart waited to take me back.”

NIGHT RIDER - Leonie Bryant

The stablewoman rushed to me as I came down the path. ‘Come quickly’ she said. As I walked into the stables, I could hear the commotion. I rushed down to see my beautiful mare champing at the bit. She had a look of desperation in her eyes. The stablewoman helped me to mount my horse and we tried to calm her down. But she wanted to be off.

We rode up the path, through the forest and up into the highlands. With ears pinned back, my horse raced across the grassy plains. The wind whistled through my hair, as I clung tightly to her neck. I wanted to ride, and ride onwards forever. I could feel all my cares and woes being left behind, as the wind continued to blow. The freedom is incredible. I have never experienced anything as exhilarating!

Finally we came to a spot where other horses were grazing. My mare had come home. This is where she belonged. Slowly I dismounted, and gently stroking her neck I wandered over to sit under a tree pondering my newfound freedom.

Ride into the Night - Megan Warren

I walked down to the stables; I have never ridden a horse, let alone at night. I don’t think you could count the donkey or the unicorn ride. Something led me to believe that tonight was going to lead me down the same path.

I arrived at the stables just as the sun was setting, casting an orange glow in the sky. The stable hand was nowhere to be seen. I called out “Hello, hello I’ve come for a night ride.” There was no answer. I called out again “Hey is there anyone here?” Again there was no response so I started back towards the house. I hadn’t got far when I came across a young boy leading a white mare. The mare broke from his grasp and trotted up to me. The boy ran up the path to join us. “She has found you; she has been waiting to take you for a ride into the night. She will take you where you need to go and have you back by dawn.”

I mounted the steed and she immediately took flight, straight into a gallop with me holding on for dear life. The scenery flew past in a blur of tree trunks, foliage and dust kicked up by the mare.

We reached a clearing soon after and she slowed to a trot. It was then that she spoke to me. “Secure me to the railing there to your right, then follow the path that leads between the grove of trees, you will know your destination when you come to it.” I tied her to the railing as she requested, there was water and chaff in basins at its base, and she was happily munching away when I left to walk down the path.

The path was somewhat overgrown and lit only by a sliver of the moon. I walked on until I came to a weather worn and rusted gate. I opened it to pass through and it creaked and groaned. It was only then that I noticed that I was standing in a graveyard. Something had drawn me to this place, I don’t know what and why tonight! I don’t mind cemeteries, but not in the middle of the night. I tried to open the gate to leave; it seemed to be stuck fast.

My breathing became heavier and my palms sweaty as I started to panic. Then I remembered what Nana had told me. “Do not be afraid. The dead cannot hurt you, it is the living you need to worry about” I started to calm and felt drawn towards the centre of the graveyard. I walked carefully through the many fallen headstones until I came to a small statue of an angel. It appeared to be the grave of a little girl. I couldn’t read it clearly, it had weathered over time. I was able to make out the child’s name Eliza Jane she was born in the 1800’s and she had a mother or a sibling called Charlotte.

I cleared away the weeds that were growing into this grave. I thought to myself that I seemed to be doing an awful lot on this trip. This was obviously the place the mare had been talking about; why I was brought here. A sweet almost angelic voice spoke to me: “We have called you; you have been chosen to tell their stories. Remember the book” I knew what book the voice was referring to, the book that Livia gave me The Forgotten – the story of lost souls – I hadn’t forgotten. Then the voice and the feeling of needing to be here was gone. I walked carefully back to the gate, which this time opened without a struggle and a creak and a groan.

I walked back to the mare, waiting where I had left her. I untethered her and told her I would like to some of the way to enjoy the peace of the evening.

It was nearing dawn when we returned to the stables. The stable boy was asleep in one of the stalls, so I left the white mare tethered to the railing. I thanked her for guiding my journey and started back towards the house.

Night Ride to the Tree of Crystal Souls - Traveller

I was delighted when the enchantress told us that this evening´s entertainment was to be a night ride to anywhere we wanted to go and that all we had to do, was go to the stables where our mounts would be waiting for us.
This was a dream come true, I would finally get to visit the tree of crystal souls.
It was dusk as I made my way down to the stables where a young groom came to greet me, but there was no horse in sight. Instead, he held out his hand towards me and gave me a little model of a horse. I held it up to one of the lanterns and saw the most beautiful little crystal horse. "In view of your destination tonight, it was felt that this would be the most suitable steed for you. Take the little crystal horse to the blind springs and place it with its head near the water. Whistle into the wind and your horse will come to you". My hand went automatically to the little bag that held my own little crystals. I did as instructed and whistled into the wind, whereupon a beautiful moon-glow coloured horse appeared out of the twilight. "I must ask if it's alright to bring Hiss with me" I thought, whereupon the animal nodded its magnificent head. I silently wished myself astride it and low and behold, there I was surveying the ground from a long way up! "Whither shall I carry you, mistress?” it asked. "To the tree of crystal souls, if you please". "Hold on to my mane, it will take us a while to get there. We will be flying through the sunset curtain." I wrapped Hiss carefully around my waist. He would be safe there and would keep me warm if we were going to be flying through the stratosphere.
Ash flexed its knees gently. "Ready?". I squeezed my knees against its warm sides in reply and Hiss gave me a reassuring squeeze just for good measure. Thank goodness I had wrapped my hands into Ash’s mane for the gravity thrust almost dislodged me. We seemed to shoot up and up and I could hardly breathe. After what could only have been about 30 seconds Ash stopped its upward course and we levelled out over the top of the clouds. I could see the moon and stars high above me. I had no idea what sort of distance we covered but we started to descend through pearl-pink clouds and seemed to be heading towards the sun in one of the most dramatic sunsets I had ever seen. As we got closer, Ash said "this is where we fly through the sun, hold on". We seemed to hurtle towards the heart of the sun and the walls rose up blood-red and glowing around me. Then all of a sudden we popped through.
We were on top of a sheer cliff. Waves crashed around the rocks at the base and there was one single tree, leaning at an angle, some way back from the cliff edge. Ash landed a little way away from the tree and I dismounted. It walked away to graze, leaving me to stand in breathless awe of the tree. The tree of crystal souls is so named for the souls of those drowned at sea in shipwrecks on that particular bit of coastline, have taken refuge there. They cannot be buried in the ground and have to remain in sight of the sea. Each soul is encapsulated within a crystal. I had been afraid that I would see horrible images of people drowning but when I got closer to the tree I could see that there were fruit hanging on the tree. I gently touched a cluster of grapes and realised that each crystal grape shape contained a face. Individual fruit contained a single face. Ash had walked softly up behind me and nuzzled my shoulder. "The clusters of fruit contain families or crews and the single fruit contain the souls of single sailors". I shuddered a bit, thinking about all those people who had drowned in the pounding surf far below but the faces were peaceful and contained in a thing of beauty. They had found some comfort from their horrible manner of dying. Ash explained to me that, at night, each crystal fruit was illuminated from within. From a distance the tree looked like a swarm of fireflies but distances were deceptive and the tree now served as a sort of beacon for the lights could be seen from far away and sailors steered their craft in the opposite direction.
I was full of thought as I remounted Ash and we made our way back through the sunset curtain.

(The legend of Amethyst begins with the grape. To protect the nymph Amethyst from the advances of Bacchus, god of wine, the goddess Diana turned her into a sparkling gem.)