Festival of Leaves

Excerpt from Journey of Fairy Tales

1Sir Lawrence ALMA-TADEMA spring(1836-1912)

   Whistling through the streets, whispering along a path of marble came the bare feet of the lightworkers who harvested their golden wheat of wisdom’s ways to share with the people of Emeria. Their celebration was felt near and far, their songs were ascribed to volumes in the great library. Although this was from another time, the children would always remember the  Festival of Leaves. There was a wisp of incense that rose into the air like an aerial dancer climbing a silken sash into the sky. It spiraled into a plume, encircling the street in a heavenly scent. The celebration of Isla’s return was dearly welcomed for she had long been gone from the city. Her footsteps had carried her to King Avery’s side for the Alignment of Linkalee.

   All trouble aside, she could now return home if only she could. The way had been long, the war had taken many of the lightworkers and left them in pity and self-reproach. How their souls were lost is a tale too often told. That which saddens one to long can destroy the essence of ones light and that which refuses to embrace Love is left lonely in a world that will forget them.

   Truth be told, Isla had almost been one of them as well if it had not been for the intersector Gamile.  Gamile was born of the Second Star Shield and was skilled at navigating the astral realms.  He had found Isla wasting away under a shadow of a Namerus spell. Her spirit almost broken he made his way to her swiftly, gathering her weary body in his arms and took her back to Emeria on his ship.

Copyright © 03/01/14 Laura Botsford®



yellow cat


   Catalina was a good cat. She had a fuzzy tail and a whisper of whiskers that put her in a league of being rare and old, beautiful and prissed out as ever. The bountiful days of bouncing around in the coral dawn were all but a ticklish memory now. How many truly beloved animals were still in her league, once alive but cast aside now no one knows. They have all moved on to grasses ethereally green. One can’t believe that she would be the arch angel of cats in Heavens meadow. I know this because she reigned in the light for many years. Her golden silky fur tipped in a streak of caramel that ran down her back, her green eyes now weepy with the cold lay shivering and unloved. She had had enough, and was bent like an oak that was spurned  by to many storms.

   The last thing a person should be remembered for is how kind they were in life to others, to all, furry, small and large. It is of no matter to be set in ways of abandonment and shadows of disconnect. Praying that I am as brave and beautiful as she is.

   Now the mingling of all souls draws a circle around us. Is it not the little things that matter most. I rushed to the rescue of anyone, be it a person, a child, an animal, making sure that what I had tamed was mine forever. We are never far our conscious, pearls of wisdom, speaking in languages for the lost, the sick and the lonely. Catalina was to far gone and it broke my heart to see her fading away, longing for a better life. It seems that cats come here to die or be saved,  I wish that she could have been one that I could have saved. This is in memory of her, the golden one who went home.

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