Bedtime Story: Reflections Of The Past: Spirit: Chapter 53

Relax into your evening, or fall asleep, to this recording of the fifty-third chapter of the magical novel 'Reflections Of The Past,' by Vanda Inman. Set in a remote valley in Cornwall, England, 'Reflections Of The Past' tells the story of four characters whose lives intertwine through many incarnations, and of their special relationship with the valley's Sacred Spring and Holy Well.

Music by Serge Quadrado
Photo by Alina Vilchenko

Transcript

Chapter 53 The Awakening Being the Story of the Maidens of the Wells The moonlight shimmered on the water and caressed the rocks with silver as Ellie walked softly along the path.

Her shadow cast a dark smudge on the dim grass,

And in the sky above a thousand stars twinkled,

Only obliterated by the bright halo of the full moon.

As she rounded the curve in the path,

The standing stone shone white before her,

And she paused,

Her hand resting on its cool surface,

Feeling the enchantment of the night air.

In the distance,

An owl hooted.

As she approached,

The chapel loomed dark and slightly foreboding,

Protective of its treasure in the brightness of the night.

But as she gently opened the door,

Moonlight flooded through the window,

Bathing the altar in pure white light.

Ellie shivered.

It was cold as ice.

Walking towards the altar,

She felt a tingle,

Not from the coolness of the floor beneath her feet or the air around her,

But from the sheer power which emanated from the place.

Ellie paused.

Tonight was the night of the lunar eclipse,

The full moon falling on her birthday,

And she knew without a shadow that it would be special.

The synchronicity was amazing,

And she briefly thought back over the last seven years to the solar eclipse,

When she had first felt the power of the chapel,

And the link between herself and the women of the past had coursed through her.

Tonight,

Seven years on,

She wanted to feel the power again.

She had nurtured that link,

Of course.

During the intervening time,

Ellie had tended the place and grown to love it more than she loved anything else.

She had cleaned the well,

Swept the floors,

Brought fresh flowers to the altar,

Always aware this was the reason for her being.

It was as if she was a part of the place itself,

At one with the power which lay latent beneath the trickling waters and the sheer beauty of the valley.

Outside,

The holy well lay in dark shadow,

Occasionally catching a sparkle of moonlight as it overflowed and gushed through the chapel.

The flow was strong tonight,

And Ellie felt a wave of anticipation for events to come.

All was as it should be.

All was waiting.

Inside,

Ellie settled herself,

Hands upon the altar.

The water played its own symphony as it trickled beneath,

And Ellie fancied she heard the voices of women and the snatches of music hidden amongst it.

Sometimes high notes,

At others low,

Mingling together in a wonderful cacophony of sound.

A gentle breeze rustled through the open door,

And the granite altar glinted and sparked in the moonlight.

Ellie waited.

Slowly the moonlight began to fade,

The altar becoming less luminescent in the darkness,

Until she could no longer see her hands before her.

She breathed deeply,

Awaiting the rush of energy which would connect her to the women of the past,

Anticipating that feeling of being at one once again.

But as the light dimmed,

Ellie felt the first stirring of a foreboding deep inside her,

A feeling of unutterable pain and misery.

Just as previously she had felt an upsurge of power,

Now she felt repression,

Depression and despair.

Ellie snapped her hands from the altar as if they had been scorched.

Running to the door,

She found the moon overcast by the shadow of the earth,

Blood red in the sky.

As she watched,

A bank of low clouds closed in,

Turning the moon from red to dull pewter,

Eventually leaving a murky smudge in the sky,

Like grey ash.

Slowly Ellie gazed around her.

Gone was the enchantment of the moonlit night.

Now all she could see was deep,

Dark blackness.

During the days which followed,

The unbearable sense of sadness continued.

Not only did Ellie feel she had lost her link with the past,

She found herself losing faith in all she believed.

The anticipation of the lunar eclipse had come to nothing,

And as the days wore on she found herself questioning her destiny,

Wondering why she had spent the last seven years thinking she had a role to fulfil,

Believing she had a special place in the greater picture.

She dreamed,

Colourful,

Vivid,

Lucid dreams of the valley,

Not as it was now but subtly different in landscape.

Of women,

Their faces appearing before her,

And their voices calling out of the darkness.

At times soft and sad,

At others hard and filled with distress.

She awoke and walked,

Anything to escape the nightmares,

Yet always found herself back at the chapel,

Looking into the dark depths of the well,

And catching flashes of faces in the water,

Hearing voices in the rushing of the stream,

Crying out,

Wanting to be heard.

But Ellie could make no sense of it all,

Again and again turning away despondently,

Only to begin the cycle once more.

She tried to forget the living nightmare which had woven itself around her,

Infiltrating the fabric of her life,

Weaving insidiously into her subconscious,

A reminder of her failure and loss of faith,

But nothing could shift the visions from her mind,

Nor the emotion in her heart.

Weeks later she discovered a small book lying on the altar,

Old and well-thumbed,

Almost falling to pieces when she touched it.

The pages felt damp to the touch,

But she took it outside into the sunlight and settled herself upon the wooden bench,

Feeling the warmth upon her face,

And watching the river flash diamonds below her.

Above,

The ravens cawed and tumbled against the bright blue sky,

And for a moment Ellie felt soothed,

Forgetting the haunting misery,

Once again revelling in the beauty of the valley and her love for the chapel and well.

A gentle breeze stirred,

Caressing her face and bringing her back to the present,

And Ellie looked down to find that in the warmth of the day the pages had dried,

Now crackling like autumn leaves,

And beautifully scripted illuminated letters shone like jewels.

THE LEGEND OF THE MAIDENS OF THE WELLS Long,

Long ago all of the sacred wells of the land were tended by maidens,

Who gave refreshments to travellers from golden chalices.

A traveller had only to arrive,

And a maiden would issue forth from the well to provide sustenance.

These maidens were sometimes known as the Voices of the Wells,

For they were also oracles,

Forming a link between this world and the other world,

For at the sites of the wells the veils between the worlds are thin.

Because of the existence of the Maidens of the Wells,

The land flourished and was filled with beauty and contentment.

One day the evil King Emangant raped one of the maidens and stole her golden chalice,

Using it as a trophy for himself.

His men did likewise,

Although it was their role to protect the maidens.

Subsequently the maidens were forced into the other world,

And from that day on they tended their wells no more.

But without the maidens the wells fell into disrepair.

No sustenance was offered to passing travellers,

And the land became a wasteland,

As the maidens and the reciprocal link with the other world had been lost.

The land was overcome with drought and misery,

No longer rich and filled with the abundance of before.

Many years later King Arthur and his knights vowed to find the Maidens of the Wells,

And indeed discovered that they were not dead,

But living in the other world still.

This legend is a part of the Grail legends,

And can be found in many of the texts relating to the stories from this time.

It speaks of the death of the Maidens of the Wells,

And to the stories from this time.

It speaks of the repression of the feminine aspect,

And the need for balance in the physical and spiritual world.

It is about understanding the importance of the two worlds,

The masculine and the feminine,

And their coming together to make a whole.

When the Maidens of the Wells were abused and no longer perceived as sacred,

The reciprocal link between the worlds was broken.

Their voices fell silent,

And the land perished.

As in all cycles,

The time will come when the voices of the Wells will be restored,

And the offering of sustenance,

Both physical and spiritual,

Will be given to all who are in need.

Ellie's fingers shook as the book slipped from her grasp,

Momentarily disorientated,

Feeling she had returned from another place,

Another time.

Now she understood the reason for the dark foreboding in her heart.

The women who had passed before her,

The voices which called through her dreams and in the trickling of the water,

Were the Maidens of the Wells,

Repressed,

Forced into the other world.

And she felt it too.

As surely as she had experienced the surge of pure energy at the solar eclipse,

Now she shared their degradation and despair.

Ellie's eyes burned with tears.

But with her newfound knowledge,

Ellie felt a flicker of hope.

She hadn't lost the link after all.

It was pure and true,

Stronger than ever before,

And pulsating with life.

The Maidens of the Wells had disappeared,

But were still alive.

In her.

Ellie jumped up.

She wanted to sing and dance,

Shout her discovery through the valley,

To the river below and the rocks above.

Two ravens flew overhead,

Calling in acknowledgement,

Their blue-black wings whirring in the sunlight.

And Ellie felt the enormity of the tradition of which she was a part.

A living legend.

A legend which had never died,

But simply been hidden,

Now returned to continue into eternity.

Ellie laughed out loud,

A laugh of pure happiness.

She was a modern-day Maiden of the Wells.

She would bring the legend alive once more.

In this day and age,

People needed spiritual refreshment more than ever before,

And she realised this was what the chapel and the valley were all about.

A sacred space to reconnect with the past and restore the balance.

Around her the trees shone with the bright green of spring,

The hawthorn heavy with the delicate white blossom of the May,

The rustle of new life was all around her,

The eternal cycle continuing as it always had,

And always would.

For the second time in her life,

Just as seven years ago,

She had finally understood where her true destiny lay.

Ellie knew what she had to do.

She reached for the book,

But it was nowhere to be seen.

Only a tiny scattering of brown dust lay upon the bench beside her,

As a reminder it had ever been there at all.

And a moment later,

That too had disappeared.