Bedtime Story: Reflections Of The Past: Spirit: Chapter 60

Relax into your evening, or fall asleep, to this recording of the sixtieth 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 Vichenko

Transcript

Chapter 60 Autumn Equinox It was Autumn Equinox,

The time of balance when the days and nights are of equal length before tipping towards the darkness,

Heading for the winter solstice and the shortest day.

Dan and I were walking along the valley by the riverbank in the late afternoon sunlight.

The hawthorn was already heavy with red berries and the blackthorn bore slows,

Waiting to ripen before being harvested for wine or jam.

The swaying green bracken was dying back and swallows sweeped around us in final flight before their journey to warmer climes.

I want to show you something.

I took his hand and led him from the path towards the rocks which towered above us,

Guarding the valley as always.

This is where I found the crystal,

Years and years ago.

I ducked beneath the branch of the spreading beech tree,

Noticing the brown hazelnuts which already lay upon the ground,

The colour of Dan's eyes,

And leaned against the soft white rock covered with thick trunks of ivy and green moss.

Dan hopped over the branch and joined me.

What an awesome place!

I nodded.

And look,

There's a little cave here,

Beneath the rocks.

It doesn't look much,

But you can crawl right into it,

And that's where the crystal was,

Tucked inside,

As if someone had hidden it there.

Dan bent to examine it.

I've never been here before,

He began.

It's a sort of magical place,

Not far from the path but so well hidden,

Yet it feels familiar,

Like a safe little haven.

I agree.

There had always been something about it which made me feel secure,

Ever since I was a child and used to hide there on rainy afternoons.

Come on.

I took his hand once again.

Let's go up to the high rocks and watch the sunset.

I've brought something to show you.

We scrambled back over the tree and followed a rough path through the bracken to the field above the chapel,

Heading for the highest pinnacle of rock.

Once there,

We wiggled our way to the edge and looked down.

The view was fantastic.

Despite spending so much time in the valley,

This was a place I rarely visited,

But whenever I did,

Never failed to be amazed at how much could be seen.

The valley stretched before us,

A strip of lush green,

The river its centrepiece,

Whilst on the other side of the water a great expanse of hillside rose.

Below us,

The granite rock fell away steeply and a number of rowan trees grew beneath,

Their leaves dark,

Berries of yellow and orange turning to red in preparation for winter.

To the left,

The chapel nestled safe and secure.

It was,

Quite simply,

Yet another special place.

Look,

Dan pointed and I squinted into the sunlight,

Deer,

And indeed two roe deer were making their way along a pathway through the dying bracken,

Walking at first,

Then bursting into leaps and bounds,

Their white tails bobbing.

Dan produced a flask of tea and we lay stretched out on a blanket in companionable silence,

Watching the valley and enjoying the sunshine.

What have you brought to show me?

He asked eventually.

I reached into my rucksack and pulled out the carved wooden box.

I don't know what you'll make of this,

I began,

But I've had it since I was a little girl.

It was roses but I used to pretend it belonged to my mother.

I paused,

The loss of someone I had never known still with me.

Anyway,

Some of it's quite old and I thought you might be interested.

Dan raised himself onto one elbow and took the box,

Examining the intricate carvings on the lid,

Tracing them with his fingertip.

Beautifully crafted,

He commented.

Can I open it?

Of course.

He sprang the catch and the lid lifted,

Revealing the contents inside.

Dan stared at them for a long time before taking out the crystal.

He turned it over and over in his hands.

Is it the one you lost?

Yes and no,

I replied.

I don't think it's the actual one,

I mean how could it have been?

But it's so similar it's spooky,

It almost could be.

In fact,

If I didn't know the original had disappeared and couldn't possibly have been given to the girls,

I'd say it was the same.

Dan held the crystal to the light,

Where it sparkled for a moment,

Catching the late rays of the sun,

Before laying it carefully upon a flat piece of rock and picking up the wooden disc,

Turning it over in his hands.

Looks like a pendant,

He commented.

See this is where there would have been a piece of leather threaded through.

Very old though and I can't really make out the markings.

I bent closer,

I've always thought it looked a bit like a tree.

I traced the ancient lines with my finger.

What do you think?

Dan smiled slowly.

I think I'm the one who's spooked now,

Because I've brought something to show you too.

He dipped into his pocket and I recognised the piece of wood he had been carving all those months before.

He held it out to me.

I made it for you,

He explained,

With my love.

He dropped the piece of wood into my hand and I gasped,

For there lay another pendant,

Strung on a band of leather,

Round and beautifully carved with the spreading branches of a tree.

He slipped it over my head.

You,

He continued,

For infinity.

Thank you.

I didn't know what else to say,

Words seemed inadequate.

Now,

Dan broke the spell of silence.

What else is there?

Well,

There's this little silver chalice.

I pulled it out and Dan examined it carefully.

Very old,

He mused.

You could get it valued,

Although I don't expect you'd ever want to sell it.

I laughed and shook my head.

And this stump of candle?

And this little earthenware bowl?

Oh,

And this twisted stick?

Dan turned the stick over in his hands.

Rowan,

He confirmed.

The tree of protection.

You don't find these often.

It's had honeysuckle growing around the branch,

Which has given it the twisted effect.

His fingers gently caressed the silver wood before laying it down and picking up the objects one by one,

Inspecting them carefully.

These were Rose's tools,

He commented after a while.

The chalice,

The bowl,

The candle,

The stick,

Wand if you want to be precise.

They're all to do with working magic.

Really?

Course they are,

Replied Dan.

I've told you before,

Hers would have been a simple magic.

No flashes and bangs or streaks of lightning.

Just a candle for fire,

A handful of air,

Some herbs for air and water in the bowl or the chalice used on special occasions,

And there's even a wand here to direct the energy.

I gazed at the items afresh,

Finally understanding their significance after so many years.

And there's this.

I fished out the brown flint spearhead and dropped it into his hand.

At the same moment a shadow passed fleetingly across the face of the descending sun and Dan blinked.

Now that really is old,

He said.

I had someone look at it once and they thought it was probably Bronze Age,

Three thousand years ago or more.

I paused.

Makes my head spin just to think of it sometimes.

That someone so long ago crafted it,

Used it,

Lost it maybe,

So it was found again and ended up here.

I shivered in the sunlight.

You okay?

I noticed Dan was turning the spearhead over and over in his hands,

As if he was unable to believe what he was seeing or was trying to retrieve a memory he could not quite grasp.

He shrugged.

Like you say,

Makes your head spin.

I nodded as Dan carefully placed everything back into the box.

And each one has a tale to tell,

He murmured as he dropped the spearhead in and closed the lid.

I wonder if anyone will ever know what their stories are.

We sat a while longer,

Finishing the flask of tea as the sun sank towards the horizon.

Do you want to wait to see the sun go down?

I asked.

There was no reply.

Dan,

I repeated,

Do you want to see the sunset or shall we go back?

I turned,

Expecting to find him stretched out and dozing,

But his eyes were wide open and he was staring at the vanishing sun as if he was unable to tear himself away.

I hate it,

He whispered,

The twilight,

The darkness,

Especially at this time of year when the nights get longer and it seems forever until the days begin to lengthen again.

He looked at me and I saw real fear in his eyes.

But there's nothing to harm you.

I took his hand in mine and held it firmly,

Realising he was trembling.

The darkness can't hurt and there's nothing to be afraid of.

I know,

He nodded and gulped,

Holding my hand even more tightly,

But it's always been with me ever since I was a child and the fear,

It starts deep down here in my stomach and fills my entire body.

He swallowed.

There's something to do with the twilight,

The deepening twilight moving into darkness and a fear of being left alone,

Abandoned.

I put my arms around him and pulled his head onto my shoulder.

You'll never be alone,

I whispered,

Tears chocking my voice.

I'll always be here for you,

I promise.

The evening was darkening,

The twilight turning to blackness.

We sat in silence for some time,

My arms encompassing Dan,

His head turned into my shoulder as if he was unable to face the dark.

I swallowed,

Unsure of what to do next.

Slowly,

As the darkness closed around us,

The stars began to appear one by one in the night sky.

I was aware we were getting cold and pulled the blanket we had been sitting on around us both.

When I was a little girl,

I began.

I used to make up stories in the stars.

I used to join the dots of the pinpricks of light in the sky and create pictures in my mind,

And from those pictures make up tales of long ago.

There was silence,

But I knew he was listening.

And I learnt from the stars and my stories that there's nothing to be afraid of,

Not really.

Everything moves in its own cycle,

The sun,

The moon,

The earth,

The seasons,

The days,

Hours,

Minutes,

Seconds.

There needs to be a balance in all things,

Darkness and light,

Happiness and sadness,

For without one the other cannot exist.

The higher we climb,

The further we fall.

The deeper we love,

The greater the pain of loss.

And the darkness and winter months are merely the other side of the coin to the sunlight and the summer.

I paused,

Wondering what to say next.

I know,

Came Dan's muffled reply.

I know,

But it doesn't stop me feeling the way I do.

I cast around in my mind,

Trying to think of a way to replace the negative thoughts which had taken hold of his mind with positive ones.

You're never alone,

I whispered eventually.

You of all people should know that.

Even if you can't see them,

There are spirits watching over us.

And as you so often say,

Their message is subtle.

You only have to look for it.

Then,

Whispered Dan,

Why can't I see it?

Why is it all I can see is darkness?

I drew a breath,

Unsure of how to reply.

For if Dan felt this way,

Despite the strength of his faith,

How could I possibly show him otherwise?

Then I saw it.

Dan,

I pushed him gently away from me.

Dan,

I repeated,

Look,

Look now.

He raised his head and there were tear stains upon his face.

Darkness,

He murmured.

That's all I can see.

No,

I shook my head,

Taking his hands in mine.

Take your own advice,

You're looking in the wrong direction.

Look down into the valley,

Towards the earth.

While we had been sitting,

Joanne,

For I could see him clearly silhouetted in the doorway,

Had visited the little chapel and lit candles all around.

And now it's blazed with light,

A beacon of love and hope in the darkness of the night.

You see,

I put my arms around Dan once more and kissed him.

It's all still here,

Even though you can't see it.

Nothing is ever truly lost,

Only hidden.

You were just looking in the wrong place.

The spirits,

Friends,

Love and light are all around us.

You need never feel alone again.