Dalmatians

A candle lantern was lit in the doorway of the manse nearby - and the resident Priest took no time to set the spotted hounds upon them.

Alexis, the Father to the farmers, bred Dalmatians as an income for his house. The stipend from the Church was never enough to support his large and growing family without this honest supplement.

He had taught his hounds to attack upon command, yet sit quietly at prayer time with the greatest obedience.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Some Coins for the Digger

The cart felt very heavy and Granoldi strained with the weight of it. The body had seemed to gather the weight of eight men.

When the path finally flattened, the three monks coaxed the wagon along with a push and a shove, the help of a bear, and an enduring psalm sung.

With just a mile to go up the road, they congratulated each other as to the success of the night’s venture.

Finally arriving at the burial spot, they found three holes side-by-side, with fresh clay mounded around them.

The men were pleased to see the arrangements had manifest. Murmur had given Hannah some coins for the digger who had prepared these lots. All seemed to be going very well.

Granoldi shuffled a little too close to the edge and promptly slid down into the hole, dragging the cart behind him as well. As it fell on his hind leg, he yelped.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Elvin Masters

Claude Monet

Many of the masters of oil painting will be revealed to be quite Elvin, having hidden pictures within their works, veiled to the humans, yet obvious to their own.

You can find these in any gallery today - especially in the Fine Art department. This is a great secret to the highest of prices they fetch ... with another picture embodied upon the canvas, being a grandiose whisper of worlds within worlds. They spoke to the Humans subliminally even though the Mortals were often blind to their message.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Ethereal Vision

The small corpse beside him groaned. To his annoyance she seemed to keep doing this every time he made a comment. It was beginning to get on everyone’s nerves. Granoldi squinted at the bulge in the flaxen sheet stirring.

"And what of the baby bones? Do we take those with us also?" asked Tobias a little timidly. He was not wanting to do this collection.

Vivien had littered her home with objects carved and moulded from small bones. Her cutlery, her combs, even her false teeth were all of crafted bone.

Some, she had polished, and assembled into parquetry, which later were cleaned with a paste made of finely ground bone.

Francis could see with a forensic certainty what was once belonging to another human, and what was not.

His eyes saw life in all substance, and added to this he could perceive its nature also, made apparent in shades and blends of other-worldly tones - colours that mortal men could not ordinarily and plainly differentiate - for this vision, his vision, was ethereal.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Pity & Charity came easily

“The last time someone did this there was a blue vapour that hung around the ground and scared all the honest citizens for months.”

Francis would not listen to any more objections.

"I will carry her there myself if need be” he said plainly.

Francesco had the strength - it could be done.

Pity and charity came easily into the arms and heart of Francis. One could have said that his very depth of being was defined by these two graces. They ever sat in the background of his knowing, and plain spoke their truths with his reason, content and holy.

“What of justice?" supposed Tobias - knowing that he was inviting a sermonious exposition from his beloved brother. His soul lived for such wisdom.

Francis perceived this sparring for what it was, and so gave a thought to his words.

“The courts of Heaven can decide well enough - it is not for the pure to be the judge of the devils - for in reason, they cannot.”

“How suitably inarguable, my obstinate friend”, said Toby missing the point entirely.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Nerve Glue

“Mr Johnstone, I could become an evangelist for your products so easily. As you know I came here looking for precisely this - a medium that could reconstruct and reconnect living tissue and nerves. Marsupials and primates …”

Calvin interrupted her, a little abruptly - “The veterinary practices would find the cost of this treatment prohibitive at this stage. High-end athletes, the ‘a’ class - that is our kind of market right now …”

“I see - yes of course. But then why did you involve me at all?”

“Well, er - for the long term and for the human purposes. I just assumed that you may be equally enthused with its applications to humans”, his voice sounded a tad judgemental. This was something an Australian did not appreciate.

However, it had not occurred to Robyn at all that she might be interested in humans - and she began to ask herself, why.

She stared down at her finger where it looked and felt entirely normal.

"This nerve glue - " she faltered before going on - he nodded to her to complete her sentence ... "is it manufactured from processed cadaver?"

"Yes."

"Animal?"

"No."

"Human?"

"Yes."

She drew breath. And then pointing to the little pot of clear gel she asked,

"Is this also made from cadavers?"

"No."

"What then?" she asked directly.

"Life. Life-forces we have contained" he replied - "we call it - Resurrection.”

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Paper Cut

Calvin threw his rucksack down onto the table with a thud - some small vials and larger tubes rattled out.

“It's incredible - truly incredible" Robyn said with certain admiration, staring at the place where her paper cut had been just an hour before.

"Band-aids will be obsolete" he said - nodding in agreement "and, it's not a glue either. We have our nerve bonding material as you know - the kind that was applied to my hand just after the accident. But this - this is even more advanced."

Calvin pulled out a chair right beside her. Robyn chose to ignore that they were so uncomfortably, yet lusciously, close. If anything, she was flattered.

"Have you guessed what this is?" he asked.

“Is it a protein?" Robyn's mind was alight with the possibilities of this - she still had the little pot in her pocket. She took it out and removed its lid - the clear gel inside gave no clue.

Calvin reached over and took it quickly out from her hand.

"Samples cannot leave this compound" he said abruptly - his tone had shifted an octave down. He seemed offended - put off from what he was about to say.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Going to Ground

“Vivien needs be buried into consecrated ground" Francis pressed rather sternly.

Shortly after he had prayed over the remains, lines of living larvae and beetles were in exodus, trailing out, in minute trains towards him. Even the maggots were drawn to his aura. Francis brushed them down and away from his tunic.

"No, I don't think that you have that right, my honoured Francesco. Consecrated ground is for the pious only, and the saints … and possibly, nobility - but it is never for the tainted."

"If you inter her in a holy place, her soul will then have a chance to rehabilitate - or, if not, it shall be held back and confined in that place with no escape, and thus be of no harm to others. This is my reasoning. For the Vivien will become an apparition to remain as an unholy tribulation, if we are to do nothing."

"Oh, I hadn’t thought of that" said Toby washing his hands through some wet leaves.

Murmur interjected: "I don't want Hannah to see this trollop - this she-devil has caused much pain to her in a time of trial, and it is best that she not be reminded of it."

"Well then, so it can be. We will load up Granoldi's cart with dry hay and pack the body forthwith. He can pull it into the town, just as he might cart the groceries.

"One finger is still missing, should we be worried?”

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Vivien's Fate

“Stop!"

Murmur was kneeling over the bony wreck of what once was the old crone Vivien. A fetid dark green ooze was leaking from all of her orifices, and someone had opened her linens, having torn them to look for hidden silver sewn into it - leaving what was left of her chest and thighs now exposed.

When Murmur went to lift her from the ground her skirtle dropped off, exposing a full set of male gonads.

"I really couldn't have guessed that, even if I had tried" Murmur offered to Tobias who still looked very worried.

"She - he - is long long departed. See here how the fingers have dropped off?"

“Francis will know where to bury the witch", Tobias said rubbing his forehead.

“Yes” the Brother agreed, “best consult him as to the fate of this sorry corpse.”

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Man in her Bed

Charley appeared to be considerably embarrassed when Robyn had explained to her what had happened.

"Let me get you a cup of tea" she said in a motherly fashion; and moments later was back with a tray of breakfast. The toast smelled so enticing: marmalade and country butter; hot tea and a bowl of creamy bircher. It was a breakfast that would have done Paddington proud. Robyn had settled once again into her stable self, swilling down her cup steaming cup.

"Can you describe the man who was in your bed?” asked Charley with a fragile tone.

"Well yes, he seemed very old - and awfully skinny. I could see his ribs poking out from his skin."

"His skin?”

“Yes, his chest was bare you see ... but he had some sort of pjs on his second half thank goodness. Oh, and he had hair just like yours really curly and about just as long" she stopped to think and looked puzzled. "It's getting strangely vague for some reason" Robyn added.

"I see" said Charley biting her lip.

"Robyn I really have to apologise to you - the man you describe, well, he was - I mean is … my father."

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Mirabella & Granoldi

“Mirabella don't antagonise the Bear!”

The small child was smearing globs of honey onto Granoldi's feet, laughing to herself as he was trying to lick the pads clean.

Hannah-Mary caught her by the arm just before she took a stick to the complaisant animal.

"Enough child!"

Mirabella turned to look at her mother, and finally caught her seriousness.

She burst into tears.

Even at the small age of two, Mirabella could feel awash with the shame of a disapproving mother - that, and her will being thwarted.

Hannah-Mary knew that her little daughter was good at heart - and never wantonly disobedient. She turned to Murmur who was cleaning a calf-skin behind her.

“Brother”, she began - in the tone that she had just used a minute before - “couldn't the Grande live elsewhere? You know how difficult it is for me having to watch over two children.”

“Where would you have him go? This is his home, Sister. He requires the fires we light, his arthritis pains him in the cold - the old one would not last long on his own in the forest. And were he in the village the people would tease hm overbearingly.

He smiled, she sighed.

“It is no use trying to convey to you - your heart is closed to my words. What am I to do? Time was when we were of one mind, as twins” she complained.

She stopped to wipe the blue berry stain from Bella's mouth. Her chubby hand was tossing the remainder onto Granoldi's face, who alike to any senior convalescent had dozed during the discussion, slumped at the base of his well worn tree.

Little Bella had crawled onto ''oldie's" lap and had now fallen asleep also - just after planting a crown of grass and leaves around his giant head. The old bear was snoring again.

“I wouldn't worry so Sister,” Murmur replied to her anxiety.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Second Morning

When Robyn awoke the second morning, the early Arizona air was dancing through her window - this time she had propped it open using her toiletry bag - when halfway through the night she had stumbled to the bathroom and used what she could. She found the night air was so refreshing her sleep was all the deeper for it.

She lay faced to the window, enjoying the sheets so cool against her timid skin; and the recess of the pillow was perfect to her neck's incline. Very slowly and drowsily she turned over, opened her hazel brown eyes, to see a strange man lying in the bed right beside her. She yelped reactively.

The figure in her bed moved and began to turn over to now face her. Robyn leapt up and out, backing into the side table, whereupon tilting it, and her mobile phone slid off onto the carpet.

Even more surprisingly still, she realised he was a very old man. He was looking back at her as though she were half mad.

"Who are you?" she demanded. Old or not, this was an unspeakable horror. She looked at his bony form which was undressed down to the boxer shorts now peeping out from under the top sheet.

In the moment she caught sight of a small tattoo on his chest to one side, half covered by the immensely long curly hair. She wondered if he was a native - or demented - or a demented native that had found his way into her room.

No explanation seemed to be coming.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Pope's Blessing

“Would you consider coming back with me to Rome?" asked the Pontiff as he was being helped down the hill.

Murmur answered, without hesitation: "I think not … at least for the days near to come."

He surprisingly did not thank the Pontiff for this offer of promotion - yet the Pontiff had also neglected to thank him for the revival. There was a rather odd understanding between them.

"I should stay right here Father where I belong” he reiterated,

"Very well ... although," here he paused for emphasis, "I could need someone like you..."

Francis who was following behind coughed.

They came to a party of Bishops and priests who had scattered around, patrolling the town, regrouped upon the bridge and it was there that they delivered the Pope into their safety.

Before leaving he said:

"Francis, come to me when the time is right and we will forge a commitment. I will put a seal to your vision and my blessing to your community. I came to tell you only that - for we in Rome can see your light from afar - in the forests of Ashburton, this light streams from your heart. We are of consensus that the future of this cause will champion our Lord most well. And so it is said, and so it shall be.”

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Old Pope- up & breathing again

[ c. 13th Century ]

Francis was persuaded by this enclave of spiritual rapture - momentarily. Then, as with a rush of cold air upon a sleepy face, he snapped awake, and in this moment he saw the Pope as a very old man, with milky eyes, struggling for breath, and with veins pronounced, crepe hands, sitting in prayer, alongside him.

"Why have you come here?" he asked respectfully - for as much as the magic had fallen away, so did his trust also.

The Pontiff appeared to have fallen asleep - with his head bowed upon his chest. The circle of light and warmth had all but dissolved, and the heavy darkness was now all around them.

Francis went to get up to get a blanket, but before he could go, the elderly man slumped. Francis caught him before he fell sideways.

The Pope’s heart had stopped, and there held in his arms, Francis could see his spirit ascend above them.

"I knew it was a bad idea him sitting out in the cold like this" Francis thought to himself.

A minute later he could hear the sound of Tobias and Murmur returning up the hill. They babbled lavishly with their festive humours. However this noise stopped fast when they caught sight of their brother cradling a corpse wrapped in velvets.

“Murmur, I need you to bless our Holy Father before his soul flies into the Heavens - we must deliver him back to where he came from, alive if we can."

Tobias left to put Granoldi to bed, whilst Murmur unquestioningly knelt down and put his hand onto the deceased's heart and head. Within minutes the old Pope was up and breathing again.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Silver Tree Pendant

“Let me get you another coffee" Charley offered.

As she leant forward to pick up the empty cup, her pendant hanging from her neck swung towards Robin - it glittered joyfully. Robyn could see with this closer look, that it was a small silver tree.

"How lovely" Robyn remarked genuinely.

Charley touched it affectionately - "Thank you, it reminds me of home".

The door opened with its usual swish, and Calvin briskly walked in - this time with an arm hugging a stack of folders.

"There" he said almost proudly, as he parked the pile in front of Robyn.

He really did look like someone very pleased with himself. The folders were bulging at the sides with hundreds of documents within. They seemed to emanate importance, dressed with the authority that a folder naturally carries. Truth be known, these papers were worth untold sums in research dollars and patents to come.

He then pushed it closer, as though she might have missed seeing the pile the first time.

Robyn thought that Calvin looked quite young to her in this moment - enthusiasm refreshed his veneer of business, and this vibrant man appealed to her even more.

She smiled back in grateful acknowledgement of being entrusted with something he obviously thought very special.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Independence is a Magic Word

“Independence is a magic word, because nowhere in the Cosmos does it actually exist.”

When Robyn took his hand inside hers, she noticed it was cool to the touch - not clammy, nor icy - but compared to the warmth of her own, with palm touching palm, it felt quite cold.

Calvin had just come from Lab no.3 where the temperatures were almost always freezing. He looked at her face and smiled. He instantly liked this new girl that was before him.

Charley's curly hair had frizzled in the heat and her golden ringlets looked more like a tangled mane with knots and ties - rather than a secretarial up-do; whilst Robyn's enthusiastic face was framed by sleek straight disciplined hair - wound into a ponytail with every strand in place. 

He sensed that Robyn was the type of girl who would wake up looking tidy first thing - her kind on leisure days would iron T-shirts, and count calories, and presented well he mused …he also noted further to himself that this Aussie girl looked just great.

Calvin pulled his hand back abruptly, and a slight frown crossed his brow. The electricity between them had gone to his groin. He got up quickly from his chair.

"Excuse me for a moment, will you?" he did not look at the girls when saying this - but hurriedly departed.

Charley did not seem perturbed at his manner. Robyn felt a dash of disappointment and stared into her coffee cup for something to do.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Spellbound

[ c. 13th Century ~ ]

The steam from the huge iron pot had given form to twelve spirits that were now suspended in the air above them, whirling around each other, like salamander dragons, snapping at each others tails.

A breeze had been conjured outside, yet within this light filled space they sat in, all was quiet. The darkness shouldered without.

Francis looked over to the old Pope in wonder for the power of this man sitting before him - whilst he, in turn, held his gaze, when suddenly he saw the old man’s face drop forty years . He was so unrecognisable that Francis had to wonder if this was the Holy Father at all.

“You are correct in your discretion, yet quite mistaken with this suspicion: - l am that I am, and much more besides …” he looked hard at the Elvish man and then continued: “We are similar you and I.” he seemed to slur his words slightly saying this.

Francis found himself disbelieving now more than ever. This strange individual assumed too much, yet one look at the puce toned robes compelled him to differ. Francesco mused at the finery of the weave - even in this half light he recognised its obvious worth.

The spirit forms that had been dancing in and out of the light-filled vapours above them, returned back into one homogeny, which now were presuming images - moving images - of the feast in the village in the valley below.

Portrayed in ghostly smoke Francis could see Tobias dancing with Granoldi, who was waving a metal tankard in the air, near missing the folk close by. The two appeared quite drunk.

The strange thing about magic is how easily one can feel familiar with it. Much like a dream, its message can infill the senses of the soul and persuade the consciousness in a way that is undeniable. As intoxicating as the musk of romance, and as enlightening as the whispers of hidden wisdom, magic can take you back into the very realm of your childhood ... and leave you there.

And for a moment, each in their way, on this night, was spellbound.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS- Second Chances 

Robyn meets Charley

The young woman motioned her to follow - "I'm Charley, by the way".

Robyn could not pick any accent at all - the woman did not seem American - if anything it was British.

As she had said this she smiled brightly. Robyn noticed the rectangular pin she wore that said "Charlotte Black" on her lapel.

"I'm Robyn - Robyn Prior … I’m from Australia."

Charley thought that this was said as though it was some kind of accomplishment. Actually, on second-thoughts, it probably was, she added to herself wryly.

"How uncanny! My father's name was Robin!"

“Oh, that is random!” she smiled a relieved smile.

“Perhaps this was a sign", Robyn speculated ... she might be able to get the information she had come for after all.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

No Service out Here

And so with a veterinary doctorate in the making, Robyn had country-hopped into the wilds of Canada, then on to the boutique zoos in Southern France, composing her thesis on wound treatments and their efficacy with scale and fur.

Johnstone Pharmasuture had not been responding to her email requests, and so being frustrated and yet determined, she thought she might go there in person, before returning home.

She buzzed the intercom several times and still no one had answered.

"Why did I let that taxi go?" she asked herself now frantically checking her phone for reception.

A dozen or more rabbits scuttled past her.

"I'll go look for a bus stop" she said to herself half-hopefully.

"I'm sorry but we are closed indefinitely" a voice called after her, just as Robyn had turned to leave in defeat.

A young woman only a few years older than herself approached - her long golden brown hair was braided in Rastafarian knots clamped back with several adornments, which greatly contrasted her navy blue business suit and bright red shoes. She appeared to be genuinely apologetic.

The unwelcome news suddenly made the heat all the hotter and Robyn clutched onto the gate to steady herself. It burnt her hand.

"Please, do you think I might be able to use your phone? I can't seem to get mine to work."

“No, not out here, you won't get any service... - of course you can."

The gate clicked loudly open with a snap and glided open. Robyn hurried through nervously.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Robyn Prior

Robyn was standing all alone before the Johnstone Pharma front gates wondering just how to get past them and through to the office. Her long hair was damp in the Arizona heat, her feet felt like they were cracking within the flat sandwich of her broken sandal.

All of her moments had led her here, she mused. Big and small moments, each and every increment of time spent, had brought her now to this very place. She could feel her destiny sitting both behind and in front of her.

Robyn Prior had been born and bred on a cattle farm, that lay miles away from any neighbors, and yet further away from any town.

Their property was settled on a 'green belt' - a valley that attracted the clouds, and grew moist tall grass all year round, for which the herd depended upon. For all of the spiders and snakes, this part of Australia had been a paradisiacal place to begin her life in.

She loved the familiar morning sounds: of the magpies warble, the crow's barking, and listening to the lowing that came from the engorged cows as they stumbled in procession through to the shiny sheds lit by the sunrise.

She would awake to their kelpies doing circles outside her bedroom door, and her brothers, with their manly sounds, moving about the house in random concert.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Cauldron

A large iron pot had appeared at the exact same time as did the cone of light, and it was full to the top with steaming water.

The Pontiff pulled up his sleeve and slipped his hand in, up to the elbow, and drew out a beet. He then held it up to Francis.

"Where did this come from?" asked Francis smiling at what he just saw. He had heard of the wonders of this man and now they were being confirmed. He passively took their ignominy.

"From God" said the old man plainly.

"What I mean to ask your Holyness is: where did the water come from that is cooking the beet right now?"

“From God" replied the Pontiff, again in a voice that was matter-of-fact.

"Yes yes, but where did the pot, that is vessel to the stew, come to manifest from?"

"Nepali" said the Pope ... "I acquired it from a blacksmith there who makes bowls that can sing when you strike them."

"Yes, I see. But" persisted Francis, "but how did the bowl with the water with its fruit appear here?"

"Magic" replied the Pontiff - "how else?"

Francis looked a second time over to the cauldron, noticing that the steam that was rising from the top was gathering into sprite-like forms.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

An Illumined Space

A line had been marked in the air defining a complete circle around the two of them. Three times the old man moved his needle so, pacing around Francis to do this. Francis could feel some warmth moving up from the ground. It was like one of those summer days where the rain draws the heat from the rocks expiring steam.

Then, there followed a light - an illumined space in the circle which now surrounded them. The two were standing in the dark, yet within a lit circular space, as though a spot light from above was shining upon them.

All manner of convention departed with this happening.

The warmth continued, and this was a welcome change from the chilling night's freeze. The light itself had that pale gold aspect of the morning, and Francis felt blest to feel it soak through him.

"What is to happen now?" he asked quietly.

"Now, we will sit and wait for the others to arrive."

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Cutting the Air in a Circle

The two men now stood in front of one another. His Holiness then turned to his porters and waved at them to leave. They did not waste time exiting the camp, for the air had cooled and was now with its treacherous bite, whilst the darkness imparted its sickly innuendoes.

The very next thing the elderly Pope was to do, was odder still.

Out from his cloak he pulled an immensely fine dagger.

In this age one might have thought it to be a knitting needle, for it was so slim. He casually extracted it from a bejewelled wand-like sheath that was studded in moonstones. They flashed blue in the movement, even though there was little light. He began to wave the dagger slowly above his head, cutting the air in a circle around them.

It crossed Francis's mind momentarily that the old man may have been given an unworthy draught - or perhaps, in a lapse of dementedness, he had strayed up into this forest's hide. It was becoming apparent that the elderly Pontiff should not be there at all.

Another possibility (and he did like to contemplate possibilities) was that a phantom (and there were many) of the woods, had persuaded him with some delusion. And, that the real Pope was still with the party in the foothills below.

Quite abruptly his wondering ceased, for it became evident that the elder knew exactly what it was that he was contemplating.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Flying Pope

The old Pope straightened the ruffle on his sleeve and pulled back his hand from that of Francis; it was as though an electric charge had moved from one to the other.

"My Father ... you have come all this way unprotected. I am concerned for your safety and for what I might do if we were set upon."

"I am not unprotected" he replied softly, yet sternly; and then added, “care not, it is of no significance to one who can fly".

Francis relaxed - whatever was said, he trusted to be true.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

True Name

“Come il verde serve i campi ci sono solo fratelli in Cristo."*

The old Pope offered these words as a gift, whilst Francis kneeled before him.

"What is your true name son?"

"It is Christ”, my beloved.

"As is mine also" came the reply.

The Pope continued: "For the holy-man of Christ wears His name, that he may keep this: his sacred, inner bearing".

"And your given name?”

"It is Francesco - but I am also called Francis or Franco.”

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

*The green serves the fields, just as we are only brothers in Christ.

Energetic Halos

When Francis prayed his mind would object, reminding him of the duties of the world still yet to be performed; and when he turned his work to the practical, the Heavens called, saying "why do you deny us?".

Of course his days and nights were not all such distraction; they were content and enlivened, particularly by the auras that he could see, illuminating every living thing before him.

These energetic halos explained much of the mood and the nature of the plant or the animal, the rock or the man about him - to Francis the whole world glowed in code, and each explained themselves with this obvious and apparent auric display.

Francesco closed his eyes. He could feel the damp pat of the night's dew.

He could hear the hum from the town five miles down, as the sounds flew up with the wind to where he lay resting, and if he focused intently, he could even make out the garbled conversations flying close by, about in the ethers.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second 

Chances

Is the Pope a Roman?

“I've brought you a seed-cake my friend", said Tobias.

Murmur made a gesture of thanks by bowing his head and putting his hands together as though in prayer. He quickly stuffed it into his tunic pocket - his only pocket - forgetting the lizard was there.

"There's to be a meeting in the blessed town at eventide. Every community and order from here to Rome will be represented. There is word that the Holy Pontiff himself is sending an emissary from the Big House."

Tobias revelled in the unity of the Mother Church whilst Murmur had the soul of a loner, preferring to keep his life private from any such gathering of loud men.

''Do you think there'll be food?" he asked hopefully.

“Is the Pope a Roman?" Tobias laughed.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Land of Shamballa

We are approaching an age in which man will not only feel himself surrounded by a physical sense world, but also, according to the degree of his development, a spiritual world. The leader in this new world of the spirit will be the etheric Christ. No matter what religious community or faith people belong to, once they have recognized these facts in themselves, they will acknowledge and accept the Christ event. The Christians who have the experience of the etheric Christ are perhaps in a more difficult situation than those who belong to other religions, yet they should endeavor to accept this Christ event in just as neutral a way as the others. It will, in fact, be man's task to develop, especially through Christianity, an understanding for the possibility of entering the spiritual world independently of any special religious confession, but simply through the power of good will.

Anthroposophy should help us above all in this. It will lead us into that spiritual land, described in ancient Tibetan writings as a remote fairyland but meant to be the spiritual world, the Land of Shamballa. Not in a dreamy way but in full consciousness should man enter this land under the guidance of Christ. Even now the initiate can and must go often to the Land of Shamballa in order to acquire new forces. In future, other men, too, will enter the Land of Shamballa. They will see its radiant light, as Paul saw above him the light that streamed from Christ. This light will stream toward them, also. The portals of this realm of light will open to them and through them they will enter the holy Land of Shamballa.


-Rudolf Steiner 

Mysterious Land of Shamballa

The time will come when men will again see into the spiritual world and there behold the land whence flow the streams of true spiritual nourishment for everything that happens in the physical world. Again and again we have heard that it was once possible for men to look with clairvoyant vision into the spiritual world. Oriental writings also contain the tradition of an ancient spiritual land into which men were once able to gaze and whence they could draw the super-sensible influences that were available for the physical world. Many descriptions of this land, that was once within reach of men's vision but has withdrawn, are full of sadness. This land was indeed once accessible to men and will be so again now that Kali Yuga, the Dark Age, is over. Initiation has always led thither, and it was always possible for those who had achieved Initiation to guide their steps into that mysterious land which is said to have disappeared from the sphere of human experience. Deeply moving are the writings which tell of this ancient land, whither the Initiates repair ever and again in order to bring from there the new streams and impulses for everything that is to be imparted to mankind from century to century. 

Those who are connected with the spiritual world in this way resort again and again to Shamballa — the name of this mysterious land. It is the deep fount into which clairvoyant vision once reached; it withdrew during Kali Yuga and is spoken of as an ancient fairyland that will come again into the realm of man. Shamballa will be there again when Kali Yuga has run its course. Mankind will rise through normal human faculties into the land of Shamballa, the land whence the Initiates draw strength and wisdom for the missions they are to fulfil. Shamballa is a reality, was a reality, will be a reality again for humanity. And when Shamballa reveals itself again, one of the first visions to come to men will be that of Christ in His etheric form. Into the land declared by Oriental writings to have vanished there is no Leader other than Christ. It is Christ who will lead men to Shamballa.

We must inscribe into our souls what can come to pass for humanity if the omen [Halley's Comet] referred to in the lecture yesterday is rightly understood. If men realise that they dare not allow themselves to sink more deeply into matter, that their path must be reversed, that a spiritual life must begin, then, at first for a few and in the course of two thousand five hundred years for a greater and greater number of human beings, there will arise the experience of the land of Shamballa — woven of light, shone through with light, teeming with wisdom. Such is the event which for those who have the will to understand, for those who have ears to hear and eyes to see, must be described as denoting the most momentous turning-point in the evolution of humanity at the dawn of the Abraham-epoch in the Christian era. It is the event through which men's understanding of the Christ Impulse will be enhanced and intensified.

Strange as it may seem, wisdom will thereby lose nothing of its value. The more insight men achieve, the greater and mightier will Christ appear to them to be! When once their gaze can penetrate into Shamballa, they will be able to understand much of what is indeed contained in the Gospels but for the recognition of which they will need to experience a kind of event of Damascus. Thus at the time when men are more sceptical of the original records than they have ever been, the new form of belief in Christ Jesus will arise when we grow into the realm where He will first be encountered: the mysterious land of Shamballa.

-Rudolf Steiner  

Low on Provisions

[ c. 13th Century ~ ]

Murmur knelt steadily on the hard ground to inspect his little seedlings. They simply weren't doing as well as he had hoped.

Hannah-Mary was coming to join them as soon as the days lengthened, and he wanted to be able to feed her and his little niece well with produce he had grown himself.

Some weeks prior, the hives had been stolen, and their other supplies were now very low. The beaded beef and baby turnips had been kept in an earthy treasure chest, while the olives and sugared fruits were long gone. Six sacks of moth-filled grain remained, which would keep them in bread, until the New Moon's cast.

A lizard slid over the tree root and slipped onto Murmur's hand. He contemplated eating it for just a moment, but instead he gave its shiny head a tap and popped it into his tunic's inner pocket.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Thirty Doors Popped Open

“Do you have any family George?"

"Just Francis." George said with significance.

It was that very moment that Francis appeared in the doorway. This was his very first visit to Zone C of the outer buildings. There had been something of a natural revulsion inhibiting him from walking through the doors up until now. George mentioning him had drawn him in.

With one click the magnetic seals on the enclosures relaxed, and thirty doors popped open all at once. Francis gently lifted each of the detainees down, setting them gently upon the ground.

Instead of scurrying wildly about, the rabbits ordered themselves in groups of color, and waited patiently at the laboratory door before making their break to freedom.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Vivisection

Johnstone Pharma disposed of hundreds of rabbits every month. They found them to be more docile than the rats, and ideal for skin sensitivity tests for the more mundane products, whilst piglets were best used for tissue grafts, being reliably compatible to human dermatology.

Even though Johnstone Senior was himself now clothed in a spirit form, it appeared that he still lacked the eyes to see the cluster of wounded animals around his ankles.

Johnstone’s sight was upon earthly things, and although he saw George, he could not see the rabbit that George would cradle in his arms as they were speaking to one another - or the small fairies that stroked their spirit fur.

Placing a small piglet back down upon the ground, George took his little notebook out from his coat pocket and started to write out again - this practice of note-taking came from forty years on the job - and nowadays it helped him greatly to filter his thinking.

When he was working as a health inspector he also found that it also worked to keep the interviewees honest. Note-taking was powerful, he would say to himself.

Each of the rabbits had a circle of fur shaved from their rear flank with a neon pink number inked upon their bare skin.

''My boy's looking after it all now you know."

George nodded. "Yes. l met him in the hospital a few months back - he's been missing you".


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances 

Heaven as known to Creatures

[c. 21st Century ~]

George was fumbling with the latch of an enormous rabbit enclosure that was divided into thirty individual cells. Instead of using a traditional grid-wire for the front of the cages, there was clear nylon matting through which you could see the animals quite easily.

Johnstone Senior had been giving George the ‘behind the scenes’ tour, along with the usual statistical details, whilst George kept poking his finger through the mesh, in an endeavour to make contact with 'Sooty' no. 1246 - whose face was pleading with him to get her out of there as fast as he could.

At his feet sat twenty or so ghost-rabbits who had deceased from previous trials.

The etherial bunnies usually would remain in the laboratory for some weeks after their slaughter, before realising they were free to go roam the heavenly fields and chew on the sweetest of grasses.

There is not much written explaining Heaven as it is known by creatures; although some early records did map the migration of Ibis as they travelled their way out into the Cosmos after death, with countless hieroglyphic insignias depicting similar parties in the afterlife.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Granoldi the Bear

[ c. 13th Century ~ ]

The countryside at night was alive with the creatures and beings that hid from the people and the beasts of the daylight.

Noses twitched, beaks clicked, paws itched. In the moments before, Francesco would recite the Alma Putto, and the animals who gathered around his spiritual light remained quiet, even though they were so conflicted, by their very real instincts to flee or fight.

Unbeknownst why, it appeared that the smell of one another aggravated the congregation terribly, far more than the appearance of each other. Francis discovered that creatures interpret the world through their smell firstly - and so he took the leaves of the eucalypt [Bay or Linden] and laid them upon the burning charcoals of the camp fire, to help soothe their anxieties.

Amongst the group sat a large snow-white bear. Everyone knew that the white bears of fabled lands did not frequent the woods of the north. There was, however, a troop of songsters visiting the district that had acquired an albino cub when it was young it was said, and they had profited greatly from his performances. It came to pass however, that he had overtaken their height, and was manacled with cutting irons, to keep him harnessed in their employ.

Nightly there was the big reveal, where in the final act Granoldi the Great Polar Bear would lumber out through the canvas curtains, wearing his leathered suit and woollen cap.

This was always a pleasing note to leave on, and quite often the coins would be tossed into the pot, hoping to make him dance. Granoldi did not dance, yet they would collect the coins, dismantle the tent, and move on.

One day, this same bear had been found by Francis secured to a giant fir tree. The troop had left him whilst exploring the prospects of the next village.

His tender skin bled beneath the iron, making dark red patches that were staining his fur. Their unkindness to the beast was evident in this abandonment alone.

And when Francis unbolted his irons, the great bear did not run away, but stayed.

And when the songsters returned to collect him, they found that without the chains and clamps, they had no viable persuasion, and had to depart without their valued slave.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Thirteenth Century

The thirteenth century, from the ordinary man's perspective was (in both the east and the west of the world) a time when people did not question the extraordinary. And when it came to talents and events that were most unusual, they simply accepted them.

For example: the majority of commonfolk could not draw or write more than their name. Then there were the few who painted their visions and portraits so vividly and realistically that they embodied life - and their skills were so far beyond the ordinary reach, yet they were accepted.

Engineers and composers, whose talents advanced, proving themselves, in fanciful cathedrals, in allegros and concertos - these too were taken to be marvels - and yet accepted.

The saintly and the magician, and yes, the very magic of the Fey, were similarly, and likewise, unquestioned.

If things were simply taken for what they were - what they were seen to be, then they were what they were. The people did not question what they saw.

It was only much later as the centuries progressed that doubt and questions scorned the Holy, the inspired, and the magician's works.

Curiously this happened at exactly the same time that the other Arts simplified - paintings became abstract, buildings, functional, and tunes grew repeated choruses.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS, Second Chances