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.