Soul from Former Times

One vivid presentation that came to her [Eve] was of simply sitting on the step of the cottage playing with a tendril of ivy, winding it slowly through her fingers, soaking in the warmth of the morning sun. A strange set of visions showed her, of all things, a large bear - to wit she could make no sense of what this could mean. Could he be a symbol of something? And who was this sad spirit?

It was more than a womanly kinship that she shared with this soul from former times - much more. Eve thought that these pictures and feelings came from yet another soul whose suffering impregnated the ethers for times to come: but no, this woman, whose name was Hannah Mary, was herself, and these memories were hers. But amongst the catalogue of forlorn stories, of emotions and struggles and characters of being, she had not the wherewithal to find her former self amidst their clairaudient noise.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Reoccurring Visions

Back on the road travelling home, Eve’s red ‘Noddy car’ wound its way through the country lanes - this time taking the back streets running parallel to where she had come to grief a few months before.

She was hurrying back, hoping that Puck would be waiting for her - he had promised to return on this day - the first of May - and she had believed him.

Meeting this other-worldly ‘Adonis’ had been just the distraction she had needed. Her mind had been full of personalities that kept presenting in a procession wanting to be heard. The spirits who would frequent her consciousness sought her attention repeatedly and with the pressing insistence of one ignored.

Added to this were the reoccurring visions that came to her: snapshots of another time that Eve experienced. Ever since she had visited the cottage where a tragedy with an infant had taken place … she had seemed to have been seeing through the eyes of another woman.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Somewhere between Faerie & this World

N. Mills Price

The Hode - Robin - had managed to accomodate a good many strangers in their treed Community - it was estimated at times to be numbered beyond five hundred dwelling there all at once. This was far from the depiction of them being but a ‘band of merry men’ - who were of course the brothers of poverty that he travelled with also.

To properly frame this picture one must first know of Robin’s Elven heritage and how it was that he could effect the many magical happenings around him. Robin had created a space that was not exactly part of the land of Faerie, nor was it of this World - it lay somewhere in between - where both mortal and immortal could co-dwell. 

This space was not infinitely abounding - in truth, it would have measured only two hundred acres or less - yet it was large enough to conceal and keep his darling community. For the main part, those that were offered a place there seldom left, for the rain was sweet and the sun was a comfort, and food grew in abundance for all. 

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Oddball Society

Richard remembered seeing the barefoot monks picking through the street market, being spat on by their Catholic counterparts. Their uniform magenta drapes were embroidered with a foreign script, same words it was said, that they chanted incessantly. From their tattered belts draped bells; and fragrant smoke curled upward from long pipes; beads, in the stead of crosses, adorned their exposed chest.

Popular belief told of these devotees as absconding from a diet of meat and liquor, yet the locals had seen them consume both, when grain and ordinary water was in short supply.

Richard mused at their economy of words. Privately he also delighted in silence - it was considered to be his own sublime paradise … to feel the peace orbit his quiet within … and he was of the constant opinion, that men too often wasted their words on half-worthy thoughts, and empty speech. 

And so, with an uncommon likeness, Richard was already feeling a strong kinship with the brotherhood from the East.

He had been first introduced to the Bodhists by the Hode, who, it was said had first brought them into the district, housing the ‘oddball society’ within his forest quarters.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Irreverent

Charles Mandrake was a very poor priest. He was not living sparsely, in point of fact he lived very well, but managed that which he was entrusted with very badly - spending the excess contributions and taking the donations largely to fund his personal wants and needs …

The price of smokes had escalated over the years and his own holy fire needed the small stubs of light … Midnight when the cathedral had evacuated, when the prayerful and the mournful had departed to their solitary beds, Father Charles strode the aisles of his empty church, drawing breaths of frankincense and Marlboro. Stubs were buried beneath the prayer candles, where he had snubbed them into the tray of sand.

Spicy imported foods littered his fridge, half eaten. Chocolate wrappers glittered in the bin. Silk and cashmere piled in his wardrobe. Designer watches and assorted gifts from his adoring Parish draped his bookcases and filled his drawers.

Father Charles loved life and it loved him. He could recite the newspaper backwards and his congregation exalted its meaning imaginatively. He would analogise the racing form, or sing the bingo with intermittent psalm references, rich with obscure context and subliminal affirmations.

All in all he was an ecclesiastical success.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Beneath a Bridge

Master Tu was born into an average life, with average parents, who had average hopes, for their less than average son.

Both his mother and father were from Chicago, and their forebears were touched with the enchanted psyche of the Irish mixed with the propriety of the Scot.

From the time he began to talk, his questions were answered with contempt. Both parents had no idea of the complexities of their child’s mind, and the value of a loving and enthusiastic conversation escaped them entirely.

Stuart’s (Tu for short) first suffered depression manifested at puberty, and one that strangled him duly during his teens. The gremlin of impossible sadness would sit at the end of his bed and taunt him nightly; keeping him from falling asleep. With this constant sleep deprivation Stuart found that a certain twilight took over his mind - so much so that he learned to sleep without his body laying down, and ignore the world in a daze of adaptive static complacency.

And so, beneath a bridge, settled amongst the modern trolls and geriatric alcoholics; between the casino rats and withered junkies, Puck found Stuart propped up against a shopping trolley gazing into nothingness.

“It was too soon” he had whispered in the vagrant’s ear. “Too soon for you to be coming back.”

With Elvish strength he picked the sorry youth up from the pee-stained ground, and hoisted one arm over his shoulder, dragging him to the gold Mercedes he had waiting.

“This is no life my King,” he said respectfully, hauling his thin frame into the back seat and fastening the belt around him snugly.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Master Tu

The Master’s whiskers were trailing in his soup, and Goober could not help noticing that crumbs from the unleavened bread had settled throughout its white twisted strands. It was certainly unusual to have one so young as leader of a monastery of this size - beard or no beard, he was still only twenty-two.

This sensei had been homeless a few years earlier, and some of his habits from living rough had remained. He appeared to be utterly without pride, and completely unaware of any social etiquette.

When Puck had found him, his fingers and toes had begun to disintegrate with mould, and the tip of his nose had blackened also. This youth could not have cared less for shelter and warmth at that stage of his short life - for he gone for so long without having anything, he had forgotten what comfort was. The bite of the wind or ice beneath his feet, felt nothing in comparison to the pain in his soul continually throbbing, nothing at all.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series