Short Stories

My Journey and the Angel

Ah, the love of nature and her surreal imaging brought forth my thoughts and desires to meander my mind’s wayward journey through the valley of wonderment. My spirit is lifted from the beauty and sights for my soul to be gifted with blessings from the Great Spirit. As walk through the valley and touch the plants and flowers, at one point bend down to scrape some dirt into my hand. Slowly I let it sift through my fingers. What a wonderment nature has control over, everything from ground to sky is little messages from her way of touching my spiritual destiny. The path is so colorful and even though the path is long, I will take inward the sights seen for my memories.

The angel was slowly coming toward me, her gown was pure white and flowed with the wind nature made sure was happening. They spoke in ways that I would never understand, but can be seen happening with the naked eye, the path was still in the valley. And I can see the angel looking at me, smiling, moving about as if in a slow dance. I want to say something, fear she might not like my thoughts interrupting this moment in time. The angel moves around me. She is so graceful, and beautiful beyond comprehension. The temperature never changes, the wind is always comfortable, and the time of day seems to stay at a standstill.

I start to follow the path out into the forest where even more of nature’s wonderment is freely visible from my standpoint. I cannot see the angel, but know she is coming, I slowly turn around and she glides just above the ground towards me, gown flowing, and smiling. The spiritual lessons I am trying to gain for growth, are being felt inward, I am getting knowledge from her. It is shown to me by mentally transporting the information I so desire. She is giving me the path to follow and soon the journey’s answer will be shown for my purpose in spiritual enlightenment. The angel moves in my direction and takes my hand, her hand is so soft and comforting, and she whispers that everything I need for the faith to be real will be shown to me as time moves on. Never give up on the truth presented to you, for He is always with you and His strength will carry you through any battles along the path you are going to face. She backed away, elegantly, and slowly dissipated into thin air. I was sad to see her go. Although I have a great feeling inside, my mind is filled with so many ways to conquer the battles set before me. Along my trek, whatever the journey may bring, I feel the angel will be near…

White Eagle's Gorge

Running through the forest will not be a problem. The path is treacherous and up and down the mountain. Some spots are only a foot wide, but this must be done to get to the gorge. White Eagle was prepared though for the worst. He has run in the forest for many years, been on the same path he will trek for the passage of the gorge. His father, the Chief, has shown him what he must do to be considered a warrior, part of his path when it is time to be Chief. This run today is partly on the trail he will be running tomorrow. The rocks and pebbles are hurting his feet and throwing him out of balance. He turned the path’s corner and immediately fell, rolling down the small incline. White Eagle lay for some time. He needed to feel his body’s condition, checking for broken bones, or twisted something. White Eagle got up and for a quick thought decided to head back home but kept running the trail till stopping at the spot he originally decided to stop and turn back.

When got back home White Eagle could see some scratches and scrapes. His mother put some sab on them and shook her head. She knew what was going to happen and she could do nothing to make it stop. Her role as a Native American mother of the tribe was to encourage and support the decision to run the path to the gorge. White Eagle knew that and discussed with his mother the path and what would take to run such a dangerous path to the gorge. Nothing else was said about him running. The day was here.

White Eagle began the path very early in the morning. He was walking it at first then broke into a run. Parts of the beginning, where it splits off the trail and becomes its pathway, rocks, and pebbles are difficult, hurting his feet. Past that part of the trail, it begins to climb a little in altitude, making it difficult to breathe for White Eagle. He has conditioned himself to not let it bother him. He is running much faster now but soon will have to slow down because of the foot-wide path before him. This will slow the pace but not stop him from running toward the gorge. The next turn is coming up and must be done right or he could slip and fall off the path. White Eagle quickly made the turn and followed the path’s direction without incident. Soon the gorge would be near. He can hear the water rushing across the rocks and down the waterfall.

The trail now was getting higher, more inclined with the path, White Eagle had to be sure of his footing, the path was narrow and rocky, and nothing but heavy bushes were lining the path. Each step made a little puff of dirt, a small cloud of dust. White Eagle was getting tired. He picked up the pace, made the next two turns of the path, and finally heard the water rushing through the gorge. Nearer the path’s end, just before the jump was to be made, was a small hump, a little berm that could mess everything up if not planted with the foot at the point of jumping. White Eagle was running quicker now, the breeze on his face was a little damp, which meant it was time to concentrate on what needed to be done, jump the gorge. Another turn and it was time. White Eagle started running as fast as he could, the turn was approached by White Eagle, the noise was deafening, and he could not stop. As White Eagle came to the spot to jump, he planted his foot right at the edge of the berm. He could feel himself rise into the air, but, his other foot tipped the top of the berm, he was making a shorter ending to the jump. White Eagle did not let that thought bother him. He positioned himself in the air and felt as if flying like an Eagle. The other side of the path, where it begins, was coming up fast and short. White Eagle knew this was going to happen and kept his mind focused on the path only and the landing. White Eagle came up short, fell about ten feet along the side of the gorge, and grabbed a small tree to stop. He was bleeding, his head hurt and looked down along the wall to the gorge below. Then back up to the top.

He kept thinking of the climb up, it took nearly four hours to make the climb and roll onto the path’s beginning from the other side of the gorge. It was about noon now, he needed to get back home. He wanted to tell his father about the jump. What he didn’t know was his father watching him jump the gorge and fall short of the edge. From a different place higher up on the mountain. He was proud of White Eagle and told him when he talked to him at home. White Eagle was ecstatic, and the tribe was going their praise also. Soon, he was running back down the path and turning around where the path ended. White Eagle felt good and glad he jumped the gorge. Now, he was a true warrior, his people would look upon him differently. He thought of how his being Chief one day would impact the tribe. He could see himself and become stronger in spirit so his knowledge and wisdom will show through them, helping and giving direction when needed. Almost a Shaman in a way but he was not that special, he would make improvements with what he knew though. White Eagle talked to his father many times about what happens when White Eagle becomes Chief.

His father would look at White Eagle and smile. He knew how special White Eagle was and would be a great Chief. White Eagle was running the path today. Following the way it made its way through the forest, he became one in thought. Allowing the Great Spirit to show his truth, White Eagle was then at the edge of the gorge, he looked all over the valley and gave praise for the Great Spirit to make him strong and full of wisdom. He stood there for a very long time, listening to the water rush through the gorge and over the waterfall. The one he jumped over…

My Angel of the Dreams

The image of my thoughts those wondrous meaningless impressions are beyond the comprehension of being a reality or not. The angel, dressed in a white gown flowing like a slight breeze is moving about and hovering above the ground, which is mesmerizing, to say the least. Nothing is ever said as I sit with her, we seem to be connected yet have no indication there will be a conversation at some point. Every time though, in the dream, she is so beautiful. The sight is nearly impossible to describe. The words coming to me do not do it justice as to her being who she is, an angel, there for my dream. I want to ask why in my mind, thinking it would be the way to talk to her. But the dream does not want me to follow through with that thought.

This time though, she turned and smiled, first for any of my dreams of her and I together. Something in that smile spoke a million words, she liked what she was doing, and I guess wanted me to know it. This image of her tonight was not her usual white gown, she wore very loose pants and a blouse-type covering. I mentioned in thought how wonderful she looked. Nothing happened. The angel moved about and slowly functioned as if dancing. She was there with me but not in a sense of just for me. I thought she was maybe in many dreams at once. Possibly, but this image was just remarkable in my mind’s eye. And she knew it. I sat in the same place in each of the dreams. I was not going to make a different spot to sit thinking maybe it would disrupt the dream.

As time went on, years to be exact, my time with the angel never grew old or faded in the desire to be with her. I never found out why she was there. We never conversed, but she did smile often. I loved her and my dreams with her, I often gave thanks in prayer for her being with me. My days and nights were nothing to speak of, normal ways of life, except when dreaming of her. Those dreams of my angel were everything to me in thought. I often gave thought to the dream about her spending precious moments with me and thanking her for it. My angel of the dreams…

With Inward Path

We wonder off and on what the trek we take through life has for us to follow. Although choices are to be had, some paths will be missed and may have been important to your getting the knowledge along with strength of spirit. The good part is that as we move along our avenues of life, there inward some of those avenues house our knowledge and strength needed at a much later time. It all becomes relative amongst the moments of our distance and what that entails as far as time is concerned. It may be moving slowly in the mindset or incredibly fast from one day to the next. But the events happening across the time frame have meaning and will eventually become part of your mentality. It never leaves your sense of reality or the living sense we gain from the day's way of life. It comes on very easily but there may be a heaviness toward how your spirit challenges the dark ways as they come.

One may use a lot of strength for the demise it is put through. Then again, the dark comes and goes without a challenge. Out there, way out there, something comes this way, it is made of truth and harbors no lies, as it follows the mindless paths set before it, the outcome is always the same. Moving darkened and mindless ways out to the spirits that hold onto that way of life. The sense of life and the avenues that hold the paths for learning are the way of life, and the spirit takes that to heart so the soul can move freely from one entity to another, that essence of life. and then the journey has a defined route, going beyond the ways of the dark and into the bright light of life.

He has the key; all one needs is to ask...

Path and Balance

Have you not ever been grateful? The path was a little rough, sometimes it rose a few feet so it was harder to trek. The end game though was to be at the top of this majestic mountain, overlooking the valleys below and outward. My path is somewhat the same, there are ups and downs, and sometimes it is extremely difficult to maintain a balance between spirit and the Higher Power. The air is a little thinner, I have gone very high and it has been difficult at times, but will not stop the journey. There is too much to be had spiritually. Now and then stop and bow my head and listen, taking in the sounds only found here at this moment, at this place also within the moment, together making living a balance.

It is colder and a light wind is blowing making the temperature drop a few degrees, but will not stop and follow this path before me to the point where I have visioned it to be through dreams. The rocks are bigger and the path is fading away becoming a hit-and-miss walk to the top of the mountain. I am not worried, I know where I am going, and timely as it may seem, the wonderment between spirit and the Higher Power’s touch set upon the soul at the moment when reached the top, well, I will be very grateful. Oh, a little sun, warmth, peaked its way through some clouds. They are surrounding my path, the clouds, still, I know where the spot is, that piece of time standing still just for me.

For some reason, it seems quieter than before. I am close, there is no path to follow, around the rocks and through a small field of foliage, and it is time. The belief in what I am looking at is nearly overtaking my senses, tears have begun, the air fresh and so quiet even with the wind. But looking out there, the valleys below and the wonderment of life is not as seemed, sure, the moments have been hard. Yet, here I am having the view piercing my soul with unmistakenly truth to His being alive and maintaining this, all this land and water, from flower to flower, the growth for miles and miles. He was the catalyst for it to happen AND, here I am gazing at it all just so the thought of the day is to be grateful.

I bow my head, on my knees, and thank God for this time and place. I have so much to be thankful for and living in whatever the mere existence of life you may call it, there is nothing to compare to what He is giving as a gift, of sorts, other than being alive, balanced, and finding the path I have so searched for many years.

And as time moves on, age sets in, the memories will never be forgotten. He made sure of that. The path? I still go there and find my balance with God and Nature. That is my gift, I so hope you find your path and balance as well…

Beyond Time

Oh, the trek was a long one. Many years, and many more miles. I remember being so young when I started the path and now I feel well at this age, everything around me has changed so much. It’s the spirit that maintains the mental health I need, that deep-felt belief and faith that is the catalyst for defying the wrongs and making the right choices to get to this level of consciousness. I am way out of the city, the only place of my calling, where the magic happens from many angelic thoughts and spiritual confinement to my senses. There is no way out of the darkened way found inward from those paths that I had to walk among evil’s so-called gifts.

Years had passed before making the crucial defying moment of removing the dark, evil, touch upon my soul. It was either him or I and the aftermath of the instant it happened was nearly less than a miracle. Every possible strength I and my universe spirits (I call them that for they come from outward the universal confides they only know to help me when needed, and that was a lot back then) had depleted, removed from the spirit’s grasp around my soul, I was nothing but flesh and barely a being. The moment it happened when evil was defeated, there was one other than me in the quietness of the surrounding area. He had it all, strength, power, an army of Angels that would make the Universe shake out of fear that the Creator could have made such an entity. I was at His feet giving thanks for His existence and giving me the strength to get through my demise. He only looked…

And then I awoke from my nap. Sitting on the edge of bed, I kept telling myself it was a dream and the realism behind it is what dreams do, bring the moments alive in your life. He was so real, so alive, I am near normal now, back to being filled with strength and leaving the heaviness behind in the past. I know though as I sit out here again, in the quiet, my spot just for me, the moment may rise and receive the truth He will be here with me, all that there is in a powerful gifted being. The trek beyond the moment evil met its demise and returned to wherever it is evil lies, my wanderings were filled with a lighted light of life. I had the gift and people knew from where it came. I was blessed…

Although the time it took to get here seems short, as time is, what if it is relevant and the distance is not what thought? Maybe it only took a mere amount of time to accomplish my trek. Yet, I have aged, much, much older than would have anticipated, so what in the sense of reality, how many years did it get to be here, now, in my realm of things? The time is of no consequence, the hours and days mean nothing, nighttime came and went, so what is the truth to my existence at this moment? And did evil go to someplace similar to mine, a contemplation peace of mind? That is a scary thought…

The space I sit in seems to be feeling a little different. The air is thicker, dusk is outstanding. coloristic, for this time of day. I feel someone is near, He has arrived and the truth of anything to do with time is gone. There is no ticking clock or an abundance of hours ahead or behind me. It is what it is. A moment, set aside for me, and His saying nothing is quite okay with me. I still give thanks from within thought, He gives a nod, I should have known His way is nothing like us beings here on this small planet, who knows what lies out there in the universal of things? What is odd is that He doesn’t look bored or in a rush, it's as if He is learning something and wants to get as much out of it as possible. I am of no consequence to the moment that is happening within His time frame. And it seems like time has stopped, there is no feeling of going from day to night and back again, or having to rush this instance of time, His time, just letting it go the way it wants. And it is hours…


He speaks in thought how well I have come through the moment evil was defeated. I nearly jumped straight up and stood before Him.

I thought, “I am thankful for your believing in me, and giving what was needed for a task so difficult, I would have never believed I could manage such a feat.”

He nods again and gives a smirky smile of gratification for my part in the conversation. The physical ambiance of His being is somewhat out of context with His powerful arms and body itself. You would think someone in this complexity of life the image would be enormous, but the power and sense of His mental strength is, I think for my sake, toned down a bit. Now I get the feeling He is moving onward to wherever He needs to be or where something needs His power and strength. I lay back down, close my eyes, and remove the moments when time has stopped…

I slept for two days. Had no idea what time or day it was, didn’t care, my life had changed. Even my physical self had a slight girth in muscles that I never had before. The journey and the meeting of the Great Spirit did something inward and took my spirit into the far reaches of my being. Is this the feeling of winning, becoming different in mindset so the world and everything out there is known to have changed? I do not think people have a clue as to what happened within a mere small amount of time. The world was saved and evil was of no truth to the meaning of destruction, its own, beginning with the trek and ending with a journey. My mind is more complex, and has more depth to life’s ways, living with a good and bad desire to accomplish whatever He wants me to do. Have I gained a specialness surrounding my spirit? Do others feel my presence differently? Well, my sense is for the good fighting to keep evil from meandering too far within the confines of our souls. Again, does this make me special, can I see and feel things differently than others? I look older but do I feel wiser? Is the knowledge found throughout the journey’s way bring truth and found wonderment only I know exists?

I am that I am, the spiritual touch from one to another begins, and there is no end in sight for my life…

And so it begins…

The movement is slow, methodical, passing different paths. She is looking for a specific direction, an entryway she has been down before. Been so long though. Many years ago she found it, took the way it showed. The experience was far-reaching into her spirit. Never did she forget the way it made her life direction important for her. She makes a turn and stops. The tree that was there is much more grown but still shows her spot. Overgrown somewhat, she takes away as much as can. The path lay before her. Outreaching far into the forest. She knows it must be done. Her movement forward has feelings of despair. This might not be such a good idea. Maybe what she got before from this path’s lesson was to be only a one-time thing? Her entry was apprehensive, slow, it is not the same feeling as before. Why should it? It was many years ago.

She hears the birds, wind through the trees, a light brush of wind across her cheeks. It is comforting. Seems to let her know it is an okay type of feeling. Nothing is the same, yet something is making her sense the sight seen is familiar. She treks through the forest, looking at the wonderment of life, many flowers, off in the distance to the side is a field of different types of flowers. Sometimes the forest beside her is so thick, an abundance of trees, she wondered how they missed cutting them down when clearing the forest. She can feel the direction is getting a little smaller, the path not so wide, the area seen not so outstretched. She continues. Making her way into what might be her last lesson. Her life will change from this experience as it becomes evident to her spiritual beliefs. She wonders if He will be here as before, she must not think too soon, it might not happen. She stops. Looking up ahead it is seen, that spot, her rock. That is where she sat and it happened.


Slowly she makes her way toward the resting point she took before. Closer she gets and senses the surrounding area is calm, with a light breeze, not so much sound as coming through the forest before her walk down the path. The rock sets in a small clearing, some bushes line the perimeter in a circular kind of setting, just below the forest’s different trees. She did not notice this when found this spot before. She takes small steps, moving closer to the rock, nothing seems out of place for her to do so. When reaching it, she sits on the flat area, as if made for someone to sit upon. She relaxes, breathing slow, listens to what sounds are to be heard. It makes her feel less stressed. Something is happening, she does not open her eyes, can feel the breeze turn into a light wind. Hears the bushes and tree limbs move about. The feeling of not being alone flows over her. It is so comforting, her spirit is calm, a vision of a door appears.


Her movements are somewhat slow, and moving is not with walking but thinking of going forward makes it happen. She enters through the door, sees a beautiful area, it is a garden. There is a small table and chair at the far end. As she thinks to move toward it, a wonderful hue of bluish, white, light forms where she is to sit. Setting before the light it is unbelievable how intense the brilliance is but not bothering her. Something is beginning to move within the surrounding light, she can see someone, not sure if it is human though. The sight forming before her is becoming evident, it is an angel. She remembers this happening before, but not until now. She knows not to speak out loud, only through her mind.

“Hello”, she says. The sound of her speaking through her mind seems so surreal, not as if spoken normally. There is a pause, then she, as thinking it is she, speaks to her.

“I have missed you. It has been so long. I knew in time you were to return. The message given before was designed just for that. When become older your spirit would direct you. You are such a wonderment of life, your path was designed for you. Each choice you made would be yours but nudged from the spiritual sense. There is more to come, you have not reached your destiny’s end. I am giving spoken words to you so understand in your sense how heard.”

She sits in wonderment. A feeling of warmth flows over her. A long pause again, she is trying to figure out what to say.

“I have had such a wonderful life. What was given to me the last time was all-encompassing of my spirit. I knew when to make hard decisions, there would be some help if needed, I had no outward sense of what was happening other than the decision was made. Always had some kind of thought to come to the forest. Look for the passageway into where something happened, it was never a strong thought. The way of life was what I paid attention to. It has and I assume will be a wonderful experience.”

She felt odd giving words that way. The vision before her was overwhelming, the beauty can not be explained, so calming.

“You did well on your path. There was always help when needed. The feeling inward to come here was going to creep up throughout your life, checking if it were time to follow that thought. Those choices made by you were mostly from your spirit, you made the choice happen. The help, a nudge sort of way, was only given if found to be of importance to how the decision was directed, follow your way of thought. This moment is another step for your path to be as you want but will have many decisions to come, and the direction will be given from those choices made. What you are not aware of, is my touch upon your spirit, those spiritual feelings are real. They exist for you to grow from, learn by, and give outward sometimes as needed. That lesson is given because you are special. A being of wonderful existence to humanity. Everyone you are with comes away from some kind of goodness, a sense of having been with a special person. Why? Because the spiritual aspect of your soul was chosen to be that kind of being. From the beginning of your life, as growing, inward there would be a growth of sorts from a spiritual Higher Power. He was going to be your strength, beliefs, love, everything you have come to be now. Yes, you are going to have more to your destiny, if destiny is the word you understand from better. Much of what you hear now will not be remembered. Your spirit will have all it needs to guide your soul through this life you live, He will be there always. He intends to make you feel confident, strong, yet humanistic loving from your heartfelt ways of thought toward others. Your presence will be needed, and when left, their way of life will change. He chose you because your spirit was so alive with love. That is hard to believe, you are capable of touching other spirits. It is how you were made up, that seed was given something hard to explain in your way of thought, He was the designer. This lesson will keep growing inside of you. The path you want to follow is there and will continue throughout your life with a strong feeling it is the right way to go. Your destiny as you call it is set with helpful ways of thought, they will be there when needed, and He will have His door open always for you.”

She sits and wants to say something, but it seems to be hard to think of words. As if blocked by some kind of force, or a sense of loss to create a word. What an odd thing to happen.

She begins to open her eyes. The wind is here still, slowly it subsides to a breeze. Was she asleep? It is so weird to feel this way. She looks around, the flowers and plants are wonderful, this area has not changed. As if it was supposed to be, she thinks. How long has she been here? Her watch shows only minutes have passed. Her thought is to leave. Not without gazing as much as possible for the intense moments that it brought. The sights, sounds, the flower colors, all come into her spirit for a place to be had at moments of thought. She has a defined mental awareness of what her path needs. With confidence, those defined treks will become a reality. Will, being the operative word of meaning. The movement is slow, she begins her walk out of this place, looking back one more time to take in as much as possible. This place may come again. When she does not know. Leaving the forest was calming, a feeling she hopes to get every time visits for her walks.


She is home, reflecting on the forest’s experience. She knows something was given her, the feelings she can sense inward are stronger. Seems her spirit has become filled with lessons of living life. When and where they come about is not known. All she can wonder is they will be there when needed. Her thoughts tell her the path can be taken as she plans, making the direction with choices that are made with confidence. Where these thoughts come from she will not question. They have a purpose. The journey begins when she goes back out there in life, doing what she does, living as she did, being with people as before, yet all of it will be different. Inside of her mentality was a strength she had not felt before. Dressed, looks around the room, the front door, opening slowly. She moves out into life’s path for the day. The way of her spirit has grown for this moment in time. And so it begins…

The Spirit of One

The presence is not that overwhelming until you feel the power behind the essence of his being, the spirit you cannot see. His features take on a formulation of strength one would tend to stand back and admire, then back away from because of what it tells. The hands are large and show a strong sense but have a sensitive or gentle movement to them. The man sets by himself amongst the people who come to witness a death. They whisper, gawk, then whisper some more as seeing the expressionless face of a warrior, knowing nothing of the spirit inside. He has no fear, speaks with his spirit to the great people that surround his being, all of which have died well before his time. The guides give him comfort telling of the wonderful ways of their world. Showing the will reside with them and help others that need guidance and direction from within their prayers. Gray Eagle is not very old; if years were to be the case of telling age, his would-be thirty. So much of his time was to lead.  A leader of people that was slowly becoming extinct, if only could hold on for a while longer, they would be given what had been praying for.

Hands tied, feet tied, he sits waiting for the hangman. His case was quick and without any defense. He killed many men and women, and a few children, the witnesses said. Gray Eagle knew his killing of men was in self-defense, no women were killed and certainly no children. He looks at the people around him and can’t help to wonder why they enjoy killing him so much when death is something sacred and without mockery. Silence begins to fall like a newly washed sheet falling onto a bed. The dirt no longer flows into the air by shuffling feet. The man has come, the hangman for Gray Eagle. 

This day comes with glee to many; the people up in the hills feel sorrow. They are going to lose their leader, the father of their tribe. They have no one to be as he, no one to give the true direction of heart for the path to be heard. What will they do? They look at one another in quiet, and ask each other with their lonely eyes, what will they do? 

The hangman stands Gray Eagle up placing the loose nap bag over his head. He says a prayer out loud and the people become wide-eyed, he speaks, and they are overcome with joy. His point was not to be startling only to forgive them and ask the Great Spirit for a true resting within his domain, the sacred grounds he kept secret for so many years. The loose was tightened and Gray Eagle gulped for air, trying for his last breath.

A look from the hangman to Gray Eagle’s eyes gave him some discomfort. The hangman always saw fear in a man’s eyes, as he was to pull the staff, yet saw none in these eyes. Something else was there. Some kind of movement that told a story, if seemly was able to watch long enough, an eagle and a mountain, a river flowing with purity, and love. The hangman shook his head and then glared at Gray Eagle with mean and defying eyes. No one would stop his task of killing and not an Indian. A hush fell across the people. They watched intently without any feelings, just stood and watched.

As the hangman gripped the staff that would open the floor from under the Indian, he could sense this was not going to be an easy hanging. The wood could be felt by his palm, it glistened from the many hangings he has done. The wood was made smooth and showed a beautiful texture. He was hanging an important man to the Cherokee tribe, almost a holy man. That brought shivers to his normally hardened spine and pulled the staff. The wooden floor from being opened made a horrendous noise and the rope tightened then loosened. Bouncing up and down coming to rest straight, with nothing at the end, there was no one there. The hangman looked down through the hole in the wooden floor and saw nothing but dirt. People were bent overlooking toward the underneath part of the gallows and saw no one. It was so strange that nobody could panic. Just a whisper or two, some movement of people trying to look closer, all knew this was not right. The hangman had no real emotion. As his eyes became tiny little slits from squinting toward the hole in the wooden floor, his attention was taken to the sky. He felt compelled to look upward and saw an eagle gently flying. The biggest eagle he would ever see. Massive wings and perfect in every way, soaring with ease.

Gray Eagle was feeling the wind caress his feathers, lifting him without any difficulty at all. A beautiful and happy moment soaring with the hands of the Great Spirit to guide him back to his people. He may not be there in flesh but will take them to the sacred land from this means of life. An eagle gave in the stories he had told his children and tribesmen. That was no wise tale, but of the truth, his father and grandfather told him would happen. He was the leader to be given the Great Spirit’s touch and become the special guide his people needed. Nothing mattered now except to go and let the tribe know it is him and will be there for their travels. He looked back to the eyes of the hangman though; nothing more needed to be seen or felt, the hangman knew it was Gray Eagle and the journey had begun.

The Old Woman and the Fairy

As the path begins to wind through the forest, a serene moment seems to appear from nowhere. The movements are slow but methodical, flowers and trees move about from a light wind, and the night begins to approach to say, “I have arrived and all is well”. The surreal of the night is becoming more prominent now and continues throughout the darkened hours. Soon, the sunrise will be the beginning of the daylight hours, giving what is needed for the path to show the winding it takes to the valley below. Moments of surreality are still in the wind and movements of the foilage are waving for their dance.

The path has come to the bottom of the valley, beginning again with some more different winding and curves where the path shows cliffs and dangerous ways. As trekking the path throughout the day it becomes less dangerous and more filled with smooth passages as walking through the valley. There again the serenity is back and stronger, more defined, giving the air a quietness yet still making slow methodical movements of the foliage, and the singing pine trees are making their song heard.

The end of the path is coming soon, ending at an old part of the forest, nearly to the front door of an old cabin. There is rustling inside, someone is doing something. There is calm in the forest. The flowers and such are beginning to stop flowing with the wind, night is approaching again. This time it is coming fast and hours go by which seems minutes have passed. The door opens and a fragile old woman steps out. She begins her walk down the path and makes her way toward the water from the stream. She takes a bucket full and goes back into the cabin. The air is crisp and moving ever so slowly. She opens the door again and stands on the porch looking toward the stream, listening to the forest speak at night. There is so much to say from all that meanders here and there, or the nature sounds heard only at night.

Off in the distance, there is a bright flutter of wings seen and heard, it is quick in movement and stops just a few inches from the old woman. Fluttering in front of her and moving here and there, the fairy doesn’t say anything but knows the old woman has something for her. When went down to the stream she picked some special flowers found only in this forest. As if just for the fairies to feast on. The old woman held out the flower and the fairy immediately settled on it and started to eat little tidbits of the flower. It was fascinating to watch the fairy perched upon the flower and taking such specks of the flower to eat. She has been doing this for many years. And knew when the fairies were close. It was that surreal feeling as passing through the forest, those moments of noises heard at night, ever so lightly, but they are there.

The fairy quickly fluttered itself by the face of the old woman and lightly brushed its wings against the harsh skin of the woman. It was its way of thanking her for the meal. The sun was beginning to come up for another day. The fairy quickly and almost silently whisked its way through the forest, to her special place of hiding and sleeping. The old woman turned and went inside to do the same, sleep. The forest was busy with the sounds of daylight. Nature’s way of saying she was alive and gave the forest whatever it needed throughout the days, with flowers growing, greenery abounding, and life moving on as planned, from day to day.