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“Wait a minute, you’re telling me that you’re a Parcel Delivery company, and you don’t have a map? You deliver parcels and you don’t have a map, you don’t have the internet, and your delivery man doesn’t have a phone?”

Bea was beginning to sound exasperated, Leonora thought. Must be the parcel people. “Parcel people?” she asked. “ A mobile phone wouldn’t be any use here anyway, Bea” she added “There’s no network cover.”

“My address?” Bea said into the telephone in an increasingly desperate voice. “Three people have called asking for my address” Bea took a deep breath and tried to change her energy. “My address is The House Down The Road Behind The Black Horse Bar” Bea paused for breath and continued “Through The Green Gates which are Behind The Fountain And Next To The Palm Tree. Tomorrow? You were supposed to come today! You were supposed to come yesterday as a matter of fact so I stayed home all day…”

“You weren’t going out anywhere anyway, Bea” Leo said mildly.

“Well I won’t be here tomorrow, can you just leave the parcel at the post office? What? Of course they’ll know who it’s for, it’ll have my bloody name and address on it! What? No, I don’t know what street the post office is on, haven’t you got a map? No? Well Google it! You’re kidding. You’re a parcel delivery company! What’s your name, by the way?”

“Well would you believe it, she hung up on me!”

“How wonderfully Spanish” said Leonora. “Remember the last parcel people? Wouldn’t deliver to houses without a number. So if I go out and paint a number, let’s say 57, on my gate, you’ll deliver the parcel, I said to them, and they said, well yes I suppose so, so I did. I went out to the shed and grabbed the first paint…”

“That swimming pool blue”

“…yeah bit bright isn’t it, that blue paint and I painted the number on it, and the neighbours came out and asked what I was doing…”

“They delivered the parcel though, didn’t they Leo”

“They did. There’s a knack to dealing with parcel people.”

Bea was quiet for a few minutes and then asked “What’s that then?”

“What’s what?” asked Leonora.

“What’s the knack? How do you get parcel people to deliver?”

Leo laughed and said she didn’t really know. “Change your energy, make a game of it, see what happens.”

Just then the phone rang. Bea answered it.

“Well how about that” said Bea, hanging up the phone a few moments later. “That was the parcel delivery man. He’s on his way now.”

Five or six hours later, just after the parcel delivery man had finally arrived, Bea beamed as she opened the brown cardboard parcel.

“I’ve been dying to read this, it’s the sequel to T’Eggy Gets a Good Rogering. I ordered two copies, I thought Baked Bean Barb might want one too, you know, as a bit of a thank you for the book she’s bringing round for us.”

Leo said “You what!” and rolled her eyes. “Really Bea, couldn’t you have chosen something better than that?”

“Define ‘better’, Miss Prim Prunes” retorted Bea. She was too happy about the books arrival to mind Leo’s remarks. Then she shouted “OH MY GOD! They’ve sent the wrong books!” so loudly that Leo jumped.

“Good grief!” exclaimed Leonora, taking a closer look. “Circle of Eights! But that’s the book that Baked Bean Barb found on the rubbish tip, the book she’s bringing round for us!”

“I don’t believe it!” Bea whispered, awed by the bizarre coincidence. “That’s the book with us in it.”

“What a hoot!” said Leo.

“Oh My God” exclaimed Bea. “I had a dream about the DOOR!”

“Oh, well done! The question is, did you remember it?” asked Leonora.

“As a matter of fact, Leo, I did!” replied Bea with a happy smile. “As a matter of fact, although I’m not too sure how factual matter really is, but anyway, I did remember the dream, and I wrote it all down.”

“Gosh, up early this morning, weren’t you?” asked Leo, who was sipping coffee at the kitchen table and watching the sun come up over the mountains through the open door.

“Oh I didn’t write it down this morning, silly! I wrote it all down last week.”

Leo placed her cup on the table and rubbed her eyes, frowning. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight…..”

Bea laughed ~ she was in rather a jolly mood, despite the early hour. “I had the dream last week, Leo, but I only just realized this morning that the dream was about THE DOOR”

“So what did you learn about the door, then?”

Bea frowned. “Well I’m not really sure. But it seemed so significant because it was that scary door, you know, the dreams I’ve been having for years about that door in that bedroom that’s too scary to get near, never mind go through….would you like to read it? Maybe you can interpret it for me.”

“If I must” sighed Leonora “You better pour me another cup of coffee then and pass me those cigarettes.”

Leonora read from Bea’s Dream Journal:

I was sorting winter clothes out on an upstairs landing of a cottagey gabled house,
and decided to use the upstairs bedroom instead of the downstairs one.
The bedroom was a recurring dream one, gabled attic with dormer windows kind of room.
Then I saw the door and remembered this was the door I was always too terrified
in dreams to open; it was so scary that I always wanted to use this bedroom
but never could because of that terrifying door and whatever lay beyond it.

“Didn’t you do a waking dream and go through that door?” Leonora asked. “Oh, yes here is is…”

Remembering that I had done a waking dream and gone beyond the door once,
I marched up to the door, flung it open and strode through.
Suddenly an almost overpowering fear and dread stopped me in my tracks
but I carried on anyway.

“Oh, bloody well done, Bea! Good for you, girl!” Leonora could be a bit waspish at times, but she was a kind old soul underneath.

 It was a bit like a old slightly shabby but once grand hotel foyer, high ceilings
(not the same as when I went through in the waking dream, which was then rows
of closed doors on either side).  The foyer opened out on the left into a large old
fashioned restaurant dining room, with one person over on the far side sitting at
a table.  I carried on straight ahead through opaque etched glass double doors
onto an upstairs outdoor terrace.  There was a city scene below.  On the left
was a shallow ornately shaped ornamental pool.

“Reminds me a bit of our trip to Barcelona, this does, eh” Leo commented.

“Yeah, I’m sure that had something to do with the gargoyle imagery” replied Bea.

A woman squeezed past me holding a small thick book and I knew she was
going to jump off the terrace which was several storeys up.  She collapsed into
the pool, writhing backwards, baring a flat white breast and dropping the book.

“Flat breast, hahah Bea, that weren’t you then, obviously, was it!”

Bea chuckled. “Not bloody likely! I reckon that bit slipped in the dream because I can’t find a comfortable bra lately”

“You and me both” replied Leo. She continued reading from the journal.

I picked up the book, and somehow ended up with two books, which seemed like guide books. I couldn’t hold onto the two books with the creature in my hand, which was weird, like a very heavy small furry grey reptile, or gargoyle.

“Maybe it was a baby dragon?”

“Don’t say that!” retorted Bea, who had a horror of dragons. “The thought did cross my mind too, though” she admitted.

I was holding it with one hand round its middle and the fat grey belly of it
was bulging out under my fingers.  It was unbelievably heavy for such a small creature
and I didn't want to hold it, so I passed it to a boy. (Twice I was holding the creature,
and twice I passed it to the boy, but I can't recall the other time)

Back inside the building, I followed the boy down a big wide staircase that
curved round to the right at a landing below.  I started to fall down the stairs and
knew it was because of the book that I was holding that the woman had been holding
when she collapsed into the pool, so I threw the book down the stairs to save myself,
and felt the tumbling down from the books perspective, although I stayed in
the same place, clutching the banister.

“Well I am amazed that you remembered so much, Bea! Going through the doors and finding the books reminds me of Jane’s Library you know”. Leo was starting to go into an altered state.

“Are you going into an altered state, Leo?” asked Bea. “Are you channeling Juani Ramirez again?”

“The creature, the gargoyle, was representing ‘a different species of awareness, of consciousness’” continued Leonora, as Bea hastily started taking notes. Leo wouldn’t remember what she’d said while she was channeling Juani, so it was essential that Bea record what was said.

“The weight was a marker to help you recall the creature, as well as being symbolic of denseness”

Bea couldn’t help making a snirking noise. Dense eh, she said under her breath.

“The door” continued Leonora “Is a signpost, a marker.”

Just then the phone rang, snapping Leonora out of the trance. Bea picked up the telephone, but there was nobody there.

“Pffft” said Bea.

“More coffee?”

It had been a week now. Georges had fully taken his role as Shu-Lom, the eleventh Gate in the Council of the Guardians. His mergence with the actual focus of Blöhmul was fading out ; the transition had been smooth, unnoticed by most of the Guardians, even his closest friends. Georges was careful not to display any unusual change in Shu-Lom’s attitude, though some of them were showing signs of suspicion, especially… his own focus, Sinadron who was the most susceptible to be aware of the difference. Georges had been avoiding him since his arrival, but he would eventually have to face him for one of the rituals soon to begin.
Of the eleventh other Guardians, only 2 were considering him as a friend, Doh’Maar and Vogel. Most of the others were ignoring him during the sessions and Sinadron were despising him. Well, technically he was despising Shu-Lom and the change would not make things go easier between the 2 of them as the energy of their 2 focuses were sort of repulsing each other.
Following Shu-Lom’s habits, he was heading to the public baths, but contrary to him, he was going during daylight. He needed some answers. He had been feeling strong tensions between the Gates, and there were also underlying feeling of discontentment and anger among the other Guardians. For the first time in their history, unknown groups of their kind were attacking the other races and provoking them and generating feelings of fear, even amongst the Guardians.
The man he was following would give him some of the answers. He would have to befriend him first though. Noraam had a smooth energy, and he would be easy to approach, especially in the dampness of the baths.

Noraam was wearing an grey cape, attached on his shoulders with carved fibulae. His robe was short, above his knees, and rather dark. He was quite young by the standards of the Guardians and still fiery. Shu-Lom was young too, about the same age as Noraam, but he was quite pessimistic and self-effacing, and especially he wanted to leave, that he did, and Georges took his place.
Georges suddenly felt a familiar energy, one that he would recognize anywhere, anytime. Salome… rather another focus of her essence. Hahaha, that was a surprise, and he almost lost track of what he was doing. Noraam was already taking the stairs up to the baths. Something about the energy of that focus was attractive, he still didn’t know who it was or what he/she(?) was doing here. Maybe just a projection. He didn’t have time to investigate. Heading to the stairs where Noraam was already being dematerialized and rematerialized to the first level, he heard a child’s voice.

Can you help me?.. I know you can.

What again, another distraction… he would be late to the baths and maybe loose the occasion to speak with the other Gate.

Looking down at the origin of the voice, he was surprised to see a little girl, red hair and amber eyes. As he could see, she was blind, but as he could feel, she was quite capable of seeing things.

Do I know you, little one? He had not been aware of this child in Shu-Lom’s memories, and he was wondering if he had missed something during his encounters with the original.

You dreamt of me the other night, but you weren’t here yet.

Her last words triggered a memory, of him carrying a naked little girl in his arms, protecting her in a way, and he was following a man in his dream, trying to keep track… in his dream, he was rushing and almost lost the child, following also Salome who had already taken the stairs… yes he was here in his dreams, the place and the stairs were the same… as was the child.

What is your name little one? In my dream you were followed by an owl…
You can call me Ar’Meel.

Sam thought he could write it somewhat differently. With his understanding of Georges’ abilities, he could well have split in two and followed Salome and stayed with the girl simultaneously and maybe even Noraam.
A smile.
He was feeling wobbly and wavy. A ripple effect?
It seemed that there had been a strange recognition between his character and himself. It was like Georges was aware of Sam wanting to change what had happened… or was it a suggestion of Georges?

As Georges entered the cave, Malvina was aware of numerous smells around his body. Some of which were not of this world. These smells were reassuring and making her feel comfortable and secure. She could have stayed like that forever. She smiled.
— Welcome my friend. From what I can sense of your energy you have something urgent to tell me.
— I can not conceal anything from you old friend, as we can not conceal ourselves from the outer world. There are people around here and they are moving closer to our cave. We are at the outskirts of the Marshes of Doom as you are aware, and this era is a trouble one… Some warring Lords are expanding their kingdoms and I fear there is a unit of the army of one of them approaching dangerously. I do not fear for myself but if we stay too long they would find us.

Malvina sighed silently.

— Something has to happen before we leave. It is soon accomplished but we can’t move before that or we will loose Irtak and the twins. That is one of the reason why we came here first. We are moving again soon but not now.

It had been real hard since Momma and Poppa weren’t around no more. Twilight was four when they got shot dead, and she could hardly remember their faces now. Sometimes she had memories come to mind, this real pretty woman, brushing her hair at night. One hundred strokes, she would say, make your hair real pretty. It made her feel sad because she wished it were true.

Her brother Jo, he was only ten when they got killed. He was the one found them. They’d been shot. Jo, he took it real hard. Sometimes he’d get this far away and sad look and Twilight knew he was remembering. She wanted to hug him, but he’d be all shut off.

Anyways it was real hard to keep the ranch going after that. Her brother Elroy, he was the oldest. He was fifteen when Momma and Poppa died. So he took on being the man of the house. Sometimes he would try and boss Jo and her round, and Twilight would give him a real hard time. She was just jesting though, she knew he was just doing his best to keep the El Disperso Ranch running and she was real proud of him.

It was real hard though. Winter had been hard. They all were fearing they might have to sell the blue bull just to keep the wolves from the door next winter. Elroy, he was right pig headed though about that bull. Jo would say to Elroy “we have to sell that bull, Elroy” and Elroy would get mad and say “no ways we selling that bull Jo”. One day they nearly came to blows over that bull.

It was the only time Twilight seen Elroy get real mad with Jo. They were real close those two. They were all close really. They had to keep together when Momma and Poppa died. Uncle Bart turned up at the news of their folks dying, wanted to take the ranch, but Elroy , well he got Poppa’s rifle and chased Uncle Bart away. Elroy said he would have shot Uncle Bart had he tried any harder to take the ranch. Twilight would look in his eyes when he told the story and she knew he weren’t jesting. A few others tried to interfere also. Somehow they all stayed together and kept the ranch.

Elroy won that blue bull. It was real rare and very fine and people would pay plenty for a bull like that bull. Elroy said he won it anyhow. He turned up with it one day, and he was real quiet. Twilight saw him whispering to Jo, and Jo looked real concerned. She thought it best not to ask too many questions and so she kept what she seen to herself. But she couldn’t help but be wondering.

Twilight wanted to help take the load off her brothers so she got herself a job dancing in the saloon in town. She liked to call it performing though. Sounded more high class. She watched the other dancers till she taught herself to do it. She would hide in the saloon and watch them. That was one good thing about not having a Momma and a Poppa. She could pretty well do what she wanted. She liked dancing and she knew she were real good at it and pretty soon she was the dancer everyone wanted to see. She’d rather have a Momma and Poppa though, truth be told.

One of the other girls, Anna, she was real pretty too, got jealous and tried to get Twilight kicked out, said she was too young to be dancing . Anyhow Anna had a soft spot for Jo and so he soon sweet talked her round. Jo and Elroy were real good looking boys, and plenty of girls liked them so Twilight was pretty lucky to have them look out for her. ( Elroy said she should wear a blond wig for her dancing, like a disguise, and Twilight thought this was real funny. But she wore it anyway.) Anna got pregnant, and she said Jo was the daddy, but everyone in town knew she slept with plenty of fellows, and Jo weren’t having a bar of it. Anna got real fat with the baby and had to stop dancing and now she lived with some old fellow who was always drunk and would eye up Twilight when she was dancing. Sometimes Twilight would tease Jo about the baby and call him “daddio” and he would get real mad with her. But could be his, that’s the truth. Poor little baby but she were glad Jo weren’t stuck with that Anna.

Twilight knew the men looked at her. She knew what they were thinking and she didn’t mind. She weren’t no fool though. She had plans. She was going to be somebody, not laid up with some damn sprog like that Anna. Some of the money she earned she’d give to Elroy, some of it she put in a tin can she kept hidden.

Last night some fellow from out of town came in. A sheriff. She heard the girls whispering and giggling about him. Sheriff Ted Marshall was his name. He was real fine looking and all the girls were in a flutter hoping he would look at them. Twilight wondered what he was doing in town. She hoped it were nothing to do with that bull of Elroys.

Jose Maria stood sadly in front of the plate glass window. He avoided looking in mirrors, tried to forget his disfiguring scars, but occasionally he caught sight of his reflection in a window, and it always came as a shock. He avoided leaving the finca as much as possible, but had felt obliged to visit his frail and aged mother in the Residencia old folks home. His uncle Juan had come trundling up the dirt track to the farm in his clapped out old Citroen van, with the news that Josefina was expected to die within the week, and Jose Maria had agreed to make the trip into town.

A pointless trip really, Josefina hadn’t recognized him, had called him Sally at first, and tried to kiss him; and then later she’d shrunk from him in fear, calling him Pierre.

*****
Three days later Josefina was dead. Jose was required to make another trip into town, much to his dismay, to the funeral. He stood quietly at the back during the ceremony, next to his cousin Paquita, who was attempting to hide a bad case of acne behind her long black hair. Jose Maria smiled at her kindly, and she smiled gratefully back.

Paquita and Jose stayed close to each other for the rest of the day, and Paquita’s family invited Jose to spend the night at their apartment in town. Jose hesitated, but when he noticed Paqui’s hopeful expression, he relented and accepted courteously.

Long after the rest of the family had gone to bed, Jose and Paqui sat on the balcony overlooking the industrial estate and the superstores, in companiable silence. Jose’s scars, and Paquita’s acne no longer visible in the darkness, they had both relaxed, and wondered vaguely why they’d never really noticed each other before.

Paqui broke the silence. Well, you’ll have no worries now about money, Joselito.

What do you mean? asked Jose.

Well, Josefina won the lottery, and you’re her only child, Jose, it will all be yours.

Jose’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. Lottery? Oh you must be mistaken, my mother doesn’t have any money. WHAT lottery win?

Illi was quite pleased with the sand dragons.

HHHMMM, they don’t repulse me like dragons usually do. I think it’s because they are sand dragons, and sand is so much nicer than slimy cold scales. Well! Illi thought, I really wouldn’t know if they are slimy or cold, because, for the love of all-that-is, I would not choose to venture that close!

Illi chose to ignore her rather paradoxical musings on loving all that is, which would by definition include the beastly dragons, and turned her attention to the sand giant slouching patiently at the end of the beach.

Now giants, that’s another thing entirely. I am quite enamoured of giants, and this one looks so familiar!

Illi leaned back against the sand dragons bulky body and closed her eyes, reminiscing about her early years as Illi Fergusson, and her eccentric family.

When Illi was a young child she rarely saw her parents, the eccentric Lord Gustard Willoughby Fergusson and his charmingly batty second wife, Floribunda Chaiise-Loriket. Illi stayed at home in the anscestral country pile in Dorset, Rubbingdon Hall, with Nanny Chraddock while her parents travelled the world in search of giant bones and artifacts. Their travels took them far and wide, from the jungles of South America to the deserts of North Africa; from the mountains of Spain to the arid eternity of the Australian outback.

Illi used to play a game with Cranky (as she affectionately called nanny Chraddock) in the long months while her parents were away, called Wish House. Every room in the sprawling Elizabethan house was a different time and place, and the moment they entered the room they imagined themselves to be different people, in other times. Petunia Duster the maid loved to join in too; consequently not alot of housework got done, but with Gus and Flora always off travelling, nobody minded. Playing was, after all, so much more important than dust. In fact, a thick layer of dust made the rooms all the more mysterious and magical.

Arona eventually woke from her sleep, still tangled in the images from her dreams. Unable to remember these images she was left feeling as though she were adrift in a boat on the ocean, not caring where the wind and waves may take her.

She had no feeling that morning. It was as though a door had closed in her mind, shutting out the part that could feel. She did not know, nor care, whether she was shutting out joy or sorrow, only that some part of her wanted to be alone.

She remembered the words of the older woman who had sat with her and soothed her to sleep. Or was she already asleep? Was the woman a dream?

Use your magic, she had said.

When she was young, in the Village, magic had come easily to Arona. When did it end?. She screwed up her eyes trying to concentrate. It hadn’t ended all at once. Did it start to end with the cloak her parents had given her?

Arona shook her head briskly and thoughts, like leaves in the wind, lifted and fell back to earth again in new formations.

The candle still burned brightly and her attention was drawn to the heavy wooden door, knowing she could not put it off any longer. In her bag of treasures was a key. It had been given to her at the beginning of her 21 ^st year, as was custom in the Village. It was no surprise to her that it fitted the lock perfectly.

Thank you for having me room, she said as she left.

No, thank YOU, replied the sleepy glukenitch.

The door led directly into another space, larger, brighter. She could sense someone there, but not in solid form. It was a beautiful woman who Arona felt an immediate affinity with, and then a strange sadness came unbidden.

Why sad?

I have no clue answered Arona briskly, quickly shutting the door back on these pesky emotions.

You always know, just feel it

So Arona closed her eyes tightly and allowed herself to feel the answer.

Because you know who you are, and it made me realise I have no idea who I am.

Mmmmmmm, said the woman, maybe you would care to look at my new paintings. Actually they are some of yours.

Intrigued, Arona felt this would be a suitable distraction and she looked with much interest.

The first painting was of a child, in a beautiful meadow of flowers. The child appeared to be completely absorbed, concentrating on a small blue butterfly which had lighted on her finger.
The picture itself moved and changed shape as though it were a portal to another living, breathing world. In the corner of the picture were some other children who seemed to be playing happily together.

Arona, who had felt immediately connected with the young child frowned.

Doesn’t the little girl feel left out?

Go in, said the woman, Go inside the picture and feel the answer.

Oh, and you might want to leave your cloak behind.

So Arona did, and she became the child, but also stayed herself, observing the scene. She felt the child’s happy fascination in her connection with the butterfly. Not just the butterfly. She could feel her connected with the earth, and the gentle breezes and the beautiful flowers … The child was deeply contented, absorbed in the moment, moving happily with the flow of her interest.
I remember feeling like that, thought Arona, before the magic went.
She gently drew the child’s attention to the other children and felt the flow of energy between them. The child was so sure of who she was and where she wanted to be, and Arona could feel the loving acceptance of her playmates.
As the child’s attention went to the others, one of the children looked up and came running over. They sat together and laughed at some funny rabbits which had appeared in the meadow.

Arona returned to the cave.

You look troubled

Well, Arona felt a little perplexed. It’s all very well playing with butterflies and rabbits in a meadow, but it is not terribly practical.

On the contrary, perhaps it is very practical. Would you like to see another of your paintings?

Suspended gracefully between two posts was a beautiful, glistening spider web. Little drops of rain hung like jewels on a chain. An enormous spider waited patiently in the shadows. As Arona watched a small insect happened at that moment to be caught, and the spider began to creep along the delicate lines.

Arona shuddered a little. I might not jump into that one .

The woman laughed, Use your magic Arona. Weave your magic web and let it all come to you.

Oh you are the second person to tell me to use my magic. An old lady came to me in my dreams, I think.

Well I gave her the same advice, years ago.

More damn riddles, Arona thought to herself, and the woman laughed.

One final painting of yours I would like to show you. It is beautiful is it not?

Arona stared mesmerised for a moment, and then leapt right in.

She sat among an audience, captivated by the dancers on the stage ahead. Beautiful music played and it reminded Arona of the music she had heard earlier. The dancers leapt and twirled and Arona was enraptured.

Dance Arona, she heard the woman’s voice

I can’t dance like that, I’m not good enough.

It doesn’t matter

And Arona could not hold back any longer and entered the body of one of the dancers. She did not know the dance so she made up her own steps, and strangely this seemed to fit perfectly with the other dancers.

Back in the cave the woman seemed to be listening to something Arona did not think she could hear.

Things are shifting she said

Oh lordy, are they said Arona, What should I do now?

Feel the answer

Arona felt. I am very hungry, eggceptionally so.