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Invisible in Time

As a storyteller, there are many…shall we say, experiences, that feed the pen. This is written for Warrior Writers prompt 11, an idea I’ve wondered about, and if I were more invisible than persona non grata, and if I could, hehe, I’d go back to a very specific time, an experience, where magic from mind to hand on written page was conceived, and watch the dynamic that created the inspiration for Tink and Pan.

Shh…and I’ll share what invisible me sees and hears…

It was 1912, a typical cold, wet, dark gray, late November early evening in London. Maya had just sat down, strange leather bound book in hand, to spend an hour or two with five young boys she had befriended. Well, not really accidentally, on purpose. Maya remembered hearing of their mother’s birth back in Paris, a few years prior, in 1866, and had woven herself into their life across time, visiting them every now and then.

To a sienna brown aura light of various candles we, they and invisible me, heard Maya say, “I remember when I met your grandparents back in Paris, not so long ago in my mind.”

The five boys just then scrunched in tighter, gathered tightly together on pillows under a warm blanket, now that their attention was caught, the youngest, Nico, just turned nine in front of the others. The oldest, at nineteen, George, was just home visiting from his final year at Eaton, wrapping his arms around the other four.

The boy’s mother had died just two years earlier so anything about her was music, captivating music to their ears, instantly evoking images as they listened. Maya knew this. Their father had died a few earlier, their mother thereupon moving the boys to London.

“Back in Paris, your grandma was a friend to someone I knew, a very close friend. Your grandpa was a character. I remember when he showed these hilarious cartoons he drew and had all of us rolling with laughter. He had an incredible imagination.”

“The book,” said the fifteen year old Peter, anxiously, moving up and down, pointing to the magical looking leather bound book, if you could call it that, now in Maya’s lap, sidetracking Maya from the intro she wanted to lead with.

James, or “Jocelyn,” as Maya would tease him with from time to time for deeply sentimental reasons, the boy’s guardian, stood in the threshold entrance to living room, leaning against the wall in the half-dark, listening, watching, wondering how this woman, the friend of these boys’ mother, whom he had come to know through her occasional visits over the many years he had known these boys, this family, could have been alive back in their grandparents day. “Strange woman, these stories she’s made up, yet so cute, petite…” James’ thoughts were beginning to swirl as he tried to stay focused on the scene, Maya’s story, the boys’ captured imagination, playing out before him.

Maya smiled at each of the boys after Peter’s question, pausing, looking down at the leather with deep seemingly magical embossed patterns and symbols, and started opening the cover slowly, ever-so-softly so as to draw the boys in, saying, “Now this is a tale of magic…”

James stood in the dark listening to this. In his mind, this was nothing short of an elf, a pixie, weaving her storytelling magic about the wizard Merlin, acting as though she were reading from a magical book full of letters no one understood.

After the story Maya, George, and James put the boys to sleep, to the dreams of wizards and kings, after which Maya said goodbye and left. George went to bed shortly thereafter. James stayed up, by the light of now a single candle, sitting at his desk, and so I stayed, watching, invisible. I watched as James picked up his pen, seeming to be energized by the thoughts swirling around in his mind from watching this evening’s little guest, flirting in and out of these boys’ lives, animated Peter, and the dynamic between the boys, the play, and with a glisten in his eyes from the candlelight, started to write those thoughts on paper, thoughts of boys, of little pixies flirting in and out, of adventures, of magic.

Now, if you knew that Tink, Peter, the lost boys, pixies, Maya, and who knows who else (hint hint hehe) were all somehow related in a story across Time, wow, what an epic story to tell, or…better yet, be part of!

Half of the royalties from the sale of “Ten” the first part of “Time: A Trilogy,” will go to Summer Search, Seattle to help kids from low income families through high school and into college. Please consider getting “Ten” on Amazon, meet Max, Beth, Spencer, Maya, and Core, and enjoy a little fantasy about the building of the first testable computer-based awareness and the unintended consequences that follow.

Get “Ten” and become even more a part of this adventure!