Stay Forever (9 page)

Chapter VII

When Marco awoke the next morning he was excited about his plan.  He and Annabelle had stayed up into the early hours of the morning discussing the best way to proceed.  Though Marco had not been sure at first, upon meeting Beatrice, he was convinced his brother would fall in love with her.  Even he, Marco, who had had numerous women, and rarely felt anything but lust, had felt disarmed by her.  She was utterly perfect, but still not his type, she was not adventurous enough.  That was why he adored Annabelle, for she had fighting spirit, was adventurous and terribly daring.

The plan of action was to proceed thus.  At the Spring Pageant, which was held every year, and which all the members of the Royal Family were duly obliged to attend, Beatrice would make her entrance alone.  Annabelle would not be accompanying her, as it would arise suspicion, as Annabelle was a known courtesan.  However Annabelle had assured Marco that Beatrice was so new to the game, that the villagers would be entirely unaware of her profession.  She was to arrive, pure as the driven snow. 

During the pageant, Marco, by pretending interest in Beatrice, would bring her to where the Royal Family were seating and there he would leave her to do her magic.  She would ignore Marco, and begin to engage Ines.  Marco liked the idea, and not only that; he actually thought it would work.  He knew he had to do something to ensure that his younger brother would not take the throne away from him.

Once Ines was well and truly smitten by the young girl that would be when the plan would become truly devious, with Beatrice ensuring he stayed out late nights and neglected his palace duties.  Then finally, his parents would see him to be the spineless twat he really was, and Marco would be King.  Marco smiled to himself and jumped out of bed.

Chapter VIII

Ines sat alone in his room at his desk, stenciling, one of his favorite past-times. He gazed out of the windows watching the birds and their delicate flight, such beauty and grace.

He sadly thought of his elder brother Marco.  He could not understand why his brother detested him so.  It seemed that it had always been that way, ever since they were children.  They were only two years apart in age, and yet Marco had always treated Ines with such contempt.  For years Ines had tried to show Marco his adoration for him, yet lately he had stopped trying, for it hurt him to much to experience his brother’s constant rejection of him.  Ines had always admired his brother’s courageous spirit when they were children, and aspired to be like him, though when Marco had begun all his womanizing and wayward ways, Ines had seen that he no longer really wished to be like him, wasting his life away.  Especially with women.  Ines believed that women were magical, and to be respected and adored, not played with.  It is true, he had not yet found love, something that Marco constantly made fun of him for, but he saw their beauty and admired it from afar.  Ines did not want to go with a woman just for sex.  He wanted love, marriage and a family.  Marco said that that was nonsense, that that was the boring side of a woman, and that they should be enjoyed sexually as often as possible, but Ines could not see things that way.

So he past his time reading, and stenciling, and attending to the palace affairs as best he could.  He tried to not let the way Marco treated him, hurt his feelings any longer, but sometimes he just couldn’t help it, and he would come to his room and sit sadly by himself, wondering what fuelled his brother’s hatred of him so.

As Ines stared out of the window, he saw Marco sauntering up the palace courtyard, blowing a kiss to another of his courtesan’s.  Ines shook his head and looked back down at his stenciling.

Chapter IX

Annabelle and Beatrice sat together upstairs in Annabelle’s large, elaborately decorated bedroom.

“So be sure to be graceful.  You have a natural grace anyway my dear girl.” Said Annabelle, preparing Beatrice’s hair and lightly stroking her face.

The spring pageant would begin in a number of hours, and Beatrice could feel her stomach a bag of nerves.  She had seen Prince Ines, and found him to be a remarkably handsome man.  He looked kind also, and she had heard he was a great warrior.  She felt somewhat guilty about plotting against him with Marco, and in fact she could also be done for high treason, yet she had little choice.  It was either do as she was told, or face the stark reality of being homeless.  She drew in a deep breath and sighed, looking at her face in the mirror.

Chapter X

Prince Ines did indeed fall in love with Beatrice, yet Marco’s plan did not succeed.  For in all the hours of the days that the young Prince Ines spent with Beatrice, they did not stay out late, or party, or indeed engage in sexual activity.  For try as she might, Beatrice could not deter Prince Ines from the love for his people, despite the pressure from Marco on her to do so.

In truth perhaps Beatrice did not try so hard, for she found herself falling in love with Ines, and admiring him for his ways.

Many a restless night she spent tossing and turning, from fear of what was to happen to her if their plan was ever discovered.  She also knew that Ines loved her, but did not know how he would feel about her profession.  Yet she had remained pure, an unadulterated virgin.

In fact, it was Marco who told Ines the truth.  After months of frustration with his plan not working, and seeing the mutual love developing between Ines and Beatrice, he had told Ines that in fact Marco had hired Beatrice to seduce him.  He told Ines in rage and vengeance, purely to hurt him.

Ines had confronted Beatrice, who burst into tears, and admitted it was the truth.  They had talked late into the evening and she told him how it had begun.  Ines was shocked that she, a lady of such charm and grace was a prostitute.  She told him that she had had no choice, but that she had still remained pure, waiting for marriage. The relief on Ines’ face was evident, and at that moment he had got down on one knee and proposed to Beatrice.  She could not believe it, and said yes immediately.

Marco was sent away to the Navy, as the family had truly tired of his way ward ways.

And yes, Ines and Beatrice lived happily ever after.

FIND HER

Eva Corona

PUBLISHED BY:

Shakti

Copyright © 2012

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. 

____________________________________________

“I cannot find it.” Sighed Fatima.

“But we have not moved from here.” Kumara responded, her voice rising with concern as they rummaged around in the grass. 

Just then the sun moved out from behind a cloud and light rays glinted off the metal key.

“There it is!” exclaimed Fatima.

“Quick!!! We better get back” Kumara whispered and they set off through the woods.

Natural spring water, organic vegetables, and the only view are of lush green fields. Lying on the grass in the Wicklow Mountains she felt complete peace in her heart.  Kumara, Kamala, Eternia and Saraswati lay on the grass by the lake, braiding each other’s hair, and making pictures from the petals of the flowers they picked. They sung songs and danced.  Swimming in the lake they felt the serenity of the water cradling them.  Lifting their heads to the sky they swam and floated. They lived near a beautiful garden walk near a place called Victoria’s place.  It was owned by a man named Victor who said he was a hermaphrodite and so called it Victoria.  A vast expanse of nature opened the way, the rushing waters of the river gleefully sang eternal song.   A beautiful rainbow ran into the sun splashed pine trees which swayed before a brilliant turquoise backdrop.  Winds brought their deep scents of aromatic spice, and the happy chirping of birds and buzzing of insects filled air.

Beside the pond,  lotus flowers and soft green earth. The back of the vast expanse found two small sheds filled with Buddhist statues, exact replicas of Buddha yet also with humorous mobile phones and pints of Guinness.  The sculptures were of enormous size and beauty.  Victor himself was a kind man.  Another of the sheds was filled with jewelry and crystals and sculptures and stories of the Buddhist and Victor’s Way.  Kathleen, the girls mother was aging yet always full of jovial and enthusiastic spirits, and the girls loved to spend time with Victor. Kathleen kept busy making things for the girls,  soft flowing clothes and detailed jewelry.  The girls preferred playing in the field or swimming in the lake and reading and writing poetry.   The stories they told intrigued her, their beauty intrigued her and their laughter seemed to belong to a high heaven. Saraswati’s voice is like butterscotch dripping with honey, so smooth and soft.  Her features are delicate yet unusual.

The forests surrounding the lake and the house had beautiful paths and plants and birds and trees.  Flowers bloomed after the rain.  Kumara and Fatima would go for long walks and, they would sing, find a soft area in the woods and braid each other’s hair.  Finding the girls and the lake and the woods had been like stumbling across an enchanted forest with fairies for Fatima.  The music room would fill with transcendental blissful energy.   As Kamala sounded gentle notes on the triangle, Saraswati’s long blonde curls hiding her smiling face, closed eyes, as she struck the harp, her delicate fingers making the chords.  Etertnia’s melodic sounds from the piano.

There was a path in the forest that led down to an enchanted ground, circled with high oak trees.   Here the fairies and elves would meet.  At least they seemed like fairies and elves to Kumara and Fatima.  Truly however, they were the old towns folk of the Irish Wicklow Mountains.  They sat in circles and told each other fable.  Every Sunday there would be a specific talk and today an aged man was speaking on mystery.  “I think mystery means mystery,” whispered Fatima to Kumara. “Mystery can also induce the search for knowledge, without which it is argued, certain progress could not be made in metaphysics, those who search without first engaging with mystery are like people who don’t know where they need to be going; moreover they do not even know whether or not they have found what they are searching for. “  The old man paused and looked up the leaves glistening with dew drops.  He smiled and rested.” For the end of a search is not clear to such a person, yet is clear to the person who considered mystery.

The mystery, this makes us aware of the puzzle and therefore what we need to search for. Kumara and Fatima listened, captivated.  The old man went on. “ An intrinsically objective mystery has its source in the different way which things present them. Once the particular puzzles are identified, the road to search for the answer to them becomes opened. These are the ancient truths the great philsopher Aristotle claimed.“

The sweet mantle of heavenly compassion encloses.

The graceful gift giver descends and opens her arms of light.  Rays of colorful transcendent light stream forth, from her open heart which is warm and inviting.  She beckons you.

In tranquil realms above or below the sounds of water trickles.  Above or below.  Above or below. The moonlight shines at the same time as the sun.

The fragrance of flowers delicately perfume the air.  The magic of the ethereal realms.

Old alchemy transmuted base metal into pure gold.  To love is to serve, to serve is to love.  Love serving and serve loving.

Physical changes are more beautiful and rapid when there is love involved.

Love is the very air you breathe.  That is its abundance, it is a fortune you will never be able to spend.  A song of praise upon the lips of the perfect one.  Lips like a freshly cut fig.

The flower yearns for the sun.  Your neighbor needs love; Love is as abundant as the air you breathe.

Eternia and Saraswati sat beside the fire sewing.  Kumara came downstairs wearing a beautiful flowered dress.  She looked like a fairy from the magical kingdom of Tir Na Nogue.  Eternia looked up and squinted her eyes toward her younger sister.  “That is my dress.” She told Kumara.  Sternly.  “I thought I could borrow it.” Replied Kumara   “why do not you wear your own clothes?” asked Eternia.  “I do not mind you wearing my things.” Said Kumara.  “That has nothing to do with it.” Eternia got up and left the room.  Saraswati continued to sew by the fire, not saying anything.

It was the eve of Halloween night.  The girls carved the pumpkins.  The evil eyes flickered from the candle flames of those already finished lined along the windowsill.  Kathleen was making pumpkin soup.  The next day they were having a Halloween party and the girls and Kathleen were excitedly preparing for it.  When the pumpkins were done the girls made delicate paper and colored tissue decorations.  Saraswati was making a tape of music to play on the night.  The girls stayed up late into the evening chatting about their excitement of the guests that would be there.

When Fatima crawled into bed the next evening she was exhausted.  The party had been successful and fun though had finished late and taken a long time to clean up.  She had seen a beautiful boy there.  Someone who said that his name was Siddhartha.

Fatima sat by the lake under the light of the moon.  The whispering winds gently rustled the leaves.  Delicately and slowly she took off her clothes and started swimming out into the lake.  The water felt icy cold against her skin.  The ripples in the water seemed peaceful under the glistening moonlight.  As she swam out into the middle of the lake she heard the sound of a motor.  “Surely there are no boats out at this time.”
  She turned just as the boat swerved against the side of her head and she lost consciousness.  The driver had not seen her in the dark.

Drifting in and out of consciousness over the next few days she did not know who had found her and taken her home.  The girls and Kathleen tended to her, worried.

At the delicate break of dawn,

The sun silently rises,

Yet no birds sing

I woke to her soft touch

And felt her warm sweet breath

She led me to a tranquil lake

Among the whispering trees

And looked at me with those wild eyes

So dark

So deep

And while softly embraced by her caressing fingers

I listened to her sad sad sighs

I watched her tears slowly fall

And hearing her quiet enchanting voice

Did I drift away to sleep

Thinking I would never wake once more

Parvarti is the mountain goddess.  She is seen as the ideal wife and mother.  Through her love and devotion, she brings the spirit of Shiva down to earth. Shiva and shakti together personify the primal principles of the universe.  A thousand mirrors become the inner dwellings.  Every soul knows its own depth but does not always remember what it knows.  Pass beyond the death zone of ignorance.  Flowers in spring burst forth from the festival orgies of world renewal.Venus is the image of ideal beauty and powerful love.  Ishtar is light giving.  Radha is sexuality personified.  A tantric sensuality intended to link her worshippers with divinity.  Naked body of Aphrodite remains an embodiment of the boundless love.  We seek this love constantly.Goddess lived on earth until she rose to heaven on a rainbow.  Aphrodite and the swan. 

The beaches.  Fresh juices, sweet music.  Warm and salty sea.  Everybody free.  It is you listening to the melody.  Blissful is sleep. Treasured be all we see.  The stars shine,

The bus journey to the airport in Ireland spent two hours in a traffic jam.  Fatima looked out the bus window as the cars and vehicles stayed unmoving in the road.  There was a restless energy on the bus.  Fatima thought about how much she would miss the girls, and Kathleen.  She was not worried about missing her flight as she had left in plenty of time, so she decided to enjoy the journey.  She thought about her memories with the girls, the music and the lake.   She thought about how it would be again living back in Morocco.  She thought about her uncle Juan and what it would be like to see him again.  Slowly the traffic jam started moving and then it began to rain.  The passenger in the chair in front of her turned around and smiled wearily.  “I hope I catch my flight.“ The man in front of her turned around and grimaced.” I know “ he looked angrily at his watch.  “I should have been there half an hour ago.”

Fatima had stayed in Wicklow for three months before she decided she was ready to return to Juan.  She had lived and loved with the girls to her utmost hearts desire and enjoyed her time as a magical mystical memory, yet she missed Juan, her uncle.  She had enjoyed the peaceful starlit nights beside the lake, where her mind could rest in soft tranquility.

Being with Juan again made it seem as if she had never left Morocco.  Fatima sat beside Juan.  Before she begun to tell him of her journey he told her that when he was younger he had done many things trying to find happiness.  He felt happy about how much he had achieved and felt disillusioned by how little he had achieved.  As they looked out to sea the silence overpowered the air. He said that is the way it was.  Nothing you achieve will ever be enough because life is infinite.   The nature of the mind is to always want more.  That is what it does.

With a twinkle in his eye the old man said that the outside world is fun and exciting.  When you have peace in your heart, a piece of chocolate can send you to heaven.  When you have peace in your heart you do not need anything more.

When Fatima spoke of wanting to visit the places he spoke of he told her that the real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.

She saw the old English man standing near the bonfire and went over to him. He smiled.  “Imagine Fatima,” he said “More perfect than your wildest dreams.  Imagine galaxies and stars and universes of infinite wonder and beauty opening up to you.  Imagine everything just as you want it to be.”  He stopped and paused and stamped his feet on the floor.  He stood up and started waving his arms in dramatic gestures. “Imagine! Imagine…. imagine.” He stared at her with his old blue crinkled eyes and then shouted. “Stop! It has already been imagined better than that!”

“To Follow the Way Fatima, is not to need fulfillment. “

The whispering wind blows on a hot dusty day.  Sweeping up the beach of Essaouira the winds are warm.  The child young innocent eyes of a fourteen-year-old Moroccan girl look out to the mounting waves of the Atlantic sea. Turquoise sea meeting the blue receiving sky. The golden sunlight was bright and warming.   A kaleidoscope of colors glinted from the arcing rainbow left by the misty mountain rainfall.

That night was the festival de Los Santos.  It was the biggest party in the town of the year.

The festival was alive with people dancing and playing drums and different instruments.  Smoke wafted through the air from bonfires and various pipes being smoked.  There were people from all ages, children happily smiling and old people dancing with their walking sticks.  They looked up at the firework display.  Streams of orange pink and dazzling white light burst forth with a thundering pounding.  The colors were magical.