Seti’s Chronicles - A Rendezvous in the Woods

Excerpt from Work in Progress: Seti's Chronicles - Surviving 2012

The shower renewed me and now I walked the unfamiliar streets moist with sea mists blown in on ocean breezes.  It was a gentle persistent wind and seemed to whisper encouragement as I made my way to the meeting. 

The lavender card in my hand felt warm to my touch and glowed its tiny map with directions that were short if somewhat vague.  I took the turn on the old dirt road and made my way to its end.  I knew the ocean was out there somewhere; I could smell it.  I stopped at the weathered gate that seemed to lead nowhere.  There was no house, just a stone wall guarding an overgrown lot with a battered rusty gate at its center. 

I can't look back.  There is and will ever be only now, and now and then as mists part, I catch glimpses into future realms and rooms, but those rooms are veiled in mist just now, ephemeral.  I want to know what waits; there’s a sense of destiny.  There is only now and that in the field is enough.

I knew all about Cayce's life and what he predicted about the coming Fall.  Other research turned up an assortment of people who believed some day the poles would shift.  I wanted more and this was just more research, a source of more information in that pre-internet world. 

My thoughts rambled.  What was I doing – a woman walking alone in the woods in a strange town at night.  Was I being naive or just stupid.  The gate moved easily and soundlessly and yet I sensed that ears perked at its opening and closing and yellow languid eyes watched from a nearby tree "Whooo, Whooo?"

"Who indeed?"  I spoke to the eyes in the tree, after my initial fright.  "Just me, Seti, and don't ask why? why?  I'm not quite sure myself, Old One."  The owl suddenly took flight and winged away up the small rise ahead.

“Nice to have wings,” I said to his disappearing form as I plodded on up the winding trail.  Following it down dips and over springs and finally to a small lake.  Here the path split left and right.  "Which way?" I addressed the lake having no one else to ask. 

The lake was silent and still, but for the rill of waves from the gentle wind.  "All right, which way Wind?"  I smiled inwardly, planting my feet firmly and wide with arms akimbo.  The smile fled as a sudden gust of wind hit my left side with a force that would have sent her sprawling but for my stance.

"Okay, right.  Thank you," I offered up with a little more respect.  My hair blew wildly around my head, my cloak flapped and wrapped around me and then lay still as the wind fled to the tops of the trees and all around me was calm again.  I plodded on, reflecting on what had just happened, and glanced up at the stirring branches high in the trees and this time along with my warmest thoughts I said, "Thank you for your guidance; I do appreciate your help."

The wind came down from the treetops and gently blew my black mane to merge with black cloak.  Somehow, I could not explain it but I felt safe and accompanied now, as if a friend had joined me on this dark ramble and none would harm me, none would dare.  The moment I accepted that, my feet upon the path felt just right.

Almost a half hour later I came to a copse of huge old Oaks.  The path wended this way and that through their midst and finally I was through to the other side.  I stood on a large green lawn.  The path now large flat stones lead to a large house.   Actually, it looked more like a minor castle, out of place in the this coastal U.S. town.  Somehow I knew it belonged here in this place, at the end of this my path, and so did I. 

© Perle Champion

Seti's Chronicles - ARE 1988 First Contact

Seti’s Chronicles – 1988
Excerpt from Work in Progress: Seti's Chronicles - Surviving 2012

The ARE (Association for Research & Enlightenment) was open to everyone who wanted to read Edgar Cayce's prophecies, and buy books in the bookstore. I went to Virginia Beach ostensibly for some sun, but spent most days in the library poring over the archives, making copies and copious notes, buying books to take back with me. At night I’d read by a small lamp on the balcony of the small cottage I had rented overlooking the sea.

I was driven and oblivious to everything and everyone around me until one day. A day, forever etched in mind's memory. I felt the stare of someone across the room, and as one compelled, I looked to find its source. She stood just inside the reading room door- small and lean and tan with tawny hair. I met dark eyes and sensed in them and in her mind a question.

She nodded and smiled and I was practically assaulted by her thoughts of "I knew it! I come!" The other crossed the room and stood before me and sat and spoke low, "You're one of us, aren't you?"

"One of who? And, who is 'us', and who are you?"

Flashing teeth and pink gums issued silver-bell laughter that raised heads throughout the quiet room. I liked her there and then in spite of my irritation.

"I am Kiri and I'm a believer and a Witch and I think you are too."

"Oh, what makes you think so?"

Kiri leaned forward, and in a voice turned conspirator whispered, "I'm 'psi'. I read people and things and you do, too. You heard me and answered me, mind to mind. We're having a meeting tonight; please come."

"What kind of meeting? A coven? Thanks, but no thanks. I'm a solitary and I like it that way."

Again the bells of laughter spilled forth, but softer now. She was not offended. "Together we can plan and maybe some will survive the coming Storm."

"Storm? I don't understand."

"That's what we call it. You are researching Cayce's archives and predictions, aren't you? You’re reading John Warren’s book on Pole Shift."

"Yes, I am and I'll thank you to stay out of my mind uninvited. It's an unethical invasion of my privacy, and I don't like it."

No laughter now. Somber eyes met mine. "I don't pry unbidden. You practically broadcast everything you're thinking. I can simply pluck them from the ether as they come forth. You really must learn to put a shield up. We do have spies. We call them watchers. Those who believe in the prophesies usually come to the source. When a new seeker is reported, we seek him or her out, and see if they'll join us."

"Again with us. Who is this ‘us’?"

"Look, here's a card, it'll get you in tonight. We can't really talk here. Please come and then you can decide to stay or go, join or don't join. We mean no harm, but we mean to survive the coming Storm and that takes preparation" With that she rose, handed me a folded lavender business card and walked away. It read, Stormy Weather Enterprises.

I’d been a solitary practitioner since childhood, following the old ways, honoring the mother, the earth, and her seasons. I cast my own circles, walked the spiral path, and followed the only creed necessary, "And harm to none, do as you will." I had to think. I threw everything in the Mustang’s trunk and headed to the beach to walk along the strand. The ebb and flow of it’s primordial soup and my pulse became one.

I walked until twilight, then pulled the card from my jeans as I walked back to the car.

© Perle Champion
Next: Rendezvous in the Woods.

Seti's Chronicles 2012 – Seti, Sister to Glinda.

Excerpt from Work in Progress: Seti's Chronicles - Surviving 2012

Before I could recover, a woman ran up to me and thrust her 3-year-old child into my arms shouting above the mayhem, "You're one of them; you’re one of the Witches; you'll survive; take her, keep her safe."  Then she fled in tears looking back only once to shout.  "Her name is Constance.  Tell her, her mother was Darea and loved her enough to leave her with you. 

Stunned and momentarily rooted to the ground, I watched the woman run into the chaos that was the street.  I shook it off and turned to Kiri as the next shock hit.  The Earth began to shake more violently; the buildings across the street swayed sickeningly and their once sturdy walls became a terrible rain of shattered glass and hail of bricks on those below. 

Holding a whimpering child I, along with and Kiri, found ourselves suddenly sitting and grasping some still green blades of grass to steady us upon the buckling ground.  I voiced what we both knew.  "It has begun in earnest now, and time is dear.  We have to move fast."  The shaking stopped as if on cue, and Earth's roar was replaced by panicked humanity.  "This is just a dress rehearsal, Kiri.  We haven't a moment to lose."

Darea had watched the witches often as they came and went.  She followed them hoping to find out where they went.  The one called Seti always had a kind word, a smile and a wink for Constance that caused the child to giggle as she tried to wink back by closing her big blue eyes tight shut then opening them wide again. 

Seti felt the woman’s, thoughts in the distance as she watched and waited to flee into some subterranean subway shelter, but not until she saw the two witches disappear with her precious girl. Yes, the witch would take care of her little Connie, and now she could live or die knowing her baby was safe.

I shook myself to awareness, smiled at the now quiet child winked at her and said "So be it."  Meeting Kiri eye to eye and mind to mind, we disapperated, and I felt Darea’s satisfied smile.

In moments we stood in the stone hall of the School.  I shook the fog of psi-travel from my head and gazed down at the red-haired child in my arms. "You don't seem the least bit afraid.  You'll be safe here."  Seti had imprinted the mothers mind on her own, so she could find her later.  The brief mind touch told her the woman could and possibly would survive the Fall.  "Time enough for that later,"  she muttered to no one in particular.

Setting the child down, she promptly grasped and held on to my hem.  The childish thought reached us both before the voice could speak, "I'm Constance; mommy said you're Glinda's sister and will take care of me like Dorothy."

"Glinda?"  "Oh, Dorothy's good witch of the North.  Yes," she reassured the child, "you could say I'm Glinda's sister.  We are all Glinda's sisters here.  Mind, and go with sister Alece now.  She handed the child off to the keeper of the youngest children.  Constance's lips pursed to protest, but the look in Seti's eyes warned against it and the warmth flooding into her from Alece's touch invited her and promised good things.  She went quietly looking over her shoulder at me surrounded by her sisters and already giving orders. 

Thoughts had already been flying at light speed, broadcast to all in the room and those far beyond it’s walls.  "Those who aren’t at their appointed places; go NOW.  Join minds and forces and do what must be done to save what can be saved.  HOLD! Hold fast until you receive the all clear, of perish.  The Fall is upon us." 

Many died, many more did not.  That was 10 days ago.   but it really began in 1985, when I was 17, self centered and totally unaware of what was in store fore me.

That girl, that Seti, this is her story and the story leading up to the Fall.

 

© Perle Champion

Next: The ARE, Virginia Beach.

Seti's Chronicles 2012 – Touch and Go.

Excerpt from Work in Progress: Seti's Chronicles - Surviving 2012


It’s still touch and go, we couldn’t and still can’t save everyone. To try would doom us all. Now the work begins. Little by little, we have to go out into what remains of our world; make contact and piece by piece reassemble society. The old refrain is true, united we stand, divided we fall. Will I live to see it done? Perhaps, some. My calling was scribe, and now we’ve come through the most perilous part of this journey, I can resume that mantle.


Where do I begin, for begin I must, to put our story in some order for the future, for our children, for posterity. I want them to know what it took to bring us through the Fall to here.


The ‘Fall’, so simple a word for that day – so trite. That crisp crystal afternoon just ten days ago stands out in high relief. A winter’s solstice unlike any before and hopefully any to come. The trees whispered to me as I left the park and crossed the busy street to meet Kiri for lunch. Seated at our regular window table with view of Layton Park my inner ear listened to the conversations here and there at the tables around the room.


"Those damn witches" whispered the perfectly coifed blond to her clone companion, "It's all their fault. Everyone at the meeting Sunday agreed." Her friend, her mirror, nodded solemnly as her eyes darted around the room.


"I tell you" the rest dwindled to indecipherable whispers, but I heard the words in my mind’s eye, the thoughts so thick with fear and anger and more. The more was an overwhelming helplessness.


I listened and wondered at the women at the table behind me. I wondered how many like her there were, who never saw the larger picture, and rather than own their part in disaster would rather kill the messenger for the news she bore somehow thinking it would save them.


Sad and wearied by the waves of negative thoughts, I sent out calming emanations throughout the room, wanting a peaceful atmosphere for this last visit to a treasured place. I lifted their fear with soothing thoughts of reassurance tugging pleasant memories to the fore of love and children and happy times. A mind joined me in the task, and I looked across to the hostess station to see Kiri approaching. Our eyes met as Kiri waved the hostess away, and gestured in my direction.


As she joined me, we mused mind to mind, "It seems many of us are loathe to think of losing all the familiar places, and so we lunch and have tea and dinner, first here, then there. "Oh, Kiri, I'm not ready to see it end; I'm just not ready."


"No one is, no one ever is ready to let go of what we know. You are not alone in that, Seti."


“Kiri, even some friends will die in the coming Storm. The ‘coming Storm’ – ‘Mother Storm’. How trite. I can hardly stand it sometimes. Damn it! It is the end of our lives, as we now know them. We plunge into the abyss. We glimpse hell. And the hardest part of all is I know I will survive. Am I really up to it? gods'us, grant it."


"Yes, you are. You are stronger than all of us - stronger than you know. And for what it's worth, I like Mother Storm best. Even now, she groans here and there; small lava flows have been sighted in unlikely places; migration patterns have become erratic - aberrant, to those who don't know. The birds know North and South are no longer constant, so they wait. They may not have far to go. They only have to stay airborne when the time comes. Will the poles shift or have we done enough to defray it?”


"Well, we’ll know soon. We've known it was soon for some time, but I want it done – I want to fast-forward to the other side. It’s been 27 years, 27 years of meticulous planning.”


"That long? By the Powers, when you put a real number on the years, it makes me feel so old. Yet, this is barely the beginning; I have a very long way to go. Kiri, I'm afraid sometimes, that I won't have the strength for the long haul."


"Of course you will. You really are stronger than you know, and we've prepared so well. Everything is in place now: the Schools, stores of food, knowledge archives, seeds and all the other sundry things to rebuild a civilization with a memory of who they are intact.


Our waitress came with tea and saké. We watched respectfully. In two small hands, with a pristine clean white cloth, she held the pot and poured first the steaming green tea then the warmed saké, pale Citroen into the small white bowls of blue porcelain cups trimmed in slightly faded gilt. With utmost attention to each small task she returned the teapot to its cozy and the saké flask to its hot water bath with no water spilt, then neatly folding the white cloth, placed just so to complete the still life before us. With a bow she departed on the cat's feet that brought her leaving us to contemplate the curls of steam.


"Oh, Kiri! I'll miss this. I have memorized every moment, the tilt of head and preciseness of movement; the curling tendrils of steam lifting the fragrance of the tea; the hot silk taste of the saké sliding down to merge with my very blood and sending warmth and well-being coursing through veins that run so cold with foreboding."


Thus warmed, we crossed to the park where the trees' song hummed in our minds: a song so old - of life and death and forever and I remembered a line from childhood, " ‘...touch a leaf and the stars vibrate…’.Leaves die and the barren trees sleep through Winter and dream of Spring. How many of us will really survive this bleakest Winter. How many of us will reach Spring?" I stopped short and looked at Kiri.


"I felt it too." she almost shouted.


For one frozen moment etched forever into my being, it was as if the Earth caught her breath. No wind stirred the trees, no bird sang, people everywhere stopped and looked around. Then it came, the birds as one lifted to the sky and the earth heaved. The day rent asunder and terror ran cold then hot on the heels of frightened people running to they knew not where.


The street rippled gray waves beneath their feet, breaking into rubbled surf pounding them into the gaping maws of asphalt caves. Buildings fell into themselves and spewed life and death onto unsuspecting heads.


© Perle Champion
Next: The Fall

Seti’s Chronicles Surviving 2012 - I Begin

Excerpt from Work in Progress: Seti's Chronicles - Surviving 2012

Where do I begin except here, pen in hand at the window of my aerie.  I look down the long road that is the past and I wonder that so many of us came through to this best of all possibilities. 

There were times I didn’t think our world would survive, much less any of we Wyse.  All the plans, the hard work, and the hope against odds I cannot now even contemplate, worked.  It worked, not exactly, not precisely as imagined, but it worked.  We are here, and we have another chance, a better chance, with so much saved this time.  I look at our small cadre of warriors, for that is what we are, warriors as of old, and more. 

I come up to the very top room of this old stone home, to my sanctuary away from all the wistful eyes and hopeful hearts that daily leach my strength from me.

Only here, in this high place, at my window with the small flashlight my brother gave me hung just so to illuminate the page in front of me – how many years ago.  And where is he today -  dead or alive?

I only know he’s not here.  I could not convince him to come.  I think since his Phyllis died – his wife and best friend of over 30 years – he doesn’t care if he lives or dies.  Life has become a chore without his helpmeet. 

I imagine him on his farmhouse porch, whiskey in hand, toasting me even as the earth rent asunder and saying “Here’s to the end, I had a good run.”  And He did.  He loved and was loved, he worked with integrity, brought a beautiful healthy child into the world.  He lived his life his way and now with wife long gone, he;d just as soon pass on pass on and will not run from death.

Reports from the field  say doubt among the masses exists here and there, but many are grateful.  The old enemies are still among us as well: envy, greed, fear of the unknown.  But they are old enemies – known enemies; we’ll survive them, as we ever have.   

It is enough, at least for now at least for me, that we were not literally sent back to the cave.  We saved so much of who we are and what we know, that civilization will not take an eon to rebuild this time. 

© Perle Champion

Tomorrow: Touch and Go.

Rant: Politician's Dumb Methods to Get the Vote

Just voted in the primary this morning, and I so wish it were the actual election, so all those wanna-be's would cease and desist leaving long rambling recorded messages on my voice mail. 

What fool thinks that an impersonal canned message left on my phone will cause me to suddenly say, 'Oh, wow, I'm voting for him'.  In your dreams, bubba!  

Frankly, I note those that annoy me the most with repetitive calls, and I deliberately don't vote for them. The annoyance factor of having to wade through and delete all these messages to get to those that matter to me does not endear them to me, it alienates me.  Don't they know they are actually one step below a canned telemarketer.


Further, what fool thinks they can change my mind at the doorsteps of the polls with a printed flyer.  When I go to vote, I have reviewed the candidates, and I know who I'm going to vote for.  Anyone arriving at the polls undecided that can be swayed by these flyer toting mosquitoes has no business voting.  

As I arrived at Ramsay to vote this morning, I was relieved to see none of the campaign workers down on the street, with a handful of flyers they try to shove at you, only to find as I climbed the ramp that they had moved closer to the door.  Worse than panhandlers in my book.  I put up my hand to save them some steps, and use my 'if looks cold kill look' to stop them in their tracks and go about my business of voting.

If this rant gets to any politician out there, listen up.  Stop it! The more people you annoy, the less people will vote for you.   There really out to be a DO NOT CALL list for politicians.