I often wander on the old beach. Here the anchor sticks in the sand like a limpet left from ancient days. I stretch my eyes far out to sea at the limpets on the hydro-power station that emerge like bumps on the horizon, charging up, filling up, though they appear to be still and heavy amidst the drift of sea life on the waves. I see it all: dolphins sparkling gold as they scamper across the sea-top, turquoise fish flipping about against the rippling light of the surviving sun. Years ago they thought we wouldn’t survive this long. Scientists told people to prepare for the end; the evangelists declared Armageddon – yet all the time they had the ammunition, the expertise, like they did in Atlantis. They just didn’t know how to use it. I often go to the spy-glass cinema and look at those former times. I go to seek knowledge of the past and future. It isn’t always helpful, but interesting to observe their technology, how it led to such a leap of faith eventually by the visionary Sam Pooks. If they’d gone the other way, like the Atlantians, we wouldn’t be here now, not in the way we are.

I put my sun filter on and climb backwards into my limo-speed boat. I’m going to the lost islands. Thats where I left my flute. I was playing for the children on the beach but they were enjoying it so much I left it with them. I returned home and nestled in my oak tree nest box; sometimes I stay there too long. I just dream and sleep. In this new world where feelings are the main force in us it is all right to do that as long as it is truly what you feel.

Someone placed a filament inside the sun’s axis by lunar-bay technology. That wasn’t very clever. I mean, how can you do that? Try to burn a little hole in the sun so we get speckles of sunlight and not whole sun, or whatever they were trying to do. When you get like that the White-Feeling-Poles come and take you to the beach hut to re-attune to nature. If you loose connection you don’t know your truth any more. That’s all, that’s why I do it all the time – attune to nature.

I like to feel the breeze most of all, the cool and warm breeze on my chemise-tunic. I like feeling bronzed and alone on the drifter waves of my limo. I like hearing the silence, just now and then seeing a sea-bird or a drifter-whale come close. They like to talk to us sometimes, the drifter-wales. They get a lot of information from the waves. Deep in the ocean is one of the most sacred places where you can feel the darkest dreams, yet also see peace. I tried roaming in the under waters for some time but I couldn’t find what I was looking for. I am a land walker. I do not belong in the ocean with the mermaids.

I became a minstrel because that has always been my passion. To play and dance for children whose eyes brighten up with every note and movement is pure enlightenment. I have lit up many caves with torches of light through my flute. I sleep there at night when I am bored with the tree-box. Not really bored, just in need of a new energy. I will be elevated soon to the temples. They want to initiate me. I have grown music-wings. I play music with such feeling that I have upgraded. I have been told this by higher realms, and the feeling-angels have suggested I join them in the tree-temples and play notes that harmonize with nature and the spirit realms. Through this I will send out ripples of high frequency energy that will dissolve hurt, confusion and misunderstandings in beings many fathoms around. I am attuning and aligning myself to a higher frequency to gain sufficient expertise for my sacred task.

It is dark now, I am waiting for the waves to drift my limo over to the shore. It is colder at night. Children are gone but they have left my flute in the rock as I asked. I can trust the children. I will settle for the night here in my den of rocks and sing a lullaby to the rock face. I will count the birds that fly overhead and the ripples on the waves. Oh, my lover Torrid, why did you never return? I know you too well. You have left me alone to pursue my sacred task. But I am alone without you. I shall hum and sing until you return. I do not wish to be alone here. There is more work to be done but I will wait for you here my lover, Torrid. Come to me tonight.

Ferrenzia settles her limo at the night station and ventures into the cave alone. She sits motionless at first then flings her arms and hands up to the heavens asking for refreshment. It comes. She runs outside and is showered with rain drops like pearls of upliftment and this is her tears, her lament for the one she loves. She waits. She waits and she waits. She hears his horn, his beat. His triumph at having heard her cries. But he does not come. He does not come. She sleeps on her bed of seaweed, wrapping herself in her woven shawl. The horn’s sound grows dimmer until it is no more. Night is here.

Grogar the tainted musician sits in his grass hut counting fleece and lilies to make a wand. He wishes to destroy Ferrenzia. Her beauty and expertise at music is like a giant antennae that anchors itself inside his heart, piercing it with poison. He has watched and stalked her for many moons and suns. He has played his lute but it never sounds as tranquil, as beautiful as hers. He has led his own concerts, turned his lute into a bow and arrow and shot at the trees to enhance the feeling of his music, but nothing brings the great audiences that Ferrenzia has at her disposal. He hates her for that. He hates to see this young, beautiful elfin like woman with the spindly, elf fingers on her flute and her golden hair bouncing under the sunlight encapsulating hundreds, maybe thousands of onlookers when he has failed to bring forth even 50 to his concerts. He wants to destroy her and will do so in the only way he knows. He will cause an arrow of poison to lodge itself inside her golden heart. He will steal her powers from her by metaphysical intervention.

Ferrenzia is stirred by a rustling in the rocks, a hissing, slithering which can only mean one of the lizard snakes is awake and on the hunt. She freezes, knowing how cruel such species can be, one of the only such animals left on Earth; the other carnivores became vegetarian like their human role models. She knows that her flesh is as tasty to the snake as a silver-faced rat or tiger. She backs off, heading for her flute. She knows the sound will pacify it. The terror in her becomes more pronounced as she remembers witnessing her father being eaten alive by one such predator. She starts to cry, shudder, shake, praying in her head to the angels of wisdom for salvation. They arrive, only visible by her eyes, yet she sees them form a circle around her and send light rays to the snake as it snarls its viper teeth in her direction. Immediately it is struck off balance and slithers away, chasing an unseen animal in the other direction. She thanks the angels and they depart. Yet, the memory of her father has disturbed her. She is afraid and alone with her memories and fears. Such lower feelings dissipate her high frequency energy and loose her power. She is diminished through her memories and the terror the snake has evoked in her. Grogar is beginning to steal her power.

She begins to think darker thoughts, of those who tried to capture her when she was a baby. She remembers her skin scorched with a hot rod from the fire while her father was attacked by the snake and her mother lay already dying. Ferrenzia’s mother was poisoned by plant venom in the days when the plant kingdom had not given up their bitterness of human attack and destruction for many centuries. The world was still repairing itself from aeon’s of damage and the animal and plant kingdom continued in their lower ways as they did not see that justice had been done. The higher varieties had forgiven and forgotten and grew to great heights, but just like humans who cannot love and forgive there were those in these kingdoms of similar thought. Ferrenzia’s family had been attacked sorely by these species.

As she thought more about the loss of her parents and the snake which had come to destroy her, her thoughts and emotions took on a dark form which could be seen in the angelic realms as clouds of thick dust around her throat and head. Ferrenzia had forgotten momentarily about her flute, her sacred mission and her purpose for being on the beautiful lost islands. She began to freeze. It is the frozen ones who parch themselves to a slow death since excessive dark thoughts eat away and gnaw at the positive feeling energies, particularly in those of higher frequencies.

Oh, go away, go away you dark ones. I had forgotten your presence. The enemy is at bay. I have called and called but he will not come to me. Why am I so alone? Why oh why do you torment me with grand responsibilities that I must maintain? Why do you send me to places where there are treacherous poisonous snakes and kill my dear beloved parents who did nothing to deserve such a fate? Why do you do this to me? You send me alone into the kingdom of light to send forth my light-music. Don’t you see how this is killing me? Don’t you see how I only wish to be with Torrid yet you take him away from me and he will not even come when I call? Am I to be tamed like a python? One who eats vermin and spits it out into the dew? Do you call me a dark one? Then why do you send me forth into the light? I am parched here. I wish only to die now without my Torrid. I will bury myself here so no-one will find me. It does not matter if I live or die. I will not be missed. I have no close companion or lover. I will die and you will find yourselves another victim of the light!

She cries into the night and accepts her fate here alone on the islands as a time of completion. Grogar is watching through his spy-glass screen and is satisfied with his results. ‘This will be the end of you now. Such grace and beauty will die and my music shall reign!’ Grogar sleeps. Ferrenzia sleeps asking the angels of mercy to take her to their realm so she may depart from her life as a sacred minstrel. The angels listen and yet hear only the silent cries of her soul and know she is being attacked by Grogar. He sleeps and as he does so the angels slip water dew into his lips so that in small drips he becomes more compassionate towards himself and hence to Ferrenzia. They impart to him great music, a sound that will resonate with his heart but of a different frequency to Ferrenzia’s sound. This musical gift will only be bestowed upon him once he has mastered the 6th lesson and this the angels assist him with in his sleep.

Ferrenzia awakes in the morning. Why, I feel so heavy, so depleted, so lost. What have I done with my sacred task, my mission, my life? I asked the angels to take my life away from me, yet I’m still here. ‘Did you not hear me oh wise ones?’ But she hears their mischievous song and laughter and remembers that she agreed never to leave the Earth until her sacred task had been completed. ‘I am not meant to go yet, oh why did I betray myself so much? why bellow out in angst for my lover who has gone and who will never be with me? Why depart when so much can be achieved?

She cries, banging her fists against the rocks. ‘Do not let me down Ferrenzia! Never do this again! It is time for great and beautiful things upon the Earth. My music will heal many and I have much to accomplish.’ She lights a fire to warm her naked body and dances and glides into the salty water. Her tears merge with the sea as she furrows down into the dark magic of ocean depths. She is one with the sea. She is mermaid-minstrel. She is cleansed.

Hovering on the water is a dark figure in a slow-boat. He holds his beard pensively and furrows his eyebrows in wonder and contemplation at Ferrenzia. ‘I have come to kill you Ferrenzia, but you steal my heart before I can even do my wand-magic. Why are you still alive, so beautiful, so pure? I wish I were dead, not you, who saves many. But I will wait Ferrenzia. I will not kill you now. I cannot. Your beauty is too great. A strange feeling came over me in the night. Don’t make me love you Ferrenzia! Don’t make me do that! Have you cast a spell upon me or am I mad? Have I lost courage or will power?

The two figures merge. One has encapsulated the other and together they dive down to the ocean bed. Grogar slips down from his boat as if a great giant net had pushed him under. He swims in his under-tunic to meet Ferrenzia. Together they join hands in a sea dance. He kisses her upon her cheek. She takes the dew from inside her mouth and places it upon his forehead making a star shape. Together they glide to the under-cave. Inside they swim, dance and embrace until bodies have wrapped themselves around each other. Ferrenzia is not afraid. Grogara has no hate. The feeling angels have given both their new wings. Ferrenzia is protected by her truth-seeker shield. They swing each other round. Grogar takes his rough, bearskin hand and moves it up and down Ferrenzia’s back, filling her body with a warmth she has not felt since Torrid was close. She sucks water through his neck and gradually the two lift each other up to the top world again. The dance-exchange has been done. The glistening sunshine of the lost islands is a mark of completion.

‘I am truly sorry’ Grogar announces telepathically. ‘You are forgiven’ she replies and as their hands gradually slip away from each other, he boards his slow-boat and drifts away to another shore. Ferrenzia glides across rippling waves to sand and rocks and smothers her wet body in bright green seaweed. She takes her flute and lies upon the beach playing her sacred sound until a group of sea-pigeons surround her. She has accepted her task.

The tree temple angels arrive by ghost-ship and take her on board. She is shrouded in white muslin and lies still upon the deck as her body is adorned with sea-flowers. Her task at the lost islands has been completed. Her true mission may now begin.