~"Hold my hand..."
Harlowe lent forward and gently closed his large square hand around the trembling fingers. He had felt a growing affinity with David, an affinity which at first he instinctively resisted, both as a professional man and also on a level he had no time - or so he told himself - to address at the present moment...
"...I have been waiting" she said firmly, with an unwanted smile playing on her lips
Hakon dismounted and studied the young face before him. Every excuse he could think of, flashed through his mind. Then he saw her eyes...
"I'm sorry" he said.
Her brown eyes flashed and twinkled with the stars, as he took the small hand offered to him.
"You're a Dreamer Hakon. You forget time as you stand the dream and think." She paused "And what do you think about?"
Brigid was jealous to be barred from any morsel of her lover, who stood reflected in her eyes like the shining god of the sun.
"What do you think of now"
Harlowe chose the word "thinking" with a rapid care - something told him to be careful of going to far, too quickly.
Her young face slowly broadened into a wide grin.
"I am thinking I love you"
he said.
Harlowe often found that he accompanied his subjects during their regression, often staying with them, like a disembodied voice or indeed a 'soul'. This time it was somehow more powerful.
"Who are you" Harlowe's question was as gentle as it was inquisitive.
"My name is Brigid"
'Another female incarnation' he thought - he looked at David - at the blue eyes and sandy-blonde hair,
"Where are you now?"
"Albeun"
Harlowe could see from the corner of his eye, the sudden change of position as Petra leant toward her monitor screen. Then the rapid tap of the keyboard, followed by a silence as she waited for the information - then...
"Albeun was the ancient name of Great Britain, around the time of Jesus, or just after" her voice was bell-like and impassive.
There was something superior about Petra; "Damn superior" as the doctor would often mutter under his breath, as he watched her glide out of his office.
"If only she could be wrong - just once"
So David had regressed to the first century, he looked at his assistant - Petra's face was oval and glowing, like the silent-
-scream of the ripened moon and the blood on the wheat.
Her grandmother had said to her (old hands on young shoulders) that soon her blood would flow, to course down her thighs and give new life to the earth...
...and there it was at last - but all too soon, as Hakon appeared above the reddened wheat and became, all at once, both still and silent.
"Hold my hand, I am dying"...
..and yet there was a drama of youth around the frightened voice - and a slightly too careful gathering of the brown fustian skirt that hung almost to her ankles - a gathering that somehow contrived to show a knee that still bore the scars of young-rough games.
The nails cut through soft flesh
Hakon looked at her as she stood, below the sun and the moon, in the darkening blue of the sky.
She was all reddened eyes and sticky tears that mixed with the brown earth and the blood on her hands that she smeared across her face - like a prophecy of storm clouds.
The sun turned to fire, as it sank below the waves
"My sisters are older than me." said Hakon, smiling at the shy, burnished face.
And then - clouds of shame and anger and knowing and happiness. Then - and just - laughing and giggling and making love, in the blood and the earth and the ripening wheat - with the storm clouds raging through the stars, as they hurled and blustered across the impassive face of the harvest moon.
"Your hand is bleeding Dr. Harlowe." Petra held out a damp swab to wipe the blood from where Harlowe's nails had dug deep into his left palm. She looked at him...
"...and I will freeze within your eyes"
thought Hakon, as he finished explaining that he would only be gone for two moonths. Suddenly he decided to Decide...
"I will return on the second night the moon is full" he declared (looking so young and important)
Brigid knew the truth and lowered her proud head so very slightly
"Are you sure you will return?"
Her face was anxious as she looked up at her young "sol-barn"
"I am sure", he said, not knowing if he spoke the truth or a lie. It would not matter either way to the wild girl who would stand barefoot in the blustering cold of the island, by the sea's margin and wait for him. Wait for him for ever if needs be.
"Then I will stand at this place each month and I will wait for you."
She stood before him - an Angel from the Moon
"My woman" he said, as he knelt before her.
"My man" she whispered - her eyes full of eternity.
Harlowe quietly stood and stretched his legs. He turned and looked across at his young patient. David seemed to be changing, like one superimposed photograph upon another. Harlowe crossed the room and leaned over the couch, peering down at the drawn face below him.
David's eyes opened.
and they were brown.
A stern look from Petra steadied Harlowe, bringing him back...
"...Where are you Brigid"
"I am on my island"
Harlowe paused, took a deep breath and mouthed her answer as she replied
"lyndysfarne"
"Where?" repeated Harlowe
"Lyndysfarne! Lyndysfarne!"
David had vanished and a wild girl stared at him with wide brown eyes.
"Lyndysfarne, off shore from Bernicia."
Petra's fingers worked rapidly on the keyboard, then...
"Bernicia is the ancient name of Northumberland on the north-east coast of Britain and Lindisfarne, it's name unchanged by holiness and sanctity, is a small island no more than half a mile off-shore from the mainland"
It was perfect and yet unsettling for Harlowe. Each time Brigid would speak, he found the words forming in his mouth at the same time.
Harlowe sat back in his chair. "Dim the light Petra"
"I think I can see Lindisfarne."
The two lovers stumbled across the natural causeway back to the small island that could only be reached with the moon's permission and the tides abeyance.
"I will sail to the east as the sun rises"
"Norway lies to the East"
Petra's voice was as faint as an echo as Harlowe began to comprehend.
"Hold my hand"
Harlowe held tight onto Brigid's hand, but a force he could not explain drew him away from the couch. His fingers gripped, until the flesh above his knuckles turned white
"Don't go" she screamed
"I will come back" he shouted against the roar of the tide.
"Hold my hand"
Harlowe's grip finally broke and he staggered backward against the wall. He looked at the girl. She was reaching to him.
"Hold my hand" she screamed once more; then she tilted and fell, crumpling into a small sobbing ball on the floor by the couch.
Petra gently wiped the tears from Brigid's face as Harlowe crouched quite close, but with care,
for this was a wild spirit.
"Did Hakon return?" asked Harlowe, already knowing the answer
"No" said the old voice. "I journeyed to Lindisfarne every moonth, when the goddess was full with child. Each season passed and each year and each age. The island became my prison and through it's watery bars, the moon gazed at me from the infinity of her freedom, as my blood dried and my hair became woven with the silver threads of Samhain. But each moonth at midnight, I would walk onto the margin of the sea and reach out and shout to the sky and the waves and the serpent wind."
"Then one night I heard him. I heard him and I knew that Hakon was calling to me from the sea..."
"...Hold my hand."
Harlowe gently grasped the quivering hand
The moonlight reflected off Petra's oval face, as she stood in the shadows above them, gazing down as they knelt, with their eyes meeting and forming an endless corridor of reflections that curved and dipped below each of their horizons
.
"I have returned", he said.
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13 comments:
Well done, Henry! Your story is surprising and very creative. It gets better with each reading. You have been very clever in involving Harlowe so intensely.
Soul Merlin, I do believe you have the heart and soul of a Bard. Your ability to paint a story through your words, is humbling indeed. This was a unique chapter, so different and individual. I just love this PLR project. I get to read a different style of writing with each chapter. Thank you for the entertainment.
Eric ~ as you were on my site, I was still modifying the story, which has become so close to me, it has become a 'magnificent obsession' (at least for this week...I'm very fickle)
However ~ the chance Lilly gave me, has meant that I have neglected some thirty bloggers - including yourself and your outrageous sister :) and now, after writing the Lindsfarne piece overnight, last night...I am, through no sense of sacrifice, going to move my ancient body across to your site.
It will be the first visit of many, I feel. Perhaps tonight, I will read one post (your latest) but I will be back tomorrow - with or without Harlowe.
xh
Hi Henry, what wonderful imagery you have expressed in your Past Lives post. Now you know I had to read this several times to 'get' this, which just shows how intricate the story is. And how hard it is to write these stories too!! Your story is like a web that unfolds with each read. Hakon and Brigid - how sad this story is - she waited for him all that time (what was she thinking - these days she would have declared Hakon dead and collected on his insurance money...).I could pciture being there from your vivid description of the time and place. Was it a real PLR memory for you? You have also introduced a new depth to Harlowe's character and it will be interesting to see where this leads. He is a little complex it seems. I also like the way you introduced his assistant Petra into the story to tell us some key historical facts about David's memories. Also is that a photo of Lindisfarne? It's a beautiful photo Henry and fits the story so well. Well done, truly. The Literary Oracle gave it the thumbs up!!! She liked the fact that you kept it true to the time and she also thought the imagery is wonderful! Thanks for participating! It is wonderful that everyone has expressed their own individual and very creative takes on this.
Lilly xx
PS Yes Harlowe does have a large hand....ha ha
Hi Lilly ~ The story of Brigid and Hakon is an allegory.
'a representation of an abstract or spiritual meaning through concrete or material forms'
The above definition in quotes, could actually be a definition of life itself. We are the concrete and material form or incarnation of the abstract or the spiritual.
I use the play of the Sun and the Moon and also when we sometimes see both in the sky at the same moment
It would be too nailed on to say that Hakon was Harlowe and David was Brigid - although it started out that way.
When Harlow finds he is mouthing Brigid's words, is he mouthing them because he said them in that incarnation, or because he remembers them being said.
Did Brigid walk into the sea when she heard Hakon calling to her - or did she die naturally of old age in the prison of the island (of her mind)
Did Hakon drown at sea - or did he simply not return?
"Are you sure you will return?" Her face was anxious as she looked up at her young "sol-barn" "I am sure", he said, not knowing if he spoke the truth or a lie."
Life is not always nailed-on and we are not always sure of our emotions or of our own motivations - Hakon is young.
Lindisfarne is cut off daily through tides, which are influenced and designed by the moon - Brigid has her first period when the sun and the moon are in the sky together - when Hakon finds her amongst the reddened wheat.
Is the wheat reddened through her menstrual flow or the redness of the setting sun.
The symbolism runs through the piece - It could be taken that Hakon is the Sun God and Brigid the Earth Mother.
Only one person is outside (and perfect) - that is Petra. She is Moon-like, in that she is detached and yet, like the Moon's gravitational pull, she unfluences both lovers (in either incarnation)
Does the Moon rage; is it a Jealous Moon, or a serene Goddess?
Perhaps All
But who has returned as Hakon at the end - is it Harlowe or David?
I leave that for the reader to find and for Petra to know.
I did past life regression in the '70's - The story relates strongly to experiences I had that time -
but Hakon and Brigid are unique in themselves.
I think I have said enough (perhaps too much) If I nail things down too firmly, I give the reader no chance to discover.
I took the photograph this year.
love
henry
...It is more than likely that Brigid saw the world as flat (a more potent habitat for the ancient God and Goddess...perhaps.
Maybe Hakon knew more, as the horizon stayed always out of his grasp.
henry
Soul Merlin, I read the story again, and find it just as captivating as before. The paradox that Doctor Harlowe finds himself in makes for an intriguing avenue of possibilities.
After reading your response to Lilly, I am convinced even more that you have the soul of a Bard, Story Teller of old.
So hauntingly beautiful. I'm sitting here hardly able to breathe. Tears running down my face. My mouth is hanging open, stunned, awed, profoundly moved, DEEEEPLY moved.
I knew you could write and write like the VERY BEST, but this is another whole world of writing. I cannot believe that anyone could write like this. You have got to write a book henry. Not only are the memories and characters in the past life gripping and heartwrenching but the Harlow's involvement and reaction is so pwoerful I was shocked. Where are the lines between who is observing and who is remembering and who was connected then and again now? Poerful! And the whole interplay between them all is magificent. This is world class writing. Your descriptions of Earth, moon, sea, love, their faces, and her body chaning as she grows old is mindblowing.
I became so lost in this I forgot where I was. I am dead serious henry. You have GOT to write a book. Your own soul shines in these memories and characters. As if YOU had been there and new it so well and that is why you wrote about it in such intimate detail and realism.
Phew, that really rattled my cage. I can still hardly breathe. I felt like you were writing about some memory of mine. I was swept up in the passion, the emotion, the desire, the organic connection of her love, the undomesticated wildness of her soul. I've known love and passion this powerful. It changes you forever.
I'm moved to tears my dear friend. You have a beautiful soul and it shines in this writing. You MUST someday write more of this story.
I just now was able to take my first full breath! You think I'm kidding? NOT!
Thank you so much.
Robin xx
Henry,
Thanks for stopping in my blog - I am so new, couldn't quite follow the 12th edition - need to do some reading!
I love your reference to cats on the lower posts, I have two of my own!
G, C and A cords, are only missing an E - for Elvis!
I finally managed to get enough time to seriously read this today. Now, I don't view things as a writer because I have never tried to write. However, i read avidly and I had goosebumps on my neck as I read this...Robin is quite right, you would write a wonderful book :D
Like Robin I was in tears as I read. I will come back and read it again, and again.
I feel rather moved that you have all been touched by something that has been inside me for years.
thank you
henry
Past life regression can be viewed and experienced as a very powerful tool. It is especially helpful when it enables you to reconnect with and better understand the present moment as you sense it. To dwell on the past however, and what is already recorded in the Akashic record only distracts your attention from why you have incarnated now. Wisdom tells you when to refocus.
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