In a magical village, the villagers create beautiful things from the jeweled light they see inside. Yet a dark spell has been cast upon all the villagers but one, the Weaver. Because of this dark spell all the beautiful things the villagers create are stolen from them in ways they do not comprehend by the Mayor of the village. One day the Weaver goes on a journey to break this spell which is a journey to open the door between Fairy and villager world. Enjoy reading the first three chapters of this story here.
Chapter One The Villagers
Once there was a village where all the villagers had magic inside them. It was a magical village. The Farmer, the Healer, the Artist, the Singer, the Writer, the Chef, the Gardener, the Architect, the Baker, the Shopkeeper, the Apprentice, the Teacher, the Builder, the Artisan, the Dancer, the Dreamer, the Star-watcher, the Musician, the Candle-maker, the Water-keeper, the Weaver, the Stone-cutter, the Animal-whisperer, and the Children. They all had magic inside them, and they made beautiful things from it. They all loved doing what they did. When they did what they loved the magic came out, and they saw jeweled light and they felt joy.
The magic inside them was a jewel. It was an eternal, limitless jewel. It was as powerful as Gaia, Sky, Sun, Moon, Planets and Stars. It had been given to them before they were born. It was the source of their love and their joy. It was where everything they needed and desired came from. It was the jewel of the heart.
But, a dark spell had been cast upon the villagers. Cast upon them, long ago. And all the villagers except for the Weaver, went under this spell. The villagers would forget what they once did know…that within each of them was this eternal, limitless jewel. So, all the villagers except for the Weaver, went under the spell. And when they did what they loved they saw jeweled light and felt joy, but they didn’t see the jewel.
This meant they could forget they were eternal, limitless beings. For, without remembering they possessed within themselves the source of the jeweled light, the joy they felt in seeing the jeweled light and making beautiful things from it, was fleeting. They didn’t talk to each other about the jeweled light. They kept it a secret. It was the secret of the jeweled light each villager held alone inside. For you see, when they went under the spell they stopped knowing about the magic inside, and began believing magic didn’t exist. And the jeweled light was magic, wasn’t it? So, it was better not to talk about it. Before the spell, they had lived like Queens and Kings of their own magical realms. Before the spell, they had laughed, and danced, and sang, and played, with the Fairies in their gardens. They had freely and openly woven their love into what they did in joy, always remembering they were not their beautiful things, they were the jewels. Forgetting they were the jewels, was like the Sun forgetting it was a ball of infinite radiance, and thinking instead it was only the rays of light shining on Earth. Perhaps, it would make the Sun feel limited, insecure, and small. After the spell, the villagers felt limited, insecure, and small. This made them easy to control.
Chapter Two The FarAway People
When had the villagers been free of this dark spell, you may wonder?
Long, long ago the ancient ones, the Faraway People, had lived with the villagers, in the magical village. The villagers had skin the color of Gaia and warm, turquoise eyes. The
Faraway People had skin the color of Stars and Planets. They had warm, violet eyes. They wore long, golden robes, and were very tall. Together, the Faraway People and the villagers built a tower made of shimmering stones, the Tower of Jewels. In the Tower of Jewels the Faraway People taught the villagers about the secrets and wonders of Gaia, Sea, Sky, Sun, Moon, Planets and Stars. They taught them to see the Fairies. They taught through inspiration. The Faraway people were Inspirers. The villagers learned from the Faraway People, and the secrets and wonders were unlocked for them, through the jewels of their own hearts.
The villagers gathered in the Tower of Jewels and the Faraway People would sing, “Remember to love the jewel of your heart and look to it for all you need and desire, and you will experience limitlessness. Remember the beautiful things you create from the jeweled light come from the jewel of your heart, and you will experience joy. Remember the magic inside...”
And the villagers did, for a while.
Chapter Three The Dark Sorcerers
Who or what had cast this dark spell upon the villagers, you may wonder?
One night, the Faraway People visited the Weaver. She lived in a house at the edge of the village, beside a Forest. The Weaver had both Faraway People, and villager blood flowing through her. The Faraway People told the Weaver they would be leaving the village that night. The Weaver was sad and began to cry. The Faraway People tenderly held the Weaver and gently told her, “It must be so. Those who would steal the jewels of the heart are coming. We will move into the Forest where the Fairies are. The door between Fairy and villager world must be closed. From now on you will not be able to see the Fairies, but you will remember they exist. For the other villagers it will be different. They will forget everything.”
Then, the Faraway People gave the Weaver three gifts: a silvery pouch of golden seeds, a turquoise box, and the Book of Jewels. The Book of Jewels was a treasury of the timeless stories the Faraway People had received through the jewels of their hearts. It was alive and always evolving. It was a transmitter of the wisdom of Gaia, Sea, Sky, Sun, Moon, Planets and Stars. It was filled with pictures, writings and songs. It was a magical book.
As the Weaver beheld these gifts with wonder, the Faraway People told her, “The time will come when a Weaver will be called upon to assist in opening the door between Fairy and villager world again. When this Weaver is called she will open the turquoise box, and weave the villagers a healing cloth. This may not happen for thousands of years. We know this is difficult to hear, but this is part of the story of the jewel of the heart. Part of the story of Gaia, Sea, Sky, Sun, Moon, Planets and Stars. Trust.” And the Weaver said, “Yes, I will trust.” The Faraway People said, “You are the one who will treasure the jewels of the heart for us.” And the Weaver said, “Yes, I will treasure the jewels of the heart, come what may.” Then the Weaver and the Faraway People embraced, and the Faraway People walked into the Forest. The Weaver put the three gifts in a safe place and went to sleep.
Soon after the Faraway People left, all the villagers except the Weaver began to forget to love the magical jewel of their hearts and look to it for all they needed and desired. They began to forget what the Faraway People had taught them, and stopped feeling inspired, and stopped going to the Tower of Jewels. Though they wouldn’t say it out loud, they were angry at the Faraway people for leaving. They felt abandoned.
One day, a small group of dark sorcerers came into the village. They were looking for someplace to cast a dark spell. All the villagers except the Weaver, came out of their colorful homes, shops, classrooms and studios, they left their gardens and fields. It was as if a strange new wind had blown into the village, and they were curious.
The strangers had dark, veiled eyes burning with an icy fire. Their skin was grey. They wore long, dark capes. The villagers could feel a coldness emanating from the strangers’ chests, an icy vapor curling through their capes. They had never seen or felt anything like these beings before. The villagers looked into the dark sorcerers’ eyes. The dark sorcerers were looking at them as if they were superior, and knew something they didn’t know. As if the villagers were bereft of eternal, limitless jewels. As if the strangers could see all that was not good enough in them, all that was missing, lacking, wrong.
Suddenly, the villagers felt afraid. They saw something dark move inside themselves. For the first time, each villager saw a golden door at the entrance to the jewel of their heart. It cast a shadow. The villagers felt the impulse to shut the door, and were shocked. They had a choice? To open or close this door? This, they hadn’t known. The villagers thought, Should we trust these strangers? Perhaps, they are wise and can teach us something we don’t know. And they felt a sudden pull to want to please these strangers - this was the beginning of the dark spell.
The villagers went back to their colorful homes, shops, classrooms and studios, they returned to their gardens and fields. The dark sorcerers found a place to stay in the village.
One day, the dark sorcerers began building a grey house in the center of the village. It was the first grey house the villagers had ever seen. Their houses were bright and colorful, like flowers in a garden. The grey house had many rooms. As all the villagers except the Weaver watched them building the house, they saw something dark move inside themselves, and were split in two. They felt like telling the strangers “Stop building this grey house, immediately!” But a voice inside their heads said, “This will bring greater stability, safety and security to the village.” And the villagers chose not to listen to their feelings, but to the voices in their heads - this was a continuation of the dark spell.
One night, the dark sorcerers closed the curtains in the grey house. In a room they had devised particularly for hiding secrets, they gathered in a circle to perform a dark magic ceremony. As they began, one of the dark sorcerers was chosen to be the owner of the grey house. He was given the key to the grey house and the title Mayor. Mayor was a word the villagers had never heard before. It was a word the dark sorcerers had created. It was decided it would be best if the Mayor didn’t wear a dark cape, but clothes just like the villagers. They turned the dark cape into a tall, black hat.
Next, they took out objects they had hidden. They’d stolen something from everyone in the village. Everyone that is but the Weaver, for she was invisible to them, though the Weaver could see the dark sorcerers. They lay the stolen objects in a circle, and took from each the essence of its owner, and made a Book. The Book would be used as a tool for controlling the villagers. It was full of dark, veiled words burning with an icy fire. It was a Book that would have the same effect on the villagers as the dark sorcerers’ eyes had, when they’d first looked into them. It would be where all the beliefs they wanted the villagers to believe, would be written. It would be where the villagers’ beautiful things would be recorded. The dark sorcerers called it, the Book of Judgments and Opinions.
One of the first things they wrote in the book was, “Magic, dark or light, doesn’t exist.” They wrote many other things too, none of which they actually believed. But that wasn’t important. The important thing was that the villagers believed what was written in the book. Everything written was meant to strip beautiful things of their light, and leave the villagers feeling diminished, and wanting to please the one who controlled the book. Among the seemingly endless pages they left many blank, intending the book to be passed down through the ages. They left room for countless Mayors to come, to continue binding the Book of Judgments and Opinions with dark magic. And recording all the villagers’ beautiful things. They worked deep into the night.
The next evening, the dark sorcerers closed the curtains in the grey house again. They worked deep into the night, in the room they had devised particularly for hiding secrets, forging a long, black table. Fashioning it from a metal they had brought with them from a distant place, and imbuing it with all the dark magic they knew. They called it, the Table of Shadows.
At dawn, the dark sorcerers looked into the darkness inside. They looked north, they looked south, they looked east, they looked west, and saw there was nothing more to be done. So, all the dark sorcerers but one, packed up their things, bid the Mayor goodbye, and disappeared from the village.
The Mayor fondled the key to the grey house where it lay in his icy, chest pocket. He walked into the room particularly devised for hiding secrets, and sat down behind the Table of Shadows. His grey hands caressed The Book of Judgments and Opinions, and he smiled, eager to begin. The first thing he would do would be to introduce himself to the villagers as the Mayor. He would teach them what the word Mayor meant and what the work of a Mayor entailed. He would explain to them he was there to help them. To help them improve their beautiful things...
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