The Cross and the Cosmos - Issue 10

The Cross and Cosmos January 1st, 2012

The Black Rose Jarkko PylväsEdited by GL Francis and Glyn ShullPublished by Glyn ShullWebmastering provided by Frank

The Black Roseby Jarkko Pylväs

Citra and Artworkby Jacob Lindaman

The Seventh Messengerby Pedro Blas González


Citra Jacob Lindaman

Greetings one and all!

It is that time again: time for another amazing issue of the Cross and the Cosmos! And now

with some great news! As was announced through Marcher Lord Press, the Anthology for TC2's inaugural

year has hit the internet! The excitement at our fictional headquarters is palpable! These great stories

represent the very best ofChristian Speculative Fiction for over a year as well as the stories that follow.

Many of the stories there in also have a companion story that furthers the original. Great stuff! You can get

the Anthology through marcherlordpress.com.

Also of note is the inclusion of a new member of the TC2 team: GL Francis, whose work

has graced TC2 in virtually every issue since its founding, has taken over our editorial team. Currently,

we're looking for an additional editor or two to flesh out our anthology team. We're also going to need

slush editors soon as the tide of stories is sure to increase, or so we pray!

Now for this issue. In this issue, we have another fantastic story from Jarkko Pylvas. This

time, we're following the story of a young man seeking his love's hand. “The Black Rose” is followed by a

wonderful love story from Jacob Lindaman featuring people from different worlds bonded together

through love and faith. Jacob's story is also the cover feature, also drawn by Jacob. “Citra” is followed by

“The Seventh Messenger” by Pedro Gonzalez. “Messenger” deals with the end times and a priest's faith.

These authors and artist are an amazing blend that truly compliment each other and our savior: Jesus

Christ.

Now, I know that you're hankering to get to the stories, but I'd like to talk about the next

issue. Our next issue's theme is Dragons! My unit's mascot is a “Steel Dragon”. We already have two

stories and are looking for more, so If you no someone who has a dragon story or would like to write one,

including you, se3nd us a line!

In His Service – Glyn



THE BLACK ROSE

by

Jarkko Pylväs

Once upon a time, there was a poor, young man named Filemon who earned his living as a chimneysweep

in the Old Town ofPrague, the capital city ofBohemia. He lived in a small apartment with a kitchen and

one bedroom on the third floor of an old tenement on the outskirts of the Old Town ofPrague. There was

no stove or fireplace or chimney in the apartment, but neither was there grave sorrow though it was rather

cold there in winter-time. Filemon lived there alone. His parents had died several years before. At the time,

Filemon had mourned their passing away, but nowadays his mood was mostly cheerful and he loved being

of use as a chimneysweep. While he worked, he was in the habit of singing songs, whose music and lyrics

he himself had composed. The boy’s cheer was infectious and those who heard him sing enjoyed his

company and artistic gift.

Filemon was such a proficient chimneysweep that the word of his skills reached the royal palace of the

king ofBohemia. One spring day, when the tulips and narcissus and cherry and apple trees were all

blossoming with their lovely scent, Filemon received an invitation to come sweep the golden and silver

chimneys of the royal palace. The letter displayed the official stamp of the royal palace of the king of

Bohemia. That evening at home, after a long day ofwork, Filemon admired the beautiful stamp by candle

light. He wanted to show the stamp to his parents, and remembered again that they had passed away. Then

he said: I will show this letter to you in heaven, my dear parents, ifI myselfshall ever one day get in there!

Golden and silver chimneys

Early the next morning, while the Moon and Venus still shone bright in the sky, Filemon left on toot for

the royal palace. On his journey, he met his old friend, the baker.

—Where are you headed at this hour, my old friend?, asked the baker.

—I’m going to the royal palace ofthe king ofBohemia, my dear old buddy. I will be sweeping the golden

and silver chimneys, Filemon answered his voice full of joyful spirit.

—Good heavens! I congratulate you. At the royal palace, you will meet the Princess Isabella, who is more

beautiful than any other lady in the world. Her locks are black as ebony and her skin is white as snow and

her lips are red as blood. But, added the baker, mark my words, when I say to beware ofthe Black Rose in

the garden ofthe royal palace, because the one who sees it shall face perdition because oflove.

—I shall remember your warning, my old friend!, said Filemon as he continued in a rush towards the royal

palace.

In the blue moments of early morning, Filemon arrived at the meian entrance of the royal palace. The head

butler of the court greeted the chimneysweep in a most friendly. Filemon responded to the butler’s

welcoming words with a friendly salute. Filemon and the butler walked to the courtyard of the royal



palace, where the butler defined the chimneysweep’s duties, which included sweeping the soot from all the

chimneys in the royal palace. What a magnificent task!, Filemon thought, This task will take a month or

two— maybe even three months!

Now it was time to start work and so Filemon climbed up on the roof to begin sweeping the golden and

silver chimneys of the royal palace. Filemon was very skilled and handy and while he worked, he began to

sing.

1 .

O white bird

of the sky

fly high and

even higher

to the blueness

unmeasurable

then come down

and land to at your

home the dearest

dovehouse

2. 3 .

O flower of the grass O traveller set off

field green shine on your journey

shine even more travel still one

beautifully more verst

let your colours take nothing

glow with shine with you

drink from the on this journey

fountain of life except for love

purest of all waters shining bright

4.

O Kingdom ofHeaven

grow and increase

as the largest

of all trees raise

hide as the

secret treasure

into the field

and sell as

the most precious

of all jewels

That is how his song went. And after that, he sang even another song.

Which lady in the land is the most beautiful?, I asked the wind and the rain.

But the wind just soughed and the rain drops just pattered.



Which lady in the land is the prettiest ofall?, I asked the moon and the stars.

But the stars just twinkled and the moon just glowed bright.

I even asked the Sun: Which lady in the land is the most pretty?

But the sun only shone with its golden beams.

I asked the clouds and the rainbow, which lady in the land is prettiest?

But the rainbow just showed its colours and the clouds faded away.

I asked the wise, who is the most beautiful lady in the land?

But the wise just answered by asking back: Why do you wish to know?

I asked my friend: Who is the loveliest lady in the land?

My friend answered: Ask also your heart, my friend.

Finally, I asked my heart, which lady in the land is the loveliest?

My heart answered me: Your bride is the loveliest!

And the wind soughed as an echo: Your Bride, your bride.

The rain sang: Your bride is the most beautiful ofall.

The stars twinkled: Your sweetheart, your darling.

The Moon sighed: Your darling is the prettiest.

The sun smiled: Your sweetheart is the loveliest.

The wise and my friend echoed: Your lady, your lady.

The rainbow arched down to the feet ofmy sweetheart,

The clouds formed a castle, whose queen was my bride.

Filemon didn’t yet have a bride or girlfriend, but even so, this was what he sang.

And it happened that a window in the young princess’ salon was open on that very beautiful day in early

spring, when the tulips and apple trees and orchards were on the verge of their season of bloom. From her

open window, the princess observed the figure of the chimneysweep while he worked high up on the roof

of the royal palace, and she was much delighted to see such a supple and courageous young man who

moved in such a subtle way on the roof and sang with such a delightful voice. At that moment, the princess

promised herself that she would make time in her weekly schedule in order to get acquainted with the

young chimneysweep. So, the princess went straight away to meet her father, the king ofBohemia, who

had been widowed some five years before.

—Hear me, my dear old father, the princess began her discussion with the old king.

—Tell me, my dear daughter, answered the old king.

—Oh, my dear father, I have been taught by the best teachers in the Kingdom ofBohemia and I’m very

grateful for this. My teachers have taught me a variety oftopics, including for example mathematics like

algebra and Pythagoras’ theorem, foreign languages like German and French, classical languages like

Latin and Greek, poetry, art, music and dance like for example, berquemasques. I have been privileged,

and very keen to learn all these subjects, but just lately, I have been pondering the topic ofschooling and

have come to this conclusion: My schooling in the court is lacking in one very important side oflife.

—So tell me, my dear daughter, which side is this?

—I mean by this the life ofordinary people in the Kingdom ofBohemia. I hope you are not offended by my

words, but the fact is that I have so far learned only through courtly teachers, who have taught me only

about topics meaningful in the courtly life and at the same time I know almost nothing about the world



outside the court, by which I mean the life ofordinary people in our kingdom. Now Iwish to learn about

this other side oflife and learn how ordinary people live.

—And how have you planned to learn about this other side oflife from the practical side, my dear

daughter?

—My plan is to become one ofthe cleaning women ofthe royal palace for some time. I wish to know how

floors are scrubbed and how laundry is washed. Now I’m asking you: Do you accept my plan, my dear old

father?

—That’s a fine plan, my dear daughter! I’m so proud ofyou that this thought crossed your mind. Of

course, I accept. I believe that this last lesson might be more useful than anything else you have learned so

far through various courtly teachers.

—Thank you, my dear old father, said the princess.

Rabbi Löw

One day while sweeping the golden and silver chimneys of the royal palace of the king ofBohemia,

Filemon came upon the front of an open skylight. In the other side stood an elderly man with greyish hair

and beard who was carefully observing the activities of the chimneysweep on the roof. Filemon

immediately recognized that the person standing next to him was Rabbi Yehuda Löw himself, the courtly

medical doctor of the king ofBohemia. While Filemon strenuously on the golden and silver chimneys,

Rabbi Löw struck up a discussion.

—Hello, sweeperboy! Do you know who I am?, asked Rabbi Löw.

—Ofcourse, I know! You are the famous Rabbi Yehuda Löw, the courtly doctor ofthe king ofBohemia, no

more and no less, the chimneysweep answered.

—So tell me, what do they say about me in the world?, asked the Rabbi.

In response, Filemon started to sing a song.

It

was

you,

Rabbi Löw

who wanted

to became as

the likeness of

the God Himself

with the strength

ofthe most secret

name ofthe God Almighty

You wrote within the sign of Solomon

written on the sand ofground

the most secret name ofthe God

the name ‘Eme’t, and with this name

you raised from the ground the fierce

Golem with the word ‘the Truth’

written in Hebrew on his forehead

for the purpose ofprotecting

you and your people in times

uncertain, when common people scorned



the Holy Bible and the Holy Talmud

and your people were torn out

from their homes to the streets

and the marketplaces to be

humiliated by the common people

which the angel Mikael watched

with tears in his sky blue eyes

and in his right hand the Sword of the Truth.

Truly you are the reflection and

likeness ofthe God

Almighty, Rabbi Löw,

you are the defender

ofthe rights ofthe weak

and the oppressed,

you are like a reflection

ofreflection in

a mirror surface,

which in reflections

reached the eternity.

You raised the fierce Golem from

the ground just like

God raised

the first man, Adam.

From withered

branches were made

its bones, from arid

grass were made

its locks, and from

black stones were

made its eyes from

the dust ofearth

its flesh and its

Spirit was made of a blow ofwind.

But soon you realized that the Golem grew

day after day bigger and bigger

stronger and stronger. Maybe

then you thought in your mind:

Let the God righteously teach

His chosen nation, His most

dearest child, because too much

ofstrength for human being only

deteriorating in a spiritual sense, because also Job’s

faith was brighter in the middle

ofsufferings. Maybe this was your

reasoning when you dismissed

the fierce exorcisms and let the

Golem became as earth and

dust again. You removed only

one letter ‘Alef’ from the Golem’s

forehead and then there read

only the word ‘Met’ , which means ‘dead’ in Hebrew.



And

there the

dead Golem

now lies motionless

staring at the ceiling

with motionless eyes ofstone

in the old attic ofthe geniza

ofAltneuchul in Prague,

where it await the

severe days when

it shall be

awakened

still one

more

time.

Rabbi Löw was very pleased with this song. When it ended, he smiled and said: Sing me one more song

and this time sing about love, O Troubadour!

And so Filemon sang about love.

Love is like a moth ofthe night

it does not fear the fire

but rushes straight away to

the hottest ofall flames.

Love is not a bird or a dog or a fish.

Love can be a bird or a dog or a fish;

it can take as its messenger

any form and speak fluently

any language on earth.

In reality love doesn’t have

a physical body.

It’s like the angel

ofSumma Theologia

ofThomas ofAquino.

Love is bilingual: The other tongue speaks

the language ofDreams

and the other one ofDeath.

It’s like a Serpent.

Love is the supreme

clockwork created

by the God, which

works always

with deterministic

accuracy.

For the Hebrews love is Ahavaa.

and for the Greeks it’s Agape and Eros.



We have many names for love

but none knows its real name.

Love knows us all by all our names.

Love has wings

which it uses to fly from Lover

to Beloved and back to the Lover.

It does not ever get lost on its journey.

It is the Cosmic Mystery.

It’s like a Dove.

Love carves to our hearts

the most beautiful ofall poems

with mighty strong arms

it tattoos within us

the most truthful ofall words

When Rabbi Löw had heard this song, he smiled even more, clapped his hands and shouted —Bravo!

Season ofTulips

Another day that spring, the chimneysweep Filemon was up on the roof cleaning the chimneys. He came

in front of one golden chimney next to which was a skylight above a large salon in the royal palace. The

skylight was open and when the chimneysweep boy looked inside, he saw a modestly dressed and at the

same time very pretty young maiden who was scrubbing the floor of the salon. The locks of the maiden

were black as ebony, her skin was white as snow, and her lips were red as blood. Suddenly, the maiden

raised her eyes and met the gaze of the chimneysweep boy. They both smiled.

At that very amorous glance, Filemon fell for the maiden. He thought: What a beautiful lady! She is as

beautiful as a true princess! Or maybe even more beautiful! That’s what he thought, because he didn’t

have a clue that the lady before him was actually the princess herself.

That evening, after having earlier that day met the princess for the very first time, Filemon returned

delighted and smiling to his home in the Old Town of the city of Prague. In the moments of the warm

spring evening, he wrote a poem for the maiden, whose locks were black as ebony, skin white as snow and

lips red as blood.

This is how the poem went.

O Lovely Maiden

Tonight, when the sky grows dark, the wind is rising and soughing on the glass ofwindows and

down on the street an unbroken stream ofhorses and carriages flows steady with the sounds ofclatter and

creaks, when by the side ofthe park’s springtime blossoming ofthe tulips and apple trees and orchids and

cherry trees, inside the apartment building, on the third floor, where I live. I am alone and I feel: I want, I

don’t want to escape this clattering and creaking. I think about your eyes, like a mystery which I can not

solve and suddenly the night throws its cloak ofdarkness on to this city.



I remember your smile, which you gave to me today almost accidentally. I remember: Your smile

was like a sensitive bird, which hard and heavy daylight had thrown down to the ground, but which you

picked up and held in your hands beautifully, carefully, tenderly. You gave me your smile like a golden bird

so that I would return it back to the night, where it could fly again. I hide myselfin this memory, I make it

my special secret and feel that there is nothing else in my life than this memory. It was a strange and

beautiful smile, joyous and sorrowful at the same time.

My thoughts: I want, I don’t want to escape this clattering and creaking, this insomniac town,

where my only hope is in you. In you rosy red smile, in the white vellum ofyour skin, in the wind, which

sings the song ofdistant far-away, in dream, in the reflections ofthe silver mirrors of your eyes.

I feel: I don’t want any more ofthis daylight, hard and heavy, but instead I want to utterly

disappear into this night, where your golden birds fly high, where the stars fall into your arms and loins,

your locks and lips and the wind, which

hums silently all this night the melody ofyour lips.

After Filemon had written this poem, he fell sleep and dreamed the loveliest dream of all dreams.

The next day, Filemon again saw the maiden with locks as black as ebony, skin white as snow, and lips red

as blood as he scrubbed the floor of the salon in the palace. When he saw her, he dropped his poem down

the chimney of the salon—smoke wasn’t rising that time—hoping the maiden would soon find the poem.

Late that evening, when the colour of the sun was already purple-red, Filemon found his way home after a

hard and demanding day ofwork. At the very instant he entered his home, a carrier pigeon flew inside the

bedroom from an open window. Filemon noticed the pigeon carried a letter attached to its foot. Filemon

removed the note and began to read.

The letter contained a poem.

Before the tulips

fall into hypnosis

ofthe pale night

the evening is

full ofpossibilities

and the heart

opens itself

for realizing

everything in

this world is

bound together

The birds sing

in a soft way

in the garden

and even a little

glance ofyou

makes me smile

And then I'm sure

it’s your chest

where my soulbird

flies tonight

it sings to your dream



the shadowy music

hide it within

your heart

feel its singing

on your skin

and nothing in this

world can ever

break us apart

After reading the letter, Filemon was sure that the note was from the maiden, whose locks were black as

ebony and skin white as snow and lips red as blood. Suddenly, it started to rain outside. Filemon sat down

at his desk and wrote a poem. This is how the poem went.

S e c r e t s

What if

I would write

a poem to you?

Would the doves

carry it through

the rain protecting it

with their wings?

Or what if I would

travel to visit you

when the bright Moon

and Venus were

still seen on the sky?

Would you open

the door for me

in the blue moments

ofthe early morning?

What if I saw a dream

where I kissed you lightly

as a wing of a butterfly

when we were lying together

next to each other on a bed

covered with petals of roses.

IfI would tell you this dream,

would you then open to me

the hiding place ofyour secrets?

Would you give me a key

behind the mirror reflections?

Or are you saying that there is no cure to the crystal tears

of our eyes? Are you telling me that there is a rainbow,

but its colours don’t shine for us?

I asked you before and I’m asking you now:

Look



into the well

ofmysteries

because there

I hid

my heart

only

for you

Filemon attached the poem to the foot of the carrier pigeon and then released it.

Late the next night, just before sunrise when the bright Moon and Venus were still seen in the sky, he left

his home and headed towards the royal palace of the king ofBohemia. Filemon climbed on to the roof of

the royal palace in the blue moments of early morning and walked in front of the window, where he had

first seen the maiden with locks black as ebony and skin white as snow and lips red as blood. A few

moments later, the window opened from the inside and before him stood this adored maiden.

And what happened next? It’s a secret.

All that summer, Filemon and the princess cooed like a pair of doves. Filemon fell deeper and deeper in

love with the maiden, whom he didn’t know to be the one and only princess in the royal palace. The

princess, too, loved Filemon more and more every day. All that summer, he wrote more and more songs

and poems for the princess, each more delightful than the last. Finally, the tasks of the chimneysweeper

boy in the royal palace of the king ofBohemia were drawing close to an end. One evening, Filemon wrote

one more poem. This is how it went.

Written in stars

She invited me forth

from my naked secrets

With gold entangled with her hair

she girds me up to the clouds

She talks softly into my dreams

She dreams a forest

and a silence

and a mirror surface of a pond

and a whisper

I don’t own her.

Except

for her silent mirror reflection

which is

the desire

of the



moment

which is

coming

closer

In the morning of his last workday in the last days of summer, the chimneysweep rose up once again to the

roof of the royal palace, but when he came in front of the window of the salon, where he had met the

maiden so many times before, there was a big surprise waiting for him. That morning, the maiden had

dressed in a glamorous gown with diamonds and rubies and emeralds, and on her forehead wore a golden

crown embellished with pearls. Filemon was shocked by this revelation, and only at that moment did he

realize that his girlfriend was in truth the one and only princess of this royal palace. The princess noticed

the shock she had caused with her costume. Without hesitation, she asked Filemon to come in and he

slipped inside the salon.

—Don’t be afraid, My Love. Come forth, please, said the princess.

—I’ll come ifit pleases you, O Princess, said Filemon

After this they were both silent for a moment.

—Do you love me?, asked the princess finally.

—Yes, O Princess. I can’t deny this, answered Filemon.

—Are you completely certain?, said the princess.

—Yes I am, My Love. My heart belongs to you and none else, Filemon replied.

—Oh, good. Ifthis is the truth, I have a further task for you.

—Tell me, My Love. Which task shall this be?

—All right, I will tell you now. It has happened that the prince ofour neighbouring kingdom, Prussia, has

fixed his attentions on me. He has asked my father’s permission to marry me. But I love you and not the

prince. Even so, I can not just turn down his proposal, because this would only lead into a war between

the two kingdoms. So, I have decided to arrange a competition in which the winner shall have my heart as

well as my hand in marriage. You will participate in this competition, won’t you? Because ifyou do, I’m

sure you will win this game, My Love, said the princess.

—Yes, ofcourse, I will ifthis is your wish, said the chimneysweep.

Field of stones

Early the next morning, Filemon met his rival the prince of Prussia in the courtyard of the royal palace.

The prince was dressed in golden armour and had sharper than sharp golden sword on his belt. The prince

struck a conversation.

—You are the poor chimneysweep boy from the Old Town ofPrague, aren’t you?, asked the prince.

—Yes, truly I am.

—How is it that you, who live poorly in Old Town ofPrague in a small apartment with no stove or

fireplace or chimney, think that you can beat me in competition and win the right to marry the princess?

—Indeed, I am poor, but under the ceiling ofmy apartment, there is no great griefto be found, only

happiness.

—I will show you griefall right! When I become king ofPrussia, I will cut your throat! What do you have

to say about that? Are you afraid?, said the prince in a pompous way.

—No. I am not afraid ofyou, said Filemon.

Then the princess arrived in the courtyard and put an end to the arguing of the prince and the



chimneysweep. —Come, come, boys. Stop your arguing right now. I have three tasks for you. The first is

to plough a hundred metres long field ofstones. I expect this to be accomplished before sunrise and

rooster’s crow tomorrow morning. The second task is to hit a single fiber ofmy hair with a bow and arrow

from the distance oftwo-hundred metres. You shall face this second tomorrow. The third task is to bring me

a red rose from the royal garden, whose only door is guarded by the strongest man in Bohemia and which

garden is surrounded by three-hundred metres high wall ofstones. I shall expect you to accomplish the

third task before sunrise the day after tomorrow. The one who accomplishes all three tasks successfully

shall have my heart for ever more and also the right to marry me, said the princess, who then walked away

and disappeared inside the royal palace.

Both the competitors, too, left the courtyard and walked away.

The next night, the prince arrived at the corner of the field of stones outside the city district. He came there

with a group of one-hundred of the strongest men of the Prussian army. It took only a few minutes for the

hundred soldiers to plough the hundred-metre long strip of the field of stones. When they finished the

prince ordered the soldiers to sow poisonous snakes in the next hundred-metre strip of the field of stones.

As they sowed the snakes, the prince shouted: More! More! Sow even more snakes! Sow as many as

snakes as there are stars in the nightsky! Sow more or I will cut your throats when I become king of

Prussia! That was the way the prince shouted to his own men and he also sowed a few snakes himself.

While the prince and his men worked industriously in the field of stones, Filemon was fast asleep in his

home in the Old Town ofPrague. He was sleeping because the prince had ordered his servant to put a

special sleep-inducing medicine into the drinking water of Filemon’s apartment.

It was very late at night when Filemon woke up, with only the moon and Venus, of all the stars of the

nightsky, visible in the blue moments of the morning. He left his apartment and headed as quickly as he

could to the strip of field of stones outside the city district, he was supposed to plough before sunrise.

When the chimneysweeper boy saw how big the stones were in this field, he thought: How can I ever

accomplish this task? He was just about to start ploughing, when he noticed the poisonous snakes in the

field.

—How can I ever accomplish this task?, shouted Filemon aloud by the side of the field of stones.

Rabbi Löw was aware of the developments over the past night and he showed up at the corner of the field

of stones. But he did not come alone: the fierce Golem, the Man ofRock and Earth stood by his side.

Rabbi Löw gave strict orders to the Golem and the Golem obeyed.

First, Rabbi Löw ordered the Golem: Plough the field!And the Golem ploughed. It took him only a few

seconds to complete the task.

Then Rabbi Löw ordered the Golem: Sow seeds into the field! And the Golem sowed.

Next, Rabbi Löw ordered the Golem: Wet the seeds ofthe field!And the Golem watered the field.

Next, Rabbi Löw ordered the Golem: Warm up the seeds ofthe field so that they start to grow! And so the

Golem blew hot winds from its lungs and a great statue of fire appeared from its mouth, which warmed the

seeds in the field so that they started to grow.

—There, my friend! Seeds are already germinating in your field, said Rabbi Löw to Filemon.

—Thousands ofthanks to you, my friend!, Filemon joyfully replied.

—Thank yourself!, said the Rabbi and smiled.

Slicing fiber of hair

By the time of sunrise, the rooster of the royal palace crowed. Well before sunrise, the prince appeared in



the courtyard of the royal palace, where the princess waited for both the competitors. The prince was

amazed to see that the chimneysweep had managed to show up in time, and even more amazed to see that

he was as calm and joyous at the same time.

—Is the first task accomplished?, asked the princess.

—Yes, it is, competitors answered in unison.

—In my field, the seeds are already germinating, added Filemon to the great astonishment of the prince.

The prince was so angry when he heard this comment, that he bit his own lip.

—Well done, boys. Now we shall move on to the second task, which is to hit a target— a single fiber of

hair ofmine—with a bow and an arrow. The target shall be placed one-hundred metres away on the other

side ofthis pond in the courtyard. I shall stand next to you on this side ofthe pond and judge, and my

father the King ofBohemia will judge next to the target on the other side ofthe pond. So, let us begin, said

the princess.

The prince was given the first turn. The prince had the advantage in this second task, because at the castle

of the king of Prussia, where he lived, he often had very little else to spend his time except to practice

archery and other skills ofwarfare. The prince lacked other entertainments in life besides practicing the

skills ofwarfare. So, now the prince stretched his bow and then shot his arrow with fierce strength. The

arrow flew in a tremendous curve over the pond and finally hit the target, which was one single fiber of the

hair of the princess.

The king shouted from the other side of the pond: Bull’s eye! The arrow sliced the single fiber ofhair!

Next, it was Filemon’s turn. Before he had time to stretch his bow, the prince took two apples from his

bag. He started to eat one and offered the other to the chimneysweep. —Take an apple. It’s a sign ofmy

friendship, said the prince. But Filemon foresaw that the apple was poisoned, so he just took the apple and

put it into his pocket without taking a bite.

Filemon didn’t have much previous experience in archery and so he pondered again how on earth he

would accomplish this demanding task. He could see his reflection on the mirror surface of the completely

calm pond. And next to his own reflection he saw the reflection of his beloved, the princess. Filemon

stretched his bow, and all at once started to feel dizzy. He looked at his reflection and the reflection of the

princess next to it and suddenly it seemed to him that the lengths of these reflections were increasing. The

reflections seemed to reach from the side of the pond where he, the princess, and also the prince stood, to

the other side where the king was.

Suddenly the princess whispered: Shoot! And so, the chimneysweeper boy shot his arrow. He tried to

avoid hitting the surface of the pond. His arrow, too, flew in a tremendous curve to the other side of the

pond where from was heard a peculiar chinking sound.

—Bull’s eye, twice over! The arrow sliced the previous arrow, and at the same time, it also sliced the fiber

ofhair!, the king shouted from the other side of the pond.

After this episode, the princess was very pleased, Filemon was relieved and the prince was even angrier.

“So, let us move forward to the third and final task,” said the princess.

Season of Roses

—You have 'til the rooster crows at daybreak to accomplish the last task, which is to bring me a red rose

from the garden ofthe royal palace. The garden is surrounded by three-hundred metres high wall ofstone

and the only entrance is guarded by the strongest man in Bohemia. In the garden, there are three roses: the

first one is white, the second one is red, the third one is black. The one who brings me the white rose shall



be rejected. The one who brings me the red rose I shall marry. But the one who sees even a glimpse ofthe

black rose shall face Death, most appalling and black. So, be extra careful out there, gentlemen!, said the

princess.

That evening the prince showed up at the entry of the garden of the royal palace. The strongest man in

Bohemia stopped him. The prince shouted angrily: Move away from the entry! Ifyou don’t move away, I

will cut your throat when I am king. But ifyou do move away, I shall give you a golden ducat. The

strongest man in Bohemia, shocked to hear this, moved away from the entrance. So, the prince gave the

man a golden ducat, which the man put it in his pocket.

—But beware ofthe black rose because it might cost you your life!, said the strongest man to the prince,

when he passed him.

—Nonsense! That’s only one superstition!, scoffed the prince.

Inside the walls, the prince saw the rose garden. And truly, there were three, no more and no less. One was

white as snow, one was red as blood, and one was black as ebony. The prince cut the stem of the white

rose and also of the red one, leaving behind only the black rose. He thought: I shall leave the black rose

for you, chimneysweep. That shall be the omen ofyour fate, because when I become king, I shall cut your

throat! And with that thought, the prince left the rose garden.

That same evening, Filemon arrived in front of the three hundred metres high wall of stone, which

surrounded the garden of the royal palace. The boy did not wish to dare challenge the strongest man in

Bohemia guarding the doorway into the garden, and so he concluded it was safer to enter by climbing over

the wall. This is very a dangerous task, Filemon thought. It will take the whole night to climb to the other

side ofthe wall and to climb back over with the rose. As chimneysweep, Filemon was experienced in

climbing up to high places, so he wasn’t afraid of heights. By midnight, he reached the top of the wall and

started back down the other side.

Two hours later, Filemon descended safely to the ground of the garden of the royal palace. He blindfolded

himselfwith a scarf he’d brought with him so as to avoid seeing the black rose, and walked towards the

rose garden. He fumbled about the roses and at the same time wondered: How on earth will I be able to

recognize the rose ofthe right colour without my eyesight?

Filemon realized he could feel with his hands there was only one rose in the rose garden, so he had no

other chance but to take this one. He cut the stem and folded the rose into a bundle of cloth. As he made

his leave from the garden, it began to rain. The rain was very heavy, thunder roared, and lightning struck.

In a matter of seconds, Filemon and his clothes were drenched.

When Filemon returned again to the three-hundred metres high wall of stone, he decided to take a closer

look at his find. He thought: Let it not to be the black rose! But when he opened the bundle of cloth, at

first he didn’t see anything else but black darkness, because it was night and there was heavy storm. Then

in at flash of lightning, he believed he glimpsed the rose in his hand—it was the most beautiful purple red

rose of all time! This vision of a red rose gave Filemon renewed energy. He folded the rose into the bundle

of cloth and started climb back over the wall, which was all wet and slippery and very dangerous.

The next morning, the prince showed up once again very early in the courtyard of the royal palace. He

handed his rose to the princess, the red rose that he had found in the rose garden of the royal palace the

previous evening.

—Thank you, said the princess and curtseyed.

A few seconds later, Filemon too showed up in the courtyard. He also had a rose to give to the princess.

—Thank you, said the princess. She curtseyed and added: You knew, my Love!

—But isn’t that the black rose that the chimneysweep handed you?, asked the prince in a very annoyed

tone of voice.



At that moment, Filemon realized, in truth, he had handed the black rose to the princess. He was extremely

shocked and almost fainted. But next, the princess said in a very calm voice: Let us look closer and see.

The princess took a jug ofwater and dipped the red rose of the prince into the water: The rose went in red,but came out white. Next, the princess took the Filemon’s black rose and dipped it into the water: The rosewent in black, but came out red. Then she said to them both: —Look, boys: Originally, there wasn’t suchthing as the black rose in the royal rose garden. But there were only two white roses and one red rose.One ofthe white roses I painted red with watercolours. And on top ofthe red one, I sprinkled some soot sothat it looked black. But there can be only one conclusion from all ofthis: the red rose was brought to meby Filemon the chimneysweep and so my heart belongs to him. And the proposal ofthe prince shall berejected. That is all.

After hearing these words, the prince became furious. —I have been betrayed!, he shouted angrily. Then

he took his golden sword in his hand and thrust it straight through the heart of the princess, shouting: You

promised your heart, so I shall take it now! The princess collapsed dead on the ground.

When Filemon saw this, he thought: “My beloved is dead. I don’t want to live anymore.” Then he

remembered about the apple the prince had given him the previous day. It was still in his pocket. Filemon

took the apple from his pocket and took a bite. Then he collapsed dead on the ground because, truly, it was

poisonous.

A few seconds later Rabbi Löw showed up in the courtyard. The fierce Golem was with him. When Rabbi

Löw saw, what had happened, he instructed the Golem: Hit him down to the ground. The Golem instantly

took the sword from the hand of the prince and cut off his head from the shoulders with one tremendously

powerful stroke. The prince collapsed on the ground next to the others. Next, Rabbi Löw crouched down

over the princess, took a dose ofmiracle salve from his bag and rubbed it into the princess’ wound. A few

seconds later, the princess arose. But when she saw her beloved Filemon dead on the ground next to her,

she started to cry.

—Can you help my sweetheart, O Rabbi Löw?, asked the princess with tears on her cheeks.

—I’m truly sorry, but my salve doesn’t cure poisons, answered Rabbi Löw.

The princess picked up from the ground the black rose that Filemon had given her, placed it on his chest,

crouched down over him, and gave him a kiss on his lips. A miracle happened: Filemon rose up from the

dead as he had only been sleeping and gave a kiss to the princess in return.

The princess and Filemon the chimneysweep kissed each other for a very long time and both were very

happy.

The Wedding

In the last days of that very summer, there was a great wedding, where princess Isabella and Filemon were

wedded in holy matrimony. Both the princess and Filemon said—Ido, in front of all the congregation and

also to the face ofGod Almighty. The people ofBohemia were delighted to see two lovers have each

other in love. After the wedding ceremony in the church, there was the greatest party of all times in

Kingdom ofBohemia. During the party Filemon sang an old song. This is how it went.

There is a black rose hidden in the garden ofthe old castle

and the story goes that ifsomeone finds this rose

that one shall face perdition because oflove

Once in the shadows ofthe night, I walked in the garden



and then I was given to see the black rose

the one which enchants the human mind

and while I sensed its magic powers

I picked up this gift ofdeath

On that night, a storm arose and lightning struck with heavy rain

and I was given to see a wonderful dream ofa lady

who took my heart

And every night this dream comes to me

and my heart is exhausted with kisses

Unwithered, this black rose is still on my table

because ofmy love, it stays unwithered

until it takes my young life

The princess and the chimneysweep lived happily ever after and they had many children together. They

loved each other for-ever-more. And nothing in this world could break them apart: not humans, not angels

and not dominions or principalities or powers.

After the wedding, Rabbi Löw also raised the prince from the dead with his miracle salve, because he

wanted to avoid war between the two kingdoms, Bohemia and Prussia. The prince returned home to

Prussia very angry. When the prince became king of Prussia, he was still so angry that he started the war

anyway.

But that is a whole other story.

Jarkko Pylväs is a university student in in WesternCentral Finland and a journalist. He's studying Worldhistory and Semitic languages and cultures and, assuch, has studied Hebrew, Coptic, and Greek, as wellas theology and exegetics. One of his latest articlesdealt with Human Rights in Russia, namely theFreedom of speech, or lack there of. He has writtenseveral other articles on the environment and otherHuman Rights issues around the globe.



Citra

by

Jacob Lindaman

. . . for as the past replays in our present, we know our world is still fallen. Anno Domini 2540

(from a message in a bottle, netted at 52˚43'N, 30˚15'W by Able Seaman Tanner, aboard thescience carrier Sea Lily)

“You’re not afraid are you?” I asked Harry.“Ofwhat? The island? No way. I don’t believe in that stuff,” he said maintaining a perfect focus on

the sea.

“Even though scores of ships have disappeared there?”“Happens all the time. It is a major commercial route used by ships all the time. Only the

ships that disappear make the headlines.”“Yeah, but not since Atlantis appeared near…”“You are calling it that?”“What? Atlantis?”“No one knows what that thing is, and it sure as hell ain’t no Atlantis.”“I suppose you're right,” I relented, “but when an island rises from the sea and lots of

ships go missing at the same time, it raises a lot of questions, don’t you think?”Harry let his steady, seaward gaze answer for him. Slowly, the Nina drove across the

Pacific Ocean towards a patch of sea near where the island had appeared. It was a festeringhive for pirates and lawless men of the sea. Westin, the captain of the Nina, figured the bountywould be an easy score. Two dozen ships had gone missing over the course of the last week. Itwas rumored for years that sailing vessels commonly disappeared after they set out to cross theocean. Once the island was discovered, some speculated that it must be the reason for thedisappearances. Whatever the reason the captain was set on course to engage the mystery withhis navy of privateers.

Westin was a tough brute, but had contacts in the various places in the world many wouldfear to tread. At first, I reasoned that he knew what was up. Perhaps some pirates had formed aloose league of belligerent derelicts. There would be a small skirmish with the crew of the Ninabecoming victorious. The apprehended captain would be delivered to international forces, andwe would receive our bounty. However, when we entered Bandler’s Bay, the last known port onany map, my suspicion changed. Not a boat could be found. The village was all but abandoned.

We stocked our rig with already pilfered supplies and went on. A day passed. Wediscovered another smaller port in similar condition. We had not been through this part of theworld in some time it seemed. The oddest thing about this was that there was no evidence ofbattle or fighting. Everything was simply gone.

I asked Harry, “Why don’t they just send out one of their flying devices to photograph thisplace?”



“Marcus, you think too much. I’ll betcha they already have and they already know whatthe trouble is. Not worth them coming out to do all the work themselves so they offer up a littlecarrot to get all the bounty men excited. Let us do their work for them. That’s how they are.”

“I’m not sure. This is odd.”The sun provided its warmth perhaps more than we would have wished, but it was better

than searching for deserters of a southern army on the newly discovered route. The weather wasfair and the air was fresh which was more than most sailors could ask for.

I spotted the occasional dolphin or whale and pointed this out to Harry who wasunimpressed. Years of fighting had, I supposed, wrestled down the goodness of his soul into ablistered little knot. He wanted action, and I could tell. Sometimes I think he looked upon me as achild for my youthful appreciation of the sea and all that she had to offer, but other times I thinkthat he had really been jealous of me. For it was I who had saved the captain from the clutchesof death. I had been on the Nina longer than him and it was I who lopped a man’s head off hisneck just as he was about to plunge his own sword through Harry.

Nevertheless, Harry was a member of the Nina just like me and together we fought andtogether we plundered. It was then, after an unsatisfying meal, that I first heard the sound. We allheard it. It seemed every man was immediately upon the deck listening. A soft song gilded theair. A tender voice dropped her leaflets of beauty into our ears. The sound was unlike anything Ihad ever heard. It was so pure, so graceful and yet so seductive. The power coming from thelittle voice crossed untold miles from its source.

Soon Westin changed course, and we were following the voice. We picked up speed. Ourgalley crashed through waves. The water sprayed high, but we pressed onward. By morning, wewere passing through floating debris. We found the coast and hugged tightly. We were going toColossal Rocks, the southern most geographic location on any chart in our possession. We wereclose.

Many ships had run aground on the island. Some I could see were the very ships that hadbeen reported missing from years ago. There were other ships, too, but I did not then know howthere had been so many in such a small space.

By now, I could tell we were close to whatever it was. A chorus of delicate voices calledfrom just beyond the horizon. The melody was sweet to our sea stricken souls, but it wassomething no man should bear. It was a sweetness that became bitter, but the longer welistened the more we desired it.

Few noticed, except for me, the sharks churning about in the water below. Some gnashedat the floating rubbish hoping to fill their stomachs. They followed and, as I watched, I swear bymy life that I saw a mighty shadow stir beneath them all. Something enormous that if it sodesired could eat each one of the sharks in a single gulp. I prayed to my God this was not hisleviathan sent to torment the peoples of the earth. I hadn’t the time to listen for his responsewhen someone shouted, “There, up ahead!”

Every eye focused on the same thing. A little, rocky cliff jutted out from the sea and uponthis perch came the dear voices that so teased our hearts. I tried to resist, but I could not.Everyone was in a sort of a trance. The man who had yelled walked forward as if to get closeruntil he fell overboard. Others followed hoping to be the first to ascend the cliff.

We crashed with a thunderous clang of metal and rock scraping against each other. Wewere thrown forward. Some of the men were fortunate enough to have grabbed the railing.Others, like me, were thrown forward to the ground. I found myself on the beach pinned beneatha large beam and had hit my head, causing a bloody mess.

Once the commotion stopped, I gathered myself to see that the rest of the crew wasalready off the ship advancing toward the cliff. Jubilantly, they clamored on top of each otherfighting for position.

As I tried to wrestle myself free, I saw many decayed and rotting things lying upon the



rocky beach. I supposed that they had been bodies at one point, but now they were simplyempty carcasses feeding the birds. The chorus of voices was much more distinct now. Therewere many of them, and they were all womanly. To this day, I know not what language they sang,but my, how their words seemed so sweet to my ear!

The main group of men had reached the rocky ledge and began climbing. My eyessearched ahead of them. There, strewn upon its peak, were dozens of savage women singing.Now I could tell that each was singing her own song and somehow it fit within the song of theothers to create a convulsing harmony that pierced my heart as nothing had before.

As they neared, I saw that these were no mere women. Their naked beauty was great,but their grandeur was magnificent. Some had hair of gold and some of silver. Others had skin ofbronze and still others appeared to be made of ivory. The wildest feature of their appearancewas that not only were they women, but a good portion of them had the feet and feathers of abird. The others who did not fly were mermaids resting upon the rocky ground. I thought I was insomeone else’s dream for I had never imagined such a thing.

One of the womenbirds jumped to the sky and picked up a man with her talons digginginto his flesh. With a laugh, she tossed him over the edge and into the sea. Then anotherwomanbird pecked straight through a man’s chest. She opened her beak, tearing him to pieces.

All of the womenbirds took to the sky, but still the men pressed each other lured by thesong of the enchanting mermaids. I would willfully have gone had I not been trapped. I watchedas my crew was mindlessly hastening to their deaths. Then I realized that I had to do something.They would soon find me helpless beneath this pile of rubble. And still, a part of me wanted to bediscovered.

The massacre continued along with their singing. I could do nothing except lie there in thehot burning sun, listening to their cries. I gave up. I waited. After much of the day had passedand night had come, I shut my eyes and prayed again. I asked that God would take me quietlyand quickly. I asked for an honorable death, but, subject to the circumstances, I said that I wouldbe satisfied with a painless one instead.

Time weathered on causing me to doubt my senses. It had been a long time since I haddrink and I had lost quite a bit of blood from the wound on my head and from my leg, which wasstill pinned beneath the beam. I forbade the thought of rescue as I knew it was hopeless.Instead, I turned my thoughts to the afterlife and what treasures await me there. So much joy Ihoped I would find. There would be many friends, and I would find out how many famous peoplein history had placed their faith in Jesus Christ. Would there be food and books? Would I get toplay cards with my brothers? My mind wandered on for some time. I realized I had becomedelusional, but I allowed myself the luxury of not thinking about the inevitable. Still, their songcontinued.

In the shadowy moonlit night, I saw a creature approach from the waters. Likely, it was amermaid. It slithered on clumsily until it was aware of my presence. Then it changed directioncoming directly towards me. My time had come. I prepared to die and kindly reminded God that itwould probably be best for me to die with as little pain as possible.

The creature crawled upon me knowing that I was helpless. I could feel the wet warmth ofher body touching mine. I waited in agony for her to strike. Was she to stick her fangs into myneck? Or perhaps dismember me and make me watch her eat my flesh? My heart tried to beatfaster, but there was just not enough blood. I was fading quickly.

As she placed her head just above mine, I saw dangling between her two breasts thesilver light of the moon reveal the shape of a cross. My throat squelched an awkward sound, andI thought I gave up the ghost. All was black and quiet.

When I awoke, I was at first surprised that Heaven should have such an earthly beach.Then the throbbing pain in my leg reminded me that I was in fact alive. The sun had warmed thesand and thoroughly baked my skin. The rest of my body remained intact from any supposed



attack by the fiend. What remained of my clothes were useless tatters.I sat up and examined my surroundings. A small cache of supplies from some wreckage

had washed up on shore next to me. A trail of unwashed tracks led from me to the sea. In mypanicked state, I had crawled from the water to rest upon the easy shores of the beach.

I made for the supplies, but found it impossible to move because of my leg. I cried out inpain and fell to the ground. Sitting up again, I examined my wound. It was bad. A gash ran deepacross my calf. I bent down to my right side and rubbed my finger along the opening. It was wet,but not with blood or pus. A lathery exudate had formed a whitish seal. It hurt like hell, I tell you.

Unable to walk, I determined to crawl to the supplies. First, I thought of my thirst. Thenrealizing that I was neither thirsty nor hungry, I began to search for any items that may aid myambulation. Luckily, I found a single crutch and a sack of dried food. I stuffed them in a backpackalong with a flare gun, thermos, first aid equipment and some other items I deemed necessaryfor wilderness survival.

Before moving on, I remembered the Lord who had so graciously spared my life and mysuffering. I thanked him as I have never thanked him before. Never have I been so grateful to bealive and mending. Never have I spent so much time petitioning so great a God.

Getting up from the sand, I looked and there out in the shallows of the sea was a littlehead bobbing up and down with the waves. It was her. She had been watching me the entiretime. She must have realized that I had noticed her, for immediately after she spun aroundtossing her colorful array of fins high into the air and disappeared beneath the sea. Perhaps itwas she who had saved me and not my own panicked efforts.

I hobbled along the beach to make camp and ready myself for any future attack by her oranything else. Night came after a long and lonely day spent in much worry. I lit a campfire, butafter it had been going for some time, I thought it was not necessary. I was neither famished norfreezing and I did not want to attract any attention.

When morning arrived, I sought to get a better lay of the land. I spied a tall tree not faraway still on the beach. Once mounted, I looked out over the tiny island. The waters were clear.The weather was tropical. Unhindered, I could probably walk the entire circumference in half aday. A portion to the west, I could not see, as other palms grew too tall.

While examining the island with a small set of binoculars, I saw, from the corner of myeye, a sparkle from the ocean. I looked to find a shipping vessel. It was a merchant vessel ofunknown origin. I shot a flare into the sky and readied another shot. The sun came at such anangle that I was able to reflect the light off the lens of the binoculars towards the ship.

After thirty minutes, she must have seen me for she turned toward the island. I waited alittle longer and shot another flare. With haste, I made my way to the opposite end of the islandfrom where I had arrived. A crew was sent out to pick me up in a lifeboat.

On board, I spoke to the captain who spoke a rougher sort of English than I had heardbefore. He informed me that he were on his way to Eastlia, a land I had never before heard of,until a storm rose from nowhere and blew them off course. He was transporting men in the navy,as Eastlia was soon to send ships to confront the problems arising from Atlantis.

When I heard that his people were also subject to the mysteries of Atlantis, I wasshocked. I asked him how long they had known of it. He confirmed that rumors started at aboutthe same time as those in Fanti.

“You do not know what evil you seek,” I advised him.“What do you mean? You know what lies ahead?”“I do. I have seen the terror these men will find.”“You needn’t tell me, young man. For it is not for me to know. I am merely the

deliveryman. This precious cargo must make its own choice.”“That may be true, but they will not survive. It is not possible.”“And yet you survived. So, there must be hope for the people of the Earth.”



“I did not choose to survive. If I could, I would have willingly picked death just as mybrothers chose death.”

“Take him away,” he said to an officer. “He is tired and in need of rest.”I was given my own cabin and washroom. It was small, but no more inconvenient than

the Nina had been. I made due with what I had.The following morning, I was given news that the captain had joyfully found familiar

landmarks and would soon dock in Eastlian ports in only a matter of hours. I was surprised, asthey had been drifting aimlessly for days underneath cloudy nights.

In the middle of the night, we dropped anchor and began unloading. Prior to mydeparture, the captain sent for me to meet him in his personal cabin.

“Yes sir?”He stared at a candlelit paper saying nothing.“Did you call for me, Captain Butan?”“Mr. Stone,” he said in his deep sailor voice, “I do not care much for bounty hunters such

as yourself. However, I have arranged for you to be transported to the Eastlian Navy. You are toprovide insight into their mission.”

“So, you do believe me!”“Yes, I do.”“Then why didn’t you let me finish?”“Because I did not want you to scare the men. You know how rumors start and morale

closely follows. This mission is important to the welfare of the nation. They need their confidencehigh. Do not undermine this. I do not know of the horrors you have seen nor do I wish to, but Ibelieve that if anyone is to eradicate this evil it is the Eastlian Navy. For they are the strongestthe world over.”

“I am afraid that I must agree. Fanti has scant naval power and much of this has beenreduced over the years to rusty vessels and missing ships.”

“If you like, you may wait here in my cabin and dine with me. Afterward your personalenvoy should arrive to take you away.”

On board the Mainstay, I recommended to the captain that each of his men be givenearplugs or headphones to cancel out the noise once we got close. He agreed and the orderwas made for each man to wear headphones. Officers were given whatever microphones wereavailable. After a few days, we neared our target. One sailor used a device to measure thefrequencies of the air. He confirmed that there was sound that could be singing. The vesselmoved onward. A million pounds of Eastlian naval might surround the ship with enough firepowerto blow away any of the islands they crossed.

After plowing through smaller cargo barges and rafts, the Mainstay was within strikingdistance. Another scouting vessel received visual confirmation that there were odd creatures onthe island. Many of them.

This was to be a land assault. The unfortunate went in first. Unsure what to expect, thefirst few were torn to bits by the flying women. Then after getting a feel for the battle, they beganshooting from strategic positions. The creatures wailed which must have signaled for more tocome from the forest. Soon, the sky was darkened by the blooddrunken ravages of thosedemons. The support ships provided cover. The warships boomed their canons into the distancetaking down anything within earshot of the forest.

By the time the sun went down, it was all over. The might of the Eastlian Navy haddecimated the sirens. I watched as several of the womenthings were captured, drugged, andbrought aboard.

“Bastards,” the captain muttered under his breath. “Let me see them,” he said to anofficer.

“They are not secured yet.”



“Tell me when they are ready.”“It will be just a few minute…ah…I am getting word now that all the sirens on our vessel

have been secured.”He led us down a maze of narrow stairs into a cargo hold in the belly of the warship.

There were four sections that had been converted into prisons. I eyed them through the steelbars. There were two birds and two mermaids.

The captain walked up to the first mermaid and spat on her face. He shouted obscenitiesuntil his face was red. Disgusted, he left with his cohorts following close behind. Soon, the shipbegan moving.

“What will become of these?” I asked the guard next to me.“They will be used for experimentation. They will be studied so that we can better

understand the enemy if there is ever a next time.”“I see. I suppose that is best. I hope they suffer pain equal to that which they have

caused.”He gave me a nod and braced himself as the ship rocked from one side to the other.

Seeing them up close for the first time was, in my experience, quite a solemn sight. They werebigger than I had expected. From head to fin, each was probably twenty feet or so, but this ismisleading for their fins were very long and ornate. The entire body of each creature would havebeen perhaps ten or twelve feet from the head ending at the base of the body where feet couldhave been. It was to this great size that I attributed the one mermaid’s extra strength thusenabling her to lift the beam from my wounded leg.

The birdwomen were just as striking. They were about the same length or height Isuppose it is, but covered with tiny feathers. I would almost consider these feathers down had Inot seen them fly.

All four of the creatures in the cages rolled around carelessly as the anesthesia kept themimmobile. Upon the next heave of the ship, one of the mermaids rolled onto her back. There Isaw beneath a mass of spat upon sunbleached hair a necklace adorned by a little silver cross.

I could not believe the sight. I stepped closer. The guard paid me little attention, as thecreature was unconscious. I leaned against the bars and waited.

It must have been a full day, but I waited. When she finally awoke she was, naturally,startled, and I should add stunningly beautiful. When she realized who I was, she was startled allthe more. I slid one of the earphones just a little off my ear so I could hear her should she speak,and speak she did.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “What am I doing here? Ah, my scales! They areso dry.” She slumped to the floor in pain.

“Here.” I handed her a wet towel and a drink. When she had soaked herself, I presentedanother wet towel.

“This is a little better. Thank you.” She looked up at me curiously. Like so many thingsabout this creature, her eyes were unlike any I had ever seen before. They sparkled with aradiant cerulean. Her iris was square much like a goat. Her skin glimmered with silver sparklescast upon a silky golden skin. She wetted her long curly hair and draped it over her body. Eachwrist was covered in many bracelets and trinkets. Her fins were adorned with opulent colorsforming little arches or bows. Her scales were a translucent blue. I stared for much too longthinking I could see through them. The longer I examined her the more I was certain that I couldsee the faded outlines of human legs beneath her scales.

“Why are you here?” she asked me again.“Why did you save me?”She paused unable to vocalize her next thought. She looked away and then once again

our eyes met. Her hand played with the cross around her neck. “I watched you…on the ship. Youlooked into the face of deep and were scared. I saw you pray. When your vessel crashed, I



looked for you, but you were not with the rest of your men. I saw you pray a second time after Ihad rescued you. Tell me, should I have let you die?”

“Does a mermaid pray?”“This one does,” she said with stern affirmation.“Why are you not like the rest?”“Could I ask you the same?” She must have seen that I was confused at this point. She

softened a little, but I sensed that she did not entirely trust me. “I am Citra. What is your name?”“Marcus.”“Marcus, same as the Bible.”“The Bible? Tell me Citra do mermaids have souls to worship God?”“We are not as different as you may think, Marcus. We mermaids are just as human as

you.”“A mermaid with a soul?”“Our history is mired in the distant past much like yours. Some say that we are a cursed

race of the offspring of Cain. Some say we are products of Noah’s twisted children who keptforbidden knowledge of the antediluvian world.”

“What do you think?”“I know that my spirit yearns to worship my savior with passion and with song.”“Do you think it possible that our Gods are different Gods?”“Perhaps, but you should know that if your god is not the creator, the trinity, born of a

virgin, died sinless upon a cross, rose from the dead, and will someday soon come back for you,then you do not have the proper God.”

“I can’t believe it! We share the same faith in Christ. This is why you do not sing like theother sirens?”

“Yes, there are few of us who have such a faith. My sisters have retained that perpetualevil nature inherited from certain mystical knowledge. Perhaps, as some say, from the daysbefore Noah. I know what they know, but I dare not practice what they practice.”

“My dear sister Citra, surely you have a soul and a heart of compassion. Your beauty isexquisite. Thank you for saving me from a miserable death. I owe you my life. Fellow Christiansare few and far between. At least ever since the continents sank or so I am told.”

“Sister?” she whispered to herself. “Sister? You called me sister. What do you mean?”“If we both have souls that are salvageable and we both worship the same God, then we

are his. We are his children, and that means you are my sister in Christ.”“I have never thought of that before. I have always been ashamed of my sisters who

torment mankind. I have never liked the word, but I like the way you say it better. Say it again.”Our conversation turned to deeper things like love, grace, and hope. I was surprised to

learn that she was an outcast. Perhaps I should not have been for she was kind and gracefuland her sisters were devilish. After she had committed atrocious acts for many years, shebecame burdened with guilt. Fear entered her heart, which in turn led her to the savinggoodness of God. She had seen at least two centuries, and for the better part of the last one,she had lived a reformed life in loneliness. Refusing to participate in the evil deeds of her sisters,they shunned her.

When I asked about the island, she said that she carried me a great distance across thesea with a few small supplies so that I would be far away from the carnage that was taking place.The island was her own. No others were supposed to access it. She left in haste as she wasuncertain how much of herself she should reveal to me. Once she saw me board the other ship,she knew that I was safe.

I inquired further as to how she could carry me and all those supplies so far in such shortamount of time. She smiled as if she were a girl again who had a secret. A friend had helped her,but she would not reveal any more than that.



We talked well into the night. I told her of my life on the sea, raiding vessels hostile toFanti and living off loot and bounty payments. She was fascinated by the places I had seen. Formuch of her life she has longed to travel the seas to distant lands, but her people forbade her.She kept mostly to herself near her island until Atlantis rose from the deep and the continentssuccumbed to the depths of the oceans. That had changed everything.

A great evil was rising from the depths of the sea, and it ruled from Atlantis. She knewmuch more about the new island than any human. A sea serpent ruled all the kingdoms of thesea from an underwater mountain. He was dark and scaly. His fangs were sharp, and he spokefire. All feared to enter his mountain, even the sirens. Then, not long ago, he began summoningmany of them. In time, there were many more sirens populating the seas than there ever hadbeen before. She could only suspect that he was propagating them for his own desires. She hadrefused her summons, and in this, God had dealt graciously with her. The sea serpent soughther out, but could not find her. Angered, he was able to trick her and in so doing caste a spell onher, silencing her voice unless she sing for him.

“But you speak,” I said.“No,” she hung her head, “my real voice. I am a mermaid designed to sing the praises of

my savior, but I live in quietness for I have not sung any song for near half a century.”She became somber when speaking of the curse. So, I asked what happened to the

serpent.“Over time, he called many wicked creatures to his throne. The sea is filled with hidden

evils that your people are just beginning to witness. When he was finally ready to start hisassault on man and spite God, he stirred the waters of the deep. His fortress rose through thesea until he reached the sky. That is the island you call Atlantis.”

“Satan’s throne is on Atlantis?”“You must never go there, Marcus. He will devour you with great torment. His creatures

of darkness will hunt you and peck you and eat you joyfully.”“In all his glory, he still cannot even create anything of his own.”“I do not understand you,” she said.“He had to take something good that God had made and twist it into something bad.”“Ah, you have an interesting thought I have never before considered.”“You must always remember that God is greater than any evil. It is by his grace that evil is

allowed to exist at all. By his grace, their judgment is delayed.”“It seems I have spent too much time in the darkness of the sea. I would like to spend

some time with you in the light. Tell me more, Marcus, of this God we share.”As long as I could, I stayed by her side. I left only to relieve myself and get more food and

water. The guards were cautious but lenient so long as I did not do anything suspicious.Late into the night, an alarm sounded and lights began to flash red. The boat swayed to

one side then back. The guards looked at each other and spoke through their microphones.“I have to go, but I will be back. It was a pleasure to speak with you, miss.”I trotted up the stairs to find that one of the sirens on another ship had broken out of her

cell and killed eight sailors. I ran to the deck to see the ship. She was floundering. Fire billowedfrom her engine room. An explosion sounded. Then another. I received word that the siren hadbeen killed, but the ship was a total loss. I watched as every sailor jumped into the nightdarkened sea to be picked up by nearby schooners.

On my return to my quarters, I overheard two men discussing their orders. They said thecaptain was unwilling to risk losing an entire fleet to please some eager scientists. He hadordered all experiments to be canceled and every siren destroyed.

My pulse raced like a horse. My mind was thinking a thousand miles a second. I readiedmy pistol and hurried to the prison.

I barged through the door to see one of the sirens lying in a pool of blood. Two guards



aimed at the second cell and shot several times. Blood spurted from the body high into the air. Ilooked on poor Citra as she faced certain death.

The alarms and flashing lights provided enough cover for me to enter the room unnoticed.Citra said something, but with my headphones on, I could not hear it. Carefully, I took aim withmy pistol, but when I pulled the trigger, nothing happened. I tried again and again nothing.Without a thought, I tossed the gun and tackled one guard, pushing him into the other. With thecommotion, the second one must have fired for a bullet traveled through the other guard andpierced my side. I grabbed his gun, but he would not let go. I fell on him with all my weight andsmashed the rifle into his face. He let go, but he was not subdued.

“I do not want to kill you. Put on your handcuffs.”“Piss off! Who do you think you are?”He rose to his feet and came at me. I pulled the trigger, but the gun did not go off. I looked

up just in time to see a fist land on my cheek. Blood flew from my mouth as I dropped to thefloor.

“Only one shot if you don’t have the key, stupid.”Seeing I was disadvantaged from my position, he sought the rifle of his fallen comrade.

With a smirk to me, he took aim at Citra. Like a burst of lighting, I shot across the room, takinghim to the ground. A shot fired, but I had no time to see where it went. I raised my fists andcommenced pummeling his face into a bloodied pulp. He offered a few meager jabs at first, but Iwas filled with such frenzy, that after the first few punches I knew that he was dead. I continueduntil my hands were red with mixed blood.

Then I quickly recollected myself and remembered Citra. I turned, but before I could laymy eyes on her, I heard her lovely voice, “You said you would come back. You did.”

Now having the key in my possession, I opened the door. “Give me your hand.” With herin my arms, I walked up to the deck. Looking out at the burning chaos around us, she whisperedto me, “You will be fine. You are in my hands now.” She wrapped her arms tight around me. Itook a step forward to plunge twentyfive feet into the sea.

I could neither see nor understand what lay ahead, but I could feel her arms around mybody. She swam quickly. I could feel the water brush off us. After an hour or two or three, shecame to a stop.

“Your wound, I have forgotten about it. Let me see.” Cautiously, she examined the entrypoint of the bullet. My shirt was ripped and stained red so she tore it off. It was still bleeding, butonly a little. It began to hurt again. With the rush of excitement, I had been able to block it out.

“Wait here,” she said then disappeared beneath the surface. I tried to float as best I could,but the pain made it difficult to use the muscles in my side. When she finally returned, she had inher hand some sort of sea plant. She ripped it to pieces then chewed a handful of it. Oncesatisfied, she spat it back into her hand and pressed it into my side. She did this until my woundwas packed full of the stuff. It burned a little, but she said this meant that it was working.

So, we lay there. Just the two of us. The warm waters kept us afloat as we gazed up atthe beautiful starlit sky.

“There,” she raised her hand pointing, “that is the Lion of the Tribe of Judah. And overthere is Mary with the infant Christ. Do you see? I know little of your people, but I do know thatmariners use constellations.”

“Yes, but we must have different names for them.”“What else would you call the lion or the virgin birth?”“The ancients called the lion 'Leo' and the virgin 'Madonna and Child.'”“That is too bad that your people would corrupt such a wonderful sign.”“I like your constellations better. Tell me more.”There were many more signs that she taught me. One glorious name for each pagan

name that I had learned. There were others too, but I could not remember all the new ones.

There was the Tower of Babel, the Seven Days of Creation, the Seven Spirits of God, and manyothers.

When she told me about a constellation called Mt. Zion, a large mass suddenly lifted usfrom beneath. She reached for my hand and smiled. Confused and a little worried I said, “Whatis going on?”

“This is my friend, Eallra. He will take us to home.”“Is this how you carried me before?”She smiled all the more. So, I was on the back of an enormous creature named Eallra

who was perhaps a whaleshark or perhaps something else. I never did get a good look at him,and it probably would not matter because, while I know they are big, I do not know what theylook like.

The creature gently delivered us to the beach I had known once before. The first rays ofthe morning had broken the sky. I could see a rough outline of about half of the fish. He was jollybig and dark too. She gave him a kiss goodbye, sending him quietly to the deep whence hecame.

And so we basked in the glorious offerings of this little tropical haven. Days turned toweeks and weeks into an unnoticeable stream of time. I carried her to the forested interior thatneither she nor any other had ever seen. I held her tenderly for she was very excited to discovermore. She plucked her first mango, sat upon her first tree, and surveyed her island for the firsttime from above.

“I feel,” she declared, “for the first time that I am now able to give my island a name,Brother Marcus.”

Together, we made our little home. I would take her for walks through the island and shewould lead me on swimming ventures along the brim of the sea. We made little crowns for eachother out of native brush and furnished our regal stature with a royal cuisine of nature’s bounty.

I make these words now, in the year of our Lord two thousand, five hundred and forty, oncorroded parchment that somehow drifted my way. May the finder of this bottle be richly blessedby the Lord Jesus unto salvation. I commit myself now and forever, body and soul, for theremainder of my days to procure the blessings of my God and savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, andto care for the delicate blessings he has already bestowed upon me. In the name of Jesus Christamen.

Jacob Lindaman is an aspiring writer who desiresto honor Christ through storytelling. He has written twonovels and severalshort stories. On hot summer days you can find himeating corn on the cob,drinking good beer and listening to the music of MatKearney. He and his wife,Katey, live in Iowa with their mutt Anni. You can find himon goodreads.com.

The Seventh Messenger

Pedro Blas González

Father Charles Teague began the 10:00 a.m. Mass as usual. He entered the church, bowed in front

of the tabernacle, kissed the altar, and sat.

The church was about one third full. After the hymn, he kissed the altar and looked at the

parishioners. He stretched out his arms. “The Lord be with you.”

During the first reading, he sat and looked out to the front of the church. About two minutes into

the reading, he noticed a man enter the church and sit in the last pew close to the bronze, double doors.

The man seemed to smile at Father Teague. He wore white pants, white shoes, a white shirt with

wide collar, and a white blazer. He had white hair, yet his face was that of a man no older than thirty.

Several minutes later, when Father Teague was breaking the host, he looked out to the parishioners

and noticed the man was now sitting in the first row of pews. A few more minutes elapsed, and the man

once again sat at the back of the church.

At the end of the Mass, Father Teague stood outside the church greeting the parishioners. The man

in white was nowhere in sight. Father Teague looked around the courtyard at the front of the church, but

did not see him.

On his walk back to the rectory, Father Teague began to think about the stranger. He had never

seen the man before at Mass. Perhaps the man was someone who had just moved to the neighborhood. He

also thought, because the man was wearing all white, he might be a member of an occult group. Devotees

of Santeria, Cundumblé, and Voodoo must wear white in order to honor a promise they have made to an


The Seventh Messenger Pedro Blas González

Orisha.

Father Teague took his time walking back to the house. It was a sunny and breezy spring morning.

He paused under a malaleuca tree and peeled off a piece of its paperbark. It occurred to him, that if the

man was indeed a member of an occult group, then clearly, he had no business in a Catholic church. This

thought troubled him.

Father Teague sat on a bench under the tree and took in the soft sunlight. He marveled at the light

dispersed through the tree branches moving with the wind. Taking another piece of bark from the tree, he

imagined every layer of the paperbark to represent a time in his life. He reflected on his childhood,

walking four miles to school roundtrip, every day. He was often late to class because he made a habit of

stopping, much as he had now done, to contemplate the world around him.

As a boy and a young man. he had never taken anything for granted. The order of the world,

manifest in its simplicity, always excited him. Nature, he imagined, did not waste time in revealing its

secrets to those who seek them. And as an adult, Father Teague never liked to waste time. This was one

reason why he'd become a Benedictine monk.

That night, Father Teague had a peaceful sleep. He slept sounder than he had in a long time. He

also dreamt, something he hadn’t done in a while.

In his dream, he walked on a road sloped over gentle fields of sunflowers. The fields around him

reminded him of Southern France. Even though, he knew he was walking forward, he simultaneously

entertained a strong sensation of standing still, as if it were actually the fields surrounding him that moved.

In the distance, he saw a white building of nondescript design and colossal proportions. Seven towers

reached to the sky. After several minutes of this vertical, yet surreal, prostrated walking, he realized he

would never reach the building.

The structure in the distance inspired a strange reverence in him. Father Teague quickened his gait

in order to reach it, but to no avail. Another walker approached him, a smiling young man intent on telling

Father Teague about the infinite joys ofweightlessness. Father Teague did not understand what the young

man told him, but he felt intensely what the other walker described.

As is often the case in dreams, Father Teague could not remember much about his dream in the



morning, but around mid-morning, he did recall some of the details. It dawned on him he'd had this dream

many times before.

The following night, while extinguishing the candles in the church, Father Teague turned around

toward a candle behind him and was startled by the man in white whom he'd seen during Mass the day

before. The man uttered something Father Teague couldn’t make out.

Wondering how the man entered the church, Father Teague said, “You surprised me. I didn’t hear

you come. I thought I had locked the doors.”

“Your Masses are very inspirational,” the man said, smiling.

“Ah, thank you. Will you be attending our church in the future?” Father Teague asked, not knowing

what else to say.

“I’ve been attending for a while,” the man responded.

“I have never seen you here before the other day.”

“I usually sit at the back. Father Teague, you are a rock. I hope you know your work does not go

unnoticed.”

“Thank you, thank you very much. Have you moved here from somewhere else, or have you lived

in this neighborhood long?” Father Teague asked, feeling the awkwardness of the situation.

All of the time the two men spoke, Father Teague got the impression that the stranger was looking

through him.

The stranger said, “Do you remember Pope Gregory I’s notion that one must bring the Gospels to

pagans slowly, otherwise they will feel threatened?”

“Yes, of course.”

“That is the work of any rock, you know. Unfortunately, the reverse is true in our time. Heathens

and apostates are dismantling the church without unsuspecting, genuine believers knowing it. You, my

good man, and others such as you, are the first to be martyred in the dawning Dark Age that has now

commenced.”

No sooner had the man said that than he began to walk away. He turned, looked at the priest, and

smiled. Father Teague bent to snuff another candle, then looked up once again where the man had been.

The man intrigued him, but he could no longer see him anywhere in the church. Neither did he hear the

heavy front doors open or close. He peeked outside and looked for the man, but he was gone.

Father Teague walked back toward the altar and saw a concentrated bright light hovering over it.



He then heard the man’s voice say, “It is done! No longer can man’s choice to embrace aberrant

contradictions be solved by free will.”

Not being able to tell if the voice was merely in his head or if it was coming from someone nearby,

Father Teague immediately turned around. No one else was inside the church. The light hovering over the

altar was still visible, but it moved further back, closer to the tabernacle. Father Teague stared at the light.

He heard the voice again. “I am the seventh messenger, Father. You will easily recall the other six that you

have encountered in your life, once you understand those defining moments in your life.”

As soon as the voice faded away, the light gently receded into the tabernacle.

That night, Father Teague saw the news of a great earthquake in San Francisco. He watched the

television images and prayed. Not long after the announcement of the San Francisco quake, the broadcast

was interrupted to inform viewers that many metropolitan areas of the world had experienced strong

earthquakes. One report said more than 90% ofShanghai had been destroyed. Another captured images of

tsunami’s swallowing up coastal regions of Pacific islands and South America. He turned off the television

and placed a Bible on his lap. He began praying aloud.

As the minutes passed, Father Teague continued to pray. Then he heard the wind shriek as it rushed

through the old window frames of the rectory. He stood and walked to the window. Strong sheets ofwind-

driven rain blanketed his view of other houses in his vicinity. The lightning intensified. He moved away

from the window.

Lightning illuminated his small living room. Thunder rocked the rectory. The power went out and

Father Teague prayed louder. The wooden frame house began to rattle, intensifying to powerful shaking.

As objects began falling in his home, Father Teague thought about the stranger who had visited the

church. He remembered the six times in his life when he had evaded deathly danger and couldn’t

understand how he had come out alive.

Then he experienced the same weightlessness he felt in his dream



Pedro Blas Gonzalez is a Professor of Philosophy atBarry University, Miami Shores, Florida.He haspublished about a dozen short stories, a novel and fournonfiction books.

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The Cross and the Cosmos - Issue 10

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