Monday, October 7, 2013
"Timmy Tom the Half Angel"
Dream meadows, dream leaves, night blooms, lightning trees, fire faeries, flame wings, dream wings.
Once upon a time the sun, the golden sun had a circle around it. A quick silver circle as wide as the sky. Beyond that was an "O" of stars. They shown above even though it was daytime.
Now further out from the stars was another ring. This one of clouds. These clouds beamed with all the bright colors of dawn, and the quiet one of dusk.
Beyond this was starless night.
A great empty void.
This darkness, this terrible deep quiet waited to be painted with G-d's Dreams, and Fire.
This vast emptiness waited.
It waited to become part of the story.
"The Blue Desert"
A Blue World sails in the twilight between the sleeping void, and the fires of dawn. On this Blue World is a desert. This place is where Angels put things for safe keeping.
The Blue Desert. A desert of blue sand, and rivers of dunes, but here also are great oasis. Tall grass fields of wild flowers, and trees rich with fruit.
Clear streams glittering lakes green valley's abound. All this on a world of desert. These unlikely wonderful things are composed set together like a poem or a prayer. For this is the Blue Desert a place of unlikely miracles.
Once upon a time there was a boy a half Angel. This boy lived all alone in a hut. A hut made of autumn leaves, and bright hopes. This being this child of light dances under the moon can hear the stars sing, and feels the heartbeat of the world.
We are all born with special gifts. Timmy has gifts. Not only can he fly as all Angels do, but he can hear souls sing.
Every living being has a soul, and every soul has a song. These songs tell the story of the person, says who they truly are.
Timmy can hear these songs just as he can hear the wind in the trees or the hymns from the sky. If you are even part Angelic if you wish you can hear creation sing.
As a soul's song says what a person is dreams say what they wish to become. That's why people see Angels in dreams. They're watching, and sometimes they guide.
Timmy Tom dreams. Once he dreamed that he was a tree. He could feel his root growing deep into the world. He could feel his leaves his bark. He could sense birds nesting in his trunk. He could feel the wind, and the rain as it blew through his branches.
This was a happy dream.
The sun, and moon have chased each other through the seasons. Spring summer fall now winter again has come to this blue world hidden between the eternal quiet, and the fires of creation.
"The Music Box"
Snow beats against Timmy's hut. The wind sings it hard song. The boy sits wrapped in his crimson wings, and a quilt made of twigs dried flowers leaves, and strands of bark.
He sat looking into his fireplace. The embers flickered seeming to become tangles of birds or trees swaying in the wind.
Once Timmy saw a ship.
A brigantine with great amber sails emblazoned with moons, and shooting stars.
These fire vision sometimes moved the boy to retrieve his music box. This was a gift from his mother the Angel of the Northern Lights. The Angel of the Auroras.
Carefully Timmy took the box from the cupboard. He sat before the fire spreading his radiant wings. He lifted the lid of the beautifully carved instrument,...and oh...
It was music like no other.
If rosebuds could sing this would be their song. If clouds could laugh this would be their voice. If spring grass could sing this would be their chant their prayer.
As the snow danced in the wind the half Angel sat before his glowing hearth, and listened. Listened, and watched as the sparks made world after world.
The above is the very first installment of what became a several years long radio series. It takes our hero Timmy from being alone to having a companion June June the lost boy.
Later they become teen runaways from Paradise, and have adventures on Earth by stealing from Mob casino's, and lifting gold bars from the Feds. Which they launder with the Buddhist Mafia for cash to give to the homeless, and generally screwed over. Battered wives beat up kids the downsized ya know...folks.
Them Buddhist guys get gold for new temples, and our hero's get cash for the fucked over. Win win.
Anyway it went on like that for a few years. I even did a t-shirt for the series. That's it up there..though this version doesn't have the WBAI logo between Timmy's wings...fuck'em.
I tried to end the series...it didn't work out the way I thought as you'll read in the post below this. Technically the series is still going. I just haven't written any new stuff in years is all. My listeners sometimes ask for new episodes. Well with all this time on my hands maybe I'll cook something up for the folks...we'll see.
Btw just below here is a June June story. That's the kid that becomes Timmy's companion in mayhem later in the series. I just found in floating around the web. It might help with putting coherence to this thing,...but I doubt it.
The days grew shorter, the cold winds blew. Winter. Winter has come again to the Blue Desert. June June the "lost boy" his silver/blue halo glowing softly in the darkening afternoon walked along the shore of "Tea Kettle Pond." This pond was so named because either by the caprice of "nature" or the mischief of young Angels that it's shape.
The lost boy wandered along the pond's "spout" the cold ground crunch's beneath him. He saw that it's water had begun to freeze, and was almost thick enough for he, and Timmy Tom to skate on. Timmy the half Angel was June June's companion, and beloved.
As the Blue Desert summers bring dragons, and fireflies so the winters bring burning ice. The surface of "Tea Kettle" was covered with intricate weaves of light. Glittering webs of indigo, crimson, orange, clouds of emerald, and waves of silver, and gold.
June June knelt, and picked up a piece of this cold fire. He carefully lifted the shimmering fragment.Which as it began to melt in his hand,..sang!
The joy, the happiness of fairiekind, their music, and stories are not carried away by the wind, and forgotten. They live on, they stay in the world. They are taken in as nourishment by the grass, the flowers, the streams. This is why one can sometimes hear trees sing or brooks laugh.
Faerie magic lives within all it touch's. June June held the melting "ice" close, and listened. It was a "faerie song", one sung in high summer by a Faerie mother to her new baby. Her music had been taken in by the pond, but now is heard again as the ice released the song, and unlocked her magic.