The Eternal Story - Chapter One - A Stranger Arrives

This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Laws, no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission. Inquiries should be addressed to the publisher.

Oliver, Michael H. 2002,

The Eternal Story

ISBN-13: 978-0473089498

‘You have seen all that God did before your eyes in the land of Egypt, to Pharaoh and to all his servants and to all the land, the great trials which your eyes have seen, the signs, and those great wonders. Yet the Lord has not given you the heart to perceive and eyes to see and ears to hear, to this very day.’

Deuteronomy 29:2-4

PART ONE

Adventure of Blood

Chapter One

A Stranger Arrives

The day the stranger walked into the village marked the beginning of the end, and the end of the beginning. Nothing would be the same again; as though a great flood had taken our past and all had to be rebuilt.  Bearing nothing but the clothes on his back and the contents of his mind, they all thought him of no account.  How much further from the truth could they have possibly been…?

The stranger arrived destitute according to the town records, but the people of Gnarlybark took him in. Simon the pallbearer was first to meet the stranger by the roadway linking our small village with the river. As undertaker, Simon was in the process of digging a fresh grave. They called him the pallbearer after an incident at a funeral. Simon was walking behind the coffin that day when the bottom began to separate and the dead man’s head appeared from below. Simon, having built the coffin, made a grab with his large callused hands to contain the damage and ended up having to hold things together, all the way to the grave side.

The stranger walked up to Simon, who was by now half way through digging the grave, and in uttering a simple greeting he almost sent the poor man to his maker. Simon had never before been frightened so close to death by such a small individual. As Simon rose from the grave a man small of stature was there before him, standing almost eye to eye. What Simon saw before him was so unusual in the district that it took some time to gather his thoughts. The colours of his nylon jacket were like nothing seen before in those parts. His ruddy features were those of a middle aged man who had been well weathered by years of outdoor living, deeply wrinkled, greying and unshaved. The stranger had such small hands that they could hardly have taken a good grip of the shovel handle on which Simon was leaning.

"Good day to you sir," finally came the reply now that Simon was once again fully composed. He said, "I might well have used this hole myself the way you frightened me. What brings you around these parts then?"

"I was hiking through the hills," said the stranger. "I wonder can you tell me where I am."

"We call this place Gnarlybark," stated Simon.

"That's an odd name. Why is this so called?"

"Those trees over there," Simon pointed along the road, "they are the reason the village is named Gnarlybark. If you go and have a good look you will find they have very deep furrowed bark on them, which is unusual for their type. They are a variety found only here they say."

"My name is Michael Longbottom," the stranger said offering his hand.

"Simon," the grave digger said shaking his hand, "I'm about to go home. I would be honoured if you would join my wife and me."

"Thank you, that would be most kind," said Michael. "What is this place all about then?"

Simon led Michael towards his cottage at number 14 Strawberry Lane, where he lived with his wife Trudy and their cats Prudence and Hercules.

"Gnarlybark lies in the district of Kind," said Simon as he led the stranger into the village. "Kind is the territory west of the river Tee. The mountains contain us as you can see, and having no great wealth or transportation to speak of, we are quite isolated. My family has lived here for generations as have the rest of the villagers. We are all coal miners, well mostly except for a few who take care of the necessities of life, and death. We produce most of our own needs and the coal people supply the rest. That's not much mind, you see, we pride ourselves in the fact that we are quite self-sufficient."

"Where does the coal go to Simon?"

"A barge is moored at the landing on the river Tee there," he pointed. “We fill it up and it is collected on the last day of each month; has done so even before my father's time. No one really knows who or why anymore, since Gregory the Great died, but it is enough that they leave us basic items for our daily bread; if you know what I mean."

They drew near the village and turned the corner into Strawberry Lane. The home was a plain white cottage. Roses lined the pathway to the front entrance but Simon led Michael around to enter by the back door.

"Sorry about the mess Michael, we are not used to visitors around here. Bit of a treat me being the first to have someone stay."

"Trudy! Trudy!" Simon shouted indoors. "Trudy dear! Would you please come and meet a traveller."

Most people in Gnarlybark were not as outgoing as Simon, and Trudy his wife was as shy as most in the town. As she approached it was more than she could do to pop her head around the corner of the hallway.

"Please, I don't want to intrude," said Michael.

"Are you not coming out Trudy?" Simon asked, then shrugging his shoulders, motioned inside. "Come on in then Michael."

As they both entered the dimly lit cottage Trudy slotted quietly into the shadow of her husband's tall frame.

"Perhaps a cup of herb tea for the gentleman dear. I know I would enjoy some of your blackberry and apple; it's one of her special blends of tea you know. Would you like to try it?"

Michael was trying to make himself as comfortable as possible on the bent wood furniture obviously built with larger men in mind; stately chairs with large armrests surrounded the room. A rough solid timber table dominated the room with flowers beautifully arranged in a central vase. His eyes began to adjust to the dim light that penetrated the small windows as evening descended.

"Thank you Trudy," Michael said as he reached forward to take the cup of steaming herb tea. "Smells delicious!"

"Trudy dear, I have asked Michael to stay with us if that's not too much trouble," said Simon not expecting any hesitation. "I thought he could sleep in mother's old room."

A knock on the door broke the rather strained atmosphere in the room. Simon rose to open it. There stood a large balding man wearing spectacles.

"Good day to you Simon. I am told there is a stranger in the village; staying with you I was told! You know things like this need to be passed by me," the tall official looking man stated as he peered rather rudely inside the door.

"Hello Darius. Why, I guess I should have passed by and let you all know what happened. Didn't seem so urgent at the time; seemed a cup of tea was the priority after a hard day digging graves. Come on in Darius; you might as well meet the stranger since you are here anyway. Darius the Mediator, this is Michael Longbottom." Simon said as he escorted him into the room.

"Hello," said Darius tersely.

"Hello," replied Michael, but the official did not shake his offered hand.

"There will be a meeting at the church at 9 o'clock this evening," Darius said while taking the measure of Michael. "We would appreciate it if you would be there." With that he turned and left without even closing the door.

There remained only a stunned silence in the room.

Simon's wife Trudy by then had put the dinner together on the large wooden table. No pictures adorned the walls, apart from the windows; the plainness of the whitewashed interior only broken by the tall chair backs. Dinner consisted of a large loaf of bread and some sliced meat looking rather like mutton and smelling of herbs and seasoning.

"Come Michael, eat with us," Simon said gesturing towards the table.

"Thanks both of you for your hospitality. I very much appreciate being so warmly received as a stranger in these parts," said Michael.

Simon prayed as they were seated, "Father in heaven, thanks be to you for this bounty. Amen."

"Yes and amen," Michael added as he came to grips with the pace of proceedings. They quickly ate a couple of slices of meat on coarse brown bread. No utensils were available except for the large knife used to slice the meat. They wrapped the meat in the bread and dipped it into a bowl of some red sauce. Michael followed in a similar fashion, not wanting to appear unusual to his hosts. Before he knew it dinner was being cleared away and he was being ushered out and along the lane towards the church; its tall spire silhouetted against the darkening skyline.

Inside the dimly lit church every person living in the surrounding area, near a hundred in all, sat staring at the doorway as the short stranger entered. Michael could feel every eye piercing his small frame. A million thoughts raced through his head as if the air was charged with little fiery darts; all aimed at him. As they reached the front, Darius the Mediator came quickly to the point.

"Simon the pallbearer has brought a stranger into our midst," said Darius. "Simon, tell the people, who is this stumpy little fellow?"

Simon, unaccustomed as he was to public speaking, cleared his throat and stated rather shyly, "This is Mr. Longbottom." There was a snigger amongst the children in the corner. "Mr. Michael Longbottom has by chance come upon our village. My wife and I have opened our cottage to him." He looked down to the floor and paused a moment, then continued rather shyly again. "Really I don't know much more than that. I guess anything more the inquiry wants to know will have to come from his lips."

Michael could only stand uncomfortably; not being offered a chair. Darius the Mediator stepped forward and addressed the gathering according to proper order.

"The Mediator will now accept questions from the floor."

Silence followed; no one was prepared to speak; they all seemed to be looking intently at the stranger.

"Mr. Mediator," Michael said, "I have a question."

"It is not normal practice for the accused to ask the questions," the Mediator abruptly stated then turned and asked the village folk. "Are there any questions to begin proceedings?"

A cat pompously strutted down the centre isle towards the exit with its tail very erect and twitching.

"Mediator," called a voice from the centre of the seated gathering. "Mediator, we have never had a stranger in our midst before and we are not accustomed to a man so small. Is it common in other parts that men are so small in stature?"

Darius the Mediator turned and gestured towards the stranger with his arm saying, "You may answer the question."

Michael seemed to hold his words, not quick to speak but considered in his approach, quite the contrast to the Mediators abrupt and controlling manner. You could have heard a pin drop in the building as they awaited his discourse.

"Mr. Mediator, The height of a man is not of great concern to those outside of your village. The stature of a man is measured by the words which leave his lips and the actions he performs, whether they are foolish or whether they are wise." He was beginning to realise that his words were going to be so very important to these people who apparently were completely isolated.

"Mediator," the same voice called out again, "What do we do with strangers who come in to our village? Do they work in the mines like the rest of us?"

Darius looked a bit perplexed by this line of questioning then spoke to his Retainer, "Roger, I think we should consult the writings of Gregory. I wonder if you would bring them here and look up strangers and we will see what the Great Gregory had to say on this. All things must be in order and according to the writings. Go and get them now. Hurry, hurry!"

The gathering chattered amongst themselves as this aged Retainer to the Mediator hurried into an adjoining room and came back with a large leather bound and somewhat ancient looking manuscript. These were the thoughts of Gregory the Great, leader of Gnarlybark and its districts in the time of their forefathers.

"Mediator," reported the Retainer, "there is no listing under the title of strangers. The only reference to other than villagers concerns the existence of a storyteller by the name of Pennysworth, who frequented the village during that time. He was finally evicted, according to the text, after being found guilty of trying to pass off fanciful tales about the lands beyond the district of Kind. He was banished and given clear instruction to never again return."

Michael began to realise that the insular nature of this village threatened his own acceptance if he were unable to tell the truth about the world outside of their natural boundaries, which may be so different to their own understanding of life.

"Mediator," called a woman's voice from the back, "I have a question."

"I would like to remind you that only men are permitted to address these meetings and any questions you have needs to be put through an appropriate channel. Since your husband has died, I would suggest you direct your enquiry through your brother-in-law Roger."

She quietly spoke to the Retainer and after consideration he stood to put a question.

"Mediator, how long will this stranger be in our midst?"

"Mr. Longbottom," said the Mediator as another snigger erupted in the corner where children were playing with some kittens. "You may answer the question."

"Thank you Mediator," said Michael who was now feeling a little more comfortable with the formalities and manner in which he was the accused, as though a hearing to determine what, where, when, why and how of what was to these people an event without equal. "I should he happy to stay amongst you all as long as I am welcome, although I do suggest there is a risk factor involved in this, that my presence will bring about change and change is not always easily accepted, especially among those of a less adventurous nature."

"What is this you speak of; you say adventurous nature?" the Mediator said somewhat challenged.

"Is this not a familiar term to you?" Michael queried as he opened his hands wide. The people certainly looked puzzled so he continued. "To be adventurous is to seek out new experiences, to look, search, and hopefully find. I can be adventurous by climbing into the mountains. I can be adventurous by reading books. You," he motioned to the audience, "can be adventurous even in your mind." The people now were looking perplexed.

Again Roger the Retainer stood to speak, "Mediator, I would like to know why we do not have this word on our file? There is no reference to adventurous in Gnarlybark or the district of Kind. How do we explain this?"

The Mediator looked a little lost for words and indeed looking through their dictionary of terms found no reference to adventure, or that someone could possibly conceive to be adventurous.

"Mediator, with respect," said Michael realising that he had accidentally created a vacant space in the minds of these villagers, "may I suggest we adjourn at this late hour and after due consideration and rest, again take up this perhaps tomorrow evening."

"I believe we should take time here to research our archives to determine whether this has ever been a part of our heritage and if so, what possibly cause may have led to it being left out of the words of Gregory the Great. Until 9pm tomorrow evening this inquiry is adjourned."

The following day would be an awesome time of discovery for Michael; in the morning he would be able to get to know this village and its people, but first he needed some sleep. The bed he was offered at Simon's place bed was large and again of bent wood construction. The mattress had humps and hollows obviously better suited to the tall people who had occupied it in nights gone by. It had been a long and harrowing day; full of surprises not seen when he decided to walk that long abandoned track which he knew had to lead somewhere. A lot of work had been done many years before to form that path with all of its cuttings and the adventurer in him couldn't resist the temptation to explore the next bend, the next ridge and the next valley, finally ending up in this village far from anywhere. A thought puzzled him though; just what made him turn from the river and into the hills that others passed by year upon year. To think that not a single soul had ventured this way and this far for generations was beyond his comprehension.

Here were a people so isolated that they had so restricted a view of life that they were content to be content. Something didn't add up though, a nagging doubt, like a hint of some carrion amongst the sage he sensed something was amiss. He felt it but his mind could not reason it. What ought to be they seemed blind to. They spoke the same language but they couldn't fathom it. They felt but they didn't perceive it. It was as though truth had been corralled into restrictive fences and made it captive of some unknown dominant being. It was as if, yes, this revered forefather Gregory the Great had in his own inadequacy, left a distorted legacy that had entrapped following generations in some mire of limited thinking. Not that there was anything wrong with their lifestyle, it was charmingly simple but their potential was trapped by a seemingly distorted philosophy.

By pulling the pillow down Michael finally found the hollow that fitted his bottom, rolled on his side and drifted quietly into dreamy sleep.

Chapter Two

Surveying the Village

The birds were in full chorus as the sun chased the night away - their song filtered through with the increasing light stirring Michael out of his sleep. A hundred thoughts and pictures fluttered through his mind but the predominant one concerned his whereabouts right then and there. Slowly he remembered the gravedigger and the Mediator, the Retainer and writings of Gregory. He remembered he was in the cottage of Simon and Trudy.

With his mind adequately oriented he climbed out of bed to look from the small window. There along the side of the mountain range the shadows from early light played out their daily parts in the first scene of act one in the eternal story. Light comes, overpowers the darkness, illuminates man's world, eliminating every shadow as the play progresses, until it wanes, the shadows return again and finally darkness retakes the land. This is the story that spoke to him of the misappropriation of the things of God and his renewal again in the abundant life provided for him. His thoughts were broken by a quiet knock on the door.

“Good morning Michael,” the hushed voice of Simon found their way through the cracks. “Breakfast is ready if you would like to join us.”   To read more click here (Kindle edition)