Ramona (Mender of Hearts)

My name is Ramona. 

Since the beginning, my kind have existed deep inside the oak tree which stands in the countryside of Southern England.  If you have ever entered this particular fairy land you will be familiar with the slopes of rainbows on which we slide-travel, the luscious snow white and red rose pathways leading to our lavender castles, hanging fruit trees over golden streams and the toadstools of strawberries and cream placed at every twist within the winding paths of the forest.   You would remember the singing wood elves and dancing water brownies trotting amongst our cherry fields whilst marmalade sprites bounce around each silver porthole, welcoming us home with wicker baskets of chocolate oranges, as we return from assignments.

We are the guardian fairies of humankind.  We are called upon to heal and protect and give hope to the mortals.  When despair, tragedy or isolation strikes, sometimes we intervene with fairy magic to bring about help to vulnerable and wounded hearts. 

We are the soul protectors.  We guard against evil and lay happiness in the paths of those who tread down treacherous tracks.

I am Ramona.

I slip between timeframes but I am located in the same place.  Time does not exist in our realm, time exists only within the perception of the human sphere.  We all have our areas where we guard and rarely tread outwith our assigned land.  My assigned land is Winterton, which lies two miles east of the oak tree.  Each day as the sun rises, Fairy-Queen Esmerelda assigns the current guardians a time destination to which sphere we will enter via a numbered silver porthole. 

Out through the silver I fly and here I appear for my first assignment. There is snow on the ground which covers meadow and hill.  Far into the wilderness, as much as my vision can trace, stands a grand structure containing as many windows as stars in the night sky.

The current year is 1901 and the building is Winterton Manor, a stately home owned by the Duke and Duchess of Winterton.

I glide through the crisp air and enter within a skylight.

Beautiful Tapestries adorn walls and reach up to ceilings taller than trees. Crystal candelabras hang at every turn and large ornate Fireplaces blaze and heat through never ending rooms. Luscious, elegantly posed oil paintings of the Winterton family feature throughout the mansion, painted by a famous artist of the current time.

Now, below the stairs it is quite plain and sparse and this is because I now hover within the working quarters.  The cook stands at the large stove. She has hair the colour of autumn leaves. Her hands are dry and cracked. Her uniform and apron well worn, now nipping at her ample hips. I seek inside her soul and I see a loneliness and a grief. An old love lost many years ago. I see a heart hidden deep inside. A heart which has retreated and is afraid to return.

I have been called upon to bring a new love, to open and resuscitate this now lost heart.

I flitter and flutter under the human and, gather from my velvet purse 5 drops of red rose elixir.   I make a circle around these lonely feet, and, as each drop is falling, I call upon the gift of true love to enter. 

I depart through the drawing room and pass the Duchess reclining on a plum velvet chaise, dressed in lace fineries.  I bathe in the scent of wild jasmine and after plucking some buds from the china vase, I depart through the chimney piece.

The next day, a handsome new footman arrives at Winterton Manor and stirs deep emotions within the cook.  Six months later they marry and reside happily in the nearby cottage.

A soul has been mended and that night, if one looked close enough to the east, they would see a shooting star leaping with joy.

As the moon appears outwards I am back inside the oak.  I reside in my tower of lavender, where I organise my elixirs in purple glitter cabinets after restoring supplies from deep inside the enchanted forest.  I enter the gold mirrored corridor and join a midnight dance with my sisters.  We sip ginger ale and exchange petal jewellery which we make from gathering flowers as we travel.  I present a jasmine crown to Beatrice and in return receive a delightful lily of the valley necklace.

As the orange dawn rises, Queen Esmerelda’s sprite brings to my tower the number three.  I gather my velvet purse and elixirs then dash to the third silver hole, exiting out the oak.

It is 1745 and I am in flight towards Brocklebank Charity School.  The sky ahead is dark and grey. The wind sends a howl through the fields and its frosty chill scrapes the atmosphere.

In contrast to the previous assignment, this building exists as an establishment for poor and orphaned children.  Conditions are basic and punishments are severe.   I float through dim corridors of pale white flickering lights and into crowded dormitories of fifty small beds.  There is the scent of dismay, of little hopes lost and of shattered dreams.

A girl sits alone in the garden reading a book. She has not a friend in the world.  I see hands cut and scarred, eyes of salt tears and cheeks blood red with anguish.

I take refuge underneath the bench and proceed to view into her soul.

I can see that shortly before this moment the girl is sat inside the classroom. She is challenging an accusation aimed at her.  The teacher, a Madame De Vere is dressed head to toe in black. Her hair is pulled back in a tight bun, revealing the severity of her ill features. I see she has an unfounded dislike of the girl. She has a look of vexation upon her face and exclaims a disbelief and abhorrence of the girl and then, marching to her wooden desk, proceeds to strike her with a long cane, ten times over, until the girl’s small palms are marked and streaming with blood. The desperate girl shrieks with pain as the class of frightened children look down towards their desks in terror.

I now search into Madam De Vere.  She possesses a bad aura, an evil soul.  I see her deriving pleasure from inflicting wickedness towards these children. I clearly understand my assignment. Her time has come to evaporate.

For this assignment I must apply the potent powers of karmic opium elixir. 

I travel to the classroom, flying through a scent of wood and ink, and as Madam De Vere sits on her leather chair, I place 6 drops of elixir in a circle around her feet and evoke the laws of karmic power to be brought forward.

As I flutter back out through the school garden, I pass by a group singing merrily as they skip, swinging a rope into the air.  I gather some snow-drops from a flower bed then travel onwards.

The next day, Madame De Vere contracts typhoid, becomes extremely unwell and a week later, she has passed into the otherworld.

Deep into the dark and beyond this dimension, one hundred and one stars twinkle into gold, sending a promise of happiness to the child.

Back inside my tower, I prepare a snow-drop shawl which I will present to my sister Petula at our next midnight dance.  I gather more elixirs from the enchanted forest and on my way back I visit Eli and Ali’s Brownie treehouse for a feast of sardines, pretzels and raspberry pop.

As a tangerine dawn rises, the sprite gently awakens me with the number nine and, as I enter through the silver, I immediately feel a shift in atmosphere.

The year is 3095 and I am inside a dark enclosed space of stacked floors. Inside there are multiple rows of glass flotation devices that look much like tombs. These are the storage devices of human hibernation.  This gigantic enclosed building now covers the stretch of land which had been a wilderness in my previous assignment.  I float through the large mass of tube and pipes, amongst a scent of mild gas, chemicals and flavoured oxygen. 

A girl lays naked in her floating tomb, a mane of golden tresses covers her chest.  Like the others, she is unconscious but unlike others there exists a human foetus inside her, growing and beating, swelling her body outwards.

I believe it is common practice in this current time for humans to be preserved in an unconscious state as they choose to live within their minds, within a virtually created, dream life. Their bodies are preserved and monitored whilst this occurs.  This is usual to last years and sometimes indefinitely.

I see this girl was unaware of her pregnant condition when she entered the tomb.

I observe that this operation is manned electronically and remotely, there are no conscious human attendants within the space.

I understand I must intervene to save the girl and her unborn human child.

This will require 7 drops of wild fungus elixir.  I mark this potent elixir around the floating glass tomb and at once it takes effect. 

A red flashing light appears on the device and a sound beeps repeatedly.

The naked girl is slowly revived by the remotely controlled machinery and, as she wakens, observes her own pregnant body in shock and wonder.

I exit through a bronze pipe tunnel and find myself in warm desert-like conditions.  The atmosphere temperature in this time is of an extremely high degree.  I graze past the towering cactus trees and pluck some spikes before departing back to the oak.

Back in my lavender attic I create with the cactus spikes a magnificent pointed tiara.  I present this to Queen Esmerelda at the weekly celebration feast and she places it proudly upon her head.  She quietly informs me I have but one more assignment until I will be sent on holiday to the cherry lakeside resort.

The next morning, as the beautiful peach dawn arises, I enter through silver porthole number one.

It is 2010 and I find myself within another school. Winterton Comprehensive is now a large public school for boys.   I am in a long green corridor. There are boys gathered in a circle shouting and laughing and as I fly closer I see they are taunting a small boy.  The boy wears glasses and has beautiful red hair.  He is placing his small hands over his head, pleading for the boys to stop but they kick him and pull his bag from his back.    

I see through his soul that he is extremely troubled, that has been bullied since the start. That his young life has been a misery and that he dreads wakening to a new day each morning.

I reach into my velvet purse and gather ten drops of Rhodiola courage elixir.  I whizz over the group of boys until I am floating just above him and drop all ten drops of the elixir onto his head and shoulders.

The next day, when an older boy stops him outside class and attempts to take his bag from him, the boy looks him in the eyes and firmly advises him to stop.  As the older boy laughs and tries to strike out, the young boy jumps up and with all of his strength and courage bubbling together and finally reaching a peak, he punches the older boy, who rapidly falls over against the door.  The pupils who have gathered around whistle and cheer.  From that day on, the child no longer feels the pain in his soul.  And, far away, deep in the mist, a firework explodes into an emerald waterfall.

As I flutter out through the large windows, I pass large vehicles and loud music, high rise buildings and too many people to count.  I travel through the smoky air and find on a lone patch of grass, some newly budded daffodils which I imagine will make perfect seating for the cherry house patio.  I then zip out of this dimension and once again, return home.


 Now, here I conclude this window into my life. I am a karmic deliverer. A demon patroller and a mender of hearts.

I am Ramona

I span centuries and dimensions yet I always return to the oak.

You will never see me with your eyes as I am protected by the magic elixir.  I will continue to carry out each assignment as is required until eternity, or the end.

And, if you are ever to notice some scattered flower buds or floating petals flying into the wind, it is possible that I may have just entered into your realm.

 The End