The Witching Hour

The sun warms my back while a large floppy hat shades my face. Spade in hand, I am hunched over a cluster of dark violet iris’s, digging into the soil with blackened fingernails.  A clump breaks away and I quench the roots in a bucket of water while I work. Butterflies flit about and this quiet summer morning smells like grass, flowers, and baked earth.

The meditative trance of my gardening is shattered by the sound of metal brakes screeching. A bowling ball sized lump forms instantly in my guts. I shoot to my feet and look to the South, listening in horror to the sound of steel crunching, smashing, and a pillar of black smoke pummeling into the sky. My spade falls from my hand and my body is frozen stiff. I force all of my will power into my legs and they finally respond.

Adrenaline pumps through my body. My bare feet slamming down hard on the gravel road. I run with a force that I have never known in my life. Out of the corner of my eye I see a grey blur. My faithful dog must have felt the same panic and now ran along side of me down the country road. The mile and a half to the race track stretched out into what felt like a hundred miles. Why hadn’t I drove? I couldn’t formulate a response to the question, so I ran harder. Tiny rocks imbedded themselves into the sticky blood coming from the souls of my feet, breifly I thought how strange that I can’t feel the pain in my feet as they rip and tear from the abuse. I pushed my head forward and ran faster.

As I closed in on the entrance to the race track, I can hear men screaming in an unusually high pitch. Tears block my vision as I struggle to see the vehicle involved. I see the distorted blend of colors, crumpled like a sheet of paper in a flaming ball. I fall hard onto my knees.

Sucking in as much air as possible I sit up in my bed. The numbers on the clock glare at me, it’s 3am… the witching hour. My hand shakily slides across the sheets, out into the darkness, and feels the empty spot next to me in the bed. I am consumed by grief. Some people will cut themselves to release the build up of pain, others will take a pill and chemically silence it. Not me. It’s been 8 months now, every single night, the same dream, the same response. My body can go through the motions while I sleep walk, it has become so accustomed to the habit. Summer, fall, winter, or spring it does not mattter.

Half dazed my feet hit the carpet below. As if being called by the pied piper, I walk to the French doors and open them. Cool spring air blasts my face and body with a fine mist. My dog, ever so vigilant, sits beside me waiting for our nightly ritual. Down a few stairs, across the patio, and into the damp grass. My feet move mechanically, they know where they need to go. Like a ghost I drift across the lawn and glide into the orchard.

Wide trails are covered in pinkish white petals that shine brightly like jewels in the moonlight. Early spring flowers have begun to pop through in scattered masses. The rushing sound of the waterfall sings me towards her. I follow the well known path, to where the water falls and empties into a deep lagoon which never freezes over. I stand at the bank of sandy soil, gazing into the deep dark water and shimmering surface ripples.

I slowly step into the cold water. I am used to her bite by now. One foot after the other, the water rising above my waist, my night dress floating around me on the surface. Further I step, until the water is at my chin. I take a deep, long breath in, and plunge below the water line.  Half floating and half sitting crossed legged, I feel the the ripples swaying over my head.     It is so quiet here.     The quiet erases the screams and crunching of metal that were ringing in my ears. It feels like being in the womb, safe and untouchable.

After a while I can feel my lungs start to expand and the first traces of suffocation tingle in. I don’t want to leave this quiet place. Please just let me die here, in the silence that soothes me. Every night I try to stay longer. I try to ignore my body and focus on the lovely stillness around me. The pressure inside ampliflies, and I steady myself against it. How long will I last? Could I train myself to stay here for hours? The numbing cold helps me resist the urge to breathe. Like a companion it teams up with my mind to bully my lungs into submission. Not yet, don’t breathe yet.

Electrical snaps and pulses trace down my limbs, my body is preparing to save itself from me. Not yet. Consciousness begins to fade in and out gradually. Finally instincts kick in, over powering my will, and my body involuntarily thrashes towards oxygen. My face breaks the surface and air floods into my body. The silence is broken and my ears ring intensly. I make my way to land and my clothes are so heavy.

My dog sits paitently waiting for me to emerge. We make our way back to the house. Into the doors which I close behind me. I stand at the side of the bed and stare at the emptiness. A dark circular stain on the rug below me reveals the evidence of my months of formality. Dripping and shivering I stare in a zombie like state.

I do not recover from my trance as a golden white light pours into the room from above. It continues to flow downwards in a liquid gold state as a form inside begins to take shape. I do not turn my head to look, but I can feel it’s presence beside me, and I can feel warmth from the driplets of golden light when they splash against my arm.

The room is filled with a voice, a voice that calms and comforts me.

“I have been watching you for many months. I have felt your suffering. Although I can comprehend your sorrow, I admit I am curious about your behavior. Please, I must know, why? Why do you go to the water, why do you stay? What relief does it bring you?” The light being asked.

I thought for a moment about the water. The sweet silence, the temporary triumph over my breath, the very second my body responds to death and reacts against my will. I gave my answer.

“Because for that one split second, when my body wins and I panic to the surface, I am reminded that deep down…somewhere inside of me…I want to live.”

The Fifth Root Race, Antarctica, and Tartaria

Congratulations on making it to the end of this series! It began with the question, where do people come from? That burning question led me on an unending journey through time and evolution. After years of reading complex ancient stories, I took a break, only to find a missing link to my query right under my feet, with the evidence of giants. The giants pointed me to the poles, and the unwinding of the tale has been laid out for you to ponder. This series could have taken years to unravel based on all of the supporting information I have gathered, but I tried to keep it simple, clean, and easy to follow. It’s up to you to become a seeker of knowledge, to come to your own conclusions, and use your own instincts to guide you.

It all began with a drop of water and the birth of the elementals. Fast forward through evolution and we have come to the Fifth Root Race, also known as the Aryans. There is no video for this root race, unfortunately, but there are written histories thanks in part to the efforts of the Atlantean predecessors. Since we don’t have a video, we will see what Wikipedia has to say about the Aryans. The subraces go as follows: Hindu, Arabian, Persian, Celts, and Teutonic or Slavic. This genetic path follows the “out of Africa” story if you consider that Africans were Lemurians and Atlanteans. This story always felt wrong to me. DNA testing can tell us what % of mixing we are, but relies on the “current history” to trace where and when these people blended.

Our ‘traditional’ history begins during the epoch of Atlantis with remembrances from Lemuria woven in. As you can estimate from this migration through the Aryans, the Fifth Root Race has nearly completed with only two subraces left. The sixth subrace of the Aryans is projected to be called Australo-American, and hints back to a South Pole philosophy. The first Australians and the first Americans were Lemurians.

I want to address the conflict we feel about the word Aryan, it is similar to my adversity to the word “occult” in the beginning of this journey. When we come across a word or phrase that makes us uncomfortable, we should ask ourselves why a word would make us have an emotional reaction. It is because at some point during your life someone made you feel that word was good/bad. From now on every time you catch yourself thinking something is good or bad with no reason for that emotional attachment, go neutral on it…you will learn so much more about the world when you take off the prejudiced glasses and consider information as nothing but information to consider.

A-N at the end is short for Aryan. This is how our Root Race the “Aryans” describes people…

Asian, European, American, Indian, African, Canadian, Brazilian, Russian, all of our names for people end in A-N for Aryan. Even our pronunciations of ancient cultures, Atlantean, Lemurian, Hyperborean, Polarian we always pronounce these people with an A-N. Maybe they called themselves Lemurites, we don’t know for sure. There is a clue in the Bible, who remained to be the Aryans? If you look at the genealogy of Noah’s sons, we have the “ites”, the “ines”, and the “ans” or “ams”; example – Canaanites, Philistines, and Haran, Dedan, Javan, Midian, Medan, Zimmeran, Abraham, etc. The ‘ites, the ‘ines, and the ‘ans were all giants, but only the ‘ans (or ‘ams) decreased in size to become modern day hum-ans. What is a hum? It is a vibration. A Hum-An is a vibrating animal or vibrational Aryan.

Aryans are a mix of Lemurian, Atlantean, and Hyperborean bloodlines. From the mixing of the people comes the next Root Race. Trying to purify bloodlines is trying to prevent evolution from occurring. Why would a race of humans not want to evolve? Because they worship the ancient races as gods, and see the evolution of humans as devolving from the original perfection. The original perfection is an elemental; we must return to our “mother” planet and “father” sun to return to our true nature. All of the good versus evil, patriarchy or matriarchy, “us or them” duality of thinking is what prevents us from seeing we are all of one mother and father. We contain both energies within us. This planet made us. No gods or aliens required. Those are just names we gave our ancestors. Yet our ancient histories are still valid accounts and were considered as factual supporting fragments to the whole.

Why are we adverse to the terms being used to classify us? Mongoloid, I bet Asian people hate that word. Negroid, yes, that is offensive for sure. Yet these are the actual words used by scientists to classify people of a genetic race. Aryan is used to cause a conflict of emotions as well. Why are we upset with these words, why do we assume they are meant to separate and degrade us? Because, we are returning to a philosophy that does not discriminate between the sexes, or between the colors of men, or between the sexual preferences. We are returning to South Pole philosophies and nature, which has no caste system. It is probable to assume that ‘group think’ or a ‘hive mind’ is a South Pole ideology and individual thought is North Pole property. Can you think of current examples of group think?

Why did humans remain in a North Pole philosophy for the later half of Atlantis and nearly all of the Aryans? Because as mentioned in the Atlantean history, peoples’ lives keep getting shorter, so does our stature, and so does the amount of time for each Root Race. If we go back to the 183 polar reversals in the last 83 million years, we will see that during some of these epochs, the poles changed more than once, but one philosophy and pole was always dominate. It was likely a heightened period of shifting that separated the sexes to begin with. The shifting of continents was something we survived time and again. Our histories were scattered along the way.

We are seeing the poles move scientifically, and physically, but also spiritually. We are heading in that direction as the poles are weakening for a new point of concentration, an old but new philosophy and science for humanity. Women are rising in powerful roles, the family unit is highly regarded, and we are on the verge of remembering how to use vibration for good and nefarious reasons. We are in the middle of a shift and through the mixing of nations, we are about to birth a new subrace to the Aryan race, possibly even the first traces of the Sixth Root Race. I believe the Sixth Root Race will be a return to a vibrational species. There is a lot of attention focused on Antarctica lately; perhaps this is another indicator of the current shift?

What are some additional things to consider? There is a possibility that Lemurians are walking among us, and they probably don’t even know it. Hyperboreans reproduced by budding, yet they also reproduced with Lemurians after the division of sexes, and again with Atlanteans. This means the original Races continue to evolve along the side the current Race. It is likely that remote tribal people all over the earth for our entire epoch are mostly still Lemurian and ‘modern man’ is mostly Atlantean. Think about that we have 4 blood types, and 4 Races with material bodies. Is that a coincidence? Are Lemurians the source of “red-blooded” bloodlines? They were certainly more prolific across the globe compared to the previous Race that remained in the North. Could Hyperboreans still be around hidden in cryptozoology? They change in size, so they are likely fairy legends too. Importantly, the end of a Root Race is marked by natural cataclysms, and those are increasing in strength rapidly. A new Race is going to emerge, and I believe we should turn our faces to Antarctica for the first hints. The closest land masses to Antarctica are South America and Australia, is that a coincidence also?

That is the story I wanted to tell on the origin of humans from start to present. I have no idea if it is correct or not, but it makes sense to me, and covers a lot of known information about humans. All except for Tartary, which I hinted at in the title. So what is Tartaria or Tartary? Well, it seems to be a deliberate attempt to conceal an entire part of our recent past. It has only been introduced recently to the seekers of knowledge, and many are speculating and uncovering clues as we speak. It would relate to either the late Atlantean 7th subrace or possibly the current Aryan subrace of the Teutonic people, the time frame of their reign is unclear.

So why would someone deliberately hide a recent history from humanity? If we consider that all of the previous Races harnessed energy from the ley lines or the ether, without burning fossil fuels to power their enormous cities, then why do we use such a barbaric method? There are those who are postulating that Tartaria was erased so that a powerful few, very likely remnants of the Black Magicians of Atlantis (remember these races overlap heavily), in order to install a wired energy grid that can track usage to promote a “pay to live” society. One that funnels all monetary resources straight to them. They created the oil and gas industry on purpose. They created the current monetary system on purpose.

That delves us into conspiracy theories and there are plenty of people covering those, so I will end this story here. I hope you enjoyed this series as much as I did telling you about it! At the bottom is a link for a video from another seeker, if you are interested in this hidden knowledge here is another view you can consider. I will return next time with my usual weird and wonderful short stories.

Just remember the first thing I showed you in this series…Water Has Memory and all it takes is the right frequency to activate it and alter life. Thanks for reading!  See you then!

Phoenicians, Hyperborea, Tartaria (Mind Unveiled March 21, 2019)


Other posts in this series:

Have you ever wondered where people came from?

In the land of Giants

Root Races Hollow Earth and a Drop of Water

Hyperborea and the Birth of Titans

Lemurians Mermaids and Sea People

The History of Atlantis

What have we here? Three elementals, a Hyperborean, and a Lemurian, hmmm…imagine that. Atlantis is not our pre-history, it is our history. They are the Egyptians, Hebrews, Greeks, Mongols, and part of Inca, Maya, and Aztec history as well (though those stayed close to Lemurian ties). They are not so far into our past, but history has been fragmented so that it doesn’t make sense and seems too far away to recover. Our planet is a cell, the sun inside is the nucleus, what does the nucleus of a cell do? Keep digging.

Main Egyptian Gods

The History of Atlantis

Welcome to part six of this seven part series. (Links below). If you have made it this far, you know that we are on the Fourth Root Race, of the Seven Root Races of humanity. Since we currently live in the Fifth Root Race, my next post will be the conclusion of this story. You also know that I will link a video for you to watch, and our discussion will begin on the contents. That video link is here. (Fear Channel September 7, 2017).

Since today’s video is quite lengthy and detailed, I won’t spend much time breaking down the information presented. I will only continue to add to my theory that geomagnetic reversals play an important role in the philosophies and evolution of the Root Races. I will also link the companion videos on Atlantis, since I will not be delving into the Black and White Magicians too much, so those videos are for your continued interest only.

In the first subrace, the Rmoahals, the South Pole philosophies are still present, (harmony with nature) then the North Pole philosophies emerge and solidify by the 3th subrace. Atlanteans take on philosophies more like the Hyperboreans who focused on self-preservation and not familial ties. North Pole philosophies birthed the patriarchy. The Atlanteans introduced successive Kingship, another sign of the patriarchy. I only point this out because I believe that the North Pole is “male” energy and the South Pole is “female” energy. As the poles reverse, or in essence the point of concentrated energy moves from one pole to the next, our beliefs and philosophies change based on this energy dynamic. Both are essential to continual growth, and both have a “season” or time to grow rapidly. Female energy focuses on the earth and nature, while male energy focuses on engineering and technological advancement. Both are equally necessary for an evolving humanity. The Polarians or elementals worked closely with Lemurians because they are South Pole Energy and the later Atlanteans team up with Hyperboreans because they are North Pole energy. Look into the South Atlantic anomaly, if you have never heard of it. Or the Geomagnetic energy chaos that our planet is currently experiencing, it is all related.

I promised Hyperboreans would pop up again and again. They mixed with later Lemurians in our last post, and here they are again alive and well in the far North. (Watching Atlantis, they are the Watchers) This period of time in Atlantean history, when the Turanians are wreaking havoc and the Shemites are being spiritually guided by Hyperboreans is very well preserved in the Book of Enoch. I told you that I believe Hyperboreans were angels and gods, well, I think they are Enoch’s angels, and he went to inner Earth the land of the angels, in a flying machine, (which had been around since Lemuria). The sixth subrace produces the Greeks (mythology), and the Hyperboreans are still all over this Atlantean subrace. So what are fallen angels, then? They are Hyperboreans who produced offspring with the 4th subrace of Atlantis. If they mixed with the forbidden black magic Turanians of the 4th subrace, they were a fallen angel, and the offspring was called a Nephilim. If they mixed with the Shemites, then that was okay, as the birth of Noah would indicate in the Book of Enoch. Just read his description of Noah at birth! (

This idea that Hyperboreans are the angels could be evidence that all sun worshipping or monotheistic religions produced during the Atlantean era were in all actuality talking about the inner sun, not the sun of our solar system. As the inner sun is the sun of Hyperborea, and it is the light, the creator of life on earth, etc. Why does the Bible say we cannot look directly at Gods face, because God is a ball of burning gasses and radiation. Polytheistic religions worship elementals or Hyperboreans as gods or nature spirits. What if the inner sun is the consciousness of the planet? What if the planet is a very much living entity and the inner sun is the heart, brain, or even soul of it all? What if we are cells on her body, as we have cells in our own? Who created the universe then? Is our living planet and all of the cosmos cells on a much bigger body? A body so large we cannot conceive of it? It is during the Atlantean era that written histories and religions become the common place. These written texts are often destroyed or broken up so that the whole story cannot be put together. The puzzle needs all of the pieces to create the picture, and many of those pieces are gone to us.

The Bible is careful to always make a distinction between Nephilim and giants, as they are not one and the same. Nephilim are described as “being like men of old, men of renown” in size, who are the ‘men of old’? Hyperboreans, that’s who. And again, “Giants were in the Earth in those days, and after too” is yet another clue that giants lived not on the earth but inside of it, who is inside of earth, again we find Hyperboreans. There is another land between the inner and outer earth, it is midpoint in the crust of the planet. It is presumed that this “underworld” like cavern is a prison for those being held for judgement. It could be Hell, Tartarus, or the Egyptian underworld, they are all one. Here is a Tibetan map of earth showing where Hell would be as a void in the crust.

Tibert map of Hollow Earth

It is worth trying to find the Gospel of Eve. It is an account “by her” about being removed from the Garden of Eden. She talks about being terrified when they had to experience night and other things not in the Garden, such as cold. This Garden sounds very much like inner Earth. I tried to find it online to link, but many of my sources keep disappearing. Admiral Byrd also wrote about another Race being developed inside of the Earth, I’ll put a link below. Elementals, Hyperboreans, Lemurians, and Atlanteans don’t just die away; they live hundreds to thousands of years. Elementals, probably never perish, unless they want to.

I promised in the last segment of this series that I would address the “extra-terrestrials” mentioned in these past two videos. I strongly believe these to be “inter”-terrestrials, instead. Remember there are flying machines from the previous Root Race, and if the inner sun is the catalyst that creates life for the elementals, the inside of our planet must be inhabited by far more species than those that have made it to the exterior surface. I have found evidence that early Races had a vast knowledge of the cosmos, but nothing that conclusively states that we have been visited by another star system, (maybe Mars refugees though). Even saying that plants were brought to this planet to clear the atmosphere, could mean brought outside from within. Polarians may have developed a species of plant to clear the poisonous atmosphere from their homeland’s demise, and shared that genetic material with Lemurians.

On the very last map of the video from above, I believe what we are seeing is Tartaria, the end of the Atlantean epoch and the beginning of the Aryan. We will discuss Tartaria and the Aryan Root Race in our next installment to this series. Here are the other links on Atlantis as promised, if you wish to see more. See you next time!

Black Magicians of Atlantis (Fear Channel February 23, 2017)

Sinking of Atlantis (Fear Channel August 24,2017)

The world after Atlantis (Fear Channel September 12, 2017)

If you haven’t read what Admiral Byrd said about inner Earth, it’s definitely worth a listen! It is one of the reasons I believe the “aliens” are from within.

Hollow Earth: Admiral Byrd’s Flight Log (Fear Channel July 7, 2017)

Other posts in this series:

Have you ever wondered where people came from?

In the land of Giants

Root Races Hollow Earth and a Drop of Water

Hyperborea and the Birth of Titans

Lemurians Mermaids and Sea People

Here are some photos of what Atlanteans look like, mind you they are a mix of the previous two Root Races, Lemuria and Hyperborea combined.

Dynastic Egyptian race
Assyrian King

Finally, the most obvious case of mixed blood…

Hindu God

Lemurians, Mermaids, and Sea Peoples

If you have traveled with me this far, you know that we are on the Third Root Race of humanity. If you haven’t read the previous posts in this series, you will want to go back as this is an unfolding of a story, and there are four posts preceding this one. (links below). This video is a little bit longer than the previous Root Races, and the following even more in depth, as we get closer to modern humanity and less information is lost through the ages. As with earlier installments, I will direct you to watch an introductory video, in this link (Fear Channel June 16, 2017). Then I will discuss the information that was presented.

There is a lot to unpack here, so I will begin at the beginning and work my way through. Clearly by looking at the map, this is a people originating from the South Pole and very quickly spreading across the globe to everywhere but the far North.

Map of Lemuria

How did they migrate so quickly? There were clues in the video. Lemurians were mermaids. They were a sea faring people, were unafraid of drowning, they practiced vocalization and hypnosis, otherwise known as the “siren’s song”. They worked closely with elementals to govern the life on the planet, so shape-shifting is not an unreasonable leap. Whether they could shed a tail for legs or are the origin of the genetics of people Bajau people, (National Geographic April 19, 2018) they were a semi-aquatic species. No doubt about it.

The Polynesian people are most certainly Lemurian descendants. But so are Australian Aborigines, Africans, Native Americans, and Asian people. They even migrated to the far North, as Inuit people are evidence of. Why and how was there so much migration going on? I believe the Lemurians followed Ley Lines. It was a shift in magnetic energy concentration from the North to the South Pole, a geomagnetic reversal, which evolved this Race. Hence they are a vibrational Race, and sensitive to the energy lines of the earth. They built energy storage pyramids at specific energy points across the globe. These are not our current pyramids, but the ones below or inside of them. These monuments have been rebuilt during the Atlantean Era, but the sacred spots were mapped and denoted by the Lemurians.

Lemurians are the first hints to a division of spirituality, or good versus evil concepts. It was jealousy for being left out of the Brotherhood that created a dual society with both not liking the other. They are also the first race to begin getting smaller over the ages. They began at around 60ft and ended at around 12ft tall. I believe this is because of the massive geologic changes that continued to occur during this time in history.

It isn’t detailed in the video, but after the division of the sexes, the matriarchal patterns began. They again were vibrational and familial (promoting group associations), so anywhere there are traces left of matriarchy philosophies, or shamanism, is a remnant of Lemuria. Later the Atlanteans replace shamanism with religion and medicine; and they introduce lineages and the patriarchy. The Atlanteans are born when the Lemurians mix with the Hyperboreans. This was hinted at the end when it said that some of them mixed with the degenerate Neanderthals from Hyperborea. The mixing of blood and the geomagnetic reversal that destroyed Mu, pointed the concentration of energy back to the North for the next Root Race.

The comet Condor is mentioned in this video and there is a depiction of it on a carving in Gobekli Tepe. I believe this may be a Lemurian establishment. I don’t have a segue for that nugget, so I’ll come full circle here. The video also says they bonded to nature spirits, or elementals. This again brings to mind depictions of half animal – half human gods or legends throughout the ancient mythos. That would include merfolk too.

I’m not going to address the “Extra-terrestrial” influences on Lemuria because that theme comes back to us again in Atlantis, and I want to discuss that topic in my next installment. I hope you enjoyed learning about Lemurians. I know I enjoyed postulating on this fascinating part of the Root Races. See you next time!

Posts in this series:

Have you ever wondered where people came from?

In the Land of Giants

Root Races Hollow Earth and a Drop of Water

Hyperborea and the Birth of Titans

If you want to know what Lemurians look like, here are some photos!

Maori Warrior with club
Aborigine People



Inuit Woman with tattoos

Hyperborea and the Birth of Titans

The Second Root Race in my series of posts is known as the Hyperboreans. These giants grew to 120ft. tall yet retained enough of their previous elemental beginnings to change in size, down to the size of a pinpoint. To introduce to you to this era of human prehistory, I will again refer you to a video in this link. (Fear Channel March 16, 2017). Then I will further examine the information from the video.

I believe this Race to be the origin of our stories of gods, titans, aliens, and even angels as they will tend to pop up throughout our succeeding Root Races quite often. Certainly the Greek gods and titans could change in size, and so could angels appear as men to men. Additionally, the land of the eternal sun, beyond the polar winds, all of these fragments spell out that this land existes inside of earth just as you enter through the North Pole. A central sun never sets.

The Polarians had to become this new Root Race because their land was unstable and covered with poisonous gas. We know that Hyperborea is in the North, so I postulate that the South Pole had become an uninhabitable place (inside earth), so they seeded far away. Elementals can pass through rock, water, anything. Hyperboreans have lost two of their elemental beginnings; they can no longer pass through earth and can be burned by fire. Although the knowledge is lost, I still believe that Polarian is the subrace of the First Root Race of Elementals, likely remembered as so because of the poisonous South Pole at the end of their Race, being the polar opposite of the North.

Based on the birth of the orb from my previous post, I have considered that elementals are born from water, radiated by the inner sun, gestated in rock or earth, and born from the vibration of wind. They have been here since the earth was still cooling. They can go from inside of the planet to outside effortlessly because they are not inhibited by any of the elements. They are the creators of proteins that decide which plant or animal species they will become into. They are the source of DNA strands, all twelve of them. When the parent creates an offspring, that offspring will be a plant or animal, known or new, the elemental decides. Though the end of their Race has come, they too are mentioned throughout the histories of the following Races. Perhaps these earlier Races never die out, they just go within?

Hyperboreans have blue skin. This intrigued me greatly because all throughout human history were depictions of blue and green skin. This is our first clue to the Rh- bloodline, so called the blue-bloods. There is a ton of speculation about Atlantean, or reptilian, or many other theories about this bloodline, but they focus mainly on good or evil, and I am avoiding any such prejudices during this investigation. So I will only say that this is the origin, in my opinion, of this genetic anomaly.

The concept of geomagnetic reversals begins here and continues throughout the rest of this story as well. It will be vague at first but will become clearer as the story unfolds. I want you to understand that we are in a cosmic void, so what do the directions really mean? True north is the direction of the strongest magnetic energy flow. That is why an arrow points to true north, the magnetics make it do so. True north is the strongest magnetic energy pull, or the accumulation of the most energy. This spot is not stationary and causes the cataclysms and energetic points of concentration on a specific area or land mass. The concentrated energy changes the humans in that region and speeds up evolution.

This becomes more apparent in the next Root Race, which comes from the South Pole. But before we move on it is important to address the devolving of some Hyperboreans into a “simian species”, this is later referred to as Neanderthals, or even Denisovan people. It is meant as a derogatory term for these “early/later” Northern human tribes. Thanks for reading, See you next time in Lemuria!

If you are curious what a Hyperborean looks like, I have included some images below.

Painted Pict People
Giant of Kandahar
Norse Frost Giant illustration

Root Races, Hollow Earth, and a Drop of Water

It has taken me a very long time to determine how to present the story I wish to tell. My mind is always changing, and there are some things that you must see to believe. That meant directing you to watch YouTube videos, and follow me through some pretty mind bending theories. Clearly this tale will only interest those few with the time and imagination to investigate.

As I mentioned in my previous post In the Land of Giants, I’ve spent over two decades searching every ancient literature for the origin of humans. I was getting hints to look at the poles for the answer. When I did that, I found a history of Seven Root Races, beginning at the poles. This information was found labeled under “occult knowledge”. As my prior education consisted of religious writings of every sort, I was highly prejudiced to the word “occult”. I had to temporarily put down my beliefs, my feelings about that word, and wipe my slate clean to see a bigger picture that consists of just plain knowledge, not good or evil. I had to not attach emotion or fear to the words, and just listen to them with no stake in the outcome. When I did, it took all of the scraps and puzzle pieces of information that I had gathered over the years, and put them into a tale, a pre-history story.

If what I have told you so far about giants, geomagnetic reversals, and a new/old theory of humanity is intriguing to you… if clicking on a video link to learn more is something that you are okay with… if you can put down everything you have come to believe and listen with an open mind; You are the person I am writing this for. What is the point of all of my searching, if I am unable to share what I have discovered? As I said before, my thoughts on this are fluid and always changing as I consider new information, so this is not me touting “my truth”. I just want to share this while the idea is exciting, new, and pliable.

In order to understand the human story, we have to consider where life comes from. No one has actually figured that out, so we have to take known information and use our imagination to determine the possibilities. The beginning of my story starts with a drop of water. There is a very thought provoking documentary about Dr. Luc Montagnier’s research on water. That is the first video in this journey. If you follow this link, you will see how important water is to the creation of life. (wocomoDOCS January 28, 2016). Afterwards, continue on below.

In the above video, an experiment is carried out that takes a tiny sample of DNA, dilutes it to the point it no longer shows genetic material, and then records the water samples’ electromagnetic waves. Next the recording is played to another drop of water in a different country, and the DNA strand from the sample recreates itself. Now for something you have to see to believe, and honestly, I don’t have the words to describe what is being seen. In this video, skip to 6 minutes 30 seconds, and you will see an orb being ‘born’ out of a drop of water. (Matrix Wisdom December 4, 2018). It took me a very long time to deduce what I was seeing here.

I thought about it coming from somewhere within the rock, so I mentally scanned all of the way through the rock. What is on the other side of the rock? The inner sun. If you aren’t familiar with Hollow Earth Theory (Wikipedia), I suggest that you do a little research before continuing. Whether you are a Flat Earth, a Globe Earth, or a Hollow Earth theorist, it is because your research leads you there at some point. Mine concluded with Hollow Earth theory based on cellular structure, gravity, myth, Admiral Byrd, and many other considerations. In order to tell this story, the inner Earth and central sun plays a reoccurring role.

What I saw in my mind’s eye was the radiation and gases from the central sun, soaking into the landscape of inner earth. Groundwater, then carrying tiny particulates through the crust of the earth, and a vibration from a breeze moving throughout the cave. Fire, Earth, Water, Air…this is the birth of an elemental. This will be the beginning of the Root Races, the Polarians. What is a Polarian? I believe it might be a race of elemental. Our body is carbon based, and 70% water. All of the material that we are made of comes from the earth. Here is our final video for this post, an introduction to Polarians and Root Races. (Fear Channel March 2, 2017).

My theory that the Polarians are a race of elementals is further backed by the notion that the elements could not hurt them; they could not drown or be burnt. I can’t help but notice that animals covered the Earth during this time. The Bible tells that the birds and beasts were created before man as well. What mythos and imagery can be remnants of these Polarians? Certainly shape-shifters who can temporarily become an animal are prevalent throughout legend and myth. What about ancient depictions of gods as animals or part animal? That question comes back again later too. Little remains of any knowledge from this time, since telepathy was the form of communication, and writing had not yet emerged. My next post will be about the Second Root Race. I hope you found something in here interesting. See you next time.

In the Land of Giants

In my previous post Have you ever wondered where people came from?, I asked many questions. I proposed a theory that geomagnetic reversals may play a role in legends and myths. I will come back to that topic at a later date. I just wanted to plant a small seed before I begin.

To quickly recap, as a youth I was very curious about where people came from. I looked in all of the obvious places for answers; Religious texts, mythologies, ancient cities and megalithic sites. Around the age of 13 or 14, I decided to search in the one book in my house that might have answers…the Bible. At that young and imaginative age, the Old Testament read like a Game of Thrones novel. I quickly developed an appetite, and would always be hungry for more.

From the Bible I rapidly found the Apocrypha, Nag Hammadi Library, and Gnostic Codices. I wandered from Kabbalah, to Zoroaster, to Hindu and Buddha. I packed my brain with Viking Sagas and Greek mythology. I scoured over scraps of Aztec, Inca, Maya, and Anasazi. One path was always leading me to another until I had gorged on Aborigine and Polynesian legends too.

My brain hurt, and I didn’t know how to sort through and put all of these pieces together. I decided to give my brain a break, and then I began to wonder if Ohio had any ancient myths or legends to investigate? Oh did it ever! In true form, one clue lead to another, which lead to another, and so on.

My first nibble at this mystery arrived when I heard the phrase “Ohio River Valley Giants”. I began to feel my mouth salivate. I listened to podcasts, sifted through YouTube, and did a Google search. When I saw this map posted by Graham Hancock on October 27, 2015, my heart skipped a beat or two, (or three). Right here in the cool dark soil beneath my very feet, be the bones of Giants!

Map of US with tags for every giant skeleton found.
Giant Skeletons found in the North America

My mental Choo-choo train was flying at full speed. I had a real life ancient mystery on my hands and I couldn’t wait to find new information to learn! Giants, giants, let’s see…what do I know about giants? Well, quite a lot actually. Every single ancient culture that I had ever even glanced at spoke of the giants. This was going to take some concentration and determination to fragment it all together.

As I embarked on my journey through the giants, there were noticeably recurring themes. Giants with red hair, two rows of teeth, and six fingers and six toes were described globally. Wait, weren’t the Philistines giants with six fingers? (Ulster Medical society May, 2014). This apparent race of giants had mentions all across the Americas, Solomon Islands, Canary Islands, and even more recently a report of a giant matching this description was found alive and then killed in Kandahar Afghanistan. (Post from Collective Evolution on June 22, 2018).

So, who in the world are the giants? I want to address the correlation between Nephilim and giants briefly. It has been my experience that any time giants are mentioned, some moron gets on his soapbox and tries to educate me about Fallen Angels raping women. This is what happens when sex and reproduction are considered taboo, and (his)tory prevails. When shocking words or scenarios are used such as sex, incest, or rape- there are many minds that zero in on the forbidden fruit and forget to pay attention to the story being told.

We have zero accounts from women during this time. If there was a man that was 7 to 9 feet tall, and considered so advanced that average humans viewed them as Angels and Gods, maybe women looked around at the village idiots and decided they had better prospects in the technologically advanced cities? I’m just saying; don’t get hung up on a small detail and miss the big picture.

Okay, back to giants. One thing that confused me was the different relationships between man and giants. Half of the reports described them as monstrous cannibals, and needed to be eliminated due to their aggressive behavior. Yet the Sumerians, Egyptians, and even early Spanish explorers in the Americas describe them as benevolent and kind. They show them teaching man civilization, and nurturing our very beginnings on Earth. So, were there two different races of giants?

Now my sleep was even plagued by giants. I felt like my mind was being downloaded with the full story when I slept, but when I woke I could only retain bits and fragments. What was the link, what was I missing? I was shoulder deep in reading on the Norse Frost Giants when it dawned on me. The north! If Frost Giants and Hyperboreans were all from the far north, I needed to be looking at the POLES!

I’m going to stop here for now and pick up next time, where I begin at the very beginning…the Poles.

Have you ever wondered where people came from?

Ape ponderingPhoto by


I have…and often. Hello everyone. Up until now I have posted a few short stories, and a few political rants (thank you for being kind to me on those). I am new to and I am still figuring out how to use it. I wasn’t sure what to write about, and I am painfully intimidated about how I would be received if I put myself out there to be judged and critiqued.

I know that I have work to do before my stories and articles are more “professional” looking, and I appreciate how generous the handful of those who have liked and commented on my posts have been. Thank you so much. It is a learning process, and you must start somewhere.

The family has made me feel welcomed, so that I have been able to focus in on a topic that interests me. Where did people come from? For my entire life I have been drawn to ancient cultures, mythologies, origin stories, and topics of that nature. I was envious of places like Petra, Stonehenge, and Machu Picchu. How amazing would it be to have megalithic remnants of ancient civilizations in your own backyard?

I decided to see if my little ol’ state of Ohio had any ancient history that I could geek out on. It sent me on a journey that I never could have anticipated. There is a whole human history timeline that stretches to the days when the Earth was cooling. I am in no way saying that this is a true human history, it is just something fascinating to ponder.

I would like to break up the volumes of information that I came across and discuss them piece by piece. I will share other people’s research, and present theories that I hope will get others like me involved in these discoveries. If there is an obvious flaw in one of these questions, I encourage you to join the conversation, but please be polite and use it as a teaching moment, not a preaching or shaming moment.

The first segment of this which I would like to dissect is Pole Shifts. No, not the “coming one”, but the ones recorded throughout history. According to Wikipedia, there have been 183 polar reversals in the past 83 million years. Why is this important to consider? Well, if True North was at the South Pole, and East was West, some of our mythos may need to be reconsidered.

One oral history that was recorded in illustrations, and stands out to me, is the story of Aztlán (Wikipedia). Aztlán is the historical land of the Aztec people. There is so much debate and unknowns attached to this tale that it is anyone’s guess as to where it is/was. “Anyone” can certainly include me.

When I saw this image of the migration of the Aztec people, I noticed part of it is upside down. Could this be a recorded event of a Polar Reversal during this ancient migration? Take a look!

Map of Aztec migration

If so, could Aztlán be in Antarctica? Could the “Place of whiteness” be so obvious? If “North” was Antarctica and the Aztec people migrated “South”, then does that mean they could have traveled up the tip of South America? If the homeland of the storytellers was not as important to them as the migration itself, why would that be? Perhaps the geomagnetic lines that ancient people may have followed, were acting in a strange way. Maybe the above image is a representation of this theory. Could the Spanish guestimates on the dates be wrong? If this application seems apparent to me, what other mythos need to be looked at again?

I am not presenting anything as fact, just asking the questions. Thanks to scientific research, I have a chart to begin putting my theory on paper. It will take some time, but I plan to over-lay these factual “reversals” over my ever-changing and developing timeline. If anyone else has thought of this before and has some of the work done, please share your work with me. The more collaboration I have with intelligent and curious minds on this, the better.

Today’s question is a taste of what you can expect to come. (Along with short stories and a rant or two). I will take a subject, concept, or theory and try to apply it to a new human story. We will re-examine old knowledge with new eyes, refusing to disregard anything that may happen to contradict the established postulations.

What to do About Raymond

animal-beak-bird-946344.jpgOn a quiet suburban street, lined with perky modern homes and plastic mailbox sentinels at the end of each smooth blacktop drive, there is a mysterious dead end. The dead end is marked by a rickety wooden mailbox, a roughly worn gravel drive, and a thin tree-line that conceals an old wooden shack. In the shack lives an old crone. No one could say for certain how long the old woman had lived at the end of the street, but she seemed to have always been there.

Children imagined she was a witch, adults assumed she was nothing more than a hermit. A well-known fact about the woman was her remarkable talent with wildlife. The townspeople would brave muddying up their sharp new SUV’s, to take a drive down the gravel pathway whenever a stranded animal blemished their immaculate lawns. As they passed through the tree-line, the townspeople would tisk and click their tongues at the tangle of vegetation overflowing throughout the yard. There was no green velvety grass, like that which carpeted all of the other lawns. Insects, amphibians, reptiles, birds, mammals, and fairy folk all knew about the crone too. They knew, because the strange tangle of vegetation that humans considered off-putting was actually expertly designed for an abundance of life.

Every inch of the yard was full of fruits, berries, vegetables, medicinal and culinary herbs, tubers, flowers, nuts, and every possible species of foliage one could imagine. The old woman still practiced the One-third Rule, a very ancient rule that was once common knowledge. Long ago, in a time when households relied on independent food production, it was the practice. The rule goes as follows: One third of a harvest is collected to reseed the following years’ crop, one third is used for the sustainability of the old woman, and one third is given as offering to the wildlife and the fairies that ensure a bountiful harvest year after year.

The old yard was lavish and alive, unlike the artificial picturesque lawns, where life cannot survive. Behind the shack, in the far back of the yard is a shallow pond. The pond has a stepped-terraced drop, covered in smooth river stones, and a waterfall that trickled down the step-terrace into the pond. Huge stacked stones covered in plush moss and forest succulents bordered the pond, and wrapped around the backyard in a wall that separated the upper and lower terraces. The stone wall created cave palaces where the Salamander’s lived. The Salamanders have been here since the Earth first cooled. They are the Chiefs of all the fairies, and are responsible for ensuring that seedlings emerge come spring.

The Salamanders do this by taking a pilgrimage around the yard each year, one full moon cycle before the Spring Solstice. The eldest and wisest of the Salamander Chiefs plays his magic nose flute, which wakes up the seedlings from their earthen slumber. The vibrations encourage them to crack open their seed casings, and creep out from the dark depths of the soil. The pilgrimage takes an entire week to complete, and all of the fairy families celebrate and provide hospitality when the Salamander convoy passes through their gardens. The nose flute that the Salamander Chief plays has a legend of its own.

The legend says that the instrument is carved out of an egg-tooth, shed from a baby owl. The tooth was both a symbol of the innocence of birth and the wisdom of the owl. Once upon a time, a carpenter ant was farming her enormous herd of aphids. She grazed her flock on a juicy mugwort shrub that grew next to a blackberry bush. She had grown bored with her monotonous life of collecting syrup from the aphids and carrying it to the nurse ants. That is when she stumbled over the egg-tooth on the ground. She picked up the tooth and turned it over to inspect it. She broke-off a thorn from the blackberry bush, and used the pointed end to whittle the tooth into the magical flute. The ant often dreamed about what it would be like to be any of the other inhabitants of the property. She dreamed of being a cricket, or a snail, or a butterfly, or anything nobler than a farming carpenter ant.

As she carved into the dark of night she imagined the other life in the wilderness. Her thoughts were incorporated into the intricate designs that enchanted the nose flute. When she put the flute to her nose and breathed into it, the music that flowed out vibrated her all of the way into her very soul. Other insects began to show up. A cricket leaped and danced in front of her. “That is the sweetest sound of cricket playing I have ever heard!” he exclaimed. A beetle showed up and rubbed his wings together. “That music, it is like the honey of a beetle’s song!” The beetle danced and swirled. Each insect that was drawn to the music of the flute, heard their own songs playing out of it. No two species heard the same song; instead it was the sweetest version of their own sound.

The performance of the flute even caught the attention of the royal Salamanders. The young ant was offered to live in the palace caves, to be the musician to the Salamanders, and to accompany them with the bringing of spring as they made their annual journey. She accepted and lived happily with Salamanders for the rest of her life. Before she died, she passed-on the magical nose flute to the young son of the Salamander Chief. She predicted he would be the greatest of all of the Chiefs, and taught him how to play. He fulfilled his destiny and the flute has been passed from Chief to Chief with each succession ever since.

In the front of the old property is a raised bed full of nectar dripping flowers for the butterflies and bees. This garden box is the home of a young moth fairy named Una. Una is camouflaged with the identical transparent green wings as a Luna moth. Her best friends are Symin and Trim, brother beetle fairies that fly with the lightening bugs, and resemble their anatomical structure.

Una’s job is the well-being of the butterfly garden. She listens to the plants and moves insects from one to another when a plant has been munched on enough. She also helps with pollination and spreading water evenly. She is nocturnal, working throughout the night and resting by day. Una loves her garden spot, and loves her work.

High above Una’s garden on a knotty branch from a towering pine tree, cradled the nest of a raven family. Inside trembled a lonely chick named Raymond. Raymond is cold, hungry, tired, and frightened. His parents never returned from their foraging, and darkness had set over the yard. For hours before the sun had set, Raymond had chirped as loud as he could for his parents. His stomach growled and his throat was sore from crying out. He would surely freeze or starve to death during the night if they did not return. He shivered in his fluffy down, for he hadn’t grown feathers to keep him warm yet. He had barely opened his eyes, and could not see well, especially into the night.

The walls of the nest were too high for him to see over. Out of desperation, Raymond began to move closer to the edge, to peer into the night for help. He clambered up the walls until he could look out over the twig barrier. He couldn’t see very far. He looked from left to right. He looked up above him. He tried to look down, but needed to get closer to the edge to see over. He carefully made his way toward the lip of the nest. He stretched his neck out as far as it would go and looked down. The ground was very far away. He thought he saw something flittering far below him. “Momma, is that you?” He thought to himself.

He inched closer to the edge to get a better look. His foot became tangled in a braid of grass. He kicked and yanked to get it free. The grass let go of his foot, but it sent him sailing over the edge. Raymond squawked as loud as he could. He flapped his wings but to no avail. He was slapped and battered by the tall flower stalks as he plummeted, and landed with a soft thump on the ground in a spray of pollen. Raymond tried to stand but a pain shot throughout his body, telling him that his left leg had been injured during this ordeal.

In his defeat Raymond began to sob. He would surely die now. He wanted his nest, he wanted his warm parents, and he wanted something to put in his aching belly. Una saw something crash through her garden. She heard cries that would certainly bring stray cats, and stray cats were not good for the garden. She flew as fast as she could and found the fat little raven chick. She zipped down to him and slapped his beak shut, holding him silent with her arms.

“What are doing? Stop that! You’re telling every cat in a mile where we are!” She yelled at the fuzzy sobbing chick. Suddenly she felt pity for him. He stifled his sobs to a small whimper and she let go of his beak.

Una looked up the tree and saw the nest high above. “Where are your parents? Shouldn’t they be looking for you by now?”

“Th-they d-d-didn’t come back,” stammered the raven baby.

Una tapped her chin as she thought about what to do. She could try to get him back in his nest and hope his parent’s come back, but he wouldn’t survive on his own yet. He sat, helpless as an egg while she inspected him. He was dehydrated, so Una picked an English bluebell and filled it with the sweet nectar of the torch lilies. She brought the liquid to him and he drank thirstily.

“Thank you.” The raven said after licking out every drop. The sugary water made him feel a little bit better. “I’m Raymond. What’s your name?”

“My name is Una. We’ve got to get you some help Raymond. You won’t make it out here on the ground alone.”

“I know, but I’ve hurt my leg. I can’t even move to hide.” He looked so pathetic.

Una wanted to help him. She knew about the old crone and had even seen her on occasion tending the yard at dusk. Una recalled her long waves of hair. Much like a choppy ocean covered in silver moonlight, which flowed down to her old ankles, just above bare feet. Her fingers were long and knobby, but her touch was said to be so gentle it could unharmingly caress the powdery scales of a butterfly wing. To humans the old woman was an outcast, but to the fairies she was a powerful Magi. Una knew she had to get Raymond to the old woman, but a fairy interacting with a human is strongly forbidden.

“Hello…Una, are you there?” It was Symin and Trim. Una flew out to meet them. “What is it? You look worried, Una.”

“Just follow me,” she instructed and took them to Raymond. “He fell out of his nest, and he’s injured.”

“We could try to get him back inside of it” offered Trim.

“Yes, but how? He’s much too heavy for the three of us to lift up.” Una reasoned. Raymond just sat listening, trying not to cry.

“What if we tied him to a few hummingbird moths? They are much bigger and stronger than us.” Symin reasoned.

“We could try.” Una flew off to ask the moths for help. She returned with four huge hummingbird moths, and Symin and trim had made ropes out of morning glory vines. They tied two moths to each of Raymond’s stubby wings. They tied a third rope to the unbroken leg and the three of them grabbed hold. On the count of three, the bulky moths and the small fairies flew as hard as they could. Raymond rolled over onto his belly while his wings and leg stretched out in three different directions, as if to pull him apart limb for limb.

“Stop! It’s not working!” Yelled Raymond, his throat scratchy and rough. He was right; they never even got him off of the ground. They returned and decided to try one more time, but it too was unsuccessful. Tired and tattered they took the ropes off and thanked the moths for their efforts.

“Now what do we do?” asked Symin. “We need someone bigger than a moth.

“You mean, like a bat?” Una asked back.

“Haha, yeah right, Una…you know bats eat insects, and they can’t tell us from them. How would we get a bat to help us?” Trim nervously replied.

“We could catch one. And then ask him to help us.” Una wrapped her fingers around her fist and thought out loud.

“Catch a bat! How would we do that?” Trim gasped. Una tapped her chin as she pondered.

“There is netting by the pea shoots, for them to climb as they grow. We could lure a bat into the netting and capture him. Then ask him to take Raymond back to his nest, maybe he won’t eat us.” She shrugged at the last part.

“That is a crazy idea.” Trim stated.

“He’s right Una, we can’t catch a bat.” Symin agreed.

“If we don’t help him, he’s not going to make it through the night, look at him!” Raymond was losing color inside of his mouth and his eyes began glossing over. He would not make it, that much was clear.

“We can’t catch a bat, Una. It’s just too dangerous, I’m sorry.” Symin tried to comfort her, but Una wasn’t asking for permission. She glared into Symin’s eyes and blew her bangs out of her face.

“Then stay here and protect him until I get back.” She took off into the night.

“Una, wait!” Symin yelled out as he and Trim went after her. When they caught up to her, she had already waved down a bat, and was flying at full speed towards the pea netting. They quickly joined her side.

“I can’t believe that we are doing this!” Symin called to the others.

He couldn’t hide the smile of excitement on his face. They synced up, and dove down towards the vegetable garden in unison. The bat was right at their heels as they positioned themselves to duck through the half inch square openings in the pea net. Just as they had hoped for, the bat didn’t sense the netting in time, and slammed head first into it. He flapped and tangled himself violently. His crashing about made it impossible to get close enough to capture him. The bat ripped and thrashed itself free, leaving the three fairies behind with nothing but a torn net. Una sighed loudly.

“What in nature is going on over here?” They had drawn the attention of the vegetable garden fairies. They are wingless and round, with short arms and long skinny legs. They wear the skin of a toad as a uniform, and it fits their rotund figure perfectly. From above they look like a toad, but from down here they are clearly a fairy in a toad coat. They tend to vegetables and roots mainly. They are the masters of root knowledge, and are often employed by other fairies when they experience root damage in their own gardens.

“Who is causing all of this damage to the vegetable garden, huh? Answer me!” bellowed Tageris, patriarch of the garden fairies.

“I’m so sorry,” Una pleaded, “we were trying to catch a bat…I mean, help a raven, I…mean…” She trailed off unable to find the right words.

“Fairy folk shouldn’t be catching bats! And ravens don’t fly at night! What’s going on girl?” he demanded. Una, Symin, and Trim explained to Tageris about the raven chick, injured in the butterfly garden. Since ravens have little to do with roots, Tageris was unmoved to help the youths.

“You could always take him to the Salamander Chief. His word is the final law of the land. He would know what to do.” He suggested, as a way to rid himself of the conversation. “If it were up to me though, an orphaned and injured chick is hard work, best to let nature take its course, I say.”

“I’m not going to let Raymond die in my garden,” Una said sharply. “Come on guys, we need to get back to him, he’s all alone and hurt.” She sneered behind a furrowed brow at Tageris as she stamped off and took flight back to her garden. When Una returned, Raymond’s head was flopped over to the side. His breath was so shallow she had to press an ear to him to hear it.

“U-U-Una…is that you?” he mumbled to her, weak and limp. Symin and Trim landed on the ground and looked miserably at the poor chick.

“We have to get him to the Salamander Chief,” Una looked at Symin with tears welling in her eyes.

“How Una? It takes a week for the Salamanders to loop the property, and the pond is in the far back, it would take us two days at least to drag him back there. That’s assuming we could find a way to drag him there ourselves.” Symin wasn’t being helpful, Una thought.

“Then I will bring the Salamanders to him.” Una said flatly.

“You know the Salamanders only leave the cave palace once a year. It’s mid-summer; they have eggs or young now. I want to help you Una, and Raymond, just tell me what to do.” Symin said taking her hands in his. Her eyes sparked with an idea.

“We need beetles, lots of beetles. We will make a sled, and we will pull Raymond to the pond with a team of beetles. Trim and I will cut an iris leaf, and make a harness to tie them together. You go get as many June bugs as you can find!” Una directed Symin and he flew off to find them.

Trim made a strong harness with morning glory vines, while Una used a sharp stone flake to cut the large curtain of iris leaf. The fibers were thick and vibrant, making much work for Una to cut across. Finally the leaf severed and fell to the ground in a spiral freefall. Una and Trim dragged the heavy leaf cutting into position beside the poor raven. They pushed and rolled the lethargic bird onto the leaf. By this time, Symin had returned with sixty June beetles. They quickly strapped the beetles into the harness, in two rows, and they began to pull in accord.

The strong legs of the beetles and the smooth leaf moved easily across the worn footpaths. Una offered another bluebell of nectar to Raymond, but he was far too weak to finish it this time. Inch by inch the sled team carried Raymond through the vegetable garden, past the medicinal herb garden, around the strawberry vine tangles, into the culinary herb gardens, and over towards the dark corner of the back yard, where the waterfall and stone terraced wall stood like monoliths.

At the top edge of the pond, enormous tunneled spider webs covered the mouth to the rocky waterfall. Una and her friends were terrified. The spiders came out of the tunnels and watched them pass, hoping to snare one of them in her web. Centipedes and other scary things creeped around in the damp ground cover surrounding the pond. Una listened as the grass rustled and moved around them. A green snake slithered up and flicked its tongue at them.

“What are you planning on doing with that s-s-sumptuous dead chick?” asked the snake menacingly.

“He’s not dead. We are taking him to the Salamander Chief.” Una informed the snake. Had she not mentioned the Salamander Chief, Raymond was as good as snakes’ meat. But the Salamanders were the rulers, and all of the lifeforms obeyed them.

“Well, let me lead you to him.” hissed the snake.

“We can’t trust him,” said Symin. “He will lead us to his den and eat us.”

“I would do no s-s-such thing. Tell me children, what do you believe the S-S-Salamander Chief will do with an almost-dead raven chick?”

“That is for him to decide,” Una replied briskly.

“Hmmm, I s-s-see…” hissed the snake. “The Salamander Chief lives under the fourth s-s-stone from the pond, at the bottom of the wall. I could take you there, if you wish. It’s not s-s-safe for moth fairies and beetle fairies to be out wandering with s-s-such a moist and meaty hunk of raven, wafting around.”

“And what would you ask for in return?” questioned Symin.

“From you three? Nothing. But should the S-S-Salamander Chief not be able to help the raven, perhaps helping remove the carcass would be reward enough.”

“You are a monster, he is my friend!” Una shouted at the snake.

“What would you do with a dead raven chick, girl? Be intelligent about it” challenged the snake.

“Take us to the Salamander Chief,” cut in Trim.

“It would be my pleasssure.” The snake slithered through the grass and smoothed a trail for the team of beetles to travel. Una wrapped her arms and wings around the chick to try to warm him. His heart beat was growing fainter.

The sandy beach before the pond was teaming with life. Congregated there were frogs and toads, salamanders, crickets, spiders, snakes, dragonflies, wasps, mosquitoes, snails, and dozens of night lovers. There was a hum of activity at the water’s edge. But all that chatter slowed to a hushed silence when the beetle pulled sled with the three fairies and one slumped over raven chick arrived. Thousands of blinking eyes stared at them in silent astonishment.

Una could feel the stares and was quite uncomfortable. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something in the dark. A black shape moved in the shadows towards them. It was tall and the outline of it was undeterminable, Una shuttered. When it stepped into the clearing of the beach, she saw it was the Salamander Chief.

With his long slender body, short arms and legs, and red paint covering his flesh, he hovered over them like a bent Kokopelli. Unlike the garden fairy that wears a toad skin like a Halloween costume, the Salamanders actually wear a live hypnotized salamander on their backs. They paint their skin with red ochre to camouflage with the red bellies of the salamander, and when they close their eyes, you cannot detect them. The black backside of the salamander keeps the Salamander Chief well concealed, and many fairies have never seen the face of one, up close in person. Salamander Chiefs are the most ancient bloodline of fairy.

“You have travelled far to get here, moth and beetle fairies. How did you acquire this raven’s chick?” His voice was thick like old leather and mud. He picked up Raymond’s head in his hands, and blew into his nostrils. Raymond awoke and cringed in fear at the large crowd gathered around them. Una climbed off the sled and stood before the Salamander Chief.

“He fell into the butterfly garden tonight. He is injured, cold, and starved. His name is Raymond, he is an orphan, and he is my friend.”  She smiled at Raymond and he attempted a smile back through his fear.

“That’s enough blood to live a month on!” shouted a spider.

“Casualties of nature, I say feed him to the snakes!” prompted the green snake that lead them here.

“No,” shouted Una, “we have to help him!”

“Can’t help him, he’s already half dead. He’ll be worm food by morning!” shouted another bystander.

“Hey, that’s enough!” yelled Symin, trying to hide his insecurity.

The Salamander Chief listened to each remark carefully. “What would you suggest we do with him?” he asked Una.

“We can wake up the crone. She knows how to help animals, she can save him.” Una suggested to the wise Salamander Chief.

“We can’t wake up a human!” screeched a cricket. The whole crowd erupted with commotion over the idea.

“She can’t be serious. If we made a bunch of distress noise, the stray cats would be the first to arrive. Then the snakes and spiders would be out one fat raven chick,” snarled a frog.

Una had tears running down her cheeks now. “What is wrong with you? I told you he is my friend! I love him, and I don’t want him to die!” She flew up to Raymond and hugged him tightly. He was crying too, for he did not want to be eaten by spiders and snakes. Symin and Trim joined her in a protective stance around Raymond.

“Those fairies are senseless! Ravens grow up and eat insects. She will probably be eaten by her friend if he lives.” The spider yelled out. “Best he goes first, instead of us!” A cheer came from the crowd followed by a second eruption of chatter.

The Salamander Chief raised his hand and everyone went silent. “The spider speaks truly; the raven very well could grow up and eat the young moth fairy.” He smiled at Una, “and yet she still pleads for his life.”

“We live in a world where it is easy for us to see others outside of ourselves as an enemy, as a threat to our very existence. But this is not our only endangerment. The water has become unsafe to drink. The land is covered with toxins. Our forest has been reduced to one property. Our families were once many, and now we are but a few who seek refuge on the only land that remains untainted to us.”

“The weather has become fierce and unpredictable. Seed and fruit bearing plants have been cleared away for lawns that are saturated with poisons regularly. If you were a young raven mother with a child to raise, which yard would you nest in?” He questioned the crowd that stood frozen, hanging on his every word.

“This land is sacred not only to our people, but to all life on Earth. It is a sanctuary for the few who remain. The pond runs with cold sweet water and the plants grow heavy with seed. Life outside of this land is unforgiving. Fortunately here, the old woman has provided us with bounty so that our kind may survive. She does this for all of Earth’s creatures, without discrimination.”

“Should a life find itself in this sacred place, it should be nurtured for the betterment of the planet. It is our duty to ensure all who come here are welcome and cared for equally. This place has been provided for us, and protected for us by the old woman. And she would not allow the raven to perish, so we will not allow the raven to perish either.”

The Salamander Chief walked to the edge of the water and he raised his short arms into the sky. Turtles bubbled up from the murky pond floor and with their shovel like heads, scooped up the raven and put him on the shell of one of them. The Salamander Chief climbed onto the shell of a different turtle and led the way towards the old shack.

The turtles cautiously crept out onto the back brick patio. This place was wide open and quite dangerous at night. Using their heads, they removed the chick and placed him on the bricks. They quickly retreated to the grass line where they could hide in the thick blades. Una stayed behind, holding her cataleptic friend.

The Salamander Chief slid from his turtle and placed both hands around the nose flute, which was hanging from a vine around his neck. He brought the flute to his nostrils and breathed a slow steady breath. The music that poured out was sweet and thick like pine sap. The tune carried up in the night sky, and through an open window near the sleeping old lady.

The old lady dreamed of a raven chick out in the yard, squawking and calling for help. The nightmare was so intense that it woke her. She sat up in bed and listened to the sound of the chick, echoing in her ears. Although she knew it was a dream, the urgency made her uneasy. She felt compelled to put on her slippers and have a peek outside. She opened the door and peered into the darkness.

A Luna moth fluttered about in a strange and frantic manner near the ground. The old woman strained her eyes and looked harder. A slumped over black lump was just below the moth. The old lady walked outside and lifted the small frail ball of down. “Oh my, how did you get out here?” She took Raymond inside and warmed him.

Over the next several weeks she nursed Raymond into adulthood. He was never caged, he came and went at will, and so it was the raven and old lady remained life-long friends. He visited her every day and they chatted while she fed him treats. He raised chicks of his own too. He made sure that they knew to never eat insects from the yard.  His young were raised on a strict diet of fruits, nuts, seeds, spiders, and snakes.

Sylvia’s Plants

cacti-gardening-grow-707194.jpgSylvia was very shy. Although she was timid to talk to, there was some undefinable joy that permeated her unremarkable appearance. At her data entry job, she would sit in her cubicle behind a false sense of isolation and security. Occasionally a co-worker would notice her, and ask what her secret is for always being so happy. Sylvia would blush and claim she had none, to avoid further embarrassment. She deeply feared being made fun of, so she rarely said any more than was necessary, and never shared her personal thoughts.

Sylvia knew exactly why she was always so genuinely cheerful. Her desk was neat and sparsely covered, little more than the essentials, nothing except for three little potted plants. Sylvia loves her plants. Her windows at home are stacked from floor to ceiling with pots of every imaginable shape and size, and hanging baskets brimming with bloomed foliage. She misses her desk plants each night and is grateful to greet them each workday. Leaves fill her with a secret joy. No matter where she is or what she’s doing, something green is usually nearby, and can ease her social awkwardness.

One day Sylvia came home from work with a plain cardboard box. On top of that box peered out three little plants. Sylvia wasn’t her usual perky self. Something had happened at work. The company downsized, and although she had been there for eight years, she had always failed to stand out. She smiled at the three little desk plants with tears threatening her eyes, as she made room for them in a front window sill. She didn’t feel like having dinner, so she showered and went to bed early.

The next morning she wept as she watered her tropical and temperate menagerie. Her mind worried about finding employment, and the anxiety first interviews would bring. She was lost in her train of thought when a soulful tender voice interrupted her.

“Why are you so sad today, Sylvia?” The voice asked her.

Sylvia looked around startled but saw no one. “Hello? Who said that? Is someone here?”

“I’m right here in front of you, in the hanging basket you just watered.” The voice huskily replied.

Sylvia, watering can in hand and mouth slightly agape, turned her gaze up to stare at her largest spider plant. It was a behemoth of a thing, bursting like fireworks out of the coco liner. Oh no, she thought, I’m hearing voices, my plants are talking to me.

“Come on now child, you tell me what’s got my baby so blue?” The spider plant pushed.

“I lost my job. I’m afraid to go looking for another. And afraid of if I don’t find something soon enough, before my savings run out, I’ll be in a bad place.” Sylvia just let it all out. Why not, plants won’t laugh at you, will they? Sylvia had never been so raw and honest verbally before.

“Oh, I’m sorry baby. I know how much you loved to work there. Always coming and going, day after day, happy each morning, mmm-hmm.” The spider plant soothed.

Sylvia thought about it a minute. “Well, I didn’t really love to work there. I didn’t mind it. I was just eager to see those three,” she pointed at the new comers.

“Well those three seem to be doing just fine. Don’t be sad Sylvia. Here, you can take some of my babies,” The plant started.

Sylvia looked down at the dozens of pups swinging from stems below their mother.

“Hello!” They sang to her in unison.

“Share them with the world; see if you can make a few bucks. I can always make more. Maybe they can bring joy to others too.” The spider plant reasoned.

“You can take some of my niños! My terra cotta is overflowing!” A much crowded aloe shouted out.

“My roots are so tight in here,” said a peacock plant, “perhaps you can separate me into several pots, and give me more room to stretch them out?”

One by one all of her beloved house plants began offering to propagate and share themselves with anyone who would choose to appreciate them. Sylvia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Also, she worried she may have had a mental breakdown. She went to her shed anyways, and pulled out stacks of dirty used plastic pots. She cleaned them up as good as new. Then she drove to the hardware store and loaded her trunk with heavy bags of soil.

Over the next several days she clipped and snipped, separated and rooted all of her plethora of plants. She set up a nursery area in her dining room, because it had the best windows and sunlight. She would sing to the tender cuttings as they established in their pots. Gently watering and tending to them as if they were her very own children.

One sunny afternoon she loaded her car seats with boxes, brimming with cheerful young sprouts. Sylvia drove around to flower and garden shops all day. She must have talked to thirty different stores. Three stores agreed to purchase her potted angels, and took her information should they need another order.

A few days later, Sylvia took photos of dozens of her lovely plants and created a web-site to sell them. After two months she was able to invest in a greenhouse for her backyard. Sylvia had the happiest plants, and they beamed for her camera. Her houseplant business grew and grew.

She continued her tenderness and care with each new batch of babies in the nursery. She would always tell them the story of their elders. It began like this…

“One day, I lost my job,” the sprouts would lean in to listen to the tale.

“It was the greatest day of my life.”