The Island of Dur’ Dingle strong

Inspirational Fiction by Kat Mansell

He looked straight at me, distracted by my thoughts perhaps?

I was sitting in the back of the hall. We connected our hearts in harmony, uncommonly powerful… his good looks, dark hair below his neck line. I found him sensual, beautiful in a way that my heartbeat altered, seeing him standing there on the podium. He’d seen me sitting at the back of the hall, my longer-than-waist-length curly red hair. And I was not concealing my small unlit, porcelain opium pipe!

Before turning away from the lectern, I noted him hand a small white card to someone standing next to him, after which he disappeared from the room. The man with the white card walked up to me, handed me the card, without a word and walked away and he too was gone from the room. A beautiful red and gold embossed dragon on a plain white card. I smiled to myself. And so, at his final lecture of the year just before he left, I handed him back the dragon card on which I’d written… ‘Hello I’m Baroness Mignon Drax d’Anjou of Lorraine’. I’ll meet you on the Island of the Dragon.’ I walked out of the room and left him staring after me; we had been childhood friends.

I love Languedoc. I love Scotland and enjoy the seven-mile walk from Edinburgh to Roslyn Temple, a part of my Ancient Heritage, and Ireland, where I’d revisit the Mast,er Babaji, in the Ancient Forest Schools of Higher Learning. There are only three on Earth; Ireland, Scotland and the Himalayas. I have learned from both, for the longest time; it is there I first met Laurence. A week passed. I was driving through Scotland to Aberdeen, from there taking a boat out to the ancient Island of Dur’ Dingle and hiring one of the old but well-cared-for cottages.

It was still one of the islands belonging to the Ancient Dragon Sovereign Families. Among the oldest residents on Dur’ Dingle was a large hare, her long ears stretched up like antennae from her head. Her name was Hanania and she kept the secrets of the island. Then there was the ancient Dragon Castle which stood on the far side of the island. I was sitting by the castle near the edge of the seashore, with my feet in the cool salt waters. I felt a presence approaching from somewhere behind me. He sat down beside me, took my hands in his and kissed them.

 Suddenly on the breeze came the sound of haunting melodies, played by the Castle Keepers on their old Stradivari while the silver moon rose above and the sea turned to silver glass. Laurence stood up, sweeping me into his arms, twirled me around and we danced to the eerie music, our shadows in the moonlight creating a whirly dervish on the sand. We laughed and danced until the rising of the golden sun.

 And the sun rose above the sea, or did the sea arise above the sun. His lips touched mine. He said that we and others of Antu (Antum) Great Mother of the Sky and Anu (An) Great father of the Sky…had remained on Earth. In time only a few of us came back to Earth from our Ancient Sumerian Star, with the knowledge of our Highward Star Fire and our Science.

That evening we supped at the old village inn and then later went out to walk around the island with Hanania. Later, leaving her with the Castle Keepers, we walked back to the cottage, where, in the glow of the moon, we slept deeply, throughout the long months of winter, only to wake with the first rising of the golden Summer Solstice.

The Moon Embraced Us and The Sun Rose Upon Us. And we knew there was far more to Love. We had worked in peace, for the days of anger were no more. Our roots are ancient. Know the Tree and behold it shall answer your own Cultivation. We shared the Light within one another, so as to guide the World through its own dark shadows.

We slept in Peace.

Kat Mansell, a red-headed revolutionist, sage, elder, story-teller and believer in the truth, confesses to being “still kind of Victorian!” She has been writing poetry and short stories for the best part of a quarter of a century. Her written outpouring of love and wisdom has spanned 20 years.

Kat Mansell

Kat Mansell, a red-headed revolutionist, sage, elder, story-teller and believer in the truth confesses to being “still kind of Victorian!” She has been writing poetry and short stories for the best part of a quarter of a century. She has placed her gift for poignant and powerful spiritual story-telling in a collection titled Green Tea ‘n’ Oranges (revised 2020). Her written outpouring of love and wisdom has spanned 20 years. “My gift of wisdom has spanned many lifetimes, throughout Tea ‘n’ Oranges and a novelette Giants and Dinosaurs… both (revised 2020), penned between Botswana and Kommetjie.,” she says. “I was born an Old Soul!”

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