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At One Time…

This is a new version of this story, it's been combined with another. I hope you all like it!

Circa 2003 and 2015, now 16 June 2022

At One Time…

“Please don’t do it. Oh Love, I SAID, DON’T DO IT.” Aurora shouts at her charge, shaking her shoulders for emphasis. “You’re going to aren’t you? Ohhh please don’t do it. You don’t have to go there. Lucy, you don’t really need to go down the path of thinking that you need to hit rock bottom. It’s really not necessary. Please choose yourself instead.”

Aurora tries even though she knows better and she knows Lucy isn’t listening or feeling her anyway. Besides, it is kind of against the rules. After all, The Guardians of Source will probably be watching that she is almost losing her patience, so she better reel in her Good Nature before they admonish her.

It’s just that Lucy is such a fine woman, but now she’s really loosing it. The extreme negativity and cynicism developed only recently from a broken heart that has pushed her into a downward spiral. Sure, he did take her money too. But these lessons from people who are cruel as such, their gifts are good even though it doesn’t seem like it.

“Okay, I ask that I can help her to see me to help her understand. That We can articulate a miracle for her to help save her from herself. Except, she has to ask for it. Free Will of course is in order. Sweetness, I ask on Lucy’s behalf. Alright, here goes…”

“On this purposeful day – A Midsummer’s Eve – I wish upon the Magic that is. Ummm, I smell vanilla…”

“Is that related to Valhalla?” Sarcasm spewing to cut the visitor off.

“Quit that, I’m serious.”

“Don’t you get it? I’m angry, depressed, deprived, and desperate. Oh yeah, did I mention pissed off?”

“That’s why I’m here, I’m trying to help you.”

“Give me a break…fantasy isn’t gonna get it.”

“Love is immortal. Everlasting.”

“I want Real with a capital R. It hasn’t happened and I don’t believe anymore. Love is dead for me.”

“Love is not dead. Ever. It skips between heartbeats, transcending all and everything – always.”

“Love is loss, leaving, abandonment. Agony, terror…” This time Lucy is cut off.

“You have only forgotten love, stopped seeking and being open is all.”

“You’re talking about feelings, well I feel. I’m open for love. It isn’t for me.”

“I know you think there’s a trick or spell to this, there isn’t. Except if you need it to be, then please consider ‘the trick’ is, well, it’s your choice. Love is an enchantment worth believing, treasuring and accepting in your own self. You need to choose this Lucy so that it can be real.”

“You know what? I’m done with love. I’m going to get the money that bastard took somehow, someway. I choose to get money. As a matter of fact, 120 grand to be exact. So leave me. I have a choice, I don’t need you or anyone higher or otherwise. Leave me alone.”

Lucy turns and stomps away. She mutters to herself, “whatever she’s about, all just a stupid illusion and so-called-spells that don’t work anyway. I’ve tried a jillion of them to no avail. Sure I have to ask for miracles and help from angels, hogwash. I’m so fed up with all that positive malarky. It’s stupid I tell you.”

She stomps harder as she goes, tears blinding her way, flailing her arms in complete frustration and anger as she stumbles at a hole. Lucy falls down onto her knees to spy another hole. At the bottom of a deep and very skinny crevice, lies a bundle of money: exactly 120 grand. She just knows it, as it reflects from the overhead sun.

She immediately starts to dig at the sides so she can reach it. The surface begins to crumble in as Lucy desperately claws more. In her frantic attempt to capture it, piles of dirt bury in and dig marks abound. She keeps at it and the hole gets deeper and wider.

After hours of this torment, complete exhaustion and the fatigue of loss, she decides she can do no more. Before she was mentally spent, but now she has sore and bloody fingers along with knees stiff and cut. With the fall and grinding her knees into the rocky terrain, her body pains her torturously.

Covered in dirt and sweat she sits, panting and shaking. Lucy wipes her brow with her shirt sleeve. With her other, the tears of extreme anxiety. This is a punishment she knows she deserves. She reasons now in this most dire of moments, she is to blame for all the guilt and shame she has put forth and taken on. She doesn’t deserve such a blessing.

Although she desperately needs and wants the money, Lucy is unable to claim acceptance, and grant such goodness to herself. She surmises that it is better to stay a victim of the martyrdom prison because this is all that she deserves. To suffer with frustration, dire anxiety and the woe of despair is the correct and only real order of such a paradox.

With this conclusion, Lucy rolls over onto her hands and knees attempting to crawl into a standing position. Wobbly and dehydrated, she swoons with light-headedness. She braces herself with arms out to stop the impending faint. Breathes until all begins to still. Many minutes go by, still standing in the crouched-like position, her feet begin to tingle from the weird angles they were in while kneeling. Lucy tries not to panic. She keeps breathing, forcing herself to breathe slow and steady.

Finally, she opens her eyes to blurriness. Trying not to panic again, breathes. With arms outstretched for balance, she forces herself to stand straight. As her eyes adjust somewhat, Lucy begins to take a step. Stops. Catches her breath and steps again. Stops and again steps. Slowly, she moves forward. Proceeding onto a rugged path, she orients herself with the high sun.

Lucy makes her way to her little shelter of a rented room. At the kitchen sink, she devours water. Stops to remember in the movies, they alway say don’t drink fast under these circumstances. She does anyway.

Lucy peels off the grimy clothes, inspects the cuts and climbs into the tiny shower. Letting the water run, the dirt rinses off as she washes her hair several times. The cuts sting but she doesn’t care. The warm water is lovely and so is the soap. She stays under the shower until it turns cold. Carefully she drys off, leaving blood stains on her favourite pretty towel.

She grabs ointment and bandages and moves slowly to her bed. She dresses the many wounds and lies down. Breathing heavily, she begins to speak through her weeping tears. “I am sorry. I am sorry Lucy for hurting me. I am willing to be willing to forgive myself. I am saddened, dismayed and even angered that I have had incorrect attitudes and behaviors toward love and money. I believe now I have mistakenly buried 120 grand and have torn at Mother Earth to force it to me.

“I am willing to forgive myself for these errors and I am willing to love myself with respect. Will You, Source, forgive me and fix this? I am willing to accept Your Grace and to surrender to Your gracious wisdom, resources and Love. I am willing to keep the faith that You are my True Source of supply and substance. That with all my love, heart, soul and body I lie here done feeling sorry for myself. Please help me surrender and finally allow myself to be at ease and happy.”

Lucy sits up and feels a lightness about her. She looks around as if to see The Stranger. She’s not here, but Lucy feels something. It’s a softness within. She recalls the beautiful, crepe, white flowing dress in the closet that she has never worn.

Lucy gets up and steps to the closet, pulls out the garment, while announcing. “Now is the time! I’ve waited for an important occasion to wear you!” She puts on the dress adorned with little sequins. Does up her face and hair as if she’s going on a date. When in fact, she is.

In the kitchen, she drinks more water and gathers ingredients into a basket. Lucy moves outside, squints into the sun and says, “I’m ready. Please help me. Thank you!”

Walking toward the hole, she picks flowers for her hair and basket. When she arrives, Lucy begins to cry in sorrow at the awful mess she made of Mother Earth. She sets the basket down, lays flowers about at what looks like a disrupted grave and accepts her responsibility in the mess she has made. “I am sorry for the pain and agony I have caused You, Mother Earth and me. I am here to make amends.”

Aurora steps forward and smiles with a glow of light that shines all around them. Her words of splendor: “May I present to you, Lucy, The Magic that is Real for me, is in this here and now for you?”

“Yes, please and thank you.”

Aurora begins to conjure a mixture of a fine orange-chocolate, with lavender and mint crushed in and again more vanilla is added. She calls out. “True, honourable and lasting. On Lucy’s behalf, I am willing to accept and appreciate Love and the man we call TrueLove. As fairies, pixies and angels sparkle an iridescent shimmer, the sweetness and Magic of TrueLove is here now. May he be ready and willing too. Dreams flutter making true in Real Life, the fantasy.”

Lucy adds some of her flowers, a lovely golden oil and magic sprinkles to the mix, stating, “I am willing to trust that with this beautiful liquid I will pour into the hole, it will represent Your Blessings. It will increase in its volume as it seeps down and around the walls. I ask that it will collect old, present and even future wealth wounds into its being and heal me of them.”

The substance becomes a brilliant amber, golden with white sparkles that shine of Love and Light. Precious and beautiful by nature, it thickens as it seeps slowly down, penetrating the walls of the hole. It gurgles with delight from the sheer pleasure of being able to flow and expand. Sending iridescent bubbles up into the air, as if warming and soothing Mother Earth in collecting the wealth wounds to heal.

Increasing its volume confirms its happiness that it belongs. The Happy Juice flows down and reaches its destination. Bubbling and sweeping under the bundle, loosening the monies from down-under and lifting it with joy. As the 120 Grand rises higher, it too is being soothed and cleansed by this Magic Messenger.

There are smiles of rainbows everywhere. Sparklers going off, effervescence of colours exploding in happy pops. Joy, Love and Peace oozing out and over the top of the hole. Healing too, the surrounding area that was once dug up carelessly. It even caresses the flowers and scatters them along it’s golden iridescent flow.

Soon it expands into a river that cascades toward its source, happily and babbling with joys and excitement. At last able to be free to do what it is destined to do: share and give the experience of Life’s Joy, Health, Wonder, Prosperity and Love.

Lucy merrily dances along the new line as it streams. She is touched joyously in the belief that miracles and magic are the substance of Source. That she does have the power and choice to be free to partake in the beautiful bounty and to accept her good. And to allow the pains of life to be blessings that teach and guide her along her journey.

Soon a gentle breeze touches Lucy’s face. She stops and takes in a deep breath of vanilla. The left over tension from her body dissolves. Before her eyes the image of her older self evaporates.

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