Tales from the Land of Forever

For My Father, Tom

And for all those that dare to dream.

Tales from the Land of Forever

By B.A. Keating

Text Copyright © 2015 by B.A. Keating

All Rights Reserved

Illustration by Jinwoo Kim

Copyrighted Material

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Chapter One

Walburton Manor

Sarah George raced up the seemingly never-ending staircase as fast as her ten year old legs would carry her, and when she reached the door to her new, rather sterile bedroom, high up on the third floor of this huge, drafty manor house, she slammed it shut behind her as loud as she possibly dared without invoking her mother’s wrath.

Dropping down onto the uncomfortably firm bed, Sarah buried her head in the pillows and declared that this was the worst day ever. But the constant gnawing pain deep in the pit of her stomach quickly reminded her that this was not, in fact, her worst day ever; that day had unfortunately arrived some six months ago now, when a solemn-looking policeman had arrived on their doorstep one foggy evening charged with the grim task of informing Mrs. George and her children that their beloved, fun-loving father, Peter, had been tragically killed in a car accident on his commute home from work. That had been her worst day ever. But today, Sarah decided, was running a close second.

Sarah had pleaded with her mother not to make her and her younger brother, Tommy, leave their beloved house on Copper Lane to move to the country to live with Uncle Dennis and Aunt Maude in their rambling manor house. But after watching poor Sissy run herself ragged juggling not two, but three jobs in a desperate attempt just to keep a roof over her children’s heads, Sarah knew that her mother had no choice but to take Uncle Dennis up on his generous offer of room, board, and a job for life in one of his clothing factories down on the south coast.

Saying goodbye to her friends had been hard enough, but travelling all day by coach and train only to arrive at Walburton Manor to discover that her Aunt Maude was an awful snot of a woman who was not excited in the slightest to welcome Sissy and her off-spring into her ridiculously oversized home, had been difficult. And from the moment they arrived, Maude used every opportunity she possibly could to be snippy, arrogant, and downright rude to her assembled guests; especially to poor Sissy, whom she had never liked – something Sarah took great exception to.

Sarah also took great exception to her cousin Jessica, who, unfortunately, turned out to be exactly like her insufferable mother, and showed about as much interest in befriending her young cousins from London as she did in contracting a good dose of the chicken pox. Not exactly the most auspicious of welcomes.

Weary after a long day of travel, and exhausted from being forced to listen to her aunt talk about herself, and her private golf club, incessantly in her loud, dominating voice, Sarah had taken herself off to bed the moment the dinner plates had been removed from the table by a terrified-looking maid in a starched uniform.

Rearranging the pillows on her bed, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the darkness that enveloped the room as she clicked off her bedside lamp. Alone in the comforting darkness, she could almost imagine that she was not at Walburton manor at all, but back instead in her cozy bedroom on Copper Lane – far away from snotty cousins, snippy aunts, and maids in uncomfortable-looking uniforms. And if Sarah tried really hard, she could almost hear her father whisper goodnight to her, just as a lonely teardrop slowly filtered down her cheek.

Chapter Two

The Library

The next morning, after breakfast, Sarah and Tom spent their first full day exploring Walburton Manor. Uncle Dennis had insisted on whisking their mother off on a tour of his clothing factories, and Aunt Maude had dashed out of the house before breakfast, without even so much as a good morning. This left the children free to roam around the magnificent house and grounds on their own.

Sarah, however, was under strict instructions to keep an eye on her younger brother at all times, to ensure that he didn’t touch, or worse, break anything.

We don’t want to go upsetting your aunt, now do we? Sissy had reminded her daughter before she left, looking rather small and lost in the passenger seat of the enormous Bentley.

Taking her responsibilities as an older sister seriously, Sarah decided that the safest place to play would be in the grounds of the manor house.

It was a glorious summer’s day, so Tommy and Sarah wasted no time in making their way outside where they spent several hours enjoying a marvelous game of hide and seek. The manor garden was absolutely vast, not to mention tended to within an inch of its life, and thus provided the children with the most entertaining and ingenious places to hide.

What shall we do now? Tommy asked eagerly, after Sarah had searched for over an hour before finally discovering his hiding place - inside the branches of a large oak tree at the back of the property.

Sarah gazed around the perfectly manicured grounds and shrugged her shoulders. I don’t know.

I do! Tommy yelled excitedly. I’ll race you round to the front garden and we can play in the fountain.

I don’t think so, Tommy, Sarah said shaking her head. If Aunt Maude came home and caught you splashing about inside her precious fountain she would skin you alive. Remember what Mum said?

You think of something then, Tommy sulked, not happy at all to have his rather brilliant idea squashed so quickly by his sister.

Well, if you promise to be really careful and not break anything we could go and play inside the house? Sarah suggested.

Tommy pulled a face. Being careful doesn’t sound like much fun to me, he complained. I’m gonna grab my football and have a kick about in the garden. I don’t fancy hanging around inside that dusty old museum much anyway.

Alright, but promise me you won’t go near that fountain with your football, Tommy. Chuckling to himself at the mere thought, Tommy dashed upstairs to his room.

Sarah wasn’t in the mood to kick a ball about, so after following her brother inside, she decided to do a spot of solitary exploring inside the house. And she knew exactly where her first port of call would be as she made her way up to the first floor, via the grand spiral staircase, and headed towards the library.

It really was a most attractive room, with polished wood floors, expensive oil paintings - one of which was a rather hideous portrait of a sneering Aunt Maude - and a grand fireplace. There were row upon row of books, many of which looked far too grown-up for Sarah to tackle. But she glanced along the shelves nonetheless, admiring all the beautiful leather bound books as she kept her eyes peeled for something she might possibly fancy reading.

As she came to the last shelf in the library, Sarah was delighted to discover several children’s books nestled behind a collection of dusty old encyclopedias. Reaching up, she gently removed the books from their spot on the shelf and wiped off the thick layer of dust covering them.

The first two books appeared rather dull, so Sarah immediately placed them carefully back on the shelf. But the third book was one she had never seen before, and there was something about its intricate and beautifully designed cover that immediately drew her to it.

"What on earth do you think you are doing in here?"

Sarah, who had been utterly mesmerized by the cover of the book, nearly leapt out of her skin. She spun around to see her horrid aunt glaring at her from the doorway of the library, employing the same hawk-like expression she wore in her dreadful portrait.

I’m… I... Sarah spluttered, desperately trying not to make eye contact with her beady-eyed aunt.

Well, Maude snapped, staring at Sarah intently. "I will ask you again, young lady - what do you think you are doing rooting around in my private library?"

I…I was just looking at the books, Sarah stammered nervously, wishing that the polished wood floor would open up and swallow her whole.

Maude glared furiously at Sarah.

In future, young lady, I expect you to ask my permission before you enter this library. There are many rare and expensive books in here, and I simply cannot have your dirty little fingers ruining them, she snapped, hurriedly ushering Sarah out of the room.

I’m really very sorry, Aunt Maude, she mumbled, scurrying out of the library and bolting upstairs to her room.

Once again she flung herself down on her bed, cursing the day they had ever come to live in this rotten house; but still attempting to fathom why her aunt felt the need to be so cold and unfriendly towards her. How could she possibly be related to such a pompous old wind bag?

**********

Over dinner that evening Sissy noticed how quiet and withdrawn Sarah was behaving, toying listlessly with the food on her plate. After they had finished their meal, and listened to Maude prattle on about her self for what seemed like hours, Sissy took Sarah into the drawing room for a quiet chat.

Darling, you really must try and snap out of this mood you’re in. It’s only making the situation seem much worse than it really is. Her mother gently tried to explain to her.

How could it get any worse? Sarah almost exploded. She was furious with her mother for making them move to this horrid place, and she was sick and tried of pretending that every thing was going to be alright. "I hate living here; I hate Aunt Maude; and I wish I was far, far away from this awful, horrible, miserable place!"

Sissy stared at her daughter with a stern expression now registered on her face.

Sarah, I will not allow you to say such things about your aunt. I know she can be difficult at times, but you have to make the effort to get to know her; after all, this is our home now.

NO IT ISNT! cried Sarah. I hate it here. It will never be home to me, and if you make me stay here, I will run away."

Go to your room, Sarah, Sissy sighed, feeling far too tired and emotionally drained to deal with this little outburst right now. She was at her wits end; it was at times like this she missed her husband terribly.

Sarah’s face instantly flushed a bright shade of red as she raced up stairs to her room and slammed the door behind her, as loudly as she possibly could this time. In a fit of desperation and frustration, she grabbed her suitcase from underneath the bed and immediately began to throw large piles of her clothes into it at a furious pace.

"I hate this place!" she vented out loud, as red-hot teardrops began to tumble down her flushed cheeks.

She soon managed to calm herself down, however, and eventually stopped frantically packing her suitcase when the awful realization suddenly occurred to her that she had nowhere else in the world to go; and no means to get there even if she did, which produced a fresh set of salty, hot tears.

With a heavy heart she lay down on her bed and began to sob again, until she eventually managed to cry herself to sleep.

**********

Sarah awoke from her fitful sleep to discover that it was still dark outside. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table and saw to her dismay that it was still only three o’clock in the morning. She lay her head back down on her pillows and tried to go back to sleep, but her mind was restless and straining to wake itself up. So, after tossing and turning for quite some time, Sarah decided to just get up.

She sat up in bed feeling decidedly glum as she switched on her bedside lamp. However, after twiddling her thumbs for a few boring minutes she decided that this was silly, and she knew that the only way she was ever going to fall back to sleep was is if she had a good book to read.

When she had been younger, her father had always been there every night to read to her until she had eventually fallen into a deep, peaceful slumber. But sadly, as that was no longer possible, Sarah decided that as all of her books were still packed away in boxes, she was going to creep back into Aunt Maude’s library - whether she liked it or not - and locate the old book she had stumbled upon earlier that day. There was something about that book that Sarah could not get out of her mind.

She hopped out of bed and padded quietly towards her bedroom door. It was dark in the hallway outside and very quiet. The last thing she wanted to do was wake up her aunt, so she tiptoed very quietly down the creaking stairs and slowly made her way towards the library.

Standing in front of the towering oak door, Sarah hesitated for just a moment, but soon gathered up her courage and cautiously opened it very slowly, holding her breath as she entered.

She gingerly poked her head around the door, letting out a small sigh of relief when she realized she was alone and that no one else was in the room. Closing the door quietly behind her, she quickly made her way over to the last bookcase and carefully removed the dusty old book from its secret hiding place.

With the book now safely in hand, Sarah made herself comfortable in a chair by the fireplace and began to read the inscription inside the front cover, which was printed in the most beautiful handwriting Sarah had ever seen, and it read:

"For those of us who dare to dream

A place exists, a land not seen.

Imagination is the key

Read on, dear heart, and you will see."

Sarah was immediately intrigued and turned over the first gold-leafed page of the book. But as she did so, the strangest thing occurred, because Sarah could have sworn she saw writing simply materialize out of thin air and appear on the once blank pages of the book in front of her. But before she had a chance to examine the mysterious writing any further, she suddenly felt a huge gush of warm air swirling around her.

The flames in the fireplace began to flicker violently as the warm air appeared to gain speed and began to swoosh and swirl around the library, causing Sarah’s long dark hair to whip around her face. Her entire body began to feel very light indeed, almost as if she were a feather floating on a cloud. But before she had a chance to react, the library suddenly began to disappear from view and slowly faded into a haze of bright swirling lights.

Within seconds the library had completely disappeared from sight, and all that Sarah could see now was an array of bright sparkling colors, leaping and dancing about before her eyes like an out of control firework display.

All of this swirling and swooshing was starting to make Sarah feel decidedly queasy, so she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and desperately tried not to throw up. And then, just as suddenly as it had all started, the warm air stopped swirling, the myriad of floating colors disappeared, and Sarah, to her utter shock and dumbfounded surprise, now found herself sitting in the middle of the most beautiful and tranquil bluebell wood.

The bluebell wood seemed to stretch on for miles all around her, and Sarah had absolutely no idea where she could possibly be. So with no logical explanation to hand, she decided that this had to be some sort of strange and very odd dream.

Standing up, she could feel the soft grass beneath her bare feet as she began to slowly wander through the wood. The lush green grass surrounding her was the most perfect backdrop for the many thousands of vibrant bluebells that were spread out before her on the woodland floor like a never ending sea of blue all around her.

It was extremely quiet and peaceful in the bluebell wood, but Sarah could just make out a faint rustling noise coming from somewhere close by. Shielding her eyes against the bright sunlight, she suddenly caught sight of a small red weasel scurrying towards her through the tall grass.

The little weasel was now only a few feet away from Sarah when it suddenly stopped, sat back on its hind legs, and stared fixedly at her. Sarah couldn’t help but smile at the adorable little creature, with his chubby belly and cheeky face.

Don’t be scared of me, little fella, I won’t hurt you, she whispered sweetly.

Don’t flatter yourself, love. I’m not scared of you, the weasel replied in a high pitched, squeaky voice, taking Sarah completely by surprise and causing her to stumble backwards. I would, however, like to know what the heck you are doing in my wood?

Chapter Three

Bluebell Hollow

Sarah’s mouth fell wide open as she stared at the weasel in utter shock. She was now absolutely certain that this was all just some bizarre yet very realistic dream that she was experiencing, because she of all people knew only too well that animals most definitely could not speak.

The little red weasel, still resting on its haunches, continued to stare at Sarah suspiciously, but her attention had now been diverted by the appearance of a rather large badger that had suddenly popped up from behind a nearby chestnut tree.

"Fidget, the badger barked. Why must you always be so rude? This is not your wood, and that is certainly no way to treat a visitor, now is it?"

The weasel rolled his eyes.

Give it a rest will you, Monty. I have every right to find out who she is and what she’s doing here.

The badger ignored him and turned instead to address Sarah.

I apologize for my friend’s appalling lack of manners. Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Monty, and this rude little beast is Fidget.

Sarah grinned, thinking what a perfectly marvelous dream this was. Hi, my name’s Sarah, and it’s very nice to meet you both.

Fidget, who was far too busy shooting Monty a succession of rotten looks, rudely ignored Sarah. Enough of the introductions, he squeaked loudly. I presume you are responsible for that dirty great chair blocking the entrance to my hole?

"Oh, do shut up, Fidget," growled Monty, giving the weasel’s fluffy ear a sharp flick with his large paw.

"Ouch! Fidget yelped, rubbing his ear furiously. What did you go and do that for?"

Monty rewarded him a withering look. Because, as usual, you’re being extremely rude, and I for one am sick of it.

Sarah giggled, thinking how marvelous it would be if she could just give her aunt Maude a quick flick on the ear whenever she was being her rude and obnoxious self.

So, Sarah, what brings you to Bluebell Hollow? enquired Monty politely.

Sarah scratched her head and thought for a moment.

Well, to be perfectly honest, I’m not really sure that I’m here, she eventually replied.

Monty looked puzzled at Sarah’s answer.

What do you mean? he asked, nudging Fidget, who was snorting in disgust at Sarah’s rather odd response.

"Well, this is a dream, isn’t it? I mean, it has to be a dream, because I’m standing here in the middle of a bluebell wood having a conversation with a badger and a weasel."

Fidget snorted loudly again and gave Sarah a scathing look.

I don’t know about you, missy, but I’m wide awake and have been all day. How about you Monty? Are you sleepwalking?

I’m afraid, I have to agree with Fidget on this one, Monty replied meekly. But without the scathing sarcasm, thank you. He glared once again at the agitated weasel. I wonder what would lead you to believe you are dreaming, Sarah?

Because not five minutes ago I was sitting in my aunt’s library looking at a book, and then the next minute I found myself here. What else could possibly explain it? I mean, I must have fallen asleep, mustn’t I?

Is that the tome you mentioned? Monty asked pointing down at the book, which was nestled in the long grass next to Sarah’s chair.

Fidget quickly scurried over to it and began to flick through the pages. He glanced pointedly at Monty, before beckoning him over to have a look. Not waiting to be asked twice, Monty hurried over and produced a pair of round-rimmed silver spectacles to examine the pages of the book.

I think you might want to have a look at this, Sarah, said Monty, after flicking through a few of the pages himself.

Sarah glanced down at the first page, which lay open on the floor of the bluebell wood, before letting out a muffled squawk. Is that... she paused, looking around her with eyes the size of saucers.

It is indeed, replied Monty. That is a picture of our bluebell wood; the very wood that you now find yourself standing in.

Monty returned his attention to the book and skimmed quickly though the gold-leafed pages, whilst Fidget continued to peer intrusively over his left shoulder.

Did you say you found this book in the Ordinary World? Monty enquired politely.

Sarah stared at the badger with a puzzled expression on her face.

What do you mean the Ordinary World? There’s only one world, isn’t there? she stated, not liking the direction this bizarre conversation was heading in at all.

"Of course not, stupid, Fidget snapped in his most condescending tone. There are many worlds. But of course your kind always thinks you’re the only ones who exist."

What is he babbling on about? Sarah asked Monty, doing her best to ignore Fidget.

I’m sorry about him, Monty said, shaking his head with embarrassment. But what Fidget is trying to say is that there are, in actual fact, many worlds, including the one you live in Sarah, which we refer to here as the Ordinary World. However, it would appear that through some sort of magic, this book has brought you here to our world: The Land of Forever.

You mean this isn’t a dream? Sarah stammered. Her face had suddenly turned a pale shade of grey and she began to feel quite unwell, not to mention extremely alarmed.

Monty slowly shook his head as he reached out a comforting paw and gently patted her on the shoulder.

Fidget, looking decidedly sneaky, put down the book he had been glued to and trotted towards Sarah. He smiled at her slyly, and then, without warning, suddenly struck at her exposed ankle like a coiled cobra, digging his sharp little teeth deep into her soft flesh.

"Ouch! Sarah yelped, as she kicked Fidget away and grabbed a hold of her throbbing ankle. What on earth did you bite me for, you horrible little weasel."

Fidget was now laughing so hard that his fat belly was jiggling about like a plate of wobbly blancmange. To prove you weren’t dreaming, he managed to splutter in-between peels of raucous laughter.

Monty reached out his paw in a flash, grabbed hold of Fidget’s ear, and twisted it sharply.

I’m sorry, Monty, Fidget immediately began to howl. I was just trying to prove she wasn’t dreaming. Everybody knows you can’t feel pain if you’re dreaming.

Monty scowled at the weasel, not believing a word he was uttering, but he did let go of his ear. Ignoring Fidget, he slowly approached Sarah, who was crouched down on the grass rubbing her sore ankle and looking utterly lost and bewildered as she gazed around the bluebell wood in a daze.

Are you alright? he asked her softly.

I think so, she replied. It’s all just a bit much to take in right now.

I can only imagine what a shock this must be for you, Sarah, and it certainly doesn’t help matters when spiteful little weasels march about like lunatics taking chunks out of other people’s ankles, Monty remarked, shooting Fidget a filthy look.

So where exactly am I again? inquired Sarah, trying desperately to collect her thoughts. Her mind was reeling, and she was beginning to wonder if she might have somehow taken a blow to the head because this entire situation was simply unbelievable.

The Land of Forever, Monty repeated once more. And as for its location, well, some folks say it’s the land at the end of the rainbow, and others say it’s in the in-between, so I’m not exactly sure. But what I do know for certain is that is far away from your world.

Sarah’s panic instantly increased ten fold. Do you know how I might find my way home again then? she asked anxiously

Monty scratched his head and thought for a moment. He was generally considered a wise fellow, but this was not the sort of question one was confronted with every day amongst the peaceful tranquility of Bluebell Hollow.

"I’ve got it! he exclaimed after a long pause. You simply go back the same way you came in - through the magical book."

That’s a good idea, Sarah agreed, feeling slightly less despondent. Anything was worth a try. She stood up, wiped a few strands of grass from her blue flannel dressing gown, and then bent down and picked up the magical book.

So, what exactly should I do then? she asked, examining the book from front to back.

That I don’t know, I’m afraid, replied Monty, looking slightly embarrassed. He was a very wise old badger, and he desperately wanted to help this lost girl from the Ordinary World. But unfortunately, when it came to magic he was rather at a loss.

Why don’t you just do the same thing you did to get here and irritate me in the first place? Fidget suggested angrily. He was most anxious to get rid of Sarah because all of this magical book talk was eating into his valuable teatime.

That is the first sensible thing you’ve said all day, Monty said, smiling at the weasel.

Ignoring Fidget’s sarcasm, but deciding to take his advice nonetheless, Sarah cast her mind back to the library in Walburton Manor. She remembered sitting down in the soft chair by the fireplace and opening the book. And then the next thing she recalled seeing was a flurry of words suddenly appear on the blank page before her, as if by magic, before all the swirling and disorientating whirling began, which she now realized must be down to the magical powers of this mysterious book and not her overactive imagination.

Holding onto the book, Sarah sat back down in the chair. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that she was back in the library at Walburton manor, screwing her eyes so tightly shut that she almost gave herself a headache. But after a few minutes of studious