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Destiny's Mirror

Destiny's Mirror

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Destiny's Mirror

Length:
172 pages
2 hours
Released:
Aug 12, 2014
ISBN:
9780993729812
Format:
Book

Description

Life's adventure follows many roads to arrive at a final destination.
How convenient to look in Destiny's Mirror, and see Life's turning points.
How comforting to understand  where Destiny has guided.

From birth to end, Life surges ahead.
Now to tomorrow, awakening to dead.
Fate makes a choice, and Death edges nearer.
There's no looking back, in Destiny's Mirror.

From pretense to suspense,  commonsense to offense,
here are four separate paths through choice and  consequence.

Released:
Aug 12, 2014
ISBN:
9780993729812
Format:
Book

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Destiny

From birth to end, Life surges ahead.

Now to tomorrow, awakening to dead.

Fate makes a choice, and Death edges nearer.

There's no looking back, in Destiny's Mirror.

-

Copyright

Destiny's Mirror

ISBN 978-0-9937298-1-2 © 2014

All rights reserved.

Katie Books Canada

www.katiebooks.ca

This book is intended for personal and individual use only.

Graphics © Katie Books Canada

Photos © www.fotosearch.com

42-23445814, 1574R-02287A, X11529315

Table of Contents

Cover

Other Books

Title Page

Copyright

Jacko's Joke

Vinnie's Bones

The Hired Man

Brothers

Forever Friends

Help!

Life One

Johnny O'Toole was six when the Tornado first rolled past his back gate into the Dublin railway yard. The massive black locomotive and tender took up a hundred feet of track and its driving wheels towered over Johnny's head. He shivered with fear and excitement as the engine huffed and puffed, blowing out clouds of smoke and steam.

He often saw the great machine in the years that followed but never imagined the monster went to sleep, so he was very surprised one Sunday morning, to find the locomotive sitting still and quiet on a siding not far from his house waiting for a Monday morning maintenance crew to bring it back to life. Fresh from its annual overhaul the great engine seemed like a giant, glossy black statue. It looked better than new. What a prize it would be if he had a model of the Tornado for his very own.

Johnny wasn't normally given to talking to himself, but he was clearly heard to say, By all the Saints in Ireland, I wish the Tornado was small enough to take home. Clearly heard that is by Jacko McKay, one of the little people, who happened to be scavenging for coal on the other side of the engine. Of course, Jacko wasn't his real name. In the society of little people, only his Ma and Da knew his real name because anyone who knows the real name of a little person can cast a spell on them.

Now, as everyone knows, the little people of Ireland are a mysterious race of creatures who have lived on the Emerald Isle since the dawn of Time, long before the ancient Celtic people arrived. They don't have wings, or other strange things as fairies are said to have in other lands, but look as plain and ordinary as anyone. They are wise in the ways of the world and hide themselves as would any sensible person living amongst giants five or six times their height—as the human people are.

In the distant past there were many little folk, but over time their numbers dwindled, and they are now quite rare in most parts of the land, except along the south-western coast where there are still enough of them to hold weekly markets in a few secret glens.

Jacko had never heard of a human person wishing for anything small. Humans wanted everything bigger, better, richer, and above all, more. Human people believed each little person had a pot of gold, and if caught, the little person would exchange their gold for freedom. Of course, this was nonsense as the little people were no richer than anyone else, and living in a world of giants, worked hard to make a living.

The little people did have some ability to cast spells and change things. In their dangerous situation living amongst humans, the little folk had learned to deceive the big people by using greed and selfishness to escape when necessary. The multiply spell always surprised a human—have the person hold a penny and then make it a hundred. The abundance and overflow of pennies falling to the ground always surprised a human long enough to let a little person slip away.  The problem is, fairies can’t use spells for their own benefit, and that was why Jacko was out gathering coals along the railway line.

To be sure, some little folk did have great powers, but the common little person such as Jacko, knows no more than a few spells, and when Johnny made his wish, Jacko wasn't quite sure what to do. He didn't have to do anything of course, and could have gone quietly on his way, but he was sympathetic towards a little boy wishing for a toy. Besides he chuckled, think of the confusion if the big black engine disappeared. Jacko did the one thing he could think of, he recited the multiply spell backwards, and was as surprised as Johnny when the colossal engine and tender shrank out of sight.

Johnny couldn't believe his eyes when the Tornado disappeared. He blinked and shook his head, and stood there stunned for several seconds. He looked around quickly but he was alone beside the track. What had happened? Had he dreamt the whole thing? Johnny climbed up the siding and stepped over the nearest track. No, there was nothing there. He looked up and down the railway line. There was no movement, no sound, nobody, nothing. But wait, there between the railway ties, was a tiny locomotive engine, ten inches long—the Tornado.

Tears welled up in Johnny's eyes. What had he done wishing for such a thing? His Ma and Da would beat the daylights out of him if they found out. What could he do? He started running down the tracks scared of what had happen, then suddenly stopped. Maybe the Saint who granted his wish would be offended if he left it behind? Maybe, because of his ingratitude, the Saint would make him small too. He ran back and scooped up the little locomotive, pushing it down to the bottom of the rucksack he carried over his shoulder. Jacko was watching from under a nearby shrub and laughed to himself until the tears ran down his face. What a do. What a tale to tell. The giants will go crazy looking for their iron monster.

Johnny ran home as fast as he could, into the house, and up to his room where he hid the miniature Tornado at the bottom of his toy box, and never said anything to his mother or father.

Nothing happened until Monday morning, when the maintenance crew went out on the siding to set and stoke up the engine fire. The crew foreman was surprised when the Tornado wasn't there, and said to his yard crew as he walked back to the roundhouse, Those lazy louts didn't bother to push the engine out as they should, too eager to get to the pub I suppose.

At the roundhouse, there was no Tornado either. The shop supervisor was called, but all he said was, …don't be foolish, it was pushed out on the siding Friday afternoon as scheduled. Stop playing the silly fool and get on with it.  Look as they might though, no Tornado was found.

The newspapers had a field day. FASTEST LOCOMOTIVE RUNS AWAY, and MISSING ENGINE JOINS PHANTOM TRAIN, and RAILWAY ROBBERS RIDE AWAY, the headlines read.

The news was full of humorous schemes to snatch a railway engine from under the noses of the railway barons. The high placed muckety-mucks in the railroad business had to put up with every sort of jibe from the members of their private clubs. It was a great laugh.

The police and the insurance companies were much more serious concerning the whole affair. How could anyone steal a massive locomotive, sitting stone cold on a track? Where could it go? It had to be somewhere on the railway didn't it? The police took the position that until the theft was proved to have taken place, there was little they could do. The insurance companies followed suit, refusing to pay out any claim until the railway company proved the locomotive was no longer anywhere on the railway line—and convinced them the railroad company had played no part in its disappearance.

The railroad company had crews walk every foot of track in the country, but the Tornado couldn't be found. It was gone for good, and that was that. Years passed, wars and elections pushed the story into the newspaper archives and out of the minds of the public. Even the railroad barons learned to forget the Tornado as it passed into history.

As Johnny grew up and became a young man, his toy box emptied as his toys broke but he never failed to keep the tiny Tornado hidden in a drawer, under his bed, or somewhere. He never thought about what happened that Sunday, nor told anyone. He was careful no one ever saw the little locomotive.

By the time John turned Forty, he was a successful manager in a big company. All the company executives kept fancy models of race cars, or airplanes, or whatever on their desks. The models were placed in glass cases if they were expensive, or simply sat there awaiting admiration. John had none. One day, he put the Tornado on his desk.

The first person to notice the locomotive was Alice, his secretary. I didn't know you were interested in model trains she said, and later mentioned the addition to her friend Madge, the vice-president's secretary. Madge said something about it to Mr. Wilson, the vice-president, a fan of model railroading since he was a boy. He casually asked John about it one day, and said he might drop by for a look. John was a little embarrassed, but couldn't say no to the vice-president.

The next week, Mr. Wilson strode into John's office and picked up the Tornado sitting on John's desk. He was amazed. He had never seen such fine miniature work. He put it back carefully on John's desk and left abruptly. He returned a few minutes later with a magnifying glass, and holding the engine gingerly, he studied the Tornado from end to end, front and back, top and bottom.

Where did you get this, he asked, I've never seen anything like it.

Oh, I've had it for years..., it's been in the family for years, John stammered.

It couldn't have been that long, said Mr. Wilson, I recognize the engine, it's the Tornado.

Well, I think it is, I'm not much on trains myself, said John.

I remember the newspaper reports of its disappearance when I was a boy, Mr. Wilson continued, I never heard there was a model of it made. John was starting to feel uneasy. He hadn't suspected anyone would remember what happened so long ago. I've never seen such precision, went on Mr. Wilson, even with a glass there's detail I can't see clearly. He put the Tornado carefully back on John's desk.

Well, it's only a toy model, said John, nothing really important.

I don't think so, said Mr. Wilson, you should have it valued.

I will, said John, as Mr. Wilson left.

John took the Tornado home after work, and put it back in the bottom drawer of his bedroom dresser. He never mentioned it, nor showed it to anyone ever again. There it stayed until John died many years later.

When John's estate was settled all the odds and ends, including the little Tornado, were auctioned off. A canny American collector spotted the engine and bought it as an antique toy for a few dollars. Some time later he had it appraised, and was surprised when the appraiser couldn't put a price on it because it was unique. The appraiser did say it was the finest example of a locomotive model he had ever seen, and it should be in a museum.

The collector, already wealthy, and with more of an interest in real toys than replica models, donated it to a New York railway museum when he returned to the United States. The museum studied it for over a year, identified it as an exact replica of the mysteriously vanished Tornado locomotive, and put it on display under the banner, The Tornado Returns.

On that very night in Ireland, exactly at midnight, Jacko passed away in his sleep after a long and happy life. This was of great consequence, because when a fairy dies, any spells cast by the fairy are broken.

In the life of a little person, only minor magic is customary, and the results of any spells are long over before a fairy dies. However, Jacko's spell on the Tornado was still in effect. At the moment he died, his spell was broken, and the Tornado returned to its original size and weight.

The effect in the museum was stupendous. The floor collapsed, the walls on either end of the locomotive were pushed out, and every alarm in the museum went off at once. Clouds of dust and debris filled the air. The police and fire engines arrived with sirens screaming, followed by even louder ambulances. Within minutes news reporters were on the scene. No one could imagine how a steam locomotive could be driven through the city in the middle of the night, and into the side of a museum. Jacko would have loved it.

Several days later, the locomotive was identified as the missing Tornado, and the Irish Police duly noted the confirmed theft in the old and creased case file. The insurance company was still in business, and agreed to pay the cost of shipping the Tornado back to the Railroad Company in Ireland.

In due course the Tornado was back on its tracks and re-fitted. It was fired up and made a triumphant tour through the whole of the country before it was put on permanent display in Dublin. The Tornado's disappearance, and re-appearance thousands of miles away and decades later, remains to this day a mystery to the human people. The little people of course, have always known what happened, and laugh every time someone mentions Jacko's Joke.

Life Two

Vincent Macino was a small time hustler, bagman, and thief.  He was

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