Synopsis: Have you ever noticed that many of the worlds greatest books have really incredible titles? I am currently waiting for the perfect title to arrive on gossamer wings and hit me over the head.

Short synopsis. SHORT. What does it mean, after all . . . in the esoteric significance, design, and purpose of the universe? “Brevity is the soul of wit,” said the Eternal Bard. So follows my “Short Synopsis” . . . out of the box, over the top and miles away from the soul of wit.

Julian is an angel. A wicked angel. Mind you, that doesn’t mean evil. In general ‘wicked’ and ‘evil’ are synonyms, but not in the case of this particular Angel. Julian is definitely an Angel of Light and he is truthfully as virtuous, kind and chivalrous as they come. He doesn’t like to get caught being good, however, and he considers it a major fox-paw if someone tries to point it out. He is very proud of his wide leather wings and his flowing black cape. He is pleased and amused by his own nefarious and iniquitous deeds - almost as pleased as he is with the words ‘iniquitous and nefarious.” All in all, Julian enjoys his faux-villainy a lot.. Being an angel is secondary and incidental, of course, to Julian’s calling in life. He might have been a jaguar, a faerie, a tree, a harp . . . even a peanut. He could have been anything. What Julian is, is not the important thing. It is what he does that is important.

According to the Powers That Be, “if a child continues to insist that her Imaginary Friend is real, after the age of six, it is time to get psychiatric help.” Katja has had her share of psychiatric help, and though she is long past six, this particular edict doesn’t bother her a bit. When she read this choice little bit of information, it took her less than six seconds to see the glorious, gaping loop hole. The sentence said: “if a child continues to insist that HER Imaginary Friend is real . . . ” It could have been ‘HIS Imaginary Friend” or gender neutral “THEIR Imaginary Friend” it didn’t matter. Julian is not HER Imaginary Friend, no matter how you look at it. He belongs to someone else. As far as Katja is concerned that leaves her front and center in the clear. Besides, Julian is so much more interesting than anyone else and he needs her. He is marooned in the Concrete World and though he can still cross the Glistening Gate back into his own world, he is doing it by stealth and he knows that it isn’t strictly legal and it certainly isn’t right. Even though he can get through the Gate, he can’t stay. After a certain amount of time, and he never knows how much, he automatically finds himself right on his bumpus back on the concrete of the Concrete World. And, he is running out of time.

Katja, meanwhile, finds that her problematic life just keeps acquiring more problems. Very much like Julian, it seems that she is constantly caught between worlds. For the last year Katja has walked all the way from Woodhall to Owens rather than ride the bus. The Middle School, on the outskirts of Owens, is bad enough, but next fall she will have to ride the hated bus all the way to the High School in Vickersville. She hasn’t managed come up with anyway out of it.

The people from Owens and Vickersville sometimes drive over to Woodhall, to stare at the ‘bizarre’ inhabitants; the laughing, barefoot children climbing trees and playing out in the sun rather than spending their time at the Country Club pool or playing video games; musicians and artists who sit out under the trees playing or painting, not seeming to care how they look and obviously not interested in the important things in life. They live is strange little houses spread along the winding roads, back in the trees. Houses painted with strange colors or often just made of plain gleaming wood; houses with no cars in front of them, no satellite dishes in the side yards, no tennis courts or swimming pools. There are stories that some of the people walking around the weaving streets of Woodhall are not even human. It is said they come from “elsewhere” through gates in the woods or in the mist of the mountain. Who knows what they are up to, but the people from Owens and Vickersville figure that if there were ‘aliens’ walking around, they would probably blend in perfectly with the weirdos who live in Woodhall.

None of them really believe these stories, of course. They are not the kind of people who believe. They still like to come to Woodhall and gawk. Maybe they will catch a glimpse of the mountain or of the mysterious Wood Hall, which is said to be full of staircases that go nowhere, and doors that open on to secrets deeper than the Thickwood. The country government, backed up by the state, insists that Wood Hall does not exist and maybe it doesn’t. The people from Owens and Vickersville very don’t ever see the Hall, that is a certainty. But then, the mists are thick and the roads twist in and out of the Thickwood in a way that makes it very easy to get lost. Anything might be back in those woods and, from the road, you would never know it. They come to Woodhall in their big, gas guzzling cars looking for the Wyrd without having any idea what they are looking for or at. They laugh and they point, but they never stop their expensive cars and get out.

On the county maps the mystical, mysterious, mist covered Wyrdwood Mountain is listed as “Owens Peak” and the winding, bewooded village of Woodhall that circles the mountain’s feet is merely “Owens Rural Route.” As if by taking it’s name away, they can turn Wyrdwood Mountain into something like “Owens Peak.” Call it what they will, the mists still occasionally lift the mountain right off of the ground and parts of it routinely disappear. No matter what they call them, parts of the wood sometimes are and sometimes are not. Calling Woodhall “Owens Rural Route” doesn’t change the things that are sometimes in the wood. It doesn’t lessen the legends, change a single tradition, or make The Lore non existent.

Now that Julian and Katja have finally found each other again, they are sure that they can solve all their problems . . . if they can just stop tangentizing . . . and devising ‘Whatifs’ and then stuffing them through the mirror until they answer themselves; If they would stop waltzing across the Gate into Everall, after spelling themselves to look like two burley bears or a couple of flamingos. Julian still knows all the pass-songs so they can easily get into Childhood and quick-flitch time so that it never gets past twilight when they are playing “No Bears Are Out Tonight.” Before any mothers can start calling anyone to come in and take a bath, everything quick-flitch’s back to morning and they get to eat breakfast again. There are thousands of things to do in Everall and by crossing their elements, you can get millions. Things such as The Dream Forge where Katja and Julian build the most delicious dreams and then eat them with Sleepspoons until they are so full that they have to roll home. They just might be able to fix everything - if they would stop running off to sky-slide and then having sticky or sloppy cloud-ball fights, building cloud-swans and fluffy dragons until they are both so covered with cloud that they look like fat, twin cotton balls. If they just didn’t spend so much time climbing the mountain, exploring the woods and looking for Wood Hall . . . they were sure they could solve any problem.

It hasn't happened yet.

"Pfuffi!" said Julian, "there are bezillions of things that haven't happened yet. If they had, what would be the purpose of yet?"

©Edwina Peterson Cross