Soul Pilots: The First
The Wild Children
is my first time as a Soul Pilot.
Yes, I'm nervous.
I have been told to create a habitat, an island world
that is just right to receive the claimants, lost souls
indeed, disembodied spirits that inhabit dimensions in
between or just off the true, and who can't be reached,
so they say, by angels or by saints.
They need living help, it is said.
They need me.
How can that be?
I am only a person and nothing special, at that. I hardly
make ends meet and I don't have any claim to fame.
But I made the habitat.
I stepped onto an undefined plane, like a desert at dawn,
and I looked around and asked myself, if I was a lost
soul, what would I like? What would I be drawn to?
The day revolved at speed and it was dusk now, purple and
orange bands glorious at the horizon, and above the
darkness of the infinite space, and some brightwhite
stars twinkling up above.
I sighed and felt myself relax.
Now, for the ground. As I contemplate the ground, it
becomes smoother, softer earth and then soft grass
springs up, carpets the land, and slow hills rise in the
mid distance. Somewhere nearby there is a brook for I can
hear water running.
I call for the help of the kingdoms of all the living
beings on Earth, and I feel them come and arise just the
same; there are birds singing their evening songs, and
small insects and other creatures adding their voices to
this living night.
It is still and yet all is vibrant, full of expectation.
I want the souls to have a something so that they can
find their way from whatever darkness they might dwell
within, and so I make a fire, pure and golden bright, and
it casts a wide glow; it sparks and carries tiny stars to
Am I ready now?
I rub my hands together; my palms are sweaty and my heart
Are there monsters in the shadows?
Will I know what to do?
They said that I was ready.
I don't feel ready, but I put out the call nonetheless:
"I am here. Is there anybody out
I listen into the night. From behind me, there is a
sound, a rushing in the trees, someone's coming.
I walk around the fire so I am on the other side and in
the glow, I see that there are two small figures coming
from the shelter of the trees ... two children, dark of
complexion, looking wild and worn, thin, their clothes
all rags and coloured like the night, their hair long,
unkempt, their faces dirty. One is smaller than the other
but I cannot tell if they are boy or girl.
Out in the open, they drop to their hands and feet; they
move like animals, fast movements, tightly coiled intent,
But I can see they are fascinated by the fire. They scent
the air and they creep closer.
I am completely fascinated by the two children. All fear
is now forgotten. So these are lost souls, and I am to
help them - but how?
I focus on them more deeply still and the overriding
sense I am receiving is that of hunger. A gnawing hunger
so extreme, so painful, it even overrides the fear and
terror of being here.
And then there is the memory of fire.
They have forgotten everything else, but they remember
I feel a connection there and I encourage it; I call to
the fire and all who might help here, please come now, I
can't do this by myself, I need help to help the
As I think this, and as the feelings rise within me,
there is a shifting in the scene before me.
At first, vaguely as though viewed under water there seem
to be shadows, shapes shifting, and they become stronger
- there are many people sitting around this fire now,
people who look like the children, in skins and furs, a
family group of all ages.
They don't see me, they all look into the fire and they
are humming softly, it isn't singing as we know it, it is
a vibration that makes the hairs on my arms rise.
I look to the children and they too can see the other
people; they are frozen in fear and confusion. They
remember the fire but they have forgotten the people, and
these are now like a barrier between the children, and
the golden flames.
I look at the group and there is one, an old woman with
long white hair, wrapped in many furs, and she has a
crude blue star painted on her forehead. She looks up,
looks around and then she sees me.
Her eyes are milky white, she must be blind or nearly
blind, but she gets up slowly, steps back from the circle
and walks over to me in measured but clearly painful
She halts in front of me and speaks. I don't understand
her words so I bow to her and then point to where the
children are crouching in the grass.
She sees them with her blind eyes and becomes very still.
Slowly, she raises her hands, palms open, towards the
children. They stare at her and also become very still,
very attentive. Then she slowly draws her hands back
towards herself, and as if they were attached by
invisible strings, the children get up from the grass and
walk towards her.
They stand in front of her and stare up at her.
She places one hand each on their heads, and as she does
this, a transformation occurs - a rippling goes through
the children head to toe and they change from the wild
things they were into children of these people, well fed,
their rags transformed to clean, fresh skins and their
hair in braids, and a blue star on their brows just the
same. All three are smiling, and the old woman places a
hand on the shoulders of the children, as they help her
back to her place in the circle, and sit down next to her
on either side as well.
A night bird calls loudly and startles me; I blink and
when I look to the fire again, the people are all gone.
The Soul Pilots
Service Has Its Own
These are stories like you've
never heard before.
Stories to enrich your life,
told in simple words by honest men and women from around
|Read these beautiful
stories and let them enrich you, uplift you and
Each one is
unique, each one unheard of, each one a treasure
and a triumph of love and human compassion -
service has its own rewards.
|The Wild Children
The Angry Old Man
Bundle Of Rags
Soul Pilot's Journey
The Boy in the Mine
On Stormy Shores
The Heart Of Stone
The Little Old Lady
The Hooded Figure
A Ghost In New York
The Angry Worm & The Runner
The Red Haired Woman and Her Unborn Child
The Dry Brown Being
On a Hill Outside Jerusalem
The Soldier & The Angel Child
The Crying Creature
Circle of Crows
Another World Beyond
Hiding In Plain Sight
My Mother Lives By The Sea
|Sarah & The
Dragons The Lost Son
Don Juan & His Lovers
The Little Girl & The Two Ghosts
Lost In The Darklands
Morning Has Broken
White Being In A Space Of Midnight Blue
The Dry Brown Being
The Boy On The Mountain
One Equals Infinity
The Alien By The Waterfall
The Singing Bracelets
The Little Demon On The Beach At Night
Hiding In Plain SightA Lost Mother
The Royal Birds
The Boy & The Lighthouse The Sailor & The
The Mad Giant
|Raindrops On My
The Clinging Dead
Seven Alien Souls
More Of Who I Am By Nature
The Honeycomb Being
The Waiting Angels
Star Child Blessing
The Black Demon Sword
The Girl In the Night Club
A Lost Soul
The Crystalline Soul Raft
Like A Bird
Travelling To The Stars
Soul Pilot's Prayer
The Fossilized Souls
A Different Kind Of Light
Seven Soul Pilots,
Many Journeys Into Pure Magic, Healing