The Colour of Time - Part 24

 

I have definitely reached the violet years of my life, Dora thought when a grey, silvery, almost white strand of her hair fell over her shoulder into the corner of her eyesight. Plum is a nice colour but not quite it.

She knew it was going to be a silent night. And on the inside of the lids of her closed eyes suddenly appeared the image of a snow-covered building in a landscape where you could not tell snowy mountains and trees and white clouds apart. A warm light from the inside invited to enter the building roofed with towers and bay windows.

This kind of image was new. It was an experience she had never made before, something to write into her book of knowledge and experiences. And with these thoughts she started following footsteps in deep snow that she knew would lead her to a set of stair treads in the end.

'Brunswick?' the llama asked.

'Hurry, llama,' said the bard. 'It's not the time for questions. We have got to be at the gates of the Capital before the guards close them for the Holidays.'

"Bromford Mission"

She reads the leaves and she leads the life
That she learned so well from the old wives

And it's so strange to arrange it
You know I would not change it
But hear me if you're near me, can I just rearrange it?

The watchman covers me with his remedy
I can't see and it's hard to feel
I think his magic might be real

And I can't get to you from your garden gate
You know it's always locked by the magistrate

And he don't care why you cry
You know he thinks it's just a lie
To get out, I don't doubt that you'd make a try

And if the good times get you through
I know the dogs won't bother you
We'll be gone in moonshine time
I've got a place they'll never find

You know I do believe in your hexagram
But can you tell me how they all knew the plan?

Now, did you trip or slip on their gifts?
You know we're just a con
You knew it, so why did you do it?
I've been hiding in the dark

So now, I must be on my way
I guess you really have to stay
Inside the mission laws
On the river banks of Bromford

Today is Tuesday, the 24th of December 2025.
Christmas Eve

The Colour of Time - Part 23

 

'The colour of time is not Mauve,' Dora whispered looking out the window in the plank walls of her barrel. 'La Couleur du Temps.'

She was surprised to feel a salty tear running down her cheek.

'Come on, old girl,' she said to herself. 'Don't be silly. Those wounds should have healed a long time ago. And if you want to get rid of those scars you will find a herb or a potion or a magical spell that can help you do so. Just remember who is the mighty and magnificent witch and sorceress here.'

Time had passed. She had successfully completed her apprenticeship and travel years. And when she found it was time to settle down, she found a barrel of dried lavender in a port near the Deep Sea Ocean. She brought this well-smelling barrel to the banks of the River Why near the City of Earth, crafted a mighty and magnificent spell and lived in this magical enlarged and enforced home of hers ever after.

Her parents had passed away short after one another about decades ago. They had given their home - that was the house of her father's parents before - and their little tavern in the same street to the kitchen aid who had been of great help over the years and taken over business when her parents had started to fade away. It was the same kitchen aid she had once brought to the Temple.

She had never stopped searching for the colour of time. She had had apprentices and followers, sometimes that much that she called them her convent, but she never had or found time or sense or a mood to start a love relationship or a family or to mother children.

And although she had never found the slightest traces or hints of the snowlion that had become a white eagle, and although she knew he was condemned to be a bird for the rest of his lifespan or maybe was even dead by now, she found herself from time to time imagining Flakemane in his lion-form again who had found himself a mate and lived happily ever after in a place that was almost as beautiful as the Temple of the spring and well of forecast.

'Did you hear that wench talk about Metropolis, Bromford?' KussKuss, the llama asked.

Bromford, the bard, nodded.

'She was talking about the City of Earth when she did so,' he said. 'And I have got the strongest feeling that we have to be there within the next three days and before the end of the Holiday season.'

'You remember what happened the last time we went there, don't you, bard?'

'We have never got inside the city walls. And a mighty and magnificent witch and sorceress turned me into a llama, llama. But she opened my eyes at the same time and made the life we are leading now possible.'

'We have come a long way from the High Castle of Bromford, Bromford,' said the llama and they kept on following the river downstream.

"From Bromford To Munich"

From Bromford to Munich
From Nuremberg to Luxembourg
From Belgium to Berlin
From Cologne to your home

I slept on too many floors
But my favourite was yours
A place to rest my head
And I spent so many nights
Thinking how to get things right
But there's nothing I regret

And who says that I have to choose to do a safe job for life?

I knocked on too many doors
But most of them were closed
Lest they and I forget
And I spent so many days
Thinking how to get bills paid
With a capo on the 7th fret

And who says that I have to choose between knowledge and life?
When all I want is time
To live and learn and die

Today is Tuesday, the 23rd of December 2025.