Hey Friends! If you’re new, here’s the scoop: We’re taking a walk through the book of Proverbs along with a girl named Eleanor. In Eleanor’s imaginative life, she is heir to an island chain. In real life, she is a freshman at an arts school—a seeming dream come true that will turn into her worst nightmare if she isn’t careful.

Proverbs 3:5-6

Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.

Wichita, KS

When Eleanor checked on her goats the next morning, there were two new kids walking on wobbly legs around their mother. Eleanor quickly fed and watered her little flock and then ran inside to get her roomies.

“Oh, look at them,” Io said when they had got to the little paddock. The sun was nicely warm and shining on the red brick building.

Jaqueline climbed onto one of the trash cans of feed and hopped down into the pen gently. Eleanor followed.

“This one is still a little damp,” Eleanor said.

Portia took the multi-color scarf from her neck and extended it to Eleanor.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Call it a shower gift,” Portia said.

Eleanor rubbed the brown kid gently, noticing flecks of white on its floppy ears. Curly, Cezario, and Mr. Washington walked up then.

Curly gave Eleanor a perturbed look. “You have got to be kidding.”

Io laughed loudly. “No, that was the doe’s job.”

Curly’s eyes lit up. “That was pretty baaaaad of me, Eleanor. Real sorry. I feel a little sheepish.”

Mr. Washington reached down to pet the mother’s neck. “Good job, mama. Just in time.”

“Just in time for what?” Eleanor asked.

“Principal Polovanka has asked if you would be willing to bring a young goat to her apartment each day for a half hour or so. Her doctor has prescribed goat therapy.”

***

A few days later, Eleanor was given an access card to enter the hallway to Principal Polovanka’s apartment. As she transitioned from 1920s-era brick high school into the brave new world of Polovanka, her jaw dropped. She shifted Sofia to her other arm and shoved the card into her pocket as she walked, awestruck, down the marble hallway. Sconces on the wall threw light artfully onto the ceiling.

She knocked timidly on the ten foot tall door of the principal’s apartment. Two other, smaller doors stood further down the hall on the same side of the hallway. She wondered if they also led into apartments.

Talia opened the door. Her bun was messy, her face strained, and her workout clothes askew. She gestured for Eleanor to enter with a sigh.

“We’ll be working out in the greenhouse,” Talia said. She half-smiled at the kid. Or maybe it was a look of pity.

Eleanor tried to not gawk at the sixteen foot ceilings, enormous glass windows looking out on the river, and the copper walls.

Suddenly a door slammed. Eleanor looked over as Principal Polovanka strode from a door which strangely bounced back open, revealing a room full of video surveillance equipment. At a glance, Eleanor felt she could see the entirety of the campus, hallways, and classrooms just before the principal cast her a warning look and closed the door firmly. The steely faced woman squared her shoulders and led the way into the greenhouse.

At the Home of the Inventor

When Starla awoke, she found that she had been sleeping on a fur rug in a small home. And yet, she had the sensation of movement. Perhaps she was in a vehicle. Not a boat, she decided. A gentle gust passed through the reed walls and Starla remembered that she had been rescued by a pair of talons. Rescued! From a terrible foe. She needed to find the one who saved her and thank them.

She peered between the reeds and discovered that she couldn’t see much. A gauzy balloon encompassed the reed house.

She heard metallic gears grinding and rose to find the source of the noise.

A wooden ledge lined the reed walls. Small panes of glass were nestled into a slit in the wood, running the whole length. As Starla passed the panes of glass, she saw the the images passing through her mind appear on the pieces of glass: the talons, the pirates, the departing Tufe, the lovely tiara… Her hand raised to her hair.

“Your tiara still there, strange princess,” a woman said.

Starla rounded a wall, only to see a large fire burning brightly in a metal canister. Below the canister hung a basket below floor level where a woman pedaled a cycle. A beanie pinned down her hair. Her right hand held a looking glass to her eye.

Starla suddenly understood: this was a flying vessel. Her eyes followed the canister up and up to where the flames licked out, filling the balloon with great heat. The woman reached behind herself and adjusted a lever which altered their course.

The basket holding the woman and her cycle was attached to the rest of the vessel by woven ropes at the four corners. The basket was woven up as high as her knees, giving her plenty of room to see out.

An enormous bird rose up beside them just then, causing Starla to back up in surprise.

“Don’t be afraid of old Marabou. He’s the one who rescued you.”

“Of course,” Starla said. “How can I thank him? I was nearly dead.”

“You think you had endured the worst,” the woman said. “But that which was to come was of far more danger to you.”

Starla wanted to ask what the woman meant, but an image flashed across the panes of glass then—a bright light and then a line of people with very little light in their eyes.

And then a bright yellow fruit flew into one of the panes of glass, shattering it.

“I don’t know why I invented those things,” the woman grumped. “It is bad enough to have some thoughts jumping around in my head. Why give them life beyond the borders of my triumphantly thick skull?”

New scenes flashed across the remaining panes of glass now. A small island. Trees full of bright fruit. Huts. Smiling people.

“Oh yes, that is why I invented the soul windows; my motivation was to communicate with you, Marabou*.

“Do you see the images on the soul windows, strange princess? Marabou is telling us that he has found you a new home.”

“Pardon me, your majesties,” Starla said, bowing to the woman and the great bird, “But I have a home: The Isle of the Rising Star.”

“Ah yes. I know the Island kingdom. I know your King. But we are far from your land, strange princess. Your islands have been taken over. I had to take you far away from them.”

And with that, the Inventor pulled a lever. Starla’s stomach shot up into her throat as she fell through a hatch in the floor. The great bird plucked her from the air and flew with her until it dropped her gently at the doorway of a hut.

“I thought a straight path was horizontal,” she thought as she watched the bird and the Inventor’s great balloon fly away. “Apparently a straight path can also be straight down.”

And then a sound in the doorway of the hut made her turn and look.

***

*The marabou is a massive bird in Africa which has a wing span of 10 feet. This type of bird does not go around picking up humans, but I thought it would be a fitting name for this ficticios bird in my story.

Hey Friends! If you’re new, here’s the scoop: We’re taking a walk through the book of Proverbs along with a girl named Eleanor. In Eleanor’s imaginative life, she is heir to an island chain. In real life, she is a freshman at an arts school—a seeming dream come true that will turn into her worst nightmare if she isn’t careful.

Proverbs 3:3 Let not steadfast love and faithfulness forsake you; bind them around your neck; write them on the tablet of your heart.

Wichita, KS

Eleanor followed Mr. Washington through a maze of dancers. The other students had been left in the entrance lobby. The crowd was a pulsing rainbow of Spandex. Techno music electrified the air. When Eleanor spotted Talia and the three North High students, she was disappointed to see that they looked like everyone else, but that triggered another thought. She walked in front of Mr. Washington and blocked him.

“What are you going to do to them?”

Mr. Washington stopped walking and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. “I brought you along to observe, Miss West. To learn about leadership. Not for dramatic interference.”

Eleanor sucked in her breath, stricken, but then nodded. “I understand. But I just had a thought. A picture.”

“Go ahead.” His eyes looked past her to where Talia and the students stood stretching.

“We’re already here, Mr. Washington—you, three decent dancers, me, and five brilliant students in the lobby. We’re in a building full of look-a-likes with computer generated tunes.”

“That’s the vision?”

“No, the vision is buckskin dresses, braided hair, a giant drum, and a singer. Something different. Something beautiful.”

Mr. Washington’s lips were a straight line. Eleanor knew she was being stupid; there was no way she could change the course of things. She was a freshman. She had no real power. Why should she even care?

But then in a flash she saw the Kaufman Center, the layered ears, Io’s poem telling her to listen carefully, and Principal Solovanka telling her to do whatever it took. This was it; this was Eleanor’s moment to act.

“I know this is insanity, but let me go talk to Talia. I don’t know anything about this competition, but I think we can win it.”

Mr. Washington opened his mouth to speak just as a burly man came up and slapped him on the back. “Danny!”

Mr. Washington stumbled forward.

“I thought I might see you here.” A great mass of gelled white hair framed the tanned face of a man wearing sunglasses. He spoke with a Russian accent.

“Crete.” Mr. Washington didn’t smile with either his face or his voice.

Crete laughed a cold, pointed sort of laugh. “They tell me, ‘Come here. Big talent here.’”

Mr. Washington’s reply rolled out like the careful strokes of a paintbrush. “Perhaps you will yet see the sun.”

Mr. Washington turned to walk toward Talia.

“I come here from great distance, only to find flea-bitten old farm dogs.”

Mr. Washington kept walking, kept his face straight ahead, but spoke in a low voice to Eleanor. “Do whatever it takes, Eleanor.”

The Island of Endeni

When the lids on the two chests were opened, the children screamed with delight and raised their hands. Gye Nyame tossed golden necklaces heavy with diamonds, silver bracelets dotted with pearls, rings with enormous, glittering stones.

Starla looked over at the sleeping pirates, then back to Gye Nyame. Then she thrust her hands in the air like the children. Gye Nyame nodded approvingly at her and pulled an intricately crafted, silver tiara from the chest.

***

The Tufe traveled on for many hours. The children played with their jewels and the pirates slept on. Gye Nyame gestured to Starla to join him near the lamp stand.

“You are not one of these pirates.”

“No.”

“Then who are you?”

“A shepherdess.”

“Ah. It is your flock they have brought here.”

“My flock is here?”

“Did they not tell you? Yes. Your flock is here. I can take you to them.”

“I desire this above all else, but I am not eager to part company with you, sir. I have many questions.”

“Voice them, daughter.”

Her heart stuck in her throat for a moment.

“Sir, what is the fuel that drives the Tufe?”

He eyed her sternly. “One must dig deep to find this fuel.”

“Show me, sir. It would be of great benefit to my people.”

“Your people.” He looked away, across the horizon.

Starla looked over at the slumbering pirates.

“Clearly, the pirates are not your people, but do not be too hard on them, shepherdess. On the ocean, they have gathered the forsaken gandas* and brought them here.”

“Forsaken?”

He looked at her, his eyes pitying.

“These pirates are driven by a force that I do not truly understand. I think you will be surprised by their reasons for doing the things they do. There is a great darkness coming. They believe your muvvons may be the key to stopping it.”

Eleanor doubted this.

“What is your drive, country girl?” he asked.

At the center of her soul, she found no answer. Only a rock.

After a long time, he spoke again. “You seek to know what drives the Tufe. First, I think you should discern what is driving you. This fuel is good in the right hands, but it is a force of destruction in the hands of the blind and unknowing.”

*Swahili word for pods. In this fictitious world, children are a gift from the Great Creator, sent to the chosen ones in pods that float on the oceans.

Hey Friends! If you’re new, here’s the scoop: We’re taking a walk through the book of Proverbs along with a girl named Eleanor. In Eleanor’s imaginative life, she is heir to an island chain. In real life, she is a freshman at an arts school—a seeming dream come true that will turn into her worst nightmare if she isn’t careful.

Proverbs 3:1-2

My son, do not forget my teaching, but let your heart keep my commandments, for length of days and years of life and peace they will add to you.

Wichita, KS

Mr. Washington and Mrs. Polovanka stood at the far end of the cafeteria talking while Eleanor and her classmates wiped down tables. She knew they were discussing whatever she had witnessed with Talia and the students last night. Mr. Washington’s eyebrows were furrowed. Both he and the principal frowned down at their phones. When Eleanor put her dish cloth in the soapy water after her last table, she turned to find Mrs. Polovanka right behind her.

“Do whatever it takes, Miss West,” Mrs. Polovanka said before turning to walk into the main part of the school.

Mr. Washington called the freshman to the end of the cafeteria. “We’re taking another field trip today.”

“Where to, Coach?” Curly asked.

“Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts,” Mr. Washington said. “Let’s go.” He turned toward the doors.

“Kansas City?” Portia asked. “We’re going to Kansas City?”

“Correct.”

***

Three hours later the group was gawking at the skyscrapers and trying to get Mr. Washington talked into lunch at Big T’s. “We’re here on a mission,” Mr. Washington said. “I’d rather not be here at all.”

Curly said, “Aw, I thought we were having fun.”

“There’s a curriculum I’d like to stick with,” Mr. Washington said.

“Not retrieving runaways?” Eleanor said.

Mr. Washington looked at her in the rearview mirror. “How do you know about that, Eleanor?”

“I ran into them last night when I was coming back in from checking on the goats.”

He grunted.

“This is it,” he announced as they turned into a drive.

The building looked to Eleanor’s eyes like two fragmented barbells dropped into the ground, but when she glanced down at the words Io scratched onto a page in her notebook, Eleanor realized that Io saw ears when she looked at the building—layers of ears—growing larger as they expanded out from the center and then smaller again. Her hand swirled along the page, writing:

Layered Listening

The listening and observation occupation

Help wanted

Heaven ears

Ten thousand needed

Left unheeded

hell tongue

will

inflict legion tears.

Within your eyes—

a festered sore,

store

of hurt,

dirge score of mourners

bent over,

poor.

Pry bar wanted

Apply within

Could my lips dislodge

the long nails

that fastened this wall

between us?

Apply within

The poem reminded Eleanor of her mom always telling her “God gave you two ears and only one mouth for good reason.”

“That’s good, Io,” Eleanor told her. Io just unbuckled her seat belt and followed the others out of the van.

Eleanor sighed. What had Principal Polovanka meant by “Do whatever it takes?”

The Island of Endeni

Hend transformed Starla from mourning prisoner into morning star. Her face and arms were striped with gold paint. A simple, yet striking, dress was composed of the long petals of a person-sized yellow flower that grew within the walls of Hend’s spacious quarters. She had sewn them together right in front of Starla that morning.

Children ran to the dock to greet the pirates, but halted, running into each other, when Starla emerged from the ship, walking down a long plank behind the other pirates.

Where the plank met the shore, a man stood. A silver drum was slung over one shoulder.

“That is Gye Nyame*,” Ines said. Her sword, wrapped in an elegant scabbard, bumped against her leg as she came along beside Starla, whispering to her. “He is the wise attendant of the Tufe**.”

Starla said nothing.

“Kenza hates the Tufe.” Ines laughed. “If she is not the object of worship . . . “

And that is when Starla lifted her eyes to see a great sphere on the horizon. It was gray, tinged with purple. It stretched up so high that she thought it could scrape the moons in the morning sky above. What could this strange thing be?

When Kenza’s foot touched the ground, Gye Nyame struck the drum. He matched each of her steps with a stroke on the drum until all the pirates had disembarked.

Then the beat picked up. The children called out in loud voices, stretching their hands to the heavens and then lowering them in time to the drum. The children—hundreds of them—appeared to be royalty. The boys wore bright blue, close fitting hats with white bands. The girls wore knee length, white dresses. White ribbons hung from their braids.They repeated the up and down motion with their hands tirelessly. Then their bare feet kicked up dust as they ran toward the sphere, ahead, along, and behind the pirates. The white ribbons now sailed across the blue sky behind the girls.

As they grew closer, Starla saw that something was hanging over the gray, stone sphere: a vine plant whose million flowers bore eyes.

The opening to the sphere was a dark square. The smell of burning oil wafted out to her.

When she entered, she could see nothing, having passed from the bright sunlight into semi-darkness, but slowly she came to see a small fire trembling on the iron plate of a slender lamp stand. Two enormous white chests stood on either side of the lamp stand.

Silhouettes of iron benches slowly dawned on her vision. Ines gently moved her into the row of seated pirates.

The celebration atmosphere evaporated. The children entered the stone womb quietly. The drum ceased. Gye Nyame danced slowly to the front; his feet seemed to trace the lines of geometric figures, twisting this way and that on his long walk to the lamp stand.

Starla noted that Kenza’s eyes were closed, not in prayer but in sleep. Hend followed, yawning, stretching and then cocking her head to one side. The other pirates, even Ines, followed suit.

The children, on the other hand, leaned forward on the edge of the benches, palms up. Starla had the feeling that whatever was to come would be even more athletic than the procession she had just witnessed.

Gye Nyame reached the lamp stand. He blew out the flame. For a moment, all was dark. And then a million eyes opened along plants on the inside of the walls. The eyes shot forth blinding light. The light pierced the stone walls.

Very quickly, Starla could see through the stone walls as though they were glass. Everything shook. Everything moved. The sphere whirled and moved straight ahead, toward a great field.

The children screamed, their eyes dancing. They held onto the benches, but bumped into each other at times and laughed. Gye Nyame laughed with them and threw open the enormous lids on the two chests.

* Gye Nyame is a symbol used on adinkra cloth from Ghana. The symbol means “Except God I fear none.”

Hey Friends! If you’re new, here’s the scoop: We’re taking a walk through the book of Proverbs along with a girl named Eleanor. In Eleanor’s imaginative life, she is heir to an island chain. In real life, she is a freshman at an arts school—a seeming dream come true that will turn into her worst nightmare if she isn’t careful.

“For the LORD gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding; he stores up sound wisdom for the upright; he is a shield to those who walk in integrity, guarding the paths of justice and watching over the way of his saints. Then you will understand righteousness and justice and equity, every good path; for wisdom will come into your heart, and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul; discretion will watch over you, understanding will guard you, delivering you from the way of evil, from men of perverted speech, who forsake the paths of uprightness to walk in the ways of darkness, who rejoice in doing evil and delight in the perverseness of evil, men whose paths are crooked, and who are devious in their ways.” Proverbs 2:6-15

The Port of Mennix

Something caught at the back of Eleanor’s mind; she had been called ‘Peasant Girl’ before. The pirates—yes, that was it.

Fear electrified her extremities as the flying beings lowered her onto the worn, wooden planks of an enormous ship that had once eclipsed her own small sailing vessel on the day her flock was taken from her. When her feet touched the ship, she strained to run for the edge, but the metallic hands held her fast.

“Not very thankful, are we?”

Eleanor looked up to see a beautiful woman seated on a wooden throne, her high cheekbones illuminated by the moonlight. At the same moment, unseen hands unfurled the sails and the vessel lurched away from the dock.

“I rescue you from prison, seeking to reunite you to your precious lflock, and you try to run away.” She tapped a long fingernail on the arm of her throne. Her loose dress shimmered in the moonlight. “What is your name, Peasant Girl?”

Eleanor’s mind raced. What actually came out of her mouth surprised her. “Starla.” She had answered truthfully, from somewhere deep inside of her. Starla was the name her mother had given her at birth. Eleanor was the name she had chosen at the time of her princess coronation, shortly after her mother was removed.

The pirate smirked. “And what was your business in Mennix?”

Having had some success drawing from a deep place, Starla searched for an answer there again. What had she really been hoping to find in Mennix? “I sought word of my king.”

“Why were you imprisoned?”

“I did not understand the ways of Mennix. I think perhaps I violated a custom. I started to speak before a magistrate and the next thing I knew, I woke up in the prison.”

“Are you a servant to your king?”

“Indeed.”

The pirate commanded the flying creatures to release Starla and summoned them to herself. Starla turned to run, but the pirate said. “I may know something of your king, Peasant Girl.”

Starla stopped and turned back. The pirate eclipsed three moons as the flying creatures carried her down to the deck. As she descended, her shimmering gown spreading like great wings. Once she had landed, the pirate lifted her long skirt just enough to reveal matching, heeled shoes that clicked as she walked toward the starboard bow. The flying creatures released her arms and hovered in the throne’s shadow, only their glowing eyes visible.

The pirate looked out across the waters. “After the great rains, we came upon a a ship run aground on an uninhabited island. The owner of the ship promised us his raiment in exchange for transport to his kingdom. We accepted. But the next night, disaster struck.”

Wichita, Kansas

Eleanor looked up from the sheep to see Mr. Washington walking toward her. A woman with long blonde hair walked beside him, holding a baby. Nine children crested the rise alongside them, the last rays of light kissing their skin with a shocking magnificence. They were a cabinet, a congress, a platoon, a pride—a cosmically radical force . . .

And they were headed straight for her.

Hey Friends! If you’re new, here’s the scoop: We’re taking a walk through the book of Proverbs along with a girl named Eleanor. In Eleanor’s imaginative life, she is heir to an island chain. In real life, she is a freshman at an arts school—a seeming dream come true that will turn into her worst nightmare if she isn’t careful.

“For the simple are killed by their turning away, and the complacency of fools destroys them; but whoever listens to me will dwell secure and will be at ease, without dread of disaster.” – Proverbs 1:32-33

Mennix

Eleanor awoke to an ear-piercing siren, the stench of smoke, and a metallic hand pulling on her bare arm. “Hi-ya, Peasant Girl! Wake up!”

Eleanor’s eyes fluttered open and beheld two black, glass globes that contained small, red fires. These “eyes” were embedded in a silver disk. She backed away from the hovering disk from which thick arms extended toward her.

“Hi-ya! This is a prison break!” A flashing light illuminated Eleanor’s small, puke-green cell. She looked down at her puke-green smock. Yep, she must be in prison. That’s when she realized that the burning smell was coming from one of the walls of her cell. Part of it was obliterated; a hole yawned into the starry night beyond.

Before she could react, the being grabbed her arms, whisked her, feet dragging, across the floor, and together they swung out into the night sky.

Wichita, KS

Eleanor’s grandfather met the fifteen passenger van at the curb where she was unceremoniously dropped off. Eleanor had thought that she was in control of this situation, but her grandfather registered no surprise at her sudden reappearance; he was having the same slightly bored reaction as Mr. Washington.

Eleanor and her grandfather walked into The Foundry, the homeless shelter that he and her grandmother administered, and stopped by her grandmother’s office. Her grandfather handed her the day’s mail. “Thank you,” she said, looking up from her computer. “Hi, Eleanor.” No surprise registered on her face, either. Just “Hi, Eleanor,” as though she had been expecting her.

Eleanor followed her grandfather back out of the shelter. They walked down the street together, over to Douglas, and then north on Market, into the heart of downtown. Her grandfather took wide, purposeful steps that she had to keep catching up with. He veered at a tall building simply denoted as 125 N. Market. Eleanor glanced at the swanky lobby and was disappointed when her grandfather passed by it and opened a less grand door to the side.

Inside, a mirrored wall reflected a group of young professionals passing through. Her grandfather passed in front of them, walking straight for the wall like a crazy man. Eleanor cried out, “Papa!” without thinking about how baby-ish it would sound. Than, amazingly, a panel of the mirror pushed in; it was a door. Eleanor stood there, blinking.

One of the women passing by winked at her, jarring her to her senses. She ran through the open door and hurried up an escalator to catch up to her grandfather.

At the top of the escalator, they walked out onto a skywalk where her grandfather stopped. He leaned against the railing and looked down at the passing cars.

Eleanor waited for him to say something, but he was quiet. It was strange, really, that this existence—the downtown traffic, the people walking around in suits and polos, the goings on at the government buildings, even the perfect symmetry of the walkway windows—was carrying on parallel to all the activity happening a few blocks away at the Farmer’s Market. This was a grid work, a sheet of graphing paper to her as compared with the color, music, and food smells being pumped out into an electrified atmosphere at the market. Why was she here and not there?

When her breathing returned to a normal rhythm, she broke the silence. “You expected me to quit, didn’t you?”

Her grandfather nodded.

“Did you know about the sheep?”

He nodded.

“What a stupid thing to spend funding on,” Eleanor said.

“Your grandmother and I paid for the sheep. The sheep were my idea.”

Eleanor swung and faced her grandfather. “What?!?”

“Calm down, now,” he said in a quiet voice, still looking down at traffic. “I just walked through a door you thought was a wall. Right now, you look at those sheep and all you see is a wall, but I see a door, a door that will take you to a higher level, a door that will open up a larger world. Your mother loves you, Ellie; she took good care of you while you were a little girl. But you’re not a little girl anymore. It’s time to grow up.”

“I don’t understand.” Arms folded across her chest, she regarded her grandfather with an icy gaze.

“You took a personality test to get into Mr. Washington’s program. It showed us that you have an aptitude for leadership. What is the job of a leader, Ellie?”

“To make decisions. To give instructions.”

“And to look out for the needs of the people she leads.”

Eleanor bit her lip and looked back down at the traffic. “I see,” she said. “I don’t want to see, but I see.”