Rosemary Bluebell

By Hadi Atallah

When Rosemary grows tired of her father's overstatements and boasting with respect to her supernatural powers, which includes the ability to create flowers just by looking at their images, she decides to flee to a sanctuary far from Pandemville, her hometown. Together with a friend, and pursued by an angry father, Rosemary is sent on a series of journeys in order to escape an unknown danger. During those journeys, Rosemary encounters a series of very different societies, each of which offers to share its ideals: Courage, Loyalty, Awareness, Wisdom and Strength. Little does Rosemary know the wealth of knowledge this journey would bring her -- and how that knowledge would eventually serve to help save the life of her father.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Guernica Editions Inc
• Release date: Apr 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781771834124

Book preview

Author

COURAGE

This story takes place at a time when time itself was more significant than money. Where creative souls roamed the Earth and communication unequivocally recalled empathy and collaboration. Most people, if not all, were not arrogant and mavens never sought for a profitable medium of education. Every individual’s dreams were not obstructed. Rather, they were considered like gold, and of course one cannot attain the pure form of this precious metal unless it was tested in the fire first.

Uneasiness did exist, as did the prosaic aspects of life, but no one was worried about what the coming days would bring about because the people had an unswerving faith. Furthermore, love was everybody’s concern during their first half of the day, while soundless contemplation was their utmost regard in the second half. Gossip was very noticeably absent, and differences in opinions evoked the love of the people even more.

The result of this imperative apprehension incited more difficulties, but they were soon vanquished by the wisdom and the silence of the people. It is true to say that discipline preceded free will, but discipline would not have been introduced to mankind if free will did not exist in the first place. This explains why, from the very start, life could never be mundane.

Nevertheless, the people did experience tedious times, but friendship always came to the rescue. Friendships that were fortuitously seasoned or thoughtfully webbed with love could stand like a fortress resisting all judgments. Their perfect affiliation with the universe sprouted up from limitless forgiveness, and that is why a true friend remained an ally for a lifetime.

This story begins in a town called Dona Hill where an indelible ceremony was underway. The town was located not very near to the Earth’s equator. Rather, it was situated in the Northern Hemisphere bordering a lush forest of cedar and pine trees that stretched for miles. A river meandered gently through the forest where beavers and muskrats swam in its lazy waters. It passed an ancient shrine that was situated on top of a cacophonous waterfall that was forceful, yet continued as a composed flow of water.

Ashen grey wolves inhabited the shrine, howling their recurrent acknowledgements to join the wind redolent of the odor of cedar and pine. Dona Hill’s natural reserve displayed the wondrous elements of life that conveyed the love of the infinite universe, and the potency of this love only grew for every day’s creations to continue to thrive and flourish.

Watch how the flowers grow! a short man named Aster, who was broad-shouldered and thick around the middle and who happened to be the ruler of the fabled town of Pandemville, exclaimed. Rosemary, grow more roses for us to see! He yelled this from behind a long, bushy beard while flicking the wild mane of chestnut colored hair that grazed his shoulders as it tumbled down his back.

A young girl with an enormous chocolate colored braid, hanging down one side of her petite face, gently treaded the crowded and cobbled streets of Dona Hill, while carmine roses magically grew behind her. Her hair was adorned with two twisted flowery strands, which she had inherited from her late mother, and she wore a loose, ankle length white dress and a peculiar bindi on her forehead.

There needs but one magical being in a company, and everything is magic! Aster, whose wine-red colored robe was about to burst from all sides because of his broad shoulders, yelled as he raised his thick, pronounced eyebrows. This is infectious, ladies and gentlemen!

Now look how the roses turn to dust! Rosemary’s father bellowed with a toothy smile, as he turned his back to the old vanishing roses, trying to maintain some space between his daughter and himself.

All the while, Dona Hill’s locals watched in awe as the little girl paranormally sprouted up carmine roses with each little step she took. Her feet carried her with dignity, and her father admired that with a smile on his face, revealing his oversized teeth under his stunning hawk nose.

One must be the sky to receive all this enchantment without being filled with wonder! Aster continued to boast. He was met by a collective gasp and then a stormy applause.

A tall figure with an athlete’s slender build and a clean shave eyed the little girl along with her father. He watched Rosemary from behind a group of people, but that did not stop Rosemary from detecting him. She halted in her tracks as her jade green eyes caught a glimpse of the man wearing a black robe and a black turban.

Just a bit more, Rosemary, her father yelled. We’ll be heading home soon.

The little girl acknowledged that with a tender nod and continued walking between the throng of people while sprouting up carmine roses from behind her. She knew that the spiraled, cobbled pathway, flanked by twin rows of shell pink and pearl white houses and hidden behind neatly groomed bushes, led to a marble built castle, embellished with foliage patterns made out of gold. The castle belonged to the man she had eyed just seconds ago. Although a humble fellow, he also happened to be the ruler of Dona Hill.

Rosemary kept forgetting his name, but there were stories, which she heard from her late mother, about that young man, that stuck like glue. On the other hand, Aster on no account mentioned any word to Rosemary that had anything to do with him. At the same time, her father never hesitated to maintain trade and commerce with Dona Hill. Over and above that, little was the ruler of Dona Hill aware that this very brief incident involving Rosemary was going to be an overture to a huge escapade filled with prolific and sometimes dangerous surprises.

* * *

Back in Pandemville, Aster was being persistent on training Rosemary in becoming better at what she did. He knew that dedication was irreplaceable. Aptitude alone was like a hand that needed to clap all by itself but never achieved it because a one-hand clap was physically impossible. Wisdom was never treated with great care, unless it was violent. Why? Violence won people over, but then there would be another flaw. It could not be administered.

Additionally, Aster never really pushed Rosemary to go to school because, for him, education was not a very crucial aspect of life. She loved reading and writing, but there was very little room for that. Day after day, Aster drummed his mantra into her: dedication. He believed that dedication and dedication alone had the divine right to open the doors to success. Of course, fortitude and prudence were other factors that she had to learn and keep in mind, but that would come later.

So you are telling me that, if she just looks at an image of a flower … any flower, she can create the actual flower with her mind? This question for Aster came from a cadaverous looking botanist with thinning grey hair that was neatly combed to the side, wearing a plain robe. They stood in a dusty room filled with portraits of different plants and flowers. The room had arcaded windows that overlooked the Daphne Sea.

Just try for yourself, Aster replied.

Simultaneously, Rosemary gazed at the ships and their colorful masts through one of the windows. She also eyed the port’s monumental arching pillars. The fact that Pandemville was the doorway to the East made it a very significant city in that part of the world.

Hello there, the botanist said as he approached the little girl and squinted through his leather-framed spectacles. Rosemary studied a craggy face that was only moderately improved by a proper moustache. My name is Jarred Blossom.

At that point, a gust of wind with a salty fragrance entered the room. The fresh air was mixed with

Reviews for Rosemary Bluebell

[Shine Shahzad · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Little Rosemary Bluebell does not feel like a fragment of the writer's imagination. She feels real. This is going to be a hard copy in my children's library one day.

Thanks, Hadi for the gift of 'Rosemary Bluebell' to me and to the world of kids' literature.