sitemap - feedback

Novels

The Raptive and the Loner, Volume One of The Jimmy Meridian Story

© Máighréad Medbh

Fable/fantasy, for teen readers and older
The central concept is that we create another world with our thoughts. James Mooney discovers this, as does thirteen-year-old Lucy Scales. Lucy is the loner, and she badly needs an injection of energy to improve her life. She finds that, with the help of James, aka the raptive, Jimmy Meridian, she can take the reins herself. The implications are larger than she realises. The entire story spans two hundred and fifty years in four volumes, beginning with James Mooney’s ‘rapture’ into the Thought World.

Blurb

Thoughts are powerful - so powerful, in fact, that they create a whole other world. James Mooney discovers this with a bang. He becomes a raptive, someone who is so full of powerful thought that he is taken, body and mind, into the Thought World. James was in danger in the material world, and as the raptive, Jimmy Meridian, he’s still in danger now. Jimmy Meridian is a runner and a something of a comedian. His recklessness almost destroys him, but it also brings him into contact with a material girl, Lucy Scales, who has extraordinary gifts as well as big problems. Their lives become deeply entwined.

The Thought World, Tetra, is a world of opposites, fun and danger, strange characters and colourful ones. There is also much more to everything than meets the eye, and the hint of a large plan to destroy all that is bright and blissful. This is a story that stretches across time and dimensions, but is right up to date with the modern world and how ordinary lives can have extraordinary effects.

Introductory Quote from the Bliss Catechism

“Thoughts fly, they never die.”
(The chief maxim of Bliss, as stated in the Bliss Catechism.)

Q. What made the world?                                                                             
A. Thought made the world.

Q. What makes it bright?
A. Thought makes it bright.

Q. What makes it pale?
A. Thought makes it pale.

Q. What is thought?
A. Thought is a series of signals from the hatcher brain, guided by emotions.

Q. What is a hatcher?
A. A hatcher, also called ‘human’, is a being who lives in a heavy dimension just beyond the Thought World. Hatchers are mostly composed of clumps of clogged energy, but they have created the Thought World with their thoughts. The stars we see in the Hatchery are the thought-bodies of hatchers.

Q. What is a genius?
A. A genius is a being made from the thoughts of hatchers.

Q. Do hatchers control geniuses?
A. Yes, until the geniuses are fully made, or clinched. However, they are seldom aware that they are in control.

 (Excerpt from The Bliss Catechism)

Chapter One

The Raptive
Coolboora, Ireland, June 1780

(James Mooney is out for his morning run, which puts him in danger of disappearance or death. His landlord, Captain Montgomery Baddeley, is out for his blood, but just as he shoots at him, James is ‘raptured’ into another world.)

James Mooney didn’t know it, but he was running for his life. Captain Montgomery Baddeley had finally figured out who had been stealing his horses and saving innocent poor people from his wicked plans. The blasted Mooney lad had been the bane of his life ever since he was a child climbing trees with pebbles and a slingshot. It was time to put a stop to his gallop. This was why the Squire had dragged himself from his drugged bed this May morning and was galloping towards St James’ Well, determined to catch his tenant on his morning run. He was carrying a powerful musket and had a pistol and dagger concealed under his fine velvet coat. He wanted to make sure of his kill.

James knew nothing of this. He was thinking about Mary Sheehy, his sweetheart. For some time he had been worried about the way he was losing consciousness at top speed - he had almost disappeared actually - and had stopped his morning dash. But then everything had gone wrong. His hands had completely lost the power to work or heal. He couldn’t have lived that way. Mary knew the dangers. She didn’t want him to go mad - that’s what she thought was happening -but she didn’t want him to spend his life sitting around helpless either. Besides, it mightn’t be madness. It might be something supernatural and maybe they should just accept it. At any rate, running was James’ life. It had solved all his problems to date, and had made him a respected leader and healer in the neighbourhood, at the ripe old age of seventeen.

He pictured Mary’s thick black hair and passionate, enquiring blue eyes, her slim figure, her energetic walk. When she had said goodbye to him that morning she had been sad and afraid. He loved her more than anyone and there was no-one else he’d marry, but what was the point if he couldn’t carry on being the happy, inspired person he had become? To do that, he had to run. He ran faster and the picture of Mary gradually faded. After another half-hour, everything else about his everyday life had faded too.

Had James stopped thinking? Yes and no. Let me put it this way: he was thinking, but not as we usually know it. His thoughts had ceased to be located in his brain only, but had translated into the movements of his body. His legs were thinking; his arms were thinking; his forehead was thinking; his little finger was thinking. You could no longer say that one part of his body existed separately from the others. His brain was his leg, his leg was his arm and so on. When that happens, and it happens very rarely, the barrier between the person and the world around them breaks down. Whatever made James Mooney only human was beginning to dissolve.

He turned for home, unaware that he had overshot his usual turning point, St James’ Well, by three miles, and also unaware that he was in mortal danger. He was in a deep trance. As he arrived at the well, two things happened at the same time. A musket ball went shooting past his ear and his body began to vibrate at an incredible speed, enough to stop him running and send him into a spin like a tornado. Within seconds he was a whirlwind of clothes and skin. Round and round he spun, until the speed transformed his body into a million strands of light. There was a long series of sparks and a loud whooshing sound. The spinning star that was James became a single ball of blinding light that hovered for a second and then disappeared. Captain Montgomery and his horse stared at the spectacle in horror and disbelief. The horse whinnied and reared, and the squire landed with a thud, hitting his shoulder a whack that would forever cause him pain. Yet another reason to hate the Mooney whelp, bane of his life. By the time his servant found him, the well and its grassy surrounds showed no sign at all that anything had happened, but something immense had. James Mooney, squire-thwarter, healer, leader, runner, had been raptured.

Chapter 2


A Rude Awakening
Bliss, Tetra, The Thought World, 5th May 1989

(Two hundred and nine years later. James awakes in the Thought World, but can’t speak and has no idea who he is. He is obviously in danger. He meets the angel Semil and the Alter Native, Emeralda. Dawn Sorva arrives in an agitated state.)

He opened his eyes. He had no choice. He was being showered with something like hailstones. But no hailstones were this sharp. Or large, or transparent. No. Impossible as it seemed, it was raining glass! The pieces crashed down on him like a thousand small spears. He realised that he was lying on a circular bed that sploshed inside when he moved. The glass pieces stuck in it and sent water gushing up all round him like small geysers. What was going on? He protected his eyes and squirmed to shield his body. He struggled to get up, but before he could, a large dagger of glass had lodged itself in his thigh. He stared at it. The glass was clear and thick and seemed to flow inside like water. The pain came then, but not only in his leg. His head started to throb and a feeling of panic rose in his chest.
“Don’t move,” said a sweet but firm voice.

He understood the words, but it was as if he was feeling rather than hearing them. They washed over him like a wave of warm water. He did what he had been told and lay on his back, breathing quickly. There was a jagged hole in the roof where the glass had been shattered. The sky was such an electric blue it made his whole body buzz. A long grey cloud came slowly sliding over the hole like a snake. Nothing so pale belonged in this place, he knew that straightaway. He shrank back and tried to bury himself in the bed, but the cloud seemed to have seen him. It took on the shape of a cobra and prepared to strike. Before it could dive, a storm of feathers covered the hole in the roof and a burst of singing filled the chamber.

“Thank you, Angels,” the first, sweet voice whispered. His skin swelled with the silvery beauty of the angels’ song and his body lifted a few centimetres off the bed. What a feeling!

Four long green hands gently pulled him down. More green hands set about pulling the glass shards out of the bed and lifting any stray pieces off his clothes, which he now realised were very colourful. All the colours of the rainbow, in fact. The green hands were attached to graceful green women. They crooned as they worked, their fingers fast as lightning. One of the angels at the roof flew down to stand behind the women. His wings were light brown with white at the tips. All of his body, apart from his arms and feet, was covered in feathers. He had an angular, intelligent face and long, grey hair. 

“We must move quickly, Emeralda” the angel said, and his speaking voice was rich as a stream of molten copper. “The forces of the Barrens must be near. You and the other Alter Natives had better go under the lake.”

The green woman nearest raised her head and James saw that her eyes were sealed shut. He also saw, without surprise, that she had a fish-tail instead of feet, and that she was hovering a little above the floor.
“Will we take the raptive with us, Semil? We could place him in the retrieving capsule to bring him down.”
The angel considered this.

“He’s conscious. Enclosing him in the capsule now might induce negative thoughts.  Also, water isn’t his native element. It might be best if I flew him to a safe location when you have healed his wound. The Thinkbank would be most suitable, the outermost ring.” He fluttered his wing feathers.

Emeralda nodded and turned towards James. A small pebble was hung on a chain round her neck. She lifted the pebble to eye-level and held it in front of his face. It was crystal, and he was fascinated by how it caught the light and turned it into a dance of colour. She lowered the pebble and looked at his wound. With her right hand she made a circle in the air above the glass in his thigh, while her left grasped it near where it stuck in the flesh. Slowly, with both hands, she eased the glass out and handed it to another Alter Native. She immediately applied her hands to the wound and began to hum. If her eyes hadn’t already been closed, he knew she’d have closed them then. She had gone deep into herself and he could feel the stream of energy she was drawing up. Any remaining panic faded and he felt wonderfully relaxing tingles inside and out.
After a short time, Emeralda took her hands from the wound and held them, palms down, about six inches above his head. Keeping them at that height, she took them down his body to his toes.
“Your colora needs a safe place and peace,” she crooned, and then, seeming to realise something, she turned her sightless eyes to him as if she could see his face. “Your colora is the total of signals from your body. We read it when we wish to know how well you are.”

Semil glanced at her and stepped closer, his back utterly straight.

“Forgive me, raptive,” he said. “In the suddenness of your awakening, I forgot to address you.” He bowed slightly. “Your presence is a great boon to us. You are in the Thought Cluster called Tetra-meme, though it is usually referred to as Tetra, or simply the Thought World. You are in the Ripple of Bliss, Sprout Province, and this is a special welcome house for raptives, called the metahouse, on Meta Island in Lake Alter. While you slept, we fed you information on the nature and ways of the Thought World, but until you discover your name you’ll not have the language to speak to us. Rest assured that your voice will come. In the meantime, enjoy the lightness of the air and all the joy of Bliss.”

The angel and Alter Natives all bowed together, as if someone had counted to three. His name? He knew that, didn’t he? He searched for it, but no, it had gone. He had also forgotten what he had been dreaming before he woke. Something active. Something… It was no use. His head was like a still lake, blank and silent. It didn’t seem to matter much, though. He just wanted to bask in the atmosphere with these beautiful beings, now that there was no danger of being sliced to pieces.

The elegant moment was interrupted by a whirring sound and an excited shuffling among the feathers overhead. 

“I have to go down there,” an urgent voice said. The voice was light and airy, rippling like a mountain stream. “Semil!” It was louder now. “It’s extremely important. I have to talk to you before you do anything.”
“Dawn Sorva, you are forbidden by the Rule to enter.” Semil flapped up towards the roof.
“For Mind’s sake, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. How can you think of the plodding Rule at a time like this? This is a matter of life and death.”

Everyone seemed shocked.
“This is no time for joking,” Semil said.
“Joking? What do you think I am? Just because I’m not always serious like you angels doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s important.” Her voice choked a little, which seemed to surprise Semil. “Please, Semil, this is serious. Trust me.”
“Very well, but come through the main entrance. I’ll meet you in the observation room. I must investigate the state of the thought-flux.”
He strode out, tapping his wing-tips together behind his back.
The Alter Natives had repaired the tear on the bed and cleaned away the glass. When Semil left, they sat around in a state like meditation. James went with the mood and looked around the chamber. It was dome-shaped and extremely big, about half an acre all in all. The floor was of stone, but a ring of lush plants grew from an area where some soil had been left exposed. Flowers of blue, yellow, red and green gushed out from wide, glossy leaves. There were bushes with red and black berries, and a tree with several different kinds of fruit. Emeralda held her pebble in front of her eyelids and followed his gaze. 
“An all-fruit tree. Do you remember?”

He didn’t know. A small distance from where he lay, a small stream was trickling down a stone wall into a pool. The glass wall of the dome itself was opaque up to about ten feet, but it was lit from inside and subtly changed colour all the time. If he looked at anything for longer than a few seconds, he felt overwhelmed by it. The falling water seemed to turn his skin liquid and he could stay looking and listening to it, almost being it, forever. When he turned to look back at the all-fruit tree, it was because the mattress underneath had shifted and rolled him a bit. But now the bed itself grabbed his attention. The water in the mattress began to rise and fall rhythmically, sweeping him into its rhythm. He laughed. No sound came out, but he liked the vibrations he felt inside.

Emeralda laughed too, a merry, body-laugh.
“The waterbed is linked to the tides of Lake Alter. Do you like it? You liked it while you slept. We could tell.”
In answer he rolled over, spread his arms and allowed the waves to rock him. He turned and twisted, rolled and rollicked. Oh yes, he liked it. He liked it a lot. Words or no words, that much he knew.