Rosemary Bluebell Read online

  ROSEMARY BLUEBELL

  GUERNICA WORLD EDITIONS 16

  ROSEMARY

  BLUEBELL

  Hadi Atallah

  GUERNICA

  TORONTO—BUFFALO—LANCASTER (U.K.)

  2019

  Copyright © 2019, Hadi Atallah and Guernica Editions Inc.

  All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise stored in a retrieval system, without the prior consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law.

  Michael Mirolla, editor

  Cover design: Allen Jomoc, Jr.

  Interior layout: Jill Ronsley, suneditwrite.com

  Guernica Editions Inc.

  1569 Heritage Way, Oakville, (ON), Canada L6M 2Z7

  2250 Military Road, Tonawanda, N.Y. 14150-6000 U.S.A.

  www.guernicaeditions.com

  Distributors:

  University of Toronto Press Distribution,

  5201 Dufferin Street, Toronto (ON), Canada M3H 5T8

  Gazelle Book Services, White Cross Mills

  High Town, Lancaster LA1 4XS U.K.

  First edition.

  Printed in Canada.

  Legal Deposit—First Quarter

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2018957027

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Atallah, Hadi, author

  Rosemary Bluebell / Hadi Atallah.

  (Guernica world editions ; 16)

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-77183-411-7 (softcover).--ISBN 978-1-77183-412-4 (EPUB).--ISBN 978-1-77183-413-1 (Kindle)

  I. Title. II. Series: Guernica world editions ; 16

  PZ7.1.A83Ros 2019j813’.6C2018-905248-1

  C2018-905249-X

  For the rain and the moon

  For the wind and the womb

  For my outside and my insides

  For running round and round

  Man, of course, it is real …

  When you know you’ve wasted enough time,

  write a song about it or just cuss loudly,

  but don’t regret silently and enter the shadows

  that are so patiently waiting to consume your light.

  Want—to—become. Don’t be deep in the shallow.

  Travel till your voice resonates. Life is hunger after all.

  It all depends on what you eat, and my only advice is:

  “Steady as she goes.”

  CONTENTS

  Courage

  Loyalty

  Awareness

  Wisdom

  Strength

  Acknowledgments

  About the 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, abo
ut 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 mildness, a sure sign of coming Spring. After all, the rain during the past several days heralded its forthcoming.

  “Hello there, Doctor Blossom,” the little girl said, extending her hand. “My name is Rosemary.”

  “I know who you are,” the botanist said, taking Rosemary’s hand. “Your abilities are worth examining.”

  Aster cleared his throat.

  “I mean you’re extraordinary,” Doctor Blossom continued nonplussed, with a sentimental smile etched on his face.

  “What have you got for me?” Rosemary asked, staring at Doctor Blossom’s eyes wedged under thick eyebrows.

  “Well, since your name is Rosemary,” he replied, moving his torso and hands for accentuation, “I’ve decided to get portraits of the Lamiaceae. It is a family of flowering plants.”

  “Okay,” Rosemary said.

  Her tone gave Doctor Blossom the signal to carry on.

  “The rosemary shrub happens to be a part of the Lamiaceae plant family,” Doctor Blossom said good-naturedly. “Other plants are part of the Lamiaceae family too, plants such as sage, mint, basil, oregano, thyme and lavender.”

  “So you want me to make all of them appear using my mind?” Rosemary said.

  “Well, that’s what I had in mind, young one,” Doctor Blossom replied. “I know that you told your father that your imagination is your limitation, and I think that only someone brilliant can identify his or her limitations.”

  Rosemary nodded wordlessly; her little joke obviously had failed miserably.

  “However, if you overcome this limitation, you would be qualified to do whatever you wish for,” Doctor Blossom said with glistening eyes.

  “Of course, we all have to start somewhere,” Aster said. “Can we commence?”

  “Yes, we can. Are you ready?” Doctor Blossom whispered with satisfaction to Rosemary, as he knelt down so that his eyes were level with hers.

  “Always,” Rosemary replied in a dreamy voice, and she seemed to enter a state of reflection.

  “Very well,” Doctor Blossom said as he rose up to his feet.

  He reached for a piece of plain cloth that cloaked portraits standing upright on the wooden floor. They were supported by a chaise lounge that was situated in the middle of the room.

  “Show me how you can make these plants appear,” he said with a hint of excitement in his voice.

  He quickly seized the piece of cloth and snatched it off the seat revealing several portraits of meticulously sketched plants. Some sketches portrayed plants with long and small green leaves, while others had greyish-green leaves. Rosemary knew that she was studying the thyme and sage drawings. Additionally, one portrayed a plant with narrow leaves and bluish-purple flowers, that one was most definitely lavender. Another sketch illustrated a plant with small purple flowers and that was none other than oregano.

  “She usually says a little rhyme before making plants and flowers appear,” Aster said in a casual manner, while the sound of a donkey cart rattling past the windows failed to startle anyone.

  “Go on little one,” Doctor Blossom said. “We’re waiting.” He gestured towards the portraits just as Rosemary’s little rounded cheekbones were brought into sharp relief. She hummed to herself with her eyes closed then began to say in an hypnotic way:

  Everything small happened to be

  A very important matter to me

  Then a call came from deep within

  And I began to sprawl, slump and sing

  Rosemary opened her eyes. There before her were several plants springing up from the floor and swaying in the breeze.

  “That’s marvelous!” Doctor Blossom exclaimed, while Aster laughed in a raucous manner. “Lavender! Oregano! Thyme! Sage! They are all alive!” the doctor called at the top of his voice.

  But it did not take very long for the plants and flowers to morph back to dust.

  “That was astounding, my daughter!” Aster yelled, giving his daughter a gentle pat on her head. And then, he added, exchanging a wink: “Learn to be accountable, competent and truehearted—you might go somewhere, to a place no one has ever been before.”

  “So they just appear and then disappear?” Doctor Blossom asked. He had his back to Rosemary so she could not tell what his eyes were doing at that moment.

  “We’re still working on keeping them alive for a longer period of time,” Aster replied. “Isn’t that right, Rosemary?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Then set this as your main aim, little one,” Doctor Blossom said making low clapping sounds with his hands. “Aiming will give you a sense of power.”

  “It will also help you to concentrate and it will most certainly motivate you to become much more accomplished,” Aster said.

  “This evidently opens up many windows of opportunities,” Doctor Blossom said, now rubbing his hands with excitement. “I will obtain portraits of exotic plants, maybe plants that are extinct—I am also thinking of plants and flowers that are edible.”

  “Soon we shall be dining on her fine quality creations,” Aster yelled, striking Doctor Blossom with an amiable slap on his shoulder. “The servant outside will escort you to the main door,” he added opening the door to the room, while Doctor Blossom rubbed the pain away as he slipped by.

  “Rosemary—I am very proud of you, dear,” Aster said generously to his daughter with wide astonished eyes.

  Rosemary thought that it would have been nice to witness her father’s tears of pride, but his tears had dried up ever since her mother’s departure.

  “You will take Pandemville to another level with your gift!” He flashed a smile and shut the door.

  “Maybe I feel
like doing something else, father,” Rosemary said softly, while her father adjusted his black robe with cardinal trimmings. “I’m bored of making flowers spring up all day—I’ve made hundreds of different plants and flowers sprout ever since I was five.”

  “And now you’ll become an expert with a wider knowledge of different plants and flowers from all across the land!” Aster said in a loud and authoritative voice. “Do you understand what you could be capable of?”

  “Maybe I don’t want to wrap my mind around that!” Rosemary shouted.

  “Lower your voice and don’t …” Aster yelled, but Rosemary inched away silencing him immediately.

  The sight of her fearing him was like a spear through his chest.

  “Listen closely, dear one,” he said exhaling. “You cannot make flowers or plants grow without examining them first because you don’t have the imagination.”

  Rosemary remained silent, thinking to herself that she had examined enough flowers for a lifetime.

  “There are hundreds of different species left for you to see, and there is one that I hold so close to my heart,” Aster said revealing a golden necklace from around his neck. But Rosemary noticed that the pendant was hidden in his palm. “In my hand is a golden depiction of the Aida flower.”

  “The Aida flower?” Rosemary said, squinting to see.

  “Yes—the Aida flower,” Aster said, chuckling. “You’re too young to find out what it can do—I don’t want you to even grow it until I think that it is the right time for you to do so and believe me—the temptation to do so grows by the day.”

  Rosemary pursed her lips and kept silent with her head bowed.

  “First you have to understand yourself better because that would make you stronger,” Aster said gently lifting Rosemary’s chin so that her eyes met his. “Have integrity on the inside,” he said, pointing at her chest.

  “For self-reliance on the outside,” Rosemary continued her father’s statement for the umpteenth time.