About the Book
The Legend
of Shiloh Woods
Worten had expected my response of utter astonishment. Words didn't come at
first. I stuttered and I began one sentence three times before getting it
out.
"Never have I seen anything this beautiful, never!" My words were
hushed. I felt like an altar boy from a country parish who had just walked
into Notre Dame Cathedral. Worten's face was split by a grin that showed his
irregular teeth. He kept his eyes on me. I was looking at thousands of moving
lights reflecting and refracting through diamond clear stalagmites and stalactites.
The cavern was some two hundred feet from floor to ceiling. I tried to compare
it to domed stadiums I had visited...the Superdome, Kingdome, Silver-dome...this
interior was a large as any of those.
Our perch was about halfway up one wall...the floor some ten stories below
and the ceiling equally as far above us. Across the cavern, to our left, a
waterfall cascaded into a small pool at the base of the wall. A clear, narrow
stream spilled from the pool and wound around the near side of the cavern
floor below us. Faint splashing made by the water were the only sounds to
be heard. The moving lights gave a glow to the entire room. The color was
a soft white with just a hint of pink. As my eyes adjusted to the glow, I
saw form and shape in each small light.
"Aye, ye be right. These be the nature spirits a tha forest. Yew'll
see Elves, Pixies and Fairies enterin' soon..."
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Reflections
of the Future
The wind swirled snow through the beams of the Audi’s headlights. Even
for a Sunday morning, traffic was light. The overnight accumulation of snow
crunched under the tires as the car pulled into a parallel parking space across
the street from the large brick house on the corner of 84th and Evans.
Undisturbed snow covering the other cars confirmed that most of the neighbors
were sleeping-in this morning. Robert shut off the engine and sat for a moment
enjoying the warmth of the car, knowing that it would be a cold thirty yards
to the front door of the house. He was glad he had left the heat turned up
when starting for home last night.
With snow drifting against the sides and corners of the house, it seemed
old and tired. A house really is old at eighty-eight, he thought. Grandma’s
house had always been a favorite place for him - especially at Thanksgiving
and Christmas. The family had never been large but they had always gathered
at Grandma’s for special holidays. Her death, four years ago, had changed
this along with many other things...
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