by John Harricharan
The piper looked at me, smiled and said, “They’ll be expecting you soon. Let’s go.” And he turned and piped as he slowly marched back to the village. I followed him at a distance until,over the next hill, I saw the village fires. A group of people was standing by in tense anticipation. As soon as they caught sight of me, they rushed over. By this time, the piping had ceased.
“You found him, eh Charlie?” One of the group asked the piper. I gazed about, quietly taking in the scene. One part of me was so much at ease that I felt I belonged there. Another part felt as if I were watching an old movie replay itself gently across the screen of my mind.
“Yes. At the right time and place. Just as we were told,” was Charlie’s reply.
For the first time since arriving here I spoke, addressing Charlie directly. “Charlie, that music was wonderful. Who is in charge here?” An elderly couple stepped out of the small crowd, and both bowed low as the man spoke.
“My chieftain! Welcome back. My wife and I are in charge now. We knew you’d come again. You’ll stay with us tonight, I hope.” I wondered why he addressed me as “My chieftain,” but thought it must be an old Scottish custom. It was almost as if I’d done this before.
“There seems to be somewhat of an emergency here,” I said. “Why are you so worried, Donald?” I knew his name without even knowing how.
“My lord,” he answered. “There’s a child in the village who is very ill. You are here to make him well.” “I am . . . ? Oh, of course, I am,” I said, somewhat surprised but not wanting to show my ignorance.
I wasn’t really sure why I seemed to remember giving some medicine to a sick child in this village, but I wasn’t worried about it. The old man led me to a small house on the other side of the village. The others followed slowly. Entering the house, I was led to a boy lying in bed, covered with thick quilts. A woman, who I guessed was his mother, sat on an old wooden chair next to him lovingly holding his hand. Donald remained in the background as I approached. She rose from her chair, grasped my hand with tears in her eyes and pleaded, “You must help him, sir. The fever is very high.” To read the rest of the story visit http://www.spiritual-simplicity.com About The Author: Lecturer, entrepreneur and MBA business consultant, John Harricharan is the author of the award-winning book, "When You Can Walk on Water, Take the Boat." For more information, visit: http://www.spiritual-simplicity.com http://www.vish-writer.com,
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