The Beads of Time
Chapter 1: Light through a Prism or The Introduction
Many years ago, back when I was a much younger woman, I was asked to set down my tale and all that happened to me so that the curious might know of my adventure. I have resisted the idea for many years, at first because I felt it was a private thing, and then later because I have never felt that I am a very good writer. But now, when old age begins to creep up on me and I see my end drawing ever closer, I find that I want to record it. I find odd satisfaction in the thought that in time, perhaps it will become but another legend that we draw strength or comfort from, though we know not the reality of it and its origins.
As most tales go, I don't think that this one is very exciting. Yes, there is danger, and mystery, and magic. These are certainly the elements of a great story, but one thing I think is lacking is this: the triumph of the hero over overwhelming evil. Though I am a figure in this tale, I would caution you that seeing is not believing. The lens of history by which we filter the events of the past can twist and bend the truth, much as light is fractured as it passes through a prism. I often wonder how much of what we think we know is what actually happened. Even now, after having been there as witness, I think that perhaps even the version I tell cannot be the absolute truth because it is colored by my perceptions and prejudices. Humans have the tendency to fit our tales to the circumstances we now see. We create our world as much as it creates us.
I used to think that I knew what was good and what was not—that evil and good were stark opposites and that good would triumph over the dark forces and we would see peace. Perhaps I am wiser now, or even just better educated, but I cannot help but think that things are not that simple. There is some good in evil, and yes, some evil in good. If anything, there is a spectrum that goes from one to the other, and where we fall on that spectrum doesn't mean as much as what we do with ourselves.
So this tale that I tell must be seen as nothing more than one beam of light shining from that prism through which the truth passes. It is not the absolute truth, nor is any of it a lie; it is nothing more and nothing less but that which I experienced on a journey that I never thought was possible. If you have the patience, perhaps you will find some truth of your very own; or at the very least, may you find some entertainment.