The Wizard Of Autumn

It was the Feast of St Michael or Michaelmas that occurs every 29th of September and two little children called Tom and Sarah were walking through a dark, windy wood with their lanterns held aloft in front of them, on their way home from school, when they passed an old cottage with a creaking sign hanging in front of its gate that read ‘Alchemist’.

“Who lives there?”, asked Sarah pointing towards the house.

“Don’t go anywhere near there”, said her brother Tom, “For that is where an old Wizard lives who, they say, turns things to gold and, if he catches them, little children into leaping frogs”.

A shudder ran through Sarah at the thought of meeting the old wizard.

But then, in front of them they saw him appear, an old man as tall as a tree with a long grey beard wearing robes woven from bright Autumn leaves and he had a long, twisted, wooden walking staff in his hand.

“What are you children doing all alone in these woods?”, he asked, “Don’t you know that it is not safe. Not at this time of year when ghosts and goblins roam about”.

But Tom and Sarah were more frightened of the Alchemist than Ghosts and Goblins and, not saying anything, they ran past the old man as quickly as they could.

But then, as they walked deeper and deeper into the forest, they began to get rather lost.

“Oh why did I listen to you?”, Sarah complained to her brother, “Mother always says never go through the forest, always stick to the road”.

“This is a short cut”, her Brother replied, stubbornly, “It’s quicker than following the road and we’ll be home in no time”.

However, before long even Tom was beginning to worry, for he wasn’t sure which direction was the right way home and the forest seemed the same no matter which direction he turned to look.

Then, from out of the autumn shadows where they hid, came ugly, pointy eared imps and goblins, and wailing ghouls and ghosts leaping and skipping about and cackling with wicked glee and the tallest among them, the one-eyed, scaly skinned, bat-winged and frog-footed Goblin Chief, whose name was Burgalump, when he saw the little children, said, “What have we here; a little boy and girl? Won’t they make a tasty feast, my fellow fiends?”.

And, before either of them could say a word, their arms were seized firmly by long clawed, slimy, skeletal fingers and they were being dragged towards a large black, bubbling witches cauldron.

But both Tom and Sarah wore pendants with the cross of St Michael upon them and seeing them remembered the Saint whose day it was and called out to him, “St Michael, please save us”.

Suddenly, a whirling wind blew into the forest, whipping up leaves from the forest floor and then, to the fear and astonishment of the goblin Chief and his loathsome crew, the wind turned into an angel, with wings covered not in white feathers but golden autumn leaves; a wreathe of Michaelmas daisies for a crown and, in his hand, he carried a flaming sword.

“St. Michael! It is him!”, shrieked all the ghouls and imps and goblins in terror running back into hiding.

Then, taking hold of each of the children by the hand the Angel flew them through the forest as fast as the autumn wind.

But then, to their surprise, they saw that he had brought them back to the house of the Alchemist.

“You are St. Michael, aren’t you?”, asked Tom of the angel.

The angel pointed a finger towards the sign on the gate that said ‘Alchemist’ and, astonished, the children saw the letters of the word magically rearrange themselves into ‘St. Michael’.

“Now it is Autumn”, said the angel, “Later it will be called Spring. Goodness has many names and many faces”.

Then they saw the Angel turn back into a wizard with a long grey beard and a robe of autumn leaves.

“Is it true that you turn things into gold?”, asked Sarah, her courage growing upon seeing that the Alchemist was not scary after all.

“As truly as the Wizard of time turns green leaves into gold or makes golden light out of leaden darkness”, the Alchemist replied and, picking an autumn leaf off of a sycamore tree he transformed it, with only a single touch, into a leaf of solid gold and handed it to the little girl.

But, taking hold of it, Sarah saw, to her disappointment, that it only turned back from a leaf of gold into an ordinary Autumn leaf.

“It is not made of gold at all”, she complained.

“All things are made of gold. You just have to look at them properly”, he replied.

And, looking at the leaf and concentrating, Sarah saw it become solid gold again.

But, listening from behind the trunk of a bare willow tree, was the Goblin Chief Burgalump who had followed the autumn-winged angel through the forest and, hearing that the Angel who had frightened him so much was not the real St. Michael but merely a wizard in disguise, he felt
angry that he had been tricked.

Then, from behind the narrow trunk of the Willow tree, both the Alchemist and the children saw an absurdly enormous red and golden dragon appear, breathing blue smoke and purple fire from its mouth and nostrils and, just like Burgalump, it had only one enormous red eye at the centre of its forehead.

“Quick! Quick, Children”, said the Alchemist to Tom and Sarah, “Run inside my house and shut the door behind you. You’ll be safe in there”.

And, as he said this, the door of his house flew open and the children, heeding his words, ran inside the house, closing the door which seemed to magically bar itself with a door-bolt like a zig-zag thunder bolt.

Then, the window shutters of the house magically opening, the Children looked out through its windows at what was happening outside.

Facing the dragon that now towered over him, the Children assumed that the Alchemist might turn himself into a larger dragon but then, to their surprise, they saw the Wizard transform himself
into a dappled unicorn with a horn of bronze.

Seeing the unicorn at his gigantic feet, Burgalump just laughed long, flaming and thunderous laughter, “Ha! Ha! Ha! Is that the best that you can do? I shall be picking my teeth with that unicorn horn after I’ve devoured you whole”.

The Unicorn said nothing but, using its horn it drew a circle in the earth about itself and, when the Dragon tried to breathe fire upon it, it was amazed to see that the fire could not penetrate the circle.

Roaring ferociously with anger, the dragon then tried to snap at the unicorn with its enormous jaws filled with sharp, sabre teeth but this was just what the Alchemist had hoped for.

The moment that the dragon brought its head close to take a bite, the unicorn leapt upwards towards the dragon’s one enormous eye with its sharp horn, piercing the eye and permanently blinding the dragon.

Letting out a long fiery scream of pain and terror, the dragon clutched its eye with both of its hands, blue goblin blood and yellow goblin tears running out between its enormous dragon fingers and then, afraid of what the Alchemist might do next, the goblin dragon turned tail and fled back home to its shadowy hole deep in the forest.

The door of the Alchemist’s house now magically unbolting and opening itself, the children came running out, cheering.

“That was amazing”, said Tom, excitedly

“Yes it really was”, agreed Sarah, smiling and nodding.

“Light was born to overcome darkness”, replied the Alchemist, “Like the Springtime. It’s only a matter of perseverance, courage and time”.

But then it was time, the Alchemist thought, for them to go home and so, picking up an amber coloured leaf from the ground he blew upon it and, flying from his hand and floating to the ground, it grew and grew until it was as large as a rowing boat.

“Sit upon the leaf, wish and it will take you home”, he said.

And then, doing as the wizard had told them, Tom and Sarah felt the miraculous, giant leaf rise up into the air and soon they were flying as fast as the autumn wind over the forest until, seeing their house below them they felt the giant leaf slowly descend, landing gently in front of their mother who was hanging up clothes upon the washing line.

“What on earth?!”, exclaimed their mother.

“We’ve just had the most amazing adventure”, said Tom, “We went into the forest and met the old Wizard who lives there”.

Their mother looked at them disapprovingly, “Now I told you two never to go into the forest by yourselves”, she said, wagging her finger.

“Oh but I’m glad we did”, said Sarah, gleefully, “Otherwise, we never would have met him”.

Then Sarah dug a hand into her pocket and pulled out the autumn leaf that the wizard had given her.

“Just look, mother”, she said, handing it to her mother.

“I’ve seen autumn leaves before”, she scoffed, “Lots of times”.

But then, to her astonishment, the leaf turned to solid gold.

“That’s the magic of Autumn, Mummy”, explained Sarah, joyfully, “The Wizard says everything’s
made of Gold. You only have to see it”.