“You must keep in mind that hundreds attended the seminary a century before we arrived there. Many became missionaries, traveling the world, enlightening the masses, saving souls, and no doubt having a jolly good time abroad. When they returned, they brought back cultural items—parting gifts from local tribesmen or simply objects they picked up along the way. Over time, those items were amassed in the seminary’s basement, serving as an in-house museum. This was well before the Internet and even before television exposed us to other continents. Young seminarians would tour the collection, studying the relics of different heathen cultures. That collection broadened our knowledge and challenged us to follow in the footsteps of our alumni.” Rosemont paused in his telling, recalling the many good men who had traversed the seminary halls across time. “It was all well and good until 1970 when members of the United Nations developed an agreement against the trade and transfer of cultural properties.”
 
Rosemont leaned forward, his voice cut with excitement. “This meant our priests and seminarians were now sitting on top of illicit property. A vast collection of relics taken from multiple countries; all historical tokens of unique religions and cultures. Strictly speaking, the missionaries had not intentionally stolen anything. In the late 1800s and early 1900s, everyone returned from abroad with relics for souvenirs. But imagine how it looked in the 1970s! That populace perceived it quite differently: Thou shalt not steal. And you know how that goes—people’s perceptions become their realities. Remember this was the 1970s. People were starting to question priestly activities. What the Church couldn’t explain, it buried. Rather than run the risk of embarrassment or be arrested for hoarding cultural treasures, holy men simply nipped down to their collection and emptied the museum into skips in the dead of night.”

-- Excerpt from The Sheltering Stones

There had once been hundreds of holy wells dotting the countryside where pagans sought cures and blessings. Most sites were sainted by the early Church then destroyed by less tolerate Christians. Eventually, the holy wells were simply lost to neglect, forgotten by the shifting generations. She tended this sacred spot in exchange for a bit of coin. The well was near Hadrian’s Wall, drawing in a parade of curious travelers who followed her handmade signs to the site. Older residents seeking grace would tie a wishful cloutie to the tree outside the structure and wander home. Tourists, though, would drop coins into the shallow well to beg their favors, because tourists believed that everything has a price tag.

-- Excerpt from The Sheltering Stones

A forested glen fell open before them. They stepped down an embankment to walk upon its carpet of golden leaves. Late afternoon sunlight scattered across the dark woods, piercing lower branches with narrow rays of white light to illuminate mossy tree trunks and cast their long shadows upon the soft ground. The secluded woodland was ancient, undisturbed; the musty air laden with primal atmosphere. The songbirds fell silent as if holding their breath in the timeless vignette.

-- Excerpt from The Sheltering Stones

They sat in companionable silence, watching the sky catch fire as the sun fell into the sea. Clouds turned a mewling pink, then a hot scarlet, and finally a glowing orange. The water mirrored the vibrant blaze in breathless closure of the night. Scant starlight pierced the darkness. The seaside seemed so placid, yet it was twisted with trauma.

-- Excerpt from The Tide Turns