Copperhill Media announces the release of “Painted Wings and Giants’ Rings” by Wilfried F. Voss on Amazon Kindle (US) as well as the UK Edition.

The following is an excerpt from the novel:

A bright moon illuminated the lady’s short walk on the platform toward the end of the passenger building. She stopped, when she reached the corner, and she peeked around, but there was nothing that would possibly raise a concern. She gazed at a small plaza, surrounded by what seemed to have been small stores a lifetime ago, with an old but dysfunctional water fountain in the center of it. There were visible marks on the ground in a big circle around the fountain where once had been benches.

This once was a happy and peaceful place, she thought, like a park full of music and entertainment, and, after all, joy.

In her mind, she imagined a lively place filled with passengers studying their schedule, shoe shiners offering their service, musicians enticing each passerby to leave a small donation, clowns and harlequins making fun for the children, and…

I need to get going! We need the magic dust, and we need it sooner rather than later.

She had no trouble finding the red door. It was right around the corner, and, as Isabel had described it, it was the only door without any visible damages. She pulled the handle and the door, though very heavy, opened smoothly without a sound. Siobhan was surprised by the warm, yellow light that emerged from the building’s interior. She took another step forward into the doorway, and there, at the far wall of the room she saw a tremendously large pile of bags, all filled with magic dust. There were tracks of shiny magic dust all over the floor.

“Customer!” a voice yelled, and Siobhan, startled by the unexpected greeting, jumped back.

“See what you did?” another voice came up. “You scared the dear lady.”

“Come on in, dear,” the voice continued. “Reginald will be back in a minute to serve you.”

But Siobhan was not convinced. “Who are you?” she asked. “And, more importantly, where are you?”

“Well, my dear lady, you will need to come in to see us. And not to worry, we are friendly, even though some of us…”

She heard a loud slap followed by an “Ouch!”

“…forget their manners at times.”

Siobhan remembered Isabel mentioning ghosts, friendly ghosts that is, and she felt comfortable enough to step into the large room. There was yet another surprise as she looked not only at two but a total of seven gofers, all of them equipped with heavy mining gear over their overalls and wearing hardhats with little lights on top of them.

One of them, apparently the foreman, holding a large pick ax in his hand, stepped forward and he bowed. “Welcome, Mylady,” he addressed her in the most respectful manner. “I am sorry we startled you.”

He threw an incensed look back at his crew who didn’t show any sign of feeling intimidated. In fact, they giggled constantly and made faces as soon as their foreman turned away from them.

“Usually, we are not allowed in here when customers are present,” the foreman continued, “but we had just delivered our daily production of magic dust, and, as it turns out, Reginald has a serious case of diarrhea.”

Laughter filled the room again as he turned his back on the mining crew, but he stopped it instantly with yet another angry look.

“Well, I guess, soap may be high in fiber, but…”

“But it looked like a nice piece of candy!”

Siobhan turned to her left, watching a raccoon, with his grayish-brown fur, black mask-like facial markings, and a black-ringed bushy tail, appear out of the darkness, holding up a white handkerchief and blowing his nose. Almost invisible over his fur, he wore a black and white checkerboard satin bow tie, which he clumsily adjusted.

Apparently, Reginald was not amused by the giggling that greeted him.

“And if I find the one who wrapped it into nice purple paper and put it on my desk…,” he grumbled.

“Gotta go!” the foreman yelled and called his crew to attention. All seven of them lined up, the foreman upfront, and they marched around the pile of magic dust bags and into the darkness of the building, and they sang.

“Hi-ho! Hi-ho! It’s off to work we go…”

“You are not the seven dwarfs!” Reginald yelled after them. “So, cut it out, will you?”

“Okay, but you’re no snow white, either,” came a voice out of the dark followed by laughter.

“Never said I was!”

Reginald waddled across the room where an old wooden desk stood with a red, burning candle dripping wax onto the shiny table top.

“I am sorry, Mylady,” he smiled at Siobhan as he took place on the chair behind the desk. “They play rough, but if you get to know them better, you realize they have their hearts in the right place. Golden hearts, so to speak.”

He giggled and tucked the handkerchief into his pocket and adjusted his bow tie yet again. Then he was all business.

“So, how can I help you today, my dear lady?”

Lady Quack curtsied.

“I am in need for some magic dust, Sir.”

“Magic dust, hmm,” Reginald the raccoon, purveyor of world-famous Saint Leonard Station magic dust, grumbled. “Let me check the inventory.”

He bent down, opened the desk drawer and, releasing a heavy “Oomph!,” pulled out a large and extraordinarily thick book which he dropped on the desk with a loud thump.

“Magic dust,” he mumbled again and opened the book and started paging through it. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

I wonder if he’s gonna pull out some glasses.

“No, Mylady,” the raccoon smiled. “My eyes are quite well.”

He turned his attention back to the book. “How much would you need, Mylady?”

“One bag would be sufficient, I was told.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Not sure we have any. Let me see.”

Lady Quack peeked over to the large pile in the back of the room, but she waited patiently to be served, while Reginald consulted with his book again.

“Aha!” he finally called out. “You are in luck today! I see, we just received a delivery.”

He stepped down from his seat and quickly waddled over to the pile where he remarkably quickly and quite indiscriminately picked a single bag and returned to his desk. He placed the bag next to the book, climbed back onto his seat, and continued to page through the book.

He shook his head. “I apologize for the inconvenience, Mylady, but the price for magic dust has gone through the roof lately.”

Siobhan’s heart skipped for a moment. “How much will it be for a bag of magic dust, Sir?”

“As I said, Mylady, prices have gone up.”

He looked up from the book. “Mylady, can you afford the investment of a big smile?”

Reginald watched her expression. “Paid!” he yelled. “It was nice doing business with you, Mylady, but, if you don’t mind, I need to close now. Have to keep an eye on those guys in the mines and make sure they actually work.”

He handed the bag to Siobhan, and she gladly and with a broad smile took it.

“They have a habit of playing cards, you know, and...”

Being shoved by Reginald the raccoon, Siobhan quickly turned around to leave the room. Once outside she turned back to say thank you, but she looked at an empty room.

“…I hate when they play without me.”

She smiled, tightly holding on to her precious bag, and she turned to make her way back to the passenger platform.

“Excuse me, my dear lady.”

Siobhan jumped when she heard the voice next to her.

“Oh my God, I didn’t hear you coming,” she said to the little boy who looked at her curiously just a few feet away. He was dressed sparsely. As a matter of fact, it looked as if he had merely a large cloth wrapped around his waist. He had no shoes, but he carried an old and shabby backpack. In stark contrast, his head was adorned with the most beautiful turban shimmering in all colors of the rainbow.

“I am sorry, my dear Lady,” the boy addressed her in the most polite manner, “for startling you, but I am on a mission.”

“Oh, you are?”

“Yes,” he nodded and wiped his nose with his bare arm where a sleeve or even a handkerchief would have been more suitable. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Siobhan. And who are you?”

“I am Teddy,” the little boy responded proudly, “and I am five and a man. I am on my way to the rainbow’s foot. Do you know where it is?”

Siobhan shook her head. “I am sorry. I would certainly tell you if I knew where it was, but it is still night, and I don’t think you can see a rainbow at night.”

Teddy was not amused. “I never thought about that, and nobody told me that, either. Alas, as I said, I am on a mission. I bid you farewell, my dear lady.”

With these words uttered, he turned and walked away.

“Good luck,” Siobhan called after him.

Time to go back to the Sky Flyer. Everybody’s waiting for me.

She closed her eyes with delight and took a deep breath to inhale the spring air.

Hibiscus, she thought. There is hibiscus somewhere. I love the smell of hibiscus! It’s just that pollen…

“Achoo!” She had felt that immense tingling in her nose, and it came out as a violent sneeze. “Excuse me!”

“Ges-hoo-ndheit!”

Siobhan looked up, searching through the surroundings with her eyes, and she noticed a tiny snow owl sitting on a roof.

“Thank you.” She bowed.

“You look like you need some help, Mylady,” came another voice from behind her. Siobhan turned around, and there stood a tall man in a dark uniform and wearing the typical conductor’s hat.

Gosh! This is a busy place!

“Did you just arrive or are you taking off?”

Siobhan watched his face and, behind a humongous mustache, she recognized a friendly smile and a pair of quiet and gentle eyes.

“Oh, I just arrived,” she explained quickly.  “Isabel, the little pink tank engine, brought us here.”

The conductor pulled out a golden pocket watch from his vest and checked the time. “Ah, that’s what I thought. An unscheduled arrival!”

Siobhan nodded. “We came to get some magic dust, and we’re taking off again with the Sky Flyer.”

The conductor stuffed the clock back into the pocket. “Oh, you are on a special transit then! Quite impressive. We haven’t had that much commotion in a while here. Come on sit down and tell me more.”

The conductor took a few steps toward the fountain, snapped his fingers, and there, right before him appeared a bench. Siobhan also heard the water splashing in the fountain, and she saw a flock of birds taking a bath.

“I am sorry, Sir,” Siobhan sadly responded, staying put where she stood, “but my brother is waiting for me, and we need to take off soon. I would very much enjoy talking with you, but I am afraid I don't have the time.”

“No time?” the conductor called out, throwing up his arms in mocked despair. “You almost sound like an adull, and here you are, a beautiful young lady, who shouldn’t have the time to worry about time. Nevertheless, let me remedy the time issue.”

He pulled up the sleeve on his left arm to reveal his Micky Mouse wristwatch, and made sure Siobhan noticed the second pointer moving. Yet again, the conductor snapped his fingers and the pointer stopped.

“Can I interest you in a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich?”

Siobhan gleamed. “I love peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches!”

The conductor pointed toward the bench near the fountain where the birds were still busy taking a bath and taking a sip or two. “Well, then join me, please.”

They walked over to the bench, and sat down at either end, looking at the picnic basket between them in anticipation of some good munchies.

“By the way,” the conductor said, “my name is Melvin.”

“And I am Siobhan. Nice to meet you, Mr. Melvin.”

“Oh, you can just call me Melvin.”

Siobhan shook her head. “My mom told me that I always should address people of authority as Mister or Misses, and you are, without a doubt, a person of authority.”

Mr. Melvin laughed. “Your mother is a wise woman.”

Then he leaned over and opened the basket and pulled out a sandwich wrapped in a white paper with a pink napkin on top.

“Peanut-butter and jelly,” he said and offered it to Siobhan who was eager to accept it. He grabbed inside the basket again.

“I myself prefer a yummy sourdough bread with salami.”

Siobhan’s eyes were wide open. “Sourdough with salami? That’s my absolute favorite!”

Mr. Melvin looked at the sandwich. “To be honest,” he winked at her, “but my absolute favorite is a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich.”

They quickly exchanged their sandwiches, but Siobhan insisted on keeping her pink napkin. Mr. Melvin took a first, generous bite and chewed it with obvious pleasure while he cleaned some crumbs from his mustache.

They both stopped their chewing for a moment as a little tin soldier with only one leg hopped by, closely followed by the most beautiful and graceful ballerina made out of paper.

“Good evening,” the soldier saluted, but hopped on without as much as expecting a response.

“Good evening,” the little ballerina bowed, but was quick to follow the little tin soldier.

“This is quite a busy place here,” Siobhan tried to make conversation with her mouth full of delicious sourdough bread with excellent, hard Italian salami.

“Yes,” the conductor responded proudly. “These were a couple of Andersons. And I know, you just met a Kipling, but we also have some Tolkiens, some Lewises, a lot of Grimms, a few Boyntons, quite some Carles, and some …”

“Oh, I love Eric Carle!”

“Yeah, he is quite popular here.”

“How about Seusses?”

“Sorry, but no. We voted them out. Unfortunately, most children, especially the small ones, are afraid of Seusses, and, even more unfortunate, most parents don’t pay attention to that simple fact. They were forced to grow up with Seusses, and that is the only reasoning behind exposing their own kids to them. Child psychology gone awry, I would say.”

Siobhan nodded. “Yes, I agree. Seusses are weird, totally made for adulls.”

She took another bite. “How about Sesames?” she asked with a full mouth.

The conductor shook his head. “Nope. Would have loved to have them, but we couldn’t afford the copyright.”

“You know,” he continued in a melancholy manner after taking another bite out of his sandwich, “this is when the dark forces of adulthood rule, when innocence gets lost. It starts off with an admirable mission of entertaining children, but it always ends up with profit thinking. All that counts in an adult world is profit, profit, and nothing but profit.”

I think somebody needs a little cheer-up.

Out of the blue and without a fair warning whatsoever, there came a loud and guttural cry from far away. “Cookies! Me want cookies!”

Mr. Melvin looked up from his sandwich.

“Very funny, Reginald!” he called into the general direction from where comment had come, and he laughed.

“What was that about?” Siobhan asked.

The conductor grinned. “Oh, we have had some applications for asylum by some Sesames. Apparently, they had some food issues. I mean, I personally like vegetables, but… Anyways.”

Mr. Melvin watched Siobhan as she wiped her mouth, and when she was finished, ready for another big bite, he spoke again.

“So, what brings you here, Miss Siobhan?”

Then he corrected himself. “I get it, you came here to get some magic dust. So, my question should be, where are you going from here?”

Siobhan’s face darkened. “To a dark place, I am sorry to say.”

Mr. Melvin stopped chewing for a moment. “Being a conductor at Saint Leonard Station, I know a lot of foreign destinations, but I never heard of a dark place.”

Siobhan looked disappointed. For a fleeting moment, she had been hopeful to get some help. “It seems, nobody knows where the dark place is. We are on our way to Llangollen, and we hope that the friendly people there will be able to help us.”

Mr. Melvin nodded. “Sorry, I can’t be of more help. But asking the people of Llangollen seems to be a formidable idea.”

He sat back and glimpsed at her. “Tell me more about your journey.”

Siobhan hesitated, but she quickly relaxed.

He’s a lovely person. And he may know something.

“And you have all the time in the world,” Mr. Melvin assured her.

In all truth, Siobhan felt happy about telling Mr. Melvin her whole story, about her Daddy falling into a dark place, about their plan to rescue him and bring him to Never-Nerverland, about their arrival at Humperdinck and how they had run out of magic dust. She felt a great deal of weight leaving her shoulders.

Once finished with her story, she looked at Mr. Melvin who sat there in deep thoughts.

“Again, I am sorry about not knowing where the dark place is,” he finally spoke, “but, for what it’s worth, I have a thought.”

Siobhan eyed him expectantly, and he released a deep and long sigh.

“I have to warn you, though,” he winked. “It may not be what you expect.”

“Anything, Mr. Melvin, anything.”

He nodded and took another deep breath. “I was thinking… How do I put this in the most sensible words? Well, you and your brother, you are kids.”

Siobhan nodded.

“Well, that’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” Mr. Melvin laughed. “But let me add another obvious fact.” He paused.

“What?”

“Well, your father, who seems to be a likeable guy, is an adult.”

“So what’s your point? Besides the obvious, I mean.”

Mr. Melvin snorted, and then he grinned at her, just to turn serious again after a few moments.

“My point is, Miss Siobhan, are you sure, you are looking in the right place?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, obviously,” and he waved his arm over the scenery in front of them, “Humperdinck is a kids’ place and so is, I must assume, the land of Llangollen.”

Siobhan nodded, encouraging him to go on.

“You know, in my whole career as a conductor, I have never heard of a dark place in a child’s world.”

“What does that mean, Mr. Melvin?”

He shook his head, and he appeared genuinely concerned. “To be honest, my dear lady, I don’t know. Apparently, I have been living here too long to be involved with dark places, but I am sure, if you think about it for a while, you will have a better answer than I.”

Siobhan felt sorry for Mr. Melvin.

He doesn’t deserve that I leave him in a sad mood. I need to cheer him up. I owe him that much.

“I thank you very much, Mr. Melvin,” she said to him. “I will gladly take your advice and think about it.”

She was relieved to see him smile again, and then she had a thought.

“Do you have a family, Mr. Melvin?”

Mr. Melvin stood up and stretched. “I once had a family,” he said, “but they all died during the war.”

Siobhan was shocked. “What war, Mr. Melvin?”

Mr. Melvin thought about the proper answer, and it seemed he was slightly confused. He shook his head again. “To tell the truth, I don’t remember,” he said without emotion.

“There were so many,” he added, “and I don’t even know what the fight was about.”

He checked his pocket watch again. “Great Caesar’s Ghost! It was almost 4:30 when we started this. The express will be coming in soon. Well, provided time starts running again.”

Then he looked up from his watch and noticed Siobhan’s worried face, and he smiled at her. “Not to worry, Miss Siobhan, I am all right. I live in a children’s world, and all the trains coming in and going out, all the Andersons, Kiplings, Boyntons, Grimms, Carles, and many more, they all are my family. I couldn’t be in a happier place, and that is a guarantee for a long and joyful life.”

He pecked her cheek. “Time for you to go on, Miss Siobhan, and time for time to go on.”

Mr. Melvin snapped his fingers, and Siobhan watched the bench with the picnic basket on it disappear. The water in the fountain had stopped, and she noticed the second pointer on Mr. Melvin’s Pooh the Bear watch, the one on his right wrist, moving. Then, slowly but steadily, as Mr. Melvin waved goodbye at her, and he began to fade until he had disappeared altogether.

About Wilfried F. Voss

Wilfried F. Voss was born and raised in Germany, but for the past twenty-four years, his home and his heart have been in beautiful New England. His professional background allowed him to travel all over the world, until he found his home in the United States. He is married to an Irish-American green-eyed redhead, and in 2007 he was blessed with the birth of his son, Patrick.

Mr. Voss is the author of “The Bleeding Hills,” a thriller dealing with modern aspects of the Irish Troubles, and “American Male Prostitute,” a satiric look at the book publishing industry.