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Title Author
Stories From Beyond the Clouds Clifford Thurlow
Awaiting Picture

Stories From Beyond the Clouds. Since the invasion of Tibet by China in the 1950's, every attempt has been made by China to obliterate all aspects of Tibetan society, their culture and traditions. The spiritual leader, the Dalai Lama, was forced to flee to India, as did many of his countrymen. Thankfully, these people also brought with them the oral traditions and tales of their past. This anthology of folk tales collected by Clifford Thurlow represents just one small, but significant, attempt to bring these traditional tales to the notice of the wider world community.

The stories in this volume include Footprints in the Snow, The Rainmaker, Brother Long Spring Day, Siruk Khabuk, The Statue and the Jewel, Paper Flowers, The Three Sisters, A Little Fish Laughed, The Corpse, The King and the Thief, and The Dream.

Publication Date eBook Code File Size Pages ISBN Price
27 Dec 2008 MCLT004 1113k 161 £5.00 GBP

Excerpt 1:

Few men were a part of the mighty Earth. The Master was one. He knew her secrets, his joy was her joy. He knew when the snows would come, he watched the mountain tops, smiling, knowing that soon the rugged peaks would wear a white blanket of snow, a blanket that would stay in its position until the first day of spring. The Master watched the clouds, knowing each one, like the faces of school friends that change, yet are always the same, impregnated on the brain like an old scar. He would watch them drift across the sun, change colour and shape, forming and reforming, the gaseous vapour creating the faces of Gods, then the black, overcast look of the devil. They would rest for a while on top of the mountains, then move on, new lands, another sun to block, another endless journey to start.

Excerpt 2:

Kuma leaped back on to the cart, beat the tired horse with the leather thongs and raced off into the fading day like one of the riders from hell. Great pain gripped the girl's heart, the dam of pent up emotions suddenly burst as she gave way to violent sobbing, the tears flowing like rain from her cloudy eyes. She buried her soft face in the delicate hands that had weaved the most beautiful carpets in the world and prayed that a saviour would come and save her from the terrible fate that Kuma would no doubt have in store. In her mind she saw a great lord in shining garments, his silver sword flashing in the sunlight, his hair hanging long as he dashed to rescue the maiden. She saw wild tigers leaping at the tiny wooden box, the cell in the sand dunes, but then the great lord would wade in without fear to beat down the savage beasts. He would lift her upon the white stallion, her pauper's clothes were now fine chiffon, pure white silks and brocades. Together they rode off as the sun slowly sank.

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