Circle of Eights, Stories

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      Back from the depths of his sleep, the dragon Naasir exhaled in a puff of smoke. He’d just woven a wonderful dream —for all dragons and creatures do dream of course, even if most humans doubt it.

      Yawning, Naasir stretched out his long slithery body. Fully stretched, his body was an impressive sight to behold. He was quite old by human standards, while in fact, he was still in his youth, and could very well stay as rambunctiously lively for many other long centuries.

      He had given the final touch to a new world he had been creating in his dream time for many nights now, and was rather proud of it —even if dragons knew no such thing as pride, his feeling at this very moment was very akin to being proud.

      He had filled this world with many wonders, dragons of course, and other creatures yet to be named. And magic was all pervasive in that world, and so slightly cloaked, that it could be used by many.
      It would be a great playground he thought, for he was not a possessive and dictatorial dragon. In fact, he could feel some others were about to step in, and tell and live the story of that world.

      Sighing in delight, like a sleepy cat of majestic dimensions, he cuddled again, about to sink deeply into the harp music playing in his mind, ready to dream and let that story be told again…

      Another Never Ending Story

      Malvina. That name had been thrown into a conversation Yann and Quintin had had together, during which Quintin had felt images come into his awareness. He had instantly liked that name.
      He was feeling the aura of a woman, long hair of a pale rosy color, with a noble bearing. That name had been around, and they had played with it to find more impressions.
      And they had felt it linked to breeding of dragons, in a sort of rookery.

      They’ve both felt her connected to Malika, an online friend of them, whose gentle touch and kindly influence, as well as her passion for dragons seemed to fit in quite interestingly.

      Then on an impulse, Quintin had begun to paint an image around it, letting his feeling guide his movements. He’d loved the peaceful environment he’d drawn, and even if he was not wont to share “unfinished” drawings, he immediately shared the initial sketches with Yann and Fiona.

      They both loved it, and Fiona even considered for a moment adopting one of the cute baby dragons to be born.
      “Buckberry” : that was the name Quintin felt for the baby dragon… But he did not see any character in that picture for Fiona. She would have to decide to step in, to get that baby dragon. What character would she be? A young impetuous rude adventuress, or an o(w)ld wizened witch? Perhaps a bit of both?

      These thoughts were now coming back to him.
      Ever since he had seen Yann’s pictures, those taken when he’d been in Old Albion, he had felt that something strange was manifesting.
      One of these intriguing coincidences: the picture of a cave that Yann has been visiting looked so strikingly similar to Malvina’s Rookery… And that playful kid in the cave was probably linked to Yann.

      So, now that the painting was finished, perhaps he could have people join in the fun. All that was required was imagination…

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    • #412

      :multimedia: CUUUUUT !

      — Ahahaha, I’m sorry, that must be the sauerkraut we had for lunch!
      — You’re kiddin’ or what? I tell you for the 58 th time, it’s supposed to be a dramatic scene filled with suspended horror and… Shite! Perhaps you’d prefer to have it Broadway-like, Teri sweetie? With parrot feathers jabbed into your bum and fairies dangling from the roof singing La Traviata?…

      — Err… You can say that’s because of the fermentation gas produced by the mould inside the mummy, and that her reviving her physiological tissues would naturally generate…
      — Who the hell is that f*cking know-it-all?
      — I’m the historical consultant, John Davis
      — Historical WHAT? Betty’s gonna hear me, I can tell ya, as if we’ve got ‘nuff budget to bother with… Aaah, get lost! Now, everyone get ready for the… Ooooh bugger! Let’s do it tomorrow.

      Marvin Scrozzezi went to his caravan exasperated. The movie wasn’t going very well, and there were all these impossible deadlines… His worst concern was about the damn budget. He’d thought it was a good idea to hire that expensive castle to do the movie. An adaptation from a book he had found recently.
      He had bargained with the author to get the rights, and that had been tough, considering his previous movies were not quite that kind of great historical epic he was supposed to do now.
      At least she had not laughed when Marvin had told her his most successful movie was The Return of the Avenging Dame Zombie of the Lake
      What a mess… Sure a good night of sleep would make it all right.


        Dory was browsing in the airport shop, waiting for her flight back to Spain. She picked up a copy of Reportilda, the travel magazine, to read on the plane. A couple of the articles highlighted on the cover caught her eye:

        Dragonfly Swarms Across The Straits…extinct species emerges from Sahara desert and swarms to rural Andalucian mountains….

        Travels With Lemur…..hilarious excerpts from Marco the Pole’s diaries…..

        Andwenden: The Forgotten Ones…….psychic archeologists discover ancient pyramid building culture…..

        Tuareg Update…….the future looks sunny for ancient nomadic culture as US pulls out….


        Mmmm, Captain,… isn’t that legend a bit long-winded? Tomkin had asked to Captain Bone.

        It had been six nights now that the Captain had told bits of that legend to Tomkin, and even if it was entertaining, Tomkin was more and more impatient to get back to meatier stuff, like galleons full of ancient magical treasures, corsairs from the Warring Kingdoms coasts, strange unknown races from far-off lands… that would be more mouth-watering than this endless legend…

        Captain Bone had laughed.

        — Aaaaah, Tomkin… of course you know I like to tell long stories, and make them longer each time I recall them, but you see, there is also a point in all of that adventure. Mævel’s story is also the story of all of us in a way. Of course, I could tell you how it ends, but in a way it never really ends. More important is for you to see it unfold and that you appreciate the unfolding. The ending is not important in a way. Each and every time this story is recalled, it is different, because it adapts to what is happening right now. Do you see?
        — So what is the point of telling me that story? It was supposed to tell me something about this strange knotted object, but I don’t see any link.
        — Ahahahaha, the point is precisely that Tomkin. I am telling you my story, but this object makes you hear your own story through my words.

        Now, Tomkin Sharple was squatting on the sand near the bonfire lit by Badul’s crew, and he was recalling the words from the Captain. At that time, when he didn’t know a thing about that strange magical object, he had not understood a thing of what the Captain had said.
        But now, it started to make sense, some sense at least. Each time the Captain had told him bits of the legend, Tomkin had been fidgeting the strange object, making the Captain smile. Perhaps the object’s magic was not only acting as a translation device…
        There was something more about it. He was no longer sure that the Captain’s story had been what he was recalling. Perhaps it was completely different, and he had translated it…
        Still, the object had apparently helped him understand what Badul and his men wanted, so it was translating truthfully. But what was a faithful translation?

        Then, a flash came into Tomkin’s mind. The Captain had given the object to him. He’d said it was about connections. Being connected.
        Till then, Tomkin had been the only one to touch it. He had not even revealed the source of his gift to Badul.
        But in the Captain’s case, both of them had been touching it. In sharing that link, they had extended trust to each other, and somehow, they had been mirrors for each other. Perhaps that was what Captain Bone meant when he said that Tomkin was hearing his own story through the Captain’s words.

        Tomkin laid down on the warm sand, looking at the clear starry night.


        — The legend of Mævel — (Part VI)

        Inside the warm burrow, Mævel found a bed of dry leaves and tender moss. She could see some light from the moon, coming through holes in the ground, which were bringing in some fresh air too. Cuddling comfortably into the makeshift bed, she started to sleep peacefully, waiting for her friend the blue fox to come back.


        Half-asleep on the beach, Tomkin was wondering… What had happened the next morning… This was fuzzy in this memory, as if the events were moving and reorganising themselves. All that he remember was that Mævel had met the blue fox, but there were myriads of possible events, and all of them were possible, dancing now in front of him.
        He could chose any of them… But, would that make the story the same?
        Then he recalled that it was his own story… So why make it difficult then…

        The voice of Captain Bone was resounding in his ear “You find value in hardships, and value is important to you and our kind. In these lands full of magic, we could just do anything, but somehow you’ll find that rare are the people who constantly use magic. Because when magic is used to make things happen instantaneously, it shifts everything around it to accommodate the changes asked by the summoner of the magic. And it can be overwhelming when too big are the differences between the too states, as we are accustomed to live within a continuity. That’s why I tell you to enjoy the ride of that legend.
        Think of it… You could be Emperor of all Lands if you knew how to use magic for such a feat. But would you do that instantaneously? Slim chances. You wouldn’t know how to behave as an Emperor, and on top of that, you probably would find the new aspect of you who is an Emperor to be overwhelming to your present aspect of little Tomkin.”

        Okay, Tomkin said… No need to skip directly to the last part… she meets the blue fox in his den, and Mævel learns about the curse of the fox.


        — Oh, really? Mævel was saying
        — Yes, I was a bit of a fool… the blue fox was telling her. But, the silver lining is that there is a way to counteract the curse. But I will need your help again, if you want.
        — I want to help you.
        — Fine. You know about Shaint Lejüs Festival?
        — Mmm, yes, my parents told me about that. It’s the Day of the Forgotten, isn’t it?
        — and of the Accursed Ones.
        — Oh…
        — That special day of the year, the Gates of Lejüs’ Realm are opened and Forgotten and Accursed Ones are given a chance to be Remembered or Graced.
        — Every year? Why then aren’t all of them Remembered?
        — Mostly because the Living Ones dread this day. They are the only ones to be able to free the Demanders, and they quickly felt haunted by the Demanders. So they did rituals to keep the Demanders away from them, as certainly your human parents did.
        — Yes, I remember now…
        — There is another reason actually. Forgotten Ones can only be Remembered when they recover their true name, and only a strong bond like love or some potent magic can force it out of Lejüs’ graps.
        — And Accursed Ones?
        — For them to be Graced, they need to do one pure act of altruism.
        — A simple act?
        — Don’t be fooled, it’s not as simple as it seems. See, I tried to rescue a woman who was drowning herself into the river, but that hunter thought I was attacking her… The fact was that she was willing to be Forgotten, and that my act was not purely altruistic.
        — How so? You probably saved her life?
        — Yes, but that was not what she wanted, and when she cried that I let go of her, I only wanted her out of the waters, because of me…
        — I understand. And how can I help?
        — One altruistic act for me would be to help a Forgotten One to be Remembered. That’s what they ask for, but it’s difficult for them to get past the barriers of the Living Ones.
        Shaint Lejüs Festival is tomorrow…
        — Yes, have as much rest as you need, Mæ. We will see tomorrow what will occur…

        F LoveF Love

          Finn felt a bit sad all of a sudden about how far away her friends were. So she sent them all a huge energy hug, and hoped they got it.



          Finn felt the time had come to call a meeting.

          She closed her eyes and waited to see which of the others would appear.

          Yuni1 arrived first. Yuni had first arrived in her meditations about a year ago, a playful, mischievous character, gnomelike, who nonetheless had always given her very wise and practical advise. Armelle the wise Owl appeared next, silently, her loving energy enveloping Finn. The Indian also appeared. Finn did not know the Indian’s name, she called him White Feather and she was pleased to see him there, having not seen him for some time. A playful Lemur came bounding over. There were several other energies present and Finn knew they would make their identity known if needed, but she could feel their support.

          I have been feeling quite heavy for several months now and it has been becoming more intense. I am tired of it. It’s as though I am wearing the cloak of heaviness again. I don’t understand it, and I don’t know how to take it off, Finn announced to the assembled group.

          I want to know if you can help me?

          Yuni spoke first, or rather he waved the faith document2 at her. Finn winced. She remembered the document well. I didn’t know you meant this long, she said quietly.

          Armelle gave her a gift. When Finn opened the box, there was a joyful explosion of light and colour. There was also a key.

          The key is Self Trust, said Finn, answering Armelle’s unspoken question.

          White Feather had been whittling a piece of wood. He handed it to Finn. It was a staff. This symbolises powerful magic, he told her.

          Finn felt herself withdraw, not wanting to cause offense and reject the gift, yet not feeling worthy.

          This is your decision, said White Feather

          Finn felt Armelle smile at her. She took the staff and thanked White Feather.

          Do you remember the boxes you made as a child? asked Armelle

          Finn nodded. It was one of the games she had loved to play with her older sister, transforming old cardboard boxes into designer rooms. They would painstakingly and lovingly decorate the interiors to create new worlds. Once the rooms were created they may play with them for a few minutes, but would pretty soon be onto the next one, it was the creating they loved.

          Cast your mind back a few years, Armelle said. What were the things you wanted then?

          Finn cast her mind back.

          You have it all don’t you, said Armelle gently.

          Yes I do, said Finn. Everything I wanted I have in my life.

          You have created powerfully Finn.

          Why do I feel so heavy? I suppose because what I thought I wanted has changed and I am trying to still keep it the same. Finn wanted to cry.

          I don’t really know what I want anymore though.

          What do you know? asked Armelle

          I know how I want to feel.


          Finn was on a raft, floating downstream. She closed her eyes and decided to let the river take her where it will.

          1 Finn had tried to spell Yuni’s name as Uni initially, interpreting him to be symbolic of one of the “faeries of the Universe”, however Yuni had been adamant that was not the correct spelling. When Finn looked up Yuni only meaning she could find was “man from Iunu”.

          2 The “Faith Document” was like a legal document Yuni gave Finn to sign, indicating that whatever happened she would keep trusting. Finn was surprised to note when she looked up in her records that this was November 1 st, exactly a year ago.


          Tina was sitting in a cafe waiting for the others to arrive.

          She was studying the play with a bemused and perplexed expression. Good grief, where was her head at? Not only had she saddled poor Arona with a baby, now she had a hunky nanny to contend with as well.

          She had been intending to bring Arona to the banquet in the cave … and had somehow got distracted.

          She read what she had written in astonishment “bronzed skin pulled taut over rippling muscles”….. “He came bounding athletically over” …. “deep, melodic voice” …and to cap it off calling him Vincentius!

          He didn’t even sound like her type, way too perfect, she mused. Thank goodness Al is nothing like that.

          Still, she wanted to trust the process and follow the pictures that came to mind when writing the play, even if she didn’t know where they were going.


          She was swimming swiftly in the cold water of the frozen zone. Baaneke was quite young by her people standards. She was also quite adventurous though inexperienced. Very curious about the beings of the other side, those who had chosen to dwell on the dry parts of this world. She was quite amused at their clumsiness whenever they fell in the ocean.

          She was aware of her flock in the distance. The clarity of the water, its coldness made the clicks and the clacks even sharper. Their language had many subtleties and it was fluctuating with the vibrational quality of the waters in which they were generated. The further you were from the source, the more distorted it could be. Though it was quite precise and with some experience it was easy to focus on the energy and not the translation into sounds. But Baaneke wasn’t so easy peasy with this focus.

          Her long body was rather slim and her color was smorgle barnished sand. She was very proud of it, and found herself quite attractive. The young male were often brömding at her… a bit rude, but she was feeling a huge satisfaction :yahoo_blushing:

          She’d been following the strange floating structures for a few days now. The ancients called them : “sshiieap”.
          She was fascinated by the beings on it… they were so awkward and it seemed to her they took great care of not diving into the waters… How odd of them, it was so easy moving in there, more easy than outside where it was so dry and windy.

          She was aware of some signal in one of the shiieap, and she was curious about it. It was quite familiar to her.


          Arthur, the bald eagle was flying quite high above the land… he was unnoticed but was here.

          He was following a raft drifting along with the current of Self River… He could see far in the distance… and could hear a tiny goaty voice

          What no bald eagle icon!?


            Sam had been feeling crap for several days now, and though it was very uncomfortable, he also felt it was for him to pay attention to what he was doing. He also knew he wasn’t alone doing this; many other energies were present and doing their own explorations.

            No separation.

            He was feeling that more and more. No separation between his focuses, and with his counterparts also, and with every focus and every aspect of consciousness.
            It felt very odd, and he was quite having a hard time trying to sort all this out or clarify what he was doing; what was himself, or what wasn’t, though it was :yahoo_at_wits_end:

            Well better not to think too hard of it — the usual way of thinking was quite unable to translate now. He would have to create his own thought patterns and find ways to communicate with others differently. :weather-showers: :weather-storm: :weather-snow: :weather-overcast: :weather-few-clouds: :weather-few-clouds-night: :weather-clear:

            Most important was his own perception of self and what he was able to create, what was all this judgment thing about? He still couldn’t understand… all the intricacies of it.


            As soon as Dory had said goodbye, Georges had felt her presence fade out. He was glad he’d met her.
            Once she was gone, he heard the voice of his beloved one… he had felt her coming for quite some time but she wasn’t very focused yet.

            — Hello my lynxounet!
            — Hahaha! How are you Salome? Long time no see :yahoo_big_grin:


            — The Murtuane seems different than the last time I came, said Salome.
            — Yes it is. People are changing it. It is becoming like a planet, spherical in a way. Badul is currently exploring its roundness.
            — Hahaha, Badul, yes.

            Salome smiled wryly.

            — And there are these 2 other potentials, emerging too. The Duane I think is physically inserted already, on the opposite side of the sun… wasn’t it called Alienor last time we came here?
            — Hehehe, you’re right… and there is that third planet, the Phrëal… a bit less physically focused. It’s trajectory is quite different from the 2 others. And in a few days it will merge with the Murtuane. That’s the reason of our presence here I think.

            Salome looked at Georges, amused. Malvina’s energy was calling them. Tea time.



            A trip to Salitre? Dory had asked them to come with her and see the pyramid… well what she thought was a pyramid.

            Yann had been thinking about that for a few days now… he wanted to see it now.
            He would wait, the time wasn’t here yet.

            — Oh Arona!

            The cat had jumped onto his lap, quite affectionately she was purring and lying trustfully. He was amazed at her letting go and allowance.
            He smiled distracted of all his thoughts.


            New Venice, November 2101

            Midora was sleeping peacefully in her baby’s bed, and Oscar was dozing on the sofa, exhausted by his new role as a mother.

            Bart was slowly finding himself back to his old studies. Just before Oscar became pregnant with their child, he was occupied with an old parchment his mother Indy had given to him.
            She had said they had found it years ago with Oscar’s mum, her friend Eugenia. It was under a glass frame, among many other stuff she had accumulated along the years, mundane bric-a-brac flirting with sublime antiques —such was her mother strange decorative style…
            Bart had known the parchment all his life, and her mother had sworn he would have it when the time would be right. During all this time he had thought she would most probably forget it altogether.

            When Bill, his father had disengaged, two years before (only two months before the New Century’s festivities, at the age of 79) Indy had said she needed to make some room in her apartment, and get rid of old things which were full of memories. After all, she was only 49, and Bill hadn’t wanted to see her wither in sadness, that would be such a waste.
            She had given him the old parchment.

            Bart had always been so close to his mother, probably because she had him so young. She was 16 when they had married with Bill, and Bart was born right after. Of course, she always played the old flattery trick when people said she must be his big sister; it wasn’t actually far from the truth.

            When he was younger, Bart had fearful dreams, of dying in atrocious pain, full of rash, at a young age in an alien and sunny place.
            Curious as to what hint it may have been, Indy had been connecting with him to the energy of the dream. And together, they had tried to find the reason of that manifestation in the young boy’s dreams.
            Despite her having such a fleeting memory, India Louise was skilled at connecting to other focuses, and particularly group ones, and Bart had found many information thanks to her. And the fearful dreams had disappeared.
            He had found he was a young prince heir of the throne of Egypt, who was supposed to marry his sister. But both had died very suddenly. It was not quite clear as to whether the illness was the result of a plot from their father Pharaoh’s enemies, but the death was very unpleasant.
            So unlike Bill’s disengagement, which was peaceful and full of love.

            So yes, people were not far from the truth when they saw them as brother and sister.
            According to Indy, the parchment was found within a cache inside the sister mummy’s sarcophagus, and might be linked to their shared focus. But her own psychic skills only extended as far as to notice connections, not as to go into more depths. That investigation, he would be able to do.


            Egypt, 2657 B.C.

            Lekshen had finished writing down what the long snouted god of his dream, Set had dictated to him.

            It was a strange story, of Set being the god of the pariahs, throwing down structures of the Holy and the Truth, for the sake of expansion. Lekshen couldn’t understand all of what he had been talked into writing, but he had felt an intense activity and thrusts of gushing energy passing through him.

            He needed sleep before hiding the text with the mummy.


            Paris, 2007

            :tile: That symbol, Quintin had dreamt repeatedly about it… It was a tile, he was sure. It could be oriented in two ways, and, depending on its orientation, it meant either injection or ejection of energy structures. It was linked to the family of the Speakers.

            Let’s insert it again then, he smiled to himself.


            When he connected with the symbols written on the parchment, Bartholomew was astounded. The energy was so familiar.
            There was a book coming from his mother. She had inherited it from her aunt, Guiny… She probably got it herself from her mother Margaret, or perhaps her step-mother BeckyBart wasn’t too sure…

            Finally, he found it. Inside the cover, there was a dedication. To you, dear Becky, happy birthday! With love, Kathy (2017).
            Kathy, Kathy… A flash of a rainbow-coloured anaconda into Bart’s mind… Must have been one of Dory’s friends.

            “There was once a god who was not a god — who was not a god, for you are dealing with legends,” he said, nearly whispering. “There was a god in ancient Egypt, and his name was Seth, and he was disreputable. And he threw aside establishments, whenever other gods rose up and said, “We are the truth, we are pure and we are holy,” this disreputable god stood up, and with a voice like thunder, said: “You are nincompoops!”

            “And the other gods did not like him,” Seth continued in his story-telling whisper, “and whenever they set up their altars, he came like thunder, but playfully, and tossed the altars asunder, and he said “Storms are natural, and good, and a part of the earth, even as placid skies are. Winds are good. Questions are good. Males and females are good. Even gods and demons are good, if you must believe in demons. But, structures are limited!”.

            “And so this god, who was not a god, called Seth, went about kicking apart the structures, and he gathered about him others who kicked apart the structures. And they were themselves, whether they were male or female. Whether they thought of themselves as good or bad, or summer or winter, or as old or as young, they were creators. They were questioners.

            “And whenever another personality set itself up and said, “I am the god before you, and my word is law,” then Seth went about saying, “You are a nincompoop,” and began to kick apart the structures. And so you are yourselves, in your way, all Seths, for you kick apart the structures, and you are the black sheep of the religions, and the black sheep of the scientists, and the black sheep of the physicians, and the black sheep of the your mothers and your fathers, and your sisters and your brothers.

            “And yet, the mothers and the fathers and the sisters and the brothers listen,” Seth went on in that quiet voice in that quiet room. “for they do not have the courage to be the black sheep…”

            Conversations With Seth, Volume 1, Chapter 9, by Susan Watkins


            — The legend of Mævel — (Part VII)

            Today was the Day of the Forgotten. Mævel had slept well, nestled into the soft and warm depth of her dreams, her head resting on the short blue fur of the fox.
            In sharp contrast with the lovely night, she awoke strangely irritated. Even the birds songs were like noise to her ears, and every sound of the forest she heard with acute intensity and a sense of being submerged by many sensory inputs.
            Hopefully, the blue fox voice was still very comforting, and she started to wonder how they could come across a Forgotten One in need.

            — I think I know where we can find some Forgotten One in need.
            — Where? asked Mævel

            The fox paused, then answered her question:
            — Near your human parents’ home.

            Mævel was surprised. She trusted the fox, and never had really questioned him, because more than that she trusted her own feelings, but now her feelings were telling her that there was something the fox had not told her. Or had told her partially. She was silent, pondering the unseen implications.

            — Mæ, I’ll try my best to answer your questions, but remember I cannot tell you everything. I can help you remember some things, but there are things that my curse does not allow me to reveal. You have to find them by your own, in order to free us…
            — Free us? I thought you were the one Cursed?…
            — Yes I am, and…
            — How do you know my parent’s home? How much do you know about me?
            — I know you since you are a baby actually. And even before…
            — Before? I don’t understand a thing… I feel there are some unseen links, that I cannot decipher, yet they are so close to…
            — You’re right, there are links, links that are important, and that I cannot reveal.
            — Why can’t you reveal them?
            — Let’s go to your human parent’s home…
            — Why do you always say my human parents?

            The fox blew in front of him, creating a wobbling sound into the air in the form of a ring large enough for them to go through it. And he hopped inside, disappearing in mid-air.

            Mævel was perplexed, but did not hesitate. She hopped too into the watery ring in front of her and found herself falling into a void, to reemerge on a bed of dry leaves in front of her parent’s home. Blohmrik the blue fox was seated in front of her, observing a shadowy form at a distance in front of them.

            — Is that the Forgotten One we will help?
            — Yes.
            — Why do you need me? You could help her, couldn’t you?
            — She wouldn’t see me, Forgotten Ones are usually obsessed by a few people, those who they feel can remember them, and don’t usually see other people. Their perception is quite different than ours.
            — Hang on a minute… Why do you think she will see me?

            Mævel looked into the eyes of the fox, and she knew.

            — We are linked.

            It was more an affirmation than a question.
            Mævel wondered who that shadowy figure was. When she focused on her, the form was getting more solid, and she could catch glimpses of how she looked like. And she was surprised. She was about her age, with long blond hair as hers.
            Mævel’s voice was broken:
            — My parents had told me I was about to die when I was a baby, then by a sort of miracle, I became healthy… Was that true?… I mean… Was that a gentle way of telling me that I had a twin who died or…
            — No, Mæ. She is not you. She is not linked to you by blood. You can talk to her, she will listen to you.

            So Mævel went to see the shadowy figure. She had stopped wandering and trying to find an opening around the house, for there were none for spirits: all openings were locked by stripes of red cloth hung onto the doors and windows.
            Mævel felt the pain of the Forgotten One as she approached her.

            — Who are you? she suddenly asked Mævel, raising her head at her approach.
            — I am Mævel.
            Mævel… It means marvel of Maÿ… I was born in Maÿ…
            — What are you doing here?
            — This is my parents’ home.
            — How is that possible?
            — Twenty one year ago, I was taken away from them, given to Shaint Lejüs in place of a fairy princess. But Shaint Lejüs was no fool, he had sent his apprentice to spy on the fairy king.
            — Blohmrik?!
            — Yes, Blohmrik… But Blohmrik disobeyed the Elder God, and when he saw the exchange that was about to happen, he let it happen. He wanted to protect the fairy princess from his master. Because Shaint Lejüs wanted the princess as a bride. Ahahaha, how disappointed Lejüs was when he saw that I could not perform the most basic magic spells. I was good at nothing, so he let me go wandering into his Realm. He’d just thought the half-fairy princess had inherited no magic from her father.
            — How do you know all that?

            — I told her, the blue fox said. I was hoping to bring her relief. But she started to look for her parents, and Lejüs discovered the truth… Because she was not looking for a fairy king. She was heading here, year after year.
            — That’s the reason of your curse, is it?
            — Yes. She can’t see me because I was Forgotten too, in that form of a blue fox. But as Forgotten Ones don’t forget, I didn’t forget. I couldn’t tell her, because she couldn’t see me.
            — So, I am that fairy princess you are talking about… that strange idea was starting to dawn on Mævel.
            — Yes. When Lejüs discovered who you were, he wasn’t interested in you any longer, because he thought your magical potential had been irremediably damaged by all those years spent in human company.

            — Who are you talking to? the shadowy figure asked, bemused.
            — Blohmrik, he is here. But it’s untrue, Mævel said, there is magic in me.
            — Yes there is, answered the blue fox, and you can undo what has been done with it.

            Mævel remembered the useless key she had manifested when she had tried to go out of her human parents’ house. She had not even looked at it closely.

            — You can manifest it again Mæ, said the fox. It is with you. You are its lock.

            And no sooner had Mævel thought of the big rusted key, than it appeared in her hand again. But this time the rust on it was crackled, and it started to disintegrate, and a brilliant shiny metal started to show beneath it.

            Scratching what was left of the rust, Mævel started to look at the beautiful key, it was shaped as a musical note, and it had some word written on it, in an ancient language she didn’t know how to read. But she knew the sound when she ran her finger on the surface of the word.

            « Araoni »

            That was her. She was remembering, and everything started to change.


            The wedding of the God Blohmrik, son of Mirÿnda, Goddess of Mirth and of Bälias, God of the Sparkles with Araoni, daughter of the Fairy Queen Theÿa and the Fairy King Aldurion was pronounced on a bright day of Maÿ, in a beautiful orchard in the presence of Araoni’s human parents and sisters and brothers.

            Even Lejüs had been invited, even though he would have preferred to be Forgotten…


            And so my story ends… said Captain Bone to Tomkin.

            — And was the shadow remembered by her true parents? had asked Tomkin.
            — Oh, yes she was… Of course. She just didn’t want to steal the limelight from Mævel, you see. Her parents were happy of course to find back their true daughter.
            — You didn’t tell me the name of the true daughter, did you?
            — No, I didn’t, said Captain Bone with a wink.

            F LoveF Love

              Finn opened her eyes for a moment, not to look where she was going, but just to marvel at what a golden day it was. For a moment she thought she saw a large bird in the sky , but, being rubbish at identifying bird species, she had no idea what it was. How cool is that, she thought.

              She felt less bemused and perplexed than she had for ages. After all there was nothing to do but relax, and follow the current of the river.

              F LoveF Love

                And so my story ends … said Vincentius to Yikesy.

                Arona laughed to herself. Vincentius had insisted on telling a story to Yikesy, and certainly his deep melodic voice did seem to soothe the little baby, but really it was Arona who enjoyed listening the most.


                  Sam didn’t look a day over 30, despite his 123 years.


                  Illi was bored with the deserted island and the sand dragons. She wanted some action, some surprises, some…..well, some life!


                    Dory stuck three nicotine patches in a neat row along her thigh, and rubbed them to make sure they were properly stuck. She would be glad when the era of medical suggestibility was over. I really must remember to practice out of body travel, she thought, as she always thought when she had to travel by conventional means.

                    The sight of white ferret streaking through the airport lounge interrupted her grumbling.


                      Becky was in labour. Well, I don’t know why they call it ‘labour’ she said, this is easy. Moments later a bonny blue eyed baby boy slipped effortlessly into the physical world.

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