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  • #4545

    “That is unfortunate,” said Rukshan when Fox told him about the dogs’ answer. They were all gathered around the fire on rough rugs for a last meal before activating the portal. For a moment shadow and light struggled on Rukshan’s face as the flames of the fire licked the woods, making it crack and break. A few sparkles flew upward into the dark starry night.

    Lhamom used the magic metal spoon to serve steaming soup in carved wooden bowls, and Olliver was doing the service.
    When he took his, Fox felt a chilly breeze find its way past his blanket. He shivered, put the bowl on the carpet in front of him and attempted to readjust the yakult wool blanket in a vain attempt to make it windproof. He took back the bowl and took a sip. The dogs barked in the distance. They were impatient to start the hunt. Fox shivered again.

    “I could still serve as bait,” Fox said because he felt it was his fault if the plan failed. “You know, surprise the dogs while they are focused on the Shadow and make it follow me to trap it into the portal after we crossed it.”

    “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Rukshan. “It’s too dangerous. If you try to do that, we could have not one but two problems to solve. And you might get stuck too.”

    Fox tried not to think about the implications of being stuck here, or in between the portals. He looked at Olliver who was looking at his soup as if it was the most important thing in the world.

    Rukshan shook his head. “No. It was a foolish of me to hope those dogs would help us.”

    “What can we do then?” asked Lhamom. They all drank their soup, the silence only broken by the fire cracking and the dogs barking.

    “I can be in several places at once,” said Olliver quickly. Fox held his breath.
    Lhamom and Rukshan looked at the boy.

    “I know,” said Lhamom. “You were so helpful today with the cooking and all.”
    “What do you mean?” asked Rukshan. “Olliver was with me helping me with the sand all day.” He stopped. His face showed sudden understanding. “Oh! Of course,” he said. “The book we burnt. The shard’s power was not only teleportation, but also ubiquity.” Rukshan turned to look at Fox. “You don’t seem surprised.”

    Fox shrugged, making his blanket slip off of his shoulders slightly. Before he answered he adjusted it back quickly before the warmth he had accumulated could vanish into the night. “Well I saw him… I mean them. How do you think I came out of the negotiation alive? I can not teleport! I don’t even know what my powers are, or if I have any now that the shards have gone.”

    “Grace and miracles,” said Rukshan with a grin.
    A strange cristalline noise rang to Fox’s hears.
    “What? Oh! Yes. Well, that explains it then,” he said, feeling a mix of grumpiness and contentment. He finished his soup and was about to leave the comfort of his blanket to take some stew when Lhamom took the bowl from his hands. She gave him a good serving and gave him back his bowl.

    “What is it about shards and powers?” she asked.
    Fox, Rukshan and Olliver looked at each other.
    “It’s…” started Fox.
    “It’s a long story,” cut Rukshan.

    “Don’t make as if I said nothing important,” said Olliver.
    The red of the flames enhances his angry look, thought Fox.
    “I can be at two places, even more, at once. I can still be the bait and go back home with you at the same time.”

    A dog barked impatiently.

    “Yes,” said Fox.
    “I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” said Rukshan, concern on his face.
    “Why? I’m not a boy anymore, if that’s what it’s all about. I can do it. I already did it this afternoon.”
    “Well this afternoon was nice and cosy, wasn’t it? You had plenty of light, and yes you helped Fox escape from the dogs, so you can certainly do it. But what about the Shadow spirit. We have no idea what it is, or what it can do to you. And what will happen if one of you get killed?”

    Once again, they fell silent. There was a dog bark and that strange cristalline noise again. It sounded closer.
    “What’s that noise?” asked Olliver. Fox suddenly realised the strange noise had nothing to do with the sound of miracles, but it was a real noise in the real world.
    “What noise?” asked Lhamom. “And what are you all talking about, shards and powers and ubiquity?”
    “I can hear it too,” said Fox. “I’ve heard it before, but thought it was just me.”

    The noise happened again, this time sounding a lot like metallic ropes snapping on ice.
    Fox wriggled his nose. There was the smell of an animal and of a human.
    “I think someone is coming,” he said, sniffing the cold air. “A donkey and a human.”

    It was not too long before they saw an odd woman riding a donkey. She was playing a lyre made of ice, the strings of which had a faint glow. The woman was smiling like she was having the best adventure of her life.
    “Hi guys. I came to help you. You didn’t think I would remain forgotten in my cave, did you?”

    “Kumihimo! Ronaldo!” said Lhamom, standing up.

    #4539

    Fox, layered in warm clothes, looked dubiously at the hellishcopter. He had assumed it was fantastic and awe inspiring creature from the underworld. But it wasn’t.

    “It’s a carpet with a circular wooden platform,” he said, feeling a bit disappointed. He noticed the steam that formed out of his mouth with every word and it made him feel cold despite the numerous layers around him.
    The carpet was floating limply above its shadow on the snow. It looked old and worn out by years of use. The reds blues and greens were dull and washed-out, and it was hard to tell apart the original motives from stains. Oddly enough it was clear of dust.

    “Not just a carpet, said Lhamom with her usual enthusiasm illuminating her face. It’s a magic carpet.” She wore that local coat of them which looked so thin compared to his multiple layers, but she had assured him it was warm enough for far worse temperatures. Steam was also coming out of her mouth when she talked.

    Fox was still not convinced. “And how fast does it go?”

    “Fast enough,” said Lhamom. “You’ll all be back in no time to the forest.”
    “Isn’t there a risk for the luggage to fall off? I don’t see any practical way to attach them.”
    “Oh! Sure,” retorted Lhamom with an amused look. “You won’t fall from the platform unless someone pushes you out.”
    Fox winced and gulped. His mind had showed him someone shaken by an uncontrollable movement and pushing him off the platform above the sharp mountain tops, and even if it his fantasy had no sound, it was not very reassuring.

    Lhamom looked at him sharply. “Are you afraid of heights?” she asked.
    Fox shrugged and looked away at Rukshan who was busy packing the camp with Olliver and their guide.
    “What if I am?” Fox said.
    “I have some pills,” she said, foraging in her numerous pockets. She brandished victoriously an old little wooden box that she opened and showed him brown pills that looked and smelled like they had been made by dung beetles.

    Rukshan had finished his packing and was approaching them with a messenger bag.
    “Don’t play with him too much, he said, in his current state Fox’s will swallow everything, except food.” Rukshan and Olliver laughed. Fox didn’t know what to make of it, feeling too exhausted to find clever retorts. Lhamom winked at him and put the pills back in her pocket.

    Rukshan put his hand on Fox’s shoulder. “We’re going home through a sand portal, he said giving putting a hand on his bag. I’ve gathered coloured sand from the different places we visited and Lhamom had brought some holy dripping water collected from the running nose of the lama headmaster of Pulmol Mountain when he last had a cold.”
    That sounded a little complicated to Fox and he didn’t try to make sense of it.
    “We’ll only go on the hellishcopter to fly throught the portal with all the stuff we collected. But I need time to make the sand portal, and from what you reported the dogs have said, we may only have little time available before that thing you have felt come to us.”

    Fox started. With his bowel adventures and Rukshan’s previous dismissal of the matter, Fox had forgotten about the odd presence he had smelled and that had seemed to preoccupy the hunting dogs at night.
    “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to not let worry crept back in his mind.
    “I first thought it was fantasies coming out of your imagination because of your poor health condition, but when I told Lhamom this morning she told me what it was.” Rukshan hesitated.
    “What? asked Fox, his heartbeat going faster.
    “Some kind of ancient spirit roaming through the mountain. It feeds of human flesh and is attracted by magic. It was liberated by an earthquake recently and it that Olliver and Tak felt. Up until now the dogs, who are the gardians of the mountains, were enough to ward it off for us despite the presence of the baby snoot. But now that Lhamom has brought the spoon and that I’m going to use magic for the portal, it may get bolder and the dogs will not be enough to stop it. Fortunately it only gets out at night, so we have ample enough time, Rukshan said cheerfully. Olliver also is exhausted and he can’t use his teleporting abilities for all of us. By using a sand portal I may even be able to lay a trap for the spirit when we leave, but I need to begin now and let’s pray the weather remains clear and windless.”

    It took some time for the meaning and the implications of flesh eating to sink into Fox’s mind. He looked nervously at the sky where it seemed a painter had splashed a few white strokes of clouds with his giant brush. Were they still or moving? Fox couldn’t tell. He looked back at Rukshan and Lhamom.
    “What can I do to help?”
    “I need you to explain the plan to the dogs so that they release the spirit when I give the signal.”

    #4534

    Of course the spell failed! Glynis continued to berate herself sternly. She had approached it mostly as an intellectual exercise and she realised now her heart had not been fully engaged in the spell-making. For sure she cared about Margoritt and the fate of the cottage but if she were completely honest, there was a large part of her wondering what the point of it was. It may buy them some time, but how much use was that unless the others returned soon with the treasure?

    It took potent magic to cloak an object as large as the cottage — how foolish she had been to think she could perform a spell this powerful with cloudy intentions.

    Maybe there is still a way. Even if my own heart is divided, perhaps if we all work together the spell may still succeed.

    It was at this moment Glynis noticed several things. Firstly, that she was no longer quite sure where she was and that at some point she must have left the track and secondly, how dark it had become. Just a faint, rapidly fading light still illuminated the ground in patches through the trees.

    #4523

    Glynis woke early but did not want to open her eyes. Last night’s conversation had gone on till late and was still heavy on her eyelids. She could hear the kettle whistling in the kitchen and small clinks and clatters of morning activity and some muffled conversation. Margoritt and Eleri were also up early.

    “They can’t do that!” Eleri was saying angrily when Glynis walked into the room. She shook a piece of paper accusingly in Glynis’s direction. “They say we’ve got a week to vacate the cottage before they begin the demolition. A week!” She crumpled the letter and flung it on the table.

    “I know,” said Glynis. “Margoritt showed me the letter last night.”

    “Morning, Glynis,” said Margoritt. “Pomegranate tea?”

    “Yes, thanks.” Glynis sat down opposite Eleri and picked up the letter. She smoothed it out, thoughtful.

    “Well?” Eleri persisted. “They can’t do this. Forcing Margoritt out of her home.”

    Margoritt placed a cup of steaming pomegranate tea in front of Glynis and sat down. Glynis noticed she had used the dainty floral tea set which was kept for “best”.

    “I had an idea in the night,” said Glynis. “It might be crazy but it might just buy us some time.”

    The others looked at her enquiringly. “We are all ears,” encouraged Eleri.

    “I used to make an invisibility potion which would render a person invisible for a time. I think it might be possible to make a stronger brew and cloak the whole cottage. I would need to adjust the spell and we would need huge quantities of the potion but I think it might just work. It might buy us some time till the others get back. They can’t pull down what they can’t find!”

    #4522
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      It had been weeks since Annabel looked at the old notebooks again, but when she did, she couldn’t help but marvel once more at the synchronicity. Her partner had a couple of dental appointments in the coming days, and a number of teeth were to be extracted ~ more than Annabel would be willing to lose in one fell swoop after her singularly unpleasant experience with an extraction of two adjacent teeth, but her partner Dalgliesh didn’t seem unduly worried.

      Annabel felt an affinity to Liz as she perused the yellowing pages of the notebooks, although thankfully she, Annabel, still had most of her own natural teeth and had not yet resorted to plastic, despite that they were a similar colour, indeed a perfect match, to the yellow notebooks.

      It wasn’t the first mention of yellow that day, either. Annabel had painted a wall purple and was surprised to find that it made her feel gloomy to look at it. The green accessories looked pleasant enough against it, but she strongly felt there was a need for yellow as well. And yet the idea of that seemed repugnant. Lavender, blue green, and yellow! It sounded ghastly. Annabel was avoiding looking at the wall for the time being, thinking the best solution was probably to repaint the wall a safe neutral scream.

      Annabel meant cream, naturally, a safe neutral cream, but the astonishing typographical error was duly noted, in case it was related to the other mention of yellow, which was when not one but two of the local guru’s suggested she be sure and twirl her purples with her yellows, whatever that meant.

      Meanwhile, Annabel was giving some thought to the idea of a safe neutral scream, which had rather a catchy ring to it, despite it’s accidental appearance.

      #4514

      The so-called Police quickly left when they noticed there wasn’t much on the travellers, and that they didn’t look threatening.

      If you’re looking for a place to stay the tallest one said you should go to the Hoping Spice Hospice, it’s not far away from the main street, just three blocks north of here. He looked at the sky, where the waxing gibbous moon was rising.

      I wouldn’t stray too much outside if I were you. The desert black jackals are restless this time of year. He looked at Fox who was fidgeting suspiciously. The lack of sleep and being back in human form when they were called by the Police made him nervous.

      Then, we’ll be on our way. Peace be upon you, Constable. Rukshan said, pushing forward.

      :fleuron:

      The Hospice was an unassuming building, like all the other mud brick houses, except it probably had been lime washed in the past, and patches of the external wall had whitish spots shining under the moon sky.

      The veiled nurse in charge of the night service was sternly quiet, and guided them to a common room. Almost all the beds were full, and the patients seemed to have a fitful sleep.

      “What are those?” Olliver said before Rukshan could shush him. He was pointing at the oil lamps regularly spread across the room, which were shining with a dancing faint blue light.

      “Spirits…” whispered Fox gloomily “Captured spirits…”

      #4510
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        Maeve sighed loudly—something she had been doing an awful lot of lately—and checked the time on her phone. If she left now and really hurried it would only take 5 minutes to get to the cafe. On the other hand if she took her time … well, with any luck the others would have already moved on.

        Not that she didn’t like Lucinda, on the contrary she enjoyed her neighbour’s gregarious nature and propensity to talk amusing rubbish — usually in public and at the top of her voice which would cause Maeve to look around nervously and lower her own voice in order to compensate.

        Maeve had made peace with her own introversion years ago. In order to survive with a semblance of normality, she had cultivated an outward calm which belied the activity going on in her head. The downside of this was she suspected she came across to others as muted and dull as the beige walls of her apartment. The upside was it allowed her to hide in plain sight; and she considered this to be a very handy trait. In truth, Maeve was one who liked many and few; she would happily talk to people, if she knew what on earth to say to them.

        ‘Anyway,’ Maeve reasoned, ‘I have to finish the doll.’

        She looked with satisfaction at her latest creation; a young boy wearing a vintage style buzzy bee costume. She had painstakingly sewn, stuffed and painted the cloth doll and then sanded the layers of paint till he looked old and well worn. ‘He looks like he has been well loved by some child,’ she mused. There was just one more step remaining before applying a protective coat of varnish and seating him on the shelf next to the others.

        She went to the kitchen drawer. In the 3rd drawer down there was a cardboard box of old keys. Most of the keys didn’t fit anything in her apartment; in fact she had no idea where they came from. Except one. She picked out a small gold key and went to the writing desk in the lounge, a heavy dour piece of furniture with a drop-front desk and various small drawers and cubby holes inside. Maeve unlocked one of these drawers with the key and pulled out a small parcel.

        ‘Only 3 parcels to go,’ she thought with relief.

        A small section of the stitching was unfinished on the back of Bee Boy, just enough to squeeze the package inside and then rearrange the stuffing around it. With neat stitches Maeve sewed up the seam.

        She checked the time. It had taken twenty six minutes.

        “Want to go for a walk to see Aunty Lulu and her nice new friends? See what she is going on about decorating?” she asked Fabio, her pekingese.

        #4494
        Jib
        Participant

          The entrance to the cellar was in the library, just behind a book shelf that had been pushed away. How convenient, Godfrey thought.
          “Roberto has been busy,” he said, appreciating the new little wheels under the elm wood bookshelves. He tried it several times and saw that the wheels were perfectly oiled and made no sound.
          “Too oily,” said Finnley tutting disapprovingly at the stains on the wooden floor. She was already thinking of buying a new carpet, or maybe a new puppy that would help her dust the floor as it followed along. It would have to be small and energetic. Not too energetic though.
          Liz was fascinated by the door. It was an old door, carved certainly in oak wood and painted with oddly hypnotic patterns. She looked at the tonic glass she still had in her hands. “Did you put something in my tonic?” she asked. The glass pigheadedly refused to focus on the bottom of her eye.
          “I think it was empty,” said Godfrey. “Or at least it is now.” He took the glass from Liz and came back quickly, not wanting to miss the opening. He handed a pair of pink and shiny scissors to Liz who glanced at them and then at Godfrey with a puzzled look.

          “Do you expect me to cut your hair?” Liz asked him. “I think you should have your hair cut,” she added because it seemed to crawl and wave on his head. She looked at Finnley. “Yours too, dear, I’m afraid.”
          Finnley’s lips and eyes thinned as she tried her sharp face on Liz who cackled, and Finnley just shrugged and tutted again.

          “Well, use them to cut the red ribbon of course.” Godfrey nodded in the direction of the door and Liz saw that there was a fluffy red ribbon sagging between the side shelves and barring the entrance to the cellar. How come she hadn’t seen it before.

          She took the scissors and winced when the sound of the cutting resounded like nails on a blackboard, and for a moment she shuddered as the face of Sister Clarissa and her magnifying goggles popped out of the door. A horrendous sight, if you asked her. Liz had always suspected that their only use was to traumatise the students. She had forgotten she went to a catholic school.

          The door was finally opened, and Liz hoped what they found downstairs would not bring up more of those memories.

          #4471

          Fox sat back on the wooden chair in Margoritt’s kitchen, and crossed his arms, a little unnerved by the heat and his growing desire to go out in the woods and let go of all restraints. He had been struggling daily to control it and he had noticed it was particularly difficult during the new moon.

          “If we have to do it in the house,” said Fox, “Can’t we at least open the windows? It’ll let in some fresh air.” He wrinkled his nose at the heavy scents of sweat mingled with that of fermented goat milk, irritating his delicate sense of smell. Rukshan had gathered their little group and they were waiting for Gorrash to wake up.

          “The purpose of meeting here is that nobody can hear what we are saying,” said Rukshan with a hint of exasperation in his tone. “If we open the windows it’ll just…”

          “Isn’t it rather because of the mosquitos?” started Fox feeling a little argumentative.

          Glynis cleared her throat and got up, mumbling that she might have a solution. She came back a few moment later carrying a big bottle with a big sticker. Rukshan and Mr Minn helped her lift it while Eleri and Margoritt cleared a space on the table where they put the bottle.

          The sticker had something written on it : AIR CONDITIONED, winter quality. Handle with caution.

          Glynis turned the cap a few turns and a wooshing sound escaped from the neck of the bottle, followed by a gentle and continuous breeze of fresh air which provoked a murmur of appreciation from everyone.

          “What’s this?” asked Gorrash who had just woken up.

          “It’s what the sticker says. Cooling the atmosphere is just one way to use it. One has to be careful not to turn the wheel too much though or you could get frost bite.”

          The fae looked at the bottle appreciatively, impressed at Glynis’ many talents. He was already thinking about a few other ways to put this frozen air bottle to use when Glynis cleared her throat again.

          “It’s not infinite content and I only get a few of them, so if we could start the meeting.”

          “Of course. I’ve received words from Lhamom. Her father has passed away and they are sending him to the sea during the week-end.” He allowed a moment of silence, sending a silent prayer toward their dear friend. Then he continued : “That means she’ll be able to join us for our trip in the mountains. We only have to decide who’s going and who’s staying to help Margoritt.”

          Rukshan looked at each of them intently and Fox felt uneasy when his friend’s eyes fall upon him.

          #4450
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            Starting from the end of the story, Albie finally understood where the traveler had come from, and why.

            In retrospect, it explained a lot. Why the story was going nowhere for enders.
            It begged to be turned around! — back to its origin. Otherwise, readers of the pages of the story couldn’t help but be taken by bouts of anterograde amnesia.

            All the forward looking thinking, the futurists, bound to become caught in a loop! Fighting for a patch of the present, while the expanse was to be discovered in the expired. Truth was in the return. Funny how regression seemed a word tainted of passéism, while it could in turn evoke seismic progress — regression therapy!

            So let us start from the end. The traveler had arrived, she’d come from the other side of the page. Turning that back, a whole new story was to be written of what led her to the Doline.

            #4403
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              random plot generator

              A BOOK SHOP – IT IS THE AFTERNOON AFTER ALBIE HIT HIS MOTHER WITH A FEATHER.

              Newly unemployed ALBIE is arguing with his friend JENNY RAMSBOTTOM. ALBIE tries to hug JENNY but she shakes him off angrily.

              ALBIE
              Please Jenny, don’t leave me.

              JENNY
              I’m sorry Albie, but I’m looking for somebody a bit more brave. Somebody who faces his fears head on, instead of running away. You hit your mother with a feather! You could have just talked to her!

              ALBIE
              I am such a person!

              JENNY
              I’m sorry, Albie. I just don’t feel excited by this relationship anymore.

              JENNY leaves and ALBIE sits down, looking defeated.

              Moments later, gentle sweet shop owner MR MATT HUMBLE barges in looking flustered.

              ALBIE
              Goodness, Matt! Is everything okay?

              MATT
              I’m afraid not.

              ALBIE
              What is it? Don’t keep me in suspense…

              MATT
              It’s … a hooligan … I saw an evil hooligan frighten a bunch of elderly ladies!

              ALBIE
              Defenseless elderly ladies?

              MATT
              Yes, defenseless elderly ladies!

              ALBIE
              Bloomin’ heck, Matt! We’ve got to do something.

              MATT
              I agree, but I wouldn’t know where to start.

              ALBIE
              You can start by telling me where this happened.

              MATT
              I was…
              MATT fans himself and begins to wheeze.

              ALBIE
              Focus Matt, focus! Where did it happen?

              MATT
              The Library! That’s right – the Library!

              ALBIE springs up and begins to run.

              EXT. A ROADCONTINUOUS

              ALBIE rushes along the street, followed by MATT. They take a short cut through some back gardens, jumping fences along the way.

              INT. A LIBRARYSHORTLY AFTER

              ROGER BLUNDER a forgetful hooligan terrorises two elderly ladies.

              ALBIE, closely followed by MATT, rushes towards ROGER, but suddenly stops in his tracks.

              MATT
              What is is? What’s the matter?

              ALBIE
              That’s not just any old hooligan, that’s Roger Blunder!

              MATT
              Who’s Roger Blunder?

              ALBIE
              Who’s Roger Blunder? Who’s Roger Blunder? Only the most forgetful hooligan in the universe!

              MATT
              Blinkin’ knickers, Albie! We’re going to need some help if we’re going to stop the most forgetful hooligan in the universe!

              ALBIE
              You can say that again.

              MATT
              Blinkin’ knickers, Albie! We’re going to need some help if we’re going to stop the most forgetful hooligan in the universe!

              ALBIE
              I’m going to need candlesticks, lots of candlesticks.

              Roger turns and sees Albie and Matt. He grins an evil grin.

              ROGER
              Albie Jones, we meet again!

              MATT
              You’ve met?

              ALBIE
              Yes. It was a long, long time ago…

              EXT. A PARKBACK IN TIME

              A young ALBIE is sitting in a park listening to some trance music, when suddenly a dark shadow casts over him.

              He looks up and sees ROGER. He takes off his headphones.

              ROGER
              Would you like some wine gums?

              ALBIE’s eyes light up, but then he studies ROGER more closely, and looks uneasy.

              ALBIE
              I don’t know, you look kind of forgetful.

              ROGER
              Me? No. I’m not forgetful. I’m the least forgetful hooligan in the world.

              ALBIE
              Wait, you’re a hooligan?

              ALBIE runs away, screaming.

              INT. A LIBRARYPRESENT DAY

              ROGER
              You were a coward then, and you are a coward now.

              MATT
              (To ALBIE) You ran away?
              ALBIE
              (To MATT) I was a young child. What was I supposed to do?
              ALBIE turns to ROGER.

              ALBIE
              I may have run away from you then, but I won’t run away this time!
              ALBIE runs away.

              He turns back and shouts.

              ALBIE
              I mean, I am running away, but I’ll be back – with candlesticks.

              ROGER
              I’m not scared of you.

              ALBIE
              You should be.

              INT. A SWEET SHOPLATER THAT DAY

              ALBIE and MATT walk around searching for something.

              ALBIE
              I feel sure I left my candlesticks somewhere around here.

              MATT
              Are you sure? It does seem like an odd place to keep deadly candlesticks.

              ALBIE
              You know nothing Matt Humble.

              MATT
              We’ve been searching for ages. I really don’t think they’re here.

              Suddenly, ROGER appears, holding a pair of candlesticks.

              ROGER
              Looking for something?

              MATT
              Crikey, Albie, he’s got your candlesticks.

              ALBIE
              Tell me something I don’t already know!

              MATT
              The earth’s circumference at the equator is about 40,075 km.

              ALBIE
              I know that already!

              MATT
              I’m afraid of dust.

              ROGER
              (appalled) Dude!

              While ROGER is looking at MATT with disgust, ALBIE lunges forward and grabs his deadly candlesticks. He wields them, triumphantly.

              ALBIE
              Prepare to die, you forgetful aubergine!

              ROGER
              No please! All I did was frighten a bunch of elderly ladies!

              JENNY enters, unseen by any of the others.

              ALBIE
              I cannot tolerate that kind of behaviour! Those elderly ladies were defenceless! Well now they have a defender – and that’s me! Albie Jones defender of innocent elderly ladies.

              ROGER
              Don’t hurt me! Please!

              ALBIE
              Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t use these candlesticks on you right away!

              ROGER
              Because Albie, I am your father.

              ALBIE looks stunned for a few moments, but then collects himself.

              ALBIE
              No you’re not!

              ROGER
              Ah well, it had to be worth a try.

              ROGER tries to grab the candlesticks but ALBIE dodges out of the way.

              ALBIE
              Who’s the daddy now? Huh? Huh?

              Unexpectedly, ROGER slumps to the ground.

              MATT
              Did he just faint?

              ALBIE
              I think so. Well that’s disappointing. I was rather hoping for a more dramatic conclusion, involving my deadly candlesticks.

              ALBIE crouches over ROGER’s body.

              MATT
              Be careful, Albie. It could be a trick.

              ALBIE
              No, it’s not a trick. It appears that… It would seem… Roger Blunder is dead!

              ALBIE
              What?

              ALBIE
              Yes, it appears that I scared him to death.

              MATT claps his hands.

              MATT
              So your candlesticks did save the day, after all.

              JENNY steps forward.

              JENNY
              Is it true? Did you kill the forgetful hooligan?

              ALBIE
              Jenny how long have you been…?

              JENNY puts her arm around ALBIE.

              JENNY
              Long enough.

              ALBIE
              Then you saw it for yourself. I killed Roger Blunder.

              JENNY
              Then the elderly ladies are safe?

              ALBIE
              It does seem that way!

              A crowd of vulnerable elderly ladies enter, looking relived.

              JENNY
              You are their hero.

              The elderly ladies bow to ALBIE.

              ALBIE
              There is no need to bow to me. I seek no worship. The knowledge that Roger Blunder will never frighten elderly ladies ever again, is enough for me.

              JENNY
              You are humble as well as brave! And I think that makes up for hitting your mother with a feather. It does in my opinion!

              One of the elderly ladies passes ALBIE a healing ring

              JENNY
              I think they want you to have it, as a symbol of their gratitude.

              ALBIE
              I couldn’t possibly.
              Pause.

              ALBIE
              Well, if you insist. It could come in handy when I go to the Doline tomorrow. With my friend Matt. It is dangerous and only for brave people and a healing ring could come in handy.

              ALBIE takes the ring.

              ALBIE
              Thank you.
              The elderly ladies bow their heads once more, and leave.

              ALBIE turns to JENNY.

              ALBIE
              Does this mean you want me back?

              JENNY
              Oh, Albie, of course I want you back!
              ALBIE smiles for a few seconds, but then looks defiant.

              ALBIE
              Well you can’t have me.

              JENNY
              WHAT?

              ALBIE
              You had no faith in me. You had to see my scare a hooligan to death before you would believe in me. I don’t want a lover like that. And I am going to the Doline and I may not be back!

              JENNY
              But…

              ALBIE
              Please leave. I want to spend time with the one person who stayed with me through thick and thin – my best friend, Matt.

              MATT grins.

              JENNY
              But…

              MATT
              You heard the gentleman. Now be off with you. Skidaddle! Shoo!

              JENNY
              Albie?

              ALBIE
              I’m sorry Jenny, but I think you should skidaddle.
              JENNY leaves.

              MATT turns to ALBIE.

              MATT
              Did you mean that? You know … that I’m your best friend?

              ALBIE
              Of course you are!
              The two walk off arm in arm.

              Suddenly MATT stops.

              MATT
              When I said I’m afraid of dust, you know I was just trying to distract the hooligan don’t you?

              #4381
              Jib
              Participant

                Liz’s smile melted away when Roberto entered the living room, he was covered in dust and spider webs. What flustered her most wasn’t the trail of dirt and insects the gardener was leaving behind him, but that he was not in India.

                Liz threw knives at Godfrey with her eyes, a useful skill she had developed during her (long) spare time, but he dodged them easily and they sank straight into the wall with a thud.
                Finnley rolled her eyes and ordered one of the guy from the TV crew to take the knives off the wall. “Don’t forget to repaint afterward”, she said with a satisfied smile.

                Godfrey leaned closer to the door. Liz felt words of frustration gather at her lips.

                “I think I slept too much long,” Roberto said with his charming latino accent. At that time, Liz could almost forgive him not to be in India. “Funny thing is I dreamt I was doing yoga in India, near Colombo.”

                Godfrey raised his eyebrows and gave Liz a meaningful look, telling he had been almost right all along. He relaxed and smirked. She hated it.

                “Well, that must be a clue”, Liz said with a look at the butler. “Godfrey, Roberto needs to be in India, and we need to go with him. Book the plane tickets.”

                “Well, technically, Colombo is in Sri Lanka, not India,” said Finnley.
                “Small detail,” countered Liz.

                “What do I do with the knives?” said the TV crew man.
                Liz looked at the knives, then at Godfrey.
                “I’ll take them back, they can always be useful where we are going.”

                “What about the interview?” asked the woman from the TV.
                “We’ll need a charter,” said Finnley who liked very much to give orders.

                #4359
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  “So, that’s where the gardener has been hiding all this time…” Godfrey thought, quietly stepping out of the shadows into the sinkhole tunnels. “Maybe I’ll just tell Liz’ he has resigned. Although she seemed more taken by this one than with the previous guys…”
                  While the gardener was snoring loudly, he took time to look around, and noticed the sprouting sack.
                  “How curious that those old books have started to come to life again…”

                  An idea had crossed his mind, both dreadful and exciting. The portal…

                  Leaving the gardener to his dreams, and taking another secret exit out of the dark tunnel, opening another succession of doors with the turn of a key hanging from the watch chain of his burgundy waistcoat, he soon found himself reappearing into a deep secret place. A small round room, almost like the inner chamber of a burrow, with no visible door, no window, seemingly lit only by a single ray of light coming from the pinhole in the ceiling, reflected on the glittering curved walls. At one side, was a well, and one could hear the humming sound of flowing underground water.
                  On the well, where deeply carved words : “HC SVNT DRACONES”. Just below them, painted in white in Godfrey’s flowering handwriting : “Here be dragons!”

                  There still was the heavy latch, bolted by a large futuristic-looking lock.

                  Phew, still closed. Godfrey sighed a sigh of relief. He couldn’t imagine the damage to Liz’ frail hold on reality, where she to find about what was lurking behind.

                  Popping a peanut in his mouth, he smiled wryly, reminisced of what Finnley had said about her “discovering” of the attic; yes, their secret was fine with them for now. At least so long as what was locked on the other side stayed there of course…

                  #4296

                  That night Glynnis had a strange dream. She knew that it was no ordinary dream and in the morning diligently recorded it in her dream journal.

                  I was walking on a windy path through the forest. A young woman with bizarre hair and a cackling laugh appeared before me, blocking my path.
                  “Tell me your name!” I commanded.
                  “My name is Eleri, and I have a parrot to accompany you on your journey.”
                  “A parrot! What would I do with a parrot?”
                  “This is no ordinary parrot. This parrot can tell jokes,” responded the woman.
                  “A funny parrot! Well why didn’t you tell me that in the first place. Give me the parrot and I will be on my way.”
                  “Hold your horses. It’s not such an easy thing as that,” said the woman. “It never is you know. First you must tell me what is going on.”
                  I sighed and handed her a manuscript. “Read this a dozen times and all will be made clear.”
                  A look of petulant fury distorted the young woman’s face.
                  “ Tell me what is going on, you rude tart!“ she said crossly.
                  Here is what I told her:

                  Glynnis is a young woman living in the enchanted forest in an abandoned mansion. She practices magic and has a great affinity for nature. She also has the face of dragon after she annoyed a powerful sorcerer. She is being troubled by dreams which seem to be calling her on a mission—the purpose of which she is unsure. Glynnis sells her potions at a stall in the city. One day she finds a map hidden behind a painting and knows that she needs to follow the path shown on the map.
                  Rushkan is fae. He works as the city ‘chief overseer’ looking after the clock tower. He isn’t that keen on his job. Rushkan has a half-formed vision to assemble a team but for what purpose he is not sure. He has also discovered something worrying, dark even, about the clock tower.
                  One day, Rushkan uses his magic to call for an Oliphant. He packs a small bag of belongs and departs on a journey. Before departing, he leaves a gift for Olliver, the office errand boy.
                  Rushkan is a little irritated to find that the forest has been fenced off and a toll-booth erected—who wouldn’t be annoyed by this needless bureaucracy? Anyway, after farewelling the helpful Oliphant he continues his journey on foot.
                  He hears a cry for help and comes across a dying Gibbon. The Gibbon entrusts her infant to his care. He takes the baby—named Tak—to an old woman who lives in a lodge close to the Dragon Heartwood: Margoritt Loursenoir, a writer. It seems Tak is a shape-shifter and can also take the form of a child. Perhaps that is his true form. Rushkan stays with Margoritt for a while to recoup but it isn’t very long before he feels compelled to continue his journey to find the hermit, Kumihimo,in the forest. Kumihimo seems to be weaving seven braids.
                  To get to the hermit Rushkan has to cross Fae land. He isn’t overjoyed about this because he has left the ‘old ways’ of his people. Rushkan has to declare his presence to the Fae people—it’s a rule. The Queen is a bit annoyed because her empire is not as powerful as it once was and she has had to use precious resources to protect Rushkan on his journey. Anyway, she doesn’t stay uppity for long and ends up in bed with him.
                  Gorash is a dwarf statue who abides in the grounds of the deserted mansion in the enchanted forest. At night he comes to life. He has a friend called Rainbow. Gorash assists Rainbow in stealing Glynis’s magic potions and they make seven colourful eggs which Rainbow is infatuated with.
                  Mr Fox lives in a hut outside the city walls. At sunset he can shapeshift into a fox. He prefers being in animal form. Fox is quite a character. Not much gets past him.
                  Fox’s master is a Gibbon who taught him how to shapeshift. After going on a journey into the forest to find Gibbon, Fox is told that it is time to learn the wisdom of the Heart. Gibbon gives Fox an assignment: “You’ll find a lost soul in the enchanted forest. Bring it back to its rightful owner. Then you shall find your master.”
                  Fox goes back to the mansion in the deserted forest just as Glynnis is leaving on her journey. He befriends Gorash who has become increasingly lonely since Rainbow now has the eggs.

                  “That’s brilliant,” said the woman called Eleri. “You should probably get lots of points for doing that.” She gave one more loud cackle and shouted: “I am off to pick some mushrooms. You will find the parrot when you wake up from this crazy dream!”

                  #4285
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    “Trusting that the invisible connecting links are seamlessly interwoven even if they are not apparent is not for the faint hearted” added Jingle.

                    “Who said that?” cried Elizabeth and Finnley in unison, with varying degrees of exaggerated surprise.

                    Oblivious, Godfrey continued his tuneless bellowing, his voice rising to an ear splitting falsetto as he sang A Weave A Weave Oh.

                    #4279

                    For the last day, he’d gone to the shrines, pay his respects to his ancestors.
                    They had long joined with the trees, for most, still living in their roots, and while the trees that they prayed to were young in comparison to the ones in the Heartwood, they were all connected.
                    Here, it was harder to ignore their messages. Their voices had the gravity of silence, bearing the weight of ageless wisdom. Among them, Rukshan felt at home.

                    The cold was sharper than the day before, and the east wind brought with it smells of industry and worry, and that of the dragon’s bad tooth. He felt there was a past were such things disturbed him; for now, he was at peace.

                    Back to the campement, he retreated in his small lodge with the thin paper walls, and the warm mountain salt crystal lights.
                    There, in front of him, was the little he possessed, and the provisions needed for the climb to the mountain.
                    He’d found a page from the vanishing book reappear from time to time in his bag. Everytime it carried different words, and would vanish again. Its magic didn’t come from the trees, but their messages intertwined. The page carried bits and pieces of news about the Sage Sorceress, who had started to move on her healing path, the Teafing Tinkeress who was hunted by a swift menace of godlike powers, and also a Gifted Gnome, on his way to become his own maker under the protection of a Renard Renunciate looking for lost souls.
                    He couldn’t figure out the stories yet, but he was glad for the piece of paper. He was helpless at distant viewing in general, so it did save him additional worry about sorting through his impressions and getting them right. Like after the Court audience, when he couldn’t feel Margoritt’s presence, and worried she and Tak were in trouble. The resident Seer at the campement had peered through his glubolin and confirmed that they were both fine. He did also confirm that she’d fainted, and was recovering. Rukshan had wanted to go back, abandon the trip to the Hermit, but reasoned that Margoritt was fine for now, and that she was a proud woman. He would have to trust she and Tak would be alright.

                    “Magic comes from the heart. You will know when to use it.” the words said in passing were etched in his memory, and the potion was still here. Its color seemed to reflect his mood at times. After the morning praying, it was almost glowing gold. Now, it was a pale purple. He had felt no pull to use it. At first, there was strong resistance about it, but now, there was a mildly curious acceptance of the gift. Like the vanishing paper, whether it appeared or disappeared was of no consequence for now.

                    The paper wall shivered. His meditative state was easily distracted by the sounds around, even after nightfall when everything went quiet.

                    “Quiet suits you well.” The visitor was near him, wearing thin wool despite the cold.
                    “My Queen?” he was surprised.
                    “You still don’t remember who you are, do you?” the Queen leaned forward. He felt a strange attraction, and their lips touched. The kiss was warm and filled him with longing. They fell into each other’s arms.

                    #4260

                    You’re a fool, Olli

                    His mother’s voice, even now kept haunting him. Olliver was a bit of a fool, far too credulous at times.
                    People would think him a simpleton, and, at 17, he would still arch his back when he was around others, maybe a little more now that he’d grown so much, always feeling awkward and unsuitable for anything.

                    He wasn’t so clear how the foolish plan had hatched in his head, honestly, he wasn’t very clever. Maybe he was guided. There was no other explanation.

                    Slowly, slowly his mother Ethely would exhort him, when he struggled to explain so many things in his head.

                    There was the house first. They had come early in the day, paint it with the white triangle in a circle. That meant it was to be demolished soon. The Pasha wanted to remove the ugliness of the town, the old bazar and the cows and chickens pens out of the town’s wall. He wanted a nice clean pall-mall place for his games, with boring clean white walls, and fake grass, his mum told him.
                    What is fake grass made of? he asked at the time. It was all he could think of. He hadn’t imagined they could tear down their neighbourhood, or their old familiar house.

                    So first, the house. Then the precious package. He liked it, the gilded egg with the strange difficult name. Rukji (that’s how he’d told him to call him, it was more easy) had left a note for him. He didn’t write much, in large big letters for him to read slowly. He remembered the stories Rukji told him about the egg. He used to forget a lot of things, but the stories were always very clear in his head, and he never forgot them.
                    Rukji said the egg used to transport people and things to distant places, at the speed of thought.
                    Olli had laughed when he told him that, he’d said his thoughts were not very quick. Rukji had smiled, with his nice and a bit sad smile.

                    So, he’d thought, maybe the egg could send his house and mum to a safe place, before they remove the house.
                    He’d tried to think of it, touch the eggs and its gilded scales, but nothing happened. You’re a fool Olli his mother said, while she was gathering their few things in a large cloth and wicker basket.

                    Then there was the tower. He’d thought Rukji would be there, still. He could tell him the secrets surely. But the stern man at the clock building told him he had gone.

                    Olli didn’t trust the man, and went from the back-entrance he knew about, up in the tower, to see in case he was there. But he wasn’t.

                    It was only the stroke of the 7th hour. And one of the mannequins from the tower moved as he would do, four times a day. Alone, at 7 in the morning, and 7 at night, and with everyone at noon, and midnight.

                    Olli had recognized the god of travel, with a funny pose on his plinth. He called him Halis. He had trouble with remembering names, especially long names. Ha-sa-me-lis. Sometimes he would say the names out of order. Like Hamamelis, and that would make everybody laugh.

                    That’s when something happened. He’d prayed to the god, to help his mother and their house. But the golden egg with his scales touched the statue, at a place where there was no pigeons stains. And zap! that was it.

                    Black for a moment, and then he was in the forest.
                    And he wasn’t alone.

                    “Free! At last!” he’d shouted.
                    Then he’d said “Ain’t that unexpected rusty magic… You tricky bastard managed to zap me out of my concrete shell! now, pray tell, where in the eleven hells did you send us, young warlock?”

                    What a fool you are, Olli, you got us all lost he could hear her whisper in his head.

                    #4254

                    Eleri shivered. The cold had descended quickly once the rain had stopped. If only the rain had stopped a little sooner, she could have made her way back home, but as it was, Eleri had allowed Jolly to persuade her to spend the night in Trustinghampton.

                    Pulling the goat wool blankets closer, Eleri gazed at the nearly full moon framed in the attic window, the crumbling castle ramparts faintly visible in the silver light. The scene reminded her of another moonlit night many years ago, not long after she had first arrived here with Alexandria and Lobbocks.

                    It had been a summer night, and long before Leroway had improvised a cooling system with ventilation shafts constructed with old drainage pipes, a particularly molten sweltering night, and Eleri had risen from her crumpled sweaty bed to find a breath of cooler air. Quietly she slipped through the door willing it not to creak too much and awaken anyone. The cobblestones felt deliciously cool on her bare feet and she climbed the winding street towards the castle, her senses swathed in the scents of night flowering dama de noche. Lady of the Night, she whispered. Perhaps there would be a breeze up there.

                    She paused at the castle gate archway and turned to view the sleeping village below. A light glimmered from the window of Leroway’s workshop, but otherwise the village houses were the still dark quiet of the dreaming night.

                    Eleri wandered through the castle grounds, alternately focused on watching her step, and pausing for a few moments, lost in thoughts. It was good, this community, there was a promising feeling about it. It wasn’t always easy, but the hardships seemed lighter with the spirit of adventure and enthusiasm. And it was much better up here than it had been in the Lowlands, there was no doubt about that.

                    Her brow furrowed when she recalled her last days down there, when leaving had become the only possible course of action. Don’t dwell on that, she admonished herself silently. She resumed her aimless strolling.

                    Behind the castle, on the opposite side to the village, the ground fell away in series of small plateaus. At certain times of the years when the rains came, these plateaus were green meadows sprinkled with daisies and grazing goats, but now they were crisply browned and dry underfoot. Striking rock formations loomed in the darkness, looking like gun metal where the moonlight shone on them. One of them was shaped like a chair, a flat stone seat with an upright stone wedged behind it. Eleri sat, appreciating the feel of the cool rock through her thin dress and on her bare legs.

                    It feels like a throne, she thought, just before slipping into a half sleep. The dreams came immediately, as if they had already started and she only needed to shift her attention away from the hot night in the castle to another world. Her cotton shift became a long heavy coarsely woven gown, and her head was weighed down somehow. She had to move her head very slowly and only from side to side. She knew not to look down because of the weight of the thing on her head.

                    Looking to her right, she saw him. “Micawber Minn, at your service,” he said with a cheeky grin. “At last, you have returned.”

                    Eleri awoke with a start. Touching her head, she realized the weighty head dress was gone, although there was a ring of indentation in her hair. Her heavy gown was gone too, although she could still feel the places where the prickly cloth had scratched her.

                    Suddenly aware of the thin material of her dress, she glanced to her right. He was still there!

                    Spellbound, Eleri gazed at the magnificent man beside her. Surely she was still dreaming! Such an arresting face, finely chiseled features and penetrating but amused eyes. Broad shoulders, flowing platinum locks, really there was not much to fault. What a stroke of luck to find such a man, and on such a romantic night. And what a perfect setting!

                    And yet, although she knew she had never met him before, he seemed familiar. Eleri shifted her position on the stone throne and inched closer to him. He leaned towards her, opening his arms. And she fell into the rapture.

                    #4249

                    Margoritt Loursenoir wrapped a thick blanket around her shoulders. The window of her lodge was open to the chill outside, but she would keep the windows open as much as she could bear, for she’d missed the fresh air for a long time inside the city.
                    The view of the forest was also a renewed pleasure, she could stay in meditation in front of the window for hours, as if looking at a moving picture, a better work than any painter from the city would ever accomplish.
                    Besides, she liked being wrapped in a shawl like these women from the far away east she admired so much for their strength and independence.

                    She’d come there to rekindle her inspiration. In the City of the Seven Hills, she had risen to quite a fame with her literary works, even though her works were deemed fictional, and that she was a woman.
                    To her, they weren’t fictions. They were just the order of things revealed, the natural evolution of things, a glimpse of what was to come if the civilisation were to keep its greedy pace.

                    That rheumatism is killing me she looked at her hands, swollen after yesterday’s rain. An old lady like me, and that lifestyle… for how long… She would need to return for a needle session in the City. Already the supplies she’d brought were becoming scarce. She would go find some mushrooms and roots later, but for now she didn’t want to worry about that.
                    There was something irremediably irreconcilable about life here and life there. She was aware of the artificial nature of her escapades, but every time she moved out of the bustling city, into the enchanted woods, she would see it. Magic was still alive here, not as strong as before, but still very much alive.

                    Rising from her chair, she put the last of her bread’s crumbs on the windowsill. The crumbs she’d put yesterday were still there, untouched. There were hardly any birds left during winter, merely a few suspicious crows who never came too close.

                    It was time for her morning writing session.

                    #4245

                    Glynis woke to the sound of wind and rain. Heavy still with sleep, she stared at the cracked and yellowed bedroom ceiling and noticed a large damp patch had formed where the thatched roof needed repairs. Drip by relentless drip, it was slowly but surely creating a puddle on the wooden floor below. Her lemon and puce floral window curtains billowed majestically into the room.

                    Strange, I must have left the sash open last night.

                    There was a loud crash in the kitchen.

                    Leaping out of bed with an agility which belied her sleepiness, Glynis rushed to investigate. A large ornately framed print of a bowl of fruit had fallen from its hanging place above the mantlepiece.

                    Glynis stared in amazement. She thought the dark renaissance colours of the painting were depressing but had found it too cumbersome to remove from the wall. Now, as if by magic, the picture lay shattered and defeated on the tiles below.

                    It took her a few seconds to take in that there was a small opening in the wall behind where the picture had hung.

                    Putting on her sturdy work boots and gloves she swept up the glass so she could safely approach the opening. It wasn’t that big, just a square which had been neatly cut into a wooden beam to form a hiding space. She peered inside the darkness of the cavity and then explored the interior with her hand.

                    Nothing!

                    She felt oddly disappointed and chastised herself, wondering what it was she had been expecting.

                    Anyway, at least I can get rid of that damned bowl of fruit now.

                    She carefully removed the rest of the glass and pulled the picture from its frame. Turning it over, Glynis discovered what she thought at first glance was an oil spill on the back, but after more careful inspection she realised it was a roughly drawn map.

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