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In reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods
It had taken Rukshan close to a year to clear the fog.
He had to admit, he’d dreaded more than was necessary. Faes where a bit thick headed and stubborn when it came to honoring vows and sacred words. There had been lessons to unravel for a lifetime in that year span they’d spent on the holy grounds.
Even the angry God had come around, and he wasn’t the threat Rukshan had thought he would be. Only another lonely soul, longing for companionship.Yesterday, Rukshan had finished the book of Kumihimo. Propitiatory work, but he was beginning to see the benefits. He had finished collecting all the pages of the vanishing book, by burying himself in work for the commune, and on the few moments of silence left to himself, reaching towards the source of knowledge and gathering the elements once thought forever lost. Clearing of his Mind Palace.
Now he had to let it go. The Book was complete, and needed to be offered on the pyre.
Only then the Shards would be rightfully returned, rejoined and ready to spell the next evolution of their journey.The pyre was neatly prepared. Gathering of fragrant herbs of the woods was a specialty of the Potion maker, the gorgeous assemblage of the beams had created a sriyantra-like pattern that seemed like it could easily open a portal to the Gods’ realm.
All of them had gathered around at the full moon. Gorrash had just awoken, and the feast was joyous and full of sparkling expectations.
Each of them took a thread to light the flames, and once the Book was put on the pyre with great reverence, all of them, one by one lighted one of the corners.
They all felt a great weight lifting from their chest, the weight of the sins of their past lives vanishing in the light, and a great joy pouring in from the dancing flames at the centre.
All was well and fresh on this night, and there was great content, and anticipation for what tomorrow would bring.
In reply to: Eight Turns of the Wheel
What the Huntingford’s hadn’t realized was that the doline on their land wasn’t the only entrance to the labyrinth, which extended considerably further than anyone would have imagined, even the Stripling Bryson’s.
Aubrey Stripling Bryson, whose estate was a days ride up country from the Huntingford’s, was on an expedition in the tunnels when Emerald’s dog had fallen in the doline. His family had known about the underground galleries and passages for generations; indeed, the family had made use of the ones closest to the house for centuries. Nobody knew how long, although there were stories of ancient bones being found by the more adventurous, nobody knew what happened to them, and for comforts sake and the all too familiar fear of the unknown, many of the passages had been blocked off over the years.
Aubrey had been an adventurous lad, and had ventured further along the tunnels during his childhood than anyone, other than his sister Evelyn, would have believed. When he inherited the estate at the early age of thirty three, he prepared a proper expedition including representatives of relevant scientific authorities, intending to map the subterranean network, and write a book about his findings. Evelyn wrote most of the book for him, in fact, but he was credited with it as was the custom at the time. Aubrey had done the physical explorations and obtained various reports from experts, but Evelyn assembled it all together.
The book was in the final stages prior to going to print, when Evelyn had disappeared. And everything relating to the book had disappeared with her. Aubrey was distraught, and never recovered, and Evelyn was never found. He ordered the final tunnel to be blocked off, leaving an usual cave house cellar, nothing more than a curiosity.
The story of Aubrey’s book that disappeared was told to generations of Stripling Bryson children, whispered along with other family ghost stories. And there were many. Even now, there are unusual goings on at the Stripling Bryson estate, adding to the repertoire of local stranger than fiction stories.
In reply to: Eight Turns of the Wheel
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 ROAD – CONTINUOUS
ALBIE rushes along the street, followed by MATT. They take a short cut through some back gardens, jumping fences along the way.
INT. A LIBRARY – SHORTLY 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 PARK – BACK 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 LIBRARY – PRESENT 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 SHOP – LATER 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?In reply to: Eight Turns of the Wheel
(With thanks to random story generator for this comment)
Albie looked at the soft feather in his hands and felt happy.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his silent surroundings. He had always loved haunting the village near the doline with its few, but faithful inhabitants. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel happiness.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Ma. He felt his mood drop. Ma was ambitious and a mean-spirited bossy boots.
Albie gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was an impulsive, kind-hearted, beer drinker. His friends saw him as an amusing foolish clown. But he was kind-hearted and once, he had even brought a brave baby bird back from the brink of death.
But not even an impulsive person who had once brought a brave baby bird back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Ma had in store today.
The inclement brooding silence teased like a sitting praying mantis, making Albie anticipate the worst.
As Albie stepped outside and Ma came closer, he could see the mean glint in her eye.
Ma glared with all the wrath of 9 thoughtless hurt hippo. She said, in hushed tones, “I disown you and I want you to leave.”
Albie looked back, even more nervous and still fingering the soft feather. “Ma, please don’t boss me. I am going to the doline,” he replied.
They looked at each other with conflicted feelings, like two deep donkeys chatting at a very funny farewell.
Suddenly, Ma lunged forward and tried to punch Albie in the face. Quickly, Albie grabbed the soft feather and brought it down on Ma’s skull.
Ma’s skinny ear trembled and her short legs wobbled. She looked excited, her emotions raw like a rabblesnatching, rare rock.
Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Ma was dead.
Albie went back inside and had himself a cold beer.
In reply to: The Chronicles of the Flying Fish Inn
Inquisitive Bert
A Short Story
by trove flacy
Bert had always loved rambling Fish Inn with its boiled boarders. It was a place where he felt happiness.He was an inquisitive, depressed, tea drinker with skinny ears and tall sheep. His friends saw him as a moaning, mashed monster. Once, he had even saved a nasty old lady that was stuck in a drain. That’s the sort of man he was.
Bert walked over to the window and reflected on his brooding surroundings. The rain hammered like jumping dog.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Mater . Mater was a bigoted flower with attractive ears.
Bert gulped. He was not prepared for Mater.
As Bert stepped outside and Mater came closer, he could see the lovely smile on her face.
Mater glared with all the wrath of 1553 honest hilarious hippo. She said, in hushed tones, “I hate you and I want information.”
Bert looked back, even more ecstatic and still fingering the new-fangled car. “Mater, I own the inn,” he replied.
They looked at each other with annoyed feelings, like two delicious, damaged donkey laughing at a very free house sale, which had piano music playing in the background and two sanguine uncles shouting to the beat.
Bert regarded Mater’s attractive ear. “I feel the same way!” revealed Bert with a delighted grin.
Mater looked puzzled, her emotions blushing like a loud, little letter box.
Then Mater came inside for a nice cup of tea.
THE END
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
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.In reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods
Rukshan had stayed awake for the most part of the night, slowly and repeatedly counting the seconds between the blazing strokes of lightning and the growling bouts of thunder.
It is slowly moving away.The howling winds had stopped first, leaving the showers of rain fall in continuous streams against the dripping roof and wet walls.
An hour later maybe, his ear had turned to the sound of the newly arrived at the cottage, thinking it would be maybe the dwarf and Eleri coming back, but it was a different voice, very quiet, somehow familiar… the potion-maker?
He had warned Margoritt that a lady clad in head-to-toe shawls would likely come to them. Margoritt had understood that some magical weaving was at play. The old lady didn’t have siddhis or yogic powers, but she had a raw potential, very soundly rooted in her long practice of weaving, and learning the trades and tales of the weaving nomad folks. She had understood. Better, she’d known — from the moment I saw you and that little guy, she’d said, pointing at Tak curled under the bed.
“He’s amazing,” she’d said “wise beyond his age. But his mental state is not very strong.”There was more than met the eye about Tak, Rukshan started to realize.
For now, the cottage had fell quiet. Dawn was near, and there was a brimming sense of peace and new beginning that came with the short silence before the birds started again their joyous chatter.It must have been then that he collapsed on the table of exhaustion and started to dream.
It was long before.
The dragon is large and its presence awe-inspiring. They have just shared the shards, each has taken one of the seven. Even the girl, although she still hates to be among us.
The stench of the ring of fire is still in their nostrils. The Gods have deserted, and left as soon as the Portal closed itself. It is a mess.“Good riddance.”
He raises his head, looking at the dragon above him. She is quite splendid, her scales a shining pearl blue on slate black, reflecting the moonshine in eerie patterns, and her plastron quietly shiny, almost softly fiery. His newly imbued power let him know intimately many things, at once. It is dizzying.
“You talk of the Gods, don’t you?” he says, already knowing the answer.
“Of course, I am. Good riddance. They had failed us so many times, forgot their duties, driven me and my kind to slavery. Now I am free. Free of guilt, and free of sorrow. Free to be myself, as I was meant to be.”
“It is a bit more complex th…”
“No it isn’t. It couldn’t be more simple. If you had the strength to see it, you would understand.”
“I know what you mean, but I am not sure I understand.”The dragon smiles enigmatically. She turns to the lonely weeping girl, who is there with the old woman. Except her grand-mother is no longer an old crone, she has changed her shape to that of a younger person. She is showing potentials to the girl, almost drunk on the power, but it doesn’t alleviate her pain.
“What are you going to do about them?”
The Dragon seems above the concerns for herself. In a sense, she is right. It was all his instigation. He bears responsibility.
“I don’t know…” It is a strange thing to say, when you can know anything. He knows there are no good outcomes of this situation. Not with the power she now possesses.
“You better find out quick…” and wake up,
wake up, WAKE UP !
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
“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…
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
Roberto was pleased with the progress he’d made so far. Not just the distance covered with the sack of forgotten characters, which was indeed commendable, but pleased with his new found motivation and the return of his adventurous spirit. He found a mossy corner of the cavern to rest, feeling that he had reached a significant junction in the journey, and closed his eyes and fell into a deeply relaxing sleep.
As he slept, the sack beside him started to twitch. A peculiar long grey tendril of twisted hair began to protrude from one of the holes.
In reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods
Fox woke up in the mud. He felt thirsty and confused, not knowing where he was or when it was, except that it was night time. He looked around him and despite the darkness he was seeing clearly. He was in a small glade, surrounded by tall trees. The grass had a strange greenish glow and seemed to float around like tentacles trying to seize whatever passed near.
An emotion rose from his heart and jumped outside of him before he could feel it. It had a colour. it was blue and had the shape of a drop of jelly, darker in its center. Fox looked, fascinated, as it taunted the blades of grass. His heart jumped as a longer tentacle almost caught the drop, that’s when he knew he had to take it back. He couldn’t let it out into the world like that.
Not with the others so close.
Fox felt puzzled at the thought. What others was it referring to? He heard someone crying, it sounded like someone miserable. He felt something fall on his hands, droplets of water, and realised he was the one crying. He stood up and was surprised by the height. He found a little pond and looked at his reflection. The lonesome face of a troll was looking back at him.
Am I dreaming?
In reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods
Before he closed it to prepare for the dinner, the page of the book had said “She is coming, heralded by Sunshine, and thus will the Gathering start”. Rukshan could be quite literal and thought that she wouldn’t come today, since the sun was about to set.
He wasn’t sure how the words had found their way into the book, and if the She was who he thought She was. In short, he was getting confused.Back there, the Hermit’s message had been so clear, so urgently present.
Find who you were, find what you stole, and give it back. Then the threads will unravel and the knot of all the curses will be undone.And yet, he started to doubt his path.
The high-pitched cry of “Circle of Eights” pierced through the fog of his mind, and Rukshan realised suddenly that… that was it. Why else, all these people would be around this place at this auspicious moment?
The trees’ messages had been shown right. He was the Faying Fae. The Sage Sorceress was probably still on her path, but the Teafing Tinkeress hunted by a god, the Gifted Gnome, on his way to become his own maker under the protection of a Renard Renunciate looking for lost souls… They were there. Five in total; with himself (Rukshan) — the potion-maker, Eleri, Gorrash, Fox, these were the rest of the names, and they made the five first strands. Who were the last two? Olliver, Tak?
Olliver would surely have rounded everyone around for the dinner by now.
Rukshan placed the book back into the bag. He would explain to everyone then, read the old tale of the seven thieves and their curses, and maybe they could all formulate a plan for remembrance.
Yes, remembrance was the first step. How to know what to do if you didn’t know who they were, what they stole…He wasn’t too sure what to do with the God in torpor yet. He seemed less of a danger in his current state. That a God had been left behind, stuck in stone for so long, and right under their nose was mind-boggling. Another mystery to be revealed.
Surprisingly —and luckily— Olli had explained, Hasamelis seemed to believe that the young boy was a genius wizard, so he would maybe listen to Olli.The second ‘Circle of Eights!’ seemed closer this time.
In reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods
Glad of the cover of the gloaming darkness, Eleri quickly cut a slice of cake and darted out of the kitchen door. She had heard the commotion that animated statue was still making, calling her a witch as if it were a bad thing, and thought it best to retreat for the time being while she gathered her thoughts. Either that vengeful lump of concrete needed therapy to deal with his past associations, or perhaps better ~ at least in the short term ~ an immobilizing potion until a workable programme of rehabilitation to the state of animation was concocted.
The screech of a parrot in the distance seemed to herald a new arrival in the near future, although Eleri wasn’t sure who else was expected. The raucous sound attracted her and she walked in the direction of it, deftly darting behind trees and bushes so as not to be seen by the rest of the party as she slipped out of the clearing around the shack and into the woods.
“Circles of Eight,” squawked the parrot, sounding closer. Eleri took another bite of cake, wondering why the cake in her hand wasn’t getting any smaller, despite that she had been munching on it steadily for some time. It actually looked as if it was growing in dimensions, but she dismissed the idea as improbable. “Circles of Eight!” screeched the parrot, louder this time. Preferring to err on the side of caution ~ not that she normally did, but in this instance ~ Eleri slipped inside a large hollow in a girthy old tree trunk. She would observe the approach of the new arrival from her hiding place.
Squatting down in the dry leaves, she leaned back against the rough wood and took another bite of cake, awaiting the next parrot call.
I wonder what’s in this cake? she thought, Because I am starting to feel a bit strange…
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
While the others were posturing and staring at each other threateningly like a pack of territorial stray dogs, Roberto inched closer to the mysterious sack. Something had started to protrude through a ragged hole in the side of the hessian weave. With a surreptitious glance at the others, who were still glaring at each other ~ with the exception of Godfrey who was still eyeing the lone peanut ~ he took another step closer. He bent down, ostensibly to flick a bit of mud from his trouser knee, and peered at the thing poking out of the sack.
“Why, it’s a tiny furled leaf!” he gasped. “It’s sprouting!” Like a sack of old potatoes left to rot in a damp corner, forgotten and discarded, a pale shoot was striking out in search of light.
Roberto held back when Liz demanded that Finnley lead her to the attic forthwith, followed by the Inspector. Godfrey shuffled along after them, picking up the stray peanut and popping it into his mouth. As soon as the gardener heard their footsteps creaking on the first floor landing, he made his move. There was life in that sack and he was going to give it the chance to thrive, to grow and blossom.
He knew just where to plant it. It would take some time to reach that place, but he knew what he must do.
Roberto set off for The Enchanted Woods, with a determined smile and a spring in his step. He was going to save the characters and grow them himself, nurture them all back to life.
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
“What was in the bag, Finnley, tell us!”
Everyone was looking at the maid after the Inspector had left hurriedly, under the pretext of taking care of a tip he had received on the disappearance of the German girl.Godfrey was the most curious in fact. He couldn’t believe in the facade of meanness that Finnley carefully wrapped herself into. The way she cared about the animals around the house was a testimony to her well hidden sweetness. Most of all, he thought herself incapable of harming another being.
But he had been surprised before. Like when Liz’ had finished a novel, long ago.“Alright, I’ll show you. Stay there, you lot of accomplices.”
Godfrey looked at Liz’ sideways, who was distracted anyway by the gardener, who was looking at the nearby closet.
“Liz’, will you focus please! The mystery is about to be revealed!”
“Oh shut up, Godfrey, there’s no mystery at all. I’ve known for a while what that dastardly maid had done. I’ve been onto her for weeks!”
“Really?”
“Oh, don’t you give me that look. I’m not as incapable as you think, and that bloodshot-eyes stupor I affect is only to keep annoyances away. Like my dear mother, if you remember.”
“So tell us, if you’re so smart now. In case it’s really a corpse, at least, we may all be prepared for the unwrapping!”
“A CORPSE! Ahaha, you fool Godfrey. It’s not A corpse! It’s MANY CORPSES!”Godfrey really thought for a second that she had completely lost it. Again. He would have to call the nearby sanatorium, make up excuses for the next signing session at the library, and cancel all future public appear…
“Will you stop that! I know what you’re doing, you bloody control machine! Stop that thinking of yours, I can’t even hear myself thinking nowadays for all your bloody thinking. Now, as I was saying of course she’d been hiding all the corpses!”
“Are you insane, Liz’ —at least keep your voice down…”
“Don’t be such a sourdough Godfrey, you’re sour, and sticky and all full of gas. JUST LET ME EXPLAIN, for Lemone’s sake!”Godfrey fell silent for a moment, eyeing a lost peanut left on a shelf nearby.
Conscious of the unfair competition for Godfrey’s attention Elizabeth blurted it all in one sentence:
“She’s been collecting them, my old failed stories, the dead drafts and old discarded versions of them. Hundreds of characters, those little things, I’d given so many cute little names, but they had no bones or shape, and very little personality, I had to smother them to death.” She started sobbing uncontrollably.That was then that Finnley came back in the room, panting and dragging the sack coated in dirt inside the room, and seeing the discomfit Liz’ with smeared make-up all over her eyes.
“Oh, bloody hell. Don’t you tell me I brought that dirty bag of scraps up for nothing!”
She left there, running for the door screaming “I’m not doing the carpets again!”
And closed the door with a sonorous “BUGGER!”
In reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods
After days and days, there was no signs of the others.
Rukshan had hoped they would manifest as easily as the Hermit had, without much effort on his part.
But they had remained silent, and even the ghosts seemed to have subsided in another dimension. He couldn’t feel them any longer. It was as though his realisation had made them disappear, or change course for a while.He hadn’t come any closer to the inner ring of trees though, and he’d come to the conclusion that there was surely some piece missing. He was reminded of the map that the cluster of seven had found at the beginning of the story, so they could reach the magic Gem inside the Gods’ Heartswood. There was no telling if such a map existed or if it did, what form it had —after all, the story seemed to be a little too simplified.
He was trying to figure out which was his character, and which of the curse he had inherited. The curse was rather easy he’d thought… Knowledge. It had always been his motivation, and the encounter with the Queen and the taking of the potion had keenly reminded him that for all his accumulated knowledge, he was missing the biggest part. The knowledge of himself, and who he really was. It was constantly eluding him, and he was starting to doubt even his own memories at times.
For the past few days, having finished the last morsel of fay bread in his bag, he was subsisting on roots, mushrooms and fresh rainwater cupped in leaves and last bits of snow in treeholes. It was time to get moving, as the weather had started to change. The snow was receding too.
Even if his quest wasn’t as sure as before, he knew he had to find a way to reach these six others, and try to figure out what they could do, or undo.
He had a strong suspicion that the potion maker was linked to this story. Her potion had activated something deep in him, and it seemed to share the same source of power.
With that resolution in mind, he took the path retracing his steps back to the cottage and the outside world.
In reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods
The snow had turned into blizzard and it was hard to see even a few meters ahead. It was hard to move because of the wind and of the thick white layer covering the forest ground. Fox looked behind him, his footsteps were already gone. He felt worried for the dwarf. Fox thought he shouldn’t have left his friend like that. There was no point now looking for him, and anyway Fox wasn’t really sure in which direction he came from. He shivered, his clothes were soaked and covered with snow and ice. He felt cold inside his bones. He was too tired to even wish for shelter. He was about to sit in the snow when he felt something bumping into his left leg.
“Oh! you’re there,” said Gorrash. “What strange weather. I have never seen something like it.”
Fox was too cold to answer but he felt relieved that his friend was well. The dwarf seemed so lively. Fox noticed his friend was carrying three colourful eggs in his little arms. They reminded him of the glowing eggs of that strange creature, except they weren’t glowing. He wanted to ask where Gorrash had found them, but his mouth wouldn’t respond.
“Anyway,” said the dwarf, “You’d better come this way, there is a wooden house with a fire burning inside.”
Fox looked at the dwarf jumping over the thick snow as if it was a game. He hesitated but decided to follow. He had nothing to lose.
They soon arrived in front of a wooden house. The door opened and an old lady got out, opening an umbrella. She was waving her other arm and saying something that Fox couldn’t hear with the raging wind. He continued to advance and the old lady looked horrified. She hurried toward him still talking. Fox eventually heard what she was saying.
“Don’t come closer! My house will not resist that blizzard.”
It was so strange that Fox stopped where he was. The old woman had no difficulty approaching despite the wind and the snow. When she was close enough, she covered Fox with the umbrella and the world became still around them.
“Is that a magic umbrella?” he asked.
“Sort of,” said the woman. “It’s more of an anti-curse thingy that my friend Mr Minn gave me some time ago. I didn’t think it would be useful, until today.”
In reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods
He took the road again not much later after a light breakfast.
The potion hadn’t seemed to bring about immediate noticeable changes. It told Rukshan something about its maker, who was versed enough in potions to create gradual (and likely durable) effects. Every experienced potion maker knew that the most potent potions were the ones that took time, and worked with the drinker’s inner magic instead of against its own nature. The flashy potions that made drastic changes in nature were either destructive, or fleeting as a bograt’s fart in the spring breeze.
If anything, it did give him a welcome warmth in the chest, and a lightness on his back and shoulders.The Faes had been generous with him, and he had food enough for a few days. Generous may not have been the right word… eager to see him scamper away was more likely.
Enhanced by the potion’s warmth, the Queen’s words were starting to shake some remembrance back to him, melting away a deep crust of memories he had forgotten somehow, pushing against the snow like promises of crocuses in spring. The core of the Dragon Heartswood was very close now, a most sacrosanct place.
Faes were only living at the fringe, where life and magic flew, running like the sap of an old tree, close to the bark.
Inside was darker, harder to get to. Some said it was where life and death met, the birthplace of the Old Gods and of their Dragons guardians before the Sundering.His initial plan was to go around it, safe in Fae territory, but after the past days, and the relentless menace of the hungry ghosts on his trail, he had to take risks, and draw them away from his kin.
The warmth in his heart was getting warmer, and he felt encouraged to move forth in his plan. He gave a last look at the mountain range in the distance before stepping into the black and white thickets of austere trees.In reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods
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!”
In reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods
It had been three days. Fox wasn’t sure of what to do next. The witch was gone, the manor was empty, and she wasn’t coming back. For a moment he felt like the small fox he was before his master found him, feeling abandoned by his mother. She had been killed after hiding him from the hunters. But he didn’t know it at the time. Fox sighed. How was he supposed to find the lost piece of soul now? It was easier when he was in his animal form, he wouldn’t think so much about what to do next, he would just be doing, anything that fit the moment. But his master had warned him not to revert back to his animal form, that he was not yet free. Fox wasn’t sure if it was true, but he trusted his master, and despite the strong desire to turn back, each moment he was making the decision to keep his human form.
There was another who was not yet free, Fox thought. He looked at the cold stone face of his new friend. They had talked every night since his arrival and as usual they hadn’t seen the daylight coming. This time, Gorrash had been frozen laughing, and Fox thought it was the liveliest statue he had ever seen. They had gotten along quite easily, especially after Fox had given the dwarf some medicine to help with the nausea after his incursion underground. Afterward, Gorrash had been an endless source of questions about the world. Fox thought the dwarf was an interesting character. He looked old with his long beard and the wrinkles around his eyes, but he had not been around very long. Grey during the day, he was very colourful once the daylight had gone; he wore red hat and pants, green jacket, and brown crakows and belt. His voice had the sound of a grinding stone, with a hint of melancholy as he talked about his maker. But for the moment, despite his expressive outburst, he was cast in silence.
Fox shook himself and decided it was time to make some plans about where to go next. He would try to catch up with the witch, he might be able to find her before she went to far away from the forest. The woman looked old and she couldn’t have gone far, especially as she seemed to avoid human contact, she wouldn’t have found a carriage. Fox remembered his master warning him about hope, that it was one of the cause of suffering in the world. Nonetheless, roaming randomly into the enchanted forest could take him years to find the lost piece of soul. Hope or no hope, he had spent enough time waiting in his life. He had a quest now.
Fox wouldn’t have admitted aloud, but his new friendship brought in some complication. Fox had tried to lift him, but despite its rather small size the statue was quite heavy. He would have to find something to carry it during the day as they couldn’t just walk at night time.
Fox looked at the garden for a moment, the frozen pond, the yellow grass, some old abandoned furniture. Then he looked at the closed door of the house, and wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. There might be something useful inside. And if the witch was gone, she wouldn’t mind, would she?Fox used a pair of pins to open the door. The smell of herbs, spices and a few other things he didn’t want to know about, brushed past his nose as he entered the dark house.
In reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods
There was no way around it. As hard as he would have tried, he couldn’t reach the peaks of the mountain without crossing the part of the Enchanted Forest which the Fae called their own. There was no way for him to avoid paying the price, or to avoid facing the Court.
Rukshan wished there was an easier way, but trying to avoid it would only delay the inevitable. Besides, he would need provisions to continue his journey —that is, if they’d let him.The first signs of the enchanted signposts had appeared two days ago. He’d been walking through the silent and cold forest for close to ten days already. His progress was slow, as the days were short, and the nights were better spent recuperating.
The early signs that he was approaching the Fae land wouldn’t have been noticeable by any other than those with some Fae blood in their veins. Some were as subtle as enchanted dewdrops on spiderwebs, other few were watcher crows, but most of the others were simply sapling trees, shaking at the slightest change of wind. All of them silent watchers of the Forest, spies for the Queen and her Court.From the first sign, he had three days. Three days to declare himself, or face the consequences. He would wait for the last one. There was something magical about the number three, and anything more hasty would only mean he was guilty of something.
Like improper use of magic he thought, smiling at the memory of the oiliphant. The Queen was clutching at a dwindling empire, and magic sources gone scarce meant it had to be “properly” used.
He never believed such nonsense, which is why he’d decided to live outside of their traditions. But for all his disagreement, he remained one of them, bound by the same natural laws, and the same particularities. Meant to reach extremely old ages while keeping an external appearance as youthful as will is strong in their mind, able to wield strong magic according to one’s dispositions, ever bound to tell the truth (and becoming thus exceptionally crafty at deception), and a visceral distaste for the Bane, iron in all its forms.
Thus was his heritage, the one he shared with the family that was now waiting for his sign to be granted an audience in the Court.One more day, he thought…
