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December 6, 2007 at 10:04 am #530
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
oh for fucks sake Becky! Where did that come from? Tina resisted an urge to laugh hysterically.
Wow said Becky, isn’t it great! It just came from nowhere!
fun, fun, fun, muttered Tina. It is just fun, none of it matters.
hahaha said Becky, yes, isn’t it fun! and I thought it would give Al something to do. He seems to spend alot of time fretting about his hair and nails lately,
December 6, 2007 at 8:24 am #515In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
That Abe sure is ugly as a burnt boot and crazier than a run over coon, aint he, said Isadora, one of the saloon girls who Twilight didn’t cotton on to much. The other girls laughed.
Twilight was real fond of old Abe, and truth was she was feeling right tetchy and pernikity and itching for a fight, and she weren’t much in the mood for dancing that night.
And your brain cavity wouldn’t make a drinkin cup for a canary Isadora. So why don’t you just shut that big old stupid mouth of yours before everyone cottons on to the fact that you are studying to be a half-wit.
Why you are nothing but a no-good little strumpet, screeched Isadora, lunging at Twilight and trying to grab her blond wig. Twilight stepped nimbly out of the way.
And you aint nothing but a stupid little buckle bunny, taunted Twilight. You got nothing better to do then follow those rodeo fellows around?
Snakes Alive! exclaimed Madame Butterbutt. Will you both hold yer tongues and stop yer bitching. And will you get a hurry on Twilight. Yer ain’t even dressed yet.
Isadora started crying. That Twilight started it, she snivelled.
Sooner i get rid of this damn one horse town the better, muttered Twilight under her breath. She touched the jewelled dagger lodged between her breasts. Those damn liquor breath cowboys better not mess with me tonight.
Old Abe, propping up the bar, chuckled
November 9, 2007 at 8:15 am #433In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Vincentius wanted to know where Arona had been heading.
She rummaged in her bag and pulled out her map to show him. Then her honestly got the better of her. No idea really, she confessed. How about you?
No idea either, said Vincentius.
Arona tried to look serious, then cracked up laughing and after a moment Vincentius joined in. Arona could not help but note what a lovely musical laugh he had. Definitely no snorting, and for a moment she thought fondly of dear wandering Sanso. I Wonder where he is now?
While they were busy laughing, they did not notice the woman arrive, but all of a sudden there she was, an old, bent, withered crone. An apparition of pure ugliness. Their laughter stopped abruptly.
Laughing my little lovelies were you, please don’t stop on my account said the crone. What a perfectly delightful sound. Music to my poor old ears. And she cackled gleefully.
oh Lordy, muttered Mandrake, his patience wearing thin with all the, what he considered, unwarranted and unnecessary joyfulness.
and what a cute little pussy cat, said the old woman, her long gnarly fingers gently resting on Mandrake for a moment. Mandrake snarled.
and a baby, said the old woman, reaching out to Yikesy who was cradled in Arona’s arms.
October 17, 2007 at 2:42 am #291In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Oh yes, it is all perfect, interjected Tina, in her new soft and gentle voice. Thank you so much for helping me to understand.
AHAHAHAAHAH, laughed Becky, nearly snorting, Tina are you okay today?
Well no actually, my head has been pounding for the last 24 hours. I think I have been taken over by those pesky aliens again. They tell me that the only way to get rid of them is to revert back to my own true self.
Hope you do it soon muttered Becky, all this niceness is quite unnerving.
October 16, 2007 at 8:07 am #287In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
India Louise and Eugenia momentarily forgot about the gold locket and walked over to the exceptionally long trunk. India dropped the locket into her pocket as she investigated the exterior of the trunk, which didn’t appear to have an opening. It seemed to have been made around whatever it housed, and permanently.
‘How strange’, mused India, ‘it must not be intended to open, ever!’
‘That makes me want to open it’, said Eugenia. ‘Let’s! Let’s open it!’
Eugenia was rummaging in the desk drawers for a suitable tool.
‘Wow, look at this, Indy’. She held a heavy black letter opener up to show India, with an elaborate carved dragon on the handle. The dragon had glittering amethyst eyes, and a serpentine line of coloured stones along its back.
India shivered involuntarily at the sight of the dragon. Horrid nasty creatures, dragons, she muttered, resisting an urge to cross herself. ‘Peace be with you, now bugger off’ she whispered the spell under her breath so Eugenia wouldn’t hear her and think she was a silly goose. Horrid scaley slimy stinky reptiles.
‘You go first, Genie, try and prise the trunk open.’ India didn’t want to touch the letter opener, but she was rather curious about the contents of the trunk.
Eugenia was a strong and capable lass, with a practical methodical mind ~ unlike India Louise ~ and before long the first piece of wood came splintering off.
‘Nice one, Genie, well done.’ India said as Eugenia wrenched off another few planks.
‘Oh MY GOD!’ ‘Jumping Jehosophat!’ ‘What the……’ ‘Holy Moly, Genie, what the….’. After a few initial exclamations, the girls were silent, the hair standing up on their arms.
They were looking down at the shrivelled features of a dried up body, covered in bits of disintegrating faded fabric.
‘A mummy! It’s a friggen mummy!’
September 29, 2007 at 7:58 am #236In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Arona hummed happily to herself. She felt so light without the cape and the tunnel was bathed in the gentle light of many glukenitches. Mandrake the cat followed along too, much to Arona’s delight, although she was a little hesitant to tell this to the grumpy cat
Magic magic magic magic she hummed to herself
Arona almost skipped along the tunnel, and, so wrapped up was she in thoughts of magic, that she tripped and fell heavily, hurting her left hand as she put it out to save herself
Ouch, hells bells and warty wizards, she muttered, for it did hurt quite considerably… and then she had some scarey thoughts. She looked around and realised that really, the fact of the matter was, undeniably, that she was still lost in the darkish tunnel.
What if I don’t believe in magic? and her happy mood plummeted.
Oh fuch, she swore, and sat down on the cave floor. FUCH FUCH FUCH FUCH she shouted as loud as she possibly could, and in fact hurt her throat a little in the process and quite possibly the sensitive ears of many glukenitches.
This blessed cave is doing my head in. I want to see the sunshine, or the rain, no matter, I don’t care what the weather is doing I JUST WANT TO BE OUT OF THIS CAVE.
Ooops that was rather loud
After coaxing Mandrake back, as he had retreated quite some distance at her outburst, she sat down and put her head in her hands and tried to think. Did she believe in magic? Well of course she had no choice. Life without magic was inconceivable to her.
She felt a familiar tiredness sweep over her as she struggled to work it out. Perhaps I will just have a small sleep before I continue, and she curled up on the ground, wishing she had her heavy black cape to wrap around her.
As she gave up the struggle and let sleep come she heard some soft words
It’s easy Arona … magic is easy … it is the thread linking all to all
************
A short while later she woke from her sleep, feeling refreshed and ready to continue.
September 25, 2007 at 7:49 am #215In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
After Arona said she was hungry, the energy of Malvina disappeared, and once again Arona found herself alone in the cave.
She found this quite irritating. They are really bit rude around here, she muttered.
Arona sat down on the floor of the cave and considered her options. She was tired of the cave and could barely remember what had drawn her here in the first place.
It had been the music of course. She had wanted to find the source of the music. However for the most part she decided her experience had been rather disappointing.
(Arona was never at her best when hungry and this was causing her to quickly forget some of the wonderful experiences with the music and the paintings, and take a rather negative view of events.)
All I have done is wander around dark passageways really.
And now, to top it all off, apparently things are shifting. In the name of heaven what does that mean?
AND if one more person tells me to use my magic I will probably scream or something!
Perish the thought, came a grumpy voice from a particularly dark corner. Your moaning is quite sufficiently bad enough.
And Mandrake the cat emerged from the shadows and made himself comfortable on Arona’s lap. This is great, much more comfortable than the ground he purred.
Oh cute, said Arona, a talking cat.
Cute yourself, responded Mandrake, love your cape by the way.
(Mandrake was prone to sarcasm, considering it a perfectly valid form of humour.)
Arona stroked Mandrake’s soft black coat and tried her hardest to work out what to do. It was all feeling a bit bleak at the moment, the ever changing cave, the half light, the heat and humidity… and especially her hunger.
Mandrake sighed in an impatiently eggsagerated sort of a way.
Heavens to murgatroyd¹, how can I relax with your incessant thinking? Okay so here’s an easy one for you: what’s the most important thing about magic?
All of a sudden Arona felt a flash of lightness and a sense of new energy moving within her.
of course! She exclaimed delightedly, hugging the less than enthusiastic Mandrake, you have to believe in it!
—
[¹] Note from the editor: Mandrake being a very educate cat from noble ancestors, some of its speech may be difficult to grasp for the average reader, which was certainly not the case for the astute Arona.
Anyway, here is some complement on that ‘Murgatroyd’ .September 16, 2007 at 2:08 pm #167In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Sanso was used to travelling alone. He’d been exploring this cave on his own for several years now, and it suited him, on the whole. No need to confer, or compromise, or rush to keep up, or slow down to let others catch up. He could follow his own impulses without hindrance. He did meet others on his travels, but only at the cave entrances, or rather, the times and places that the cave entrances revealed. He never felt an urge to settle though at any of these places, always compelled to return to the caves mysterious and ever changing labyrinthine tunnels.
The disembodied voices and coloured wispies were always with him in the tunnels. Sometimes one would be louder than another for awhile, then another would assume prominence. The bleakest coldest times were when he wasn’t noticing them; that’s when he found himself going round and round in circles, lost in the maze.
The electric blue wispy had been around alot lately, comforting him with little explosions of pinprick blue lights, and a golden mustard yellow one. English, not French mustard, he reminded himself, although he didn’t think it mattered and wondered why he’d thought it.
Sanso had been almost crawling for some time in a particuarly cramped and difficult tunnel; bent double for most of the time, his back was aching and he longed to stretch out. The thought of going back, retracing his steps, was unbearable, so he continued, and tried not to be discouraged.
‘Find something to appreciate, Appreciation is the key’ the voice of the blue wispy sounded amused, but in a kindly and endearing sort of way. Harumph, muttered Sanso, easy to say! It would help if there was something to appreciate!Just then Sanso heard another voice, muttering something over and over again. ‘… dragon egg dragon… egg dog egg … dragon dog egg…’ What the heck was that all about?
September 16, 2007 at 7:33 am #164In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
September 16, 2007 at 12:45 am #163In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Hells Bells muttered Arona to herself , this had better not be some sort of a test that dragon is putting me through
As she stepped forward into the darkness of the chosen path, she had a sudden sense she was walking off the edge of a cliff.
Arona had been practising quietness for a long time. The journey had been lonely at times and offered her many opportunities to practise her skills. There were so many parts of her wanting to have a say, discuss, analyse her every move, so that she would become paralysed and unable to move at all. In desperation almost she had learned to still the voices and find that part of herself she most believed herself to be. The part which believed in the existence of magic.
Well done, and shall you fly?
Arona hesitated. It was that voice again. She was not sure if this new voice came from her own thoughts, but she felt not.
Great, she thought, perfect time to finally lose it. Stuck in a dark cave with a troublesome dragon.
Shrugging her shoulders she went still inside and moved her body forward.
Leormn (with two little dots above the “o”) felt deeply humbled when he saw the extraordinary bravery of Arona.
It was hard for the proud dragon to consider, but he did wonder if sometimes he went too far with his joking. After all for him the cave was a playground, clay he could mould at will, or at a whim. Perhaps one could even call it a work of art, he thought proudly.
But he did realise that for the girl, who was newer to the ways of magic (although showed the most tremendous potential he grudgingly had to admit), he realised it represented something far deeper, a dual potential, the hope of light, but also the possibility of the deepest darkness.
For a moment he even considered revealing his whereabouts.
She is fine , Malvina answered his thoughts, she loves the challenge. It is what drew her here.
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