Search Results for 'once'

With a spring in her step that she had all but forgotten she possessed, Eleri set off on her trip to speak to her old friend Jolly about her husband Leroway’s latest plan that was causing some considerable controversy among the locals. Eleri planned to make the visit a short one, and to hasten back to Margoritt’s cottage in time for the departure of the expedition ~ because she surely wanted to be a part of that. But first, she had to see Jolly, and not just about Leroway. There was a sense of a stirring, or a quickening ~ it was hard to name precisely but there was a feeling of impending movement, that was wider than the expedition plans. Was Jolly feeling it, would she be considering it too? And if not, Eleri would bid her farewell, and make arrangements with her to send a caretaker down to her cottage. And what, she wondered, would happen about care taking the cottage if Jolly’s villagers were on the move again? Eleri frowned. How much did it matter? Perhaps a stranger would find it and choose to stay there, and make of it what they wished. But what about all her statues and ingredients? Eleri felt her steps falter on the old rocky road as her mind became crowded with all manner of things relating to the cottage, and her work.

You don’t have to plan every little thing! she reminded herself sternly. None of that has to be decided now anyway! It’s wonderful day to be out walking, hark: the rustling in the undergrowth, and the distant moo and clang of a cow bell.

The dreadful flu she’d had after the drenching had left her weakly despondent and not her usual self at all. But she’d heard the others talking while she’d been moping about and it was as if a little light had come on inside her.

She still had trouble remembering all their names: ever since the flu, she had a sort of memory weakness and a peculiar inability to recall timelines correctly. Mr Minn (ah, she noted that she had not forgotten his name!) said not to worry, it was a well known side effect of that particular virus, and that as all time was simultaneous anyway, and all beings were essentially one, it hardly mattered. But Mr Minn, Eleri had replied, It makes it a devil of a job to write a story, to which he enigmatically replied, Not necessarily!

Someone had asked, Who do we want to come on the expedition, or perhaps they said Who wants to come on the expedition, but Eleri had heard it as Who wants to be a person who wants to go on an expedition, or perhaps, what kind of person do the others want as an expedition companion. But whatever it was, it made Eleri stop and realize that she wasn’t even enjoying the morose despondent helpless feeling glump that she has turned into of late, and that it was only a feeling after all and if she couldn’t change that herself, then who the devil else was going to do it for her, and so she did, bit by bit. It might feel a bit fake at first, someone had said. And it did, somewhat, but it really wasn’t long before it felt quite natural, as it used to be. It was astonishing how quickly it worked, once she had put her mind to it. Less than a week of a determined intention to appreciate the simple things of the day. Such a simple recipe. One can only wonder in amazement at such a simple thing being forgotten so easily. But perhaps that was a side effect of some virus, caught long ago.

Enjoying the feeling of warm sun on her face, interspersed with moments of cool thanks to passing clouds, Eleri noticed the wildflowers along the way, abundant thanks to all the rain and all flowering at once it seemed, instead of the more usual sequence and succession. Briefly she wondered is this was a side effect of the virus, and another manifestation of the continuity and timeline issues. Even the wildflowers had all come at once this year. She had not noticed all those yellow ones flowering at the same time as all those pink ones in previous years, but a splendid riot they were and a feast for the eyes.

The puffy clouds drifting past across the sun were joining invisible hands together and forming a crowd, and it began to look like rain again. Eleri felt a little frown start to form and quickly changed it to a beaming smile, remembering the handy weightless impermeability shield that someone (who? Glynnis?) had given her for the trip. She would not catch another dose of the drenching memory flu again, not with the handy shield.

The raindrops started spattering the path in front of her, spotting the dusty ground, and Eleri activated the device, and became quite entranced with the effects of the droplets hitting the shield and dispersing.

Night had fallen when Rukshan came back to the cottage. He was thinking that they could wait a little bit for the trip. He did not like that much the idea of trusting the safety of their group to a stranger, even if it was a friend of Lhamom. They were not in such a rush after all.

Rukshan looked at their luxuriant newly grown pergola. Thanks to the boost potion Glynis had prepared, it had only took a week to reach its full size and they have been able to enjoy it since the start of the unusual hot spell. The creatures that had hatched from the colourful eggs Gorrash had brought with him were flowing around the branches creating a nice glowing concerto of lights, inside and out.

It was amazing how everyone were combining their resources and skills to make this little community function. In the shadow of the pergola there was an empty pedestal that Fox had built and Eleri had decorated with nice grapes carvings. Gorrash was certainly on patrol with the owls. His friends had thought that a pedestal would be more comfortable and the pergola would keep Gorrash’s stone from the scorching heat of the sun. Also, he wouldn’t get covered in mud during the sudden heavy rains accompanying the hot spell.

Seeing the beautiful pedestal and the carved little stairs he could use to climb up, Gorrash had tried to hide the tears in his eyes. He mumbled it was due to some desert dust not to appear emotional, but they all knew his hard shell harboured the softest heart.

The dwarf had repaid them in an unexpected way. Every day just before sunrise, he would take a big plate in his hands and jumped on the pedestal before turning to stone. It allowed them to put grapes or other fruits that they could eat under the shadow of the of the pergola.

Rukshan came into the house and he found Margoritt sitting at the dining table on which there was a small parchment roll. Her angry look was so unusual that Rukshan’s felt his chest tighten.

“They sent me a bloody pigeon,” she said when she arrived. She took the roll and handed it to Rukshan. “The city council… Leroway… he accuses us of unauthorised expansion of the house, of unauthorised construction on communal ground, and of unlicensed trade of manufactured goods.” Margoritt’s face was twisted with pain as the said the words.

Rukshan winced. Too much bad news were arriving at the same time. If there was a pattern, it seemed rather chaotic and harassing.

“They threaten us to send a bailif if we don’t stop our illegal activities and if we don’t pay the extra taxes they reclaim,” she continued. “I’m speechless at the guile of that man.”

Rukshan smiled, he wondered if Margoritt could ever be rendered speechless by anything except for bad flu. He uncoiled the roll and quickly skimmed through the long string of accusations. Many of them were unfair and, to his own opinion unjustified. Since when the forest belonged to Leroway’s city? It had always been sacred ground, and its own master.

“I have no money,” said Margoritt. “It’s so unfair. I can’t fight with that man. I’m too old and tired.”

“Don’t forget we are all in the same cottage, Margoritt. It’s not just you. Eventhough, they clearly want to evict us,” said Rukshan. “Even if we had enough money, they would not let us stay.” He showed her the small roll. “The list of accusations is so ludicrous that it’s clearly a ploy to get rid of us. First, that road they want to build through the forest, now evicting us from the ground.” And those bad omens from the mountain, he thought with a shiver.

“We are not going to give them that satisfaction, are we?” asked Margoritt, pleading like a little girl. “We have to find something Rukshan,” she said. “You have to help me fight Leroway.”

“Ahem,” said a rockous voice. Gorrash had returned from his patrol. “I know where to find money,” he added. “At leas, I think I know. I had another dream about my maker. It’s just bits and pieces, but I’m sure he hid some treasure in the mountains. There was that big blue diamond, glowing as brightly as a blue sun. And other things.”

A big blue diamond? It sounds familiar. Rukshan thought. There was an old fae legend that mentioned a blue diamond but he couldn’t remember. Is it connected to the blue light Olliver mentioned earlier? He wondered.

“That’s it! You have to go find this treasure,” said Margoritt.

Rukshan sighed as he could feel the first symptoms of a headache. There was so much to think about, so much to do. He massaged his temples. The trip had suddenly become urgent, but they also had to leave someone behind to help Margoritt with the “Leroway problem”. And he winced as he wondered who was going to take care of that road business. It was clear to him that he couldn’t be everywhere at the same time. He would have to delegate.

He thought of the telebats. Maybe he could teach the others how to use them so that he could keep in touch and manage everything at distance. He sighed again. Who would be subtle and sensitive enough to master the telebats in time?

Liz had an idea, and was glad that the others were all out on a day trip to the museum so that she could think about it without interruptions. It had occurred to her that there was probably a theme right under their noses regarding the multitudes of non endings in the stories. Where exactly had they all ended without actually ending?

Sure enough, the first one she looked at seemed promising with the mention of sheets:

“Yurick woke up from another spell of dreams. The patterns of the bedsheets where as though his newly inserted tile was creating a strong combination with other tiles.
In his puzzlement, he forgot to take a physical dream snapshot…”

Liz had had a personal breakthrough with bedsheets recently, and was pleased with this encouraging start.

When Liz looked at the next non ending of a story, she wondered if this would prove to be a theme: the characters themselves had gone missing.

“I haven’t heard a word from Lavender for the longest time, Lilac was wondering, When was the last time? Lavender, where ARE you?”

Liz had a slight jolt when she saw the non ending of the story after that, worried that she would find a trend of herself being the last writer to comment. What would that mean, she wondered?

“Minky was looking smug. “Enjoying the ride?”

Ending with a question? Well, that was something to think about. Liz was relived to find she wasn’t the last writer to write in the next story:

“For once, Arona was completely unconcerned about continuity.
“I wonder if we could harness the power of the wind to create a flash mob to amuse and entertain me?” she suggested.
Vincentius pondered for a moment “I did once employ a hamster to power a night light, so I don’t see why not.”

Smiling at the continuity remark, Liz pondered the nature of the message in this one. Anything can be created to amuse… can it be that easy?

Another nasty jolt as Liz read the last entry in the following story, considering the irritating few days she had just had with the online payment company:

“She clicked with her dysfunctionning mouse and invalidated the transaction again.”

Well, Liz said to herself, I certainly hope that little chuckle will have helped change the online transaction situation going on here presently!

Margoritt’s left knee was painful that day. Last time it hurt so much was twenty years ago, during that notorious drought when a fire started and almost burnt the whole forest down. Only a powerful spell from the Fae people could stop it. But today they sky was clear, and the forest was enjoying a high degree of humidity from the last magic rain. Margoritt, who was not such a young lady anymore dismissed the pain as a sign of old age.
You have to accept yourself as you are at some point, she sighed.

The guests were still there, and everyone was participating to the life of the community. Eleri, who had been sick had been taken care of in turn by Fox and Glynnis, while Rukshan had reorganised the functioning of the farm. They now had a second cow and produced enough milk to make cakes and butter that they sold to the neighbouring Faes, and they had a small herd of Rainbow Lamas that produced the softest already colourful wool, among other things. Gorrash, awoken at night, had formed an alliance with the owls that helped them to keep the area clear of mice and rats and was also in charge of the weekly night fireworks.

The strange colourful eggs had hatched recently giving birth to strange little creatures that were not yet sure of which shape to adopt. They sometimes looked like cuddly kittens, sometimes like cute puppies, or mischievous monkeys. They always took the form of a creature with a tail, except when they were frightened and turned into a puddle. It had been hard for Margoritt who mistook them for dog pee, but Fox had been very helpful with his keen sense of smell and washing away the poor creatures had been avoided. Nobody had any idea if they could survive once diluted in water.

The day was going great, Margoritt sat on her rocking chair enjoying a fresh nettle lassi on the terrace while doing some embroidery work on Eleri’s blouse. Her working kit was on a small stool in front of her. Working with her hands helped her forget about her knee and also made her feel useful in this youthful community where everybody wanted to help her. She was rather proud of her last design representing a young girl and a god statue holding hands together. She didn’t think of herself as a matchmaker, but sometimes you just had to give a little push when fate didn’t want to do its job.

Micawber Minn arrived, his face as long as the Lamazon river. He had the latest newspaper with him and put it on Margoritt’s lap. Surprise and a sudden sharp and burning pain in her knee made her left leg jerk forward, strewing all her needles onto the floor. Margoritt, upset, looked at the puddle of lassi sluggishly starting to covering them up.
“What…” she began.
“Read the damn paper,” said Minn.

She did. The front page mentioned the reelection of Leroway as Lord Mayor, despite his poor results in developing the region.
“Well, that’s not surprising,” Margoritt said with a shrug, starting to feel angry at Minn for frightening her.
“Read further,” said Minn suddenly looking cynical.
Margoritt continued and gasped. Her face turned blank.
“That’s not possible. We need to tell the other,” she said. “We can not let Leroway build his road through the forest.”

“They don’t make you see things that aren’t there, you know, Finnley. They enhance your awareness of the normally concealed from view. Finnley? Finnley! Where are you?” Liz cried in exasperation.

“Oh, rrrrrrright. So now somebody wants to conferrrrr with me,” said Finnley petulantly, clearly still galled about the key fiasco. Not to mention the small-maid-in-the-large-trunk fiasco.

“Oh okay! I’ll confer,” she conceded quickly as Roberto started to wander off again.

“Not so fast, Anna” said Finnley, intercepting the maid as she left Godfrey’s room. Just as Roberto had suggested, the back door was indeed unlocked. “I think you have had far too much time on this thread!” And without further ado, Finnley stuffed the protesting maid back into the large trunk.
“Good thing you are so small. You should be fine in there, I think, and I’ve popped in some food and water for your trip too.”
I am so much kinder than she deserves, thought Finnley proudly.
“Please, Miss Finnley! This is not honourable of you. Please revert me to the outside of the trunk at once!”

Liz left her bed at 8:30am, wearing only her pink and blue doubled cotton night gown, a perfect hair and her fluffy pink blue mules. She had been thinking about her characters while the sun was trying to rise with great difficulty. Liz couldn’t blame the Sun as temperatures had dropped dramatically since the beginning of winter and the air outside was really cold.

When Liz was thinking about her writings and her characters, she usually felt hungry. Someone had told her once that the brain was a hungry organ and that you needed fuel to make it work properly. She didn’t have a sweet tooth, but she wouldn’t say no to some cheesy toast, any time of the day.

She had heard some noise coming from the kitchen, certainly Finnley doing who knows what, although certainly not cleaning. It might be the association between thinking about her characters and the noise in the kitchen that triggered her sudden craving for a melted slice of cheese on top of a perfectly burnished toast. The idea sufficed to make her stomach growl.

She chuckled as she thought of inventing a new genre, the toast opera. Or was it a cackle?

As she was lost in her morning musings, her mules gave that muffled slippery sound on the floor that Finnley found so unladylike. Liz didn’t care, she even deliberately slowed her pace. The slippery sound took on another dimension, extended and stretched to the limit of what was bearable even for herself. Liz grinned, thinking about Finnley’s slight twitching right eye as she certainly was trying to keep her composure in the kitchen.

Liz, all cheerful, was testing the differences between a chuckle and a cackle when she entered the kitchen. She was about to ask Finnley what she thought about it when she saw a small person in a yellow tunic and green pants, washing the dishes.

Liz stopped right there, forgetting all about chuckles and cackles and even toasts.

“Where is Finnley?” she asked, not wanting to appear the least surprised. The small person turned her head toward Liz, still managing to keep on washing the dishes. It was a girl, obviously from India.

“Good morning, Ma’am. I’m Anna, the new maid only.”

“The new… maid?”

Liz suddenly felt panic crawling behind her perfectly still face. She didn’t want to think about the implications.

“Why don’t you use the dishwasher?” she asked, proud that she could keep the control of her voice despite her hunger, her questions about chuckles and cackles, and…

“The dirty dishes are very less, there is no need to use the dishwasher only.”

Liz looked at her bobbing her head sideways as if the spring had been mounted the wrong way.

“Are you alright?” asked Anna with a worried look.

“Of course, dear. Make me a toast with a slice of cheese will you?”

“How do I do that?”

“Well you take the toaster and you put the slice of bread inside and pushed the lever down… Have you never prepared toasts before?”

“No, but yes, but I need to know how you like it only. I want to make it perfect for your liking, otherwise you won’t be satisfied.” The maid suddenly looked lost and anxious.

“Just do as you usually do,” said Liz. “Goddfrey?” she called, leaving the kitchen before the maid could ask anymore questions.

Where was Goddfrey when she needed him to explain everything?

“You need me?” asked a voice behind her. He had appeared from nowhere, as if he could walk through the walls or teleport. Anyway, she never thought she would be so relieved to see him.

“What’s that in the kitchen?”

“What’s what? Oh! You mean her. The new maid.”

He knew! Liz felt a strange blend of frustration, despair and anger. She took mental note to remember it for her next chapter, and came back to her emotional turmoil. Was she the only one unaware of such a bit change in her home?

“Well, she followed us when we were in India. We don’t know how, but she managed to find a place in one of your trunks. Finnley found her as she had the porter unpacked the load. It seems she wants to help.”

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?

(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.

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

“You had one job to do! One job!” Alex’s mother shouted at him. “One job, that could hardly have been any easier for a shiftless layabout like you, and you balls it up!”

“Oh Mom, it was so boring! Sitting there for years and nothing ever happened! And we only left once, it was such rotten timing…”

“You were supposed to stop that kind of thing ever happening and now its too late. You and Albie will never get another job now.”

“Well actually you’re wrong, mother. I have been offered a job with the guys who planted all that funny stuff all around the entrance. It involves travel and adventure, they said, and good money, better money that a guard makes!”

“Oh, dear god,” replied Lottie. “Please say it isn’t true.”

“She found the entrance, you say?”

“I am afraid so. I am sorry indeed to say that this is the case.”

“How could she have found the way in? Where were the guards? And who is she who would dare to enter the Doline?”

“It’s been so long … I think the guards got lazy. And who can blame them … so many years they stood at their post and nobody even trying to find the way in. I think they got tired of waiting for something to happen. And as to who it is … all I have heard is she is a traveller and not anyone from the Village. A traveller from far off parts, I have heard.”

“Dearie me … always the way, isn’t it? Heads are going to roll of course and I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes. What’s going to happen now?”

“It’s very hard to get someone out once they have found the way in. That’s a well known truth.”

“It is indeed. Indeed it is.”

“What we all need now”, Liz was thinking out loud, “Is a more relaxed approach. We should stop trying to be proper clever writers and just blather.”

“If it’s supposed to be relaxed blather, why did you just fix three typo’s?” asked Finnley, the annoying maid, who had once again been peering over Elizabeth’s shoulder, looking for something to find fault with.

“Oh come on, that’s a bit much, Liz!” Finnley retorted, accidentally on purpose slopping Liz’s tea into her ashtray, knowing a pet hate of hers was a wet ashtray.

“Do be careful, Finnely! snapped Liz.

“Just taking a relaxed approach to being a maid, Ma’am,” she replied rudely with a flamboyant gesture with her feather duster, which whacked Liz smartly across the back of the head as she swanned out of the room with her nose in the air.

The memories of the strange vision had faded away. Only the feeling of awe was lingering in his heart.

Fox was walking in the forest near Margoritt’s cottage. The smell of humid soil was everywhere. Despite it being mostly decomposing leaves and insects, Fox found it quite pleasant. It carried within it childhood memories of running outside after the rain whild Master Gibbon was trying to teach him cleanliness. It had been a game for many years to roll into the mud and play with the malleable forest ground to make shapes of foxes and other animals to make a public to Gibbon’s teachings.

Fox had been walking around listening to the sucking sound made by his steps to help him focus back on reality. He was trying to catch sunlight patches with his bare feet, the sensations were cold and exquisite. The noise of the heavy rain had been replaced by the random dripping of the drops falling from the canopy as the trees were letting go of the excess of water they received.

It was not long before he found Gorrash. The dwarf was back in his statue state, he was face down, deep in the mud. Fox crouched down and gripped his friend where he could. He tried to release him from the ground but the mud was stronger, sucking, full of water.

“You can leave him there and wait the soil to dry. You can’t fight with water”, said Margorrit. “And I think that when it’s dry, we’ll have a nice half-mold to make a copy of your friend.”

Fox laughed. “You have so many strange ideas”, he told the old woman.

“Well, it has been my strength and my weakness, I have two hands and a strong mind, and they have always functioned together. I only think properly when I use my hands. And my thoughts always lead me to make use of my hands.”

Fox looked at Margoritt’s wrinkled hands, they were a bit deformed by arthritis but he could feel the experience they contained.

“Breakfast’s ready”, she said. “I’ve made some honey cookies with what was left of the the flour. And Glynis has prepared some interesting juices. I like her, she has a gift with colours.”

They left the dwarf to dry in the sun and walked back to the house where the others had already put everything on the table. Fox looked at everyone for a moment, maybe to take in that moment of grace and unlikely reunion of so many different people. He stopped at Rukshan who had a look of concern on his face. Then he started when Eleri talked right behind him. He hadn’t hear her come.

“I think I lost him”, she said. “What’s for breakfast? I’m always starving after shrooms.”