Search Results for 'spot'

“Bugger,” said Maeve. “I’m out of butter. What shall we do, Fabio?”
Fabio rushed excitedly to the front door.
“Go and see if Lucinda has some butter? Good idea, but you have to do the talking. Okay?”
Clearly, I am in need of human companionship.
An old rhyme from her childhood came to mind. She would say it over and over, fast as she could without tripping over her tongue.
Biddy Botter bought bum butter. Blah said she the butters bitter but if i buy some better butter, better than the bitter butter that will make the bitter butter better.
Lucinda’s door has the number 57 on the front and a skull door knocker. Maeve’s door was numbered 22 so it made no sense at all. Lucinda opened the door a crack and peered out at Maeve.
“Oh Maeve,” she said, “Um, hi.”
“Hi. Is this a bad time? I just wanted to borrow a bit of butter if you have any spare.”
Lucinda hesitated before opening the door and gesturing Maeve in.
“Sure,” she said. “Excuse the mess.”
Maeve spotted the doll right away.
“What are you doing with Ima Indigo!”
Ima was sitting on the shelf near the the window, sandwiched between a cracked concrete buddha head and a dying fern. Maeve picked the doll up.
“May I?” she said, without waiting for a reply.
She turned the doll over and felt the back seam with her fingers. The stitching was rough and the thread didn’t match the tiny stitches on the rest of the doll’s body. She gently squashed Ima. No key.
“Where did you get this? Did you take a key out of her body?”
Lucinda patted Fabio and shook her head, annoyed at Maeve and at the same time feeling guilty.
“I found her at the market.”
“Oh my god,” said Maeve.

“Finnley, I hear you’ve been spotted scurrying on occasion,” mused Liz. “ I find this hard to picture.”

Something seemed to jump from one of those anormal birds. A small dark spot in the sky at first it began to spread and look like a giant red flying squirrel and it was diving right at them. Rukshan caught Olli who was running around like mad and making the baby snoot nervous.
“Relax. I think I know who it is,” he said.
The creature landed in a geyser of sand and tumbled toward them. Rukshan pushed gently Olli to let it go its way and the ball of red hairs tumbled farther away. It sat in the sand, dazed.
“Hi, Fox,” said Rukshan. “You couldn’t be left behind, could you?”
Fox who had taken back his human form enough to speak.
“There are more of them flying over the forest. I hijacked one of them to find you. I think Leroway has found new friends. I thought I could do like those squirrels, but I think I need more practice.” He said, spitting sand from his mouth.

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.

leaving gardener
doctor pull potions
whatever hold threads
potion holding memory dreaming spot
book present
making rude names fear round

“The mansion to yourself?” snorted Liz. “You, Godfrey, will be going on ahead to make sure everything is ready for us. We’d like a nice leafy garden and a balcony, and do make sure we have a really good cook.”

“And we want first class tickets,” added Finnley. “Because we are worth it,” she added defiantly, noticing the various raised eyebrows. “I’ll go and find Roberto then shall I?”

“That’s a very good question, Finnley. Where the devil is he anyway? Godfrey, perhaps you should go and find him, and lay the law down a bit about wandering off the thread while on duty.”

“Funnily enough,” said Godfrey, clearing his throat, “Roberto appears to have fetched up in Mumbai. He was spotted a few days ago chasing chickens and trying to stuff them into a story thread. I was, ahem, going to mention it…”

Liz was just about to start complaining about always being the last to know what was going on, when a thought struck her about how marvelously fortuitous it was that she wanted Godfrey to go on ahead to India, and to also look for Roberto ~ who was conveniently in India!

Gibbon stretched his long arm and touched Fox’s forehead. The hand was warm and soothing. Fox felt his heartbeat slow down, and as his thoughts dissolved into nothingness the rain gradually stopped. Soon there were spots of sunlight coming through the naked branches of the trees.

What did I tell you? asked Gibbon. His white beard shaking like the one of a Easter sage. He cupped his mouth like apes do and touched his chest where the heart was. Have you forgotten what I taught you?

Fox whined but said nothing. There was nothing to be said while his master was talking.

Go into your heart and quiet that nonsensical quest of yours. You know you need the human form to do that. When you’re in your fox form, your senses are easily fooled and caught by all the traps of Dam Sarah.

Fox knew very well the story of Dam Sarah, the Goddess of Illusion. He knew that in order to be free he had to use the form of a human, not only because they had duller senses, but also for other reasons that his fox self couldn’t very well comprehend. He had to be in his human form to make sense of all those gibbonish talks.

He focused on his breath, lulled by his master’s voice. It was like the whisper of the forest, whispering endlessly about ancient forgotten wisdom that only the soul could fathom. And soon the aromas of the nature around him seemed to fade away. Fox knew it was only because his sense of smell was changing closer to that of a human.

The only thing that could be an obstacle at first was the cold air. Fox really didn’t like being cold, and humans didn’t have much fur to protect them against it. But once the change had taken, the cold was helpful to anchor you into the present state of humanity. Fox caught it with all his heart to help him finish the transformation. It was strange to use the very trap that you wanted to flee.
He felt his spirit suddenly clear and empty as the bright blue sky above the forest. His previous wandering around, following the smells seemed quite silly. He had been influenced by that burning smell and got gradually caught into reverting back to his fox self for longer than he dared to admit to himself. His anxiety and constant wondering about it was the trap of Dam Sarah for the humans.

—Good, said Gibbon. But don’t forget that burning smell.
Gibbon had also took on the shape of a fully clothed human. Still his presence was unmistakably powerful and natural. He blew a warm breath on Fox’s puzzled face, which helped a lot with the shivers, and dropped some clothes at his pupil’s naked feet. Fox would have to ask his master how to bring your clothes into the transformation.
—Now, get dressed, Gibbon said. We don’t want you to catch cold. I have something to tell you.

Fox put on his clothes before the warmth of his master’s breath wore off. The familiarity of the fabric on his skin was another way to get deeper into the human form. The form is like a fishnet, keeping you tight into your reality. You can use it, or be used by it, he remembered now.

Fox crept stealthily behind a pile of jars. The woman he had been following since he had woken up had acted strangely. As they were approaching the outdoor market of the Gwloerch’s district, she had gradually become stooped. If he hadn’t seen her leaving the house straight and lively under her veil, he could have believed she was as old as she played it now. This picked his curiosity even more. He wondered about her reasons to hide her true self to the world.

People at the market seemed to know her, and she even had her spot ready for her when she arrived. She sat on one of two wooden chairs beside a small circular table. Fox observed how people interacted with her. They seemed to respect her and show some kind of deference. But he also could feel a hint of fear in the smell they gave off. No one talked to her though.

The young crone didn’t need to drum up business. Her presence seemed to be enough. Not long after they arrived, a woman came and whispered something to the young crone. The veiled woman didn’t say a word, took a small pouch from her basket and gave it to the woman in exchange for coins. She was swiftly replaced by another, and another.

Fox began to relax. His stomach growled. He suddenly became acutely aware he was in a market full of food. The most unnerving one was the chicken. Their cackles were as powerful to him as the song of the siren. He tried to contain himself. But the lack of excitement and the cold were too much.

He looked at the queue of customers waiting for the young crone’s remedies and advices. He could have a good meal and return before she had given all of treasures from her basket. He decided his watch had lasted long enough, he needed to get some exercise.

Lead by his hunger, he sneaked out from behind the jars. It was easy to get unnoticed in a market full of people. But still he had to be careful. Which was not so easy as his stomach seemed to have overrun his attention.

The chickens were easy to find. They were parked in a small pen. Fox counted eighteen hens, three cocks, plus their chicks. That would certainly be his chance. He would have to be quick and go against the wind, not to let the birds catch his scent. His hunger and the proximity of the fowl were making him lose all sense of precaution. All he could see were the white feathers of the hens, white was his favourite colour at that moment. All he could hear was gentle cackle intimating him to get closer. All he could smell was game.

Fox was close enough. He waited just a bit longer, drooling at the anticipation of the meal. He made his mind on a particularly juicy chicken and prepared to jump. He never knew if he had been spotted before or after he plunged into the pen. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was he missed his prey.

Nonetheless, his sudden incursion into the market set off a mayhem among humans and birds alike. People were shouting ‘FOX! FOX !’. Chickens were running in all directions, flapping their wings and trying to take off, forgetting they couldn’t, but it was enough to let them out of the pen. Feathers were flying around. All this agitation making Fox even more excited and reckless. He avoided being caught several times with the help of the birds flying in the way of the humans.

Eventually, Fox managed to get a small orange one, his least favourite color. It was time to clear off. But wherever he turned, there were legs blocking his path. His prey struggling in his mouth wasn’t helping. He began to panic, the humans were closing in on him.

Let the bird go and I’ll help you, said a voice in his head. Fox blinked, startled by the strange feeling. He froze a moment, which almost had him caught. He saw an escape route under a table and ran all he could.

Let the bird go, said the voice again. This time it was compelling and Fox released his prey.

Now come under my veil, said the voice. A face appeared, in his mind. She had scales and two little horns on her forehead. Fox knew where he had to go.

When Glynis arrived at the edges of the forest, all those years ago, she really didn’t have a clear idea where she was headed. To be honest, she didn’t much care. She was exhausted and looking for a nice spot to rest, away from prying eyes.

The shady canopy of the forest looked appealing and she only meant to stop for a short while. But it seemed the forest had other ideas as soft green moss-carpeted paths appeared before her and sunlight speckled glades beckoned to her through the trees.

Just a little further, she would think. It’s so pretty here.

And so Glynis just kept going, as she really had nowhere better to be, until she arrived at the deserted mansion. She liked to think she was here by invitation and the forest was her protector.

She thought about this as she set off that morning. Remnants of a dream stayed with her and she had woken feeling heavy hearted and a little anxious about her journey. In her dream a very tall fence had been erected around the city and people with bad intent were prowling the perimeter so that the inhabitants of the city were no longer free to come and go.

The forest will not let me pass if it is not safe to do so, she reminded herself.

It caressed the bottle it had stolen from the house, purring like a cat. Gorrash had never seen such a being before. Nor had his maker, as far as he could tell from the residual memories of the sculpting process. The creature looked somewhat transluscent and its movements felt unnatural. It reminded him of how water flowed from the surface of his stone skin during a rainy day.

Gorrash didn’t understand how it got the flask. Its paw had just flown through the glass and brought back its glowing prize without breaking the window. He had blinked several times before being sure the window had been closed.
That is interesting, Gorrash thought. He had never dared enter the house, fearing to be trapped inside.

The creature suddenly backed away and hid into a bush. There was movement inside the house. Gorrash returned quickly to his usual spot before she could see him. The human of the house was closing the window for the night. He didn’t understand that either. As far as he could tell, night was the best time of all, especially in winter when nights were longer. A couple of bats flew above him and as they became silent he knew there were a couple less mothes in this world.

Gorrash was still curious about the creature. He went to the bush near the window; you would be surprised how silent a stone dwarf could be. He moved the leaves apart and saw the flask on the ground. It was unopened but empty. The dwarf picked the bottle up from the ground. It was kind of wet. But no sign of the creature. He looked around the garden, with the moonlight it should be easy to spot. But the night was quiet and empty.

As he walked under the old oak tree, a satisfied purr from above attracted his attention. Gorrash looked up and there it was glowing and pulsing with flowing patterns of colors perched onto a branch like a christmas decoration.

Gorrash scratched his stone beard with its tiny hand. It was high for a dwarf. He had never climbed onto a tree, and he doubted he could do it one day. Mostly he feared the fall.

“Hey”, he called. The creature continued to purr and glow as if it heard nothing.
“Hey”, he called again. The creature continued to ignore him.
Gorrash looked at his feet and found a few pebbles. I hope it does not hold grudges, he thought before throwing the first stone at the creature.

It flew right through the creature’s body. Gorrash shivered thinking it might be some kind of ghost. He hesitated a moment, considering his options. But he had been alone for too long, even a ghost would be good company. He threw the other pebble which flew right through the creature again but this time he had calculated so that it would also bump into the bark of the tree.

It was enough to get its attention. The patterns of colors were pulsing more quickly, but were still harmonious.
“Hey! I’m down there”, Gorrash said. This time the creature looked down. The dwarf waved his hand. He was not sure but the rainbow creature looked a tad drunk. He wondered what was in that empty flask.
“You care to get down a moment ?” he asked.
“Mruiiii”, answered the creature with what looked like curiosity.