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In reply to: Eight Turns of the Wheel
Albie pondered Lottie’s words. He’d been trying to forget the doline, but now he realized he’d been avoiding the inevitable. It was no good pretending there were other jobs for him, that much was becoming clear. His mission had been to protect the doline, and he’d failed.
Or had he? A new idea was glimmering in his mind, that he hadn’t failed at all. At first he’d been so embarrassed and anxious about the security breach that he’d only seen the obvious superficial layer of events. Yes, strangers had entered the doline; true, they were not supposed to let that happen. But now he wondered, were they strangers to the doline? Who were they? Maybe they were meant to enter, and his apparent lack of attention was a providential and timely. How did he, Albie, even know for sure that he was working for the right side? What did he really know about his bosses? And what about that handsome fellow who’d slithered out of the doline, the dark eyed one with leaves in his hair?
Albie hadn’t even told Alex about him, not after the shit hit the fan about the breach and illegal entry. The last thing he felt like doing was admitting that there had been an illegal escape as well. But Albie couldn’t stop thinking about him, the graceful way he shook the dust out of his hair, the depths of those lustrous dark eyes, his long slender fingers….
Now, Albie was kicking himself for hiding behind a tree, for not approaching the strange man, or at least following him to see where he was going. His job was to stop people from entering. Nobody had said anything about stopping people leaving it. It was unexpected, and he’d been scared. Was it too late to try and track his movements? He’d come out of the doline, he’d have stories to tell. Albie needed to know, he needed to find him.
He would find a way to trace him. He wondered if the new dog could help him, if he could find something with the mans scent upon it. Albie was determined to find a way.
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
“My key won’t work! Let me in!” shouted Finnley, banging loudly on Liz’s front door.
She saw a slight movement at the dining room window and spun around, just in time to see the new maid’s face furtively disappearing behind the curtain.
And then, with a shock of horror, Finnley realised what must have occurred.
“That stupid girl can’t even cook toast! You can’t just discard me after all these years of faithful and devoted service. Goddamit let me in!
“And,” she added loudly, “there is dust!” Finnley spat the word dust with great emphasis and contempt in her tone. “I saw it. I saw it when the curtain moved!”
“Well,” she said eventually, “I’m not one to stay where I am not wanted!” And just as she was about to turn away, somewhat huffily, the front door opened an inch. And then stopped.
“Finnley Finnley! is that you?” hissed Liz croakily from behind the crack.
“Liz? “
“Finnley, thank goodness! You’ve got to help me! I’m sick as a dog and Godfrey is no good … he is completely under the spell of that awful new … “
Suddenly, the door slammed shut.
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
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.”
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
“How’s the new dog settling in, Ma?” asked Albie, playing for time.
“Oh, she’s doing fine, don’t you worry about that, and don’t try and change the subject!” retorted Freda. “Lottie told me all about it this morning. You had one job to do, one job!”
“That’s what Lottie said,” replied Albie, looking down at his shoes and halfheartedly attempting to knock the dried mud off them on the chair leg. “Sorry, Ma,” he added sadly. “Shall I take the new dog for a walk?”
Freda sighed. “Oh alright then, but don’t let her off the lead. And make sure you get back before the rain. And stop kicking mud all over the floor!”
In reply to: Eight Turns of the Wheel
“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.”
In reply to: Eight Turns of the Wheel
“Tourists!” shouted Ugo the gecko to his albino friends. They all stopped and turned their heads in unison to look at the two humans who had entered the premises, inside their small chests their hearts beating fast with excitement like so many small shamanic drums that only gecko ears could hear. Ugo was so engrossed in those two humongous creatures and the hypnotic rhythm of his friends’ heartbeats that he didn’t see the suckers from his front left paw were getting loose again. They had been damaged in a fight with a twirling bat one week ago and they still hadn’t heal nicely because he didn’t care so much. Soon his left paw got detached from the ancient stones of the wall, followed by his right and soon he fell. But like he was made of sticking rubber the fall was short and he got stuck again on a lower stone, walking on the head of a few friends in the process.
“Sorry for that! I’ll have them checked, promise.”
Some of the geckos missed a heartbeat, frightened by the sudden turmoil. They ran in what might appear random directions and panic quickly spread among the albino geckolony on the wall. By a miracle of nature and because they were all so fascinated by tourists, the geckos rearranged nicely only to stop a sucking steps away and turned their head back again toward the tourists. Their hearts beating in unison again.
“Look! that dark wall over there with the white hieroglyphs. I’m sure it just moved!” said the tallest of the tourists. She was curious and decided to go watch by herself what that curious wall was about.
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
“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.
In reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods
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.”
In reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods
When the rain stopped, Eleri stood motionless, suspended in between the enveloping cocophony of pattering drops. Already the saturated foliage was steaming and a dense mist arose from the sodden ground. The effects of the cake were wearing off, and the sudden change from exhuberance in the lashing rain, to the whispering silence and eerie rising fog left her speechless, and still. A moment, hanging like a swaying rope bridge between one scene and another.
And it was at that very moment, as is so often the case, that the mysterious Mr Minn appeared, dressed, it would seem, for a formal event. Raising his tall black hat he said with a smile, “Eleri! WE meet again!”
She swooned, and fell into his arms. Later, in retrospect, Eleri had to admit it was an extraordinarily well timed whitey, due to the after effects of the cake, but was pleased with the theatrical symbolism and timing.
Rolling his eyes, Micawber Minn called for Festus, his young assistant. “Carry her back to the party, and tell Margoritt I’m on my way. But first,” he said, “A necessary detour…”
In reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods
The rain had poured again and again, across the night, with short fits of howling winds. There had been no sign of Eleri or Gorrash, and people in the cabin had waited for the first ray of light to venture outside to find them.
The newcomer, the quiet potion maker, stayed in her small quarters and hadn’t really mingled, but Margoritt wasn’t concerned about it. She was actually quite protective of her, and had continued her own chatter all through the night, doing small chores or being busy at her small loom, stopping at times in the middle of painful walking. She would however not cease speaking to whomever was listening at the time, or to her goat, or at times just to the wind or herself.Rukshan had had several dreams during the night, and could tell he wasn’t the only one. Everyone had a tired look. Images came and went, but there was a sense of work to be done.
There were a few things he had managed to gather during that time awake when meditative state brought some clarity to the confused images.
First, they were all in this together.
Then, they probably needed a plan to repair the old.
As soon as they would find the two missing ones, he would share it with everyone.‘Hng hng’ — Rukshan opened his eyes to find Olliver drawing on his sleeve. The boy wasn’t very eloquent, but his postures would speak volumes. He was pointing to something outside.
Rukshan looked at the clearing just outside the cabin, at first not realising two things had happened. Then they both dawned on him: the first ray of light had come across the cloudy sky, and second, the clearing was empty of the vengeful God.
“Grumpf” he swore in the old Elvish tongue “that rascal is surely going after Eleri — Eleri who he now knew was the laughing crone of the story, rendered younger by the powers of her goddaughter, the tricked girl. Eleri, who having inherited of the transmutation powers, had turned the angry God who had been left behind into stone to protect all of them.
If the God would find her before they could get her to extract her Shard, at best they would be condemned to another cycle of rebirth, or worse, he would try to kill all of them to extract the other Shards from the others, one by one, until the Gods old powers would be his…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: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods
The rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
Margoritt showed Glynis to a small area, partitioned off from the main room; a narrow bed, a tiny window to the outside and and a simple wooden shelf.
“You’ll be wanting some privacy,” she said. “And something dry to wear,” she added, handing Glynis a dress, plain in shape and made from a soft woven fabric, pearly spheres woven into a dark purple background.
The second person to give me something to wear, she mused.
The fabric was amazing. It made Glynis think of stars at night and the way you could never see to the end of the sky. It felt both reassuring and terrifying all at the same time.
There is magic in the hands that wove this, she thought, hesitant though to voice her thoughts to Margoritt, however kindly she seemed.
“A master weaver has made this!” she said instead. “Was it you?”
“No, not I … but you are right, it was made by a master … as you can no doubt see, it doesn’t fit me any longer. I’ve had it sitting there going to waste for many years and am glad to put it to use. It doesn’t cover your head like the other did, but really there is no need here.” Margoritt smiled. “Go, get changed. Come out when you are ready and I will have some tea and cake for you. Then you can meet the others properly.”
“Is it okay? hissed Sunny in a loud whisper when they were alone, anxiously hopping from one foot to another.
“Yes, i think so … I’ve been very careful,” Glynis reached in her pouch and gently pulled out an egg.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it … almost golden… for sure it must be the gift the man from the market promised me in my dream … the way it just sat there on the path … lucky I did not stand on it.” She stroked the egg gently.
“Sorry about all this, little one,” she said softly to the egg. “I wonder what creature you are inside this shell … and what safe place can we hide you till you are ready to come out of there?”
“I can sit on it of course,” said Sunny. “It will be my honour and privilege to assist.”
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
At that moment the trap in the ceiling opened revealing the dark attic.
“Is that smoke coming from the attic?” asked Godfrey, suddenly worried someone had started a fire up there.
“It’s looking more like mist,” said Liz who had suddenly forgotten about her unborn babies. “You know, in those mystery novels they add some when they want to create an atmosphere of suspens.”
Godfrey looked doubtful as the mist was continuing to pour down from the attic in slow motion, like the harbinger of a darker secret. A loud noise made them jump. A metallic ladder, apparently attached on the attic’s floor which was the corridor’s ceiling, unfolded quickly. It stopped just before hitting the floor.
They all looked at each others, waiting for someone to say something. Anything.
“Go have a look, Godfrey,” said Liz.
“Shouldn’t it be Walter? He’s from the police after all, if there is danger he should be the one to take the lead.”Liz looked a bit uncomfortable.
“I’m not sure,” she said in a hum. “There might be some dark secrets I don’t want to reveal to outsiders.”“Are you coming or what?” Said a voice coming from the attic.
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
“Finnley, go and tell Roberto to bring the ladder. I can’t possibly climb up through that trap door with those rickety steps, I want a proper ladder. And proper gardener to hold it steady. I wouldn’t trust any of you lot,” she said, glaring at them each in turn.
Finnley made a rude sign behind Elizabeth’s back, and clumped back down the stairs. Increasingly heated bickering between Liz and the Inspector ensued. Godfrey wandered off down the hallway tutting and shaking his head, and then darted into a spare bedroom and fell sound asleep on the bed.
Expecting a tongue lashing from Liz for being so long, Finnley was surprised that nobody noticed her return. She cleared her throat a few times trying to get their attention.
“Go and get yourself a spoonful of honey and stop making that ghastly croaking noise, Finnley!”
“The thing is, Liz,” replied the maid, “He’s gone.”
“Who?”
Exasperated, Finnley’s voice rose to an alarming falsetto. “The gardener! Roberto! He’s gone, and what’s more, he’s taken the sack with him!”
“Do get a grip, Finnley, he’s probably just taking the rubbish out. Now then, Walter, if you think I’ve forgiven you for that day when you….he’s taken what? What did you say?”
Elizabeth blanched, waving her arms around wildly as if she was drowning.
“I know a good gardener who’s looking for a job,” the Inspector said helpfully.
“You utter fool!” Elizabeth rounded on him. “My babies have been stolen and you talk about gardening! Never mind that German, or whatever it was you said you’re doing here, go and catch that thief!”
Raising an eyebrow, Finnley wondered if this was just another fiasco, or was it really a cleverly engineered plot?
In reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods
In the kitchen, Fox beheaded the chicken in a swift move. He tried not to be horrified when the creature’s body kept on running around, headless like a peaslander. He felt vaguely aware that’s what he’d been doing all that time. Running around without a very clear idea about what he was doing.
“Don’t let it run around bloody n’all!” said Margoritt, “Who do you think is going to clean that mess?” The old woman, huff and puff, limped rhythmically after their dinner. Someone had heard her scream and came into the kitchen. It was that tall Fae guy, Rukshan, who looked so successful and handsome. Fox felt depressed. The Fae had caught the dead body, which had eventually stopped moving, and put it in the basket Margoritt had taken on the table.
“Thanks my dear,” she said with a giggle. “Would you be so kind as to pluck it for me?” She then looked at Fox. “Sorry, lad, but with a name like yours I’m not sure I can trust you on this one.” The old lady winked.
Fox couldn’t be annoyed at Margoritt, he wouldn’t trust himself with a chicken, dead or alive. And the old lady had saved him from the blizzard and from that strange curse. He attempted a smile but all he could do was a grimace. Margoritt looked at him as if noticing something.
“Why don’t you go with Rukshan,” she said, “A bit of fresh air would do you good.”
Fox shrugged, and followed the Fae outside.“And send me that Eleri girl, I’d like to have a word with her while she clean the blood on the tiling.”
Outside it was noisier. Fox found the woman arguing with her male friends, one of whom looked like a statue with big wings. She seemed relieved to have a reason to get away from the crowd and her own problems and left with a smile. He wondered how she could stay happy while being surrounded by conflict. Maybe she liked it. Fox shrugged again.
He walked to the small courtyard, sat on a log and watched the handsome Fae removing the feathers. Rukshan’s hands looked clean, the blood was not sticking on his fair skin and the chicken feathers were piling neatly on a small heap at his feet.
“Aren’t Faes supposed to be vegetarian,” he said. He cringed inwardly at his own words. What a stupid way of engaging a conversation.Without stopping, Rukshan answered: “I think you think too much. It’s not doing you much good, and it deepens the shadow under your eyes. Not that it doesn’t suit you well.” The Fae winked. Fox wasn’t sure of how to take it. He stayed silent. He saw the bag the Fae was always carrying with him and wondered what was inside.
“It’s a story,” said Rukshan.
Fox was confused and looked puzzled.
“In the bag. It’s a story. But it’s not finished.”Fox felt warmth rise to his face. If the Fae could read his thoughts… he preferred not to think about it. Rukshan smiled gently.
“I need help to complete it and better understand the characters. Would you like to help me?”
Fox wasn’t sure what made him answer yes. Did it matter if it was for the welcomed distraction from his dark thoughts, or if it was for the promise of more time spent with the Fae?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: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
“What’s all this racket?” demanded Liz. She stopped in her tracks staring in amazement at Inspector Melon.
“Walter???”
“Oh my … Liz???” The colour had drained from Inspector Melon’s plump red face.
“Okay, well I will leave you to it,” said Finnley making a hurried retreat.
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
“Well, the backdoor was opened, you see, like my wife says…” Inspector Melon started to explain Finnley how he managed to be in the house no sooner had she turned back to dusting duties, or rather turned her back to the door and said duties.
“Stop it!” she interrupted, “and put those shoe covers on your muddy shoes, damnit, I’m not going to do the floors again on your behalf, you miscreant.”
“Finnley, what’s this racket about?” Godfrey appeared from behind the massive last last century clock licking his fingers off the peanut butter.
Finnley put her fists on her hips with a defiant air, not gone unnoticed by Godfrey, “Well, THIS dripping wet gentleman pretends to be a policeman investigating on the Jingly girl disappearance… Not that we know anything about that anyhow.”
Inspector Melon couldn’t help but say “Interesting you should mention it, did I say I was looking for Ms Jingle Bells?”
Godfrey couldn’t help but give a sideway look of “what have you done” to Finnley, who replied by her usual “why look at me like I did something wrong” look.
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.”
