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  • #4707

    An unexpected shaman tart witch was looking and had spotted them coming from afar.

    Head Shaman Tart Witch, if you please.” She muttered in her breath, happy to break the fourth wall and all.

    The sun was already high and the air was sizzling ready to burst out like buttered pop corn.

    “A rather lame metaphor. You’ve done better.”

    The Head Shtart Witch, as we will call her later for brevity’s sake, was as tart as a sour lemon dipped in vinegar, and prone to talking to spirits, when not cackling in tittering fits of laughter, as shamans are wont to do.
    She was surprisingly in tune with the narrator’s voice this late in the day, considering it wasn’t her first bottle of… medicine she ingested today.

    “Voices are rather quiet, yes. I was expecting a bit more… quantity if you know what I mean.”

    The narrator had absolutely no idea of what she meant, not discontent with the quantity per se.

    Three in quantity, they came, looking for her. A girl, visibly in charge, although a bit hard to tell either, buried into the baggy hood and all.

    “The star-studded stockings under the striped red and white trousers were a bit of a give-away though… she was a she, and a bossy pants to boot.” the Head Schwtich replied.

    “And don’t take advantage to maim my full name… Jeeze, they’re so lazy these days. Can’t even spell right.”

    Ignoring the rude comments, the narrator continued.
    Then, a man, a bit namby-pamby with the gait of a devil-may-care goat at that.
    And a boy, on the threshold of manhood, with lots of red hair and freckles he could have put the bush on fire.

    “You have forgotten the gecko… and the cat.”

    The cat wasn’t forgotten of course, but was it technically a cat, with the talking and all? Poor thing had ill-fitted boots (probably a clearance sale from the Jiborium’s), so that it wouldn’t burn its pads on the red hot trail. It seemed stubborn enough to refuse being carried, although not confident enough about the surrounding life in the bush to stop checking every minute for all that crawled and crept around.

    “That’s why they’re here. The protective charms. That, and the jeep of course.”

    The Twitch seemed to know everything so the narrator felt it would probably best to let her finish the comment.

    “Oh, don’t you start. That passive aggressive attitude isn’t going to get your story done, is it. And it’s not like I’m going to follow them in their dangerous and futile quest. It’s your job, better get to it.”

    Indeed, she was only just a sour, old, decrepit…
    “You stop that!”

    :fleuron:

    “Is that her hut?” Albie pointed at the horizon.
    “Yes, I think we’re there.” Arona looked at the compass she’d put around Albie’s neck. “Yes, that’s it.”

    Sanso yawned and stretched lazily “I hope they have a hot shower now, I feel so dirty.”

    Arona chose to ignore Sanso and let him gesticulate. They’d only walked for less than 15 minutes, and the perspective of few more hours of driving with him breathing down her neck started to give her murderous thoughts.

    She turned to the team. “Listen, whatever happens, don’t make rude remarks, even if she seems a bit… unhinged.”

    “Are you talking about the crazy lady with the chameleon on her head, who talks to herself and looks like she hadn’t got a bath in a century?”

    “That’s what I meant Sanso.” Arona rolled her eyes in a secret signature move she owned the secret of. “Listen, it would be better for everyone if you’d stay here and stop talking until we get the keys to the jeep, alright.”

    Luckily for all of them, a little sage smudging and a bakchich in kind sealed the deal with the HEAD Shaman Tart Witch, and less than an hour later, with the mountain at their back, they were all barreling at breakneck speed down the lone road towards the Old Mine Town.

    That’s where the Inn was, now starting to crawl with unexpected guests and long lost family members.

    #4624
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      The light in the apartment darkened and Lucida glanced up from her book and noticed the gathering clouds visible through the glass doors that opened onto her balcony. Frowning, she reached for her phone to check tomorrows weather forecast. The weekly outdoor market was one of the highlights of her week. With a sigh of relief she noted that there was no expectation of rain. Clouds perhaps, which wasn’t a bad thing. It wouldn’t be too hot, and the glare of the sun wouldn’t make it difficult to see all the the things laid out to entice a potential buyer on trestle tables and blankets.

      Lucinda had made a list ~ the usual things, like fruit and vegetables from the farms outside the city; perhaps she’d find a second hand cake tin to try out the new recipe, and some white sheets for the costumes for the Roman themed party she’d been invited to, maybe some more books. But what excited her most was the chance of finding something unexpected, or something unusual. And more often than not, she did.

      She added birthday present to the list, not having any idea what that might be. Lucinda found choosing gifts extraordinarily difficult, and had tried all manner of tactics to change her irrational angst about the whole thing. One Christmas she’d tried just picking one shop and choosing as many random things as people on her gift list. In fact that had worked as well as any other method, but still felt unsettling and unsatisfactory. The next year she informed everyone that she wouldn’t be buying presents at all, and asked friends and family to reciprocate likewise. Some had and some hadn’t, resulting in yet more confusion. Was she to be grateful for the gifts, despite the lack of her own reciprocation? Or peeved that they had ignored her wishes?

      Birthdays were different though. A personal individual celebration was not the same thing as Christmas with all it’s stifling traditions and expectations. It would be churlish to refuse to buy a birthday gift. And so birthday gift remained on the shopping list, as it had been last week, and the week before.

      A birthday gift had already been purchased the previous week. Lucinda glanced up at the top shelf of the bookcase where the doll sat, languidly looking down at her. She felt a pang of emotion, as she did each time she looked at that doll. She loved the doll and wanted to keep it for herself, that was one thing. That was one of the things that always happened when she chose a gift that she liked herself: she talked herself into keeping it; that it was her taste and not the recipients. That it would be obvious that she’d chosen it because SHE liked it, not keeping the other person in mind.

      But that wasn’t the only thing confounding her this time. The doll wanted to stay with her, she was sure of it. It wasn’t just her wanting to keep the doll. It wasn’t any old doll, either. That was the other thing. It seemed very clear that it was one of Maeve’s dolls. It had to be, she was sure of it.

      When she got home with her purchases the week before, her intention had been to go and show Maeve what she’d found. Then something stopped her: what if it made her sad that one of her creations had been discarded, put up for sale at a market along with old cake tins and second hand sheets? No, she couldn’t possibly risk it, and luckily Maeve didn’t know the birthday girl who was the doll was intended for, so she’d never know.

      But then Lucinda realized she had to keep the strange gaunt doll with the grey dreadlocks and patchwork dress. She couldn’t possibly give her away.

      I hope I don’t find another doll at the market tomorrow, and have to keep that as well! thought Lucinda, and immediately felt goosebumps rise as an errant breeze ruffled the dolls dreadlocks.

      #4589
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        The old woman picked up the box of giraffe shaped cookies from the supermarket shelf. She looked at the box wonderingly, bemused at why she’d chosen it. She almost put it back on the shelf, but a couple of tears had rolled off her nose and onto the package. She put it in her basket, sighing. She couldn’t very well put it back on the shelf now, not with her snot all over the box. What did it matter anyway, she thought, sniffing. Now that the Ministry of Transport building had burned down, what did it matter.

        “Is everything ok, love?” The old woman looked at the kind expression on the woman’s face, and started to sob. “Oh dear, whatever is the matter?” Maeve asked, noticing the giraffe shaped cookies illustrated on the damp packet.

        “It’s the terrible news!” the old woman replied. “The Ministry of Transport! That beautiful old building! Such a testament to man’s ingenuity! Gone, all gone!”

        “But it’s not the only one though is it?” replied Maeve, wondering if the old dear was a pew short of a cathedral. “I mean, there are others.”

        The old woman pulled her arm sharply away from Maeve’s gentle hand on her shoulder and glared at her.

        “How dare you say that! There’s nothing like it, anywhere!” and she strode off up the aisle, angry steps making a rat tat tat on the polished floor. Her outrage was such that she forgot to pay for the giraffe shaped cookies, and marched right out of the store.

        Jerk, who was watching from a security spying monitor, sighed, and heaved himself out of his seat. The one thing he hated the most about his job was apprehending decrepit old shoplifters. I bet she smells of cat wee and rancid cooking fat, he mumbled under his breath.

        “Oh hello, Jerk!” Maeve intercepted him on his route to the main doors in pursuit of the aged thief, noticing his disgruntled expression. “What’s up, you’re not upset about the Ministry of Transport building too, are you?”

        Nonplussed, Jerk stopped for a moment to consider the unexpected question, giving the elderly shoplifter time to hop on a bus (that symbol of man’s ingenuity) and make her escape.

        #4518
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Annabel Ingram, while aimlessly perusing the pile of old notebooks she’d picked up at the second hand market, felt the familiar sense of slack jawed wide eyed wonder at the unexpected synchronicity. How did that happen all the time! Annabel had opened to an entry about teeth, just after taking a call from the dentist about an emergency appointment for her partner. Not only that, but on impulse earlier in the day, she’d joined a favourite book share game with a few friends ~ despite previously ignoring it because of the difficulty of choosing favourites when there were so many.

          Sighing heavily, Annabel noted that the summer had been unusually humid, too.

          “Let’s just hope there are no booklice,” she muttered.

          #4483

          Thankfully, there had been a little left of the potion that Tak had so voraciously eaten.

          Rukshan had almost aborted the trip to the desert to take care of the little shapeshifting gibbon urchin, whose new shade of green looked serious enough.

          As quiet as she used to be, Glynis had shown a lot of cool and dexterity in handling the suspicious food poisoning case. She was gentle with the little boy, and didn’t show much concern about his going through her stuff.

          In the end, she said she would be able to manage curing him, but that it would take probably a moon’s time.
          Seeing Rukshan’s longer than usual face about the delay, she was the one to push him to go to the desert mysterious blue beams.

          “Go with Olliver, he will teleport you both, and you can be back faster. Once you’ll be clear of what it is, we can plan something. It seems rather obvious nobody’s really ready to leave.” She glanced wryly at Eleri who was munching noisily on her goat milk’s oats.

          Rukshan smiled. She’d almost sounded as though she was the boss. In any case, Glynis was right. Despite the cottage becoming overcrowded, and the threat of nearby building work encroachments into the forest paradise, all the unexpected friends seemed not in a rush for a change of scenery. Fox, Gorrash, Eleri and Hasam’, Margorrit and Tak, and the occasional resupply visits from the village…

          “I think you’re right.” He picked up his bag and nodded at Olli. “Let us go and investigate this desert beam. Are you ready?”

          And in a flash of the golden egg device, gone they were.

          #4474

          Rukhsan was ready with his package, the plan, the backup plan, and all the disaster recovery plans they would never need to do their journey to the west.
          All of this preparation was starting to make him antsy, and he hoped everyone would make it in time to start the expedition.

          Eleri had promised to be back in time, but she had that tendency to… forget things even more since her bout of illness. Glynis’ ginkgo leaves tea had helped a little, at least for the memory thing, not really for Eleri’s stubbornness to have them wait for her return — such assertiveness that was a sure sign of her recovery she’d said.
          She’d gone already for weeks, and tonight’s was the departure… He had to trust everything would line up.

          Right now, there was nothing to expect… but the unexpected. All carefully laid out plans would never stand a chance once on the roads, he knew that. It gave him some small comfort to just be aware of all the places and manners where the camel’s back would break.

          Pricking up his ear in the still evening, he found out that this time, it seemed to start from the kitchen.

          #4462

          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?

          #4449
          EricEric
          Keymaster

            “Speaking of green stuff, what’s with Roberto and his new green mohican?” whispered Godfrey conspiratorially to Liz. He kinds of look just like a Mary river turtle now… Only with less moss around the nose…”
            “I think it’s one of Finnley’s idea of a practical joke… She may have suggested that it would look cute on him.”
            Godfrey paused, considering the thought. “Well, that for sure would make it nicely into your new book, Liz’,” he said pointedly.

            “A new book?” Finnley couldn’t help but overhear, and had faked the loveliest enticed look on her face.

            Liz’, who wasn’t one to be fazed by the rumbustious maid quickly snapped back “Yes, it’ll start in the most unexpected manner you see. With an ending.”

            #4426
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              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.

              #4416

              In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

              TracyTracy
              Participant

                thick straight meant space
                hoped house sadness
                seven waiting desire lost shook
                holding front hand unexpected
                hold thought sleep hut mum

                #4403
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  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 ROADCONTINUOUS

                  ALBIE rushes along the street, followed by MATT. They take a short cut through some back gardens, jumping fences along the way.

                  INT. A LIBRARYSHORTLY 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 PARKBACK 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 LIBRARYPRESENT 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 SHOPLATER 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?

                  #4330

                  In the past twenty days since he got out of the forest, backtracking on his steps, Rukshan didn’t have much luck finding or locating either of the six others strands.
                  At first, he thought his best hint was the connection with the potion-maker, but it seemed difficult to find her if she didn’t want to be found.

                  So, for lack of a better plan, he had come back to Margoritt’s shack and was quite pleased at the idea of meeting the old lady and Tak again.
                  Her cottage had been most busy with guests, and in the spring time, it was a stark contrast with the last time he was there, to see all the motley assemblage she had gathered around her.

                  First, there was Margoritt of course, Emma the goat, then Tak, who was a very convincing little boy these days, and looked happy at all the people visiting. Then, there was Lahmom, the mountain explorer, who had come down from her trek and enjoyed a glass of goat milk tea with roast barley nuggets.
                  Then there were a couple of strange guests, a redhair man with a nose for things, and his pet statue, a gnome with a temper, he said. Margoritt had offered them shelter during the last of the blizzard.

                  With so many unexpected guests, Margoritt quickly found her meager provisions dwindling, and told Rukshan she was about to decide for an early return to the city, since the next cargo of her benefactor Mr Minn would take too long to arrive.

                  That was the day before she arrived to the cottage with her companion: Eleri and Yorath, had arrived surprisingly just in time with a small carriage of provisions. “How great that mushrooms don’t weigh anything, we have so many to share!” Eleri was happy at the sight of the cottage and its guests, and started to look around at all the nooks and crannies for secret treasures to assemble and unknown shrooms.
                  While Yorath explained to Margoritt how Mr Minn had send him ahead with food, Margoritt was delighted and amazed at such prescience.

                  Rukshan, for his part, was amazed at something else. There seemed to be something at play, to join together people of such variety in this instant. Maybe the solution he was looking for was just in front of his nose.
                  He would have to look carefully at which of them could be an unknown holder of the shards of the Gem.

                  He was consigning his thoughts on a random blank page of his vanishing book, not to store the knowledge, but rather to engage on a inner dialogue, and seek illumination, when some commotion happened outside the cottage.

                  A towering figure followed by a boy had just arrived in the clearing. “Witch! You will pay for what you did!” pointing at Eleri, backed behind Yorath who had jumped protectively in front of her.

                  That can’t be another coincidence Rukshan thought, recognizing the two new guests: the reanimated god statue of the tower, and Olliver, the boy who, he deduced, had managed to wake up the old teleporting device.

                  #4304

                  Margoritt Loursenoir?” repeated Eleri, a frown furrowing her brow as she considered the unexpected proposal. A detour sounded appealing, particularly as she had been considering just buggering off anyway. She was in no hurry to encounter that rampaging statue that had come to life and was hunting her down. Perhaps she would be inspired by the author to continue her own writing.

                  Decision made, she announced to Yorath, “Lead on, my good man! I will accompany you. But only if I can borrow your red silk jacket,” she added, thinking it was worth a shot to get her hands on that divine fabric.

                  #4300
                  F LoveF Love
                  Participant

                    Finnley woke with a start. She’d been dreaming that she was chatting and giggling with a group of girlfriends. At one point they all held hands and starting running through a field of flowers, singing at the tops of their high girlish voices.

                    Thank flove that was just a dream, she thought, breathing deeply to calm herself.

                    Finnley! What are you doing curled up on the chaise-longue? Don’t tell me you are sleeping on the job? Good grief, what next!”

                    Finnley felt an unexpected rush of emotion towards Liz. Don’t ever change, you rude, dictatorial, bossy tart, she thought, still shaking off the remnants of the awful nightmare.

                    “You want me to get rid of the German?” she asked gruffly.

                    #4289
                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      Liz was furious. She stormed into the living room of the manoir where she found Finnley, swishing her duster lethargically and rather randomly with one hand while she texted with the other. Liz frowned but decided to ignore this blatant breach of cleaning protocol. There were more pressing matters on hand!

                      “My fury knows no bounds, “ she said, rather dramatically, to Finnley.

                      Finnley grunted non-committedly. Liz was encouraged by the unexpected response.

                      “That child, Jingle — and what a ridiculous name — that child is the rudest person it has ever been my misfortune to meet. Do you know what she said to me?” She glared accusingly at Finnley.

                      “No”, said Finnley.

                      “I was kind enough to read her an extract from my latest novel and she had the audacity to say, in that awful german accent of hers, that I was getting on her nerves with my outpourings. That “I” was getting on “her” nerves! The cheek of it.”

                      “That is quite rude,” agreed Godfrey, who appeared from nowhere, as usual. “But don’t worry, dear Liz, it is just a projection of her own insecurities. It always is. Unless it is you being rude one, of course, in which case it is no doubt most profound and accurate,” he added hurriedly, wisely thinking it was best to cover his bases.

                      “Just get rid of her,” said Finnley.

                      #4281
                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        “Go on then. If you must,” said Finnley with unexpected graciousness.

                        #4260

                        You’re a fool, Olli

                        His mother’s voice, even now kept haunting him. Olliver was a bit of a fool, far too credulous at times.
                        People would think him a simpleton, and, at 17, he would still arch his back when he was around others, maybe a little more now that he’d grown so much, always feeling awkward and unsuitable for anything.

                        He wasn’t so clear how the foolish plan had hatched in his head, honestly, he wasn’t very clever. Maybe he was guided. There was no other explanation.

                        Slowly, slowly his mother Ethely would exhort him, when he struggled to explain so many things in his head.

                        There was the house first. They had come early in the day, paint it with the white triangle in a circle. That meant it was to be demolished soon. The Pasha wanted to remove the ugliness of the town, the old bazar and the cows and chickens pens out of the town’s wall. He wanted a nice clean pall-mall place for his games, with boring clean white walls, and fake grass, his mum told him.
                        What is fake grass made of? he asked at the time. It was all he could think of. He hadn’t imagined they could tear down their neighbourhood, or their old familiar house.

                        So first, the house. Then the precious package. He liked it, the gilded egg with the strange difficult name. Rukji (that’s how he’d told him to call him, it was more easy) had left a note for him. He didn’t write much, in large big letters for him to read slowly. He remembered the stories Rukji told him about the egg. He used to forget a lot of things, but the stories were always very clear in his head, and he never forgot them.
                        Rukji said the egg used to transport people and things to distant places, at the speed of thought.
                        Olli had laughed when he told him that, he’d said his thoughts were not very quick. Rukji had smiled, with his nice and a bit sad smile.

                        So, he’d thought, maybe the egg could send his house and mum to a safe place, before they remove the house.
                        He’d tried to think of it, touch the eggs and its gilded scales, but nothing happened. You’re a fool Olli his mother said, while she was gathering their few things in a large cloth and wicker basket.

                        Then there was the tower. He’d thought Rukji would be there, still. He could tell him the secrets surely. But the stern man at the clock building told him he had gone.

                        Olli didn’t trust the man, and went from the back-entrance he knew about, up in the tower, to see in case he was there. But he wasn’t.

                        It was only the stroke of the 7th hour. And one of the mannequins from the tower moved as he would do, four times a day. Alone, at 7 in the morning, and 7 at night, and with everyone at noon, and midnight.

                        Olli had recognized the god of travel, with a funny pose on his plinth. He called him Halis. He had trouble with remembering names, especially long names. Ha-sa-me-lis. Sometimes he would say the names out of order. Like Hamamelis, and that would make everybody laugh.

                        That’s when something happened. He’d prayed to the god, to help his mother and their house. But the golden egg with his scales touched the statue, at a place where there was no pigeons stains. And zap! that was it.

                        Black for a moment, and then he was in the forest.
                        And he wasn’t alone.

                        “Free! At last!” he’d shouted.
                        Then he’d said “Ain’t that unexpected rusty magic… You tricky bastard managed to zap me out of my concrete shell! now, pray tell, where in the eleven hells did you send us, young warlock?”

                        What a fool you are, Olli, you got us all lost he could hear her whisper in his head.

                        #4258

                        Tak holds the bamboo flute carefully against his chest. The clothes are two sizes too large for his natural appearance, but he did not dare change to human form.

                        He is looking through the window at the snow falling gently. He isn’t used to not smell the forest nearby, and seeing it through the window without its smell is utterly fascinating.

                        The old woman is always busy, writing on paper, weaving goat’s hair, cleaning vigorously and when she isn’t, she is busy talking to herself. He doesn’t mind the chatter, oftentimes gibbons are chatty too.

                        “Are you hungry? He’s going to be fine you know” the kind woman talks to him again. The goat nearby seems used to it, and is busy eating straws. “Let me see your flute, I will teach you how to play.”

                        He looks at her with an air of surprise.

                        “But for that you’ll have to take your human form.” She smiles warmly to him. He doesn’t know how she knows, but he knows she knows.

                        “I’ve seen many strange things at the edge of the Enchanted Forest’s heart, you see. That’s what I like here, you have to expect the unexpected.”

                        By breathing slowly, he’s able to regain his human child appearance and asks with a voice full of hesitation, handing over the precious instrument “Music?”

                        #4230

                        Deftly Glynis reached inside the flowing sleeve of her burka and pulled out a small vial of clear liquid she had strapped to her wrist. She pulled off the top and quickly threw the contents over Fox.

                        “There you go, little Fella,” she said. “Now no-one can see you.”

                        “Where’d he go, dammit! I saw him come over this way,” shouted a podgy red-faced man, puffing heavily with the unaccustomed exertion. “I’ll teach that little varmint to try and eat my hens! What did you do with him, Witch!?”

                        Glynis took one of the remaining jars from her table and held it out to the man.

                        “Give your wife three drops every evening as she sleeps,” she said, trying her best to sound crackly and old. “She will get well after 3 days — you don’t need to sell your hens to pay that doctor any longer. He wasn’t doing her any good.”

                        “Eh?” said the man in surprise, at the same time taking the jar. “True enough that is, but how did you know?”

                        “I know many things,” she answered mysteriously. “Now, take your hens home, and I wish you and your good wife all the best.”

                        “Well, this is remarkable. Thank you very much indeed,” said Fox when the podgy man had gone.

                        “If you are hungry I have a hard boiled egg and some fruit in my bag. Help yourself.”

                        “Ha ha!” laughed Fox. “People will think you are talking to the ground.” He was quite delighted with his new invisible status and considering the various possibilities it offered him.

                        “Now don’t you go taking advantage of any more hens just because you are invisible. It will wear off in about an hour, I think. I haven’t actually tried it on anyone other than myself before … I’ve never thought it ethical to sell the invisibility potion in case someone gets up to no good with it. But I like to keep some handy, just in case. “

                        Just then the Town Clock chimed.

                        “I’d best be going now. I have to go before the warden comes to check my permit … I don’t have one but as long as I get away early it is usually okay,” said Glynis. “Now, if you have any problems with the invisibility spell come and see me. I live in the old mansion in the enchanted forest. Do you know your way there?

                        “I think I can find it,” said Fox. “Thanks again for your assistance.”

                        Glynis had intended to head directly towards the forest after she left the market, but on impulse took the longer route through the pretty and tree lined Gingko Lane, part of the ‘Old City’. She walked slowly, in part to continue her ruse of being a person of advanced years, and in part because she felt a reluctance to leave the city and return to the solitude of her home.

                        She pondered the events of the morning as she walked.

                        The vision … the sandy haired woman on her sick bed, like stick and bone she was, with the doctor of dark intent leaning over her… and then the podgy faced man standing in the hen house and grieving over his hens.

                        It had been so vivid. And unexpected. So she had acted on it, her heart beating in trepidation though she had spoken with authority to the man.

                        And it had worked!

                        It was not the first time Glynis had such a vision. But never in such testing circumstances!

                        A young man was walking towards her. His face deep in concentrated contemplation, he did not look up.

                        Fae, thought Glynis, though she was not sure how she knew.

                        As he passed, Glynis reached out on impulse and touched his arm. He jumped, startled.

                        “I think this is for you,” she said, handing him her last vial of potion. “Use it when you need it most.”

                        The young man hesitated, unsure, but taking the vial.

                        Glynis shook her head, wanting to deflect his questions. She turned quickly away.

                        Relenting, she stopped and looked directly at him.

                        “Magic comes from the heart. You will know when to use it.”

                        #4222

                        The North wind was cold on his cheeks. It was almost sunset, which didn’t help with the temperature. Fox was sweeping a street covered in autumn leaves. He couldn’t help but think it was useless. The wind was scattering away the leaves as soon as he had made a small heap. He already missed the quietness of his hut.

                        Mr Mole must have misunderstood, he thought, he appointed me caretaker of the city streets.
                        Fox took a whiff of city air. The cold bit his nose,but it was not enough to numb his sense of smell. The dragon breath was still there, even though the North wind had dispersed it a bit.
                        I’m not sure it will be enough.

                        He shivered, he never liked staying outside too long in his human form. Fox looked around. When he was sure nobody was in sight. As the sun disappeared behind the city walls, he allowed his true nature to the surface, just enough to enjoy the warmth of his red fur on his body. It was such a good feeling he almost didn’t stop in time. He touched his face, a moustache had grown on his upper lip, and his ears were a tad pointy. He passed his tongue onto his teeth; the length of his canines reminded him of chicken hunt in the nearby farms.
                        Don’t let yourself get carried away by the memories, he reminded himself. He took a deep breath. The smells of the city were stronger now, and it was as if someone had lit a light.

                        With his improved hearing, he caught up a strange noise coming from a nearby garden. It was like a faint pulse that was growing louder as the light diminished. A crack as soft as the whisper of stone. And the most unexpected words.

                        “Bloody bird shit ! Why do they always pick my nose ?”

                        Fox came closer to the small garden stonewall, as stealthily as he could, to see a gnome washing his face in a small basin. He suddenly caught sight of some wavering in the air, coming from a bush. The waves gradually took the shape of a strange animal, still rather translucent. Its fur behaving as if it was immersed into water, all wavy and floating.

                        “Ah! You’re here Rainbow,” said the gnome.
                        “Mrui,” answered the creature.
                        “Let’s get some potion for you, then.”
                        “Mruiiii.”

                        Fox looked the two of them walk silently toward the house. He could see the rays of light getting through the spaces of the wooden shutters. The gnome climbed on his friend’s back and took a bit of that translucent quality. He said something but it sounded like gargling. Fox almost expected to see his hair beginning to float in an invisible current. But it didn’t. And then they disappeared through the wall.

                        Fox dropped his broom, which bounced on the stonewall before falling on the floor. He waited, half expecting to hear a voice ask about all the noise. But the place remained quiet except for the wind. He jumped over the wall and waited behind a bush, his eyes on the wall where they had entered the house.

                        What if they don’t come out? he thought. But he remained there, his gaze fixed. He let his fur grow more. He wanted to be comfortable in the cold night.

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