Forum Replies Created
-
Replies
-
restless mission keep above
wants prune business water
memories wondered latest box
worry cleaning spread friend
tomas remained characters months readingBut the young upstart Finnley was having none of it. As a distraction tactic, she turned on her benevolent benefactor and with a toss of her head and an impudent tilt to her pugnacious chin, she let fire a volley of accusations.
“How very dare you admonish me in front of the Inspector, and sharply too!” Finnley complained.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes conspiratorially with Inspector Melon, mouthing the words “can’t get the staff” as she replied, “Don’t take the piss, Finnley!”
Eleri opened her eyes but was still seeing the scrunched up piece of paper. She frowned, still looking at the crumpled ball in her dream hand, oblivious to her current state and whereabouts, and remembered an earlier dream. She had been reading a paragraph of text on a card sized piece of paper. It was so clear at the time that her dream self was reading it, and made so much sense, that she knew she was sure to remember it.
Sighing, she rubbed her eyes and tried to focus. What had been written, that she had later screwed up?
colour gave great hot tina
tomas ape felicity wait
focus thin desire
join spent cleaning
growing early party gibbon
soul appearance“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.
Liz thought about it for a moment, having a sudden inspiration. “No. No, let’s keep her. She might come in handy,”
Finnley wondered what strange plot was brewing in the rude, dictatorial, bossy tarts mind, but refrained from commenting.
“But we must be vigilant. Tie her up or something until we know what to do with her,” added Liz. “Oh, and be sure and gag her, too.”
“I’m not quite sure that fits my job description…” Finnley started to say.
“Get that new gardener to do it then, I heard rumours that he was into bondage, he will know what to do.”
Glynnis, late with her mornings work after her lengthy dream journal entry, was initially irritated with the interruption of the postman.
“Leave it in the letter box!” she called. “I am up to my elbows in bread dough!”
“I can’t, it’s too heavy,” the postman replied, “And you have to sign for it, anyway. And I’m not taking it back to the post office, it’s put my back out carrying it here already,” he added.
Sighing and wiping her floury hands on her apron, Glynnis opened the door a few inches and extended her hand through the gap.
“You’ll need two hands, Ducky,” he said, thinking to himself, what an ungrateful wretch!
Exasperated, she flung the door open. The postman handed her a large stone parrot. A hand written note was attached to its neck with a blue ribbon.
“A Gift of Appreciation” was all it said, in a rather untidy almost indecipherable script.
“Oh, a gift,” said Glynnis softly, mollified. “But from who?”
“Says it’s from the Laughing Crone on the return address. Now just sign here Ducky, and I’ll be on my way.”
happened window creature
retorted next reporter
immediately plan bossy real listening
feel appeared sense against replied breathing
whole question dreams holdingAbsentmindedly, Eleri put the bones in her pocket and continued to gaze down upon the valley, lost in thoughts of the past. What had that tree said to her, that day it came to life?
Yorath sat quietly, watching her. He noticed the mushrooms growing on the exposed roots beside him, wondering if he had unwittingly crushed any when he sat down next to the tree.
“Mushrooms,” he said quietly to himself.
Eleri didn’t answer, wasn’t even aware that he has said it, but now she was remembering the days of the floods in the lowlands. The wet, dismal months and years when everything was damp, if not saturated or submerged, when mold grew on every surface. Bright green mossy mold, and slimy dank black mold, and fungus everywhere. Nothing would grow like it used to grow and the odour of rot permeated everything. The fruit trees crumbled in a sickly sweet stench into the mud, and the people named it keeg, and started wearing keegkerchiefs wrapped around their faces to keep the stink out of their nostrils.
“Goodbye, farewell,” the tree had said to her. “We are moving north, migrating. But fear not, little one, there are mushrooms migrating here to replace us.”
At the time Eleri had thought it was a ridiculous idea, imagining trees packing their trunks and pulling their roots out of the ground, and stomping off into the sunset. A few years later, she understood what the tree had meant.
Before the last of the fruit trees crumbled into the swamps, the people has resorted to eating the snails and the mushrooms, unwillingly at first, missing the bright colours and refreshing juices, but as time went on, they found more and more varieties of fungi springing up overnight. There came more and more bright colours, and more interesting flavours. It wasn’t long before they noticed the healing and restorative properties of the new varieties, not to mention the recreational effects of some of the more elusive ones. There was no need for any organized farming of the fungi, because they simply sprang up overnight: the days menu would be whatever had appeared that morning.
And so it was considered a gift from the gods in times of trouble, and the people were grateful. Their faith was restored in the earth’s capacity for magic and abundance, and they were inspired and rejuvenated. Eleri vowed never to forget the earth’s magic providence, in the form of mushrooms
“But how?” asked Liz. “We don’t even know where she came from, or how she got here. I don’t think you can just banish characters that easily. Look what happened last time.”
“What happened last time?” asked Finnley.
“Oh, I don’t remember! Never mind that now! How are we going to get rid of that rude interloper?”
Finnley snorted at the word INterLOPEr. “That was rather clever, Liz” she tittered.
Liz couldn’t help but snigger too. “I didn’t plan that,” she admitted.
“Do you mean the story character refugee crisis, Liz?” interjected Godfrey.
“Yes! Of course, that was it.”
“Well you can’t banish characters just because they’re rude, Liz,” remarked Godfrey, reaching for the cashew nuts.
“Trusting that the invisible connecting links are seamlessly interwoven even if they are not apparent is not for the faint hearted” added Jingle.
“Who said that?” cried Elizabeth and Finnley in unison, with varying degrees of exaggerated surprise.
Oblivious, Godfrey continued his tuneless bellowing, his voice rising to an ear splitting falsetto as he sang A Weave A Weave Oh.
“Don’t bother me with that now, Finnley! We really must do something about that loose hanging thread before it trips us up. Godfrey will wrap it up, and we will unravel again. We’ve left those poor dears hanging by a thread ~ again! ~ stitched up….. if we carry on like this we’ll never get characters to agree to work in our stories again! And who could blame them! They gem hemmed into a scene and left there. Until someone tries to patch it up, and then it all starts fraying at the seams.”
“Is something needling you, Elizabeth?”
“I can do without your warped sense of humour. Do pay attention dear, how can we knit this all back together?”
wanted:
young breathing worked clove
silly signs human magical hour
godfrey spell picture
late leading silent hand
particular hoped weeks twins“But I got April Fools Day, dear, which is altogether more interesting,” replied Elizabeth.
“I was going to ask you if you could jog my memory about something but perhaps today is not the best day to ask.”“More bones?” asked Yorath, smiling, as Eleri caught up with him on the forest path.
“I ask you, why is it,” she asked, leaning against a tree to catch her breath, “Why is it that we collect bones to make a complete one, but never go back to the same place for bones?”
Yorath paused and turned, raising an eyebrow.
“Never mind, don’t answer that, that’s not what I’m getting at ~ not now anyway ~ I just remembered something, Yorath.”
He waited expectantly for her to continue, but she didn’t reply. He mouth had dropped open as she gazed vacantly into the middle distance, slightly cross eyed and wonder struck.
“You were saying?” he prompted gently.
Her attention returned and she grabbed his arm and pointed down towards the lowlands. “Look! Down there,” she said, giving his elbow a shake. “It was down there when I was a child and it was that one day in spring and I saw it. I know I did. They all said I read the story first and then imagined it, but it was the other way round.” Noticing her friends unspoken suggestion that she slow down and clarify, Eleri paused and took a few deep breaths.
“I’d sort of half forgotten about it,” Eleri laughed. “But suddenly it all makes sense. There is a legend,” she explained, “that on one day of the year in spring all the things that were turned to stone to hide them came to life, just for the day. One of my earliest memories, we were out for a picnic in the hills on the other side of the valley and everyone had fallen asleep on rugs on the grass, and I wandered off. I was four years old, maybe five. You know when you see a rock that looks like a face, or a tree that looks like an animal or a person? Well on this one day of the year, according to the legend, they all come back to life ~ even the clouds that look like whales and birds. And it’s true, you see, Yorath. Because I’ve seen it.”
“I’ve heard of it, and the tree that guards it all comes to life, did you see her?”
“Yes. And she said something to me, but I don’t remember what the words were. I knew she said something, but I didn’t know what.”
Yorath led the way down the forest path. Eleri followed, feeling no urge to rush, despite the sense of urgency. Rather, she felt a sense of urgency to linger, perhaps even to sit awhile on a rock beneath an old oak tree, to stop the pell mell rush of thoughts and suppositions and just sit, staring blankly, listening to the forest sounds and sniffing the mushroomy mulch beneath her feet.
The compulsion to be alone increased. Unable to ignore it any longer, Eleri told Yorath that she would catch him up, she needed to go behind a bush for a moment, knowing quite well that there was no need for the excuse, but still, she didn’t feel like explaining. Talking, even thinking, had become tiring, exhausting even. She needed to sit, just sit.
She watched his retreating back and breathed a sigh of relief when his form disappeared from view. Much as she loved her dear old friend, the absence of other humans was like a breath of air to the drowning. The rustlings of the living forest, the dappling shadows and busy missions of the insects was a different kind of busyness, far from still and never silent, not always slow or sedate, not even serene or pleasant always, but there was a restful coherence to the movements of the living forest.
Leaning back into the tree trunk, her foot dislodged a rotten log from its resting place among the leaves ~ crisp and crunchy on the top, damp and decomposing beneath the surface ~ revealing the long slim ivory of bone contrasting sharply with the shades of brown.
Bones. Eleri paused before leaning over to touch it gently at first, then gently smooth away the composting detritus covering it.
Bones. She held it, feeling the hard dry texture peculiar to bones, loving the white colour which was more than white, a richer white than white, not bleached of colour, but full of the colours of white, and holding all of the colours of the story of it.
The story of the bone, the bones. She knelt, carefully brushing the leaves aside. Bones never rested alone, she knew that. Close by she knew she would find more. She knew she would take them home with her, although she knew not why. Just that she always did. A smile flitted across her face as she recalled the horse bones she’d found once ~ an entire, perfect skeleton of a horse. What she wouldn’t have given to take the whole thing home with her, but it was impossible. Perfectly assembled, picked clean and sun bleached, resplendent in the morning sun, it was a thing of unimaginable beauty that morning, reclining on the hilltop. So she took as much of the spine as she could carry, and later wished she’d taken the skull instead. And never really wondered why she didn’t go back for more.
But that was the thing with bones. You don’t go back. You take what you want, what you can carry, and leave the rest. But Eleri had to admit that she didn’t know why this was so.
“The characters don’t like it, you know,” Liz said, realizing that nobody was listening. “The don’t like it at all, being abandoned during the festivities. Maybe they’d like to join in singing happy bollocks to christmas carols, or pull a cracker for a cheap hat and a dumb joke, or stuff themselves with dead poultry. Maybe they’d like half a chance to join in!”
“Scrooge,” muttered Finnley.
“I said nobody was listening, and what are you doing here anyway?”
“It all seems so samey,” replied Finnley. “I got bored so I left.”
“Same every year,” agreed Liz. “it’s like writing the same chapter over and over and over again.”
Yorath was still trying to explain the nature of forests, the rekindled understanding of the woodland habitats, the memory storing capacity of the vegetation in a vast network of twining tendrils and roots and so on, when Lobbocks burst into the room. Leroway had been finding himself unable to detach the workings of his mind from the contraptions he could assemble himself to control the natural states, and welcomed the interruption. If only Yorath would get to the point, he’d thought impatiently, then I could prepare to devise a solution ~ thereby entirely missing the point, although he didn’t realize it.
But here was Lobbocks, announcing a problem that required a solution, which was much more in line with Leroway’s thinking. As he listened to the tale of the stone statue now animated and angry, he immediately started to plan a device to capture, restrain and subdue it, to keep it from harming any of the citizenry.
Eleri, however, revealing herself from her eavesdropping position behind the door, had other ideas.
“I must speak to him!” she said. “I must know how he animated himself, without the aid of any of my ingredients.”
“Not to mention his vengeful attitude,” added Yorath. “Imagine if this happens again, to other stone statues and creatures.”
“Indeed we do, Yorath! I had considered the animation, purely from a physical capacity for movement standpoint, but I had not given much thought to the emotional condition in a reanimation process after a prolonged inanimate state. Oh hello, Leroway,” she added, noticing his look of surprise.
“Should I get a posse together to follow him then,” interjected Lobbocks, as Leroway and Eleri exchanged banal pleasantries about how long it had been since they’d met, “Because I think he’s looking for your workshop in the valley.”
Eleri ignored Leroway’s suggestion that she stay in the village while he conducted the mission to capture the statue, stating that she was leaving for home immediately, gratefully accepting Yorath’s announcement that he would accompany her. She went back up to attic to fetch her things, and stood at the window for a moment, looking up at the castle walls.
Wouldn’t it be easier to just walk in the other direction, and not look back? The temptation hovered, almost as tangible as the scent of orange blossom in the air. What was it that was keeping her here all these years? She was a wanderer by nature, or at least she had been. Were those days really gone? While everyone around her had been lightening their loads, ridding themselves of unnecessary baggage, loosening their ties, she’d done the opposite.
Sighing, she picked up her bag. She would return home.