Category Archives: Stories

Drums of War – Part #5 – Explanations

22 Tuesday Apr 2014

Posted by in Stories, The Drums of War

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Turgis pulled the door shut to the room of the inn and turned to Keita who was sitting on the edge of a bed that took up most of the room.  The room was nothing fancy, but it would do.

“So you want my story, you say. Well, for that I need to explain the current war. I don’t suppose you know much of it, do you?” Keita shook her head, fatigue starting to push the suspicion out of her expression. Turgis sat down beside her. “Well, there’s a lot to this story, but properly, it started back nearly 17 years, before Lucien was even born.”

“Back then, I was just the weapon master’s apprentice.  But also a friend to the crown prince of Kalmar, Tibalt Cromwell.  We were about the same age, and I guess he just needed someone who wasn’t his elder to talk to.  Mostly though, we were sparring partners.  His younger brother, Jaximus, worshipped the ground Tibalt walked on so he was forever underfoot.  Tibalt used to try to give him the slip but I couldn’t disrespect a prince like that.”

“One year, there was this ball to be held in the kingdom of Avesta, Lucien’s kingdom. Some fancy event with all the nobles of neighbouring lands, and Tibalt decided he wanted sneak me in as his servant.  This was a once in a lifetime chance, so I jumped on the oppurtunity.  As we travelled, Tibalt confided in me that he was nervous about this ball.  He was supposed to meet the woman he was betrothed to, the Lady Deirdre, from the kingdom of Gaina.  It was the first time they’d be meeting, but the betrothal had been arranged when they were young.  The two met before the ball and they were both tense as could be.  But well, when Tibalt introduced Jaximus to her, I could see that the boy was smitten.  We barely saw him that day as he followed Deirdre about, hoping for the chance to get her a drink or something.”

“The night of the ball, there were lovely ladies swirling all about and a thousand delicacies set out.  Despite that, Jax could barely take his eyes off the Lady Deirdre.  Which is probably why he was the one to notice when she and Saul Suncrown from Avesta snuck away from the ball. When Saul came back… Well, Jax was barely 15 at the time.  But that hardly stopped him from challenging Saul to a duel, right there in front of the whole ball. Accused him of sullying Deirdre honour and humiliating his brother or some such nonsense.” Turgis paused for a moment, taking a swig from a small flask.  Keita snorted.

“Your people have such confusing ways.  Is it not the lady’s choice to talk to a man?”

“Aye well, Jax may have been out of line, but it is not my place to question the prince.  And Saul could hardly ignore that challenge, not after his honour was called into question in front of everyone.  And so a duel was arranged, and swords brought out.  Jaximus was a good fighter, I’d sparred with him myself, but Saul was several years older, bigger, stronger and faster.  Jax barely stood a chance.  Saul quickly overpowered him, and backed him into a wall in his fury. He clearly had it in his head that he was going to kill him, but just as he went for the killing blow… Tibalt jumped in the way, shielding his brother and was run through himself.”

“Everything sort of went downhill from there. When Saul realized he’d killed Tibalt, he ran off and Deirdre followed him. Jaximus for his part was a mess.  The next few days were a blur, and I think Jaximus almost hoped that now that he was the crown prince, he would be the one to marry Lady Deirdre.  However, shortly after the funeral her father announced she would be marrying Saul, and the marriage was arranged for barely a week later.  Lucien was born soon after they were married, so perhaps the prince was onto something.”

“Everything calmed down a bit after that.  Later, Jaximus sent me to be the weaponsmaster in Avesta’s court. ‘A show of good faith,’ He said.  I got to know young Lucien well, he was fascinated with the armoury and the weapons in there.  I trained him to fight myself.  At first, Jaximus would send me regular letters, always asking about the Lady Deirdre, but she seemed happily in love to me.  Eventually, the letters slowed down, and then there came a point when the letters stopped.  I’d started to wonder if Jaximus had forgotten me, but the 4 years ago, I got a letter asking me to resign my position and return to Kalmar.”

“I arrived just in time for his Coronation, but this was not the same man who sent me away years ago.  He seemed like a man haunted.  When I finally got a chance to talk to him, it seemed all he wanted to know about was Queen Deirdre.  When I had told him all I knew, he thanked me and made me Captain of the Guard.  He sent the Iron Hawks and me off to the Spinetail pass, and privately asked me to ‘antagonize’ the border.  It seemed to me that he was hoping to provoke the war and make his own opportunities with Saul’s Queen.”  Turgis stretched the knots out of his back.

“But then, why is not really my job.  All I know is he wanted a war, and it’s my job to help him win.  Which I believe would be helped with the Ora tribes harassing them from within the kingdom itself.”  Turgis glanced Keita, who was laying on her back on the bed. “Does that satisfy your curiosity, or do you have any other questions?”

“Just one.” She replied, pointing at the bed below her, “Is this the bed? I’m sleeping here tonight.” Turgis laughed.

“Aye, that’s the bed. You can have it, I’m drunk enough to sleep on the floor tonight.”

To be continued

Dawn’s Demons

21 Monday Apr 2014

Posted by in Demons and Angels, Stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , ,

The clock blinked red in the corner of the room, declaring that it was now 4:01 AM.  A time when most people were in bed, but Dawn was not most people.  She was still staring at her computer monitor in the dimly lit bedroom.  While her family slept soundly, she was deliberating between hair colours with her friend online.

“OMG, have u seen this Tangeine Glo??”
“it’ll be perfect with this Fire Red! lol”

Dawn typed excitedly.

“OMG YES!!”
“U have GOT to show me pics tomorow! my mom is making me sleep now. :(“

Holly typed back.

“Awwwww.  ttyl”

Dawn went back to her internet search, hunting for outrageous hair colours, as the little icon beside Holly’s name went grey.   She hunted through her friend’s list, but no one else seemed to be on so late at night.  Dawn sighed, she had really wanted to show someone this next picture, the girl in the image featured hair in the same shades as a peacock.  She briefly considered sleep, when she heard a scratching sound in the corner. The noise sent her skin crawling down her spine.  She turned slowly turned around to look at the dark corner, but there was nothing to be seen.  A bookshelf, filled with porcelain dolls and old sketchbooks, and a heap of dirty clothes filled the corner, and nothing moved.  Dawn turned back to her monitor.  The shadows felt a little darker in the room now, almost like fingers as they inched across the floor.  The goosebumps continued as Dawn tried to calm herself. “There’s nothing in the corner.”  She muttered, staring at the monitor.  “Nothing at all.” But her mind disagreed, convinced there was something behind her.  Watching her, with bright red eyes.  She turned quickly, fast enough to flutter the pages of her sketchbook, but the corner remained empty.  Reluctantly, she turned back to her computer, not quite willing to tear her eyes from the corner, when something moved in her peripheral vision.  She turned her head quickly, coming face to face with her mirror.  But the reflection she saw was not her own. “Hello Dawn.”  The words of the demon staring at her echoed in her head.  It stared out of her mirror, glowing red eyes with black stripes on it’s face, two horns nestled in a shock of messy hair.  She stared in horror as she realized it looked exactly like the demon she’d drawn last week.  “Now that I’ve escaped, you and I are going to have a some fun.”

DawnDemon

(Art courtesy of my cousin, Eve)

End of the World

20 Sunday Apr 2014

Posted by in Odds and Ends, Stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, ,

Dear Diary,

It’s me again, Julia. It has now been three weeks since I’ve last seen another human being. Unless you count the walkers outside the fence, but I don’t. They’re not really human anymore. Just mindless monsters. I did another supply run today. I now have enough canned peaches to last me until the next apocalypse. Given the way things have been currently going, I predict that will be sometime in the next 2 weeks. Couldn’t find anymore bullets though. Haven’t had any since I had to put the last one between Felicia’s eyes. She was staring right at me the whole time. I still remember the look in her eyes. It’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.

It’s not like I haven’t tried to find other people. I’m getting crazy lonely cooped up in here alone. But I haven’t even seen signs of life since the 4th earthquake. Not even any rats. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother writing anymore, it’s not like there’s anyone to read this. I just miss talking to people. I miss my family.

I remember when my grandpa first taught me to shoot. My mom protested, of course, but I wanted to be just like my grandpuppy. He taught me that you always had to be super careful with a gun. “Never point it at anyone you don’t want dead.” He said, “Even when you think the chamber is empty and the safety is on, there could be one more bullet hiding.” I would hang off his every word. He was so proud of his little marksman. I hope he can’t see me now.

Putting away her diary, the last known survivor played Russian roulette with herself.

Kingdom of the Blind

18 Friday Apr 2014

Posted by in Odds and Ends, Stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , ,

June watched as her daughter walked past the living room, chattering away.

“Who are you talking to, Amy? You know you’re still grounded from last weekend.” She called out sternly.

“I’m talking to Nana, Mom.” Amy replied with typical teenaged attitude. June stopped folding the laundry in shock.

“Amy, Nana died last year.” She said quietly.

“Well duh. But she’s also standing right there!” She insisted, pointing at the air beside her. June tried her best to stay calm.

“Amy, there’s no one there.” The teen rolled her eyes in exasperation, turning to address the space beside her.

“See what I mean? She’s just blind as always.”

“AMY JENNIFER EVERIDGE!” June rose to her feet in anger. “Do you expect me to believe you are talking to the ghost of my mother?” Amy glowered back at her mother, her stance echoing her mother’s set hips.

“No, I don’t expect you to believe anything. You’ve never believed anything I said. Even when Theodore told me about Dad’s accident, you told me he was just ‘an imaginary friend’.” She turned on her heels and stomped off, leaving June still standing in shock as the bedroom door slammed.

June continued folding numbly. She thought back to that day, 7 years ago, when the company had called. She had been in shock that day as well, and far too panicked to consider what her daughter was saying about her imaginary friend as she’d loaded her into the car for the drive to the hospital. She’d never stopped to process it afterwards either, there was too much to worry about with Fred. But she as she tried to recall, the memory came up crystal clear, as if it had been stored away for later review and she was only just uncovering an old video in a forgotten box. There was Amy in the backseat of the car, telling her not to worry, that Theodore said Daddy had gotten his foot stuck in the machine, but they stopped it quickly and the doctors said it would be alright. She’d dismissed it as just a little girl’s rambling about an imaginary friend, not important at the moment. But she’d been right.

June walked quietly down the hall to the door proudly decorated in beads and stickers. She could hear quiet talking inside, but it stopped as she rapped on the door.

“Amy?” She hesitated. “What is Nana saying?”

Drums of War – Part #4 – Accusation

16 Wednesday Apr 2014

Posted by in Stories, The Drums of War

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Standing on the dark street, Keita glared at Turgis and his offer of help, her grey eyes reflecting suspicion.

“No, I don’t trust this.”  She said as she planted her hands on her hips.   “Since I walked into that bar, you’ve explained nothing of yourself, nor your relationship with a boy who should be your enemy but you treat as like a nephew. Meanwhile, we’ve talked far too much of me, a stranger off the street. No, Turgis Balborkanon, before I accept your offer of help, you will tell me how you fit into this story first.”

Turgis eyed up the girl as she stared him down.  Mentally, he rolled his eyes then began walking down the street, away from the angry barbarian.

“Come on then.” He said gruffly, pulling up his hood against the drizzling rain.  Keita stood her ground a moment longer before realizing he wasn’t waiting.

“Where are you going?” She asked, not ready to give up ground so easily.

“To an inn,” He called back. “Unless you’d like to continue this conversation in the rain.” Keita considered this for a moment before falling in beside him, her long legs quickly closing the distance.

“Besides,” Turgis muttered under his breath, “If we just stand around here talking all night, the Wardens will be-“

“Right behind you?” Asked a young, clear voice. Turgis froze like a deer, turning slowly to see the sudden visitor. Behind them stood a young girl, no older than 16, with deep, brown skin and hair. Her eyes shone vibrantly green in the light of the lamp she carried, and Keita could see small, white flowers woven through her curly hair. She wore a green cloak, pinned at her throat with an emerald brooch in the shape of a leaf that glittered like her ageless eyes. Turgis gave a slight bow, subtly shifting his position to stand between the new arrival and Keita.

“Good evening, Gwendolyn. What brings a lovely lady like yourself out on a dreary night such as this?” Gwen smiled slightly at the compliment.

“A bar fight broke out at the World’s End tavern. I noticed tonight was the full moon again, I thought you and Prince Lucien may have been there still. But it seems you two left early tonight.” She jerked her head towards the bright patch of clouds left by the moon in the sky as she spoke, an edge of suspicion to her voice.  Turgis looked a little sheepish.

“Aye, Lucien was a little deep in the cups tonight, and you know how the boy can get.  I thought it would be best we left early. We left just as the fight was starting.” Gwen narrowed her eyes slightly.

“So you saw nothing then?”

“You’ve known me for twenty years, Gwen. If I was involved in a fight, I’d be ending it.”  Turgis stated bluntly.  Gwendolyn smiled slightly.

“That is true enough. Well, have a good night, Turgis.” As Turgis turned away, pushing Keita along in front of him, she added, “Oh, one more thing.” Pulling out a small hunting knife from her pocket,  she gave it a gentle toss in the air, catching it as it fell.

“Someone left this at the tavern. One of the Wardens said it looked like a traditional knife from the members of the Ora tribes.  He also mentioned that one had come through his station tonight, heading into town.” Her eyes flashed towards Keita’s stiffening back as she continued. “Some of the locals said you may have left with a woman with a similar description.  She would have strange, scarred markings on her face, with braided hair. If you see her, you can let her know she can pick it up with her bow when she leaves.” She smiled warmly to Turgis’s shocked expression as she turned to leave. “Have a good night.”

To be continued

Witching Hour

15 Tuesday Apr 2014

Posted by in Stories, Witching Time

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , ,

Part 1 

Jillian breathed in the rich summer air as they walked along the river banks.

“The mint is so fragrant this year.”  She told Martha as a warm breeze played through the girls’ hair, tied back with colourful ribbons.

“It’s the cats.”  Martha stated.  “They’ve been hunting in the mint this year.  One of the vile things left a dead rat on my front doorstep last night.”  She shuddered in her cotton dress as she hugged her market basket.  “Eva says there’s more this year than there was last year.”

Jillian watched a black cat with a white star on its forehead dart across the path.  It paused in its journey, staring at Jillian with unblinking amber eyes.  A look of recognition seemed to cross the feline face.  Jillian felt a shiver run down her back as the cat disappeared into the thick weeds, leaving a cloud of gnats and the scent of mint in its wake.  Martha’s voice lowered to conspiratorial levels.

“Eva says they’re Hilda’s cats, and they came to town because Jeb killed that witch.”  She whispered to the wide-eyed girl.

“Jacob told me they didn’t find her.  That the hut was empty when they arrived, and they came home empty-handed.”  Jillian protested, glancing down the empty path as Martha flounced her hair.

“Well, I’m just glad she’s gone.  They must have done something that night, because he got better right away.”

“Who got better, girls?”  Asked a sweet voice behind them.  Hilda’s warm smile greeted them as they faced her in shock.  Jillian fought to keep the surprise out of her voice.

“Jeb’s boy.”  She stammered, “He had a fever a few weeks ago and everyone was worried, but he got better.”  Hilda’s smile deepened as the girl talked.

“I’m glad he recovered.  I must have been out of town at the time, visiting my sister in the highland village.”  She nodded to the girls as the wind pushed around her pale hair, “Well, I must be off.  Enjoy your day at market.”  The girls uttered a hasty goodbye as they hurried off down the road.  When Jillian looked back, there was nothing there except the drifting scent of mint and the buzz of a cicada.

Why do you tease them? Questioned the white-starred cat, watching from the stump of a tree that was washed away in last year’s flood.  The answer came from the black pointed cat beside her like the sound of the wind through the tall grass.

They will spread the word of my return.  Soon, I will go home.

Eight, Six, Four, Two

08 Tuesday Apr 2014

Posted by in Odds and Ends, Stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, ,

“I don’t know, John,” The man said as he flipped through the stack of paper on his desk. “This isn’t bad, but I’m not sure how the market will react.” John rung his hands anxiously, staring at the large novel that was the product of 4 months hard writing. He looked like he hadn’t eaten a proper meal the whole time, thin and nervous in a suit that looked like it fit a larger man.

“Mr. Cosure, please just give it a chance. I think… I mean, I hope, that with proper advertising, this might be a proper best seller.” Mr Cosure looked skeptical as John plunged ahead. “It’s the start of an epic 6 novel series, you see. The ending is left as a cliffhanger each time, to keep people talking about it, and there’s a consistent language that some characters speak that leads hints to what’s to come. I think that with proper advertising, that might generate some attention, maybe create a dedicated fan base that will help create some momentum and excitement. I just need some help, getting the proper attention.” He looked hopefully at the man behind the desk, who still bore the same stonefaced expression.

“I see. And when would the next book be available, do you think? The public doesn’t want another George R. R. Martin, leading them on for years at a time.” He steepled his fingers behind the desk over John’s beloved book. John bit his lip nervously.

“6 months?” He asked hesitately. Mr Cosure raised an eyebrow. “No! 4 months, I can have the next book on your desk in 4 months. I wrote the first in that time, after all.” He raised both eyebrows.

“Really? That is quite impressive, Mr Baloza.” He said, genuinely impressed. “Well, I will send this to the editor, and we will get this process rolling. Of course, I can’t offer you much until we see how it sells-” John practically squeaked.

“Sir, thank you very much, but I must insist on some upfront compensation.” He seemed to shrink beneath the publishers look. “You know, cost of living… Just to hold me over, for now…” Mr Cosure looked long suffering.

“Yes, yes, talk to Mrs Morrisson behind the secretary desk on your way out. She will cut you a cheque.” He stuck out his hand to the man, “I hope this is a start to a very profitable relationship.”

John collapsed into the car seat, and sighed a great breath of relief. A young girl with bouncing ponytails jumped into the backseat behind him.

“How’d it go, Daddy?” She asked happily.

“Pretty good, Diane, let’s go see your sister and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Several minutes later, the pair walked into a room together. The younger girl burst in like a whirl of energy, jumping onto a hospital bed where the older girl lay.

“Jean, Jean!” She cried, pulling off her backpack, “I picked up your homework today! Mrs Jones says they all miss you too.” Jean smiled and ruffled the younger girl’s hair with her spare hand.

“Thanks, Munchkin.” She said softly. “How’d the meeting with the publisher go, Daddy?” He smiled and stroked her hair.

“They’re going to publish our story, Kiddo.” He told her. “He really liked your secret language.”

“I thought I overheard Grandma say that it would help pay for everything.” She said, gesturing towards the machines behind her.

“Hey now, you’re too young to worry about money.” John teased her, “You worry about that homework, and when you’re done, we’ll write more about the story of Jean and Diane, intrepid explorers in the land of Ashural.”

Drums of War #3 – Confrontation

07 Monday Apr 2014

Posted by in Stories, The Drums of War

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Keita brushed away Turgis’s concern without a glance towards the young man rejoining the table.

“No, old man, I will tell you precisely how I intend to retake my people’s holy lands. I will gather an army of my people’s finest warriors, wherever they may be scattered across the plains. I will tell them that this supposed kingdom of justice has stolen our lands and defiled our sacred rituals when our backs were turned. And with them, I will raze this village and it’s people to ashes, and sanctify the lands with their blood.” She scowled at the older man until a heavy hand shook table, breaking the uneasy silence. Lucien loomed over the table.

“Do you mean to tell me that you will kill my citizens for settling a new location under my father’s orders?” His voice was a low growl that rumbled in the unnatural hush of the tavern. A few curious heads had began to turn towards the angry youth in the back corner. Turgis nodded to them and most turned back to their conversations and the music which had begun to play again, but some were still watching when the woman with the dark cloak quickly stood herself with another heavy thunk, staring down the blonde man. Only Turgis saw the glint of her hunting knife, buried in the oak table.

“Yes, boy prince, I mean precisely that.” She hissed back at him. Turgis stood quickly himself, laying one hand atop Keita’s, the knife pinned to the table below, and the other on Lucien’s shoulder.

“Whoa, let’s rein this in a bit, you two. Surely you don’t mean to start a fight in-”

“Shut up, Turgis.” Lucien snapped, not taking his eyes off Keita, “You are not my mentor anymore.” Keita merely glowered at Turgis, conveying the same message in her body language before returning the stare at Lucien. Turgis rolled his eyes and after a quick twist with his wrist, walked away towards the bar, pocketing the small hunting knife and leaving the two youths to glower at each other.

“That looks like it’s about to turn ugly.” The barkeep said as Turgis walked up close to the bar.

“Any moment now.” Turgis replied quietly, as a loud crash boomed behind him. Without looking back, he pulled a handful of gold coins out of his pocket and placed them on the counter. “I assume this is enough to tell the Wardens this was a barfight between two drunk locals.” The barkeep’s eyes glittered at the gold, it was more than he’d make in a month. His eyes flicked back to the two fighters behind the grizzled veteran, trying not to look too eager.

“Only if you can clear them out before the Wardens arrive themselves. And I cannot speak for the patrons.” Turgis nodded.

“That’ll do.” He flicked the small knife behind the counter, adding an extra coin to the pile. “For the mug.” He said with a wink, grabbing one of the bar patron’s mug of ale off the counter beside him. The patron was too engrossed with the spectacle at the back of the tavern to notice.

He walked back towards the two fighters, assessing the damage. The table was on it’s side, pushed to the side of the clearing the other patrons had made around the two fighters. Keita crouched in the back corner, taking in everyone at a glance. As he watched, one of the tavern patrons inched closer to her, jostled by encroaching crowd, only to retreat as she hissed fiercely at him. There was a small smear of blood near her mouth.

Lucien by contrast appeared deadly calm. His back to the crowd, his hands up and feet firmly planted, Turgis felt a moment of pride before he brought the mug crashing into Lucien’s temple. The boy crumbled to the floor in a heap. Keita lunged forward towards him, only to be intercepted by Turgis grappling her to the floor. The two grappled, Keita struggling violently against the older man, but eventually his greater strength and size won out, leaving her pinned firmly to the floor.

“Stop struggling.” He instructed. Lucien came to with a groan, struggling to bring himself upright. “And you boy, keep your ass on the ground or so help me, I will let this hellcat kill you and report it as a victory.” Lucien sat heavily on the ground, dimly probing his throbbing temple. “Now then,” Turgis whispered to the barbarian he had pinned beneath him, “I’m assuming you don’t know much about Cetrius, being from out of town and all. Let me assure you, the druids don’t take very kindly to out-of-towners bringing the war into their town. If you would like any chance at getting out of here alive and reclaiming your ancestral grounds, you will get up and follow me out of here without a fight. Agreed?” The girl’s grey eyes blazed with a hidden anger.

“Agreed.” Turgis rose to his feet smoothly, walking over to pull the dazed boy to his feet. He draped Lucien’s arm over his shoulders and half dragged him to the door as Keita dusted herself off and followed behind, pulling up her hood as soon as they stepped out into the drizzling rain.

“Where is your coachman, Luc?” Turgis asked once the tavern was well behind them.

“Probably at Trita’s Palace still.” He muttered, still dazed. “Did you have to hit me so hard?”

“I was hoping to knock some sense into your thick skull.” He replied affably as they approached the seedy location. The coachman stood beneath a small awning, pipe in hand as they approached. “Ho, Curt!” He called out, “The prince seems a little down in the cups tonight. I think it’s time to head back to Avesta tonight.”

As Curt climbed to the front of the coach, he tipped his hat towards Turgis. “You’re a good man, Turgis. Shame we had to lose you to the enemy.”

“I promised his father I’d watch out for him.” Turgis said of the boy. “And I am a man of my word.” He waved as the two drove off into the night, then turned to the sulking girl. “As for you, I’d like to help you achieve your destiny.” The girl broke out of her sulk abruptly.

“Would that not break your promise?” She asked, eyes flashing with suspicion. Turgis shrugged.

“My oath to my King supersedes that promise. But here, I fear the Druid’s law more than the King’s wrath.” He smiled smugly, “And I made no promise to watch out for the prince’s citizens.”

To be continued…

Continue reading →

A Pokemon Story – Part 4

05 Saturday Apr 2014

Posted by in Established Universe, Pokemon, Stories

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , ,

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Do you really think this is going to work?”  Frank asked me as we stood in the forest near a small shelter.  It was nothing special, a quick roof and three walls, with a hinged gate and hay floor, but hopefully it was enough.  More importantly, it was on our land, right near the cottage, and far from any major cities.  I pulled out Sawsbuck’s pokeball.  Katie, sitting beside me, sniffed at the ball curiously as I did so, her pale lavender ears twitching.

“I hope so.  We couldn’t really keep him in the city.”  I said as I let out the large deer pokemon.   He came out in a burst of light, and immediately started nuzzling me.  “Alright, alright,” I told the questing nose, producing an apple from my backpack.  “Here you go, Caesar.”   I immediately had to dodge his antlers as he bent to eat the apple.  Now in full bloom, his antlers were covered in soft velvet and delicate pink flowers.  I pet his head awkwardly.

“Alright, come here then,”  I said, walking towards the shelter with the nearly-gone apple.  He followed me obediently, even after the apple was gone.  “This is a shelter for you.”  I explained,  “We’re going to leave you up here so you don’t have to stay in your pokeball all the time.”  The look on his face immediately made me feel guilty.  I was never quite sure how much the pokemon understood, but they certainly seemed to understand a lot.

“Don’t look at me like that!  This is a much better spot for you.”  I said defensively.  “And we’ll come visit often.  But up here you have space to roam.”  Caesar nuzzled my shoulder, still looking sad.  I sighed.  We had spent the last 6 weeks teaching him to come when we whistled, but clearly I hadn’t thought through my clever plan that well.  I rubbed his head just behind the antlers.  “Well, we aren’t going to leave until tomorrow, maybe you’ll warm up to the idea.”

“Let’s go walk around the property.”  I suggested to my husband, walking back over to him and Katie.  Caesar followed behind me as we set off walking.

“Sure.”  He said, letting Jewel out of her pokeball too.  Jewel stretched her black and gold limbs, until she spotted Caesar following behind us.  She reared back, a low growl escaping as she stared him down.  The Sawsbuck snorted once, then proceeded to ignore the small Umbreon’s posturing.  Frank laughed and roughly mussed up her fur.  “Does she do that every time?”  He asked as she immediately began grooming herself.

“You know Jewel, simultaneously aggressive and terrified of everything.”  I pet the top of her head until she snapped around to try and bite me, snatching back my scarred hand with hard-earned reflexes.  “Stop that!  We’re going for a walk.  If you don’t behave, we’ll stick you in the cottage until we get back.”  Jewel glowered at me, but fell in beside Katie as we set off trail-blazing through the property.

“So, what’s with the sudden obsession with Pokemon, Alex?”  Frank asked as we walked along through the forest.  Thoughts ran through my head.  How does one explain that they just woke up one day and found themselves in a world that rightfully belonged in a videogame?  And that no one else seemed to find the shift strange?  I bit my lip as I tried to think of ways to avoid this.

“Well…  I like outdoors stuff…  And I need to find something to do when I’m not working, right?”  Frank looked suspicious.  “And…  I thought it’d be fun to try something new.  Google is hiring a new Pokemon Master this week.”  I said, trying to sound convincing.  He still looked unconvinced.  I blushed and stared straight ahead.  “Look, if I explain, do you promise you won’t think I’m crazy or something?”

“Of course not.”  I was always impressed at his ability to not call me crazy when I confessed to things I definitely found crazy.  No turning back now.

“A few weeks back, I sorta, kinda I woke up firmly believing that pokemon only existed in games.  And then Jewel bit me and was an Umbreon.”  I hesitated for a moment.  “I dunno, maybe it was just a really vivid dream, but I still feeling like pokemon shouldn’t really exist.”  I looked at him, not sure what I expected to see.  He mostly just looked confused.

“I’m not sure I get it.  Did we just, not have Jewel and Katie?”

“No, we had them, they were just cats.  Like, Persian, only smaller.  And without the coin.”  Frank still looked confused.

“I don’t get it.  You dreamed they were cats, and now you think they’re supposed to cats?”

“Yeah.  Like, they wasn’t any pokemon at all.  Just animals.”

“But if all the pokemon didn’t exist, why were there cats still?”  I frowned slightly.

“Still?  You mean, there’s still cats?”

“Yeah.  Do you really not remember”  He looked a little worried now.  I smiled slightly.

“I guess it’s because given the choice between a pet Eevee or a pet cat, I’d take a pet Eevee.  I’ve always really loved Eevee.”  I looked behind me at the crew of pokemon following us.  “I’ve always really loved pokemon.  Maybe one day I’ll get a cat though.”

“Not unless we get a bigger house.  I wonder why you had cats in your dream and not Eevees.”  Frank mused.

“Can you put a cat in a pokeball?  I bet that has something to do with it.”

“No, but there’s got to be more to it than that!  Wikipedia probably knows the difference between a pokemon and an animal.  I bet it’s something to do with genes.”  I smiled, and grabbed his hand in mine.

“Thanks for not thinking I’m crazy.”  He gave my hand a little squeeze.

“I dunno, I think there was something about this in our vows.”

“Hey, you’re already here, vow fulfilled!”  I said defensively.  He snorted, looking back at the Espeon and Umbreon following us, and the Sawsbuck following them.

“I’m not sure this was my first choice of magical lands.”  I squeezed his hand back.

“Well, maybe next time one of us wakes up in a videogame, it’ll be you in Dwarf Fortress.”

“Ooo, or maybe the Warhammer universe!”  He started singing a song about dwarves as we walked through the muddy forest, three pokemon in tow.

Witching Time

04 Friday Apr 2014

Posted by in Stories, Witching Time

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , ,

They feared her in the town below. Hilda knew this, as she could see the fear on their faces when she went into town to buy bread. Her bread never rose, it would always fall in the centre. Hilda suspected this was because the air wasn’t as damp up here than it was in the valley, but she knew what they thought in the village. She could hear their answer whispered behind closed shutters and concealing hands. Witch, they’d whisper, hiding their children behind their aprons.

Witch. She could hear it louder today as she walked through the village to buy some mint. It shrivelled and blackened near her home, shaded beneath the dense cedar trees and old pines, and the feral cats ate what survived. It preferred the sunny shores of the river that ran through the village, where it grew too plentiful even for the rats to eat. She frowned slightly at the farmer in the market, who recoiled from her coins as if they might poison him. “No charge for the lovely lady.” He insisted. “How could I charge for something so plentiful?” But his eyes spoke louder than his words. Witch.

That night they came to her house. The cats scurried away in their wake. Not the one or two visitors who came to her dead of night, cloaks held close to ward away prying eyes, begging for favours, but instead a small posse of men, wielding torches and makeshift weapons. One stepped forward to hammer the cottage door with his massive hand. “Come out Hilda! The children are sickening!” The door remained closed and dark. He beat the door again. “Get out here, girl! You’ll undo this curse you placed us under!” Still no answer was forthcoming. He beckoned the men closer as he hammered again. “Last chance, Witch! Come out or we’ll see you burned!”

The door caved easily beneath his boot as the men poured into the small cottage. They cast about for their prey in the single room, eyes alighting upon the empty bed, the cold hearth. Not a soul to be found but for the ones they brought with them. Feline eyes watched them leave the room from the roof. Such fear. Hilda thought as she watched them head back to town empty handed, the moonlight reflecting off long fur. They will never understand.

Man was such easy prey, these men did not look back once on their hike back to town. But of course, they need not fear the dark with their torches burning brightly, and most certainly did not fear the black-pointed cat that followed their trail, eyes burning brightly in the moonlight. As the men slipped away quietly to their houses, torches near extinguished, Hilda shadowed Jeb to his home. He was the initiator to tonight’s events, he was the one who stepped forward, and he was the one whose eyes told a different story. Anger, of course. And fear, as always, but not of Hilda. No, his eyes spoke of fear of loss. He was the one whose child had sickened.

The houses in town were built strong and large, meant to last generations. As Jeb entered the home, Hilda slipped through a window left open. The concerned voice of his wife drifted down the hallway, mixed with the disappointment in Jeb’s, but Hilda paid them no mind as she slipped into the child’s room. The boy coughed weakly as she jumped to his bed, her tail twitching. His eyes fluttered open, bright with fever as he reached towards the cat, small hand feebly petting the long soft fur. She purred reassuringly as she lay beside him, licking his forehead which tasted of salt, until the boy fell back asleep.

A pair of footstep fell through the house as the witch lay by the boy, ending with a creaking door. Quiet reassurances filtered through the thin walls, whispered under covers in the neighbouring room, before quiet fell upon the house. With a stretch, the cat padded softly through the house towards the kitchen. Tomorrow’s stew already simmered over the low fire as her feline nose sniffed, questing for the scents of rot and decay. An old leg of lamb was found, showing fresh cuts from yesterday’s meal, and the moonlight revealed to her what human eyes may miss, small footprints on the packed dirt floor as they led to a crack in the wall.

As the fire crackled beneath the old black pot, Hilda stood in the kitchen, a cat no longer, and considered. The leg of lamb disappeared into an apron pocket, to be replaced by two heads of garlic, and a large sprig of oregano and basil for the stew. From a different pocket, she produced the mint she’d bought at the market, now slightly crushed. Deftly wrapping it in a rag, it was packed in the crack, a box of potatoes wedged in front. Pleased with her work, she slipped out the back, the light of the full moon reflecting off flaxen hair. From the shadows of the house strolled a new cat, long haired and black as night, save for a white star on her forehead. Hilda knelt to greet her.

“Hello, Mother.” She whispered, brandishing the rotten lamb. “The rats have grown bold in my village again.” She tossed the lamb towards the river, where it landed in the tall weeds, the scent of mint rising off the ground. Bring the coven. Whispered as she disappeared into the grasses after it, black pointed tail a-swish. We will teach them to fear the scent of mint again.

read more…