Tag: Fantasy

Storytime: The Midnight Postman

Storytime: The Midnight Postman

by Heather ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

The package sat crookedly on his kitchen table, an ever present reminder of a job yet to be done. He checked the clock – not quite midnight – and peered out the window at the skies for what felt like the hundredth time that night. The clouds were still thick, gentle mounds barely visible in the darkness, and he knew that above that white barrier a whole world awaited him. A world that never ceased to bring wonder and amazement, no matter how many times he made the journey. Tonight. Tonight he would make the delivery.

The clock ticked its solemn, steady way to midnight as he sipped slowly on his tea. Earl Grey, with just a touch of honey and cream. His routine was so practiced and precise that as the clock on the mantle began to chime the late hour, he swallowed the last drops of tea.

Standing, he gently placed the delicate tea cup by the sink and stretched, his back cracking in time with the clock. “Time to get going, then.” he said to no one in particular. Slipping the package carefully into his bag – gentle for he knew not what the contents were but should there be a single wrinkle, a single crack, he would never make the journey again – and plucked his bowler hat from the stand, placing it upon his head and running his fingers along the soft rim.

Opening the door, he took one last look around his cozy kitchen, a small smile tugging at his lips before stepping outside and pulling the door closed as the clock chimed its last note for midnight. As he always did.

He looked again at the cloudy sky as he strode across his yard, as quaint and cozy as the kitchen he had left behind. Carefully, for everything he did was with great care, he moved through the gate, a small thing of white wooden slats and a simple latch. Not tall enough to keep anything out, but no one cared to bother him anyway. Or visit.

He shrugged off that thought quickly, for it was a small price to pay for the wonder that was his life.

Walking quickly now, the Midnight Postman – a name he had adopted for himself, though no one else called him that – made his way across a slender road of hard-packed dirt, not bothering to look for oncoming vehicles. There would be none. There never was this far from civilization. Across the road he went, and up the small hill that he considered his own, personal hill for at its greatest height there was a brazier filled with a special sort of wood. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a match – a special sort of match – and lifted one foot to pull it along the sole of his running shoes – a special pair of shoes.

The match flared to life, burning a brilliant blue, and he dropped it into the brazier and waited. To any other, the wait might have seemed intolerable but the Midnight Postman was a patient man. In his line of work, he had to be. Long minutes passed before the brazier flared to life, first a brilliant blue like the match had been, then a soft, vibrant purple, before slowly fading to a soft white with purple and blue flickering at its tips. The smoke pouring from the brazier lifted upward, a steady stream that rose and rose until it touched the clouds above. He watched in silence as it strove to the heavens.

It was time.

Checking that he had a good grip on his bag – it simply wouldn’t do to drop that on the way – he took a deep breath and placed his right foot upon the billowing smoke. No matter how many times he made this journey, that first step always made his heart thud wildly in his chest.

The smoke held, his foot sinking only slightly into its swirling layers and a smile of triumph crossed his face as he lifted his left foot up and began the slow but steady walk up the smoke and into the clouds.

He took care not to look behind at the slowly vanishing world below. He had made that mistake only once, the vertigo it caused nearly breaking the magic of the smoke, and he had learned that lesson well., unlike his predecessor Now when he climbed the winding column of smoke, he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the clouds above and his mind on his destination.

As he reached the cloud line he paused, taking in a deep breath of the clear, crisp air that surrounded him before plunging upward, into the cloud. For the briefest of moments, bitterly cold wisps clung to him, pulling at his arms and threatening to steal away his hat, and then he was through. He stood upon the clouds.

The Midnight Postman took another deep breath, filled with the wonder and delight he always felt when he got to this point in his journey. It was the reason he was so fastidious, for having tasted of this magic he would never willingly let it fall from him.

Stretching before him was a landscape that would never be duplicated on the land below. Soft, white clouds became rolling hills and plunging valleys, lit silver by the light of millions of stars and the larger than life crescent moon. Here and there the land below strove to break into the magic the lived above the clouds – tree covered mountain tops, and snow-shrouded peaks. Always, though, the clouds came in and jealously guarded their domain. This was not a place for earthly hubris, and the Midnight Postman was always careful to leave such pride behind. Humbled and contrite, he moved amidst the magic of the heavens, a tiny figure swallowed by the vast, silver beauty.

Storytime: A Web of Eyes

Storytime: A Web of Eyes

by Heather ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

My breath was already ragged as I tore my way through the underbrush, collecting scrapes and cuts from the branches that I pushed past. No time to stop, just keep running I told myself silently, not wasting the breath to say it aloud. I was not going to give up, they would never catch me if I had anything to say about it.

I burst through a thick bush and had to windmill my arms to stop from falling off the cliff that opened up before my feet. Glancing over my shoulder, I could hear my pursuers crashing through the trees, gaining ground each second I delayed. I looked down the cliff at the river that raged below. I had no idea how deep it was, nor what dangers might lurk in its depth or down its length.

The sound of the pursuers became ever closer.

Taking two steps back, my shins up against the underbrush, I took a deep breath and ran, not letting myself have the luxury of delay or second thoughts. They could not catch me, it was all over if they did.

The jump was high enough that I managed to get all my limbs in order and dove into the water with what was truly a spectacular swan dive. Were I not so desperate, I may have stopped to congratulate myself on my perfect form. Instead, I broke the surface, sucked in a desperate breath and began to swim with the current, rushing along faster than I could ever manage unaided. Risking a glance upwards, I saw two figures huddled on the cliff I had leapt from, pointing down towards me.

I was free for the moment, but did not believe that I had truly escaped them. They were determined, single-minded, and it would take more than a rushing river to win my freedom.

Before that, however, I had to conquer this river.

Despite my best efforts to keep my head above the water, the rushing waters continually pulled me under and tumbled me around. Without the current, I wouldn’t have been able to tell which way to go, I ended up so turned around.

My arms began to weaken, my head dipping below the surface more often than not. As I inhaled another breath more filled with water than air, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was how it was going to end. Drowned in the river, my body being borne out to a lake or sea somewhere, lost.

Very well, I thought, closing my eyes and feeling a strange contentment fall over me. I felt myself drift downwards and didn’t try to stop, didn’t strive for the surface, not this time. My head began to spin from lack of oxygen and I would have swam for the surface, then, had I known which way to swim. Instead, I let go to the inevitable and ended up with the strangest sensation. Instead of continuing to sink, there was suddenly pressure at my back, pushing me towards what I could only presume was the surface and life-giving air.

I broke the surface, filling my lungs and feeling sensation and consciousness rush back, my plight springing back into sharp focus. What had happened? Groggy still, it took me a moment to realize I was moving faster than the current, and there was still the mysterious pressure on my back. Turning slightly, not an easy task, I discovered that I was sprawled across the back of a dolphin.

Feeling my movement, the dolphin unceremoniously dumped me back into the river proper and swam circles around me for a moment before nudging me again to keep my head above the surface.

“Never thought I’d be saved by a dolphin…” I muttered, swinging my arm over the dolphins proffered back and allowing it to carry me down the river again, feeling a little more in control. “Thanks.” I wasn’t sure if the dolphin could hear me above the roaring river, or even understand me if it could, but I still felt compelled to express my gratitude.

Riding the dolphin, I traveled much faster than I could have ever hoped and I allowed myself the brief dream that perhaps, just perhaps, I had outrun my pursuers enough that they would not find me again.

Eventually, the cliff surrounding the river diminished and I discovered that the river emptied into a lake, and that the dolphin was not fond of the still waters within. Leaving me on the shore where the river spilled into the ocean, the dolphin swam back over the fast-moving waters, seemingly untroubled by the effort it had to put in to make progress. I stood there on the bank until I could no longer see my dolphin friend, and raised my hand in a final, unseen farewell before turning to trudge along the shoreline.

First order of business, I thought, I need to figure out where I am. And get to where there are people, where I might be a bit safer.

It felt like an eternity, walking along the lake, though it was more like part of the afternoon, or maybe morning? I wasn’t quite certain what time of day it was and I couldn’t see the sun, hidden as it was behind clouds, to find out, though my rumbling stomach insisted that it was time to eat. I gathered a few berries along the shore, but did not dare stop for longer to try my hand at fishing. Those that hunted me had proven resourceful and fast in the past, I had no reason to believe it would be any different this time. No, I had to keep moving, get as much distance between myself and them as I possibly could. It was the only hope I had. Well, that and the rumours I had heard earlier in my journey of a place of safety, where they would not, could not, go. “South” they had said, but none could give better directions than that, and so my journey had taken me roughly southward. Was I too far west? East? Where did I go from here?

The wind brought shouts to my sensitive ears and I cursed. Was it them again, already? Or just another set? They were all so interchangeable, I couldn’t be sure; dark leather, masked faces, a tattoo of a spider’s web with an eight-legged eye in the centre on all their forearms.

Either way, I couldn’t linger any longer on the bank of the lake.

Choosing a direction almost at random – southerly, and away from the shouts – I dove into the forest and made my way along as quickly as I dared to move, stripping bushes of their berries on my way. The forest slowly darkened around me and the cloud-shrouded sun dipped below the horizon. Soon, I was unable to see the forest floor in front of me and began to trip on every upraised root, catching my clothing on nearly every grasping bush I passed. I could no longer go on, and so with the last of the light I found myself a little hollow in a lightening-struck tree, just big enough to wriggle into. Once I pulled a large, leafy branch from a bush and set it across the cracked trunk, it felt like a cozy, safe little nest. Exhausted, I fell asleep quickly, lulled by the sounds of night around me.

I woke early, anxious to be going and cramped from my tiny hideaway. With more than one groan, I pushed my way out of the tree and stood, stretching out my aching muscles and looking around to remind myself what way I had been going the night before. Thankfully, I could vaguely make out my path from the night before, crushed leaves and snags of fabric. I hoped I hadn’t left so obvious a trail throughout, but there was nothing to be done about it now. I couldn’t take the time to backtrack and obscure my trail.

As I walked through the forest, careful now to leave as minimal a trail as possible, the world around me slowly brightened and I thought I could hear the sound of cheerful voices ahead of me, muffled by the trees. I didn’t feel the now familiar anxiety at the sounds of these voices, leaving me to hope that I had finally found what I was looking for – a sanctuary.

Changing direction slightly, I headed toward the voices and possible sanctuary.

The sight that awaited me through the trees was entirely unanticipated.

A mall. I had heard about them, these relics of a time now gone. I thought they were all long since abandoned, but before me was a bustling shopping centre filled with people for whom the world had not ended.

Did they know what was out there and just didn’t care, or were they so engrossed in their curious routine that they were oblivious to reality? Honestly, it didn’t matter. There may be safety in their numbers, I reasoned, so I joined them.

I entered the mall cautiously, unsure what to expect from this structure that hasn’t yet realized it was obsolete. I did not expect buzzing, bright lights, nor the tidy little rooms filled with all manner of items that I could not begin to understand. There was an entire room dedicated to paper bound together in what I could only assume must be books, based on the brightly lit sign that read “Carlson’s Books”. Who Carlson was and why they was displaying their books in that little room, I did not know.

What is this place? I asked myself as I turned slowly to take in all the strange sights. The mall was packed with people, all of them intent in their business, caring various bags as they rushed from room to room. Unable to contain my curiosity, I grabbed the arm of one woman as she passed.

Ignoring the glare I received, I asked “What is this place? Why are all of you here? Don’t you know what it is like outside?”

She didn’t answer, pulled her arm away with another glare before bustling off into the crowd.

Feeling out of place, I made my way to one of the glass contraptions that appeared to be taking people up to other floors of this crazy building, thinking that perhaps a different perspective would help me understand this place so of out time with the rest of the world. The doors slid shut behind me and I turned to watch our assent. My eyes fell on three figures pushing their way roughly through the crowd, looking just as out of place as I did amongst these people living in the past and my heart sank.

This would not be my sanctuary.

I tried to shrink back into the small crowd in the glass cage with me but I stuck out like a sore thumb. One of my pursuers pointed at the contraption I rode and they redoubled their efforts to push through the oblivious crowd. One reached to a quiver on his back, pulling out an arrow that sported a small pouch tied to its tip.

An explosive arrow. Looking around frantically I realized I was trapped with no way out. That didn’t stop me, however. Scrambling through the others in the tiny space, I used the metal bar that ran along the inside of my glass cage to climb up and try to push one of the panels in the ceiling free. I had just managed to shove aside the panel when the contraption was rocked with an explosion, swinging wildly as one of the thick cables snapped. I pulled myself out hastily and leapt free without looking.

My grasping hands found purchase on a beam and I swung up, straddling my savior as I took brief stock of my situation. The class cage had crashed to the ground below, sending broken shards into the crowd. I could see more than one body lying prone, bleeding. Not my problem, I reminded myself, turning my attention higher up to search for an escape route. Just above me, I could see a series of beams and cables that I was fairly certain I could use to get away from my pursuers. At least temporarily.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled myself up so I stood on the beam and tried to walk its length carefully until I reached one of the cross beams. Wobbling slightly, I climbed up to the new beam and sat astride it as I plotted my next move. I had no desire to be captured or to become a smear on the highly polished floor, so I knew I had to plan each step carefully.

It was time to be an acrobat.

With another deep breath to try and calm my nerves, I leapt from my beam, arms outstretched as I flew through the air, intent on a cable a couple of feet from me. For a moment, I thought I was going to miss, that my story would end here, but instead my fingers closed around the cold metal and I swung far with the momentum of my jump. I was slightly disappointed that nobody except my pursuers saw my death defying leap. My pursuers were too biased and simply could not appreciate my display of skill and athletic prowess.

No matter. I wasn’t here to impress them.

Hand over hand, I pulled myself along the cable, my legs swinging freely, until I reached another of the beams to pull myself up on. Looking back, I could see that my pursuers were struggling to push their way through a crowd that refused to be parted, engrossed as they were in the aftermath of that falling contraption. I had somehow gain gained a little ground, but I needed to actually get down on the ground. I couldn’t stay up in the rafters forever.

Ahead of me, the beams disappears into a dark corner, and I thought I could make out an abbreviated storage space. That would have a way back down, I reasoned, continuing along the beam toward that corner. Thankfully, I didn’t need to perform any further impressive feats to reach my way down, the beam was wide, sturdy, and reached all the way into the corner.

Once I reached the end, it was a simple matter to pull myself up on the storage platform, though I had to pause once did so to allow my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in this hidden little corner. Once I could actually see, I quickly spotted a set of sturdy stairs that seemed to lead back to the ground floor and made my way to them.

Once I was down the stairs, I was easily able to push my way out of the mall, as most of the crowd was still gathered around the fallen contraption. I risked a glance over my shoulder before I pushed open the big double doors to leave and saw that my pursuers were through the worst of the crowd and picking up speed. Without wasting another moment, I dated out of the building and ran as fast as I could down the empty, rubble strewn street. At the front of the mall, the area was pristine, kept in good repair by those strange people who still frequented the mall. Here, out the back, it was the world I was used to: the relics of the old world being slowly engulfed by the rampant plant life that marked the new world.

I was glad to escape the mall that time had not touched. The energy in there had felt wrong.

But here I was truly in my element. I had grown up on overgrown streets like those I now raced along, and I knew I could easily evade my pursuers in this concrete jungle. I kept my eyes open, scanning the buildings and alleys to either side until I spotted what I was looking for. I changed direction slightly, ran up the broken remains of a car and leapt from its roof to grab onto a window ledge. Pulling myself up through the open portal, I tumbled into the building proper and say for a moment, my back against the wall as I tried to catch my breath. Once my moment of rest was up, I took a long swallow from my canteen and crawled away from the window, careful not to allow myself to be exposed. I didn’t think I had been seen, and I wasn’t about to risk it through carelessness.

I made my way slowly through the old building, testing the floor before I put my weight fully on it. It wouldn’t do to escape them just to bring everyone running as I crashed through the floor. I found another exit, one that led into an overgrown alley. I could barely see the sky with all the plant growth around me. Good, I thought, they won’t be able to get up high and find me, now.

I pushed through the plants, seeing to make my way out of the alert when a bright color on the brick wall, almost competition obscured by clinging vines, caught my eye. Unable to contain my curiosity, I pushed aside the vines to reveal words written in bold, bright orange paint. It was a small poem, written years ago, but my breath caught as I read its words. It was about me.

Fear not, young runner
The web of eyes does not stretch forever
Seek out the warmth, like birds of old
Sanctuary awaits, if you can be bold
The sound of the ocean in your ears
Will let you know you can shed your fears

My mouth dropped. I was stunned. This writing, bright though it was, had clearly been written long before I was chased. Possibly before I had even been born. The sanctuary was south, of that I was now certain. And the sound of the ocean? The only way I could reach the ocean from here was by going west. My path was now clear. I would head west until I reached the ocean, them I would follow the shoreline until I found this sanctuary where the eyes of the web could not reach.

I was going to be OK.

Ramblings: Seventh Majir

Ramblings: Seventh Majir

by Heather ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

So I’ve gone ahead and done it. Finalized my short story and have put it up on Amazon. It is currently on a FREE sale, so make sure you pick up a copy before it ends. I will be running the free sales every time I am able to, but it will not be constant.

If you’ve been hoping to read something a little more polished from me, but aren’t quite ready to commit to my more expensive novel, this is the perfect opportunity!

There are seven Majir’s in Aegnap, powerful men and women who have the ability to wield great magic. Six of the Majir’s reside in the capital cities of the six kingdoms, while the Seventh Majir travels the lands, assisting all those in need.

In the first instalment, the Seventh Majir must return to a home he left over 40 years ago. A home he has never truly let go of.

Currently available only as a Kindle E-Book, my intention is to continue to release short stories featuring the Seventh Majir and, upon having seven stories, will release a paperback compilation. Seven Stories of the Seventh Majir.

It pleases me.

Check it out here if you are in the Canadian region, or here for the US region, or here for the UK region.

Don’t miss out!

Homecoming Cover.jpg

 

If you enjoy my writing, the best way to support me is to purchase a copy of my debut novel, Fledglings First Flight. You can pick up a copy via the links below. It is also available free to read on Kindle Unlimited.
Please let me know what you think!
FFF Cover Second Design test
Storytime: The Request

Storytime: The Request

by Heather ♥ 1 Comment

Make sure to read Part One and Part Two!

Still trying to stretch the kinks out of her legs from sitting so long on the holobus, Sam knocked loudly on the warehouse door. Scrawled across the metal door was a crude drawing of a laughing clown with the words ‘Down with normies’ and ‘half breeds not welcome’ scrawled below it.

Sam bit her lip, the words hitting her hard. Never fully accepted into the mutant world or the normal world, Sam had been walking a thin, dangerous line her entire life. At least she had found friends like Tash who, even though she had probably been the one who scrawled the words, had actually welcomed Sam with open arms. Sam couldn’t help but wonder what had possessed her friend to put filth like that outside her hideout. Not exactly incognito.

After what seemed an eternity, Sam heard a rustle on the other side of the door followed by the loud clank of a stiff lock being opened. The door opened to reveal Tash’s grinning face on the other side, and another vaguely familiar face beneath a mop of black hair.

“Tash!” Sam exclaimed, hugging her old friend before focusing on the person behind her, “Jay? Is that you? Never seen you with black hair. You alright, man?”

“You knocked really loud…” Jay mumbled, a band of muted red moving from his scalp to the tips of his hair, followed by a cheery yellow as Sam pulled Jay into a friendly embrace. They had never been overly close, but she missed all her mutant friends. Trying to make it in the ‘real’ world meant she couldn’t associate with them anymore; not if she wanted to remain a full citizen.

“I’ve missed ya, Jay. Tash. How are you? Tell me everything!”

“We’ve been good, considering.” Tash tugged absently at one of the wires running from a small device behind her ear into the base of her skull. Her skin was silver and covered in fine scales, and she had upgraded herself with a number of implants. In fact, Sam was pretty sure that Tash had replaced one of her eyes with a bionic one since they had last seen each other; it just didn’t quite focus properly. “The sentinels have been getting better at tracking, so we gotta be out of here quick.” Tash pulled Sam inside the warehouse and, after peering cautiously out the door to ensure no one had followed her friend, slammed the door shut and clicked the lock back into place.

“We’ve been moving lots.” Jay put in, a dark navy blue replacing the yellow in his hair. He fished a tuque out of his pocket and pulled it low over his head, allowing only the tips of his hair to peek out. He’d been wearing his emotions on his head all his life, but still wasn’t comfortable letting anyone but Tash see them. He and Tash weren’t related, but everybody considered them siblings. You never saw one without the other being close at hand.

Sam’s eyes swept over the interior of the warehouse. It was dark, lit only from a couple of the florescent lights that hung from the rafters; lights that flickered constantly and threatened to give Sam a serious headache if she spent much time here. What Sam could see by the flickering light was pretty off-putting. There was a nest of blankets up against one of the walls; at least Sam hoped it was blankets and not something more sinister. Near that was a shower curtain that seemed to be attempting to hide a bucket covered with a board. The curtain didn’t even touch the ground. “Oh god, Tash. This place is the worst! Why are you here?”

Tash looked confused for a moment, but then realized what her friend meant. “Oh, right. This is just the front, to throw the sentinels off for a minute or three if, when, they find us. The idea is that they will think this is just a nest for one or two mutants, and hopefully not search further. Our hideaway is a little more, well, hidden. And nicer.”

Sam was led to the back of the building, which sported a row of lockers, two big piles of crates, a couple grimy buckets, and a large, industrial sink. Tash reached behind the sink and pulled on something that, with a dull click, opened up the wall behind the lockers. On some sort of automated system, the lockers sank into the wall and split off the both sides, revealing a set of stairs that, presumably, led to the real hideout. Sam took a moment to appreciate the genius of the design – there was no scraping on the warehouse floor, and the seam that opened lined up perfectly with the wall joints, making it invisible when it wasn’t open. The stairs themselves turned sharply, so they wouldn’t take up much space on the ground level, which would make it far more difficult for the sentinels to pinpoint it.

Getting down the stairs was not fun. Dark, steep, and with a distinct smell that clung to the air. Sam would have breathed a sigh of relief when they stepped into the brightly lit, clean, fresh-smelling basement, but she had no breath left.

“Alright, this is better than upstairs. I admit it.” Sam declared once she had recovered somewhat. All around her was the computers, monitors and other devices that she had grown accustomed to seeing in Tash’s hideouts. One large, central monitor seemed to be displaying the location of all sentinels within a 10 mile radius, the intelligent machines just weaving through the streets, monitoring constantly for illegal activities and persons. Even as she watched, three sentinels converged on a single alley and Sam felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach, knowing they were rounding up another mutant whose only crime was being born different. “This is new.”

Tash looked up from the smaller computer to see what Sam was referring to, “Ah, yea. Picked them up after one of the last raids. It was too close, almost lost Jay in that one. Been able to use it to help a couple mutants out, too. Gotta be careful though, don’t want anyone finding the hideout.”

“It looks big for just you and Jay.”

“It ain’t just us anymore. I mean it was, after you got your citizenship last year, but I decided it was time to expand operations. We’ve taken on a few talented strays, but they’re all out right now. Didn’t want them seeing you, or you them.” Tash chewed on a licorice, using the candy to gesture as she spoke, “Plausible deniabilty and all that.”

“Ok…” Sam said slowly, confused, her tiny wings shifting “You’ve never been that careful around me before.”

“I’ve never been about to ask you something like that.” Tash grabbed Sam’s hand and led her over to a corner that seemed to be set up as a living or social area, with a couple couches, a small kitchenette and worn out armchair. Tash sat on one of the couches and motioned Sam to join her. Jay settled into the armchair, his hair a ombination of shades of blue and black, with a shot of green once in awhile. “I need your help, Sam.” She said earnestly. “I need access to data that only a citizen can get to. I can’t hack it, because it doesn’t exist in the datasphere. I need you to go to the Library and find the name of one of the scientists that was involved in the mutant uprising. I’ve found something, recently, that suggests the scientist may have hidden away a powerful weapon that can only be used by those with mutated blood.” Tash rubbed her hands together, a look of delight crossing her face, “If we can find that, we can take our rightful place in this world!”

 

If you enjoy my writing, the best way to support me is to purchase a copy of my debut novel, Fledglings First Flight. You can pick up a copy via the links below. It is also available free to read on Kindle Unlimited.

Please let me know what you think!

FFF Book Cover Second Design

CA: https://amzn.to/2pwFZYv
US: https://amzn.to/2oOQUNc
UK: https://amzn.to/2MQuaUI

Storytime: Making Plans

Storytime: Making Plans

by Heather ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Britt rubbed tired eyes and set aside the book she had been reading, a technical description of the workings of a machine called an engine. The magic she could gain from continuing that line of research could bring great value to the little colony of Free People, but that wasn’t what she was searching for right now. She had hoped to glean some small bit of information that could lead to a more destructive, or protective, type of magic.

She had always wondered about the ancients, what questions they might have if they could see what had happened to their world. Though it was all she had ever known, Britt still found it strange that studying the creations called technology by the ancients was the path to gaining magic in this new world that was created by the ancients most powerful weapons. She had once, before the invasion of the Protectors, as they called themselves, read a small reference to weapons of mass destruction, but all knowledge of those devices had been studiously destroyed in the years after the world was destroyed: the magic that could have been gained from the study of those weapons would have been incalculable. She had never been able to follow that bread crumb, however, for the Protectors had come, with their religion that banned all study of the Ancients and their technology and outlawed the use of any magic that had been gained already through that study.

No one really knew where the Protectors had come from, and most of the common folk did not appreciate their heavy-handed discipline. The Free People were those common folk who had enough and sought to regain their autonomy. They had been fighting and hiding for the past three years, and Britt had finally managed to learn how to create a magical barrier, through careful study of a theoretical book on something called “force fields”.

Britt frowned to herself, falling backwards onto her bed to stare at the ceiling. A solution was out there, she just needed to find it. After a long couple of minutes lying on the bed, Britt suddenly sat up straight, almost banging her head on the low ceiling. “The archives!” Britt whispered to herself, flinging herself from the bed to start rummaging through the trunk that held most of her books. Moments later, she emerged with a slim volume held triumphantly in her hands.

Careful to not ruin the delicate pages, Britt opened the old book and leafed through the pages until she found the passage she was looking for. The book was a traveler’s guide to a place called Canada – according to the maps, where they lived now was in what had once been Canada – and it contained several references to various libraries throughout the land. She quickly scanned the list until she found the one that was, according to the old maps, the closest to their little hide-a-way. In an old city called Vancouver, it was one of the few libraries that had not only retained its collection when the world went “digital” (Britt had never fully understood what that meant), but had moved many of the cast-offs from other libraries to its own shelves. It was perfect.

Holding the book open, Britt fished out some pressed paper and a charcoal stub and began making notes, starting with directions on how to reach the library once they reach the ruined city.

It would be difficult, and there was no guarantee that the library still existed, or that it hadn’t already been destroyed by the Protectors. She would need to bring along Gabrielle and Jorge, of course; they had been a part of this since the beginning. And Mage Cecille, of course, since her skills with magic went far beyond Britt’s own, and Britt suspected they would need that skill to even locate what they needed. Continuing to take notes, Britt considered that the way to the library may not be clear and that they may be forced underground – thankfully the Ancients had developed quite useful underground tunnels, once used to transport cast-offs from their homes, it should prove to be the perfect path if necessary.

Finally, Britt sketched out the supplies they would need to make such a journey with five people, marking off what they could easily obtain from their own stockpile and what they would need to scavenge for. She paused, sighed, and reworked the figures – she wouldn’t be able to go with them, there was simply too much that needed to happen back here and no one she trusted to do what was necessary.

By the time Britt finished all the planning, the sun had long since set and she was working by the flickering light of her oil lantern. Looking over her notes one last time, Britt left them on her bedside table – an overturned barrel that had once held grains – and turned off the oil lantern. She would talk with her sister and Jorge in the morning, though she was certain the two adventurous friends would have no problem undertaking such a journey. And it would get their minds off the broken necklace.

Storytime: Celestial Twins

Storytime: Celestial Twins

by Heather ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“One… Two… Three…” Zol pressed his hands tight against his violet eyes as he faithfully counted to 20. Behind him, he could hear Zel scampering away to hide, the undergrowth rustling around her as she moved. “Eight… Nine…” The sounds of her movement fell away from Zol’s ears, though he could still hear the steady breathing of Alice, their caregiver. She never hid, no matter how many times they played. Her partner, Joseph, was likely shadowing Zel as she found her hiding place. Zol hoped that Joseph would hide, too, otherwise the game wouldn’t be as fun. He would give Zel’s hiding spot away.

“Nineteen… Twenty! Ready or not, hear I come!” Zol lowered his hands and looked around, blinking momentarily as his eyes adjusted to the soft light of the forest. He was a slight boy, with straight, midnight blue hair that just touched his shoulders and bangs that almost covered his eyes. Zol never smiled, and neither did his sister. Despite the games they would play, the twins were very serious children who never seemed to actually take true joy in what they did.

Zel and Zol played hide-and-seek because Alice had told them children should play games, and had taught them how to play. Every day, after lunch time, the twins dutifully played two rounds of hide-and-seek, each seeking the other once, before they returned to their studies. The forced play hadn’t yet made the children any less serious, but Alice and Joseph silently hoped, though they knew it was likely a baseless hope. None of the previous child gods of the moon and stars had ever become playful, all of them had been distressingly serious.

It took Zol about ten minutes of peering around the forest before he caught sight of Zel’s foot protruding from behind a bush. Moving silently, the young god snuck to the other side of the bush and parted the leaves, to reveal Zel’s shoe carefully positioned to look like her foot peeking out. Zol frowned down at the shoe, his brow crinkling. This was different.

He began looking around again, carrying the shoe with him for no reason other than he had been taught not to leave things in the forest. Zol knew his sister could not have gone far to hide, so he continued to peer around the forest until the most unusual sound reached his ears. Tilting his head, he tried to orient on the strange sound. It was vaguely familiar, like he had heard it before but slightly different. Lifting his eyes up to the forest canopy, his eyes alighted upon his sister. And she was laughing.

Zel, a perfect copy of her brother Zol, crouched in the tree on one of the thicker, lower branches with Joseph sitting lazily on the branch above. She had a small hand in front of her mouth as she giggled, watching her brother looking around on the ground for her. Joseph had suggested the hiding spot, though the shoe had been Zel’s idea.

“Found you, Zel!” Zol called out, pointing to his sister, “What are you doing up there?”

“Joseph helped me! It was a good spot, wasn’t it?”

Zol nodded somberly, “I wouldn’t have found you, if you hadn’t started laughing.”

Zel blushed slightly as she climbed down from the tree, “I’m sorry about that. It was just… it was fun watching you search in all the wrong spots for me!”

“Oh.” Zol raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more as he grabbed Zel’s hand and they began to walk back to the sanctum together, Joseph and Alice trailing slightly behind.

The sanctum had been one of the first temples erected for the God of the Moon and Goddess of the Stars, though it had not held worshippers for many years. Their joined symbol, a crescent moon tipped with a five-pointed star, was displayed prominently above the stone entrance, still clearly visible despite the years. Most of the temple was underground, save for a mosaic and pillars that ringed the entrance. The mosaic had once been a replica of the night sky, though the forest had reclaimed most of its beauty through the years. The pillars, once gleaming white marble etched with various stars and moons had stained to black and was decorated with vines that wound their way around.

Once, worshippers had gathered on the mosaic, hands raised to the sky as they praised the god and goddess that ruled the night. Once, they had filled the entire mosaic and their praise could be heard for miles around. That time had long past, but the God of the Moon and Goddess of the Stars made the abandoned temple their home, as a small homage to those who first believed in them.

As the four began to make their way down the stone steps, a strange sensation moved through all of them at once. Stopping suddenly, but in unison, the four looked at each other, confusion on the faces of the child god and goddess and fear on the faces of their caregivers.

“What was that, Alice?” Zol inquired, always the one to take the lead.

“Nothing good.” She responded, ushering the children down the stairs. “But we will find out.”

Storytime: Water Daughter

Storytime: Water Daughter

by Heather ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Meylah poked at the tranquil pool with her big toe, causing ripples to flow outwards, disrupting the glass-like surface. The pool was in a covered veranda, straight, white pillars holding the roof and allowing a soft breeze to caress Meylah’s black curls. She sat on a stone mosaic floor, an alternating pattern of blues and golds that suggested glistening waves. At various points around the pool, wicker chairs faced the water, soft blue cushions lending comfort.

“When is mom supposed to come back from her meeting? I’m so bored! She was supposed to show me how to make tidal waves today!” Meylah wore a simple smock of deep blue bordered in a sea-green that matched her large, curious eyes.

“She will be back when she is back, poppet.”

“Don’t call me that, I’m not a child anymore. I’m 12 years old.”

Meylah’s keeper and companion, a middle-aged woman with blond hair cut sharply along her jaw line and piercing blue eyes that Meylah thought could see anything she did wrong, no matter where she was, smiled at the remark from her seat. “Very well, Meylah. She will be back when she is back. We cannot rush her business. She will teach you tidal waves when she can.”

Meylah pouted, “But she promised, Lola. She promised.”

Lola shook her head. “She is a goddess, Meylah. You know she has duties she must attend to, regardless of her promises to you.” She clapped her hands sharply, “Now. I promised your mother we would revisit the tides, today. Make sure you understand them completely, and how they relate to your fellow gods and goddesses.”

Meylah pouted, “Zol and Zel are so creepy, do I really have to work with them? I don’t like them.”

“Young lady, that is no way to talk about your fellow divines. Zol and Zel, and their parents, are an important part of pantheon, and you shall not slight them with your words. Do you understand?” Lola’s hands were on her hips and she loomed over where Meylah sat at the edge of the pool, intimidating the young goddess with her presence.

“Yes, Lola!” Meylah squeaked out, red-faced.

For the next hour, Lola sat on the mosaic tiles next to Meylah and explained the tides to her, and how the goddess of the moon helped keep them regular. Meylah had already learned all of this, of course, but as a goddess of the waves she couldn’t risk not having the knowledge known by rote.

As the lecture came to a close, Meylah stretched her thin arms and then threw them around Lola, planting a kiss on the stern woman’s cheek. “Thank you for putting up with me.” The young girl whispered with a smile.

Lola grinned, her entire face transforming with the expression from one of a stern teacher to that of a loving caregiver. “Oh, Meylah, you are a delight.”

“Can you tell me about my sisters?”

Lola shook her head, “You know I can’t.”

“Fine. Do you think I will ascend?”

“Meylah, you have far too much to learn in the next 9 years for you to be wondering whether you will ascend. That is not something you should be dwelling on – concentrate on learning, on growing your power. Then we will see.”

Meylah sighed loudly and stood up, brushing off the bottom of her skirt. “Fine, be that way. You’re no fun.” She spun on her heel, her good mood of moments earlier vanished already, and stomped off the veranda and towards her chambers.

Lola just sighed. She was used to the child’s mood swings – all the water daughters seemed to have the same liquid personalities, prone to changing as quickly as the stormy seas. She had only been a handmaid to the water goddess for two generations, but her predecessor had given her ample warning and plenty of stories. So long as the child got her way, she would be happy. If she did not, she would rail against it until she wore away a person’s defences and got her way.  Just like water etching a channel through rock, Meylah was relentless. She had asked every day for the past year about her sisters and if she would ascend.

The ascension ceremony would be until Meylah’s 20th birthday, and Lola truly thought the child had what it took to come out the other end, but she had thought that about the last daughter, too. She ran a hand through her short hair as she meandered into the sandstone villa, contemplating how she would address the questions tomorrow. Eventually, Meylah would insist and Lola did not look forward to that time.

Child though she was, Meylah was still a goddess and if she so chose, she could kill Lola in a heartbeat, cause her to drown out of water or simply suck all the moisture from her body. They were not images that Lola cared to dwell upon, so she pushed the thoughts aside as she made her way to Meylah’s room, pausing on the way to grab a pastry from the kitchen. A peace offering was never amiss in this household.

Storytime: She Rode on Neyonlites

Storytime: She Rode on Neyonlites

by Heather ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Dedicated to the most amazing woman in my life, my mother.

Also dedicated to Neyonlites and Bleu Melody – may they forever have beautiful spring fields to run like the wind through

The pitter patter of the rain on the metal roof kept a steady cadence for Leesa as she made the final preparations for her journey by the light of a single lantern. Her horse, a large chestnut with a bright white blaze down his face, had protested when she entered the barn, disturbing his rest, but she had quieted him with a pat on the neck and a grain bag tied around his nose. While she made sure she had all the supplies she required, her horse happily, and noisily, slurped up the grains. He finished before she did, and Leesa was forced to pause her preparations to remove the feed bag and took the opportunity to brush the dirt from his back.

“Rolling in the dirt again, were ya, Neyon?” She said affectionately as she brushed him clean. “Well, you won’t be able to do that today, big guy. I hope you got your fill yesterday.” As she talked and brushed him, Neyon curved his neck around and began to nibble lightly on the collar of her jacket, his whiskers tickling her neck until she laughed and pushed him away slightly, “Enough of that! We need to get going before the sun rises.” She glanced out the stable door at the rain, “Well, when it would rise if it weren’t for this rain.” Neyon nickered in response and nuzzled Leesa’s neck affectionately.

“Nope, you can’t sweet talk me out of this, not today. We need to go. Pa will be up soon, and if he catches us before we are gone, you know that is the end of it, right?” Neyon nodded his head up and down vigorously, as though he could truly understand what Leesa was saying. She liked to think he could.

With her horse brushed, Leesa grabbed a saddle blanket to spread over his back and lugged the heavy saddle onto him.  She tightened up the girth and, after waiting for Neyon to let out the breath he was holding, cinched it up a little tighter so she wouldn’t end up riding along on his belly.  That had happened once, when she was much younger, and was not an experience she ever wished to repeat. Her head had been sore for weeks!

With Neyon bridled and saddled, her saddle bags secured filled with travel food and a change of clothing, and her oiled leather raincoat around her shoulders, Leesa swung up into the saddle – a hard task, considering Neyon’s height, but she was used to it. She pressed her heels lightly to Neyon’s sides and clucked him forward in a walk. He paused before heading into the rain, as if to ask if this was really what she wanted to do, but Leesa insisted with another cluck of her tongue.

Leesa would have been drenched in moments if it wasn’t for her raincoat, and as it was she felt a cold trickle of water down her back where it had worked its way inside the coat. Had this been any other day, she would have been curled up in bed still, the embers from the hearthfire glowing gently as they cooled. But today was the only day of the decade that the portal opened to the other lands, and Leesa wasn’t going to miss the chance to leave the tired little homestead she grew up on.

She didn’t know what lay beyond the portal – those who had entered it never returned. The older folk, those settled in their ways, often spoke of the evil the portal brought, of how it enticed the young ones away from their homes and responsibilities. The speeches turned off all but the most adventurous, and Leesa knew she was one of the most adventurous. Her father had forbade her from leaving, had even gone so far as to lock Leesa in her rooms that night. She hadn’t let that stop her, of course, although it had delayed her somewhat. She chuckled at the thought of her Pa guarding an empty bedroom to make sure she didn’t leave. He would have quite the surprise in the morning.

No matter! The sun had not yet risen, and she was leaving the homestead. She had a solid couple of hours to get to the portal before it opened, and everyone said it stayed open for several hours at least. Leesa stretched on her saddle, dropping the reins momentarily to crack her fingers before reclaiming them with a satisfied grin.

As she rode, the rain began to slacken and she found herself riding through a misty landscape as the rising sun evaporated the fallen rain. She took a deep breath of the musty air, laughing happily to herself. She felt free, for the first time in her life, and she could barely contain the excitement within her.

“Want to go for a run, Neyon?” She asked, pressing her heels into his side to bring him into a canter and then a gallop. With a huge grin, Leesa whooped and steered Neyon deftly along the dirt roadway, hardly needing to guide the intelligent creature. With her hair streaming in the wind, and Neyon’s mane and tail doing the same, Leesa felt more free than she had in a long time. The steady beat of Neyon’s hooves calmed any anxieties left in her and she revelled in the run.

Eventually, though, she had to slow down or risk hurting her horse and it was with a tinge of regret that she pulled Neyon into a steady walk to cool him down. At the steady walk, it wasn’t much longer before Leesa and Neyon were approaching the turn-off to the portal.

A glance at the seldom-used road showed only one fresh set of hoof-prints, and Leesa suspected she knew just whose horse they belonged to. She doubted that there would be any but the two of them at the portal – herself and the boy from two homesteads over. They were almost the same age, so their parents had always stuck the two together and likely had assumed that the pair would one day marry. Leesa grimaced at the thought – Arden was lazy, selfish, and his only redeemable feature, in her eyes, was that his desire for adventure was as strong as hers. How he reconciled that with being lazy, she had yet to figure out.

Sure enough, as she approached the place the portal would open, she saw Arden sitting on the crumbling stone fence, munching on an apple that his horse kept trying to grab from him. Leesa couldn’t help but smile a little at the antics, though she quickly wiped the smile from her face. She didn’t want Arden to think she approved of him.

“I thought you told me that Melody was a perfectly behaved angel, Arden.” Leesa commented as she pulled Neyon to a halt near Arden and Melody.

Arden sighed expressively and pushed Melody’s nose away from the apple again, “Don’t even start. You know she loves her apples. I wouldn’t have any luck if this was an orange.” Taking one last bite of the apple, Arden finally let Melody eat the remainder, which she did after delicately picking it up from his flat hand with her lips. You could almost hear her sigh of contentment as she crunched down on the juicy fruit. “So you managed to convince your Pa to let you go through the portal?”

Leesa laughed harshly, “You know he never would. No, I left before dawn. It was pouring rain. How did you get here so fast, anyway? Neyon and I took a run once the rain cleared.”

Arden shrugged, “I, uh, might have had a fight with the family last night and camped here. I’d’ve been soaked if it wasn’t for the ruins around here.” He ran a hand through his messy brown hair, “Guess neither of our folks’ were too eager to see us running off on an adventure, eh?”

“Can you really blame them? Nobody ever comes back. But I can’t handle this place anymore, it is so boring. I need to get out of here.” Leesa swung off of Neyon and tied the reins to the saddle before walking over to the site of the portal, Neyon trailing behind like an obedient puppy. “How much longer before it opens?”

Arden glanced at the sun before answering, “Honestly? Any minute now, I think. Doesn’t look like anyone else will be going.”

“I wonder what’s on the other side…”

“We’ll find out soon enough!” Arden got up from the stone fence, brushed his hands off on his pants and swung up in Melody’s saddle. “Any minute now…”

Leesa turned from the portal and swung up into Neyon’s saddle and gathered up the rains to wait for the portal to open.

The wait wasn’t long – as Arden predicted, it was only a few minutes before the tell-tale glow came from the surrounding ring of posts. Leesa backed Neyon up slightly, not wanting to be standing too close when the portal popped open.

A hum filled the air, and slowly a great circular portal opened in the centre of the posts. The portal itself was a swirl of colors, looking like a giant opal spinning slowly on its axis. Arden and Leesa found themselves captivated by the sight of it and had to shake themselves out of their trance or else they would risk missing their window.

“Ready?” Leesa asked, more than willing to treat Arden as a companion now that the moment was upon them. It was just going to be the four of them, through that portal – herself, Arden, Neyon and Melody, and Leesa suddenly realized that they were probably going to need each other to get through whatever waited for them on the other side.

Arden, having similar thoughts, nodded in response and tapped his heels against Melody’s side, moving her into a walk. Leesa steered Neyon behind Melody and, after a moment’s hesitation at the threshold, they stepped through to the other side.

~*~

It was nighttime.

The stars in the sky weren’t familiar.

The moon was too large.

There were trees everywhere.

The first moments after stepping through the portal were disorienting, a series of impressions without context. Had there been anyone waiting on the other side of the portal, Leesa and Arden would have been helpless.

No one waited on the other side, though, and Neyon and Melody simply kept walking, not experiencing the same disorientation that their riders were feeling, though the two animals were clearly a little confused by the strange scents suddenly around them. By the time the two riders had regained their senses the horses had carried them away from the portal and down an overgrown path, plodding along contently.

Leesa rubbed at her head as she looked around in wonder. They were in the middle of a dense forest and she could barely see the sky above the canopy. The trees were strange, larger than they should have been and covered with sharp needles instead of broad leaves. The dried needles underfoot crunched loudly with each step the horses took.

Leesa unhooked her lantern from her saddlebags and fished out a striker to light it, bringing a small circle of warm light to the cold night. Arden and Leesa rode as close as they could without knocking stirrups together, both looking wide-eyed around them.

“Do you think we are in the same world, or somewhere completely different?” Arden asked in hushed tones.

“If it is our world, it is as far from home as can be. I think we are somewhere new, Arden. Otherwise someone would have surely returned home, right?”

Arden shrugged his broad shoulders, “I guess.”

The two rode along in silence after that, both lost in their own thoughts and too captivated by the new sights to hold a conversation for long.

Eventually, the forest began to lighten as dawn approached, and the trees around them began to thin out. They prodded their horses forward, picking up the pace now that they could see the path more clearly, when a rustling in the underbrush ahead of them caused them to rein up. The two horses were snuffling and snorting, a little overwhelmed by the variety of new scents, and neither seemed to like whatever it was that was making the noise.

Leesa was about to suggest that perhaps they should turn around, find another path, when a short, green-skinned creature leapt into the centre of the path. It wore a loincloth tied shoddily around its waist and carried a crude spear, barely more than a stick with a hastily sharpened point. The creature waved the spear menacingly, making guttural noises that Leesa and Arden assumed was some form of language. Or maybe the creature thought the noises were threatening.

Leesa and Arden turned to glance at each other, amusement painted clearly on both their faces, as they did not take the threat of the little green man seriously. The amusement vanished moments later when another dozen green men stepped from the underbrush and surrounded the riders. They were all dressed similarly to the first little man, crude loincloths and wielding a variety of thick clubs and spears.

Neyon and Melody danced, trying to get themselves away from the strange smelling creatures and Leesa and Arden had to spend several long moments bringing their mounts back under control before they could even think of addressing the thirteen men.

It was a delay that would have cost them their lives, had it been any other day in any other spot.

Instead, thirteen arrows came flying from the treetops, each burying itself into the throat of a different green man. Within moments, all of their accosters lay dead on the path and Leesa and Arden sat in stunned silence, their mouths hanging open. This was not the sort of adventure they had anticipated. Not that they had really thought out what adventure meant, but surely this was not it.

Silence reigned for a long moment before another rustle came, this one from the tree-tops, and a slender woman jumped from the trees and landed lightly on the path, nearly stepping in a growing pile of blood. She grimaced and took a step away from the pile, clearly not wanting any of the sticky substance to get on her delicate leather boots. “So. You’re the new recruits?” She asked, her voice soft, sounding like she would break into song at any moment.

“New recruits?” Leesa asked, confused, as she studied the newcomer. The woman appeared to have no fat on her, just muscle, and she wore her hair in a tight braid over her shoulder, showing off her pointed ears. Paired with the dark leather boots, she wore a pair of light green leggings and a tunic of the same shade as her boots. A quiver of arrows hung from her belt, and she carried a short bow in one hand.

“Sure! That was why you came through the portal, right? To fight in the goblin wars?”

“Goblin wars?” It was Arden who asked, this time.

“Yea.” The woman said, a little exasperated. “You know, goblins. These guys.” She poked the nearest one with her toe and immediately grimaced as she realized she got blood on her boot. “Ugh. Anyway. Why else would you come through the portal?”

“Uh, well, we don’t know anything about goblins, or wars. Nobody knew where the portal went, but we decided to try it out.”

“WHAT?!” The woman exclaimed, astonished, “That is unacceptable. How can no one know where the portal-” She paused mid-sentence, thinking furiously, “Wait. How long has the portal been there? I remember there was something about a time difference…”

Leesa and Arden exchanged a glance, “Well, forever. My grandparents talked about their grandparents’ generation going through it.” Leesa answered with a small shrug, reaching down to pat Neyon’s neck to calm him a bit.

“That explains it, then. Too long has passed. I’ll have to have a chat with Moga about that when we get to camp.” She put her hands on her hips and stared Arden and Leesa down, “Well, do you want to help out in the Goblin War, seeing as you are here and all?”

“Do we have a choice?” Leesa asked pointedly.

“Not really.” The woman answered cheerfully, “I’m Devlin, by the way. You can call me Dev.” She sketched a half bow and then turned her back on the two and started down the path, “C’mon. The others have already gone back to camp, and they’ll be waiting for us there!”

 

 

Storytime: The Candle Burns Bright

Storytime: The Candle Burns Bright

by Heather ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

He flung the headpiece away, growling at it as he did so. “I’ll never be as good as father, so why should I even bother trying?” He sat down on the ottoman in a huff, the brightly coloured feathers and streamers of his costume fluttering delicately about him. “He should be the one performing this dance, not me.”

His companion, a short, stout woman with kind eyes looking out amid the wrinkles of her face, her steel-grey hair pulled back in a serviceable bun. “My dear boy, that does not matter. Your father has innumerable years of practice heralding the sun, you will not be as talented as he overnight.”

“I just don’t understand why he had to leave us like this, Analise.”

Analise clucked softly and sat down beside the young man. He was barely more than a child, having only reached his 16th nameday mere weeks prior. He took after his father in appearance, blazing blonde hair so bright you might think it would illuminate the darkness and eyes that were the opposite – dark coals that had unfathomable depths in them. Analise sometimes found those eyes to be disconcerting on one so young, but she had cared for the boy since he was a babe and she was mostly used to them. After all, when playing nursemaid to a godspawn, certain allowances had to be made. “Your father is a very important god, Jesavan, and this is not the first time that he has left unnanounced. You simply do not remember the times before.”

“It’s not fair!” Jesavan cried, standing up and moving towards the open window of his dressing chamber. The view before him was an incredible panorama of bright green trees, birds flitting about in their canopies, with the sparkling waters of the ocean peaking through. Jesavan was oblivious to the beauty, however, and his black mood brought shadows over the forest though no clouds were visible in the sky. Analise moved to him and put her arms on his shoulders in an effort to comfort the young god, but he shrugged her off and took a step away.

“Child-”

“I’m not a child!” He said petulantly.

Analise sighed, “Very well. Jesavan, life is not about being fair. Especially for gods. so get rid of any thoughts you have of fair.” She grabbed Jesavan by the shoulders and steered him back to the ottoman, pushing him into the seat and then settling beside him again. She patted his knee affectionately, “You will go out there, just before the sun sets. And you will dance, Jesavan, as you have never danced before. When the drums begin to beat and your foot begins to tap, I promise all thoughts of not being good enough will fly away.”

“How do you know, Analise? You’re just a mortal. You can’t possibly know that!”

Analise chuckled, not at all offended to be called a mortal. Technically, that was what she was, though she had lived for centuries. “Jesavan, your father had the same fears when he first heralded the sun, too. I told him the same as I tell you now.” She smiled, “And do you know what, ‘Ven? It was the most beautiful dance I have ever seen him perform. The rawness of his inexperience made him so sincere in his movements.”

“I’ll never move like him. He can flow, and I just can’t.”

“Jesavan, just because he shines with the light of the sun does not mean that your candle does not shine brightly, or will not one day be as bright as the sun. Now, up, child! Let’s get that headdress on, and you can go and show the people that your flame is burning bright.”

Jesavan allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, reluctant but accepting of his duty. He picked up the headdress, smoothing one of the bright red feathers that had been bent when he threw it, and settled it upon his head. He spread his arms and spun slowly for Analise, “How do I look?”

“Like a young sun god.” She shooed him with her hands, “Now go, ‘Ven. Go and dance with all your heart and soul. Say goodbye to the sun, ask it to join us again in the morning.” She touched his face gently with a wizened hand, “You will be perfect.”

He grabbed her hand as she withdrew it, “You will watch?”

She smiled, eyes twinkling, “I could not miss your debut, Jesavan. I have waited to watch you dance for many years, now.”

Storytime: Dance of the Pixies

Storytime: Dance of the Pixies

by Heather ♥ 2 Comments

The night air tastes sweet as my feet take me along the faint forest pathway, only visible thanks to the tiny, dancing lights that lined each side. I can feel my body swaying slightly in time to the still-distant music even as my feet pull me forward. I’ve already given up on stopping my forward momentum, having unsuccessfully snatched at my doorframe, the fence post and passing branches. My fingers would slip and my feet would take me marching onwards again, towards the barely heard music and whomever was making it.

I can feel the trepidation in my chest, the fluttering of those panic butterflies in my stomach. What awaits me? What is drawing me through its music? Thoughts of sirens luring sailors to their death flash through my mind, though surely it couldn’t be anything like that. My little village is no where near the ocean and the music sounds as though it was the creation of many, not of one. Do forests have sirens, I wonder to myself, but I have no answer.

The firefly path leads me deeper into the forest, and still my feet keep time with the music that draws closer with each step I take. I can hear the individual notes and voices better, now, and it sounds like an entire choir of singers. If this voiceless, beautiful sound can truly be called singing. To my left, I see a fox and her kits peeking out of their den, as entranced by the music as I am. They resist its call though, and as my feet lead me past them the trio duck their heads back into the den. I had hoped, for a moment, that perhaps they would join me on this journey and I feel a sadness that reaches deep down to my soul when I realize they will not.

I have no time to dwell on this, however, as my feet continue to march forward despite my wishes, and my body continues to sway in time with the music. I do catch sight of a few birds that seem to be flying to the beat of the music, dipping and zipping around the tree canopy like so many acrobats. I wish I could have paused to watch them dance, but my feet continue to take me forward, through the forest.

I’ve been walking for over an hour, now, and the deeper into the forest the less familiar everything is feeling. Despite growing up next to these woods, spending days and nights playing and hiding around the trees, I cannot recognize what is around me. The trees feel more ethereal, and the vines that creep around their trunks sport flowers I’ve never seen before.

I try again to stop myself, my actions more desperate now than when my feet led me from my home, and I grab at the passing branches. The bark strips off in my hands and still I continue forward, unable to resist the music. What is waiting for me? Where am I even going?

I don’t have to wait much longer to discover the truth.

Just as my panic reaches a crescendo inside my breast, my feet stop. At first, I can’t understand what has happened, I still feel as though I am moving ever forward. But then my sense catch up with the rest of me, and I can’t be anything but overwhelmed.

Before me, in a glade I have never seen before, a dozen or more tiny forms dance and spin, sparkle and shine. They dip here and there, coming together and then spinning apart in an amazing display of color and coordination. It feels like I am watching a living firework show, and I can’t help but be completely captivated.

From where I stand at the edge of the glade, I still can’t see the source of the music that continues to draw me in. My feet, no longer taking me forward, begin to tap in time to the beat, my body sways of its own accord and I find myself barely able to hold back from joining the dance.

I take a cautious, difficult step. Difficult because I just want to leap into the dance. I see the trio of little drummers sitting on their mushroom seats, a small, delicate woman pulling the strings of a miniature guitar. The wordless song tugs at me, and I am finding it harder and harder to resist.

Finally, I can take it no more. I tear off my clothing, for the music demands that I be free, and I leap into the circle. I can feel the joy of the pixies as I begin to twirl amongst them. They dart around me, weaving in and out of my flowing hair, around and under my waving arms. I stamp my feet in time, and several of the pixies stamp the air beside me.

I can’t help but laugh as I spin, thinking for a brief moment what I sight I must make – in my thirties, dancing naked in a glade with naught but glowing pixies for light. The thought left my mind as soon as it entered it, for this was not a night to dwell on the mundane. Tonight was a night to revel, to dance, to feel joy and wild abandon. I can feel the pixies encouraging my dance, they make me the centrepiece for their own beautiful dance and, together, we create that which this world has never known. It is just a shame there is none but us to enjoy it, but this is as it must be. I know this, and so do they.

Finally, after whirling and dancing until time held no meaning, I collapse on the ground, exhausted, spent, unable to dance any further. The pixies circle me, and I watch them with delight and contentment. A shimmering of dust falls from their wings, gently dusting me, and I yawn widely as it settles on me. Before I know it, I’m fast asleep in the little glade.

I am awoken by sunlight creeping up to my eyes and I sit up straight, the night before just a blur of music and lights in my memory. With an unsteady hand I rub my eyes and push my hair from my eyes. I pause, halfway through the act of pushing back my hair when my eyes really fix on the color. What used to be a dark blond is now streaked with colors of all sorts. Greens and blues, pinks and purples, reds and oranges.

A reminder that the night before was real. A reminder that I determine I will embrace, though the other villagers may shun me for it. No matter – they shun me already, this will be no worse.

With my head held high, I gather my discarded clothing and begin the walk home.