Fairy Tale April 3rd 2015, Tree of Life – Drat

Posted on April 3, 2015 by Michael

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The town meeting came to an abrupt end.

As the townsfolk filed out Drat wondered what it was he had just agreed to.

Once agreement had been reached it was a full on exodus from the meeting hall less he have any opportunity to change his mind.

It was true that last week on his eighteenth birthday he had been ‘blessed’ with his magical power. It was also true that of all the people in the town he was the one best equipped to deal with the looming disaster about to overtake them.

His immediate issue was not knowing the full extent of his power. Much of his upcoming quest would be trial and error.

That night he went home and told his parents of the mission that had been bestowed upon him. His father Drot had been a powerful magician in his day and like so many in the land of Da&at his power waned as he aged until at the age of sixty his power had all but gone. He was pleased to see his son inherit his power and had taught Drat over the years the responsibility he would have on his eighteenth birthday.

His mother Drut had looked on sorrowfully at the news that her son would be going away on such a dangerous mission but she knew that this was to be his destiny.

The following morning Drat proceeded through the streets of Da&at nervous but strengthened by the support of the townsfolk who lined the street to wish him well.

Drat’s foe was the evil and powerful wizard Arswype.

Arswype was once a wizard but was now a wizard gone bad.

He had gathered around him a band of like-minded evil sorcerers who ravaged the countryside to achieve their evil goals, which amounted to one thing, domination of the Da&at.

The evil wizards had the power Drat knew to subjugate the entire community. Slowly and subtly they infiltrated the outlaying communities bring each one under their maleficent spell.

If they were not stopped all life, as Drat knew it would cease and the community would become one of mindless drones doing the bidding of the wizards.

As part of his eighteenth birthday Drat had been presented with his wizard’s wand, a small pencil sized stick, which he was told, would grow a centimetre for each year in which he lived and worked successfully as a wizard. The wand would only grow from good magic.

This was something Drat had over Arswype and his evil cronies; their wands had shrunk with their practice of more and more evil to the point where they relied on spells and potions to carry out their magic.

He had had a crash course in wand manoeuvres in the days before setting out and as he walked along he waved it about practicing his waves and thrusts on the hapless forest creatures. He wasn’t sure how to change back the purple rabbits he created nor what to do about the bewildered princes he left sitting at the edge of the pond.

A little after midday Drat came across the first of many obstacles he was to encounter. A small hut sat in the middle of his path. His path led to a door on which was a silver knocker. He rapped the knocker and the door opened revealing a cavernous room.

Opposite him sat the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. As their eyes met he felt an incredible attraction and was immediately drawn to her.

As he drew closer she stood and dropped here clothing displaying her alluring body. She beckoned him closer and he could feel all sense of where and who he was slipping away.

As he stepped nearer he could feel himself floating his eyes totally focused on the woman. He was within a metre of her when he crashed to the ground. Looking up to where once the beautiful woman had sat was an old crone. She looked at him and told him he would have to rise above such temptations if he was to engage with the bad wizards. She told him they would tempt him in ways he had never considered and would have to keep his wits about him.

She gave him a potion, one to make him impervious to temptation. A focusing potion she called it. But above all she said for him to be true to himself.

Leaving the hut he continued on his journey. Looking back he noticed the hut had vanished.

On the fourth day of his journey he encountered the place he was looking for, the wizards Wand.

The Wand was where he knew he would find them gathered together in their seemingly infinite evil. Drat was an educated man and did always smile at the irony in the use of the word Wand to describe a bunch of wandless wizards.

Arswype he knew would be expecting him, as Drat was well aware the wizards had listening posts spread throughout the forest.

The wizards were of course very hospitable in welcoming Drat, they too being aware of the power he was capable of.

They had prepared a welcoming dinner and were happy to lull Drat into a sense of complacency before enacting their own terrible plan to take his wand and use it to their own advantage before it shrunk away from them.

What they didn’t know was the potion the crone had given him.

All pretence at cordiality was met with Drat’s scepticism and by the evening’s end the wizards were afraid for their own safety as they saw Drat slowly gathering in confidence.

Arswype made a demand. Drat’s wand for his safe return to Da&at. Drat merely smiled at the proposal.

Raising his wand he wiped out the bunch of leering wizards to his right.

Arswype sat back in horror; this new wizard truly did have great power. It was time he thought to enact plan B. Escape.

He threw up a cloud of dust blinding all around him but not before Drat hit him with thunderbolt from his wand.

The blot send him spinning into the air before he crashed to the ground.

Standing over the defeated Arswype he gave him one last word of advice, that he would never again threaten nor terrorise the land because Drat had the power to strip him completely of all power, to leave him penniless and a pauper to wander the land as a beggar.

A terrible flash a searing pain hit Arswype as all his magic, acquired over time was extracted from him, his mind emptied of all spells and potions, his clothing reduced to that of a tramp.

Drat cast out the now humbled wizard and turned to the remaining wizards who sat trembling in fear.

Casting his wand over them all he removed them of all and any magic they once possessed. But he spared them a life of wandering penury.

Looking down on their cowering selves he told them they would become his servants, never again to perform any magic but grateful to be alive and serve not only Drat but the people of Da&at.

On his return to Da&at Drat promised the townspeople a new period of peace and prosperity, introducing his now de-frocked wizards as a new servant class within the community. They were immediately put to work cleaning out the town’s cesspools.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/04/03/fairy-tale-april-3rd-2015-tree-of-life/

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Tale Weaver #7 Making Sense of Nonsense – Uncle Axel

Posted on April 1, 2015 by Michael

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When my Uncle Axel was a child he was dropped on his head.

That was the story my family told to excuse the eccentric behaviour of Uncle Axel.

Axel loved to drontify.

He was one of the great drontifiers of all time. In many ways his behaviour was entertaining, as he never saw himself as much more than a man of opinion.

When I was a small boy my mother would take me to see Uncle Axel and my lovely Aunt Peg. In fact mum went to see her brother a lot over the years and by the time I could accompany her he was an old man who’d sit out in his sunroom with the radio blaring.

Every morning he listened to talk back radio.

For Axel talk back radio was his chance to drontify to his hearts content. You hear him voicing his opinion to whatever the topic, and he always had an opinion.

How Aunt Peg put up with him and how she had come to marry him in the first place always surprised me but Peg was devoted to Axel.

She’d go about her morning tasks I imagine off in her own little world while Axel gave voice to his own drontifying notions.

One-day mum bought them a TV, which opened a whole new world for Uncle Axel. Morning television.

Here was talk back radio with visuals and visuals gave Axel another way to drontify. Now he had a vision of the person with whom he was taking exception over something;

I heard him one day, his voice strident, his opinion forceful but always practical say: ‘I’ve been listening to you for years ya dopey #@%#@#* bastard now I can see why you are such a dopey #@%#@#* bastard having to carry a head like that around with you every day.’

Axel had opinions about everything and the most colourful language.

Boat people he argued should be sent back: ‘Just burn the boats, let ‘em swim back where they come from.’ he’d say. ‘If they drown too bad. I won’t miss ‘em.’

When he wasn’t railing at the world he was a great storyteller. He was the one who first introduced me to fairies at the bottom of the garden. Axel believed he had a family of gremlin fairies living behind the rockery at the bottom of his garden.

He’d take me down there holding my hand warning me not to speak too loudly, not to step on the rocks and NOT to say anything #@%#@#* bad about them.

We’d crouch down a few feet from the rockery and Axel would pull me close to him and whisper in my ear:

‘They hear you the little blighters’ll have your toes off in no time.’

What added to this was the fact that Axel had a toe missing from his right foot. ‘Came right out and nipped the bugger off without a moments warning.’ He said it with such conviction that as a child I believed every word he said and so clung to him in fear of my own toes.

Later I realised I had never seen any evidence of anything other than a few lizards and an ant’s nest down there. It was mum who told me on the way home one day that he’d lost his toe working on the railway.

I asked my mother a lot of questions about Uncle Axel.

She told me about Axel as a child and that he had been dropped on his head.

When I queried the circumstances of his fall I saw for the first time a tear on my mum’s face.

‘I dropped him,’ she said.

Drontify: the ability to hold and argue an opinion/view point/understanding no matter how ludicrous it might be.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/04/02/tale-weaver-7-making-sense-of-nonsense/

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Photo Challenge #54, March 31, 2015 – The Calm

Posted on March 31, 2015 by Michael

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Image Credits: Holunder @ Deviantart.com

Can you feel it?

The calm.

Can you sense it?

The serenity.

Can you see it?

The tranquillity.

Can you taste it?

The delicious placidity.

You rail against the world

You kick and struggle

Disagreeable

Fraught

Tearful.

I reach out

You don’t see

My hand extended

You ignore the obvious.

When I stand in your shoes

I see the pain, the torment.

My offer stands.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/03/31/photo-challenge-54-march-31-2015/

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FFfAW Week of 04-01-2015 – Clowns-Are-Us

Posted on March 30, 2015 by Michael

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It was a day of great excitement and anticipation. The opening of Clowns-Are-Us.

Bozo and Fruitfly had reasoned it was time clowns were given a better rap than was being seen of late with clowns being accused of all manner of crime and indiscretion.

Bozo had been a clown all his life. His father Freddy the Flyer was a high wirer performer and his mother Freda the Nymph had run a private clown show. Even in older age Bozo was in the dark about much of his parent’s activities once the big top lights went down.

But today they planned a free show showing all the tricks they had perfected over the years.

With an air of expectation he threw open the front doors. Not a soul stood there. The two clowns waited several hours and no one showed up.

Bozo went home determined to win over the town.

But first he had a score to settle with Mr King, whose latest novel had given every clown a bad name.

Written for: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2015/03/30/fffaw-week-of-04-01-2015/

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Mondays Finish the Story – March 30th, 2015 – Mum’s Pizza

Posted on March 30, 2015 by Michael

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Finish the story begins with: “Pizza anyone?”

Mum stood at the kitchen door watching us move as a tsunami towards the pizza.

Mum’s pizzas left us as drooling idiots. She knew just the right amount of ingredients to put on them. She would wait until the house was full of pizza aroma before opening the oven and letting her cooking titillate our senses.

We sat around the table while mum sliced it up. There was always plenty, in fact we often received a second piece, which amazed us as mum cut very generous slices.

Mum would stand back and watch us devour her hard work with a contented look on her face.

One night after one of her pizza treats I looked back at the pizza tray realising it was still half full. Mum happy her six kids were fed had a smile on her face and giggled slightly as she cleared the table.

Written for: https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/03/30/mondays-finish-the-story-march-30th-2015/

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Wordle #54 “March 30, 2015 – Charlie Modron

Posted on March 30, 2015 by Michael

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This week’s words: Click Dial Infinitesimal Regulation Designation (appoint as in a leader) Platitude (a trite dull or obvious remark) Sheaf Modron Inferior Tread Clarity Calibrate

I looked up from my desk with the expectation that it was going to be one of those days. Overnight a series of crimes had been committed that meant my phone had dialled itself to a standstill.

I was getting sick of the sound of the all too familiar click at the end of my phone every time I dialled a potential informant. No one wanted to know about Charlie Modron.

Charlie had been around as long as crime had existed. He was one of those thickset square headed guys who lived amongst the lowlifes of this world and exploited them as much as he could to achieve whatever low act was next on his agenda.

Charlie had a problem. You knew when he’d been around as the smell of a dungeon permeated the air. It was true Charlie Modron was known to hang out in all sorts of dank dark places.

Charlie not was the sort of criminal to be regulated by regulation, except for the ones he invented for himself. He was the guy full of platitudes when questioned about his activities and who knew that any infinitesimal snippet of information would be seized upon by us the cops.

So he played us believing we were the inferior species. We learnt the hard way that it was prudent to tread carefully around Charlie Modron.

Over the years Charlie had designated himself as the leader of all the bad guys within the town.

Any thug who questioned Charlie’s right to this designation would have the matter clarified usually at the end of a sheaf of papers wrapped round a piece of water pipe. More often than not Charlie was able to convey clearly his message.

All this was known to us in the law enforcement business. We calibrated our daily activities so as not to encroach on Charlie’s territory or modus operandi. Woe betide if any of us got it wrong and turned up at same domestic issue as Charlie’s boys. If was usually red faces on our behalf as we left Charlie’s boys to sort it out.

Charlie had a way of putting you off when he spoke to you. Where we followed strict regulation, Charlie’s boys followed another course of platitude on platitude and if you weren’t careful you would find their boots treading unceremoniously on your face usually as a means of clarifying any infinitesimal issue that might be bothering Charlie at the time.

Today I picked up my phone and dialled Charlie direct. I heard the click of his receiver as he picked it up. I wanted to clarify the situation at East End Street a known dive of dungeon and dragons aficionados.

I could hear him breathing into the phone then his soft casual voice telling me not to worry my pretty little head over it as his boys had it under control and there was no need for us to interfere.

I felt a sigh of relief as his phone clicked off. Taking a deep breath I picked up a sheaf of papers and decided that today filing would be a good use of my time.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/03/30/wordle-54-march-30-2015/

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SoCS March 28/15 – “naught/knot/not.”

Posted on March 28, 2015 by Michael

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Badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

This week’s prompt: “naught/knot/not.”

 

My mother stood before me hands on hips, finger taking up space as always.

‘You are not to go out with that girl. She is naught but a hussy. A hussy you hear me.’

I felt the knot in my stomach tighten.

Linda was not a hussy. A girl yes. A hussy no. Though at fifteen I wasn’t sure what a hussy was.

She was in my class at school. We sat beside each other. We chatted a lot. Not about schoolwork but about the different worlds we lived in.

Where I was content in my world she was not in her’s.

She never really said it but there was something odd about her dad.

My mother was keen for me to do well in life. I could understand that. She knew Linda’s family; in fact everyone knew Linda’s family. Mum would go on for ages about impressions and reputation.

She reminded me that Linda’s father was known as a drunk within the community and that her mother worked in the meat factory, ‘up to her armpits in pig shit day and night’ my mother would say tossing her head into the air giving me the idea that we were to think of ourselves as being well above the likes of the Linda’s of this world.

Finally mum made me an ultimatum that if I went out with Linda my allowance would be cut off.

I told Linda on Monday at school. She just laughed and said that happens all the time.

I sat beside her for much of my school days. Not once did she appear in any way other than the Linda I knew. I did look up hussy and nowhere was there a single word that I equated with the Linda who chatted with me each day.

Written for: http://lindaghill.com/2015/03/27/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-march-2815/

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Fairy Tale March 27th 2015, a new world – The Mersade

Posted on March 27, 2015 by Michael

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This week’s task: Imagine that you have traveled to an all new world. What does this world look like, is there magic, is there religion or spirituality? What kind of creatures are living there? Are friendly or hostile? Just imagine that you have arrived there … and you can create your own world through say deep spiritual meditation or something?

I awoke to find my eyes did still open and more importantly still functioned.

Though what I saw around me made me wonder at first.

The transition to Mersade had been as painless as Collins had said despite my reservations at the time. But when your known world is facing oblivion you clutch at whatever straw is cast your way.

Mersade I was told was in another dimension and a safe if not different world. One in which Collins assured me I would be able to make my way.

As my eyes began to focus I was momentarily in awe of the vegetation and landscape before me.

Over the top of the immediate environment were the two lunar arcs towering above me in the sky that held a much darker blue to my earth.

I felt a touch on my arm. The tendril of a large tree was nudging my arm as if ascertaining my state of being. Another tendril descended and stroked my arm, another my face and soon I felt my entire body being embraced by these tendrils which caressed my body before wrapping themselves around me and lifting me into high up into the tree.

I thought this was not a safe sensation and feared the worst.

I was laid on a bed of leaves and as the tendrils unwound from me.

Breathing heavily, uncertainty does that to you, I looked around and discovered a small man sitting at the end of the leafy bed looking at me and platting vines.

I tired to sit up and found I couldn’t catch my breath so stayed down, my head I realised was not too keen on being lifted off its bed.

‘It takes a while to adjust,’ said the small man. ‘Be patient it will get easier.’

I was in no position to argue so lay there watching him go about his business. After a time another person appeared, this one was different and I assumed was female.

These people whom I saw were minute. Barely thirty centimetres in height, dressed in clothing that was obviously from the tree in which I was laying. The man had a flowing beard and hands that were very leathery in appearance.

The female spoke in a much higher register and wore similar clothes and had the brightest red hair combed up into a spike.

It was she who approached me with a small container and bid me to drink. Whatever it was it tasted terrible and I coughed and spluttered several times before getting it all down.

The effect was amazing. I felt better, stronger able to sit up without feeling nauseous.

The two small people stood back smiling at my successful recovery.

‘Welcome to Mersade,’ said the woman. “I am Mersdame, and this is Mersdai, we are the tree people and it’s our job to see you recovered before we take you to the king.

My immediate thoughts were on the tale of Gulliver in the land of Lilliput and my mind had to rid itself of that idea.

The old man looked at me and smiling said: ‘We are aware of Lilliput and Gulliver. The tale has been told here recently.’

The thought that they could tell what I was thinking bothered me straight away even though I knew I had nothing to hide.

‘We don’t fear you,’ said Mersdame.’ We see our ability to read your mind as an advantage to us. Should anything happen we can be one step in front of you.’

‘Collins said I would be safe here,’ I said beginning to wonder if in fact I was.

‘Oh you are, don’t worry we mean you no harm but you must understand Mersade has existed for many millennia and we are keen for it to continue and we see all outsiders as potential threats.’ replied Mersdai.

There was twinkle in their eyes that gave me a sense that they meant what they said.

We sat and chatted for some time before Mersdame suggested we descend to the ground and go and meet the King who was keen to make my acquaintance.

At the click of her fingers the tendrils appeared once again and wrapping themselves around me lifted me and took me to the forest floor.

The walk to the King’s palace was through a forest of unknown beauty, of flowers in bloom who followed our progress and of small furry animals each of which was more unique than the previous.

We arrived in the town of the King, a place of thriving commerce and non-stop activity.

At the Palace we halted in front of an imposing castle. Seated on a throne at the front of the Palace was Collins.

‘King Collins,’ announced Mersdai bowing before the King.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/03/27/fairy-tale-march-27th-2015-a-new-world/

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Tale Weaver Prompt #6: Ghosts in the Photographs – Helton Sparrowlike

Posted on March 26, 2015 by Michael

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This week’s challenge is to weave a tale based on the following: You are scrolling through your latest collection of selfies, and you notice something strange with one of them. Something not visible/there when you took the picture.

Dear Loz,

Thanks so much for the birthday gift. You have given me my first ever smartphone and once I discovered where the on/off switch was I have a great time today playing with it, exploring all the bells and whistles that such a device has.

I am surprised by the resolution the camera has and I have had such fun taking photos left right and centre.

I have discovered the selfie setting and tried that out too, even though I would normally shy away from any sort of self-promotion.

But looking back through the photos I took I discovered a snap, which has surprised me.

I was trying out the camera against the front room curtains, which in the afternoons as you can tell gets a lot of direct sunlight.

On studying the photo I couldn’t help but notice the face in the bottom left corner. Now as you know I live in a rather remarkable place. Its good that I have a thorough knowledge of the workings of my yard for as you know I have a large colony of fairies living in various parts of my garden.

I know who the face is but I am surprised he came into the house and allowed himself to be caught by the camera. They are as you know shy creatures and always, so I thought, stayed in their own space.

The face belongs to the curious Helton Sparrowlike who is one of the bird’s nest fairies who are I must say are the gamest of all fairies and the one adventurous enough to stick his nose round my front door.

I did go out to ask why he had ventured inside only to get the usual curt response one expects from a bird’s nest fairy. ‘Because he could and because he was curious about me and what I had been doing all day with my new silver rectangle thing.’

So Loz I think I have one of the few photos ever taken of a real fairy. I think people would be amazed as how different they appear from what the stereotypical image is of them. They have always giggled at the images I have shown them in fairy tale books.

Of course I will show no one apart from you and I would appreciate your discretion as well. If word got out about them I would hate to think what might happen to them, my yard and to me for that matter.

I hope you are well and Harry is recovering after accidentally treading in the snake pit. The snakes are recovering from the shock of Harry’s size eleven boot landing on them. The snake fairies usually the most unpleasant and reserved fairies have accepted your apologies and wish you well noting that had the snake trod on you they would have expected a violent response similar to the one Harry received.

I look forward to hearing again from you very soon as I go off and play some more with your very generous gift.

Love and best wishes

Arthur.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/03/26/tale-weaver-prompt-6-ghosts-in-the-photographs-3/

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Okay, What if? Challenge – Film – As It Is In Heaven

Posted on March 25, 2015 by Michael

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This week’s challenge: Okay, what if you walked out your door and into your favourite film. Which one would it be, and why?

When I stepped out of my door the snow was knee deep and the cold had once again settled in for the day.

Rugging my jacket around me to ward off the biting north wind I made my way to the community hall for tonight’s choir rehearsal.

We had recently acquired a new choirmaster, a one time local boy Daniel who had during his lifetime become a world famous concert conductor.

Everyone is so excited as Daniel commands our full attention and there is every hope within the community that we will grow as a choir and soon be good enough to participate in the annual choir competition.

I have known Daniel since he was a small boy attending school with him and being aware that he was the subject of so much bullying as a small boy.

Ours is a small village and his persecutors are still living here. I see it as great courage that he has returned but I fear there is something we don’t know as I watch him weave his musical magic turning us from a struggling village choir into a choir of reputation.

We are so excited to have made it to the national competition. There has been much made of the choir’s elevation to this point. Preparations have been going on for us to not only sound our best but also look our best.

Our time to go on has arrived and Daniel has not appeared. After a time we become worried and I go in search of him. In the toilets I find him. He has collapsed.

I cannot believe this has happened. I call for help. I work on him doing CPR until help arrives but it is to no avail.

In my mind I am screaming NO Daniel NO!

Our one hope has gone.

We are shattered.

We gather as a group and decide in his memory to go on and do our best.

My film is a Swedish film: As It Is In Heaven – 2004 – Director Kay Pollack and starring Michael Nyqvist.

Wonderful film on so many levels.

Written for: http://okaywhatif.com/2015/03/25/okay-what-if-challenge-film/

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