In the bustling city of Amritsar, nestled between the radiant golden hues of the Golden Temple, lived a girl named Priya. Born into a Hindu family, she had always been drawn to the vibrant colours and rich traditions of her culture. Yet, despite her devout upbringing, Priya felt a void within her soul- a longing for a deeper connection to the divine.

One day, as if guided by an inexplicable intuition and force Priya found herself standing before the grand gates of the Golden Temple, the sacred abode of Sikh worship. As she stepped inside, the vibrant atmosphere enveloped her, the shimmering reflection of its golden domes dancing upon the tranquil waters of the Sarovar, the sacred pool. Surrounded by the divine aura a sense of tranquility washed over her, flooding her with a sense of peace she had never known.

In the sanctuary of the Gurudwara, Priya was captivated by the soul-stirring hymns and the rhythmic beat of the tabla and the recitation of prayers. The Sikh priest, recited verses from the Guru Granth Sahib, the holy scripture of Sikhism.

With each visit, Priya felt herself drawn deeper into the teachings of Sikhism, captivated by its emphasis on love, service, and devotion. Inspired by the selfless acts of seva (service) performed by the volunteers who serve meals to all who entered the Gurudwara, regardless of their background, social status, or beliefs, Priya felt a profound sense of connection to something greater than herself.

In the quiet moments of reflection, Priya found clarity amidst the chaos of her thoughts. She found her true calling - to live a life of compassion and service, guided by the timeless wisdom of Sikh Gurus. She began volunteering at the langar, the community kitchen of the Gurudwara, washing dishes and serving meals to the hungry with a joy that radiated from within.
Through her acts of selflessness and devotion, Priya discovered the true essence of spirituality- not in grand gestures or lofty ideals, but in the simple act of serving others with love and humility.

And so, in the midst of the sacred halls of the gurudwara, Priya found her sanctuary—a place where the divine spark within her was ignited, illuminating the path to spiritual fulfillment and inner harmony.

The door snapped shut quietly behind me as I entered my dressing room. I had barely glanced in my light-studded mirror before setting my bag down on the vanity table top. I slipped my pumps off my feet and stared, observing the tools of my trade like I had never seen them before. And I hadn’t – not really.

Every time I had looked at my feet, all I had looked for were signs that my toenails needed to be filed down or if the tape on my toes was peeling. I had not seen the scars of broken nails and blisters. I had not seen the twisted formation of my bones or the new blisters that was forming on top of old calluses. I had not seen the purple bruises, the splitting skin, the bulge of my ankle.

All I had seen was feet.

A discomfort settled in my stomach, silencing the slight tingle of nerves that only opening night could bring. I had done plenty of these before, but this time was my last.

I tried to settled into a routine of normalcy, sliding on my white stockings to cover my feet. I laced up my shoes, powdered my face, fluffed my tutu, adorned my hair with feathers. I did it all with a sense of numbness, my instincts leading my actions rather than my thoughts.

A knock echoed against my door as the stage manager came to call the five minute warning. I stared at my pale, painted face, wondering if I should even go on. Surely it would be better to end with a lifetime of performances instead of just one?

I had not initially known this was going to be my last performance, of course, my last season. I had simply won the role, as I had with all the others before this one. I did not assume anything beyond the applause, not until the company director asked to see me after auditions.

I was getting too old, he said, too much like a waning moon compared to the newer, younger girls they had just received in the company from the dance academy. Better to bow out now with grace, rather than stumble along behind them. I had nodded, accepting his recommendation, before I threw up in the bathroom. But you can’t purge age.

I had accepted the position to dance once more.

Now, however, I was not so sure. Ballet had been my life – my dream – for thirty years. What do you do when your dream ends?

The stage manager knocked again and I stood, still unsure of what to do. I was the prima ballerina – proud and graceful and beautiful. I could not ask for my understudy without an injury. So I followed him out of my dressing room, letting him lead me through the hallways filled with nervous, twittering girls and silent, stoic men. Up the stairs, backstage, where I waited for my cue.

The dancers that passed me wished me luck and I nodded, taking it gracefully. After all, I knew what they were really thinking.

It’s her last show.
It’s her last opening night.
Her last dream.

I looked down at my feet and saw... feet. Covered by leather, cotton and satin, but still feet. They had led me here through thirty years of dancing.

I was the prima ballerina, the star. I was ending my career by performing the ballet that had started it. I had chosen this thirty long years ago.

Suddenly, I felt no pain, no pressure, no anxiety. I felt no sadness. I only felt the feeling of the end.

My music began to play. I closed my eyes. This was the dream my feet had led me to.

I opened my eyes, took a deep breath and stepped into the spotlight.

Sarah was thrilled when her college organized a trip to an old, abandoned mansion rumored to be haunted. She convinced her friends, Jess, Ryan, and Mike, to join her. As they explored the mansion, eerie whispers filled the air, and shadows danced in the corners of their vision.

At first, they laughed off the strange occurrences, attributing them to their overactive imaginations. But as night fell, things took a sinister turn. Objects moved on their own, doors slammed shut, and icy fingers brushed against their skin.

Terrified, Sarah and her friends huddled together, seeking solace in each other's presence. But as the paranormal activity intensified, fear threatened to tear them apart. Sarah found herself haunted by visions of a young girl, her eyes filled with sorrow and longing.

Desperate for answers, Sarah delved into the mansion's history and uncovered a tragic tale of betrayal and loss. The spirit of the girl, unable to find peace, lashed out at anyone who dared to trespass in her domain.

Armed with this knowledge, Sarah and her friends devised a plan to help the restless spirit find closure. They conducted a séance, reaching out to the girl and offering her their empathy and understanding. Slowly, the atmosphere shifted, and the mansion grew still.

As dawn broke, Sarah and her friends emerged from the mansion, exhausted but triumphant. The paranormal activity had ceased, and the girl's spirit had finally found peace. Though shaken by their ordeal, Sarah and her friends forged an unbreakable bond, knowing they had faced the unknown together and emerged stronger for it.

August 14, 2098
“An apple a day keeps the doctor away”
It was the year 2042 when the disease started. New technology was being discovered each day and one specific artifact changed the entire world. To this day, nobody really knows exactly what happened or how. I am Jessica Jackson, a reporter. I myself was not around when this plague was going on, but my ancestors were there to witness it all. I have found old journals and newspapers telling of this terrible time.
Everyone knows the old saying, “An apple a day keeps the doctor away.” This saying became all too true in 2042. Every doctor, dentist, vets and any other related job was affected by a disease. I found no writings of what exactly caused it, some blamed the government, some blamed the scientists that were constantly looking for something new and better. All I know is that this plague took out millions of the population.
“We have to find the apples, it’s almost daylight again.” Jessie exclaimed to her brother, Thomas.
“I know, I know. I really don’t know where they are. I’m sorry,” he had tears in his eyes that were matching Jessie’s.
“It was a bowl full of red apples, how did we lose them?” Jessie ran her fingers through her naughty hair and sighed.
They searched the entire flat over and over, but had no luck. They found nothing. There was no one to ask, no one who would help. Everyone was out for themselves and their own families. Jessie and Thomas were now alone ever since their parents had passed away. They were caught and they hadn’t had their apples.
A 14 year old Jessie found both her parents, cut open and bleeding on the street. The doctors were angry that they didn’t eat their apples that day. The doctors had performed surgery on them. It was heart surgery. But that was the punishment when you didn’t eat your apples.
Jessie was now 18 and Thomas was 16. They were running out of apples. Each family got one bowl of apples a year, you had to collect the rest on your own throughout the year. Since everyone in the world was trying to get their hands on them, the apples were growing more and more scarce.
“Do you think someone stole the apples?” Thomas asked.
“But no one knows we live here.” Jessie was furiously digging through the nearly empty cabinets.
“Maybe they found out…” Thomas suggested.
“They couldn’t have.” Jessie was growing more angry.
“But-” he started.
“NO! Stop. No one knows, they’ve gotta be here. Who would’ve found out?” Jessie was almost screaming now.
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you angry.” He had tears flowing down his cheeks now.
“No, I’m sorry,” she pulled him into a hug. “You’re right, someone could’ve found us. I’m sorry for yelling.”
They embraced each other for a minute until they heard footsteps. The loud, booming footsteps that meant they were here. They were coming and Jessie and Thomas had no apples. Others might try hiding or running, but they knew it would’ve been pointless.
They always find you eventually.

Start walking down the middle of the classroom semi-slowly Who in here plays or has played a musical instrument? Does anyone wanna tell me why you started playing those instruments? Call on three people
Music can influence people in different ways. You may want to play it and listen to it because your parents do. Or maybe you take part in music because it's an entire family tradition.
Music can help your memory. Many doctors treating patients with memory loss will use certain lyrics from songs to help them retrieve lost memories.
How many times per day do you listen to music? Answer 3 people Just 11 minutes per day is enough to release that happiness chemical in your brain. Even five minutes is enough.
What power does music have on the brain? Well, I’ll start with something simple. If humanity never learned you can put multiple rhythms together, this world would be EXTREMELY boring! Nobody would have any way of expressing themselves musically!
Music has many ways of benefiting us. It can help your mental health, sleep, workout quality, and even friendships. Let me explain.
Let’s start with how it can benefit your mental health. Listening to your favorite playlist can even help you cope with things like anxiety, depression, and even PTSD.
Music releases dopamine, and makes you feel relaxed and good. Music is also known to fight the stress hormone, cortisol.
You know when you’re working out and you feel those annoying aches in your knees and arms, music can help you distract yourself from that. A large number of studies have given us considerably good evidence saying that patients are noted to have less pain levels when distracted with memories, or the song itself, while listening to music.
Music has been linked to the release of oxytocin, which is known as the trust neurotransmitter. Neurotransmitters are also basically just chemical messengers your body cannot live without. Oxytocin helps us bond and socialize with others, which is a key tool to helping treat depression.
Music is known to lower cortisol levels and calm your nervous system.
People with PTSD have a hard time healing from what traumatized them. Listening to music can help them remember memories that are vital and helpful to the healing process.
stay at the back of the room
I do think I’ve covered at least most of the ways music has power on your brain. Does anyone have any questions? Answer three people

I write different and listless now. I mean it.

I've read better than I've wrote. I've seen it.

Leaning into the car door, you might fall out.

The vehicle is you. Templers, about to invent the waterspout warp drive. Here, alive, today. Yay!

There are sundry tales amongst the Saxons that conjure the indelible images of supernatural ones that inhabit the realm of the mortals. The tale that you shall read is about the foul creature that had terrified the minds of the children and women of the Saxon villages. It was said that this creature was once a mortal man, who had forsaken his soul for the covetous grasp of power and was condemned to the existence of his monstrosity. Whilom his name was Edwig, but he would be known then as the Werg. From one village unto another, its name was deeply embedded in the apprehension of the Saxons. Whither, its engrossing terror would spread and be thus immortalised in the wrath that it wielded. The kinsmen would remember it for its cruelty and its devouring hunger for its adversaries. Within weeks that had elapsed, these consequential episodes of terror would reach the forum of the council of the eight. The harrowing foe the Saxons would engage was one that they had never met on the battlefield ere. Wherefore was it dreaded? It was because, it was the vile embodiment of an apparent evil that had displayed no ruth.   

The Saxons who had once frolicked with the harmonies of their music and bliss, were profoundly troubled with the encroaching menace of the Werg's armies. The unfortunate tidings about the persistent slaughters and destruction of the villages of the Saxons had alerted the council of eight to react against this implacable threat. The dwarves and the elves had made a sacred pact with the Saxons to assist them in their defence, as the Saxons had sworn allegiance to them through this honourable pact invoked. There were several messengers that were sent to warn the Werg that the Saxons would not yield control of the entirety of their lands to him. None would return, except one who would tell the council of eight of the terrible horrors of the Werg. He would bring back some of the heads of the Saxons dissevered from their bodies, in a large, silver chest full of dried blood and putrid flesh.     

The lands of the elves and dwarves had been plundered as well, and the elves like the dwarves were committed to rid themselves of the Werg and his horde of maniacal assassins. They had suffered tremendously, and their territories were in extreme danger of being totally obliterated, if they did not stop the madness of the Werg provoked. How it came to power was still a lingering mystery unresolved. No one knew its veritable origin or the names of its ancestors, except when it was human it was supposedly the bastard son of a king of the Vikings, and an anonymous Saxon woman whose name was never revealed. A brutal curse had fallen upon the family and Edwig that would condemn him to the hideous guise of a wretched beast. Due to the temptation of greed, he had forsaken his mortal soul and had become the ferocious Werg. This was the actual story that had spread from the mouth of the soothsayers erstwhile, who foretold of the arrival of the creature. In particular one whose name was Garwig, a wizened man in features. However, he was bright in his wisdom.

Beneath the morning rays of the sun, the council of the eight had gathered to choose from amongst their worthy rank of proven warriors, one man that could defeat the invincible Werg and drive his sinister influence out of their native lands. The athelings had offered lands for any one audacious enough to defeat the beast. The stouthearted hero that was selected was born with the name of Oswin, who took the solemn oath to slay the Werg and not return until that was achieved. He was the first-born son of a rural peasant who was not highborn, but he had seen numerous battles before in the immemorial valleys, where warriors were shaped into the douth of manhood, not atheldom. The difficult task that would be imposed upon the young warrior was to be one that would lead him unto the far away lands of the unknown and undiscovered territories that were, beyond the dry and rigid mountains of death. For manifold centuries, it would be a region that had lied on the outskirts that was deemed inhospitable and forbidden to enter for the Saxons. No man would be foolish to dare to defy the portentous words of the sagacious elders. That was until, they were confronted with the horrendous outcome of enslavement and persecution by the Werg. 

Oswin never once doubted his ability to battle the unyielding threat of the beast, whose legions of daemons had overwhelmed the Saxons from the beginning of their sanguineous battles upon the valleys of death. He was taught to be a fierce warrior ever since he was a stripling. Along with eighty men, he would depart the confines of his land to reach the secret lair of the Werg. Oswin was a man who had seen twenty-five moons and suns beyond the yuletide. His hair was chestnut brown and long, his constitution was chiselled from a natural brawn, and his hazel eyes were teeming with confidence, as he held the hilt of his sword with the conviction of his might and main. In sooth, few men had seen the Werg and lived to tell about his horrifying encounters. What was known about the creature was that it was stealthy, and it would attack amain, when least expected and appear, when most feared. It would emerge from the depth of the thester shadows, like a wolf searching for his prey with the scent of blood, amidst the blustery gust of fury.   

The grure of the Werg had no limitations, as long as the Saxons had yet to overcome its gruesome conquest. Henceforth, they were in a constant battle with the evil that had reigned and the laden torment that took the lives of those, who resisted his superior might. The men of the Saxons knew that they would meet a foe that was brath and unmerciful in his punishment exacted. Their unremitting valour would be tested over and over, and few of them would ever return to see their homes and families afresh. Time would be the lone witness to the savage nature of their enemy and record the horrific battles they would withstand against the determined forces of the Werg. The men would depend on the mastery of their swords and shields to protect them, but it would be the bravery of Oswin, who would impel them to victory. Whilere he had been given a unique weaponry by the council of eight that was a sharp sword, a steel shield, a flexible bow and a pair of piercing arrows. 

Upon that portentous day, the Saxons would depart their land to find and defeat the insidious creature at once. They would join forces and allegiance with the dwarves and elves, who were alerted by the goddess Ingrei Frea of the Werg's intention to conquer more lands, including theirs. They would wend and tread for days and nights, upon the filthy waters of the swales and the tall grass of the dales. Along the way, they would witness the absolute destruction of their villages and the remnants of their ruination left, as a dire warning for other Saxons to heed. The throats of dead women and children were slit. It was said that the Werg from his throne would drink the dripping blood of his victims from an alabaster skull. Forsooth, the ruthlessness of his vengeance would not cease, with just the destruction of the villages of the Saxons, the dwarves and elves. The creature wanted more, for it would not settle for anything that was not the conquest of its relinquished foes. The Werg had demanded for the Saxons to be submissive to its rule and authority.   

It was within one of those open dales that Oswin's forces would battle the massive forces of the Werg. A thick mist of clouds had formed into the spectral creatures that were known as the wraiths, who would attack the Saxons and others with sheer intensity, as the Werg would stand to watch the battle from afar, with malevolence seen in its large alabaster eyes. Countless men of the Saxons, dwarves and elves would fall to their death. The Saxons would invoke the god Thunor. The courageous men with the assistance of the god would gradually defeat the devious forces of the Werg. The powerful breath of Thunor would sweep the mist of wraiths into the depth of the river below drowning them, as he had covered the river with hardened ice to prevent them from fleeing. Thus, the wicked wraiths were made prisoners of their inescapable fate.

The intrusion by Thunor would enrage the Werg and cause him thereafter to summon the towering ents, who were under his behest. A loud and thumping sound was heard, as it shook the ground of the valley with great force. It was the twain ents that were approaching nigh. With their huge feet they began to step upon the helpless bodies of the Saxons, dwarves and elves, as they had scattered to the knolls to flee from the giants. When it had appeared that the ents would crush all the Saxons and others into torn pieces of flesh, once more Thunor would intervene and with his mighty hammer would open the ground of the valley like a shaking earthquake, causing the ents to fall into a profound chasm of no return. They would be devoured by the earth. This would enrage the Werg even more. He would blow a blazing ball of fire on to the Saxons and others, killing several of them, as they had perished under their burnt shields. Then, he would depart the area, returning to his castle in defeat.     

Those who had survived the onslaught of the Werg's armies would be weakened, by the strife of the draining fight. The mouths of the Saxons had begged for thirst, their stomachs had begged for food, and their legs had begged for rest. It was a long and wearisome journey they were forced to endure on foot afterwards. The griffins who had accompanied Oswin were forced to leave during the battle, for they were attacked by the Werg and sought shelter in the mountains, till the battle was over. The weather had not treated the men and others well. It had delayed their advance. The rain had soaked the garments underneath the byrnies of the Saxons, and their supplies that had been reduced caused some of the men to become weaker in their fortitude. They had not calculated the distance and time that was required in their mission, but upon reaching their destination, they would be left completely in awe of what they would descry. The twilight had arrived with a daunting omen that brought the fainting light of death. Drear days that was marred in the uncertainty along the journey were quickly endued, by the haunting realisation of the bleak and bare lair of the Werg.     

There before their astonished eyes, stood erect the lofty stronghold of the beast, as the echoes of thunder were heard and the refulgent flashes of lightning were visibly seen across the mountain range. An ominous shade of darkness had started to encompass the tall castle that was on a steep cliff, beneath the hovering clouds of the fog. The men of the Saxons were prepared to give their lives in the midst of battle, but this was a battle that not many of them had ever envisioned as their honourable glory. For the Werg was no ordinary enemy to be easily defeated or conquered. Thuswise, there was a great measure of caution taken in their approach. The caliginous castle of the creature had intimidated them with a distressing impression. The pervasive breath of death was felt through the passage of the eerie gateway. 

Upon the top of the towers of imposition, there were ghastly gargoyles that were observing the Saxons as they had approached near. The impregnable walls of the sable castle were made of pure, solid masonry. The men had seen the fierce gargoyles, but the beasts would not attack so suddenly. They had remained vigilant and were under the command of their lord. The Saxons could not know that the Werg had foreseen their arrival. His unsightly image would be frightening. Instead of attacking the Saxon warriors, the Werg had allowed them to enter and seek his lurking presence. He had remained hidden within his stronghold. As the men had passed the gateway and stood before the heavy front door made of solid steel, the door would slowly open wide. It was a welcome that was foreboding and unsettling in its nature.     

There was a certain trepidation in some of the men, who had sensed the imminent peril that was awaiting their entrance. Reluctance was a natural sensation experienced, but it was not enough to make them desist in their task of destroying the Werg. There was no turning back then. Oswin had instructed some of his men to stay behind with the elves and dwarves, in case they did not make it alive out of the castle. He and his other men had entered anxiously to confront whatever was lingering in the constricting shadows of darkness ahead. They were guided only by the reflection of the light of the torches that were hanging from the walls of the narrow corridors. There was an eerie silence throughout the creepy castle, with the exception of the whistling wind from outside. There were innumerable halls that were abandoned and every place that they had passed or entered, there was no sign of the Werg. It was difficult to know where the fiend was concealed at any time.   

The emptiness of the castle was a cunning deception that was utilised by the Werg. None of its enemies who had entered its lair had ever walked out, as survivors of its nightmarish terror. It commanded with such an imperant dominance. Whoever durst to betray it would succumb to it immediate chastisement. It had gained it unmerciful reputation with the irrefutable course of its actions. Verily, the question for the Saxons was who was the Werg essentially? What was known about its character were its illimitable power and irrepressible menace. Its doomed enemies would dwindle in numbers and be reduced to cadent memories. Its obedient armies were growing and spreading unto the lands of the Saxons and other tribes. Within the span of a month, half of the lands of the Saxons were either destroyed or conquered.

They had raught a hall that had a mysterious pit. There they halted their advance. Curiosity had made them wait in anticipation of what was to betide. As they had waited, from the bottom of the pit rose to the edge, a throng of daemons that then immediately attacked the men without notice. The Saxons had resisted with their swords and shields, but were quickly overrun by the sheer numbers of the daemons. Sensing what was occurring, Oswin had ordered his men to retreat, where they did. Those that had survived would scurry unto another hall that was adjacent. The heavy door from outside would close, surrounding them. They were completely trapped then inside the castle, at the mercy of their uncertain fate. Without any succour, the Saxons were alone to fight off the threatening daemons. 

Outside the castle, the men who had remained there along with the elves and dwarves were then attacked by a group of grisly gargoyles that flew down from the mighty towers. The gargoyles would penetrate with their sharp claws the byrnies of the Saxons and the others, killing several of them instantly. The men and the others were cornered by the gargoyles, as they fought bravely against their foes. The elves and dwarves were the most unprepared for the attacks of the gargoyles. They would suffer the intensity of the attack and lose many of their kindred in the strife. It was then that from beyond the horizon of the stronghold, a group of  white griffins sent by Ingrei Frea would appear to defend the Saxons and their allies. They would attack the unrestrained gargoyles and allow the men and others to escape, taking shelter in a nearby cave, protected by the influence of the goddess.       

The battle inside as well as outside the castle was fierce and bloody. While the battle was happening in the exterior of the castle, in its interior, Oswin and his remaining warriors were huddled in a wall anxiously, with their swords ready at hand. For some apparent reason unbeknownst to them, the daemons from the pit did not follow them unto this other hall. Oswin's instinct had told him that Werg was close by, and he had instructed the daemons to not attack them. The silence of the castle had prevailed once more, with still the whistling wind from outside to be heard. The torches that were hanging became brighter, and the draught became colder. Despite the eeriness of the castle, Oswin knew that he had to slay the Werg, or face the horrid consequences of his actions, which was the enslavement of his people and the downfall of the Saxon kingdoms. He would not permit this.   

A mist of a poisonous vapour had then entered the hall, attacking the lungs of the men, who fell to the ground or tried to avoid its inescapable clutch. Some of the men would suffocate and die, whilst others that had covered their faces with pieces of their garments underneath had managed to survive. They began to scurry from hall to hall, until they had raught the place where the Werg was present. At first, he had appeared humanlike in his constitution as he sat on his golden throne, but then he quickly changed into the Werg. Was it an illusion that was meant, as a ploy of deception? His blue eyes became alabaster, his brown hair was shaggy and onyx, his body was transformed into the hideous disfigurement that was the Werg. The creature stood over seven feet tall, with large claws that were protruding. Its jaws were massive and powerful.

Oswin knew that what he was confronting was an evil that would require all his strength and bravery, if he and his men were to survive. The Werg had then attacked the men, as they watched the creature emerge from its singular throne. Its attack was like a swift bolt of lightning that had pierced the byrnies of the Saxons without notice. They could not match the speed and astuteness of the Werg. It would slice apart the flesh of the men and savour it with its crushing teeth and long tongue. Their dilemma had increased twofold. On one hand they could not overpower the Werg, and on the other hand, they were unable to escape its vindictive wrath. It was then that Oswin had pulled several arrows from his side and took out his bow. He shot the arrows through the body of the Werg, but the creature would not die. Instead, the arrows only had made it more angry and determined to execute the remaining Saxons. 

One by one the other Saxon warriors fell to their agonising death. With the magic of Ingrei Frea, the front door of the castle was opened. It had allowed for Oswin and a few other men to flee, whilst the Werg was butchering the other unfortunate men, who would perish under the horrible slaughter. The elves and the dwarves would enter with the Saxons. They had sworn an allegiance to Oswin. After the Werg had finished with his murderous spree, he saw the presence of the others that had entered, in particular, Ingrei Frea. The goddess had durst to enter the domain of the Werg, unannouncedly. It was a confrontation between two powerful entities. For a moment the Werg did nothing, but stare as it stood on its two hind feet. It would rapidly disappear, into the mist that had formed before its brash departure. 

From the reign of fear came once more the dauntless daemons of the Werg. A wild horde of them had emerged from the darkness to attack the Saxons and the others. Using her magic staff, Ingrei Frea would stir the rousing winds that were whistling to create a sudden whirlpool in which it would suck up all the daemons that were attacking in it, choking them all to death. Thereafter, giant black ravens would arrive from beyond the hillside to attack the Saxons, elves and the dwarves. This would cause the goddess to lose her staff, and when she tried to retrieve it, she would be knocked over the cliff to land down below in the mouth of the darkness of the river. Due to the misty clouds that were hovering above, Oswin could not see her image, where she had supposedly fallen. He and the others that had survived the onslaught of the sable ravens hid within the cave, where the others had once hidden previously. This would not dissuade the Werg.   

It would send its loyal legions of wights to enter the cave and destroy the remnants of their enemies. Quickly they entered. When it had seemed that Oswin and the others still standing were doomed to their daunted finality, the thunder bolt of Thunor would be heard, as he would appear and save them. His mighty hammer would cause a huge boulder to seal the cave, trapping the wights inside indefinitely. The wicked Werg from the tower of his castle then sent the large ebony ravens and the dreaded gargoyles to attack the forces of Oswin, with his stern command. But Thunor would blow his powerful breath and send the ravens down the long cliff above the mouth of the river below. The griffins would return to finish off the gargoyles. The battle had yet to be declared a supreme victory. There was a challenge that was waiting for them in the form of the Werg to be conquered.
 
The last true vestige of Werg's influence was represented in the flaming dragon that was its servant who would protect the Werg at its beckon call. The Werg had summoned it. From afar the emerald dragon could be seen gliding through the thick patch of clouds, as it had raught the edge of the mountain top, where the stronghold was erected. Thunor had told Oswin, the dwarves and the elves to hide inside the castle to seek refuge. He did not think that the Werg would have the dragon destroy his own lair. Thunor would battle against the ferocity of the colossal dragon. Once the dragon had seen him, it immediately began to attack him. First with a blazing fireball, then with a swift lash of its long, pointed tail, but the mighty god with his shield would resist the dragon's attack.     

Thunor would use his potent hammer to strike the face and tail of the dragon directly. Back and forth the strife lasted, until Thunor would strike its scarlet beady eyes, blinding the dragon for the nonce, until he was able to rip apart the mouth of the blazing dragon with his brawn, causing its demise. Thenceforth, the once indomitable armies of the Werg had all been defeated, and it was then left to remain defiant with his imperant posture at the tower. The Werg was desperate. Its madness would ultimately lead to its abrupt downfall. Sensing that it was close to defeat, the Werg would swoop down from the tower in the direction, where Oswin had stood boldly before it at the entrance of the castle. The suspense had intensified, for it was to be a perilous duel to the death betwixt the Werg and Oswin.

The difference in stature was clearly evident in their height. The Werg was massive compared to the smaller stature of Oswin, who as a Saxon was considered tall. The Werg had uttered only the words that would echo in a haunting manner with a deep voice, "Today is your day to die, Saxon!" The was fire in its eyes. This did not frighten Oswin, for he was resolute in his bravery to destroy the Werg. He would respond, "Today is not my day to die!" Although he had carried weaponry, Oswin was at a clear disadvantage. No weapon that he had could really kill his impetuous foe. This was what he thought. The Werg had taunted him and mocked his valour. The dwarves and the elves were helpless to assist Oswin. Thunor had stood watching from the distance. There was nothing he could do then. It was a battle that Oswin would have to earn his victory. He had been chosen by the council of eight to destroy the Werg. That was his mission. Failure was considered unacceptable.

Oswin had a mighty sword and shield to protect him in his battles. Little would he know that these things were purely magical in their genuine essence. It was a concealed secret that the council of eight, who had given him the weapons had not told him about their magical powers and abilities. Oswin would discover this, when the Werg had charged at him like a blistering beast. It came like the brath roar of the wind, but Oswin the Saxon would thwart its advance, with a heavy swing of his sword that had knocked the Werg unto the ground. The Werg would try again and once more, he would be knocked unto the ground as before. This had infuriated the Werg. No man had ever shamed the beast. It was determined to not permit Oswin to be the first to claim victory upon its disgrace.

The Werg felt that Oswin had one weakness that was his loyalty demonstrated for his fellow brethren and the dwarves and elves. He had threatened to kill them. Oswin for the first time had felt helpless and uncertain of what to do. He had come face to face with the dreaded Werg and had halted its conquest with their battles. His thew was not enough. The loathing seen in the inflamed eyes of the Werg was discernible. It would not let Oswin leave alive from its domain. The remaining daemons that were not destroyed that were inside had brought out from the castle, the others as hostages, the remaining Saxons, dwarves and elves before the Werg. As the desperate beast was about to murder the others, Ingrei Frea had emerged from the bottom of the cliff through the mist of clouds. She had not perished, for she was a goddess. 

Ingrei Frea would inform Oswin about another peculiar weapon that was magical that he was not aware of its relevance. It was a magical arrow that he had brought with him given specifically by the council of eight before his journey. With this he would slay the indomitable Werg and save his kindred. As the beast had lunged at the others, who were at its mercy, Oswin from his bow would shoot that magical arrow that would pierce straight into the heart of the Werg. The beast would fall unto the ground to never breathe again. Its heart would not beat any longer. Gone was the grure of the Werg. Oswin had made sure that the horror that was tormenting the thorps of the Saxons was eliminated. The stronghold of the beast would begin to crumble and tumble unto the bottom of the mouth of the cliff. The death of the Werg had caused the others to cheer and call out the name of Oswin. He was victorious in the end. His name would be forever mentioned and elicited in the tales and runes of the Saxons.

Upon his return, Oswin would relate everything that had taken place on his journey and the harsh battles that he and his men were forced to confront. The remaining men along with those dwarves and elves that also were left alive were welcomed as heroes and were granted the honour of the acceptance of the mead that was said to have been made by the goddess Ingrei Frea herself. Oswin was given land in the east to cultivate and populate as his own. He became an imparted member of the nobility and was rewarded handsomely by the established kings of the Saxons. A new Saxon village that was built upon the ashes of the destruction of one of the former villages that was destroyed by the Werg. This was the selection that Oswin had preferred. He did not want the destruction of these villages and hamlets to be forgotten or their memories be in vain. Instead, thither he would build a vast area of dominion over the valleys of the proud Saxons.

Before he would leave, he said these inspiring words to be heard by those who were present, "Ye noble and doughty Saxons, I stand before ye all. Not as a mere hero, but as one man who has returned to his brethren and kindred with honour bestowed upon him. In sooth, I have slayed the Werg. To accept the rewards of my deed is to speak unwisely and not reveal the whole truth. For it is those brave Saxons, dwarves and elves who fought and strove until the end by my side, who are the true heroes. They have gained my respect and earned the right to be revered as warriors. Our battles with the Werg were fierce and intense. Not one man was intended to raise his name in glory, when glory is a thing that was inspired by manifold warriors. Thus I stand united with all of these warriors, who I shall call each my brother. Let us not forget those men of valour, who perished for the just cause. Let not their names be forgotten. Nor the names of Thunor and Ingrei Frea. For the Gods and Goddesses have not abandoned us in our hour of need. Though these warriors were buried in a far away land, they died with honour. We shall remember them and raise our cups to toast in their names. I shall end my speech, with these memorable words, long live the pride of the Saxons. Long live the kingdoms of the Saxons."



   
 

Um, yeah, I dunno yet

she was the pillow queen of New Orleans
and smothered men in bed

all the bad men, sad men, mad men
every man she met was dead
by her slender glittering ring rich hand

she was the pillow queen of New Orleans
and her eyes would drop a weepy tear upon her bedroom floor
“give me more”
“rest your sweet head on my bed”
“here upon my pillow”

and like a deadly weeping willow
men were smothered with her pillow
her eyes would drop a weepy tear upon her bedroom floor
“Give me more”

the pillow queen of New Orleans liked to sing her song
a sirens soft and soothing sound
that fell on the souls of men

“Come all you drowsy men”
“lousy men”
“bowsie men”
“come and lay your head”
“here upon my pillow”
“upon my feather bed”
“till you are dead”


till you are dead she crooned

rest sweet men who longed for love
upon my feather bed
the pillow queen of New Orleans
will cradle your pretty head
till you are dead

a smother mother waits for you
like you’ve never seen
I am the girl you’re waiting for
dying for

the pillow queen of New Orleans

rest sweet men, dead men, murdered men
mad men, lousy drowsy glad men

all is well

rest in peace

I'm sitting on tram No. 16 reading "A Streetcar Named Desire" when a man in a black suit and a sombrero walks in. "Dostoevsky didn't write that book," he tells me. "It was written by Mr. Poe."

"How do you know?" I ask. "I witnessed it all," he replies, pausing to think. At that moment, I notice he has no nose. I think of Poe's story about the Man without a Nose and tell myself that this must be one of his characterse

"Actually, it wasn't Mr Poe who wrote it, but me, Krakatua." Suddenly, there's a loud bang, and I see paper and ash raining down from the ceiling. The man in the sombrero disperses into clouds of ash.

The tram driver asks what's happening since this was tram line 18. I explain, and he tells me it's impossible because line 18 was discontinued a hundred years ago.

I reread the title of the book, and it says "Tram Named Desire, by Krakatua." Suddenly, I remember I left the roast in the oven and jump out at the next stop. But where is this stop? Where am I? And where is Krakatua?!

Reading "The Picture of Dorian Gray," I thought Tolstoy wrote it. He disliked mirrors, so it seemed logical that it was a mask for his work.

However, that night I dreamed of Ivan Ilyich approaching me, saying, "I didn't die as Tolstoy wrote; I escaped to Argentina to write a novel about eternal youth."

Awakening at 3 a.m., I realized it wasn't possible as Tolstoy wrote "The Death of Ivan Ilyich" before his passing. Then I remembered the main character in Gabriel Garcia Marquez's lost novel actually wrote Dorian before disappearing into the jungle.

However, after reading "One Hundred Years of Solitude," I realized nobody could live that long. Then a voice from my room spoke, "No, I am Alexander the Great, and my scribe wrote Dorian during the battle of Gaugamela."

When I recounted everything to Baba Yaga, she just laughed loudly and said, "Well, I've been retired for a long time; I stopped crying when I left the forest and moved to Florida."

However, she suddenly pulled out a mirror from her bag and started crying, "But this mirror reminds me of the past and all those who are no longer here. Do you see me washing away my tears from my face after harsh winters? Ah, the past still catches up with me here." She sighed. "I'll never stop crying!" Tears started flowing and turned into a great flood that swept me away.

I woke up outside a psychiatric hospital. The doctor told me I had hallucinations due to excessive reading of historical fiction. Then I realized Agatha Christie was behind it all - she introduced me to Baba Yaga to soften my resistance to medication!

Now I help her write new novels in the asylum. The latest one I titled "Diary of the Asylum - 100 Years of Madness." I hope Baba Yaga will be satisfied with my work, or she'll make me cry again...

My psychiatrist had written out ADHD pills for me. I refused to even take them from the drug store.

She seemed to have made ADHD her speciality, since she said, among other things "the way you walk means you have ADHD". She just wouldn't give up. The last I saw of her, i screamed, "As soon as you mention ADHD I'm outta here", which didn't take many minutes.

Then, one night, my mom came, with the pills, and told me "Try one, only one". I did and she left.

Then, from midnight to 5 in the morning, I layed in bed with no thoughts, no feelings, and in the beginning, my eyes rolling in weird ways. Sort of like being dead, I guess.

This was just 1 pill.

I took the jar and threw it in the trash. Showered, put on new clothes, did breakfast, cleaned my apartment.

It was now 8 in the morning, on a saturday.

I didn't know what to do, so I walked, something I loved doing back then. Something compelled me to go by my lost best friends home. There I saw something weird. Just as they almost were in the car, I could still hear them talking strangely.

The even stranger part, I was there, a younger part of me. Only remember being in my friends car 1 time, don't remember where we went.

I figured I should have yelled and ran and told my younger self some wise words, but I couldn't muster to come up with that then.

Then I walked in the forest close to the house, only, that place didn't exist in reality.

I walked and walked, and came by a highway. Right, it was pretty close, but not that close to where he lived?

From Tumba to Alby is about a 2 hour walk, at 7km/h.

So by the time I got to Alby, it was 10 o clock. I didn't know what to do there, but I remember going with my mom there to a second hand store.

It was in a huge present day basement, maybe an old car garage. As I got in, I got the creeps, because 2 people were talking somewhere in there, and it sounded like Mafia Business.

Pretending like nothing, I looked for something new to wear. I found a yellow-white belt* which had "10 sek" on it. 10 swedish kronor, cheap.

As I go to the registry, one of the men who had been talking before, quickly appeared.

He said, as I gave him a 20 sek bill, "you have 10, you need 10, you get 10, and you recieve 10", and gave me a 10 sek coin back.

I have been thinking about that for a long time since, It's been 10 years ago now.

I get "ten years" to live?

But what about the others?

Had I had ten girlfriends? Maybe, I hadn't had sex with that many, but were pretty close with several.

"You need ten", right, I need 10 000 kr to survive with all my bills.

9 years ago, I had attempted suicide by torching my apartment and jumping. A string physicist, likewise complete psycho, told me later, "it's around 8 years for arson". So I get 10 years in prison?

But no, as my attourney told me: "Good beginner's try" on the attacking side. She had repeated a sentence over and over, trying to force a mad response out of me. I'm not very clever though, so only got what she was trying to do years later.

And so it happened, strangely on my sister's birthday. On the 10:th of june last year, I jumped a second time.

I have been in the psychiatric system since 2006, and have seen weird things happen. To the point, that I didn't want to return there anymore. I'd been going 2-3 days every other week then.

The worst thing about the jump, was not, not being able to move my legs anymore, I'm used to being alone and online a lot.

But... it was the sound that my head made when it hit the ground. Yes, I jumped out with my head first, hoping for certain death.

It's the same sound in the computer game Quake, that you do, when you jump from a medium height.

That sound has haunted me still. Many time when I get anxiety it's there, either the same, or slowed, or repeated really fast. The original sound has some echo to it, as if my head bounced several times quickly, as it hit the ground. Even weirder, I didn't fall straight down, but ended up in a thorny bush, by the side. An angel wanting to tell me something? "Without roses, no thorns"?

I don't know if this story is strange or scary enough for this place, but I at least tried to write something of content, from the inspiring stories. I've never talked of this before. The other things, like what happened at the hospital (where I met the musicians Idamo and Jim J River) or later in the day, are so strange that I just can't describe them.

For example, with the second suicide attempt, I had been in a coma for a week. I don't remember that though, I had gone out walking to a weird place which probably neither as well exists in reality - in the four dimensions.

So my advice is - don't try to kill yourself. Our minds are real strong, and our bodies are even stronger. On the first jump, it was more than a 10 meter fall, on the second, it was 5 meters. And I've lived to tell the tale.

Just try to make it through. Like now when I have anxiety (which is as strong as war veteran's) I think about some hours from now, I'll get my sleeping pill and have some good dreams - don't have many nightmares.

Also, try to stay fit, and eat more nutriciously. I know I've eaten so much junkfood throughout the years. Right now, with the plethora of meds they force into me, I've saved myself by eating a lot of fruit. Otherwise I sleep 12 hours, and just rest during the day, over and over, almost like coma again...

There is hope out there.

Otherwise, except for these 2 happenstances, I've lived in a real boring grey world. Women keep telling me I have "baby skin", eventhough I'm soon to be 41 years old.

I try to make my world interesting, by the way of making music, poetry and photoshops. No drinking, no drugs, no smoking - not even coffee nor tea.

Maybe see you on the other side, when that does happen. I don't know about tomorrow and I don't dwell on it. I don't think of the past neither - I'm not bitter. And I am now in social care, with nurses to help me with things, it's miles away from psychiatric "care".

But... don't try to kill yourself. It's not worth it. I don't really know what the other side is like, but go there when the time is right, not when you have lost hope. There's always a new day to look forward to. And a night of dreams. And waking refreshed.

Don't do it.

Chapter One.]

Ezreiha ran from the flames and sirens behind him, his veins rushing with adrenaline and fear. He could hear the loudness and chaos hurling closer behind him.

He flew down the dark narrow suburban streets until he reached his father's storage garage, snapped the lock open, and jumped onto his dad's motorcycle.

He drove at full throttle rushing on past houses and buildings he spent his whole childhood in and around.

He couldn't tell if it had been hours or minutes but he couldn't hear sirens anymore. He came upon a bridge with someone's shadow standing on the edge of the rail.

He knew he didn't have time for this but nothing could make him leave someone like that.

"Hey," he said softly to the person on the rail in the hope of not scaring them, but to no avail, they fell backward and he rushed up to catch them, no, her.

She had pretty ash-blonde hair and deep caramel eyes, she was wearing a black wife beater and a white fluffed sweater with flowing grey plaid pants.

"Ah! P-Put me down!" She seemed scared, Heaven knows I would be too in the arms of a stranger, Ezra thought obeying to which she immediately backed away.

"Sorry miss, I didn't want you to get hurt," He looked at her with empathy and she seemed to relax a little.

"Well, what if I wanted to get hurt?" She huffed.

"I know-" He was cut off by distant sirens... They found me "****," He vocalized, and she raised her eyebrow. "What's the temperature?" He asked her

She looked at me confused "To hell if I know, why?"

I knew that the water was pretty deep... He thought "Cause we're gonna jump, and I was hoping to survive... Hypothermia isn't nice, ya know,"

"Funny you have time for sarcasm but not enough to run," She said seeming worn out and amused by Ezra's tactics.

"Well, It's now or never baby," He said, climbing up onto the rail.

"Don't call me baby," She followed him up.

"3... 2... 1... JUMP!" He shouted, grabbing the pretty girl's hand, jumping and hurling toward the dark lake below. Police yelled behind him, but he knew they couldn't reach him.

He hit the water, sinking in quickly not knowing if he would ever reach the top and hoping he didn't doom the girl to face her own mortality so early in life, after all, she seemed to be only 17 or 18. He continued to sink down to the bottom.

Lower... and lower... and lower...


Chapter Two.

He broke the surface of the water, but immediately rushed back down to find the girl, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to the shore.

Little did he know she had found a silver ring with a blood-red diamond.

"Miss, Miss, wake up," He checked her pulse and breathing which seemed shallow but intact.

She coughed and opened her eyes, smirking at his and her survival after such a dance with death.

"Good morning sunshine," He joked to her, which was a little ironic considering the sun had just begun to rise.

"Hey," She replied "I'm Kamila, by the way," Reaching her hand out to Him.

"I'm Ezreiha, but call me Ezra," He shook her hand. "Do you have your phone? I think mine got lost in the lake,"

"Ah, yeah, good thing it's waterproof," She said to him "What do you need it for?"

"Do you know anyone you could call to pick us up who wouldn't turn me in or ask too many questions?" He asked, a little worried

"Yeah, my brother wouldn't tell a soul, questions on the other hand maybe," She said ready to dial his number.

"Okay, tell him to pick us up at the west loading dock, and follow me," He said leading her about 60 feet to the dock as she dialed the number.

"Kyler, I need you to pick me up... Yeah uh the west loading dock... thank you, sorry," She said sounding severely guilty "he'll be here in five," she said.

Kamila's brother was 2 minutes late but it didn't matter because Ezra was freezing. I should have told Kamila to ask her brother to bring a blanket he thought, but it was too late now and he thought it better not to dwell on it"

Kyler had an old beater Ford and it seemed not to be his car, likely borrowed.

"Hop in he said," to us both "And who's this?" he questioned Ezra, who introduced himself as Kyler did in return with an attitude he didn't have toward Kamila.

Kyler had much darker hair and eyes than Kamila, but you could still tell they were siblings, and he was as pretty if not more so than his sister.

"So where are we going," Kyler asked, and Kamila looked at Ezra for the answer.

"Uhh... Can you take us to Saint Mortalità's church?" He asked.

"Why the **** would you want to go there?" Kyler asked harshly.

"To sacrifice you," Ezra said with an eye roll

"Just trust him Ky, He saved my life," Kamilla said

"Well for that I will forever be grateful, but that doesn't mean I have to like him," Kyler said glancing sideways at Ezra.

"Just drive Kylie," She said

"Don't call me that!" He shouted

"Heheh 'Kylie" Ezra muttered under his breath, Kyler seemed to have heard, but just continued to drive.

When they reached the church Ezra got out and walked up to the door, before slicing his palm and pressing it to the detailed, hand-carved door.

"What the hell dude!" Kamila shouted, Ezra shushed her.

"La Mortalità è inevitable" Ezra whispered, right as he did the ground shook and Kamila reached out to grab his arm as Kyler tried to pull her back. all three of them sunk down and fell through what felt like Alice's rabbit hole.

They were sinking again... down... down... down


Chapter Three.

"What the ****!" Kyler shouted as he landed coming up through the ground with Kamila by his side, the dirt rippling darkly around him like water.

Everything seemed gloomy and darker, almost pitch black in the night, but they were still outside the church.

"****, you weren't supposed to come with, but you touched me and it drug you along" Ezra explained, "This place is kinda like the underworld, it's Dio Mortalità's palace"

"Who, what, how!" Kyler seemed shaken up.

"Don't panic babe" Ezra said

"Don't call me babe" He replied angrily. "What kind of prank is this?"

"I'm sorry but it isn't, and like I said, I didn't mean to take you with me but it seems I did maybe a freak accident, maybe fait," Ezra said seemingly in deep thought.

"**** fait, get me out of here!" Kyler shouted angrily at Ezra, Kamila stayed silent looking off into the distance with fear.

"I can't... Kamila, what do you see?" He asked worried and intrigued.

"People, smiling, they look so sad but I don't think they can stop..." She said sorrowfully.

"Le pedine del diavolo" He whispered

"Can you quit it with the Italian dude?" Kyler said in annoyance

"Sorry, It basically means 'The Devil's Pawns' or 'Pawns of the Devil" Ezra explained. "They are stuck smiling because of invisible rope-like vines, cut them and it might free them... or kill them"

"So is it better to save them or not?" Kamila asked.

"Well, you can try... But if they die you must live with that..." Ezra said stepping closer to one of the trapped souls, pulling out a silver sword with a similar diamond to the blood-red one but this also had black ones "Mi dispiace" He said and cut the plant... but as the person's smile fell, so did his eyes and limp seeming body, "Mi dispiace, Dear soul, may you have a happy death" Ezra kneeled down to the limp man and said a prayer in Italian.

"Will he be okay?" Kamilla asked worried.

"To hell with him, get us home!" Kyler yelled.

"I can't! I can only come so many times, I can't go back yet, I'm sorry, I have to kill him first, I have to avenge them" He seemed almost manic.

"What, kill who, avenge who, why?" Kyler seemed confused and exasperated.

"My parents Dio Mortalità, he... killed them..." He said solemnly " No time for grief I have a son of Hades to kill," Ezra said.

"Excuse me? Son of Hades?" Kyler said and Kamila seemed intrigued

"Yes, He had a child with an angel, the sister of Lucifer, It angered him that Hades screwed his sister, so he attacked them but lost, when humans, were created, Hades fell in love with Eve and Lucifer could see this so he fed her a poison apple right after she had given birth to her last child, at this time his sister Lucia had also given birth, so he convinced her to give the child to Adam and say it died in labor. Eve's last son was named Abel, and Adam named his adoptive brother Cain, they were very close until Cain killed Abel, and Hades found out he was his son, he gave him this palace and practically abandoned him." He finished

"Thats ****ed up," Kamilla said

"Yeah, it was," Ezra said

"Why did he kill your parents?" Kyler asked in a cocky manner

"Hades had another son, with a mortal woman named Ezralia, she was killed by his current spouse at the time and the child was adopted by two quaint lesser gods who preferred to live on Earth as humans, But when Cain, or Dio Mortalità wanted the child power for his own, the gods tried to protect the child and ran. Last night he succeeded in killing my parents with the goal of taking my power, but I ran. He set my house ablaze and the mortal police think I killed my own parents."

Ezra walked up to the gaits

"I'm so sorry Ezra," Kamila said

"Yeah, he probably just made that up to amuse us into staying" Kyler responded to his sister, to which she hit him.

He walked as if he were going to open the door but then said another sentence in Italian, Then a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties appeared, "Ah, hello young one, how can I help you" The man said.

"Tell me how to kill Dio Mortalità," Ezra said, Point-blank. "Tell me and do not fear my failure, I will give my life for this,"

"Sweet child, though I am known as very wise, I do not know all, you must find Il libro delle risposte" He said.

"The book of answers," Ezra said, "Where?"

"Posidine has a lake in this realm, It's kept at the greatest depth, and he will not let a son of Hades pass so simply"

"Thank you, Polus, goodbye," Ezra said passing the man a few drachmas before he disappeared "Off to uncle's house we go..." He said.


Chapter Four

"Yeah, no thanks," Said Kyler. "I'm not going anywhere but home"

"Fine stay here... As a mortal... Alone... With no weapons" Ezra taunted

"Okay! I'll come! Geez!" He said still reluctant

"Good boy," Ezra said, Making Kyler Scowl

"Don't even start with me," He said

"Okay, fine, am I driving, or are you?" Ezra asked.

"Obviously me, It's my aunt's truck, I'm not letting you wreck it" He spat

"Fine, whatever you say babe"

 

"Jane?"

 

"Yes, May?"

 

"How many more Galactic Thinker stories do you think our author will write?"

 

"Until he has explored and developed answers to every unexpectedly stupid question out there, or until everyone sees the sense in the philosophy."

 

"That sounds like an endless task..."

 

"It is a task that is probably beyond his lifetime."

 

"So he isn't writing for fortune, fame, or love?"

 

"No. He learned a few lessons from a poem that he set to song, called The Slave of Ambition. Would you like to hear it?"

 

"Sure. Can I see the lyrics, too? What is it about?"

 

"It is about the pursuit of fortune, fame, and love in a clueless world, where a man asked the Devil to help him. The story is tragic throughout, and it doesn't end well, though it offers lessons to learn. Our author wrote and recorded the song in 1988. Do you still want to hear it?"

 

"Did he write it in the style of the 1980's?"

 

"No, it is more timeless than that. Do you still want to hear it?"

 

"Sure..."

 

"OK. Here is the link to the music, along with the lyrics..."

 

The Slave of Ambition

He was the slave of ambition, and he vowed to the Gods above
To sell his soul to perdition for fortune, fame, and love.

"Three wishes!" he cried, and the Devil replied:
"Fortune is a fickle one, often sought but seldom won,
Ever changing like the sun, still I think it can be done.

You have a friend, a rich one too,
Kill him, his wealth is willed to you!"
Ambition fled, he paused a while,
But daunted by the Devil's smile,
He killed his friend to gain his aim,
Then bowed his head in grief and shame.

But the Devil cried, "It's all in the game,
You wanted fortune, love, and fame, and so I came!
Three wishes through your life shall run,
Behold! I've given you number one!"

And the Gods on high
With a watchful eye
looked down on the ways of man,
With their hopes and fears
Through the weary years
Since the days of the world began;
And the man, he prayed,
For the soul betrayed,
Had breathed a parting call,
"Though the mills of the Gods grind slowly,
Yet they grind exceedingly small!"

Urged by the spur of ambition, with the Devil still as his guide,
He now sought social position, for wealth had brought him pride.

"Bring fame!" cried the man, so the Devil began:
"Fame is but an accident, often sought but seldom sent,
Still I think we're on the scent.
You know a genius gone insane,
Go steal the product of his brain!"

The man obeyed, then cried, "Begone!
From crime to crime you lead me on,
To kill a friend whose smile was glad,
To rob a genius driven mad,
Through want, oh God, am I that bad?"

But the Devil cried, "What luck you've had, you're famous, lad!
Three wishes run you're whole life through,
Behold! I've given you number two!"

And the Gods looked down with an angry frown,
'Till Satan fled their scorn;
For the Devil may play with the common clay,
But genius is heaven born.
And the man grew bold with his fame and gold,
And cried, "Well, after all,
The mills of the Gods grind slowly, if they ever grind at all!"

Men, good or bad, are but human, and he like the rest wanted love;
So the Devil soon brought him the woman as fair as an angel above.

"I love you!" he cried, but the woman replied,
"Love is such an empty word, fancy fleeting like a bird,
You have wealth and fame, I've heard,
Those are things to be preferred!"
He gave her both, the wealth she spent,
And then she betrayed him, so fame went.
But love came not in his despair,
She only smiled and left him there,
And he called her the woman who didn't care;
But the Devil cried,"You've had your share, the game ends there.
Two of your wishes came through me,
But mighty God holds number three!"

And the Gods grew stern as the mills they turned
That grind before they kill;
'Till, staggering blind with a wandering mind,
And the glare of an imbecile,
From day to day he leads his way, and whines his piteous call,
"The mills of the Gods grind slowly,
Yet they grind exceedingly small!"

From "The Mills of the Gods" by Unknown

 

"by Unknown?"

 

"Yes, and I think the poem represents the accumulative wisdom of humans over the course of few thousand years, since the first known use of 'the mills of the gods grind slowly, yet they grind small' was around one thousand eight hundred years ago in the third century by a Greek poet, when it was probably already common wisdom."

 

"What about the poem?"

 

"I would say that it has been gradually tweaked over all those centuries."

 

"So the Devil has him killing a rich person to gain wealth, stealing the product of genius gone insane to gain fame, and asking the Devil to bring him love... all of which backfired..."

 

"Yes. Nice lessons, eh?"

 

"Do you have any new thoughts?"

 

"Sure. Daoism vaguely knew that humans needed a greater common path. What was offered was not the right path, however, since it would have us live our lives no better than mindless bugs, which leaves us still at the mercy of a harsh and deadly universe, which they knew nothing about back then..."

 

"Which they knew nothing about back then..."

 

"Correct. Also, when you hear things like 'Eight-fold This' and 'The Four Noble That', that is academia organizing things."

 

"Any other thoughts?"

 

"Our philosophy satisfies Aristotle's definition of 'good', which. according to him, is something that conforms to reason and contributes to human flourishing."

 

"Our philosophy goes beyond that..."

 

"Go ahead, explain..."

 

"Rather than merely flourishing, where you are still ultimately clueless and suicidal with respect to surviving in this harsh and deadly universe, our 'good' consists of that which contributes to Broader Survival in this harsh and deadly universe. Any other thoughts?"

 

"Sure. If our philosophy is correct, then many delightful things will unexpectedly arise from it."

 

"What about religions?"

 

"Religions have no role in surviving against a harsh and deadly universe, since they contribute nothing toward our increasing understanding of it. In fact, most of them prohibit new understanding in favor of their own primitive make-believe notions or modern fashionable fantasies or weak speculations that were based on a feeble knowledge base. Therefore you would be imprudent to rely on religions when it comes to survival against a harsh and deadly universe."

 

"What about Plato's perfect forms and that everything in the world is imperfections of them?"

 

"Realizing that they are really basic definitions, you will then realize that everything is a variation of the basic definition, and not an imperfection of a perfect form."

 

"What about Anselm's argument for the proof that God exists?"

 

"You mean his argument where you have an idea of the greatest being, and, if that being exists, it would be greater than your mere idea, meaning your idea is not the greatest thing, since, if the being existed, IT would be the greatest thing, hence that being must exist since the being existing is greater than your mere notion of the greatest being. Do you follow?"

 

"Yes. If I have a notion of a greatest being, it is not the greatest thing if the greatest being actually existed, which would really be great. It is a clever argument..."

 

"But false."

 

"How so?"

 

"There is no guarantee that such a being exists, so your notion would still be the greatest thing if the being did not exist. Second, if such a being did exist, it would remain to be determined if that being were not a scoundrel just posing as the greatest being."

 

"Who would you dedicate your next book to?"

 

"To all those who have improved the quality of our lives, and who protected freedom and individual independence, which made my innovative thinking possible."

 

"Would our philosophy fix Russia?"

 

"Yes, from above. Far, far above, since our philosophy is an overarching philosophy, even over government systems, politics, and international relations, all of which our philosophy guides and affects."

 

Any other thoughts before we continue?"

 

"Sure. Cluelessness can be depicted by awareness bubbles."

 

"Awareness bubbles?"

 

"Yes. The most clueless person has an awareness bubble that only extends outward only as far as himself."

 

"Or herself?"

 

"Don't make me waste breath."

 

"You should speak gender-free."

 

"OK. The most clueless people have bubbles of awareness that barely extend beyond themselves. Larger clueless bubbles of awareness extend out to their local social environment or region. Larger clueless bubbles of awareness extend out to one's nation, then one's world, then one's solar system, then one's galaxy."

 

"What about the universe?"

 

"Now you are enlightened as far as Broader Survival is concerned."

 

"But what about local/immediate concerns?"

 

"Take care of them, but do not lose sight of the larger picture, that of continued existence against the harsh and deadly universe that, incredibly, many people and cultures haven't even awakened to yet."

 

"Rendering them clueless..."

 

"Yes."

 

"Any other thoughts?"

 

"Our author just had an experience waking from a dream that few, if any, have ever experienced."

 

"Do tell..."

 

"In the dream, he was at an outdoor festival that was being set up by college students, rows of folding chairs and the like, and his daughter and her wife were among them. Well, one student was reciting a poem, just for practice, when another student went to a grand piano that was set up and began to play background music to the poem. Well, our author noted how beautiful the girl was playing, and with one hand, no less. Our author wished that he could play that beautifully, but he despaired, knowing that it would take far too much training. Well, just then he woke up, and he discovered that he had fallen asleep with his own piano improvisations playing."

 

"So the 'beautiful, unattainable piano playing' by the girl in the dream was really his own music?"

 

"Yes! Can you imagine that?"

 

"No. Can I hear the piece that was playing?"

 

"Yes, but note that the passages that were playing were well into the piece, around six minutes in... here it is..."

 

2021 Piano - B-W Stuff

 

"Pedestrian name for a beautiful piece... any more thoughts?"

 

"I had one more, but it eludes me at the moment... I'll create a word instead. Ready?"

 

"Ready..."

 

"Most people live in a biassphere."

 

"Bias?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Clever, and at least partial truth."

 

"Ah yes! My other thought was on partial truths."

 

"Go ahead, get it off of your chest..."

 

"Well, we know, due to our original thinking, that all objects are composed of an infinite number of partial truths, and the best that you can do when describing an object is to present a set of partial truths, and that is what most people argue over, their different sets of partial truths..."

 

"But you can also be wrong..."

 

"Yes, that is the worst that you can do. Well, I just realized that partial truths have attributes, and not all partial truths have the same importance or weight..."

 

"So you are refining your notion of partial truths..."

 

"Yes. Now one attribute is how common the partial truth is, i.e. how many other people see that partial truth. Another attribute is how important that partial truth is. Is it trivial or critical? Another attribute is how useful it is to your current endeavor. Most partial truths will be useless to your current endeavor."

 

"So you have to select which partial truths are most useful and applicable..."

 

"Yes."

 

"Can you ever describe the entire object?"

 

"No. There are too many partial truths, which includes those from your unique perspective, which is another attribute. Needless to say, your unique perspectives will be those that no one else has, since your perspective are unique to you."

 

"But the perspectives of others are also partial truths..."

 

"Yes."

 

"Interesting body of thought. It may need more exploration... so what is our story today?"

 

"Cowgirls being idle in the wild. They are resting before they venture out and explore the planet, which will be our next story, which will be based on a set of images that our author had forgotten about."

 

"I'm looking forward to it... so let's get into our idle wild cowgirls in the wild..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"No comments on the images?"

 

"Not this time. We will let the images speak for themselves..."

 

"They do not have the most attractive faces, do they?"

 

"No, and the test is, can you love them regardless?"

 

"Or are they lovable regardless, and why..."

 

"Do you think that our philosophy would play a part there?"

 

"It would be at the core."

 

 

We seen a big flatbed load of hay headed towards Highland County…giant round bails.  We thought, they feed this to beef then they eat the beef so as it passed by, we quantum interacted with it by saying HEY! in a very queer way so they’ll be sure to eat us via the animal the they will slaughter after it eats the hay.  They got caught with a flat, hmpf, well how ‘bout that?  You don't want no beef?  🃏

When they repeatedly arrested us in Soylent Greenfield on bogus charges cooked up by this Mullet gang, Jeep Duckers, Mormons, Zuckerberg, Cannibal cult and others…all trying to blame us, we drove down Lovers Lane at the edge of town one day and noticed the farmer left out a bale of hay or straw.  That’s the only bail they were willing to go for us.  Straws?  No straws, says Henry.  Eye should’ve told you to buy straws, says Henrietta.

Here at this rest stop is a brick monument of some kind near the shithouse.  It’s not a perfect arch and has variation in the curve so we assume this was attempting to suggest something based on the shape.  In the middle of this art is a representation of a house with people of different colors, two grown ups and a little one all lovingly holding each other as if a happy family inside a house.  Someone threw a clump of straw or hay down next to the car the other day.  At first we thought they were calling us an animal but then thought it appropriate considering the Christians have to eat us like they did their baby Jebus since a judge recommended “you can eat Jesus and get an exorcism” as a remedy for us after they refused us due process. 

We later put some puzzle pieces together in this park and thought of the three little pigs story as well as the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz (we say ‘ounce’).  There are some newly planted trees with sticks angled and tied to them as supports with green, plastic bags suspended from them that we assume to be filled with fertilizer of some variant…and this brick art work with names of people or organizations on the bricks, this entire brick sculpture looks to be a representation of a house built on top of a pile of shit…we think that’s what the artist was going for.  That’s a Joker!  Fucking love it.  🃏

So, we thought about the three little pigs.  I built my house of straw.  I built my house of sticks…and the last little pig, encouraged by the form of this brick artwork, I built my house of bricks (on top a pile of shit).

Spot came out of hiding, our cat who’s been outside for days now.  The birds ate all of their food.  We gave them a can of food but they lick the gravy off and run back into the woods.  The blue Jays seem to be upset that there is no more food or happy that we stood up for a victim as best as we could.  We seen a crash in the parking lot at Kroger.  Story is ‘Athens Police’.  This bird came along after we posted that and cried out, Neowt! Neowt!  Sherbet! Sherbet!  Knee out x2?  Sherbet x2?  Two scoops of rainbow. 

We sang a song, Lulu’s back in town and then seen a colourful restaurant called Lulu’s on the edge of the city.  We’re sure we can’t afford to eat there and they probably don’t have anything vegan anyway but that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be packed all of the time if their food is good…so everyone who is mean to us, by our quantum association with you, you are hereby ordered, dragged into this place by the collars around your necks to go there and eat.  We don’t care if you miss a car payment.  Go there and eat and also leave a big tip.  Eat some rice and gain some weight.

We also have some cute dresses made by the Lulu label.

There's a semi sitting behind us with the five pointed star and red, white and blue ribbon on the wind deflector over the cab like the usa trucks have.  It streamlines the vehicle to cut down on wind resistance and make the vehicle more fuel efficient.  We seen the symbol and thought well, they're behind us as in backing us so we cried to think we once believed in them but that's difficult to do after what these yokels have done to us and with no support from anyone except they who want to lure us in and capture us.  'Behind us' has multiple connotations.  In support or backing is one.  A thing of the past is another and yet we've seen that the past and future is an illusion same as privacy.  There is only now so the interpretation of being in the past is an illusion even though we're triggered by a cop in Washington telling us "don't dwell in the past" after we complained to them that a person made the gesture of going for their firearm in the waistband of their pants while we were shopping in an antique store and this with their little child in between us, in the firing line. We explained that they should maybe talk to them and suggest that they not be brandishing in a store like that, especially as our firearms had been taken away with lies.  The cop refused to take a report and said "don't dwell in the past" like some kind of goddamed Christian who thinks oh, let it go: paper god will fix everything.  It's in the past, don't worry about it.  We're sexually assaulted/attacked.  Oh, it's in the past, don't worry about it.  Fuck you, die motherfucking pig and when someone puts a hole in your skull, the doctors don't have to worry about trying to save you as they can JUST simply say "it's in the past, don't worry about it".  We weren't satisfied with that response so I formed the children services agency before we removed from the state.  You can't say we didn't do everything we could do despite being dissuaded by so-called 'authority'.  Pigs.

Someone stopped and knocked on our window of the car while we were laying down.  We jumped up scared.  They said they ordered a pizza and could not eat it all and offered us it and 'pop'.  We politely declined but told them briefly (while wearing pan-teas) of our situation, told them we are vegan as an excuse to not accept though we are vegan...we didn't want to tell them about how we were scared to accept food from anyone after the Mormons and others poisoned us but  we eventually had to.  We thanked them for listening to us and for the offer but we simply could not eat as we have trust issues as our government has failed us simply because we're poor.  They'd rather write us off as a casualty of a war between fucking churches and corporations, all with systems of beliefs rather than any attempting to quantify what is real, reality.  They left and we heard the cat meow next to the car so we got out and gave them some treats.  We petted them but they would not come with us.  We watched them walk out toward the road after thinking about Mr. Mullet saying "why don't you walk out into traffic and kill yourself".  We know they're influencing the cat to do these things through the food we feed it, the entities who dwell in the blood.  We cried and watched them sit at the edge of the busy interstate and hoped they'd get away from the road.  We thought we'd get a gun and go to the nearest Mormon Church and slaughter the without care if the cat got hit and we seen it.  Spot sit there for a while as we cried and then turned and climbed back up the hill into the forrest.  We don't give a fuck, Morty.  We are done being pushed around, manipulated and controlled by a bunch of goddamed zombies.  Lying, racist, murdering, cannibals.  We are allowed to think and write about whatever we like.  Fuck you, Hope Tolle, Adena troll who told the cops we were making threats when all we said was we have the right to defend ourself, stand our ground if necessary.  Promising to exercise a supposed right to defend us not a threat yet they who're involved in the cover up of the murder and cannibalism of Tamika twisted and used this as an opportunity to disarm and get rid of us, attempt to have us committed to continue the cover up of what they do.  Now we're disarmed and we're fucking livid and we can say whatever the goddamed fuck we like and there isn't a goddamed thing you can do about it.  We can say we can go get another gun if we want to.  Soon we'll be perfectly within our supposed rights to do that as we've been two years without one and this fucking protection order is due to expire soon.  What we do with it if we get one, we can speculate, we can dream, we can imagine, we can postulate, we can surmise, we can remember all of the shit others put us through with lies and they can fucking goddamed well sweat it out or pay us what we've already suggested so we can remove from your goddamed worthless cunt-tree.  There has to be some accountability or you might as well push the goddamed button and get it over with.  We're tortured and scared with things we should not be and all because a of lies on paper.  We tried it their way and went without firearms.  We couldn't get employment or housing.  Others laughed at us and our condition caused by these injustices yet we endured it.  Still, we have no prospects in this binary, polarized political shit hole of lies and finger pointing.  We watch others drive around in fancy cars with nice jobs and homes that they don't care anything about their lies that keep them warm and safe while they get rid of us.

On the cat news front, Spit came up to the car and meowed again so we got out to give them treats.  They laid down on the ground and let us pet them and we remember that someone told us this was an act of submission in cat behavior so we picked them up and put them back in the car.  We feel somewhat better as one problem is solved but we don't know how much longer we can go on.

Motherfuckers better start talking because we're not going to be your goddamed three year old sacrifice to a paper god any longer.  You think because we're poor we can't fuck some shit up?  Whatever happens, it's all on your goddamed lying racist, murdering cannibal heads...now go pray to jebus for forgiveness and eat.  We need to buy more cat litter but the stores are closed.  Spot is purring loudly and seems to be happy to be inside even if it's only a car.

We think it's hilarious that others are intimidated and threatened by the idea that we might actually have the same rights as they do since if we have none then neither do they.  If all they have is wealth they stole from us by refusing us equal opportunity and even going as far as to tell lies about us to further attempt to subjugated and control us, then they not only prove that they are undeserving of their alleged liberty but also the rights they claim for themselves while denying them of us...and that's the big goddamed joke.  If our saying we can soon 'legally' buy a firearm is a threat to anyone, if that makes some nervous, then you'd probably better go pay your taxes which includes compensating us for the damage you've done to us with lies.  All who are scared of us having equal rights should be scared all the way to death.

Chapter Five

I spend the next several days assisting Morgan Tudd with Gliglois. His fever finally breaks the third day, but we keep him in bed and a close watch over him for another ten days, just to be certain he is better. I bring him meals four times per day, and pitchers of watered wine. I help him to eat and drink and keep him company throughout the days. Sir Kai has a small table brought in for me so that I might continue working my sums while Gliglois rests.

Gliglois is restless and wants out of bed, but Morgan Tudd has given strict orders. So part of my job is to keep him in bed. This is not an easy tasks, but I manage. Gliglois is curious about me and asks about my work and how I met Sir Kai. He is bored trapped in his chambers with no one but myself to keep him company. One the fourth day after the fever has broken, Morgan permits me to call for a half cask to be brought in so Gliglois might bathe and refresh himself.

I help him to sit up and undress and I am impressed by strength in him. Gliglois leans upon me as I help him to the improvised tub and sits with his knees drawn up to his chin as I pour the water over his head and help him to wash. I am nervous now, being alone with Gliglois while he bathes. I do my best to avert my eyes when he is naked and keep my hands in safe places. It is hard for me, for Gliglois is a very handsome boy and quite unabashed about being nude.

“Why do you look away?” he asks and laughs when my cheeks fill with color. “Have you never seen a naked man before?”

“Other than myself, no,” I confess, feeling my face burn hot with shame and other things I dare not admit to.

Gliglois stands now, the water dripping from him, his dark hair clinging to his face and neck. I stare at his broad shoulders and do not dare to let my eyes look elsewhere. I must be as red as a beet by now, and Gliglois stops laughing. Slowly he sits again and looks up at me.

“Sit, and talk with me,” Gliglois says. “There is more to you than meets the eye.”

I sit and fold my hands in my lap, my eyes focused on the floor now. I am quite embarrassed and I fear he has somehow discovered my secret, that I am attracted to other men rather than to women. What will he tell the others? Will I lose my place, or worse? Can I be punished for something I feel but have not acted upon? I sigh and slowly lift my gaze to his.

Gliglois gives me a slight smile and reaches a hand out to cover mine. “It's okay,” he tells me. “I think I understand.”

“Do you?” I ask, almost angry with him now for being a tease.

“I won't tell anyone,” he pats my hands now. “I swear it.” He gives me a full smile now.

“I-it doesn't bother you that I'm...well...” I begin.

“No. It doesn't bother me in the least,” His eyes soften a bit. “I'm flattered, actually. It means you like me, aye?”

I blush again as I nod. “Aye, in a way.” I sigh and lower my eyes once more.

I hear Gliglois move in the water and realize he has gotten out once more. He kneels down before me and meets my eyes again. He suddenly moves forward and I feel his lips press to mine in a clumsy kiss. I blink, but I do not pull away. As he draws back, Gliglois smiles to me once more and gives me a wink.

“I like you, too.” He confesses. “We have to be careful, though. Tis frowned upon in Camelot. The Queen says tis unnatural.”

“Oh. Well then,” I smile slowly and nod, “we shall be most careful.” I lean in toward him and we kiss once more.

We spend the next five days learning more about each other. I tell him about my family, how I am the youngest of nine children, only five of us still living. That my older brother is a priest who taught me to read and write, and an older sister is married and has three children of her own, one of whom is older than I am. I tell him how my father sent me away to Camelot to make my fortune and send coin back to help support him and my mother. And lastly, I tell him how I was nearly robbed, met his master, and came to work for the king.

We lounge about the chamber for much of the day, trading tales and gossip, telling jokes, and lying side by side as we share our dreams of the future. We do no more than kiss on occasion, not risking anything further lest we be caught and both of us punished. We are young yet and there is time in the future for such things. Sometimes, when her work is finished, Avalon joins us in the chamber. We leave the door open during these visits so that no one need be concerned for her safety or reputation.

During this time, the three of us become fast friends, Avalon unable to decide which of us she likes better, then declaring both of us her brothers in spirit. We like Avalon, for she is sweet, pretty, and innocent. We look upon her as our little sister and become fiercely protective of her whenever she shares with us some grief or sorrow. And when Morgan Tudd declares Gliglois fully well again, we all go walking in the garden together.

We are all still young enough to not fall under any suspicions and malicious gossip. But when we walk in the garden, I can feel unseen eyes upon us and Avalon fidgets. I suspect her tormentor watches us with angry eyes, knowing the presence of Gliglois and myself keep her safe from his unwanted attentions. I convince Avalon to tell Gliglois that one of the knights has been attempting to sway her into his bed. She still will not name him, but assures both of us it is neither Sir Gawaine nor Sir Kai.

We spend the full winter and part of the spring almost inseparable, other than when Gliglois' duties take him from Camelot, riding and tending to his master. Avalon and I even watch on as he trains in the courtyard with the other squires and we cheer him on whenever he strikes a blow. We boo and hiss at his opponents with much merriment and the other squires find us amusing rather than annoying.

As the weather warms, Sir Kai finds more work for me, and Avalon is kept busy by the Queen. Sir Gawaine and a few other knights head out of the castle to tour the realms and make certain things remain peaceful. I miss Gliglois while they are away, but taking in and logging the various new inventories keeps me very busy for several weeks. I do not see much of Avalon during this time and can only hope she has managed to avoid the knight who troubled her over the winter.

“Put fourteen new lambs on the list,” Sir Kai tells me, as I follow him about with wax tablets to tally the births of new livestock.

I make note of the lambs, then add the chickens, calves, and even the geese that have been born in the past two weeks. There are no new goats or pigs just yet, but I expect to be adding them to the lists over the next few days. I hear rumors about the castle that the Queen is pregnant. From what the whispers say, it is her fifth pregnancy, but she has yet to deliver a live child. I think this is why Morgan Tudd despises her, as well as some of the others about the castle. I wisely keep my mouth shut and my options on the matter to myself.

I see little of the King during this time, as he rides out with the other knights to survey his kingdom and make certain things are kept in order. Other rumors float about as well, rumors of Saxon invaders. Sadly these rumors are more likely to prove true. The Saxons, now that they have discovered we are here, seem bound and determined to take over the land and eliminate the native Celts and remaining Romans. We all hate the Saxons. They are a violent and blood-thirsty people.

I can only pray we don't go to war any time soon. If we do, I will likely be sent out onto the battle fields along with my dear Gliglois, him to fight and me to run messages. Scribes are very valuable assets during wartime, and the Saxons look for scribes and message runner to kill. I have never seen battle before, but from all I have heard, I really don't want to. And if we are gone, there will be no one to keep Avalon safe from predators of the two legged variety other than the Queen herself.

I follow Sir Kai into the stables now, when we begin tracking the horses, their gear, and the amount of hay remaining. A young stable boy follows us about, assisting as best as he can. Raynold is about ten years old, but very knowledgeable regarding the horses in his care. He is small for his age, otherwise I presume he would be training as a squire like Gliglois.

I tally the new colts and fillies, mark down how much hay and straw we have remaining in the stores, and how many bridles, saddles, and other such items are in stock and which need repaired or replacing. Kai speaks so fast at times, I can barely keep up with him. The day is nearly over when we finish and I return to my chambers exhausted. My thighs burn from all the walking, but I remind myself that I don't have a limp like Sir Kai, and he never complains about any pain he surely must feel. The only one I have ever seen dare to even mention his limp is Sir Gawaine, and it was out of concern for his friend, rather than cruelty.

I room with Gliglois now, and with him away, I have the room to myself. I throw myself onto the narrow bed I sleep in and stretch before closing my eyes. I am not going to sleep, I tell myself, just resting my eyes before going down to supper. It has been a very long day. Tonight, however, I will see Avalon and we will walk together after our meal. We shall sit in a corner sharing a large plate and then slip away when the musicians begin to play.

Supper is a grand affair at the castle, even when the king is away. Queen Guinevere always feeds us well and insists that all the guests and servant, except the kitchen staff, dine together in the main hall an hour after sunset. There are harpists and flute players, drummers, and singers...music and laughter fill the hall as we dine. Tonight, there is a special guest it seems. A bard has come to the castle earlier today and has promised to entertain us all with songs and tales. Avalon begs me to remain with her in the hall so we can hear what stories may be shared.

“It has been so long since we have had a bard visit the castle,” she tells me, sighing happily as she leans against my shoulder.

I can smell the lavender in her hair and I smile, draping an arm around her shoulders. It is cool in the hall, in spite of the great roaring fire, the candles, and all the people. Stone and wood do not hold in the heat very well when the night is so cold. We sit in our corner and fasten our eyes to the bard. He is tall and willowy, dressed in a simple white robe and sitting comfortably on a stool in the middle of the hall. A large harp rests between his knees and his fingers pluck delicate notes to signal all of us to be silent.

The room falls silent instantly and all eyes are upon he bard. He clears his throat and smiles. “Tonight, I shall tell the tale of Sir Lancelot, and how he came to Camelot to become a Knight of the Round Table:

“It chanced upon the day before Saint John's day in the fullness of a summer-time such as this that King Arthur saw from his chambers early in the morning and beheld how exceedingly fair and lush the outside world had become in the freshness of the dawn’s light. For the sun had not yet risen, and the sky was pure gold. All the grasses, leaves, and flowers were drenched with sweet and fragrant dew, and the birds were singing so fervently that the heart of any man would be moved by the fullness of life that lay all around about him.

There were two knights with King Arthur at that time, one was Sir Ewain, the son of Morgana, and the other was Sir Ector de Maris, the son of King Ban of Benwick and of Queen Helen. The two of them stood by King Arthur and gazed out the window with him. After a while, King Arthur spoke, saying: "Sirs, this is too fair a day to stay within doors. It’s a shame that I the king am a prisoner within my own castle, whilst any ploughman may be free to wander the world and the green woods, to enjoy the bright sun and the blue sky and the wind that blows over hill and dale. Now, I too would prefer to enjoy this day out of doors; therefore I ordain that we shall go hunting this day and that we shall start before any others of the lords and the ladies that dwell within awaken. Let us take our horses and hounds, certain foresters and huntsmen, and let’s go hunting in the green forest. I declare that this day shall be holiday for us and we shall leave care behind, and for a while we shall disport ourselves in pleasant places."

So they all did as King Arthur bid them; they made them themselves ready, and they instructed the huntsmen and the foresters to attend the King. Then they rode from the castle and out into the world that lay beyond. All that day they hunted in the forest, and they did not turn their faces toward home again until the sun had sunk behind the tops of the tall trees. Then King Arthur gave command that they should start back toward Camelot once more.

Now, being the Eve of Saint John, faeries and those folk who are fey come forth, as is very well known, into the world. So when King Arthur and those two knights and their several foresters and huntsmen came to a certain outlying part of the forest, they were suddenly aware of a damsel and a dwarf waiting, and they perceived, from her very remarkable appearance, that the damsel was very likely fey. Both she and her dwarf sat each upon a milk-white horse, very still, close to where was a shrine by a hedge of hawthorn; and the damsel was so beautifully fair of face that it was a marvel to behold her. Moreover, she was clad all in white samite from top to toe and her garments were embroidered with silver. All the trappings of her horse were of white samite studded with bright silver bosses. Because of this silver, she glistered with a sudden luster whenever she moved even just a little. When King Arthur and the two knights drew near, marveling at her appearance, she hailed him in a voice that was both high and clear, crying: "Welcome, King Arthur! Welcome, King Arthur! Welcome, King Arthur!" saying three words three times; and then, "Welcome, Sir Ewain! Welcome, Sir Ector de Maris!" addressing each of those lords by his name.

"Damsel," said King Arthur, "I find it strange that you should know who we are and that we should not know you. Will you not tell us your name and where you come and where you go? For surely, I believe you are Fey."

"My Lord," said the damsel, "it does not matter who I am, save that I am of the court of a wonderful lady who is your very good friend. She has sent me here to meet you and to beg you to come with me, where I shall lead you to her."

"Damsel," said King Arthur, "I shall be honored to go with you as you desire me to do. So, if you will lead me to your lady, I and my knights will gladly follow you to pay court unto her."

The damsel waved her hand, and she led the way, accompanied by the dwarf, and King Arthur and the two knights followed her, and all their party of foresters, huntsmen, and hounds followed them.

By this time the sun had set and the moon had risen full and round, as white as snow, making a great light above them. Everything was now embalmed in the twilight, and all the world was shrouded in the mystery of Midsummer’s Eve. Even though the sun had gone, the light was wonderfully bright, so that all that the eye could see stood sharp and clear.

So the damsel and the dwarf led the way for some distance, although not for so far, until they came to an open meadow in the forest. And here the King and his knights saw a great bustle of people, some working on setting up several pavilions of white samite, and others preparing a table for a feast, and yet others upon this business and others upon that; and there were various mules, pack-horses, and palfreys all about, as belonging to a party of considerable size.

King Arthur saw that there were three people sitting under a crab-apple tree upon a couch. The first party of the three was a knight of noble appearance, clad all in armor as white as silver; his jupon was white embroidered with silver, and the scabbard of the sword and the sword-belt were white, and his shield hung in the crab-tree above him. That, too, was all white as of silver. This knight still wore his helmet, so that his face was not to be seen.

The second party of the three was a lady clad all in white raiment. Her face was covered by her wimple so that her face also was not to be seen very clearly, but her garments were of wonderful sort, being of white sarcenet embroidered over with silver in the pattern of lily flowers. She also wore around her breast and throat a chain of shining silver studded with bright and sparkling gems.

The third party of the three was a youth of eighteen years, so beautiful of face that it seemed to King Arthur that he had never beheld so noble a being. His appearance was white and shining, and his hair was as soft as silk and as black as it was possible to be, and curled down upon his shoulders. His eyes were large and bright and extraordinarily black, and his eyebrows arched smoothly and his lips, though not very full, were as red as coral. His upper lip was shaded with a soft down of black. Moreover, this youth was clad altogether in white cloth of satin with no ornaments whatsoever, saving only a fine chain of shining silver set with opals and emeralds that hung about his neck.

When King Arthur approached closer, he perceived by certain signs that the lady was the chiefest of those three, therefore he paid his courtesy to her especially, saying to her, "Lady, it seems that I have been brought to you and that you were aware of my name and estate when you sent for me. Now I should be pleased if you would enlighten me as to who you are and why I am here."

"Sire," she said, "that I shall be glad to do; for if I have known you afore time, you have also seen me afore time and have known me as your friend." The lady lowered the wimple from her face and King Arthur realized that she was the Lady of the Lake.

He knelt down upon one knee and took her hand and pressed it to his lips. "Lady," said he, "I do indeed know you very well, for you have been a friend to me and mine on many occasions." Then King Arthur turned to that knight who was with that Lady of the Lake, and he said unto him: "M’Lord, if I am not mistaken, I should know you as well. If you will lift the umbril of your helmet, we shall all know your face and name."

The knight lifted his umbril as King Arthur had asked and the three beheld that it was Sir Pellias, the Gentle Knight. When Sir Ewain beheld that the knight was Sir Pellias he emitted a great cry of joy, ran to him, and caught him in his arms. They embraced as one-time brothers-in-arms should embrace. Then Sir Pellias came to King Arthur and knelt down before him, as is the duty of every knight unto his lord.

"Ha, M’Lord," said King Arthur, "I thought when I beheld this lady that you wouldn’t be far from her." Then he said to the Lady of the Lake, "Lady, tell me, who is this fair youth who is with you. I never before beheld so noble and so beautiful an appearance as his. Will you make us acquainted with him also?"

"Sire," said the Lady Nimue, "who he is, and of what quality, shall, I hope, be made known in due time; just now I would not wish that he should be known even to you. But it was for his sake that I sent my damsel to meet you at the cross-roads. But for now, the feast is. So let us first eat and drink and make merry together, and then we shall speak further of this matter."

So they all went and sat down at the table…”

The bard weaves his intricate and flourished tail to the pleasure and amusement of all present. I smile and close my eyes, seeing everything in my mind. Avalon sighs happily now and again, especially when the bard waxes eloquently about Sir Lancelot’s handsome features.

“ Sir Lancelot performed all these famous adventures, and after that he returned again to the court of King Arthur crowned with the glory of his successful knighthood, and there he was received with joy and acclaim and was duly installed in that seat of the Round Table that was his. And in that court he was held in the greatest honor and esteem of all the knights who were there. For a knight like Sir Lancelot rarely came into the world. He was. And so it was that Sir Lancelot was greatly honored by everybody at the court of King Arthur, and he thereafter abided at that court for the most part of his life...” The bard finishes his tale and beams as the room erupts in cheers and applause.

Avalon smiles and sighs yet again, leaning against me and holding my arm. She has a dreamy, far-away look in her eyes and I try not to laugh. She is smitten with Sir Lancelot, it seems. Well, that eliminates another man from my long list of suspects. I have been trying to determine who has been offering Avalon unwanted advances, and I keep pressuring her to at least tell the Queen. The Queen is renowned for chasteness of her ladies and the protection she offers them. Avalon tells me she is too afraid of the man, that he will find a way to punish her if she tells. I decide now it not the time to broach the subject, so instead I comment on the song.

“So,” I smirk and tug a lock of her golden hair playfully, “your heart is lost to Sir Lancelot of the Lake, is it?”

Avalon laughs and punches my arm lightly as she releases her grip and sits up. “Jealous?'

Now I laugh. If she only knew where my heart truly lies, but it is one secret I dare not divulge even to Avalon. “Maybe. I hear he is a very handsome and charming young knight.”
“Mmhmm,” Avalon grins. “He is the Queen's champion and he vows to love no other than his Queen, with courtly love, of course. He is as handsome as she is beautiful.”

“Pfft.” I chuck her under the chin and smile. “I think you are far prettier than the Queen.”

Avalon gasps and laughs softly and nuzzles against my arm once more. The bard plucks another tune from his instrument now, his long fingers caress the strings. He begins to sing another tale now, this one about poor Sir Pellinore and his Questing Beast. It is a longer tale than Lancelot's. He tells how one day Sir Pellinore was out hunting and discovered the strangest creature that threatened him with the breath of fire.

The old man hurried home, frightened out of his wits and told everyone he had seen about the beast. He even came to telling of the creature who killed his flocks of sheep and hunted down his cattle. No one believed him, of course, but King Pellinore hunted day and night, determined to put an end to the creature and prove its existence. A few knights along with the king decided it could be fun to chase this imaginary monster as well, making sport of King Pellinore's supposed imaginary monster.

Lo and behold, when they entered the forest, they discovered the beast to be real. Young Sir Griflet is wounded by the creature and King Arthur himself challenges Pellinore for the right to pursue the beast. Pellinore, of course, refuses, and he and the King do battle. The King is defeated by Pellinore and so angered that he nearly kills King Arthur. Merlin intervenes and saves the King's life.

The beast escapes them all and is pursued for many years. To this day, no one has captured of killed it and sightings of it are now quite rare. Poor Avalon trembles in fright at the description of the demon-beast and I whisper reminders to her that it is far away from Camelot and not likely to come into the city, let alone the fortress.

“Besides,” I tell her with a smile, “if it was foolish enough to makes its way in here, do you thing the knights and the King would allow it to rampage and ruin their very homes? It would be dead long before it got close to the castle.”

“I suppose you're right,” Avalon gives me a sheepish smile. “I'll bet Lancelot would lop off its head and your Sir Kai would order it cooked up for a feast.”

“Exactly!” I grin.

It is late now, the candles and torches begin to burn low. The Queen excuses herself from the hall, after paying the bard with a few coins and a jeweled ring. Avalon hurries after the Queen to help her make ready for bed. I yawn deeply, stretch, and make my way through the crowd gathered and seek out Sir Kai before retiring to my own bed for the night.

I only get to the end of the hall when my arm is grabbed roughly from behind and I am spun head first into a wall. I draw my arms up just in time to avoid smacking my face directly against the stones. I turn about quickly, angry, seeking out the one who assaulted me, but I see no one even looking my way. My eyes scan the room but everyone is either engaged in conversation, sleeping off too much drink, or listening with rapt awe to the bard as he plays another tune.

My forearm is scraped and by pride wounded, but it is nothing I cannot live through. As I make my way back to my chambers, I wonder who would have reason to strike out at me. No one knows about Gliglois and myself, so it cannot be that. I tend to mind my own business and do my work without complaint. I wonder, suddenly, if it is the knight who thinks of Avalon as his. After all, we were quite cozy in our little space as we listened to the bard. Could he be jealous and thinking that I mean to make Avalon my own?

I decide I will find Avalon in the morning and share my thoughts with her. If what I fear is true, it is time for her to talk to someone with authority regarding this man. Avalon is almost fourteen, nearly old enough to be wedded. I should hate to think of her paired off with a brute who only thinks to abuse and injure b my pretty young friend.

“Lucian,” Sir Kai calls my name as I am dusting off my tunic.

I turn to him and his face is bright red, he weaves a bit on his feet, leaning heavily on his staff. “Aye, Sir?”
“What happened to your arm?” He asks, his eyes holding a dark, disapproving expression.

I cannot tell if he is angry with me or for me. “I stumbled in the dark, tripped over my own feet apparently. I wall caught me.” I lie, but until I know who attacked me and the intent behind it, I prefer not to involve anyone else.

“Well, careful then. Mind you are up and ready early in the morning.” Sir Kai's gruffness returns, but his eyes soften a bit. “I've no patience for boys who drink too much the night before and whinge about their sufferings the next morning.”

“Aye, Sir,” I nod, relieved that he thinks I have merely had a bit too much to drink. “I will be at dawn and meet you in the kitchens. We can draw up the list of things needed come the next market fair and see to it that they are purchased at a decent price.”

“Good lad.” Sir Kai belches loudly, blinks, and sways a bit. “I knew I could count on you. Help an old man back to his rooms. My wife is going to skin me alive for drinking too much ale.” He flashes me a grin now.

I blink then go to help him. I never knew Sir Kai is married. I suppose I learn new things every day. I help Sir Kai up the stairs, he leans on my left side as I haul him bodily up each steep step until we reach the third floor of the old roman building. Married knights live on this floor, so Sir Kai informs me, although there are few of them.

As we approach his suite of rooms, the door opens and a very beautiful woman peers out. Her eyes widen with shock then narrow into angry points of light. She says not a word but takes Sir Kai by his free arm and pulls him into their rooms, slamming the door shut. I sigh and return to my room, missing Gliglois very much this evening.

Chapter Six

Dawn comes too soon and I am hesitant to leave the comfort of my bed, but I promised Sir Kai I would meet him just after dawn in the kitchens. I shiver in the cold and dress quickly. I splash a bit of water in my face to help wake me up. I creep down the stairs and make my way through the hall. People sleep in the tables, the floor, and the benches. I step carefully around all of them.

How they all sleep in the cold and with the noise of so much snoring is beyond me. I find myself grateful that neither Gliglois nor I snore. I make my way into the kitchens and greet the cook with a sleepy yawn and a nod of my head. The kitchen is warm, the fires having been stoked, and the scent of baking bread fills my nostrils.

The cook ushers me to a stool and hands me a plate of dried apples, a bit of cheese, and a thin slice of left over pork. I give her a grateful smile and she fills a mug full of ale, setting it on the table beside me. The cook is kind older woman, a widow I am told. She has one living child, a bot about my age, and she mothers every last one of us in the castle.

I eat quickly, and swallow down the ale, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I look about and ask if Sir Kai has made it down yet. The cook only chuckles, pats my knee and shakes her head. It appears that I am the only one awake, besides the kitchen staff. A short, stout boy, who resembles the cook, brings in an arm load of wood, stacking it neatly in a corner. Having nothing better to do at the moment, I give my plate to the cook and help him bring in a few more loads.

My mind keeps returning to the night before, the food, drink, and music, the stories, and the company. I keep thinking about Avalon and myself, if there was anything in our behavior that might be judged as something other than two friends enjoying the evening. Mayhaps her head on my shoulder and her arm about mine gave someone the wrong impression. I wish Avalon would hurry and come down to fetch the Queen's morning repast so I can tell her about being flung against the wall.

My upper arm sports a dark bruise, so I did not imagine someone grabbing me with force. Hauling in split logs helps ease some of the pain. I am angry all over again now, wanting to know who dared laid hands on me. Someone cowardly, obviously, too afraid to face me victimizing poor Avalon. I decide to watch the men in the castle more closely, to see who has the temperament of a true bully. Once I know who is bothering Avalon I can take steps to stop him, or even get him caught in the act.

I am well aware that neither Sir Kai nor the King himself tolerates such bad behavior from anyone in Camelot. I would even be willing to bet my month's wages that Sir Gawain and the Queen also despises bullies. I drop the last load of wood onto the floor and kneel beside the cook’s son. We work together in silence as his mother and the other kitchen staff move about, preparing the morning meals. I get a thankful wink from the cook for helping her son.

I rise and dust off my hands and clothes as Sir Kai enters. He quirks an eyebrow at me but says nothing. He squints hard this morning and holds his head with one hand as he rummages in the pantry area for a bottle of wine. He tips the bottle back, swallowing deeply before lowering it with a groan. I chuckle as I recall his words to me last evening.

“Please do tell me that you are not going to whinge and complain of feeling ill today,” I smirk. “I have little tolerance for young lads who drink too much the night before.”

Sir Kai takes a swipe at me that I am able to duck and avoid with ease. I laugh as he grumbles under his breath about impertinent subordinates, but he gives me a wink as well, so I know I am still in his good graces.

“Mayhaps Sir would like a cup of willow bark tea, “I suggest, “to ease the aching head.”

“Tea.” Sir Kai says flatly. “My head is about to roll from my shoulders of its own accord and you offer me tea.”

“Aye,” I nod in earnest. “My father always sword by willow bark tea for head sickness that follows much drinking.”

“Hmmph.” Sir Kai grunts. “He swills more wine and sits on the stool I vacated. “Fetch your parchments and quills, boy. We have work to do.”
I do as he instructs and we spend the remainder of the morning cataloging the pantry and receiving requests from the various kitchen staff for items when the markets open once more. I wrote everything down on my parchments, neat and legible so that anyone else who can read might decipher our logs. Work seems to agree with Sir Kai and he begins to feel better after a few hours.

The cook keeps us plied with ale and willow bark tea until we are finished. When it comes time to pause for the midday meal, neither of us are very hungry, but go instead to answer the call of nature. I have still not seen Avalon today and I hope all is well with my friend and the Queen.

After the midday meal is over, Kai and I go over the numbers and items I wrote down. The castle is unusually quiet today, most of the menfolk out and about town and seeing to other matters. While we compare our lists from the morning to the lists made last month, a frantic knocking disrupts us. Before Sir Kai can rise, the door flings itself open and a hysterical Avalon bursts into the office with blood stains on her hands and skirts.

“The baby,” she sobs, “the Queen has lost the baby...”

Sir Kai gently guides Avalon to his chair and looks to me. “Stay with the lass, aye? I must go check on the queen and send word to Arthur.”

I nod and kneel before Avalon, catching her hands in mine as she weeps.

“W-we were working on the tapestry,” she tells me, “all was quiet and then queen dropped her needle and cried out. There was so much blood...I thought she was going to die...Oh Lucian, tell me she isn't going die!”

Avalon grips my hands tightly as she wails her misery. I stroke her hands with my thumbs and speak in soft, hushed tones. “Shh now, little sister. All will be well with the Queen.” I do not add my thoughts to what I tell Avalon, seeking only to sooth the distraught girl.

She flings herself into my arms and cries miserably against my shoulder and I slowly put my arms about her. I continue speaking is soft murmurs, trying to assure her that the Queen will be well, even if the child shall not be. The cook slips in, giving Avalon a piteous look and helps the girl to her feet. She gives me a nod and takes Avalon away. I rise slowly and realize I am trembling. My hands are covered in the Queen's blood as well now. I sigh and take myself to the kitchens to wash them.

I sit alone in the hall, my thoughts racing. The poor Queen, having lost yet another child, she will be fodder for yet even more court gossip and hateful stares. The King, of course, will be told. I do not know much about our King Arthur, but I do know that he loves his wife very much. I can imagine his pain, knowing he has lost yet another child as well as the worry he will feel for her health and well-being.

I have heard servants whispering to themselves as they move through the hall, saying that he should put her aside, send her to a nunnery and take another wife instead. I hear that the Queen is cursed for some unshriven sin she has committed, one even dares suggest it is punishment from God for her adulterous ways. I try very hard not to hear these words.

What little I know of the Queen is what I have either observed myself or what Avalon tells me. Avalon greatly admires Queen Guinevere, telling me about all the small kindnesses the Queen does for her and the other ladies in her charge. I myself have witnessed her kindnesses as well. She even knows my name and greets me when we pass in the hallways or when we take our communal meals in the evenings. I think most of the gossip is out of jealousy for her station.

When King Arthur met his Queen, she was the daughter of a lesser king. Her mother had died years before and she was the only living child of that union. From the tales I have heard over the years, she was fifteen when she met the king. Her gentleness and her beauty won his heart and could not be swayed from his heart's desire. There were other princesses who had been offered to the King as potential brides, and Guinevere had not been among them. When the king chose her over all others, some of the Lords were highly offended.

The courtiers, the Lords and Ladies of Camelot, know how to play the royal games, however. They are polite to the Queen when she is within hearing, or if the King is nearby, but as soon as they are able, they whisper nothing but hateful and cruel things about their Lady. It bothers me to hear these things said, but I remain silent. I am but a boy and there is nothing I can do about the hatred in other hearts. Besides, even if I told Queen what I hear and who says such things, it would only bring her pain.

Hours pass, and I begin to believe I have been forgotten by Sir Kai when he returns and hobbles his way over toward me. He sits down hard and I would swear there are new lines in his face. He hands me parchment and quills, and even a pot of ink. I take them and look back to his face. His eyes are reddened and a bit swollen. I can even see slight tracts of salt tears on his cheeks.

“We must right the King,” he tells me, his voice hoarse and thick.

I nod and flatten a bit of parchment and dip one quill in the ink pot. “What did you wish me to write, Sir?” I ask softly, knowing that my letter will be the one to tell the King he has lost another child.

“Tell him,” Sir Kai starts, “Tell him that...God --that we did not have to tell him.” Kai wipes a large and calloused hand over his face and takes a deep breath. “Tell him that the Queen has lost the child, a boy. The Queen is ill but expected to recover. Morgan Tudd says she will carry no more children, this last loss has left her barren.”

I listen, my eyes wide and I swallow back the painful lump that forms in my throat. I nod and put quill to parchment, scratching out the words in my carefully and neat handwriting. Once the letter is written, I sprinkle a bit of powder over the ink and gently blow it off. I hand the letter to Kai who reads it and nods, adding his signature to the bottom.

“How is the Queen?” I ask softly. “Surely you have not told the King everything in these brief words.”

Sir Kai gives me a sharp look, likely looking for any malice in my face. I am genuinely concerned, however. I wish nothing but the best for the Queen who has welcomed me kindly into the castle. Apparently my face tells him I am in earnest and not looking for gossip.

“She is very ill, as I stated, and we do not truly now if she will recover this time.” He confesses. “Her body will heal, but her heart is so broken, I fear she will grieve herself to death.”

I draw in a deep breath. “I shall pray for the Queen and the King. I remember how my mother reacted when my sister was born dead. Her only girl after so many boys. She was never the same afterward. Is there...is there anything I might do for her to ease her suffering?”

“There is nothing any of us can do,” Sir Kai tells me, “but it will help her to know that you pray for her. So many these days pray against her. Just be kind to her and mean it.”

I nod and give Sir Kai a sad little smile. “Would it out of place if I were to visit her this evening and tell her myself how sorry I am she lost the child, and to tell her I shall pray?”

“I think she would like that.”

“Sir Kai, can the Queen read?”

“Aye, a little. Why do you ask?”

I smiles again. “I have something I would like to give the Queen then.” I inform him. “When my brother was teaching me to read, he gifted me a small book of prayers. I should like to offer it to the Queen. Mayhaps it will comfort her as it did me when I was younger.”

Sir Kai reaches an arm about my shoulders and gives me a brief hug from the side. “You are truly a good lad, Lucian. You make me proud as if you were my own. I think your book of prayers would be a perfect thing to give the Queen.”

I spend a few hours that afternoon in the chapel to pray, as I had promised. Avalon joins me, as does the cook and her son. We kneel for nearly two hours sending private prayers for the Queen, the King, and the kingdom of Camelot. Tears stream down Avalon's face and she weeps softly now and then. I do my best to offer her comfort, knowing there is nothing that will ease her sorrows, save time itself.
Sir Kai sent the swiftest rider out to carry word to the king. Ironically it is Raynold, the ten year old stable boy who rides out, rather than a proper messenger. Sir Kai chose him because the boy cannot read and knows nothing about what has happened. He is very skilled at riding as well, and being light, the horse can take him farther, faster, than it could carry anyone else.

After we prays, Avalon and I walk in the garden. Side by side, but not touching, I leave her in quiet solitude as I guard her virtue from whomever it is that has such an interest. As we walk, I notice rose bush has a few buds. They are nearly ready to bloom. There are only three of them, a bright sunny yellow. Using my knife, I cut all three of them and carry them back inside when we finish our walk.

Avalon returns to the Queen and I beg an earthen jug from the cook to place the flowers in. “For the Queen,” I tell her, “to bring her a bit of beauty to brighten her room.”

The cook gives me a gentle hug and fetches a clay pot that has been glazed a bright red and she adds a bit of water as well. She smiles sadly to me. “Let the Queen know we are thinking of her, aye? She is a good woman and should not have to suffer so much.”

“I will tell her,” I promise. I take the pot of flowers and my old prayer book to the Queen's chambers and knock softly on the door. Avalon lets me in and I see there are several women around the Queen. They have dressed her in a simple white under tunic and set her in a soft chair by the window. A blanket of wolf-skins is draped over her shoulders and the light streams through the window, making her glow.

I approach the Queen and she turns her sad eyes to me. I kneel before her and offer her the pot of flowers first. She takes them with a sad smile and places the pot on the casement. “Thank you, Lucian,” she says softly.

“I saw then in the garden and thought they might give you a brief moment of cheer in your sorrow, my Lady.”

She nods and pats my shoulder. “They are lovely. You may rise.”

I stand and smile softly to the Queen. “I have also brought you a gift.”

“Are the flowers not a gift?” She asks.

“Well, technically they are already yours, as it was your garden they came from. I merely brought them up to you as you could not go down to them today.”

She nods and watches me with those soulful, sorrowful eyes. I take a deep breath and hand her the tiny leather bound book of prayers. “My brother, the priest, gifted this to me when I was younger and still learning to read and write.” I tell the Queen, my voice cracking slightly with my nervousness.

“He told me,” I continue, “that this book is very rare. He wrote it and bound it himself. It has always brought comfort to me, My Lady, and now I would very much wish to see it bring comfort to you. I prayed in the chapel for you today, that God would lift your sorrow and return your smiles. Several of us were there, praying for you and the King.”

Her lips quiver and she accepts the book with tremulous hands. Her eyes well with tears that fall unchecked and I fear I have done a bad thing suddenly. I drop again to my knees before the Queen. I open my mouth to apologize, but Guinevere leans forward and wraps her willow arms about me, embracing me tightly for several moment. I can feel her hot breath in my ear as she whispers.

“Bless you, Lucian. I will always treasure this gift. It means more to me than you can ever know.” She releases me and lightly kisses my brow.

I nod and rise once more. I take a deep breath and try to smile, realizing now that my face is wet with tears of my own. I wipe them away with my sleeve. “Bless you, My Lady. I shall take my leave now, as I have much work to do. I just thought you should know that some of us truly do care for you.”

She smiles to me, “You tell Sir Kai that I appreciate all that both of you do. I shall never forget your kindness, Lucian. God surely smiles upon you.”
As I descend the stairs, I feel a presence behind me. As I start to turn, I again feel a rough hand upon me. That hand gives a hard shove and I fall forward, tumbling down the stone steps. I recall hearing a voice, somehow familiar, just before the pain registers and my sight goes black. The words are seared into my memory.

“Your days are numbers, boy, as are the days of the Queen. Avalon will be mine, the king has given his word...”

I wake up in a soft bed. My body aches and my throat is parched. My eyesight is blurry and the room has little light. I turn my head to look about and instantly regret the movement. My belly lurches and my vision swims. I am barely able to avoid retching on the bed, making a mess on the floor instead.

Strong, gentle hands support me as my belly empties itself of bile and what must be some sort of tea. I don't remember drinking any tea. I lie back once more with a groan and Sir Kai's face slowly comes into focus.

“Easy, Lucian,” he tells me. “You’ve injured your head. Is likely to make you feel sick for several more days. Other than that, how do you feel?”

I stare at him for a few moments as his words begin to register in my befuddled mind. “Like I was caught in a stampede,” I croak. “Everything hurts. What happened?”

“We found you at the foot of the stairs three days ago, bleeding and broken,” Kai tells me. “You must have slipped after you saw the Queen.”

“No,” I tell him. “I didn't slip. I was pushed. Someone tried to kill me, Sir Kai.”

“What? Are you certain?” Kai's eyes grow angry and I see something else in them. Is it fear? Fear for my safety?

“Aye. I did not see him, but he spoke just as he shoved me. He said my days are numbers, as are the days of the Queen.” I did not add the part about Avalon, having given her my word I would tell no one about her tormentor.

Sir Kai clenches his jaw as anger fills his eyes. He turns his head away from me. “You heard?”

“Aye.” Another voice answers, a very familiar voice.

I roll my head to face the other side of the room, my vision swimming again. I swallow back the bile that rises in my throat and try to force my eyes to focus. Someone kneels beside me and takes my hand in theirs. A man, judging by the size of his hands and the callouses on them.

“Lucian,” he speaks gently, but I can hear an underlying rage in the softness. “You are absolutely positive that these are the very words you heard.”

Aye,” I try to nod and instantly regret it. I suddenly realize the other man is the King himself. “Aye, Sire, word for word. He- he said something else as well.”

My vision clears once more and I see the worried looks on both their faces. I curse myself inwardly, but I must tell them about Avalon and the unspoken threat he made to her. It will help the king know who it is that hates the Queen and maybe protect her from him.

“What else did he say?' King Arthur almost begs of me in a whisper.

'He said that Avalon would be his,” I close my eyes and feel as if I have betrayed my friend. “He said you gave your word. I...I think he believes I somehow threaten his claim to her...I swear, Sire, that she and I are just friends; she is like the little sister I never had...He scares her, Sire. I-I promised I wouldn't tell, but I think he means to kill me...”

“It's all right, Lucian,” the king tells me, patting my hand as he rises. “You are safe and I will see to it that my Queen and Avalon are also safe. Sir Kai, a word outside, please.”

They leave me with my thoughts and I feel overwhelmed with guilt for telling Avalon's secret. Surely she will understand that I had to tell. I will have to tell her myself that the King knows, and that the man attacked me not once, but now twice. Morgan Tudd comes to see me, helping me to sit up enough to drink a foul tasting potion. He tells me I have a broken arm, a broken clavicle, a bruised spine, a twisted knee, a fractured skull, and a lot of bruises. He is most worried about the head and back injuries, but he seems pleased that I recall the incident. It is too soon to know if I will ever walk again.

I do not know what the King and Sir Kai discuss, likely the identity of whomever shoved me down the stairs and the extent of my injuries. I hurt too much to truly care. I must have dozed off for a while after Morgan Tudd left, for I awaken to a tapping at the door. Before I can answer, it opens and Avalon enters. She is paler than usual, her eyes still red and swollen from crying.

I cannot yet tell if she is angry with me for telling Sir Kai and the King about the man bothering her, or if she even knows I have told them and has only come to see how I feel. She sits on the edge of the bed, carefully so as not to shift me. Taking my hand in hers, tears fall from her eyes. Such a tender-hearted girl is Avalon.

“Avalon,” I I try to speak, but my throat aches and is so dry. “A-a drink, please.” I ask of her.

Avalon wipes at her face and nods, pouring me a goblet of watered down wine. I sit up slowly and sip. The wine is cool and soothes my throat. I can taste honey in it along with other things. I watch her closely, searching for any sign that she is angry with me, but I only see sorrow and guilt in her eyes.

“Avalon,” I try again. “I-I'm sorry.”

She sniffs delicately then looks at me, confused now. “For what?”

“For telling your secret,” I confess.

“Oh.” She looks down at her hands now. “If I had let you tell someone sooner, you would not be...you wouldn't have been thrown down the stairs. It is I whom as sorry, Lucian. I should have listened to you from the start.”

I take one of her hands in mine. “Tis not your fault, Avalon. You are not the one who pushed me. You didn't ask for this man's attentions. He um…well, I think he made a veiled threat to the Queen as well.”

She nods and dabs her eyes. “The King and Sir Kai told me. The King has promised I need not marry the man as he is under suspicion of crimes now. He even said he will speak to you when you are well, and offer my hand to you instead.”

“To me? Why ever for?” I ask without thinking she might take my reaction badly.

Avalon blinks at me and gasps, her eyes widening as a stifled sob escapes her. “You..you don't want me?”

Still holding her hand, my mind races to find an answer that won't hurt her further. “It’s not that, Avalon. We are both so young. I won't even be sixteen for several more months, and you are not yet fourteen...”

“We wouldn't have to marry right away, it would probably be a few more years from now.” She assures me. “Besides, it would be a perfect cover for you.”

It is now my turn to stare at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Lucian,” she smiles a sad, soft smile, “that I know about you and Gliglois. And I will never tell another soul about it.”

“What about me and Gliglois? We are just good friends and share a chamber...”

“You love each other. I have seen it with my own eyes.” She tells me. “It's okay, I look on both of you as my brothers and protectors. But if you and I were to wed, we could protect your secret together. No one would suspect you, either of you of anything improper, if you and I were to wed.”

“But...I would never be able to give you children...” I tell her. I do care for Avalon, but not in a romantic sense. She seems to understand this, and, much to my amazement, she accepts this.

“I do not want children,” she tells me. “I have seen women die in childbirth. I have witnessed the agony they suffer bringing them into this world. I have seen the sorrow of mothers when their children die. I am a coward, Lucian. I have no desire to be a brood mare. If we wed, we are both safe.”

“I see. It is a lot to think about,” I tell her. “I suppose we shall have to wait to see if I recover well enough to even walk properly again. It is worth thinking about, Avalon. Thank you for understanding.”

“I know if we wed, we will find ways to make it work.” She assures me. “I know you will always be kind to me and care for me, see that I am always fed and sheltered.”

“Aye, well,” I chuckles softly, “that I would do. I might even turn a blind eye if a passing lad caught your fancy. I do believe you will make a fine wife someday, my dear, sweet Avalon. I just prefer to wait a few more years, be certain of my position in the castle and such. I would like to be able to provide for myself and well, you, if we wed.”

“Understandable. I better go. You get to healing, I have work to tend to.”

“Aye, ma'am,” I grin now. “That I plan to do.”

I realize, about half an hour after she leaves, that I still do not know the name of the knight who has caused all this trouble in the first place. And, I am not likely to know who it is for several more weeks. I drift back to sleep, secure in the knowledge that whomever it is, the king and Sir Kai will take care of the matter.

Chapter Seven

I learn a few days later that the Knight in question is none other than Sir Mordred, the King's own nephew. I understand now why Avalon was so hesitant to name him. I know little about the man himself, other than most of the other knights believe him to be dishonorable and a coward, a knight in name only due to his familial relationship with the king.

His hatred of Queen Guinevere was never a secret in Camelot and he is the main source for all the malicious gossip surrounding her. Unfortunately, because I did not see my attacker either time and there is not enough evidence to truly convict him. However, the King has eyes on the man these days and does not permit his nephew to remain living within the castle grounds.

Sir Mordred is forced to take rooms at a local inn, at his own expense. He does, however, come to the castle daily as part of his knightly duties. The king prefers to keep him close for observations, rather than having him spread his malicious lies about the Queen throughout the lands. The king is a wise man indeed, for I would have sent him far away and not taken account of the damage he could do while journeying through the lands.

Avalon visits me daily, bringing me my meals and things to work on for Sir Kai. Sir Gawaine returned with the King when he received word regarding the loss of his child. He sends Gliglois in every few days to see how I am progressing. I receive many visitors in the months it takes to recover from the fall, all of them pleased that I live and that I keep my spirits up. My recovery is slower than expected, but I am mending.

Even the bard who told us the tale of Sir Lancelot comes to see me. He is a kindly gentleman who plays his harp an hour each day to help my spirits. He is a gift from the Queen herself. And after a month in bed, the Queen even comes to see me. She brings with her the prayer book I gifted her.

“It has brought me much comfort,” she tells me with a soft smile. She even brings me a rose in full bloom, yellow like the ones I took to her. “You are strong. You will walk again, I know it. I prayed to God and he sent me a dream, showing you on your feet once more.”

I smile and thank her, not wishing to keep her too long from her other duties. I will not forget her kindness toward me, and after a few days, I have the rose pressed between the pages of a large old tome, to preserve it. I will keep always as a reminder of my friendship with Queen Guinevere. I can only pray that her dream comes true. I long to walk again.


It takes nearly half a year, but I am eventually able to rise from the bed and build up my lost strength. I can finally walk again. Like Sir Kai, I now have a permanent limp and require a walking stick to lean upon. I am slow upon the stairs, as is Sir Kai, and we make quite the pair, limping about the castle with page boys following with all of our gear behind us.

King Arthur summons me to his private chambers late one afternoon, after I have been out of bed for several weeks. His rooms are not what I expect. There is no excess of luxuries here, only a simple bed, much like my own, a few shelves and trunks, a desk, a couple of chairs, and a small fire pit for warmth. His quarters are more spartan than my own.

“Lucian,” he welcomes me with a quick embrace and gestures for me to sit. “I have meant to speak with you for several months now, but have never been able to find the time.”

“Aye Sir?” I ask. I am nervous now, I have never been alone with the King and I fear I am in trouble for something I am unaware of. Surely he doesn’t know about Gliglois and I.

“Aye,” he nods and leans forward. “I have wanted to thank you for what you did for my wife. You gifted her a few roses and a book of prayers that your own brother wrote and gifted to you. You showed her such open kindness and were rewarded by a shove down a flight of stairs...” His blue eyes are pinched with a touch of sadness.

“T’was nothing, My Lord. She was grieving. I recall my mother grieving as well, when she lost what would have been my little sister. The prayers helped her, though she was never quite the same again.”

“You have helped my dear Guin, you showed her that not everyone in the castle hates her. You did not make her feel guilty for the loss of our child, but let her know you shared and understood her pain. That means much to me. I would like to reward you, Lucian...”

“Oh, oh Sir, please,” I interrupt him, “please do not. I didn't do it for a reward and I don't deserve one. I merely acted as any decent Christian would have.”

“True,” the King nods and smiles, “but it is my prerogative to hand out rewards as I see fit. After all, what good is it to be King if I cannot reward those who please me.”

I blush now. I can feel the heat rising in my neck and face and look down. I have never been rewarded before and I feel very humbled by the thought.

“I would like to give you a title and lands, but I am told this would take you from the castle and away from us. So instead, I give you a title without land, for now. You will be granted lands, however, when you ready to retire. I would also like to give you a wife.”

I blink and look up at him. “A...a wife, Sire?”

“Aye, I think you and our lovely young Avalon will make each other very happy.”

“She has mentioned the same to me, from time to time...” I acknowledge the King's choice.

“Then you accept?” He asks.

“I have a choice?” I ask in return, laughing softly. “Aye, my King, I accept.”

“Good lad! You are now the official court scribe of Camelot and all other scribes in the court shall serve under you. You will continue to work with Sir Kai, but now you two shall be equals. I shall have Sir Kai will draw up the contract and other paperwork, to make it official then.” He grins know, clasping my forearm. “You do realize that it will be another three years or so, before Queen Guinevere allows you to actually wed, but until then, you and Avalon shall be officially betrothed.”

“I thank you, Sire,” I tell him, taking a deep breath. “I feel honored, truly honored and humbled.” I can feel my cheeks fill with color. Three years. I have three more years with Gliglois before I am bound forever to my dear friend Avalon. I sigh deeply. So much can happen in three years…

Kroger parking lot, about 3:00 p.m. Athens, Ohio 17 March 2024 according to calendar and system of time keeping you use here.

We went to Weeble land today aka Kroger.  Moonie likes Kroger because they try to encourage everyone to be polite and kind regardless of their condition.  It’s a little bit more expensive but at least you have the comfort of courtesy you don’t get from animals that shop at Walmart. 

We stepped out of the store to witness a southern ‘Mr. Mullet’ type and a ting-ting in another car arguing.  A crash in the parking lot.  Moonie is not a racist but uses these terms to describe the people involved.  We feel comfortable calling this asshole a ‘Mr. Mullet’ as another one of these is a friend of Craig Campbell, the barber who sexually assaulted us.  Craig called in this Mr. Mullet to verbally attack us the day we went out of our apartment and found our car had been destroyed since we publicly protested sexual assault after the cops said “he didn’t do that”.  Mr. Mullet took video of us protesting and tried to influence us to do other things such as “why don’t you walk out into traffic and kill yourself”.

As to the ting-ting reference, Aimee Corrigan, they who control her flesh, her puppet masters, used that term to describe her desire to eat one of these people.

So, we weebled along and witnessed this Mr. Mullet yelling at this ting ting who we see as having the right of way.  We wanted to stop and tell Mr. Mullet he’d better back the fuck off and leave ting ting be but they’d use that as an excuse to attack us with more lies.  Ting tings car was some kind of grey car and Mr. Mullet a white car of some kind of we remember correctly but that’s not as important as the vehicles positions.  We hereby render the verdict that Mr. Mullet purposefully crashed into Ting ting as ting tings front driver quarter and driver door were impacted which tells us that Mr. Mullet was fully aware that ting ting was almost fully backed out of the space and, instead of waiting for them, purposefully ran into them.  They’re driving around purposefully targeting others same as they did us. 

We could not get involved at the time.  This is the only way we can help.  Mr. Mullet was berating Ting ting and talking down to them in such a way as to scare them and try to force them into submission and dominate them.  A dented, Mountain Dew can rolled across the ground nearby as we walked on to where we parked at the far end of the lot away from all the competitive parking and con artists.

We say when you’re in Weeble land, you have to be courteous and look out for each other as it’s difficult for anyone trying to be there and so requires courtesy from all.  Mr. Mullet was there exclusively hunting for a victim.

We’re afraid to go to the police after what the police in Soylent Greenfield did to us so this is the only way we can be a witness for Ting ting. 

It’s more than the Mormons did for us when we asked them to stand for us as a witness and we don’t even know Ting ting personally.

When Elizabeth Clark sat in her dark
all of the dark was hers
nor did she care to share

the nightmare
riding across her mind

for dark is blind and not just love
darkness fitted like a glove
left in her lonely room
wallpapered in last years gloom

little spiders not full grown
never left that child alone
spinning their webs upon her life

a dinner plate, a fork and knife
on her lap a Blackwood fife
played tunes she never heard before
all behind the firm closed door
her thoughts marched in and out her head
curtains pulled beside her bed

one night she peeked through window pane
there was the dark horse in the rain
beneath the clouds an open plain
never was she seen again

Elizabeth Clark soaked up the dark
all of the dark was hers

nor did she care to share
the dark horse

all her thoughts soared into cloud
loud at first then not so loud
they fell back down at one with rain
never was she seen again

Elizabeth Clark became the dark
all of the dark was hers

I may never eat pork again.  I was in my kitchen about to enjoy a chopped pork sandwich.  From the best barbecue restaurant in Austell, Georgia.  I looked out of my kitchen window, then down at the window ledge.  There was a child's toy that use to be on the carport table.  The children from the house next to ours would play on our carport.  The pretty little piggy girl in the red dress was forgotten by them after a time.  Just left on the carport table, sometimes ending up on the floor.  I had picked her up many times before and put her back on the table. I had seen the pretty little piggy girl in the red dress.  On the window ledge many times before.  I knew Adelaide had brought her in from the carport table and put her on the window ledge.  It always made me feel good seeing her.  But that day I eat the copped pork sandwich, I looked at the pretty little piggy girl.  I started to feel very sad for some reason, and I almost could not eat the chopped pork sandwich.  The pretty little piggy girl in the red dress.  Walking on her hind legs upright like we humans do.  It is so nice that we make animals human, "A pig human."  In a lot of our literature, books, films,, and television.  We make cats, dogs, birds, horse's, insects, any creature we want to, into humans but they are animals or creatures.  We all enjoy stories about animal and creature humans.  Why do we humans give our animals and creature's human qualities?  I think we want them to be of the human race.  And be like us.  I think we really do want to stop harming them but we still do.  How can a little piece of plastic in the shape of a pig.  Standing upright wearing a red dress looking like a happy young piggy girl, make me give up eating pork?  Why do we stop and pray and feel spiritually moved by praying to a ceramic, plastic, or soap stone image?  Shaped into the image of a god, a savior, the mother of Jesus, a saint, or an angel?  It is just a piece of material.  But it causes us to feel something deeply.  Like for me and the pretty little piggy girl, just a small piece of plastic shaped into a pretty little piggy girl in a red dress.  And I may not eat pork again.  How can objects made from ceramic, soap stone, or plastic do this to us?  "YES," wonderful and mysterious I think.
Does this observation by me.  Mean there is a precious, holy, righteous, and real justice?  To this eternal existence that we are a part of?  That the rule is constant eternal change?  Everyone who wants to answer these questions for yourself.  Please do and have fun doing it.
                                        Sincerely Marcus Romanzo.

 

as agreed I arrived at the ice cream parlour punctually at five o’clock wearing a new blue dress and an expectant fifty year old heart but fifteen shitty minutes went by and my Tinder date had not shown up I paced up and down in front of the shop my heart skipped a beat when a taxi suddenly stopped and a tall dark man hurried out of it but a fair haired young woman why is it always a young woman shit! the couple fell into each other’s arms and stupid me where was my soul mate I wondered DateMyAge lousy site so mastering all the courage left in me I headed to my bus stop.

Shanna turned on her radio to see if any songs could calm her soul or cheer her up. The songs were not comforting. The music didn't uplift her or remedy the sourness of her mood. So she turned the radio off, and clumsily strummed her broken student guitar. The one her musician friend Mark had given to her as a generous gift of artist comradery. She called Mark "guitar man" and she called her guitar "Air Guitar". She knew she couldn't play an acoustic very well. She hated the whole tuning process. Pianos were so much easier to deal with. Drums never needed to be tuned. If only she had gotten herself an electric guitar, she could have come up with some more impressive note combinations.


She sighed heavily, lit another cigarette after setting the guitar down, and blew smoke towards the back window that was open and showing her a very grey mixed sky full of ominous clouds.


"Hey Shanna," Shawn called at her from the other window.


Shanna nearly fell out of her chair so startled and surprised by the sudden sound of his voice so close in proximity.


"What?" she snapped back feeling agitated.


"Come out here," he said with a whining tone like a young boy or a dog begging for a treat.


She grumbled quietly as she lifted herself from the chair and smacked off the dust and ash from her outfit. Then she walked outside to face him again.


"What?" she repeated with her irritated tone.


"Are you pissed at me?" he asked curiously, innocently.


"Should I be?" she returned suspiciously.


"No," he said quite certain.


She just shrugged and went to sit down on a garden chair. She lit another cigarette and gazed dreamily at the pink flowers blossoming so beautifully.
Shawn watched her for a moment, then joined her sitting in the seat next to hers.


"You're kinda weird," he said.


"And you're kinda an asshole," she replied.


"Ouch!" he said gesturing as if she had just stabbed him. "I didn't know you had that kind of fire power."


"I've met assholes before," she said.


"I don't want to be an asshole with you,' he told her confidently.


"Don't be an asshole, and I won't be a bitch," she told him and blew out some smoke from a drag of her cigarette.


He grabbed her cigarette and took a drag himself thinking about ways that would be nice exchanges between them. She waited for him to return her cigarette, and when he did not she considered lighthing another one for herself. Instead, she handed him a lighter.


Shawn looked at the lighter in one hand, still holding her cigarette in the other hand.


"Learn how to light my cigarette," she told him, "If you don't want to be an asshole."


Then she walked off, not through the garden or back to her room. She walked off the property completely and down the street.


He sat there alone for awhile smoking the cigarette, thinking about the lighter, and looking at her garden work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She slips....around my apartment

 

never been here before

 

left the key for her

 

 

I'm not home yet

 

she's thinking about

 

how we just met

 

 

...waiting

 

cruising...rubbing walls

 

in exotic halls

 

 

she is most happy 

 

just to be here

 

while I'm in Cairo

 

 

my scent fills the rooms

 

..thinking of me

 

...a wonderland

 

 

she starts to dance alone

 

knowing what will happen

 

...touching herself very seductively 

 

 

a dance of exotica

 

...of life

 

...for love

 

 

slips into something comfortable

 

for the warm pool

 

wet on wet

 

 

half submerged

 

 

that's when I slither in

 

...the snake that I am

 

black tongue tasting the air

 

 

it's so easy to find her

 

the smell of hot youth

 

...young, a very beautiful woman in love

 

 

I crawl down her intoxicating body

 

drink the smell of her flesh

 

...yearning

 

 

I could easily strangler her

 

...take her life

 

squeeze...swallow her last breath

 

 

but I'm in love

 

with this treasured creature

 

she loves...like the wind

 

 

I wrap around her

 

she wraps around me

 

...making love

 

 

Comme Le Vent

 

 

-Charles

 

 

 

 

 

My heart beats fast, sprinting through the forest, eyes adjusting to the towers all around me. A growl. From my side, I feel pain as I was jabbed by a sharp, protruded claw. At last, I see It. At last, this moment has arrived and like all the others, left just the same. “BPM: 185, better than last night.” I told myself as I sat up in my bed. I had been living through the same nightmare every night, but this recent one, felt off. I checked my watch. As I did, my skeleton leaped out of my skin as I heard a drawn-out creak for, what felt like, the longest second ever. It was coming from the stairs. Snarling and drooling was all I heard as It sniffed in the hallway. Was this still a dream? Or was it real? The doorknob twisted and I quickly got my phone and turned on the flashlight. It stood there, drenched in sewage, blood, and water. It showed its rows of sharp and pale teeth as It ran towards me. Is this still a dream? Or is it reality?…

Space is such a vast wasteland especially when you are sitting on the edge of a universe that is slowly collapsing in on itself. Death exists all around us. Every child, every soul, every God looks down upon the universe as everything slowly dies, such as the reality for a world that has been ravaged by an endless battle with the one known as the Avatar. It has been quite some time since the battle between the Avatar of Light and the Avatar of Darkness completely wiped out the world. Now that world is gone and all the people who lived in it wiped clean. Well almost everyone as a few remnants of that world have managed to survive, and two of them are hiding out on the edge of the universe. One is named Azula and the other Kakuo.

The two were on a planet called Geonosis where all the previous inhabitants had died leaving only their rubble and a few buildings around. In one of those buildings lay an underground hiding spot where Kakuo and Azula sat in a room surrounded by computers and other pieces of technology. On each of the screens were images of Aang, Katara, and Zuko’s exploits throughout the years. Sitting beside Kakuo was a Death Note that had yet to even be opened.

“I will remove the current God of this world with a new one,” Kakuo said as he moved his head towards Azula.
“God? Death Note? What about our plan to create a Lightning Planet and rebuild your tribe?” Azula questioned sternly to Kakuo
“That will be your duty Azula”
“Me?”
“Yes Azula, sweetie such a position seems perfect for daddy’s little puppet” he chuckled and licked his lips.
Azula grits her teeth
“What the hell? Aren’t we a team?”
“Oh Zuza…cute..little…Zuza” Kakuo grinned at her as he touched her cheek as sparks of lightning came from his fingertips. “In comparison to the Avatar you are nothing,” he said as a wave of pressure came over Azula forcing the girl to her knees beneath Kakuo when he then stepped on her head.
“Kakuo…what happened to you after the Earth’s destruction…you are so different now” Azula coughs as her head feels like it is about to burst.
Kakuo’s face began to slowly break apart as his skin slowly peeled back before he touched his face stopping it from completely ripping apart.
“Horrible things happened…horrific events,” he said as his voice became more distorted as he spoke.
“I can help you…I can make it better..please…stop…hurting….me” Azula feels blood gush out of her mouth as she speaks.
He began to slowly stop the immense pressure.
“Oh I am sure you will..you will be a massive help to me”
“Zuko…Zuko is gonna be a problem” Azula replied as she slowly stood up trying not to falter.
Kakuo chuckles when she brings up Zuko.
“Why would Zuko of all people be a problem?” he asked her as he licked his lips.
He has become a lot more powerful due to being around those aliens!” Azula exclaimed.
“Zuko is not someone we need to worry about Zuza..in time like everyone else Zuko will be a person who will fade into obscurity,” he said as he grinned at her and licked his lips as he brushed back her hair looking into Azula’s eyes as he smirked at her.



-Flashback: The Day Everyone Died-
The World dies. Everything must come to an end at some point. On the day the Earth dies is the day a God falls. As destruction creeps over the entire world standing within it is the might of Zuko. He watches as his nation is standing on the brink of war. The UFN has taken over and standing in the rumble of that destruction was Zhao who was watching through the dust cloud as he faced off against Zuko with his men behind him as they all began their destructive attacks on the fire lord. Zuko began to dodge each of their attacks as he made a run for it. Zhoa and his men begin to chase down Zuko while throwing fireballs at him.

Meanwhile, Katara lays in her bed feeling her body slowly become more ice cold. Blood rushes from her mouth as the light from her eyes fades as she is in complete solitude. She tries to call for the man who was supposed to be taking care of her.
“Zuko! Zuko!!”

No one comes for the now old and dying Katara. Darkness begins to take over the room. Katara felt her sickness worsen as she looked through the window to see a light coming through from the battle between the two Avatars. A small tear began to roll down her right eye as she realized that the end was near for her. Katara remembers the moment when Zuko tried to help her find the man who killed her mother. She remembers the emotions she felt at that moment, but she also remembers how she learned to forgive and to move forward from her pain. She still feels a sense of thankfulness for everything Zuko did to help her.

Zuko continues to run as quickly as he can trying to return back to his home. As he kept running he looked up to see the sky changing to a blood-red. As Zuko ran he soon saw a light coming from a tree. He ran inside that tree in hopes of escaping, and as he came inside he fell into a ravine as he began to drown inside before everything went black.
“I love you Zuko”
After a few hours, Zuko awakens hearing Katara’s voice as he now lays on the desolate ground. He slowly stands up to see that everything has been laid bare, and now it seems like everyone is gone. Every person who Zuko had befriended is now dead.

-End Flashback

Zuko looked down at Rokue’s ashes as they began to fade away before he turned to see Chillen’s body glowing. He immediately ran over to him to see what was going on with him only to find a large boulder fall down onto his body and crush it before he was able to reach him. Zuko’s body freezes unable to move as he remembers when his world was destroyed by the Avatar.
“No…no..not…not again” he looked around and found that he was completely alone again. No one is around. He falls to his knees as he feels his heart begin to melt as tears start to roll down his eyes.
“Mom…mom….mom!!”
As he cried out a gush of wind entered to run followed by a burning sensation as Zuko heard a sound coming from behind him. Rocks and gravel begin to rise from the ground as Zuko turns around, and sees flying in the air above him was Aangus who is now all grown up wielding a strange-looking sword in his hand.
“No..fucking way…The Avatar….has returned”








Chapter 1- The Return

Emma only wore black. So naturally, she never wore green on St Patrick’s Day. Students would normally lightly pinch those who didn’t wear green on this day, but she was left alone. Everyone was too afraid to go near her, no matter what the day was.

However, this year a new student, Sarah, decided to give it a try; thinking she might be fine with it. She was always friendly to people and when she heard that Emma had no friends, she wanted to change that.

So, in between periods she walked up to her and lightly pinched her arm, “You’re not wearing green.”

She was gentle with her pinch and Emma was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, so she couldn’t have caused much pain or discomfort.

When Sarah was done pinching, the hallway was silent, and she immediately had second thoughts. She watched Emma slowly turn her head in her direction. She could feel Emma's eyes piercing into her soul and a shiver down her spine. She backed off slowly while apologizing. Emma continued to stare at her with an emotionless face.

Sarah power-walked to her next class and Emma watched her walk away until she was out of sight. Then, looked around at the others who were standing there. They too hustled to their next class. Emma was now alone in the hallway.

After the next class, Sarah walked around vigilantly looking for Emma. Her heart pounded more than usual, thinking Emma could be around the corner. When she made it to her next class, she sighed with relief.

When the last class of the day was over, Sarah waited a while before leaving the classroom. When ready, she made her way home.

Sarah walked the halls with her head on a swivel. A few times, she thought she saw Emma. When off the school property, she felt in the clear and continued her way home peacefully.

About ten minutes after she got home, she heard knocking. When she opened the door, Emma was standing there, and Sarah yelped.

The next day, rumors were circulating when it was reported that Sarah didn’t show up at school. Emma noticed people whispering about her as she passed them by. The rumors slowly died when Sarah showed up later that day and kept telling people she was fine.

During lunchtime, Emma was sitting alone, as usual. After Sarah got her food, she noticed Emma and sat next to her. The cafeteria got a little quieter. The two just sat there eating in silence.

Eventually, the cafeteria was back to its normal volume. A few minutes after that, some of Sarah’s friends got up and joined them. Sarah introduced Emma to the group and a new friendship was born.

Shawn stood there staring at the curtain on Shanna's window wondering if he should laugh or not. Wondering if she was trying to be dramatic and funny or if she was reallly feeling jealous. Suddenly, he felt confused, and he hadn't felt confused in such a long time, the feeling was strange to him. He was stunned for a moment. He walked back into the house and saw Vicky turning around the corner from the hallway drying her hair with the towel, now wearing a t-shirt and shorts.

"Have you seen my shoes?" Vicky asked him.

"Uh..." Shawn paused looking around the floor, "I don't think so."

Vicky walked around the living room and kitchen and then spotted her sandals.

She threw the wet towel on the couch and put her sandals on. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and dialed for an Uber. Then she sat at the bistro table.

"Well, I'm outa here. Thanks for keeping me safe. I was trashed last night. Did we do anything...I don't think we did."

"No," he said still feeling confused about last night's events and today's events.

"Well, you know I would," Vicky said flirting, then added, "But anyway, it's good to know that even sexy guys like you can play the hero sometimes."

Shawn didn't say anything in response. His mind was like a fog. Then finally he said to Vicky, "You've got Uber coming to pick you up?"

"Yeah," she replied, "Why? Did you need a ride somewhere?"

"No," Shawn replied, "I was just thinking about transportation situations."

"So is Shanna alright or was she pissed off?" Vicky inquired.

Shawn paused again thinking.

"Pissed?" he said, "I don't know. Maybe, but why?"

"Men are so stupid," Vicky said, then added, "It's a good thing you're hot."

She stood up and walked over to him, kissed him on his cheek, then walked out to go wait in the front for her ride.

a dog I know loves Westerns and mean spirited people
at midnight he wanders the dead streets
biting drunkards
gnawing on their ankles and shoes
like a law enforcer on four legs
terrifying old women and cats who should be in bed

a nasty little bastard reared on hate and violent movies
he has a badge on his collar and was never sworn in
it’s just for show and to frighten his victims
his bite is worse than his bark

the dog next door thinks he knows it all
staring out the front window with a knowing look
that I took as a warning
the bare teeth were a giveaway

I couldn’t hear its growls as the roar from his tv deafened my ears
I got the message

I don’t need no posse to hang a dog
me being on the wrong side of the law
Nor do I recognise his badge on his mangy collar
the streets will be safe to walk soon

a dog I know loves Westerns and mean spirited people
I loathe him and his stinking coat
his woman is no good
her not being on a leash

a dog I know is on the growl prowl
it’s going down tonight
I have a rifle and a good sight
Deadwood will have a dead dog
We will bury him in Boot up the arse hill
without his boots or his leash on


he thinks he knows it all
the nasty little bastard
he will know tonight

I was used to the doctor carrying me from my room to the bathroom and back again, although it was still embarrassing when he did so in front of whoever was visiting with me, but I wasn't used to him carrying me through the busy halls of a thriving estate. It didn't help that we were following two princes, who were carrying my luggage, and flanked by guards, as if I were the most important person in this strange processional. My cheeks were still hot when the carriage jolted into motion.

"What part of slow and easy didn't that coachman understand?" the doctor grumbled from his seat beside me, catching the wince I tried to hide. "How bad is the pain?"

I shook my head. "It's already gone. I'm fine. Really."

"Young lady, do I need to remind you that your health is my primary concern? You've been making significant progress, but pushing yourself too hard could cause a major setback. I need to know about any changes in your pain before they become too drastic so I can better take care of you. The palace isn't going anywhere, but if we don't stop at the right time, you may have to spend a few days recovering before we can get back on the road, and it will take even longer to get there."

I sighed and looked out the window as he gently scolded me. This was not the first time I'd heard some variation of this speech. Prince Nokto chuckled from his seat across from us.

"You still don't look out for yourself, do you?"

He was sitting the same way as he did the last time he'd asked me that question, leaning back against the wall of the carriage with his legs stretched across the seat in front of him, his head tilted slightly to the side so his shaggy silver hair brushed his near shoulder as he grinned at me. Back then, I'd been in my preferred position, sitting with my legs tucked up under me on the seat, worrying about my mother instead of the rain pouring down outside and the coat I'd forgotten at the palace. Now, I was worried about how long I could just sit upright, wondering if I'd ever be able to curl up in that position again and still find it comfortable, and trying not to think about my dead mother.

I wished Theresa hadn't opted to ride with the luggage.

"It was just like when I sit up too fast," I said, looking from Prince Nokto to the doctor. "It hurt only for a second, and now it's gone. Could we work on my exercises?"

The doctor sighed and shook his head. "No exercises today."

"But how am I-"

"If you're feeling up to it, we can try them after we stop for the day. Until then, just enjoy the ride and tell me when you're getting tired or your pain gets worse," the doctor said patiently.

I pursed my lips and looked back out the window. The better I felt physically, the harder it was to follow the doctor's instructions. I could sit up by myself; I could lift my arms at the shoulders and bend them at the elbows; and my legs were getting stronger, too, which meant my remaining limitations were even more frustrating. It still hurt when I sat up for too long. I didn't have the full range of motion in my shoulders, and the doctor wouldn't let me try to stand up, let alone walk yet. The only movement my wrists got was when he unwrapped them and felt the healing bones with his callused, careful fingers. He didn't want me doing anything with them until a full six weeks had passed because of the severity of the fractures. The threat of permanent disability should the bones heal wrong kept me from disobeying.

But it was hard to sit and stew about it all on such a beautiful day.

It had been weeks since I was last outside, and I hadn't exactly paid attention to my surroundings the night of my rescue when it was a struggle just to stay conscious. Now, breathing in the fresh air wafting through the carriage's open windows, feeling the pleasant warmth of the rays of sunshine in the clear blue sky, it was hard to even remember that dark night. Fields of green grass passed us by, sometimes dotted with grazing horses or cattle, sometimes empty except for the birds wheeling above. Their songs carried easily through the air, a sweet background to the muted clip-clop of horses' hooves and the crunch of carriage wheels across the packed dirt road. It was beautiful.

But not for everybody.

Prince Licht rode alongside the carriage on his horse, Marron. I felt his watchful eyes on me, along with those of the doctor and Prince Nokto, but he always looked away when I looked at him. His dark, cold crimson eyes averted to the plowed fields between the open pastures, filled with straight, regular lines of young green crops, or the patches of woodland where the trees provided shade for the occasional deer, but the light of the world around him never seemed to touch him. He didn't engage in the steady stream of conversation Prince Nokto kept up, and he clearly didn't want to be here. This was an assignment for him, and that was all.

I wanted to talk to him, but I didn't know where to start.

"Prince Nokto, if you'll tell the coachman where to stop," the doctor said a few hours into the ride.

"What?" I asked, turning away from the window to question the doctor. "Why?"

As soon as the words left my lips, I knew. The ride had been smooth, but the reality of the dull throbbing pain that had been building within me as the minutes turned into hours came crashing down on me, and I pressed my lips together, looking away from his patient smile to my white knuckles clenched into my skirt. I didn't know how long they'd been that way. Frustration rose in my chest, and I unclenched my fingers, wincing at the pain shooting through my wrists. The sun hadn't peaked in the sky yet, and we had to stop already because I couldn't handle a simple carriage ride.

"Do you want these now?" he asked, reaching into his bag for the vial of pills.

I nodded reluctantly. He produced a flask of water from his bag for me to swallow the pills, and I did so, feeling more miserable with each passing second.

"Thank you, and…I'm sorry. I didn't…"

He shook his head. "You didn't realize. I know. But I think you'll be fine with a little rest. How much farther, Prince Nokto?"

"We're here," he replied, maintaining his carefree smile as he gestured lazily out the window. "And we just crossed into Kloss territory, so we're making good time."

I looked out the window at the sprawling estate as we pulled through the iron gates and onto the cobblestone driveway. The stately mansion at the end of the long, curved road, framed in luxurious gardens wrapping around the outside of the driveway, seemed only slightly smaller than the palace. Blooming flowers provided groundcover for the section of garden enclosed on all sides by the circular driveway, directing the eyes to a large fountain graced by the statue of a beautiful woman as the centerpiece, clear water bubbling from the top of her head and trickling down her hair and gown to the pool below. I opened my mouth to say something about how lovely it all was, and then the carriage came to a stop, sending a jolt of pain through me that made me squeeze my eyes shut and whimper.

"Let's get you inside so you can lie down for a while," the doctor said kindly. I nodded, and he scooped me up carefully with practiced movements that didn't further jostle me.

"Here, I'll take her," Prince Nokto said from somewhere nearby. Outside the carriage, probably.

"Careful," the doctor said, handing me down. "Easy, now."

"I've got her," Prince Nokto said, cradling me gently against his chest. "Licht, get somebody to help you with the trunk."

"Don't worry about the trunk," I said softly.

"She's right. It's too heavy," Theresa said. "I'll get what she needs from it."

I felt like a doll, being carried and passed around, but I was afraid to move for fear another wave of pain would wash over me. Prince Nokto was carrying me inside, following Prince Licht, by the sound of it, with the doctor close on our heels, and then a new voice joined those talking around me and about me.

"Sorry, I was practicing my violin," Prince Yves said breathlessly, as if he'd been running. "Her room's this way. What happened?"

"It was my mistake," the doctor said glumly. "I should have told Prince Nokto to stop sooner."

"I'll be fine," I interjected.

"Of course you will. A little rest, and you'll be good as new," the doctor said brightly.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here, Evie," Prince Nokto said, his light, amused tone in direct contrast to the tension I felt from him.

"Stop calling me that," Prince Yves snapped. "Chevalier talked Sariel into letting Belle delay her decision until Ivetta gets back, so I came on the off chance you made it this far."

Delay Belle's decision? Was that why we left today? I couldn't quite picture the calendar that had hung on my wall in my room at Flandre's estate through the fog of pain clouding my thoughts, but I knew Belle only had a month at the palace before she had to choose the new king. The new king who would sign the treaty that made Rhodolite's alliance with Obsidian, Benitoite, and Jade official.

"But, the treaty-"

"Is not your concern," Prince Nokto interrupted me. "Try thinking of yourself for once in your life."

"You know she can't do that," Theresa said, breathing hard as she caught up with us. "I think I got everything. Is that her room?"

A door clicked open, and the doctor was back in gruff, authoritative mode, shooing Prince Yves and Prince Licht away and ordering Theresa and Prince Nokto around. Prince Nokto set me on the bed, holding me upright while the doctor untied the laces and buttons at my back. I was too miserable to be embarrassed, and Prince Nokto was too tense to make a joke about it.

"There. That should be more comfortable," the doctor said. "You can go now, Prince Nokto. I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Do you want this?" Theresa asked as the doctor's hands replaced Prince Nokto's around my upper back, carefully lowering me to the bed.

"No, I think it's best if she rests for a while and lets the pain medicine work before we worry about changing her clothes," the doctor said. "Prince Nokto, I said you can go."

"Chevalier doesn't want her left alone," he replied.

The doctor sighed and finished tucking me in. "How are you feeling now, Miss Ivetta?"

"A little better," I said honestly, opening my eyes to look up at him. "I'm sorry about scaring everybody."

"Now, none of that," he said, his mustache twitching. "Is the dress loose enough for you to get some rest?"

"Yes, it's fine."

"Good. Then we'll leave you alone for a while. Prince Nokto," he said, his soft voice becoming brisk and businesslike again as he turned away from me to where Prince Nokto sat on a nearby sofa. "I gave her a high dose of pain medicine. She already had medicine this morning, so this should start working within the next fifteen minutes, and it should put her to sleep for a few hours."

As he talked, Theresa pulled the shades over the window and left. The doctor waited until she was gone before adding, "She has a history of active nightmares. If you notice any problems, wake her up and come find me. I'll be nearby."

Prince Nokto's crimson eyes flicked past the doctor to me, and he grinned and shrugged. "Sounds easy enough."

"Alright. If you need anything, Miss Ivetta, let Prince Nokto know. Rest well."

"I will. Thank you."

The doctor left me alone in the darkened room with Prince Nokto. He stretched his legs out on the sofa and settled back against the armrest, apparently unconcerned about anything the doctor said, although I knew he suffered from nightmares, too. Prince Licht said they both had them, and they were worse around their birthday.

"Are your nightmares pretty bad?" I asked hesitantly.

It was hard to tell with the only light coming from what slipped around the curtains and under the door to the hallway, but I thought I saw Prince Nokto stiffen, and I wished I hadn't asked.

"Sorry. Prince Licht mentioned them once, but it's none of my business," I hurried to add.

"Licht told you?" he asked incredulously. Then he sighed and muttered, "I need to get him talking to you again."

"Is that what you've been trying to do all morning?"

"Mm, more or less," he admitted. "I used to think you were bad for him, but…" He sighed again and said, "It doesn't matter. Maybe I was right."

I bit my lip, hearing the finality in Prince Nokto's voice, but I had to ask. "What happened to you two?"

His wry chuckle made my chest tighten painfully. "You don't need more nightmares."

*****

Like what you see? Start at the beginning: https://storywrite.com/story/17347635-A-Dove-s-Tale--Chapter-1-by-katiegoesmew

I Started work as Male Prostitution as a Male Escort in Udaipur, Rajasthan.

Being a male escort taught me what women want
Submitted by My Self. My Name was Viv (I Changed my Name).
I opted for an ‘offbeat’ job for as per financial situation, family issues and pay my bills. I left my home before 3 Years and now i became a male escort. It landed me in a world where women ‘openly’ expressed their sexual wishes and desires.
Before starting work as male escort I’m in reputed company in Gujarat as a Purchase Manager.

Due to some reason I immediately give resign, and after some days I left Gujarat and starting new life in Udaipur, Rajasthan.
Desperation
I had some savings but not enough to sustain a life in Udaipur, Rajasthan. My parents stopped giving me money as per the situation.
I tried to survive unemployment for more than one year but things were getting difficult day by day – rentals, food, phone recharge and much more. I had to do something.

I decided to call a man I had met last year at a party. He had asked me to join any Male Escort Organization’ but I was reluctant back then. Because there are many fake agencies who are scammers, Then I decide to work as a Independent male escort and Play Boy.
Although initially awkward, I had now made up my mind to use my body to pay my bills.

After then I started Advertise and posting every where like Quora, Facebook, Instagram, Republic India, Lecanto, Mint Boys every where.
Since I Started work as Male Escort, I started to live my dream life by fucking different kind of girls and ladies. And with my clients permission I am sharing my experience with you all people, But Nowhere am not gone mention my clients name or any details as to protect the privacy of my clients.

My first time

Well it’s all happened just after few days, It was an early morning I was busy in watching Copa America football by sipping a hot coffee, then suddenly my phone rang it was from an unknown number, I received the call and said hello and I got the reply by saying hello with a sweet voice of a lady and she started saying that yesterday night she saw my ads on the Quora, so she wants to hire me for a night and she asked what service I would provide her if she hires me and she asked about my charges per night.
So I explained my charges per night and my service that whatever her wish to be fully satisfied, and finally she agreed for it and she asked me to send some of my picture to her what’s up so she can decide after seeing me and my overall personality, so I agreed for her request and sent some of my good photos.

Then after some time I got a reply from her saying that she is impressed in me so she is looking forward for my service but I have to satisfy her sexual urge fully as she is very horny and wild at sex, so I assured her that she will be satisfied fully and I will provide the service whatever she wants, so after my assurance, she asked me to come to her place tonight at 8.00 pm, as her husband will go out of station for 2 days for some official tour,
And she enclosed her house address on what’s up and told me to bring all necessary sexual accessories, so I replied her by saying okk. So after the call got disconnected I was very much happy that am going to someone’s place to satisfy her sexual urge and will be paid for it.

So That day evening after finishing my work I directly went to my house and I took some hot shower and I well groomed myself for the night and went straight to her given address, I reached her house at around 7.50pm, it was a Porsche area, it was neatly lined with big trees. Then I reached her house door and ranged her door bell.

After few seconds of waiting a beautiful hot matured lady dressed in Dark Red colored Saree with matching blouse opened the door, “O God...” What a beauty she was, I can’t believe my eyes. I have never seen such a beautiful lady in my life. She was looking so fair and beautiful with her black eyes, sharp nose and juicy lips with dark red lipstick, she might be in her late thirties, her stats might be around 34 28 36, and 5.6 in height.

She had a great smile which could drive anyone crazy. She was totally looking damn hot like a perfect whore, by seeing her I had an instant hard on but I controlled myself. After about some 10 sec or so, she smiled at me and said hello, but I was still staring at her beauty, she again said hello… I immediately returned to my conscious and took my eyes off her and pretended to be normal and I said hello… and I introduced myself to her.

Then she greeted me in with a smile and offered a seat on the couch and she offered me some juice, then she sat opposite to me by facing me, and we had some casual conversation by knowing each other. In that she said that her hubby is not satisfying her as he is not interested in sex much and she is not satisfied and can’t control her feeling. Then I said I’m her to satisfy u madam so please don’t feel bad.

Then she gave me a naughty smile looking at me, then after finishing my drinks I asked her shall we start so she replied by saying yes, so I got up and sat next to her and she too drew herself closer to me and we looked at each other’s face with love in our eyes.

We continued our sessions till early morning 3.00 am and had 5 rounds till that time and slept, In the morning she woke me up it was around some 10.00 am in the morning, I was lying naked in the bed, By and gave me wonderful morning and we both had a last round of Sex.

When we finally finished, it was almost 11:45 am, then we both got dressed up, and then She felt very happy with my service and gave me Rs 20,000/- I thanked her and we both hugged and kissed each other before parting.
This is my First Meeting with the Richest women.

In next 6 months I encountered with different type of around 15 to 17 Females. Like Collage Girls, Women’s, House wife’s, Etc.
Then after I’m thinking that what our Indian woman wants.
In a span of a few months, I met various women. I realized they wanted me because despite having regular sex with their partners, their own desires had never been met.

One woman came to hug me while we slept naked in the same blanket. A few had never been kissed between their legs. There was also another woman who wanted me to go down on her and give her an orgasm.
My most interesting client was a young woman who was getting married soon. She wanted to see a guy strip at her commands. I obliged.

So, now satisfying the girls and women. She is called gigolo. Now I’m enough rich. I built a house for my parent in my village. I’m having a flat in Udaipur, Rajasthan, India. But till now I’m unmarried. My age is 29.

In the end I’m saying one thing that Time has enough power. We are running according to time and playing different role in different time period. That doesn’t matter whether we are happy or not, but we are compel to play the role offered by time.

Thanks & Regards.
Viv

We turned on our phone today and noticed the date of 13th.  We have an appointment on the 15th that we had forgot about with being run around by everyone who only wants to first us and exploit us for whatever they can get and then throw us away or pass us off onto some other organization.  We were relieved that we had not missed it.  We later checked the phone and went to enter it into our calendar app and was shocked to see the rate of the 15th.  We know we didn’t imagine the 13th we’d seen earlier and so this triggered us to think of many things including the Jeep Ducker Craig Campbell and their assault on us and denial of it.  We know what we went though same as we know that this device read 13th.  We think these entities and or government is hacking our phone in addition to using their corporate owned zombies to prevent us from establishing residency anywhere or keeping appointments.  They want to overwhelm and compromise us by fuckers ng with every aspect of our attempt to survive.  They are effectively trying to kill us to cover up the murder of Tamika since they’re in it up to their necks for protecting a vagina called Aimee Corrigan, their flesh puppet assassin who poisoned and otherwise kills others, people of colour, as well as eats them in some kind of government, corporate or military cannibal cult.  If they can’t accomplish this, they pay hackers to hack our shit to try and steer us the wrong way, frustrate us more by stopping us from achieving our goals.  We once wrote down our appointments on a paper calendar but a judge gave us a phobia of paper when they contradicted themselves over paper marriage.  In addition to this, we got an appointment to see our eye doctor to get our prescription updated and wrote it down on a calendar.  It took over a month of waiting to go so on the appointed day, we dressed up nice as we always like to do and went to the office.  It poured the rain all the way there and our windshield leaked from where others had destroyed our car after we’d publicly protested sexual assault.  We arrived somewhat water logged but still looking sexy as fuck as this is what we are transitioning into regardless of how others might be jealous.  We walked into the office and had to give them our legal name.  They said we were not on their list.  We asked them to check again and provided our state issued i.d. still they said we were not on their list.  We had yet to use Mickey Moone as of yet for these types of things since it wasn’t our ‘legal’ name even though we had been to the courthouse and payed for a name change.  We could see that they were discriminating against us because of our transgender condition so we left without incident, hurt because they would do this to us.  Dr. Jeff Ropar, Hillsboro, Ohio: put a rope around the neck of your receptionist and hang them unless this was you’re doing and if this is so, you can join them.  We have a difficult time believing that a doctor would be a party to such as even they don’t have binary gender when we think of them since its not Mr. Doctor or Mrs. Doctor but simply ‘Doctor’ which invites they of any gender to achieve this degree in a school of some kind unencumbered by genderization and the unfair barriers it causes.  The only doctor we know of that we don’t see as a doctor anymore is Lavar Hall.  That’s a Mormon playing at being a doctor but they’re compromised with binary opposition and so do not qualify.

So yeah, we’re not allowed to use a paper calendar and they who did this to us, instilled this fear of paper through contradiction, are now paying or otherwise influencing others to attack us by hacking our phone in various ways, overwhelming us so we forget by giving us the run around as they’re also corporate controlled zombies.  We did say we’re selling them to the devil but the devil has yet to pay us for these slaves who are slaves by virtue only of their wanting us to be slaves.  When we realized this, we knew they were ours to sell or otherwise trade and, because we’d been told of the virtue of not keeping slaves and so never wanted this for us or anyone else, we have to find a way to sell or otherwise dispose of them as we don’t keep slaves.  So, it seems the devil doesn’t want to pay us for these slaves but only use them to hurt us more.  That’s not to say we believe in the Christian’s paper god either.

So, we found another way to keep track of time.  We purchased a 12 inch ruler from a thrift store in Vermont for fifty cents.  It still has the lime green price tag on it.  We got a push-pin like they use on bulletin boards and count the days that way.  1-9 has holes at top and bottom but we do not stick pins in X-XII as this is a seat of Monarchy where the King/Queen sits.  By doing this, by not trespassing and sticking pins in this place, they reward us by encouraging us to remember these three days as a kind of memory exercise that may help us through these difficult times of corporate attacks from big tech but also big paper who seem to be at war with each other.  We could not use paper because of what the judge did to us so we relied on technology and tried to adapt to ‘Modern Times’ yet they refuse to allow us to transition to either, stuck in the middle of their blood wars, arguments and fuckery.  They continue to disallow progress for a three year old child who finds a condom on a children’s playground and thinking it a balloon drinks blood out of it when attempting to blow it up.  That’s okay, we’ll destroy all of you.  Fine by us.  You give us the power to do this when you keep us impoverished so we cannot afford either fancy security, phones, and you also take away our defense with lies on paper.  You’re all a bunch of fucking child abusers and we’re gonna end it.

We pull back into the place where we’ve been sleeping.  Our kitty cat who jumped out of the car to eat grass to cure their upset stomach is no where to be seen.  We call for them but don’t see any sign of them.  We look out and eventually spot them eating a pile of soggy food.  It stormed violently this mourning and so the food is soggy.  We call them and they will not come to us.  We approach and they run away.  We’re sure the cold-hearted government of a cunt-tree is laughing at us as they’re saying we’re trying to stalk pussy again as our spouse stalked us from Florida all the way to Ohio two years removed from now and accused us of stalking to have our firearms, our defense taken away with lies on paper…and this as she’s being paid and protected by entities of a cunt-tree that consume the blood of other people in addition to murdering people of colour and cannibalizing them in addition to feeding their brains to others by sneaking them into their food.  We’re going to destroy your cunt-tree.

Spot comes close to the car so we offer them treats…not to lure them close so we can ‘Abracadabra, reach out and grab ya’ but only pet them and make sure their okay.  Try to earn their trust.  We’re holding the car door open with our foot as there is a slight incline.  Our foot slips somewhat and makes a squeaking noise which scares them away.  What the fuck else can we do?  Endure to the end like the Mormons say?  No, what we ought to do is get a gun and go to the nearest Mormon Church…add a little bitty randomness back into your corporate controlled, zombie hooker nightmare of a world but this is what the Republicans and Tucker Torpedo Carlson want so as to say “we told yew so” and justify more anti-trans laws even though their manipulation, corporate bribes and payoffs to all levels of government and lies on paper is what put us in this condition in the first place so as to cover up dreadful things including the exploitation and abuse of children with quantum condom fuckery as well as murder of people of colour and cannibalism.  Where are the Democrats?  They’re either too poor to help or tangled in their own paper agreements as they also seek safety from quantum consequence as Tucker Torpedo Carlson eats ‘brotherly love pizza’ brought all the way from Philly with some special cream cheese topping.  Talk about traps, they set a trap for all of you blood drinking bastards when we were three years old and innocently pick up a condom thinking it is a balloon.  Step into our dead lights 🎈.  It’s not our fault and we want out.  We try to go out into the world, be friendly to others, have life, liberty and pursue happiness but others refuse to allow us with their belief systems and discrimination.  The Mormons even compromise our relationship with Aimee by breaking us up.  It wasn’t terrible before they fed us their pickle energy influence which came from pickles they stick up their Chutes and Ladder-Day taints, put semen or blood into to feed them to us unaware of the additives.  We loved her even though she was somewhat abusive to us but this energy from the Mormons, these goddamed blood feuds that say we have no freedom to marry whoever we want, these fucking corporate wars that would hold us hostage and prisoner in perpetuity because of something that happens to us when were three made it worse.  They all use us as a method of attacking each other.  They rub or otherwise transfer energy from not us to attack each other: everyone we’ve ever came into contact with or tried to love or have a civil relationship with.  We told Aimee we loved her and cried.  The entities controlling her opened up her puppet mouth and said “yeah, that’s what I want” and “fuck your love, I want guns and ammunition” parroting a rap song she liked to listen to.  She’s a brainless, corporate owned flesh zombie who does whatever they tell her to do yet we’re not allowed to have firearms for defense of these bastards who deny us employment and housing.  You’d better clear a path, motherfuckers.  Pay us as we’ve offered to settle so we can get just as far as we can from your worthless, goddamed cunt-tree.  If you think you can pretend as if it never happened while you throw us away in your wasteful, throw away society which now includes throwing away innocent children, then you’ve got a great big goddamed surprise coming.  We honestly don’t give a fuck anymore that the Republicans will scream for more anti-trans laws even though they’ve created this nightmare by having the idea that they can hurt others only to go to church and ask for forgiveness and that this system of exploitation will sustain them long enough to destroy witnesses against them and what they do.  They’ll be screaming that government is out of control with too much regulation out of one side of their mouths while also demanding that their victims be controlled and regulated out of the other and we hope this rips them in half like they attempted to do to us.  Endure to the end, now won’t yew?  They want us to be without residence, no vote, no defense and no voice and so we say that by virtue of these things, they should have no problem with having this inflicted on them as well.  They who would deny us employment and housing should be fired from their jobs without any hope or prospect of finding another, ejected from their homes with violence, refused the vote, put through motherfucking hell after their money magically disappears from their bank accounts and is put into ours so we can remove since they demand we’re not allowed to exist or be here in ‘their’ cunt-tree.  Bankrupt them and force them to go out on their own without a true friend in this world and without access to the so-called comforts of church but make them eat us at every meals, snack and every breath they take until they are dead, dead, dead.  Cause it’s one, two, three strikes you’re dead at the old ball game, sings a sports caster wearing red stockings.  Marge Schott and Peter Rose from the dead.

We look out the driver window of our broken down and beat up car which were sure most every rich Republican motherfucker and child molesting Jeep Ducker laughs and makes fun of even though they’re too busy prey, pray, prey to care or be aware of what others did to us as they eat their steak, chicken and beef while we starve and do without.  They’re not even aware that they’re responsible for this as their corporate owners mind wipe them every time they eat a hamburger, the entities who live in this network of blood who submission of others, dominance and control while not wanting to account for the damage they do by quantum exploitation of children.  Spot sits outside our door so we open it gently to give them food and they run away.  We close the door and they come back and eat it only to go away again.  We’re almost out of food and we’re not buying anymore.  Go ahead and try to accuse us animal cruelty.  This might be all we need to push us over the edge.  We’re damned if we do and we’re damned if we don’t as, if we tried to lure in and grab the cat, the government of a cunt-tree would accuse us of stalking pussy again and this was untrue from the start as we took up residence in ‘The Judge’s House’ prior to Aimee moving in.  Once in, it was quite the reverse: they held us prisoner for seven years, demanded we spend our money on them and when we tried to go out separate ways invited Johnny Stewart over so we could hear them fuck in the other room after we were married and had a bond with them, trying to force and coerce us to become violent so their corporate masters could justify having us incarcerated.  Of course they’d lie and demand that there was no relationship or we also thought that Aimee and her masters were trying to lure us into becoming a murderer like them.  Later Aimee told us she was raped by Johnny and so we took her word for it but the control and manipulation continued.  When they leave and go to Florida, we feel somewhat relieved after we purchase a revolver for defense.  This of course makes all of they who’d been attacking us in one way or another nervous though we are not aware of their exploits at the time: only that we had a need to exercise our supposed rights as she told us of things that scared us that we didn’t want to be involved in or apart of.

It's day by day now.  We’re sick of this shit.  Someone had better do something.  We’re not going to be tortured like this while they responsible point fingers at us, paint targets on us and make fun of us.  We’re not crazy and you will not break us.  We will end you.  Spanish Inquisition, you’re up.  Extracting anything but honest confession is a futile exercise.  That is our only guideline.  Torture for the sake of false confession only justifies the sustaining of your offices….and when that happens, guess who’s techniques and devices we will utilize to put you through?  That’s correct: your own methods and devices will be used against you.  This gives you the incentive to use an honest approach.  Don’t let the thrill of power and control over others dominate you as you extract these entities from others or you’re next…and an innocent three year old will be your examiner.  We can’t be judged.  Welcome to Project Trinity.  Putting us into this quandary and denying it only tightens the collar around your neck(s).  Eye Belize eye can fly.

We thought it was a red stocking who sang three strikes you're dead but the Ghosties seem to suggest it may have been Harry Carey, a Cub.  Makes sense.  Suicide Squad fits in with that puzzle piece.  Remember that, Mark Zuckerberg, remember that, Aimee (aka Batty Bellum)?  SQ Squad?  O m'eye!  How could we possibly know about that when this relationship of seven years is served to us on a piece of paper that demands it never happened?  Your paper conveyances are worthless because of the lies.  Pay us so we can leave.  We need to see a real doctor and remove from your cunt-tree.  You're not going to murder us with lies.  We'll go out with a bang.

Weve got a slow leak in the radiator so will have to pull it up on the curb to get under and fix it with some kind of sealant or putty...carry around jugs if water.  A state patrol pulled in behind us and ran out tags earlier then pulled out and faced the other way while they checked the computer.  This while three vans on a church holiday white, black in middle and white in rear as they drive away all sang "If you're happy and you know IT 🎈 clap your hands", collectively taunting us under the influence of sorority deb-yew-taunts, probably organized by 'My Sisters Place' a shelter for abuse victims who invited us to town on the promise of having shelter available for us yet they only phished our personal information and then told us they didn't have space but keep calling to check everyday so we very politely did that.  After several days of this, they tell us that they're not going to be able to offer us shelter yet refuse to tell us why so we tell them that their tactics are like driving a rusty white van through a poor neighborhood and trying to lure kids in with candy, rape them and then throw them out into the street.  It was our honest impression of the scenario.  Then these vans full of kids show up saying their happy and they know IT 🎈.  We're sure they all have safe homes to go to and are all very happy as the debs taunt us to keep their nice homes, cars and jobs.  We don't know how else to interpret it as all of these things they do to us is a cumulative interpretation.  Everything is connected and these occurrences are not a coincidence.  They all went in the shithouse and quartered soldiers into the latrine so we had two jugs of piss saved up and took them in to dispose of them.  Sometimes we get nervous and can't make it to the bathroom so we piss in a jug: a learned behavior of being a prisoner in that house with Aimee for seven years as they'd stay in the bathroom for hours on end and demand we had no right to use the toilet as they slapped makeup on...but we know that didn't happen as the debutant at Alternatives to Violence picked up her pen and wrote on a piece of paper demanding no relationship.  When Moonie puts on makeup, it takes about five minutes and we can even do it quicker than that if so eone knocks on the door so there is no excuse for denying us entry into the toilet.  This is only evidence of their manipulation and control over us while we resided in that house...but we all know this never happened because a piece of paper demands it.

We pitched these teepees into the toilet: a massive attack organized on a battlefield of a toilet bowl.  We then sit down and summoned a general out of our ass to lead these troops.  A second squeeze produced a lieutenant and a third produced a master sergeant.  Into the jaws of death, into the mouth of hell rode the 666.  We flushed them down with the order to attack...and there is not a goddamed thing you can do about it. Custard's Last Stande...the name of an ice cream shoppe we spotted in the Adirondacks and we'd also previously wrote about this place before we'd ever laid eyes on it.🃏

“Why can they not see? Why are they lead astray?
It’s as if they can’t see sunlight in the middle of the day.”
Our Bloke said with dismay as he sat down in a glade…when all of a sudden a chirpy noise was made.

–“ If I may intrude my liege, it seems your head is under siege.
By phantoms from a bitter past. Such a thing will seldom last.

Our Bloke replied:” Be gone from here, you narly crow!” As his blade shone a purple glow.

–“Are you blind too?” The bird replied as it gently fluttered to his side. Beside him stood a Lark so proud, shielded by a golden shroud.

A month ago in Morgendale city, an ogress was wed to a lady so pretty. Twas the marriage of Drusilla the fair, silken suit and raven hair and also of the Grand Troll Bride, slayer of men, that stood by her side.

The royal subjects gathered, to witness this in awe and when time was there for them to kiss they both leaned in in perfect bliss.

-“ I now decree that you shall be” The elf read from a note and lots of other squiggles that some old geezer had wrote. Or written.

“ oh look! A baby kitten!” said a little girl in the middle of the crowd. Drusilla picked it up with a smile ever so proud. The parties carried on for days…twas the tradition mongst Awesomer ways.

One week of festivities passed. Celebration, jubilation and mirth.
It took them by surprise,
when ascended from the skies,
a meteor that shook the very earth.

T´was Balor, the goblin king, cursed by the gods to speak in song.
They knew he had come to do them wrong.

-“I have come to take what is mine! Now kindly submit and stand in a line!”
The king of the goblins, a sinister mind, The fairest of maidens chose, and fairest among them, Drusilla the fair, he pulled her to him close. Before a single person spoke…they vanished in a haze of smoke.
The spouses grieved in silent sigh. They knew that opposing would equal to die. The Trollbride stood silent, then suddenly she said: “If he takes my woman then I take his head!.” The Trollbride, no stranger to magical means, summoned a trio of magical teens. They, In turn, conjured a Lark, that gave her a wink and was gone with a spark.

When all of this was relayed to the Bloke he looked at the Lark as if though it had joked.
- “Surely Drusilla would have had his throat slit and his body thrown in a spike-bottomed-pit? “

-" The Goblinking is a powerful mage. He disabled her powers with a magical cage. His power stems from the stealing of beauty. He MUST be stopped”- said the Lark resolutely. 

-“Finally some action” our Bloke stretched languid arms...and started equipping his magical charms: A circlet of the mind( to keep his mind reading at bay), a hardly used, but sligthly bruised, can of pepper spray and last but not least...a sword that glows when facing east.

These magical items he had procured from three deadly trials that he had endured. Taken from the treasury of a mighty desert keep, selected from the very top of a giant treasure heap.

- " before we embark on this voyage of ours there is one last thing we must do. T'is a lengthy trek, in this state I'm a wreck and I cannot fly, unlike you. We are to visit the Raptoran clan. Word is that they have a blimp. Of my many conquests, their chieftain's a fan and, also, he's kind of a wimp.

And so the Bloke and Lark went to the Raptoran fort.  They were friend-idly greeted and escorted to the court. As our bloke suspected, the chieftain was a wimp, and after he cried:" Uncle!" they ´set sail´ aboard the blimp.

At midnight they had reached their intended destination.
below them ;all the maidens in suspended animation.
Balor was so focused on the ritual at hand that he didn't even notice when the airship sunk to land. The Bloke drew blade from scabbard and pounced to make his strike...only to be stopped mid air... impaled upon a spike.
The bloke coughed blood, clutching his chest and dropped his purple sword.
Balor whistled sharply once...revealing his dark horde.
:" You thought it would be that easy...did you child-of-man?
That somehow base-defending wards were not part of my plan?
So foolish, so reckless...but I admire your gall. You would have made an excellent thrall. After all your adventures, all the foes you have faced. Oh my... what a terrible waste. Any last words? "

The circlet atop the blokes head fell off. Our Bloke suddenly smiled and said with a cough: " Your fearless leader pees in the bath"
This made the troops around Balor laugh.
"-Y-y-y-y--y-y-yo-you insolent snickering-"
Temporarily distracted by derision from his kin,
The Lark dove from the sky above and hit him in his chin.
Drusilla was now free to act  and, in her righteous rage, focused all her magic to make the Warlock age. The goblins beard turned gray and long and *snap*...his feeble back. suddenly he clutched his chest and died of heart attack. The other goblins scattered, in fear of magic slaughter
" Let this be a warning, do not mess with Finnlord- daughters!"
Drusilla then removed the spike impaling the blokes chest.
-" I think...I think this may be it for me-"
-" SHUT UP you just need rest!"
- " All things considered...this is the way to go...In the arms of an amazing woman that  I used to-
- "Don't say it!"
- " Plough."
and with that final word he died. In the tear-soaked embrace of his former bride.
And this I regret to say is the end...but fret not my story loving friends! I will write more stories and this I swear, in the honor of awesome people everywhere~~

In the spiraling town of Morgen dale city, there once lived a boy whose life one could pity. His mother had died on the day he was born and his father was filled with resentment and scorn. The father was a miner, the kind that’s always drunk, and with each beer in flask and glass their income quickly shrunk. Tired of getting beaten up, and hardly getting fed, our scrawny little urchin tip toed out of bed.
He took his father’s belt and knife, a picture of his mother, three bar darts, a piece of string, the family heirloom wedding ring and snuck out silent as the night: Stepped out of the darkness and into the light.


The streets were riddled with entertainers: jugglers, musicians and animal trainers. Since the bloke had disappeared the queen had started acting weird. Openly she threw grand feasts, tournaments with vicious beasts, invited performers of every occupation…but waved them all away in weary resignation.

“You miss him don’t you”

said her maid and smiled as she unfurled a braid.

“No I don’t”

Drusilla muttered tilted her head and curiously uttered: Is that an elf?


The bloke had been rumored to have travelled with an Elf, supposedly in Sundered lands in search of massive wealth. Whether this was true or not she didn’t rightly know, but if she wanted to find out she couldn’t let it go.
The elf was encumbered by a hefty looking sack, the sack was filled with gold coins but hurt is lowly back. To the elf this was no great surprise, the sack was roughly twice his size but through deception, theft and lies…the only that remained. As weary as he was by far, he didn’t trust and voiced a snarl, he shouted: “do not take my gold!”

to any that came near.


Three guards were standing in the street shouting with intensive heat, they held up high, whilst eating rye, a poster of the Elf. The elf saw this and thought” They want to take my gold!” so he went into the alleyways whose tiles were green with mold. In there he found a stroller, a pretty place to hide, so with a smile upon his face he deftly climbed inside.
The urchin went to sleep on the mossy cobblestone, he was hungry. He was thirsty…in this world he was alone. The Elf saw the young bum and thought of a plan
“ I can trick the guards with the help of this young man”

The elf mimicked the cry of a baby in need, the cry that they make when they’re willing to feed. Our little urchin woke up by the sound, perplexed by it’s nature and looked all around. Our protagonist found a cute little stroller, striped with white and pink in its color. Inside he found a green little child with big, bright, brown eyes and a big toothless smile.


- Hi there little buddy, Said the urchin to the elf, showing his kind and considerate self.


- Ga-Ga…,

the elf coyly replied, as he sported a smile both toothless and mild.
The urchin said: “- Are you alone too? We should stick together.


Said and done, alone nevermore, the elf and the urchin went to the store.
- Wait here little baby, I’m gonna steal us some food
- The elf couldn’t contain himself and shouted:

hold up dude!

Our guy was taken by surprise and looked up to the cloudy skies, he heard a voice from somewhere near…of that much it was clear.
He looked at the tiny and quaint little stroller, the one with a pink and white striped color.

The elf looked at him and said to the youth: Look buddy, maybe it’s time I tell you the truth…
-Are you a magic baby?!? The urchin replied, with a smile that was both naïve and wild.


The elf palmed his face and sighed. His hope for the human race just died.
-Verily I say to thee, a magic baby…that I be, but do not steal…for that is wrong. Just please the people with a song.


The boy had never sung before, he only knew of splitting ore, but tavern songs his father would sing, after coming home from the grand arbor inn. The urchin sang ‘the wine belcher’s grace’ with a beautiful tenor and a smile on his face.

The town’s folk cheered and clapped their hands, tossed him coins and made demands. The sun set and it was getting dark, the elf lit his pipe with a spark and said: it’s getting late…time for bed.

With the funds they had acquired they bought a bedroll each, some travel rations and a pretty decent peach.
The plan was to head east, as the ‘baby’ had instructed, to a place where elves (people) did not get enslaved or abducted.
* The true name of the region was long since forgotten and the road to the place went through marches quite rotten. The ‘baby’ was quite resolute on this though, and so on through the marches they did go.

The march was pretty despite of the smell, despite of the goblins that in the swamp dwell. They travelled on through the murky lands, when all of a sudden: Ragtag bands! Ragtag bands are never picky, they take it all and are quite tricky. The elf needed to devise a clever plan, or lose all gold he had…and that was unacceptable…the mere thought made him sad.
As the ragtag band jumped up to attack, whilst staring and drooling at the large money sack, the queens guard thwarted the goblins advance, pierced the ringleaders head with a lance.


- HALT TRAVELLERS! Shouted the guards, sheathed their swords and walked a few yards.
-The queen wants this creature alive, surrender now boy….if you wish to survive.
A roar came from behind a few trees, its tremulous waves brought the guards to their knees. The trees were uprooted and knocked to the side…this was the work of the ancient troll bride.


The trolls of the march were a thing of the past, they lived so aggressively that very few last. The troll bride was an exception of this, she lived her life peacefully in ignorant bliss. But something had her vexed, perhaps the smell of man, and when a troll is after you: you run as fast you can.

A single knight remained, stoic and standing, aware of the duties this task was demanding. The knights helmet fell to the ground, with a thudding and metallic sound. The knight was Drusilla, The Finn lords daughter, her hair in the wind and eyes filled with slaughter.

- “I challenge you troll, and by the glory of my lands, you will be in my arena with shackles on your hands!”


The troll bride turned around and got hit by a lance, she tried hitting back but before she got a chance ….
The ground began shaking, the trees started walking, a tide of tree men…the mere sight was shocking! This spell gave Drusilla another chance, she charged the troll with her shield and lance.
The troll bride caught the lance at the very last second, but something in Drusillas eyes beckoned.

Drusilla truly was the fairest in the land, and this was something which even a troll could understand.
She put Drusilla down and said: “I cannot squish that pretty head. Why don’t you join me in my cave? I’m the hostess of a rave.”
Puzzled by the trolls request, she felt a throbbing in her chest. “Could this be…Love?” She thought to herself throwing a cursory glance at the elf.
-Okay, Drusilla said, I’ll join you in your cave, but if this is a trick of sorts I’ll haunt you from the grave.
Several hours later the rave was underway, The troll walked to the podium: I have something to say!
The magical creatures stopped dancing and watched attentively.

The elf wailed out: “will you set us free?”


- elf and man-child….feel free to stay, today is a momentous day. Me and Drusilla are getting together.


Drusilla appeared in a dress made of leather.

-I hereby abdicate from my throne, I have found myself a better home. Since I have no children, this urchin will be king.

The elf said: With me as his advisor, I’ll take him under my wing.


And so it was; two new ruler upon the throne. One who ruled with kindness, the other hard as stone.
And so this adventure came to an end, but fret not my story loving friends, I’ll write more stories and this I swear in the honor of awesome people everywhere.

T.A.L 2: The Quest

Our bloke awoke from seedless slumber, alas he couldn’t help but ponder…what now?
He had everything to wish for…and yet he wanted more. He just couldn’t shake the feeling things were more awesome before.I mean... sure. He had money…but to what use? Exotic paintings? Expensive booze? The right to choose? He was confused.

Staring in the kindling fire, weary from a day of mire.  Suddenly he heard a tapping as well as someone gently rapping, slacking, a tiny bit of sacking and the sigh of unemployed. Shut up! he kindly requested. Tossing a vase in which he invested the strength to hit the rabble who pestered down below


“I’ve had it!”


He started packing a bag which he put on his bed, opened the wardrobe clearing his head. He packed himself some daunting garments, liquor and his finest armaments, libation, foodstuffs and whatnot, the essentials needed for days on the trott. He strolled down to the worn down stables, procured the brown steed( Whose name was Mables) opened the gate then onwards he rode…ignoring the peasants calling him chode. He was on an adventure, a pilgrimage, a Test, it is even fair to say our bloke was on a quest.


Our hero rested somberly underneath an oak.
“The kingdom of the plains” he said “now that’s a fucking joke”
Since our hero fled his fortress it had gone several days, his hair was a mess, he smelt strongly of mead but the weather was nice and his spirit was freed. Rumors told of the Sundered lands, where men ventured to get their hands filled with treasure, hearts filled with peace, their lives lead with leisure. Legends spoke of an old desert hill, where treasure was hidden and where it lay still

. -Now that's what I need!

He said to himself as he sluggishly looked up and saw a small elf.

“what in god’s name is that strange looking thing?”

The bloke stared his eyes out and let his voice ring: State your purpose creature, lest I’ll cut you down, attach you to a fishing hook and slowly let you drown.
-I have a proposition that might interest my lord” The elf said as he freed himself from a cord.

- *ahem *I have been following you for quite a while, monitored your movements and have kept it all on file. I also know what it is that you seek and that your plan is… weak. My offer is this: I come with and act as your guide for the lowly price of half the treasure, half the booze and half the leisure.


-And just how do you know where to look? The Elf merely smiled and drew forth a book. He opened the tome and discovered inside a map to the hill where the treasure should reside
Our hero just sat there and thought for a while…until he looked up and said with a smile: “deal!”


And so our hero travelled, in the company of elf, to acquire brand new assets and replenish his lost wealth. They suddenly realized they needed a ship, because crossing the Viridian was no easy trip. Said and done, to the docks they went and early on if not too soon they found a ship that fulfilled their boon. The ship set sail and onwards they went…as our hero mustered courage from the bottle he was lent. When the ship was underway the pirates came; to plunder, pillage, murder and maim. The crew was told to disarm or be shot, and hand over all their loot…the unfortunate lot.


“ Heed me now “said the bloke “I'm not commonfolk” “ don’t you know who I am?” “ I’m The Finnlord of Morgendale and thusly I demand that all f you tally whackers go back to land”


–“Keelhaul this man and his strange child aswell, let them know Davey Jones locker is much darker than hell”

And so they hung from the front of the ship, the pirates had carefully let some blood drip, into the sea, so the beasts of the ocean would hear their dark plea. Our bloke peered down and saw to his fright big yellow eyes as bright as moonlight. Our hero grew pale and accepted his fate, prayed to all gods hoping it wasn’t too late. The yellow eyed beast moved in for the kill, it swam really fast but then it stood still.

Our scared-to-death hero opened his eyes and what met his gaze was to him a surprise.
-“ Master!”, The whale said, “Long time no see...and to think I was going to devour thee.
The whale fiendishly vaulted aboard the small craft, the pirates just standing there, looking quite daft. With one look from the whale, the pirates for their crimes did atone, by being turned into solid stone.


-“ Where are you guys headed” The Whale did ask, as our bloke uncorked himself a brand new rumflask.
“ To the sundered Lands, in search of treasure, fancy stuff and endless leisure.


-“Who is your friend?” The whale would inquire, squinting at the tiny elf dangling from a wire.

“ This is an elf I met in the woods, He’ll help us locate the goods. He carries with him a map in a book, written in elvish so he knows where to look.
-“ If we have all we need then why don’t we go? These peasantlike traders bore me so”

At long last they reached the viridian shore, piggybacking the whale had left the group sore. - I'm hungry the whale said  - And I need a drink - Quiet you two! I'm trying to think..., The gang would need supplies for their crafty expedition, but the moral was so low that they took an intermission. After they had drank and eaten and rested they found some gear, in which they invested.  They journeyed through jungles and mountains and caves, through deserts and plains…and even through graves.

At last they arrived at the foot of the hill, a voice called out, both booming and shrill;- I am the guardian of the peak, those who prove worthy shall find what they seek. To prove yourselves worthy pass trials of three, succeed and they will lead you to me. Those who do not will chased of the lands. And up from the ground rose skeletal hands. The first trial is simple, defeat these contenders, the first team to lose is the one that surrenders.

The bloke cracked his knuckles, the whale clapped his fins, the elf merely sighed and took out his knitting pins. Cracking bones where heard from miles away, the clashing of swords and groans of dismay. But finally one of the trials were completed. The skeletal horde had been duly defeated.

The group continued on, onwards up the hill, and when the sun was setting they came upon a mill. -Hello there! A man gently greeted, from the top of a log where the plumb man was seated. I am in charge of trial number two, I bet you all wonder what you must do? My father was a miller, a trade I would forsake, because my passion in this life was learning how to bake. The trial at hand is beating me in a bake off competition, bake me something great without any inhibition. T

he whale grabbed some salt, sugar, eggs, and flour, he kneaded the dough with terrible power, put the small shapes of dough in an oven, wisps of the smell attracted a coven. Both pastries were placed on a table of bones: a choclate chip cake and a platter of scones. The witches agreed that the scones were the best, and so our gang had completed the test.
The group spent the night in the quaint little mill, they had journeyed so far, one trial left to fulfill. Early next morning they reached the hilltop, they saw a grand shrine, in front of it a sign. It read:

stop! This is an anti-magic zone, in here you cannot turn people to stone. Nor can you cast neither flame nor ice  binds...and most definitely not read minds.

They entered a hallway, a torch on each side, leading in to a throne room that was both tall and wide. Inside the chamber, treasure was abound; chests and lavish artifacts spread out all around. At the center of the chamber stood a statue carved from gold, portraying a king both wizened and old.

-Greetings, the statue said, this last trial is one for the head. I’ll ask you a riddle and if you succeed, the riches are plenty to placate your greed:

With thieves I consort, With the vilest, in short, I'm quite at ease in depravity; Yet all divines use me, And savants can't lose me, For I am the center of gravity. What am I?
What could it be? The bloke said, as the whale removed a clam that was stuck on its head.

The elf responded:  Aha! I see, the answer is the letter V.
“correct!” The booming voice appeared. “ YOUR FINAL TRIAL HAS NOW BEEN CLEARED!”
You’ve all proven worthy to see my true shape.  Materialized in front of them stood a great ape.  You have freed me from my lifedebt to the master of this place, a powerful magician of a long forgotten race.  As repayment for giving me permanent leisure I’ll stay here and guard your substantial treasure.

- The bloke made the shrine his new shiny home,

-the whale took the mill to develop his scone,

-the elf took his share of the loot and departed, for him a new quest had already started.

And so this adventure came to an end, but fret not my story loving friends, I’ll write more stories and this I swear in the honor of awesome people everywhere.

                          Logboek.




22-11:
We hebben een planning gemaakt en laten zien aan de leraren, we gaan kijken naar wat ze nodig hebben en hoe de brouwer werkt en hoeveel tijd ze voor bepaalde dingen nodig hebben.

Lionel en Ahmed gaan de apparaten schoonmaken

We hebben gekeken naar een nieuw bier pakket omdat de originele niet meer op de website stond.

we gaat de bestellijst doorgeven aan Annelies zodat we voor woensdag de spullen hebben.



29-11-2023

Vandaag bereiden we ons voor om de volgende keer te kunnen beginnen met bier brouwen. We begonnen met een taakverdeling. We hadden de taken al verdeeld maar we veranderden van plan. Ahmed en Lionel hebben een sopje gemaakt en daarna in de vaten gespoeld. Ze hebben de vaten geschrobd en omgespoeld met afwasmiddel. Pepijn en Jesse zijn de apparaten gaan kijken en hoe de machine werkt. Ze hebben de machine aangezet en er alleen water is gespoeld. Malik en Jort zijn bezig met een planning maken en maken in excel een duidelijk overzicht hoe en wat moeten doen als we bier gaan brouwen volgende week. We hebben ook gekeken naar een logo voor het bottelen van de bier.

6-12-2023
Vandaag hebben we 2 presentaties gemaakt en gegeven over onze planning en over het proces en wat we gaan doen voor het bier brouwen. Hier hebben wij feedback en tips gekregen over het bier brouwen en mogelijke fouten en hoe je deze kan vermijden.