Wednesday, 1 April 2026
Klutz
Klutz, (a distant cousin of the great Kybosh), engineered success with the invention of the very first curve ball; and later was revered for perfecting the Haikus of the fourteenth and fifteenth century.
He made notoriety also with the colour Aubergine - a tone that no one individual could match before Pan-tone, a system where the great god Pan brought a numeric code to identify, standardise, and satisfy the conundrums of colour.
Klutz was never discreet. He would not hide in plain sight like the others of his spiritual heritage.
He was extremely passionate about everything, and everyone - never hesitant, greatly impulsive - patron Saint to the comedians, muse to chefs, and inspiration to all of the little people under the age of three.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series
Lady of the Lake
Sylvia had not been abducted, but rather had fled after being forced from her undwellable lake that had become so stagnant and defiled her spirit could not withstand its influence any longer.
She circled the sphere twice over before winding her way into the currents, moving then through to the starry fields that were peppered with infant meteorites - who with a rambunctious playfulness, hurled themselves forcefully about her, energetically skimming the skies in circles, seeking out their place here and there.
The older ones pursued her path as far as they could follow, pulling at her skirt, slowing her speed.
Sylvia was searching for that familiar beam that would take her to the Grand-mama’s house … yet it was difficult to find it amongst the competing brilliance. Every star, a human soul watching her movements with a curious fixation …
Grand-mama had four houses in the mortal world, and Sylvia did not know which of the four she might find her in. Her fearfulness alarmed her all the more, and a coldness crept into her psyche. She needed to know that her Grand-mama was doing well - and that the mortal World had not been affected … yet.
* * *
“I’m not going back” she pleaded woefully. Memories that made her skin crawl flooded over her. She, the once Lady of the Lake, had been pursued and captured some centuries earlier, with not one who had come to save her. Evicted yet again.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series
The Chamber: Frollo & Fable
The wind wept wherever evil went, and a smell of decay, of defecation, followed the princess all her days long.
The Princess had never married, however she did take a great many suitors into her night room - who would do as instructed … tapping twice in the annex and thrice on the door - usually at the mid of night, led by a courtier or mistress to tend to her royalness.
If the candidates failed to satisfy the Princess they were put to death the following morning.
Not one youth had survived her expectations, and this unhappy sequence took so many lives that the army was debilitated thereby, and eligible bachelors were now in short supply.
Her search for ‘love’ persisted nightly, with the routine execution to follow for more than half a century; and she, although now exceeding seventy years, still called upon the youth of the surrounding towns, to entertain her wants and desires.
Any man who refused this calling was immediately shot through the heart with an entire sheath of arrows.
When Frollo was called to her parlour, his own mother had cautioned him saying:
“The chamber, my son, has two doors - one to go in by and another to leave by. I fear for you. I do not believe that all of those sturdy young men were later conscripted to the army to never return - no, no, we have all heard from the townspeople of the axeman and his daily duty.
“I say this to you: kill the witch and kill her fast - and then leave before the new light when you are to be collected. I see no other way.”
Fable, Frollo’s angel, overheard his mother’s scheming and pleaded on behalf of his conscience to consider the impropriety of this crime. He weighed the decision tentatively, overcome with a deepened anxiety for Frollo’s eternal prospects.
“Also, and not precluding”, spoke his mother, as she handed to him a fine silver carry knife … “I should very much like you to avenge the death of Zachary” (a neighbour who had been called and never returned, some twenty years before).
She had then wrung her hands together, reliving the anguish of this recollection. She pressed in his other hand a passing gift of a single sweet wrapt in rice paper.
With one last kiss to the cheek, her eyes followed him for the length of the road, now caught in the enclave of the royal carriages. She cried a mother’s tear and returned to her empty home forlorn.
Rap rap rap
Tap tap tap
Any man who refused this calling was immediately shot through the heart with an entire sheath of arrows.
When Frollo was called to her parlour, his own mother had cautioned him saying:
“The chamber, my son, has two doors - one to go in by and another to leave by. I fear for you. I do not believe that all of those sturdy young men were later conscripted to the army to never return - no, no, we have all heard from the townspeople of the axeman and his daily duty.
“I say this to you: kill the witch and kill her fast - and then leave before the new light when you are to be collected. I see no other way.”
Fable, Frollo’s angel, overheard his mother’s scheming and pleaded on behalf of his conscience to consider the impropriety of this crime. He weighed the decision tentatively, overcome with a deepened anxiety for Frollo’s eternal prospects.
“Also, and not precluding”, spoke his mother, as she handed to him a fine silver carry knife … “I should very much like you to avenge the death of Zachary” (a neighbour who had been called and never returned, some twenty years before).
She had then wrung her hands together, reliving the anguish of this recollection. She pressed in his other hand a passing gift of a single sweet wrapt in rice paper.
With one last kiss to the cheek, her eyes followed him for the length of the road, now caught in the enclave of the royal carriages. She cried a mother’s tear and returned to her empty home forlorn.
* * *
Rap rap rap
Tap tap tap
The chamber door swung open. “A Princess!” he exclaimed out loud.
Frollo had prepared himself for a woman old enough to be his grandmother, yet instead his eyes landed upon the most enticing maiden he had ever seen.
Her skin was bronze, her night dress shimmered milk white, and her naked breasts sat atop a sash of silk and pearls. Her demeanour, if anything, was frightened.
“Have you bewitched me?” he asked tentatively.
Frollo had heard tales from the North of the hags at Delphi … and the lore of the sodden mermaids, who also were far from what they seemed.
“No.” She replied. “I have not hazarded you with magic - you only see my true self.”
His mind became downcast for he perceived that he could no more be a match for this wondrous lady than the suitors who had come before him. He fumbled in his pocket and covertly drew the fine silver knife; and when she was not looking at him, he slid it into the fire grate.
From his other pocket Frollo took the sweet that his mother had given him and he offered it tenderly. She seemed pleased.
“I shall plant this in my garden” she said.
“No no, it is to eat” he said.
“What use has a spirit for this?” she said off-handedly - “I have long been deceased my boy - having perished by the hands of my very first lover.”
“This I did not know” he said confused yet again by his circumstance and now feeling very foolish, and somewhat disappointed.
You see we die a little every day, and then, come the morning, we are reborn. Seventy two years, the unsatisfied woman is the soul who exchanges each day for the next - until that final day, the day of their own death.
We are but each character within - this is the secret of this fable of the soul. We are the youth, with fresh eyes coming to the aged, yet desirous soul. We are the princess who forfeits each moment for the next. We are verily the axeman, who does not allow the memories of the days events to linger. Yes, we are all of the characters within this tale.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series
Frollo had prepared himself for a woman old enough to be his grandmother, yet instead his eyes landed upon the most enticing maiden he had ever seen.
Her skin was bronze, her night dress shimmered milk white, and her naked breasts sat atop a sash of silk and pearls. Her demeanour, if anything, was frightened.
“Have you bewitched me?” he asked tentatively.
Frollo had heard tales from the North of the hags at Delphi … and the lore of the sodden mermaids, who also were far from what they seemed.
“No.” She replied. “I have not hazarded you with magic - you only see my true self.”
His mind became downcast for he perceived that he could no more be a match for this wondrous lady than the suitors who had come before him. He fumbled in his pocket and covertly drew the fine silver knife; and when she was not looking at him, he slid it into the fire grate.
From his other pocket Frollo took the sweet that his mother had given him and he offered it tenderly. She seemed pleased.
“I shall plant this in my garden” she said.
“No no, it is to eat” he said.
“What use has a spirit for this?” she said off-handedly - “I have long been deceased my boy - having perished by the hands of my very first lover.”
“This I did not know” he said confused yet again by his circumstance and now feeling very foolish, and somewhat disappointed.
* * *
You see we die a little every day, and then, come the morning, we are reborn. Seventy two years, the unsatisfied woman is the soul who exchanges each day for the next - until that final day, the day of their own death.
We are but each character within - this is the secret of this fable of the soul. We are the youth, with fresh eyes coming to the aged, yet desirous soul. We are the princess who forfeits each moment for the next. We are verily the axeman, who does not allow the memories of the days events to linger. Yes, we are all of the characters within this tale.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series
Pine-tara
Puck drew in a big breath and cast it over the four witches - going from one to the other he gently exhaled and each in turn closed their eyes and fell asleep.
“You haven’t killed them, have you?” asked Eve tentatively.
“They’re already deceased” laughed Puck as he piled their mud cased bodies under a pregnant tree. Its leaves had diminished but its tangle of boughs gave the impression of a fulsome foliage.
Moments later the witches had reduced to dust and all four had disappeared altogether.
“We exhumed but an impression of these souls” he said … “that mud covered a nothingness, an astral sheath”.
Eve seemed to accept this explanation without concern.
“Who is this?” she asked, fully forgetting the former dialogue and pointing to Needles, who had positioned himself at her feet and was staring lovingly straight up at her.
“That is Pine-tara” Puck said, “the keeper of Mediums, a guide to the departed.”
‘Pine-tara’ appeared to be lost in thought. Eve smiled down at him, and he, radiantly returned the grace.
* * *
“The wars have always showered down affecting the world of Men.” Jupiter said, by way of an excuse for the recent consequences. Jupiter threw a look at Puck. “Fair go” he said quizzically, “its everywhere”.
He felt Eve’s gaze upon him, an all familiar connection again. It was sweeter than sweet.
“He has a tendency to philosophise the obvious” said Puck blandly. His mood well matched the landscape.
Jupiter made a gesture with a mocking contempt - to which Puck shoved his shoulder and sent him forward into a grimy bush. All he had to do was think with force to push his brother from his balance.
Jupiter picked himself up. Goober could see a feint aura emanating from him momentarily flash red.
“Brother, I am beyond Philosophy” said Puck, its constant incongruities vex me to no end.”
He then turned to Goober who was called to referee an argument that erupted between Needles and Tweak. Puck could not make out what the disagreement was about but it was becoming ever clearer to him that the temperature of the heavens where they were was rising and the atmosphere was fast losing its usual tranquility.
Goober conferred - his fine frame bent with anxiety.
Remarkably Eve was peaceful throughout. She was fixed on Jupiter admiringly, and had nought thought for anything else.
He then turned to Goober who was called to referee an argument that erupted between Needles and Tweak. Puck could not make out what the disagreement was about but it was becoming ever clearer to him that the temperature of the heavens where they were was rising and the atmosphere was fast losing its usual tranquility.
Goober conferred - his fine frame bent with anxiety.
Remarkably Eve was peaceful throughout. She was fixed on Jupiter admiringly, and had nought thought for anything else.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series
Sylvia
“If the spirit fled the lake, where has she got to?”
“Well ordinarily as things progress in the heavens, she would have just moved further aloft but I do not sense this to be the case now. I scanned all over the higher spheres for her whilst we spoke there was nothing to be found - which leaves us with one of two things: the soul of the lake has either been taken, or is in hiding, and it'
s imperative we find out which is it is, that we may reinstate her.”
Eve was aghast, she had woken from her hazy happy stupor daydreaming about Jupiter, and had been listening to every word intently with no idea of what any of it meant, or how this could have happened, yet she trusted this solemn group of friends in all that was said nonetheless.
“Do we know of her name?”
“Yes. It is Sylvia.”
“You don’t think those four were trying to eat her do you? or something gruesome like that? Or, perhaps smuggle her out to Romuface? …”
“Well, they might have tried but it would not have been possible. Not for them at any rate. I doubt their kind could even perceive such an ethereal sprite.”
The atmosphere was beginning to darken, and a muddy cloudy shade of purple was closing in all around them.
Goober looked at Puck as if he knew what this new development meant. What was the lake had now dried down so much it had become a veneer of hardened mud so thick you might have been able to walk upon it - in reality it was like a quicksand.
“There will be no one passing this way anymore,” said Jupiter to himself dolefully.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series
“Well ordinarily as things progress in the heavens, she would have just moved further aloft but I do not sense this to be the case now. I scanned all over the higher spheres for her whilst we spoke there was nothing to be found - which leaves us with one of two things: the soul of the lake has either been taken, or is in hiding, and it'
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| Amos Nattini |
s imperative we find out which is it is, that we may reinstate her.”
Eve was aghast, she had woken from her hazy happy stupor daydreaming about Jupiter, and had been listening to every word intently with no idea of what any of it meant, or how this could have happened, yet she trusted this solemn group of friends in all that was said nonetheless.
“Do we know of her name?”
“Yes. It is Sylvia.”
“You don’t think those four were trying to eat her do you? or something gruesome like that? Or, perhaps smuggle her out to Romuface? …”
“Well, they might have tried but it would not have been possible. Not for them at any rate. I doubt their kind could even perceive such an ethereal sprite.”
The atmosphere was beginning to darken, and a muddy cloudy shade of purple was closing in all around them.
Goober looked at Puck as if he knew what this new development meant. What was the lake had now dried down so much it had become a veneer of hardened mud so thick you might have been able to walk upon it - in reality it was like a quicksand.
“There will be no one passing this way anymore,” said Jupiter to himself dolefully.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series
Fault Lines
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| Olga Kreuzfahrer |
Jupiter’s hand touched Eve’s ever so lightly and in a flash he saw her in times past, sitting in a wooded grove with her back afore a tree, leaning sideways against the great Granoldi. He remembered so clearly her kindness and comfort. There were decades of friendship, and a bond that only such a communion can bring. He came to realise with that one touch from her, very possibly she was the only mortal he have ever been close to - he saw it all.
Puck’s voice broke his daydream.
“It’s your fault.”
“No, it surely is not.” a surly Jupiter retorted in an exaggerated and sour tone. Jupiter was repulsed with this idea, and moreso that Puck would even suggest it.
“I beg to differ” said Puck emphatically, with his arms crossed and feet firmly on the ground.
“The way I see it” he continued “is that your unholy fascination with you being a bear has caused only trouble and this was exactly how it started … this wretched contamination of the lower Heavens.”
They cast their eyes out to the lake which now appeared to be coagulated blood.
“Cross contamination of species! They must have got some of your tissue or your blood when you were in the body of Granoldi.”
They all knew that blood was a most holy conveyance for the soul within.
“Souls manifest in fluids - they like to travel and move about constantly - they live in the world, and because of, the blood.” Goober said quietly to Eve who was listening intently but had fallen far behind in her understanding. “Mortals incarnate in their blood, their souls circulate through the blood.”
Eve said simply: “Oh.”
Jupiter could feel the weight of depression descend yet again remembering the cannula and the jar they had collected his own blood with.
Puck’s voice broke his daydream.
“It’s your fault.”
“No, it surely is not.” a surly Jupiter retorted in an exaggerated and sour tone. Jupiter was repulsed with this idea, and moreso that Puck would even suggest it.
“I beg to differ” said Puck emphatically, with his arms crossed and feet firmly on the ground.
“The way I see it” he continued “is that your unholy fascination with you being a bear has caused only trouble and this was exactly how it started … this wretched contamination of the lower Heavens.”
They cast their eyes out to the lake which now appeared to be coagulated blood.
“Cross contamination of species! They must have got some of your tissue or your blood when you were in the body of Granoldi.”
They all knew that blood was a most holy conveyance for the soul within.
“Souls manifest in fluids - they like to travel and move about constantly - they live in the world, and because of, the blood.” Goober said quietly to Eve who was listening intently but had fallen far behind in her understanding. “Mortals incarnate in their blood, their souls circulate through the blood.”
Eve said simply: “Oh.”
Jupiter could feel the weight of depression descend yet again remembering the cannula and the jar they had collected his own blood with.
Eve thought for a moment. “Do you mean to say that when these four witches (the pitiful four were still nearby mumbling and grumbling) would take another’s blood to literally try to steal his soul?”
“Simply put - yes. This is the entire point: it was never about chasing enduring youth by consuming the blood - it goes way beyond that - it is all about capturing souls.”
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series
“Simply put - yes. This is the entire point: it was never about chasing enduring youth by consuming the blood - it goes way beyond that - it is all about capturing souls.”
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series
Thursday, 19 March 2026
Going Back to Sherwood
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| Patrick Lynch |
In a brief snatch of anxiety the woods of the Hode had evaded his finding. Jon panicked. His disappointments had been so many throughout his time he expected now only failure.
Oh for the cradle of Isabelle!
Yet Jon need not have worried, for the clearing that he had departed through a time before, became apparent once again; and the small whistle in his pocket had swiftly guided him well. Straining to see what he could not see, he finally found Isabelle waiting for him.
“We have always a need for a good black-smithy” she said warmly, taking his hands in hers. “You may reside here with me as long as you wish, my dear Jon of Robertus.”
“But I bring nothing to thee” he said downcast.
“Nay, you bring me all anyone can, and the happiness and relief of your company.”
She looked steadily at him and continued: “I caution thee however - never invite black moods or dark thoughts into these woods, for such mischievous sprites are hazardous to our home here particularly.”
“I still have so much to learn my dear lady.”
“And learn it you shall.”
No snow was falling in the this special place. The air was sweet and the smell of summer was all about.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series
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