High Spirits

[ c. 13th Century ~ ]

The moon splashed its light onto the stepping stones before him - a shining path that sat barely above the river's lick. To those watching from afar it appeared that Francis was walking upon the top of the water, as he balanced nimbly upon each polished pebble.

Behind him followed Murmur, who had left Hannah-Mary with her child safely in the care of a community east to where they were camped. The women there spoke the language of babies, and taught the motherly craft. They had welcomed them both with open arms.

Tonight, he and Francis performed the Midnight Mass, and with the night air being comfortably warm, and their purpose strong, the two were in high spirits.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

An Entity of Darkness

“Pull a rabbit out of a hat my boy, pull a rabbit out of a hat!”

That's precisely what was needed right now for sure. These words he reheard in his mind, just as though his father was saying them.

On his very first experiment, where he had to light the burner beneath the shining beaker, his father had said this with gusto. But where now are the rabbits?

Ever since that day Johnstone Senior had imparted to him the confidence to try for things that he never thought possible. At an early age Calvin had the ability to believe that he really could pull a rabbit out of a hat - that he could manifest the extraordinary. Having also the confidence of a multi-millionaire's son didn't hurt either. His sense of expectation was always strong.
And, from a complicated industry he had been shown the extravagance of Nature's own designs.

He had mixed and mingled fluids and vapours, cells and their nano's - to find that bacteria had personality; and that life could spring up as though out from nowhere. Spontaneous generation was a reality, even if the doors to the other-world that they came from were invisible.

However all of this magic had turned upon them now; in ways they could never have foreseen or invited.

The ‘rabbit’ became an entity of darkness, and Calvin felt it quiver in the empty sack of his stomach.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Lion's Head Ring

[c. 21st Century ~]

Calvin didn't pay much attention to the stranger who brushed by him on the bus. It was unusual to see a man in a kaftan, but the area was in no short supply of hippies, especially the kind who lived in the communes shouldering the native land close by in the desert.

What he did register momentarily was the bronze ring that this tall man wore ... it had a lion's head that resembled a miniature door-knocker. Calvin made a note to himself to trawl the markets when all of this was over, to find one for himself.

Looking briefly for a seat, he half noticed some alarmed faces staring at him. This had happened before. It was because of of the green stain still visible on his right hand. People most likely thought he was a bank robber with a dye stain like he had, yet he had not given them, or it, a second thought …

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

A Blessing & a Curse

The body that the spirit inhabits becomes its companion of sorts, a companion that remains linked in a kinship, even after a death, after the body itself has dissolved. For it too has a nature, and an indwelling character of sorts, that has collected experience and memory, and a binding and renewing karma in the service of the two.

And so, when it happened that Murmur had reawakened Pietro from his death, he had given him a chance to have days in the world he would not have had ordinarily.

But this was to be living in another form other than his own. For the body Pietro had worn had now deceased and dissipated.

There is an expression to say that some things can be both a 'blessing and a curse’. The innocent Monk was unaware of the deep and potent magic he had been performing with his resurrections.

With this embodiment came a sorry consequence: that now the door to the Heavens had closed for those he had saved - and Pietro could not find his way back, as he might have done with an ordinary departure into death.

His chance to exit the starry path had come and gone, and its exact configuration was unknown to him, and he subsequently became earth-bound thereafter.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Life is not what it appears to be

When a soul is dislocated from its original habitat - from the body that housed it and gave it warmth in the world - when it is displaced and placed into yet another form, another body, another mortal flesh - it becomes confused as to where it should be, and has difficulty finding the pathways back into the heavens that it would usually return to periodically.

The science of the spirit and its relationship to the body in which it indwells, is a complex conundrum.

Life is not what it appears to be. Life is wholesome, and this unison of synergistic amalgamations persuade the common view that one thing is the other.

But one thing is many things - at the one time - and this simple truth goes to the essence of all life with its manifold complexities.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Welcome to this World

Looking sternly at her tear stained countenance, he asked "What name would you have christened this child?"

"Mirabella" she said, staring at the ground.

The young monk made the sign of the cross upon the little brow and softly whispered in her frilly ear.

"Mirabella" he said, "welcome to this world”.

And with that so said from the healer monk, the tiny girl blinked her shining eyes, and turned a pearly pink all over, as new blood had now fortified her inspirited body.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Murmur began to Pray

Hannah-Mary screamed an unearthly scream.

“You will not take my baby!" she whimpered.

With a push and a shove the door was forced open. It was Murmur, her twin brother.

Word had reached him from Francis that Hannah’s time was soon due, and he had sought his sister straightaway because of it.

With the door atilt, the early light came flowing through in golden beads.

He caught sight of his poor sister and what lay there beside her - of the little face plain staring - quite grey, yet very beautiful.

Upon seeing her brother, Hannah-Mary began once again to sob.

He knelt by her side and held out his arms reverently.

She gave over the bundle solemnly. With his arms around them both, Murmur began to pray.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Limp upon the Floor

"Mary" she rasped, "you are alone and there is no one but me to help you in this world - let me take care of your bastard child. You can come for it later when it has grown. Let me in now, that I may do as I will.”

It was then that the pain came upon the young mother. Mary clutched her cramping girth and cried, "not now!”

There was a muttering to be heard on the other side of the door. The witch had started cursing an evil mantra, issuing such blasphemies as are spoken by her kind.

It had started to rain.

Mary felt trapped - she could not leave by her one and only door, for fear of the Vivien - yet neither could she safely stay.

She needed help.

A fit of unconsciousness draped over her trembling form, as Hannah collapsed into the darkness, hitting her head on the cold slate floor. She felt nothing.

Come the morning the young mother lay in her mess, with a cold infant between her legs still tied by its cord.

Pitifully alone in her bewilderment she lay for many hours, without the will to do anything but wail.

There was blood all around, and yet the cottage smelt of roses. The sun was streaming through the little stone window, and illumined the naked child limp upon the floor.


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS, Second Chances 

The Opportunistic Vivien

[ circa 13th Century ~ ]
The old witch rapped and tapped at the window pane so abruptly that Mary was startled from her sleep.

Her dream-life had been troubled this night particularly, disturbed by some gawking gibbering demons sent to her bed, by the opportunistic Vivien.

"I've come to deliver your baby" called the old woman from behind the bolted door.

“Leave my home and go back to what hell you came from!” Hannah-Mary replied nervously - “You will not take my baby from me!”

She shouted this as loudly as she could, fearing that the old witch might not be able to hear her. The hag rattled the latch and pushed menacingly on the bulk of the old oak door.

Vivien was impervious to reason or consequence; being both wilful and determined in her wants. She had come to get the infant child and would not leave until the baby was in her bony arms - hers to steal away.

Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

At the Gate

“I think it might be time for you to retire George", Francis had said telepathically, placing a gentle, steadying hand upon the old inspector’s shoulder. George slumped further. He knew that Francesco was right.

“But where would I go? What would I do?” he asked meekly. Even as a ghost he felt tired - more tired than he had ever been in earthly life.

He continued: "I don't know … anywhere but London" he sighed to himself, an old man's sigh.

That is how it began, that George became a constant companion to Francis - and after that, following him everywhere he went.

Although as a spirit George was invisible to the ordinary world, he still had a large community that followed close by him, of the animals that he had collected from the restaurants, and they, added to this, were drawn to Francis as well.

Francis of course, could see and hear George, as he did with most ‘other worldly’ souls that would accompany the two.

They buzzed at the entrance, hoping that a gate attendant would answer, but the compound looked desolate.

George fiddled with the intercom, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket, he began to wipe the dust from its buttons.

There was a click of a door and a woman approached with Chips slinking behind. The grey dog sniffed at the gate and licked Francis’s hand happy to see his old friend again.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

His Natural Abilities

Arizona was unseasonably hot, even for the desert’s days, and the sight of a man in a Kaftan was not the most unusual thing that could be seen around the town.

Francis still held an uncanny talent winning over animals and plants. Back in his flat in Utah there were pot plants all over his shelves and floors. He would bring a little sapling home and within the week it was overgrown.

His natural abilities surpassed the best of the mortals in this modern age, which was not surprising, for as did his virtue.

Elvish blood can carry you so far, however it is true righteousness that appeals to the heavens and their graces, for the bestowing of their higher powers.

It really seemed to go hand-in-hand: that the more accomplished the soul (be them elvish or man) the more that they heard the hearts of others and loved them well.

Although Francis had an idea of the approximate location that Anon was in, he really could not tell what building or what person, might be holding him. His intuition brought him to the gates of Johnstone Bio-phio Chemicals, where inside the compound his beloved friend lay at the feet of the woman in red.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

 

Here - or Other-where

[circa 21st Century ~]

At the very same time that Calvin had set foot on the 804 to leave, Francesco stepped down into the red specked dirt with his desert-dust sandalled feet. He had been travelling miles across the country to find his beloved companion, Anon - a Weimaraner who was taken to wander.

The journey out from the Middle Ages had been relatively short - not at all the long period of history you would expect, compact with centuries and time spent in between - for Francis had rested between his lifetimes, and returned into the earthly realm quite fortified throughout.

Unlike other Elvish men, Francesco did not come and go as he pleased from the worldly realm into the other-realm and then back again whilst on Earth.

For the best part of his days he was bound to live as any mortal might do - with the exception of his elvish talents, his superior perception, and blessed comprehension.

He could also recall all of the days in the world that had gone before - even the ones he had had no part in. It was as though the history of the world lived within him.

He was intimate with this world, and she loved him in return, giving him those akashic imprints that embossed her girdle and glitteringly reflected in her crown.

He understood what it was to be human, and empathetically felt everything that was around him - alongside the hopes and disappointments construed by the spiritual worlds and its entourage of beings besides.

Rarely was he self aware however. He did not sense or comprehend just how different he was to practically everyone else, here - or other-where.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Sequestered Reliquary

Something happened while Francesco was picking the flies from the hive’s sticky exterior (some which were still alive and buzzing tenuously) … he had a vision.

This, in itself, was not unusual, as Francis had many visions frequently. But this episode was very different to the usual strand of images that would flit in and around his head parading their stories - this one was sombre and unrecognisable.

With his mind's eye he saw a line of army trucks following each other through his cathedral of trees ... on a road that was not yet grooved.

He had no reference to what a truck with wheels was - let alone a line of them. He heard in the ethers of this future event, the dreadful rumble and thunder as they followed one another through the forest - six, perhaps seven, each alike and quite obviously machines that carried men - who he could see were riding upon their shaking frames.

A chill went through him on that bright wintery day - for Francesco always gave visions their due weight, realising that insights hold a place somewhere in time, however implausible these presentations might appear in the present.

There was a sickening feeling that pervaded this sighting - an ominous sadness - as he knew there and then, that sometime in the centuries to follow, these men with the iron helmets would come to this quiet glade and search for his remains, later to transport them into a darkened tomb of sequestered reliquary.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Hives

Hans Thoma

Francesco suspected that the hives were being tapped in the night, for their sticky glittery residue now coated the trees beneath - and come the morning, chunks of their wax had been sucked dry - littering the ground beneath in a tatter of white.”

At first he thought it was the lesser Elves, who had a partiality to all things sweet. For if something was there for the taking, they usually considered it theirs for the taking.

Yet it was not common for Elves to leave a telltale mess behind, as this was done, night after night.

He then considered that perhaps it was the smaller animals, whose winter fare had encouraged them to sample foods outside their normal fare.

But these hives were intact from the outside, and paws and claws would make scars and scores. No, he thought, it could not be them.

It was not Hannah-Mary, he considered - for he delivered her more than enough staples every day, which included the honey as she required.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Elementals

Just as visible Nature is populated by an infinite number of living creatures, so, according to Paracelsus, the invisible, spiritual counterpart of visible Nature (composed of the tenuous principles of the visible elements) is inhabited by a host of peculiar beings, to whom he has given the name elementals, and which have later been termed the Nature spirits. Paracelsus divided these people of the elements into four distinct groups, which he called gnomes, undines, sylphs, and salamanders. He taught that they were really living entities, many resembling human beings in shape, and inhabiting worlds of their own, unknown to man because his undeveloped senses were incapable of functioning beyond the limitations of the grosser elements.

The civilizations of Greece, Rome, Egypt, China, and India believed implicitly in satyrs, sprites, and goblins. They peopled the sea with mermaids, the rivers and fountains with nymphs, the air with fairies, the fire with Lares and Penates, and the earth with fauns, dryads, and hamadryads. These Nature spirits were held in the highest esteem, and propitiatory offerings were made to them. Occasionally, as the result of atmospheric conditions or the peculiar sensitiveness of the devotee, they became visible. Many authors wrote concerning them in terms which signify that they had actually beheld these inhabitants of Nature's finer realms. A number of authorities are of the opinion that many of the gods worshiped by the pagans were elementals, for some of these invisibles were believed to be of commanding stature and magnificent deportment....

Literature has also perpetuated the concept of Nature spirits. The mischievous Puck of Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream; the elementals of Alexander Pope's Rosicrucian poem, The Rape of the Lock, the mysterious creatures of Lord Lytton's Zanoni; James Barrie's immortal Tinker Bell; and the famous bowlers that Rip Van Winkle encountered in the Catskill Mountains, are well-known characters to students of literature. The folklore and mythology of all peoples abound in legends concerning these mysterious little figures who haunt old castles, guard treasures in the depths of the earth, and build their homes under the spreading protection of toadstools.

Fairies are the delight of childhood, and most children give them up with reluctance. Not so very long ago the greatest minds of the world believed in the existence of fairies, and it is still an open question as to whether Plato, Socrates, and Iamblichus were wrong when they avowed their reality.

-Manly P. Hall

Shaken from his Fantasies

[c. 21st Century ~]

Crouching beneath the bottom-most branch, with its brazen fingers drawing lines on his back, he held his breath, he felt tense, panting as slow and long as he could - daring not to move more than he had to.

He sensed that in this moment he should remain extremely quiet - it was all about sense right now. His instincts felt enlivened, enlightened. He was present, he was living this moment - he was transfixed.

Watching the young woman water the saplings with a tear dropper, he could smell her undergarments beneath her dress. He divined her floral perfume, and the light residue of a kiwi spritz hairspray. He was infatuated.

"Chips, come out from there you bad boy" she called playfully.

Shaken from his fantasies he remembered yet again, that he was a dog.

"Chips, get out of there NOW!" This time the voice was unkind and commanding, and he complied, with his head down, the old Weimarner slunk out from under the bush. The siren had called, and he defeatedly obliged.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS, Second Chances

Bless & Mend

His Elvish heritage had bestowed many powers of grace, and one especially was to "bless and mend" as he liked to call it.

Torn claws, fractured wings, foot rot and painful mouths; rheumatism, kennel cough, weeping eye, seeping wounds - all of these he could cure, in the name of the Father of the All.

A feast was then laid out afterwards - mainly consisting of nuts and grains. A soft rain drizzled, beading their furs and scales. Mary was well sheltered by the arms of her tree, which was now worked smooth at its base by her leaning.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

His Diverse Congregation

As he looked around his diverse congregation, Francis could perceive the strife that had afflicted each one sorely.

Every animal present there had known both grief and trial - experiencing loss and hunger, pain and fear.

Some were now separated from their families, a few had old and fresh wounds, many were desperately afraid of the night. The life of the wild was not as easy as the mortals might have thought, and so often the seasons were unkind to the creatures also.

Such sorrows bourgeoned when the hunters and farmers would take their liberties upon these gentle beasts.

And so, persecuted by both the elements and the carelessness of men, these down-hearted souls were drawn to the one who loved them as he did.

A donkey wandered into the huddle and took his place beside a balding ram. Some black hens shuffled over to make room.

Francesco made a point of greeting each one individually and took time in doing so. It had become a solemn practice that often involved some healing as well.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Language of the Heart

With no books to recite from, he [Francis] had by accident found that this beastly gathering preferred their stories and songs to come directly out from his imagination, whereas repetitive verse and second-hand thought had no meaning for them.

Creatures understood the language of the heart; fresh from the spiritual worlds, he conveyed the higher emotion, which in turn awoke their higher instincts ... for it was not so much the words he spoke (for which they could not understand) but rather the meaning living within, that he could impart to them.

Franco had tried to recite the common prayer, but even this had lost their attention completely.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Woodish Folk

A nest of hedgehog and assorted hares; woolly wild goats, an aged domestic brown cow. There were fourteen fox, five wolves and ten tall deer; three tree snakes, two brown, one green, and a weathered horse who had retired from the army.

A cluster of rats to the left, field mice to the right - impossible to count because they kept changing places with one another. Two scraggy sheep beside an old cracked turtle, and an assortment of scrawny wild dogs.

Francis's face was lit with the love of it all - his handsomeness over-ceded by his affection for their souls.

He seemed to be stronger and healthier during these months as Hannah had got to know him more and more. Francis was most at home in the company of the woodish folk and cherished their presence at this special resting-day Mass.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

He had a way with Words

Mary's girth had exaggerated with the swelling from an infant pushing tightly from the inside. She sat with her back against her favourite tree, listening to Francesco chant the morning's prayer.

Around the two was a great group who had seemingly appeared from out of nowhere. In the absence of human parishioners, there came the creatures.

He had a way with words, she thought scanning the crowd, who were sitting surprisingly still and appearing quite penitent.

There was a strangely uncommon communal peace there within that glade.

Some of the animals had come from the surrounding farms, pushing through the fences to join them, still in tether.

The small lambs twitched with an excited quiver. It was a big turnout for this Sabbath.

At the very front sat the smaller creatures: spotted bullfrogs with oily hides, butterflies and drowsy bats, puffed up sparrows, chatting wrens and black backed squirrels.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Papal Lace

[ Circa 13th Century ]

The ivory lace dripped from his arm and over his wrist; with the black satin folds of his weighted cassock, concealing well the withering frame beneath.

The candle was almost down to the nub and his tired mind, in likeness, was fast exhausting of thoughts - having so many papers, warrants and bulls yet to be sealed.

A succession of yawning deliberations - of moral chasms, of blind ponies, of barbed Christs, in an endless stream of holy determining.

There was a taut rap at the door - 4.00 am: the time for early Lauds ... Charley boy (known formerly as Father Paul) had arrived to dress the frail and failing Pope.

Two blanched feet idled from slipper into soft mule sleeve, and three layers of tunic and gown now encased him. The weight of the cross had become intolerably heavy to bear - its cold metal chain bit his pale wrinkled neck, shining in contrast against the anaemia of age.

The temperature in those halls was always so cold that any drowsiness one had, fast evacuated.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Johnstone Industries

Johnstone Industries had a gloves on approach, packaging mysterious substances that were so far removed from their natural beginnings that they had become almost other-worldly.

Calvin genuinely suspected that the company itself had supernatural leanings - for how far can you go … extracting life from a substance before it becomes just an animated corpse?

He liked to think of preservatives as anti-matter, an invention of the dark gods ... but he kept these suppositions to himself.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Happy Wacky

Privately the old man was very fond of dogs, having come to know quite a few during his days of vivisection (vivisection: from the Latin 'vivus' meaning alive, and 'sectio' meaning cutting). No one actually used that word anymore since the lobbyists had it censored from the industry, leaving replacement phrases of ‘analytical experimentation’ and ‘investigative live screening’ - to mask just about anything and everything involving the torturous trials the animals were put through.

Calvin glanced over to his watery-eyed friend and said blandly, "his name is ... er ...Chips - and he is staying with me."

Before any objection could be made Chips lumbered down and then sprinted through to the entrance of the compound with the three following quickly behind.

Recently the massive building had been effaced and replaced with a much friendlier Chemical Company do-over.

Futuristic styles had become passé - outdated - and they had been advised to ‘change with the times’, finding that businesses everywhere were now preferring the mom and pa, happy-wacky, pretty-pretty, slightly tacky imagery to promote their earth-friendly bleaches, deodorisers, vaccines, tissue-culture baths, tissue fixatives and boutique preservatives.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Wind-chime of Miniature Skulls

Now quite aged and frail, with only a meagre frame and failing eyes, she cursed them twice, packed up her tool kit, and left for the refuge of the dank and the dark, where she lived comfortably concealed from her trolls.

It had proved too troublesome to pursue her, and so Vivien was left to live her following days in chosen solitude.

A feint green mist glowed around her timber home, and a wind-chime of miniature skulls tankled in the sullen breeze.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Vivien

As the town's midwife, Vivien had delivered more still-births than she had those alive - and partly her evil reputation was because her stock of healthy infants had been but a few.

The past year had produced sickly babes and a very cold winter - the Bishop had blamed Vivien for this blight of misfortune and its inevitable consequence.

This nurse was also the go-to abortionist, and everyone knew publicly of her having practiced this black art.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

"Go back, go back"

There are dark parts to any forest wherein the woodland creatures hesitate to go - where the overhang exceeds the light, and the corporeal meets the common world in a synthesis of Goblin, bravado and dearth.

In a place where few can laugh, and vagabonds hide within ... stumbling into those shaded parts that drip with moulds and slippery slimes - where the thorns and brambles whisper: "go back, go back" with their limbs in twine, blocking the wayward from pushing their way in any further.

"Go back, go back" echo the crows with their gurgly throats, with a cough, and a shriek "go back, go back, before the Vivien sees you!"

The formidable Vivien was a witch who found sanctuary in the shadows of this darkest of places - where in the innermost parts, the ancient trees still steadfast remained.

She had absconded from the villagers who previously had shunned and then hunted her: with the Church having signed a paper in support of her accusers.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Bee Attack

With an organized mind, the swarm went straight to the attacker's head, filling his nose and ears, then piercing his groin, his bulbs and his spear. He dropped to the ground, convulsed, and died.

The other two ran fast away with the bees still following closely behind.

Francis helped the young girl from the ground.

"I am Francesco.” he said.

"I know" she replied sobbing, "I am Mary".

She had outright lied to Francis, calling herself Mary - for the shame of what had befallen her had told her to.

As he carried her back to the camp an old grey wolf followed beside, and the bees returned, flying in and out of the pathway surrounding.

Her pale white arms were scored with scratches, holding on tight around his sun leathered neck. Hannah’s fear lifted momentarily, and she felt safe once again.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

An Uncanny Hum

Francis sighed. He did not want, or enjoy, confrontation.

“Brothers you are far too wild for this country habitat - go back to the town where you belong. Leave my land or it will not go well for you."

"An empty threat" spat the young girl's attacker as he moved a step closer to the monk.

"We have greeted thee in friendship and yet you refuse our fidelity - who are you to interrupt our recreations? A crazed wild man who denounced his very own?" He added this emphatically.

He had said this standing up, and was still naked waist down. The soldier picked the spear from the dirt and drove it hard into Francis's foot.

Straightaway there came an uncanny hum from close by in the trees. Seconds later a dense black cloud fell upon them. It was the swarm still following behind.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Their Envy Spiced & Spiked their Lust

“We have missed your company Brother, of late - what has become of you?" one asked as casually as a midsummer’s day.

This superficial tone had come from the youngest among them who kept looking sideways as he spoke. This soldier held a cunning, wondering if a better sport could be made with the madman, as it was with the girl.

For it was that their jealousy of this handsome man still freshly lived within their recollections of him.

Francis had a way of making every other man feel inferior and less fortunate. And now, this gave them a growing pleasure in the thought of taking him down.

The excitement was rising. All three were smirking. Each thought to themselves that the once mighty Francis now appeared very easy to overwhelm. They could hurt him, yay even kill him, and no one would miss this lunatic prince.

Their envy spiced and spiked their lust, and their desires dangerously excited their wits to conform.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Many a Soldier's Madness

The tallest of the two lay down his spear, moving forward to embrace Francis in genuine greeting, but instead Francesco pushed past him, knelt down and caught the semi-naked man by the roots of his hair. Francis said nothing but yanked the shank of hair even harder.

"Desist from this party, now!" he hollered menacingly.

The young girl beneath the soldier was bleeding at the breast, her long hair was caught around her arms, which were tied above her head. She looked up at Francis with a pleading that made him revolted to see her upset.

The wars had been the cause of many a soldier's madness. The three instantly pitied the lay monk who was standing before them clothed in a sack. It truly disturbed them to see their former friend so unkempt and obviously penniless, now living in witless solitude.

Yet he did not return back to them their familiar smiles.

Instead, commandingly, Francis asked for a tunic from the smaller of the three - to which he obliged. He then gave it over to the girl for a covering, and loosened the rope from her wrists.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Basest of Brutish Men

Francesco, once of the army himself, was not shocked by the basest of brutish men. He perceived crudity to be nested within a much higher nature, and therefore, most usually, he could forgive the coarse folly of ruffians. However, he could never tolerate cruelty dealt upon others, and to this end, he calmly, yet fiercely cried out:

“What for!”

The two standing by threw a puzzled look his way, and then realized who exactly it was calling to them.

The young men were genuinely pleased to see Francis, full knowing his unusual voice.

However, the third man was so enraptured with his frenzy, he gave no attention to the interruption of this past acquaintance.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

A Disturbing Chorus of Mocking Mirth

Francis would scarce be noticed as he moved quietly about the trees. He preferred to be unseen, especially if strange consorts were passing through.

On this day, the sobbing of a youth could be heard nearby the waterfall. It was alarmingly followed by uproarious laughter - a disturbing chorus of mocking mirth, made all the worse due to its fickle purpose, advertising the relish of a devilish taunt taking place under the cover of the shadowy trees.

Francesco felt compelled to intercept. He strode through a break in the briars to find three soldiers - two of whom he knew.

The other soldier was difficult to discern - revealing but a bare backside broadcast upon a small pale figure who was pinned beneath his flabby bulk.


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Honey & the Bee

The air hung dank; its moist outreach heralding the rains to come, floating above the forest, with its festering, corrupting leaves, and expiring refuse.

Francesco sensed woefully that the group of men who were approaching close by were undesirables.

A cluster of starlings hurriedly confided their concern with a sharpish call.

This camp had become Francesco’s home, around which hung enormous bulbs of beehives, that drooped from the trees like heavy lanterns, thickly fragrant when the warm winds coaxed their sweet waxed scent from their cells.

He lived wholesomely feeding from their honey, utilising their greasy matrix for the confectionary of balm and candles - their tacky amber was alight with life, and this etheric goodness sustained him well.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances