Pack Your Things

Alex looked over to Puck, who, was once again emptying his boots of their contents - this time all over the mosaic tiling - he then gazed over to Mercedes, who was standing close to the lift, ready to take her chances as soon as the cleaners had finished mopping up.

“It was you” he said under his breath looking hard at her. And suddenly, very suddenly, his head hurt.

* * *

No sooner had the ‘apparition’ disappeared from the room, taking the small goat with it, Alex and Mercedes watched Romulus pacing again - they were both barely daring to breathe wondering what he would do next. They had witnessed unseemly magical events around him in the past - inexplicable and surprising manifestations - but this was something very different, for the man in the long coat was so real and unafraid, and the mess that he and the goat left behind was undeniably real. 

“Pack your things” Romulus shouted across the room addressing Alex who momentarily thought he was being told to leave. He had been waiting for this with mixed emotion but as it turned out Romulus meant for him to go with him.

“We leave on the 23.00 Silver Fox out of here.” Romulus liked to call his private get 'Silver Fox’ because the jet had been brought out of commercial retirement and repurposed.

Mercedes took her opportunity while the two were packing: when the lift doors opened and closed again she finally was inside it, making her way back down to earth, into the streets, never to return.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

The Eyes Have It

The magi and the magistrate became as one -
Silks and their weavers
merchants and their traders
all combined into one -
these made up the Lawyers robe,
pulled together with a single stitch,
embroidered with a common vernacular
to fill the bulging purse.

Aloft their station was the spectacle maker.
Fashioning ground glass, tooling the wire,
sight is a gift far beyond measure.
In the hierarchy of worldly wealth
the iridologist and his prescriptions
were well standing.

Again, the two became in twine -
hand in glove, lens with lens - tethered the two
more powerful than judiciary,
church, or governing mens.

Crusty cockles littered the sluice, the dark waters licked and slapped a tangle of seaweed and grit. Tindle paced the shore every morning half hoping the ‘messenger’ that came to him would appear again - however, he did not.

There was some movement in the half-light of the approaching dawn, but this was not at all whom he had been hoping for. It was his wife! As he came closer Tindle could see that she was naked, dancing around in circles, humming to herself as though she were a little child … unawares of any impropriety - completely without modesty or shame.

His wife had purchased a small shipload of whiskey from which she had tippled morning to night. The crates were all emptied now and their planks onsold to the carpenter, and the jugs were refurbished with vinegar.

“Put yer garments back on,” he shouted disapprovingly, rapidly approaching the rotund woman.

Although weathered by the rum, she still felt his disdain and yelled back “I have born ye babes, and I am worn. You would once tear my clothes from me, what offends thy eye these days old man?” she spat at him.

“I know not what you want from me wife. Do I not give you anything and everything you have asked for?” he replied, neglecting her question.

It was true. As the business had prospered her purse had always been full.

Tindle picked up a rock and threw it at her and it clipped the side of her cheek from behind. It went far harder than he had intended. She screamed in fright, and then with a rebound rage, took the jug she had been carrying and broke it onto a mound, then ran at him with the jagged porcelain.

Tindle lost his footing and fell sideways splitting his head on a rusted pike sticking out from the ribs of a wayward fisherman’s trawler.

She emptied his pockets before leaving him to the evening tides.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

An Apparition from the Past

Good and evil was not ever a true fight,
simply because there is only ever good.
Evil is never an equal opponent - not even close.
Materially evil is but a canker to be excised; discard it from that it would make putrid and give it no weight or undue measure.

Goat had followed. There was not one way of doing this, and unlike the comic books, evil could not be overcome by Puck using combat or attempting to match strength with simple sparring.

Puck had brought along with him some of the sea and saltwater, and the seaweed had soaked into the plush carpet. A few of the its beads exploded with the heat of the room and leaked further exuding a pungent smell.

To Alex’s wonderment the man that he had dreamt about was actually there now standing in the apartment, with a small goat hopping around beside him. He recognised him! What he did not know, and what he could not realise, is that Alex himself was Puck’s ticket into that room, into the vicinity of Romulus. It was he that had helped to make it happen, by the powers of association - one that went back in time to the beach of the diamond, to that inlet of Tindle, Dearth and Dingle, to now.

The goat did a hop and a jump and leapt forward onto the bed, landing into the middle of the piled sheets. He wiped his furry face into them, savouring the smell.

He then sprang onto the bed and left droppings upon the naked pillows; some more black beads littered the carpet - Romulus swiped at the small muscly creature with a stainless steel martini shaker. He missed. The goat simply urinated on it defiantly.

“You insult me you wretched farkin Pookhah” he hissed at Puck, who had said not a word since his arrival.

He was trying to recall if and when he had met the ‘great’ Romulus - this character was more than familiar. Alex, on the other hand, he knew well.

“I have your boats - it was I that pulled them from the water, and put them all into safety.” Puck said with a firm yet mocking tone.

“Piracy is an international crime” snarled Romulus, who awkwardly noted after saying this that Puck looked something like a medieval pirate, in the manner he was clothed.

“Piracy?” said Puck directly staring down the demon, “Piracy is stealing the blood from the innocent, and harvesting children, and containing their souls. Who now is the greater pirate?” He swore something in Elvish that was exceedingly disparaging, but untranslatable. Puck was in no mood to argue.

“What do you want for them?" an angry Romulus spat. He did not understand Puck’s curse, but caught its meaning well enough.

Meanwhile Mercedes unlocked the cupboard where the in-house phone was cradled, and pressed ‘0’ for housekeeping. It was the perfect time for her to escape when the the cleaners would leave … and with any luck Romulus would be too occupied to notice.

The lift bell pinged and out stepped four attendants with their trolleys and buckets, spray bottles and vacuum.

“I didn’t call for you” snapped Romulus blocking their entry and pressing the button to close the lift door.

“I did” Mercedes called and moving in front of him, “there’s water everywhere and it needs cleaning up before it stains the carpet - and it smells.” she added loudly. This bluff was her only chance.

“Very well” he consented, “and while you are at it call security will you?”


-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Blood Money

As usual Romulus interrupted their lunch - he had an uncanny knack of creating disturbance, for it seemed that the minute Mercedes or Alex felt relaxed he would manifest enough chaos to upset them all over again, and this time it was with his explosive temper.

He started roaring complaints as though they were to blame, or had some ability to help him with whatever was going wrong - neither of which was ever possible. Mercedes had no idea what his beef was - or why the supply chain had faltered, and although Alex understood the general concept, what bothered him all the more was the anger that was still to come his way.

He had seen Romulus in such a mood many times, and it did not go well for him. He wondered if it was connected to the implant between his legs, because subsequently this man who had everything seemed to only get relief by having his rage culminating in the subjugation and pain of others.

Alex asked himself over and over why did he stay with Romulus? He even knew deep down there was only one way out of this relationship, if you could call it a relationship. And yet the attention Romulus gave him felt so special - even if it did cause grief along the way. Mercedes was more of a prop, he told himself, their engagement meant nothing - it was he, Alex, that Romulus really cared for.

Romulus was pacing like an animal as he shouted down into his phone. It was a newer model - one of the clear handsets that lit up from the inside. It could read your body temp and pulse as you held it, and Romulus’s phone was flashing a beating heart, which for any normal man would be a sign of grave danger.

“What do you mean the cargo was intercepted?” he snapped.

He was referring to a fleet of mobile blood banks. Blood was the new currency, more valuable and profitable than gold - it was his ‘pet’ project in a volatile economy. His team had been working with storing blood and blood products in cryogenic vats, capturing the life essence of the ‘donors’ indefinitely.

Word was, amongst his fellow oligarchs, that crypto and gold would not be able to get close to the value of blood in the next decade. And yes, human farms were on the agenda. Yes, it prolonged life and quality of life, however it was far more significant than generally guessed - it contained signature, spirit, and immortality. Screw interplanetary exploration! There was more than one way to dominate the universe! Or so he thought.

Alex had returned to his hot chips, satisfied that danger was not yet impending as Romulus was far too absorbed with his phone call for the time being.

He had not yet seen the uncanny apparition that appeared in the far corner of the apartment room from out of nowhere. The lift had not delivered him, and he had not accompanied Romulus inside the building - and yet there he was.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

A Heart of Gold

“Tinsel, could you find me some gold? Could you, would you fetch me something to work with?” Jonathon asked hopefully.

Tinsel was a tiny flutter-by: a fairy that was no bigger than a large moth. She understood Jon’s request perfectly, and because she liked him she returned three days later with a walnut shell in which he found concealed within its inner pocket a hump of gold dust.

“This is all that I need” he said appreciatively, “I give thee many thanks my friend.”

When Jonathon had completed his project he approached Isabelle saying: “I have made thee a trinket.”

Jon had perfected his metal work in the community, borrowing the Elven tools, learning from them their specialised craft.

She looked at him wonderingly. Although safe from harm whilst living in this spiritual oasis, her time in Robin’s forest had been somewhat lonely. Prior to this life, her former years she reflected again, had been desolate - every minute she felt absent of happiness and without a true companion. Marriage to Robertus had not solved the wanting - it had been a timely relief to be released from that troth.

She drew out from the polished shell a fine chain that glittered in the shifting light from the shimmering trees.

“The Council told me it is a good charm to have upon oneself for protection dear Isabelle - a mirror of gold. Its size is of no import - for its miracle is that when you sleep the Fae around you will take delight in their own image, and protect you by their good nature; whilst the Demons who may approach will see their own faces in its reflection and runaway afearing them.” He laughed at his own thought, for the faces of the demonic are indeed hideous.

The golden mirror he had struck was in the shape of a little heart - a flat piece of gold he had cut and polished. He watched her face for approval yet this dear woman looked worried.

“You do not like it? It was all the gold I had to work with … and silver, I was told, would not perform the task.”

“My boy it is beautiful,” she said quietly, perplexed by its message. “What does it mean?” she asked.

“It means I love you.” he said quietly.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Vision of the Past

Mercedes looked keenly at one of the many artworks adorning the gold papered walls. Mostly the paintings hung depicted various forms of torture, however the one she kept returning to seemed sweet enough; portraying a small child sitting in a gutter with her head down, staring at an empty cola can at her little feet. The toddler was without clothes. 

“This one is not half bad” she said out loud, to Alex who was plastering cream on his thighs and beyond.

“You might think that,” he said despondently … see the rat in the shadows behind? The artist used blood, real blood, mixed into his acrylic, for authenticity. Here he laughed a fake laugh, a nervous laugh to conceal his own distemper. He held back telling more of what he knew of this painting - Mercedes did not need to hear the worst - he felt proudly protective of her.

Alex wanted more and more to be back on the rig, as far away as he could get from the sadistic narcissist he had fallen in love with. Self loathing sank in upon him yet again. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the smell of the sea air, the spray on his face, the salt, the sounds, and the freedom that came with the feeling of being alone amidst the heaving waves. 

A memory stirred - one he did not recognise: he was back at the beach on the sand, standing by a very large pitted rock. Yes, he was there watching another man approaching, one who wore a very large folded hood connected to a broad long weather-worn leather cape - it seemed like he had stepped right out from a medieval movie. 

How odd, he thought to himself - these flashes of fiction had been getting more vivid day by day. “Are you feeling hungry Sadie?” he called over to Mercedes who was fixing her hair. 

“Sure, what do you feel like?”

“Think I’ll call down and see if they can arrange some fish and chips.” he said, clean forgetting the stranger and his vision of the past. 

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Wealth Cannot Buy Good Taste

Romulus was a Forbes endowed, all-powerful, worldly rich individual, who, with his immense holdings, managed to interfere in the lives of millions of people, for better or for worse - his influence was everywhere. He considered this to be his right, and with his notion of supreme entitlement he had suppressed and overtaken the wishes of his heart and soul lifetimes earlier. His commonsense of spirit had left him entirely, along with his angel that he had repelled forevermore.

“I want that bear!” he snapped at Mercedes, who was adjusting her bra around swollen nipples that were tender from the rings Romulus had insisted she have pierced with. 

“I want that fu’kin Bear”, he snarled angrily to Alex, who had just received a heavy beating, and no amount of coke could mask the pain this time ... his groin was purple from that contraption. He looked over to Mercedes and with the solidarity of the oppressed; they understood one another completely in a very meaningful moment.

“Why is it the guy never sleeps?” she complained shortly after Romulus had left the apartment.

“I know - I sure would like to see that” agreed Alex, slowly sitting himself down on the edge of the bed; its black satin sheets crumpled into a small pile waiting for housekeeping to come and collect them.

The entire floor was one enormous room situated high in the clouds on the seventy-eighth. Its windows however, were filled with decorator landscape views, scenic photographs of country USA - it was impossible to tell the time of day or night by looking at them or to take in the sky or the scenery beneath. Some of the panes doubled as video screens also. Alex always assumed there might be recording devices imbedded in them as well.

This enormous room depended therefore on artificial lighting, which if anything was always far too bright and uncomfortable for normal eyes, except for those places in the recessed spaces that glowed a dull dark red.

There was also a sunken lounge and a small bathing pool tiled in black and a circular bed. The decor was bad taste 60’s and actually designed by Romulus himself, whose primary objective in both life and design was to put one’s teeth on edge. Even the latrine and bidet was exposed, being behind just a single glass partition, for he liked and insisted on being able to see his companions at all times, and as far as he was concerned, the more uncomfortable they were, the more excited he became.

The only exit from the apartment was the lift that had bronze gargoyles positioned at each side of the doors, with sensors hidden within their gaping mouths. Only Romulus held the card key for this lift and to the hotel’s switchboard; and so Alex and Mercedes were dependent on him for them to be able to leave. There was no fire escape; at least not one that they knew of. No escape was at all easy. 

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Fountain of Universal Fire

“Come over here my child and sit by the fire.”

Sylvia cringed. She had been a spirit of the water for as long as she could remember.

Mother Earth saw her recoil.

“Some true warmth is exactly what is needed right now,” she said in her best relaxing voice, as she took the pale hand gently and guided her to a seat of crystal that was cushioned with plump kapok.

Sylvia did as was instructed and took a seat by the flame.

This marvel was not a fuelled fire: no tinder or coal spurned its comforting light, for this was a fountain of universal fire, borrowed from the one incandescent Cosmic flame.

Sylvia watched its opaline colours flash through its dance, climbing from a very large golden bowl, radiating what she felt to be pure and exalted happiness. She sat back and closed her eyes, finally settling within herself.

Mother Earth was concerned, tears quickly sprang to her eyes. There had been an exodus of nature spirits evacuating their caretaker roles arriving at her door of late. They had all reported the very same thing to her of their experience in the world, each with a story to relate, all with the same belittling complaint: Fear.

Fear was not normally within the Kingdoms as a malaise - it was virtually unknown for the spiritual beings who generally and genuinely had nothing to be afraid of.

However, this poison had come directly from an unearthly source - and it had appeared all at once; like a filth-weed in her garden that had crawled its way with subterfuge stealing the goodness from ground and air above, and all around.

“This will not do” she said out loud, draping a fine wool blanket over the now sleeping Sylvia. She then gave instructions to her attendant to care for the troubled youth, and departed the wintered hemisphere for the rocky roads.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

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

Alan Lee

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

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

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, “it's 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. 

-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'

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. That 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

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.

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

Going Back to Sherwood

Patrick Lynch

Feathers of snow had started drifting in, and the white sky was descending so much so that Jon-Jon was beginning to doubt where he was. It was getting difficult to see through the flutter.

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

Etherial Lamp Post

Life here in the world was but an aphorism for life in the heavens - one of many - yet with a particular divinely distinct lens, a telescope that was definitive - life in the mortal world also brought contrast into the souls of the men and the women who strove to navigate its courses.

The lamplight was still burning bright in the hinterlands of Faerie.

“Here we are” said Puck to Tu, as they made their way to the solitary post. A memory stirred in Tu from his childhood … “Aww a lamp of the old world” he said admiringly.

“Some things never change” said Puck earnestly nodding, reminiscing about an old friend with hairy legs and balls to match. "He was a warrior of sorts, although you would have never guessed it … he overcame his timidity - and here we are.”

He read Tu’s thoughts - “you can always return back here boy, now you know the way in.”

“And” he continued, “we do have something extraordinary to achieve. Faerie is really more of an in-between place - even for its natives - it is the perfect repose … but of itself, it is but a sweet dream, going neither further nor back … a time to collect oneself perhaps. However, and I mean this wholeheartedly, we are desperately needed elsewhere.”

And then, with the help of the lighting of the etherial lamp post, they were instantly transported into the lesser heavens, where the goat and the company were eagerly waiting.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Symbiosis Dislocated

Puck plucked one of the invisible ‘eyes’ off from the wall. They were medallions that were attached like astral molluscs - suction-capped spying tools: occult surveillance that was particular to whom it went back to. He pried one off the wall above and put it into his side pocket. This would trace its way back to its owner. Just what he needed to find him.

“There’s nothing more here” he said to Pine-Needles who was steadfastly scrutinising every move Puck made.

Puck scanned Eve’s apartment one more time and then bent down and scooped up the elderly dwarf. Moments later they were in the enchanted land, just six feet away from the unsuspecting Tu who, had been conversing earnestly with a Ginseng about the doctrine of signatures.

The Ginseng stood as tall as himself, and moved his arms and hands emphatically; and as he talked little straw bits fell from his chin and bark from his fingers. He seemed impassioned with the subject, finishing his monologue with the words: “It takes one to know one”.

Tu caught the meaning of this and laughed out loud.

“I see what you mean my man, but of course!” This was something of a revelation - the interconnectivity of species and soul and the properties they can impart and share with one another. The wise Ginseng, alike to Tu, was a master of the esoteric wisdom. Their shorthand conversation to matters at hand perfectly suited one another, and hesitantly Puck had to interrupt them both just to get their attention.
 
Puck couldn’t help noticing that Mr Ginseng was mirroring Tu’s movement - or, that it was the other way around - and these two being in sync like this was appearing very much like a vaudeville show.

“Steady up boys - here you hold this” - he handed Mr Ginseng a golf ball that he ethered up from seemingly nowhere.

“Keep it in your hands and turn it around every minute or so” Puck instructed, and with something as simple as this the symbiosis dislocated, and the both of them calmed down.

Now he could get Tu’s attention, he smiled a warm smile saying:

“Worry beads will do the same”, Tu was familiar with working with beads, but still missed the reference. He had no idea of the connection he had been forming with the old root.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Mesmerised by the Mystery

Alex was a rigger working fourteen to twenty weeks at a time marooned on a multistorey platform island, salt rusted and mollusc encrusted, pumping oil both day and night - the plant never skipped a beat. 

And, partly because there was nowhere to go to, the men settled into their relentless routines stationed atop the thumping waves and vibrating motors, with the noise being so impossibly loud, it may has well have been a silent retreat for the little conversation it afforded.

It changes a man to live at sea for any length of time: they become other-worldly by instinct, after a while.

When Alex had first met Romulus he fell for him instantly. Superficially one might say the attraction was little more than desire, given the beauty of the man-demon; however, in truth, it was Alex becoming of this man. 

In essence most love affairs begin with the ineffable sense of the unknown to be known - the enchanted promise of anticipation and the expectation of something absolutely thrillingly wonderful to come. But as it turned out this experience of getting to know Romulus had become as dark and painful as the hidden character himself.

And yet Alex stayed with him, abused, and often screwed, he came when he was called, tortured by a sadist who had no real affection for him, or anyone else at all.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Plasmic Voyages

It wouldn’t be Faerie without the well, mused Tu, peering down into its depths, wondering now how the goat had fared.

Practically every story he had heard of that described this place had at one time or another featured a well, or a lake - as an open vein to what lives beneath.

“I’ll let you into a little secret” came a voice inside his head … “wherever you are, whatever place you are in, water is the transport into another world: spirits commute through the oceans … at the lake … in your very cup. For where life floweth, floweth all!”

Tu only caught but a glimmer of meaning in this, but enough to sense his plasmic voyages spurned by greater tides, accelerating pathways; highways of being, where multitudes course the currents together … If he closed his eyes he could see intersecting channels of beings on the move, propelled forward in lanes and cosmic veins of purpose, to places and planes beyond.

The well had spoken to him and delivered up its secret.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Yawning Black Hole

Sydney Sime

Alex stubbed his toe - it was going to be one of those days. A black gremlin had placed the rock right before his left foot as he laboured slowly jogging up the final incline.

“Bugger” he said audibly. The small monster snickered and attempted it a second time, however Alex caught sight of the creepy creature and caught it by its hair - raised it high into the air and slapped it on its fat black rear end, catapulting him onto the other side of the road.

Romulus looked pleased with himself as he watched the drama unfold from a distance … he always savoured cruelties both large and small with equal pleasure.

The Demon-wraith Romulus appeared human, however, all of his vital organs had been surgically replaced with other ‘parts’ that better suited his needs convivial to his sinister indwelling character - he needed his body to be cooperating and coinciding with his dark soul within. The new heart he had just acquired complied and tolerated the pure evil that motivated its irregular rhythm. All of his other organs complied too. It was a marvel that they tolerated one another, or could co-exist at all.

Romulus had even gone to the trouble of grooming these body parts before they had come to be his; tempting their previous owners into various forms of abject sinfulness. The ‘donor’s' freshly acquired depravities delivered to Romulus the perfect blend of life and death for him to then utilise.

Romulus drew his power from anything and everything outside of himself - and so it was that if you could see deeply within the spiritual aspect of this demon you would find nothing but a yawning black hole.

This is one reason it was particularly difficult for Puck or any other searcher to locate him - for technically there was no ‘him’ to locate.

And yet, there was still a will within this character to survive, as well as an inherent coldness to warmth, a cunning instead of reason, an antithesis to love, and an envy that found its only happiness in the demise of others because of a well polished and seething jealousy towards the universal good.

Alex knew Romulus well - or at least well enough to tremble at the very sight of him. Romulus pointed at his car door as he sat down into an elongated sedan with a chauffeur at the front partitioned by glass.

Alex hesitated, he felt like he was going to be sick.

Thin eyes, thin nose, pallid complexion, blue white skin - tight too tight, slim too slim, with a diamond earring, perfect teeth, he appeared around forty. Light on his feet, T-shirt and jeans and a Chanel scarf, jeans tapered to crocodile shoes, with matching man bag. This was Romulus’s current appearance.

With his hand pressing on the hollow of Alex’s back the chauffeur guided the worried man into the back of the waiting car. Alex caught his foot in the door and the fat black hobgoblin could be seen pushing the door, jamming it tighter.

Romulus surprisingly stepped out of the sedan, and tapped on the front window, leaning into the front window he said to the uniformed driver, “you know what to do … I’ll walk awhile.”

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series