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