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