Finding Francis

“Who is that man?” asked Robyn to Calvin - seeing a tall lanky figure on the camera leave briskly through the gate. She watched the scruffy dog slip out also, following him closely behind.

“That’s Francis - he’s our groundsman … caretaker - you know - that sort of thing” he smiled gently as he said this.

“Dad gave him a job just before he died and I haven’t had the heart to let him go. Frankly I am not quite sure what he is meant to be doing here.”

Calvin looked down at the ground as he said this. “I know I should haven taken the time to get to know the fellow but somehow he reminds me of those terrible months - and I guess I’ve been hoping he might just up and leave.”

“Where does he go to when he disappears like that? I thought it was only desert out there with nothing else around? Is there a shopping mall I have been missing out on?”

“True to say it's a mystery” - agreed Calvin. “He does it quite a bit - takes Chips for a walk and then a few hours later he returns. I don't suppose you might take some time with him and report back what you think? It might help me make my mind up about the guy.”

“I’d be flattered to” said Robyn importantly. She felt genuinely pleased to be asked for a contribution. Life at the complex had been turning into something of a holiday.

“And Charley .. is she due back any time soon?”

“Yes”, said Calvin absentmindedly as he was tweaking the coffee machine with a new filter he had designed. “She’ll be back some time tomorrow.”

“Upstate?”

“Dunno really. Her pa’s place. She jokingly describes it as his ‘treehouse’.”

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Colours of the Rainbow

“Eh Franco!” shouted a familiar call.

He turned to see his second cousin, Gregor, mounting the hill, waving rapidly with excitement as though he might not have heard him.

Gregor was a man of the cloth - only this was a cloth of a different kind.

His flamboyant colours were known all about town, and his signature style may have perhaps bettered a woman more than a man - or so it was said.

His novelty saved him, and made his business exceedingly successful, as well did his generosity of spirit and of coin.

Francis embraced him heartily with a tap on the back and kiss on the cheek.

“I have brought you some wools!” Gregor exclaimed, well pleased with himself.

“I had been hoping that you might. The Brothers keep giving all their clothing and blankets away.”

Francis sighed as he pried open the lid of the basket. The cloth was extremely fine - but to his disappointment it was dyed all the colours of the rainbow.

Gregor read his cousin’s expression. “Franco - these are the off-cuts - and modesty grey is not the fashion these days.”

“I know, I know. Do not think me unthankful, you have been most kind.”

A few weeks later when Hannah-Mary had fashioned her best, the people of the town had yet one more sly observation about Francis and his fellows.

“Reformation of the Church is it? Wearing such colours! What will it be next? This garish crazed sect will never become popular!” they exclaimed with contempt and imposing righteousness.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

All Sagittarius with too little Pisces

De Sphaera' by Cristoforo De Predis.

The swirling mists smelt saltily of the sea, with their creamy foams settling snugly, seeping into the sheeps’ woolly backs, as they slept in the hills, with drooping heads, drowsing upright on the dew sodden ground.

The vapours of morning cloud infiltrated the birds’ puffy folds of their shawl-like wings. The invisible clock was marking this night, whilst the planets moved swiftly into their respective places. The march of dawn was fast proceeding.

It was all Sagittarius with too little Pisces … the wafer-thin moon, now transparent by the coming light, dangled, quite perfectly, in the blue ethers.

Farmers with their loaded carts lined the roads leading up to the market … their lanterns twinkling, swinging from their poles, in a convoy carrying assorted household goods, livestock, armoury, spices and farming tools.

Francis counted over forty more merchants this month that he did not before recognise. The seasonal drift combined counties - some through needs, and some, supply.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Fountain of Youth

Hans Zatska 

“The Company is getting close to finalising its premium product” - she said with an air of conspiracy.

“Ah, the flagship sails!” Puck stopped walking for a moment and turned to face her.

“Charley,” he said soberly, “this will bring the world of men so much closer to the immortals. I have to believe that it is right - even though it defies their heritage and so much that defines them.”

Puck was speaking of the healing agent - the same product that Charley had shared with Robyn when she had sliced her finger and it had healed instantaneously. The point of it was that this re-agent had the power to keep human tissue alive - its etheric properties were literally from the very fountain of youth, that mythical font, that the mystics and the sages have sought for over time itself. And now, they had discovered the ways and means to contain it.

“Do you think he understands what he has in that formula?” Puck asked searching her eyes for the truth.

“No Father, I do not.”

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Teleportation Misconnection

Charley grimaced mockingly, and then flashed a knowing smile directed at her father walking beside her. They were strolling down a corridor of silver elms on the pathway that led to his country estate.

“You simply cannot show up like that at my place of work” she said shaking her head.

“And, most of all, do you have any idea how embarrassing it was to have you found in her bed?”

He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. The pair looked a picture of ease making their way through the woods as they were. The sun was always warm there, and the leaves hummed their usual soft woodwind song; thoughts were calm - there was peace all around.

Puck no longer appeared elderly as he had when Robyn had discovered him. In fact, by appearances, he did not seem far from Charley’s age on this day to look at him. Although he stood over a full two heads taller than her, there was no mistaking the two as being related - they shared the same elvish features, and that long curly hair.

“It was a simple misconnection with my teleportation … I always land myself into the guest bed - how was I to know you would have a visitor there?”

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Turning a Blind Eye

“A groat for the Chapel and four pennies for my dogs." The six Dalmatians were sitting beside Francis, each one leaning in, right up close. One was with the milk eye, and another had a canker bulging from his fur. Overall the group appeared to be kept very poorly.

The men looked at one another. Francis knew they had no groats to give. Murmur shuffled his feet with the numbness crawling in - he wanted to go home.

Granoldi groaned deeply out from the trench, as he was still lying in its slump, attached to the cart and corpse.

“Your hounds have the weevils” said Francis, inspecting the top of the largest one’s head. His tone was respectful. The dialogue was naturally coming to an end, as none of the men were enjoying the cold.

“I’ll return in the morning and bring balms for your spotted friends and fix what I can with their pox also. And bring you three new pennies.”

Tobias leapt down into the grave and drew out the ties from the white bear’s harness. 

Granoldi wriggled out from the leathers and scrambled up onto the dirt standing full height beside them. His imposing frame seemed more obvious in the moonlight.

“Very well” the old priest conceded. “Let us conclude our transactions with agreement, and depart. You can just leave her where she is and I will see to it that the digger covers her over in the morrow.”

“We had some prayers prepared” objected Murmur. Meanwhile the hounds were bristling at the sight of Granoldi. They shivered and growled, cowering to the protection of the men.

“Best be going then” they conceded, believing him at his word that she would still be in the plot by morning.


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Sacred Ground

"You cannot be burying her here. Not in this plot, not in my land, not of this sacred ground.” His voice trembled with the emphasis.

He continued: “This sinner has no place here to rest, and you must take this witch away right now. She’ll be offending the good spirits, not to mention the children who are buried here. There'll be no coming back to collect her in the morning, do you hear?"

The old Priest admonished the three as though they were schoolboys taking part in a prank. He went on:

"You’re wearing some clothes now I see" he jibed with a sarcastic drawl staring at Francis. He then went on to recite the canticle in full Latin.

"But Father" Tobias began ...

"But nothing my son! There'll be no excuses or explanations! Be away with you lads - we've had much too much intercourse with the dark arts in this area as it is. They slime all the surfaces, and invite demons to hover over the outer walls. I have to walk through a crowd of the undead every night when returning home, and I care not for their ways at all.” he said shaking his head.

"How much will it take?" asked Francis knowing the Canon's dance with words - that his meanings would toss the truth every which way, until settling.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances