Turning Men & Women into Trolls

When she visited her Elven home her ordinary eyesight saw elvish things, but back on terra-infirma she could only see the material life - the physical life as everyone else saw it. And, as for the spirits of the departed, she could not see them in either existence.

He put his arm around her - Puck dared not to speak his true mind.

“Charles, I have a prediction for you.” He perceived that he had her attention and continued: “It is simply this - that your pharmaceutical company is going to try to change the way the world views its food. It is going to create pharmanutrients that are prescriptive meals that will replace fresh food.”

“But isn't that concept already out there in the market? Weight loss - infant feeding - weight-lifting proteins etc. There’s nothing new in packaged enriched ‘foods’ is there? Is there really a point of difference? Apart from excellence of course?” she laughed a little defensively at his seriousness.

“Yes, yes there is”, he said determinedly. “For one thing they can turn ordinary men and women into trolls.”

“I wish you wouldn't say things like that Dad - someone might hear you.”

Now Charley was genuinely irritated - and added: “you always have to exaggerate.”

“I do not” he said emphatically - “not this time anyhow”.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Beyond her Reach

Kumar Alzhanov

“Why am I not surprised Father. What is it you are up to now? Keeping a check on me? Or is it the Company I work for that you are watching?”

“Both” he said ruefully. The pain of losing her mother still bit him from the inside out. He thought back to the one time he could not foresee the dangers within the mortal world. This whole place was unpredictable. It had the surrounding worlds in a spin, constantly changing and rearranging itself. There was more magic to be found on Earth than there ever was in its neighbouring planes of Faerie, he had found.

“He’s called Chips now… Anon - he's called Chips.”

Charley wanted to bring Puck back from his melancholy. Every time she saw him pained, she wanted to rescue her dad from his sadness.

She could never really remember her mother, but there were times when she would sense her presence around her. Charley wished very often to have the second sight to actually see her, but try as she might, the invisible worlds remained just that - imperceptible and beyond her reach.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS, Second Chances 

Telepathy not Working

“For God’s sake Dad, get down from there! Someone will see you!”

Charley’s voice sounded more irritated than concerned, as she called out at the top of her voice. Her Father had climbed up onto the main water tank at the compound - which was an enormous container, as large as an olympic pool, and lay across the roof of the main building like a silver pancake. Puck had been eating his breakfast up there.

“I wish you would not visit me at work, do you know how embarrassing it is?”

Charley loved her Father - he was all the family she knew - but he made it almost impossible for her to live in the ordinary world - which was something she really enjoyed tremendously. It wasn't easy being half-elven. She sighed.

Puck was back on the ground standing in front of her in an instant. His hair had untidily wound its curly way onto his shoulders shining copper in the bright Arizona light.

“I have to talk with Francesco” he said distractedly - "he’s not answering my emails.”

“Why don't you just message him like we normally do?”

“Telepathy’s not working either. I wouldn't have sent him out here if I knew he would like it so much” he smiled.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Pontiff loses his Mind

“I will take him to trial. I will make him walk fire. He cannot have these powers without mischief - it is not possible. Let his piety prove his worth and save him from the scorn and scorch of the cleansing flames.”

And so saying he picked up a small dog that was absconding, and threw it into the fireplace with such a force the young creature did not have the opportunity to save itself. Its scream travelled all the way to Hell and back again. Several angels vacated the cathedral - and the ghosts of the former Popes looked on, shaking their heads with disgust.

The smoke from the burning fur filled the room and the old man began to cough. Several attendants rushed into the chamber bringing wines and concoctions of elderly salve.

“Who amongst you can be trusted?” he addressed the cages, looking not at the servants.

It was plain to see that not one of the animals understood what he was trying to convey, or wanted to. The Pontiff had officially lost his mind, and his envy of Francis had scorned what wits had remained.


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Why do you not love me?

In the meanwhile the dark-skinned slaves were bustling through the building as instructed, hauling cages of emaciated animals contained within.

Those of the larger variety were wheeled in transports of small purpose built carts. The very little were carried and set down in Catacomb Three - a place the Pope would often frequent and attend to his private Mass.

“Why do you not love me?” The aged Pope shrilled condemningly.

Mute, the animals blankly stared back - with a twitch and a growl, and a whimper. They were wet from the rain, and bitterly cold sitting on the bare stone floor. The wooden cages were cramped and the smell of each other offended one another.

“Who amongst you will join me? Who will come to me adoringly?”

One by one he unlatched the locks, watching the creatures as they fled to the furtherest side of the great room. Not one stayed, not one would kiss his hand.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Doubting Authority

“Bring them to me - every one of them.”

“At this hour my Holiness?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps if we were to escort you to the chambers where they are being held? In the morning?” here the priest hesitated - for the old Pope’s tone did not seem forgiving. He dug his nails into the knob of his walking cane, as he steadied himself.

He then rattled down the corridors noisily knocking on doors to the cells of his fellow priests - it was past midnight and they were all locked in for the night.

Father Penelope was up and at his side.

“He has gone crazy. The collection of this unholy zoo was one matter, but this gathering is quite bizarre to say the least.

“What if we simply do not comply? Is there anyone we can appeal to? Monsignor has left all bounds of reason and is beyond our call.”

Father Pious said nothing to answer this, he already felt the sting of unwanted doubt.

There was no higher authority, and they were caught by the very fractures within the Church itself: that, of an icy heart.

‘This is what you get with Divine authority” he said resolutely.

“Divinity does not have to make sense - never has, never will.”

Penelope did not believe this. He had always hoped for a modern world of betterment and rationality. Yet he kept quiet, again.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Hibernation

Lucy Campbell 

“Granoldi’s dying” whispered Murmur to Francis solemnly. “The old bear has been wistful - he just lays in the rock house and will not move unless I prod him. I made him broth and yet he refuses, I took him conserves, preserves, mallow and then sweetmeats - and he will take none. I think it is his time.”

Lisle, a visiting brother from the Community of the Righteous, took it upon himself to interject. “It's wintertime” he said knowingly.

“That it is” said Murmur considerately, and then he continued talking to Francis, “I think we shall have to prepare. None of my powers will restore him.”

“He’s from the North isn’t he?” Lisle interrupted again.

“Yes, he is”, said Murmur looking at the sky.

Returning to Francis he continued, “I am coming to the last of our tonics and I am wondering if we should believe this to be malady whereupon I should go gather or purchase more medicinal draughts for the old boy, or accept it is age and let him be? In your considered opinion, what is to be done?”

“He is a bear, this Granoldi, isn’t he?” Lisle asked again.

Francis looked at Lisle and slapped him cordially on the back. “Too true fellow Lisle, too true!”

“It is but his Winter’s sleep,” Lisle explained.


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances