Black Thoughts

"It's time to put our cards on the table" he said obliquely.

Puck nodded in agreement. The scrying ball had offered nought.

His telepathy was completely failing him - all contact with Charley was down, and the etheric web ether-net was giving him nothing. It was almost as though Charley did not exist - all trace of her had vapoured.

He pushed his black thoughts aside, but they quickly pushed back a moment later.

Goober got up, opened the door and ushered them briskly out, with a firm incantation and a stick he used to crack over their scrawny heads. The black thoughts scurried on their spindly black legs into two groups running for the corner near the door, hoping not to be seen, but with a clap of his hands and very firm words, he squeezed them all out of the room, closing the door abruptly behind them.

Puck had not even noticed this commotion - his head was bowed over the cards laid out before him on the crystal coffee table.


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Searching Spirit Realms

The procession lined the pathway through to the cosmic dance - the spirit folk in their spirit clothes, travelled their incline with divine formation - onto the starry path, through to Heaven’s pearl encrusted gates.

The tides of the lunar force had swept over these pearls, as they formed in the oceans of Earth, and same substance now shone with their iridescent rainbows, at this portal of the Moon, that the souls would travel through.

Puck was frantic as he had ventured its length leading up to the entrance - looking to see if his daughter was queued, waiting to go yet further into the spirit realms beyond.

Was she amongst these pilgrims of the sky?

Suddenly Goober (Dr Fabaceae) appeared by his side. They were back at the flat - Goober had an apartment on the banks of the boggy marsh beside Lake Windermere. He sat back poised on his feather filled couch and handsomeness flashed momentarily across his long thin face. Puck noted this change distinct from his own sadness and confusion.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Fairy Blood

Trolls have long, yet selective memories. They carry with them a catalogue of complaint that spans aeons in human time.

It is no coincidence that the persistent stalkers of the internet are named after their disgruntled counterparts.

In point of fact human nature holds within it a small host of particles that are of the etheric realm … and some might well carry the characteristics of any one of its curious folk who inhabit the Land of Faery.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Calvin & Robyn

Robyn squinted, staring into the red dust swirl to see Calvin flourishing his arms. She would not have recognized him but for his voice at that distance.

“Is it casual day?” she said jovially as he approached.

Robyn had not seen Calvin wear anything but a lab coat, or Armani, and the sight of him in a T-shirt and jeans, put him in an entirely different scope … he almost looked like a normal man.

Unconsciously she was attracted to him. Robyn decided then and there, that she wanted him.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Rastofarius

Someone, or something was pulling on her toe. Charley yelped.

“Rastofarius!” she exclaimed in pure delight seeing her old uncle, now for the first time, since he had died.

“Rasty,” she hesitated, “this does not mean what I think it might mean does it?”

She searched his weathered face for an explanation. His blue eyes shone back at her and watered over.

Although of Elven heritage, Rastofarius barely wore the height of a dwarf and his form was stout like the tree stumps of the grange. He was not dressed in his usual work-a-day garb, but in a cloak of feathers pinned at the neck by a scorpion clasp toggling its weight with great style.

In his left hand he held up a mirror and she could see that it was of the Glock. 

These mirrors did not reflect back any image you might expect were you to turn around and look behind you … they were mirrors of a different nature, painted with the metal from a different moon; and they showed images of what could not ordinarily be seen: windows into other worlds, usually it was only the dead who could see them.

“Oh God!" she said abruptly. “Then it is true? That bloody troll has ended my life?”

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Songs of Long Ago

Cicley Mary Barker 

The air was so light and warm you could almost feel the angels in its surrounding ethers.

Charley was possibly in the most perfect state of bliss that she had ever felt. Although alone and in an unfamiliar place, her heart was glad, and she was not frightened - she was at peace….

There was an exceedingly small orchestra standing around her head where it lay, playing music from their very tiny instruments, that scratched out their notes, barely audible. Charley recognised this little band from her childhood, when her father would summon them to entertain her to sleep. They looked like little men wearing fur pants - with the tallest being but three inches high. It cheered her to see the fairy fauns and hear their tunes once again - she was happy to lie back on the grass listening to their songs from so long ago.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

A Hill of Soft Sweet Grass

One minute Charley was trapped in a sack in a shed in the middle of a park, and the very next she had found herself in the most beautiful of surroundings imaginable. She was free of her constraints and nesting on a hill of soft sweet grass, lilacs and chamomile.

It was a lot like the very hill in the park she had been seated on before being taken, but this place was brightly lit and warm, and there was no city to be seen below - just paddocks with a stream, and trees that looked like over-large pineapples.

Dragonflies as big as sparrows glittered in the air about; and birds as small as the hairy-chest moths clustered the branches above.

There was a tray of fruits beside her, and a picnic hamper beside that; on the top of which slumped a long leather skinned book. It bore no title and was bound by a single red ribbon. There were two letters deeply embossed in gold - M.E. - and she half wondered who the author might be. A mobile phone at her feet started to ring ‘Good Vibrations’ and she sat up from her repose to answer it.

She unflipped the handset gingerly and said tentatively: “Hello?”.


 -Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances