The Long Road

For Eve, Needle’s outstanding feature was his ballooning white hair. 

“Oh my gosh” she said to herself, sitting very still, daring not even to breathe loudly. She expected the ‘presence’ to dissipate, with having been seen, but it remained.

“I would like to travel forward now”, said Needles rather insistently.

“Oh my gosh,” Eve repeated herself, she then turned around and addressed the presence with great purpose.

“I can help you,” she said charitably in a whispered voice forgetting her former upset. “Yes, you must go … go towards the tunnel, with the bright light at the end of it” she said empathetically.

“Tunnel’s fine by me” said Needles amiably, content that she was finally going to get the car moving.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Back-seat Passenger

Supernatural beings love a good car ride, and can often be seen as back-seat passengers down the motorways, riding behind their unaware drivers. He sat waiting patiently for her to take off.

Eve being psychic, could sense there was a presence there; but unbeknownst to her, this spirit was born of the Fae, and not of the human kind.

Eve was not really a very good psychic, inasmuch as her ‘flashes of insight’ were intermittent and barely distinguishable. She still had a long way to go.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

All Cried Out

There is a very quiet place one can go to in their mind after having cried for some time. It is that space where there is a certain stillness to be found, when all of the upset has finally emptied, and the being within has exhausted itself, and with this, the tension has drained. Eve had arrived at this very disposition, sitting in her car, riding out the storm, in the grassy lane that ran beside the shadowy state forest.

Behind her seat sat Needles invisibly, who had let himself into the resting vehicle, as invisible Dwarves are wont to do.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Headless Ghouls

Ever since Jon was a young boy he had heard stories of the headless ghouls that frequented the graves. It was the consummate indignity, to be severed from your body - and be so ultimately disfigured, that at the time of the holy rising these souls would have no chance at resurrection. “Oh dear God, I pray this not be so”, he spoke out loud as these fears of this escalated.

The heat was rising from the cracked mud road. Lizards were sunning their scales, and soon every dry branch seemed to grow legs, as the scalding sun made its way to his mind and his eyes blurred with dehydration. Only a few more miles to go, he thought hopefully, as the weight of his parcels increased intolerably.

Jon considered seriously about tossing the second head away, just to ease the ache in his arm - but no, there was a payment waiting that he much needed, for the retrieval and delivery of this Anglish runaway. He drew a deep breath, and straightened the pole across his shoulders from which the baskets swung from, and diligently kept going.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Two Heads are Better than One

In one basket lay his father’s head, and in the other, the head of a man whom he did not know, or recognise … but hoped dearly it was the right one, as it appeared in likeness to the miniature portrait he had been afforded before setting out to collect them both.

They weighed heavier than he had imagined they would. His choices had been few - either pay the executioner for their retrieval, or purchase a horse to carry them back - and of course, it was the first option he conceded.

Was a burial complete with just the head? There was simply no way to take the entire corpse home - even if he had been permitted. At the very least, this was confirmation of the event, and something to grieve upon for his beloved mother who was awaiting his return. Jonathon was grateful at this time to have a task to perform; it cased his anger, it calmed his trembling, it quietened his sorrow - he slowly and painfully walked on.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Faerie Folk Losing Their Mind

The truth was, that Needles had been destitute for some time. He wanted for nothing in particular, and, in being immortal, he was never in peril - yet he was, as so many of the faerie folk were, losing his mind.

It happened ever so quickly, in the space of just a century, in worldly time. One being after another began with symptoms that paralleled the Mortal woes, especially with that of Dementia. This malady and parody of selfhood and consciousness, afflicted both Mortal and Fae with confounding confusion.

Not only were vast numbers of Dwarves so affected, there were also the absentminded Angels, disorientated Devas, forgetful Elves, sleeping Trees, lethargic Nymphs - even the honey was beginning to lose its sweetness.

Yes, the thoughts of men were seriously deriding the consciousness of their ethereal brothers - and as both sank into abstraction and isolation even commonsense seemed to have lost its way.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Signposted Paths

Needles had been living outdoors in a State-run forest. Its iron gates would be locked at night, when he was free to wander its signposted paths, going from one bin to the next, rummaging for sauce-soaked crumbs, hungry for the comfort and sustenance of tasty takeaway foods.

The old Dwarf was generally invisible to men, and so even when he crossed paths with a ranger patrolling he did not ever fear being caught. As for his own kind, they preferred living in the towns, and so, for the main of his nights and his days, he was very much left to himself - or what was left of him.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series