It's all Fluff

Frederick Richardson

Jordy had an appointment at the sanctuary, where he was to deliver what he liked to call the ‘meals on wheels’ to the occupants of the Mitcham Miniature Zoo.

Primarily the menu his small business supplied was a conglomerate of offal and fish, soured grasses imbibed with insoluble minerals, and general leftovers from the livestock suppliers nearby. The food fare for the creatures of the sanctuary was rarely as promised - and lately it had been becoming even poorer in quality. Jordy had been ‘economically’ cutting corners, and adding fillers to bulk up the troughs with sawdust and cereal.

The establishment housed a variety of beasts, both alive and mummified for display, as an adjunct to the Walham estate, whose grand mansion inhaled foreign visitors quarterly as the tourist income was much needed for upkeep.

The current caretakers of Walham had discovered, like most major land holders, that maintenance on such a large property, was all consuming. And, even though they enjoyed a lavish wealth, it was clear for all to see that this generational inheritance was undeniably a burden to their dwindling funds.

Its crumbling exterior was an in-ignorable monument of scorn. The forty roomed edifice groaned and creaked its own complaint, shifting its weight ever deeper into the muddy mires of the cloudy moors. Walham’s arthritic structure, after four hundred years of housing its changing occupants, had outlived them all.

Jordy unlatched the main gate to tend to the sleeping mass - 4.30am, before the howling would begin; he strode the muddy path with buckets in hand. The heavy iron swung back and clanged defiantly, breaking the peace of the dawn with a grinding crash and click - however it sprang back again out from the latch and gaped open.

In the half dark Jordy missed this event, as he unlocked the bear enclosure with digital precision. 

The doorway to this concrete confinement had been modernised and it worked with a code rather than a key, and as he turned to secure the doorway, the old growler cuffed him over the head and made his escape out through the iron entrance and into the morning.

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

A Dark Intrusion

Puck had left Goober behind at the Retreat to continue his work with Master Tu - they both seemed good for one another - gentle companions healing through the quiet company of the other. Yes, Puck assured himself, the two would do nicely staying right where they were. Goober’s allergies had subsided, and Tu’s tremors had also calmed - all was well at the Green Leaf Nirvanic Retreat.

His attention then returned to Eve, to check in on how she had been doing. He had meant wholeheartedly to visit sooner, but so many causes and callings demanded his focus … and by the time he reached her flat he found yet another breakfast taking place, with some oddballs around her kitchen table, accompanied by their shadowy demons who were frightening the usual ghosts huddled in the corner.

Einstein aka Needles, seemed oblivious to the fanged and threatening ghouls parading in Eve’s lounge room, and he was busying himself manifesting top ups for the tea and cocoa being consumed by the fast eating elderly.

These witches, on the face of it, appeared benign - at first glance … deceptively elderly and divorced from any great power to speak of. But Puck knew better, that these sour individuals held the unfortunate contamination of those who walk the path of death. It is inevitable that the corruptive forces cannot sustain life in an ordinary way, and seek it from whatever or whoever they may. It becomes their only survival. He felt immediate concern for Eve’s welfare.

Puck made a mental note to do something soon to help her out of this dark intrusion - but what?

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

Turning the Wheels of Karma

Puck rarely got himself involved in politics - having seen centuries of mishaps and twisting turns concerning those who chose sides, invariably forgetting their cause along the way; no, he preferred to stick to local issues on a case-by-case basis. Like the time he had discovered a certain UK MP who had entrapped, enslaved and then embalmed a young staffer, interring his intern into a disused well on his heritage estate.

This heartless MP could not resist a filthy bribe or an empowered cruelty, as personal wealth had never quenched his private sense of cunning that was doubly excited by illicit gain. Ordinary wealth was but bread and butter to this modern day villain, whereas the illegal acquisitions became the intoxicating cognac that excited his flaccid soul.

The Elvish cannot, and do not, directly disable or harm Mortals - even when, at times, they are pissed off by their cruel and devilish behaviours - but what they can do is turn the wheels of Karma a little faster for them. 

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

Just Dive In

Jupiter stared into the flaming lake, as though he was waiting to see something appear out from its secrets. The sunset glimmered and glamoured its way onto its surface, and small silver fish leapt up and dove back down, piercing its glassy ceiling, causing little ripples on an otherwise pristine surface. This was the place where the spiritual sea met with the heavenly ethers.

He paused, he thought, and then gripping the bough of a reclining fig tree, Jupiter slipped into the lake’s watery embrace and let go.

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

A Dry Summer

Dieric Bouts

When Tindle had returned empty handed, the people of Trent on Shore were relieved to see him still alive, and they proved perspect on the losses this honest boy had made. Seasoned with both former bad fortune and many regrets; they had been all too aware of what was asked of him time and time again before, and generously forgave him for losing their savings on this pilgrimage.

And so it did not go so badly as he had imagined, and to Tindle’s relief, life would carry on somewhat the same - save for the voluntary tasks he now was employed with, as well as his own. As an act of propriety and conscience, Tindle would help where he could, in service to the whole community he called home.

One such labor of charity was to assist the travellers cross over the inlet waters to the other side where slumped a small wooden chapel. The priest would travel to his spiritual homestead twice a week and once on Sundays to hold the consecrative act. For this reason, the set times required passage over a full and virulent river way, depending on the rains prior.

And because the rivulet travelled down into the sea from higher ground, the movement of the waters was rapid - too fast for a tiny boat to cross. The depths were fickle also, as the riverbed was uneven, and the rocks also, proved a hazard to the traveller. Yet with Tindle’s great height, and oilskin dungarees, there was a way that each of the forty worshippers could be carried there and back, upon his broad back, with safety. 

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

I’m Amazed

Eve actually felt like singing, and to go for an actual walk - or a stroll - and maybe sing, while she strolled. Eve never really took the time to linger or casually walk for the sake of walking, to enjoy the countryside. She lived with the commotion of the spirits around her crowding her daily thoughts, and this busyness had kept her from the more silent activities - usually.

But today … When Eve opened her eyes, in the half light of the morning, she could smell the coffee from the kitchen, along with a meld of sweet and spicy fragrances wafting under her door to her bed. 

She drew her gown around her hurried to the kitchen. On the table there was a crisp linen cloth, with a full breakfast placed on top. She did not recognise the crockery, or the cutlery, or the bowls of fruit and porridge, plates of pancakes and fruit rice, jugs of syrup and milk, and a pot of coffee.

“Oh this is great!” she said out loud exuberantly. And then sat down to enjoy her fare. Secretly she assumed that it was Puck that had left it there for her.

The very next morning the exact same thing happened again, only this time the crockery was different and the menu slightly varied. There were blueberries in the porridge, and muffins instead of pancakes. Some hard boiled eggs and fresh juice had appeared as well.

Before she could sit down to enjoy herself her door bell chimed. It was her neighbour - an elderly woman who had survived a tedious life, shackled with arthritis and regret.

“Hi Violet - are you ok?”

“Yes yes dear - I was just checking that you yourself were doing alright - there was a lot of coming and going this morning in the early hours.”

Eve was not exactly sure what Violet meant by this, but was touched by her concern.

“Oh please be assured that I am more than alright,” she said, looking back into the kitchen at her breakfast waiting. From the doorway Violet could see it too.

“Oh, er, it would be really nice if you could come in and join me,” she said generously.

Violet stepped into the apartment without hesitation and carefully, unsteadily, sat herself down. “Well this is very nice” she said appreciatively.

On the third morning yet another breakfast ‘appeared’ slightly grander than the others and with more placings than the previous ensemble. Once again, there was a visitor at the door: it was Violet who had returned very hopefully, this time with the ruse of there being a wayward piece of mail to deliver, which was merely a pamphlet from the local complex - and alongside her was Letitia from 2b.

Letitia had been large all her life, and now, in her seventies her bones were beginning to disintegrate under the strain of the weight. She stood behind Violet as though trying to hide from sight. And yes, of course, Eve invited them both to join her in the breakfast feast.

“You have been busy dear,” said Letty with great enthusiasm. Violet nodded to her ravenous friend, in covert style, as if to say, didn’t I tell you?

By the sixth morning, the extraordinary foods were still manifesting, and so were the neighbours: Bryan from the basement, a barely employed, not-very-good handyman, had offered to paint enamel over a scratch on the Vauxhall, at 8am; and Peter, a retired lawyer from Caracas had stopped by with a petition of signatures he was collecting. And so there were now five of them around her little table, which surprisingly had five place settings set that day, with food enough for everyone.

There was a sixth chair in the corner, where sat their invisible host watching on. It was Needles the Dwarf, her recovered friend, who in a debt of enormous gratitude had felt compelled to be her helper evermore.

One other thing that had escaped Eve’s attention was that Letty, Bryan, Peter and Violet all happened to belong to the local WW meetup group. The WW did not stand for World War, or Weight Watchers, but rather Witches and Warlocks a society from down the road. And although their age made them appear benign and sweet, this gathering just happened to be anything but.

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

Send a Messenger

Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres

Jupiter had suffered a special kind of restlessness when his younger brother had left for the pits. Images would come to him of his life there, disturbing the Elvish inner equilibrium, although his outer composure remained regally sedate. What was the attraction Titan had for the Mortal world?

They had tried to get word to him when Shiva had passed behind the veil. Nothing seemed to penetrate the dense ethers of the lower worlds.

“Send a messenger” was the Mastiff’s suggestion. And so they did - Tok - an Angeloi of distinction - but he also had not been heard of ever since. And so the memorial was held without either being present.

Death in the Heavens, although infrequent, is much of the same as it is in the Elemental world - however, it is openly heralded to be that of an awarded time, a bridge crossed, a period completed, a set fulfilled, with a new one begun.

The word itself (death) used to translate simply into salt - meaning to stop - where a condition realises its finitude. And so the release from death into a higher world again was always celebrated and understood to be inevitable and respectable. Yet, as with any other world, the remainders feel the vacancy sorely, and lament the distance placed between them and those who have travelled ahead.

Sadness, deep sadness, can become a caveat for change. Jupiter needed the comfort of his brother now and in that moment decided with the spirit of his mother at his side, that he himself would endure the vile atmosphere of the warring clag of Earth, to go and retrieve that of his own once and for all.

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