Zithia

Now there were the two of them to provide for, Jonathon would have to work all the harder. And he had little savings as it is. 

Truth be told, Jon had been lonely for a very long time - yet he had no plans to bed the girl who was just a child, his was a valiant act of compassion simply to save her from certain slavery. Her dark fine form walked behind him without complaint - she would not, or could not, talk. He sold her wrap of tangerine silk in exchange for some woollen cloth, and a soft pair of chamois boots. 

Her hair was like the fine wire his Pa would solder at the end of a rod to make a sturdy brush for cleaning the barrels of guns and pipes. She constantly scratched at her scalp both day and night and so Jonathon took the child to the maid’s maid for a consultation - and the woman cut all of her hair away. John purchased a woven cap but it did not stop her from wailing as they made their way home. There were open scabs and cuts upon her head, now visible. She gave him no name to call herself, and so he made one up for her: “Zithia”.

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

Escape into the Night

John Frederick Lewis

Whilst Tindle went on to make his fortune, with the invention of the very first takeaway food service: the Waterside Fish and Chippy - and had amassed the funds to purchase three fishing boats and four potato farms with his new income, Jonathon was still circling the villages seeking some honest employment.

Jon had been paid a farthing for scrubbing down the tombstones, and another for cleaning the fox pelts from their sticky entrails. He helped to white-wash the leaning cottages, and run deliveries for the wealthy, whose shopping lists were always too large for their purse. Some even accused him of shortening their change after he had bought for them at the markets, when he knew that he had not.

Tindle’s culinary wares became a favourite of the Euro-peans, even for the fancies who would send their servants to collect the parcels for picnics and passing by carriage stops. He was pronounced that year to be a main merchant of the town which had grown substantially in size, due to its work-force gravitating to his success.

Meanwhile Jonathon had now entirely forgotten his etherial romance, as practicalities had since called his attention to necessity.

Over the months Jon had managed to collect some silver from his very hard working efforts, and being the Sabbath he thought he might treat himself at the Tent of a Thousand and One Whores. The title exaggerated itself, for there were far fewer than a thousand and one - however, to his excitement there were certainly hundreds, and he enjoyed the anticipation of picking one out tremendously.

Today was a special day as Jon was commemorating his twenty-fifth year, and being alone in the world he most naturally sought some suitable company to spend the day with.

He felt fortunate to find them in town - the tent had come from Arabia, it was an impressive, majestic edifice the size of a small cathedral … with many coloured paintings decorating the material around it, gold and silver highlights, swirls and flourishes, squirrels and birds and rabbits in every corner.

This was a place of great happiness to his mind. Crowded with waiting women who took shelter under its high pitched roof, huddled around each other in sections of coloured veils partitioning … yet in the cold - for there were no fires to be lit within this tent as they feared it would alight itself all too quickly. And so all cooking was done outside of it also.

He paid his fee to the doorman, and walked in when the queue permitted. Jon barely noticed that as he approached the women they flinched from him, and many turned away, or covered their faces.

A negress who appeared to be no older than eight or nine approached, holding out her small hand to touch his. This little girl had a thin silk blanket around her shoulders of tangerine, her hair had been braided loosely and the whites of her eyes followed him intently.

He dismissed her from his mind and walked away, for this was but a child - yet he felt a bond with her aloneness, and a completely different impulse arose quite simply in compassion, that he might find a way to extricate her from this sorry crowd.

He doubled back and now offered his hand that she might take his, and this she did. Very simply and quietly he left the thousand tent, walking past the doorman as naturally as he had gone in, but this time with the little slave girl, in his grasp, who followed him into the night.

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

Forever Land

Forever Land requires no magical passport, it has not closed its borders, nor shall it not keep anyone from entering. This is a sanctuary of healing, where the still waters really do run deep, and the fruits abundantly drop from the trees.

Temperate, easy, yet exciting - aquiver with life - current to the physical reality, existing in permanent glory - a far more subtle substantial frame of world … and it is always there with its own heart beating, independent of the calamities the Material World suffers.

The etheric world of Faerie is home to many, not least withstanding the little children who live one foot in and one foot out.And, for the individuals whose minds are lit with it, they too have recourse and a rapport with the greater nature all about.

Faerie Land was, and is, the first home of the Mortals. The soul knows it well. A lantern hangs in the forest, a waterfall washes the feet. Not necromancy, but romancery prevails.

Dark paths are for outcasts, sad, forlorn, alone, separate, to a world that grew them- angry souls who literally lost their way from the golden past of jovial temper.

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

Home Sweet Home

Jackie Morris

The morning breakfasts with the neighbours had ceased shortly after Granoldi had come to live with her. Eve was concerned that he might wake and startle the group unexpectedly causing a possible eviction. It was far too problematic. She made her excuses and eventually they had all stopped coming around. 

The atmosphere of her small home was lit with a charm and a sparkle - so much so that the former inhabitants - her ghosts - had vacated also. Eve had quite forgotten them, and it was perhaps for this reason also, that they likewise, were no longer drawn to her. 

She went in to check on Granoldi and was startled by seeing some blood in his drool seeping into the coverlet.  

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed out loud, hurrying to get closer to see if he was alright. Granoldi had bit his tongue in his sleep, and the bleeding looked worse than it medically was.

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

Sprinklings of Sun Dust

Pine-Needles was going about his usual tasks tidying the apartment while Eve was at the laundromat. Although this aged Dwarf was seasoned in the outdoors, he held an aversion to bugs and spiders, dust and dirt, mould and mildew. Cleaving to cleanliness had only increased ever since his mind was returned with Puck’s glittering influence.

He took particular interest in the window sills, polishing the glass as though it were a prized crystal, and, perched upon a magical ladder of his own construct, he would vacuum into the corners of the ceilings - literally going above and beyond what most cleaners would do.

Needles took particular care with Granoldi’s room, deodorising the Faerie Bear’s bed with sprinklings of sun dust. This was a product widely favoured in the elemental realm.

Eve would return to her refreshed home, thinking to herself what a great job her ioniser was doing - she would literally sigh with happiness walking back through its door. Needles lived for this sigh, and was growing more attached to Eve as time went by. 

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

Last Memory of his Mother

Hans Thoma

“I love you Mam” Jon said under his breath - reflecting on his very last memory of his Mother and how she had cared so much for him. He missed her immensely. No one could take her place. Fruit of her womb, life of her life, breath from her breath, nurtured at her breast. She had given him existence and taken care of him like no other.

A single tear escaped his eye and ran fast away down his cheek. It was as though this one recollection had restored his sanity to its usual pivot. Jon collected himself and then his few belongings, and once again, set off down the empty road before him.

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

Trial by Fire

“Come here my boy, the fire is nothing to be afraid of.”

Jon’s father was being extraordinarily sweet in the way that he coaxed his young son to come forward towards the meltery.

The small boy inched his way closer, but the heat was way too intimidating. There was something strange about his Pa also … Jon was too young to define it, but later in retrospect he would see the unseeable, sadistic cunning.

His Mam called him to her. Only six years old and now he found himself polarised between both Mam and Pa - however he knew which of the two he always knew was the safest choice to go to.

The Ironsmith lurched forward and grabbed him by the elbow, and then abruptly forced Jon’s index finger onto a red hot pot sitting upon the forge. Jon wailed and his mother rushed to pick him up and away.

“I did it to teach him a lesson” the goblin-like father snarled back to her accusing look. “The boy needs to know the dangers of this workplace.”

Mam was appalled, but she had seen this all before. Instead of being proud of his small son, this grown man was jealous. She unwound a red ribbon from her hair and cut a piece off, and then tied it around Jon’s finger.

“I love you little Jon-Jon,” she said apologetically.

“I love you Mam.” he said back to her with a broken smile.

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