Lights Out

Pietro had been exhausted by centuries of activity and needed the replenishment that only a cosmic stay could give. Perhaps this time? It certainly explained a lot about his behavior now.

Being exiled into service at the seaside Hotel had been fine for a while, but once again, the familiar loneliness had exceeded the novelty of being once more a man.

The action of the intoxicants soon persuaded Pietro, that his very soul was fading; and worse than that bewilderment, was that he no longer cared to live at all anymore.

In spirit form, Francis stood by the bedside ready to catch his father as he flew out from the cocaine-strangled corpse he had become.

“Papa, I have come to fetch you” he said tenderly, as the pulsing light lifted up and out, and into the greater …..


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

An Eternal Dance on Earth

Two young women, trailing skimpy couture, scurried hurriedly from the chaotic room; one tipping the concierge to call for an ambulance before joining her thinly dressed friend in the taxi that was waiting at the front of the Grand hotel.

Pietro-Chips had a acquired a taste for partying of late. After his shift he would find a vacant suite and invite guests to stay over - and they would embellish their fantasies with what alcohol and barbiturates they could muster.

Francis had been horrified at his father’s recklessness. He had been drawn to watch over him from the very moment he had departed his dear body at the bottom of the cliff.

One reason for this had been the natural attachment Francis had formed to his physical self. The very molecules in his body were his, and magnetically, inherently, they sought out his presence. And so, Pietro became like a living ‘mummified’ corpse - an astral attraction for its owner no longer inhabiting it.

Apart from this, Francis had made a promise many a lifetime, to help his father out from this eternal dance on Earth that he had been caught in. He desired to help Pietro find a gateway finally through to the Heavens - for that healing rest, that this soul did long for.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

His Gypsy Room

The thread in Granoldi’s saffron robe glimmered as the candlelight danced across his gypsy room. Puck tickled his nose with a peacock plume so as to wake him slowly.

There was a bowl of diamonds on his bedside table, and a half eaten rhubarb pie.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

A Faerie Bear

Puck pressed pass the clown. Side by side, he was twice his size.

There was a trailer on the edge, made up like a Gypsy’s caravan. A sign in gold, above the arched door, read: “The Great Granoldi”.

He knocked loudly three times and then entered. The great Granoldi was sleeping rather heavily, just as the midget had said.

He was - is - a Faerie Bear, not native to this realm, but having wandered from his own, this immortal chose to live in the Earthly space. That is, for the most part; for while he slumbers he returns to his homeland to roam the magical forests there.

“Does he understand any language?”

“Oh, he understands all language, but never learnt to speak more than a few.”

“But why stay here then?”

“I asked him that not so long ago, and he had answered: 'because it was amusing'. Bears are pretty phlegmatic you know.”


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Coming to see the Bear

The acrobat leapt down, landing hard upon the teflon floor.

“Why is it that so many Elves end up working in entertainment?” Puck mused to himself.

The contortionist was looking over his shoulder at him - all knew Puck, and rightly so, for he owned this circus, as well as the freehold to the riverbank it was perched upon.

“I’ve come to see the Bear,” Puck mumbled under his breath.

“I’m afraid to say that he is sleeping Sir. You know that oldy - nothing will rouse him when the winds from the north come to get ‘im.”

Puck ignored this. The midget was, after all, a compulsive liar.


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Beast’s Nature

“What is Granoldi doing?”

“He’s giving you the finger.”

“The finger? What in Heaven’s name, is he doing with that?”

“It appears that he pocketed it just before we put the hag into the cart.”

“Oh” said Tobias blankly, remembering that the grave was well and truly sealed over with a special layer of hardened lime, that had been poured over the top for good measure.

“Best give it to me then.” he said rather thanklessly.

Granoldi looked hurt.

“He tries his best.” Murmur defended the old bear to the agitated Monk.

“I have no time for this comedy,” complained Murmur, “and I do not understand why Francis insists on their inclusions.”

“Nor do I, yet perhaps it is for the merit of their innocence Brother? There is a chance that the animals’ simplicity may teach us, and no matter anyways, for it is surely our common duty to care for the least of us.”

“And yet it has been argued, that the beast’s nature may bring us down into their lowly habits. That their very scent and whine afflicts our higher beings? What say you to that?”

Tobias thought for a moment, looked over at Granoldi, and then answered defiantly on his friend’s behalf, “Piff and piddle, is what I say. Piff and piddle.”


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Quizzlings

“Oh no! It's the Quizzlings! Who the hell let them loose?

“This was surely an empiric disaster: for the madness that infects the minds of men from these dire beings overtakes the best of men. It is they who have destroyed whole cultures … Rome disintegrated due to its philosophers' musings, and Egypt suffered the abysmal infinitude of the Sphinx’s futile questions.

“They have the key itself into the disease of madness, and the very end of logic with reason, the devolvement of justice, where no longer can commonsense and fairness accord in the heart and mind of men.

“For the babbling chatter and interference of these horrible Quizzlings never fails to bring their subtle chaos.

"Life is born of reason, Truth underpins and upholds this World - and without the gravity of commonsense, the souls of men are hurled repeatedly into the abyss of Hell."

Charley looked mortified.

“You can’t read that to a three year old”, she protested.

Her Dad had little Toby lightly balanced upon his knee.

“It's not like I showed him the pictures” he said defensively.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances