Sunday, November 30, 2014

The Fairy Queen

Dolefully, Lucas walked along the well-worn path, distraught with sadness, not noticing as he entered the dense wood.

A cold wind blew the dead leaves around his plodding feet and he pulled the collar of his coat up to cover his neck, yet nothing could warm the cold that had seeped into his once whole heart.

Broken by yet another girl, Lucas' heart felt empty and hollow like the inside of the many dead trees that now surrounded him. Lost in his thoughts he had not taken notice that he had gone off the path and now stopped to look around at all of the trees that seemed to have gathered up around him, trapping him with their scraggily, dry branches; clawing and scratching at him as if they were alive.

The darkness of the evening seemed to fall unnaturally fast, making shadows seem to leap out and grab at him as he barrelled through the thickening brambles.

Frantically, he pushed his was through them, breaking the branches off in sharp points that cut his hands and face as he stumbled along, blindly trying to find the lost path.

Hopelessness started to weigh him down as no way out presented itself, and Lucas began to fear the dark forest would envelop him; fear that he would die lost and alone.

He stopped to catch his breath and try again to find a path or even a thinning of the brush that surrounded him.

Cuts on his face and hands began to sting and bleed while he circled around, only finding the looming trees still blocking his every direction.

A humming then caught his ear; soft and melodious, in the silence of the wood, building up seemingly all about him.

Swinging around to the right, he spotted a faint glow of light in the distance between the trunks of the trees, immediately, starting off toward the light.

As it grew brighter, warmer, hope crept into his heart. He neared to where the source of light seemed to be, along with the humming that continued to grow into song.

A woman's voice sang out to him just as the light beckoned to him and he raced through the trees that now seemed to open up to let him pass.

He skidded to a stop as he reached a clearing, where a beautiful, glowing woman floated above a small midnight-blue pool of water.

Her translucent robes wavered around her as if blown about by some unfelt breeze. Dark curls of her hair framed her porcelain-skinned face as shimmering wings fluttered at her back.
Lucas gasped at both her beauty and the fact that he was now in the presence of the Queen of all Fairies; her song told him as much, and promised that she could heal his wounds and even his broken heart forever.

Unable to, and unwilling to, Lucas could not resist the allure of her wondrous voice and he stumbled dumbly forward as if in a dream.

With a graceful movement, the Fairy Queen held out her delicate hand to him and he reached out to take it. Yet, as he did so, he felt himself pitch forward into the icy cold water of the pond below where she hovered.

The freezing waters began to solidify around him as he struggled to claw his way back to the surface; to no avail, the vision of the beautiful, smiling fairy became an image of terror as Lucas was trapped forever under the frozen ice.

The Queen of Fairies hummed softly to herself as she smiled down at her enchanted pool; smiled lovingly at the newest addition of lovelorn creatures that had wondered into her wood.

Deep down into the darkness, the multitude of pretty, frozen lads stared back, unseeing, at her majesty.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014


Flakes of pure white snow fell silently amongst the trees of the wood; the already snow-lined branches of the trees muffled almost all sounds in the still forest.

All save the steady thudding of an axe chopping rhythmically.

Sarice wielded her trusty blade against the trunk of a thick pine tree that had begun to die and loose its needles; a fine firewood tree.

With each hearty swing, her axe slashed into the tree deeper and deeper until it started to teeter away from her.

Panting from her labour, she rested while leaning upon the axe handle and watched as the big tree came crashing down with a billowing cloud of powdery snow.

With her harness strapped around her shoulders, she methodically trudged her way through the shin-deep snow, pulling the neatly de-branched tree trunk behind.

Light snow still fell through the canopy of towering trees that dwarfed her as she made her way home with her burden sliding heavily along the ground, aided by the special skis she had fastened to the sides of the big log.

A crashing sound caused her to stop suddenly and stand silent, cautiously listening for where the noise had come from.

Another crash came from somewhere to the west and then another came quickly behind the second, like trees crashing against each other.

Sure enough, in the distance she saw a huge pine tree come careening down in a cloud of flying snow to smash against a neighboring tree so hard its bark began to crack and splinter and fall as well.

Like massive dominos, a row of trees fell over into each other, each landing with a force that shook the ground beneath her as she stood staring at the scene.

The nearest tree to her started to fall as she stood with her hands upon her shoulder straps, calmly watching with curiosity. Not moving even when the tip of the tree top narrowly missed her as it came crashing down to its resting place a few meters in front of her; the billowing gust of wind from the force of the tree fall covering her from head to toe in fluffy, white snow.

The snow had settled again and Sarice began brushing the powder off her heavy coat and fur hat when another noise ripped through the returning silence.

A thunderous roar pierced the cold air as Sarice finished brushing herself off.  Looking toward the beginning of the line of felled trees, she saw a massive brown bear standing on its hind legs, bellowing out at her.

Without a doubt, it had been the one to push over the first tree with its powerful paws and set the whole chain reaction in motion.

The big bear then came down on all four of its powerful legs and began a lumbering run to where she stood.

Showing the charging bear the same calm curiosity she had the falling trees, Sarice simply watched as it barreled closer and closer toward her.

As the bear neared, its shape began to shrink. Passing by the coverings of the branches of the fallen pines, the massive shape of the wild bear changed. As it ran, it became a burly, bearded man, wearing a thick brown fur coat.

The man came to a stop, panting from his run in the snow, a few paces in front of her, still towering over her in stature, yet with a roguish smirk across his handsome face.

Sarice looked from the man to the line of trees and back to his then proudly grinning face.  After a moment of regarding his goofish beaming, she snorted.

"Show off." She huffed and turned to start to pull her log once again, heading north to the cozy log cabin lay just beyond the next gradually sloping hill.

The big man shrugged his broad shoulders and gave a jovial laugh, shaking his head full of curly brown hair. He then headed over to the last fallen tree, bent down, and hefted the entire tree onto his shoulder with a grunt, branches and all.

Swinging it around deftly, he started off to follow the tracks Sarice left behind.

"Yes, dear," he said to himself with a chuckle.

Sunday, October 5, 2014

The Warrior and the King of Thieves

She gritted her teeth in a begrudged smile as he offered his hand to her.

Her one good eye glared with apprehension and embarrassed fury, looking from the scoundrel's outstretched hand, to where her men sat around the flickering camp fire.

If any of them had so much as a smirk on their face, she would have slashed them in half with her blade, yet wisely, they all seemed to be very busy being preoccupied with the pretty maidens and handsome lads that filled the bandits' hideaway.

She looked back to their leader, whose hand was still awaiting hers; The King of Thieves asking her to dance. Ha!

His roguish smile matched the mischievous glint in his green eyes, as he looked down at her where she sat upon one of the felled logs they used for benches.

Raising her hand she started to reach out for his, but changed directions in mid-motion to run her fingers through her short-cropped, auburn hair.

Snapping her eye patch strap as an unconscious habit she had adopted when wary of a situation, she gave a snorting smirk and took his hand roughly, pulling herself up almost before he had a chance to back up.

The villain was quick on his feet however, and swooped gracefully into a deep bow at her acceptance to join him. She bowed slightly in return, keeping her azure blue eye on him.

They began to dance; him with a jovial spring in his step, while she countered his moves with the quick caginess of a jungle cat, stalking around a rival.

The minstrels' music roiled with their lutes, flutes, and drums, on which they fervently played as they twirled and spun around the flames of the fire that danced to its own licking rhythm.

Her men now watched blatant as she let the Thief King lift her into the air with a spin and bring her gracefully down again in one fluid motion.

As they dance and the music played on, she found herself lost in the moment. She felt herself as a young girl again, not the fierce and harden warrior she had become.

Feeling as light as air on her twirling feet, she even thought she heard herself laugh along with the handsome scoundrel whom continued to spin and toss her wildly as the music grew more frantic.

The camp scene spun round and round until she was not sure which way she faced and she made herself stop at once with sudden embarrassment.

Looking around the camp, the music no longer played, only the crackle of the fired could be heard, its pops a stark contrast to the silence that now hung in the night air.

Her men stirred from their log seats as if they had just woken from a deep slumber.

Only her men stirred.

The camp was empty save them. The band of thieves and their king had vanished into the night.

With a snarl she snatched at the five bejewelled rings she kept hung around her neck on a chain at all times; her ancient and powerful treasures, for which she had quested all those many years ago; had sacrificed so much to find.


Letting out a rage-filled roar, she drew her sword and barked at her men to mount their steeds as she ran to her own black war horse that stood lashed to a near by tree.

The stallion reared as she swung herself up with another guttural bellow. She turned to find her men already upon their horses facing her, awaiting her command.

"Find them, all of them. And destroy them" She ordered in a dark, dangerous voice and they all galloped off with the speed of a pack of wolves setting out to hunt their prey.

As they all disappeared into the darkness just beyond the fire-lit tree line, she looked down at her left hand that gripped the reins. Still resting upon her mid finger, her most prized possession glowed red with shared anger.

The sixth and most powerful ring of power was hers still. With it she would find the others again.

And as for the King of Thieves, he would pay for his mistake of taking them from her.

She clenched her fist and the ring's massive gem stone seemed to radiate its red glow outward, causing the camp fire to extinguish, letting the blackness of the night enshroud the scene; only the light of the ring and the intense blue of the warrior's eye gleaming in the darkness.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Night Sky

Remy looked up into the vast blackness of the sea of stars above as he sat on his carved stone stool, as he had done each evening for so long he had stopped taking note. Long ago, he has learned to just simply enjoy the silence and solitude that was his, absolute.

For when he sat out there under the loneliness of space, he did not feel alone; the multitude of twinkling stars comforted him.

So Remy took pleasure in the short time he had to sit out under his friends the stars, before having to eventually head back down below.

Below; down deep underneath the surface where he made his home.

Below; where it was warm in the cavernous core of the globe that was so harsh and inhospitable on its desert-like surface.

Lush and full of life, Remy would never begrudge his strange and beautiful home, with its massive, purple jungles, dangerous craggy chasms, and vast crystalline seas.

Every secret hideaway, every hidden nook, all of its wild, exotic creatures, and verdant, nurturing plant life, he loved. Never would he have any resentment or feelings of despair towards its loving shelter.

Yet, when he was down below, he sometimes felt, alone and cut off.

It was only the few short hours in the evening, when he could come up onto the surface and sit atop his stool he had carved from the ancient rock itself, that he felt content and connected to everything around him.

For when he was out sitting under the stars, he could stare up at the glowing blue orb that drifted through space with him.

He would gaze up and study its surface of blues, browns, and greens; so different from the grey, lifeless one of his own home world and wonder. Perhaps, he would wonder, there was another lonely traveller up there, sitting out, starring down at him.

Monday, June 2, 2014

The Trap

The fading daylight outside the window causes the room to darken as I sit motionless in the chair positioned in the corner. Yet, I dare not move to turn on the light; dare not take my eyes away for even a second. For the trap is set.
For hours I have sat and kept watch. This time it will not happen; I will not let it get away. People think I have gone crazy, but I know; know that it is true! And once I capture it, I will prove it; prove it to the world!
However, in the dimming light, my eyes have grown heavy with weariness, and my head threatens to nod under the weight of fatigue.
Then, just for a moment, only half a breath, I close my eyes and I am instantly snapped back awake by the rustling noise I hear on the night stand across the room.
I spring to my feet and slap on the light switch to flood the room with brightness.  Staring over at the table beside my bed I see them; my headphones that I had left perfectly straighten and untangled. But now they sit; a mess of knots.
I rush over to them with an infuriated cry of frustration and snatch them up. Flames of rage fill my eyes as I look at the complex and deliberate workings of knots and tangles the wires are in and I hurl them to the floor.
Scanning the empty room frantically I see no trace of anything else moved or disturbed. With a shout I declare that I know they have been here and that I will catch them in the act when amischievous giggle freezes me where I stand.
From behind me, back at the window by the chair I had just been sitting in, a hateful little laugh sends a shiver down my spine.
Slowly, I turn to see it; a horrid little imp figure standing on the window sill. Its face a mass of knobby warts and growths, its rotten teeth glistening with putrid saliva as it cackles at me.
“Oh, you’ll never catch me!” it mocked with a creaking voice. “And no one will ever believe you, stupid human! I’ll drive you mad! For I, am the Tangler!”
I lurched toward the wretched beastie, but with a snap of its gnarled fingers it disappeared from existence before I could take one step.
Nearly sobbing with anger and frustration, all I could do was drop down to my knees to pick up the insane mess of my favourite headphones and start to try to detangle them. All the while vowing my revenge on, the Tangler!

Monday, April 28, 2014


Detective Meowser chased the shadowy figure down the alley, jumping to avoid the upturned trash cans that littered the rain-slicked lane. His quarry moved with an unnatural quickness, like a silhouette moving with the flickering light.

He had come upon another victim laying amongst the refuse, the same bite marks on her neck as the others they had found across the city over the past few weeks. Almost all of their blood drained from their bodies, except for the trickle that matted their neck with damp, sticky red.

Usually, murder victims they found in the streets were slashed with claw and bite marks all over their bodies, with pools of blood all over the place, from the victim and the attacker.

Yet, these murders were baffling everyone on the force, with no other signs of struggle, no traces, no leads; no witnesses.

Until now.

Meowser had been coming home after his shift when he had heard a clattering in the alley across from his apartment building.

Seeing a prostrate figure among the piles of trash bags on the ground, he had scampered over to find that she was already dead, but only just. He was sniffing around for any scent when out of the corner of his eye he had seen the movement in the shadows.

With a shout he started after the fleeing figure as they disappeared around the corner of the back of the building.

Now, he had caught up with the shadowy figure in the next alleyway, which came to a dead end in the darkness.

Slowing to a cautious stalk, Detective Meowser strained his already attuned eyes to try and see where the figure hid in the darkness.

A blur came toward him and before he could react, it knocked him down to the wet pavement.

Quickly jumping back up with a hiss, Meowser stood on his hind legs and drew his pistol.

"Freeze!" he shouted, and to his surprise the figure did.

"Turn around slowly." Meowser ordered as he raised the gun level.

The figure seemed to be wearing a full length black cloak, and as they slowly turned, they somehow seem to enlarge, growing to take up the entire alley way.

Meowser watched in stunned silence as they came round to face him and he saw that they were all black with a strip of white along the front of their long body. Glowing red eyes blazed out at him with anger and malice.

Remembering where he was after a fuzzy moment, Meowser aimed his pistol, "Get your paws up where I can see em, fuzz ball!"

Slowly, the caped cat raised his paws up while holding the edges of his red-lined cloak, spreading it wide open.

"Drop the cape and hands on your head!" Meowser shouted as he cocked the gun.

With a snarl, the black cat bared its abnormally long front fangs and started to swoop in toward Meowser.

Without hesitation, Meowser fired three rapid rounds with no apparent effect on their target.

Meowser quickly ducked as the caped cat rose with a graceful leap over him. He watched with disbelief as the black shape of the raising cloak shrunk and changed into the flapping wings of a giant bat.

The creature flew silently into the night sky as Meowser stood staring up at the opening between the closely packed buildings.

Sirens wailed in the distance; someone must have called in about the gun shots.

He looked down at the pistol and double checked that he had indeed fired the three rounds; he had. And none of them had hit their mark at point blank range.

As the flashing of the police car lights came around the corner, Meowser could only think of one thing; how he was going to explain this to the Chief?

Monday, March 24, 2014


Some places are haunted.

Most of the time, buildings are just plain old buildings, with nothing special about them; nothing to hide.

But sometimes, some places are haunted.

Like the house that was down the street from our place. My bothers and I had to walk passed the empty old house on our way to and from school each day, and we would always hold our breath and sprint by while passing it.

My oldest brother had said that no one had lived there for years because a young boy had died there horribly and his spirit haunted his family each night until it drove them mad and they had to be taken away.

My mother had said not to listen to him and that the family had just moved away and no one would buy the house because it would be so expensive to fit up.

But still, you could feel the house was wrong, even though we were just kids, we could tell, it was haunted.

Every year at Halloween we would dare each other to go up and ring the doorbell to see if a ghost would answer, and every year we would all chicken out.

Then one day I had to stay late at school to finish a collage I was making for my fall project. My brothers would not wait for me and so I had to walk home alone; passing the haunted house, all by myself.

All of my concentration was on the looming house as I came closer to it so I did not see Ralph Dedramin ahead of me with all his cronies and I bumped into the back of him.

All the worry about the house vanished because Ralph posed a much more real threat, being the biggest jerk and bully in the neighbourhood.

I stammered an apology but he just sneered and grabbed my brother's baseball I had borrowed at recess. He threw it at the old house and it smashed through one of the front windows.

"Go fetch." He had said as he shoved into me with his shoulder and left, laughing with his stupid buddies. Their braying was muffled in my ears as I stood and stared at the foreboding house, tears welling in my eyes.

Not tears of fear or embarrassment, but rage at Ralph for thinking I was such a baby I would not go in and get my brother's ball.

I would show him, I would go in and get it and show up to school with it and prove I would not be bullied by him and his group of jerks.

Using the anger as fuel, I made my legs start moving toward the walkway that led up to the rundown old porch. The creaking steps startled me and I realized I had arrived at the house already. Only then, did the fear creep back into me and I hesitated on the first step.

I looked into the window that the ball had gone through; a round, cracked hole was the only trace of change the house had had in many years.

The ball was probably just inside, and fairly close to the entrance I tried to convince myself. I could just grab it and run out again in less than a minute; if I could get in.

Gathering my courage, I climbed the creaking steps onto the rickety porch and walked shakily across the bending boards to the front door.

Trying the knob, I gave it a turn and was surprised when it turned rustily in my hand. However, the door did not budge when I pushed against it. With a sigh, my heart sank further as I let go the knob and moved to look into the grimy old window.

As I started to move though, I heard a click and a slow creak as the door fell open slightly on its own.

A coldness ran through me as I turned to see the blackness that lay beyond the door, as if it was alive and beckoning me to enter inside of it.

Steeling myself, I held my breath and rushed into the opened door; the lack of light inside causing a temporary blindness until my eyes adjusted to the light from the still open door and grimy windows.

Dust settled in a thick layer on the floors and mouldings of the dilapidated entrance; as though no one had disturbed it for decades.

Through the doorway to the right I could see into what must have been the living room. Its wooden floors caked with dust as well. Except for a trail of circular impact points and a thin, straight line where the ball must have bounced in and rolled to a stop.

And, just as I had thought, sitting in a pile of dust, the ball sat only a few meters away. A rush of relief made me brave again and I stepped quickly though the doorway to the living room.

At almost a run, I reached where the ball lay and stooped to pick it up.

In one motion I grabbed the ball and pivoted to turn and run back out, but as I did, the old floor boards groaned under even my light weight, and the world crashed suddenly around me and I fell into darkness.

The last thing I can remember before being enveloped into the blackness, was feeling my brother's ball slip from my hand.

That was so long ago; a lifetime. And yet, here I am, still searching in the dark; searching from room to room, hall to hall.

Will you help me please? Help me find my brother's lost ball?