Aug 3, 2015

There is a place they say, up in those mountains, where trolls hide from the sunlight and dance to the tune of the wind through the trees on dark moonless nights. They hide from us, fearful creatures, so they say. But reason they have and that reason, so I’ve heard, is betrayal. The story goes something like this.
Once long ago, the trolls lived in the valleys, free from toil or strife. The played in the sunshine and laughed in the moonlight and never really thought about it. Their’s was a life of freedom and carefree play that is known only to a child.
                The day the fairies came, they gathered in awe of the creatures’ tall slim beauty, greatly contrasted by their own short, plum beauty, a beauty not of feature but of spirit. This too was contrasted by the cold ugliness of the fairy soul. They were outcasts. The elves cast them off when their cold nature caused a rift so great that the fairies even sought to supplant the King of the Elves. They say they were once one and the same, but that is another story, one that even they can’t remember any more.
                But, the Trolls knew none of this. In their innocence they could only see the beauty, for cruelty had no place in their history. The Trolls brought them gifts with the exuberance of shear adoration. But the Fairies cast them out and trampled upon their insignificant gifts. Devastated the Trolls sat down and cried. Had this been all, perhaps we would still see the Trolls and the Fairies among us still today, but alas, the simple Trolls could not understand and tried again.
                This time he Fairies wanted them to understand that Trolls and their gifts were far beyond their notice or time. They simply left. But one stayed behind. She was more beautiful and cold than all the rest. Perfectly shaped in body, perfectly mangled in heart. She could not bare that such folly as to approach the Fairies with ugliness go unpunished. She stood before the creatures and smiled. They brightened at the acknowledgement.
                “My little ones, are you not tired?”
                The Trolls nodded, for all their tears had wearied them greatly. She opened her arms and gathered them together. She cringed within herself at their touch but she continued to caress and comfort them. Finally she stood and held up a bottle. It sparkled almost as bright as she in the moonlight, for it was night.
                “Drink this,” she said, “and you will never be tired again. But don’t any one drink too much. It must be shared with all. I must go now,” She said, handing the bottle to the chief. “I will be back by say light. Wait here for me.”
                As soon as she vanished, the trusting souls began, each sipping in their turn. It took them all night because the bottle emptied slowly and the clan of Trolls was large.
                Sunlight began to creep over the mountain peaks and the Trolls waited. The rays began to caress the landscape and the Trolls clapped their hands and grinned in anticipation. Then the sunbeam touched the first Troll. With a scream, he turned to stone. One by one, two by two, whole groups cried out in pain and hardened before the cry could die in their throats. The few that were sitting within the mouth of a cave, turned and ran deeper within. There they hid waiting for the Fairy to return. Perhaps she would know how to undo this evil. They were so distraught that they did not notice how tired they were.
                Then they heard a great cracking. They rushed forward to see what was happening now. There stood the beautiful Fairy with arm up raised holding a great mallet, a pile of broken stone behind her and a beloved brother turned stone in front. One began to cry out as understanding washed over him, and he could not hold his tongue. But then, a light flashed starting him into silence.
                “What is this before me?” a deep soothing voice asked. A man dressed in simple cloth stood before her, holding out his hand to stop the blow. “I have been sent because King Tantaroon, King of all the Fiery Realms, heard one of His children cry out, and here I find you, oh daughter of the Fairies. You would not, after so soon having lost your home, turn again to destruction?”
                The Fairy held herself aloof, “Who are you that I should answer your quiries? I AM a daughter of the Fairies. And you are not but dross.”
                Then the man, not young , nor old, reached out his hand in one last warning, “Be it understood, should you still fail to return to your Father, you shall be rendered powerless.”
                The woman sneered, her face turning ugly to even the Trolls watching silently. Then she lifted her arm and came down, crushing the stone figure into an innumerable pieces. Then she threw back her head a laughed. I still have the power to do whatever I wish, and so I will. The Fairy turned and walked toward the next stone figure, but with each step she grew shorter, and shorter. Noticing the change she panicked and called out. Another Fairy appeared but he too was growing smaller and smaller.
                This is why the Fairies are so small today. They have no power, but their pride leads them to lie and tell stories of all kinds of powers great and small, from changing the seasons and granting wishes too collecting teeth of small children and leaving a gift.
                The Trolls sat with their eyes wide trying to take in all that they were seeing. The man turned to them, his beauty was in his face. They could not tell if he was handsome or not, simply that he was full of love and wisdom.
                “Stay there my friends,” he called. “The Fairy’s actions will not be undone, but you will learn to be wise. The sun will turn you to stone, but your hearts will continue to beat and when the darkness falls, you will be freed.”
                It was as he said. And so you see, that is why the Trolls hide and the Fairies too. The Trolls to protect themselves, the Fairies to protect their pride.


Dec 22, 2014

The King of the Twelve Kingdoms

                The twelve stars shone brighter tonight than ever before. 
The twelve stars trembled in their place ready to break into dance at any moment. The time was short and Therman was growing restless as he waited. Two hours late already. At this rate, they would never finish the ceremony in time and the twelve princesses would be lost for another two hundred years.
 Therman rubbed his  large, hairy hands together at the thought of the beautiful glistening figures made human form. If he could have all twelve his harem would not only be unmatched in all the world, but he would rule all twelve kingdoms. No one could stop him, no one but an incompetent delivery boy.
                The trembling grew more violent till the stars almost seemed to sway in the night sky. Suddenly there was a rustling in the under growth. Therman jumped caught off guard as he was lost in his thoughts. “Who goes there!” he  shouted brandishing the ancient sword of his fathers. A cloaked figure bowed and stepped forth out of the brambles.
                “The stars shine brightly for such a hot night,” the stranger said bowing low. The voice and shape was not as young as Therman was expecting, they had said delivery boy, not youth, but Therman was not concerned with their ideas of the aging process.
                “The stars shine brightly when the time is ripe for dancing,” Therman rattled it off as quickly as he could. “Now give me the package!”
                The figure pulled his cloak tighter around himself, “They told me payment first.”
                Therman glanced at the stars. The first start had begun its journey. One by one they would move till each had taken a new place, like musical chairs when the last star had taken the first’s place the dance would have ended and the time would have passed. Therman threw the coin purse at the boy, “Take it! Just give me the package!” he screamed.
                The package flew through the night and into his trembling, outstretched hands. He jerked the draw string open and out burst the bright light of a rainbow of colors. Squatting down he dumped the bag of stones on the ground. Each glimmered its own color, the color of the banners of the twelve kingdoms. Therman whispered the incantation quickly as he placed each stone in order, “
                Within the realms of gods have danced
                Princess of power untold
                Come once again to the earth below
                And claim all that has been foretold
                 One to call, the other Grand Jewel 
                One to serve, the other to Rule
                Power for he who owns each heart
                Given to him who took not part
                And so shall serve he who calls
                Back to earth as has been foretold
                The Princesses of beauty to behold
                Now is the time “
Therman paused breathless and looked up at the stars above. They no longer moved but trembled in their places. “Now, COME HOME!”  The stones light began to grow. But all Therman saw was the twelve stars suddenly leave their dance and gather to the center of the circle. As each reached the middle the light grew ten fold till the whole sky was a blaze. Therman covered his face where he crouched and let out a small scream.
                “Rise slave,” came a soft sweet voice.
                Therman slowly lowered his arm and there before him was a vision he could not have fathomed. All twelve stood around him, each behind her stone. They were glowing the same color as the stones before them. They didn’t look real their faces were so beautiful and their gowns and crowns were so intricate and marvelous. Tears came to Therman’s eyes as he just stared at them, forgetting all his plans in the shear amazement of their presence.
                The brightest put forth her hand and pointed at Therman, “I said, Rise slave!” 
                Therman gave a little squeak as he felt the earth grow further from him. A ripple went though the light and Therman realized he was being laughed at. Some of the Princesses covered their mouths in fained shock but each set of eyes sparkled with myrth as Therman spun mid air before them.
                “Where is the other?” The soft voice asked.
                “No other my pet,” Therman stuttered. Among his own he was looked down on. He knew it would be hard for these apparitions to realize they were his, but he had fulfilled the prophesy and his they were. “I called you. I’m your ruler.”
                “One to call, the other Grand Jewel
                One to serve, the other to Rule.
You have called us, you are the servant.”
                “Oh, I’ve missed servants!” A light pink Princess with rippling hair giggled, “I do so need my boots cleaned.”
                “Where is the other?”
                Therman sputtered, “I am your ruler! I called you! Put me down!” His face was growing red and his bread kept falling in his face causing him to violently paw it out of the way. Looked very like a dog who has just been sprayed by a skunk as he turned and flopped in the air. “Let me down I say! I AM the ruler!”
                “No.” The Princess stepped away from the floating figure calling back over her shoulder, “Don’t have too much sport with him ladies. We need him.”
                Therman’s protests were drowned out as the laughter of almost a dozen playful Princesses converged on him. The brightest Princess walked to the edge of the clearing and called, “I know you are there. The spell would only work if two were present. Come out and let us see the ruler of our hearts and kingdoms.”
                “Is he over there?!” the orange princess squealed. “I’ll bet he’s strong and handsome and…”
                The light trembled. The Princesses fell silent looking around at each other in confusion. Then it happened again, the lights emanating from them trembled and dimmed. The small pink Princess groaned and doubled over. “I don’t want to go back,” she cried pitifully.
                The brightest Princess ran over and wrapped her arms around the young girl. “Don’t go back. Stay here. We will all stay here this time.” She lifted her head and looked around. Then her face changed from worry to pale horror. “What are you doing?!”
                The cloaked figure that had brought the stones stood holding the light pink stone in his hand. The stones had all been arranged back in their order, only one was out of place and he held it in his hand, fingering it thoughtfully.
                “Please, my Love” the bright white Princess stretched out her hand in pleading, “think of what we offer you. Have pitty on us. Don’t send us back. We will do anything you want, everything you desire!”
                The youth pulled back his cloak and there stood a very old man.
The Princesses  all gasped.
His face grew hard and he said, “I desire to retain the peace that has ruled this land since you twelve were banished. I miss you, but…” the pink stone was swiftly dropped into place and the little pink princess dimmed and vanished.
                Therman dropped a few inches and flipped so he could see the night sky. A single star had reappeared. A wail went up among the dimming figures. Therman dropped again and another star appeared. Then more swiftly, inch by foot he dropped till he almost touched the ground.
                “How many times will you banish us? How many times will you turn your back on your heart?”
                The old man stepped from the circle of stones and took the Princess’s hand, his eyes shimmered and his whole body shook. He held the hand as if he would hold her back and then he dropped the hand and embraced the woman, “I love you!” he cried just before she vanished, leaving his arms empty and his head bowed.
                Therman fell the last few inches and scrambled to his feet. The stones no longer glowed. The stars were still in the night sky. Therman pulled his clothes back into their place, the laughter and cruelty of the beautiful face lingering before his eyes.
                Yet the old man stood, his head bowed, his shoulders stooped. For a moment Therman thought the man had fallen asleep or perhaps had fallen under a spell.
                “I’m sorry my good man.” Came a weak, tired voice, “I have used you badly.”
                Therman dusted himself off. “How do you mean? How’d you come here?”
                “I am the keeper of the stones.” The old man lift his head, his eyes were weary and dull. “When someone comes to steal them, I know there will be an attempt to call my girls. So, I come to see them, to hear their laughter, to glory in their beauty, and to morn at their cruelty.” The man took a great heaving sigh and stooped down to gather the stones, saying as he did so, “And I come to make sure they do not stay. Had you succeeded my friend, you would have been their toy and the little thirteen year old thief you sent would rule the twelve kingdom and my girl’s hearts, though they be cold and hard hearts.”
                Therman looked at his hands and watched as the man slipped the last stone back into the pouch.  Then, as the man headed back to the woods, Therman called out, “Wait! How did they know you?”
                The old man smiled sadly, “They are my daughters.”    



Jan 24, 2014

Mother Heart Prolog

Prolog At the New UN 2075 Early April “Stan, the excitement in the crowd is palpable. "  Eian Branshaw looked behind him waving his hand to show the camera the luxurious crowd behind him. A thick crowd pushed closer to a red velvet walk lined with ropes holding the people back. Various Vehicles pulled forward letting out men and women in official robes indicating their nation or sect. Some looked into the crowd waving large charismatic smiles. Others stared ahead with solemn faces. "What we’re seeing here is the culmination of years of work and diplomacy. Those gathered behind me are among the lucky few; diplomats, former students, and of course we few reporters that get to witness this historic event.” The shot zoomed out to reveal another reporter in a news room “Eian, I speak for myself and everyone else here, that you are a very envied man right now. We would all love to be there.” “I feel incredibly lucky to have this opportunity.” “What would you say is the over-all sentiment there?” “Well, like I said, excitement. We all know what this means for the world. It means the progress and the peace that we have spent generations touting and searching for is finally upon us. Here we are at the brink of worldwide collapse and we have hope.” “Now, I just saw Serge Perot behind you. He doesn't look happy at all." " No, I can imagine not. President Perot has been extremely vocal in his opposition of this move by the UN." " He and others as well. We all know there are those out there who oppose this action by the UN to choose one school as the official worldwide educational institution.” “I don’t think those people have been properly informed of what’s really taught. A lot of false rumors out there, Ried. A lot of false consperisy theories .” “You went to an Alia school, didn’t you?” “Yes, I was in the first class.” “What would you say was the most important thing you learned there? Why does this one school promise so much peace that others have tried and failed to find?” “It’s the importance it puts on the child from the very beginning. From birth to marriage the child is carefully nurtured to become a responsible, productive citizen. After a full generation we can say for sure that divorce rates are nonexistent, violence in the graduates is unheard of, production as citizens is astronomical. And the best part is their children, the next generation, my child, is getting an even better position because they have parents that can support the system. It builds on its self. It’s amazing, really.” “I’ve seen your IQ scores. I really envy you the start you got.” “Through this legislation the whole world will be able to have this advantage. Hang on,” Branshaw's hand covered his right ear focusing on the sound in his left ear where the bone mic had been installed, “I’ve just been informed that the Alia’s have arrived. There they are!" His hand shot up pointing enthusiastically at the old black car that glided up to the end of the carpet, led and followed by  much more sleek black vehicles.The camera quickly zoomed in as the car doors opened and large men with black suits stepped out scanning the crowd and buildings.  Branshaw's voice returned to normal as he continued, "They are in the old first model fusion buggy. The security around them is unbelievable. Here they come…” The camera focused past the newscaster and onto a tall intelligent looking couple emerging from the car wearing long purple gowns and smiling happily at the cheering crowd. “Eian, what are they wearing?” “Stan those are ceremonial robes from the… Wait, she’s fallen!" The camera zoomed in until the entire screen is filled with a crumple of purple quickly added to as a second figure collapses next to it. The crowd begins to scream and duck. The camera bounces violently as people push past in an effort to flee. As it focuses back on the couple they are surrounded by the men in black suits until only a limp hand is visible.   “What’s happening there?” the anchorman asked. “There’s blood! Why? Where’s it coming from?” The young reporter disappeared for a moment only to return with bright red eyes and a slightly hysterical voice. “Someone has shot the Alia's, I repeat, the Alia’s have been shot.” Charlotte Tiller heard no more, saw no more. She felt the wait of baby Hope resting on her hip but her mind was numb. A vision of crumpled up purple swirled before her eyes.

Apr 24, 2013

What to do with Angel?

There are going to be some mistakes in this but I'm in a hurry...

So this story starts last winter about January. I felt strongly that it was time to get a dog. I researched and found the "breed" of cockapoo and thought that sounds like the dog for us.

I found an advetisment for about half the price of a large breeder and we drove many miles to look. There were three puppies left but only two showed signs of a poodle coat. One was the largest of the litter and most afraid, the other was the smallest and the most energgetic. We decided getting two would help them be less lonely when we were gone and help make things a little easier on me since they would need less people time. (Okay we were nieve)

Fast forward a few days and the fighting begins. Not the sweet puppy fighting, the "I'm going to rip your throat out and that's just for starters!" We called a dog trainer and did what she said yet my day consisted of trying to take care of three toddlers and keep Angle (the runt) from killing Star (the larger more mischievious one).

It comntinued till we couldn't even allow them together at all. This ment a good deal of time in crates and my guilt factor rising everyday. As soon as we could we had them in training. It helped some but without warning one or the other would start it and we barly got them apart sometimesm all this in the midst of three little girls who could get hurt at anytime.

Finaly we decided to let one of them go. We decided on Star cause we knew her chances of a good home were greater since Angel was always the agressor but only toward Star, not us. 

Once Star was out of the home Angel became part of our family.

 Except that now she was going to be top dog (she even got up on our bed and peed on it right after we took her out). We never let her on the bed after that. I have been able to keep an arms length relationship with her because when I start to show her any extra love she starts testing her boundieries. For more than a year we've kept a decent balance. The girls have learned they never aproach her unless they are trying to be nice because she does not hesitate to protect herself. Joel and she have the best relationship but even he has to draw a hard line at times. I'm willing to continue this to keep our puppy.

However, within the last two weeks we haven't gone a day with someone getting nipped at (not to mention the times she's broken skin)... most of the time it's motivated by "Don't touch me" cause a girl tried to pet her gentley, "That's mine" cause she's chewing on something she shouldn't be, or "Let's play" cause she's jumping up at them as they are scared and trying to get away. Not only this but she's started disobeying the commands she thinks she can get out of. If she's far enough away to run she tried that first.

Basicly, I think it's getting dangerous but I don't know what to do. I don't want to get rid of her, but I don't know if training again will help? I've got a baby coming and while when she was little she let Ryn roll all over her, I'm not sure she'd do that now. Not to mention she getting absolutly tarified of me. I HATE that! I do bop her nose, but I don't hit her. Sometimes when I try to catch her she gets hurt but it's not badly or on purpose. Mostly she gets put outside or in her kennel when she's been disobedient or hurt someone.

Like I said, I don't know what to do.

Please, ideas? 

Mar 3, 2013

A story we wrote

Once there was a doggy.
The Doggies name was Victoria. Victoria was a magical ballerina girl. You see she is a person but she likes to spend her life as a puppy dog. She loves to dance on her four paws.
 She got so good at it she started to wear dance shoes on all four paws. But then when she wanted she turned into a Pony. She was so good at it she wore dance shoes on all four hooves.
And whenever she wanted to she turned into a kitten. Almost everywhere people would find her at the door saying, "Meow meow, let me in!" And they would say "AH! Talking kitty!
" And her parents had never found such a magical girl that she had adopted.
And one day she found a magical pony so she turned into a pony so they could fly, but that's another story.
The End

Jan 3, 2013

The Real Problem

The real problem with writing...
Wondering how the story will end and wishing the writer would get her act together and finish it for me.

Oct 3, 2012

Where does it come from?

Never ask a fairy where’s she’s from. I told him a dozen times but he just couldn’t seem to get it through his head. Ask a woman her age, her weight, if you must, ask if she’s pregnant, but NEVER ask a fairy where she’s from.

Oh sorry, my name’s Spellinda. My brother, thick head over there, is Gregory Thomas Speleford the Fifth. I told my parents we should have named him Spalunk but they didn’t go for it. But that doesn’t stop me from calling him that. You should see the way mom comes out of her skin when I do!

Anyway, we’re wil-o-the-whisps. It’s lots of fun. Hiding keys and glasses, stealing that last bite of food from the container, running through trees on spooky nights right outside windows. Wait a minute, why am I telling you this. Never mind, forget I said any of that. We just sit out in the yard all day making the daisies nod. Yep, that’s all we do.

Anyway, I told Spalunk not to ask a fairy where she’s from but he didn’t listen and that’s how we got into the mess.

It started off innocent enough. We were running up and down the wall with crayons tapped to our shoes while little Billy played with his blocks in the other room,

when this gorgeous blue fairy waltzes in on a passing breeze and asks what we’re up to. Well, I’m not stupid enough to answer such a question. If she can’t figure it out, who am I to rob her of the chance to exercise that pretty little brain of hers.

But Spalunk just open his mouth wide and asked, “Where’d you come from?”

My mouth fair fell open. She smiled at him with all the evil her soul could muster. “You shall find out.”

The next thing I know we’re sitting in the middle of a dung heap with smelly fairies buzzing all around us.

“Oh, good!” Cries this ancient looking one. “New hands. We’ve need help for some weeks now.” She grabs both our arms and lifts up out of the pile of manure and flies us to the other side. “Now, the eggs will hatch soon. All you have to do is feed them the manure as they crawl out. “

I’d heard of this trick, hence the warning for dear little brother, but I’d never heard what happened after.

Pretty soon that foul smelling dung heap started shaking and I started to fear for my very life, but then this dear little spot of light came crawling out.

She toddled over to me and looked up with all the beauty and allure of wounded dear seeking help. I forgot myself and reached down, scooping up that poo and reaching it out to her. She opened up her tiny little mouth and daintily took a bite. Then she smiled up at me and I thought, “Well, that wasn’t so bad. If you just need a little poo to make something so cute and useful as a fairy then I’ll hold my little hand full. But then she tugged on my shirt for more, and the piles began to shake again. Then there were two, then three. Before I knew it the whole mound was alive with tinny spots of light flying up and demanding more and more poo! I was starting to get covered cause every time one came up to ask for more she’d leave a mighty hand print of poo.

Then they started crawling on me to get there first and that’s when I lost it.

I looked over at Spalunk to say, ‘Let’s get out of here.” But he was so busy playing with the little things he had no idea what a mess he was. So I decided on action. I threw the one that was bighting me back at the pile where, by the way, more were still crawling out. I grabbed Spalunk’s collar and turned to flee.

We ran up ditches and down rivers, those little light spots seemed glued to our shoes. Then, we were passing this box and an arm shot out and grabbed us jerking us in before the fairies caught up.

“Name’s Mighty,” he spat out in heavy Irish brogue, “I’m a Leprechaun.”

“Spellinda, and Spulunk. Thanks for saving us.”

“Oh I wasn’t trying to save you, I was trying to stop you.”

“Huh? Stop us from what?”

“From feeding those fairies. The more fairies there are the more manure we leprechaun have to come up with.”

I was still confused so I asked again, “Huh?”

“Don’t you know anything? It goes like this. We bring in the manure but the there will only ever hatch as many as you’re willing to feed. Can’t feed themselves, can they? So they get some dolt to come and feed away. The more they feed, the more hatch, the more manure we have to get for later. If we don’t stop someone the whole world’s going to be covered in manure.”

So that’s why I’m here. To plead with you, if a light spot of light waltzes up to you ask where it comes from, then if it comes from a pile of poo… don’t feed it.