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The Voyages of the Penelope and the Yydryl

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posted on Dec, 6 2011 @ 03:15 AM
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~*~ Stay or Go ~*~


‘Pip, if you want me to stay I’ll stay,’ Maggie reassured him without much feeling. She didn’t know who she was, where she was and truly had not much of an idea at this point even what she was. What little she did know was the last of her ‘self‘ was covered under a layer of walnut dye and the rest hidden between the folds of the mattress in the cabin but she‘d sworn she‘d pay back Gep’s saving her life by helping his son and she‘d do as Pip asked, boy or no.

‘If you go it could be dangerous.’ Pip leaned over to pull another piece of hay from the hay feeder nailed to the fence where the cow had her muzzle buried deep busily munching away. Chewing on the end of the long clean stalk Pip resembled his father so much the sight pinched at her heart. Maggie looked away.

“Then I’ll stay.’ Maggie reached over to scratch the cow between the ears where horns that should have grown years ago were cut and seared away forever with a hot iron. The cow liked the scratching and paused long enough at her hay to wrap a rough nubbly tongue around Maggie's upper wrist before curling it back again.

‘If you stay it could be dangerous too.’ It was Pips turn to look away, his eyes drifted to the furthermost hills surrounding the valley.

‘Yes, we’ve been through this before, if I stay it could be dangerous too.’ Maggie gave up in exasperation, ‘But you haven’t told me why and I know you’re not just talking about wild animals.’ Toby gave a bark of confirmation where he lay at their feet. ‘Pip’, Maggie turned her back on the cow to rest her weight against the split rail fence, ‘I think you better tell me what’s going on around here.’

In an effort to hide his thoughts Pip gave them away. His boot scuffing was a sure sign he was undecided and perplexed.

‘Ok.’ He finally agreed though he wouldn’t meet her eyes, ‘but I don’t wanna talk about it here. Come on I’ll show you someplace special.’

*** The Ridge ***


‘It’s beautiful up here.’ The surrounding hills defied description that wasn’t an emotion. Sitting next to Pip on the lip of a rock overhang the Olis cabin looked so small she could hold it in her hand. Cupping her palm before her and squinting her eye she aligned her sight with the boy’s home far below. The illusion complete the Olis farm nestled in the cup of her palm. Pip followed her lead and chuckled but his mood didn’t lighten

‘My Pa liked it up here allot and we used to come here when things needed sorting and you really don’t know who you are do you?’ Pip didn’t give pause for breath or discernable punctuation.

‘No Pip I don’t. But I like my new hair.’ She lied and smiled. They both remembered her embarrassed tears when Pip help up the mirror to show her new dark locks that gave her even more of a boyish cast. Now after changed into Pip’s old jeans and shirt a soft pair of his old moccasins on her feet she completed the picture. They could have passed for brothers.

‘Maggie...Pa says the world aint what it used to be. Not like it was in Serendipity.’ Pip started in earnest. Maggie crossed her fingers and promised to try not to interrupt him.

‘See, before this here was all family farms,’ he waved to the valley, ’and the town way over there,’ Pip pointed to a cluster of buildings in the distance, ’There were skyscrapers and cars and schools like in the book. Pa said people went to the Moon and to Mars and could fly.‘ He grunted like a treat had been refused pretending not to care. ‘The world was a different place. Pa said it all the time.’ Pip shot her a glance to see if she believed him. Satisfied with her expression he went on. ‘Then came the Big Bang.’ Maggie was hard pressed not to interrupt. ‘The Big War and the bombs and everyone dying. People got crazy. They still are.’ Pip hung his head.

‘That’s what your Pa said.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘Yeah. And now there’s not enough girls! Some strangers, the Sinnamen, they came and took all the girls a long time ago when Pa’s Pa was a boy. The Sinnamen had gone and killed off all their own girl babies cause they liked boys more but after the Big Bang their woman all dried up so they came and took ours.’ Pip flipped pebbles with his thumb rolling one after another over the lip of the cliff to fall into the canyon far below. ‘So my Ma? She was a gift from Pa’s Pa. Said Pa needed to breed on her to keep the bloodline going. She wouldn’t ‘take’ with Grandpa plus he already had Pa.’

Confused Maggie held up her hand before he could go on. ‘She wouldn’t ‘take’”?

‘Yeah, Grandpa's wife died so be bought a new one but she wouldn’t get a baby with him.‘ Pip explained like he was talking cows and bulls. Maggie shuddered. She didn’t know why the thought of Gep taking his step-mother to bed made her skin seem to shrink over her bones but it did.

‘Pa loved her a lot though! And me too!’ Pip’s heart could have been lying right there between them beating on the cold stone for all the pain in his voice. ‘My Ma loved him more is all. So she went and did it. She reached right out and snatched up an old rattler and got kilt. Pa said she was trying to save me from the varmint but I know she wasn’t.’ Pip bashed a hand across his face. It came away wet.

‘Why would she do that Pip, get herself killed?’ Maggie asked quietly.

‘Cause after one kid the law says Pa had to trade her to someone else to have babies. She was supposed to go to the Macalister's He got all them girls but no boy a his own.’ Fat tears rolled down his nose making little explosions of dust when they hit the ground.

‘So your Ma died before she was traded to someone else?’ Maggie was confused.

‘No, she died trying to turn that rattler on me so she wouldn’t have to go. If she didn’t have any kid she could stay with Pa.’ Pip didn’t look up. Maggie resting her hand on his shaking shoulders was glad for once he did not.


edit on 6-12-2011 by silo13 because: 5k counter




posted on Dec, 6 2011 @ 11:59 AM
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......................................~Stone Henge And Family~............................................

Avalon:
The last bastion of virtue and the home of the noble.
King Arthur and his Knights of The Round Table, protecting the weak and fighting for
a natural justice, beliefs that make the spirit soar and the blood to course through a man's
veins.

The Arrival:
The blind-leading-the blind.
Adam- The Doctor from The Yydryl, out of his depth and out of his mind with love.
Young guy and not a bad looker, if you like the idea of your beau's eyes checking your
skin for blotches.
Boy In A Dress - A wig-wearing, high-hemmed and high-toned son of a bitch. A being
from another place and another wardrobe.
Gerald- Elf.

Are you freaking kidding me?!

They hit the dirt -just east of Stonehenge and as the early-evening summer sun laid the
monolith's shadows across the grunting trio, Death lit another cigarette and as it hung
from his young lips, he watched the smoke drift upwards.

Tipping his 'Ridge-Runner' further back on his head, James Dean leaned against the blue
stone and got to his feet. The dust stirred across his scuffed cowboy boots as he watched
his brother and the man he'd once employed -stand up.

Boy In A Dress brushed off the loose soil from his red attire and surveyed the surroundings,
a green prairie with lush trees to the South.
The avenue of smaller stones all sat with metal cages of fire crackling away on their heads
and necklaces of flowers laid around their bases.
The massive uprights that made the true-Henge, glowed a dull blue-grey and the Man/Girl
lifted his head to look at the flower-strewn lintels above him.
"Wow..." he whispered "... transport-heaven" and stretched his lips at his own amusement.

"Howdy..." Death said morosely and kept his eyes towards the short grass, he'd been working
on his 'Jet Rink' impression for some time. "'...Ah see yer' finally made it" he mumbled and
kicked a small stone towards the centre of the Henge.

Boy In A Dress smiled-his-smile and not knowing of his dark-brother's antics on Carbiox, he
was genuinely happy to see him.
"I know this one!..." BIAD said as Adam hoisted up the small Elf called Gerald, "... Proffessor
Shaw took me to the Alambra in Provo to see the movie" the Man/Girl's tone was light and
friendly.

Death nodded and looked disinterested, the image was of a young cow-poke with time on his
hands. "Yep, ah was sittin' jest behind you and the old man" James Dean muttered and taking
the cigarette from his lips, he flicked it behind him -without looking.
"Wait... wait, I know the name..." BIAD said and rubbed his chin, the memories were fleeting.

"Giant" Adam snapped and handed the dull-glowing cigarette butt back to the young Texan
look-alike.

Death pulled his hat back over his corn-yellow fringe and greeted his last employee.
"Say Fella... you straightened out jest fine" he quipped and watched the Doctor pass him and
stand behind the Man/Girl.
"Ah'm truly glad to see yer' agin, Doc" Death/Dean said and leaned against the bluestone, his
faded jeans and leather waistcoat -seemingly out of sequence with the surroundings.

Adam spat and said nothing to the Grim Reaper that had commanded him to do the terrible
deeds, but the Doctor's eyes spoke volumes.

Gerald watched from behind a far plinth at the odd meeting and wondered who the stranger
in the big hat may be, his Elfin senses wanted to tell him more, but his youth countered the
gift.

"So, yer' on yer' way to Avalon to find the good-Doctor's lady, heh?" Death drawled and stuck
his thumbs behind the worn belt-buckle. Boy In A Dress' smile never wavered as he asked his
brother for his view.
"We ceratinly are, love knows no-bounds and Adam wishes to be with Dag" the eyeless freak
said with an upbeat tone.

Death sighed with feigned boredom and pushed himself erect from the huge stone, the night
was rushing in and time was getting away from them.



posted on Dec, 6 2011 @ 12:01 PM
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(Continued from Above)

"Well, brother... you stay safe, ya-hear me?" James Dean said and turned to walk away, his
shadow dancing with the flames around them.

"What is it you want?" BIAD snarled and stepped after the lone-Cowboy, he knew that 'The
Keeper Of The Bridge' would never come to such a magical place unless he had to.
That thought had barely crossed his mind when Death spun around and hissed " because of
the damned fairies... and YOU know it!"

A smile suddenly cracked Adam's lips as the realisation that the Phantom before them, The
Taker of Souls, The Reaper-himself, was afraid of Fairies, the Doctor wanted to laugh out
loud.

Boy In A Dress leaned his head slightly and asked again... although, this time with softer
tones. "What do you require -my brother?"
James Dean gathered himself and fell back into the 'dimestore hood' routine, the famous
easy-smile lay on his lips.

"Well, old-hoss... ah wuz thinkin' that if you find that-there sword of Arthur's on yer' travels,
maybe ya' could... yer know, leave it here in the Henge fur me te' have a look at"
Death squirmed during his request and the grin on Adam's face faded as he smelled trouble
ahead.

"What evil deeds are you cooking-up now, heh?" the Doctor sneered and stepped closer
to the young Cowboy. He had never feared Death -even when he was forced to 'collect'
for him.

"Now hold on there..." Death cawed and held up a hand to stop Adam speaking further
"Ma' bro knows that ah can't 'come-over' into your reality -in the true sense, but ah'
figure ah' should take more notice of them-thar human's histories... and stuff"

Adam pondered for all-of-one-second and then snorted "it's a trick... a ruse for some
devilish-plot that will help you in some way" he looked to BIAD for confirmation.

(Click here for background music!)


The music was faint and seemed to come from all around Stonehenge, Gerald looked
around wide-eyed and thought it prudent to get back to Adam's side.

"Aw heck..." James Dean said and planting the hat filmly onto his head, he finished
with "... here they come and here I go"
Like the mist that sometimes greets early-risers in the vale of Avalon, Death seemed
to seep away, but Boy In A Dress heard his brother's drifting words.
"See what yer' can do fur yer kin, heh hoss?" and the Man/Girl watched James Dean wave
the famous wave and disappear.

"Who's coming" whispered Gerald from the hip of Adam and forcing a smile to his lips,
BIAD said "why, the fairies -of course" and looked towards the nearing-floating lights.
edit on 6-12-2011 by A boy in a dress because: (no reason given)



posted on Dec, 7 2011 @ 09:19 AM
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.............~*~*~Fun with Faeries~*~*~................



Now Adam heard the same tinkling and giggling sound that Dag had encountered in the Vandalian canyon. (Of course, he did not know that.) He was mesmerized, however, just as she had been.

He did not, however, see horses and smell apple blossoms. Neither did he next hear the melodic harmonies of "Return to Innocence." Adam's mind was not far enough evolved to access the same frequencies, the same infrared spectrum that Dag had encountered. The Native Men's chant had been bestowed on Dag's ears alone. Her next test was to transmit it properly to Brittle, and Adam could be of no assistance whatsoever in that assignment.

What he saw instead were will-o'-the-wisps. Ball lightning. Bog bodies rising from the turf, mummified and drooling. They were Roman legionairres, the very men who had massacred Boudicca's eager and fierce troops. He gagged.

Turning from the bog-bodies, he then saw zombified women everywhere -- dressed in blood-soaked Victorian bustles and corsets, their necks all dripping with evanescence and pointing at him.

What he heard was a sequence of death-rattles in pitches and tones that would have come from those women, and from the area where the bog-bodies were rising, also children, and men. It was horrible.

And it went on and on, until a persistent, rapid-fire, high-pitched "beep-beep!" finally captured his attention. He tried to pinpoint it, but it kept coming from random points around him, followed by crashing noises, the whistling of small rockets, boulders crashing to the ground. It was when he saw the blur of something rush past, and then a scrawny animal peer out from behind the nearest upright of the blue stones, with twigs stuck in its own ears, that he ran, screaming, away. And that was fortunate, because no sooner had he cleared out than that monstrous piece of handywork came crashing down behind him.

Boy in a Dress would have tried to stop Adam, but he was engrossed in his own helping of the Faerie glamour (which he would later describe to everyone while they sat round a campfire safe and reunited, he hoped). So he did not see his friend disappear into the mists, let alone canon into James Dean's girlfriend.

The force of Adam's body-slam did nothing to disrupt her poise, however, and after shaking his head to clear out the ringing and scatter the stars, he looked up at her.

"Come with me, doctor," she said.

Her voice was the sweetest thing he had ever heard. Her long dark hair, her softly curving bosom and bare throat that shone like the full moon itself were lovelier than any of his most fondly imagined female companions. She turned and sashayed away, her hips swinging alluringly above her bare thighs, and she walked as though her feet had forever worn the high-heeled boots. Adam scrambled to his feet and hastened after her.

Soon they were in a cityscape, alleyways with graffiti, darkness, and murmuring homeboys, and yet she kept walking. And walking. He even tried to cut her off by slipping in front of her. But then she just looked at him as though she could see right through him. Finally he could take no more, and shouted "Hey!"




posted on Dec, 7 2011 @ 12:10 PM
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………………Death Tells a Tale……………..



Pandora, after Adam's performance, had to give him a hug. She just couldn't resist. And while they embraced, they heard a low, rasping chuckle.

They released one another and looked toward the sound. James Dean stepped out from behind the mist and began to applaud, pausing sarcastically between each clap. After five of these, he stopped.

"How very entertaining," he said and approached the two. The others, who had accompanied Adam during his provocative display of charade-love, had disappeared. Adam wondered to where, but he was unquestionably alone now, with the beautiful woman, and the very jealous brother of Boy in a Dress.

James 'Death' Dean looked her up and down. It chapped his cheeks to no end that she wasn't actually his "girlfriend." He only wanted her to be. She was one of those damnable wenches who could take or leave anyone, and he suspected – but could not be sure – that she actually was titillated by this so-called 'Doctor.'

"That's how hell really works, son. You see your own most terrible demons, and after you've suffered enough for the karmic consequences of your lifetime evil, you move on. But make no mistake, this is an illusion. Oh, you will forever remember that embrace, and forever seek to relive it. But alas, it is not to be. Not in the upcoming few go-rounds, anyway."

"You," said Adam under his breath. Death simply lifted his chin in response and nodded once, and crossed his arms in front of him. "Again."

"Come come, son, you know we always have a rollicking good time together. You and your friends are, in fact, my favorite playmates! Now come sit down, you too, Pandora. I'm going to tell you a story. And when I'm done, you can tell me if you know who this "mythical" litigant is really based upon.

"It was first printed in the late 20th century Gregorian, authored by a genius named Ian Frazier. I think you'll enjoy it. And I'm fairly confident you will learn something, but that remains to be seen."

And so began Death's tale:

Coyote V. Acme
IN THE UNITED STATES DISTRICT COURT,
SOUTHWESTERN DISTRICT, TEMPE, ARIZONA
CASE NO. B19294, JUDGE JOAN KUJAVA, PRESIDING
Wile E. Coyote, Plaintiff
-v.-
Acme Company, Defendant

Opening Statement of Mr. Harold Schoff, attorney for Mr. Coyote:

My client, Mr. Wile E. Coyote, a resident of Arizona and contiguous states, does hereby bring suit for damages against the Acme Company, manufacturer and retail distributor of assorted merchandise, incorporated in Delaware and doing business in every state, district, and territory. Mr. Coyote seeks compensation for personal injuries, loss of business income, and mental suffering causes as a direct result of the actions and/or gross negligence of said company, under Title 15 of the United States Code, Chapter 47, section 2072, subsection (a), relating to product liability.

Mr. Coyote states that on eighty-five separate occasions he has purchased of the Acme Company (hereinafter, "Defendant"), through that company's mail-order department, certain products which did cause him bodily injury due to defects in manufacture or improper cautionary labelling. Sales slips made out to Mr. Coyote as proof of purchase are at present in the possession of the Court, marked Exhibit A. Such injuries sustained by Mr. Coyote have temporarily restricted his ability to make a living in his profession of predator. Mr. Coyote is self-employed and thus not eligible for Workmen's Compensation.


Death paused there, and looked up at Adam, whose mouth formed a perfect horizontal line. His brows were drawn together in a frown, indicating that he fully expected himself to be mocked as the story continued. He looked at Pandora, who winked and said, "Beep-beep!"

This caused Death to guffaw, and she looked at him with alarm. "No," he said, "no, my dear, as much as you would like to picture your many stalkers sustaining injury, you are NOT the subject. For once."

She crossed her arms indignantly, then her legs, and flicked her hair over her shoulder looking away from him.
"Whatever," she said.

And then Death cleared his throat and began again.
(continued)

edit on 7-12-2011 by wildtimes because: (no reason given)



posted on Dec, 7 2011 @ 12:15 PM
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(continued)


Mr. Coyote states that on December 13th he received of Defendant via parcel post one Acme Rocket Sled. The intention of Mr. Coyote was to use the Rocket Sled to aid him in pursuit of his prey. Upon receipt of the Rocket Sled Mr. Coyote removed it from its wooden shipping crate and, sighting his prey in the distance, activated the ignition. As Mr. Coyote gripped the handlebars, the Rocket Sled accelerated with such sudden and precipitate force as to stretch Mr. Coyote's forelimbs to a length of fifty feet.

Subsequently, the rest of Mr. Coyote's body shot forward with a violent jolt, causing severe strain to his back and neck and placing him unexpectedly astride the Rocket Sled. Disappearing over the horizon at such speed as to leave a diminishing jet trail along its path, the Rocket Sled soon brought Mr. Coyote abreast of his prey. At that moment the animal he was pursuing veered sharply to the right.

Mr. Coyote vigorously attempted to follow this maneuver but was unable to, due to poorly designed steering on the Rocket Sled and a faulty or nonexistent braking system. Shortly thereafter, the unchecked progress of the Rocket Sled brought it and Mr. Coyote into collision with the side of a mesa.

Paragraph One of the Report of Attending Physician (Exhibit B), prepared by Dr. Ernest Grosscup, M.D., D.O., details the multiple fractures, contusions, and tissue damage suffered by Mr. Coyote as a result of this collision. Repair of the injuries required a full bandage around the head (excluding the ears), a neck brace, and full or partial casts of all four legs.

Hampered by these injuries, Mr. Coyote was nevertheless obliged to support himself. With this in mind, he purchased of Defendant as an aid to mobility one pair of Acme Rocket Skates. When he attempted to use this product, however, he became involved in an accident remarkably similar to that which occurred with the Rocket Sled. Again, Defendant sold over the counter, without caveat, a product which attached powerful jet engines (in this case, two) to inadequate vehicles, with little or no provision for passenger safety. Encumbered by his heavy casts, Mr. Coyote lost control of the Rocket Skates soon after strapping them on, and collided with a roadside billboard so violently as to leave a hole in the shape of his full silhouette.

Mr. Coyote states that on occasions too numerous to list in this document he has suffered mishaps with explosives purchased of Defendant: the Acme "Little Giant" Firecracker, the Acme Self-Guided Aerial Bomb, etc. (For a full listing, see the Acme Mail Order Explosives Catalogue and attached deposition, entered in evidence as Exhibit C.) Indeed, it is safe to say that not once has an explosive purchased of Defendant by Mr. Coyote performed in an expected manner.

To cite just one example: At the expense of much time and personal effort, Mr. Coyote constructed around the outer rim of a butte a wooden trough beginning at the top of the butte and spiralling downward around it to some few feet above a black X painted on the desert floor.

The trough was designed in such a way that a spherical explosive of the type sold by Defendant would roll easily and swiftly down to the point of detonation indicated by the X. Mr. Coyote placed a generous pile of birdseed directly on the X, and then, carrying the spherical Acme Bomb (Catalog #78-832), climbed to the top of the butte. Mr. Coyote's prey, seeing the birdseed, approached, and Mr. Coyote proceeded to light the fuse. In an instant, the fuse burned down to the stem, causing the bomb to detonate.

In addition to reducing all Mr. Coyote's careful preparations to naught, the premature detonation of Defendant's product resulted in the following disfigurements to Mr. Coyote:

1 Severe singeing of the hair on the head, neck, and muzzle.

2 Sooty discoloration.

3 Fracture of the left ear at the stem, causing the ear to dangle in the aftershock with a creaking noise.

4 Full or partial combustion of whiskers, producing kinking, frazzling, and ashy disintegration.

5 Radical widening of the eyes, due to brow and lid charring.


He paused again and looked at Adam once more. "Sound like you, son?"

"No," said Adam.

Death grinned. "Correct. Now let's continue. That is, if Pandora is finished pouting."

They both looked at her, though she remained with crossed arms and legs and refused to look at them. She just waved him to continue. Death and Adam exchanged glances and shrugged to one another.

"Go ahead, then," said Adam. "I'm all ears."
(continued)

edit on 7-12-2011 by wildtimes because: (no reason given)



posted on Dec, 7 2011 @ 12:21 PM
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(continued)

"Very well," said Death. "And so far you are correct. It is not you. Yet."


We now come to the Acme Spring-Powered Shoes. The remains of a pair of these purchased by Mr. Coyote on June 23rd are Plaintiff's Exhibit D. Selected fragments have been shipped to the metallurgical laboratories of the University of California at Santa Barbara for analysis, but to date no explanation has been found for this product's sudden and extreme malfunciton.

As advertised by Defendant, this product is simplicity itself: two wood-and-metal sandals, each attached to milled-steel springs of high tensile strength and compressed in a tightly coiled position by a cocking device with a lanyard release. Mr. Coyote believed that this product would enable him to pounce upon his prey in the initial moments of his chase, when swift reflexes are at a premium.

To increase the shoes' thrusting power still further, Mr. Coyote affixed them by their bottoms to the side of a large boulder. Adjacent to the boulder was a path which Mr. Coyote's prey was known to frequent. Mr. Coyote put his hind feet in the wood-and-metal sandals and crouched in readiness, his right forepaw holding firmly to the lanyard release. Within a short time Mr. Coyote's prey did indeed appear on the path coming toward him. Unsuspecting, the prey stopped near Mr. Coyote, well within range of the springs at full extension. Mr. Coyote gauged the distance with care and proceeded to pull the lanyard release.

At this point, Defendant's product should have thrust Mr. Coyote forward and away from the boulder. Instead, for reasons yet unknown, the Acme Spring-Powered Shoes thrust the boulder away from Mr. Coyote. As the intended prey looked on unharmed, Mr. Coyote hung suspended in air. Then the twin springs recoiled, bringing Mr. Coyote to a violent feet-first collision with the boulder, the full weight of his head and forequarters falling upon his lower extremities.

The force of this impact then caused the springs to rebound, whereupon Mr. Coyote was thrust skyward. A second recoil and collision followed. The boulder, meanwhile, which was roughtly ovoid in shape, had begun to bounce down a hillside, the coiling and recoiling of the springs adding to its velocity. At each bounce, Mr. Coyote came into contact with the boulder, or the boulder came into contact with Mr. Coyote, or both came into contact with the ground. As the grade was a long one, this process continued for some time.

The sequence of collisions resulted in systemic physical damage to Mr. Coyote, viz., flattening of the cranium, sideways displacement of the tongue, reduction of length of legs and upper body, and compression of vertebrae from base of tail to head. Repetition of blows along a vertical axis produced a series of regular horizontal folds in Mr. Coyote's body tissues---a rare and painful condition which caused Mr. Coyote to expand upward and contract downward alternately as he walked, and to emit an off-key, accordion-like wheezing with every step. The distracting and embarassing nature of this symptom has been a major impediment to Mr. Coyote's pursuit of a normal social life.


Adam busted out laughing, interrupting the narrative. Death looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"You find it amusing, do you?"

"Well of course I do! The idiot!" said Adam. "And who is this asinine attorney who thinks that this guy is worth representing?"

"We will come to that," said Death. He looked over at Pandora, and although she did not realize it, he saw her smiling. Adam, not having the same perspective, could not see her amusement. Death mentally marked a point on his tally for having amused her once again. He delighted in doing so.

"Shall I wrap it up then?"

Adam laughed again. "By all means!"

(continued)


edit on 7-12-2011 by wildtimes because: (no reason given)



posted on Dec, 7 2011 @ 12:32 PM
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(continued)

"First, I have one question for you, doctor," he said.

Adam scowled immediately, predicting being asked another heinous favor.

Death chuckled and said, "No. Not another assignment. I just wondered whatever happened to that endearing brogue you once sported."

"I've been with people who laughed at me for it. So I practice avoiding it now."

Death smiled. "How contrived of you. Really, you know, in the end you should just be yourself. But you'll learn that eventually. You have plenty of time. Now, where was I?"

"Mister Coyote's disrupted social life," said Adam, but this time he did not laugh. It was dark enough that he hoped they would not notice the hot flush of embarrassment that surged up into his face.

Death continued:


As the Court is no doubt aware, Defendant has a virtual monopoly of manufacture and sale of goods required by Mr. Coyote's work. It is our contention that Defendant has used its market advantage to the detriment of the consumer of such specialized products as itching powder, giant kites, Burmese tiger traps, anvils, and two-hundred-foot-long rubber bands.

Much as he has come to mistrust Defendant's products, Mr. Coyote has no other domestic source of supply to which to turn. One can only wonder what our trading partners in Western Europe and Japan would make of such a situation, where a giant company is allowed to victimize the consumer in the most reckless and wrongful manner over and over again.

Mr. Coyote respectfully requests that the Court regard these larger economic implications and assess punitive damages in the amount of seventeen million dollars.

In addition, Mr. Coyote seeks actual damages (missed meals, medical expenses, days lost from professional occupation) of one million dollars; general damages (mental suffering, injury to reputation) of twenty million dollars; and attorney's fees of seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Total damages: thirty-eight million seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. By awarding Mr. Coyote the full amount, this Court will censure Defendant, its directory, officers, shareholders, successors, and assigns, in the only language they understand, and reaffirm the right of the individual predator to equal protection under the law.


"What did the judge decide?" asked Adam, and Pandora looked at Death also to hear the outcome.

"He has yet to make a determination," said Death.

A voice then drifted into their hearing range. "And what, precisely, is the hold up?" it asked. It was a male voice, and Death whirled round to see who had been eavesdropping.






edit on 7-12-2011 by wildtimes because: (no reason given)



posted on Dec, 8 2011 @ 03:52 AM
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~*~ Legging it ~*~


‘Are we ready?’ Maggie didn’t want to interrupt Pip’s last look at the cabin but the sun had been up for an hour and the right time for going was a long time ago.

‘Yeah, I just...’ Pip didn’t finish and Maggie understood. The boy was leaving everything he knew and loved. They’d turned the cow out in the far pasture with her calf, a happy reunion. The calf would take back the milk that belonged to him by rights so there was no worry the cow would come down with milk fever. The pasture had enough water and forage so they‘d thrive on their own. The run-in shed built against the wind and rain would offer protection from the worst weather and Pip was quick to assure her they’d never seen wolves so close to the cabin. The piglet’s were let loose down by the creek, no reason to think they wouldn’t enjoy their freedom while flourishing. The chickens? Maggie hadn’t asked what Pip had done with the hens, she didn’t want to know but she had a feeling the ice house was fuller than it had been the day before.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Maggie believed once a decision was made you stuck to it, but it wasn’t her home she was leaving but his.

‘Not got much choice do I? All I know is Pa’s not coming home and that means we gotta go look for him.’ Pip slung his pack in a circle, the arc broken half way caught up against his back. Slipping his arms through the thick leather thong he shouldered the weight comfortably. Maggie had her own pack tied in place, a sturdy walking stick in one had, an old leather holster riding low on her hip just in touch of the other. She was still wearing a pair of the boys pants and shirt an old coat of Gep’s slung under and tied to the pack for when it got cold.

‘You made the right decision Pip.’ Maggie softened as they headed up the trail Toby bouncing in excitement at their side his tri-colored coat shivering with energy. ‘It’s like you told me yesterday, you really don’t know if your Pa is dead or not,’ it was time for plane talking, ‘Now, how far to the Macalister place?’

‘We should be there by tomorrow night if you can keep up.’ Maggie heard the anger in his voice but knew it wasn’t directed at her. He felt he was betraying his father leaving the farm and putting himself and Maggie in danger. But what choice did he have? He was learning the hard way choices were not always easy.

‘So, you going to tell me more about you and your Pa while we walk?’

‘No. Let’s just walk’. Pip replied sullenly before throwing a rock at Toby telling him to get back to the farm and watch the place.

~*~ Hide and Found ~*~


Huddling under a trio of boulders the miserable traveler's did their best to warm themselves while the rain continued to pour like water being tossed from a bucket. Their little fire wasn’t anything but a fitful burst of smoke between a few sopping sticks offering nothing but misery when the wind changed filling the little area with acrid smoke that stung their eyes. Clothes wet long ago pasted to their skin rubbing and chaffing while chilling them to the bone. Their shoes were nothing but boats filled with wet drowning their toes. It started raining only hours after they’d left the cabin but Pip insisted they could ‘walk it out’. He’d been wrong.

‘How much farther Pip?” Maggie asked through teeth that chattered faster than the squirrels they’d upset when crossing through the woods. They shared a blanket over their shoulders but it seemed, if anything, to hold the cold in.

‘We’ve been on his land for a few hours. The farm isn’t far now. ’ Pip leaned down to continue blowing on the sticks trying again to encourage them into flame.

‘Pip, we can’t stay here. We’ll die.’ Maggie’s tears mixed with he rain dripping from her mahogany colored hair. The dye wasn’t running. For some reason the thought depressed her even more.

‘We wont die Maggie. My Pa and I were caught out like this before for two days.’ Pip didn’t like the discomfort any more than she did but he’d been taught to live with it.

‘Why didn’t you go home then!’ Maggie cried aloud unable to believe Gep would keep the boy out in the bitter rain.

‘I gut shot a deer . We couldn't go home until we put it out of it’s misery. And, we needed the meat.’ Pip replied between boughts of blowing on the sticks. Finally they crackled into life the bright flame not offering much warmth or hope for it.

‘So what now?’ Maggie watched as he added more sticks to the fire. As if taunting them the rain began to let up as evening fell.

‘We wait.’ Pip replied grimly.

‘Wait? For what?’ Honestly perplexed she shot him a confused look while cupping her hands around the fire.

‘For Macalister’s men to find us.’ Pip scowled back. He hadn’t told Maggie they wouldn’t be ridding right up the spread. How could he explain that without a S.O.S signaling them free passage across his land anyone caught on Macalister property was greeted with gun barrels before handshakes?

As if on queue the sound of horses approaching told them they were not alone. From under their shelter two sets of horse legs appeared the animals hooves squirting jets of water in all direction including over the little fire that caught water, fizzled and died out.

‘Git on out here you two!’ A cold voice followed the barrel of a rifle levered under where Maggie and Pip huddled. “We seen you two coming for miles. Now get on out here. The boss is waiting.’ The horses shuffled under the weight of the unseen riders, another rifle barrel appeared.

Pip cocked his head placing his finger over his lips telling Maggie to keep quiet. Pulling her hat down over her eyes on his way out from under the boulder told her wordlessly to keep her head down. Climbing to his feet Pip didn’t offer her a hand getting up. Another clear signal. Maggie was to act the boy.


edit on 8-12-2011 by silo13 because: counter



posted on Dec, 8 2011 @ 09:05 AM
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.................~*~ Garbing the Guiding Goddess~*~..................



Dag and Brittle left the Temple via the same entrance they had entered. Silently, they passed beneath the Falls and then climbed up the mountain to where it began. At the summit, the river was wide, too wide for any fallen log to span it. Rocks slick with algae and moss were spaced too far apart for humanoids to leap from one to another, and as they stood on the bank, Brittle finally spoke.

"Which way are we to go?" he asked. Dag looked at him but rather than speaking, she pointed to the east. Brittle shook his head.

"Too many mountains. Those are treacherous passages, infested with copperheads, and the only road is known well as a one-way. No one ever returns from it."

"If you want to reach the place that will take you to Avalon, we must go there," said Dag.

"We could hire an airship," he said. "How far is it?"

"One hundred fifty miles," said Dag. "But we cannot go there in an airship."

"Why not?" asked Brittle.

"Because I said so," said Dag. Brittle looked at her with surprise, but she smiled softly. "Up to you, Lancelot, but if you want to return to Avalon, you must do so in the most natural way possible."

"It's too far to walk, and we'll have to cross the mountains going south, then cut back east. It's the only way through."

"Down Copperhead Road," said Dag.

"Yes," said Brittle. "Down Copperhead Road. There will be ice storms, passes that have blown snow blocking them," said Brittle.

"You know," said Dag, "it is you who wants to go there. You asked me to help you do so. Now, it's time to decide what you want. I have agreed to your plea. But I can still change my mind and instead you can take me to my friends. Which is it?"

"We'll need horses," said Brittle.

Dag shrugged. "Then we need horses," she said. "But that is the road we must take. Where do you keep your horses?"

"We'll have to go to Hobbs End, via Temple Cross," answered Brittle. Dag spread her hands matter-of-factly.

Brittle looked at her, this lovely, pale female. She truly was beautiful, he thought. But taking her down into Home-Town, and on the train? The Temple Cross Express? Right before the Winter Solstice? He worried she would cause a riot. They had waited so many centuries for Gia's return! There would be the Solstice Sales going on in the shops; the decorations would already have been brought out; the children would be expecting all the suspense and the treats and goodies. If Gia were to actually appear, what would the mobs do?

"It would be chaos," said Brittle.

"Taking me back to my friends?"

"No. Taking you into Home-Town and onto the train to get us to Hobbs End. The townsfolk would go berserk! It would disrupt the entire season's routine," he said. "We'd never get out of there."

"Then I suppose I should have a disguise," said Dag. "Or you should take me to my friends. Either way, we have to do it now. It's cold out here, and it's your problem anyway. Up to you."

Brittle frowned. So easily she would simply dismiss the whole thing!? But she was right. It was his problem. He knew that Gia had returned. He knew who she was, and the significance of it. He would prefer not to share her with the eager and faithful who had dutifully worked to retain her memory, who had never given up hope that she would save them.

"Yes," he acquiesced. "You'd better have a disguise."

So back down the mountain they climbed, returning to the cave behind the Falls, and through the same door Adam and Boy in a Dress had passed with Gerald, they went into the mountain and descended to the town.

Dag felt oddly reminded of someplace, but she couldn't pinpoint how she knew it. She looked up into the soaring heights of the cavern into which the passage opened and listened to the mechanical din so reminiscent of the early industrial age on Earth. She would have lingered, but Brittle steered her quickly through narrow back alleys and skirted round the main squares and commons until he came to a Gypsy shop. He grabbed a newspaper broadsheet from a derbied boy crying incessantly, "Extra! Extra! Read all about it!" and indicated Dag should have a seat on the bench outside the shop door. She did so, and opened the newspaper to full breadth in front of her face.

The pages that formed the centerfold were solely used as adverts, and she gazed at the pictures of bustles, hats, parasols, kid gloves, saddlery, top hats, dainty shoes with disinterested curiosity. It was when she scanned the jewelry ads that her attention was piqued.

Gia's Bower, Offering Only the Finest in Exquisitely Crafted, One-Off Seasonal Amulets and Charms.Tomorrow Only! Auction - Everything Must Go. We Anticipate Deep Discounts, No Reserve on Any Item. Store is Closing Its Doors Forever. Treat Your Loved Ones this Solstice Season to the Very Best and Last of these Historical Reproductions. Special Viewing of the Originals for First 10 Customers.
edit on 8-12-2011 by wildtimes because: (no reason given)

edit on 8-12-2011 by wildtimes because: (no reason given)



posted on Dec, 11 2011 @ 04:28 AM
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........................................~Letters From The Past~......................................

Mucklebones looked out at the grey moon and saw the Earth's only satellite smiling
back at the contented crone. "What's next?" she said softly to herself and glancing
over her shoulder at the sleeping-Tibbs, her thoughts ran back to her time on Carbiox.

The small Vithian had caught her eye from the moment she had first staggered into the
Hell Mines compound and even though he believed in the false-God called technology,
Tibbs was her soul-mate and she counted herself fortunate that the Spirits had rewarded
her with the bearded Time-traveller.

The Moon's silver-light spilled over the alien's shoulder and flowing across the scrubbed
wooden floorboards of the cabin, it bounced off the varnished box's surface. The crack in
the wall-boards had been well-used by passing mice and the occasional foraging beetle.

Mucklebones' cool-blue eyes rivalled the sheen from the half-hidden object as she pondered
what the Fates were providing her with.

Tibbs stirred only once during the Witch's careful extraction of the small container, the
boarding told of dry-rot and she told herself to mention it to her lover in the morning.
"What secrets are you keeping?" Muckles whispered as she plucked the wooden box from
the dark recess, rust had wintered on the hinges -but the box still opened easily.

Again, the Moon looked down on the squatting Mucklebones, as she checked that nobody
was watching from the undergrowth and returned her focus on the brittle papers inside the
rose-wood container.

The lantern from the outhouse gave off it's weak light as Muckles' long fingers carefully
picked up the first folded slip of corner-chewed parchment, the crone showed a pair of
rarely-seen kind-eyes as she realised the letters were messages of love.

The contents of the hidden coffer were amazing to the Witch Of The Winds. Mucklebones'
life had been full of hardship and cruelty, kindness was a stranger that rarely visted the
leather-skinned being and yet, she had found the one she would love, the one who would
know what her tired-heart truly held.
Better times were ahead -she believed and glanced again back to the cabin door with the
same kind eyes.

The Moon urged it's light through the thin sheaves of stationary as the crouching Muckles
read on.

The tear-stained papers told of yearnings and hopes from two humans that imagined a time
when they would be together. Seasons of weather were mentioned and the tending of a
a grave site was also written of, the Crone mused the remains of the graveyard nearby.

Songs of affection lay among the papers and again, Muckles read the longings of a woman
wanting her heart's desire to be beside her. The last page showed a female-human's
happiness in a reunion, the lovers were together again.
"Just like ma' man and me" Muckles mumbled to herself as her eyes scanned the flowing
hand-written text.

The male's contribution to the epistles were typically-pointed -with comments of his travels
and times. Rarely, had the man wrote of love and the Witch's lips showed a knowing-smile
at the inability of males to reveal their feelings.

The human known as 'Jack' had great plans to solve his problems, the poor handwriting
rambled on and on about bringing his world into a 'noble time' and Muckles snorted at the
silly false hopes.


Slipping back into the sagging-cot and snuggling into the back of the snoring Vithian, the
ancient alien weighed the information held in the slender pages from the rose-wood box.
The dark-whorled container now sat on the scarred table that enjoyed the fake-light from
the passing Moon and Muckles offered one-more look at the box from over the ruffled
blankets of the bed.

"Yer' found yer' man... and that's all that counts" the Witch mouthed in the darkness of the
cabin and smiled up at the repaired roof, a fleeting memory of her first-love passed without
any pangs of hurt.


The morning waited patiently as Mucklebones fell into a deep slumber, with an arm over
her lover's hip, her dreams wandered from the ordeal of Roswell to her time at the hands of
The Dark Lord.

Yet, all through her subconscious mental-sorting, the wraith of the tall GunMan with the
cruel eyes glowing from beneath a wide-brimmed hat -waited in the wings of the Crone's
images and fantasies.

Nobody -except the small mouse peeking through the crack of the wall board, heard the
Gray mutter 'Carpenter' in her sleep.
edit on 11-12-2011 by A boy in a dress because: Left Cabin Fever in Edit Room.



posted on Dec, 11 2011 @ 04:29 AM
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~*~ The Spread ~*~


The third horse standing riderless behind the pair the men road clearly indicated the truth to their statement - They had been sent out to round up the trespassers. Clearly not appreciating being out in the middle of a rainstorm to play nursemaid to a couple a brats the men cursed and cuffed the sides of their heads nearly knocking their hats off. Ears ringing Pip got tossed roughly into the saddle by the taller man who cruelly tied the boys hands to the horn. Shoving Maggie up behind the saddle from the opposite side the shorter man tied her hands securely around Pip’s waist. They were prisoners.

Without a backward glance the men mounted and took off into the night. Not wanting to be left behind the horse the two were paired on alternately trotted and cantered following the others. It‘s rump slick with rain made it impossible for Maggie to find her seat, slipping and sliding she held onto Pip hoping she didn’t loose purchase all together. The thought of falling and pulling them both under the geldings iron shod hooves terrified her.

More than an hour later the animals sensing their destination lengthened their strides without urging. Skidding to a stop before a huge barrier fence floodlights exploded before their eyes making man and beast blink terrifically. Blinded by the glare their vision doubly impaired by rain and sweat Pip and Maggie could barely believe their eyes. The barrier fence was huge, high and foreboding. They waited only a moment before a pair of doors so tall they reared out of sight opened to allow them in. The horses snorting and pawing to be away broke into a gallop and passed through like they’d done many times before. Something about the doors made Maggie want to turn and watch them close but the speed of the horse and her unsecured seat forbade it.

A half hour later they skid to a halt for the second time the horses hooves sprayed water and mud drenching Pip and Maggie's all over again. After mumbling something to his partner the taller of their two captors cut Pip and Maggie from the heaving horse and both ‘boys’ sprawled at his feet their legs unable to hold weight after the long cold ride. Another man in a dark slicker ran out from the great square entry of the barn to collect the horses who gratefully followed him into the huge shelter smelling of steaming dung and rich new hay.

‘Get up!’ The tall one snarled. Pip accustomed as he was to ridding had trouble making it to his feet. Maggie unable to stand felt herself lifted by the back of her shirt and dragged along like a pup by the scruff of the neck. Before they’d gone far her captor’s patience ran thin. When he let her go he sent a slap to her backside that threatened to topple her back in the mud but got her wobbling forward on her own. Quickly taking the lead the man led them through a maze of alleys where wood and metal structures built so tightly together blocked most of the rain. Rounding the corner in the cluster of small cabins he kicked the door open and pushed them inside the last building.

‘Someone will bring you dry clothes. Get yourselves changed. The boss wants to see you.’ He hollered over the rain and wind howling around the corner of the building. Pulling the door to him Pip and Maggie were all ears. The bolt fell home, then a second sound, he’d dropped something in front of the door. No use to try it they knew they were blocked in.

The single candle burning on a small wooden table flickered and nearly went out. The room was smaller than the Olis cabin but like wise it held a fireplace against the far wall readied with kindling and wood stacked on the rock hearth. Using the candle Pip was quick to start the fire the room heating slowly and bringing more light. A barrel filled with fresh water stood by the door a ladle hung on it’s side. Two cots braced the fireplace, there were no windows in the room. The floor was dirt.

The door rattled behind them, opened quickly enough to toss through a burlap bag and close again without a word from whoever brought the provisions. Cold and wet, hungry and tired Pip and Maggie eagerly searched through the sack holding up dry pants and shirts under things and socks. Back to back they peeled out of wet clothes and climbed into dry. They left their boots steaming in front of the fire before falling on the hunks of cornbread and slabs of fried ham. They’d drink water from the barrel.

‘What do you thinks going to happen to us?’ Maggie asked around a piece of cold salty meat tasting better than anything she’d ever eaten. Pip only shook his head and lifted his shoulders in a non-committal shrug. ‘Pip. What is it?’ Maggie stopped chewing.

‘My Pa’s here somewhere.’ Pip choked on the cornbread. “He’s here,’ Pip indicated their surroundings with a roll of his chin, ‘but he‘s hurt. Mighty bad.’ Ravenous only a moment before Pip left the rest of his meal on the table and ladled water from the barrel drinking deeply.

‘Then we’ll find him Pip. We will find him.’ Maggie promised feeling the words were not exactly the truth, but not so sure they were more than a lie.

~*~ Eyes ~*~


A deep rolling laugh announced he was pleased, but not with the girl on her knees before him. Knocking her viciously out of the way with the back of his hand Macalister grunted and leaned forward looking closer at the double row of security screens glowing from the long monitor above the mantle. Holding out his tumbler it was immediately filled, amber liquid poured by a shaking hand but not a drop of liquid fell to the rich red carpet gracing the floors.

‘Leave the bottle and get the hell out.’ Taking a deep sip of whiskey Macalister waited for the door to his suite to shut before enlarging one of the displays.

Two dim figures lit by a sole candle and meager firelight huddled back to back and stripped. His smile grew wide exposing teeth a brilliant white under a full dark mustache. Black eyes twinkled in his weather-beaten face a twinkle that reminded those who fell under his gaze the afterlife was only a blink away.

He’d seen enough. With a flick of his finger against the control panel recessed in the arm of his chair the panel of screens blacked out one by one. Fingering another button the security display fell hidden behind a hologram of an overblown nude draped in silk. A fitting picture for an office lush with reds, gold's and mahogany.

So one of them was a girl he thought. Macalister laughed again refilling his glass. A dribble of whiskey escaped the tumbler to glisten like blood against the rug in the firelight.


edit on 11-12-2011 by silo13 because: counter



posted on Dec, 11 2011 @ 09:32 AM
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..........................................~Blue Grass Times~..........................................

Chumley fumbled with the Magna-Seal at the base of his spine and felt the 'false' fingers
click the temperature-dial up a couple of notches. The Human-suit was a little-too tight
and the idea of having digits -instead of his familar flippers, was giving the Regalian a
headache.

"How far now?" Chumley whined at the two Droids ahead of him, Squibs and Skinny were
doing well considering the poor traction of their caterpillar-tracks.
The rain had kept away, but the muddy terrain had caused the robots to churn their wheels
with venom just to stay in one position, Chumley had pulled Squibs out of three mudpools
already.

The over-hanging trees dripped the remains of the rainstorm on the three would-be-rescuers
and Chumley wondered if Silo and the others were hiding out in one of the many caves that
littered the countryside, the eye-holes in the suit didn't show his concern for the lavender-
haired female.

The Tumbler's discovery of 'foreign material' -turned out to be a shotgun-riddled road sign
that told of the legend 'Maces Spring -1Mile Head' and as Squibs held the battered-message
up to the taller Chumley, Skinny had reported that any remains of the town may give up
some clues to where the missing crew of The Yyrdyl may be found.

After calling in the information to the hiding Tumbler, Skinny had used his on-board
instruments to project a course towards the possible Ghost Town.
Squibs had nodded his approval and not seeing Skinny's eye-rolling at the green giant
with the imitation-pistols on his wide-hips, he had pressed his motors to move him through
a long stretch of damp bracken.

"There's a building just up ahead" Skinny said and looked back at the large human-looking
Regalian, the hat -that Chumley had found so fetching, now sat askew on the bloated head.
The trio trudged on.

It was Squibs who first saw the small-delapidated structure with grey-stoned chimney stack,
the wooden house had lost most of it's shingled-roof and the front door lay on the weed-
cracked and rain-puddled track in the building's faint shadow.

The surrounding countryside seemed to sulk from the recent downpour and as Chumley,
Skinny and Squibs descended the the hillside, the Maintenance Droid from the Refuse Hold
muttered something about 'a poor valley' and went back to focus on not falling down.

"Maces Springs..." Skinny said quietly "... a town for the solitary!" and eyed his fellow
-rescuer's shoulders shrugging with mirth, under the costume -Chumley was enjoying a
'funny'

(Continued Below)
edit on 11-12-2011 by A boy in a dress because: Left harmonica in Edit Room.



posted on Dec, 11 2011 @ 09:36 AM
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(From Above)

"I suppose it can be seen as hilarious..." the voice from the darkness of the shed-like building
stated, Chumley snapped his head towards the rectangular blackness and for some reason,
touched the inflated-weapons on the suit.
"... the world has moved on and some were left behind" the male's words were wrapped in a
cynicism that was lost on the three robots standing at the track's edge.

"That may be true Ezra... but at least we have peace and quiet" responded the female's voice
from the leaning outhouse, Squibs, Skinny and Chumley turned their heads in unison at the
sound.

The tall lean man in the dark suit stepped from the shack and adjusting the acoustic guitar
hanging at his chest, he produced a small knife from his jacket pocket.

Squibs quickly considered his outer-plating at the sight and wondered if the weapon would
penetrate his droid-skin. Chumley gasped at the glint of the blade and then sighed with
relief as the grey-haired human also pulled a wad of chewing-tobacco from the same pocket
and sliced off a chunk.

"You guys seem lost?" Ezra Carter said around the mouthful of brown material, the stranger's
masticating indicated he was enjoying his hobby. The great adventuring trio stood in awe at
the sight of a man with a guitar eating tobacco and the female who was adjusting her under-
clothes as she left the outdoor-latrine.

"Darn toilet is playin' up again -Ezra..." Maybelle Carter hissed and tossed back her shoulder-
length hair, the woman continued with her clothing-problems as she siad "... we'll be doin'
our business in the bushes -before the Spring is out"

Ezra smiled towards his shuffling wife and said "not in front of our guests, 'Bella" the smile
of the middle-aged man never reached his eyes.

"Sir... I am looking for my friend..." Chumley said in his best 'human' voice and unconciously
moved his hat into a better position. "...She seems to have took a wrong direction and we're
becoming concerned for her welfare"

Ezra Carter stepped down from the creaking porch and avoiding a muddy puddle... a puddle
that showed no reflection of the home-owner, he ambled towards the tall fat-man with the
heavy irons on his hips.

"Gunslinger, huh...?" the thin man asked softly and quickly scanning the two metal-men
either side of Chumley, he continued "...what might this gal be called?"

Squibs suddenly squeaked forward on his broken tracks and shrugging off Skinny's reaching
pincer, he looked up at the human with the wooden instrument on his chest.
"The woman's name is Silo13 and we're on a mission to rescue her" Squibs said in a tone that
told of an urgency and importance, the little droid wants answers- Ezra thought amusingly.

Maybelle looked up to the cloud-scudding skies and seemed to wonder if the rain would
come again, her black hair gave off a dull-sheen that told of stream-water washing and Skinny
wondered if these two 'boonies' had ever seen such a marvel as a A.I robot.

"Well, my little tin-friend... there was a wummin that came thru' this way -sometime back"
Ezra said and showed the false smile again, his hands were touching the neck of the guitar
and the area where the large hole resided.

"Her hair was the color of the flowers that sometimes grow down near the edge of RingFire
Drive... ain't that right, Bella?" the man in the creased suit had been leaning to speak to
the smaller droid, but now stood to his full height to toss the question to Maybelle.

"The color of lilacs in the Summer and she said she wuz heading West" Ezra's wife agreed
and lifted an odd-looking contraption from a gnarled bench on the porch.
"You guys ever heard a Autoharp?" Maybelle asked and Skinny shook his head at the canny
out-maneuvering from the dark-haired lady, it was if she'd read his thoughts.

"Ah' hope you fellas find your gal, and to help you on yer' way..."Ezra left the smile on his
face as he turned to join the woman with the triangular-instrument on the porch, he said
over his shoulder "... we've got a little song fur yer"

Chumley moved his eye-stalks and from beneath the human-mask -he whispered "let's
get out of this crazy place!" and felt an agreeing touch from Skinny's hand on his back.

The large-round human and his two pet-robots waved as they moved off towards the
cracked-paved road that peeked through the surrounding trees, the song from the couple
in the fallen house flapped around them even when the reached the forgotten highway.

'If I were a carpenter...
And you were a lady,
Would you marry me anyway?
Would you have my baby?'

edit on 11-12-2011 by A boy in a dress because: Left banjo in Edit Room.



posted on Dec, 11 2011 @ 09:37 AM
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(Continued From Above)

Pandora dripped snot from her nostrils and struggled passed her giggles to breathe, as Death
choked through the hitching guffaws, it would a good ten minutes before they could compose
themselves enough to talk.

"Well, you see the merriment I have these fools..?" Death said and showed a row of even
teeth "... they crack me up everytime" he snorted and wiped the tears from his lined-eyes.
Pandora wiped the residue from the host's nose on the coarse-cloth of her sleeve and with
shining eyes, she nodded at the tall man in the suit.

"What about the Silo-girl? what are we to do with her?" the middle-aged woman began to
pull at the flesh on her face. Death waited until Pandora's beautiful face was revealed from
beneath synthetic-skin, his idea of pretending to be the Carter-couple would go down as
another well-executed plan -he thought.

"The 'clincher' is that without Nenothtu to protect her, she's an easy target" Death said and
let Ezra's body fall away, the tall dark-robed figure folded to his seven-foot height and sighed
his relief.

Pandora shuddered the human-skin from her curves and knew that the elemental-being
that waited near her was drinking in the sight with relish, she leaned to show the swell of
her breasts and shaking her hips from the remains of the suit, smiled to herself at the sound
of his gasp.

"They'll pay for their treachory on Carbiox... that Splitter will have their blood on his hands"
she assured the dark space inside the hood, Death's cowl moved once in agreement.
"The Doctor will never reach is goal and once again, I will have my OutRider" Boy In A Dress'
brother hissed at the enchanting face of the Goddess before him.

The two imposters gazed at each other as they faded from the reality and somewhere along
the old highway heading west, Skinny throught he heard mocking laughter from behind them.
edit on 11-12-2011 by A boy in a dress because: Left Washboard in Edit Room.



posted on Dec, 12 2011 @ 12:55 PM
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.......................***~ Any Port in a Storm~***.......................



As Death and Pandora had faded out from the dark alley without answering the question regarding Mister Coyote's lengthy wait for justice, Adam had found himself alone with the skulking eavesdropper. He looked at the fellow carefully, but because the tall figure was backlit, he could not get a fix on the newcomer's eyes.

"Who are you?" asked Adam.

"Don't you think the better first question would be 'Where am I?'" the voice said. "If I were you, that would be my first question."

"All right then," said Adam. "Where am I?"

"In the underworld." No further information was offered by the stranger.

Adam waited a few moments before asking, "Who are you?" once more.

"It really isn't important," said the stranger. "I have been dogging James Dean there for some time now. He doesn't often come to the underworld. But he brought you, which tells me he is still thinking of me. It was kind of him to supply me with a new source of sport."

"Kind?"

"Yes. There really are things worse than Death."

Of course, Adam did not hear the upper case D, and surmised that the speaker was talking of the phenomenon of cessation of life, not a sentient entity. He looked around himself then. "The underworld, eh? Well, I am a doctor, not a thug. Please be so kind as to show me the way out. I am looking for someone."

"Oh, I know what you're about," answered the stranger. "You seek Avalon, and you are looking for your heart's delight, your Darling." This time Adam did hear the upper-case D.

"Oh, aye, and 'ow, do tell, are you knowin' 'er name, then," he asked rather rudely.

"Ah!! The brogue!" said the stranger. "I must say, it does suit you. Silo thirteen was right."

Adam scowled. "What're you spewing now? And who in hell are you?"

The stranger smiled, but Adam could not see it. "I'm not in Hell, actually, though I make daily trips there and back. My name is not important, but I am called Charon by some. I am the ferryman. My cousins are the oarsmen of the Avalon barge. It's a family tradition, we're all boat types."

"Boat types," Adam repeated.

"You know, seamen. Wave-riders. Bog-hoppers. Fenmen."

"Aye," said Adam. "So, you can take me then, to Avalon. Finally someone who is of some help."

"No," answered Charon. "I am restricted to the ferry on the river Styx. And from what I know of you, sir, I doubt your petition to enter Avalon will be honored. I've seen what you did to numerous unsuspecting young women, resulting in their untimely status as my passengers. Vile behavior, truly."

"So ye've come and interrupted this meeting for what reason?" Adam asked. "You seemed to have some problem with Master Dean there, right before he vanished. I expect you thought I would be shaken by that, eh? Well, I've a news flash for ya, there, Mister Row-row-row-yer-barge Cousin. I've seen things you wouldn't believe, folks a-comin' and a-goin', places appear and disappear, by Hades I've even been inhabited by a Carpet who can talk. So don't be thinkin' ye'll get a rise outta me, there. No. And while I may never have heard of the River-Sticks or their Fairy, by Jenovah you will be a-tellin' me where your cousins are."

Charon smiled again at the young doctor's audacity and ignorance. He shook his head in awed wonder. "I have told you," said Charon. "They are in Avalon. Waiting."

"Well, ring 'em up and tell 'em their carcasses had better be afloat, and now," Adam said. He noted to himself that his patience and demeanor were still rather shaky, and his manners subsequently less than diplomatic.

"No can do, good sir," said Charon. "I can't reach them. And even if I could, they would not come for me. They fear me. But I can take you to the shore where they would come. If they were coming, that is. From there, I'm afraid, you are on your own. And they won't be coming for you, either. But that is the most likely place you will find the object of your affection."

"Well, then, lead the way, and be doin' it now," said Adam, and he waved his arm wide to indicate he would follow.

"Or what?" asked Charon. "You'll rip open my throat? Doctor? When your time comes, one day, you will understand. For now, I see you remain unaware of reality and consequences. But if you insist, I will lead the way." And he stepped into the shadows of the alley and began to walk. Adam stayed close behind. And in that same file they would walk for the next several hours with nary a word exchanged between them.


edit on 12-12-2011 by wildtimes because: (no reason given)



posted on Dec, 13 2011 @ 09:43 AM
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............~*~ Keeping the Faeth ~*~.............



Dag waited outsde the Gypsy shop for Brittle for some few minutes, keeping her face hidden behind the broadsheet. When he emerged carrying armsful of brightly colored silken scarves dripping with silver coins that jingled like faeries' bells, she looked up.

"Really?" she said.

Brittle nodded.

"Right. No one will hear me coming in those! Nothing to bring attention to myself there, eh?"

Brittle shook his head then. "You don't understand. They will hear you coming, and they will run for cover. Gypsies are not well-accepted here. The residents believe they are capable of all sorts of spell-casting and shape-shifting. The furthest thing from anyone's mind would be that Gia is dressed as one. Not to worry. Now come on, we need to get out of here."

Dag folded the broadsheet and laid it on the bench beside her. "I want to go to Gia's Bower before we leave. Do you know how stands the hour?"

Brittle again shook his head. "Mid morning, I would think. Ten-ish. Why? And what do you mean you want to go to Gia's Bower?"

"A jewelry store. They claim to have original artifacts on display, and I wish to see them. For, uh, research purposes. All right?" she paused, but before he replied she added, "Yes, it's all right, because it's what I want to do. And I'm going with my instincts on this one. We have plenty of time to get to Hobb's End and those horses. You've waited all this time, you can wait a few more minutes for Gia to go holiday shopping, eh?"

While she spoke she extracted three of the scarves from Brittle's arms. One she draped over her shoulders. The second she wrapped round her waist, and the third she placed over her head, hiding her face. It was sheer enough for her to see out of, turning the Home-Town a fuschia color, and Brittle's skin an atrocious orange. He didn't see her smile amusedly.

"Let's go," she said. "Grab that paper, would you? Thanks."

And so Dag and Brittle, who now appeared to be her 'owner', while he was actually her lackey, strode through the streets of Home-Town, heads held high, the crowds of shoppers parting like waves to give them plenty of berth. "Make way," Brittle called out, "Make way for a prisoner. A prisoner here, make way, make way! We've caught a vagrant gypsy!"

The elves, gnomes, faeries, and dwarves residing in Home-Town wanted nothing to do with them, of course, nor did they make any effort to hide their feelings. Dag, thusly disguised, was an "untouchable", and their aghast gasps and squeals of repulsion quickly went from amusing to offensive in her opinion.

Note to self, she thought. Launch campaign to improve status of Gypsies universally. No wonder they had been forced into a diaspora that spanned the entire known expanse of space! Dag had heard they were a reviled ethnicity, but being the subject of such blatant rejection was something much different than simply knowing about it. She would work to reverse the disenfranchisement of the people known as Roma when all this was said and done.

They reached Gia's Bower after about twenty minutes, and Brittle threw the door open and yanked her inside. The clerks, two feminine slender faeries, looked up and smiled kindly. "You saw our notice," one of them said.

"I did," said Dag, and she reached up to lift the veil, revealing her face. The faeries dropped to their knees reverently.

"You've come! You've finally come!" bleated one.

Dag nodded and touched her forefinger to her closed lips. "I want to see the jewels," she said, "please."

The two nodded. One spoke to her colleague in a hushed tone, and in response the other went to the shop's door and locked it firmly. "Your Grace, my Lady," said the first one, "my name is Bridget. My colleague is Bella, and we are at your service. We have kept your things safe and unadulterated as taught by our mothers, and their mothers before them, back to the beginning of time."

"Well done, my dears," said Dag. She was beginning to delight in all this groveling and sycophantic admiration, even if it was a bit over the top. It was certainly an improvement over the passersby so recently encountered. "Now, please. We haven't much time."

The two girls nodded eagerly and led her and Brittle into the back of the shop. The subordinate one, Bella, stooped to remove a lovely Persian rug that covered a trap-door in the floor, and Bridget lifted it open, revealing a stairway that went down into a lower chamber. Neither Dag nor Brittle noticed the trip-switch that was embedded into the frame of the . And when it was released from the pressure of the door, only one person heard the bell that rang above ground, some distance away.

That person was Gert.

edit on 13-12-2011 by wildtimes because: (no reason given)



posted on Dec, 14 2011 @ 08:07 AM
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~*~ Alien? ~*~


“You’re one of them aren't you?’ Macalister drawled around a fat cigar clenched between his lips watching Maggie closely, one dark eye squinting against the thick acrid smoke blowing back into his face. Maggie didn’t answer, her astonishment robbed her of anything but gasps for breath. The man who’d brought them to Macalister’s office had just dragged Pip from the room the boy’s head lolling stupidly. Hearing they were to be separated Pip had fought like a wildcat scratching and biting until the hired-hand clubbed the boy so hard against his head Pip went limp.

‘So, it’s going to be the hard way is it?’ The “Boss’ chuckled not bothering to repeat his question. He wondered if the ‘girl’ knew how much he liked spice.

Rising from where he’d sat on the corner of his desk Macalister straightened his black leather pants with a brush of the back of his hand. The snow white ruffles peaking between the front of his matching leather vest got a plucking, the knot in his black silk scarf adjusted just so at a rakish angle and all accomplished unconsciously while he narrowed the distance between himself and the ‘boy’. Hands on lean hips he stopped before her all at ease, his mustache lifted in what she supposed was a smile. Maggie blinked. It was all he needed.

Striking out like a rattler her old leather hat flew from her head, his fingers bit into the hollows of her cheek cruelly. She’d expected violence, his move hadn’t caught her off guard but even so she had a hard time swallowing the whimper choking up from her throat as he lifted her off the ground by her jaw caught in a steely grip she’d feel for a long long time.

Holding her face in line with his until lavender eyes joined with black Macalister tore the cigar from his mouth with his free hand and leaned forward to sniff deeply at her hair. Satisfied he lowered Maggie almost gently to the floor the hand responsible for causing so much pain now intent on smoothing away the hurt of her aching jaw. In the reflection of herself in his eyes Maggie could see bruises already forming on each side of her face.

‘I’ll ask you again,’ He whispered seductively, ’You’re one of ‘them’ aren't you.’ Macalister sucked deeply on his cigar drawing in great draughts until the tip blazed hotly. Between a perfectly manicured thumb and forefinger he examined the glowing end minutely the significance not lost on Maggie. He’d brand her into talking if her fear of him didn’t have her capitulating first.

Maggie stuttered in real confusion. ‘One of ‘them’? I don’t know what you‘re...’ The blow caught her squarely knocking her off her feet. She’d been mesmerized by the cigar tip just like intended and hadn’t seen the blow coming. Sprawled on the floor Maggie waited. The point of one shiny black boot stood ready to deliver abuse to her ribs. Macalister nodded for her to continue. Maggie tried again.

‘Please...let me explain...’ The tip of the boot raised an inch in warning but Maggie continued, ‘I was scorpion bit a while back. Since then I don’t remember anyth...’ The first strike cracked a rib. Two more ribs gave way before the attack stopped. Maggie clutched at her side and didn’t bother trying to mute her agony. She couldn’t have if she’d tried. The force of his kicks had driven her half way across the room.

‘Does that jog your memory?’ He bawled in her face spittle flying from his lips landing on her bruised jaw.

‘Mac, what if she’s telling the truth.’ A soft voice floated over the room like the scent of rich perfume you couldn‘t see but knew was there. ‘Really Mac, you’re so big darling, and she’s so...’ Maggie could hear the studied disinterest in the woman’s voice.

‘You want some a what she just got?’ Macalister spun his rage focused on the ‘Voice’. Then, blinking furiously like someone tossed iced water on his rage he abruptly pulled himself together. ‘You’re right. You’re right. Maybe she is telling the truth.’ Lifting her to her feet his hand flashed, her shirt front ripped open to expose her skin from neck to waist. Macalister began a slow walk around her appraising her, mocking her.

‘I don’t know what it is about you aliens,’ he snorted, ‘every single one of you think you’re the only ones.’ Pulling a knife from somewhere hidden inside his vest Macalister sliced into her old jeans splitting then down the back, one leg at a time. Clad only in the soft torn plaid and boys under-things Maggie stood nearly bare before him.

‘Every one of you it’s the same damn thing.‘ His sarcasm was thick as his black brow that rose in a ‘v’ of consternation giving his smooth forehead a lopsided look. ‘Ever single one of you! You think you’re the only ones. The ‘first ones’.’ Macalister laughed his mirth real. ‘Take me to your leader!‘ He whined mockingly his fingers wiggling in her face like ten startled worms before placing a boot squarely in her middle he gave her a push landing her squarely in his overstuffed red velvet chair. Back to screaming in her face his eyes drove her even farther into the plush red upholstery, spittle flying once more. ‘Don’t you people have any idea we’ve been dealing with aliens for HUNDREDS OF YEARS!‘ His last words bringing him back into renewed rage.

‘Call them...’ Macalister hissed over his shoulder and as abruptly as before his mood changed swiftly and he left her alone in the chair. Reaching for his humidor ‘Mac’ fumbled for another cigar mouthing the uncut stump. ‘I want her to undergo a complete analysis.’ He spoke to someone Maggie couldn’t see. Ripping the thick brown stump off with his teeth before spitting it onto the floor he continued issuing orders. ’A complete analysis. Got it? That includes a brain scan and tissue sample, rectal and vaginal swabs and samples. A spinal tap. The whole shebang.’ He pronounced it ‘she-bang’ and tipped his cigar into the air flamboyantly.

Two attendants dressed from head to toe in matching green LAB suits rounded the chair grasping Maggie before she could move. On her feet and propelled across the room she could see a panel of books against the far wall skewed open revealing the hidden room where the attendants had entered and where they were about to take Maggie to complete their instructions.

‘What’re they going to do to me!‘ Maggie screamed her eyes darting about the room for help from the woman. Macalister’s rage she could deal with but the lifeless mien of the two female U-Mans’ had her terrified.

‘What are they going to do to you?‘ He mimicked snidely. ‘Let’s just call it - Payback. Right Margo?’ Macalister laughed in the direction of the woman Maggie had yet to see and lit his cigar.



edit on 14-12-2011 by silo13 because: counter



posted on Dec, 14 2011 @ 08:59 AM
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~*~ To the Rescue ~*~


Feeling more herself the Yydryl worked on pinpointing the coordinates of the Green Man. The atmosphere and fallout on the planet was making it hell on her sensors still she finally lit on a location. Once achieved the results of her scan disturbed her greatly.

The ‘Green Man’ wasn’t around Silo’s neck where it belonged. A flood of fear raced through the Yydryl setting off a number of alarms the Center experiencing a number of ’earth-shakes’. Ship had to get her emotions under control and honestly, she told herself, making grim conclusion as to why The Green Man and Silo were separated would do nothing but harm. What she had to do now was contact Chumley and his two Shipmates.

Each one of the ‘Rescue Party’ was equipped with a transmitter. The transmitter was fed information from the main communication center in the Tumbler. The Tumbler was having a difficult time understanding Ship. Her messages were not coming in clear but he’d relay it best he could.

‘Tumbler here...’

Three plodding figures lurched off their ‘feet’ startled by the sudden break in silence. Chumley unused to such spindly legs waved his arms around and around trying to catch his balance. The ‘U-Man suit’ didn’t cushion his fall when he hit the ground. Rocks were hard. Chumley immediately formed the opinion he hated rocks.

Squibs treads spun in place, caught, held and promptly flipped him in a circle. Landing on his head light the durable material gave a crack. Squibb’s wasn’t all that fond of rocks from that point on either.

Skinny dealt with the interruption better than the other two but his nerves were shaken. His response set the Tumbler in it’s place.

‘Next time...’ Skinny all but howled, ‘the next time you contact us VIBRATE first!’ Skinny referred to the method noiselessly preparing the recipient for an incoming message allowing them a moment to turn down the volume or cancel it all together as the situation dictated. All three felt their communicators vibrate. ‘Better late than never?’ The Tumbler stated badly. It wasn’t trying to be funny, it was practicing to be efficient.

‘What’s the communique?’ Skinny demanded. Chumley, all thumbs was trying to help Squibb's back onto his tracks. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

‘Ship... I mean the Yydryl sent notice.’ The Stumbler hesitated not sure how to continue. By then all three from the Yydryl stood huddled together under a graying sky on a road to nowhere - waiting for news that just felt bad before it got there.

‘The Yydryl has a vague location of the Green Man. You’re to retrieve it at all costs.’ The Stumbler rattled off coordinates hoping the numbers were correct.

‘What about Silo?’ Chumley asked fumbling with the workings of the communicator having a problem depressing the correct buttons. He got lucky, the Stumbler heard his question.

‘Silo has no neck. She is gone.’ The Stumbler waited for another question. For Chumley the pause meant only one thing. Silo was dead.

‘What we do now?’ Chumley asked beginning to sob. He hated rocks. He hated this place. He wanted Silo back. He didn’t even like looking like Neno anymore.

‘The Yydryl demands you retrieve the Green Man. That’s an order!’ The Tumbler added for emphasis liking the sound of it. ‘I’ll follow along behind you. Don't loose your communicators or you’ll have no way of finding me.’ And I’ll have no way of getting back to Ship the Tumbler thought uneasily. The machine could navigate the surface of the earth fine on it’s own, track the Rescue Team and stay close, but for reasons of security the Tumbler could not return to Ship without an original crew member to help navigate.

‘We go find the Green Man then we go home.’ Chumley’s lower lip hung down so far it almost dragged through the dust. Skinny and Squibbs didn’t feel much better. They’d come to rescue Silo but now it seemed they were too late.

Fat droplets of rain began to fall with no warning. Squibbs and Skinny spun in erratic circles. They’d need the Tumbler or some type of shelter soon.

‘Chumley, we have to find shelter. We’ll be in big trouble if we don’t.’ The two robots cried in near unison. Chumley unwilling to see his two little friends suffer tucked one under each arm and ignoring their squeals of protest headed off at a lope towards the only available shelter in the area - a meager outcropping of rocks. He had no choice it was the only place to get his friends out of the rain. But once there and no matter that they all squeezed under the outcropping with room to spare Chumley still chose to sit in the rain. He hated rocks. And he meant it.



posted on Dec, 14 2011 @ 09:20 AM
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.............................................~Walking In The Past~...............................................

Music for Background feel...

The torches on the heads of the waist-high monoliths raged against the summer-evening's
breeze as the Boy In A Dress followed the glowing orbs down the avenue of stones towards
Avalon.

The Man/Girl felt at peace as the music began and from the surrounding darkness, the steady
beat and calming, singing voice of a young human-female brought a serenity that the
enchanted BIAD had never experienced before.

The disappearance of Adam seemed to be forgotten as high-heels slipped over the short
dew-touched grass towards the awaiting group of metal-clad Knights, the 'walkway' flames
showed reflections off burnished-steel and polished chainmail.

Will O' The Wisps streaked in the air and wrote rune-trails just ahead of BIAD's stride and
glancing to his left-and-right, the hermaphrodite saw foot-high-smiling Gnomes beside each
standing stone -with their felt-caps held to their hearts. Stonehenge radiated a blue-aura
behind him and high in the star-strewn sky, a V-shaped flock of swans called their way across
the face of the moon.

BIAD saw that the tall figures that brooded in the semi-shadows at the end of the avenue
all brandished swords and yet, the weapons were held blade-down and steel-meshed gloves
held the bilbos just below the crossguard.

"Welcome my Queen" the Knights said loudly in unison and BIAD scanned each of the flame-
licked faces of the Men-At- Arms, each countenance showed bravery and discipline.
The red-dressed-being wondered of an answer and decided a nod of approval would suffice.
The black mane tossed like oily-waves on a maniac-shore as BIAD acknowledged King Arthur's
Knights of The Round Table.

"The King awaits -my Lady and I have dared the liberty of bringing your Charger" came a voice
and the Man/Girl turned to look at a young clean-shaven man with a rich-blue cape hanging
from his armour-covered shoulders.

BIAD smiled and mumbled a 'thank-you' as the the cloak flapped in the Knight's turning and
revealed the horse that Boy In A Dress was to ride, it's more like a Dragon -BIAD thought and
gulped at the vision.

The eighteen hand -tall beast's coat was a mix of raven's wings and the dark places where
Bogie-Men linger, the fires from the avenue showed the sweat of anger on the horse's skin.

Three Stable-boys struggled to keep the long-maned head from snapping up and polished
midnight marbles -that warned of revenge watched from beneath the black-vine fringe.
The stamping hooves sparked off Henge-chips and here again, black hair grew around it's
well-muscled shins.

"We brought Reaper -just as you ordered Ma'am" said the young lad with the tousled hair
and patched-breeches and jerked as 'Reaper' looked to see who dared to call themselves
'his rider'
With fist-sized nosrils, Reaper took in the scent of the being with the hair-colour that rivalled
his, and showed a wariness from the strange aroma.

BIAD smiled and reached out a long red-nailed hand to the tall mass of rage, the huge head
twisted and turned like a netted pike as soothing fingers touched Reaper's muzzle.
"Careful Reaper..." the Man/Girl whispered "folk will think us strangers" and wondered what
the Knight will do when this horse tosses him whilst-mounting.

Then, as if a spell had been cast, Reaper became a statue and the three boys looked in wide-
eyed amazement at each other as the Queen of Avalon stroked her favourite pet, the black
Charger of reknown snickered and throbbed it's gaskin-muscles as BIAD spoke soft words of
trust and endearment.

"Leave us!" barked a voice from behind the Kinghts and Boy In A Dress turned on his high-
heel at the old-male tones.
Merlyn had arrived.
edit on 14-12-2011 by A boy in a dress because: (no reason given)




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