SS - Three Gifts

from "We Three Kings" - Michael W. Smith

Three campers sat beside a dwindling beach fire. Above them, stars spun. Beside them, ocean waves roiled and spit foam. The sand beneath them was cold but powdery soft.

“They will come soon,” said the bearded one. He ran a grimy hand through his hair and leaned back into the heavy bundle behind him.

“You’ve said that every night for fourteen nights, Japhus.” The smallest one traced characters in the sand - HOPE more than any other. Starlight and firelight flickered in her bright eyes.

“And every night it is more true, not less.”

The third one did not speak but drew the bow across her violin twice slowly.

“I’m ready for them to come now,” whispered the bright-eyed one. Grains of sand ran through her fingers. She shook them off. From beneath her short cloak, she took a pulsing whorl of colours.
For a moment all three were blinded before the maelstrom subsided to match the glow of the embers and stars.

“My heart,” she said, “undivided for the true King and Queen, forever may they reign.”

The violin sang Glory.

“Beautiful,” said Japhus. He shook his head, “ah, but you are stronger than me, little Taes.”

Taes smiled. A sparkling ray of light shimmered from the orb to dance over Japhus’s head before vanishing. “Thank you.” She tucked her precious gift in the hollow of her lap.

Vyz the violinist set down her regular bow and picked up a different one. The music she began to play now reverberated through the two who listened. Melancholy yet joyful, it plunged through several different tempos and themes. Vyz danced as she played, sand flying up from her feet to land like glitter on the arms and faces of Japhus and Taes. The music wrapped around them like invisible gossamer, present but untouchable. A whisper of chiffon. An impression of lace.

Around Vyz the music became visible as well as tangible. It took the form of a veil, black as the night on first glance but composed of every colour imaginable when one focused in on individual threads. It wound around her but didn’t inhibit her movement at all, a dancing veil that moved in perfect synchrony with her.

Dizzy, Taes covered her eyes but the music filled her soul and the brilliant image remained clear in her eyes.

Japhus opened his mouth to speak but no words came. He watched the music, mouth agape, wanting to laugh and cry but unable to break the wonder that held him enchanted.

At last, Vyz came to an end. The final chord spiralled over the sea and fell into the spray. The veil dropped against her skin and was still. This was Vyz’s gift: her very soul.

Silence suffused the three who waited until Japhus spoke, “the last is the least but I hope my King and Queen will not be disappointed.” From the side of his pack, he unstrapped a fine leather sheath narrow but long. “Since I was a boy I have tempered this metal. I have laid it in the fire of doubt and worked it with the hammer of logic.” He withdrew the sword until a coppery-brightness showed just beneath the well worn handle.

“Your mind!” Taes exclaimed. “Oh, but it is a great gift.”

Vyz did not speak but nodded solemnly.

Japhus blushed. “Thank you.”

Gifts bared and ready, the trio waited.

SS - Sleeping City

from "Sleeping City" - Kutless

Rain on asphalt. Sun on glass.

The City doesn’t weather the weather, it enjoys it. Fragments of rainbows -appearing in the trod up dust and vanishing again- are the City’s version of a sleepy smile. The changing of days and seasons mingles with the changing of the City’s dreams. Cold is a caress and heat is a blanket. The City slumbers under both. When the sun is bright, the City turns its own lights low, and when the night comes, the City festoons itself with vibrant colour for the striking contrast of radiance against the black. Stars above are seldom seen but they twinkle in all of the City’s dreams.

Built by artists and entrepreneurs, the City now houses dissolute youths and embittered elders. The war between generations is quiet and cruel. But the City’s dreams are populated only by the simply and seriously merry. Working and dancing and eating are all a part of the endless games that the City dreams.

Once, thirty-nine years ago, the City awoke for a moment. A tremulous glistening electrified moment before sunrise. A child wandered away from the boardwalk to the statue at the end of the pier and pressing a warm small thumb to the large stone one said, “hello.”
But before the City could reply, the mother came running and snatched the child away. A maelstrom of fretting and fussing and kisses and warning. But the City fell back into sleep the moment the connection was broken and never knew.

The child grew up and moved away to be an artist somewhere else. And every third painting was of the slumbering City. The artist never knew why.

So the City sleeps in contentment, unaware of pollution or politics, feeling only the reverberations of nature. Buildings fall or decay or burn and others are built. Every summer the roads undergo noisy construction. Every winter snow is sullenly shovelled from one place to another to melt before the cherry trees blossom. Cacophony turns to harmony within the City’s dreams. Disaster turns to delight. Nothing in the waking world holds the power to disturb the City’s rest.

But sleep is not meant for forever.
Dreams cannot defeat time, they can only cheat it for a time.
Neither are cities immortal.
Will the City awake before it dies?

Rain on asphalt. Sun on glass.

A very old woman -too old to be doubtful of magic- sits at her window and wonders. She has grown to be simple and learned to be serious but if there was ever anything merry within her, there is nothing left now. Frigid rain and smothering sun bellow through the cracks and rainbows swirl in the dust. She lights a candle in the day and nothing at night. She hears the grumbles and the curses, different language from different ages but the same tone. She ponders. She waits. She hopes.

The day she falls asleep for the last time is the day the City stirs and startles and, finally, awakes.

SS - Putrid Poetry

from "Burning in My Soul" - Matt Maher

Shiver down a moon beam and dance here with me
Forget the sound of hundreds of feet marching over rock
There is a fire that burns in rain…

    “What are you muttering?”

    He shrugged and laughed self-consciously, “nothing really, it just seemed to fit.”

    Adelaide hiked up her dress to cross a fallen tree, “What seemed to fit? Are you writing poetry again?” She tripped and would have fallen on her face if Jake hadn’t reached out to steady her but it was his face, not hers, that burned red with embarrassment.

    He coughed. He hopped over the tree, avoiding the slippery patch of moss that had almost upended his fellow sojourner. But he couldn’t avoid her gaze.

    “Well?” She prompted. He didn’t have to look to know that she had her hands on her hips and her head tilted ever so slightly to the left.

    “No.” He said. “It wasn’t nothing. Don’t slow down now, we got to get at least to the gate before dark.”

    “Sure.” She skipped past him, a queer mixture of grace and clumsiness in her movements that he still found disconcertingly distracting after months of travelling together. “But I rather think that any beasty prowling in these parts could be turned back by the power of your witted words.”

    “Shut up.” He spoke the thought out loud but not so loud that she would hear it but at that moment she stopped so abruptly that he almost crashed into her.

    “Hist!” She whispered harshly.

    He couldn’t see or hear anything that would cause her alarm. He opened his mouth to question and breathed in the unmistakeable stench of Anfarri dire wood.

    And I was so looking forward to a quiet evening and green beer at the Dancing Foal Inn!

SS - Resurgam Falls

From “Crisis in Asgard” - Patrick Doyle

A river of stars flows down from the Dark Mountain and dazzles the eyes by day or night. The pool it flows from has never been seen, deep within the mountain’s cloud, but there are those who say it is birthed at the heart of the world. It whispers as it streams over the molten rock but thunders where it meets the Yellow River at Resurgam Falls. A sacred place that binds earth and sky, fire and sea, Resurgam Falls draws immortals and mortals alike, to the peril of the former and the salvation of the latter. Enter for worship or because of avarice, for ambition or simple wonder, it is the doom of all who come that they shall find what they truly seek.

Listen for the tread of those who gather now. A flutter of wings, a tentative step, the smallest of things can disturb the constant thunder for the thunder is music not noise and the melody is changed every time someone or something beholds the hallowed cascade.

Twirling down through the mist, a flower faerie flits, her eyes alight with mischief, heedless of the rocks and rapids. She comes to play a deadly game. A surge of heat blasts through a crevice on the western side and the Lord of Chaos appears. Curved horns, rugged mane, a grimace on his face, he comes for answers. Bubbles filter up from the churning of the waters in the estuary, Old Mother Turtle breaks the surface and swims with ancient strength toward the base of the Falls. She comes to die.

Three would be a fitting number for any story but in this one there is a fourth and a fifth: a brother and sister playing on the banks of the Yellow River.  Caught up in their own joys and fears, they do not know where they are about to tumble into or whom they are about to meet or what will happen to them there or how they will leave or when. Some of these things will not be discovered until the end of the story. But the why will be understood at once.

SS - Walking the Dog

From "C.L.U." - Daft Punk

**This story is mostly not true**

“So. It has come to this.” The girl with the bright red hair glared at him.


I debated the merits of coming to his rescue. But really, he had done this to himself. He had slept through his alarm. He had failed in his sworn duty. He deserved the consequences.


But then a wet nose prodded my arm and milk chocolate eyes gazed at me hopefully. He sat back on his haunches, his tail wagging. “I don’t love you,” I told him.


His tail wagged more.


I sighed theatrically and turned away. The dog wandered back over to where the siblings remained in frictitious tableau. I had no doubt the girl would care for the dog as she always did once she had finished verbally eviscerating her brother but something needed to be done now.


“Alright then!” I whistled for the dog’s attention. His ears perked up. “Wanna go for a walk?”


He leapt like a happy frog and pranced in circles around the room. That was his way of saying: YES, YES, YES, OH PLEASE! He wasn’t a terribly subtle creature but his exuberant affection was endearing.


The extra tesser suit in the exit chamber was a little roomy but it would do. I filled the outer pocket with doggy bags and attached the subspace link to the dog’s collar. “Ok!”


The first few stops were made to the dog’s favourite comets so he could mark them again. For a centuries old science experiment, he had retained disappointingly ordinary dog instincts and behaviour. Then we tessered to a nearby astroid field. I let the dog run loose. Other than an obnoxious school of space fish and a shy rock hunter, I didn’t meet anyone (for copyright reasons, I can't mention the bounty hunter and jedi knight that were attempting to murder one another). When he’d had a good sniff and seemed content, I linked us to the ship and we tessered back to the exit chamber.


The ship was silent when we returned but I assumed the brother was napping and the sister had gone to her basketball game (one more win within this galaxy and they’d move on to an all-galactic tournament within the time frame of the fourteenth millenium).


I wrote a silly short story and heated up leftover meatballs for dinner. The red headed girl arrived home and we sat down to eat together. After awhile it seemed strange that her lazy brother hadn’t joined us.


“Hey, should I go wake your brother?” I asked.


She raised her eyebrows, “he’s not sleeping. After you left, I threw him in the trash compactor.”


I turned to look at the chute next to the sink.


“Oh it’s too late.” She cleared her dishes from table and set them in the cleaner. “I already ran the cycle and jettisoned the refuse.” She licked red sauce from her fingers. “He shouldn’t have forgotten to walk the dog.”

SS - A Change in the Weather

From “I’ll Be Waiting” - Talia Perez

 

The dryad stepped out of her birch tree. Frost crunched beneath her bare feet and an icy wind stirred the leaves in her hair. Impervious to the chill, she moved up the hill. A chickadee winged around her and chittered greetings. She paused to let the bird alight on her head.

Garish sunlight turned the grass to diamonds as the trees became fewer and farther between. The brilliant purple sky did not hold a single cloud.

The chickadee sang a question.

“I think it has been winter long enough,” the dryad replied.

Another question.

“I don’t really care what the faerie might think.” The dryad reached the crest of the hill. She spread her arms and more leaves gently swirled away. “It is time.”

The frost melted slowly, running first in rivulets then in streams down the hill to where the trees woke from their slumber and shook the stiffness from their branches.

The chickadee took flight again. Her song rose and fell, mingling with the laughter of the dryad. Springtime, at last!

SS from October and December

October

from "Used to You" (Jenn Weber)

Icy wind tore at Lacey's face and fingers but the sun on her back was warm and the smoothness of the ice beneath her skates was like glass. She tucked her arms behind her back and leaned into the wind. It carried the scent of pine in its bite. Thirty-seven days until Christmas. Laughter from the far side of the pond echoed just above the sharp swish of her skates. Thirty-three days until Jake's visit for the holidays. Missing him threatened to steal away her joy of the first skate of the season.

Stretching she let herself slow slightly before pulling down into a spin. Then jumped into another...and another and another until she was too dizzy to skate straight but the ache in her happiness remained. It would be better if he was here.

"Lacey!" Her sister Dana called between giggles, "We need another hand here."

Dana was skating backwards and supporting their cousin Becca who didn't know how to skate. The pair wobbled over the ice. Soaking wet patches on their jeans testified to a number of spills.

Lacey waited for them. "You're looking really good, Becca."

"Ha, funny." Becca grabbed hold of Lacey's arm, "I don't know how I let you talk me into this. It's so cold and the hot chocolate is gone and the ice will probably melt any moment, we're gonna die."

"A horrible chocolate-less drowning death!" Dana said with mock severity.

Both girls laughed but Becca didn't loosen her white knuckled grip on Lacey's arm.

"We're not going to die." Lacey shifted so that she could balance her cousin better. "Keep your eyes up and bend your knees a little."

With encouragement, Becca relaxed and gradually gained the confidence to take a few strides on her own.

"Say!" Dana said in an exaggerated theatrical tone, "I wonder who that could be?"

Lacey looked to where her sister pointed and froze.

Jake was skating toward them. Curly hair whipped back. Ridiculous grin on his face.

She couldn't move, could hardly breathe, but her heart leapt the distance between them a moment before he caught her in his arms and swung her in a wild circle.

Warmth and old spice and sweet brown eyes. This is real.

"Surprise," he said.

Something soft and red landed on Lacey's nose. She turned and Becca snapped a picture as Dana tore open another bag of rose petals. "What-?"

Jake dropped to one knee. One hand still squeezed hers as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar little box. "Lacey Marie, I love you and I will love you forever. Will you marry me?"

December

from "I'll Wait" (Pursuits DTS)

Once upon a happening, I walked in the strange ways and lingered at doorways to places unknown.

I don’t know when that changed. I haven’t grown old. My skin is still as smooth and soft as an infant’s. No grey streaks my hair. My arms and legs are strong as they ever were.

But my mind has dimmed. I can’t remember the last time I felt curious or afraid or awestruck.The colours that used to be vibrant are garish. Music is only noise to me.

Is there a way back? May I return to what I once knew? Can I?

I lay my guitar in my lap and rest my hands on the strings.

I’ll wait.

SS - Vanishing

Vanishing

from "Forth Eorlingas" (Howard Shore) and "Watch You Crawl" (Red)

Wind and weather
Moss on trees
Swift falls the sun
Red on the leaves

It was summer in Doenfell but not a soul was present to see it. Water splashed in marble fountains. Flowers bloomed from every pathway and windowtrim. Fruit ripened on every tree. But no one delighted in the beauty and abundance. The proud houses, all glass and stone, were bereft of inhabitants.

SS - King of Air and Fire

King of Air and Fire

from "He" (Jars of Clay) and "Open Heaven" (BarlowGirl)

Footsteps intruded on Josh’s daydream. He rolled over and peered between boxes. Dust went up his nose and he had to squelch the urge to sneeze. Hairy feet appeared just an arm’s reach in front of him.

“Joshua Thomas,” The feet turned on the spot as his dad looked around for him, “where are you?”

Josh held his breath. If he was quiet enough maybe he wouldn’t be found. He could go back to being King of Air and Fire and not worry about whatever serious lesson his dad wanted to teach him.

Downstairs a door opened and a bunch of people came in, speaking in hushed voices. Josh grimaced. The only thing worse than a lesson was a Meeting. But he couldn’t hold his breath any longer. He let it out slowly but forgot about the evil dust bunnies during the breath in. He sneezed. His dad’s feet had reached the doorway. They stopped at the explosion of sound. Josh dropped his head against the ground. He was done for now.

But his dad didn’t say anything. The footsteps started again but moved away, out the door and down the stairs. Josh couldn’t believe his luck. He turned back over and fingered the glow-in-the-dark pictures stuck in the under-frame of his cot: the Queen of Wind and Rain, Prince of Seas, Lady of Stone and, his favourite, the King of Air and Fire. Masters of the world, nothing scared them, not even the Dread Captain of Thunder from Issue 53.

“Jo, what are you doing under the bed again?”

The voice startled Josh so bad he smacked his head on the wire under-frame. Silver stars danced in his vision. One of the boxes by his head was pulled away. He scooted sideways to avoid a kick to his already aching head as a scrawny girl shimmied feet first under the cot to join him.

“Ho, Lacey.”

“Ho yourself. What are you doing?”

Her breath smelled like cinnamon hearts and broccoli but Josh was already pressed up against the wall and couldn’t move farther away. He breathed through his mouth. “Nothing.”

“Well, why don’t we go do nothing somewhere less dark, crowded and dusty then?”

“I don’t want to go to Meeting.”

Even in the dark, Lacey’s eyes twinkled. “Who said anything about Meeting? I have a better idea.” She crawled back out and Josh followed semi-reluctantly. Lacey was more fun than a barrel of bears but her ideas usually led to trouble.

SS - Over the Edge

Over the Edge 

from "Salterlo" (Claudia Gomez) and "Bounce" (TFK)

Should I jump?


I curl my toes over the edge of the precipice. The throbbing roar from below vibrates over my skin and forces my heartbeat into a frantic rhythm.

“Better choose quick.” Sara says. Her hand squeezes mine and then she is gone, wild red hair and ripped jeans vanishing over the brink. I don’t watch her fall. For just a moment, I hate her and want her to be fatally wrong. But white heat is searing the back of my shoulders and sirens are becoming audible again over the persistent roar. I wish I had Sara’s faith. I wish I wasn’t the only coward still standing at the edge.

Sweat drips down my back. The monster I know or the monster I don’t know? Definite loss of freedom or possible loss of life? Somewhere in the back of my mind, Boswell laughs and the choice becomes easy.

I hold my breath. And jump.

SS - Cat's Game

Cat's Game

from "Dansero" (Richard Hayman)

Twinkling lights. Brilliant Colours. Sultry heat. Dana loved the boardwalk after sunset. It came alive in a way you’d never see during the day. Different sounds. Different people. A different taste in the air. The tourist shops closed and the night clubs opened.

The moving sidewalk buzzed against Dana’s bare feet and soothed away the ache of standing on her feet all day. Neon signs flashed by on either side. She pulled out a tube of fuschia lipstick and reapplied it liberally. The reflection in her compact mirror showed her that her make up was immaculate -as always- and that the man in blue was following her again. Perfect. She snapped the mirror shut and stowed it away in her clutch.

The vibrant green fountains of the Portagio whirled and spit just ahead to her left. Dana pulled free the alligator clip from her hair and stepped off the sidewalk onto the splashed tiles. Mist swirled around her as she shook her tight curls into an organized disarray. She didn’t need a mirror to know that he was watching. Shall we dance, dear mouse? If worse comes to worst, I would like to have seen your face first. She gave her hair a last flounce and strode up the blue-lit steps to the Portagio’s mirrored front doors. She caught a glimpse of him stumbling in his attempt to exit the briskly moving sidewalk -definitely a foreigner- in the door’s reflection as she passed inside the club.

SS - Ambush

Ambush

from "Underworld" (Alexandre Desplat)

    If Marko had not known what he was watching for, he would have missed it. The Artimaeus Train blended almost seamlessly into the shadows of the glen. There was only the barest hint of its massive lumbering shape as it emerged from the forest at the valley’s mouth and any noise it made in its passing could not be heard over the music of the valley’s crickets. An occasional flare of red sparks from the railroad tracks beneath the ensorcelled train betrayed the magic that hid the train from sight and hearing. It had come -at last!- but it was late and moving slowly.

     The others who waited at the far end of the glen needed to be signalled but Marko hesitated. His hands shook with suppressed adrenaline. He fumbled with his darklight receiver and dropped it. Blast. He bent to retrieve it and felt something sting the top of his ear and side of his head. He dropped flat in the tall grass. What was that? Clutching the receiver, he peered down the hill. The train had suddenly picked up speed. Marko flicked the top off the receiver and sent the warning signal. The receiver buzzed softly in confirmation that it had sent.

     The train was halfway through the glen and still accelerating, red sparks popped and spit in greater frequency. What if Marko had been too late? Blast and conflagration! They had put too much into this for it all to come apart now.

     His ear throbbed and something wet oozed down the side of his neck. Blood. The realization of his own danger came roaring back into his mind.  The tracks immediately downhill from him were empty now that the train had passed. The grass wasn’t so tall that anyone could have hidden from him on the slope. The shooter must have been on the train.

      But how could anyone on the train have known he was here?
    
     An ear splitting shriek shattered the quiet. The trap had been sprung! Glancing around once more, Marko pushed himself up to run. He took a step and was hauled back and off his feet by an invisible hand.
   
     “In a hurry, boy?”

SS - The Way it Ends

The Way it Ends 

from "Beautiful Letdown" (Switchfoot) 

   Stars streamed past the viewing window. I fumbled against the straps holding me in my seat. I had to see the end for myself or I wouldn’t believe it. The clasps came free and I fell forward. Pain tore up my side. “Dammit!” I ran my good hand over the bandage. It still held firmly to my skin. I grit my teeth against the ache and crawled to the window. After so long in near-weightlessness the false gravity of the escape pod pinned me to the floor. I wouldn’t have been able to stand even if the cursed Salzen hadn’t burned my left arm and leg to uselessness. Damn the traitors to Ursa’s Hole!

    At the window, I managed to pull myself up enough to grasp a handhold to one side of it. Behind my pod’s trail of exhaust, I could see it: the Galanthos Space Sation, pride of the living Planets, masterpiece from the combined skills of the nine races. It took three hundred years and millions of engineers and artists to build it. Its destruction took less than three seconds.

    The first explosions happened on the far side from me, just scattered flashes of light and a hazy halo of debris developing in eerie silence. Then a burst of light blinded me. By the time I blinked away the tears and afterimage, nothing but a dark smear across the stars marked where Galanthos had been. Words rose unbidden to my mind, last lines from an ancient poem. I whispered them out loud to the silence:
    “This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper.*”  



*TS Eliot's "Hollow Men"

SS - The Door Home

Song: This is Not the End (Gungor)

The Door Home

Bells. Not large ones, like the High Church bells, but small ones, like jingle bells, sang on the cold spring wind. Bethany lifted her head and listened. She couldn’t tell exactly where the sound was coming from but it seemed close.


“Do you hear that, Midas?” She ruffled his fluffy ears. He perked up and licked her chin. “Should we see if we can find it?” He barked once and jumped out of her lap.


She rolled her eyes and laughed. “You get excited way too easy. If only you were happy and smart maybe we’d be home now.” The bells seemed to come from just ahead and to the left. She started that way with Midas trotting beside her. It didn’t seem as cold as it had when she had stopped to sit. It also seemed to be getting brighter.


The bells continued to sing but there was something else too. Humming? “Hello?” Bethany called. She tried to peer ahead between the mossy trees but the light was making her squint now. Wet grass smushed under her feet. She stopped beside a tree that didn’t have any green. The music was right here.


Midas whined and pressed his nose against her palm.


“What do you see?” Holding a hand up against the light, Bethany looked up. Tiny bells hung from every branch of the tree, sparkling, spinning, singing. “Oh.” She pushed up on tiptoes to try and touch one. Beautiful!


The humming noise stopped.


“Here,” a branch was pushed down until Bethany could just reach the bell hanging from its tip. The bell dropped into her palm with a happy ring.


“Thank you!” Bethany said.


“You’re welcome.” The stranger had a voice like a jazz singer. Her skin was the colour of chocolate, she wore a coat as white and puffy as marshmallows and her face smiled without smiling.


A worry Bethany hadn’t known she was holding fell away. “I’m kinda lost.” She said. “Do you know the way home?”


“I might.” The woman said. She knelt down to offer a hand to Midas who sniffed enthusiastically then pushed up close to be petted. “Depends on what you mean by home.”


“Mm, I don’t know the address yet. But it is a pretty green and pink house with a white fence. Mr. Tom and Mrs. Amy painted it their favourite colours.”


The woman’s head tilted a little to one side to show she was listening close as she rubbed Midas’ belly. His tongue hung out of his mouth.


“Don’t worry, he does that whenever he gets his belly rubbed.” Bethany said. “His name is Midas and I’m Bethany. Do you know Mr. Tom and Mrs. Amy?”


“Not personally,” answered the woman, “although I do know the way to their house.” The way she looked at Bethany made Bethany feel older and more important. “My name is Daleth.”


“Daleth.” Bethany liked the sound and feel of it. “That’s a funny name.”


“It is.” Daleth smiled. “And Bethany is a beautiful name. Tell me, Bethany, is Mr. Tom and Mrs. Amy’s green and pink house home?”


“What else would be?” The bell in Bethany's hand rang, a clear high note.


“Perhaps this,” Daleth gestured and the light behind her shimmered into an open doorway.

SS - In the Wicked Woods

Songs: I Believe in Love (BarlowGirl) & Father And Son (Ronald Owen)

In the Wicked Woods

The swing creaked. It was a sound as familiar to Janet as it was antithetical to the Wicked Woods. The worn wood of the seat cushioned her while the old rope scraped at her hands. She let her toes drag in the black dirt and the swing slowed.

“I don’t understand why are you here,” said the ghost who leaned against one post of the swing.

 Janet had learned long ago that looking at ghosts made her eyes sting and her stomach queasy so she kept her eyes straight forward. Not that looking would have helped to identify the ghost. The ghosts of the Woods changed face and form like Janet’s sister changed shoes. “I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“If you don’t already know then I won’t be able to explain it to you.”

The ghost appeared directly in front of Janet. She wore the cherubic face of a little girl but her dark eyes held the gravity and cunning of the very old.

Janet’s stomach churned and she shut her eyes tight. Goosebumps rose over her arms and legs. She could smell the ghost now, a faint mix of smoke, rain and lilacs. She knew this one. Considering what the ghost was capable of, Janet knew she shouldn’t allow herself to relax and feel a measure of comfort but she couldn’t help it. She was alone, encircled by the Woods, and no one would be coming to save her, but she smiled. “Well met, Lisla, I’m glad you came here first.”

“You always were a strange child,” there was no warmth in Lisla’s voice, “but you are not a child anymore. You have no excuse for trespassing here even if you are as crazy as the old man was.”

Janet continued to smile, eyes closed, “I take after my Grandfather, in spirit if not in looks.”

“He’s dead.”

Even now, it hurt. Janet took a slow breath and let it out. “I know.”

“If you go now, you can still leave.” There was something new in Lisla’s tone that Janet had not heard before. “I’ve made a path for you.”

Janet looked at the ghost. She steeled herself to ignore the shifting transparency of the ghost’s face and see just Lisla’s eyes. The same something was hidden there, flickering in the dark depths. “I was right.” Janet said even though she couldn’t be sure of what she saw or heard, it was so very faint.

“You have to go now.”

Janet shook her head. “I’m not going.” She let go of the swing and spread her hands. “Like you said, I’m as crazy as he was.”

Lisla’s form grew taller but seemed shrunk in on itself even as she loomed over Janet still seated on the swing. Her face, still shifting, now appeared more grotesque than cherubic. “I can’t protect you.” She hissed.

Lisla’s desperation could not sway Janet from her decision, but it was a confirmation of Janet’s hopes for the ghost. “I’m glad you came, Lisla, but you don’t have to stay and watch what happens next. The path-”

“-will not conceal a soulless.”

A cold wind blew low over the few blades of yellow-brown grass. It twisted around Janet’s ankles and whispered cruel words.

Janet swallowed back her own fear and kept her eyes on Lisla. “If you have no soul then there is no risk. Take the path.”

For another moment the ghost hovered. There was rustling in the trees. Shadows deepened.

“Go now.”

Lisla touched a cold hand to Janet’s face. “I’m sorry.” She vanished, just before darkness enveloped the clearing.

SS - King of Pride Rock

Feast and Rememberance
(King of Pride Rock from the Lion King soundtrack)


A single note on the silver horn called the feasting crowd to silence. The Queen rose from her place and servants dimmed the lights on the rough rock walls. Three of the troupers rushed into the open ground encircled on four sides by the long tables. They laid out a shimmering length of grey fabric. A fourth trouper poured water upon the fabric. The music started, a mournful melody with the rhythm of marching feet behind it.


“Remember,” said the Queen. “Remember our lost.”


Water and fabric rippled as the troupers danced. Not a single drop escaped the entwining until they came to kneel before the Queen’s table and pour it out at her feet. A cascade of black lillies followed the small waterfall.


The troupers spun away and others came to join them, matching into pairs. Each trouper moved within a handsbreath of his partner without ever touching. It seemed impossible for them to leap and whirl and crouch so close and yet not embrace.


“Despite peace and prosperity, we built walls between ourselves and allowed hatred to flourish where there should have been fellowship.”


The music grew darker and ominous. Several of the troupers lit blue fire and danced with it, still without touching their partners.


“We tore ourselves apart in false pride with our derision, our gossip, our scorn.”


Here and there, blue light blazed as two partners met in sudden violence and one crumpled to the ground.


“There were those who dared another way.”


Red light flared as two more pairs embraced but the connection blended into their dancing and made it greater than before. One lifted the other high and then caught her when she fell. The four came together, whirling kaleidoscope of coloured fire and swift movement.


The other troupers halted their dancing to surround the four who dared to touch each other. The blue fire in their hands died, casting them as silhouettes between the watchers and the four who still danced.


“We could not bear their freedom, their joy, their abandonment of what we most prized.”


The shadowed troupers tore the dancers from each other. Fire flashed in brief spurts. One of the women was flung between several of the shadowed ones until she fell limp and motionless. One of the shadows flung up a hand of brightest blue fire and all the others froze. He knelt beside the fallen woman. Red fire licked up from her body to alight in his hand and merge with the blue.


“Only after blood had flowed like water through our land and every family had lost a sister or a brother, did we see truly what we had done. Too late. All life rebelled against our tyranny.”


One by one the frozen troupers dropped to their knees and covered their heads.


“The sun did not shine. The clouds held to their rain. Mines collapsed. Forest burned. Fields only grew thorns.”


The trouper with the hand of red and blue flames stood. He brought the fire to his lips and drank it. The hall grew brighter even as the fire vanished. Golden light ran across the tables more like water than fire. One by one, the gathered rose from their own seats. Each spoke a single name. The music had crescendoed but every name still rang clearly through the hall no matter how hushed the speaker’s voice.


“Annalise.” Said the last man as he stood at the Queen’s right hand.


“Avron.” Said the Queen. “We remember.”


“We remember.” The words echoed back not only from those at the tables but from the servants who stood behind them and from the troupers where they knelt or lay.


“We forgive,” said the Queen.


“We forgive!” Every hand in the Hall raised a cup with the cry. They drank a sip of the wine and then passed the cups, sharing with whomever was in reach. The troupers rolled to their feet and passed among the tables with their cups. Every light was relit. The feasting resumed.

SS - Honor to Us All & The Flik Machine

(Honor to Us All & The Flik Machine)

“I don’t care if she is stark naked and sprouting a moustache. Find her and bring her here now.” Conductor Flik’s harsh whisper reached Mina as she stumbled to s stop at the foot of the servant staircase. “Maybe dancing au naturale before the entire population of Etris will teach our scurrilous lady the necessity of punctuality.”

Maft. Mina gave up on straightening her skirt’s disarray and snuck a glance around the corner. Several servingmen stood in double row between her and where Conductor Flik stood berating poor Jacqueline. Small mercies… Ignoring amused looks from the opposite side, Mina ran on tiptoe behind the wall of their shoulders.

Raoul drew Flik’s attention away with a gesture and comment Mina couldn’t hear.  They stepped to one side of the doors in conference. Giuseppe offered her his arm and she stepped between the men to take it gratefully. For once Jacqueline managed to keep her surprise silent, moving quickly to unravel the twisted mess of layers Mina had made of her gown during her frantic dash down the stairs.

“And here her royal punctualness is,” said Giuseppe. Jacqueline backed away from the now immaculate gown as Conductor Flik turned around. Mina kept her gaze straight ahead and hoped her face wasn’t horribly flushed under the Conductor’s glare. Sweat trickled down her back.

“Indeed. Music.” Conductor Flik commanded.

A single harp cut through the murmuring of the crowd on the other side of the doors. For a few moments, it became the only sound to be heard, a melody of anticipation.

“Lights.”

A thousand candles in mirrored alcoves and crystal chandeliers sprang to flame. Even with the frosted glass barrier of the doors, the light dazzled Mina’s eyes. She welcomed the temporary blindness. The thought of what awaited her kept her heart racing in an uncomfortable rhythm. Giuseppe elbowed her gently and she loosened her death grip on his arm, “sorry.”

“Fanfare.” Raoul and Connor flung the doors open to a crescendo of brass and strings. “Enter the Princess Regent.” Conductor Flik stepped forward and to one side, bowing with a flourish.

SS - Into the West

Finally! A song scene, albeit a very very short one. :)

----

A white gull flew near the horizon over the sea. Kenta lifted a hand to shield her eyes. Were there silver markings on those wings? The glare of the rising sun off the water made her eyes sting despite her efforts and the bird remained indistinct. “Is it him?” She asked at last, turning away from the glare.

            

 Moshen didn’t answer right away. His hands hung loose at his sides. The light did not bother his keen eyes.

           

Kenta pressed her hands together to keep from tugging on her friend’s arm. “Moshen, is it him?”

           

“Gulls with silver markings are common here, Kenta. I can’t see the pattern to know for sure.”

          

  It was his! It had to be. Kenta leaned up onto her toes and wished she could fly. She hummed and then let the words spill out “And all will turn to silver glass, a light on the water, all souls pass…”

           

“No one has returned from the East yet.” Moshen frowned at her. “You let your hopes fly away with you, small one.”

          

  “So why are you out here at sunbreak then?” Kenta stuck her tongue out at him.

          

  Moshen’s next words almost slipped away with the wind but Kenta heard. “A fool’s hope is better than no hope.”

SS - Beautiful Ending and Helpless

April song scene for Barlow Girl's "Beautiful Ending" and KD Lang's cover of "Helpless"

Take 1 (utter inspiration fail)

Crows gather where…

            Derek dove into the room face first. The door swung back against the wall with a crash as he skidded across the floor on his stomach. Paper cranes blew off the tables

            “Ouch.” I winced.

            “Derek, you moron, if you’ve crumpled any of those, I will break your nose again.” Huni said but her eyes never left the pink square of paper between her hands.

           

Take 2

Crows gather where the saints fall

All Agnes wanted for her birthday was a picnic in the woods. With ice cream and lemonade and peanut butter raspberry jam sandwiches and dill pickles and cake. It  didn’t seem like too much to ask for for her one and only sixth birthday.

Six was ages older than five. Six year olds could go to sleep away camp and play on baseball teams. Six meant riding the long yellow bus, a matching lunchbox and backpack, and spelling bees.

S-U-P-E-R-C-A-L-I-

Agnes pulled the Velcro straps tight. She wiggled her feet and scrutinized the sparkly pink runners. Were they on the right feet?

F-R-A-G-I-L-I-S-T-I-C

She stood up and jumped up and down a couple times. They felt alright but she’d been wrong before. “You are lucky you don’t have shoes.” Agnes told Gus. She blew a kiss at him through the bars but he was entranced by the carrot from lunch.

E-X-P-E-A-L-I-

She held both her arms out for balance going down the stairs, hopping over every third step. After all, you can never be too careful about monsters. Every jump shook her hat off balance until, as she hit the landing, it tumbled off and hung from its ribbon. Hmmm… Agnes squinted against the sun and dusties. Eight steps went from the landing to the floor. She bent her knees and stretched out her arms.

D-O-C-I-O-U-S

But she didn’t float like the sun-dusties. Her knees hit the floor first, then her chin but her tongue hurt the worst where it caught between her teeth. Poop!

            “Agnes!” Footsteps and worry noises came whirling down the long hallway. “What were you doing?”

            “Falling.” Agnes blinked back tears. Blood was welling up on one of her knees. She hoped this wouldn’t ruin her picnic plans. Mama had already made the sandwiches and cake but it would spoil everything to eat them inside at a table.

            And she really really wanted to show Mama and Dadda the sparkly gate by the willow tree. Then they could tell her why it was sometimes invisible and couldn’t be rained on and smelled like vanilla without being baked.

            And whether it was okay to ride a unicorn when he invites you to tea.

SS - Ready

March Song Scene for Britt Nicole's "Ready"

POV character is from my middle grade (?) fantasy series. This scene takes place during the timeline of the second book but probably won't be included. Lisa is a character I have been coming to know but all the others in this scene are totally new to me.

The green hill between three mountains came into view.  By now, sentries would have alerted the Rhabdi to Lisa’s arrival. Too late to turn back. Lisa closed her eyes and took a couple slow breaths. Relax, she told herself. The heat of the summer sun ran through her wings and a delicious summer wind pushed her along but she couldn’t unclench her fists and her pulse throbbed inside her head. The small bag between her wings might have been loaded with rocks the way it seemed to press against her back. 

            Lisa descended lower. She could identify the four people gathered on the open grass now. Aerad waited with arms folded, wings out of sight. Sunlight flashed from the rings on his hands and the bronze scales on his arms. Toma lounged on the grass, a dark grey shadow against the bright green and yellow. His presence might have been a welcome reassurance except for the last two: Iras and Guinevere. 

            Lisa’s nails bit deeper into her palms and the pain brought a halt to the panic threatening her composure. Liars. Anger welled up afresh and the fear dissipated. She vanished her wings while still above head height. The heavy impact of her landing against the soft turf was very satisfying. She straightened up and raised a bent arm over her head briefly in greeting to Aerad. 

“Blue skies, abAearad, and a wind to your back.” Lisa nodded to Toma and turned a radiant smile to the two women. “Pardon my interruption.”

Suspicion darkened Iras’s face but Guinevere smiled back, “Pardoned indeed! Great news is always a welcome interruption.”

“You have returned much earlier than planned.” Aerad said. “You were successful?”

Lisa kept her smile in place as she swung the velvet bag from her shoulders. “More successful than planned.” She held the bag loosely in front of her.

Toma rolled onto his back, “Don’t torment them, child, spill your secret.” He opened one yellow eye to look at her. “I hope the truth is at least half as sensational as some of the rumors. I’ll be disappointed in you otherwise.”

“With all respect due to my elders, I would like to propose a trade.”

“A trade? You know whatever you have reclaimed is already the property of the Rhabdi.” Aerad’s expression didn’t change but he’d slipped into his disciplinary lecture tone.

“Oh, not for this, abAerad.” Lisa lifted the bag slightly. “Toma mentioned sensation and rumors. I only want to trade truth for truth.”

Toma opened both eyes and seemed interested for the first time but Lisa didn’t look to him. Puzzlement wrinkled the foreheads of Aerad and Guinevere. “What do you want to know?” Aerad asked. 

“Where did the Galth virus come from?”

Aerad’s gaze was steady when he answered, “you know your history, the virus originated in one of their underwater labs, a tragic experiment,” but then, he had been the one to teach her how to detect signs of lying… and how to lie convincingly when necessary. “What else did you want to know?”

“That’s enough.” Lisa shrugged. She reached into the bag and closed a hand on the hidden orb.  She winked at Toma. “The truth is rather sensational.” Lisa locked eyes with Iras. She wanted most to see her reaction. “There are survivors and they had the hab with them all along.” 

She threw the orb down, her wings already unfolding as she leapt away from the explosion. Heat seared her bare arms. She flew straight up until the air became frigid and thin around her where no adult could follow. The cold eased the sting on her arms and Lisa slowed to catch her breath.

Any moment now she would feel the thrill of her victory. Liars. Tricksters. She’d fooled them! But she felt only hollow and lost, worse than the feeling after she had betrayed Maro and left him. Lisa grasped for any remnant of anger. Nothing. Iras’s final expression had erased it. Lisa had been prepared for shock and anger or fear and guilt but Iras had only looked sorry.