Prosiac

In the Still of the Night

2010-12-16T22:31:00.000-08:00

“Nooohhhhh…!” an anguished cry ripped through the still of the night. He slipped in and out of his delirium, his seeking hand reached out for the insubstantial image straining for focus. The vision locked on his mind, assaulting him begging him beseeching him….she relentlessly lingered.

Once again she searched him out and found him wanting, he could see her – her back to him. A willowy silhouette in the weak fading sun. She stood taller than the average woman. Because of the recent flash rains her long hair slung sleek and slick over her shoulder. The snowy white overcoat burdened her slender frame weighing her down.

Suddenly she rotated one hundred and eighty degrees. The sudden movement parted her unbuttoned coat revealing a multi brown-toned tunic over the most gloriously incredibly long golden brown legs he’d ever seen which were shod in equally brown leather canvass clogs.

He gasped in a sudden rush of desire, for she was the most stunning creature he had ever seen. Angelic loveliness etched in every line and curve. Heart shaped lips parted in surprise, full and kissable; her nose….could only be described as dainty and cute; from behind the moist longest lustrous dark lashes shone a twin pair of traffic stopping cat eyes, and the word “sultry” entered his mind. Presently bewildered and wild. She was the epitome of ultra womanhood, her Indian heritage stamped on her clearly like a brand name.

Then what seemed like two glaring suns approached from her left at top speed, the speed of light growing larger and larger until the realization of a car loomed. And it was upon the woman, “Move Lady! Get the hell out of there! Damn it - now!” he roared above the drone of the engine, but she paid him no mind. She couldn’t hear him. Fear paralysed her like a stray rabbit caught in the headlights she watched the vehicle eat up the miles. Instinctively she jerked up her hands to her face to protect herself as the approaching headlights flashed her person. A scream rent the quite. Then nothing – the remaining hysteria gob smacked features starkly frozen in despair..…The agonizing sound of his name being called echoed in his ears. A cold reality sank in; his bare feet slapped the floor he sat stiff and straight, every muscle tense. He detractedly ran a hand through his dark wavy curls it came away wet. All sensory nerves raw like someone had run sharp nails over the metal surface of the chalkboard. He felt so exposed and brittle. He stepped out onto his penthouse balcony, the cool rush of air a balm to his soul, soothing his riotous emotions. He tried to recall the dream but it eluded him – yet again. Shrugging he crawled back into bed praying for uneventful sleep.

*************************************************************

Her shoulders shook with so much grief that belied a lifetime of pain. Tossing and turning she relived the nightmare. Her sobs rose in volume until a deep throated sound escaped from her lips. It was a sound that could break a heart into a thousand pieces. Deep in her subconscious she registered a pair of hands insistently jerking her away from the dark void she found herself in. Just as suddenly her demons were torn from her.

Her moist eyes fluttered open focusing on a fuzzy image of exasperation and concern.

“What’s the matter mom?” she wanted to know as the fog in her mind began to clear, she looked out the darkened window stating the obvious “it’s the middle of the night. Is everything alright? Daddy…” she trailed off into silence when she saw her mother lift a hand up to still her words.

‘Your father sleeps like an elephant - he’s fine. Not even an earthquake can wake him” she saw her daughter relax her shoulders.

“Then why are we up so early. Or is it late. Am I late for something…I forget.’ She asked her mother.

“No.”Her mother stroked her hair away from her face; the rotund woman grew alarmed, “My god! You are burning up and soaked through,” flustered she rushed to the wardrobe, pulling out a fresh nightie.

“I’m fine – “

“Young lady, get off that bed this instant. Let me help you change”, she patted the chair next to the bed when she had finished helping her daughter change, “Now sit on this chair while I change the bedsheets”

She disappeared towards the bathroom and returned with fresh linen.

She smoothed down the last corner of sheeting under the mattress, and helped her daughter back into bed. Encased back on the cool linen, she spied her mother’s stern features.

“Do we need to take you to the hospital? Maybe we should take you there instead.” She narrowed her eyes at her daughter’s over wrought features.

“Nightmare again?” her mother stated matter of factly. Niha dipped her head averting her gaze from her mother’s sharp eyes.

Her mother muttered something in Hindu, and then proceeded to bastardize the language in rapid assault. Her voice growing an octave higher and shriller all the while. Ocassionally she subjected a subdued Niha to a few tirades during the one-sided monologue. Niha thought it best to keep silent and let her mother get it out of her system, “- and now what do we do, my pet. Do we take you to another pundit?”

“No not another one. Pleeeeeeeeeease Mummy. I couldn’t endure it!”

Her mother turned at the slight intrusion, “Cyril! Call the doctor!” sleepy eyed her father entered the room, “I heard you bellow Shardha?” coming toward the bed, “No dad. Don’t do it - I’m fine” she quickly put in.

“What are these, lalu?” her father came to sit on the edge of the bed, and pointed at the bags under he eyes, “There’s enough space in there to carry your Tiffin. Night after night you carry on…. You need help, child!

Maybe Dr

Bundu can help you find some peace.”

“I told you I don’t want to go there. I don’t like taking pills.’

“Your mother and I are not getting any sleep either. See how worried your mother looks, she even forgot to make me my tea last night before I went to bed”

Niha had the good grace to restrain her tongue she looked at her father in exasperation, Fine! I get it! I will go see Dr Bundu in the morning. Satisfied!”

“Not by a long shot, my girl - Drink this” he said handing a glass of water to her that her mother hurriedly brought from the bathroom.”

She accepted it petulantly, “Thanks” downing the contents.

After she drank every drop she handed it back to her father, who abruptly grinned, “Tomorrow is an important day, eh?”

“You remembered,” he nodded, “how could I not after all this time.”

“As usual I reserved a special place right up front” but he only nodded again

The older woman unleashed her scrutiny on her only daughter, “Come away Sardha!” her father called from the doorway.

“But Cyril, Niha – “

“- will be fine” he looked intently at his wife putting an arm around bother shoulders and steering her out the door,

“Maybe I should sleep there tonight – “ she heard her mother say in the corridor of the hall.

“No! She is a grown woman. She knows her own body. We are right here across the hall if she needs us” her father interposed, and no more was heard from her mother. A door closed softly.

Niha sighed and fell back against the pillows. Subsequently, the veiled darkness claimed her, later she was dimly aware of her father’s presence in the room but she slept on. Before she knew it thin slivers of dawn snipped away at the darkened room.

Overwhelmed she gathered the heavy linen curtain in one hand peering out from the corner of the stage. They chanted her name frenetically, “Rebel! Rebel! Rebel!” The loud chorus deafening. Her senses reeled at the adoration and devotion. She wandered if she could do it, a month away from in front of her adoring public made her encounter stage fright.

Who would’ve known that singing in her garage at 17 would set her on a path for stardom. And all because of those wonderful audience out there. It took all of her courage and grit to sway the crowd into submission. Had she truly enriched their lives with her music? With the passage of time it became easier. The shy girl with an inferiority complex had disappeared, and in her place emerged a startlingly self assured young woman.

Reminiscing about the days when she was a slave to an up and coming fashionsta. Because of the way she looked, she made a perfect model, for paltry wages she spent long grueling hours on her feet, her feet and every other part of her were always sore by the time she got home. When she had finished high school she insisted on paying her own way, rather than accepting the support of her parents who were only too happy to oblige their only daughter. Her father had worked long days and weeks at a time driving the long endless solitary roads, away from his beloved family. Niha had made a promise to herself that as soon as she could it would stop; her father would be home for good.

“I will be the epitome of a starving artist, mom. I will appreciate what I am achieving so much more.”

“I understand all that, child but we didn’t work so hard for you to follow in our footsteps. No!” her father insisted.

She looked them straight in their faces, “Enough! You already have given me enough. A good education goes a long way. Now it is your turn to enjoy the fruits of your labor. I will however, accept the use of my room and garage, mom?” she sheepishly looked up through lowered eyebrows.

“Fine! On one condition” her mother said slyly. Niha looked at her in anticipation knowing what was coming and groaned, “You learn how to cook”

She sighed heavily, her mother was dying to impart that knowledge for such a long time now, she would’ve rather avoided it, but “Ok! Alright. I’ll learn how to cook.”

“You heard that Cyril? She will cook” tears of joy filled her mother’s eyes, she tottered away cheerfully.

He father shook his head, “You have made your mother very happy. Know that we are here if you need us. You’ll always be our little girl.”

Niha shook her head. Her father kissed her on the head and left the room. They are now happily retired and living among Brighton Beach retirement community. Their choice, as apposed to living with their young and very single daughter. She was after all only an hour’s ride away from them at

Chevron Place

in prime beach front property.

During her teen years a band was formed, NBT (Next Best Thing) They played many songs by Alphaville, ABC, Aha and the likes, and because her mother would shout at her and her english ways, she learned to sing Indian songs too by Latha Mangescar, Ravi Shankar, Bollywood and Bangra music. That was a proud day in any mother’s life. Every time the family attended a wedding her mother would proudly tell everyone who would hear what a gifted daughter she had, and to please let her sing with the band. As a child she was chaffed to sing with the local bands at weddings, she would put on her finest Indian Sharara and wedding finery and join in. When she got older, it got so embarrassing, that she tried to escape her parents to the backs of the halls and lose herself among the younger crowd, until she heard her name over the microphone loud and clear, and cringed. Prouder still was the day they knew she had made it as a singer, a record label wanted to sign her. They came to every concert, and she made sure that she reserved seats for them right at the front.

She still played at weddings on the odd occasions, but when she was old enough she would sling the guitar over her back, her father would drive her down to the local club called “Creations” in D’Urbanville. Back then they lived among a huge Indian community because of the Group Areas Act. Yet knowing no better it was a good upbringing she was always immersed in her culture and the community. Everyone knew everyone else, and it was one big family.

It happened one night while she was singing at Creations that a man introduced himself to her as Elijah Fortune of Fortune Records. And that as they say was history. The name change was necessary to garner sales he said. Her first compromise.

Music was her life…if she had to make a few compromises along the way; it was the price to pay for an up and coming artist. One day…one day she will call her own shots. Music was her addiction…her drug. It was the only thing she lived for. Her parents weren’t to thrilled with her name change of course, they thought she was ashamed of herself, that made her feel deflated. She finally got through to them. One day she would be lfamous as the artist formerly known as Rebel. Her father’s fierce glare told her he didn’t consider it a joking matter. She sighed and entreated them to accept her new name change as temporary.

That first year proved difficult and punishing but oh so worth it. She had won the Entertainer of the Year Award. This honor brought a whole new world at her feet. She began collaborating with icons she only dreamt about meeting and making music with; Colin Furlong, Becky Howler, Lisha Constance, Clover Stanwyk.

The following year she went platinum with her next record the Mysteries of Me. She was riding the wave of success. Willowy and smoky smooth her voice had a timeless quality to it. She was sought after by big recording labels and events organizers inundated her with requests for special appearances. She had made it but at what price? Her peace and privacy was the thing of the past. Niha was accompanied by body guards everywhere she went. She employed a good publicist, who did her best to protect her privacy and from getting chopped to pieces in the rumor mill.

Niha was performing at the benefit for World Hunger. It was a black and white affair. It was the type of benefit where the who’s who wants to be seen so they pay the hefty price of admission, in addition to donating huge amounts to the cause. A semi circular stage was set up in her honor; she stepped up to the platform a bit of thigh flashed in a figure hugging floor length black silk dress. The cut of the dress fit snuggly against her breast, and hugged her body until the start of the slit in the garment at mid-thigh which flared outwards. It was daring and sexy, simple and elegant. Her hair was swept up in a coiffeur, wisps of hair strayed at the sides of her head. Dainty silver ropes bobbed in her ears, throat, and wrists. She lifted the microphone, pulling at the cord for easier access. And began her soulful ballad. It was a new song that she had written for the occasion. Her eyes roved the room of onlookers until it clashed with eyes of fiery embers, his lips curled up in a smirk. That man thinks his so sure that he is god’s gift to women, she thought. In the same instant a feeling of dejavu washed over her, she faltered but rapidly picked up the beat again without anyone being the wiser. When her gaze returned to him again, she noticed he was smartly dressed as all the men present in a black suit and white shirt, his bow tie was undone. She could tell that this was a man who didn’t like restrictions. The cut of his clothes were so fine it indicated that he belonged to this elite circle of people, he was broad shouldered, and powerfully built. He had an air of absolute confidence about him, he relaxed in his chair alert and waiting, a predatory gleam entered his eyes. He disturbed her. Charisma – raw and unchartered it emanated from him in waves of energy lassoing her to the spot.

If he had lived in the 19^th century, he would have been labeled a rake. He was too charming to be innocent. He appeared as if he could smooth talk a woman to do just about anything he wanted. And what did he want? He was definitely displaying signs of interest. His body language screamed “I want you.” A lock of hair threatened to fall on his forehead, she wanted to curl her finger around it and …she gripped the microphone tighter fearing she might drop it. He cocked an eyebrow at her as if reading her thoughts. The song ended on a low long note, and the energetic applause followed.

When her gaze went back for him, his seat was vacant. Niha felt momentary lost. When the night had come to an end, the image that stayed with her was one of brilliant amber eyes. Eyes that could only belong to a cat, evocative and suggestive.

As she stepped into her limousine, she was handed a beautiful bouquet of long stemmed yellow roses. She poked around for a card, there was none, she brought out a bank note to tip the messenger, but he had mysteriously disappeared. Luke Vadan, one of her two bodyguards was up front with the driver, he looked into the overhead mirror,

“Somebody must love you allot” he laughed as he rolled the darkened windows up to give her some privacy.

She now also had an agent to manage her affairs. Lony Monroe indicated that there have been several requests for her to make music with an eastern theme. Thus a new avenue opened up for her she began to collaborate with Indian artists from Bollywood; Alisha Chalwa, Menza Pundit, Lalitha Chowdry, Mouri Bosle. They were Bangra Queens in

India

’s music industry. Their music was upbeat and catchy which catered for the younger set. It was the revolutionary age for cross over music which began to slowly make it’s way to the west and other parts of the world. Her vastly improved profile invited the likes of movie moguls in Bollywood to sing for their soundtracks. She had achieved much more than she ever dreamt, her star was still on the rise.…yet something began to miss from her life. The pace was getting to her….her life was a blur.

Niha was to make a special appearance for lunch at the Royal Plaza the following evening, for WAB (Woman Against Abuse), She got up to the small podium, she searched the expected crowd then quite suddenly felt overwhelmed, the blood began rushing to her head and she collapsed like a puppet whose strings was cut.

Fortunately, a bodyguard cut through the throng of bodies pressing in on her, stifling her swinging her up in his arms, he made for the limousine that stood right on the curb. She was rushed to a private clinic in Akazia.

Coming Soon.....

In My Wildest Dreams

2010-12-16T22:27:00.000-08:00

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come:

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

—William Shakespeare, 1564-1616

There he was again sitting on the rock bench in the dead of night with only the bright full moon as a guiding light. He was starring ahead at the ripples on the lake, dancing to the gentle summer breeze. He seemed deep in thought. Curiosity got the better of

India

; she stepped forward hesitantly, then turned and continued on her way. After all, she didn’t know him from Adam. He could be dangerous……yet he still strangely attracted her. She had the insane urge to reach out and run her hand through his hair. She knew how it would feel. Like sable and silk. She knew how it would smell. Like All Spice. Why did she feel so drawn to this man?

India

wasn’t looking for love and romance. She needed to be alone. Alone with her thoughts. Trying to make sense of the nagging nightmares that refused to go away. It’s as if she had a split personality and one that emerges every night while she is asleep. What is he thinking about, she thought. Could his thoughts be any darker than her own?

“Don’t go.”

She stood ridged with shock at the unexpected intrusion in the quiet of night that she almost stumbled in her haste to quicken her step.

He was facing her now. His eyes hooded and in shadow from the overcast moon.

“Please won’t you join me,” he asked

Her eyes darted around searching for a way out. She hadn’t intended to make her presence felt. This very spot had become her safe harbour for weeks. Her sleepless nights drove her on these long walks, where she walked and walked until she was so tired that she would drift off into a dreamless sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. On one of her sojourns, she came across this cosy inlet with a wonderous view where land meets water with beautiful trees and shrubbery scattered about, it didn’t seem too out of place having a park bench so close to the edge of the lake. She liked this time of the year, when the warm summery wind came up of the lake and blew against her long hair, cooling her heated skin and serving as a balm to her restless soul. These walks didn’t improve on her sleep much but it brought her peace and a realisation that there were things far more important and much bigger than her at work.

One day the previous week, she strolled out this way soaking up the restive atmosphere, when she felt a presence. She was standing in exactly the same spot as she was right now, and a shadow moved near the bench, until she realised a man was sitting there in the dark, starring at the lake as he was tonight. She wondered about him. Looking so lost and tormented. He paced awhile and stopped, staring into the depths of the clear water.

Night after night, her feet brought her here, just so she could get a glimpse of this man, who had become so vital to her nocturnal wanderings. Why does he have such a hold on her? What is it about him that draws her to this place, time and again.

“I promise. I mean you no harm,” he said, “Please stay awhile. I just wish for some company.”

He made no move to detain her, but she felt compelled by something stronger than both of them to remain. She wasn’t certain if this was wise, but she was sure it was the right thing because it felt right. Perching on the edge of the bench she clasped her hands together resting them on her legs and starred at nothing in particular.

“Thank you.”

She jumped at the unexpected softness in his voice. It sent shivers down her spine. It was deep and sexy, and filled with heartfelt relief at her acquiescence.

“You’ve been coming here every night.” he stated

“How----- I think I’d better go” she got up ready to leave.

“It is not my intention to harm you. Please believe me,” placing a restraining hand on her arm.

Once she was seated again he continued, “I discovered this area by accident. There is something really special about it. One of God’s Forgotten Wonders. An unspoiled by civilisation. People have lost their appreciation for what’s right here in front of them. They’d rather go in for the highly overpriced and overcrowded Aspen, or French Riveria or the Caribbean. But never to a little unknown place called Forrester’s Crib. The first time I saw it I felt as if something was drawing me here. One day I saw you standing on the edge of the pathway…that reminds me, this is no place for a woman on her own after dark. There is danger-----“

“---when a tree falls on you in the forest and nobody hears your screams”, she put in indignantly, for the first time looking into his starkly handsome face, her fear forgotten, “ it could be dangerous for anyone out on their own at this part of the night.”

“So you agree with me”

“Of course.”

“But a man can-----“

“And a woman doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together to see an oncoming danger and step out of the way of a natural conclusion” she finished, muttering something about smarty pants. “You are something, aren’t you?.”

“.All the better to keep you on your feet.”

“Smart as a whip too.”

“All the better to know you .”

“skeptical.”

“Naturally.”

“Provocative”

“Bring it on.”

When she remembered what she last said, she blushed to the roots of her hair, bending forward so that her hair curtained her face. When she ventured a peek at him, she was surprised because he was laughing . He leaned back against the backrest, his arms resting over the tops and he was laughing, genuinely amused by her predicament. Relaxed he looked so different . So young as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His chiseled features transformed into a-heart-thumping-handsome. His olive green eyes glowing with genuine warmth and mischief. She realised it was contagious, slanting her lips into a smile.

“You are so easy” he mused.

“I’ll have you know------“

He continued guffawing merrily as she began, but decided against it and kept silent instead. He was still chuckling when he held out his hand to her.

“Thank you” he repeated for the second time that night, “I really needed that. I never thought I would feel that good again. You proved me wrong.” Taking her hand he brought it against his chest, and held it there. “I’d sit here each night dreaming up ways to…” he trailed off, realising he was about to reveal much more than he intended. For the first time he gazed directly into her eyes, suddenly stunned into silence. He brought her hand to rest over his other stroking her palm with his forefinger then he placed the gentlest of kisses into it.

The moment he took her hand she was mezmerised by his touch. A sliver of excitement coursed to life as if she had just come into contact with a live wire. The gesture was so comforting yet familiar as if they had done this a thousand times before. Another time in another place, she could see him kneel before her, take her hand place a kiss in it and fold it as if to hold onto it. There was tears in his eyes, pleading with all his love not to say goodbye. Was it him saying his goodbyes or was it her? She couldn’t tell which. In that moment, she was brought back to the present and snatched her hand back. She stood declaring she was leaving. He didn’t try to stop her.

“Will you be here tommorrow?”

“I-I don’t think so.”

Quietly she began moving away from him. She could sense his hesitation, his eyes boring into her back.

“Wait!”

India

turned around waiting for him to catch up to her. He looked much taller now, straight and erect and rather well built. The tight blue jeans and the black t-shirt accentuating every length, breadth and curve of his body. The short midnight black hair falling over his forehead. Any woman would be undecided whether to label him a rogue or an angel.

“Let me walk you home?”

“Look Mister! For all I know you could be a mass murderer or an escaped lunatic on holiday. I can take care of myself just fine from here on out. I’ve had plenty of practice. I want…to be…left…alone.” She punctuated.

“Alright! I won’t bother you again.” He returned.

“I-It was nice to meet you.”

“Same here.”

All the while as she walked home, she had a strange feeling that she was being followed, she looked behind her for good measure, but there was no one there. So she just put it down to paranoia through lack of sleep.

That night she slept, she dreamt about a stunning pair of olive-green eyes smiling at her. The dreams were confusing and fragmented. A man dressed in indian attire with a turban atop his head. He was strumming on a miniature guitar, and singing to a woman in a strange language about how much he adores and loves her. Amidst that was roaring flames, hands reaching for her, the words “pyaari”, “my beloved” playing over and over in her mind.

In the cold light of day, these dreams were more fragmented than ever. However, she still felt it had something to do with her. More now than ever. It’s unheard of to have a recurring dream/nightmare night after night after night. Each night she remembers something new as more and more is revealed to her about the central characters. She had decided to call the stranger of last night Mr X, as she hadn’t remembered to ask him his name. She was convinced Mr X was intertwined somehow. She needed answers. But how does one ask these questions when they sounded much to fantastical even to her own ears.

She studied herself in the mirror, she was reasonably easy on the eye. Curves where they were supposed to be, even if a little on the voluptuous side. Her short black hair framed her face, settling on her shoulders. Her skin, a medium brown, flawless and clean of makeup, almond shaped eyelids over tawny coloured eyes, blinking back at her. Her lips heart-shaped yet full. Would Mr X find her attractive, she thought.

She opened her musical box, the most precious thing she owned inherited from her grandmother, she turned the key in the back. Lifting the lid, a sweet melodic tune poured out, a melody she had grown up to, it was a song from a lover to the woman he loved. In the song he told her how much he loved and adored her. She plucked the chain from inside, a silver dove hanging from a thin silver chain. It was a gift from her grandfather on her 21^st Birthday, so long ago. He had said the strangest thing at the time, he said that this was a lucky charm, with it her destiny shall unfold, it proved to be anything but lucky, it’s been almost 10 years since her grandfather made that revelation.

She spread the necklace in her palm, rubbing away at the rough surface, as if willing something to happen. Out of nowhere an image flashed in her mind, of a man brushing her hair of her neck, clipping the necklace in place, a familiar hand of the woman, running the silver charm between thumb and forefinger. She lifted it so that it sparkled in the sunlight, the eye of the dove turning blood red, a ruby. It was the identical match to hers. What did it mean? These people dressed in very strange looking costumes, it reminded her of the mini-series, the Far Pavilions. It’s impossible! I haven’t been in any place that required one to wear this attire; I don’t even know the language. How did I understand it so well? This beautiful precious necklace proved to be another clue to her hazy memories. She released the trinket into the box so fast, as if it had appeared to singe her fingers. She made a mental note to call her grandfather later on to ask him about the necklace.

First, she decided, she was refusing to mope around anymore, like a mindless zombie. She was going out, and she was going to treat herself to something good.

By noon she realized she had made a mistake, in trying to forget the past few weeks, and the memories that have been crowding in on her. Everywhere she went, everything she touched reminded her of something that she should remember but can’t quite get a handle on.

She made an impulse purchase of a deep red dress. Her grandmother always said that the colour red is for good luck, and that not many people can carry of the colour red, but she could. She definitely could do with some luck right now though. She had the vaguest idea that Mr. X would like it. Where did that come from? He was constantly on her mind of late. Sure, he was charming and good-looking in the old fashioned way. He would look very regal in one of those Punjab costumes. She shivered at that thought. This was too weird. He was too much of a mystery, one she was definitely not going to unravel.

She took an afternoon nap before her evening stroll through the lakeside. The memory of an astute pair of eyes drawing her into its depths, ones belonging to the stranger. There was a world of sadness in his eyes, and a heart-wrenching loneliness that stole around her heart. She wanted very much to reach out to him, and hold on until his despondent look disappeared. She was too caught up in her own misery though, to give him more than a passing thought.

Feeling refreshed from her nap, she adorned her new purchase, the spandex top fitted snuggly across the swell of her upper body ,the skirt swirled around her ankles, soft and flowing. Turning to the mirror to admire herself, she admitted she did look good.

India

reached the meeting place way before the designated time, she wanted to gather her thoughts before she saw him, and he had a way of totally upsetting her equilibrium. She painted a pretty picture, sitting there her eyes fixed somewhere on the horizon of the setting sun, wondering why she was doing this to herself. On one level, she wanted to remember all the images, piece by piece as they fitted each other like a puzzle until it formed a whole picture. She was as curious as to know of the end result, as the man eyeing her from the entrance along the rock path was.

She knew he was there, even before he arrived on the scene. It was like having built-in radar where he was concerned. She refused to admit that all this, this dress, this being here was only for him, she had just realised how much she wanted to see him again.

“Good Evening” Mr. X said, gesturing to the bench, “May I?”

“She shrugged “It’s a free country.”

He was wearing a black jeans today, accompanied with a red cotton shirt, cool and comfortable. He somehow seemed more approachable than before. He was smiling ever so slightly, but smiling nonetheless.

“You look lovely.”

“Thank You” The compliment, unexpected warmed her all the way down to her toes that she felt like curling them and purring.

“Are you well?” His hot chocolatey voice making her shiver.

“Yes. Never better.”

“I don’t think so” he said shaking his head.

“ How presumptuous!” stiffening her spine, as she said this. ‘You don’t know me. You don’t know the first thing about me!? “ tossing her head back to remove the hair falling in her eyes, “WHAT-DO-YOU-THINK-YOU-KNOW? I didn’t spend much more than 5 minutes with you? You think you know me? What do you know?” She punctuated the air with a finger to emphasise her point.

“I know that you are frustrated. Confused. You want answers to questions you never thought you had.”

:And what is the question I’m thinking about now?” she asked.

“You want me to give you a reason to leave” she tensed in fear and retaliation. “You want to know where the hell is the night guard when you needed one.”

“ Most like dozing off on duty” she laughed uneasily “or across the road at 4X4 Cafe getting donuts and coffee.”

“Aren’t you mistaking him for a policeman?”

“You watch too much TV.”

He laughed out loud. The somber face lighting up. Watch out girl, she chastised herself, you are going to fall for this handsome face big time, and what are you going to do then.

“What’s your name?”

“Joseph.”

“Like the carpenter. In the Bible. A good solid name.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, a voice in his head said, A honest job for an honest Joe.

That should have been his comeback.

“Just like in the Bible. I build things.”

“Things?” she asked

“Furniture” he said with a growl

“Like your namesake” she said with a smile

“We only supply by special order to a select market.”

“Of course. The Rich and Famous you mean.”

“I wouldn’t have put it quite like that.”

She laughed to herself. “ In 170 years, you still haven’t changed a bit. You always did like to work with your hands.”

“WHAT-DID-YOU-SAY?” His jovial attitude dissipated like the sunset into the night sky, stars twinkling above their heads, Joseph grabbed her by the shoulders, in a punishing grip. “What did you just say?” he persisted.

Pure unadulterated terror struck her heart. “L-Liked working with y-your h-hands?” His demeanor confusing and frightening her, she tried squirming out of his hold, in vain. “Please.”

In a sudden realisation, he let her go, she stumbled backwards.” You said in 170 years I hadn’t changed.” He looked formidable yet, uncertain. “Why would you say something like that?”

“Did I say that?” surely she couldn’t have. ”I can’t remember why.”

He seemed to have lost interest in what she was saying because he was glaring at something else with such intensity. “Where did you get this from?” as he lifted the chain onto his fingers.

“It was a gift from my grandfather.”

“It’s very old…..isn’t it?”

“When my grandfather gave it to me, he said it was to remind me of where I came from. Odd, because I was born here at Forester’s Crib. It once belonged to the Pride of India, House of Mantra.”

“The Maharani of Aster.” He needed to know.

Yes. How---“ Her mind was working overtime. Questions and questions and more questions. How did a carpenter have such an intimate knowledge of jewelry , especially this necklace, let alone about a little kingdom in India that existed a long time ago far beyond the reaches of the rest of the world, if it still exists at all. When her grandfather told her the story, she put it down to a fairy tale. Her grandfather saw a story to tell in everything. The way he questioned her, and the knowledge he gained, his face registered a truth as if he was reliving something, and what she said wasn’t just a story but very real indeed. He was still staring at the necklace, floored by the reality of it.

She cupped the chain, hiding it from prying eyes. “I must go.”

He grasped her hand gently, turning her around to face him. “ I didn’t mean to scare you. Ancient pieces of jewellery is a hobby of mine. It’s my business to know.” Smiling, he searched her face reassuringly. “I own quite a few pieces of old jewellery too. Maybe I will show them to you sometime. Now I’m afraid it’s for you to return the favor.”

Wide-eyed she wanted to know . “Favor?”

“I told you who I was” He was waiting in expectation, waiting as if he was hoping for a revelation.

“

India

.” She murmured lowering her eyes turning as if to walk away instead putting some distance between them. She was so preoccupied putting one foot in front of another that, she hadn’t notice Joseph starring at her, as if someone struck him a blow right between the eyes.

The following day, India found herself amidst boxes and boxes of boxes. The shelter for disaster victims were having a food and clothing drive, and she felt that this was the right time to finally go through her closet. She was surprised by the amount of clothing she possesses but never got around to wear, she even had clothes from way back, hoping that someday she would fit into them. Well that old ship has sailed, she mused. She traipsed to the kitchen, switching on buttons as she moved around. She was so hungry, it was near lunchtime and, she threw in some eggs into a pot to steam. Her mouth watering at the eggs and mayonnaise snackwich she was going to make for lunch. It was her favorite. That taken care of, she resumed her packing. She finally lugged all the boxes to the front door, collapsing on the sofa to rest a bit.

She must have fell asleep because the next minute she heard, a splintering crash of glass, and the door being kicked in, by an intruder. She didn’t get very far because she was bodily hauled over a shoulder, and dumped on the green lawn out front, a blanket covered her body.

India

tried to focus her eyes, she got her second shock of the day. What on earth was Joseph doing here? How did he find me? He left her for a few moments as he ran back into the house, there was a loud hissing sound, and he exited. There was black smoke coming from her house. He picked her up blanket and all, carrying her out to the royal blue Jeep in the driveway. They were just sitting there, him holding her, pressed up against his side, rubbing her back, murmuring something low in his throat. She just lying there in his arms, growing weaker and weaker. Why was she feeling so tired.

“What happened?” she finally managed to ask.

“There was a fire. Your kitchen was burning down.” He put it simply.

“Never saw eggs cause a fire before” she smiled through the heavy soot on her face, then berated herself “Me…careless.”

“SShhh! You’re alright. The kitchen needs a paint job, maybe black if you decide to try your hand at cooking again. Thank God you are alright.” He shook her. “Don’t you dare give me a fright like that again.” He ran his hands up and down her body to reassure himself that everything was as it should be.

The car purred to life, backing out of the yard, his other arm around India, making sure she was there and alive. He thought he heard her say “Mmmmmm.” and her body fell limp against him.

She was fighting to stay alive but the flames where thicker and growing nearer and nearer, it was licking at her skin. She was shouting for Joseph to help her to make it stop. She didn’t want to die. Rivers of tears were streaming down his face, helpless to help her, he didn’t want for them to end this way but, if they were not going to be together in life, in death they will have all of eternity with each other. He drew her to him, huddling together, he cupped her face in his hands, so that she wouldn’t look at the flames burning at their clothes. “ I will love you forever, my rani. My heart will be yours once again, my beloved.” He crushed her body closer, as the heat engulfed them, and their cries were no more.

Her cries of terror brought Joseph sprinting up the stairs, he was beside her in a moment, holding her and rocking her until she quieted. He held like that all through the night, remembering his own visions of the damned. Tears rolled down his face at what she was seeing, at what she was feeling, and he was helpless to ease her pain, yet again. He vowed he would do everything in his power to make her feel whole again.

When she came to, she was in a strange room, on a strange bed with no recollection of how she got there. It seemed kitsch to ask, where she was when she was obvious not in her own house. Her last memory was of someone saying her kitchen was burning down. Joseph! Her kitchen! She bounced out of bed, her feet flying down the stairs, she crashed into a solid body on her way down.

“Whoa! What are you doing out of bed?

“My kitchen? My House. On Fire.” Trying to push past him

“It’s ok. I put out the fire with the fire extinguisher by the kitchen door.” He assured her.

She sagged against him relieved, allowing her to carry her back to the bedroom. He was just about to pull the covers over her when she bolted upright. “

“How did you know where to find me?”

“Silly Girl. I always knew from the first moment I set eyes on you.” He said with a smile.

“You followed me!” she accused

“Don’t say it like it was a crime. Aren’t you thankful that I did.” He urged.

“I guess” she muttered, looking down at the squares and triangles print of the duvet. She thought how masculine it looked. “What did you want to see me about?”

Coming Soon......

The Cat's Meow

2010-12-16T22:26:00.000-08:00

Oden stood atop a chair and swished her tail. She peered into the smooth as glass surface of the looking pool the pads of one paw playfully dipped in the swirls expanded to the outer edges until it was still once again a scene materialised. A darkly handsome man sat alongside what appeared to be a plain looking woman on the outer walls of the well in the front yard of her home. She glanced shyly up at him through lowered lashes innocently blushing at his nearness. A mild wind whipped at her toasty chestnut tendrils obscuring her face. A muscled arm extended pushing a lock of hair behind her left ear his hand suspended taking in her loveliness. Fingers trailed around the cochlea of her ear she moaned softly into his palm, a finger under her chin tipped her face up toward him. Her eyes where glistening with a beguiling joy that mirrored his. Her lips parted in anticipation, his head descended over her capturing her lips with his.

The bobbin grinned as only cats could, “To the stars and back, master.” The image dispersed and Oden leaped into the air softly landing on the floor, “it was a long time coming….but so worth the wait, my prince.’

Oden knew that Selina was the one for Lucien. She knew it the moment their eyes met. She will be good for him. They will be happy for many years to come. Their joy will be increased by the birth of their children not too long from now. Her work was done…..she will always be around when they needed her. Once a keeper of hearts always a keeper of hearts. For the moment there was nothing malicious that could ever touch their joy in each other. Love will conquer all. She snickered in amusement as she thought of Selina’s fright whenever she was near, Oden enjoyed taunting her. Anyone who could capture the heart of the darkling is a rare gem indeed. Her protection of course had now extended to Selina as well – although she need not be aware of that just yet. Oden needed to keep her constantly on guard – ever the watchful kitty. Cats were jealous and possessive by nature therefore she still considered Lucien hers. And always will.

For now Oden had to embark on the most important mission of her life. She was gradually growing more restless these past few days. Feeling at odds with herself, and the strange feelings that brought on. She knew that her initiation was upon her. She was not a kitten anymore.

“Meata pari (I command you to open)” she commanded in a soft purring voice. An orange flare reflected in her eyes illuminating it, a whorl hole opened up in front of her. Craning around her neck, she gave the place a speaking look, and faced forward. She sprang forth into the swirling vortex, the tunnel effectively closed behind her.

As Oden Sheah Kara came through the tunnel, and softly landed on terra firma, she transformed herself. A beautiful sloe eyed woman shimmered into existence. Her jovial smile reminiscent of her cat self. Looking for the entire world as if the cat who had stolen the cream. She uncurled herself from the crouching position and languidly reached for the sky. For a woman she was unusually tall. Her skin toned cow hide dress flattered her full slender figure ending just above her knees, calf boots adorned her feet in a soft furry material. Her hair unbound came to rest on her slender waist long and sleek. Her warm chocolate brown eyes expressive and full of repressed mischief surveyed her surroundings then made a dejected wistful sound.

What people were unaware of was that she was a royal princess of Atari. A royal princess by birth. On her inner right ankle was a birth mark in the shape of a peacock feather. The colors of the peacock feather determined the ruler of Atari. The dots on the tattoo was a royal red and gold denoting her lineage of the highest house of the land. No one was privy to that except the people of Atari’s royal court; otherwise the Princess would be in the gravest danger. And feline people are loyal and independent creatures as their animal counterparts who roamed the world at will. They cannot be confined or subdued or they will perish. She was an unusual mixed breed, her Aleema (grandmother) on her father’s side was an earth human with extraordinary coloring much like hers therefore she stands out among Atarians as she is not only tall for an Atarian woman but she possesses striking golden blond hair. A feature no other Atarian possesses. Fortunately her people are quick to adapt to changes and circumstance. She is their future Queen, the Atarians love and revere her. For as long as the history of Atari there has always been a female ruler reining over the land. Queen Badma her mother still happily reins until that fateful day. And is only too thrilled to permit her only daughter to explore and experience the world for herself. She believes that a wise queen is one that knows the lie of the land and beyond and she will bring forth that knowledge to govern the people well.

Her beautiful sloe eyes stunned in shock as something barreled into her chest. Falling then rolling down the hill, when she came to a stop she laughed heartily up at the face so close to hers. She looked into the wondrous eyes so alike hers. Precocious and mischievous. And she put his flightiness down to his youth but she knew that wasn’t true playfulness was a trait inherent in all feline, and hugged him fiercely to her.

“You are crushing me, sister” said a gruff childish voice.

“I have missed you somewhat fiercely, my little monomo,’ she held on tight and ruffled his head. He was almost the size of her now, her little brother Shivan. He was but 40 seasons, big and brawny for his age. He will follow in the ranks of their father one day. Their father was a Sentinel. The most superior Alliance of Atari was made up of sentinel warriors with mystic capabilities that protect Atari. Shivan is still too young to have developed his special powers as yet. 10 more seasons will bring him his initiation into manhood and thus he will be given a seasoned guru to oversee his training into the Sentinel order.

“There you are little gundu!” a rumbling deep and mesmeric voice came into view. A tall broad muscled man ambled into sight, ‘You are much too much in a hurry, monome”, he smiled at Shivan taking in the full bosom of the woman Shivan was pressed up against, he cocked an eye in question, ‘so the prodigal daughter returns” his voice resonating from across the way. Oden cocked her head from side to side amused, she smiled and softly affected, “Well if it isn’t big strong and bursting at the seams…”

A replica of an Atarian warrior approached her in admonishment, then paused and smiled widely, his arms opening to her. She threw herself into them and he spun her around until she toppled him onto the grassy bank.

“Are you still ticklish, Gylden?”

She proceeded about to demonstrate attacking his sides. An uproarious glee exploded from the big man his chest vibrating with the sound; a little slip of a girl could still unhinge him. They were friends since childhood. Oden and he.

“Enough of this, yushme (precious). Your Mata awaits your arrival.”

‘Aha! I do know that she will be occupied elsewhere”

‘How you wrong your mata? She is anxiously awaiting your arrival”

“Not! My mother has never anxiously awaited anyone her whole life. If I know her she is busy making preparations for my welcome.’

“What preparations?”

“Don’t blindside me, Gylden. I know there is a celebration in my honor. She knows me well enough by now to know to expect me in my own good time”, she still sat astride his hips her arms folded to make her point stubbornly. Gylden lifted her off him, a very discomforting feeling settled on the lower half of his body. The oddest sensations of a young man in heat, he was to fulfill his initiation in a few days. Young men often went to the high priestesses of Atari for relieving their feelings of restlessness. As the Atarians are very sensual and expressive people, there was a need for them. But he refrained from the priestesses. He would choose only one to surrender himself too. Although the time is near, and his body is proving difficult to control and it is taking everything in his power to hold his feelings in check. He was also afraid that if he didn’t find an outlet soon, he will self-destruct. He will be turned into shimmering particles and disperse.

“What a bad-mannered child you are? Come now…do not tarry”, his voice sounding strange even to himself but one that brooked no arguement, “pretend then that you are surprised. For her sake. She went through allot of trouble munchkin.”

“I promise…I will show her my most surprised countenance”, Oden gave him the most comical exaggerated expression, “What about this?”

“You little…..”, he tried to grab her, but she nimbly stepped out of reach, and went tearing down to the river to where her brother was trying to spearhead a fish, she hopped onto the fallen log.

“Odi….No” his deepening voice breaking to her in a warning, ‘No! Go Back! Nooooooooo!” the log shifted beneath them and dumped them in the water, ‘Look what you‘ve done! Odi!”

“Sorry!” she looked up laughing into Shivan’s face, unrepentant.

Two hands reached out to them, they grabbed on and Gylden pulled them to safety. They shook their heads like two wet shaggy dogs who have been out in the rain. Oden attempted to squeeze her cowhide dress which had grown stiff, Gylden clicked his tongue shaking his head he mumbled a few words snapping his fingers, and she was dry once again.

“Wow! That impressed me good; I see some things have changed since I have been away.”

He did the same for Shivan. “Come now we are getting late”

“Gylden!” she remonstrated

“Odi you should see what Gyl-e can do with a - “

“Shoo, Shivan. There is no time” Gylden cut him off quickly.

Why is Gylden hiding his powers from me? What is he not telling? Oden scrutinized him for the first time, really looking. He had changed much since she had last been here. He was fully attired in Atarian warrior regalia. She looked at his hand and spied a bangle of thick woven silver. So---he had been accepted into the Alliance.

Gylden Mikal Tyran belonged to a minor house of royalty on Atari, the House of Tucon. He was flying the Tucon colors of silver and green plaited through a lock of hair.

He was a grown man now in his prime. The promise of the broad shouldered hard bodied youth towering over Oden was realized. Gylden’s initiation will be on the same day as Oden’s as they were of an age.

His beautiful dark hair falling on his shoulders in an attractive wild abandonment. She wanted so much to reached out just then and curl it around his ears, just like Lucien had done with Selina. When she considered what that lead to, she recoiled at the instinct, wandering where on Atari had that come from? Gylden was her closest friend. They grew up together. Frolicking through Atari and exploring the many wondrous bountiful treasures.

While she had turned her back he had changed. He was a very secretive and arrogant man possessed of an unlikely self-assurance. When they were younger he was decidedly more expressive but shyly awkward when it came to the opposite sex to this stilted cool stranger that now stood before her. When his lush green vibrant eyes, eyes as green as the rambling hills of Atari cast in her direction, she was powerless to the pull of energy so overwhelming was it, it daunted her into submissiveness simply because it was an unknown entity. If she pursued this unchartered course she knew she could spiral out of control. She was always eager to indulge in her explorative nature to meet new horizons as they came, however the feeling that Gylden instilled in her was one of grounded reality – that made her somewhat cagey.

The impish tick in his cheek darted and expanded telling her all she needed to know, he was still her Gylden. Her friend. He was here - And was here like never before. She scrambled to his side. Shivan and her both flanking him. Shivan chattered away to him animatedly, while Oden twisted her hands behind her back suddenly shy in his presence.

Atari was the most beautiful place in the star system, it was eternally sunshine. The land glowed bountifully. It yielded lush scenery. The multitude of hues never withered and died. The people of Atari never wanted for anything. They are free to roam through the land without fear of reprisal. The mystic sentinels are mighty forces that are always guarding the land from undesirables. Though you never see them, they are always there standing silent sentry.

Along the way they were greeted by carousing people who preempted the coming celebrations greeted Oden like a long lost daughter. They cajoled and joked with Gylden and Shivan enticing them with all their sumptuous delicacies for the day’s meal but Gylden stood his ground firmly, without offending them he moved the three of them along the path to the palace. Oden recalled she had recognized every home and every child and adult that inhabited Atari. She had accompanied her mother on many gifts bearing occasions. She acknowledged their presence by waving genially in response as she passed their humble abodes.

For the first time, Oden wandered as to why they were traveling in their human form to the palace. Wouldn’t it be easier to transform into their feline selves, they would be there in half the time. She was mildly perturbed by Gylden’s reasoning, when she looked up into his face it was inscrutable.

Gylden lifted his head into the balmy breeze, and purred in contentment, and then he turned to her his green eyes twinkling. She was more perplexed than ever.

“A cat's purr is the rumble of peace in the animal kingdom”, her left eyebrow lifted as if to say ‘really?’. A clowder of cat calls rent the air in answer.

“What allot of caterwauling!’ Oden jumped back in mock alarm, her hands covering her ears at the cries that came over the gentle wind.

Gylden pulled her hands aside, “you are gone too soft since you have been away. Your people are just welcoming you back. All is well.”

She gave him a lopsided smile – “Really sis! You have been surely missed around here.”

“Indubitably so…” she said stretching her neck back a notch to catch Shivan’s eyes and winked. So now she had an answer to her earlier question. It is rather pleasant to spend this time with her brother and Gylden. She was in no real hurry. Her two legs work just as well as four.

Projecting before the next rise was the masts of the palace displaying high up their vivid colors flying in the gentle wind for all to see. As they stood, they viewed the sight from above. It still took her breath away. The lush greens were spread as far as the eye could see, Hibiya bushes surrounded by colorful flowers bursting with pungent fragrances. The giant mushroom foliage scattered in places to provide shade for passersby's. A slim paved path leading to the huge palace glistening in the afternoon sun with its ivory and gold furnishings. As they drew closer to the palace walls Oden ran her hands over the shimmering precious stones that decorated the outer walls. It is so peaceful here.

They stopped at the veranda pillars; she had presently turned to address Shivan when she was suddenly enfolded in yards of soft cotton.

“Welcome home, my child”, said her mother. She looked up into aquamarine eyes vacant yet so endearing.

“Oh mata. I’ve missed you so much” hugging her closer

“You could have come earlier you naughty child”, she mildly admonished

“Nay….it wasn’t the right time” she shook her head sadly.

“And how is that dark handsome rogue?” a smile in her mother’s voice

“If you are talking about Lucien – he is reveling in absolute bliss”

“Then you have done well.’

She sighed, “I miss him already.”

“It was time, my child.”

Gylden watched the interplay between mother and daughter and his countenance was fast growing a scowl that threatened to spill over. Why was he angry at the mention of another man? Why should he care so much? Oden deserved to be happy. It is just his over-protectiveness of her after all….isn’t it. And his avid imagination was running away from him. She was like a sister to him…he grunted in dissatisfaction. Ok she was his much esteemed friend then. Esteemed? Who the hell is Lucien?

“Now that you are safely delivered. I need to take care of a few things” he said rather offhandedly

“but Gylden – mata and I wish to – “

“I have many things to see to before this night, Princess!” and he stalked off in a huff.

“Let him be, kitten” Queen Badma affectionately grabbed her around the shoulders and steered her into the lavish entrance way. The queen wore a secretive smile – she had a very reliable hunch why Gylden was so very peeved. And Oden will know it too - soon. “You will see him later.’

Oden shrugged and let her mother lead the way. When she resisted a second to call out to her little brother he had miraculously disappeared by then.

Her room looked the same as she had left it, in ever the opulent splendor. The deeply red gilded walls. Yards and yards of beautifully embroided pale red and white lace curtains surrounding a sleeping area. In the centre were giftedly crafted silken cushions to lie on. She collapsed on them with a swoosh.

“Travelling through the tunnels must have tired you. Rest awhile before the celebrations.”

“yes mata”

“Are you comfortable? Is everything as you left it” Oden searched her mother’s face, she caught her smirking. Even though her mother couldn’t see a wit, she knew that her mother was the greatest organizer; she would plan anything down to the minutest detail. And this was no exception. She could tell that all her mother was interested in was if she was happy to be home.

“Yes mata mine, it is everything I imagined it to be.” When she heard the soft hush of heavy material falling back into place over the doorway she languidly stretched out on the silken pillows. Curling herself into a ball she decided a cat nap was what she needed.

She awoke to the loud sounds of merry making in the hallways. Feet were scampering right and left with the delicious arrays of food. The house sounded festive. She hopped out of bed, and slyly pulled back the heavy drapery over the door to peer out. People were indeed carting food back and forth. Delicious aromas wafted to her. She swiped a confection from the platter as a woman passed by and popped it into her mouth. It was sweet and juicy and light, the rich flavor melted on her tongue. Mmmmm…it is so good to be home.

Several women burst through the curtains to awaken her. “Eeeeck!” a soft furry ball burst through the cluster of people and sprang onto the pillows.

“Aha! You missed.” Oden laughed out aloud. The small furry ball a two toned cat of black and beige immediately shimmered into a pretty dark haired girl with pert slender features.

“No fair. You were supposed to be asleep”, said a soft lilting voice

“So you could squash me to a pin”

“Are you saying that I have grown lard”, a fake outraged expression struck the girl’s face. Cat people never grow fat, they are always quick and agile creatures therefore always perfectly conditioned but they do love to laze around just observing the passing scenery.

“If the mitten fits”

“Ahiiiii!” the dark haired girl skipped in her direction, “missed again!’ High pitched laughter rang out as the two girls played hide and seek with the bed curtains, then collapsed in exhaustion on top of the pillows giggling.

“Zara! How are you my good friend?” she searched her face cautiously

“Would a good friend just leave in the dead of night like a thief after we had agreed to leave Atari together?” her eyes flashed with fury at Oden

“Now Zara – “

“You promised!” She folded her arms in discontent.

“You knew your mata would never let you go – you were needed here – no sense running away from that.” She reached out her hands in supplication. Zara had lost her father, to the Gregon wars. The Gregonian embassy called for arms when their world was attacked by Dogmads. A very hostile planet farthest in the star system. Zara’s father was the general in the army that was lead on this fateful mission – he never returned. It was heard that her mother had found another mate since then to protect them. They were very protective of Zara.

“I am not needed here anymore – my mata is to whelp a kitten soon”

“Oh Happy days! Another kitty in the cradle?”

“No…I no longer belong there.” She shook her head sadly

“In your home…have they been nasty to you?” Oden stood up outraged, “I will see your mata now!” she took a step forward, ‘You are the closest thing to a sister I have. I will not see you treated thus!”

“- they haven’t hurt me in anyway. They just need time to be alone with the new baby coming”

Oden relaxed her stance and smiled. ‘Oh! You are more than welcome to share my lair, Zara?’

“Thank you my good friend”

Two women stepped toward her unknotting the ties from around her waist, the sides of the dress sprang apart and fell away she stepped from it. She pulled on the ties of the boots and hopped unsteadily extracting it from her feet.

“But that wouldn’t help you much,” Zara’s head whipped around at that; “Your mother and her husband couldn’t love you more than if you were his own child. They will be heartbroken at your decision. Are you sure you wish to pursue this course of action, my friend?” Zara looked around like a trapped animal seemingly unsure. Oden grinned at her discomfort but proceeded with care, “you would miss out of the most wonderful experience of birthing a kitten…”

“My mata’s mate is there to assist her – “

“-and the kitten’s sister should be there as well to welcome him/her to this crazy world. Don’t you agree?”

The women had brought over a huge tub, and Oden stepped into it and the warmth wrapped around her like a much cherished lover. She purred her bliss as the warmth reached into her soul. She never took her eyes off Zara for an instant. She lowered her eyelids but watched her friend through opened slits, Zara was very undecided and preoccupied with her thoughts. I must find a way to make things right for her. Perchance Shivan will help. Her eyes gleaming she asked Zara, ‘Can you see to my attire for this evening, pleeeeease!”

That snapped her out of her doldrums. “Of course…I think that the mauve dress will be just the thing to go with…..”

Oden nodded her agreement as Zara spoke. She was dried off and oiled to a smooth sheen with a wonderful bouquet of floral essence.

Gylden was marching up and down the corridor. He was even now pre-occupied with the earlier conversation between mother and daughter. Why should this bother him so much? It wasn’t as if he thought of her in all this time as anything other than a dear friend. But on seeing her now after so many cycles, she had changed into a beautiful graceful woman. With a woman’s abundant curves, and the way the abbreviated outfit hugged her body like a second skin. He had the strangest urge to reach out and trace the lush contours. Was that outrageous? Something had changed - he was her friend yet he was assaulted by all these wild unbridled urges for her. He never felt more so aware how virilely male he was.

When he deposited Oden at the steps of the palace, he headed straight for the lagoon at the bottom of the valley, and threw himself at its mercy. He swam hard back and forth. His ardor cooled somewhat – but he was afraid that if he saw her again he won’t be able keep his control intact.

Cats were flexible by nature - and quick to respond physically to the appropriate action to lightning change of circumstances. It was instinctive. They were born with it. He knew what he must do. A male only ever felt this strongly when his intended mate was near. His unfailing instincts were pointing out that Oden was his intended mate. To hell with Lucien! He will make her his yet….A definite plan of action formed in his mind – and his lips lifted in a grin. When he pursued his chosen objective he could be cunning and clever. He will not deliberate about the outcome – it will be as he willed it.

A scrap on the step, and his ears perked his emerald gaze focused on a vision in mauve. Yards of soft material was caught at her waist, a silver chain held it in place. Silver slippers adorned her feet, and a thin silver chain around her neck, thickly wound silver bracelets decorated her upper arms. Her thick wavy hair was arranged in an upsweep style that looked very fetching and enhanced her U-shaped face making her cheerful sloe eyes appear larger. Her skin was smoothed away except for a hair ornament that dangled over her forehead obeisance to the peacock legacy. His eyes traveled lower and settled on her lips that appeared ripe and full tipped up in an amused grin. She turned her head bestowing him with a beaming visage. His hands grew damp, and his pulse quickened. If he didn’t move soon, he would embarrass himself.

“Princess…..yushme….” he bent over her hand kissing it lingering over it longer than he intended. His eyes quickly shot to hers, she drew in a harsh breath. He relaxed smiling enticingly pleased with himself. The emerald depths glittering with a deadly intent.

Oden’s eyes took in Gylden’s attire. She drank him in, although he looked the same as before, she knew he had changed. And had he changed….This man was truly unpredictable. And oh so terrifyingly male….One moment he was biting her head off, and the next he was as charming as could be. Which was it? Either way she liked what she saw and purred her pleasure silently her long nails biting into her palms.

He took a hold of her arm and tucked it into the crook of his. He did the same for Zara who was standing besides her looking enchanting in a blue creation a replica of Oden’s.

“I would be the envy of every male with two such beautiful women on my arms” he affected in his deep captivating tone. They twittered in delight at his gallantness. Being ever discerning Oden’s eyes narrowed, cats are very perceptive to moods and feelings and she was getting mixed signals from Gylden, it is as if her best friend had changed and in his place was a stranger, a very charming and attentive stranger but one with lethal intent. So who or what was the prey? Her every instinct attuned to Gylden’s, she smiled her delight…this could prove a very interesting evening.

Stalls were set up everywhere on the greens. Anything and everything was sold there from food to attire. People crowded around attired in brightly colorful garbs. Cat people generally loved to be flamboyant the more outrageous the better.

A platform was set up and a play was being enacted, they lingered a moment when they heard laughter.

A headline was illustrated over the canopy, “The Cat’s Meow” A humorist was walking the width of the stage trying to illicit some participation from the crowd –

“People who can tell me – what is a kitten’s definition of love?” several hands went up, and he received some naughty and risqué replies, the people booed at the answers as there were children present. “K-rated please! Little ears are present.” He shouted humorously and pointed to a child of ten seasons, “What do you say cub? What is love?”

"If falling in love is anything like learning how to spell, I don't want to do it. It takes too long.” Several people began to laugh,

“And you son?’ directing to a lad of 15 seasons.

"I think you're supposed to get shot with an arrow or something, but the rest of it isn't supposed to be so painful." More snickers and guffaws accompanied that reply. Another said, ‘"No one is sure why it happens, but I heard it has something to do with how you smell. That's why perfume and oils are so popular.", and another, “"Love will find you, even if you are trying to hide from it. I been trying to hide from it since I was five seasons, but the girls keep finding me." Amid more merriment and laughter, “What do your mom and dad have in common?” he asked a peachy cheeked girl with pigtails, her mother proudly pushed her forward, “Both don't want no more kids” was her reply, her mother stiffly admonished her for her words and jerked her away in a huff accompanied by much ribbing and teasing.

The speaker addressed more kittens in a clutter close to the stage, “How do you make people fall in love with you?”

“Tell them you own a candy store”

“Shake your hips and hope for the best”

"Don't do things like have smelly, green slippers. You might get attention, but attention isna the same thing as love."

Coming to a close in the humor session he asked, “lastly kittens, what advice can you give about love?’

“Tell your mate she looks pretty, even if she looks like a loofah”

”Don’t forget your mate’s name that would mess up the love”

“Be a good kisser. It might make your mate forget that you don’t dump the trash out”

‘Well there you have it kittens and cats, from the mouth of babes…there is some wisdom in little minds…” he trailed off in the midst of more cheerful laughter and applause.

“I own a candy store?’ murmured Gylden only for Oden’s ears, smiling impishly, “I am a great taker outer of trash too.’ He looked down at his feet which were encased in feet hugging soft moccasins, ‘No green smelly slippers…maybe you should smell them to make sure” he said wickedly as Oden returned the humor with some of her own.

She whispered delightfully, ‘Does that mean you are a bad kisser?”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” he dared her.

Oden looked at him shocked; she hadn’t expected this from Gylden. This Gylden was flirting with danger. She half-heartedly secretly pleaded for the old one to return? He was making her decidedly uncomfortable with his innuendos and suggestions that were more….the come hither looks the attitude – it was too much. She didn’t know whether to be offended or ecstatic or just call his bluff. Was he serious? Oden reminded herself to have a private word with him later about his strange attraction. Ah – behavior, she put in as an after thought.

Dusk was turning into night, the kittens were scuttled off to their cradles with their minders, and couples strolled about taking in the warm summery evening. Zara had long abandoned them in favour of Shivan who was taking a chariot ride around the park; Zara hopped in and let the winged dragons to lift them into the darkening skies. Oden and Gylden opted for a simple walk around the lagoon; she called out at her mother and her mate as they passed. Queen Badma waved and returned to her escort. The lagoon was breathtaking at this time of evening, the bright setting sun hovered just above the horizon, birds and beasts alike twittered and shuffled around. The night flora sprang up, an earthy glow paving their way. The day flora withered away for the night. The firebugs stirred in the bushels, and resurface for another night. Oden and Gylden walked in the golden silence for a few moments.

“Gylden –“

“Oden – “Both trying to say something at the same time then halted before that toe curling mesmeric baritone broke the calm, ““We have known each other for a long time – no?’

“Yes – but G – “

She was cut off again, ‘What I am trying to say is – is…” he began again oddly uncomfortable with the inevitable. Go Gylden Go! He silently rooted; you will never find another chance like this again. They stopped under the bough of the gamla tree. It creaked as it enfolded its branches closely around the couple. Small yellow flowers sprouting from the branches and treetops. Their dim pearlescent glow providing light to the now seated couple, the branches moved closer spraying their floral essence. The secret of the gamla tree blooming at night was that they serve as an aphrodisiac they enhance the senses and bring out what was lurking beneath the surface of a feline’s normal perceptions. It could pose a dangerous threat to non cat folk as their awareness could become distorted and a menace to the general population.

Gylden snatched Oden to him; his face blotted out the receding skyline, and crushed his lips to hers. Oden’s breath was knocked out of her as she was dragged close to the hard body. Her eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy as a torrid sensation hit her. Ever since that afternoon she was slowly simmering with an undefined emotion that now suddenly came to the fore. She gripped his shert to her, and kissed him in return. There lips locked, the outside world faded away. They were floating on a cloud of pure sensation – nothing but. She ran her hands over the bulging muscles of his upper arms; she hadn’t expected him to be this breathtaking. Her hands slipped into his dark silky hair and played with his plait. The hunger awaken more hunger, the feelings bombarding them was astounding yet daunting at the same time. Cats are by nature very expressive and passionate creatures, they can be very sensual and generous to a fault.

This was freedom as never before, it was uninhibited no holes barred wild and feral …what a rush?

He withdrew from her a moment and felt an instant’s coolness. His lips curled enigmatically, he had expected some resistance to this intriguing development. His gaze fell to her hands as they gripped him in the throes of passion, her eyes glazed over with such profoundness – for him. He knew who he was to her, now she knew who she was to him, “Caliq calwa tomehee, sheha larteeq towahon” (you are mine, and I claim you as such. No other shall rend us asunder).

Oden heard the words and knew in her heart it was true. Cats are a reactive race, they accept what is. She was his mate…his other half. They are bound. Her sensory perception was not clear before, now it was patently clear in every word, touch and feeling. She was his. He was hers. They knew that life was going to be positively fascinating from now on.

“I adore you, yushme” he whispered, as the slow realization dawned. She hiccupped, “And I adore you, yushmo”

They laughed jubilantly with some difficulty as all the suppressed feelings were released into the night air. They sighed still holding each others hands.

“It’s gone!”

“What is mishka (little love)?”

“I was afraid for myself. I felt so restless since before I left Earth.”

“And you will never return again,’ he told her quite firmly holding on tight.

She began to squirm out of his grasp crossly, ‘Gylden, there is not enough space here to swing a cat” he ignored her struggle and held on firmly, if he wasn’t careful he will be doomed before they started. He knew she could be wild, wild as the vard vines that took to the hills and beyond and just as deadly when cornered, he had seen her in action many times growing up. She was stubborn and opinionated, but loved generously and passionately too

“Mishkan....do you really think you could forbid me?” her lips tilting into a stubborn mocking smile.

Uh-oh! “No – not forbid, request, humbly so…I have just found you again…” His eyes begged tortured. In the depths of his eyes she found his fear and need for her. He was jealous and afraid. She would torture him some more but, her heart was weak where he was concerned.

“There is no other, my love” she relented slowly

“Lucien?”

“ – was my master, and I adore him. I was his only source of comfort and companion. But I don’t love him like I love you. He has never seen me as you do. I was just his faithful cat-in-arms nothing more nothing less.”

“You told your mother – “

“She knows…it is she who has sent me there to earth. Lucien was my mission. He is the greatest healer and oracle. He was slowly dissolving to nothingness by the lonesome existence isolated from the human race. No one saw him and loved him for himself, until Selina.”

“Selina?” his frown had changed from one of puzzlement to dawning wonder and a slash appeared on his face humor lighting up his eyes, “You did that?” he said when she had finished recounting the tale. “They do deserve to be happy.”

“And we will visit in time. Together. But we cannot reveal ourselves to the humans.”

It was his turn to look perplexed, “They are not like us…they fear the truth – even scorn it – and cast it out like a pariah. They will not understand.”

‘What about your Lucien?” he reiterated

She was glad that he was no longer speaking his name with such contempt, and was very accepting about Lucien’s place in her life. “I would never put him in such danger.”

Gylden nodded his approval.

He positioned her hands to rest on his chest once again steering her closer, ‘Where were we when we were interrupted?’

“I believe – right here…’ she placed her smiling lips close to his a hair’s breath away, she licks his lips and pulled softly on them, until he couldn’t endure the torture and flattened her against him drawing her essence into himself.

She breathlessly whispered against his lips, “Should I shake my hips now and hope for the best”

“Shake whatever you like, yushme…it will be the best between us.” He murmured elatedly, a promise and a guarantee for the future.

THE END

NB: The contents, the characters, the names and scientific facts are all fictitious.

Cursed

2010-12-16T22:22:00.000-08:00

Prologue

Once every year during Oidhche Bhealtaine ('the eve of Bealtaine'), the longest day in spring when the sun moves from the vernal equinox into the summer solstice the moon appears full to light a dark night. The magical energies are known to be at their peak. Out of the vast sands of the Morobian desert raises a huge Crestar temple with a hundred steps leading into the inner sanctum. Surrounding the temple is a mighty oasis with lush greenery.

The temple remains poised for seven days and seven nights before entering into the sphere of the summer solstice and returning to the sands from whence it came. It is retold through the generations that during these seven days and seven nights that the Princess who is for all time trapped in stone is given a reprieve to wander outside the temple and mingle among the people of De Lon on the outskirts of Gryka. A tale surely, that was repeated over and over through the circle of time.

The temple the Princess is said to have dwelled in is known as a seantigh, an old house. It was very old much like the old landmark buildings of an ancient Delonian culture. It is also said that if one enters the fortress, they do so at their own peril. Many fortune seekers have tried and perished for within the temple are many opportunities to be ambushed by the cleverly laid traps.

There was one such person who managed to get to the heart of the temple, and their gaze fell upon a life size crystal ball that stood suspended atop a low pedestal in the centre of the cavernous vault. Within the crystal ball was a lone stone figurine of a woman in Delonian garb. The medallion around her neck was pure gold and the crest depicted that of Delonian Dynasty, a star in a half cast moon. On the plaque below the figurine was a scribe that was indecipherable yet the lone figure stooped to placed a piece of paper over the ragged surface and ran a piece of charcoal lightly over to gain an impression no sooner was there a roar the earth rumbled and shook. The sliding sound of stone reverberated as the sand started to promptly fill the crevices and cracks. He rushed through the hobbit door straining toward the azure depths. His feet fairly buckling under the onslaught of exertion, and the very real fear of entrapment. He dived to the floor scrambling on all fours through the barely recognizable gap of light cast in the receding doorway and pushed himself through it – just.

Frantically, he clambered backwards up the shifting sands of the embankment slipping and sliding trying to obtain a foothold as opposed to not being swallowed up by the curtain of sand falling in the yawning chasm that was fast covering the last remnants of the temple spires. Frozen he watched as a swirl of wind blow of the now flat surface with no indents to mark the passing. Frightfully he thought of how close he had come to never getting out alive. Never seeing his loved ones ever again.

Part 1

He slammed the book shut, the sound a loud clap in the silence. “After continued research I had discovered that it was a great Princess indeed that was trapped within the crystal ball. I still have the impression of the scribe that was taken from the plaque that will supposedly release the Princess from the spell.” The head of the house of Suman, Cordial Sumathra told his grandson.

“Please tell me more Thatha (grandfather).” He watched bright eyed as his grandfather paced up and down the study occasionally stopping to scratch his short white beard in puzzlement. His partie (grandmother) had said that the day his grandfather had come back from De Lon, his hair had turned to ash gray. Not that Mayen had believed her for one moment.

“I will not hold lunch for you two a moment longer!” Grandmother stood on the threshold of the study, her eyes twinkling in delight “Is it the Stone Princess again, sweety?”

“No…No! We are just learning out letters. Is it not Mayen?”

“But Thatha…you promised…..” Mayen said earnestly.

“Of course. Of course” he said looking at his beloved wife who was looking back at him with disbelieving eyes, “A few more minutes, darling?” She clicked her tongue in pretend annoyance and went on her way.

Grandfather cleared his throat and proceeded, “Where were we, son? Ah…..Yes. The Princess. She was a great Princess indeed. She possessed the greatest power of the Light People. She was a keeper of the Book of Darkness.”

“The people of the light were a secret group of people who protected De Lon from any threats. And the Princess kept this book that had secrets to their immortality, spells, charms to wipe out pestilence, and to create riches,” His twelve year old grandson knew the story by heart yet he still desired to hear it over and over again.

Cordial smiled indulgently, and then continued, “She was imprisoned in the year 885 by the Magi of Lockmor for spurning his marriage proposal. The Princess who was known only as Raven knew that the suitor was the most evil man of Lockvard, and only wished to possess the Book.”

“-So he cast a spell on her and placed her in the Temple.”

“Not before - , “he said touching his right finger first to his lips, then wagging it at his grandson ‘he discovered the whereabouts of the mythical Crestar Temple which rose out of the sands of the Morobian desert during the summer solstice or was it Beltaine. It is said to be 6000 years old.”

“Then he cast a spell on her and shut her in the temple for all time”

“Don’t be so impatient, my child. It is believed that it was only to be until she deigned to say “yes” to handing over the Book of Darkness which he wanted above all else in the first place”, he said raising his eyebrows, “but she said she would rather stay buried underneath a mountain of sand than give it to one who wants it to serve his own ends” he put down the book, “So be it said the Magi” Cordial turned the hour glass over “then he cast a spell on her and placed her in the Crestar Temple on the 7^th day before the evening had cast it’s first shadow.” The Magi watched in silent wonder as the temple with the Princess cast in stone disappeared below the shifting sands.” Cordial smirked knowingly.

Mayen nodded his head for his grandfather to keep going, but Cordial lifted his hands in helpless surrender, “Well anyway, your grandmother awaits and she will skin us alive if we do not sit down together for our meal” Mayen reluctantly scrambled off the floor and ran out the door his grandfather following.

18 years later

Mayen Sumathra trudged his way into the tent, the scorching sun beat down on his head and back, making him feel light headed. He dusted himself off as best he could; the sand invaded every nook and cranny. What he needed was a good soak in a large ceramic tub to feel refreshed. But he settled for a swipe from a wet rag instead. He tilted the contents of the canteen and dribbled the cool water into his mouth to drive out the metallic taste of sand.

He heard the legend from his grandfather many times to know it by heart. It was his favorite. On his 18^th Birthday, his grandfather gifted him the diary and the script of the story that had become legend. Recently, after much research he had come into possession of a few more artifacts and blue prints indicating the possible existence of the Legend of the Stone Princess.

A group of 6 people whom Mayen had hired to verify the legend pitched up their tents the previous day. All permits and grants squared away a month in advance the precipitated event. A person with deep pockets is liable to achieve anything in the shortest possible time.

Among the 6-person team was a decipherer Anita Lindsay, she spoke and translated ancient languages. Mayen was particularly interested in uncovering the meaning of the scribe. After slogging through the vast plains in the blazing hot penetrating sun measuring and determining the exact site for the excavation, they decided to call it a day.

No one could still determine at which point between Beltane and the Summer Solstice the temple will be supposedly in evidence as the time of the season spanned at least two months. He was uncertain if he was camped in the right spot. His grandfather his memories somewhat sketchy about certain information concerning the whereabouts of the temple believed it was only providence that he was in the right place at the right time thirty years ago. The blueprints borrowed from the Grykan museum also suggested that it might be hereabouts in the vicinity with the possible timing of the equinox. They could only hazard a guess due of the lengthy time frame and the shifting sands.

The natives of De Lon were busy making preparations for the Beltane festivities otherwise known as May Day where people decorated their homes with flowers, ribbons and egg shells and lit a bonfire in celebration of revival. It is one of a few customs that has survived to this century. Now people are sparked with awareness about their roots and traditions than ever before.

Mayen had been employed in his grandfather’s businesses since he was a teenager with the intention of grooming him to someday take over from his grandfather as his only heir. He had taken over the reigns 3 years ago when his grandfather decided to retire at the age of 62. In the short period that he had been running Suman Steel he added a subsidiary where steel can be cut and designed specifically for practical purposes. Purposes of creating gates, burglar guards for windows, doors and lovely little tokens for collector’s items. The latest being a personalized Sharmili Royal collection of cutlery. Each article was given the personal touch with a personalized name with a figure head serving as handles in sterling silver. The serving spoon and fork were known as the royal couple, Rajah and Rani. The spatula was labeled Jotha. They are still working on a fourth to the collection. Business has been booming ever since the launch of the collection. Therefore Mayen was able to take the time out to pursue his personal ambitions, one that mimicked his grandfather’s.

The warm stuffy heat hit his nostrils, before he realized a new day has dawned. He rolled out of his camp bed, and went to stand at his wash basin shirtless. He had a swarthy and smooth complexion getting darker by the day as the sun beat down mercilessly as they worked. He was nicely built for he was a very active person, jogging and swimming regularly. He was burly and broad chested. The corded muscles rippled as he raised a hand to rub his day’s growth of stubble. He had deep set light green eyes with specks of gold making it changeable to mood swings. He ran both his hands through his wavy black hair that was cut into a short fashionable do.

The soft whir of a battery operated razor glossed over his cheeks and chin. When he was done he bent at the waist to splash water on his face, his pajama bottoms stretched over a derriere that would have put Van Damme to shame. It was firm and hard and well proportioned, that it itched for a woman’s touch.

He picked up his tooth brush and walked over to the elongated table erected on the far corner of the tent. The blue prints, diary and script were laid out on the table. Another clue was atop the diary. He picked up the coin and caressed the raised surfaces. A gold coin minted in 885, with a side profile of the Princess of De Lon imprinted on one side and on the other a star in a crescent with a 5 on the right side. Could it be the currency of the time? Enfolding the coin in his palm, he extended his forefinger and ran it over the blue print, tapping it for emphasis at a sudden realization.

Just then, Anita walked in. She stopped letting her eyes roam the length and breathe of him. Her tongue flicked out and ran over her lips in slow deliberation, her hands curling at her sides while a rush of desire licked through her body settling low between her legs. Mayen turned catching her rapt expression.

He quickly pulled a t-shirt over his head, he knew the effect he had on women not only was he well turned out but he was also rich and successful which, was an added incentive. He was a very suitable, a very available bachelor. Even though Anita was attractive enough all light skinned and red hair with flashing forest green eyes, he was a very traditional man, who would rather let his partie pick out a partner for him when the time came. He came from a family with a long history of arranged marriages that turned into loving, long lasting and powerful relationships. His parents were such god rests their souls, and so were his grandparents.

He made to pass Anita, when her fingers grazed his arm; she let it linger there a little longer than was necessary.

“I’ve got something to tell you,’ she said a little out of breath

“Right. What is it, Anita?” He said moving out of her reach pulling out clothes from his suitcase. “We are rushed for time, so spit it out.”

Sliding down onto the camp bed, she crossed her legs at the knee, “I am very close to discovering the puzzle which is the scribe.”

“Yes?”

“It is some sort of ancient Delonian dialect which is very similar to Gaelic.”

“Yes. Yes. But what does it mean?”

“I will need a little more time to determine that,“ she put in looking away from him.

“Anita. I am paying you a very hefty fee to unravel this cipher as soon as possible. The equinox will pass us soon and the opportunity will be lost”, he said impatiently ‘I expect a definite answer when you see me next. Pull all the resources that are necessary but give me an answer soon” he turned away dismissively. She uncomfortably got to her feet straightening her ankle length kaki dress. She touched her hair dramatically and exited the tent in a huff.

He laid his tooth brush down on the table, and changed into a pair of cotton pants. He flipped the coin into the air and pocketing it for good luck, he donned his Indiana Jones style Stetson and left the tent.

His six member team was up and about early; they sat around in their camping chairs busy with breakfasts. Niven Suri was an astrologer, Manny Hagan was an authority on temples and artifacts, and he had discovered the whereabouts of the gold coin. And therefore convinced Mayen that he would be valuable to him on this excursion, in order to save valuable time Mayen had agreed albeit reluctantly. Candice Bloom and Corey Mezna were archeologists, and Louis Mabena a student intern on the project and his assistant if necessary, and Anita Lindsay of course.

“The charts depict it to be a good day for the Beltane fast. I can feel the energies growing – “

“Stop your twaddling Niven, the sun is too high already to talk about serious issues” Manny broke in

“You shall face your fears soon enough, Master Hagan it will be your call which way to go,”

“You are being very cryptic, old man. Say what you mean,” said Corey

“I can only tell you what the charts have revealed. Go the other way than that you would.” The astrologer said patiently.

The black man Louis just burst out laughing, at the expression on Manny’s face “Patience is like fine wine Mr Hagan which is always most appreciated” he said in a thick sing-song voice.

Candice Bloom sat far apart from the crowd in the SUV, her legs hanging over the side of the open door. She was leafing through what looked like a journal. She pushed her bifocal glasses back up her nose and sipped on her bottled water. Mayen picked his way toward her with a lethal cup of coffee. She was so engrossed in the journal that she only looked up when a shadow fell on her.

“The Delonian people were a very civilized culture. They could read and write. The papyrus that you have given me suggests that they were very efficient record keepers. Our current Finance Minister could learn a thing or two from them. They made beautiful practical sculpted pottery and utensils. Gryka contained a gold mine which accounts for their comfortable lifestyles. They were exceptional negotiators that they deflected any threat to De Lon. They were very independent and spiritual people. They believed in co-habiting with nature – “

Mayen only shook his head as Candice spoke, “ Can you tell me anything of the Delonian Royalty?”

“Yes as a matter fact”, she said turning over the page, “They were around since the beginning of time. The first female born to the house of De Lon was the natural heir. She retained a secret council to advise her on issues of state. Her council consisted of learned people who were expert in their fields. Most of them were women – “

“Naturally, ‘ murmured Mayen “They are the smartest by far. To get us men to believe in ourselves they need to play to win.”

Candy smiled at that. “There was never a war in De Lon’s recorded history.”

“They most likely discovered the art of war through peace. Which I might add we are struggling with at present”

“You really believe that, Mr Sumathra?”

“Mayen. Please call me Mayen. Yes I do. I believe that if women ruled this country that we will have peace. We have nothing to loose. A woman that is capable of nurturing a family, can nurture a nation” he smiled as he was thinking of his partie. She was very strong willed and intelligent, and well organised. She was very shrewd to and knew how to make the most of what she’s got. If life gave her lemons she knew how to make lemon aid. She was the real head and heart of the home, yet she made his grandfather feel like a king among men. Whenever, she needed something she got him to believe that it was necessary for their home and it was his idea all along. His grandfather’s was a skinflint “waste not – want not” was his motto.

“ The colours for the house of De Lon were red and Purple, it reflected in the day clothes they wore”

“Wouldn’t that make them an easy target?”

“No. They were a nation that revered their leaders. The people were comfortable and provided for in every way. There was no need for them to rebel.”

“If anyone committed a crime?”

“They took care of their own” was all she said

“But how exactly did they take care of wrong-doers, if not the conventional method. Punishment” he insisted

“By all accounts they were not very conventional people for all their organisation. They lived by example.”

Mayen gave up. “Will you be able to find out who were the current Delonian Royalty in 885?”

“Definitely. The information should be contained in this volume” She ran her hand over the top cover of the book to the brittle pages inside from age and ill use. “Can you get me that information as a matter of priority?”

she nodded her head.

Two hours. It took two hours to get to Gryka. The mining town is still in operation solely as a means of trade. The town has flourished with modern fronts and paving for roads. The SUV hit the concrete and bounced onto the smooth surface. Mayen accompanied by Louis went to the main warehouse in town. He dropped Louis outside BilMac Traders with a list of supplies that were needed, and preceded to the little shop of antiquities on the plein further down. He strode into the dark and dusty interior. Something dank assailed his nostrils.

“Anybody here!” he called out “ Yo there” he tried again.

“Out back, sunny” he stepped through the confines and exited on the other side, where a short plump man with rosy cheeks and small friendly eyes was stirring something in a large pot over the fire.”

“You have something for me, Mr Burbine?” The rotund man dropped his stake and hurried into the dim recesses within.

Mayen peeked into the pot curiosity getting the better of him, ‘shoes!” he murmured holding his nose, and he recognized the smell now as cheesy. He followed after a while; Mr Burbine turned a parcel in his hand.

Mayen opened the contents, viewed it and re-tied it again. They exchanged money and thank you’s and Mayen stepped out into the open air.

On the trip back, Louis entertained Mayen with stories of his country South Acasia. About the first diamond that was discovered while playing Beeball, a game that was played with sticks and stones. He also discovered that Louis still had family back there, and they provided for his upkeep as much as they could, that is why he chose to enlist for this project. It could also be a defining moment and he did not want to loose out on a good opportunity to finish his paper on Mythical Wonders…They never seize. Mayen indicated to Louis that he might be in for quite a treat then.

Coming Soon.....

Beneathe The Silver Moon

2010-12-16T22:19:00.000-08:00

Prologue

A nerve popping scream shattered the silent night. Running footsteps echoed on the cobbled path. In terror the woman flattened against the cold unyielding wall blending in the shadows, the icy draft seized her muscles relentlessly but effectively shielded her from the boring eyes that relentlessly sought her.

“Little girl. Little Girl, where are you?” A raspy voice sing-songed, “Come out, come out from wherever you are.” His unhurried steps crushed the long dry grass shrubs so she knew where his footsteps fell, he cajoled her sweetly in his deceptive tone “Come now - see what big daddy has for you. All just for you, my lovely.”

The black cloaked figure shuffled past, he paused sniffed the damp up wind as if scenting something, his head turned to her penetrating the darkness where she hid. She squelched the urge to shriek in panic by wedging herself far back as she could into the niche of the supporting column, the veil lengthened as the howler’s moon rotated on it’s axis, the mask of illusion on the verge of being ripped away. Eyes taut in prayer she fervently hoped that he would not linger one moment longer. She was left without a doubt as to what he suggested; she had good reason to be afraid for her tenuous existence. The heels made a dull thud as it disappeared from sight, she released a shaky breath relieved - no sooner had her fancy heels slipped on the clammy surface the noise a loud gunshot in the quiet - it was a short-lived reprieve nonetheless. The unmistakable squelch of rubber suggested that she had been discovered.

She darted out from her place of concealment and decided to run for it. She was now fully exposed in the stark glow of the full moon. She had to return to the clearing. Her instincts screamed that she was needed now more than ever. She must hurry. Heart in her mouth, she flitted lightly through the gloomy shadows keeping an ear out for footfalls.

“Boo!’ she jumped in alarm, unkind fingers manacled her wrist thrashing and screaming up against an iron hard chest. Bony fingers circled her neck in a death clasp - pinching squeezing her life force.

“I am master of your destiny now, not that pitiful fool. And you shall obey my every wish. This is what happens to anyone who defies me.” The woman rebelled against the firm grip her chest heaving in desperation pushing at the immovable solid walls of rancid flesh. “Thrash around all you like, my pretty…it will only serve to excite me”, he leered unpleasantly at the swell of her young breasts peeking out from her gown moonlight kissed the sweet curve making it luminescent, at his words she slumped helplessly remembering a very dear voice that had beseeched her not to fight – or it will be harder in the end.

The gnarled fingers depressed brutally on her windpipe shaking her. Her world frayed around the edges, a mindless numbness took over…..

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Coming Soon.....

The Demon Prince

2010-12-16T22:17:00.000-08:00

Years ago there lived a dark and brooding knight on the Isle of Zandor. Many said his heart was as evil as his face was angelically beautiful.

He lived in a self imposed solitary confinement in a castle way up the misty mountainside with only a cat as his ever faithful companion. People said he was a wizard who dabbled in the art of enchantment and the occult with his familiar ever faithful at his heels. Whenever the people of the land had cause to cross his path, they would cross themselves superstitiously.

A crystal talisman hung from his neck, and every now and again when his eyes gleamed frenetically, the crystal glowed brightly. Whenever the skies ripped with lightning or the water covered the land from the torrential downpours he was right in the heart of it. The people believed that everything unpleasant that had ever befallen them was his hand in malice. Thus he was often referred to as the Demon Prince.

Not so far away was a young woman braving the elements in search of something far greater. The fog was so thick, Serena faltered she wasn’t sure if she could go on a moment more until she hit a stone wall. Her fingers skirted along the ridges and determined it was a brick wall. Maybe an abode of some kind she thought optimistically. Her fingers traced the ridges until she detected a wooden opening. She depressed the handle and fell in. The room was deserted yet warm with a great fire burning in the hearth. This will do, she thought, for a little while anyway. Curling up on the floor near the fire, she went to sleep.

Serena awoke with a start sensing she was not alone. She froze as something moved against her leg; it was small and furry and gave out a low growl. She closed her eyes tight willing whatever it was to go away. She forced herself to lay still. Hot breath scorched her hand; she jumped up and raced to the door. She pulled it wide open and ran slap into a very large body that filled the doorway. She screamed loudly in fright then her world blackened.

She came to lying on a huge bed in a large room with the most beautiful Old World furnishings. There! It came again that low grumble. She drew her knees up to her chin and held on.

“It’s just Oden”, said a deep voice “She enjoys scaring the daylights out of people.” She looked up toward where the voice had come from, the man was in shadows “When she is little more than a harmless kitty,” he added scratching the “kitty” behind its ear.

“Come?” His hand beckoned moving into the light, Serena looked at the man before her. He was tall and muscular broad with no ouch of spare fat in sight. He was simply “well made”. His eyes were still shadowed, so the true color not evident. Mesmerized she stepped forward; he took her hand and sank it into the luxuriant fur behind the cat’s ear. The cat purred contentedly “No one has gotten close enough to touch her like this before. What makes you so different I wonder.”

She snatched her hand back quickly, it must be evening she thought everything was in shadows and blurred.

“I will leave you to your supper” He confirmed her suspicions. “You do look quite worn out. Have an early night. I will answer all your questions that I see reflected in your eyes come morning. Have a good night” She didn’t have any questions that she needed answers to, she just wanted to leave this place. Once she had had a good night’s rest…first. I wonder what the colour of his eyes would be, she mused.

Before Serena knew it, fingers of light were slowing crawling towards the bed refreshing the whole room with its earthy warmth. She stretched her muscles feeling invigorated.

A presence moved near the window. The man from the previous night moved into her line of vision. The cat - want for a better term - was still splayed where it was the previous night, as if it never left.

“Oden had been guarding you the whole night” Once again giving answers to her unspoken questions. “She is simply fascinated by you. Probably because she has never seen another human up close. And a woman at that.” The way he said “woman’ brought goosebumps along her arms. The big tabby sat, Serena could see her clearly now in the light of day. Kitty! She looked like a fully grown leopard. Burnished brown with a lighter shade spotted in between like a leopard’s too. Her ruby red eyes with the streaky gold looked on knowingly, assessing.

Though Serena was naturally an animal lover, she was afraid to approach it.

“What kind of cat, is she?” she ventured tentatively

“A bobbin” he said “she is a half breed a cross between cheetah and domestic. And she prefers to be the only female in my life” He finished with mild laughter taking her aback even more. Mmmmm…funny guy.

Oden bared her teeth to prove his point, “She won’t bother you again” was all he said.

He brought in a tray of food. The delicious aromas wafted up from the tray as he set it down on a low table. Serena dug in immediately she was famished. She followed the tall stranger as he moved around the room. He was fairly tall, his long shaggy hair coming to rest on his shoulders. As if sensing her eyes on him, he turned piercing her with the eyes of coolest blue that could be mistaken for silver. He looked every inch the rumors she was told about she shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze. He looked daunting. Regal. Was that humor around his mouth, or tension?

“Ah…so you have finally realized who I am. People think I am unaware of the names I am being labeled. What is it now? The Demon Prince? Ha!” He lifted his eyebrow inquiringly. She flushed diverting her eyes to her food.

“Why are you here?” he asked gently.

“I needed shelter from the storm”.

“Why are you here?” he demanded again.

“I told you. I was passing through. I needed shelter,” she said sharply.

He grunted, as if accepting her words.

“I thank you for your generosity but I must be on my way.” She reached for her shoes donning them. Lucien’s lips lifted in an amused smile, it had been a long time since he had met such a feisty character. Most of the people were too afraid to confront him for various reasons and none of them plausible. It was refreshing. It made him feel alive. And he didn’t want to let her out of his sight just yet. She felt like she was playing cat and mouse, and she was the very delectable mouse. Was he toying with her.

“Wait! Why must you leave so soon?” He wanted to know.

“I have a long way to go before I reach my destination. I need to cover as much distance as I can before nightfall.”

“It is much too dangerous for a woman alone out there,” he said authoritatively,

“Yet I must go forth,” she countered.

“No.” he pounced.

“What do you mean no? You can’t mean to keep me here? I have precious little time left to get to the end of the forest.”

“Not only is it foolish to pursue this course. But there is nothing on the other side of the forest but vast open plains. Nothing lives or grows there.”

“That’s impossible. Surely you jest” she parried.

“I never – Lady, I have been there many times. If I say nothing grows there. My word is good.”

“Oh God No!” she muffled against her tight fist as she collapsed on a heap on the floor, the tears that threatened, spilled over in abandonment. “It was all for naught. The end will come swiftly now. It is only a matter of time.”

“What do you speak of, woman?”

“It’s no use. It makes no difference anymore,” she softly ejected

Rough hands reached out and pulled her close until her sobs subsided, then held her away. “Will you tell me now?” he prompted

She nodded slowly; her pain was palpable as she related the events that brought her here.

“I need to seek the edge of the forest because of a flower. A flower not found anywhere else. It has reddish black leaves and blooms once a year with small white flowers.”

“Why do you need such a flower?”

“It provides healing properties once the flowers are harvested.”

“Are you a healer?”

“No” she put in “no. I am just a simple woman who spins wool from my father’s sheep into yarn to make warm clothes for winter. I have someone at home who is very ill with the Midas Touch.”

“The Midas Touch?”

“It is the yellow fever that draws the blood from the body leaving the body, a husk. People are dying with this disease. It takes but a few weeks to run it’s course and the people are gone” she said desolately

“How is it that you have not contracted it?” He looked searchingly into her eyes.

“I do not know.” She said shaking her head for emphasis “This is why I was sent. The attending healer had run out of her usual supply, there was too great a number of people falling ill.”

“Is it your father, Serena?”

“Yes. But how… ”

“How did I know? I am the Demon Prince remember?”

She staggered back a pace, she had forgotten. “Your father doesn’t have the Midas Touch. But an illness of the heart.”

As he was talking he sketched a circle in the air. The mist cleared and Serena could see her father prancing around the yard of their house, he was calling for her in an excited voice. His eyes were alive with mischief and love. Then the vision dissipated.

“But my father is lying on his death bed” she insisted

“No Serena! He is alive and well. There was a loss in your house a year ago.”

“My Mother,” she said barely above a whisper.

“Your father was disheartened and withdrew into himself, he was in the deepest darkest despair and he was helpless to help himself.”

“He loved my mother very much”

“I gathered that.”

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” She fell backwards onto the bed “I am at a loss.”

“Come. I will show you what to do.” Nudging her off the bed Lucien steered her into the garden.

What she saw stunned her. There were hundreds of white flowers everywhere covering trees and barks and arbors. They all had one thing in common. Long reddish black stalks.

“These are known as argosis nepharelia. Yes, they do bloom once a year. In addition to curing the Midas touch, they clear the mind of bad antibodies that cloud a man’s perception from reality.” He said as he began to pluck the white flowers and place them in a basket at his feet. Serena was trying to understand what he was saying, but failed. All she knew was he said that the flowers will help cure her father. “The leaves of this plant are especially beneficial. You need to crush them and make a hot tea. The taste can sometimes be sharp – douse it with some sugar. And get your father to drink it.”

“Tea?” she said more confused than ever “You want me to give him tea?”

“Of course that will be the best for him” He looked up from his gathering to see her confusion. “I will come with you to administer it?” She nodded her agreement, when he smiled at her.

“Who are you?”

“I am just a man who knows too much” he remarked flippantly.

“No! Really? Why did you help my father?” she asked earnestly

“Ah!” He said shaking a finger under her nose “The rumors, are they true?”

“Rumors be damned. I can understand now how they can be bandied about.”

“Don’t give me more credit than I deserve. I will help whom I choose.” He walked away Serena was stung by his abrupt manner. Obviously the rumors about the Demon Prince were greatly exaggerated. The fear that was rising in her at their first encounter slowly transformed to respect and admiration.

“I ask only one thing.” His voice clearly resounded in the companionable silence as they worked.

“What is it?”

“That I have one night with you.” The feelings of insecurity returned, he was the devil indeed.

“For my father – Anything,” she bravely injected.

“Come then…we must hurry.” She flew to his side; he held on to her and chanted a few words. She gripped the basket tightly as a whirlwind lifted up and whipped at her hair and skirts. The talisman on his chest was glowing and throbbing, arcs of light darted out and around them gathering into shimmering dust that swirled about them like a million fireflies until they were outside her father’s house.

She opened the door and went in; her father still lay where she had left him looking frail and listless. She placed a pot of water over the still burning fire. When she heard the gurgle of the water and the hissing steam of the pot lid, she added the crushed leaves to the pot as the stranger had indicated.

He was in her father’s room, stuffing more pillows under his head he crossed over to the windows and flung them wide open to let the light reach the darkest corners. He moved around the room muttering something in a language she didn’t understand. He stopped when he heard a step behind him. She brought the cooled tea on the tray, and held it while he stirred in the sugar. “Thank you, Serena. You made it exactly like I would” he said encouragingly. He went over to the bed and sat down beside her father; held onto the back of his head and forced the liquid between his lips. Her father gagged, his eyes now open. He was fighting the stranger trying to tilt the contents of the cup onto the floor but the stranger’s strength held him in check.

Fleetingly, Serena feared for his health. She had allowed a perfect stranger into their home and to administer god knows what to her father her only kin in this world. She was afraid that this might not work. It could make her father worst. What had she done!

As if sensing her turbulent and uncertain emotions, he smiled to reassure her, and handed her the empty cup.

“Give him a few hours. He should be fine” he said in a low voice.

He walked her out to the yard to show him around. She grew apprehensive about leaving her father alone.

“Have you lived here long?” he asked trying to divert her thoughts.

“Yes all my life. What about you?”

“Me?”

“How do you know so much about healing?”

“I come from a long line of druids” he finally said.

“Druids! As in Wizards?”

“Not really.” He was looking at her as if he expected her to run away and shut the door on his face. “Druids are mostly healers and are deeply religious people. I am a half-breed. Born of a druid and a witch we are called “the other ones”. We can heal, perform sorcery and look into the future.” Lucien didn’t know why he was revealing so much, but he instinctively felt that he could trust her. He also felt that their futures are tied somehow. “But we cannot predict our own futures,” he said as an after thought.

“I am the fortunate few.”

“Why is that?”

“Many who are born out of such unions are born with adverse effects.”

“Adverse effects? What does that mean?”

“It simply means that they are born with defects. Many loose their minds and perish because there was no healthy balance between the parents” he tried to explain

“Then you are indeed fortunate,” she reiterated.

“When we are mated, there is one other thing that we “others” can give to our mates.”

He looked at her longingly

“And that is….?” She lifted her head and stared ahead.

“The gift of youth and longevity” he finished.

“What! You have the secret of being forever young?” She laughed spontaneously “Every woman’s’ dream? Surely you jest? How is that possible?”

“I do not jest, my lady?”

“Clearly…” she murmured

“I – “he looked shocked but continued “I will leave that for another time.”

Her father, standing at the door of the house, interrupted them. “Father?” She turned in his direction. His eyes looked lucid and clear, a tiny smiled kicked up the corner of his lips. His eyes were filling with tears…of joy “My baby girl,” he sighed and opened his arms wide as she flew into them.

‘I am so sorry my child. Can you ever forgive me?” he whispered into her hair “So sorry for leaving you alone to face the world. I was so lost…”

“Shhhh! I know father. I miss her too.”

“You look so like her, daughter” He held her face in her hand “I will not leave you again – “

“Father? It was not I who cured you but the goodness of this wonderful man.” She held out her hand toward the young man who came forward.

“Then I have much to thank you for young man” Her father enfolded him an affectionate hug. “My home is your home, son.” Lucien flushed uncomfortably at the display of affection. “I am going to get us some mead to toast to our good health. Please come in children!” He looked from one to the other, and said as a after thought “Whenever you are ready.”

He scuttled away in a spry and robust manner.

They looked at each other and burst into laughter “The old reprobate!”

“I like your father” he said

She replied with, “me too.”

“Serena?” he started, ‘I will not hold you to that promise.’

She looked up then, searching his face. She knew what he meant by that. “It was just a way of seeing you again.”

“Why didn’t you just ask instead?” she admonished

“I was afraid you might say “No!”” he counteracted

“There was that chance,” she admitted. “I was too afraid of you because of the rumors.”

“And now?” He leaned forward in expectation and she shyly nodded.

“See! It is always good for things to come to their natural conclusion…don’t you think?” he whispered near her ears. She blushed prettily but didn’t say anything.

“Serena do you understand now how “the others” gift their mates with youth and longevity?” He winked suggestively. She blushed harder, finally getting his meaning.

“I wish one more thing from you.”

“Granted!” he said as if waving a magic wand.

“Who might my savior be?”

He hesitated for but one moment, uncertainty and vulnerability warring across his face. “Lucien.” he said, a smile lighting up his eyes.

“Lucien.” She breathed softly, “It suits you” Serena kissed him on the cheek and thanked him. “As my father said you are most welcome here.” She shyly looked up at him, a fervent interest burgeoning in the depths of her eyes.

The End.

NB: The contents, the characters, the names and scientific facts are all fictitious.

The Easter Surprise

2010-12-16T22:15:00.001-08:00

The little Easter bunny hoped around the garden looking for a very special place to put his very special burden. He was a little bunny, all white except for his pink little nose and golden brown eyes.

“I wonder” he said as he placed the very special egg in the buttercup bushes. It was Sarita’s favourite place to hide after all . “ Yes…it will do.” muttered the little bunny, humming a tune he happily turned around hoping toward the dorandia edge in the front yard before disappearing down a hole which conveniently closed when he sprinkled some stardust over it as he went.

Sarita’s mother was looking out the window she saw a pair of white ears popping out from behind the buttercup bushes and smiled. Sarita and she had been making lovely bunny ears for her Easter hunt today. They had stayed up all night painting the chocolate eggs with brightly coloured edible paints. When they dried they were wrapped up in their own colourful plastic pockets and sealed. Only one thing overshadowed their joy, is not having Sarita’s father home for the holiday. Sarita’s father was an IT Manager his boss called him away on a last minute trip to conduct training.

“Mommy?” she said “ Will daddy be back for the Easter Egg Hunt?”

“No, love?”

“But he promised…..he will make it” said 4 year old Sarita. “I just know it”

“Maybe……” said her mother even though she doubted it.

“I will make a very special egg just for daddy” she smiled up to her mother.

“I’m sure he will love that. Especially if it comes from you.”

The hunt was about to begin, all 10 kids were at the ready. “Ready-Set-Go!” 10 pairs of chubby legs churned as they bent and crawled around the tree stumps and grassy patches of the front yard. Sarita was very disappointed that her father had not arrived as yet, and ran to her favourite hiding place that she didn’t think her mother knew about. She was about to sit when something hard met her bottom. She turned around and saw what is was and her eyes widened in excitement. It was the biggest and shiniest egg she had ever seen. It was all different colours. Green. Red. Blue. Yellow. She held onto it as tight as she could and began running to show her mother what she had found. She tripped and dropped the egg. It split open and a peace of paper fluttered out that said “ Make a Wish.” She was learning how to read now, so she pronounced each letter. And she knew what that meant.

She held it firmly to her chest, shut her eyes tight and wished with all her little heart.

When she opened them, she saw a movement by the veranda – it was her father reaching out to her with a hand extended.

“Thank you Easter Bunny! My daddy is better than any chocolate.”

Sarita ran into his arms hugging him closely, as he took out the bright purple and silver chocolate bunny wrapped in tin-foil from behind his back. She was turning away toward the house now holding onto her father’s hand pulling him along eager to show him the very special surprise she had for him.

The End

Liz's Story

2010-12-16T22:13:00.000-08:00

NB: This story is continued from Jude’s Forum (http://www.judesplace.com/) as she has written the original Kate’s Story. This was my part in her Forum’s 2^nd Birthday contest which I won a gold medal for.

__________________________________________

Liz flapped her wings and flew out the window; she shrieked flapping her wings in a desperate attempt to lift herself higher. She kept hitting an invisible wall. In a panic she wildly surged forward forcefully into the unseen barrier and squeaked loudly as she fell on the rock faced pathway under Kate’s window. The wing was protruding at an odd angle, and she tried to enfold it around herself in comfort.

Kate heard the squawk, and quickly bent over the sill to investigate.

“Liz!” she screamed “What happened to you?” Kate’s head popped back inside and she pushed past her mother who was still standing by the doorway puzzling over her daughter’s earlier words. “Where are you off to young lady?”

“It’s Liz!”

“I told you, you had to keep her in the cage otherwise she was bound to fly away.” But Kate had already disappeared out the door and around the corner of the house.

Kate knelt outside the window and gently scooped Liz up.

Ouch! It hurt so much Kate.

‘What happened?” asked Kate concerned

“I don’t know. I tried to fly away but I couldn’t” said Liz

“What do you mean you couldn’t – “

“Kate?” a softly spoken nasal voice broke in. Kate looked up as her father who was working in the garden walked toward her, “Who are you speaking to? What do you have there?” Her back to her father, she stood up slowly and turned, “Ah! I see it is your little friend. What’s her name? Frizz. Tizz.“

“You are silly daddy,” she shook her head smiling; “It’s Liz. Can you help her? I don’t know what is wrong but she can’t move.”

“Let me see” Kate’s father ever so gently experimentally prodded around. When he came to her wing, she screeched in pain.

“OK. Now we know what is wrong. We will need to reset her wing, and I will need your help to do that”, He looked at Kate with raised eyebrows, she nodded. They walked over to the picnic table in the back garden, he shuffled inside his tool box, “Aha!” he exclaimed triumphantly as he extracted a piece of wood and a roll of cotton.

“I want you to hold her still and talk to her, while I patch her up. Can you do that?” With another nod, Kate began to chatter away to the bird. Kate’s father took out his handkerchief, and dabbed it into the bowl of water on the table. He gently wiped down her feathers. Liz squawked in rebellion as he tried to straighten her wing. Kate petted her soothingly over the head with a finger she instantly quieted, “My daddy is great, he takes care of all the sick people in Downington. He will fix you up as right as rain.”

Placing a small stick against the bent wing, he carefully wound the cotton around it to hold it in place.

“It will only need to stay for a few days, until it heals,” he said to Kate. Kate opened her mind and felt Liz’s fear. It will be alright Liz. I promise, speaking into her mind.

When her father was done she thanked him and tenderly held Liz against her chest and strode back into the house. She placed her in the cage making sure to keep the door open.

“Are you ready to tell me what happened?” she whispered

“I don’t know. There was this wall – yet I couldn’t see it”

“Silly bird, of course there is no wall outside my window” she laughed heartily

“I am not making this up!” she said rather crossly, “Why can’t I leave here?”

Her small brows raised in question as Liz continued, “There was once such a story…we dismissed it as a fairy tale. But that can’t be! It is simply not possible! No way!” was her emphatic comeback.

“Tell me….” Implored Kate

Liz looked up into Kate’s eyes for a moment, and slowly bowed her head. “There was a boy named Mika. He was the chosen one for Alonzo, a Siberian husky. They had fought the rat pack too. When the animals and people disengaged their spirits --- many people have lost there lives that day … because they were too aware what the power brought them. Greed! All perished the animals and the people, all except one. The greed was too strong to free everyone from their spirits. Mika had a good heart, he did it. When it was time for Mika and Alonzo to part ways, it is said it was not possible as the spirits called to them. Mika knew that Alonzo deserved to be free. Free to roam wherever he wanted to. When Alonzo tried to leave his spirit remained, and he was quick to realize that his greatest freedom came with Mika, and so it was.”

“Do you think?”

“I don’t know” Liz lifted her broken wing pitifully, “it sounds impossible”

She covered herself with her injured wing and closed her eyes; Kate turned on her side facing the cage and tucked her hands beneath her cheek.

Sometime later, a blast of multi-colored light filled the room, and then vanished. Liz hopped out of the cage; she stretched her wings wide; she caught her reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall illuminated by Kate’s night light on the bedside.

She was a stunning kestrel, all smoky grey and white with silver tipped wings. She studied herself from beak to claw. She bent her wings tentatively, and flapped it for good measure. Then she instinctively knew the truth. It was her destiny….And she embraced it. She hopped onto the lump in the bed. She wrestled away the blanket with her beak, all the time softly calling….

Kate! Kate! Dear Kate! She pecked lightly on Kate’s hand insistently, Kate swatted at her hand but she persisted anyway now pulling on her hair. Wake up, child! I have something to show you. Kate sat up groggily rubbing at her eyes, Liz jumped back onto the table, and she laughed softly into Kate’s mind. Kate starred at her. “Wow Liz! You’re fixed?”

“Yes I am….”she walked around the table puffing her chest in pride then stopped in front of Kate, “The story is true…..I didn’t believe it at first but……My master am I, and I am my master and forever we shall be.” They burst out laughing until Kate shushed them. Kate was so happy that Liz was going to stay forever.

The End

If Wishes Were Horses

2010-12-16T22:10:00.000-08:00

Vanya swung her tawny eyes from the square concrete pavers swallowed beneath her feet the path wound through the park grounds. Shadows overcast almost obscuring the path in the darkening sky. If it were not for the bright lamp posts strategically placed, she would have tumbled headlong into the fountain that suddenly appeared through the parted foliage. An enigmatic smile touched her lips as her eyes clapped on the towering marbled column, her eyes glazed over at the magnificent stature, caught in such rapture she mused as she did every time the past two years crossing this very path to her apartment complex. The statuette’s fixed stare soulfully beckoned with a hand outstretched. It was a stunning piece of art. Attractive, well endowed the perfectly smooth symmetrical muscular contours in stark contrast to the little chubby winged cherub armed with a crossbow suspended from it’s base. Suspended forever in time above the small stone pond with its never-ending babbling spout. As a warm blooded woman Vanya could appreciate the simple virile contours of the artifice. Many a time she would sit cross legged on the lawn indulging in one of her favorite past times….. sketching. The lines would blur together as the vivid images would take a life of their own, the images mocked her, confounded her, eliciting her heightened awareness. It left her ……wanting more, unfulfilled, empty, deeply disappointed. Was it so wrong to feel this way about a mere piece of stone? Yet those knowing eyes always touch her like a physical caress, and she shivered deliciously.

The following evening, Vanya peered out from her fourth floor apartment overlooking the park. It was a festive sight that greeted her. Picnic baskets and colorful blankets scattered everywhere, a wavering candle burning at each site to mark the beginning of summer. A make-shift stage occupied front and centre, the live music played softly. Corded lights lined the entertainment area. An enormous pine tree was decorated with glow in the dark eclectic décor. Even the lone figure that remained impassive over time was adorned with a twinkling crown of lights to bring it out of the shadows. Incidentally her gaze collided with a shooting star trailing across the heavens and Vanya whimsically made a wish.

The holidays. She joined her many friends for picnics, braais and last minute shopping sprees. Santa’s were underfoot clanging their bells pedaling their wares to passersby's. Vanya’s favorite pastime has always been to stroll through the flea markets on the promenade on a humid summer evening searching for hidden treasures. Religious groups took to the make shift platform at night singing Christmas songs where a nativity scene of the birth of Jesus was erected.

She was reluctant to go home alone for Christmas. Even though, their family Christmases always involved the huge 4-bedroomed cottage overflowing with guests and good spicy home-made food. Despite all the preparations that went into the event of the year Vanya’s mother always always managed to meet a “most” suitable man whom she invited over Christmas day. She had dated on and off, of course but what eluded her was the special affinity her parents possessed. Her younger brother Niven had married this past year. Her younger sister Pam was seeing someone quiet seriously. So that left her. She felt conspicuous, out there for anyone to pity. She was awfully tired of being reminded how old she was getting. Grandchildren! Was that what all parents looked forward to? Hers definitely did. It seemed to be the highlight of every women’s life. One is never complete if one does not have a husband and children in tow.

The night before Christmas she was packed for her long trip home to Durban. All was quite as Vanya walked toward her apartment, her hand rifled through her bag for her keys – she wondered for the umpteenth time why she had brought along her shawl which was haphazardly stuffed into her bag, it was way too humid she could feel the hot trickle of sweat slip between her breasts. So flustered, in her haste the keys slipped through her fingers. Bending over she froze when a flash of silver illuminated the night and the marbled figurine of the beautiful David so she had come to think of him. A burning arrow released from Cupid ’s bow ricocheted of “David’s” massive chest. The stone cracked a sound not unlike a gunshot in the quiet, piece by piece crumbled. In its place was unearthed the glorious flesh and blood image imprinted in her dreams, in all his naked glory. Her legs warbled unable to support her weight she fell to her knees her keys forgotten. What on god’s green earth, she thought.

Poetry in motion he stepped off the pedestal into her life. Her eyes remained riveted to his still bare form. He seemed to be all aglow, his skin pearlescent. His hair. His hair a wonderful fiery shade of red and gold. His eyes so full of gaiety and surprise were an enrapturous deep cobalt. Until now, she never thought about the silly wish she had made…and for one millisecond imagined beggars flying. She cleared her throat loudly, as if it will awake her from another wanton dream. Being a practical person of sound mind she believed in the adage “if wishes were horses then beggars would fly.”

“My Aphrodite” David whispered in a low deep sexy voice, the glimmer from his body slowly fading as he lithely crossed to her side “My life. My love. My heart. My soul” he stared into her tawny eyes roaming the beloved plains of her face like a much cherished object. “Nortia! Tyche!. You positively wicked girls!” He mused radiantly referring to the goddesses of fate and luck. “and how stupendously marvelous.”
“Do you believe in destiny, my beautiful Vanya?“ he said loudly with an air of unaffectedness “I always did believe in the what is, and here we are” Vanya’s eyes grew round at the reference to her name “I have watched you for so long and have guided you to providence” he chuckled softly “I am called Theo for – “
“ – a gift from god” Vanya squeaked stepping back disbelieving she had such a fantastic imagination. At his first touch she flinched at the spark, shocked at her own response. This was no dream. Tentatively she reached out tracing her fingertips up his arm pausing on his well defined bicep, she shuddered with the enormity of it all. The stubborn impractical part of her that wanted to believe in miracles resisted for a split second. It is this very part that retrieved the shawl with a flourish and secured it around his slender waist away from any prying eyes. He was hers. Hers to take. And there he stood for the taking. Theo bent over for a second then enfolded her palm in both of his, when his hand came away a shiny metal object twinkled. Of course….Her keys.

“Then who am I to mess with destiny” she answered breathlessly into his laughing eyes, her fears melting away like ice on a hot summer’s day.

“So young and so wise” Theo cupped her face in his hands “Carpe Diem!” he whispered blocking out all but the feel of Vanya’s lips against his. Time was suspended. Time enough for explanations…much much later.

Theo’s arms stole around her ardently pressing her closer to him, and Vanya felt the rightness slip in like a piece of a puzzle falling into place. She was where she belonged. Snug against his heart, body and soul. She smiled against his lips. Silently thanking the fates that this Christmas will be so singularly special from the rest.

The END