Tag Archives: alternative history

Sheer Fantasy…

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Ish-na-e-cha-ge, First-Born-Being, roamed among the Animal-Nations.

He understood their ways and their languages.

They beheld him in wonder and awe and could do nothing without his knowledge.

He pitched his tent in the centre of the land and no spot was impenetrable to his gaze.

Even so he longed for companionship.

From a splinter drawn from his Big-Toe he formed Little-Boy-Man and taught him everything he knew.

Eventually the time came for their parting.

“What shall I do without you?” pleaded Little-Boy-Man.

“If you get stuck,” replied First-Born-Being, “look to the end of the road where two trees meet.”

*

Bent-Black-Sun-Day…

 

*

“There is one thing that still troubles me,” said Wen who really seemed to have the ‘Rapunzel’ thing stuck in her craw.

“Yaas,” said Don, in his most irritating drawl.

“Shouldn’t the seasons be sisters?”

“On what grounds?”

“Well, I’m presuming that Mother Nature is an Enchantress precisely because of things like her ability to transform the world through her seasons.”

“This is true, Little Grub,” said Don with the kind of tired air which suggested he would not be around for very much longer, “but the seasons are really contrived in so far as they are useful for sustaining our life through crops. Agriculture is a technology. A very ancient technology but a technology nonetheless. In that sense the seasons are man made.”

“And that’s why we can have the debate over whether or not there are really three or four seasons,” said Wen.

“Or even two. In the four season year there are really only two pivotal points and their inverse or reflection.

Wen considered this idea for a bit and then pressed on with her original line of thought, “so the brothers are really alchemists?”

“The first alchemists, adding their art to nature, I like that, Little Grub, can I go to sleep now?”

“Only if you give me something to ponder while you’re gone.”

“You seem to be doing rather well in your pondering without me.”

“But it’s not the same.”

“Why, oh why, my Little Grub, would the day of the king’s death be now known to us as Bent-Black-Sun-Day?”

*

A short time later Don re-entered the temple room somewhat bleary-eyed.

“Better?” asked Wen doing a poor job of camouflaging her excitement.

“You have been grubbing,” stated Don by way of an answer.

“The bent twig of darkness grows the petals of the morning and shows to them the birds singing just behind the dawning.”

“Ah, Little Grub, ’tis music to my ears.”

*

…and Red-Fox.

*

…In another part of the meadow Red-Fox was hunting mice for breakfast. He saw one and jumped on him with with all four feet but the little fellow got away.

In his disappointment Red-Fox heard a distant call, “Bring a knife!”

He started in the direction of the call and as it got louder he continued.

By and by he came across the body of Buffalo lying on the ground with Field-Mouse still standing atop it.

“If you dress this Buffalo for me I shall give you some of the meat,” said Field-Mouse.

“Very well,” said Red-Fox, and he dressed the Buffalo while Field-Mouse sat on a mound nearby looking on and giving orders.

“You must cut the meat into small pieces.”

When Red-Fox had finished his work Field-Mouse paid him with a small piece of liver. He swallowed it quickly and smacked his lips, “May I have another piece?” he asked.

“Why, I gave you the largest piece,” said Field-Mouse, “How greedy you are. You may have some of the blood clots.”

So poor Red-Fox took the blood clots and licked the grass. He really was very hungry, “I have six little ones to feed at home, may I take some more meat?”

“You can take the four feet of Buffalo,” said Field-Mouse, “that ought to be enough for your little ones.”

“And what of my wife,” said Red-Fox.

“Why, she can have the head,” said Field-Mouse.

Thereupon Red-Fox jumped on Field-Mouse who just had time to let out a faint squeak before he disappeared.

*

…Buffalo…

*

…Buffalo trampled the grass and tore up the earth with his front hoofs but when he looked for Field-Mouse he was nowhere to be found.

‘That’s put an end to him,’ thought Buffalo.

Just then he felt a scratching in his right ear, so he shook his head as hard as he could and twitched his ears to and fro.

But the scratching in his ear became a gnawing which went deeper and deeper until he was mad with pain.

Buffalo pawed with his hoofs and tore up the sod with his horns. Bellowing, loudly, he ran as fast as he could in circles but at last he stopped and stood still, trembling.

Out from his ear jumped Field-Mouse and said, “Will you now admit that I am master?”

“Never!” bellowed Buffalo and again charged at Field-Mouse in an attempt to trample him under-hoof.

But the little fellow again disappeared and moments later Buffalo felt a scratching in his left ear. Once again he was driven mad with pain and he ran about the meadow in a frenzy, sometimes leaping high in the air. At last he fell to the ground and lay stock still.

Field-Mouse crept out of his ear and stood proudly on his dead body.

“Hi-Ho,” he said I have killed the greatest of beasts, “this will prove to all my master-ship.”

Field-Mouse began to call lout loudly for a knife to dress his game…

*

Field-Mouse…

*

Field-Mouse was out gathering wild-beans for winter when Buffalo came down to the meadow to graze.

‘He will mow down the long-grass with his prickly tongue and there will be no where left to hide,’ thought Field-Mouse, ‘I will offer him battle, like a man would do.’

“Ho, Buffalo!” squeaked Field-Mouse, “I challenge you to a fight.”

Buffalo went on grazing.

Field-Mouse repeated his challenge but still Buffalo went on grazing.

With his third challenge, Field-Mouse laughed contemptuously at Buffalo’s inaction.

“You had better keep still, little one,” said Buffalo, still grazing, “or I will come over there and step on you.”

“You can’t do it!” squeaked Field-Mouse in defiance.

“If you don’t be quiet I will certainly put an end to you,” said Buffalo, quietly.

“I dare you!” said Field-Mouse.

Before Field-Mouse had quite finished, Buffalo charged at him…

*

Art Club…

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What’s with the Art Club?

Seven ’til Ten.

I’ll take you, if you like?

*

And so… we did.

But he did not get it.

None of it.

*

Certainly not, what was so good,

’bout going back to skool

when you are not supposed to be there.

*

Villains of time and season

lifting never seen before shots.

Moving naturally.

‘stead of in designated lines.

Free.

Which it was.

*

The corridors were now phantom walk-ways

which perchance would never be used again.

In winter they were all Pitch-Black

until the switches were flicked…

By us!

*

Even the people

there looked different

informally un-uniformed

they finally seemed real

instead of pretend.

*

We got to use Art-Room materials

to draw or paint

whatever we liked!

*

And there was music…

An old record player.

Curiously, there were never any arguments

over what should or should not be played.

*

It was good too,

sometimes

just to watch others

…quietly.

*

Thanks to Tony Carroll, Carol Miller and Ken Dorrington.

Sun, Moon and Stars…

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*

… “Before Ogma, I swear.
Before Sun and Moon and Stars,
before Sky, Land and Sea, I swear.
Before the Sidhe-Folk, I swear…

Defenders of the land,
victory and defeat are created in each of you.

What I ask of you in dealing with this foe
is not the work of cowards.

Our hosting in this conflict
will defeat those who have destroyed
the prosperity of the land.

Circling leftward I curse them!

*

Rod of Aspen
End Measure
Sod of End
Fuagh!

May the foe-men be hindered.
May fear be heard among them.
The End-Time has taken form.

Ravens will come upon our foe with doom,
and be their shared torment.

Their end goes before us to the foe;
they are mournful and doomed.

*

O, my Warrior Band;
my most warlike host,
in the burning fields of battle,
High-Folk will sustain your form in the clouds of the sky.

O you, my Glorious Ones,
a nine-fold brightness is upon us,
through the powerful skill of our men-of-art,
the battle fire will not falter until victory is won.

My Troops, greatest of sea-like hosts,
here in the beauty of the land,
a frenzy of battle invites you to embrace fate.

With mighty waves of golden, powerful, burning fires,
and battle lust may you seek out your foe upon the field,
embracing fate in a frenzy of battle.”

*

Forever Falls…

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I was here

When Ronald took the hot seat.

I watched from afar,

Appalled,

When he called

Diana, David

And stumbled over lines which in

His day of hay

He would have chewed like baccy.

*

His image truly spat…

A vacation brain

Which sunned itself

In shades,

While military aides

Loaded up

A flip top cranium

With pencil tipped

Uranium.

*

This man’s unsuitability,

Was scary…

The political situation

Much worse than hairy,

The fear of being nuked

Had become real enough

To make grown men puke,

But in our hour of need

Came scions after another creed.

*

They sang of tribes

That fight for points

And of factions whose only destiny

Was to end as fractions

And followed this up with the power of love

To save us all from the hooded claw

Or so it seemed

To those still watching

From afar.

*

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*

So, send them all in…

There have to be clowns.

Something round…

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“How old is it?”

“How old is what?”

“The Turnip Lantern Tradition?”

*

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“It is truly ancient.”

“That is good.”

“There appear to be others who agree with you.”

*

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“A heartening sight.”

*

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“A truly heartening sight, although it may need more.”

“How much more do you mean?”

“To affect change people will have to become pro-active.”

*

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And with that…

The Grey Hobbit…

Ran off, through the trees…

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…and disappeared back…

down it’s Hobbit-Hole.

*