Misery tales and fables
Christian Zajdek.
Published by Christian Zajdek at Smashwords.
Copyright 2010 Christian Zajdek.
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Preface
This book aims to be a collection of fairy tales and fables that are relevant to young adults and modern living. Though stylistically there is much stolen from European folktales and myths, the contemporary aspect is clear. Many of the stories deal with issues ranging from drug addiction, self harming and depression, to nihilism, the negative effects of knowledge and the unforgiving dog eat dog nature of capitalism. The stories end bleakly almost as often as they end with smiles, and are doused with a style of dark humour which often steps perilously close to that none existent line. As such, if a gun was held to my head and knives dug into my chest, I would say that there are some parallels to Edgar Allen Poe’s “Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque.” The concise construct, and unadulterated nature of the story telling strives to sustain the interest of those that dare to journey through what is an assortment of quaint and twisted tales.
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The poet and the desert
There was once this great poet who found that he wrote best in solitude. He tried to write in his study but those who knew him kept knocking on his door, to ask what his next sonnet would be. Tired of the constant disturbances he went in search for a new sanctuary. He went out into his town to look for a place of solitude, where he could escape into his creativity.
He tried to write under an oak tree, but alas, every other passerby would ask what his next sonnet would be. He seemed to be cursed with a lack of peace, like a mother who has a child with a curious mind. Tired of the constant disturbances he set out in search of a new sanctuary. He walked around searching for a place of solitude, where he could escape from reality. Consequently, his mind was far from where it should have been.
He tried to write in the town chapel, but alas, every now and then a worshiper would come up to him, and ask what his next sonnet would be. Even in a place where one ought not to be found, a curse issued by the inquiries blighted the poor man. He thus went in search of a new sanctuary, and walked out of town to find a place where he could escape from life and be free to fly amongst day lit dreams.
He went to write in the middle of a vast field, and there he started to write beautifully. A stranger came up to him to ask why it was he sat there alone, and alas, the stranger recognised the poet and asked him what his next sonnet would be.
The poet had lost his train of thought and could no longer write where he could be seen, and so he went off in search of a new sanctuary. He walked until the sun had moved far in the sky and eventually found himself to be in a desert. Finally he had found peace, and so he sat down to write and what came out was the best thing he had ever written. Pages filled with words he had longed to write, and words that he had longed to read. In time he grew tired of his work and so set off for home in order to rest and sleep, but he did not know in which direction to go. Eventually he died beneath the sun’s heat, leaving his writing hidden amongst the sands. Ironically, the greatest poem he had ever written was the only one that nobody could ever read. As a fate of decay beseeched the poet’s masterpiece, ensuring it to be forever meaningless.
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A fortnight’s sleep
If you had been called upon to describe him, you would have undoubtedly said that he was one of the kindest and most honest men that one could ever hope to meet. Few could have hoped to meet him though, for he was fatally ill, lying on his deathbed, preparing for his final relief. His brother, Oliver, loved him dearly, and as such was compelled to stay by his bedside day and night. On the twenty seventh of August, the dying man gave up his battle and finally passed away. Even though Oliver had tried desperately to save his brother, and had loved him dearly, he did not mourn his passing. He was far too tired to do so, as during the month that he had spent nursing him he had, had as little as one day's sleep.
Shortly after his brother closed his eyes for the last time, Oliver fell into a slumber. To his misfortune, the numerous years that he had spent training to become a beautiful tenor, had given him disciplined breathing and a silky throat. As a result, his chest barely moved and he did not make a single sound as he slept. Eventually the nuns that ran the hospital found the two men. They desperately tried to wake Oliver, but he did not react to their efforts as he was in such a deep state of sleep. They reasoned that he had contracted, and had died from the same blight that killed his brother. So in haste, a burial was arranged in order to contain the supposedly catching disease.
With the best intentions in mind, arrangements were made for Oliver and his brother to share a grave. A fortnight passed and Oliver awoke. He was horrified to find that he was in the pitch black, face to face with his dead brother within the confines of a coffin. He reasoned that he was trapped within a dream, which just happened to be the most vivid dream that he had ever had. He tried to wake himself but the supposed dream relentlessly clung to him, and so he came to realise that what he was experiencing was in fact reality. He then spent what he thought to be a day, which in reality was barely a fraction of one, coming to terms with his predicament.
Oliver tried to plot his escape, but he did not know how to proceed. He was in a hopeless situation and was certain that he was going to die. So he made a pact with his god, and spoke of all the virtuous and charitable things he would do if he were to be granted freedom from his prison. What felt like a week passed him by, but he remained as helpless as ever. He then made a pact with the devil, and spoke of how he would gladly enter into his service, and do his bidding if only he would be granted freedom. However, what felt like three days passed with there being no replies to his pleas.
His situation was growing ever more dire, as he was becoming dangerously dehydrated. So he made a pact with himself, and spoke of how if he were to escape he would live each day to the fullest possible extent. With much difficulty and expenditure, he turned himself around, breaking many of his brother's brittle diseased bones in doing so. Painstakingly, Oliver removed one splinter at a time from the casket's lid until he had made a hole that was big enough to squeeze through. He then slowly began to burrow through the damp compact soil that blocked his escape. Despite being tired and weak he worked without pause, as he was fuelled by over idilic exaggerated mental images of the surface. Finally, he broke through the topsoil and gained his freedom.
Unfortunately, a man happened to be patrolling the graveyard while on the lookout for witches. After seeing Oliver make his queer escape, the man shot him clean in the head with his musket, as he had thought him to be an imp rising from the depths of hell. It is not too hard to see how such an idiotic assumption was made, for Oliver had a haunting appearance. Those with a paranoid mind can see it for themselves, if they walk through the graveyard of St. Mary's church in St. Edmunds Bury at night.
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Misery will be your fortune
As the story goes, there was once a maiden who had a talent for sorcery. She lived in a time in which many took it upon themselves, to do away with those thought to be practising her craft. She lived in a time that meant that her days were numbered. Through misfortune and lack of luck, the maiden became a victim to the laws of the land. Without a trial, she received the death penalty. Again like so many times before, a grand oak tree was responsible for an unjust death. The maiden’s powers were so great that they refused to die along with her mortal being, and so they were transferred to the closest living thing. The oak tree on which she died, came to embody her spirit and embrace her powers.
Stories of a bewitched oak tree that was able to grant wishes spread throughout the land. They fell upon the ears of a peasant whose life was full of woe, misery and misfortune. She saw each of her days as simply being one less that she had to count down. With nothing to lose and everything to gain, the peasant embarked on the epic task of seeking out the tree. All the hardships and struggles she was to face on her journey were shadowed by thoughts of success. Wishes that were to be made filled the peasant’s head, giving her all the motivation and determination needed to endure whatever she was to encounter. Eventually and inevitably she reached the grand oak tree, and made herself ready to realise her dreams.
She told the tree her story of woe, misery and misfortune and wished for riches to buy a better life. She wanted to have a life in which she could awake each day with a smile, and live her days comfortably as opposed to tiresomely. The tree told her in a whispering voice that misery would be her fortune. The response gave the peasant much confusion. She asked for an explanation and listened for an answer but there was only a whistling wind and words of silence to be heard.
The peasant felt that the epic journey had been a waste. She had sought her dreams brought to reality but all she found was a faint whispering voice. As her prayers seemed to have remained unanswered, she sat down by the side of a dusty path that was leading her to nowhere, and cried. To her astonishment the tears that fell from her face, landed on her tattered garments as droplets of gold. With every tear she cried she was a little richer, so misery was indeed her fortune.
Soon, because of all the many tears she cried, she had enough gold to buy some land, fine clothes and a maid to wait on her demands. However, this was not enough for the peasant as she had forgotten all about the hard and humble life that she had once lived. So, aided with a potion, the peasant began to force herself to cry. One day in her hurry to gain her tears of riches, she splashed the potion in her eyes and was blinded. For this her money was no good, as she could not buy back her sight.
Without her sight she could never again find the way back to the magic tree, and so she could not wish for her sight to be returned. Nor could anyone wish for her sight to be returned in her stead, since she was too proud of her false nobility to reveal the source of her riches. Without her sight the peasant needed more servants than before, which meant that she needed to obtain more riches. Whilst she was alone, locked in her room forcing herself to cry, she accidentally knocked over the cauldron that contained her crying potion. The potion scolded her, and the cauldron crushed her legs.
Without the use of her legs the peasant needed more servants than before, which meant that she needed to obtain more riches. Whilst she was alone, locked in her room forcing herself to cry, she again fell victim to her greed. A small fire grew from the cauldron, and eventually consumed and burned her to death.
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Comatose
News had just come back that the knights were in fact dead. Things were getting desperate, it had been near to a month since the pages were stolen, and not one of the numerous missions to try to retrieve them had been close to success. Without the prophecies and laws for the present and coming years, which the pages outlined, the country would fall ever deeper into turmoil. The king knew that the only remaining hope was to send his loyal daughter to speak to her twin, and plead for what was stolen to be returned. Like any loving father, he was extremely reluctant to put his daughter in the path of danger. As such he provided her with all the resources and assistance that he thought would help to guarantee her safe return. She was given a messenger eagle, an army of one hundred men, an unbreakable dagger, a map keeper and a nymph’s scream contained in a small glass vile, which could be used to direct nature's revenge. As the princesses, Haze and Miral, had been very close as children, the citizens had high hopes that Haze would succeed where others had failed. It was believed that Miral's sister was the only one capable of getting her to listen to reason. Thus if the unspeakable happened, and Haze failed then there would simply be no hope left.
Since there were few preparations to be made, Haze and her entourage set off at first light, the next day. With much thanks due to the map keeper, after only two days of travelling they came to the boarder of Miral’s newly established kingdom. And it was here that the party met with their first obstacle. On the path at the point where the lands met was a monumental stone arch, by which two intimidating gargoyles sat. Despite the fact that they were made of stone, they were very much alive. They informed the travellers that they would not be able to pass through without the required password, and so Haze and her entourage went around the arch. They found themselves amazed by the queerness of the land they entered, for the trees were purple, and snow fell when it was warm.
The party sighted a palace on one of the many mountain peaks that shaped the horizon, and unanimously decided it to be their destination. They marched onward with haste. Thankfully their journey was a comfortable one, as the land they were in was bountiful. Due to how sparsely populated it was, it was not until their third day that they actually saw someone. They hoped that the man sighted could provide them with some information and guidance. Lest he should be scared off, Haze approached him at his fishing spot with but one chaperone. Even so, when he eventually saw her, he hardly hesitated before running from sight.
The following day, at around noon, a way away the party saw a small convoy of carriages making an approach. Strangely it appeared to be travelling faster than what their experience told them possible. Within a mere moment after having been nothing more than a dot in the distance, it was before them. Haze's loyal guards sensed danger, and so compelled by their valiant hearts, rushed to surround her. However, before they had managed to do so, the ground on which they stood turned to liquid. Then a second later re-solidified. The soldiers and map keeper ended up being buried up to their waists, only Haze remained standing. This somewhat singular event appeared to be wholly orchestrated by the subtle movements of a hand that was extended from the inside of one of the carriages. The dainty hand belonged to Miral. When she emerged from the carriage, there was a slight delay before Haze recognised her, as her appearance was a crude bastardisation of what it once was. She was wearing a long black dress compiled of layer after layer of tattered and torn lace. Her hair was no longer in silk locks, but instead tied and contorted into a scruffy bundle, and her lips were painted and eyes shadowed with crimson ink.
Miral did not want to walk up to her sister, and so then and there she made a law that said that she did not have to do so, she floated toward her instead. Haze was not as surprised by this strange occurrence as one would have thought, for she had already witnessed numerous peculiarities in the kingdom. Miral welcomed her sister warmly and invited her back to her palace, and suggested that a great feast be prepared in her honour. Miral had hoped that they would be able to reminisce and enjoy each other’s company. Haze had a purpose that was more important than the transference of pleasantries, and as such she refused her sister’s hospitality. She explained that she had come seeking the stolen pages, and went on to describe in detail the disarray caused by their absence. Miral was quite alarmed by what her sister told her, as her motives for stealing and hiding the pages was that of love for her fellow people. Miral had stolen the pages as she had wanted to liberate her father's kingdom from the confines, set down by the prophecies and laws written for them thousands of years ago. She had been utterly miserable living in the utopian society they created. She knew that she would be happier without knowing how the sacred pages of laws and prophecies, dictated her to live her life. Understandably, she thought that everybody else would be too.
To the contrary, however, the vast majority of the society had no wish to be liberated. They were happy to depend on and live by the sacred laws and prophecies, for they found the guidance and purpose they provided invaluable. Miral had presumed that her kingdom in which near to anything was possible, offered a better way of life, since hundreds of people had left her father's land to join her. She had been certain that those that had not would do so eventually. Haze had to point out that hundreds of people still remained in the old kingdom, and that they were all hoping for the stolen pages to be returned. She told Miral that if their father’s kingdom continued to obey the prophecies and laws of the sacred book, it need not affect her, as she and her people could simply choose to ignore what was written. Miral agreed with Haze's argument, but her prime concern was that if the old kingdom returned to the way it was, then inevitably certain people would come to feel as trapped as she once had. Consequently, they came to agree that each kingdom should educate its people of the way of life of the other. Thus, a person would be able to migrate to the society that had the ideals that most appealed to him or her, since each had its merits and its drawbacks. After all that was said and agreed, Miral was finally ready to return the pages, however she no longer possessed them.
The pages had been placed within a chest, and hidden in a forest beyond scotching sands. Haze felt defeated when she learnt this, as she knew it was quite impossible to traverse such terrain. However the desert and forest were in Miral's kingdom and as such there were no laws or prophecies to govern what happened in them. Haze was assured by her sister that she would reach the forest within a day. Following her auspicious progress, Haze felt the need to send a message to her father, with the aid of the messenger eagle. Then when ready, Miral summoned up the winds, which lifted her sister up and safely carried her across the desert. As promised she reached her destination within a day, however, the area in question was no longer forested.
Man had cut down all the trees, and replaced them with buildings that touched the sky. The winds that had carried Haze through the air placed her safely down in the midst of the stone structures. She stopped the first person that passed her by and demanded to speak with whoever was most senior. She initially asked, but following a lack of compliance, commanded to have the chest that had been hidden in the once forested land brought to her, assuming of course that it had been discovered. The governor coldly refused her. The resultant frustration that Haze felt was so great that she reached into her pocket, took out the small glass vile that contained the Nymph's scream, and threw it against a nearby building. When the bottle shattered the air became filled with a whispery scream. Then several vine shoots broke through the stone paving and grew to cover the building in question, from head to toe. Low sounding rumbles and creeks propagated throughout the building until they peaked, at which point the structure imploded. The thick cloud of dust that resulted quickly dispersed, thanks due to a strong wind, and where the building had previously stood a small forest that seethed with life took its place. Following this display of power, the governor told Haze everything that he knew about the chest. It had been found while excavating the area, and sold to a sorceress who expressed interest in it. Haze realised that she had sent her auspicious message prematurely, for she fancied her chances of succeeding only slightly more than when she had set off. Since returning empty handed would be deeply humiliating, she soldiered on, and set off to the place where the governor had said the sorceress resided. After making further inquiries, Haze learnt that the sorceress lived...
"I AM QUITE SURE THAT THIS WILL BE SUCCESSFUL."
...in a cave that was located half way up a treacherous mountain. When she eventually reached the abode, she saw that it was not a sorceress that lived there, but rather the spirit of one, and what was more, she seemed not to take kindly to intrusions. With a horse scream and threatening body language, the spirit charged...
"I SAW HER MOUTH MOVE, DID YOU SEE THAT? I THINK IT IS WORKING."
... in Haze's direction. Haze was alarmed by the hostility that she had invoked, and so quickly made an apology and put forward an explanation. She then went on to say that she was a princess and that as a consequence was capable of guaranteeing that the sorceress would be compensated generously, for the loss of the chest and its content. However this did not have the desired effect, as the sorceress then threatened to kidnap Haze with the intention of demanding a weighty ransom for her return. It was quite clear that negotiating was not going to be an option, and that the two of them were unavoidably about to enter into...
"QUICK SEND FOR JESSICA, SHE WILL WANT TO SEE THIS!"
... a conflict. Haze readied her knife; she was quite aware that she was unable to harm the spirit, but she knew that the sorceress's physical body could not be far away. As Haze began hastily searching in the cave and the surrounding area, the sorceress began to laugh mockingly. She ensured Haze that staking her heart was an impossibility, for hers had turned to stone. It was then a good job that Haze had a knife that was...
"LOOK! HER LEFT EYE OPENED SLIGHTLY."
"She is awake, I knew you could do it professor." said Haze's father.
"Hush, nothing is for certain yet, there is still a long way to go. Send for another nurse, it is recommendable that we watch her very closely." said the professor as he took Haze's father by the arm and led him out of the room, so as to give the nurses room to do their jobs.
"I really think that the best thing that we can do is continue with the medication, and wait and hope for the best. May I suggest that you go home and get some rest, I think that it is important that you are well and fit for when, or if, she fully awakes." said the professor.
"Professor! Professor! You are not going to believe this. She is awake! She is sitting up and talking." Said one of the nurses, half out of breath, after having had sprinted up the corridor.
After rushing back into the room, Haze's father was unable to contain his excitement. He rushed forward and hugged his daughter, even though he knew it inadvisable to do so. His elation however did not last long, as Haze appeared to be somewhat confused, for she kept asking where she was, and where the "stolen pages" were. A month passed and Haze still remained in the nursing home. She did not seem to be willing to adjust to her new and frightening surroundings. Only with much reluctance did she eat anything, and not once did she remove the grimace from her face. Her parents were heartbroken by the misery that their child was in, and were pained to see little to no improvement in her state. Numerous studies and assessments were made regarding Haze's state of mind, and each one was as damming as the other. Haze's parents were repeatedly told that their child lacked a basic grasp of reality, and remained adamant to find a way back to the world that she had created in her mind. The doctors feared that if she did not come through soon, her melancholy would start to have adverse effects on her health. They stressed that drastic action should be taken to enlighten her, before it was too late.
The weeks continued to pass, but Haze still showed no sign of improvement. It became ever more clear that she was happiest in the fictitious world that she had created in her mind. Her parents loved her devoutly and wanted only for her happiness. They could not stand the wretched state of inescapable misery that she was in, and feared that she might not ever break free from it. So they went to the professor, and inquired whether it would be possible to place their daughter back into a state of comatose. He was utterly shocked by their request. They assured him that they were thinking only of their daughter’s best interests, but the professor was disgusted by what was spoken.
"That world is not real! It is imperative that we increase your daughter’s lucidity." Said the professor.
"What makes the world that she has created not real?" said Haze's father.
"Don't be absurd, of course it is not!"
"Are fears and emotions not real? Just like our daughter’s world, these things are created by the mind in response to certain situations. Despite these things not being real in a true physical sense, they are real nonetheless. I presume that you reminisce from time to time, professor, if those memories that you visit are pleasant ones, and if the event that they mark did not really happen, would you not still revisit those memories? We know that if Haze was to go back into a state of comatose she would have to depend on our care, but we love her and want only for her happiness, as such we would be happy to take on such a responsibility. We are also fully aware that her life span would be considerably shortened, but I ask you this, would it not be better to eat a generous slice of your favourite cake than it would to eat but one crumb a day until it is gone?"
The professor was extremely reluctant to follow the argument, however, Haze's parents were rich, and so he was convinced with money.
"HAZE YOU SHOULD FEEL THE EFFECTS ALMOST INSTANTLY. NOW, I WOULD LIKE YOU TO COUNT BACKWARDS FROM..."
Lyler longed her not to go, as she was convinced that a safer, alternative route could be found. Haze did not agree though, for if there were such a route, just how long would it take them to find it. She knew that Samuel did not have much time, and she was fully prepared to risk her life, if it meant that there was just a slight chance that she could see him one last time. Lyler's face was painted with fear and concern, but it was insufficient to sway Haze's already set mind. Haze dived into the icy water, and even though the cold meant that she was only able to open her eyes to allow but a slither of light through, she managed to locate the entrance. She swam towards, down and through it. On the other side, much to her relief, there was a pocket of air in the corridor. She broke the water's surface, banishing the crushing sensation that had plagued her chest, so that the numbness brought on by the icy water was all she had to contend with. She had to get out of the water quick, for otherwise she would surely die there and then. She swam hastily towards the staircase at the end of the hall, and as she did she could feel the air warming. Cautiously she went up the stairs. The floor that she entered was completely gutted out, only the vital load bearing walls remained. This had been done to make room for a vast furnace, boiler and generator that sat in the centre of the space.
Before she went any further, Haze undressed by the furnace's grate, dried out her clothes and warmed her chilled skin. At that point in time, she was thankful for the existence of the furnace, however it is quite safe to say that her attitude would have been different had she had then known what was being consumed by its flames. Her clothes were still slightly wet, but she had her warmth back, so she put them on and continued her quest. She followed an entanglement of wires that emanated from the generator to a stairwell at the far end of the floor. She was, needless to say, completely unprepared for the sight that was to meet her eyes. Several steps shy from the top of the staircase she stopped dead, and pins and needles propagated throughout her body. Before her were sixty-four reclined chairs arranged in a square formation, a few of them were empty, but the vast majority were not. All the persons in them were strapped down at the waist, throat, forehead, wrists and legs and had drip lines running to veins in their necks. Parallel to Haze’s line of sight, wires ran from the left to the right along each of the rows, and entered and exited through small incisions in the subjects' temples in doing so. Haze scoured the mass of seemingly lifeless persons for Samuel, but it was near to impossible to locate him due to the subjects having a homogeneous appearance. Even though she was fully aware of its selfish nature, she thought of Samuel's wellbeing above that of the others.
Haze longed to rush forward and find Samuel, but she did not and she was right not to, as Dr. Whiteler was lingering in the corner of the room. She spent the following moments searching her mind for a plan of action. It was clear that she was going to require the doctor's expertise to disconnect and free the people. Her eyes were searching around the room when they fell on a long wire that led off from the entangled wiring by her feet, and met with the workstation at which the doctor was working. She isolated the said wire and began scraping it against the corner of one of the stone steps, and after a fair amount of effort managed to break through it. Dr. Whiteler hoarsely cried out as he watched the power slowly drain from his workstation. He ran in the direction of Haze, to investigate the problem, but he never reached the generator as he blacked out halfway down the stairwell.
Moments later the professor woke up disoriented, with a sore head in an unused room of the castle. It took a couple of minutes for him to gain lucidity, and longer for his vision to become focused. When his senses finally came back to him, he saw Haze standing before him and became aware of the restraints binding his body.
"What have you done?" said Dr. Whiteler.
"What have you done? I want you to free those people!"
"You shut off the power didn't you? Do you realise that as a consequence those people will be dead any minute now? That is of course if they are not already."
"I do not believe you."
"Well, see for yourself, check to see if their pulses are slowing."
Haze was not prepared to take the risk of being wrong, and so set the doctor free. She was right to do so as he had been speaking the truth. She franticly searched the room for Samuel and then checked his pulse, thankfully he was still alive, but only barely.
Haze then set to work trying to get the power back on, however she met with complications, as to patch the broken wire she had to turn the generator off. After having fixed the wire, much to her horror, the generator failed to start up. The furnace was burning cold and was incapable of bringing the generator up to speed. Whilst contending with blind panic she rushed to the doctor, who was busy at his workstation, and asked for more fuel. She was utterly horrified by his reply, but she knew that she had to act fast if there was to be any hope of saving Samuel and the others. She checked obsessively, quite probably spending too much time doing so, until she was certain that she had found someone without a pulse. As she struggled to half carry half drag the body to the furnace she kept her fingers tight around a wrist, fearful that she would feel a pulse. After she had opened the furnace grate, her mouth filled with a taste of sick as she saw that in the heart of the flames was a mass of human skulls and bones, which were glowing bright white. Reluctantly, Haze fed the body into the flames. Once the body was inside the furnace the flames almost instantaneously changed to green and then blue. Her actions meant that the pressure in the boiler was finally sufficient to start up and sustain the generator.
Haze and the doctor became united in the purpose of securing the health of those that had miraculously remained alive, albeit for different reasons. Many of the people required adrenaline shots, whereas others’ vitals returned to them without assistance. In total only a further six lost their lives, and Haze was thankful beyond words that Samuel was not one of them. Questionably, Haze had worked hard; spending a disproportionate amount of time making sure that her future husband had not been one of those six.
Whilst working alongside the doctor, Haze felt safe enough to enquire into the nature of his work. He was supposedly performing vital research, so as to discover the secrets of nature. His victims were used to aid him in solving the complex calculations that arose from the research. Each of their brains were wired up in parallel and connected to an electronic creation, which he used to direct the problem solving power of the minds. He was quite defensive when Haze talked derogatorily about how he kidnapped and subjected his victims to bondage. He defended himself by saying that he only took people who showed little regard for life. This made Haze very angry, for Samuel loved life dearly. She however held her tongue, as once they had finished their work she planned to torture the doctor until he agreed to let her fiancée and the others go, after which she would unrepentantly kill him.
Dr. Whiteler, however intended to make Haze part of his computer, to replace one of the twelve that perished as a result of her actions. He pulled a large dagger out from the side of his workstation, and approached her with an ominous grin. Haze was completely taken off guard by his pre-emptive strike.
"Are you really willing to enter into conflict with me? How do you know that I do not surpass you in swordsmanship? If I do and I kill you, then that would mean an end to your supposed vital research...What is so vital about it anyway?"
"The world is decaying! I am attempting to find a way to save it, before it is too late."
Haze calmed herself, and after seeing her threatening eyes change to ones of curiosity Dr. Whiteler did the same.
"Show me, prove it!"
Dr. Whiteler showed her pages of data and directed her to instrumentation. His evidence was undeniable. The world was in fact decaying, and what was more, it was happening quickly. Haze saw that the doctor's actions were justified, however she did not want Samuel to be part of his work, since she loved him. She negotiated Samuel's release, and then pledged to help the doctor with his work. She left the castle with Samuel half sprawled over her shoulder and a bottle of sedative and several foot of rope in her free hand...
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The moth within
In the place in which lives are made, by some strange misfortune, something happened that had never happened before. A young and poorly skilled god, made a mistake. A soul came to be misplaced within a boy, and there it would remain imprisoned until it could find a way to escape.
Even before his first breath, the boy formed a deep-seated feeling that he did not belong. He felt like something was wrong, but could not put his finger on what it was. As he grew up he repeatedly tried to undo the knot that he felt inside. He tried to live in virtue, he tried to live in sin, and finally tried to accept that he was simply different from those around him. However, nothing that he tried worked. He could not accept his life for what it was, so he sought out knowledge. Eventually he came across a wise old woman who knew much about this life and of that which is beyond, and to her he disclosed his story and worries.
After having heard what the boy had to say, the woman remarkably correctly concluded what was wrong. Every word that the wise woman then spoke sounded like a missing piece of puzzle. The boy knew in his heart that what was being said was true, and so pleaded to learn if there was anything that he could do to undo what had been done. To the best that she could with a mortal vocabulary, the wise woman described the difficulties involved in reversing the mistake made by the gods. She then went on to say that the only way that the gods would help him was if he somehow got their attention, by doing something great and thus proving to be worthy of their time.
After having left the wise woman, the boy decided that he would do all that he could to gain the attention of the gods. He however, had no idea what he could do to prove himself deserving. He spent three days and nights locked in his room searching his mind. Then after claustrophobia had begun to itch at him, he ventured out into the daylight to have a break from his thoughts. Whilst he was walking in the shadows of the buildings in his town’s main street, a nearby mountain slowly came into his line of sight. He became enslaved by excitement and rushed to ask a villager whether the mountain had been climbed. With a rather unsettled tone, the villager told him that people had attempted to climb it, but no one had ever come back. It became clear to the boy what he had to do. He was going to climb the mountain. Preparations were thus hastily made. He first carefully surveyed the land to work out the best route to take, then went about gathering thick skins that he could make into some sturdy boots and warm clothing.
While making preparations, the boy had to force himself to resist his urge to start the climb, since he knew how important preparation was. He recalled Aesop's tale of the tortoise and the hair, and so obsessively went about obtaining all the numerous skills that he would require to ascend the mountain. When at last all was prepared and ready, he sprinted to the foot of the mountain, despite being heavily laden down. He wished to keep up his haste, but to the boy's annoyance, his mortal body came to disagree with his mind and forced him to proceed at a much slower, yet equally as steady pace. As he climbed he began to notice that the masses of wildlife that he had seen earlier on his journey, had begun to disappear from the forested land at the base of the mountain. The desertion of life puzzled the boy, as it was much too sudden to be solely due to the altitude. It was most certainly a worrying omen.
A trail of blooded snow was soon sighted, which gave explanation to the observation. The crimson scar emanated from a pile of animal carcasses that was guarded by a vile beast. As the boy endured the sight of the creature shovelling the carcasses down its throat, he felt convinced that its stomach was near to its bursting point. He was thus able to find the courage needed to swallow down his fears and continue on his way. It is quite hard to imagine how such a large beast could have caught and killed so many agile creatures, but as it was then to be discovered by the boy, every one of its sluggish steps were worth twenty of those made by its poor victims. Rather fortunately, after the creature had taken but two steps in its prospective prey’s direction, it became exhausted. It thus retreated to revelling in gluttony.
As the boy’s climb got more demanding, he utilised the lessons that he had learnt two steps previously in order to take his next. When he came to a vertical face he did away with his non-vital equipment and climbed it. After every fall he incurred he picked himself up, and after every onset of frostbite he grinned and bore it. He pushed on and eventually reached the mountain’s peak. Then out from within him flew a beautiful moth, which gracefully made its way toward the stars that canopied the sky.
*******
Running from death
There was once a man who would run, from the first hours of light until the last hours of dusk. As his mind was completely focused he was immune from the distractions of this life, and so gave all that his old decrepit body could give to his task. The days of the week needed not have names, as every day was the same for him. That was until one particular day while he was running through a meadow, a fair maiden whom he recognised from the local village, stopped him in his tracks. She looked to him with greeting eyes.
"Why is it that you tire yourself out like this everyday?"
"Why, I'm training!”
"Training. Training for what?"
"Why, I’m training so that when death comes I can outrun him, and escape his clutches."
"That is a mighty noble task that you are taking on! Now, I presume with wanting to avoid death, you want to live. Yet with all of this training that you undergo, have you even lived at all?"
"Why maiden, what is living?"
"I guess it's about raising strong children to carry on your name, making the most out of what we have been given, accomplishment and memory making."
"Well, in that case I am living, for if I achieve my task and outrun death, I will have all the memories I need in that one accomplishment, and if people remember my achievement, same as I, I will need no kids to carry on my name."
Feeling quite content with his argument, the old man left the woman standing dumbstruck, and went on running until the light left him. The next day when he awoke to start his training, he found the very woman who had questioned his actions the day before, running his trail. It turned out that the woman had thought the old man's aspiration to be truly worthwhile. She took the old man's ambition on as her own, so as to try to steal his potential glory. The old man, however, did not fret as he was much faster than her, and as such managed to lap her many times before dusk.
The next day the man found the woman with half a dozen other people who all seemed focused on accomplishing his dream. He was not disheartened though, as he was faster than all of them, lapping them several times before dusk. He did, however, observe that the woman was running much faster than she had the previous day. The next day the old man found half of the village running his trail, he was quite concerned! It seemed that a few of the villagers could keep his pace. He had a sneaking feeling that he had been passed a couple of times by one of the younger villagers, but he passed it off as a trick of the mind. Overall he was not too disheartened as he was much faster than almost all the runners, and had managed to lap them a few times before dusk. The next day, however, the old man was horrified, it seemed as though the entire village had set out to accomplish his dream. Before a few hours into undertaking that which he had done everyday since a small child, he was raped of his dream as several of the new runners lapped him numerous times.
He wished that he had never told the maiden that which he was doing the day she confronted him. The old man found himself without purpose, and was devastated at having his dream raped from him. As it turns out, people charged with a task are not necessarily better at it than those who are not. Those persons are only the best at the task as they are the only ones who have chosen to do it. The old man went home and found the village to be near to deserted. The only people who remained were the sick, elderly and the young children. It seemed as though everyone in the village had selfishly disowned their responsibilities. The old man felt that this was not right, and so was compelled to do something about it. However, not one of the deserters would listen to a word he had to say, they were all too focused on training to outrun death.
Thus the responsibilities fell on him, and since he was so remarkably fleet and nimble, he was able to set up a nursing centre to tend to the sick and dying, make a nursery to watch over the growing, and a school to teach the curious, all by himself. Day after day the old man would rush around aiding everyone who called. He had many smiles, as he saw the weak get stronger and heard babies say their first words. Meanwhile, all the inexperienced runners who had deserted their homes had begun to die off. As they were so deathly determined to achieve the old man's dream, they had pushed themselves too hard and had not set a pace, or taken the time to sleep or eat. As such they eventually grew tired and death caught up with them.
The old man lived many years tending to the weak and teaching the young. When death finally visited him he did not run, instead he died with a smile on his face. Though it was hard, the children he had schooled and left behind managed to fend for themselves and eventually grew up to be clever and strong. To commemorate the old man, they built a memorial in the centre of their village. Strangely enough they never actually caught his name.
*******
The pianist
A young perplexing boy who found comfort in staying out of sight,
Had a behaviour that made him the target of cruelty and smite,
One day by chance he came upon a piano and came alight,
And quite soon gained respect since his music was able to excite,
Yet was not happy for he wanted to gain finesse overnight,
He would practice relentlessly, studying and playing hourly,
With time he gained the mastery, which he had lusted for dearly,
He would sleep his nights restlessly, without fail waking eagerly,
Since he was obsessed about playing his instrument flawlessly,
He came to be annoyed at how his playing was not always tight,
Maintaining the concentration required took all of his might,
He removed all his possessions in and around his line of sight,
Still it was not enough and so he removed everything outright,
Yet was not happy as his playing still had a margin of blight,
He removed light and played blindly, as a result played perfectly,
In time he eventually lost his grip on reality,
Numerous birds curiously came and formed an assembly,
One bird liked the music dearly and called on the king frequently,
The bird sang a melody, which the king found to be a delight,
The king complemented the bird and came to learn of its ghostwrite.
Then requested the pianist to enter into the limelight,
The pianist was promised riches should he accept the invite,
Yet he turned it down as he had developed a distaste for light.
*******
Knight in the desert
A small, yet headstrong, country had secretly built up a commanding and powerful war machine. Over time the country swelled and expanded its boarders, gaining more and more strength and momentum as it went. It had laid claim to all the kingdoms in the North, and so was slowly making its way into the lucrative, but not so well known lands of the South. The first populated region that the advancing army came across consisted of numerous farming villages that partly skirted a heavily fortified city, located on the edge of a vast desert. Much to the surprise of the invaders, there was an unprecedented amount of resistance to their attempts at establishing reform.
The attacking force took up positions that surrounded the city, with the exception of the boarder that it shared with the vast desert to the South. The city’s population endured the siege by surviving off of food stores, and beating back the daily advances. Nonetheless, the citizens were ever increasingly driven into the depths of desperation. So, in a bid to pull themselves out of a near to inevitable defeat, the strongest and the most valiant knights were gathered, and given the seemingly impossible task of crossing the epic desert to seek help. The valiant men left the city with their hopes high, feeling confident that they would get help and in doing so, obtain glory for themselves.
After two days of relentless travel, one of the knights fell. The remainder knew that there was no time to tend to their comrade, since they could not afford to jeopardise the slim chance that they had of succeeding in their task. The four that remained fit, took one half of the fallen knight's provisions, shared it out amongst themselves and then ordered him to return to the city, while they continued with their quest. Until only one remained, a further knight fell on every day that followed. Each time, the same thing was done as that which occurred in the first instance, with the only difference being that there was an increasing sense of unease. As it became all the more impossible for their fallen comrade to return to the city, and so it became impossible to pretend that the knight was not being left to die.
The last remaining knight struggled on beneath the unrelenting sun, fearing that he would collapse at any moment. Hope was returned to him when he caught sight of an oasis in the distance, which was surrounded by flourishing plants. With the iota of strength that he had left, he managed to reach the god sent miracle. After drinking away his thirst and eating away his fatigue, he rested in the shadows of the trees. Then when he awoke the following day, feeling slightly rejuvenated, he weighed up his situation and decided to remain at the oasis for the day, to regain his health. He ate as many pomegranates and lemons as he could, and drank as much water as he needed. The next day he awoke, and because of the daunting task that lay ahead of him, he again decided to remain at the oasis for another day. During which time he ate as much as he could and drank as much as he needed.
On the third day he reasoned that he could not put off the daunting task that lay ahead of him any longer, and so began making preparations for it. He made a sunshade out of leaves and branches, and then set about gathering the remaining food and filling up his water vessel, but much to his dismay, he found that the remaining food and water was only sufficient for a day's rationing.
*******
An unlikely deception
The king was elated, as he had found the love of his life. He had been engaged to Adala for six months and their marriage was scheduled for the coming fall. However, the fates became jealous of the undying love shared by the two mortals, and so Atropos, the weakest of the three submitted to spite, and prematurely cut the twine of Adala's destiny. When this happened, Adala was out riding in the countryside. Completely oblivious to how the gods had shortened her life, she rode carelessly whilst enjoying the beautiful scenery. This enjoyment, however, was short lived, as dark and ominous clouds quickly overcast the land. Not before long lightning started to bounce around the sky in a staccato fashion. Adala was riding in haste to seek shelter from the high tempered storm, at her future husband's estate. Her death came as a lightning bolt splintered a tree, and caused a large branch to fall just in front of her path. Her horse made a futile attempt to break, and violently fell backwards after having skidded into the branch with its weight on its hind legs. Adala died instantly as she was broken by the impulse of her impact with the ground.
The king was deeply distressed by his loss, and so locked himself in his bedchamber and mourned continuously for a month. After his time spent mourning, he left his room and ordered his tailors to make a replica of his late fiancée. He ordered that it be made out of the finest silk, filled with the finest of swan feathers, and made with the greatest skill. So his orders were followed, and the replica was made. Over time the king came to develop a disturbing relationship with the doll. He increasingly talked to, confided with, and on several occasions even took it to dinner. Stories of the king’s queer behaviour spread throughout the kingdom. Most people merely laughed or felt concern for their country, there was, however, one woman who acted quite differently when she heard the news. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a sinister smirk. She longed for power and her brilliant, imaginative mind saw that while the king was in the depths of madness, there was an opportunity to be grasped.
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