The Frozen Queen

High up on a snowy mountain, the Queen sits upon her throne.

Within the frozen halls of her palace of ice, she stares out the panoramic windows, out across the lands. Her cold, azure eyes gleaming with frigid malice.

Years have passed since she had used her spiteful magic to cast the land into its frozen prison, yet she has not seemed to have aged even a single day. Such was the power of the malevolence within her heart; enough to stop the world under her icy spell.

Now, she spends her days sitting atop her ice-encrusted throne, thinking only of how to exact her revenge upon the one who had crossed her so long ago.

Oh, no, the hateful ice curse she had cast upon the world was not her final act of revenge, merely only a way to give herself time to conjure an even more malicious plan.

Each day she rises from her chilly bedchamber, a beautiful, deadly storm, and stalks her way to the throne room to sit and contemplate in a fury, the same as the day before.

Each day brings countless plans and schemes that come close to the mark, but each day ends with her screeching in frustration at not be able to come up with a suitable plot which matches her cold, vengeful heart, as she stomps off to sleep a listless sleep.

Though, as she slumbers, she dreams, not of the ice and cold into which she has plunged the world, but lush, green valleys on warm summer evenings.

Strolling through the fields of pastel-coloured flowers that glowing fireflies light as they float from one petal to the next, casting their bluish glow along the winding valley in the late summer eve.

It is during these fleeting dreams that the Queen’s magic wanes ever so slightly, and for those brief moments in the night, her icy grip slips and the world thaws just a little.

Never completely, but over the years, the people and places held in their place, suspended in ice, have been coming slowly back to life.

I have been coming slowly back to life.

Such sweet, promising dreams however, always end abruptly with the sun’s piercing light, shining into the Queen’s bedchamber and flooding her light-hearted subconscious with harsh memories of the infringement maligned against her. 

Thus, she awakes with malice renewed and the world is frozen once again, cutting off any hope of escaping her icy hold.

Yet, I bide my time, having no other choice but to.

Each night, I stand watch where she left me, like a sentry statue in the corner our bedchambers, encased within the magical ice that slowly melts away a little more with each of her fanciful dreams.

Each night I too stand and stare, pondering on what wrong act I could have possibly committed to turn my Queen’s so cold against her husband and plunge the world into its deep, frozen sleep.

Valley Run

He was making good time on his Sunday morning run, Gerald thought as he jogged along the wet pavement of the quiet country road.

It was a damp morning after the night rain which made for a pretty and peaceful jog in the light mists that hung low in the air amongst the trees of the woods that lines either side of the straight-running road.

Only a handful of vehicles had passed by so far, so he essentially had had the road to himself, which was one of the perks of living so far outside of town; quiet and private.

As he came down the side of a large dip in the road, a bunny hopped quickly across the lanes, diving down the grassy ditch before heading into the thick covering of trees to Gerald's right.

He passed by where the bunny had disappeared into the woods and looked down into the valley that led into a streaming brook at the basin. He slowed to see if he could spot the little bunny rabbit but it had already vanished in the camouflage of the foliage and shadows that filled the fairy-tale scene below.

Moving over to the narrow shoulder of the road, he peered down for a moment, but it only took that moment to lose his footing on the loose gravel and slip, sliding down the slick, wet grass of the hill, which gave no purchase to slow him down.

He kept sliding and rolling down the decline and into the dim light of the forest valley.

When he finally came to a stop he was laying on his back looking up at the canopy of pine and cedar trees that reached up and blotted the grey morning sky so that only slim cracks of light made it through to give the forest floor a diffused illuminance.

He sat up and brushed the clinging leaves and grass and twigs that had collected over his arms and legs on his chaotic trip down.

Wet and embarrassed, he surveyed the peaceful scene he had abruptly crashed into. The babbling stream to his left continued on its merry way, undisturbed by his arrival.

Birds chirped their songs high up on the tree branches and for a long moment Gerald just sat back and took in the serenity of the nature surrounding him; calming his breathing to match the soft breeze that moved through the leaves above.

Even though it had been a painful way to go, he was almost glad he had taken the fall; it had allowed him to discover this hidden little oasis he would not have found if...

Across the brook Gerald caught sight of a small figure standing on a tree stump looking directly at him.

It was what looked to be a traditional garden gnome one would find nestled in any number of backyard flowerbeds.

The pointed red capped little chap, who stood no taller than Gerald's knee, wore a grey beard down to its chest that framed the rolly polly features of their face. A blue short-sleeved shirt with brown suspendered trousers and little black leather boots completed the ensemble.

The two stared at one another in the middle of the forest tableau; Gerald with astonishment whilst the gnome's rosy cheeks plumped as they smiled quite friendly, they glistening black eyes shining happily.

Not wanting to make any sudden movements to scare the little creature off, Gerald slowly lifted his hand from where it was propping him up and waved in a neighbourly fashion. He tried to find his voice to say hello but before he could begin to speak, the gnome held up a stubby finger to their lips and silently shushed him.

They then pointed their finger up and around, motioning that perhaps they were not alone in these woods.

Gerald's eyes followed to where their little finger pointed to see if he could catch a glimpse at any other hidden creatures of the forest but none presented themselves, just the lone gnome standing before him on its well-worn stump.

Bringing his eyes back to the storybook character made manifest before him, Gerald saw the gnome then move its arm downwards slowly, until pointing their chubby digit towards their rear.

Cupping its ear with its other hand as if they wanted Gerald to listen harder. They stood in stark silence, while Gerald obediently strained to head whatever it was they wanted him to hear.

The serenity of the quiet sounds of nature was then shattered by the single loudest fart Gerald had ever heard.

Disgusted surprise plastered itself across Gerald's face as the rude gnome giggled at their own immature little joke. 

Before Gerald could say an admonishing word, with a wink and a coy bop of its finger along the side of their red little nose, the farting forest gnome twinkled out of existence before Gerald's very eyes.

Leaving only the musty stench of its gaseous blast.

 

Hero of Legend

Deep under the mountain a rumbling began; faint and nearly undetectable at first, yet it slowly began to build to a clamorous shaking that threatened the very foundations of the great mountain.

From somewhere deep inside the earth, a glowing light began to grow with the rumbling; grow and begin to speed its way up from the darkness of the deep recesses below.

Crumbling rocks burst and fell away as the glowing light sped up and onward through the innards of the mighty mountain as if they were simply clumps of dried dirt instead of the solid and ancient rocks they in fact were.

The ever-growing light flickered as it passed through the relenting rock; tunnelling its way straight up through the core of the mountain, towards the very apex of the massive natural monument.

The village at the base of the shaking mountain held its collective breath in anticipation of what seemed to be their dooms finally come at last; the inhabitants always fearing their end would come at the looming mountain's eruption some day. That day looked to be today.

The world appeared to be shaking apart as the mountain threatened about to burst apart, until finally, the blinding light did erupt up and out of the top of the snow-capped peak, obliterating it in a shower of boulders and debris.

Yet, only the shimmering light eschewed forth, and climbed into the bright, blue sky.

From down below, barely visible to the on-looking villagers, the light faded and a figure emerged; the figure of a person reaching up with their outstretched arm, in which, their hand grasped a glistening sword.

With their long hair flowing in the wind, the figure and sword held their position high above the mountain peak in the sky for an extended moment as the sun's light kissed the sword with a glint that seemed to produce a dinging sound before they flew off eastward in a blur.

"Wholly Shit!" Agmar exclaimed as he pointed skyward as the figure disappeared from the sight.

"Don't you swear at me!" Nailine scolded with annoyance at being interrupted in her questioning of her oaf-headed husband. "And try and distract me, Agmar! Did you and your idiot mates eat all my meat pies last night when you all came home stinking drunk from the public house?"

"But... the Hero of Legend has returned, just now!" Agmar pleaded. "Did you not see them burst forth from Mount Gironde?"

With a swat on his head, Nailine brought Agmar's attention back to her. "I don't care if the Hero of Legend's grandmum bellowed forth from the Bagnarg Bog!" She warned. "Did you eat my pies!?"

Agmar hung his head in shame.

"Yes, my love." He admitted sheepishly, holding his modest cap in his hands.

"Mmm hmm." Nailine nodded at the admission. "Well, now we'll have nothing for when my mother comes for her visit next week, will we? Don't look surprised, you know she was coming. Now, get going to the dark forest to gather up more of the spices I'll need to try and bake something with what little meat's left for her arrival dinner. And if you get captured by that dark wizard that lives in there, maybe your can call your Hero of Legend for help."

With that, she sent him off with another swat of her empty pie plate.

Witch Hazel

The witch of the wood lived a simple life in her modest hut of stone and thatched straw, and she was happy.

Her witching had never seemed like a job to her, she just enjoyed helping people so much she often felt guilty charging even the merger sum she did for her services.

Love potions, death potions, putting hexes on people's enemies, even the occasional mad ramblings to just intimidate someone bought her joy.

Villagers from the little towns bordering the big forest would make their way through the labyrinth-like woods to come ask for her witchy wares, and she would oblige them merrily.

On slow days, she would go out and find the poor retches that never found their way through the maze of gnarled old trees and loot their carcases for whatever offerings they had been planning to give to her anyway.

Yes, it was a good life being the witch of these here woods.

Sipping her tea, the witch sighed with satisfaction as she looked out the round window of her hut's kitchen.

The smile faded from her lips and a shadow crept over her face as she spotted a figure standing out amongst the trees just passed her cursed herbs garden.

It was a good life, except for this idiot.

Catching her eye in the window, the hooded figure started to wave excitedly and move to come into her yard.

Putting her tea cup down with a clatter, the witch dashed out of the back door to meet the grinning buffoon they could stomp all over her patch of lucky four-leaf clovers she had worked so hard to cultivate in this climate.

Alas, the simpleton trampled all through the delicate little patch of green before she could get to them.

The witch sagged with exasperation as the warlock dehooded himself while continuing to wave and stomp up to her, totally unaware of the destruction left in his wake.

"Hullo, Hazel!" he greeted her amiably. "I was hoping you'd be in today!"

Visibly, Hazel the witch rolled her eyes as the warlock's robes got caught on the barbed wire fencing that surrounded the more deadly genus of flowers in her garden.

"What do you want, Wilbur?" Hazel asked with supreme annoyance. "I am a very busy witch."

Wilbur struggled to pull himself free from the fencing just before a big Venus snapped at his head; unfortunately not taking it clean off his crooked shoulders.

"Oh, I've run into a bit of a problem with a spell you could say." Wilbur the warlock stammered as he reached Hazel where she stood in her irked stance.

"You could say you run into a lot of problems, Wilbur." Hazel replied bone dryly.

"Yes, well," Wilbur continued unfazed. "More of a situation with a Doubling spell, really. I was working on it for Farmer Thendorg in Fenrith over yonder, and well, I could really use a pitch of your Dissolving powder. You know the one you use for really big wart removals?"

Hazel's hand automatically went up to her chin before she stopped it with a nonchalant dismissive wave. Her skin was clear and smooth now, no need to doubt herself.

"Yes, I know of my own powders and potions, Wilbur." She snapped. "What of it? What could you possibly have to trade that I would want?"

Grinning his stupid, goofy grin, Wilbur started to root around in his robes.

"I am NOT interested in any of that!" Hazel protested abhorrently while trying to avert her eyes.

Unaware of her disgust, Wilbur pulled out a handful of little, orange coloured toadstool stumps.

"Well, I just so happened to come across a patch of these beauties." Wilbur offered proudly. "I might not have the skill to distil these Halorooms for their potent properties, but a witch of your prowess would certainly find them valuable."

Through her splayed fingers, Hazel peeked at the mushrooms Wilbur held out to her and a greedy spark ignited in her green eyes.

"Well perhaps." Hazel tried to sound mildly interested with maximum restraint. Those little knobs could last her years and keep her pot overflowing with coins from the women and men who coveted their 'uplifting' qualities.

"I only need a cupful." Wilbur said earnestly. The fool had no idea how valuable those mushrooms were. "Just enough to make a batch of Vanishing potion." He explained.

Playing it ever so cool, Hazel took her time mulling the trade over, instead of instantly snatching the orange stumps up greedily from his clammy hands.

"I suppose I could spare some." She said thoughtfully. "But only, a half a cup. I'm running low myself." She quickly added.

Wilbur's grin somehow widened further to show even more crooked and snaggled teeth. He's probably aimed high, knowing he'd only need a pitch of the stuff anyway and thought him self pretty shrewd, she thought.

"Bless you, Hazel!" he blurted as he dumped the mushrooms clumsily into her hands so forcefully she had to stumble back as to not have him right on top of her.

"Okay, okay." She told him as she pushed him back. "You just stand here while I go get the powder. There's hex traps all over the yard so I mean it: stay put!"

Wilbur stood at attention dutifully as Hazel bustled back into her hut, muttering giddily to herself about how the idiot warlock was finally proving useful.

After a few moments she came back out to him carrying a little burlap satchel daintily between her finger and thumb.

"Here you go..." She tried to put as much sugar into her voice as possible in his presence,"...darling." she shuddered with self-loathing. "Now, don't you drop it, because it's liable to crate a hole in the ground so deep you'd never stop falling." She could only hope.

"Thank you so much, Hazel!" Wilbur said with so much gratitude Hazel almost felt bad filching him. Almost.

"Now just go straight back the way you came." She instructed him faux-sweetly. "You don't want to step on one of my hexes!"

Wilbur stumbled around and goose-stepped back over the patch of clovers without noticing again as Hazel held her false smile with a wave.

"Oh, thank you again!" Wilbur burst as he waved back while walking out through the slightly over-grown path. "Don't worry, I'll be carefu..."

With a sudden poof, the warlock disappeared in a puff of purplish smoke.

Hazel gasped in surprise as the satchel of Dissolving powder fell freely through the smoky air towards the ground, only to be caught by a quick acting hand.

Hazel balked at the sight of a second Wilbur the warlock as he caught the satchel and waved stupidly at her.

"Doubling spell problem!" He called to her with a wink. "Thanks again!"

The warlock turned and rambled into the trees where Hazel now saw that there were a dozen or so Wilburs waiting.

They all waved and grinned like the same moron that had just gotten hexed into the Neither Realms.

Hazel shook her head in disgust and stopped waving abruptly.

"Idiots."

Neon City

Droplets of rain hit the windshield as I drove along the neon-lit city streets in the late hours of the long night.

The rain doesn't affect the Navigation Enhanced Display that covers the windshield's duro-glass, as it guides me through the slick, wet streets; making my way home after my shift.

I let the Autonav take over the driving as my mind isn't on the road at all, but today's case.

I'd been a detective for thirteen years now and the details of this new case had shaken me like I was fresh out of the academy.

The images from the crime scene kept playing in my mind, and even though it had made my insides churn, I couldn't help but go over what I had seen; there was something I couldn't put my finger on, something very off.

The noiselessness of the vehicle's motion through the rainy night was too deafening so I turned the sound system on; playing some classic electronic music to help me zone out and try to see the missing puzzle pieces in my mind.

The motel room where they had found the victim was in that faux tropical theme that was making a comeback, only it had never been renovated, it had kept the same decor for so long it had come back in fashion.

The room would need a serious reno after what had taken place tonight however.

Body parts and internal fluids were strewn and spilt all over the place, staining the carpet, the walls, and the ceiling with spatters of dark, sticky patches.

How anyone could be so full of rage and hate to do that to another being was beyond me; I had seen many crimes of passion in my time, but this was something different.

A message perhaps?

Examining the images in my mind I tried to pinpoint the uneasy feeling I had had when I first inspected the scene.

The officers first on the scene weren't as good at hiding the fact that they were more than a little upset at what they have discovered; one was still retching on the balcony.

They didn't have to tell me the victim had been a young professional, new to the business; a more seasoned pro would never have been in a place like this, no matter how hard up they might have been.

Trouble is the only resident in places like this.

Going over the officers' reports as the car drove along the still busy streets, I remembered standing at the foot of the bed, trying not to step in any of what remained of the victim.

And then I saw it in my mind's eye; a differently coloured stain on the bottom corner of the bed sheets.

Enhancing the memory, I examined the details closer. Definitely a lighter hue than the rest of the pools of fluids covering the rest of the bed; a reddish brown instead of the inky black and gold that dominated every other inch of the dank motel room.

Asking the vehicle's central computer hub to analyze what chemical make up the foreign substance could have had my mind reel with implications.

As the data ran through to Police Central's mainframe, I already had a sinking feeling of what the results might came back as.

But how could that be possible, I thought. There hadn't been a report of any of them for decades now, not since the last wave of super viruses was thought to have wiped the last of them out.

The vehicle turned the last corner before entering the underground parking garage of my high-rise apartment building as the results came through on the windshield's heads up display.

With a sigh I read the analysis details and taped my fingers on my chin with the familiar metal tinkling sound that had always served to calm my neuro-net whenever something had agitated my circuits.

Not this time though; I doubted I'd be able to get a proper night's recharge for a week in the face of what the results meant.

Somehow, human blood had been spilt at the crime scene where a young robot had been torn apart, metal limb from metal limb.

It was just the beginning of a long night for me; nothing in my years of being a robot detective had prepared me for this.

The Boy With Rocket Hands

Once there was a boy with rocket hands.

He was otherwise a healthy, happy little boy, only instead of hands and fingers at the ends of his arms; he had cylindrical metal rocket boosters.

His parents loved him just the same as they would any non-rocket hands child, and other than some close calls with singed hair while he was a baby, they tried to give him as stable and caring life as they could.

When it came time for the boy to attend school, the boy's parents did not want him to feel any different than any other child his age, so they let him go off to learn with the other children.

Unfortunately, children can be taught to fear, shun, and ridicule those that are different from what everyone was used to, and so they made fun of the boy with rocket hands.

He had always known he was different from everyone else, but could not understand why that should matter, and why the other children would tease him so, just because of his rocket booster hands.

With tears in his eyes, the boy ran across the school yard, away from the cruel children. And, using his rocket hands to blast off the ground, he lifted off into the air.

High and fast the boy climbed into the sky until he was a mere blur against the cloudless azure backdrop.

The boy left the atmosphere and the Earth behind and made his own way, alone, throughout the galaxies.

He explored the cosmos and travelled to many planets, meeting many new species along the way; some friendly and accepting, as well as some hostile and quarrelsome.

Yet, he never came across anyone else who had rockets for hands.

Until, on one particular planet inhabited by a race of robots, the boy met a young robot who also had rockets for hands and they became the best of friends.

Together they went on many adventures; discovering new worlds, uncovering space treasures, helping others when they could; finding that a lot can be accomplished with the rockets they had been blessed with.

After some time, when the two friends had grown, they happened to travel near the familiar galaxy of the boy's home world and the robot convinced him to return, if only for a moment.

So it was that the boy with rockets hands came back to Earth, and destroyed it.

David the Mole

David the mole did not have many friends, and those that he did have were more just work acquaintances from his job in the tunnels rather than close comrades.

They were friendly towards him and would invite him out to drink with them at the watering hole just passed the farmer's field after their shifts ended but he would always politely decline and head home to his little burrow on the outskirts of the mole underground town.

Too busy working on his project, he would tell them, but never elaborate further.

So while his coworkers would go off to enjoy themselves, David the mole would go back to his mole hole alone and work on his mysterious plans into the wee hours of the day, before finally getting some rest and then heading back out in the early hours of the night to begin his shift in the tunnels.

The mole council had decreed it was too dangerous to expand the Mole Town tunnels any further to the west for fear of being discovered by the humans that dwelt there in the city at the base of the mountain.

Thus the tunnelling teams had to burrow through the rocky grounds to the east; which was slow and hard going due to the big boulders they would encounter, causing them to either have to find a way around or backtrack to start an entirely new tunnel.

Needless to say, it was an arduous task and many a mole had been injured, and even a few had lost their lives when a tunnel had collapsed when of a patch of loose boulders got hit upon.

Such losses were tragic, but the devastation that the moles would suffer if discovered by the humans would be even more catastrophic the council had ruled.

So the tunnel teams toiled on through the perilous nights to ensure Mole Town would stay secret and safe as more and more space was needed for all the new moles moving in from the dangerous wilds beyond the farmer's field.

But David the mole had thought of a better way, and it was to that end that he spent his many tireless days planning and calculating.

Until finally it was time to put his plans in motion.

In the early mornings after his shift tunnelling eastward, while the others headed for their post-work wind down, David the mole would go to the west end tunnel and begin burrowing in secret.

Towards the mountain base in the west he would dig alone into the late day until he was almost too exhausted to make it back to his burrow and pass out for a few precious hours of sleep before having to get up and dig at his actual job.

For months he went on like this, until his coworkers grew concerned he was becoming ill due to his weight loss and gaunt visage. But he would just say he had not been sleeping well and trundle off to his mysterious project.

After a couple of these explanations his tunnelling team members decided to see what was really happening.

Keeping their distance, they followed David after work one morning, through the maze of tunnels westward, until they reached what should have been the end of the boundary of Mole Town, yet there was a new tunnel that continued on under the forbidden human realm.

None of them had ever ventured this far west, burrowing under the human city above, but their curiosity and concern for what their enigmatic friend was up to drew them further on.

Up ahead they saw David round a bend and disappear.

Cautiously, they crept around the corner of the tight tunnel and were caught by surprise as they tumbled into a vast empty void that sparkled with refracted light coming from the exposed gem stones that littered the high domed ceiling of the space.

They all rolled out of the tunnel that dropped a ways down to the dirt floor of the shimmery arena.

David turned from his spot higher up the far slope in surprise himself at seeing his coworkers taking in the awe inspiring space.

Scurrying over to the huddled group, David tried to usher them back out the tunnel from where they had all come, but a rumbling had already begun to shake the subterranean room.

The group stopped stubbornly and refused to move until David explained what he was up to.

There was no time, he explained as the shaking intensified. The mountain, he shrieked, the mountain was coming down!

A huge piece of the rocky ceiling came crashing down beside them, shattering into bits and that was enough to get the group scrambling for the tunnel, with David leading the way.

Once in the cramped tunnel the team started to head back the way they had come, but David took them straight into a secret off-shoot tunnel that began to incline through the darkness immediately.

Up and up they climbed as the entire ground around them threatened to collapse and swallow them into the earth.

Finally they emerged into the bright midday air, momentarily blinding them all as the dust and dirt shot out of the tunnel behind them in a great gust air.

Once they donned their tinted work goggles in order to see in the intense light of the sun, the moles looked around at where they had escaped to.

With astonishment, they surveyed the area where the mountain had been just moments before, and the rubble pile that was previously the human city.

As the dust and debris settled they could see that there was nothing left of either the city or the mountain, only a fresh new pile of dirt, for as far as they could see to the west.

The tunnel team looked back at David who was fidgeting awkwardly under their gazes.

With a triumphant cheer, they all rushed to him and lifted him up onto their furry shoulders.

He had done it; quiet, shy David the mole had brought down the mountain and changed everything.

Now began the rise of the Empire of the Moles.

Power Pyramid

Waking up outside of the Sun Temple just before the dawn was Lenethal's favourite part of the day.

The long day ahead spent toiling in the quarry, loading carts with stones and pushing them up to the top of the rough incline to dump them over the edge of the great chasm and then back down again for another load, was all made bearable by watching with anticipation as the sun rose over the apex of the Temple's peaked roof.

The ancient architects that had designed the Temple had masterfully planned out how the building's sloped walls would align perfectly with the arc of the sun's ascent into the morning sky.

So as the golden light slowly crept up the backside of the Temple, the smooth onyx stones of which it was constructed would seem to radiate from within.

From his spot in the dusty field, front and center of the Temple, Lenethal could take in the full effect of the pitch black pyramid structure as the golden glow shone out from behind, causing the silhouetted horizon and Temple to seem as one; organically intertwined as if the Temple itself were a natural part of the landscape.

Just as the sun almost reached the pinnacle of the pyramid's pointed peak, the top of the Temple would open with a horizontal slice of light and lift off from the base; letting the sun shine directly through like an all seeing eye.

This moment Lenethal would await the most each day, for as the sun's rays were caught by the Temple's open oculus, they were amplified and a beam of pure light would blast out and down to the field full of humble workers below; engulfing one of them that had come to be chosen.

Lenethal watched, crestfallen, as the older man who had been only a few rows away from him, was blasted into oblivion by the Sun Temple's beam of light.

Once the light had faded and there was only a blackened mark in the hard sand where the man had stood, the Sun Temple's peaked top closed once more and the round, red sun rose peacefully into the sky above, the crowds of workers beginning to shuffle off, making ready for the day's hard tasks.

And Lenethal sighed as usual and started to slump off to his awaiting quarry cart.

Oh well, he thought with a sniffle, perhaps tomorrow I will be one of the lucky ones.

Cloud WIzard

Up through the clouds I rose; looking down passed my feet the hundreds of meters below to where I had, until a few moments ago, been standing on the sidewalk waiting to cross the street.

My stomach turned as I continued to ascend into the cold, crisp air where the wet wisps of clouds began to gather around me, obscuring the world far below.

Through my confusion I could hear a distant voice, booming yet froggy, seemingly uttering an incantation in a kind of a singsong cadence.

I drifted dreamily through the misty clouds, closer to the voice, spouting in unfamiliar languages as I drew nearer.

Breaking thorough the thick white cover, I came into an opening within the clouds, like a huge pocket hidden inside, and in the middle of the spherical area stood a bearded old wizard, wearing his tall wizard's hat and long wizard's robes.

The wizard waved his wooden wizard's staff back and forth as he continued his enchantment and I floated over to where he stood.

Landing tentatively upon the surprisingly springy cloud floor, I steadied myself as the dizziness from the height wore off unnaturally quickly.

The wizard went silent and regarded me; taking in my regular street clothes with his wizened-eyed gaze.

After an awkward moment of staring in silence I ventured a greeting.

"Hello..." I began.

"I have brought you here!" the wizard's voice boomed loudly and thunder rumbled through the clouds.

"Ahem," he adjusted his voice before continuing, seemingly as surprised at his volume as I was.

"I have brought you here to aid me in a task, mortal." He stated in his quieter, yet still deep, froggy voice.

"Okay, but..." I began again before the wizard cut me off, again.

"For many ages I have been exiled to this realm of clouds," he explained, "by my nemesis, the vile dark wizard, Hemel!"

He spat with rage as he said the name of his enemy; his eyes now filled with wild anger.

"The miscreant became jealous of the fact that I had gained the affections of a fair and powerful witch, and so he flung me here to the far reaches of the realm of winds and sky with an underhanded spell."

I listened to his tale with half interest as I was also concerned with not sinking into the clouds so I did not catch all of the sorted details of the wizard affair, until he got to the point of levitating me up here.

"And so, it is to you I ask for aid." The wizard addressed me directly again. "For I need a mortal's help in collecting the final item necessary to counter the dubious spell and allow me to return down to the surface below."

"Will you help me, my mortal friend? Will you be my champion and quest to retrieve what I need to complete my spell?"

The wizard's voice was regal and commanding, yet there was a hint of a desperate plea within, and I felt compelled to help the old fella out, despite being magically whisked up into the clouds by him, without my consent.

"Yeah, sure," I answered. "What do you need?"

The old wizard practically did a jig right then and there as he took hold of my shoulders and laughed gleefully.

"Oh, ho!" He exclaimed with a mirthful smile. "Thank you, my friend! Thank you!"

He spun around in kind of manic pacing and began to go through the planned spell excitedly, most of which was a mumbled mess in my ears.

"I have almost everything I need," he finished. "Yet, the last ingredient is most difficult, for I cannot simply harvest or cultivate it from up here on high. It maybe difficult to find, for in my time it was only found in the remote parts of an unexplored land, full with dangerous beasts and harsh landscapes."

I began to regret agreeing to help out so quickly as he listed all of the hazards that might be involved in retrieving this mysterious ingredient, until finally he said what the ingredient was and I balked in surprise.

"Wait," I interrupted his rambling explanations. "Do you just mean that sap they use for making chewing gum?"

The old wizard looked at me incredulously. "You know of the ancient Sapodilla tree?"

"Yeah, that's it!" I replied excitedly as the recollection of the name I had learned in high school science class. "They make gum with it. Here you go!"

I reached into my pants pocket and pulled out my packet of gum and handed it to the wizard.

"It's a little flattened because I was sitting on it, but will it do?"

The wizard took the slightly smashed pack of gum and read the ingredients on the back to himself.

"You mean," he started, a little dumbfounded. "You just carry around these little sticks made with the rare sap to chew on all day?"

"I don't know how rare it is, it might be synthetic nowadays, but yup. Is that it?" I asked helpfully.

"Y... yes, that's all..." He sounded deflated after his triumphant excitement of only a few moments ago.

"Alrighty, so can I go back down now?" I asked. "I was on my way to the movies and I should be able to still make it if you could zip me back down."

Still staring with astonishment at the pack of gum, the wizard didn't even look up as he waved his hand in my direction.

"Yes, of course, thank you again." He said distractedly as I was lifted once more into the air and began to descend back down through the clouds.

"Oh, wait!" I shouted to the shrinking form of the wizard as I was flung down from the cloud chamber. "Could you make me a magic potion!?"

My voice was lost in the rushing air as I zoomed back down to the Earth below.

Shoot, I thought to myself. I should have asked for it before giving him the gum. Oh well.

Night Fog

The creeping mists of the fog approached the train platform where he stood beside the circle of light flooding down from the lamppost, its grey metal pole reaching up into the night air.

Looking both directions away from the station he could see the empty train tracks stretch out into the darkness of the eerie, dense night fog.

Even though the winter night should have been cold and dry, the air around him was unusually warm and full of moisture, making him uncomfortably sweaty in his heavy parka.

The train was late, it had been a long day, and he was tired so the darkness and fog seemed to be playing tricks on his mind; they felt alive to him: a leviathan closing in on where he stood, threatening to envelop him into oblivion.

He knew this wasn't true; that he was letting his imagination get the better of him, but still, he moved fully into the sickly amber lamplight.

The light would keep him safe; he just needed to stay within the light.

But that fog still looked ominous; it continued to roll in, seeming to devour the train platform as it crept closer.

Soon there was nothing visible outside the scope of the lamppost's radiant circle of light.

Like in the mists of an intangible dreamscape, he was trapped by the dark grey mists that hemmed in around him.

There was a definite lumbering shape in the dense fog now, rumbling towards him like a nightmare creature come to snatch him away.

As the rumbling increased he began to yell out; scream out in unison with the deafening noise bearing down on him.

Rushing passed him, almost knocking him off balance with its gust of wind, the late night train pulled into the station, causing the misty fog to disperse in curling tendrils

As he realized it was just the train arriving, his screaming died away in the night air as the engine came to its squeaking stop and the doors slid open quietly.

To his side he saw the woman who had been standing on the platform with him the entire time and he motioned for her to step onto the train car first.

She gave him a worried look and opted to hop onto the adjacent car.

With a sigh he got on the train himself and slumped down into one of the empty seats.

It had been a very long day and he was very tired.

Shade

Once there was a little girl that lived in an old mansion at the top of a hill near the edge of town.
 

She wasn't like the other children of the town; while they went to school each day, and ran outside and played, she stayed inside the old house, with its high-reaching iron gates that gave it a foreboding and unwelcoming presence.

 

From a window on one of the upper floors she watched the goings on of the town's children, safely in the shadows through the telescope her parents had given her a long time ago.

 

She watched and observed them as they skipped happily to school with their friends in the mornings, and in the afternoons when their parents would come to meet them on their way home.

 

It was a very idyllic town and its townsfolk were happy and content, even with the looming shadow that old mansion cast down upon it from the hill above.

 

Her parents had been from a prosperous family that had founded and owned many businesses in the town, but as long as everything ran smoothly, they were content to leave the town's people to themselves; as long as the same consideration was given to them. And so they paid the mansion on the hill very little mind.

 

It did make for a solitary life, though not a lonely life per sae, for she had a very inquisitive mind and she filled her days poring over the vast library of books that took up almost the entire second floor of the big house.

 

The books ran the range of subjects from the sciences, to literature, to philosophy, to even the occult. And the petite girl devoured them all; spending whole days sitting in the library's old leather chair that made her look even tinier against its high back and arms.

 

On other days she would run experiments in the cellar's homemade laboratory her parents had commissioned built to fuel her inquisitive predisposition.

 

Finding an interesting idea or theory in one of her books, she would test and confirm the results, and even in quite a few cases, improve upon the original hypothesis.

 

Yet, when she did make her observations out of the window through the lenses of her long telescope, she did yearn to be able to get a closer look at her subjects; purely for scientific reasons.

 

Alas, because of her condition, she could not venture out into the light of day.

 

Very many of her scientific experiments revolved around the problem of her affliction, even if she wouldn't admit it to herself, yet the solution always seemed to elude her.

 

Until she came upon an antiquated book in the mystical section of the library that was a compendium of ancient folk lore and magic tales.

 

She sometimes read these books as a break from the headier subject matter she usually delved into, yet, one of the tales sparked an interest in her. For it might indeed lend itself as an at least aid to her condition.

 

Taking the large tome down to her workshop lab, she proceeded to gather the materials needed to create the described subject found upon the thick, yellowed pages.

 

The process took several days and involved a number of stages of setting and waiting for the setting to take hold, not to mention the numerous incantations that needed to be spoken aloud in the ancient tongues in which the book had been written in order to complete the entire process properly.

 

But being very studious and meticulous, of course the small girl recited them and performed the rituals proscribed perfectly.

 

Once she had completed the process, the girl had only to wait for the light of a specific phase of the moon to see if her efforts would be fruitful.

 

So one clear, midsummer evening, as she sat reading in the library, the moon shone in the night sky, its pale light flooding through the high paned windows, the sound of heavy clomping came from the stairs leading up from the cellar.

 

Marking her place and putting her book aside, the girl watched the doorway as the approaching footfalls came closer along the hallway outside.

 

Filling the entirety of the library's large doorway frame, a great clay Golem stood staring down at the tiny girl from out its hollow eye sockets.

 

With no hesitation or fear, she walked over to the humongous creature to inspect her work as a crafter would a piece of equipment they had engineered.

 

After looking the creature over thoroughly, she gave a nod to herself, satisfied with the results; so far. She would have to wait until the next day to really test her theory out.

 

With that, she bade the lumbering hulk to stand outside her bed chamber door, a silent sentinel as she lay down, unable to sleep in anticipation of the next day's potential.

 

By the time the dawn sun rose, she was cranky with no sleep, but arose quickly and dressed in the cloak and delicate lace veil her mother had given to her but she had never had the opportunity to wear except whenever she was restless to go outside and tried them on, only to be made upset at the fact she could not have used them properly.

 

But on this day! This day, she donned the outfit to go out into the world at last.

At least, she hoped.

 

Opening the door to the hallway, she found the Golem still standing as she left it, and motioned for it to let her step up onto its massive open palm in order to be able to reach up and place a tightly rolled scroll of parchment into its open mouth.

 

Stepping back down from its outstretched hand, the girl proceeded to head downstairs toward the front entrance, the big Golem lumbering behind with its clomping feet thumping on the hardwood floors.

 

Peering out the intricately blown glass windows of the double doors of the main entrance, the girl felt nervous at the prospect of actually setting foot outside in the bright sunlight, but her confidence in her methods bolstered her courage and she looked up over her shoulder to the big clay figure behind her and nodded to it, then opened the doors.

 

Stepping out onto the stone steps of the front of the house that led down to the seldom used driveway, the little girl was hesitant.

 

Then a shadow was cast over her from above and she looked back to confirm her Golem had taken out its gigantic parasol to completely engulf her in its shade.

 

Taking another experimental step out further into the outside, she heard the thump of the Golem's matching footfall.

 

One after the other, its foot steps matched hers in perfect synchronicity.

 

When she stopped, it stopped. When she started again, it started; all the while, holding the huge parasol aloft so that she always remained in its shade.

 

The industrial sized umbrella was constructed of heavy canvas and steel, which made it weigh too much for any normal being to convey.

 

Yet, the Golem hefted it in the air with ease, and so it made it the perfect companion to accompany the lone, little girl into the bright light of the world.

 

She looked out at the town that lay passed the wrought iron bars of the gates at the end of the drive and was filled with excitement at being able to open them and venture outside their confinement at long last.

 

After all these many years of living alone, she was going to be amongst the people she had only observed from her high window.

Within the shade of her Golem, the eternally youthful looking girl smiled broadly, her sharp, white fangs in stark contrast to her blood-red lips.

Time Crimes

 I built a time machine to stop a madman. He came from the future to alter the past and ruined the present. He came in the night, raving about fixing things; things that he had gotten wrong.

Only a small thing it had seemed at the time, and yet, by changing that one, insignificant detail, he had altered the course of events that would soon lead to catastrophic results for the entire world.

Who knows for what ends the madman had calculated; perhaps he had wanted to plunge the world into chaos, perhaps it had been just a simple miscalculation.

Whatever the reasons for his actions, the one thing he did not count on was that I had witnessed his mad scheme that night, and that I would travel across and space to put an end to it.

It took me years to recreate his time machine from memory and figure out how to traverse time with it, and by the time I had finally completed my work the world had been plunged into chaos and was now an apocalyptic waste land. I myself had lost so much and so many people I loved, my heart had become a barren waste as well.

There was only hatred in me now; hatred of the man from the future and how he had selfishly taken everything away from the world; from me.

Once I had the machine up and running, I calculated where and when would give the best possible chance to stop the madman's evil plans and I entered the coordinates into the time machine's navigation computer.

It only took a fraction of a moment and I was back in the past, to a time before the world had begun its descent into ruin.

I changed what I figured needed to be changed and was back in the time machine in only a few moments, ready to go back and see if my future had been fixed.

Apprehensively, I pushed the recall button and the machine returned to the exact time and place I had started from.

Nothing had changed, it hadn't worked; my future was still in shambles.

Furious at my failed attempted to right whatever wrong that madman had perpetrated on the past, I went back to try again.

That attempt failed.

So again I went back; again and again, over and over, each attempted failing to make any change in the future.

Each failed attempt was maddening and I became obsessed with getting it right; there had to be a way I thought, one little change that would repair all of what the madman had done!

I made hundreds of trips back, until the one which I came back in the night, going over all of the mistakes I had made, raving to myself about fixing the timeline.

Making my adjustments hastily, I headed back to the time machine to return to the future once again and hopefully see a positive result, and I saw him.

Through the flashing blue electricity that the time machine created to travel along, I saw a figure looking back at me with amazement, just before I winked out of the past.

It had been me.

I had been the madman all those years ago that the younger me from the past had seen.

In my astonishment of the revelation I stopped the time machine in mid-journey; paused in time and space.

Before me, out the view window, the entirety of what I had done was laid out so clearly now.

All my efforts to change the future by changing the past had been in vain. For sprawling outside my precious time machine, in plain sight, were all the different branches of timelines. Each branch leading to a new future I would not be a part of.

In some I had succeeded and the future was bright; in others, most others, my meddling had only made things much worse.

In almost all the timelines I had become the villain; the raving madman I had sought to put an end to.

Only now, here, high above the branches and offshoots of time, could I see it: the only way to fix it all.

Setting a new trajectory, I sped back down to where all the branches had split in the first place; careening toward the very moment I had broken time.

Shockwaves rippled away from the machine as I tore back through the fabric of space-time, on a collision course with me final destiny.

Screeching through the past, a sphere rocketed down from the sky towards where I stood in the dimly-lit street; the same clear-glass sphere as the one sitting in the dark alley in front of me.

In a terrific explosion of glass and blue sparks, the spheres collided and were completely obliterated in a blast wave that blew me off my feet.

Landing in a large pile of garbage bags on the street curb, I stared dumbfounded at the space where the two spheres had been.

Where there should have been flaming wreckage, there was only a shimmering opening, hanging strangely in the air above the wet alleyway.

Getting up out of the bags of trash, I approached the opening cautiously until I could just poke my head through the wavering opening and look at what was on the other side.

Instead of what should have been just the other end of the alley, was a void of sorts, with an infinite number of identical openings; all of them with another version of me, peeking their heads through.

"What the f..." was all we could get out before all time folded in on itself and the tears in space-time closed up, sucking everything in with a blip.

This time, only a passing stray dog was there to hear the faint noise of the timeline correcting itself. It relieved itself on the big pile of garbage bags and continued on its merry way.

Queen of the Woods

Sunlight flits through the canopy of green that covers the forest as the Queen of the Woods moves among the tress on her early morning sortie to awaken the woodlands to the new day.

Her bare feet gently brushing the forest floor as she hovers along; the fallen leaves and pine needles tickling her toes making her giggle and show her warm smile.

At the sound of her mirthful laughter, the flowers begin to open their blooms as she passes by, gingerly touching their soft pedals with the tips of her fingers, causing the colours of each one to further deepen in richness for their Queen.

The many creatures inhabiting the woods emerge from their cozy dens in the tall trees or burrows in the soft ground to greet their Mistress with chirps and calls of excitement.

Smiling broadly as she passes her woodland subjects, the Queen of the Woods spins around in the air, her ephemeral sundress twirling around, swirling the leaves and needles and grasses up with a merry rustling sound, bringing more creatures out from their night-time refuges.

Lifting her arms up, the Queen beckons her realm to come alive and not be afraid, for the sun has risen and her sister, the Night Queen's time has passed for another day.

Coming to an ancient tress stump, she steps gently down onto the soft ground and sits regally, a true Queen on her throne.

The soft breeze continues to tussle her flowing hair about as if she still moved, causing her to radiate with constant life and beauty; puffs of pollen dancing in the breeze around her wooden-crowned head.

Bunnies, chipmunks, sparrows, moose, birds, bears, and all manner of her animal subjects gather around her as she greets them one and all with a beaming smile and melodious laughter as shafts of golden sunlight shine down upon her; illuminating her with brilliance.

All forgetting the fearful night as their Queen has come to protect them in the new day's light.

All unaware, that from within the shadows still hidden from the light between some of the older gnarled, closely growing trees, the Night Queen watches.

Night's dark eyes full of contempt for her sister sitting surrounded by her loving rabble of simpering creatures; she too had loyal subjects, the creeping, slithering, scuttling beasts of the night; some of which moved over the skin of her bare legs and feet as she stood cloaked in shadows.

And soon, they would be let loose on the world of the sunlight to vanquish the day and turn it forever into night.

Soon, the Night Queen thought, backing further into the darkness, her malevolent grin full of starkly white teeth glistening bright.

The Stone Wolves

Once there lived two strong and proud wolves that loved each other and made their way throughout the vast forests, hunting together as strong and proud wolves do.

Keeping to the deep woods, the wolves usually tried avoided people; not out of fear, but because people always made trouble, both for the animals of the land and for themselves.

Yet, on one hunt, their quarry brought them close to a modest hut, further into the forest than people usually made their homes. This was because the hut belonged to an old, cantankerous wizard who himself wanted to stay away from other people as well, for he found trouble for himself always.

And as of late, a pesky fox had been making trouble, poaching the wizard's chickens; so it was that when the wolves passed by the old sorcerer's wooded home, he was surveying the latest of the fox's crimes.

He spotted the grey and white wolves as they darted through the trees, stalking a majestic white-tailed buck that leapt and bounded ahead of them, and thought they had pilfered his meagre chickens.

His ire raised, the wizard took his anger out on the unlucky wolves, who would have been too proud to ever have resorted to robbing chickens from a pen, as it would be very low and undignified.

Casting a powerful spell with his crooked staff, the wizard blasted the wolves in a blinding flash of light that sent them both to the far ends of the immense forests, separated from each other; cursed to a life in the shadows.

For the spell the malevolent, old wizard had cast upon them would turn them to stone if they ever were touched with daylight again.

As soon as the wolves awoke from their abrupt journeys, they knew their fate in their hearts; if they felt the warmth of the sun's light again, they would be petrified.

Alone, with thousands of leagues between them, the wolves began to make their ways back to each other, for they also had a love in their hearts for one another that drew them together like a shimmering beacon.

Long, cold nights of travelling through the wild and thick woods they spent hunting alone for whatever creatures that were foolish enough to venture out in the darkness; fighting fierce battles with other predators that were the reason most of the animals feared to come out into the night, but their determination to get back to one another gave them the strength to persevere no matter the challenge.

Many moons passed and the two wolves had travelled such a long way, always careful to find shelter from the day before the sunrise broke through the forest's thick canopy of trees.

And though their arduous journeys were solitary and taxing, they never felt abandoned, for they could feel one another coming closer and closer as they made their way across the lands.

The pull of one another became stronger and stronger, until, after almost a year apart, the wolves could feel they were finally nearing the other and their hearts swelled with love.

All through the last night they both ran, the knowledge their lost love was close at hand drove them on, through their hunger, through their exhaustion; soon they would be together again and that was enough to keep them going.

Leaping and bounding up the last rocky slopes of the climbing forest ridge, they felt one another just over the next peak, and as they reached the crest of the hill, the trees abruptly ended and there was a clearing of sun-bleached stone ground.

Spotting one another breaking through the tree line, they sprinted with all their might towards each other; all thought of the early dawn light creeping over the horizon forgotten to their joy of reuniting with their lost love.

But their reunion was not meant to be, for as they came within a few last paces of one another, the sun's rays breached the horizon to their left and they stopped dead in their tracks; turned to solid stone by the wizard's curse.

So now it is that the stone wolves stand facing each other in the clearing at the top of the forest mound; strong and proud, they watch over one another, forevermore.

Death of the Demon King

Alas, tis a sad day, for our King is dead.

He had ruled over this dark domain for millennia on end, and brought such great suffering to the world; what a glorious reign!

Such pitiless plagues; such perverse pestilence He had spread across the land; not only corrupting the lands themselves, but the hearts and minds of the people who dared lived in the light.

Fa! Such fools! Did they think to resist His dark will!?

How could they have hoped to escape His dominance; so great it was.

Once was.

That will that had once been so powerful it felt as though it would crush the world in His dark grip, had begun to falter as of late.

For centuries passed, the world above had all but forgotten the darkness of below; relegating the realm of monsters and shadow to myths and legends.

And our King had become complacent, allowing the light to continue to radiate and grow.

Thus the time indeed had come for His long reign to come to and end; for myself to orchestrate a shadowy coup unseen.

So now, as I hold His head aloft for you all to see; severed by my own hand, honour him and mourn; the death of your great Demon King!

Rejoice, you dogs! And kneel! Bow before your terrible new Demon Queen!

Brad's Bad Day

What a terrible day, Brad thought as he finally reached the sanctuary of home after the prolonged journey from school and dropped his packsack beside his bed; flopping himself face down onto the soft pillows with a grunt.

It had started off well; he went through the day's events in his head: got a ride from Jerry so he didn't have to take the stupid bus, met up with Cheryl for a little pre-class 'face-time', but then in English class it had all gone to shit.

He got a D on his essay, even though he'd paid good money for 'Stankly' to write it for him. Then in science class, Raymond couldn't get their diluting experiment to work so they BOTH failed the assignment. He'd have to have a talk with those two geeks for slacking on HIS work.

At lunch, as he was telling the gang about the hilarious joke he'd pulled on the wheezy kid a few weeks ago on the stairs, Brad had choked on his water and some had come out of his nose in a spray and all his friends had laughed at him, even Cheryl!

After that he had been in a real bad mood, so when he had gone to his locker to put away his books for the day he'd kept messing up his combination, got angry and reefed on the door which had popped open with a sudden gust, causing all his pilled up papers and text books to come falling out onto the floor.

It had taken him forever to jam it all back in, so he was running late went going for the bus home, and as he sprinted to catch it he'd tripped on nothing at all and twisted his ankle, missing the bus as well. So he had had to wait and take the late bus with all the stinky creeps from the badminton team.

It was like his day was cursed.

Oh well, he perked up, at least it was done and he could play some video games before dinner.

Turning on the TV and powering up the consol, he sat on the end of the bed to play, but there was a glare on the screen and he couldn't see anything.

With an annoyed sign, Brad got up gingerly on his tender ankle to pull down the window shade.

At the bottom of his pull, he felt a sharp stab on the back of his hand as he caught it on a loose nail poking up from the window sill and gave a shout in pain, letting the blind slip out of his hand as it snapped back up to the top of the window with a loud bang.

The force of the retracting blind knocked the roll from its cradle and it flew up to hit the ceiling fan as its blades rotated swiftly around.

Flinging off the fan blades, the blind roll whipped into Brad's shelf filled with his judo trophies and flung them up into the air like a catapult.

Some smashed down onto his desk, cracking his laptop screen, while a few others crashed into his other shelf holding his collection of model WWII tanks, obliterating them all into shards.

But the heaviest one, he'd won first place in a tournament by choking out Warren Zelman, came flying, base down, onto his head as he watched dumbfounded.

Before he blacked out and crumpled to the ground, Brad's body turned toward the window, and in a dopey daze, he could see across the street; was that the wheezy kid wearing his dumb nerd glassed, just standing there, staring up at his window?

Out on the sidewalk across from Brad Gulfort's house, Simon looked up as he watched the chaotic events unfold through Brad's bedroom window.

As Brad went to his knees and then slumped out of sight, Simon smirked to himself and thought back to a few weeks early when the idiot had tripped him going up the stairs to their first period English class.

Everyone had laughed at Brad's hilarious 'joke', but the fall had caused Simon's glasses to drop off and break on the hallway floor.

So he had had to order a new pair; a very unique model off an occult site he had found on the internet, and they had finally come in yesterday.

He had worn them to try them out at school today, where he had first seen Brad in their first and second period classes together, then at lunch in the cafeteria with his blockheaded friends.

After school he'd passed Brad again in the hallway as he was struggling with his locker; then watched happily from his seat on the departing bus as his tormentor tripped on the sidewalk outside.

Simon took off his glasses and gave them a polish with the special cloth they had come with. Yes, they had been worth paying extra to get his prescription filled in a rush.

They worked just as advertise; these, Hex-ray Specs.

Castle Alverone

Can you see it? High up above; barely visible, but it is up there, that tiny speck that crosses the moon when it shines brightly on cool, clear nights.

Make no mistake, though, it's still there even behind the cover of clouds; there in the blinding light of day. It's always there, making its journey around us as we sit down here on the ground; through the vacuum of space, shining like a beacon with the reflected light of the stars themselves.

Orbiting the planet; a lone sentinel from a time long gone: The Silver Castle of Mount Alverone.

You doubt that it's true? There couldn't possibly be a castle made of silver rotating around above us in space, you say? How did it get there? Why is it up there; might be questions that come to mind.

Good questions to ask indeed, but perhaps you might mull over instead: who lives up there still, in such an unlikely of places? And what could have caused them to leave this Earth behind?

There have been many theories throughout the years; the greatest minds in history trying to answer the problem in vain.

Perhaps the lord or lady who dwells within ran a foul of a powerful dark warlock who cast a spell over the castle, causing it to float up like a balloon until it left the atmosphere, got caught up in the perpetual gravitational pull of the planet's orbit and is now forever stuck spinning in tandem with Earth's daily trip around the sun.

Or maybe it was an early scientist that created the world's first castle-shaped rocket, but once it blasted foolishly off the Earth's surface with powerful fireworks; it only had enough gumption to get stuck up there in its unending ellipse.

Another possibility altogether could be that an angry and bitter old wizard became fed up with the problems of the world and its people and build a magic castle to leave the planet behind; floating peacefully out in space, away from everyone.

Many a brilliant mind have gone mad before their time with obsession at solving the riddle, but no one has got it just right.

How would I know, you ask? How would a doddering old man in a shabby old suit, sitting here alone on a park bench know what the smartest of people throughout history have all wrong?

Well, let me answer that with a bit of advice for you; free of charge:

If you ever set out to build a castle made of material so light you could move from place to place, in order to visit the many lands your rule over, simply by picking it up with your one hand: make sure you tether it to your wrist with a damned string!

And make doubly sure that you do so if your lady wife asks you to go get some fresh milk from the farmer down the way, otherwise there will be hell to pay, whenever you figure out how to get the blasted castle back down again.