Book Out, and New Blog

Friends and followers,

I now have a book of my short stories out at Amazon. Currently it is only available as an e-book, but I hope to have a paperback copy available soon. The book is “There Goes the Neighborhood“, and it has 13 short stories about people dealing with the sorts of things a person usually only encounters in the pages of fairy tales. Some of the stories are spooky, some are humorous, and some are poignant. So please check out my new book! A few of the stories are old favorites, and others are brand-spanking-new!

To celebrate the new book, I also have a new website – Jane W. Wolfinbarger, Storyteller. I will be adding stories and anecdotes over there fairly regularly, so please come on over and have a look. Just scroll down past the sticky post about my book for the latest post.

Flying Saucers and Dragons – Part 1

“FLYING SAUCERS!” the headline screamed across the entire top half of the paper. I stopped to look at it before I tossed it in my bike basket for the ride back home. My small-town weekly paper usually had more mundane headlines such as “Miller’s Watermelon Takes First Prize” or “Cows Block Traffic”. Flying saucers were something new.

Below the fold was a photograph of the witness to the air-born marvel – Joe Rivers, who owned the gas station at the crossroads and was better known for his feats of drinking prowess at local bars. Well, that put this story into perspective. I tossed the paper in my basket along with the rest of the mail and set off for home. Flying saucers didn’t really impress me anyway. I consorted with dragons, wizards and other strange beings from other worlds on a regular basis. And not through my local library – or the bars, either.

My home was also the home of the Door, an inter-dimensional portal to all sorts of strange places. I was the Door-keeper, caretaker, and occasionally hotelier to beings who needed a place to stay for a few days while visiting our world. I was also the foster mother of two young dragons. Flying saucers seen by the local drunk were small potatoes.

As I bumped down the dirt road on the bike my best friend Jon had given me for Christmas (a candy-apple red cruiser with three speeds and coaster brakes), it occurred to me that I should probably make sure that there was no connection between any of my visitors and the flying saucer thing. One night-flyer from one of the Dusk Worlds would go a long way towards looking like a flying saucer, especially when seen through booze-fogged eyes.

But when I got back to the house, I was distracted by my two small charges. As I wheeled my bike around to the back of the house, cries from my newly-planted garden caught my attention.

Murgatroyd, the older of my draconic fosterlings and a genius by any world’s standards, had managed, even with his magic curtailed, to create havoc in the garden. Just that morning I had just set out small pumpkin plants since the dragons loved pumpkin guts and seeds. They were like ambrosia – or maybe crack – for dragons, and I wanted to have plenty of pumpkins on hand this fall.

Apparently Murgatroyd still had enough magic to enhance the growth of plants. Both small dragons were effectively bound in pumpkin vines, and neither one wanted to damage the precious vines to get themselves loose.

“I just thought…” Murgatroyd began as I came over to try and untangle the pair. Some of his best excuses began with those three words.

I stopped him. “I know, you just wanted to help.”

He nodded mutely, a pumpkin flower bobbing in his face.

“Well,” I sighed as I unwrapped Cosmo and removed a baby pumpkin from his ear, “no major harm done this time. We’ll just have pumpkins earlier than anyone else. Way earlier.” I looked around the garden. The magic had bled over into the corn and beans, too, and they were a good two weeks farther along than they had any right to be. “And I may actually have you do this again. I wouldn’t mind a chance to grow a few extra vegetables.”

Both small dragons saw this as a threat; like human children, they detested most veggies. I smiled. Murgatroyd, still encased in pumpkin vines, stared at me in horror. “I…I think I’m not sure what I did,” Murgatroyd began.

“Save it. We both know that’s not true. So, for your consequences for using unsupervised magic, you will help me out here in the garden for the next few weeks and we’ll get early harvests on everything and then plant more.” I couldn’t quite contain a smirk.

The newly freed Cosmo was slinking away. “Not so fast, bucko. You were part of this – so you get consequences, too. You get weeding duty, since I’m sure the weeds will be growing magically as well, and they grow fast enough as it is.”

Cosmo had sense enough not to argue with me and nodded before he slunk off to the house.

Murgatroyd, being the source of the magic, was far more wrapped in the vines than Cosmo had been. “Murgatroyd,” I said as I worked at getting him free, “what am I going to do with you? Every time you use magic, something goes wrong. When are you going to learn, little guy?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. But statistically, the odds are that eventually I will have success without problems.”

Well, there was no point in continuing this conversation – or trying to unwrap the vines without  damaging them. I finally gave up and broke the vine to Murgatroyd’s intense dismay. “There are plenty more vines.” I told him. “Now run on before I come up with more work for you.” He scurried after Cosmo to the house.

Once inside, I went hunting for Felix, the large blue dragon who tutored my small charges in things draconic and babysat while I was out of the house. I found him replacing the keys in the oversized computer keyboard that the small dragons used.

“Murgatroyd’s claws put holes in the keys again,” he grumbled.

“Then make them out of something harder,” I replied. “You know he’s going to use that thing incessantly. Bridges are his new obsession, and I think he’s looked at pictures of every bridge on the internet. Prepare for the inevitable. By the way, do you know what your two charges were up to while you were fiddling with this?”

That got his attention. His head flew up and he looked at me with panic in his eyes. “Oh, no. What did they do now?”

“Just put the garden on hyper-speed growth trying to get early pumpkins. No real harm, but, Felix, you HAVE to keep a better eye on them!”

“Pumpkins? Early?” His eyes glazed over.

“Felix, you’re missing the point entirely. He used magic – again – without supervision.”

“Yes, sorry, of course you’re right. I’ll go and talk to him right now. Er, can you put this last key on? Maybe if he can go back to looking up bridges and construction of them he’ll stay out of mischief for a while…” Felix handed me the “B” key and took off. I had a feeling that the early pumpkins were going to be more of a topic than the magic use.

Later that evening, while the dragons and I were having dinner, Jon stopped by. He often did in the evenings, helping me put the little dragons to bed and then spending the evening talking to me. Tonight, he had to come through the entire house to the big dining hall to find us; since Felix was staying for dinner, my small table in my small kitchen wasn’t nearly big enough. When Jon came in, Murgatroyd was asking for what felt like the fiftieth time why I wouldn’t take him on a tour of the local bridges so that he could look at the structure of them up close.

Jon dropped a kiss on the top of my head and knocked on the small dragons’ scales gently. They giggled with delight – everyone loved Jon. “Bridges still?” he said to Murgatroyd, who nodded.

“Hey, you left this in your bike basket,” he said, tossing the paper down in the middle of the table and grabbing a plate. “Looks like excitement here in the big city.”

The screaming headline got everyone’s attention. “Fly-ing sa-sau-cers,” Cosmo sounded out slowly. He looked up, and all three dragons asked, “What is a flying saucer?”

Ah, cultural differences. Well, this was why Cosmo and Murgatroyd were being fostered here in this world. They would know both our culture and the draconic one when they were grown. For now, things like magic and elves and gremlins and Night Flyers were part of their everyday experience, but things like flying saucers were a whole new world for them.

“Well,” I started, but Jon said, “Let me handle this. I was an expert on flying saucers from the time I was in grade school.” So, between bites of his dinner, Jon regaled us with the A-Z of flying saucers. Finally, over desert, he wound up with a lecture on Area 51. “And this is why we keep you guys a secret – we don’t want you to end up on ice at Area 51 like the aliens.”

Both small dragons’ eyes were like dinner plates. I could see a sleepless night and nightmares in my immediate future. I turned to Jon with a don’t mess with me look in my eyes. “Jon, I think you’d better tell the little ones that this is just a scary story. NOW.”

Jon had the good grace to blush. “Sorry, guys. There aren’t really any flying saucers. And you won’t end up on ice anywhere. I just got carried away with the story telling.”

Neither of the small dragons looked convinced; Felix didn’t either, for that matter.

“Come on, guys, stories. All stories. Now help me clean up the table,” Jon said, standing up quickly and grabbing a plate. He avoided looking at me.

I grabbed his arm as he tried to follow the others out of the dining room. “Not so fast, buster.”

“I know. I’m really sorry. I just forgot how young they are.” Jon hung his head.

I couldn’t stay too mad at him. “Oh well, I guess it’s not any worse than the time I watched that vampire movie when I was in first grade. I didn’t sleep for a week and had to have a night light for a year, but I recovered. Sort of.”

Jon winced. “Right. I’ll just set myself up in the guest bedroom near the dragons, then, shall I?”

I grinned. “Got it in one.” And I accompanied him to the kitchen.

Jane © April 2010

The Horrible Events of This Night

”I take my pen in hand to record for all Posterity the Horrible Events of this Night, the thirty-first Day of the tenth Month, the Day they call All Hallow’s Eve…” Henry stopped, put his tired head in his hands, and rocked gently from side to side. He took a look at the few words he had put down and almost balled up the paper to use as fire starter, but stopped himself at the last minute. Quill pens he could make for himself, and he had feathers a-plenty gathered from when the fox had gotten at the fowl, but paper and ink were dear and should not be wasted in a frivolous fit of pique just because he felt his poor words were not adequate for the situation.

He sighed, dipped his pen afresh and continued. “Last month, when the ravening Beast burst from the Forest and rent the flesh of my own dear Constance, I was terrified first for her life and then when she rallied and began to improve, that she might have contracted the Rabies, that dread Disease that drives men mad with Thirst though they cannot drink. I had no Clew that she would contract something far worse. Indeed, either instant Death, Death of a gangrenous Fever, or even the Rabies would have been preferable to this. This insufferable possession by a demonic Beast – the Loup-Garou. Yes, when the Moon rose this night, she turned and ran at me, and then burst through the door of our humble abode, tearing her clothing from her Body as she tried to tear away her own skin, writhing in terrible Pain as skin and bone shifted and teeth and hair grew. I watched, frozen in horror, as she finished her Change and turned to me, a fearsome light glowing maniacally in her Eyes. I knew her not, and slammed the door to our cabin in terror as she – or it – lunged at me. I could hear the thuds the Beast’s body made as it tried to reach me, to rend my body as hers very nearly had been on that Day one short Month ago.”

Henry stopped again, gazing into the distance as he remembered the events of the day. His hand was shaking slightly as he took up his pen and continued his narrative. He paused, breathed deeply and then began again with a steadier hand.

“It was not long before I could hear the Beast crashing through the underbrush near the cabin, moving farther and farther from my Home. I turned to the cradle by the fire where our infant Patience lay sleeping, still wrapped in her swaddling bands, innocent of her Mother’s terrible Transformation. For the first time, I truly regretted my decision to uproot my small Family and bring them to this New World where there would be no Family to fall back on when Help was needed. The Hunger has been bad since the Crops failed, and I was worried, too, when our goat and pig were taken by wild Animals, and when our nearest Neighbors all died last week of some foul Flux I was starting to doubt my Wisdom. Starvation or Disease seemed unavoidable. But I reasoned, at least we still had one another, and could take our few Possessions and leave, possibly finding a new place to settle before we expired from Hunger. But now, with Constance taken by the Beast of the Night and small Patience with no Mother to nurture or nurse her, I realize that I am lost. Even if I am not taken by the Beast tonight, there will be more Nights and yet more when the Beast will lurk about our small cabin -whenever the Moon shines full and bright in the Sky.”

The ink became slightly smudged as Henry’s head dropped down, dozing off briefly. He started awake again as the baby stirred and fussed. Carefully, he changed her and patted her and fed her a bit of the last of the family’s gruel that warmed by the fire. “Ah, child, I know that this is no substitute for thine own mother, but it is the best that I, thy father, can do.”

Eventually the baby settled down and fell back asleep again, and Henry took up his pen again. “The Dawn will break soon, and I must take the Babe and try to make it to a place of safety for the both of us. If things go well, I will find a wet-nurse for the Child and then – then, I will return to do battle with the Beast that has consumed the gentle, loving Constance of my Memories.” A loud thump sounded at the door and Henry jumped, his pen leaving a streak across the paper. Cautiously, he made his way to the door and looked through the peep-hole he had drilled there. Dawn had broken, and it was light out now, the morning sun shining on the snow. The blood-stained snow. He flinched back and then looked once more. As he put his eye to the hole, another eye met his. He started back in terror, and then realized that the eye was the same color as that of his beloved Constance. He carefully looked again, and there was Constance standing there in the snow, the rags of her dress pulled about her, her hair wild and tangled and her face smudged with dirt and God alone only knew what else. But the light of reason was in her eyes, and she looked tired and harmless. As if she knew her mother was nearby, little Patience began to howl with hunger. Constance looked at his eye peering out at her and said plaintively, “Henry, it’s cold out here.”

Steeling himself, Henry opened the door. Constance stepped through, grabbing the leg of a deer as she did and dragging it in with her. “I did a little hunting last night, Henry. I brought home some meat – we’ll not starve now. Wouldst thou like to go and butcher this while I clean up and tend to the baby?”

-She Wolf (c)2007

Heavens to Murgatroyd – Part 3

Cosmo generally slept in a little bit in the mornings, and I liked to use this dragon-free time to indulge myself with dyeing wool and spinning yarn. The activity centered me and focused me for the day, and I always looked forward to my hour or so first thing in the morning.

This morning was no exception. I had planned to dye some wool a nice, bright red for some socks for Jon, who was a Boston Red Socks baseball fan. This dye was not kid-friendly, so I couldn’t use it when Cosmo was around wanting to help. I hummed as I pulled out my dye-pot and smiled as I prepped my wool in a vinegar solution. And then Murgatroyd came into the room.

“What are you doing?” were the first words he said. Not “Good morning,” or even “I’m hungry,” which was usually what Cosmo said when he first woke up. Murgatroyd wanted to know what I was doing, why I was doing it, and if he could do it, too.So I explained. And since it was Murgatroyd, who had an insatiable thirst for knowledge and no experience in our world, I started at the beginning, with idea of fibers.

I had met very few dragons who much experience with fibers. Granted, if I were covered in a bunch of tough and beautifully colored scales, I might choose not to clothe myself either. Textiles were something that other species wore and used, and that was all that most dragons knew about them. More dragons were learning as they traded in other dimensions, but cloth was still a rarity in the dragon world. As a result, most of my draconic visitors had been fascinated by my fiber interests, and Murgatroyd was no exception.

Murgatroyd and I explored the idea of fiber, of fiber plants and fiber animals. Then we focused on sheep since I was dyeing wool. We talked about dyeing, spinning, weaving and knitting, all in the space of about half an hour. Then, since I had some wool ready to dye and Murgatroyd was curious, I pulled out some kid-friendly dye, a powered soft drink mix with really bright colors, and asked him if he’d like to dye some wool for me to spin and knit into a scarf for him, just like Cosmo had.

He was instantly hooked. It took him ten minutes to decide which color to use – I had red, pink, green and blue available and you’d have thought that this was a life or death decision. Finally he chose green – “like my scales now,” he said, and we set to work.

He was fascinated with the entire process, and when the green color was finally all absorbed by the white wool, he was charmed. “We made the white wool green,” he said over and over. “And you didn’t use any magic at all!”

We hung the wool up in the mud room to dry just as Cosmo got up. Cosmo was philosophical about missing the wool-dyeing session and just wanted his breakfast. Then I sent the pair off to investigate the computer that Felix had set up for them while I cleaned up the kitchen.

A little while later, I found Murgatroyd deeply involved in a computer encyclopedia article about sheep while Cosmo soared around the big front room, playing chicken with the chandelier.

“Hit the chandelier once and you’re meat, Cosmo!” I called to him.

He swooped down and landed at my side as I tried to get Murgatroyd’s attention. “Hey, how about a walk in the woods?” I coaxed. “It’s not too bad out there today. At least it’s not snowing sideways.” I finally pried Murgatroyd away from the computer and out into the woods with the idea that he could see lots and lots of new flora and fauna outside and then he could look them up later in the day. He was cramming in facts about our world as fast as he could.

The walk went well. Since Murgatroyd couldn’t fly, Cosmo elected not to as well, which was a relief for me. He was far easier to keep track of when he was safely on the ground. I took a pad and pen with me, and Murgatroyd had me list grey squirrels, pine trees, snow, cardinals, cottontail rabbits, crocuses, sparrows and about fifty more things for him to look up later. All in all it was a successful walk, and when we got back it was lunch time.

Cosmo was ready. “Can we have UN-roasted beef? Please?” he begged. This was a favorite treat of his. I bought packages of stew meat, already cubed, and set them out uncooked in a bowl. I gave Cosmo a skewer, and he would stab the meat, roast it with his own flames, and then eat it. It kept him happily occupied for quite a while and got him fed at the same time.

I pulled him aside. “Cosmo, I don’t think that would be polite. Remember, Murgatroyd can’t…”

But Murgatroyd was listening, and he interrupted. “I don’t mind, really I don’t. As long as Cosmo doesn’t mind roasting my meat, too.” He looked a little bit sad, but seemed quite sincere.

By the time I had them settled, they had come up with a compromise – and a game. Murgatroyd would toss up a piece of meat, Cosmo would sear it in mid-air, and then they would take turns catching it in their mouths. Missed catches, bits that were burned or undercooked, and bad tosses by Murgatroyd had them laughing with delight and I decided that it was worth it, even if they weren’t exactly learning good table manners. At least they were cooperating with each other, and even having fun.

After that they went to play in Cosmo’s playroom. When I looked in a little bit later, I found Murgatroyd determinedly trying to teach Cosmo his ABC’S in both dragon and English at the same time. Cosmo looked a little bit confused but was trying valiantly to keep up with the lesson.

“Cosmo, why don’t you take a turn  on the computer. I put an alphabet game on there for you,” I said. Cosmo looked relieved and ran off to see what the game was like. I sat down with Murgatroyd. “Go just a little slower, okay? He’ll catch on. He just isn’t as quick as you are.” Murgatroyd nodded, and then requested that I help him find some books about this world to read. I left him happily perusing a set of nature guides.

Later that afternoon, I  had finally sat down with my knitting for a while when I realized that I hadn’t seen Isadore the cat all afternoon. Usually he was right there when I sat down, ready to curl up in my lap for a nice nap. Sometimes he hid when we had someone new around, but he had met Murgatroyd the day before and seemed to like him. Murgatroyd, in turn, had been fascinated by the soft, furry cat. Perhaps Isadore had decided enough was enough and had hidden himself away for some peace and quiet. Sure enough, a little bit later I heard the familiar sound of Isadore hacking up a hair ball. I sighed and made a mental note to go looking for it when I got back up.

A short time later, my peace was shattered by the sounds of a dragonly altercation. I ran towards the playroom, where the noise originated,  and stepped squarely on the hairball with my sock-clad feet. Of course, it squished unpleasantly, and I automatically stopped to look at the bottom of my now wet-and-icky sock. Then I froze in shock.  The hairball was purple. Isadore wasn’t.

“MURGATROYD!!!!” My shout was loud and angry enough to stop the fight cold. First Cosmo and then Murgatroyd peeked around the corner of the playroom door at me as I stood there seething.

“WHAT’S THIS?” I roared.

“I have no idea,” replied Murgatroyd, who had never seen a hairball before.

“A hairball,” answered a puzzled Cosmo, who didn’t understand why I was asking what a hairball was. They were common occurrences in our house.

“Yes, but what’s wrong with this hairball?” I hissed.

Murgatroyd and Cosmo just stared at me.

“What color is our cat?” I asked.

“He’s grey and brown and stripey…” answered Cosmo, who sounded like he thought I might be losing my mind.

“But not purple.” I stated this very firmly.

Murgatroyd looked a little bit worried.

“No….” said Cosmo.

“Please come and look at this hairball,” I commanded.

The two young dragons came over and looked.

“It’s purple,” said Cosmo.

“Yes. And do you know why that would be?” I asked, looking directly at Murgatroyd.

Cosmo looked at Murgatroyd too, as the latter shifted uncomfortably.

“Because you like purple and I wanted to see what he would look like if I dyed him?” Murgatroyd squeaked. “But I knew he couldn’t breathe if I put him in the dye pot like we did the wool, so I used magic. I thought since he has nice, soft fiber all over him, it would be interesting to change his color, just like we did with the wool this morning,” he continued.

“And what did Isadore think about this?” I asked him.

“He hissed and ran away, which I really don’t understand. The information I read about him this morning said that cats don’t perceive color as you and I do. He shouldn’t have noticed the change. I know it didn’t hurt,” Murgatroyd the scientist was puzzled. Then he added thoughtfully, “Perhaps it was because I made his coat longer and thicker and faster-growing too, so that it would be easier for you to harvest and spin, since he’s not very large.”

Great. So now I had a cat who was desperately trying to groom his newly longer, thicker, and fast-growing fur off so that he could feel like himself again. He would be hacking up hairballs from here to eternity if we didn’t get this settled quickly.

I sighed. “In the first place, Murgatroyd, cats know. I don’t know how, but they KNOW when something changes with their fur, even without the longer and faster growing part. In the second place, I thought there was a damper on your magic?”

“Oh, well, there is. I really can’t do much at all – the cat was about as large a thing as I can affect now. Even that was some work. But don’t you like it?” he added wistfully. “Since you like to change the colors of your fibers and like to spin soft ones, I thought this would be really nice for you. You can get some really nice fiber from Isadore now.” He sounded like he wanted to cry.

I sat down in the hall, put my arms around him, and we had a talk. We talked about how it was better to ask permission before he changed something that belonged to someone else, how living creatures needed to be off-limits for his scientific and magical experiments, and how I liked the  fact that he tried to do something nice, even if it did backfire.

Then we went off in search of Isadore, who was hiding in shame, so that a penitent Murgatroyd could change him back to normal.

Later that evening, Felix came to see how things were going. I met him at the Door.

“Oh good. I’m glad you’re here. I need your help,” I said.

“If it was an emergency, you should have summoned me,” Felix said nervously.

“No, not an emergency, but Isadore needs some help.” I explained what happened.

“But if Murgatroyd took off the spells, Isadore should be all right now,” Felix said in a worried tone.

“Well, he couldn’t exactly get the ones for the longer, faster-growing fur off. And he had a little trouble with the one that made Isadore purple. We decided he should quit while he was ahead, before he made the spells permanent or something.”

As we walked down the hall, I added, “Mind the hairballs. I’ve been cleaning them up as soon I’ve found them, but all Isadore has done all day is groom and hack up hairballs. This different fur is really disagreeing with him.”

“So I see,” said Felix as he stepped square in the middle of one. He lifted his foot to look at it. “Green?” Murgatroyd turned Isadore green this time?”

“Not exactly,” I said and pointed to another hairball a short distance away. This one was yellow. “When he tried to take off the color changing spell, all he did was shorten its duration and take away the part that kept the color stable.” I paused for effect. “Now Isadore changes color  about every ten minutes. He has been every shade in the rainbow and a few that surprised even me.”

Felix sighed. “I guess we’d better find the cat and fix him before he has a nervous breakdown,” he said.

I smiled brightly and replied, “That would be nice.”

We went to look for Isadore.

-She Wolf © 2009

Heavens to Murgatroyd – Part 2

I told Cosmo about his cousin’s impending visit and he proceeded to bounce around the house for the rest of the day. Cosmo remembered his cousin vaguely and was really excited about the visit. At least the bouncing was a change from the sulking and boredom. Cosmo brought out all of this things to see what I thought Murgatroyd would like best to play with and asked me to help him tidy up his playroom.

Then he insisted that the bedroom next to his be readied for Murgatroyd, which meant that the regular human bed in there had to be moved out so that a dragon-bed – with flame-proof coverings – could be put in. Jon and Rob got the call for that one. Then, being the good friends that they are, they took Cosmo out for an extended romp in the snow so that I could have some peace and quiet. All they got in return was dinner, but that seemed to satisfy them. Rob left and Jon stayed to spend the evening with me and a very tired but still wound up Cosmo.

“Are you sure about this?” Jon asked me after we finally got Cosmo settled for the night. “I met Master Murgatroyd when I was working with your employer and our friend Thomas last fall, and he’s, well…..he’s a bit different.”

“Different? Different how? I deal with Cosmo’s curiosity and bounciness and impulsiveness daily. How could Murgatroyd be worse? I mean, aside from the magic, which Felix says he’s put a damper on.”

Jon sighed. “This is true. Well, maybe it’ll all work out. At least he’ll occupy Cosmo.”

 

Felix brought Murgatroyd the following afternoon. Cosmo haunted the Door all morning, waiting for them to come, and had to be dragged away for lunch. When the Door bell finally rang, Cosmo swooped from one end of the big hall to the other in excitement and then got underneath my feet as I tried to unlock the Door.

I dragged him back with me as I stepped out of the way so that Felix and his charge could come in.

Murgatroyd wasn’t much larger than Cosmo, but there the resemblance ended. It was easy to see the trouble his experiments with magic had caused. His particular melding of red and green dragon traits was awkward at best. At worst, it would cause him problems in the dragon world in the future.

As I smiled and leaned forward to say hello and welcome Murgatroyd to our home, he turned to Felix and said rather imperiously in Dragon, “The interdiminsional Doorway is very interesting. I would like to study it more closely.”

I was startled, but I saved Felix the trouble of replying and responded to Murgatroyd in Dragon, “The Door is the property of the wizard Thomas, who has employed me to act as the Door’s guardian. Any requests will need to be directed to him.”

Murgatroyd turned around and stared at me. “I did not realize you spoke Dragon – or any language for that matter. Although with that accent, you could hardly be considered to be speaking it. Lesser species should not attempt things that are beyond them. You will relay my request to your employer NOW, so that I can begin my studies.”

While I stood there with my mouth hanging open and Cosmo was frozen in shock, Felix cleared his throat. “This is your guardian, Murgatroyd. Humans are not lesser species – they are our equals in every way. You will be polite, and you will NOT be studying the Door or any other magical device for the foreseeable future. Please remember what got you into your current dilemma. And drop the attitude, NOW.”

Murgatroyd dropped his head and muttered, “Sry,” in Dragon.

“I beg your pardon? I couldn’t hear you,” said Felix. “And you can speak English. Be polite and use it.”

Murgatroyd looked up at me, “I’m sorry, and I thought you were one of the great apes. That is why I was surprised you could talk. I’ve studied them but never actually seen one.” he said in passable English.

Felix turned Murgatroyd around and looked him in the eyes. “You will behave here at all times. You will set a good example for your cousin Cosmo, and you will be a thoughtful guest. I know you know how to behave; we’ve gone over it enough times in the past few days. See that you remember. And remember what happens if you don’t.”

The silence was palpable. Finally Murgatroyd nodded and Felix released him. “I don’t want to go to Mt. Elmot’s. I’ll be good.”

Felix sighed and turned to Cosmo. “Cosmo, would you please show your cousin around?”

Cosmo was still a bit stunned at Murgatroyd’s behavior, but he nodded reluctantly and said quietly, “Come on, Murgatroyd. I’ll show you where your room is.”

When the two of them were off, I crossed my arms and stared at Felix. “What was that about? The whole thing, I mean. The behavior, the attitude, the Mt. Elmot’s thing. Tell me now, or you can take Murgatroyd right back with you.”

Felix had the good grace to look ashamed. He slumped and the gestured towards the front room. “Come on then. I DO owe you an explanation. Several of them, in fact.”

When we were settled in front of the fire place (I started the fire since, as a blue dragon, Felix couldn’t), Felix began with no prompting. “Murgatroyd has always been quite precocious, very bright. His parents, though well intentioned, have not been very wise in raising him, and have encouraged him to barge ahead and do whatever he liked in pursuit of knowledge. Manners, too,  have never been at the top of their list for him, which is very unfortunate, as you can see. Really, they are the root of the entire problem that we are having now with him.” Felix shook his head.

“They have let him learn anything and everything he wished, and let him feel that this was all that mattered. They have not encouraged friends for him, nor have they encouraged normal play and games – there is nothing in his world except learning. And there, he is denied nothing. When he started to develop his magical abilities, they were ecstatic and immediately began to look for someone to teach him. Of course, no one would, although several wizards and dragons offered to put a damper on his burgeoning abilities until he was old enough to use them wisely.”

Felix stopped now and stared into the fire. “His parents wouldn’t let anyone do this to their precious little one, of course. They accepted the fact that no one would teach him, and they  now swear that they have no idea how he’s been learning. I’ve got my work cut out for me, finding the source of  his rather inadequate lessoning.”

“Why you, Felix? How did you get roped into this? I mean, I know you are more than passable at magic, but you’re a researcher. You study other cultures. You aren’t a draconic policeman. Or are you?”

“No, I’m simply an old friend of both the little fellow’s parents. As you can imagine, they are both heavily involved in intellectual fields, and we have know each other for years. They know that I have connections that they don’t  - you, for instance, and Thomas. And I like to think that they realize that I have a heavy streak of practicality which they both seem to be lacking.”

“All right, that seems reasonable. Now what’s this Mt. Elmot’s thing?”

“It’s a very, very strict dragon school. The young dragons there tend to be a bit out of control, or a bit hard to control, and there are all sorts of restrictions and dampers in place. Really, it’s rather like what a military boarding school for borderline delinquents would be here. And if Murgatroyd went there, he’d easily be  the youngest dragon in the place. He doesn’t want that, and really, neither does anyone else. I want him here, learning to play like any young dragon should, and learning to get along with others, like Cosmo.” He looked over at me.

I nodded. I could see that this would be a last resort.

Then I asked bluntly, ” How am I supposed to control him. I don’t have magic.”

“I think that he’ll be all right with you. The first was an honest, if rude, mistake on his part. He has studied this world somewhat, but has never met anyone from here. Most of his books have been rather lacking in the visual graphics, so he really thought that you were one of the great apes. The incident was regrettable, but understandable if you consider this.”

I didn’t like it, but I nodded.

Felix continued, “I’ll leave an emergency contact spell for me. You can trigger it just by reading it, even without magic. You know the sort of spell. You’ve used them before. If you use it, I’ll come right away, no matter what. And,” he patted a bag he had brought with him, “I have a surprise for both of our young dragons, and you as well. It may keep them occupied for a while.”

“What is it?” I asked, my eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Felix dug into the bag and dug out a hugely oversized computer keyboard. “It’s a dragon sized computer set-up. This keyboard will easily accommodate their claws. It will hook up to the big TV moniter out here. And I have programs, too, both with games and with information about this world. Next time, Murgatroyd won’t mistake you for a great ape.” Felix beamed.

“But no Internet.” I said. “I can’t even begin to imagine the trouble they could get into on the Internet.”

Felix winced. “Neither can I. Never fear, that was never part of the plan. That would be the last thing I’d want at this point in time.”

Felix bustled off to set up the computer, and I went to check on the young dragons.

They were in Cosmo’s playroom, and Cosmo was zooming through the air around a series of obstacles set down the middle of his very large, dragon-sized playroom – a favorite game of his. “Now we can play chase with the obstacle course!” he was shouting gleefully as I came into the room.

Murgatroyd looked on sourly. “No we can’t. I don’t have wings.” He turned away, acting annoyed, but I could see that he was dejected. No matter how difficult he was, he was still a child, and I felt sorry for him.

“Cosmo, come here,” I called. Cosmo came right away, having realized his mistake.

“I’m sorry, Murgatroyd. I forgot,” he said without prompting. He was a soft-hearted, observant little fellow. Maybe Murgatroyd could learn something from him. “Let’s play something else, okay?”

Murgatroyd shrugged. I spoke up, “I have a suggestion. Murgatroyd, you read English, don’t you?”

He nodded slowly.

“Well, Cosmo hasn’t learned to read yet, and he loves stories. There are all sorts of books in this closet here (the closet was fireproof, so Cosmo wouldn’t accidently incinerate his books) and if you read some to him, he’d like it and you’d learn some more about our culture.”

Murgatroyd perked up at this, although he did comment, “He can’t read yet? I could read three languages by the time I was his age!”  and soon was working his way through a large stack of Cosmo’s favorite picture books with Cosmo sitting delightedly beside him.

Hurdle number one, done. I went to see about dinner.

-She Wolf © 2009

Heavens to Murgatroyd – a Cosmo the Dragon Story – Part 1

The winter was really dragging on and Cosmo was getting cabin fever. So was I, for that matter. No matter how much I love winter and the excuse to curl up with a book or my knitting or spinning, by spring, I’m ready for spring. I wanted to head out into the woods around our house, with Cosmo in tow, and enjoy the great outdoors – at least as much as I could with Cosmo scaring off all the local wildlife. Not that Cosmo would scare them off on purpose. It’s just that a young dragon racketing around, flying into the trees, and smelling of fire tends to send the wild critters running for cover. We mostly admired the flora on our walks, rather than the fauna.

Anyway, Cosmo and I were both ready to get out and about but we were still getting one cold snap after another, along with snow that tended to melt into mud with a day or two. In short, it was nasty out, so we stayed in.

Cosmo argued that he could simply fly over the snow and mud. It was a good point, but I reminded him that I couldn’t and he wasn’t going out there without me. He whined and begged me to ask Felix, our friend the blue dragon and Cosmo’s sometimes tutor,  to come for another visit – Felix could fly with him, so he wouldn’t be out alone. I pointed out that Felix had other things to attend to than staying here to amuse Cosmo. Besides, a fully grown dragon flying around would tend to attract unwanted attention from the local people, none of whom had any idea that they had real, live dragons – from another dimension, yet – living in their midst.

“Felix said he’d be back in a few weeks, Cosmo,” I told the little dragon for what seemed like the forty-third time that cold, snowy day. “Anyway, he’s not going to fly around with you. He almost got caught last fall, and that would just be awkward.”

Cosmo hung bat-like, upside down, from the door frame of one of our extra-large dragon sized doors, his back claws digging deeply into the wood. “But I’m bo-ored,” he whined again. “I want someone to play with me-ee.”

It didn’t matter that he was a dragon-child. Children all whine in the same annoying, irritating tone. And Cosmo’s whine was getting on my last nerve. I rummaged around in my head for some sort of idea to keep him amused.

“Do you want to use that Kool-aid to dye some more wool for me to spin?” I asked brightly. “You liked when we did that before. I’ve got some green, and then I can spin it and knit you that green scarf you wanted.”

At Cosmo’s sullen silence, I continued. ” Bake cookies? Make play-dough? Read books? Finger paint? Play dress-up?” The last was usually very popular. Cosmo loved to drape himself with all sorts of costumes and then zoom through the air in the cavernous front room of the huge old house we occupied. But today, all of my suggestions met with the same sulky expression.

“Fine then. You can help me clean your room,” I snapped in every parent’s last response to a bored and grumpy child. “If you’re that bored, you can just help me clean.” I turned by back on him.

Before I even finished the sentence,  Cosmo had let go of the door frame and was skittering down the hall to his playroom. At least he was out of my hair for a while. I returned to my chores with a sigh.

A short while later, I heard the Door bell ring. The Door isn’t just a door, it’s a portal between worlds. Since some of the beings that want to come through it are less than nice, my boss, the wizard who created the Door in the first place, had set an alarm in place to warn us when someone wanted in through the Door. If what was on the other side wasn’t friendly, it didn’t get to come in.

I checked the alarm system and saw that it was Felix on the other side of the Door. I unlocked the several locks (put in place after Cosmo had let some rather unpleasant characters in at Christmas because they looked like Santa’s elves) and greeted him with a huge hug. “Boy, am I glad to see you!” I said, pulling him into the house. “Cosmo is bored silly and driving me nuts. Maybe you can come up with something new for him to do!”

“In fact, that is precisely why I came,” said Felix. “Well, not precisely. I have a little problem myself, but I think that you helping me solve my problem will help me solve your problem…” he trailed off, looking at me hopefully.

Somehow I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be that simple. “Come on, let’s go and get a snack and talk about this,” I sighed and gestured towards my apartment at the back of the house.

“Excellent! Do you have any of those pumpkin-seed cookies?” Felix followed me back to my rather small kitchen.

Felix barely fit the place, but I moved the table out of the way and we soon sat companionably on either side of the breakfast bar with a huge plate full of pumpkin seed cookies for him and peanut butter cookies for me and an enormous pot of tea for both of us. The amenities taken care of, I got down to business.

“So what is this problem you need me to help solve?” I asked. “And how is it going to help with Cosmo?”

Felix shifted uncomfortably. He looked at his dragon-sized mug of tea and reached for another cookie.

“Ah-ah.” I said, pulling the plate to me. “First you talk. Then you get more cookies. Maybe.” It was becoming clearer and clearer to me that this was probably not going to be to my benefit, as much as Felix claimed it would be.

He sighed, and the temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees – being a blue dragon, he breathed an icy-cold blast rather than a fiery one. That he was doing it inadvertently told me how nervous he was.

“Hey, I like my tea warm, and I’m not ready for the air-conditioning to be on yet. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s blowing snow outside today,” I grumbled.

“Sorry. Um, yes. Well,” Felix hedged. “Right. I would like to ask you if you’d be willing to have a visitor for a few weeks. It’s another young dragon, a cousin of Cosmo’s actually.” He finished in a rush and looked up at me brightly.

“I’ve had dragon-child visitors before, and it’s never been a big deal,” I said warily. “What’s the catch this time? There has to be a catch, or you wouldn’t be so nervous about it. Is he some sort of juvenile delinquent?”

“No, no, nothing of the sort. He just needs a bit of supervision, that’s all,” Felix replied, too cheerfully.

“Right. You’re asking me to ride herd on the dragon version of Dennis the Menace. No thanks. Cosmo bored is bad enough. I don’t need what you’re offering.” I said bluntly.

“Murgatroyd is simply precocious,” said Felix.

“So is Cosmo. You told me he’s talking and using his fine-motor skills long before most dragons do. That’s never been a problem of any sort. In fact, it’s made it a lot easier for me to foster him.”

“Yes, well, that’s one thing. This is another. Murgatroyd came into his magical abilities early. That’s a whole other sort of problem,” Felix sighed. “Let me explain.” He shifted again, trying to get comfortable in the small space of my kitchen. “Murgatroyd’s family called me a few months ago. It seems that he began to do some magic, oh, about a year ago. Most dragons won’t mature into that ability until they are well into adulthood. And there’s a reason most dragons don’t get their magical abilities until adulthood. Or rather, that the only dragons that survive are the ones who don’t get their magical abilities until they are adults, and Murgatroyd is only a few years older than Cosmo. We’re not just talking about getting an ability early, we’re talking about the equivalent of a small child who suddenly is able to build a nuclear reactor.”

“Oh my.”

“Yes. Those abilities shouldn’t develop until the dragon in question has the judgment to go with them. Even then, sometimes that isn’t enough. You’ve seen the results of that already, with the red dragon who made himself huge to take over his world and any others he could find. Imagine what it’s like in the hands of a rather curious, impatient child who doesn’t understand safety and limits.” Felix sighed and put his head in his front claws.

“So where do I come in?”

“I want you to let Murgatroyd come visit for a while.”

“And that will solve the problem how, exactly?” I was very, very skeptical.

“Someone near his home seems to be helping him, supplying him with spell books and lessons of a sort. We don’t know who it is, or why they would do this, but we need to get him out of there for a while so we can investigate this and put a stop to it before he does himself any more damage.”

“Does himself any more damage? What happened? Is he badly hurt?” I was more concerned about him now than I was about what he might do here.

“He’s not injured, but he does have a little problem.” Felix snorted a small laugh. “He wanted to see what it would be like to be a green dragon, so he tried to turn himself into one. Now, as you know, green dragons evolved in a forest environment. They are, in addition to having the obvious attribute of being green, without wings and rather long and sinuous in shape so as to fit between the trees more easily. They breathe poison gas instead of fire – something very useful if you live in combustible places like forests. It will still take down prey but not ignite the entire area.

“Murgatroyd managed to get some of that right. He turned most of himself, with the exception of his belly, green and then he made his wings disappear. He even managed to take away his fire to the point that he can only breathe smoke. But that was a far as he went. When he realized that it wasn’t going well, he tried to reverse the spell but instead managed to make it permanent. So now he is a red-dragon shaped green dragon child with a red belly and no wings who breathes smoke rather than fire. And needless to say, he is very, very unhappy about it all.”

I was torn between laughing and feeling sorry for the little fellow. What a hard lesson to learn! “So is he stuck like that forever then, since he made it permanent?” I finally asked.

“I am currently researching ways to counteract first the permanence spell and then the other spells. The biggest challenge is that since he is inexperienced, the spells were done in a non-traditional manner. To use your terms, they are jury-rigged. And unsnarling them is proving to be a major pain in my long, scaly tail,” Felix finished dryly.

“So you want Murgatroyd here, away from further temptation and potential danger to himself while you try to find out how he’s learning the magic and reverse what he’s done so far.”

“In a word, yes.”

“How do I know he won’t do something here that he shouldn’t?” I asked. “I don’t want anything to happen to Cosmo. And is he likely to be a bad influence on Cosmo?”

“First, I have personally put a spell on Murgatroyd to limit the amount of magic he can work, so he shouldn’t be able to do anything more magical that a few parlor tricks. Second, I hope Cosmo and you will be a good influence on him.”

I didn’t like the sound of the last, and I said so.

“But he’ll be a companion for Cosmo, and really, he isn’t a bad-hearted little fellow. He just hasn’t grown the judgment to accompany his powers yet. His mischief shouldn’t be any worse that Cosmo’s – like that of any small child. And he needs to be someplace safe for a while.”

Felix really knew how to play me, and he knew it. He was sitting there with a pleading look on his big blue face. Only the puffs of icy air coming out of his nostrils betrayed his nerves.

I sat there, thinking.

“If he is really a problem, you have only to call me and I will take him somewhere else immediately,” Felix said.

I decided, nodding. “All right, I’ll do it. But this had better not turn out badly,” I warned Felix.

“Oh, it won’t!” Felix bubbled happily.

I just hoped these wouldn’t be famous last words.

-She Wolf ©2009

A Final Sort of Healing

This is different from my usual work.

A streak of neon green from the sign of the bar across the street flashed briefly and repeatedly in the puddles of the alley. Then night was dark; the rain of earlier in the evening had ended, leaving the sky clear of any light-reflecting clouds and the chill air heavy with damp. The stink of rotten garbage from the cans lining the alley walls pervaded the area, and the puddles themselves were swirled with the rainbows of oil slicks. Cigarette butts, bottle caps and the smashed remains of the bottles themselves littered the length of the alley.

Nate pushed himself back against the brick wall and shivered in his thin jacket. Even though he was cold, he was fairly dry, having spent the rainstorm in a store perusing items that he couldn’t afford to buy just so that he could be warm and out of the elements for a while. He winced slightly as his belly pinched. It was doing that more and more lately; he thought perhaps the lining of his stomach finally had holes eaten in it. You could only abuse things for so long before they wore out.

A sound behind the nearest set of trash cans startled him and Nate jumped, turning quickly to see who or what might be there, but there was nothing. He relaxed again; it must be a rat or one of the scrawny cats that hunted them through the night. He twitched and rolled his head around, loosening the neck muscles. He hoped Charlie would hurry; he was getting really edgy.

He didn’t know how he ended up in this stinking, rancid, cold hell. Nate didn’t know if the Hell they preached about in the homeless shelters was real, but this Hell he lived in certainly was. He remembered being a kid, warm and safe, eating soup and sandwiches at the kitchen table. He remembered curling up in a warm bed at night, feeling loved and safe. He remembered teachers and gold stars on his homework and riding his bike across crunchy autumn leaves and Christmas trees and baseball games – but somewhere it had all gone wrong and now he was riding a nameless horse towards an inevitable anonymous and ignominious death, chasing something that didn’t even really exist. Soon – and he knew it would probably be sooner rather than later – he’d just be just another dead addict on a slab, waiting to be buried in a potter’s field grave. He didn’t think anyone would even bother to identify his body; no one who had ever cared knew where he was anymore.

He had tried to quit, especially at first, but that hadn’t gone well. The pull of the drugs was more than he wanted to fight. He had tried again, later, and again, when love and friends and family still mattered, and people he had once cared for had begged him to quit. He found that he loved the drugs more, and now he didn’t even think about quitting, for that matter, didn’t even think about anything except the next fix, the next high.

Nate drew a deep shuddering breath and watched the misty cloud it formed as he exhaled.

A stray dog came wandering down the alley; Nate knew the dog and it came wagging over to him for a scratch and maybe a treat. Nate gave it the scratch, but he didn’t have anything for a treat. All of his money went to his needs, and these days, food wasn’t usually one of them.

The night wore on and a breeze came up, sweeping the garbage stink out of the alley and replacing it with the smell of cooking meat from a restaurant upwind. Nate sniffed it,  and for a moment thought about following his nose to the food, but he needed to meet Charlie instead. He didn’t have enough money for both.

Charlie was late tonight and Nate was moving past edgy into frantic. He heard a scraping behind him and whipped around He spotted a figure the right size for Charlie coming down the alley. Nate backed up into a doorway and waited.

“Sorry I’m late, man. Had a problem and needed to ditch it before I came,” Charlie’s rough voice hissed at him. He put out a hand, and Nate slapped the tattered bills into it. Charlie’s other hand pushed a small package into Nate’s other hand and then Charlie was sauntering out of the alley onto the sidewalk and he was gone.

Trouble? Nate hoped that there wasn’t a cop tailing Charlie tonight. He didn’t want to get grabbed and taken to the station before he had his fix. Withdrawal in a cell wasn’t something he enjoyed.

Nate slipped out of the doorway and turned to go deeper into the alley but before he had taken more than two steps, he felt someone behind him. He didn’t even stop to think. He whirled, pulling out the  knife he kept ready to defend himself as he did, and thrust. He wasn’t losing this fix.

As he felt the knife meet resistance and then plunge into soft belly flesh, he looked into the face of the person who had come up behind him. The face was twisted in shock and pain – and it wasn’t a face Nate had expected. It was an old man, a bum who was often found in the company of the stray dog who had wandered through earlier. The old man was no addict out to steal Nate’s fix. He was homeless and mentally ill and harmless, and was probably looking for the dog. As Nate gasped with horror and pulled back the knife too late, he felt the gush of warm blood on his hand in quantities that said the old man was dead, even if he was still standing. Then old man slumped against Nate and fell to the alley surface, his hand landing in the puddle that still flashed green with the neon sign.

Nate’s heart was pounding and his mouth was dry and his stomach felt like it was going to jump right up his esophagus and out of his mouth. Heaving, he staggered away from the old man and leaned against the wall, retching and trying to bring up the bile that was all his stomach held.

He heard pounding footsteps and a cry. That was right, Nate thought, the old man usually traveled with a younger fellow, a veteran who had never left the war in his mind and tried to drink the memories away…Nate found himself grabbed and whipped around  and slammed against the rough brick of the wall with the dirty, bearded face of the man in his. “You bastard,”  hissed the man, his breath a foul stew of unbrushed teeth and cheap 80 proof, “you lousy, junkie bastard!” And then the man’s hand darted in and out in a gesture much like the one Nate had used a few minutes ago. The man swung away and left at a run, leaving Nate propped against the wall and the old man lifeless nearby.

Nate could feel pain, but against the pain of his addiction, it wasn’t really there. He felt the warmth of the blood soaking his front and running down his legs, despite the hand he held pressed against his belly. The blood flowed over his fingers, mixing with the old man’s blood already drying there. Nate slid down the wall. His heart was thundering, racing in an effort to get blood to his brain – the blood that was dripping to the asphalt in a rhythm with his pumping heart. He made a strangled noise deep in his throat, but mostly what came out was a rush of air.

The pain was worse now, and as he folded over on his side, curled in a fetal position not unlike the way he had curled in his safe, warm bed as a child, it occurred to him that it strange that he should die this way. He had thought he would just nod off and never wake up, or seize his life away in convulsions, dying from an overdose. Taking another life and then forfeiting his own in the same way was something that had never occurred to him.

And then, as blackness finally closed around him, he thought that perhaps now he might finally be healed, that for him there was nothing else besides death that would be able to make him whole again. What he hadn’t taken from himself with the drugs, he had taken from himself with one impulsive stab of a knife into an innocent man.

A choked laugh was his last sound, and then Nate was still, his hand lying in the same oil-slicked puddle as his victim’s, the green neon sign still flashing away over both of them.

-She Wolf ©2009

Not Quite Fishing

 

This story appears on another one of my blogs under a different title- upon reflection, I wasn’t quite satisfied with the title, but the links were in place already, so I left it that way in that blog.

I shut the screen door quietly behind me; letting it bang shut like the children did would wake everyone up and that was the last thing I wanted. The morning was still early, the sun not quite up yet. Then cricket song of the night had not yet given way to the buzz of cicadas that would fill the hot daylight hours. The dewy grass was cool on my bare feet as I walked down the front yard to the dock where the fishing boat was tied.

When I stepped onto the dock, I paused a moment to enjoy the glassy-still water. The tide was high and almost ready to turn. There was no breeze to stir the surface into waves, and nothing moved in the water. I would be rowing this morning, then – I couldn’t bear to break this peaceful silence with the buzz of the outboard motor.

My family was under the impression that I was going fishing, and that I was a mighty poor fisherman since I never seemed to bring anything back. It was true that I slipped away in the early morning when the fish were biting and sought out the quiet spots that fishermen liked to find, but I wasn’t fishing. The truth lay in the waterproof bag that I set in a safe place in the boat before I cast off from the dock.

I put the oars in the oarlocks and set off with the tide, which was now starting to ebb. It would be easier to row with it and then use the motor to come back against it, later on in the morning when the motor’s noise wouldn’t be so raw and harsh. That was fine; one of my favorite spots was only about ten minutes down river.

I enjoyed the exercise of rowing – stretching my body and feeling the boat slip through the water in response. Even though the early morning was relatively cool, I quickly worked up a sweat, and by the time I reached the entrance to the creek I was ready to take a break. But the sun was starting to rise now, the sky was colored a pale rose around the edges, and I needed to hurry if I were to get where I was going in time.

I rowed into the creek. It was narrow after the width of the river, but still a good fifteen feet across. I knew the water was still deep, too, especially with the high tide. The tidal rivers here near the ocean were slow and silty but wide and deep and filled with life. Some of that life was what drew me out in the early part of the day.

I rowed up the creek, rounding several bends before I found the spot I was looking for. There was a buckeye bush just in the crook of the next bend, and a bed of water lilies on the far side of it. There were no other people here today, which meant I was in luck. I tied the boat to the bush and waited there, bobbing in the middle of the long skinny lily pads locally known as snake tongues.

The moment I was waiting for wasn’t long in coming. As the sun finally pushed over the horizon, the water around me began to stir. As I watched, something began to creep out of the water onto the lily pads. They were small, and looked a lot like dragonflies, red and green and blue, at first glance. But these were no dragonfly nymphs coming out of the water to dry themselves in the new day.

I watched with delight as the first of the little creatures finished drying off from its swim from its creek side burrow and took flight, buzzing around my head. Another one took off from its lily pad and then landed on the handle of my oar. I dropped my head to look at the little creature up close. It was bright blue, only about three inches long. And it was a perfect little dragon. A mosquito drifted too close and with a quick snap, the tiny dragon trapped it in its jaws and ate it.

Another little dragon, its wings now dry, circled my head once and then landed in my hair. I sat there in the midst of a swirl of dragons no bigger than my thumb as they ate the mosquitoes and gnats that were trying to make breakfast out of me.

Once sated, they spent a few minutes investigating me and the journal that I had taken from my little waterproof bag. I made quick sketches of the tiny beasts as they lit here and there on and around me. One tried to attack my pencil and another tried to eat the marks I was making on the paper. Finally, as the day grew bright, they buzzed off into the heavily wooded swamp by the creek. Once out of immediate view, they looked like the insects they mimicked, the dragonflies. Only these were far more dragon than fly.

My dose of magic for the day over with, I stowed my journal away once more. I would need a new one soon – this one was getting full the of wonder that I had found. I rowed back out of the creek and then cranked the motor on the boat to go home. I would get there just as everyone else was beginning to wake up and I would take their ribbing about what a rotten fisherman I was with a smile. What I was catching was far, far better than fish.

- She Wolf (c)2009

Christmas With Cosmo

I put down my knitting and looked up just in time to see Cosmo glide into the room with a set of paper antlers on his head and a blob of red clay attached to his scaly red snout.

“Look at me! I’m Rudolf!” he squealed as he crash-landed on the floor beside me.

We had been talking about Christmas quite a bit. Last year we had been gone for the pre-Christmas season, captives of a power-hungry red dragon group on Cosmo’s home world. We had come home just in time for a huge Christmas party on Christmas Eve, but Cosmo had missed all the build-up to the big day. But then, his English had been almost non-existent then, too, so stories about Santa Claus and reindeer and so forth would have gone right by him. This year though, he had all of the joyous enthusiasm and excitement about the day of any small human child. He was just bigger, scalier, and had wings and fire on board. An excited Cosmo was a sight to behold.

“Do you think I could help Santa with his sleigh, huh?” Cosmo bounced around me in circles, knocking my yarn under the sofa with his tail.

“Now Cosmo, you know that Santa only comes after you’re asleep. Besides, I think having a dragon flying with them might scare the reindeer, don’t you?”

“But I promise I wouldn’t eat them! Really, I wouldn’t!”

“The reindeer have been doing their jobs for a long time. I don’t think they’ll need any help.” I thought fast. I needed something to distract him or he’d keep on about flying  with the reindeer all morning. “Popcorn balls! Let’s make some red and green popcorn balls, Cosmo! Then we can wrap them up and give them to people when they come to visit!” Cosmo’s clawed hands were deft enough to make popcorn balls and he loved to help me cook. He didn’t even answer – he just ran to the kitchen of my little apartment and started rummaging in the cupboards for ingredients.

The popcorn balls – and gluing together and putting up miles of paper chains in the huge front room of the main hall of the mansion, and mixing cookie dough, and looking at the trees in the woods at the back of the lawn to see if one would be a good Christmas tree, and…well, you get the picture – took up the rest of the day. By evening, I was exhausted and Cosmo was still going on and on and on. I finally sent him to his playroom for a while after three Christmas stories and a promise that we’d watch Christmas movies later and then collapsed on my sofa with Isadore the cat.

I heard a knock on my kitchen door and an few minutes later, my friend Jon came in with snow still clinging to his hat and coat.

“Snow. Well, that’ll just fan the flames some more. Literally. Cosmo was so excited today that he burned up a whole strip of paper chains trying to get the paste to dry faster so he could hang them. He tried to pop the popcorn with his flames, and then he tried to cook the cookie dough by himself, too. By the way,  I need a new fire extinguisher. That dragon is so excited about Christmas…”

Jon was doubled over, laughing. “Well, you know his parents want him raised as much like a human child as a dragon so he’ll be a good liaison when he grows up, so…”

“He’s just like an over-excited four year-old. It’s amazing. And exhausting. You didn’t happen to bring anything like beer with you, did you? Or something to put in eggnog?”

“Better than that. I brought a baby sitter. You and I are going out.”  Florence, my former neighbor, poked her head around the corner and smiled at me.

“You are more welcome than Santa right now, Florence.” I turned to Jon. “I’ll get my coat.” Cosmo heard the voices and bounced back out, delighted with the company. He offered everyone slightly singed red and green popcorn balls.

We left Florence and Cosmo ensconced on the sofa with a pile of Christmas books – all of the ones I had plus a bunch that Florence had brought with her.

The evening out with Jon was just what I needed. Adult company and conversation restored me and I came home ready to face whatever the morrow would bring – fire, flood or overexcited dragon. Florence, on the other hand, looked ready for bed. Her silver hair was frazzled, she was clutching convulsively at her crochet project, and she had a small burn on the skirt of her dress.

She waved off  our expressions of concern and apologies. “I know Cosmo, and I knew full well what I was getting into. Don’t worry. I always wear old clothes when I watch Cosmo. He just wanted to melt his name in the snow with his flames. He’s gotten very good with the C and the O’s,” she added proudly. Well, that explained the puddle of icy slush outside the back door, anyway. It should be a real skating rink by morning. On the other hand, ice sliding was always fun for Cosmo and would wear him our nicely.

As she accompanied Jon out, Florence paused and dug around in her big bag. “Hold on – here’s a book that Cosmo really enjoyed. I must have read it to him five times tonight. Why don’t you hang on to it? It’s all about Santa’s elves.” I thanked her, put the book on the kitchen table and went to bed.

The next morning, Cosmo was a bit distracted. I figured he was thinking about which tree we would cut when Jon and Rob came over later. Some of our dragon friends were due to arrive later in the day as well, which might have been on his mind. We read the elf book another three or four times and I took him outside to slide on the ice by the back door, but I could see that his heart wasn’t really in it.

“What’s up, buddy?” I asked. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine. Can I go play now?” Cosmo asked. “I have a, a Christmas project I need to work on.”

That explained it. He had a Christmas surprise in the works. “Sure, Cosmo. Let me know if you need help. And no using your flames if there’s not a grownup around to put out the fire!” I reminded him as he kited off at top speed for his mostly flame-resistant playroom.

Throughout the morning I heard various noises coming from Cosmo’s playroom accompanied by the sorts of swear words that Cosmo was allowed to use – things like darn and shucks. I almost went to see what was going on, but restrained myself. If Cosmo wanted my help, he’d ask for it. At lunch he turned up looking frustrated and poked at his food. He trudged off after lunch, still looking irritated. I shook my head and finished the cleanup. If he was going to be occupied I could finish the socks I was knitting Jon for Christmas. One ear open for Cosmo, I sat contentedly with my wool in my hands.

Half an hour later, I could hear him talking happily and chuckling. Good, I thought. He’s had some sort of success.

Cosmo was happily occupied until the guys came to cut the tree in the late afternoon. He was careful to close the door to his playroom when he came out to help, though. Jon, Rob and I hid our smiles.

We found the huge tree we wanted for the big front hall quickly and then got another, smaller one for my apartment. Dragging the trees home through the snowy twilight was a moment from a Christmas card – if you like the fantasy kind of card with lovely red dragons in them; I know I do. The trees were quickly set up – the big one only fell over twice while it was being secured in its stand, once with the help of Cosmo who was playing at being the angel on top of the tree. Then we retired to my apartment to have dinner and wait for our dragon guests to arrive for our tree-trimming party. When the Door announced the arrival of our visitors, Cosmo tore off to greet them.

“Wait up, you! You know you aren’t allowed to open the Door by yourself!” I called after him.

He was pouting when I caught up to him by the door. “But I know how to use the security stuff,” he grumbled. “See, when it’s green, it’s a safe world. And if you look through here,” he bounced up using his wings for lift and looked through the peep-hole, ” you can sort of see who’s there.” The peep-hole was new, and the image was sent magically from the other side of the Door. But it wasn’t very clear and certainly wasn’t infallible and I told Cosmo so.

“So don’t think you’re allowed to open the door even if you think it’s safe. Period.” I glared at the small red dragon as I opened the door for our friends. Cosmo’s grumpiness evaporated as our guests came in and the tree trimming started.

The next morning, my alarm didn’t go off. Since I really didn’t have any plans, I wasn’t too upset about this, but I did remember setting it the night before. But then the stove didn’t want to turn on when I went to fix breakfast and the jelly had spilled all over the inside of the fridge. Of course it had been on the top shelf and had dripped all the way down each shelf before puddling in a sticky mess at the bottom. I was trying to clean it up with a dishrag when Cosmo came slamming into the kitchen, ramming the refrigerator door into my back as he came in.

“Hey! Calm down. Breakfast is late. My alarm didn’t go off, and the stove isn’t working for some reason. If you’re that hungry, get some cold cereal,” I told him, rubbing my back. He continued to grumble, and seemed to be looking for something. “The cereal’s in the cupboard. You know where we keep it. Come on, Cosmo. Stop acting like this.”

He got some cereal while I finished getting the mess out of the fridge. The jelly had congealed literally overnight and I was soon contemplating atomic cleansers. By the time I was done, Cosmo was gone, leaving a mess of cereal on the table. At least he’d put the rest of his stuff in the sink. I stared at the stove, wondering what to do. When you live with a dragon and a magic inter-dimensional Door you can’t exactly call your average repair service. I poked at the knobs one last time and to my surprise, the thing came on. Now that was strange, I thought, but the intricacies of appliances are not my strong suit. I was just glad it was working again.

Cosmo was busy and very distracted all morning. He refused my offers to read to him, or make cookies, or do any of the other Christmassy things I could think of. His cardboard antlers remained abandoned in the middle of my sofa, and I could hear him roaming all over the house all morning.

After I finished my morning chores, I sat down to knit on those socks again. To my dismay, the yarn was tangled mess, overflowing my basket and winding around the furniture legs. I glared at my cat, Isadore, who was curled on top of the bookcase. “Isadore, what got into you?” I asked. He gave me an affronted look and jumped down, stalking out of the room with his tail in the air.

I shook my head and untangled the yarn. Then I rummaged around trying to find the knitting needle that was missing from the socks. It turned out to be wedged in the seat of my chair – I found it when it stuck into my hand. Grumbling and sucking on my bleeding hand, I went to find a band-aid.

When I came back into the room, Cosmo was peering under the sofa. “What are you looking for, Cosmo?” I asked.

“I just lost something, that’s all,” he muttered.

“It seems to be going around,” I told him. It had taken me forever to find the box of band-aids that I clearly remembered putting back on the shelf in the bathroom day before yesterday. I reached over to the sofa and grabbed his cardboard antlers. “Here are your antlers, anyway. Why don’t you go and play Rudolf again?” I suggested, putting the antlers on his scaly red head.

He nodded reluctantly and left the room slowly, looking around him the entire time.

He was up to something, but I had no idea what.

All day long I lost things, things didn’t work, and I found messes where there shouldn’t be any. Cosmo and the cat were both in my bad books by the time my employer, Thomas, showed up in the evening. He was here for the Christmas holidays, and I was delighted to see him. Not only was he my employer and a friend, he was a powerful magic wielder. And Cosmo adored him. He could help keep the little stinker out of trouble for a few days. Maybe he could even figure out what Cosmo was up to.

Thomas had a lot of luggage with him, and I could see brightly wrapped packages peeking from a bag. He smiled and placed them under the tree. Thomas’ gifts from all sorts of worlds were always a huge hit with everyone. “Now, where’s Cosmo?” he asked. “He asked me for some help with his shopping…” Cosmo edged around the corner of the door and then soared over to Thomas, knocking him over and landing on top of him. I happily left the two of them and returned to the baking that Thomas’ arrival had interrupted. As an afterthought, I grabbed Isadore the cat and dumped him in the room with them, shutting the door firmly between myself and the lot of them.

That night, after Cosmo was in bed, I complained about the day to Thomas. “It was one long fiasco, all day long. I think I used half a box of band-aids and most of a bottle of cleaning stuff! It was just strange.” The CD player, which was sending out Christmas carols, emphasized this by suddenly stopping and then skipping four songs down the list before stopping again and taking up where it had left off before. I put my hands over my face. Thomas looked a little bit puzzled and very thoughtful.

The next morning, my alarm went off an hour early, and when Thomas came down for breakfast, he was shivering and looked quite put out. “Is the hot water heater on the fritz? Or did you use it all up in a marathon shower this morning?” he complained.

“No to both. Why?” I asked although the answer was apparent. “Besides, you know the guest part of the house has its own water heater. It was working yesterday, I know that. It came on too hot when I tried to wash up in one of the guest bathrooms and scalded my hands.” I went back to scrambling eggs.

“I know. I’ll look at it later.” He sighed and sat down with some coffee. ” Where’s the little guy this morning?”

“Not up yet, I guess. He’ll be down as soon as he smells the eggs, though.” But he wasn’t. When Thomas and I went to see why he wasn’t up yet, we found him huddled in his bed looking frightened. 

“Ghosts! There were ghosts in my room all night!” he said, looking around him nervously.

“Cosmo, that was Halloween. This is Christmas,” I said.

Thomas just looked thoughtful again.

We took Cosmo down to breakfast and while he was eating, Thomas said, “Cosmo, I think you and I need to have a little talk.” Cosmo looked very scared at this, and began eating very, very slowly. When he finally finished, he fidgeted nervously in his chair. Thomas opened his mouth to start but before he could say anything there was a tremendous crash from the front hall. We all ran to see what could possibly have happened.

When we reached the front hall, we could see that half of the glass ornaments from the big tree were shattered on the floor at its base. The lights all over the tree were flashing on and off wildly, and the stereo began blaring Christmas carols at top volume.

Thomas looked at the spectacle, nodded, and said, “I think I know what the problem is. You have gremlins.”

“Gremlins?” I repeated.

“Yes, the traditional sort that get into machinery to make it malfunction and make messes everywhere. They are native to several of the dimensions the Door accesses. They aren’t really dangerous, but they are possibly one of the most annoying species to populate the known worlds.” Thomas grimaced. “And getting rid of them is a pain, too.” His gaze traveled to Cosmo, who burst into howls.

“I thought they were elves. They said they were. They said they were Santa’s elves and they would help me make Christmas for everyone! And then they disappeared and then stuff started going wrong and my playroom’s wrecked and you’re mad, and I thought they were elves, really I did! They looked like the pictures in my book and everything!”

“Cosmo,” I began firmly but quietly, “did you open the Door?”

Hiding his face, he nodded.  “I was trying to make Christmas stuff  like Santa and the elves and I heard the Door. The security stuff said it was a safe world, and I looked and saw the elves, I mean gremlins. So I opened the Door to talk to them. They said they’d help me, really they did.”

Thomas sighed. “I thought as much. I’ll need to put a lock on the Door so that Cosmo can’t open it should he forget the rules again. In the meantime, I’ll make some gremlin traps and we’ll see if we can’t catch the little buggers before they do any more damage.”

The rest of the day was occupied with catching the gremlins and putting them in a containment area Thomas created. They did look surprisingly like the illustrations of Santa’s elves in Cosmo’s book, and I could see how a little dragon could be fooled. We didn’t say anything more to Cosmo about it; he looked as though he had learned his lesson. He was a sad little dragon.

Cosmo couldn’t remember how many gremlins he had let in, but by the end of the day we  weren’t catching any more of them and the containment room was pretty full. Thomas said he’d take them back to their home world after Christmas. In the meantime, we just needed to keep them fed and out of our hair. Cosmo was strangely silent and resisted all of our efforts to cheer him up.

Then next day was Christmas Eve, when we had our big party for everyone we knew from all sorts of strange places. The Door bonged all day with guests arriving while the local guests arrived  through my kitchen door; everyone came laden with bright packages. The party was wonderful and at midnight, while everyone was still having a grand time, the Door bonged once more. Thomas smiled and said, “That must be my special guest. Cosmo, come with me.” He led the way to the Door.

Moments later, I heard a loud, draconic squeal and Cosmo came charging back into the front hall. In his wake were Thomas and a large, bearded man with a red suit and a huge bag. “Santa, it’s Santa, he came, he came, even though I was bad and let in the gremlins, he came, he came…..” Cosmo didn’t even pause for breath.

As Santa began distributing the packages in his bag, an antlered Cosmo acting as his delivery dragon-reindeer, a noise from the tree attracted our attention. Sitting on the top branch of the big Christmas tree was one last gremlin, but even he was in the Christmas spirit – the lights on the tree lit up in a sequence that spelled out, “MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

-She Wolf ©2008

Out on a Ledge

This is just a small atmosphere piece I wrote one day. 

 

I was edging along a narrow path, more of a ledge really. Now, I am terrified of heights, and even looking down from the second step of a ladder gives me vertigo. Yet here I was, trying not to think about where I was while my knees turned to jelly and my head whirled.

The path here was perhaps wide enough for a normal person to walk on, if they were surefooted and careful. However, when it comes to heights, I am not a normal person. So here I was, back pressed against the wall, arms splayed out, fingers clenching the rock, shuffling along sideways. The edge was altogether too small of a distance from the toes of my shoes, and I moved as slowly as I could (which was also as fast as I could move just now.). I must have looked a sight, except there was no one else there to see me. I could be thankful for small blessings.

I came to a slightly wider place in the trail and slowly slid down into a sitting position, very gingerly and carefully. A gust of wind came by and whipped my hair into my face and I was thankful that I was sitting down. As unsteady as I was, that little push of wind might very well have sent me toppling over the edge. As I sat there and tried to catch my breath and pull myself together, I wondered how on earth I had managed to get myself into this position.

The trail had been going along nicely, up and down hills, by streams and through forests and fields, and I had been enjoying the journey. New scenery around each bend and fresh sights kept me entertained and contented, and I was quite happily striding along.

Then, suddenly, the path had changed, and in the space of a few steps, I found myself on a narrow path that was climbing ever higher. I was uneasy, and looked back thinking that I would turn around, but as I did, I heard a rumbling and then the path behind me was wiped out by rocks and dirt hurtling down the hill from above. I covered my head with my arms, but a few stray stones still hit me with stinging blows. When I looked up again, coughing, the path was gone and the only direction I could go was ahead.

The trail had grown ever steeper, higher, and narrower, until I was here, edging along trying not to look down, lest the ground far below me wobble and spin and pull me down to it.

I sat there for a long while with my heart still pounding and my legs unable to support my weight. Finally, I edged along on the seat of my pants, moving forward once more. At this rate, I might find a way off this damned ledge sometime in the next week or two. I didn’t think I could last that long.

Part of the path shifted underneath me, and I stopped, gulping, with my eyes closed and my heart racing. Everything steadied after a moment, and I caught my breath and swore. I did not want to be here, and angrily, futilely, wished I could throw and smash something or pound a hole in something, for all the good it would do me. Tears streaking the dirt on my cheeks, I finally used the energy from my rage to move a few more feet.

The path narrowed again, and I was sitting on it like I would a chair, with my feet dangling off into empty space. I tried to tell myself that I was just sitting on a rock, with my feet inches off the ground, but I wasn’t buying it. The sun was starting to set now, and it was growing chilly. I turned my head carefully, without moving my body, and looked ahead. The path seemed to end abruptly about twenty feet farther along.

My mouth felt like someone stuffed it full of cotton. I worked for a minute and finally got enough saliva to swallow. It looked like I was well and truly trapped. Finally, hoping that there was a path lower down, or a sudden turn, I wiggled onward. I wasn’t going to find out sitting still.

By the time I made it to the point where the path disappeared, with my slow and unsteady pace, it was fully dark out. The wind was blowing steadily and the temperature had dropped to near freezing. By the light of the rising moon, I could see that the trail did end there. There was nothing there but blackness. I leaned back against the wall behind me, fingers digging into the ground. Not only was I sitting on this ledge, I also had nothing but open space to one side of me. My head spun again.

As I pressed back, I could feel something shifting and I felt like I was going to slide off and fall. I pressed back even harder and then I did fall- but I fell backwards as the wall behind me disintegrated into sand and rubble. Then I was lying on my back on a lumpy pile of rocks in a cave, with my legs still hanging off the ledge.

-She Wolf (c) 2008