"aftermath" - an excerpt from Sludge White and the Seven Curmudgeons

this excerpt from my novella-poem, "Sludge White and the Seven Curmudgeons",

chronicles the aftermath of the drone attack that the Curmudgeons and their friends
(Nate the Woodsman & Pally, the transvestite barmaid from the Gimpy Gait),
witnessed in ByWater Landing.  it also introduces a new friend, who relates her
history, in a tale within a tale; brushing the realm of dream-time, where myths begin.

*******

the first stars appeared as they reached the cottage
and a velvet hush was softening the ground,

enhancing the glimmer cast from the windows

strangely enchanting the dislocated sound.

Lumpy and the princess came out to greet them

but meeting the trauma they stopped in their tracks.

ever so gently they unstrapped the trappings

springing back the springs in the ponies' packed backs.

while the fire sparked its primal enchantment

and Gramps spun yarns of inverted circumstance

nothing could inspire the warmth or the light

to summon Pally from the depths of his trance.

all the terror laid bare in his anguished stare

chilled the gathering deer to the very bone.

but though it caused Weepy to glisten with tears

Pally's petrified gaze was dry as a stone.

he wrestled the night nestled in Nate's embrace,

lost in a darkness impenetrably deep.

from adjacent rooms faint sobbing could be heard

and two or three voices cried out in their sleep.

the moon bathed the earth in august splendor

evoking its canticle of keening howl.

Pasty paced the woods, flinging glancing glow

spoiling the dinner of a disgruntled owl.

something was rustling in the silvery gloom

so she slipped within the branches of a tree.

then a striding figure shifted the shadows

pausing in a place Sludge White could plainly see.

a handsome lass was clad in leather armour

with penetrating eyes and a candid grin,

her lustrous hair bedecked in dangling cornrows

cascading on luminous, ebony skin.

as she calmly inquired "why art thou hiding?"

her flickering laughter lapped the brittle air.

the princess emerged as her heart skipped a beat.

"only to observe a smattering of care".

"i see.  then i ought to introduce myself.

i'm citizen Sylvana, of Fleagle's Fern;

protectress of the Peoples' Free Collective,

an anarchist, and an acolyte of Herne.

we brought aid to the survivors of the flood

and uncovered a mountain pass steeped in rocks.

for two days i've been bailing out a hamlet,

feeding the farmers, and unmiring an ox."

"i'm known as Sludge White, and most pleased to meet you.

there's a cottage nigh, where i'm staying with friends.

wouldst thou partake of rest and refreshment?

it's just simple fare.  i'm afraid we're at loose ends."

"i accept your kindness, and beg your pardon,

for i mean no slight to your lady mother.

but a name like that could hardly suit you.

i wonder if you answer to any other?"

"my friends call me Pasty" the princess replied,

stepping over flowers filling up with dew.

Sylvana sparkled with musical chuckles,

and shaking her head, said "that'll have to do."

their voices lingered in the sleeping forest,

till the last glints of moonshine began to fade.

then dawn resurrected the drowsy landscape,

splashing its flashes of pink amongst the jade;

advancing the gift of a separate grace

for spanning the hours and wearing down shores;

for grafting the grieving into different drifts

as their feet find the grooves of well-worn floors.

rose-tinted arcs illumined kitchen windows,

igniting gilt edges of saucers and plates;

as Lumpy and Weepy heaped on the table

plump bowls of porridge, buttered crumpets, and dates.

"you must have something" said Sappy with concern.

Pally strayed farther in his faraway eyes.

it was the first time they'd seen him unadorned,

in the folds of Nate's cape, skirting past his thighs.

though Gramps gnarled fingers tousled his tangles

and the otter tucked his tail around his feet

this failed to elicit any response.

for despite the mute scream his silence was complete.

Rashful's bark blasted through an open window.

"just how the hell did the ponies get unhitched?"

as each person's glance met another's nonplussed,

Weepy looked down and his jittery lips twitched.

a wrathful visage sprang into the window,

it's glare occluded by overhanging eaves.

those gathered at the table shrugged their shoulders,

while Weepy of course, was sobbing in his sleeves.

"i should have guessed it would be you!" said Rashful,

rushing in recklessly and slamming the door.

Sappy stood swiftly to fend off the fury.

startled deer scattered from their spots on the floor.

"we have to accept each other as we are.

that's what we all agreed, from the very start.

since Weepy senses what the animals feel,

we must respect him when he follows his heart."

Rashful struggled with himself for a moment,

and settled on secreting a strangled sigh.

then Sappy squeezed the dripping hanky, and said

"there now, dear Weepy, there's no more need to cry."

the otter prodded more grumbles from Rashful,

trampling his toes on the way to Weepy's lap.

"i don't know what's come over me lately.

i never used to be such a softhearted sap!"

Sylvana was delightfully diverted,

fondly reposing a hand on Pasty's knee.

Mock instantly noticed, but feigned nonchalance,

while passing to Lumpy honey for his tea.

"what was it?" asked Sleazy, audibly airing

the one burning question on everyone's minds.

Gropey dropped the dishes he was balancing,

cluttering a muddle of shards, crumbs, and rinds.

but all their attention focused on Pally,

his head cupped despondently under Nate's chin.  

"they mentioned a weapon" the woodsman offered.

"the soldiers discussed it when they brought me in.

it was something that could kill at a distance,

so its use would pose no danger to themselves."

"well as long as they're safe!" said Mock with a smirk.

"another 'orror snatched from misery's shelves!"

"that's the whole point of makin' weapons" snapped Gramps.

"wreakin' 'avoc without feelin' its effects."

"to do away with Karma?"  Sylvana blanched.

"surely that's not a thing a person directs."

"as i told Mock when 'e were just a sprat,

the world's been in denial since it got started."

she thoughtfully looked from one to the other.

"how long has it been since you two were parted?"

  

"you'd better ask 'im, i've no 'ead for numbers,

and me best guess wouldn't be near enough right.

it were all darkness for us in that dungeon,

with no way o' tellin' the day from the night.

but it 'urt me 'eart fierce to be without 'im,

for i raised 'im, you see, since 'e were a pup.

any moment now it's like as not to burst,

seein' 'ow me darlin' boy's grown 'imself up."

Mock said "they took 'im when i was eleven.

days later they told me 'e died of the pox.

that's when i first were branded a terrorist,

for peltin' the sentries with insults and rocks."

Sylvana's laughter rippled in soothing waves.

Rashful leaned in closer, leaving off his wrath.

"may i ask what decided you, m'lady,

to foster the seedlings on the Green Man's path?"

"as a child i'd heard of Herne the Hunter,

but stumbled on his acquaintance in a dream.

he placidly stood in a sun-dappled wood,

resplendent and smiling in his dazzling beam.

his antlers appeared to be growing swiftly,

yet they managed to remain a constant height;

and the moon and the stars rose in the sunshine,

filling the forest with several shades of light.

a herd of deer danced enigmatic steps,

weaving a pattern too intricate to follow.

then he beckoned while his image receded,

taking me with him to a haloed hollow.

surrounded there by cedars and willows,

we ambled past mushrooms of astonishing size.

vines were entwined with tinkling sapphire bells.

and strangely hued rainbows  shimmered in the skies.

empathetic animals thronged at my side.

flowers blossomed in bewildering array.

i felt so completely peaceful and happy,

i couldn't imagine not wanting to stay.

when i reluctantly woke from this vision,

i knew i'd embarked on a signal sea change.

but finding myself alone in our cottage,

i hastily scoured the rest of the grange."

a gripping stillness soaked up Sylvana's pause,

the table held tautly in tense suspension.

rapt, spellbound birds had assembled on the sills,

and even Pally was paying attention.

Pasty seemed unable to believe her ears.

though captivated she was plainly perplexed.

poor Rashful was flirting with apoplexy,

blurting "well, what the bloody hell happened next?"

Sylvana continued, rethreading the strands

misfortune had seeded, then callously strewn.

"i discovered my mother in the garden,

her hemorrhaging injuries disclosing bone.

flapping scraps of shredded dress ripped through the air,

as her windswept spirit was torn from my hands.

of my father i found only his pitchfork,

broken and splintered on the blood-spattered sands.

panicked and crushed at the loss of my parents,

compelled and entranced by the promise of Herne;

i decided to set out for the hollow,

grasping hopeless straws, yet yearning to return.

but the trees i walked under didn't greet me,

and sapphire bells weren't blooming in the sage.

it was only the greenwood i'd grown up in,

with nothing to temper my heartsickened rage.

at the edge of the forest stood a cottage,

which i'd willingly swear was waiting for me.

a wizened old woman beckoned from a window,

'come in, my poppet.  you're in time for tea.'

despite misgivings, i pushed open the door;

inciting glitter in the hovering dust.

sprigs of drying herbs dangled from the ceiling,

mingling their fragrance with primordial must.

a cauldron was simmering in the fireplace,

adeptly stirred by a free-floating spoon.

two or three brooms had been propped in a corner;

another swept ashes while whistling a tune.

a caucus of crows clung to the chimney,

profoundly engaged in a heated discussion.

a monkey was slapping the clock with a stick,

keeping the time with impromptu percussion.

  

'they've been at it all morning,' she chuckled.

'they'll tire soon enough.  don't pay them any mind.'

then she lifted a cup into empty space

and i suddenly understood she was blind.

as the afternoon waned i learned her story

how she tended the rustics for leagues around,

with natural remedies poultices

which hearsay said were the best that could be found.

Guanyin was named for the Goddess of Mercy

and crossed the fell mountains from the farthest east.

she'd settled in the outskirts of Fleagle's Fern

to decline no mild man, nor kindly beast.

we've bided together since our first meeting

and she's taught me all the healing lore i know.

but when i suggested Herne charted my steps

she said the wind introduced us even so.

from that day to this i've been an apprentice

extending the work of her dexterous hands.

and i serve in the People's Free Collective

to ferment freedom in plutocratic lands.

we're a council empowered by peasants

to see to their needs and defend the common good.

honoring an oath i plighted to Herne

i'm an escort for outcasts adrift in the wood."

Lumpy caught Weepy as he dipped in a swoon,

sparked and smitten by Sylvana's gallant tale.

it seemed that Sappy had forgotten to breathe,

his chocolate skin tempered to a creamy pale.

Pasty grew pensive.  "i fled to that hollow,

ferried through the air by some magical grace.

encircled by willows, enveloped by bells,

your phantom hollow is an actual place."

Gramps said "quite surely.  it's in all the legends.

custom calls it 'appily Ever After.

that's 'cause it's mostly composed of reflections

and tears shed there are said to brim with laughter.

no space misplaces your neighbors or their thoughts

and each consequence gets concurrently cast.

whatever you fancy unfolds on the spot

yet the time it befalls has already passed."

"it's not likely you've heard of it." Mock observed.

"i'll warrant their majesties wouldn't approve.

to escape the contagion of reflection

they'd bloody well force the whole kingdom to move."

mirth unfastened every face but Pally's

for humour was estranged from his senses by grief,

swapped like the hopes of ByWater Landing

for the changeling terror of a soul-sickened thief.

Sylvana took her leave early that evening

as a blushing sun flooded the earth with rust,

and the frayed shadows of unattained desires

shifted about in the unsettled dust.

they bade their farewells amidst sighing thrushes

in the drift of cooing doves, plaintive and hushed.

yet somehow Sludge White simply failed to fathom

why her heartbeat fluttered and her cheeks felt flushed.

faint stars made their flickering appearance

while a parcel of ponies scampered in a field.

for the very first time in their hemmed in lives

they weren't reined, restrained, or required to yield.

eternal yearning revolved in the sky

as the planets revelled in their ponderous dance.

unleashing their kindred downtrodden wishes,

the ponies frolicked in a freewheeling prance.

*******

(thus endeth the excerpt.  - Evan Hawthorn, 13th of May, 2015)