sunlight splinters the spookhouse

[for those unfamiliar with the earlier exploits of "Sludge White and the Seven
Curmudgeons", the mage of mercy refers to Guanyin, the blind hedge witch.
the carpenter is Nate the Woodsmen (who features vaguely in Disney's Grimm
propaganda.)  and Pally, (one of the barmaids in drag from the 'Gimpy Gait'),
who christened the Curmudgeons' cottage 'the spookhouse in the woods', has
recently recovered from witnessing the obliteration of the children of
ByWater Landing, in Their Majesties' drone attack.]

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

the first rays of sunlight splintered the spookhouse

slanting through windows and skidding under doors,

inciting electrons and dozing dust mites

shedding on surfaces and seeping through pores.

as Elsbeth and the monkey settled in their nooks

snatches of birdsong elated the air.

the mage of mercy released a laden sigh

relaxing the grip on her unruffled chair.

dragging snagged thoughts from the dim rim of memory

raking embers burning out in his head

the scratching at last tugged him to consciousness

and the gentle carpenter sat up in bed.

glancing at the dawn glazing Pally's face,

the hint of placid grace that wasn't there before,

he freed his fingers from their trusting clasp

and gingerly tiptoed across the creaking floor.

it took him a moment to register

the slight, spry figure of Squint the cheeky squirrel,

tucked in his haunches and angling his gaze

absently primping his quizzical curl.

winking from the threshold betwixt his rumpled toes

a small pink tourmaline beamed like a star,

instantly ensnaring Nate's attention

an elliptical omen unearthing a scar.

"good morrow, good fellow."  Squint flapped his tail.

"i'm tendering tidings of a pressing behest."

and pausing to consider Nate's tousled hair

"i entreat your pardon for scratching your rest.

the hedge witch suggests an amulet be crafted,

a flute of white pine to house this fey stone.

'tis a remedy for instruments fell,

dispelling the sundering to which they are prone.

she says if you're willing you ought to get on

for the day holds promise from scant to nary.

the ghost of a chance is nigh upon us

and the fates are grudging to those who would tarry."

weighing the pebble in his calloused palm,

Nate blinked as he pondered the inauspicious drift.

then, shrugging his shoulders he nodded assent,

concealing from sight the seer's peerless gift.

his heady scent amidst the pungent pines,

the scrape of fallen branches culled from the forest

jolted Pally to wake up and wonder

when the fence round their senses came to be porous.

the loftier perspective escorting Weepy

unveiled new depths in his empathic dreams

detecting the children of ByWater Landing

buoying Pally's soul and bursting its seams.

on returning he sensed a tense dissension.

the avian chorus was fringed with shrill strain.

and the dissonance seemed to draw nearer

instilling blithe chatter with its burden of bane.

he hastily donned his battered poncho

and beckoning the otter with gurgling clicks

they rode the heels of retreating shadows

while the self starting candles were still trimming wicks.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

- Evan Hawthorn, the 7^th of February, 2016