a heat-seeking rock tagging after the sun.
and the cosmic dance inspired space and time,
as was its wont since the universe was spun.
the current of the present slid unnoticed
into something called today by modern men.
and the things they'd put off until tomorrow
had to be faced or avoided once again.
little by little the shadows departed.
bits of radiation bedazzled the dew.
everything that rooted in the forest
recovered its compass of customary hue.
far-sighted fauna surrounded the cottage
posting a watch with a pendent perspective.
Rashful could be heard grumbling in the kitchen,
rummaging breakfast and venting invective.
the window slowly opened in Sludge White's room
followed by a flurry of fluttering wings.
finches and sparrows gathered on the sill,
a chipper, chirping clutch of cheery, cheeping things.
she wondered in her sleep if her flying escape
somehow portended a gossamer start.
awakened by caresses of sunlight,
irrepressible trills soon unburdened her heart.
sounds of a scuffle ruptured her reverie
and she bounded down the sagging spiral stairs.
Rashful was chasing the spectacled otter,
knocking over knicknacks and upending chairs.
a lit log had toppled from the fireplace
alighting on a rug that started to burn.
the frightened, freckled fawn was beside himself
utterly uncertain of which way to turn.
Weepy hurtled in with his splashing pail of tears
dousing Rashful, along with the fire.
though the rug was entirely extinguished
the flames were fanned in Rashful's flaring ire.
in a swirling homage to multi-armed gods
Gropey frisked them all, nipping latent flashes.
an animated broom swept into the room
briskly swishing as it brushed up the ashes.
pausing to watch it whisk into its closet
Pasty salvaged pipes from the charred, fractured rack.
"these friends of mine are here to escort you
to the cleft in the cliff where they last saw that sack.
i was certain you'd want to make them feel welcome.
now, by your leave, i'll make lunch for your trip."
the fawn and the otter huddled together.
Weepy stood by them with a quivering lip.
Sappy shook his head at the smoking debris.
"i've no doubt our Rashful is rueful, my dear.
he loses his temper, but never his heart.
any friend of yours is always welcome here."
Weepy squeezed the otter, gushing a torrent.
Rashful's sheepish face flushed scarlet as a beet.
while the deluge was hardly unexpected
the remorse was an unprecedented feat.
then they all pitched in to put the room to rights
save Mock who was crafting a canopied bed.
as Weepy handed treats to his newfound friends
Rashful faded to a fainter shade of red.
Lumpy caught glimpses of glances in windows
so he opened the door, but no one was there.
for the rows of sniffing noses promptly dispersed
curbing the dangling of tails in the air.
*
a shimmering blue streaked the simmering sky
as the company assembled on the lawn,
a quirky contingent of slightly statured men
forming a queue with the otter and fawn.
stacks of swaying knapsacks were strapped to their backs
crammed with packed baskets and swaddled swishing knives.
Sleazy had his guide for plotting assignations
dishing the dirt on the dodgiest dives.
Mock smirked at Pasty and flourished his hood.
"don't wait up for us. we won't be back till late.
we'll pay a visit to the forest borders
and the innkeeper up at the Gimpy Gait.
'e's a right awful gossip, that bandy-legged bloke.
but 'e 'ands out tips along with yer change.
you stay on your guard, our Lady La-di-da.
don't be openin' doors for anyone strange."
grasping the irony, she slapped Gropey's hands
then blew back kisses to Sappy and Weepy
but averted her eyes from Sleazy's sly nod
for meeting his gaze was simply too creepy.
the last she saw of the dapper procession
was the jiggling wiggle of Lumpy's bum
as his semblance was shaded by a cedar
and their footfalls eclipsed by the insects' hum.
her entourage emerged in solemn silence
from their crevices and unsuspected nooks.
the feathered folk filled the fence posts and railings
resting their wings and exchanging puzzled looks.
Sludge White smiled at the fawn's tawny mother.
"we may as well go in. i'll put on some tea."
then a strong breeze stirred up the savor of salt
eerily redolent of the distant sea.
*
and it shivered every leaf in the forest
with a wail that hovered on the edge of sound
like some siren on a mythical island
or barrow-wight buried in an ancient mound.
the gusts gathered fury, thrashing a hamlet
huddled in the bend of a neighboring brook
and spun the creaking sign of the Gimpy Gait
nearly plucking the plank from its rusted hook.
"we'll have no more of your guff, Molt the Miller!
i'm up to my ears with your blatherin' rows!"
the barkeep's eyes flashed a fiery warning
from their shaded pockets, 'neath his knitted brows.
he loaded a tray for a pretty barmaid
who balanced the weight while adjusting his wig.
hale, hardy lads locked lips in darkened corners.
a willowy youth pranced the "jitterbug" jig.
Molt the Miller hiccuped, then slid off his stool
and soaking in his cups, passed out on the floor.
the blustering wind sandblasted the tavern
as Rashful swept in, barely holding the door.
his companions followed, flustered like flotsam
plastered with bruises from a furious tiff
which broadcast the tale for those that could read it:
they'd salvaged the sack from the edge of the cliff.
"who's for a flagon of mead?" asked the barkeep
smearing the counter with his foul, grimy rag.
then scanning the bobbing, bodiless heads
he summoned another of his barmaids in drag.
"Pally," said he, "give our darlin' boys the works.
say, didn't that sentry have an unpaid bill?"
catching the drift from the stripling's rolling eyes
he heaved a sigh at his disappointed till.
"i'll fetch him" said Rashful. "i'm just in the mood."
and he dropped from sight as he sprang from his chair,
regrettably stepping on Molt the Miller
whose garbled protests hung faintly in the air.
"just sit yourself down Rashful my matey.
you'll not be riskin' your life an' limb for coins.
the clangin' wankers are like as not to stiff us.
they're walkin' weapons that think with their loins."
"their lot don't ken we're alive!" piped up Pally.
"on market day last they trampled a child.
crushed his little feet and left 'im for dead.
Trixie 'ad to 'old me back. i were that riled."
he tucked a tip in his fishnet stockings
and blinking back a tear that was starting to sting,
parried one of Gropey's red-handed advances
and said "that's enough of that, ya' daft thing!"
as he trained his sharp eyes on his leaking source
Mock pensively swallowed a swig from his mug.
"and why would the troops be out in such numbers?
are they keepin' the reason under a rug?"
"well now, as it happens," the innkeeper winked,
"i might have a bit to say on that topic."
everyone in earshot settled in their chairs.
Sleazy leaned closer since he was myopic.
"the word is the princess has been abducted.
and the one they're blamin' is Woodcutter Nate.
what'll happen when they get their hands on him
is too grisly and monstrous to contemplate.
they're sayin' the queen's just beside herself.
though i say her ownsome's quite enough to ponder.
they'll stop at nothin' to retrieve that princess
and dispatch poor Nate to the unseen yonder."
a musing depression enveloped the room
as grim implications began to sink in.
a menacing specter shrouded their future
and managed to drown out the rollicking din.
into the respite, the siren lamented,
their troubles wafted, and the rafters rattled.
a rash of ill winds left rooftops ravaged
and pendulous prospects, ensnared and embattled.
*
deep in the forest the treetops were trembling.
frightened creatures quivered in their fragile nests.
horizontal blasts flailed the snapping branches,
stripping them of leaves and casting off their pests.
the sunset had barely embarrassed the sky
when the wight let loose with his harrowing wail.
the furry retainers had made themselves scarce
to hide in their burrows and ride out the gale.
the princess sat up by the crackling fire
awaiting her strange little housemates' return
and dazedly gazed at the amber embers,
infrequently adding a fresh log to burn.
a pattering clatter pelted above her
fraying her temper and needling her nerves.
three creaking windows blew open at once
and the spluttering gusts scuttled dust around curves.
the tension mounted when the candid clock
made a comment on the lateness of the hour.
but when the self-starting candles all went out
the seeds of panic proceeded to flower.
as shadows condensed around the fireplace
a tingle of dread disconcerted her spine.
then an evergreen tree smashed through the front door
sprucing up the entry, spraying it with pine.
Pasty lost her courage and leapt up the stairs,
her fleet feet reflecting her fluttering heart.
in headlong haste she mishandled the landing
prying her presence and the present apart.
the cloudburst arrived, tossing in its insult,
spattering her dress and staining it with mud.
and the ranting winds beleaguered the hallway,
entangling her hair in a dark pool of blood.
*
thunder echoed like the thrumming drums of war
hounding the dreams of the haunted barrow-wight.
jagged streaks of lightning struck the startled sky
in brilliant flashes that snatched the night from sight.
in a chamber stashed far beneath the castle,
quite glutted with caskets of glittering junk
the heartless monarch stilled her restless pacing
when out of the drain, the slithering rat slunk.
she shrieked and cackled with voracious delight
as her spy shook his whiskers and rubbed his paws.
then they conferred in an unnerving language
consisting of whimpers and jarring pshaws.
the queen clapped her hands in a frenzied rapture
and ordered the mirror to broaden her view.
he countered by obscuring his perspective,
tinging his finish a rueful shade of blue.
the harridan hurled a savage harangue
swallowed by the squall as it reached a fevered pitch,
drowning out the cries of a terrified ox
hitched to a cart that was mired in a ditch.
the miserable chorus spread through the forest
as toppling nests fostered a homeless plight
and dwellers expelled from their flooded tunnels
bewailed the travails of the turbulent night.
the torrential waters at last leveled off
and began their descent to the distant sea.
an apricot dawn supplanted the tempest,
grafting gauzy grace on smoldering debris.
the frazzled forest folk were sorely relieved
by the mild arrival of polished peace
and set their sights on remodelling lodges,
sensing that nature had extended her lease.
*
seven scruffy men trailed beneath the trees
with a bounding hat rack and a wriggling rug,
helped or hindered by a shadowboxing otter
and the teething fawn's tassel-snagging tug.
they'd holed up from the storm at the Gimpy Gait
in the company of the barmaid beauties
who'd flat out rejected Sleazy and Gropey,
keeping their distance as if they had cooties.
when they came in sight of their hapless cottage
with its ravaged entrance and tree-covered floor
the jolting view was rendered surreal
by the fur-bearing posse constructing a door.
their hearts nearly broke when they found the princess
surrounded by deer gently nudging her face,
a beaver pressing herbs into her wounds,
and a shrew restitching her lacerated lace.
a pair of large bears were lugging fallen logs
and piling them up in the cavernous gap.
the animated broom was attempting to swish
with half of its bristles stuck in the sap.
as they gaped past the rim of the mortal abyss,
fathoming a depth they could not abide
a wisp from a zephyr brushed open Pasty's eyes.
then not just Weepy, but all of them cried.
"what's going on? how did i get on the floor?
oh! now i remember! i slipped on the stairs!"
recognition rambled in her roving gaze
embracing the beaver, the broom, and the bears.
"are you alright? can you make it to the couch?"
asked Sappy, cradling her head on his arm.
then he, Mock, and Rashful helped her to her feet
scarcely relieving their lingering alarm.
"i take it the tree was knocked in by the storm
and all that happened had a natural cause?"
Rashful adopted a patient demeanor,
wholly at odds with his designated flaws.
"well now that you've asked, it did seem peculiar.
before the tree's entrance the candles went out."
Sappy frowned. "you've confirmed our worst suspicions.
i'm sorry, love. but there's just no room for doubt."
Rashful nodded his head and wearily sighed
as he pulled out his pipe and gave it a pat.
"only magic could extinguish those candles.
a powerful and evil magic at that.
we gleaned gloomy tidings at the Gimpy Gait.
it's been bandied about that you've been kidnapped."
"the kingdom's crawlin' with soldiers" Mock put in.
"spillin' with spies. every village has been tapped.
it's a carpenter named Nate that they're blamin'.
'e's one of our mates. rather a decent chap.
when they find where the poor cove's been 'olin' up
they'll chop off 'is 'ead and drop it in 'is lap."
Sludge White stumbled as her mind reeled backwards
recalling the panic in the woodcutter's eyes.
"that wretched man is my stepmother's scapegoat,
screening the seams in her tapestry of lies."
Lumpy took her hand and eased her to a chair.
Weepy bestowed a most delicate caress.
the shrew slipped warily out of a pocket
and skittishly finished repairing her dress.
Sappy winced. "a royal visit seems likely.
we'd better get busy and work out a plan."
he unstuck the last of the twitching bristles,
releasing the broom and a skidding dustpan.
as needles and branches were adeptly dispersed
freeing all their feet from the constant crunch
Rashful shrugged his shoulders and somberly said
"i'll go see what i can rustle up for lunch."
the rug laid itself in its snug old patterns
and the rack stacked its hooks with layabout hoods.
the bears had finished assembling the entry
so their sloping backs loped off into the woods.
the otter's kith and kin were reunited,
frisking and flopping on top of each other.
the fawn got sniffed by curious cousins,
cuddled by Weepy, and nuzzled by his mother.
*
as Sleazy sloshed syrup and dealt out dumplings
it dawned on Pasty why all the forks were bent.
a parade of cutlery bounced off the walls,
occasionally lodging and leaving a dent.
she ducked to avoid being cut to the quick
by the swishing swipes of the swashbuckling knives
and said "i'm planning on leaving tomorrow.
if i stayed i'd only be risking your lives."
"codswallop!" hollered Rashful. "and pass the peas!
do you think we'd let you waltz out the front door
with the forest swarming with those brainwashed goons
who deify power and glamorize gore?"
Sappy's hickory gaze was glistening
as he handed the peas round the crowded table.
"you're one of us, my dear. don't you see that now?
we'll protect you just as long as we're able."
"what he said!" cried Weepy in a wounded voice,
his eyes brimming over and his hanky clenched.
the otter touched his cheek with a tender paw,
suffusing contentment as his fur got drenched.
Mock said "you're out of order, Lady La-di-da!
the chair is airing notions for defense.
if you leave us we'll bloody well tag along.
so kindly leave off all this stuff and nonsense!"
then he scarfed down a biscuit and chugged his mead,
quashing further comment before it could start.
and laden silence descended on their meal
while Sludge White siphoned her overflowing heart.
*
late in the evening as owls were convening
and acrobatic bats flaunted in the sky
a sparrow announced a stranger approaching
and Lumpy wobbled off to see who was nigh.
Pally the barmaid stepped into the circle
framed by the candles' self-animating glow.
"a dribblin' sentry says they nabbed our Nate.
as your lot were mates i thought you'd want to know."
this news smudged the halo of tremulous light,
dimming their spirits and depressing the night.
they sat up for hours devising a scheme
to rescue their friend from his desperate plight.
a sinister tension stifled the forest
as they climbed the stairs and the candles went out.
a fearful foreboding was freighting the air,
distorting intentions and stiffening doubt.
their unsettled rest was frantic and fitful.
those sleep avoided felt they were being watched.
the shadows in corners resembled the horrors
genetic experiments might have botched.
remorse, disenchantment, and festering hate
seemed to be sulking in every shaded spot.
the dreamers all dreamed of constantly waking
under the dirt in a cemetery plot.
*
a grey morning dredged up, befuddled in fog
shrouding surroundings in dripping crystal ice.
out of sync echoes bounced around like caroms
attentively uttering everything thrice.
while the company gathered in the garden
obliging pairs of paws packed their travel things.
the birds that had tired of slick, slimy perches
were hovered above on wearying wings.
though Pally joined the party as part of the plan
Weepy and Lumpy resolved not to go.
for they daren't leave Pasty on her ownsome
to face such a heartless, formidable foe.
the strange triple talk hung about for some time
redundantly revealing most of its gist.
and then the voices drifted off with their forms
in the swathing swirls of mysterious mist.
*
a chill set in as the afternoon advanced.
clammy currents clustered in the cloudy haze.
the wavering vapor spread itself thicker
as though it intended to roll on for days.
when Sludge White was rounding the foot of the stairs
she faintly heard taps being rapped on a log.
so she pushed aside the slanting makeshift door
and a haggard old hag loomed out of the fog.
"my dearie! i'm so glad i've found you at home!"
cackled the crone as she cracked a crooked grin,
avidly peering through bleary, hooded eyes
her cloak clutched close to her thrusting, double chin.
"i would fain find my darling daughter's cottage
but i fear i've taken a misguided turn.
it's on the old road to the abandoned mill
betwixt ByWater Landing and Fleagle's Fern."
"goodness!" Pasty smiled. "that's several leagues hence.
where the forest thins out near Nobbledy Nook.
up ahead you'll come to a copse of willows.
from there heed the ramblings of the babbling brook."
"i thank thee, dearie. such a mannerly lass!
having a care for a frail and helpless wench!"
she lurched off the porch and hobbled out of sight,
infusing the air with a mouldering stench.
and Sludge White was afflicted by a vision
oddly familiar and emanating dread
of the wizened crow's all-consuming gaze
and something unsettling lurking in her tread.
the colors of sunset were concealed from view
but the murk grew considerably darker
as the watch at the castle sifted their shifts
to the time being broadcast by the barker.
"eight o'clock and all's well!" he brazenly bluffed
and the villagers held their collective breath.
for as soon as the sun rose on the morrow
a hardy life would end in untimely death.
resolutely they abandoned the courtyards
mislaying their echoes in the market stalls.
the fog-ridden ramparts all stood deserted,
brooding in a bleakness bleeding from the walls.
the reigning absentia was haunting his window
tailing a hawk with barren, red-rimmed eyes.
the guards at the gate were gathering the drawbridge,
barring disruptions and buttressing lies.
the sentry at the entry of the dungeons
was taken by surprise with the fetching lass
bringing his dinner on a smoking platter
and a tempting toddy steaming up its glass.
his crude endeavor to emulate Gropey
was summarily met with a smarting smack.
so he set in to pummelling poor Pally
when Rashful popped up with a right proper thwack.
"ta, mate! i've rather gone off these randy old sods!"
the sentinel slid softly to the floor.
in a fluttering flicker the keys were snatched
and Gropey's fleet fingers flung open the door.
they entered a realm of palpable darkness
and floundered blindly in a Stygian pall.
Pally bumped his noggin and crossly exclaimed
"it's a good show your lot ain't unduly tall!"
crossing their fingers they inched slowly forward
expecting each footstep to end in a fall.
when fearful fancy supplanted their senses
they got on all fours and proceeded to crawl.
Pally shuddered at the cold clasp of iron
for grasping nothingness had frazzled his soul.
he urgently whispered "Nate, are you in there?
your chums 'ave come to get you out of this 'ole!"
"who wants to know?" asked a hoarse, spectral voice.
and the arteries clenched round their hurtling hearts.
"'tis your Pally from up at the Gimpy Gait.
the one you always call your 'Queen of Sweet Tarts'.
i'm in a crack pack of crusty Curmudgeons.
them blokes what stay in the spookhouse in the woods."
the lock had already been sprung by Gropey,
easily ranking the handiest of hoods.
Nate said "this old man needs to be rescued too"
propelling a shade from the depths of his cell.
"of course he does" griped Rashful. "just the two of you?"
but perking his ears he cried "bloody hell!"
soldiers were shouting in a nearby passage
and everyone sank into utter despair.
next they were shattered by an ear-splitting squawk.
Rashful asked "what the heck is she doing there?"
the sounds of a scuffle assailed their ears,
a clanging commotion of clamorous clatters.
this was succeeded by shrieks and screeches
and shockingly stifled by gut-wrenching splatters.
"what in blazes is that?" never got answered
but another guard shouted "run for your lives!"
"there's an idea!" said Rashful darting off,
following the lead of the swashbuckling knives.
Sleazy surfaced as they rounded a corner
looking rather furtive and wanting for breath.
a partly-clad page shot out of a doorway
cringing from cutlery, frightened half to death.
Sappy and Mock were waiting by the stables
detaining some ponies by straining their reins.
to judge by the grudging, disgruntled glances
these human attachments just weren't worth the pains.
"Gramps!" Mock was ecstatic. "they told me you died!"
he leapt up and down as if he'd gone wild.
then his face crumpled as tremors set free
the fierce fractured sobs of a heartbroken child.
"wishful thinkin'. they just buried me alive.
looks like you grew up while i were gettin' old!
this ain't the time for lengthy conversations
but darlin' you're simply a sight to behold!"
his grandson lifted him onto a pony
who scornfully snickered while shifting his weight.
and they stole through the shadows to the graveyard,
avoiding the bullies attending the gate.
*
what with the gruesome gallery of gargoyles
stalking the headstones lining either side
and writhing branches jutting out of the fog
it was quite a disconcerting midnight ride.
the ear-splitting squawk staggered the stillness
disturbing the peace of a murmuring owl.
then the banshee skidded out of the vapor,
cloaked in a floating funereal cowl.
"don't get your smalls in a stitch, my little gnomes!
it's only yours truly, paying my respects.
did you like my bit of fun with the sentries?
i've more up my sleeve than the old bitch suspects!
tell the shiny princess i thank her kindly.
her tip was just dandy! these new digs are grand!
if there's anything else i can do for her
i'll bend over backwards to lend her a hand."
in a twinkling a series of crackling snaps
carried off the banshee in a swirl of crepe
leaving the atmosphere singed and sizzling,
the outlaws astounded, their mouths still agape.
"we'd better get a move on" Gramps suggested.
"a boggy boneyard's hardly the spot for naps.
and unless you're aimin' to snare mosquitoes
you might want to think about closin' your traps!"
the fugitives resumed their fright-filled flight
tugged in front by Rashful while Mock propelled the rear
amidst grim reminders of life's final stop,
the ponies snubbing their vain attempts to steer.
*
[here endeth what's reckoned in chapter the second.]
*
- Evan Hawthorn, the 16th of September, 2018
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