as the night wore on the cryptic mist lifted.
shards of starshine skimmed the surface of the earth.
by dawn even shade loving nooks and crannies
had dislodged the haze from its hovering berth.
Mock was astonished to find himself waking
and the cavalcade advancing on the woods.
though Sappy and Gropey scratched their groggy heads
snores were still seeping from several slumping hoods.
the sun warmed the hills in ByWater Landing
tanning fishwives and ferrymen on the dock.
children splashed laughter on the glistening beach
while skipping and squealing and running amok.
when the file of Curmudgeons reached the river
(as that's where the ponies had wanted to go)
a flying contraption sundered the heavens,
a throbbing steel beast that flashed a baleful glow.
the destruction it unloaded was blinding,
the crater it gouged inconceivably vast.
Sappy tried to steady his rupturing chest
certain his heart would be shattered by the blast.
when it was over and the ground laid back down
they frantically inspected all that was left.
what was missing took longer to tally.
of its children the Landing was wholly bereft.
Pally raked the dirt in a frenzied fury,
despairing disbelief distorting his eyes.
even muscular Mock couldn't constrain him
or soothe his wounded, inconsolable cries.
but his outbursts were hushed and his struggles stilled
when unbearable shock left him dazed and numb
on discovering a foot in a sandal
and fingers still clasping a miniature thumb.
and they placed him on a shying pony
tendered by the mercy of the carpenter's hands
then went on helping the desolate peasants
sift for survivors in the stained, shifting sands.
yet their efforts only piled on torment
for naught that's familiar was wrought in that hell,
only twisted, uninhabited fragments
and the futile corpse of a cracked, chapel bell.
the prospects for rescue steadily decreased
till the misery was utterly unmixed.
in the silence the Curmudgeons remounted
while the neighbors stood by, wooden and transfixed.
like disfigured effigies stripped of their limbs
their senses were blunted and their dreams effaced.
whatever befell this town without children
its stolen future could never be replaced.
leaving ByWater Landing to its sorrow
they took comfort in the shadows of the trees.
but the keening of the mourners stayed with them,
its burden of aching distressing the breeze.
the rest of the day passed without discourse
as each on their own tried to fathom the attack.
the madness they'd witnessed offended reason
and even the ponies were taken aback.
*
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 that 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 queried "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 woman beckoned from a window
'come in, my poppet. you're just 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 and 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 kindred overridden wishes,
the ponies frolicked in a freewheeling prance.
the stellar procession was elsewhere observed
with the red-rimmed eyes of a crestfallen king,
the reign of His Grace disgraced and encumbered
by a withered conscience and a tarnished ring.
the misery that His Majesty meted
nearly disabled the subjects of his realm.
but alas! they'd likely have fared no better
if another elite was conning the helm.
in the days since his daughter's disappearance
he'd held his disquieting notions at bay
slantedly glancing through his latticed windows,
raptly surveying the swirling birds of prey.
but when night descended his hard heart darkened
and he hearkened to the summons of his youth,
to the time his indifference hadn't seasoned
and his reason still sought resonance in truth.
*
the hidden chamber far beneath his footfalls
stacked with its caskets of glittering gold junk
echoed the emptiness his wife couldn't stifle
as she rifled through her trifle-filled trunk.
while the spirited mirror warily watched
she unpacked a rack of beakers and vials.
from the slivered rifts that scarred his scuffed surface
he'd clearly suffered for obstructing her wiles.
perusing the pages of a musty tome
by the light of the grisly gleam in her eye,
she cackled when she came to the recipes
for savory dishes that make people die.
then she whisked out her wand and rolled up her sleeves
thrusting a cauldron over sputtering flames,
to concoct a brew that would likely outdo
Disney's foul litany of dastardly dames.
the shade of something disconcertingly shaped
sifted strange silhouettes that splayed on the wall.
insufferable shrieks bewailing existence
spurted with the blood seeping in from the hall.
a rash of river rats rummaged and snickered,
surging in a slithering, roughhousing crowd.
a spate of squat spiders spun while suspended,
concealing the ceiling with a sound-proof shroud.
in a raspy and reedy, paper-thin voice
wheezing and riddled with inscrutable ticks
the book disclosed the fiendish directions
for fixing up fruit in a perfidious mix.
"three festering fingers of a feckless wretch
freshly dissevered or affixed to the stump.
two lingering lesions from scorpion stings
scraped from fading victims, congealed in a clump.
a rasher of ribs, unsparingly sauced
ripped from a rigid reverend, rabid with wroth.
the pinioned wings pilfered off spring's first robin.
a dislocated limb from a three-toed sloth.
the last gasp of air sucked from a drowning mouth.
a patch of stretched out neck, tautly wreathed in rope.
seven slight hands sliced for swiping moldy bread.
a knot of slit veins forever drained of hope."
*
rattled, rocked, and utterly revolted
the queasy mirror glazed a ghastly shade of green.
he knew the queen's propensity for evil
but her taste in books was patently obscene.
as the horde of relics piled up around her
he cast about for plausible futures,
projecting a means for thwarting her schemes
while skirting reprisals resulting in sutures.
the tome droned on with its uncanny patter
as the shape shifting shade slid under the door.
"a vestige of depleted uranium.
ten tainted toadstools sporting spores by the score.
a pinch of cyanide pigmented with lead.
a shred of panicked dread, screaming in the night.
a trickle of drool that pooled from a fool.
a smidgen of perdition and a spit of spite.
a trace of arsenic, tastelessly laced with lye.
six drops of venom from a viper's bite.
a whiff of suspicion whipped into a froth.
two spoons of envy mixed with finely diced slight.
a lolloping dollop of mercury
tossed in nightshade salad, rolling round in the gorse."
the mirror sighed softly and muttered to himself
"talk about beating to death a dead horse!"
then just as the book was about to impart
the ingredient most lethally binding
a sudden whistling draft wafted passed the harpy
undermining her magical minding.
the perspectives in the chamber grew deeper
and the distance from the ceiling seemed to swell.
the resulting perceptions wrought vertigo
rendering the queen unsteady and unwell.
as they settled into altered dimensions
the pages flipped past in an unforeseen rush.
then the arcane tome closed itself with a thud
and the mirror shimmered a violet blush.
"you needn't be so snappy!" quoth Her Highness,
flaring to regain her bearings and bile.
though scarcely affecting a shaky stance,
she managed a manner unspeakably vile.
the ruse the mirror mused had left her confused
and the truth, forsooth, transcendentally veiled.
the book's grim ramblings were abruptly abridged
and its recipe corrupted and curtailed.
the queen left further hexing till the morrow,
fearing the frailty her spells might imbue.
the frazzled mirror eyed the frothing cauldron,
darkly reflecting a phosphorescent hue.
*
[and thus, chapter the third's burden is heard.]
*
- Evan Hawthorn, the 23rd of September, 2018
["Sludge White and the Seven Curmudgeons" was completed on 10/16/2017.]
No comments:
Post a Comment