attempts to use his limbs came to no avail,
as though his nerves had all been unfastened
or his presence bound up in a bodiless jail.
had his nightmare tacked on another scene,
tightening the terror that held him in its vise?
what had happened to the children's frail hands
he was so used to seeing when he closed his eyes?
he'd no idea of where he might be
and wasn't even certain that was apropos.
for how could he inhabit a location
that none of his senses could possibly know?
constantly rehashing recent events
he rummaged for an anchor to steady his mind
hoping for a clue to illuminate
the darkness comprising this paralyzing bind.
yet a subtle alteration was occurring
of which he was only faintly aware.
for after an interval that seemed eternal
perception crept into his senseless lair.
and the insight arrived in a sudden flash
that he and his thoughts were no longer alone
like a primeval dawning of consciousness
sparking on barrens of solitary stone.
darkness. still darkness, stultifying and severe.
but misery flickered beyond the pale.
and he strained his reason for the frequency
that wavered with a lonely, heart-rending wail.
a ray of hope ecstatically erupted
that he might subdue his dispiriting fear.
for somewhere in the vale of mind-numbing darkness
someone was sobbing that Pally could hear.
*
"owls don't fly in daylight! it's simply not done!"
Elsbeth protested, indignantly huffing.
with one eye open she swivelled her head,
ejecting a bone and a bit of mouse stuffing.
Guanyin's supple hands smoothed her ruffled feathers
as the monkey offered up another treat.
"but the other owls are surely sleeping.
and in this fog one can't help but be discreet."
she was standing in her garden alcove,
embedded by roses and overrun with rue.
"i only ask since the situation's dire,
and none can mind them half so well as you."
despite herself Elsbeth opened her other eye.
"you appreciate my perseverance?"
she allowed herself a stately, gliding blink
that somehow increased her startled appearance.
"i do, my dear. it's one of your best features.
but at this juncture, we'll have to be hasty.
a message must reach the luminous maiden.
the one they've been hiding, the Princess Pasty.
she must be told that she's in grave danger.
a grisly fate awaits the slightest of chances.
warn her not to accept..." but here she paused,
Elsbeth and the monkey sharing staggered stances.
"tell her not to eat anything shiny."
then her voice trailed off in pensive hesitation.
"a basket of fruit!" she abruptly exclaimed.
"better tell her to shun every temptation."
she shook her head, apparently distracted.
"and be careful. i suspect she'll set a trap."
"what about the gruff little fellows?" asked Elsbeth,
spreading her wings with an air-slapping snap.
Guanyin sighed. "it's too late to prevent that.
we'll have to sort it out later. i'm not sure how.
he's quite subtle, that one, and caught me by surprise.
but we've run out of time. you must go now!"
obsidian glints enkindled intention
in Elsbeth's astonishing violet eyes.
then flapping her powerful ivory wings
she sprang like a lion set free in the skies.
"could that be Elsbeth slipping into the haze?"
queried a crow while clinging to the casement.
"it looks like Guanyin is seeing her off.
say! how can she do that?" she asked in amazement.
"and whatever's possessed her to fly in the day?
do you think she might have come over sick?"
Sharpebeake snickered, almost losing her grip,
declaring "oh, Dithery, you're ever so thick!"
next to her Sable peered into the distance
as her beady visage brimmed with decision.
narrowing her focus she plunged from the perch
pelting away with unerring precision.
*
darkness. harsh darkness, forsaken and forlorn,
resembling the abyss he'd frequently feared.
though formlessness fit with the void he'd imagined
not feeling his heartbeat struck him as weird.
if he could find his mates or a bit of floor
he might be convinced he was back in his cell.
as it was his most promising conjecture
involved getting stuck in a fathomless well.
that didn't explain the missing aches and pains
or his managing to topple unawares.
yet reason failed him when he tried to recall
his last conscious moments on the spookhouse stairs.
a puzzle plucked his frazzled awareness
but what he remembered wasn't helping at all,
Lumpy lit up in the flare of his candle
as wavering shadows unsettled the wall.
he wondered how long he'd been in this place
assuming such terms still warranted retention.
for it came to him that he couldn't be certain
that time itself was paying attention.
progressive pondering dwelled on his grandson,
concluding that fate was an uncommon thief.
a blissful glimmer after decades of longing
left him on the verge of dying from grief.
it was then that he first heard the crying
and ashamed of his sobbing, he tried to hide it.
if he'd had his skin, when he grasped it wasn't him
he'd most likely have jumped quite outside it.
though hopelessly stuck in directionless stasis
his disconsolate heart started to swell.
an unseen ally was tempering the darkness,
sharing his sorrow to soften their shell.
*
the ear-splitting squawk would have wakened the dead
had the graveyard ghosts been near enough to hear.
but she was howling in a tumbledown tower,
dank, deserted, and depressingly drear.
Solomon, the reassembling skeleton
was invited for a proper English tea
but lacking the appropriate piping
listened to the banshee while bursting for a pee.
"y'ave still got it, Mary! every inch of me chilled.
and such a nice touch, those blood-curdling moans!
i've not heard the like since i fled that cottage
when the raccoon scrambled my favorite bones."
"funny you should mention it, Slippery Sol.
that's precisely the haunt i'm heading for now!
why not tag along and lend me a hand
while i stir up trouble for the heartless old cow?"
Solomon's sockets drastically widened.
his jawbone swung loosely, creaking on its hinges.
but the banshee enjoyed this reaction
letting rip another of her shrieking binges.
"the last time i was there i narrowly escaped
with my integrity barely intact.
ever since i came out of the closet
it's been endless bother just keeping myself stacked."
"oh, come on, Sol! it's sure to be a hoot!
you and me together, just like the days of yore.
do stop frowning. i hate it when you pout.
i wouldn't have asked if i'd known you'd be a bore."
Solomon grinned. "oh, very well. i'll come along.
but you must promise to fend off raccoons."
"i think we'll have bigger fish to fry, Sol.
their majesties' minions, perhaps some ghoulish goons.
still, whatever happens, i'll stay by your side.
though i really don't see what you're on about.
not many these days can reassemble.
with talent like yours one can really sort things out."
Mary leaned over, scanning the table.
"but i've forgotten my manners. the tea's gone cold."
she blew a seething stream of steam in the pot
and said "will you have more? it's been steeped in mold."
Solomon shook his skull vigorously,
producing a series of disquieting clicks.
"don't get rattled, dear. i was merely asking.
the slightest slip and you're clattering with ticks!"
she snatched the teapot, disturbing a spider
who somersaulted into the nearest cup.
then she started pouring and he zipped back out,
his spindly legs waving to give himself up.
launching on a tether of invisible threads
he sailed through the room in a single stroke,
brushing a mirror propped in the corner
covered in a patina of nebulous smoke.
a fine glaze of lilac sprouted on its surface
spreading like a breath caressing the glass.
the mirror was inspecting the margins,
scarcely attending to avoid appearing crass.
this usually resulted in raised up hackles,
an awkward task he repeatedly shirked.
but just now he was cracking a mystery,
intent on disclosing the spot where it lurked.
it was no closer. nor was it farther.
he'd smacked up against yet another solid wall.
he'd have to consider a different approach
if he hoped to make any progress at all.
so he slanted his linear perspective,
bending reflection in pioneering shapes.
reimagining angular distances,
deepening doorways into lopsided gapes.
skimming on the rim of an altered dimension
dredging up wedges in a cubist maze
he pried open portals in hinges of windows,
probing proportion in outlandish ways.
sidestepping into a surreal existence
where perception was stretched most obtusely,
he peered down a dwindling tunnel and blushed.
there was someone right there, weeping profusely!
*
darkness. thick darkness, opaque and obscure.
a singular freedom from the dictates of form
left Lumpy less affected by shapelessness,
indifferent to the laws informing the norm.
he could easily recall the broken candle
he'd happened on while heading back to bed.
the very one Gramps had been carrying
when he nearly mistook him for the walking dead.
but as he knelt on the stairs to retrieve it
a heart-stopping shadow perverted his space
surrounding his senses in an instant,
lacing up his skin in a paralytic brace.
then the wind was expelled from his stomach
as he felt the effects of an onrush of gall
and succumbing to a mind-numbing terror
grasped he was helpless and couldn't even crawl.
and it seemed to him then that he was falling,
spinning and splashed by a bout of vertigo
as if he'd been forcefully flung from the earth
but with gravity lapsed, had nowhere to go.
his reception of perception was severed,
hermetically sealed in a reticent case.
objective reality had come undone,
displaced without trace by disabling embrace.
gradually adapting to absent externals
his urgent readiness began to fade.
and he mused on the menacing faculties
plausibly possessed by a shape shifting shade.
he left off expecting imminent rescue
for time ran out, having nothing to measure
and came to accept his grim abeyance,
relinquishing relief from limiting leisure.
his mind filled the void with films from his past,
narratives to soften the unrelenting truth
stoking the legacy of daunting derision
hounding the hours that haunted his youth.
with no distractions the deluge descended,
a torrent of scorn on a shame-laden wave
till he felt once more like that ridiculed boy
pouring out his heart in the drought-stricken cave.
Lumpy was jolted by the revelation
that his sobs had crossed the insensate divide.
for the darkness resounded with dejection,
blurting the burden he'd buried deep inside.
as surging regret at last depleted
he detected the rumble of a shunting sound
gradually invading his awareness
like a train derailing metaphysical ground.
then a blinding flash opened up the heavens
as his eyes adjusted to a newfound sight.
the palest hint of a far off glimmer
had introduced a dazzling speck of lilac light.
*
fingers of fog clutched the Curmudgeons' cottage,
a rancorous vapor, spiteful at its core
as the craggy old hag menaced the entrance
and rapped her palsied hand on the makeshift door.
she wasn't prepared for the petulant hat rack
brandishing hooks and itching for a fight
poking past the princess in her rose-pink wreath
beaming a smile that could banish the night.
"good morrow, madam. come in and rest a spell."
Pasty curtseyed, a twinge tinging her brightness.
for its part the hat rack clearly had doubts
this leering bag of bones warranted politeness.
"that's just like you, dearie! cordial to a fault!
it's the reason i've come, though i mustn't stay.
i've brought a small token to express my thanks.
once i've given you that, i'll be on my way."
she hobbled in, clinging tightly to her basket
a mouldering stench trailing in her wake.
the battlerack swaggered back to its corner
puffing out its hoods for appearances sake.
a few of the self-starting candles blazed
staving off the haze in its steady, seeping creep,
independently sparking and dousing
like lazy twinkling lights in intermittent sleep.
the bearskin watchrug snarled round a corner
its gritted teeth bearing an inscrutable air.
at the crone's approach the couch shuffled backwards
so she seated herself in a wary chair.
as Sludge White asked "and did you find your daughter?"
the drapes were pestered by a persistent breeze.
wresting her attention from the furnishings,
the hag looked startled and vaguely ill at ease.
"your directions were right on the mark, dearie,
leading straight to my son-in-law's humble farm.
i've brought you these apples from their orchard,
a new variety called Anastasia's Charm."
placing her baubles in front of her feet
she handed the juiciest jewel to Pasty.
"it's just the thing for tarting up a pie.
have a bite of this one. they're ever so tasty!"
a gust of wind tossed the billowing curtains
angrily snapping as they flapped through the room,
kicking up a dusty, blustering ruckus
shaking the shadows that clustered in the gloom.
as the clicks from the clock swallowed the silence
and the walls resettled their self-dusting shelves
Sludge White reached for the shiny red apple
and the candles held their breath, steadying themselves.
*
"oh, bloody hell!" Elsbeth crossly exclaimed,
attempting again to pull away from the gunk.
"i'll never hear the end of this!" she whirled her head,
gauging the distance to the nearest trunk.
"what sordid species could spin through such a span?
well, i must do something. when it rains it pours."
she rolled her eyes, looking thoroughly disgusted.
"imagine me falling for one of her lures!"
feeling a tug on the tautly strung web
as if a giant seamstress was stitching a purl
she scanned the thickets in either direction
zeroing in on a scrawny, red squirrel.
he watched her with a bewildered expression
as he pensively chewed on a crust of bread.
a tuft was curling from his rumpled fur
like a question mark caption balanced on his head.
"oh great! a witless mammal. just what i needed.
though perchance i can coax him out of his tree.
then his added weight might cause it to break.
here, little squirrel. c'mere fella', come to me."
he stopped nibbling and narrowed his eyes. "are you nuts?
you're a freakin' owl, for goodness sake!
d'ya' think i was born yesterday? pl-lease!
i'm not comin' near you without a sharpened stake."
if she hadn't been stuck she'd have been knocked over.
both her eyes blinked. "you're a squirrel that talks?"
he smirked. "no, i'm a cynical illusion.
just what do i look like, oh, Owl that gawks?"
a voice cried out. "Squint, where have you gotten to?"
he clambered from his branch, spiraling around.
Elsbeth slanted her perspective to no avail
since layering clouds enshrouded the ground.
then a tall blond man stepped out of the mist
with a handsome demeanor and watery eyes
clasping a lute in his long tapered fingers
arrayed in the blues of robins' eggs and skies.
"stay close to one of us, will you, comrade?
there's something evil lurking here, dreaming up fear."
Squint flapped his tail. "i was scouting, Mortimer.
and it's well that i was. just wait till you hear!
there's a huge web stretched across yonder gap
with a condescending owl firmly attached."
he heaved an ecstatic, triumphant sigh
sat back on his haunches, and distractedly scratched.
Sylvana's laughter sparkled into focus,
lapping round the swirls of cottony stew.
"i'll venture that owl's no stranger to me."
then her purposeful presence popped into view.
"is that the fledgling? what a wondrous relief!
do hurry up, dear. i'm feeling awfully shy.
i'd as lief shuffle off this mortal coil
as wait for its architects to dangle by."
"oh! there you are Elsbeth. try and stay calm.
we'll disentangle you as quickly as we can.
Mortimer, have you managed to spot Chester?
you know, we could really use a giant fan."
melancholy echoes met the minstrel's hails,
mourning the landscape in mellifluous tones.
"it's not easy keeping track of him in this stuff.
and shouting sends shivers straight through my bones."
Sylvana nodded. "i know what you mean.
like you're telling some odious thing where we are.
this forest is practically spilling with willies,
adrift in the sway of an angry star."
the muted grey daylight abruptly vanished
as a leaden veil dully descended
ridding the horizon of its ghostly outline,
its vague hints of depth eclipsed and ended.
thrust in the midst of a sudden sunset
or the twilight midwinter fringing far-flung lands
the seasoned staff of the People's Free Collective
serenely clasped their sundry paws and hands.
Elsbeth grew anxious and glumly remarked
"that clenches it. i knew i should have stayed in bed."
"oh, that's just Chester" Squint casually responded.
"nothin' to trouble your cute little head!"
"was that rife with the scent of well-meaning kindness?"
the minstrel asked as he wrinkled his nose.
"not so's you'd notice. sorry, your Owlness.
Chester's a glimrin. you've heard of them, i suppose?"
as Elsbeth didn't answer, Squint prattled on.
"they're beings that absorb particles of light.
they sop it all up like gleam-glomming sponges
to feed their piercing preternatural sight.
the old legends called them 'the Goblin folk'
'cause they gobble the sheen off anything that's bright.
they're polar opposites of Sylvana's princess.
where her skin glows, theirs turn day into night."
Sylvana said "one hears of their hoarding treasure,
a brazen projection of flagrant greed.
for elites set great store by glittering metals
and flashing coins emblazoned with their need.
hence rumours were spread that glimrins were demons,
impish non-persons of a treacherous sort.
thugs were enticed with fabled pots of gold,
genocide rebranded as patriotic sport."
Elsbeth was touched by this woeful disclosure,
leaking a pearl from her violet eyes.
"i'm obliged to you for chronicling the role
that intolerance plays in self-serving lies.
while i welcome the chance to fill in the facts
so cunningly and royally redacted,
perhaps one might spare a moment to ponder
just how in the hell we'll get me extracted!"
the bard grinned. "don't fret so. we've a glimrin in tow.
theirs is the lore that heals situations.
they're natural mediums with a special knack
for rearranging manifestations.
Elsbeth, this is Chester, our boon companion."
a deeper darkness seemed to herald a storm.
she felt more than saw a negative exposure,
an absence of essence, fenced in by form.
"ouch! whose sodding foot collided with my heel?"
demanded Rashful, emerging from the fog.
"i'll warrant 'twas our own wailing wonder
with his wiggling sidekick, the squeaking scarf-dog."
draped in otter and waxing indignant
Weepy trod with gusto on Rashful's peevish toes.
Sylvana bravely stepped into the fray
lest simmering tempers boiled over in blows.
"m'lady!" Rashful sputtered. "what a surprise!"
he doffed his hood, presenting a courtly bow.
"and pray what brings you to our neck of the woods?"
he queried, forgetting his querulous row.
"we're actually on our way to your cottage.
we've reason to believe Pasty's in danger."
Squint piped up. "but our bearings are out of sorts.
the closer we look, the more things seem stranger."
"of what nature is the threat to the princess?"
asked Rashful and Weepy, not missing a beat.
"the heartless harpy pursues her" said Elsbeth.
"and she's packing a shiny, poisonous treat."
Sylvana swung around to stare at the owl
who added "that's what i'm doing here, pet.
i'm bearing a message i'd have delivered
if i'd not been snatched by this nettlesome net."
then everyone finally registered
the astonishing breadth of gossamer webbing
eerily slung through the nebulous clearing
spectrally, ceaselessly swaying and ebbing.
the nightmarish notion that passed between them,
altogether too alarming to utter
they dismissed by abandoning reason
venting their panic in a communal shudder.
Weepy turned to Rashful. "you don't suppose they're..."
"nah. why would they have rambled so far from home?"
"perhaps something brought them" Weepy suggested,
peering apprehensively into the gloam.
"Chester, is this something you and i can handle?"
a sibilant voice said "yesss, i think sso."
then Mortimer melded with the glimrin,
sliding his edges into writhing, ruby glow.
advancing in a wavering tremble,
their dusky, phasing traces wreathed in burning shade
the blended friends vaulted into the structure
which started to swing and slither through the glade.
fanning their arms like synchronized swimmers
they sundered the spider web with butterfly strokes;
slashing sloped stacks of sinister swatches,
stranding splintered remnants of slinking, silken spokes.
in no time at all they were back on the earth
and Mortimer regained his singular stance.
"now i musst resst" said Chester, giving way
for the foul fume to filter the sun's sullen glance.
Elsbeth alighted on Sylvana's shoulder
tingling with relief as she nuzzled her ear.
Rashful gruffly observed "there's another dead end.
as i expected, none of them are here."
"whom were you seeking?" Sylvana inquired,
as Elsbeth was lost in the lowering sky.
"Pally, Gramps, and Lumpy are missing!" cried Weepy,
scrunching his hanky, squeezing out a sigh.
"you mean Pally the drag queen from the Gimpy Gait?"
the bard bent over to pick up his lute.
"you know of the place?" Rashful held his attention,
thwarting Gropey's lunge with an outstretched boot.
"i back Trixie when her band's in the slammer.
is Pally perchance a Curmudgeonly mate?"
Rashful responded, ignoring Gropey's glare.
"he's canoodling with our chum, Woodcutter Nate."
"he's not been the same since ByWater Landing"
Weepy confided in a quivering rush.
the minstrel tenderly dabbed Weepy's cheeks
till his visage unfolded in a crimson flush.
"this is Squint, my inseparable companion."
he sheepishly added "what might your name be?"
Weepy latched on to Squint's lifted paw, saying
"i noticed you before, peering from a tree."
delight had ignited his bright, liquid eyes.
"they call me Weepy, sort of slang for Manuel.
this quiet fellow's my twin brother, Gropey.
Grandmother named him after Santo Miguel."
Gropey was intrigued by Mortimer's hands
and his lingering fingers made the bard bashful.
when none of the others were attending
he promptly stuck his tongue out, scowling at Rashful.
"how long have they been missing?" prodded Sylvana.
"we think something happened late in the night"
said Weepy as he balanced the otter
who squirmed with the effort of keeping Squint in sight.
"mayhaps you could help us uncover your cottage
and we'll search for our friends along the way."
everyone assented, so they set off at once
while light remained in the nearsighted day.
then the plucks of the lute tugged at their heartstrings,
even Rashful's, when he fitfully listened.
and the glint in the minstrel's watery eyes
leapt into Weepy's, where it sparked and glistened.
the mist in their midst inspired isolation
steeped in a stagnant, venomous veneer.
malicious mirages and misapprehension
swelled in dense layers, resonating fear.
slimy suspicion kept stirring about them
crowding composure, disorienting qi;
cloaking evil in choking obfuscation,
glossing the forest as primordial sea.
*
[and, crackling tatters of esoteric pith,
the leaves up and scattered after chapter the fifth.]
*
- Evan Hawthorn, the 11th of October, 2018
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