Evan Hawthorn's Blog

Evan Hawthorn's Blog
(visual aid by Christian Schloe)

Thursday, October 18, 2018

Sludge White and the Seven Curmudgeons - Chapter Six

"it's got Sleazy!" Sappy managed to gasp
collapsing on the rim of the smoky ravine
in a trembling frenzy to swallow air,
unable to imagine how they'd intervene.

Mock, looking haunted, was utterly speechless
like a zombie or some other bloodless saint,
the ruddy and only pink-skinned Curmudgeon
gone beyond the pale and passing for a haint.

Nate pulled a chisel from his ruptured knapsack
and shakily attained his unsteady feet.
then he kissed Mock's forehead and started off,
as valiant a hero as one could hope to meet.

"where are you going?" Mock breathlessly asked,
toppling again from his bark-encrusted crutches.

"to have a go at saving our Sleazy.
i can't just leave him in that horrid thing's clutches."

as Nate descended into the gully
Sappy sat up, and surveyed the scene with wonder.
"i have the impression we've been here before.
something to do with a housekeeping blunder.

why, this is the spot where we salvaged the sack,
with the watchrug and battlerack, remember?"

"me 'ead's in an awful muddle, Sappy.
i've a notion that beastie gave me distemper."

"surely not, silly old bean.  but come sit down.
i want to inspect those clotted bandages."
Mock winced while he warily lowered himself,
casting aside his knotted appendages.

Sappy visibly flinched from what he uncovered,
a ground up mash of puce and livid red;
the missing kneecap, several severed toes,
and the seeping, shredded skin, hanging by a thread.

his fingers were singed by a blistering fever
inflaming the tainted, shivering frame.
he was far from certain he'd ever recover
but harboured no doubts he'd been rendered lame.

"well, what do you think?" Mock placidly inquired,
gazing obscurely into the mire.

"i think i'll gather some fallen kindling.
it's high time we lighted a night-biding fire."


*

the titanic arachnid was rushing now
no longer constrained by the stealthy attack
with Sleazy swaddled in a sticky wrapper,
enthralled and strung aloft on a pincered rack.

as she hurtled forward on six of her legs
her banged up bounty holding fast in its glue
Pasty's winged posse launched a frantic relay,
scattering feathers but keeping her in view.

Nate's weary muscles were no match for this race
and he lost his footing on wandering roots
stumbling in a slide of skating pebbles,
letting go of the chisel and both tangled boots.

his temper plunged ahead of his body,
railing at the clumsiness that caused his demise.
next to jettison was trust in himself,
bereft of the caress that lived in Pally's eyes.

it was then that he noticed the strange, stinging nips
plaguing his limbs with myriad pinches,
like sustained bites from relentless insects
concurrently occurring every few inches.

it soon sunk in that he wasn't sinking
but heading instead toward a scrubby scrap of land
clenched in the claws of Sludge White's familiars,
uplifted by the grace of her avian band.

they tucked him in a secluded crevice
overlooking the chasm on a craggy ledge,
in the gnarled branches of a tree that twisted
inquisitive tendrils over the edge.

from there he observed the spider's progress
as his allies commenced an aerial assault,
pelting her eyes with formidable fury
till she sidled inside a shadowy fault.

and a squealing cacophony exploded
from the depths of a rather sizable cave
to judge by the numberless fleeing bats
that swept from their sanctum in a dizzying wave.

the birds encircled the precarious entry,
posting sentries for its keen-eyed tending
and busied themselves selecting the perches
they'd need for a night spent preening and mending.

Nate's pendulous roost was rattled by a stork
letting slip from its beak a plump, leafy sling.
but finding the feathered folk fetching his boots
he divined they'd taken him under their wing.

he dined al fresco at a portable feast
served a la carte by a delicate sparrow
as an omen formed in the misty distance,
a single crow flying straight as an arrow.


*

in the regions above the vice-ridden vapors
the sky was suffused with orange and pink.
lament for the sun's repetitive orbit
had kindled the clouds that huddled on the brink.

the forest beneath was brooding in silence,
sifting sediments and sighing in the shade
as though it longed for the cover of sunset
and bided its time for the frail light to fade.


'i should never have trusted that creature.
there's not a sweeter web than spins from honeyed lies.
and what has she done?  how will they know me?
they'll never comprehend this improbable size.

the biclops brutals didn't have them.  that's clear.
ooh! those tangles of tendrils!  that spongy skin!
plus the sharpened harpies splintered my vision,
so now i'm more helpless than i've ever been.

it's hard to believe they'd snatch my hatchlings.
i'd feel it in my spinnerets if it were true.
spite isn't skulking in their scant, frightened eyes.
this one's deceptive, but hasn't got a clue.

i see no reason to keep it trussed up
for the stink overpowers this miserable hole.
i'd fain unload it, yet still i wonder
if as well as the smell, it's saddled with a soul.'


*

the sun bled into the sizzling abyss
and celestial lava spilled out of its wake
firing the edges of lavender clouds,
a dazzling illusion of a vast burning lake.

encumbered below in an eddy of eagles
billowing smudges and dark purple streaks
a bleary-eyed king glowered at the bleakness,
dodging the logic he'd eluded for weeks.

yet a novel notion distracted him
as he glanced from his aerie, adrift in the dusk.
an urgency encroached on his facile thoughts
making them uneasy in their crown-capped husk.

a consequential question had not been resolved
or he'd overlooked some critical thing.
and this feeling unflaggingly nagged him,
forever intruding like the itch from his ring.

these reveries receded with the sunlight
stranding conjecture on an ominous slope.
shadows seeped into regions of reason
ridding dimming prospects of unrequited hope.


*

Sludge White lay crumpled in a heap of muslin.
a half-eaten apple rolled along the floor.
the haggard old hag took a moment to gloat
then hastily hobbled to the spookhouse door.


*

Pally was watching a travelling shimmer
a lilac facet on a spasmodic trail
lurching and veering as it grew ever closer,
crossing dimensions and piercing the veil.

already accustomed to the shock of sight
riveting his eyes like the very first star
he knew in his heart this was salvation
releasing emotion from its swollen bell jar.

a resounding crack of towering thunder
ripped the dense fabric of insensate fences
announcing the arrival of a downpour,
pounding the earth as it drummed up his senses.

in that instant his mind was flooded with faces
no longer sundered from miniature hands,
the clinging children of ByWater Landing
dislodging Pally from the deadening sands.

their effervescence was swelling his presence,
overflowing the well that nurtured his soul.
and his stunted sobbing surged out of seclusion
cleansing his spirit and making him whole.

the mirror tilted, beaming reflection,
reconvening his likeness with all of its charms.
and Pally blushed at his shiny new semblance
as he fell into Lumpy's comforting arms.


*

Sludge White was sailing a subliminal sea,
gliding on a surface that glinted like glass.
her memories were ranged like sleeping mountains,
their colors cascading in a slumbering pass.

she was vaguely aware of all that transpired,
seen through a cloistering filter of crepe
and tried to decipher what could have prompted
misfortune to open its snarling gape.

her fur-clad familiars found her fallen.
a dubious heartbeat convinced them she was dead.
though ashen pallor bedimmed her glimmer,
a pink glow illumined the roses on her head.

as the deer nudged her with their probing noses
an eerie wailing was let loose by a loon.
then a chorus of keening fused with the storm
in a howling lament that beckoned the moon.

it rose in the midst of turbulent flashes,
in shafts of fluorescence and gleam-tinted cloud.
and the fell fog was pummelled by pelting rains,
forging wispy tatters out of steaming shroud.


*

the skittish fire that Sappy had set
crackling in the shelter of prehistoric stones
was encouraged by the flickering moonlight,
fostering warmth in their chilled and dampened bones.

as he rocked Mock in a cradle of compassion
the skies spilled out their spurting, silver sheets.
and he lulled the delirious ramblings
of anxious adolescence roaming lonely streets.

Mock closed his eyes when the winds subsided
and the deluge dwindled to intermittent drip.
as the moon traipsed off in search of perspective
Sappy hunkered down for a cursory kip.


*

Sleazy came to in a foul smelling cavern
steeped in the silence that saturates night,
wrestling with his wrapping and scuffing the scrapes
he'd acquired from the spider's frantic flight.

he'd barely discerned the subtlest shuffle
when a presence emerged an inch from his face.
for a heart-stopping moment he felt it musing.
then it ripped apart his slithery case.

already running as his feet touched down,
they kept on kicking when he found he'd been lifted.
but sharp, spindly limbs simply spun him around
and placed him in a spot where starlight drifted.

he embraced the bathed air like a stifled child
imbibing the breezes that bring in spring
and hardly held on to the side of the cliff,
skipping and slipping and nearly taking wing.

in a nearby nook a pair of plump pigeons
snickered together as they watched him flit by.
and having made certain he hadn't been followed
one of them mounted the star-dappled sky.


*

Promethean pilgrims crossed the frozen expanse
traversing time from their fiery birth,
ferrying sparks of elemental essence
to the evanescent residents of earth.

and the harpy scowled and brandished her fist
irked at these heavens and their meddlesome rains
for making short work of banishing enchantments,
dispelling the mist she'd swelled with such pains.

she pressed the edge of a crumbling tombstone
and vanished beneath the cemetery grounds,
slinking down a subterranean passage
that echoed with crunches and gurgling sounds.

the snooping rat waited with the royal raiments
in the blaze of a torch that scorched the stone.
he smirked as she donned her crinkled crinolines,
tickled by the gilding of a wrinkled crone.

pausing on the threshold of a caved-in temple
she tossed a bone to a pale, hulking brute,
ensconced in the stench of previous suppers
stiffening in piles, rotting with their loot.

his lopsided face seemed to come unhinged
as he strived for a wink with his single, crazed eye.
wrenching her foot from a trail of slime, she said
"try and be more tidy.  this place is a sty."

his muttered response had a whiny, cringing tone,
too shrill and unnerving to closely heed.
in any case Her Grace hastened away,
unable to process another creature's need.

while the snitch raced after his merciless mistress
skirting rivulets of travelling blood
the ghoul yanked a morsel from his stacked up stiffs,
relishing the squish and the sickening thud.


*

when the queen laid her head on her pillow
she had fully restored her avaricious gleam,
repacking her bags, unfolding her furrows,
and easing her creases with vanishing cream.

the restless impatience in her withering stare
regained its callous, imperious bite.
and the scathing disdain chiseled on her visage
waxed incandescent, transcendent with spite.

while the glittering tresses nestling her brow
securely stashed her thatch of hoary bristles
her careless caress lost its resemblance
to catching a cat in a thicket of thistles.

a sneer paved over her gravelly cackle,
thus smothering the rattling gates of hell.
and she'd managed to ditch the whiff of corpses
that raised up hackles with its mouldering smell.

as she sorted her fleeting perceptions,
splicing her reels of selective recollection
a pesky image refused to flip past
obstructing this nearest approach to reflection.

a casual glimpse of the hidden chamber,
imprinted while primping her ribbons and lace
reared up to pose a compelling question.
for a valued possession was not in its place.

she passed at last with her drifting impressions
to the plundered landscape of overmined seams;
never quite sating her expectations,
the recurring resort of her ravenous dreams.

when the answer came suddenly upon her
she loosed her link to the ethereal lair.
and vaulting across the breach of becoming
she sat up and gasped "the mirror wasn't there!"


*

a bright dawn daunted the celestial sparks
as their pastel auras melted away
suffusing the sky with shimmering saffron,
supplanting pale stretches of somnolent grey.

the flutter of photons incited a dance
that darted through dewdrops on branches and eaves.
while ferns were unfurling their curling arabesques
wee dragons dried their wings on sun-drenched leaves.

the intrepid members of the Free Collective
were clinging to sleep in a copse of pines,
savouring the comfort of lingering embers,
tangled in blankets and damp creeping vines.

Squint and the otter were cuddled together
scrunched up on a limb just out of Gropey's reach.
for his paws still roamed, even though he slumbered,
tucked in the crook of an ornamental beech.

his brother had booked an empathic passage,
quite easy to descry by those in the know
from the lambent bliss that blossomed on his lips
and raced to his cheeks with its rapturous glow.

Rashful was spouting stentorian snores
interspersed with sneezes and occasional pings,
alarming the neighboring foragers
and wringing odd whimpers from the lute's nodding strings.

at the fragile behest of a sunbeam
Sylvana was persuaded to open her eyes,
curtailing the despair ensnared by her demons
in baleful tales of a damsel's demise.

Sable swooped in to attend to her attire
adeptly pecking at loose stays and ties,
returning stray hairs to satin cornrows
and rumpled demeanor to a dignified guise.

folding her wings she stared at the fledgling.
"did we raise you to wallow in a muddy ditch?
just imagine what Sharpebeake would have to say!
roosting on the ground like some common ostrich!"

"we were soaked to the bone when we wound up here.
tempers were flaring and resilience had lapsed.
so we toasted our meagre, sopping provisions,
singed all our fingers and promptly collapsed."

Sable cleared her gullet and slanted her head.
presently relenting, she planted a kiss.
"never mind, my poppet.  but brace yourself.
for in what i must tell you there's much that's amiss."

Rashful was suddenly startled awake
as his snort morphed into a deafening bleat.
then, casting the empath a pitiful glance
he lamentably sighed while rubbing his feet.

Squint and the otter skittered out of sight
to scavenge a breakfast of acorns and berries.
the bard stretched his limbs, bumping into Weepy,
staining their faces like ripening cherries.

while Gropey probed patterns pertaining to pines
absorbing from bark whatever he might glean
the glimrin had risen prior to dawn,
his absence apparent in the presence of sheen.

the hunched-over Sable paced in a circle,
a pompous professor in a tattered coat.
then fluffing her feathers and puffing out her chest
she tried a few caws to tune up her throat.

"the lustrous princess has been poisoned by the queen.
they've laid her out in a rose-petalled spread.
perhaps it's a coma or drug-induced sleep
but i'm not convinced that she's actually dead.

the other Curmudgeons are in Godfrey's Gorge,
staring down a monster that's holding its breath.
while the shifty-eyed fellow is a hostage
the clever little wry one hovers near death."

Sylvana erupted in heartrending sobs
and the minstrel rushed to her quivering side.
the atmosphere crackled with shattering spirits.
Weepy and Gropey inaudibly cried.

then darkness descended like a disenchantment
depriving the sorry scene of its light.
for a negative exposure passed through them
soothing their shock with the somber balm of night.

a wavering arc of embers emerged
weaving itself in a coalescing spiral
enveloping Sylvana in a galaxy,
a smidgen of fairy dust gone viral.

the scintillating specks began to change color,
from deepest ruby to cerulean blue.
then shivering like a kaleidoscope
the sparkles and Sylvana receded from view.

"where did she go?" asked a frantic Rashful
vibrating alarm like a panic-stricken bell.

the bard responded with a calming gesture.
"she'll be travelling with Chester for a spell.

i suppose we'd better pack our belongings
and see about prying your pals from their plight.
most likely that's where Chester is off to.
he's apt to get feisty when our prospects aren't bright."

the scavengers returned, lugging stuffed stockings,
their harvest escaping in straggling rows.
"so that's where they got to!" said Mortimer, chuckling,
hitching his breeches and flaunting bare toes.

the otter chased after his trail of hors d'oeuvres
while the others arranged their knapsacks and kits.
Squint sniffed the spot where Sylvana had stood,
fumbling something glinting in his trembling mitts.

then he anxiously scanned the horizon,
oblivious to the minstrel's offer of bread
but was lulled by waves of implicit tenderness
when Weepy caressed his quizzical head.


*

lured to the verge of a seeming stairwell,
unyielding as granite and redolent of earth
Pally uncovered the source of the rattle
as fleeting existence was fleeing its berth.

so he nestled the gnarled, quaking fingers
while Gramps sought him out with his nebulous eyes
and speaking in a creaking, faltering voice
entrusted to Pally his laboured goodbyes.

Lumpy and the mirror maintained their distance
discreetly deflecting their curious glare,
barely overhearing the ragged whispers
defenseless hearts might be hesitant to share.

"you needn't mind a barmy old codger
beholden to you for unburdenin' his breast.
but that flamin' glance you're sportin' suits you.
as it's sparked by love, i've a notion you've been blessed.

tell me darlin' orphan e's done fate proper.
spun it on its heels and turned out quite the lad.
so when it comes to recallin' the likes o' me
there's no call for 'im to come over sad.

a life spent tendin' to roots and to deeds,
to weedin' the heedin' of whatever's been sown
is obliged to yer lot for spottin' the sunshine
that chanced a glance of its seedlin' all grown."

while his last crumpled breath passed into the ether
and Pally still clasped the curve of his fist
in utter silence the shape shifting shade
inserted itself in their unsuspecting midst.


*

she took another step on the seamless surface
and the monkey hid his face in his paws,
completely unable to come to grips
with her flat out denial of plausible laws.

he'd done his level best to dissuade her
stretching earthbound maxims as far as they'd extend
but gave up when he noticed the buzzing,
that bee in her bonnet for reality to bend.

so the shivering apprentice dangled,
spirited on currents reserved for private flight
clutching so tightly that his knuckles were numb
to a stringless and sightless, obstinate kite.

though stubbornly cuffing the memory of ground
he was dreading their impending descent.
his sense of balance was rendered uneasy
when breezes abruptly proceeded unbent.

as they angled their way through threaded branches
and the monkey saw his life go zipping by
a sleepy owl hurled expletives
and a cheeky cicada climbed onto his thigh.

the trees pulled apart, revealing a cottage
fronted by a garden and flower-draped bier
which the pair of primates neatly avoided
while slightly veering to steer clear of a deer.

and they lightly touched down on the spookhouse stoop
with nary a hitch in Guanyin's striding glide.
wedging a stick for writhing cicadas
she said "well that's that, then" and blithely walked inside.


*

she liked this thought-speech and tried it again.
'it seems to me you're uncommonly perceptive.
when one considers your paucity of eyes
and appallingly simplistic perspective.'

Chester rippled with frothy amusement.
'perchance you might muster trust in my intentions.
throw in your lot with a scruffy band of waifs.
allow me to mend and trim your dimensions.

as one of our number trips her envy
she'll eventually venture back out of her lair.
if she's got them, by my oath i'll find them,
and tending what ails them, commend them to your care.'

'how is it possible for me to feel
your instinctive reaction to the things i think?
even in the tacit understanding of ants
i've never observed such a mingled link.'

Chester projected a piece of presence
shuttered with the focus that self-awareness spawned.
the thought stream idled as she studied him.
then her feelers shimmied as recognition dawned.


*

Sylvana was sewing Mock's severed shreds,
coaxing his wounds in the manner Guanyin taught her
with the wandering stitches she'd handed down
from the Man in the Moon's transvestite daughter.

sprinkling his skin with an elixir of herbs
she released the fever in sweltering streams.
and sealing her charms with susurration,
dissolved the delirium reeling from his dreams.

"do you think he can travel?" inquired Sappy
peeping anxiously over her shoulder,
whilst wrapping ropes round ripped apart satchels
and piling them up in the lee of a boulder.

"he'll float with Chester.  and don't start fretting.
i give you my word he's entirely benign.
can you hand me my wriggling sack of stitches?
it's over there next to that creeping vine."

Sappy pursued her bobbing directions
to the spry, slinking tendrils of unattached greens.
it wasn't a vine but one of Mock's crutches
spurting like it sprouted from Jack's magic beans.

leaves were unfolding with unstilted grace
while his face was a study in consummate shock.
"Nate carved those out of dead, fallen branches.
they were properly staid when we gave them to Mock."

as they stared at the staves in wide-eyed wonder
the furthest thrusting sprig arrived at Mock's toes
and seeming to be pleased with this achievement
left off its flailing and acquired repose.

they stood transfixed in pools of stranded light,
sifting and slanting through the sloped, sunken barrow
till Nate passed the portal of staggered stones
in the company of the catering sparrow.

"your friends have turned up with Rashful and the twins.
they're wanting to know when we're planning to leave.
if we start anon and stay out of trouble
we'll be at the spookhouse for Aethelwort's Eve."

Sappy was moved by this tender echo
of Pally’s spirited endearment for their home
and deeming that Nate could do with distraction
pointed at the lumber stemming through the loam.

the woodsman was baffled at what he beheld
for Mock was cocooned in a latticework bed,
cushioned on a bower of shuffling leaves
while stalks were entwining beneath his dozing head.

but cottoning on to what he’d been seeing
when his carpenter’s mark went sidling by
he was seized by a sudden access of angst
and was quite at a loss to comprehend why.

the hedging awareness of a sun-drenched bench
lurked in the menace of a brandishing club.
yet the scent of a pipe like a keening lament
nearly occluded the memory’s nub.

Sylvana flashed apprehension to Sappy,
suggesting that Nate be nudged from this muddle.
“let’s see how Chester’s getting on” she proposed,
then linked up their arms to hinder rebuttal.

but her efforts were bested by the sparrow
pivoting focus with imperative cheeps
to the transplanting plants tagging along,
their rummaging roots never tarrying for keeps.

"this is rather unsettling" said Sappy.
"though Mock's conveyance is seemingly decided.
they certainly are a determined lot.
when we stepped in their way, they simply divided."

Nate jumped as the sparrow twittered on his shoulder
and strained the frayed reins of temporal drift.
but tuned back in to tangible tangents
he led his companions to the cleft in the cliff.


*

the posse was flocked on ledges and crannies
festooning the slopes with their myriad hues,
raucously squawking their dissonant flutes
while the glimrin and spider intuited views.

but the feathered assembly fell silent
as an errant dusk followed Sleazy from the cave.
and skeptical of cryptic eclipses,
they rose from the chasm in a breathtaking wave.

dashing with a synchronized, headlong abandon
they snapped at the sky to hold back the night,
fluttering their wings like an opening flower
craving the wavering margins of light.

Chester was abashed by the stress he'd caused,
committed as he was to inflicting no harm.
so he hastened to the henge to wait for his friends,
hoping thereby to allay the alarm.

as daylight resumed and feathers unruffled
Sleazy was assailed by overzealous mates
mussing his hair and scrutinizing scratches,
thanking lucky stars and inscrutable fates.

"i'm alright i tell you.  now give over.
bung socks in your mugs while i spill out the skinny.
the bloke were that brilliant!  nicked the slug's rug.
saved me scarfin' dust like a daft, barkin' ninny!

he's a right corker!  a simmerin' glimrin!
scooped me mid-swoop as i swatted' swishin' air.
then i goes all tingly, boundin' after bubbles.
and Bob's your uncle we're casin' the lair.

well he chats up this doozy of a spider.
dabs her scabby facets and dwindles her size.
we'll lug her to the crib snug in me pocket."
he paused so the stiffs could register surprise.

"then we are heading home" Rashful observed,
bushy eyebrows arched like his jutting, folded arms.


Sappy looked dubious.  "did Chester invest you
with repellents or preventative charms?"

"you needn't smoke your noodle.  slide your stack slack.
we're moss on bark, now.  the spindly dame's got class."
but abruptly feeling up his pockets,
he fumbled out a vial of emerald glass.

"crikey!  i clean forgot stowin' his stash,
a la-di-da fragrance dolled up in vintage ice.
with such swag i could snag a toff's ransom.
smells like a swell's front parlor, smudged with Cajun spice."

"why would he give you that?" wondered Sappy,
sidestepping Gropey as he probed a stunted tree.

Sleazy secreted the scent in his cloak.
then he shrugged his slouching shoulders and said "search me."


*
[misgiving fraught forebodings in chapter the sixth,
the shades and foreshadows left barely aught betwixt.]
*

- Evan Hawthornthe 18th of October, 2018


Thursday, October 11, 2018

Sludge White and the Seven Curmudgeons - Chapter Five

darkness.  stark darkness, utter and absolute.
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 Hawthornthe 11th of October, 2018