CHILDHOOD DREAMS
( Alice lost the key to Wonderland,
Wendy can’t get back to Never Never Land,
Santa’s dead and so is Peter Pan
And the world is growing dark.
Alice breathes a heavy sigh,
Wendy sits alone in her room to cry,
As all their childhood dreams just die
In a life so grey and stark.
The Wolf caught up with Red Riding Hood,
Superman never really could,
Mother Goose thought she understood
But her life has turned so cold.
The Wolf sits back smiling with delight,
Superman finally lost the fight,
Mother Goose still tries to shine the light
But even she grows old.
The Elves and Fairies disappear,
Pixies run and hide in fear,
As everything the young hold dear
Is crushed and torn apart.
The Fairies die, the Elves are lost,
The pixies shiver in the frost,
Still, we don’t realise the cost
Of hardening our hearts.
The children run and laugh and dance,
Whilst grown ups search for wild romance,
But they will find they’ve missed their chance
That they have been deceived.
Children smile and dream their dreams,
Grown ups wonder how strange it seems,
That the eyes of age no longer gleam,
They have lost what they believed. )
Maegan’s Garden was a land of plentiful beauty, a precious jewel, sparkling with grace and harmony. Its rich diversity better suited a world than a mere garden. Her belief was strong. She was like a beacon, a shining light to the folk of Fancy.
But for how long?
Even now, doubt was shadowing her dreams.
Merrick had seen only one other garden with as much promise, but that was years ago. It had long since passed. His eyes crinkled up with a smile, even though the memory saddened him.
”I believed her different. Special,” Llyris declared.
”Do not be overly harsh.” Merrick sighed, “She has staved off the inevitable longer than most. Maegan is special.”
”I was just hopeful I suppose. There are so few places left, and none quite like this.”
The princess sat cross-legged astride the stallion’s broad back. She ran slender fingers through his sheen of white hair.
Merrick shuddered at her feathery touch.
”It is a cynical world,” he admitted.
Llyris made no reply but gazed at the beast’s proud horn, as if an answer might be found within its mother of pearl shine.
”There will be other places. Other children,” said the Unicorn but his eyes betrayed his own sorrow. The signs were clear. A shadow was creeping into Maegan’s garden doubt. The beginning of the end was at hand. Soon, this precious land would wither and die.
”I may bring my people to live with you.”
”You would not like my home.” Merrick shivered. “I dwell in the Dark.”
The Faerie Princess gasped. The Unicorn was a beast of power. He could walk where he wished. Why would he choose to live in the Dark? The Dark was a place all the creatures of Fancy openly dreaded. Even the Goblins and Dire Wolves feared the Dark. The Snarl Cats too fierce as they are though they would have us believe they know not the meaning of fear.
...
Part I
( ‘True Names’
Rapscallion
Rakish, rough and tumble, rascal rogue.
”Is that your True Name?” I hear your wonder tremble.
No! But it’s who I most resemble,
I am mischievous and very tough,
Yes, Rapscallion suits me well enough.
Rangy, rabble rousing, ratbag racketeer.
”But are there names that suit you better?”
Of course, but ‘R’ is my very favourite letter,
I’m a hard case delinquent, a hellion trickster,
But I like Rapscallion so much better than prankster.
Wrangler and gutter snipe, larrikin lout.
”Tell me your True name!” I still hear you yearn,
True names are like secrets that you have to earn.
All these wonderful names, I’d lay claim to them all,
But alas, even I don’t have quite that much gall.
Rapscallion
Yes, I like Rapscallion…
For me, True names are like True friendships, rarely given and fiercely held. There are only two who share mine. One has passed, and as a rule we do not speak of the dead. The other is a young girl, fiery and bright and almost as impish as I.
My given name? I’ll tell you that much I suppose, it is Tiger. Not very original I’ll admit, but it is far better than Kitty or Tom, names some of my acquaintances try desperately to conceal. You humans have no sense of the aesthetic.
Do you know just how embarrassing it is for a brusque young tomcat, trying to carve out a reputation for himself, with a name like Sweetie Puss. Shudder. And they say cats are sneaky, evil and cruel. We are of course but that is not the point, is it? Names are very important to cats, almost sacred. Cats don’t go around giving humans ridiculous names, do we? Well, we may on occasion call you stupid names but generally we don’t give them to you. There lies difference, and a very important difference at that.
You know, if you humans weren’t such pushovers, we cats would probably have no time for you at all.)
...
A group of girls from Maegan’s class were waiting at the school gate. The ‘In Crowd’. She stopped but they had already seen her. She took a deep breath and held her chin high as she bustled past them.
”Seen any fairies today?”
A ripple of laughter made Maegan wince.
”Is it true that a fairy dies every time someone says ‘I don’t believe.’”
”Yes,” whispered Maegan sadly.
”I don’t believe… I don’t believe… I don’t believe…” The girls began to chant.
Maegan stormed off, trying to block the horrid words from her mind.
Someone touched her shoulder. Maegan spun around, her teeth clenched, eyes glinting like cut glass. It was Laura Jennings. Laura had been her best friend, ever since kindergarten. But since the teasing started this year, Laura had eased herself out of the firing line. Maegan couldn’t really blame her.
”Don’t take any notice of them. They just like to tease.”
Maegan’s mouth quirked into the first hint of a real smile, Laura was making a public show of friendship. All of a sudden, she didn’t feel so terribly alone. All the jokes and torment had become bearable again. Maegan reached out her hand to Laura.
”Oh, by the way Maegan, have you written your letter to Santa yet?”
Laura was smiling sweetly as the tears spilled down onto Maegan’s cheeks. The sound of taunting laughter followed her as she ran from the schoolyard. There was an aching emptiness in the lower part of her chest. She had just lost something precious. From the shadow of her gateway, she watched the girls congratulating Laura. Her one time friend’s initiation into the ‘In Crowd’ was now complete.
Maegan O’Shea hugged the sketchbook to her chest, chewing seriously on a strand of copper-bright hair. She gazed at the spines of the many books on the shelf. There were fairy tales from across the world, stories of dragons and princes, beauty and magic. ‘The Hobbit’ and ‘The Father Christmas Letters’ were two of her favourites and the ‘Flower Fairy’ books always made her smile, but tears were brimming in her eyes. As she ran her finger down the spine of ‘The Last Unicorn’ a tear finally spilled down onto her cheek.
Maegan set her sketchbook on the dresser.
Tiger looked up at Maegan from the foot of the bed. The old cat had a strange, almost concerned set to his golden eyes.
”Don’t worry Tiger, I’ll be alright.”
He scowled as she scratched him behind the ears. His pupils narrowed into glaring slits but he refused to pull away.
The things they had said to her were hateful. They still hurt Maegan now, making her stomach cringe up and feel all queasy. What had she ever done to them?
Tiger arched and stretched as Maegan snuggled down into her bed, the tears still falling. The old ginger cat settled back down in his usual place by Maegan’s feet, but he too seemed subdued. There was no rasping purr to ease the child’s dreams.
Tiger’s ear flicked and he arched one inquisitive brow…
...
Robert looked in on his daughter. She was so much like her mother. She had Mary’s hair, soft copper blond like sunset gold in the pale light of the lamp. And she had the same light dusting of freckles that he loved so much. He could see the outline of her legs under the blanket, so coltish and long.
It only felt like yesterday when he watched her entrance into the world, when he heard her utter her first words and saw her take her first unsteady steps. God, she was almost grown.
Where have the years gone?
Maegan was growing up. Each day you could see it in her eyes. That impish twinkle was becoming subdued, more serious with time. Her fits of delighted laughter were much less frequent too. She still had that wide-eyed look of innocence, the exuberance of youth. But soon…
Robert didn’t want to think about soon. He was dreading the day she brought home her first boyfriend. That was only one step from losing her.
Robert remembered seeing that same youthful look in his own reflection, but that was so long ago. Too many years had passed, too much responsibility. He watched her a few moments more. She was restless tonight, turning and murmuring quietly to herself. Her foot stretched out, startling Tiger from his own repose. He stalked indignantly around the bottom of the bed in increasingly tighter circles until he wound himself into a ball. Within moments he was back in the land of dreams.
In his own room Robert took out his Journal. It was over a week since he had touched it. He opened it at the satin ribbon and picked up his pen.
( To be young again!
The Ghosts of Childhood’s End
”There is a place called Childhood’s End,
A place where dreams begin and end,
Where children no longer wish for youth,
And belief becomes a need for proof,
When we who know how childhood dies,
Look back like ghosts, with hungry eyes.
Oh! To be a child again,
And not just dream of Childhood’s End.”)
Robert closed the book.
The sight of Mary brought a smile back to his lips. She was curled like a mirror of her daughter, one leg tucked up, the other stretched out almost straight. Her hair spilled onto the pillow. She was still as beautiful as the day they met. Robert slipped in beside her and kissed her tenderly on the cheek before switching off the lamp.
...
(What were we talking about? Ah yes, true names and cruelty. I have never met a cat even half as cruel as the kindest human that doesn’t include Maegan of course – she is special. They talk about the innocence of childhood, but I have seen children with tongues like barbs and less morals than a shark or a tomcat. They know just how to twist things to cause the most pain. Unfortunately, Maegan has seen them too. I hate to see such sadness in her. I’m not a young cat you know. Who is going to look after her when I’m gone? But enough of that.
Maegan’s father calls her Scamp not her True name either. You couldn’t tell tonight though, looking into her sad eyes, but the name suits her. Not quite as well as Rapscallion suits me, but close.
Her true name? I’m sorry but I’m not at liberty to say. I’m afraid, like mine, it too has to be earned.
You know, I still remember the first time we met, Maegan and I. It was the first day of my exile.
They brought her home, all squawking and pink. How was I to know she wasn’t supposed to have fur. I was just trying to keep the poor thing warm. Suddenly the world lurched, and to the sound of angry voices, I landed in the cold.
Grounds for resentment?
Well, I’ll admit, it took quite some time for her to win me over. As a rule, human kits should be avoided, but she was never too rough and she only pulled my tail the once. She still wears the scar. Surprisingly enough considering our appallingly dismal start the two of us have developed a mutually satisfying arrangement. She pilfers rare treats for me from the pantry, and I let her confide in me. Her deepest secretes, her hopes, her fears, her dreams…)
Maegan’s eyes began to flicker beneath her closed eyelids…
Maegan scanned the deep shadows with nervous eyes. Soft spears of light filtered through the proud trees to mottle the red and gold leaves upon the path. Fallen leaves…
Silence and shadows surrounded her. A chill touched the back of her neck, a chill she had never felt before in the Garden. Biting her bottom lip, she walked on. Somewhere, just out of her vision, the shadows stirred. When she turned, there was nothing but the feeling of eyes upon her. The hairs on her neck rose and her skin began to crawl.
The path looked narrower than Maegan remembered and the trees wilder, shabbier. There was something dark corrupting her Garden, lurking in the shadows.
Snap!
Maegan ran. Branches whipped at her arms, her face, snagging her hair. She looked back, nothing. Blindly she ran, tripped, stood and ran again. It was closing. She knew It was. She could feel It’s cold breath upon her neck, hear It’s ragged heart pound. She could taste It’s exertion, smell It’s hunger, but still, It eluded her eyes.
Her lungs were bursting, her breaths coming in harsh gasps. Legs felt heavy, aching and trembling so much she didn’t know how they kept her upright. A gnarled, bestial claw reached out and snatched her from her feet, dragging her down. Wicked talons bit into the flesh of her shoulder.
Maegan screamed…
Her shirt was caught in the grasp of a thorny branch. Untangling herself, she almost laughed. There was nothing chasing her, only shadows. She smiled foolishly to herself and brushed the dirt from her dress. A sigh slid past her lips. Maegan turned back to the path.
The shadow loomed in front of her, claws arcing down. Maegan thrust her arms up to shield her face. The blow sent her sprawling. She looked up at the dark beast towering triumphantly above her. Its face shrouded in shadows.
The beast’s menacing snigger turned to a howl of pain. It staggered back clawing at It’s shoulders, snapping It’s terrible jaws at something unseen.
Bright light flared and the beast was gone. A white figure slipped from sight as a wave of darkness engulfed Maegan…
”Maegan. Maegan!”
Gentle hands shook her.
”It’s only a dream Sweetheart. It was only a dream.”
Maegan opened her eyes and nestled into her father’s strong arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
”It was so real daddy. It cut my arm.”
Maegan lifted her arm to show him and screamed again when she saw the blood.
”It was real daddy. It was real.”
Trembling, she clutched even tighter to her father’s neck, casting nervous glances about the room.
”It’s all right Scamp,” her father soothed. “Your drink glass broke and you cut yourself. Nothing will hurt you now. Daddy’s here, everything will be alright.
Maegan saw the shattered glass on her bedside table, but she knew it had been more than that. She buried her face in her father’s chest as he carried her from the room.
Mary was in the doorway, scrubbing the sleep from her eyes.
”It’s alright, Sweet. She had a nightmare and must have broken her glass. It’s not a bad cut. I’ll just clean it up.”
Mary ran her fingers through Maegan’s hair. “Are you alright Honey?”
Maegan sniffled back a tear and nodded bravely.
...
( I’m getting too old for this.
Damned interfering busybody. I had everything under control until he poked his nose in. I had already reached her when It attacked, and I had my claws in Its back before he showed up. Near broke my neck when he sent It back into the Dark. And, I might add, that flash of light was just a tad dramatic. Who was he trying to impress anyway? I’m still seeing spots.
I have to admit though, I do feel some guilt over the matter. She should never have been hurt. My slow reaction to her danger was partly to blame for her injury. I’ll even let her tussle my ears when she gets back. I know it’s degrading but I’ll make allowances, this time.
There is nothing I can do now but be on guard for the next time, but her doubt is feeding the beast. Every day It grows in power, every day It claims another part of her Garden. Soon nothing will be able to stop It.
No! I won’t let anything hurt her again, never. On my life.)
...
Back in her own bed, her cut cleaned and bandaged, Maegan listened to her father’s quiet voice. He sat at her bedside caressing her hair, whispering soothing words. Telling her it was just a dream. Maegan knew differently though. She knew the beast would be back, maybe not tonight but it would be back. She had the cut to prove it, and she could feel the bruise purpling out on her shoulder where the tree had snagged her up. She didn’t mention that to her parents. She didn’t want them to worry.
Soon, to the sound of her father’s quiet voice and Tiger’s rasping purr, Maegan’s eyes drifted shut and she slept.
If there were more dreams to come, Robert O’Shea hoped his daughter dreamed of ladybirds.
When Maegan woke, morning bright sun filtered through lace curtains. She hurried to her dresser and flopped back onto the bed with her sketchbook. Chin on hand she flipped through the pages.
Her illustrations were simple but there was a feel about them, a vitality, something in the eyes. The cobweb light gave life to her fanciful drawings.
Maegan flicked past pictures of fairies and sprites, elves and imps, pixies and other wondrous creatures she didn’t even have names for. She pouted and sighed, closing the book in thoughtful disappointment.
As always, Tiger sat on the gatepost to watch her walk to school. It was one of his morning rituals. Maegan smiled as the old tomcat leaned into her hand, exchanging scents. Her eyes still held a veil of sadness that made her look older than her eleven years.
When she turned away the smile disappeared. Her face was set in an odd mix of resolve and resignation. There was only the slightest hint of hesitation in her step.
...
Maegan found it hard to concentrate. Her hand brushed the cover of her sketchbook. Every creature of Fancy she had met was in this book, but not her rescuer. He seemed so familiar, yet he was not in the book. He had faded into that half remembered limbo between dream and wakefulness.
A tiny spot of light skittered about the wall near Maegan’s head. It was the sun, reflected from her teacher’s watch as she scribbled and scraped her way back and forth across the blackboard. The spot of light jumped and danced, jiggled and flopped, just like Tiger’s mad evening romps about the furniture. The light caught her eye. A flash of light. A flare of bright light in the darkness…
...
Miss Ogle looked up from the blackboard and smiled. The room was quiet and everyone was diligently taking notes. Even O’Shea? The tip of Maegan’s tongue peeped between her lips in concentration as her hand literally flew over the page, but…
Annoyance began to spread from Miss Ogle’s eyes as she neared the girl. By the time she reached Maegan, it had infected her entire face. She looked down at the Unicorn. The drawing was really quite good, but she slammed the ruler down onto the desk just the same. Maegan flinched back and nearly toppled from her chair. Someone began to snicker but a glare from Miss Ogle brought silence.
”S..sorry Miss.”
”Give me the book.”
”But…”
”I said, give me the book!”
Maegan looked up and met her teacher’s malice with defiance.
”No. It is mine.”
Miss Ogle snatched the book away and raised her hand as if to strike out, but lowered it with a snarl.
”I’ll teach you to defy me, child. I’ll put an end to your silly daydreams.”
Maegan watched in horror as Miss Ogle ripped the book and tossed it to the floor. She fell to her knees, tears burning down her freckled cheeks to drop on the severed head of the Unicorn, her rescuer. She clutched the ruined book to her chest and ran.
”Come back here young lady!” Miss Ogle stormed out into the schoolyard after the sobbing girl.
”Come back here NOW!”
There was a scream of brakes…
...
Part II
’Healing’
(”...The years have rushed their torrents’ course
The days speed to an end,
The hours fly, the minutes die,
The seconds ride the wind…”
The Death Song of Ghost,
First Clan Chief of the Scarred Tree Clan.
From: The Oral Histories of the Run Colony.)
...
Robert O’Shea flinched as the doctor pressed the pen, hard across his daughter’s fingernail. Still, there was no response.
”There is nothing more we can do but wait,” said the doctor, with what he probably believed was a reassuring smile. It wasn’t.
”There is no physical reason why your daughter should still be in a coma.”
Robert watched the doctor leave and returned bleary eyed to the chair by his daughter’s bed – her cold hospital bed. He had sent Mary home, volunteering himself for the long night vigil.
It had been two days since the accident, two days since he received the call from the school. He looked down at the tattered sketchbook and the crumpled head of the Unicorn renewed his anger. It was the only thing that kept him going.
His baby just lay there; helpless, staring blankly back at him. Clutching her slender hand, he looked into her eyes. They were empty. His precious daughter was nowhere to be found.
He had to find her…
”Bobby.” The voice was distant, foggy.
”Bobby.” Closer now… clearer… calling…
”Bobby…”
”My name is Robert.”
”Is it?”
”Yes.”
”Ah, but has it always been so?”
”I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where are you?”
”Right beside you.”
Robert O’Shea turned to face the Unicorn.
”I thought Unicorns only appeared to Innocents.”
”You read too many fairy tales.”
”Who are you?”
”An old friend.”
The Unicorn approached and dipped his head. His horn touched Robert’s shoulder.
”Come with me Bobby.”
”I can’t”
”You must, if you want to save your daughter.”
”Maegan!”
”Rapscallion can’t do it on his own.”
”Rapscallion?”
”Come.”
Robert held out a trembling hand to touch the Unicorn. His flesh burned, vision blurring into darkness. His knees buckled and he fell. When his head cleared, Robert pushed himself up from the hard dusty ground. Dark rotting earth stained his hands. Everywhere he looked he saw death. The trees were grey and twisted, even the tangled, choking weeds were dead. The sky was blank, a grey life devouring nothingness. The only colour in this desolate place was the Unicorn at his side.
”Where are we?”
”In your Garden.”
The Unicorn moved off and Robert followed, his feet crunching through the dead grass. Tiny grey puffs of dust rose about his shoes. In the distance, a mighty oak stood silhouetted against the nothingness. Its branches spread like majestic wings but Robert saw that it too was dead. Nothing lived here. A terrible sadness engulfed him.
Such a lonely place…
The Unicorn stopped at the base of the tree.
”This is the last vestige of your childhood, Bobby.”
Robert looked down at the pitiful patch of green in the shadow of the oak. It was small enough to step across. A wooden sword protruded from the green, and beside it lay a battered garbage tin lid.
”I have guarded this for you, Bobby. It is the last spark of your youth.”
Robert scrubbed at his eyes to prevent his tears falling.
”Bobby, take up your sword!”
Robert O’Shea hesitated. He felt foolish. This whole thing was so childish. This was a dream! He should be awake, watching over his daughter, his Maegan. Still, his hand slowly reached down until he touched the warped and splintery wood, until his fingers curled about the hilt.
As he pulled the sword free, bright metal glinted in the grey light. He snapped up his shield and flashed the sword high…
”Merrick.”
”Welcome back Bobby.”
”Good to be back, Merrick.” The boy that was Robert O’Shea leapt onto the Unicorn’s back, his dusty clothes now armour of scarlet and white.
”What are we waiting for? We have a princess to rescue.” Bobby’s laughter filled the void of his Garden as the Unicorn thundered forward and they disappeared on their quest.
...
The goblins were – how else could you put it – ugly. Their skin was mottled and greyish, oozing with boil-like sores. Grotesque stumpy growths protruded from their backs. They gibbered, you couldn’t call their chill, chittering squeals speech. Gnarled claw tipped fingers wove threatening spells about them, heads bobbing disrhythmically on long flexible necks.
They were like looking into the souls of Carol Stone and Kim Swinson and the other girls of the ‘In Crowd.’ What Laura Jennings soul would soon look like too. They had caused Maegan so much pain over the past months but now all she could do was pity them.
”Why doez youz pity them?” the goblin hissed. “They did thiz.”
He raked his claws at Maegan’s face, pulling back at the last moment, barking a bitter laugh.
Maegan huddled further back into the rough bark of the tree. The cords about her wrists and ankles bit deep into her flesh. She turned her dirt and tear smudged face away.
”They did thiz,” the goblin screeched again. “Wez will not let youz do it too.”
The goblin tangled his twisted fist in Maegan’s hair and jerked her head up until their eyes met. They weren’t angry or cruel eyes like she expected just pitiful and frustrated.
”Youz still don’t understandz.” He flicked his hand clear of her golden hair and stomped away.
”Wez don’t die!”
”When youz don’t believe. Wez don’t die, wez become this!” He flapped his arms at himself and kicked one of the giant wolves that snarled about the clearing.
Maegan felt choked with a deep aching sorrow.
...
Rapscallion, the Snarl Cat, stepped clear of the bushes and strode boldly toward the clearing. He bore no sign of the age he carried. That was the wonder of this place. Here, you were your inner self, your True form blazed in the Garden. That was true for all but the Goblins. They were the crippled refuse of doubt and disbelief.
Rapscallion hissed when he saw Maegan bound and trussed up against the tree. The closest of the Dire Wolves lurched to his paws, its growl menacingly low. It tumbled back yelping as the enraged Snarl Cat shredded its eye. A goblin leapt forward but the cat swatted it aside.
The old cat was bigger here, another marvel of this place. He was a blur as he bit and clawed, fighting his way to his friend. The last line of defence faltered before his deadly dance and Rapscallion broke through. He swaggered forward rubbing his face into Maegan’s hair. She smiled through her fear.
”I knew you would come.”
The cat looked earnestly at her. I would have been here sooner but I’ve been playing with your friends.
He turned to stand protectively before the child, ignoring the weeping cut on his shoulder. The goblins were closing in, the wolves milling angrily behind them.
Rapscallion’s ears flared back. Step a little closer goblin, and die!
The goblins hesitated, edging slowly back from the snarling cat.
Rapscallion laughed but the goblin leader smiled.
”Tryz killing my wolvez,” he urged.
The first wolf moved forward. The blood had stopped flowing from its ruined eye, the wound, slowly knitting together. Regenerating.
Rapscallion watched with morbid fascination.
It was now the goblin’s turn to laugh.
They can still feel pain, Rapscallion thought.
Rapscallion leapt forward, reopening the wound, almost catching the goblin leader in the process.
Two of the wolves fell back howling before the furious cat. The second attack saw another down but Rapscallion was tiring. He was bleeding from another wound. More wolves rushed in, their growls turning to yelping howls.
Bleeding now from a dozen places, Rapscallion knew he could hold them no longer. He looked apologetically over at Maegan.
The wolves came again. He caught the first by the face, teeth grating into gristle, claws raking bloody rents in its chest. The second beast clamped its jaws shut on his hips and shook. The bones snapped as he was thrown through the air.
Rapscallion landed hard on his paws but his shattered leg collapsed. All he could do now was lie there and watch the wolves move in.
Maegan struggled desperately against her bonds.
...
The Unicorn broke into the clearing. Bobby leapt to the ground, his armour gleaming, and sword bright. Hoards of goblins surged toward him but an arrow pierced the ground between their leader’s feet. They stopped.
Llyris stepped into the clearing, nocking another arrow. All about the clearing, Faerie bows were bent. The Faerie princess addressed the goblin leader.
”I do not want to harm you cousin but I will if you do not free the girl.”
”She already doubtz,” warned the goblin. “If we free her, the Garden will die.”
”This is not the way, Aubrey. If you do not free her, she will be lost!”
Llyris levelled the bow at the goblin’s chest. “Free her or die.”
Aubrey’s eyes glittered with tears. He backed away and the goblins fled.
The wolves were not so easily dissuaded.
Bobby strode forward, face set, grim and determined. He battered the first wolf down with his shield, slashing his sword into the neck of the second. His boot caught the third in the jaw, sending it yelping away. The boy warrior cut down three more of the savage Dire Wolves before they finally fled into the forest after the goblins.
Bobby sliced Maegan’s bonds and sheathed his sword with a flourish. With a bow, he held out his hand to the girl.
”I’ve come to take you home.”
He kissed Maegan’s hand and smiled.
“You certainly took your time.”
Bobby and Maegan turned to the cat. Maegan ran to him, scolding him with a ruffle of his ears. Rapscallion looked up imploringly at Bobby, who put his arms around them both.
”Come, Princess, let’s go home.”
”Wait.” Maegan wriggled out of his grasp and turned to the shadowed forest.
”Aubrey.” She called to the goblin leader.
The seconds passed with no response. She was about to give up hope when the bushes shuddered and the squat ugly goblin stepped into the open.
Maegan walked slowly forward. She dropped to her knees in front of him, taking his twisted shoulders in her hands.
”I believe,” she said. “Tell them.”
Maegan leaned in and kissed his forehead. “I always will.”
The goblin stiffened and moaned softly as the shimmering began. When Maegan stepped clear, Aubrey stood and tested his new wings, looked at his beautiful slender hands – the hands of a Faerie prince.
”Tell them all.”
...
Bobby woke with his arms about his daughter and the battered old cat. Maegan was trembling as she looked up into her father’s eyes.
”Daddy, they were holding me prisoner. Tiger and this boy came and rescued me. He was so handsome, daddy. He called me Princess.”
”I think I like that better than Scamp. Could I call you Princess too?”
...
Epilogue
(‘Alive’
”East light dawning, heralds morning,
Clouds, like coral sculptures stand,
Fanning sunlight, pushing back the night
Like the fingers of Gods hand.”
”East light.”
From: Endings and Beginnings.)
...
Merrick returned to the pitiful patch of green in the Dark. It was good to have seen Bobby again, the Unicorn thought with a sigh. He looked at the desolation about him.
”I told you, you would not like my home.”
Llyris made no reply.
”This was once a Garden to rival any. This is all that’s left.”
”He came,” Llyris offered.
”Yes, he came.” Merrick lowered his head.
”It was a wondrous thing she did. You were right. Maegan is special.”
”Yes.”
”So is Bobby. Look.” The Faerie princess pointed up into the high branches of the giant oak.
A tiny bud had opened.
Bobby’s Garden was alive.
*
J.E. Doherty.
© 2007 J.e. Doherty
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Wow, I’m moved. I can’t fault this. Not that I want to. I think it’s brilliant. I wouldn’t hesistate to buy the book if it were published. I was going to critique on “like” in “They were like looking into the souls of Carol Stone” before I realised it was intentional. What a wonderful way of conveying, through story, the transformation of energy i.e. “Wez don’t die, Wez become this”. To be controlled or become prisoner of one’s own fear is becoming evermore prevalant today and I believe the messages, so beautifully portrayed, in your story wouldn’t go astray. Furthermore, the poetry you have knitted into your story, to me indicates masterful wordsmithery.
Romani
Here are my opinions and an overview:
The part “..have you written your letter to Santa yet?” Laura was smiling sweetly.. might be more vicious if Maegan replies “yes” followed by the laughter which Laura joins in on? Like she set a trap maybe?
Hmmm. I don’t believe “I have never met a cat even half as cruel as the kindest human” its too extreme and says all cats are super mother teresas..
Could she really “hear It’s ragged heart pound.”? Etc maybe an ‘almost’ in there? (Even though its a dream)
The next bit could do with a sentence to show its the cats POV?
Hand literally flew? Is that being cheeky with Litereral / Drawing?!
Is Merrick the Sword or the Unicorn? I dont like the name! (Sorry, just my opinion!)
Poor Goblins! This part was difficult to figure out and needs clarifying as to whats going on.
“You certainly took your time.” Seems a bit out of place?
Overview: Well written and conceived. Its very sweet this piece, too sweet for my tastes, but thats just me. As there are several pieces of poetry within it that gives me the impression of jumping about a bit (both about in ‘style’) but then I thought it was going to be longer, and it ends. You could expand parts and make it a couple of chapters long, I feel. Good work.
I love your story! It’s so cute and sweet. You are a great storyteller and it’s impressive how smooth your transitions between points of view are. You really made Maegan into a heartwarming character that makes the reader hope for the best for her. Although she cries throughout most of the story, it’s good that you created sensable reasons for it. Too many people have their characters cry randomly for sympathy. I just have a few suggestions. ”The Snarl Cats too fierce as they are though they would have us believe they know not the meaning of fear.” I don’t understand this line. Does it mean that the Snarl Cats live in the Dark? Or that they too are afraid of it? It would also be nice if you added more descriptions. Describe how beautiful Maegan’s Garden is so that when we see Robert’s, we can tell exactly how big the difference is. Also what does Robert look like? In fact the only people that the reader knows what they look like is Maegan and a bit of her mother. You should describe the faery princess and goblins better. Also Tiger needs better description too. Let’s see…I also really like how you would put in a small poem in between each switch of perspective. It’s like a little introduction to themselves. At first, by the way the story was going, I though you were going to end it somewhat bittersweet, but instead the story ended up with hope all around. As a side note, you really don’t need the () to mark changes in perspective. Also, please insert (-) where they are needed.
I love this story…more then any I have read on urbis so far. It is so beautiful. Can I be like you when I grow up?? wink
I think you have captured everyones longings perfectly in thoughs poems. Thay add so much to the story and its meaning. Honestly, i have nuthing but prais to give you…let me know when and if it ever gets published or is published so i can get my own copy!
I thought I would find the changes in perpective off putting but I found it interesting actually, although the casual joking dialogue of Tiger didn’t fit very well with the rest.
Some of this is a little confusing, but by the end I felt that it had been resolved. It reminds me very much of a novel I have just read called The Book of Lost Things. It too involved a child locked in a comma entering some fantasy world full of nasty creatures taken from fairy stories. Maybe it is this that makes me feel that this was a little rushed in this short story format and would be interesting if fleshed out a little bit so she could have some adventures in the fantasy world before returning – creating a bit of ambiguity about whether the world actually exists.
Generally I enjoyed this and the poetry was pretty, although I found it distracting from the story.
It was a very ethereal, fantastic sort of story. I’m not sure I understood much of it, but somehow, I really didn’t care. The pure beauty and poetry, your command of the English language, was enough to keep me reading. It seemed a very lyrical, almost whimsical story, but it was nevertheless a very entertaining read. The characters were also, suffice it to say, human.
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