Disturbing Questions

Ruthridge was terribly confused now instead of bewildered and shocked. Why in the world was Father Shane telling him to leave the church? They both loved 'the place' and looked after it like it was a surrogate child. It was odd for Father Shane to tell him this, even odder that he should as a ghost, and even odder that he should put himself through such obvious pain to get the message across. What was trying to stop him. Was he evil now? Was he trying to say there was no point being in the church, that he had wasted his life as a priest? Maybe the priest had found out in the afterlife there was no God?

This is a Warning

Father Shane twisted his head from side to side and his arms appeared locked behind him. The priest obviously wanted to speak, but a strong force was keeping him from forming words. Ruthridge reached out and his hand passed through the father like through a cold mist.
"What are you trying to say?" Ruthridge persisted again and again, but he received no comprehendable answer.
Finally, Ruthridge shouted, "Please, speak to me, I am listening!"
Immediately, Father Shane's head turned straight toward Ruthridge and just like that they were face to face. Then, in a perfectly clear voice, the priest said, "Leave the church as soon as you can. This is a warning!"

A Ghost

A week after Father Shane disappeared, he reappeared to Ruthridge as a ghost.
Ruthridge was sitting at his kitchen table, just at the moment of commencing his dinner, when Father Shane materialized before him. The good priest was shrouded in a fog-like substance, and he writhed in obvious pain, attempting to choke out some words, but an invisible force prevented his ability to say what he so badly wanted to say to Ruthridge.

The New Priest

He would remember that day with his daughter as an instance of what made Father Shane so special while sitting beside his hospital bed five years later watching the still young priest wither away to nothing. Cancer was making a mess of his internal organs, but his brown eyes shone kindly and he smiled often. Ruthridge let the priest clutch his hands when the pain became intense like he was helping him give birth to his death.

A few weeks later, the new priest arrived and he was as young as Father Shane once was. Ruthridge informed him of what his duties were taking care of the grounds, mapping and digging the plots, and his various other duties. The new priest's name was Father Julius. He was born in Hungary and he kept commenting on how much the surrounding countryside looked like his homeland. He would stand in front of the tiny church, put his hands on his hips, breathe in deeply and begin nodding his head in agreement, matching the two in his mind. The church watched from behind him like a curious stranger, or a child meeting a new relative for the first time.

Says 'I Love You' Too Much

On their way to the church, his daughter complained her mom says 'I love you' too much. This little girl of his was turning ten the next day.
"That's a funny thing to get upset about," remarked Ruthridge.
He put his arm tight around her and squeezed her against him.
When they arrived at the church, Father Shane gave them directions to Roy Ranch. Todd Roy allowed Father Shane to ride his horses around the countryside and after a quick call, Ruthridge and his daughter were on their way to go horseback riding. Neither one of them had ever ridden a horse before so they were giddy and nervous with excitement. Todd Roy met them at the stables. He was dressed in typical ranch clothes: worn, tight jeans, earth-encrusted boots and a dusty-brown cowboy hat that drooped lazily like floppy, puppy ears. He flourished it upon shaking Peggy's hand. She giggled at the dust it created and plugged her nose. Ruthridge informed him of their inexperience horseback riding, and chuckling, Mr. Roy said not to worry.
"These two here are my trail horses."
Mr. Roy patted the saddled backs of two horses happily munching on grass outside their stables. One was white with two brown spots and the other, black and glistening in the sunshine, was slightly smaller and obviously a female from the pink and white ribbons tied in her mane.
"Jason and Julia know their way across this countryside better than the birds or the ants! Just hold their reins and they'll take you around. You just might have to give them a nudge if they try to fill up on grass too much."

She's Worried

Ruthridge stepped between two pines and he was back in the forest. To his right was a sliver of a creek, which he followed deep into the woods. Its gurgling and splashing eased his thoughts and his mind always felt clearer after this daily hike. There were many rabbits in the woods that hopped away when they saw him and lots of other things slipped away before he could see them.
Father Shane was gone for several weeks and Ruthridge fully enjoyed his solitude. The priest was excellent company, but Ruthridge liked being left alone with his thoughts out in nature and at night he sat alone in the church.
He didn't exactly pray. Instead, he thought about everyone and that made him happy enough. He never felt lonely in the least. When Father Shane returned he planned on visiting his mother because he knew she was worried.

The Spiritual Aspect of Things

The priest walked up behind Ruthridge as he reached the halfway point of digging some extra graves.
"There's a phone call for you," said the priest.
Ruthridge climbed up on out wondering what his mother wanted. She was the only one he gave the church's number to. It turned out to be his best friend from college, Jeff. His mother gave him the number, he explained, because she thought he would like to hear from an old friend. She was deeply worried.
"No, I don't dig graves all day. I'm also the gardener, landscaper, plumber, and maintenance man."
His friend was impressed, but then he asked Ruthridge if he missed the town at all.
"Don't you want to go to a bar and meet some pretty girls?"
Ruthridge chuckled. His friend reminded him of old times.
"Yes, but I have a lot to do here. Father Shane is busy enough handling the spiritual aspect of things."

Something of the Boy was in There

They waited over a year until they finally had Ruthridge dig them a hole for their son. Surely if he was ever coming back he would have by now. Ruthridge attended the service and contemplated the hollow coffin lowered into its spot in the hole he dug as the sun rose and the birds awakened. He did not make the hole as wide or long but it was deep. He did not need the priest to tell him. The ground he knew should fit snug around the coffin. And even though it was empty, everyone would still act like something of the boy was in there.

We Need You

Three days later, Ruthridge was digging a new grave for Mrs. Stinson, his English teacher at JFK Middle School. She lived to be the grand age of ninety. She liked to tell her students about her license to fly and she always took her best student on a flight in her Cessna at the end of the year. Ruthridge went with her and it was fun for him even though being in the airplane with a tiny 60 year-old pilot was unnerving.

Sensing His Concern

The priest took him inside the church where it was all dark wood and deeper shadows. Stained-glass windows, depicting various moments of Jesus's passion up the mountainside, lay hidden in shadow along the upper portion of the eastern wall, that is until the setting sun looped back around the Earth and illuminated them yet again in morning sunshine.
"I will make this quick so you still have some light for your walk back," said the priest, sensing his concern.
They sat down on opposite benches. Ruthridge slid backward on the cool, smooth wood. His back straightened against its stiffness.

Now that He Arrived

The priest who talked to him over the phone was waiting outside the front doors of the church. Perhaps the priest altered the church over the years to suit his personality, or the church had tailored him, but they fit together perfectly. The two triangular structures were unassuming and partially hidden in shadows. The priest's habit was a bit untidy, frayed near the edges, as was the church. When the priest approached, the church waited quietly behind like a shy, proud mother, or a dutiful wife, or more actually like a child who hesitates when its father confronts someone unknown.
"You're Ruthridge?" asked the priest.
"Yes, I am."
"Did you find the place all right?"
Odd he would call it a 'place' but that's what it was after all, thought Ruthridge.
"Yes, I did."
"You have an interesting name," said the priest. "Were you related to Lord Ruthridge of Wales?"
"I'm not sure."
"I've read a lot about English history. I get all the time in the world to read around here."
After they shook hands, the priest spread his arms indicating the surrounding countryside. Ruthridge could finally appreciate how beautiful it was now that he arrived. He was so focused upon not losing his way. He nodded unconsciously, and breathed deeply the rich smell of pines.

Hardly a Road

It was a long time since he really worked. This sounded like just the thing for him. It was a direction he wished to be heading in. It would be very peaceful, and he would get to use his muscles. As a matter of fact, most might even consider it back-breaking work. Still, it was what he wanted, being away from people, and at the same time, being very near where they could finally rest.
He arrived around seven and the late September sun was throwing its last light over the rustling pine-populated hills. If not for the steeple he most certainly would have lost his way. The path to this church was hardly a road.

Happy Goes Lucky

Stopping in a window, he saw he lacked the money required for the good life. He looked around and saw people from other countries working harder than those from his own. And they had more than enough, and got what they wanted.

He wondered what he wanted. He had not seen his daughter in several weeks. He would like to be able to see her. He did not have the money to fly out to her, nor did he have enough to move to where she lived in California, with her mother, where the rents were exorbitant.

His friends were approaching. A group of four of them, all pushing each other and laughing. Not a care in the world. Some of them had children, and they didn't seem to mind. One of them got arrested for attempted robbery and did a little time. If all had gone off well, he would have had enough money, to do what he needed.

To do what you need to do is what we all want to do.

Inside the church, several people in the back turned around because he let the door slam. He was on his way in.

On his way out, he held it, and no one heard a thing.

By The Light of It

Early that morning, he walked around the building and stared at it from every angle. His friends were supposed to meet him there, but they had not shown up yet probably because he was way early. He stopped beneath a tree and sat down in its shade, protecting himself from an already-too-hot sun.

The night before she told him she no longer loved him and he'd better move out before the month was over or else. He saw this coming so he did not argue, nor plead his case. She was a strong woman and she'd get what she wanted no matter what, and he was nothing that mattered, so be it as it may.

By the light of it, he watched his friends approach, all three of them: they tripped and joked and pushed each other without a care in the world. He resolved to let this be all that mattered and he smiled without worrying because no one was watching and he didn't care anyway.

They all entered the store together and continued pushing happily until one of them knocked over a display with a loud crash and then their hearts melted into laughter, loud and obnoxious, but without spite or malice, just innocent.

The cans of beans rolled, the cokes spun, and people tried to dodge, but many got hit in the ankle and cried out in pain. It was a debacle for the manager. He caught none of the four friends. He did not see what any of them looked like. By the light of it, they would continue on, free.

Are You Wondering Where Roil Nefarious Is?

So am I.

Texas International

Why does a movie have to have killing to be good?

Or does it?

Even my parents like some good killing in their movies for them to like them.

Something that created me likes killing. Ironic, yes?

And don't tell me Texas isn't international now. I work in a retail store and people come in speaking Spanish, Arabic, Indian, French, German, Italian, oh yeah, and Texan too.

What am I doing here?

This blog started when I lived in Fredonia, New York.

I came here to live with my parents and save some money, but was it worth it?

I'm sorry. That sounds awful. I love the fact Texas has gone international.

I simply miss my daughter (8 years old she is).

Across The Street

He was sitting in his bedroom of his parents' house not that late that night. The blinds were open so he could see outside almost perfectly. His Asian neighbors across the street came home in a minivan.

The van's side door opened and a young girl, twelve or thirteen, hurried out and entered the house through the opened garage door. From the front doors of the van the mother and father exited and quickly entered the house the same way.

Another girl, taking her time, came out of the van. She looked older, perhaps college age. She brought out a bag, which she swung around her shoulder, and then maybe a cello case, definitely something stringed and large.

She put her things down and sat on the back bumper of the van and sighed. The garage doors closed behind her. He thought she could see him across the street through his blinds inside his dark bedroom, but he knew that was impossible.

Finally, she stood up, hoisted her things, and headed for the front door. The sprinklers came on and soaked her on her way. The front door was locked so she needed to put everything down to get out her key. She unlocked the front door, picked everything up, and went in. The lights came on inside.

Can't We Imagine Our Lives?

"Who is Roil Nefarious?"

"A dark wizard who doesn't think twice about taking away other people's freedoms."

"What is he after?"

"He wants power. Perhaps even to control the world."

"Why does he want that?"

"Can't you imagine control over the entire world? To bend it completely to your will? To make it do exactly as you wish?"

"Is it possible to have that?"

"What, you don't thnk so?"

"I think it's possible within ourselves. We have the power to make whatever we want of our own individual worlds, but it's impossible to change everyone else's world. We can affect other people, but to make them do exactly as we want, no, I don't think so."

"Don't married people do that to each other?"

"Yes, but that's why they divorce too, don't you figure?"

Depressed Feet

VANCOUVER, British Columbia - "One of five feet that have mysteriously washed up on the shores of British Columbia over the past year has been linked to a depressed man who disappeared a year ago, police said Saturday." AP

Recognition

"You caused me to drop my water bucket on those poor flowers," said the old woman.

Peach and Roil looked to where she was pointing and saw the damage done.

Roil smirked and launched the bucket into the air with a flick of his wrist. Never spilling a drop, the can skidded to a stop beside her feet. The old woman's draw dropped in complete astonishment and then she shook her head like she was having a hallucination.

"Why did you do that in front of her?" Peach asked.

"To shut her up mainly," said Roil.

"But what if she tells someone? People will find out you're here!"

"Who is she going to tell? This old woman is all alone. Isn't she?" Roil began circling her. "No one comes to visit her anymore. Do they?"

The poor old lady never answered his questions. She stared ahead, her astonishment turning into fear.

"How can you treat her this way? What's the matter with you?" Peach was outraged by his cruelty. She wanted nothing more than to run away from him, but she couldn't even get off his shoulder. She had to sit there as he circled the old woman like a wolf, the sphere holding her fast.

"But, you see, I know her!"

"You know her?" Now it was Peach's turn for astonishment.

"Why do you think she shakes so strongly? Why do you think we landed here? Here of all places! She recognized me from the first, didn't she?"

"I don't understand."

"Did you think we landed in this particular backyard by coincidence?"

"I don't know. What do you mean? What's happening?"

Roil laughed heartily in the face of Peach's confusion.

"Let's put it this way: This woman never dreamed she would see me again."

He shot her walker across the yard and as she tottered on the verge of falling, Roil enclosed her in a sphere like Peach's. He shrunk her till she fit in the palm of his hand.

A Snow Drop Welcome

In March, in Gasparian, New York, the Snow Drops were the first flowers to show themselves after the long, cold months of winter.

Mrs. Snyder figured she was probably the only one to even notice the precious things and she did her best every year to prolong their short lives.

The only thing, however, she was ninety-two years old and to carry the filled water bucket with her walker, she had to lift it a few feet, put it down, struggle forward, then pick it up again, until she reached her precious, fleeting beauties. She tipped the bucket and they drank.

While she was hunched over, tipping the life-giving water, a loud noise approached fast over her shoulder, so loud she jumped in fright and dropped the heavy water bucket onto her flowers, crushing them.

Her backyard was lined by thick bushes and whatever it was apparently landed in the middle of them. Mrs. Snyder pushed herself up into a walking position and bravely shuffled to the still vibrating vegetation.

From out of it came a tall man with a black coat. His mouth smiled, though his eyes frowned. Peach sat on his shoulder, but she went unnoticed.

Mrs. Snyder was confused, to say the least, even perhaps a bit frightened, but she was determined to remain hospitable, as was the way of the people in her town.

Way Before The Wright Brothers

"This method of travel is an ancient magic, developed and known only by the Nefarious line. In this way, we were the first in the world to fly."

"Everyone knows the Wright Brothers were the first in the world to fly," Peach innocently corrected him. She looked around, but she could not tell where they were. Above them were stars, perhaps, and below them land, but everything was blurry and purple and a loud whistling noise interrupted her thoughts.

Roil laughed deep and long at her comment about the Wright Brothers.

"I see you have read a lot about history then?"

"Yes, I have read many books for my age."

"And how many books might that be, at your age?" Roil chuckled and mocked her, then his expression turned strange and he stopped smiling. "Yet, with all your knowledge, you know nothing really, do you? Especially this manner in which you are currently traveling!"

"We must be in some type of airplane."

"The Wright Brothers again, I see. No, I'm afraid you are as wrong as wrong can be. We are not in an airplane. In fact, we are in nothing at all, besides the sphere I have you confined in. I believe your great uncle, Ector, somehow learned this method of travel, and that is how he escaped me, along with my last queen."

Peach looked around again. The sky was a light blue just below them, and just above was the infinite blackness of space, right there for her to touch. What was this?

"You should be enjoying this!" Roil chided her.

"Why am I so small? What have you done to me?"

"I just made you easier to handle, that's all. Come now, can't you just relax and feel the cool air rushing over you?"

"I feel nothing, except closed in."

"Right, the sphere does that. Here, hold on a second."

Roil placed her atop his left shoulder and released her from the confines of the sphere. A cold, biting wind swept through her. She had trouble catching her breath and her eyes teared as she blinked rapidly.

"How are we doing this?"

"It's rather amazing, isn't it, and not bad at all for the environment like those nasty old jetliners. I know they say anyone can accomplish anything, as long as they put their mind to it, but this is pushing it to the extreme, don't you think?"

Roil spread his arms and his dark robes rippled in the wind like the wings of a great bat. He performed a long, graceful forward flip and past the top of the arc, Peach lost hold of him and she screamed and flailed her arms and legs frantically. Roil grabbed her and placed her once again on his shoulder.

"You can't fall out here because this magic is greater than the Earth's magic, or what you would probably call gravity."

He pushed her away until she floated beside him.

"See?" He held out his hand to her. "Come."

Gasparian, NY

Roil slowly turned to look at Peach more closely. She was sobbing inconsolably, hiding her face in her hands. Thort handed her a handkerchief and Roil scowled at him until he backed away to stand beside Tubble. Roil then stared at Peach some more wondering what to do. Finally, he sighed, and pointed a long, bony finger at her.

"I think it would be best if you came with me, to verify your information."

Just as he said this a beam of yellow light shot from the tip of his finger and struck Peach in the middle of her forehead. This yellow light turned into a sphere that enclosed her, and before it and she shrank to the size of a lemon, she fell into a deep trance she did not wake from until they were well on their way to America.

Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, the sensation of falling sharply awoke Peach from her deep, magical slumber. When she opened her eyes everything appeared huge to her and every audible sound had turned into a dull hum. She saw Roil Nefarious floating beside her, watching her in deep concentration. Her eyes locked onto his while he dug deep into her brain.

Just at this time, the words "Gasparian, NY" repeated over and over inside her mind. It seemed like Roil was causing it, and he was going to be able to see those words just by staring into her eyes. He looked gigantic standing beside her and that's when she realized she was the one who had changed proportions, and her eyes remained locked upon Roil's penetrating stare. The words "Gasparian, NY" kept right on pounding louder and louder inside her.

"Gasparian, NY," called out Roil and he looked at Peach triumphantly.

"How did you do that?"

"It has to be specific and I have to know something already. You told me America so I just had to ask 'Where in America is Ector Preux?' 'Where is Ector Preux?' simply wouldn't have cut it."

"But how did you see the thoughts inside my head?"

"Not all your thoughts. Only the answer to my question. Mind reading is equal parts cunning and concentration, as is most magic. This kind is common actually: used by most spell practitioners."

"But, how are we flying?"

Striking a Deal

"You're his little Peach then that he keeps asking about?"

"Is he okay?"

"He's alive. And that's all you need to know."

"My mother won't do anything, so I've come. I need my dad back."

"How heartwarming! So far we have honored his request not to hurt any of his family and yet, you come right to us. How ironic."

"Like I said, I'll tell you where Ector Preux is if you release my dad."

"Sounds like your terms are quite firmly in place. But, how do I know what you say is true and not made up just to set your father free? I mean, you are just a little girl after all, who would privilege you with such important information?"

"I heard my great aunt talking with my mother. I was outside. A window was open. They didn't know I was listening."

Even Peach thought what she was saying sounded false.

"Your great aunt..." Roil tapped his chin. "You mean Ector's sister?"

"Yes."

"My goodness, that woman cannot be trusted. She's insane! Why should I believe even a word she has to say, especially coming secondhand from a little thing like you? What if I release your father and what you say turns out to be nonsense, which I suspect it probably is. I'll end up on just another wild goose chase, and I'm beginning to have my fill of those."

Peach looked to Thort and Tubble who anticipated her response with bated breath.

"Please, let me just see my father and I will tell you."

"You sound like a girl desperate enough to make things up, right to the face of I, Roil Nefarious."

Roil began pacing the room exactly as he had everyday for the past week while the search for Ector Preux grew larger and longer, and as he started to feel more and more defeated.

"He's in America," said Peach at last.

"Where in America?"

"Let me see my father."

Roil threw his hands up in the air.

"What makes your loony aunt think Ector went there of all places?"

"Because that's where he sent his son all those many years ago."

Roil Nefarious stopped dead in his tracks.

Great News

Her father disappeared as she tried to take in the massive room before her. Not only was it huge, but its walls, from end to end were covered in dark oil paintings of every Nefarious wizard over the past 1,000 years.

"What have you two brought me?" asked Roil since Peach would not answer him.

"She says she knows where we can find old Ector," Thort answered for her.

"She what?" thundered Roil.

"She says she knows-"

"Yes yes, I heard what you said. What did she say exactly?"

"I was standing guard outside of Polonius's and she comes dawdling up and says, 'I know where Ector Preux is.' I couldn't believe my own ears."

"She used his last name?"

"Yes she did."

"Come, girl," said Roil, suddenly kindly, and he stood up. He was an unusually tall man at almost seven feet. His shoulders were hunched and neck arched as he was forced to look down on most people most of the time, except for his guards whom he motioned to step aside as he approached Peach. He placed a long, spider-like arm around her shoulder. "Be calm, child. I don't scare you that much, do I?"

She was not scared. Instead, she began seeing two of him again and her dad once more. His bruised, cut face flashed across her mind's eye with alarming clarity. She couldn't understand what he might have done wrong. This all happened months before they wanted Ector.

"I'll tell you where Ector is if you let my dad go."

Roil leaned back and smiled until eventually, he was beaming.

She Was Unafraid

Spiral turned and faced Thort, his eyes widening completely, contemplating the meaning of Thort's shouting, then lazily closed them again halfway.

"There's no need to raise your voice," he said as calmly as ever.

Thort held his ground until the white tiger pushed the front door of the house open with his paw. They had to step down a few feet in order to enter. The ancient, stone building was, over the centuries, sinking into the forest soil, and the roof, with all of its moss and dead branches, must certainly have looked like the forest floor itself from the sky up above.

Because the giant guards had to crouch nearly in half to enter, Tubble took Peach off his shoulders and stood her on the ground between Thort and himself. Spiral turned and stared at her, but somehow she was calm and unafraid. Just as her feet touched the floor, her powers kicked in and she was able to see what happened to her father, some six months prior. He was pushed through this same crypt-like door, across this very threshold she now stood on, his hands tied behind his back as one of the guards, yes, Tubble it was, did the pushing.

A man sat on the couch in front of her father, the same man sitting on the same couch in front of her, with his back to both of them, concentrating on the flames in his roaring fireplace. Peach could hear the wood crackling and feel its heat. The scene in her mind was exactly the same as the one in front of her, just minus her father. Then, in both vision and real life, the man sitting on the couch turned around, and yes, he was the same man in both.

He was Roil Nefarious.

"Who are you?" he asked Peach, just as he had asked her father.

Spiral

Finally, it appeared they came to a dead end.

"Where is it?" Thort asked out loud, reaching about and touching every branch within sight.

Tubble moved forward with Peach still on his shoulders. Leaves scratched the top of her head and branches poked her in the side. Tubble thrust his hands between two unusual leaves of an orange color and when he pulled out he was holding a black vine. He yanked on it roughly and the brush and trees in front of them slid away to either side. Peach could see it was in fact a double sliding door painted exactly like the surrounding environment, practically in 3-D. Then, her eyes met what was facing them on the other side.

A large white tiger sat staring back at them in front of a low, darkened house. Even from where she sat on Tubble's shoulders, Peach could see there was something incredibly strange about its eyes. From over thirty feet away she could see they were glowing. The tiger stood up and walked towards them, keeping his horrible gaze on Peach the entire time.

"We need to see Roil," said Thort as if the tiger would understand him.

Peach could now better see what made the tiger's eyes so horrible. They were green with red blood vessels spreading out from thin black centers in undulating lines, like they were vibrating. Tubble held tightly to Peach's legs once she started pushing back in horror.

"Why do you bring a little child to me?" asked the tiger, ignoring Thort's demand. Peach was shocked to hear it talk. It had a man's voice, very gentle, but that only made him even more horrible. "Why do you keep her up so high?" he talked again, licking his lips.

"She is not for you, Spiral. Now once again, where is Roil?"

Still the tiger stared at Peach.

"Spiral, your master, where is he?"

Peach could not look away from his pulsating eyes, the blood vessels vibrating, the green glowing.

"Spiral!"

The Darker The Way...

The weird shrieks of strange, unseen animals echoed on all sides of them from out of the tangled overgrowth closing in. The trail was getting much fainter and Thort took out his sword to hack at the many branches and vines. Peach screamed as she was lifted off the ground by someone secretly following them. Thort snapped around and raised his sword, but he relaxed just as quickly when he saw who the person was now holding Peach high upon his shoulders. He was as tall as Thort so she grabbed tightly around his neck. It would have been a painful fall back to the ground, onto the treacherous rocks and snake-like roots.

"It's only you, Tubble. Where were you hiding?"

"I was standing off to the side about ten paces back. You walked right past me."

"I was trying to chop some of these branches. They're driving me crazy."

"If you plan on taking a little kid through here, of all places, you should be carrying her. Anything could snatch her, you see."

"That's why we have you here," Thort said.

"I can only be in one place at a time, you know."

"By the sounds of it, you have your hands full."

"Just be careful, is all I'm saying. This place is getting a bit...unruly. What are you bringing her here for anyway? Certainly not to see Roil Nefarious I hope."

"Yes, we are on our way to see him."

"Oh, no. He's in a foul mood. He's been looking the past week for you-know-who without any success and now he's certain he's left the country."

"Well, that kid you have up there on your shoulders knows where he's vanished to."

Tubble lifted Peach up over his head and held her out in front of him at eye-level.

"This little muchkin?"

"Yes I do. Now put me down you overgrown ape before I start screaming."

Tubble looked totally startled for a moment before he burst out in loud, deep laughter.

"Oh, ho ho ho ho, oh boy, whoa ho ho ho. This is going to be good. Let's go."

He swung her back onto his shoulders, and Thort turned around to hack at the branches in their way. Peach wanted to scream like she warned she would, but her legs were very tired and the unseen animals were shrieking loud enough for a hundred dark and scary forests.

Roil's At Home

"Of course I'm sure, " she squeaked.

"Lord Nefarious is not the one to lie to if you value your life."

"I know all about that better than you realize."

"What does that mean?" he demanded, but she refused to answer.

"Who did you get your information from?"

Peach hesitated. She did not want to bring Thort home to her mother. "I cannot tell, but if it proves untrue, I will so you can blame those I overheard, not I."

Thort gave her a long stare, then told her to follow him. He took long, loping strides and it was everything Peach could do just to keep up. Soon the shop-lined streets lay behind them and they started on a path that led into Brown Forest. Peach loved it here. Many times she walked upon its quiet paths to get away and think alone of happier times. They soon came upon a beautifully etched wooden sign announcing the government palace lay up ahead and to the left, but Thort took a right. Peach stopped and called out to him before he disappeared completely amidst the thickening foliage.

"Shouldn't we be headed this other way?" she asked.

"Roil Nefarious is at home," Thort said and continued walking.

The forest grew much darker the way he was headed. Peach had never been there before.

Thort

Peach recognized one of the two guards. He was called Thort. Even though he was a giant of a man, at over seven feet tall, even though his face was covered in warts and scars, and even though his bristly, black beard smelled worse than months-old cotton candy, she liked him because he had chased away some boys who were picking on her in the market.

Thort towered over everyone, and poor Peach's head barely reached above his knee. His voice rumbled like huge boulders rolling down a mountain.

"Say that again little girl."

Thort could have sworn Ector Preux's name came from the tiny creature's quivering lips, but that possibility was so incredible he could not trust his own misshapen ears. He bent all the way over until his watery, bloodshot eyes were directly even with hers. His huge head and tangled web of hair sprouting out from beneath a massive copper helmet were together nearly as large as Peach herself.

"You know where who is little girl?" his voice rumbled again. Peach coughed and waved her hand in front of her nose. Thort's breath smelled like garbage sitting out all day under a hot sun.

"Ector Preux," she said in a squeaky voice, tightly pinching her nose shut. "Take me to Roil Nefarious. I won't say a word except to him, face to face. I want all the credit for this and he had better reward me grandly."

"Oh, no doubt, little girl. Lord Nefarious rewards those who benefit him like none other," snickered the other guard. Thort gave him a cold stare and his smile quickly faded.

"Are you sure you want to stand before Lord Nefarious? Face to face?"

Peach quickly reconsidered, realizing the momentous nature of the decision she was making. The image of her mother knitting beside that horrible old woman flashed through her mind once more. Knitting, knitting, always knitting, that's all her mother had done since they had come to this terrible place. She missed her hometown. She missed her dad.

As Fate Would Have It

"Why didn't Ector go with him?"

"He swore he would never leave Rain's grave behind. He said it would feel like he was abandoning her."

"That does sound like him indeed."

The hag leaned even closer while her eyes darted around the candle-lit room. "There's something else," she hissed. "Ector would not go through all this if he did not know Roil is up to something big. Really big. Close down The Great Ector's Faire? Never in a million years I thought that could ever happen. The Preux and Nefarious families have been at each other for centuries, but now perhaps the final end is beginning at last."

"The beginning of the end?"

The old hag studied the younger woman's face, then closed her eyes and sighed wearily.

"Yes, hopefully, the beginning of the end."

Outside, the night had been so still it allowed Peach to hear everything that was said between her mother and the old, wretched-looking woman. Her mother had told her they were related to her in some way, but just the sight of her made her sick. Peach knew exactly who Ector Preux was. He was the mean, old man who turned her away when she tried out for his stupid Renaissance Faire. She also knew who Roil Nefarious was, or at least heard about him. He was taught in government classes. "Elected Advisor to the King by the Royal Courts the past twenty-two terms," she recited to herself. She was an excellent student in school, especially in government. Why should her intelligence go to waste on the humdrum dreams her mother had planned for her as a performer? Even Ector could see she was no good, although she put none of her heart in her dismal tryout. It would not be hard at all to get to Roil Nefarious. He had guards posted everywhere and all she had to do is walk up to anyone of them and say, "I know where Roil Nefarious can find Ector Preux." Very few people knew Ector's real last name. Just his close family mainly.

Peach watched her mother and the old woman knitting together. She felt like they could probably care less where she was. Down three blocks was a busy restaurant with two guards posted out front. She started out walking very quickly, but as she got closer she slowed down, eventually almost stopping completely, yet she got there just the same.

The Talk

"I'm not sure if we'll ever see Ector again after all this."

"What do you think he could have done to make Roil close down the faire?"

"Not sure at all, but it must have been major. That Ector is something else I tell you. Roil will most likely never find him."

"Yes, he's the type wants something bad enough, he's going to get it."

"Could probably force himself through the eye of a needle if he needed to."

"The man has got to be ninety at least, how does he stay so young?"

"I suspect his gift of magic must have something to do with it."

"You knew him for a time. Where do you think he could have gone off to?"

The ancient hag leans her creaking spine forward, and motions with her withered hand, fingers like melted candles, for the other woman to come closer. And even though her voice is hardly above a whisper, the fourteen year-old girl listening by the cracked door can still hear what she says.

"He always said if it came to it he'd get to his son before it was too late."

"Egads! You're telling me Ector's son didn't die?"

"Quiet your voice. Peach is somewhere around."

"Sorry, but it's just so hard for me to believe, 'specially after what Roil did to them."

"Ector saved his son because his son knew magic and helped save himself. Rain did not have the gift and Ector could not save her."

"Where did Ector send his son?"

"A small town in, in America...Gasparian it's called."

Picture Frame Missing Glass

"I saved a bunch of pictures last night that I was going to throw out."

"Okay, excellent."

"Well, when I was doing it, I found this absolutely fabulous photo of my mother I would like framed."

"And how big is it?"

"It's actually an 8x10. It's a picture of her at my wedding getting down to some music all alone on the dance floor. Her eyes are squeezed tight, her hands are spread at her sides, her knees are bent, and her butt's sticking out. She looks so happy in it. You see, she finally came out of her shell at my wedding. My father had died two months before and his death really changed her. After my wedding, she was still different, but at least now she was happy, but still very aloof from us, her children. If we asked her anything, a lot of the time she would just smile and then walk away. And the way she smiled...it was like she was looking at us for the first time. I secretly followed her one time out of pure frustration. She walked into the backyard and just peered over the back fence at the droning highway for a long time. It was quite a ways away, but you could still hear the traffic zooming past. It was the President George W. Bush Turnpike in Texas. The cars zoomed on it all day and all night and she just stared and stared and stared. I finally called out to her, and you know what? When she turned to look at me she had that same confounding smile on her face, even though her eyes sparkled when they recognized me. She didn't say anything. She never says anything."

"Sounds like you love your mother very much."

"Yes, I do. And I like this frame very much."

"It's missing the glass."

"What do you mean the glass? What glass?"

"The clear, protective glass that goes over the picture."

"Do I need it?"

"Not necessarily. Just make sure nothing gets on it."

Back Out of the Trash Bag

"This weird guy on the bus just started talking to me out of the blue. He wanted to know if I ever went anywhere just to go. It was strange. He said he was doing just that."

"Sounds like a real nut. He didn't follow you here did he?" She looks around her husband towards the front door.

"He stayed on when I got off. He really got me thinking though you know? My life lacks any type of spontaneity."

"So you want a divorce?"

"I think maybe we should. What do you think?"

"I think you're right. It would probably be for the best."

"Will you ever get married again?"

"I'm not sure. I might."

"Kids? No more kids?"

"Probably not, but never say never, right?"

"I don't want a divorce actually."

"Oh, I'm so glad you said that. Me neither. I wanted to tell you about my day today. I went to that old section of town by all those small shops, you know where the magic shop is and that great, old-fashioned Italian restaurant, and when I was passing by the magic shop, I decided I was going to quit my job and become a volunteer for Al Gore's global warming campaign."

"You did? Wow, I'm speechless."

"Do you mind being the sole breadwinner?"

"No, not at all."

Later that night, she took out and reorganized all the photos she had placed in a large trash bag weeks ago, happy now she waited before throwing them out.

Springtime Lullaby

"It's spring. Why don't you get outside instead of moping around here throwing out old photos?"

"The sunshine hurts my eyes."

"This is college. There are hot girls out there, walking around in shorts, come on!"

(He goes up to his room, then sneaks out later all alone.)

"Does this bus go downtown? Okay."

(Sitting on the bus next to someone.)

"You take the bus a lot?"

"Yes."

"I do too, when I'm going to classes. This is the first time I've gotten on just to get on. You ever done that? You ever get on just to get on?"

(Passenger thinks about it.)

"No."

"Well, I guess I am actually going downtown, but I have no reason for going there either. So I'm also going somewhere just to go too. You ever done that?"

"Yes, actually, I have."

"Really? Where?"

"I don't think it's that uncommon. When I lived in Idaho there was a hiking trail that led to a small waterfall and I used to go there just to go all the time. Why, what's wrong? Why do you feel the need to ask me, a total stranger about this?"

"I'm not sure. I feel this compulsion recently just to talk. It's like someone is recording every word I am saying. And I'm thinking about things I normally never think of."

(The man who lived in Idaho got off the bus and worried about the strange college student the rest of the day.)

Photos in Trash Bags

"So what if I don't write it down? I know that humble storeowner is as proud as he can be about his daughter, so much so, he probably feels like he won the silver medal in pole vaulting."

"Well, you may be right, but why are we talking about this? Did you get me what I needed from the store?"

"You didn't tell me you needed anything!"

"I told you yesterday."

"You did? When?"

"I was looking through a pile of old photos and I said I needed some large trash bags to throw them all out."

"Why are you getting rid of them?"

"I don't know the people in them anymore."

"Don't you want to remember them?"

"Nah, I won't ever see any of them ever again."

"Why not?"

"They all live in other states."

"Don't you want to keep the photos as reminders?"

"They are reminders, of a time that can never be retrieved nor duplicated."

Pole Vaulting

"Listen, I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'm going to the store...."

(At the store...)

"Do you want a bag for that?"

"Uh, yes, I do. Who is that?" (A picture of a smiling woman holding flowers and a medal and waving to crowds of people is taped to the register. A caption states that she won the silver medal at the World Championships in pole vaulting...)

"That's the owner's daughter."

"Oh, really? Cool. That's cool."

(In his car on the way back home he thinks to himself, because conversations can happen inside your head too...)

"That's what this little town is like. Magic is constantly happening. Kids grow up and spring out of this little town like arrows and land where they may. Some bring honor and awe to their humble roots. This is the town where so and so came from. Everyone is from somewhere."

(He repeated this phrase over and over to himself until he got home...)

"So, are you trying to say the entertained can never be the entertainers? Because I just went to the store and saw stuff and thought about stuff to the point where if I wrote it down I'll be a famous writer probably."

"Yeah, problem is, you'll never write it down..."

The Entertainers and the Entertained

"There are two types of people in this world: the entertainers and the entertained."

"You're alwyas doing that: breaking people up into two categories."

"Why not? It helps me better understand things."

"I bet."

"For instance, the entertainers get pleasure from entertaining, while the entertained like to be entertained."

"You are an amazing observationist."

"You know what this means, don't you? The entertainers are do-ers, while the entertained do nothing."

"The entertained do do something."

"What is that?"

"They are thinking. You know, making observations and connections. That sort of thing."

"Big deal."

"Hey, if it wasn't for the entertained, there might not be any entertainers."

"What are you trying to insinuate?"

"Entertainers wouldn't have any reason to entertain."

"That is completely not true!"