Tag Archives: -Fantasy

#Saturday Shorts, April 30, 2011

Maleficent, Dorothy and the Italian Rabbit’s Hole


Near a quiet English stream on a quiet English day was a quiet English girl thinking quiet English thoughts. As she was thinking these quiet thoughts, she came across a hole, a rather curious hole at the base of an ancient elm. She was a curious little girl and as a curious little girl she had a propensity for staring down strange holes at the bases of elderly elm trees.


Suddenly a rabbit raced up behind her, “Fuori del mio bambino di strada. Sono in ritardo!”


“Oh my!” She said startled and jumped aside.


“Grazie!” he said and politely tipped his hat before disappearing down the strangely curious rabbit hole.


“I believe he was supposed to say, ‘I’m late! I’m late!’ or some such thing?” said a voice from above. There on a branch sat a very small man in a very large hat.


“Merlin’s the name.” He said, jumping down to offer a greeting.


“My name is Dorothy.” The little girl replied matter-of-factly, bending down to take his outstretched hand.


“Dorothy. Dorothy! Oh my, that just won’t do!” He exclaimed. “That just won’t do.”


“But that is my name.” She frowned.


“Yes, yes.” He rambled, “but it still won’t do. Tell me, how do you feel about wind? Oh, nevermind, nevermind.” He pulled a wand from beneath his cloak, “Oh, don’t go in there.” He said pointing to the rabbit hole, then tapped himself on the head.


She looked at the hole then back again, but he was merely a thought. Dorothy shrugged and continued merrily along the stream with her newly empty head.




Enchanted enchantments I make you all mine!

No happily ever afters, no kisses divine.

All magic on earth shall be crushed in my grasp,

and true love shan’t conquer, but fail in my wrath


Lightening rappelled from the angry skies while the witch sang. She released a loud cackle making the forest cower in fear. Every living thing that could escape did, even mighty oaks attempted to uproot and run only to come crashing down in defeat.


Enchanted enchantments no wishes come true,

wolves will eat children, by ones and by twos.

Flutes and gold lamps will have wishes no more

all charmed magic trinkets shall fall dead at my door


“Hello Maleficent,” Merlin said, having been watching amusedly from a mole hole. “At it again I see?” She stopped in mid-verse. Merlin popped from the hole. “You know Sorceress, if you wish to be rid of her, you must try much harder.”


“But,” she stumbled, “the rabbit hole.”


“Not this time. Did you think you could change the tale without my noticing? Aurora, Snow White, Alice. I will always keep her safe no matter how many times you changer her name, no matter how many times you re-write the story she will always be saved.”


She turned away, “Yes,” She quietly plotted, “but has she ever been to Kansas?” Merlin of Oz was already one step ahead.

#Saturday Shorts, June 15, 2011



I watched my father create my world. “What’s that Daddy?” I asked, pointing at nothing and everything. He smiled knowing my game. He swept his brush back and forth, blue overlapping blue, greens, grays and whites. I loved my world. It was enough for me then.


“Dad, I’d like a friend.”

“Perhaps it is time to make your own.”

“But what should I draw?”

“What ever your heart desires and your dreams can create.”


I sat at the edge of my world staring across the horizon. I closed my eyes and lifted my brush letting it guide me through the colours and lines of my imagination. Sounds and smells filled my senses. The skies pulsed and the seas bubbled. From desert to snowy peak my world filled with life.


“What beautiful creatures,” my father said. “But have you made a friend?”

“Not yet.”

“Perhaps something you have already created?”


I attempted to make friends with my animals. A frog allowed me to stroke it’s back but leapt into the water and out of site. A vampire bat would chase sticks I’d throw but in the daylight he could not be found. For a time a cat kept me company but he grew tired and meandered away for other distractions. I began to draw anew.


Feet and legs; a belly, a torso, arms, hands with short fingers, brown eyes, turned up nose, a shock of dark hair all emerged from the tip of my brush.


“Hello!” He said when I finished. “Who am I?”

“Your name is Manny.”

“And yours?”

“Son, but you may call me friend.”


Manny and I would run through meadows and climb trees but as I grew older I had to help my father more with his work and Manny became lonely. “Friend, would you make me a friend?”

I did not have time to make so I gave him my brush.


Later I found my friend, holding the hand of another. “Who is this?”

“This is Ava. What do you think of her?”

“She’s beautiful.” I could not lie. Her golden hair, pale skin and azure eyes were beyond what my dreams could have created. Jealously I asked for my brush.


Hurt, I did not return for many days. My father saw my pensiveness. “Father, should I return?” He merely smiled, knowing I must make up my own mind.


It was easy to find Manny and Ava. They had built a cottage at the edge of the meadow.

Manny greeted me warmly. “Hello Friend, there is someone I would like you to meet.” He welcomed me inside. Gently cradled in Ava’s arms was a child.

I did not understand. “But you no longer have my brush.”

“I do not need it. Love also creates life.”


I could not leave the warmth of their home. Perhaps tomorrow I shall draw myself an Ava. Perhaps tomorrow I shall leave the creation of the Everything to my father and settle down to create with the colours of love.

#5MinuteFiction – Week 65

The Sister

When the ten gods of the Kingdom of Rezzia went to war with the mystics of the lands of Pawelon, neither side could gain any advantage until the sun and moon melted bringing the world into brief darkness.

No one knew of this except two sisters, Ravitha and Ryline, twins. Each had been swept away in different directions during the war and grew as one would expect of a demi-god within their own worlds.

Ravitha was filled with the wisdoms of light and peice where as Ryline learned of the darkness of power and the control of many. Neither shared their secrets but instead waited until the dusk of the eclipse to plan their moves.

The sparks of swords and fires from the castles were taking over the role of the sun when the two raven haired witch gods stepped from the shadows.

“Sister,” Rayitha said.
“Sister,” the other nodded back. “It is time.”

They had never spoken aloud before but each knew the other through shared thoughts and visions. The took each others hand and stared skyward. The last focused glint of sunlight blinked from behind the moon and the field of battle went dark, there was no sound. A fog engulfed the battlers, the fires went out and peace came. When the sun returned the scene was not what it was before. The fields, once filled with blood now bore wheat and grains, farmers pushed heavily on plows and prodded oxen and mules to help them with their loads. Children danced on the roads and ran through the crops.

“Thank you sister,” Ryline said, then smiled but a glint in her eye set Rayitha in a state of unease. Suddenly, their link was lost. Rayitha watched her sister stroll away, black cape billowing in the breeze. She must know the truth.

#5MinuteFiction – Week 48


I don’t think that there is anyone in the world who displays his feelings quite like I do. It is some sort of physical abnormality that occured after the accident (Some fucking accident, 15 million people killed, three quarters of the worlds water supply contaminated and radio-active and countless survivors wishing for death over life). There was a small pocket of contaminated area that when mixed with the atmospheric conditions and sunlight concentration at the time led to very specific and “Super-Power-Like” mutations. Some could fly, some had super sonic speed, strength mind reading, you name it. What did I get? Colour changing and not the blend into the background type. My brother can toss a car 30 yards and all I get is an extra five minutes in the bathroom if my sister notices I’m purple (Horny), a wide birth when I’, red (angry), and a hug when I’m blue (yeah, real original).

Yeap my father is “Sonic” and I am “Moody”.

#5MinuteFiction – Week 49

Nothing Strange
Walking into the portal wasn’t as strange as she had originally thought it would be. When first she had noticed it it was nothing but a shimmer, like a desert mirage only it wasn’t the desert, it was a small walkway between two buildings which the day before had been attached. A slight shift in time. No one else had seemed to notice it. Daper men continued to ride past, defying gravity on their Penny Farthings, tipping their hats to the ladies passing by.

She stood there, twirling her parasol and contemplating walking up the alley for some time. She knew what it was, after all she did rather enjoy reading Jules Verne and this was just the sort of thing he would write about. She took a deep breath and took one last look at the cobble stoned streets of Boston and stepped forth. Nothing strange indeed.

#5MinuteFiction – Week 54

The Last Dragon

His trek was long and arduos, he had sailed south from Chile and was now entering the icy water of the antarctic. Iceburgs were getting larger and more frequent but still he pressed. The ancient family herloom grew colder in his grasp. It was a scale, his grandfather had sworn it had magical powers, Yentl knew better, he had seen paintings of scales like this, it was a dragon scale.

Each hour the artifact grew more active. A layer of frost formed around it on the helm of the ship, then a loud crack. The wood splintered in the extreme cold and the scale fell through. Yentle grabbed it before it burned icily through the deck and it bonded instantly to his hand. Instead of pain he felt instant power. His own breath blew small shards of ice, his heart slowed, his blood thickened. He knew where he must go.

Within a few days he finally reached land, he knew somewhere burried under the thousands of feet of ice was the last remaining dragon, and he was going to be it’s master.

#5MinuteFiction – Week 47

Red Dragon

And there he sat.

It was his way, his family’s way, hoarding and stealing. He was a dragon after all and that was what dragons did. “Greedy little buggers”, so all of the old folks said. “rather steal your watch than eat your baby.”

He didn’t want to be like that. It wasn’t like he could use his gold to buy a Bently. Couldn’t even fit into the damn thing, besides everytime he got pissed off in traffic he’d melt the bloody thing.

So there he sat.

Rich with nothing to buy. Perhaps a house. Could you imagine, a bright Red Dragon out mowing his lawn on a Saturday morning.

“Hello Fred.” He’d say to his neighbour.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” Would scream his neighbour running for cover.


So there he sat. He reached over and took a nibble of goat he had grabbed earlier and let out a flaming fart melting the loot below him into a dragon butt shaped gold chair.

All of a sudden he was inspired. I will become a sculpter.

#5MinuteFiction – Week 46


It was a rather amazing thing to find under the bottle cap. I had been walking along the beach to clear my head, well hangover really. It was a bit of a fuzzy night and I woke up alone although I could have sworn that someone had been in my bed at one time. Anyway I was walking along the beach, clearing my brain and failing at it and seriously contemplating a little Hair-O-The-Dog when I kicked a bottle.

I’m not normally one to pick up stray bottles of booze off the ground but I rationalized it as a sign that Hair-O-The-Dog was better than fresh air. Besides, the bottle was full and the seal was tight. Rum too, real Jamaican Rum.

I opened it up and smelled the cap. Already my head began to clear, the musty sweet smell of cane sugar, the rememberances of a warm belly and a serene brain. I looked inside the cap.

“Winner! See back for details.” It said.

Odd, I don’t recall any booze bottles having contests before.

I took my finger nails and popped out the rubber.

“Three Free Wishes, redeem at once.” You’ve got to be kidding me. This day was going to look up after all.


#HumpdayChallenge Week 13

…and they shall call me Tracey 
An ebony carriage sprinted through town; the rhythmic pounding of hooves on cobblestone announced her coming. She had much to do. These so called Christians were nothing more than trollops and scoundrels awaiting the key to unlock their debaucherous souls. She held those keys. They may all be blinded by His light but the glitter of cheap booze, easy money and fast woman will easily turn them to Her and that is all she will need.

#HumpdayChallenge Week 9

“What’d she say?”
“That chick in the velvet hat that looked like a witch.”
“Something about it being our last hundred words? oh shit.”
“Well, aren’t you all smiles.”
“Shut up asshole, I just figured out what she meant.”
“In hundred words, dead.”
“Why are you talking like some fucking alien species?”
“You don’t get it, quit wasting words.”
“Are you high, or has the city finally gotten to you.”
“Shut. Up.”
“Is it a hundred words each or between both of us? Does laughing count?”
“Don’t you mean ‘that’s irrelevant?’ How many words left now?”