Dragon’s Head Village: Actors and Patrons

Breakfast was over and Hermonia watched her mum and grandmum get ready for the day.  It seemed they took so long to get ready when they were already beautiful the way they were when they awoke.  Hermonia quickly grew bored watching adults primp and buried her nose in a book until they were ready.

Crispin devoured his breakfast and slipped out of the house when Zovah departed to tend to the bigger dragons.  “She won’t really miss me for a couple of hours and if she does,” he thought to himself “she’ll assume I’ve found some place warm and dark to nap.”

Flinn had returned with the rosemary and lilies as requested, and without a word of thanks his mother shooed him from the house.  “Just make yourself scarce while I have visitors this morning, they have no need or want to associate with the likes of you.”  Flinn was so accustomed to these slights and paid no attention.  He was actually grateful this time because he needed to go meet Crispin and Arsenic before his mother’s guests arrived.  Flinn slung his fishing pole on his left shoulder and headed off toward the river.  If his mother or Brock spared him a second glance, they would assume he had gone fishing for the day.

The rays of morning sun bathed Arsenic in light, creating a halo affect perfectly contrasting his red wings against the moss that made up his bed.  This was the one place where Arsenic didn’t kill the flora and thus he was happy sleeping here on the ground, smelling the moss, and curling up into a tight ball at night, a crimson speck on a bed of silvery green under the moon.  The morning sun quickly roused him and he fluttered awake and turned his face to the sun.  He allowed himself to soak up the warmth of the sun as his wings dried the last of the night dew from their crimson petals.

Warm, dry, and hungry Arsenic was ready to meet Flinn and Crispin.  He thought about stopping for some honey and biscuits made by his sisters but was too eager to learn how his plan was going to pan out.  He was cautiously optimistic, he just had one of those feelings.  He may be the worst flower fairy ever be Arsenic knew, deep in his soul, that he was meant for great things and those things were centered around helping the village.

Like actors backstage, our unlikely band of heroes were missing out on what was taking place in the village they all loved.  In the smallest house in town, at the furthest edge of the village square was the home of June and her four children.  This morning, like most morning, the children would go without breakfast.  June’s husband, Harold had left on a fishing trip two weeks ago but had yet to return.  The house had run out of food stocks and Harold had taken the family savings with him.  June hadn’t grown up in Dragon’s Head and was slow to make friends.  Her pride and shyness kept her from asking for help.  As she sent the children outside, June heard their stomachs rumble in protest and it was all June could do to not break down in tears of desperation and humiliation.

Arsenic flew by as the four children entered the front garden, he heard their stomachs rumbling and he paused to watch.  He perched himself on the window ledge and listened.  Despite their obvious hunger, the children were happy and cheerful.  Arsenic decided to spy on their mother and his first look at her face made him flutter to the window ledge like a petal falling from a flower.  The despair and guilt on the woman’s face moved Arsenic and he knew what the first mission would be.  Arsenic threw off the weight of emotion and sprung back into the air and flew as quickly as possible to the meeting with Flinn and Crispin.  It was time to meet the others and get Hermonia to join them in their cause.

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The Widow’s Quest Begins, part 3

Claudia woke up, still exhausted and emotionally drained.  After the disappointing search of the boat and the motorhome, she was out of ideas.  Where on earth could Abe have hidden a treasure in the house?  Surely she would have come across a hidden treasure cleaning the house over the years.  This was the single thought that plagued her all night and it continue to plague her as she showered and dressed for the day.

Abe wasn’t a sneaky man, he was as open as her favorite book.  He couldn’t keep a secret from her throughout their marriage and yet, somehow he had managed to keep this whole hidden treasure a secret.  She walked into the kitchen, brewed herself a strong cup of coffee, and sat down in her favorite chair.  Sipping her coffee she surveyed the living room and couldn’t spot a single spot where Abe could have stashed something without her knowledge. 

Her glance caught the paintings on the wall, wondering if there was anything secured to the rear of the paintings.  She thought it was unlikely, the paintings were dusted on a regular basis and nothing had ever seen amiss.  Her coffee quickly disappeared as she let her mind wander and consider where in the house Abe could have hid something. 

Claudia stood and made herself another cup of coffee.  And made a spur of the moment decision, “Alright Abe, you gave me this quest and you failed to give even the most minimal of clues.  I hope you are proud of yourself.  I will solve this quest, even if it means I tear this house apart in the process.  I like mysteries and quests, as you well knew.  So, my love I miss you and you are extremely irritating right now but I will solve this mystery.”  There was a strength and determination in her voice that friends and family would be surprised to hear.

As the coffee brewed, Claudia headed back into the bedroom and quickly slipped into pink yoga pants and a gray t-shirt.  She slipped into her favorite slipper socks, two bunny faces peaked up from her feet.  A slight involuntary smile graced her face at the memory  of Abe bringing home the socks from a business trip  couple of years ago.  As she made her way back into the kitchen, the smile still played about her face.  Her eyes weary and the dark smudges clearly evident, but there was a determination in her footsteps. 

Grabbing her coffee cup, she headed for Abe’s office.  She hadn’t been in here since that horrible moment when she had returned home from the hospital.  The room was covered in a fine layer of dust and had the stale, unused odor that often accompanies spaces that have been closed off from the rest of the house for a while.  As she walked into the room, waves of memories came crashing down like a wave slamming into the beach during a thunderstorm.  Her knees buckled, coffee sloshed from her cup, and she quickly sat down in the nearest chair.  She hadn’t expected the memories to crash down and overwhelm her.  It took all of her remaining emotional strength to not flee the room, slamming the office door behind her. 

“Just sit here Claud, let the memories crash down.  They can’t hurt you.” Claudia was talking herself into staying.  One hand clutching the coffee cup, the other clutching the arm rest on the chair but what both hands had in common, were white knuckles and tight grips on their respective object.  The tension in the room was palpable.  The tears began to slowly slip down her face, silent sob racking her body.  The only sound that could be heard was the sounding of tears splashing into her coffee. 

An hour or so later, the tears had stopped and at some point Claudia had set down her coffee cup.  She tucked her feet under her and curled into the chair, accepting the simple warmth it provided.  She drifted off to sleep, to emotionally exhausted to shake herself awake and begin to search Abe’s office.  She fell asleep in Abe’s office for the first time since he died.

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Dragon’s Head Village: The Birth of a Friendship, part 4

Hermonia woke early, before any of the adults in the house were stirring. She listened to the sleeping house, hearing little squeaks and snippets of conversation all around her. She couldn’t make out who or what was being said but she found comfort in these conversations.
She slipped from her bed, shivering in the cool of the house after the warmth of her bed. Hermonia slipped into her favorite slippers, lemon yellow and hand-knitted by Mum, her padded feet making no sound as she shrugged into her coat and slipped outside.

The morning air was crisp and cool, a layer of fog covering the flowers and lawn. “Daisy, are you up yet?” Hermonia’s voice was urgent but soft.
Daisy fluttered up from where she had been sleeping, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she came into view. “Hermonia, its early so early the tree frogs haven’t gone to bed yet. Why are you up?” Her voice was husky with sleep but friendly.

“I know it is early. I’m sorry but I couldn’t sleep anymore. We are supposed to go see the herbalist this morning and I was wondering what you knew about her.”

Daisy could detect the undercurrent of strain and trepidation in Hermonia’s voice. “I don’t know much but what I do know isn’t pleasant. She has two sons, Brock and Flinn and clearly favors Brock. She doesn’t associate with the village much and she is generally thought of as a necessary evil. I also know that she is only a successful herbalist because of the flower fairies. She has a black thumb worse than Arsenic’s and if it weren’t for the flower fairies, everything she attempted to grow would be dead.”

Hermonia looked thoughtfully at Daisy while she spoke, a line of worry began to crease her brow. “Is she going to do horrible things to me?”
Daisy smiled, “Not possible, even if you weren’t going with a member of your family the flower fairies would not allow Elspeth or Brock to harm you.”

Hermonia beamed at this and Daisy watched as another worry flitted behind her eyes. “What is concerning you now?”

“How do I hug a flower fairy without crushing you?” Hermonia’s voice was puzzled and thoughtful, clearly indicating this was a problem she had spent considerable time reflecting upon.

“Well, I’m never actually thought about it myself,” replied Daisy. “No human has ever asked to hug a flower fairy.”

Hermonia’s face screwed up into a pout, clearly not the answer she wanted. “Humph, I will think of something but now I must slip back inside before everyone else begins to wake-up. I will come find you after the visit to the herbalist’s today.”

Hermonia waved and before Daisy could respond she had already slipped back inside the warmth of the house. Daisy smiled and made her way back to her bed. She crawled in between the rose petals and curled up next to her sister Petunia.

Crispin woke early too, before any of the other dragons and he stretched reveling in the solitude. The bigger dragons were asleep outside in their barn but here inside Zovah’s house all was quiet, still, and warm. He had fallen asleep curled up on his favorite cushion by the roaring fire last night. Now this morning, the fire was just glowing embers of pale orange and vibrant yellows. However, the house was still warm and cozy and Crispin was well rested despite his concerns for the activities planned for later this morning.

Crispin strolled around the house and decided to act as expected and promptly pounced on the sleeping Zovah. Zovah grunted with annoyance as Crispin landed on her stomach with all his weight and wings fully extended. He purred and nudged his head beneath Zovah’s hand so that she would pet his head. Zovah, still mostly asleep, petted Crispin unaware that her smallest dragon was up to things she had no clue about. Zovah sleepily decided that it was time to start her day and pushed Crispin onto the floor unceremoniously.

“Time to get busy old boy,” Zovah said as she clambered from her warm and comfortable bed. Crispin roared his displeasure as he threaded himself between Zovah’s legs. He was satisfied with how his morning was progressing and was sure it was a good sign for the morning’s activities.

Dragon's Head Village: The Birth of a Friendship, part 3

In the pre-dawn light, Arsenic shook himself awake and made an effort to be as still and quiet as possible.  Crispin awoke and stretched, his white fur a stark contrast to the multi-colored dragons sleeping all around him.  Crispin, unused to being awake before the sun resisted the temptation to roar is displeasure.  After all, it would be impossible to sneak out of the house if he awoke Zovah and the other dragons.

Flinn had being wake most of the night, excitement had prevented sleep from coming.  As the pale lavender light streaked across the sky, Flinn quickly sprang from his bed and threw on clothes.  He fully expected his brother and Mom to still be sound asleep, snug in their respective beds.  To his surprise, he ran into his mother as he tiptoed from his room.

"And just where do you think you are off to at this hour?". His mother's question catching him off-guard.

"Um," he stammered unable to quickly come up with a practical reason for being up so early.

"Don't bother, just come help me before my company arrives in an hour or so.  I need you to light the stove and put the kettle on to boil.  And while the water is boiling, go pick me a bundle of rosemary and a bundle of lilies."

"Yes, ma'am," came Flinn's immediate reply.  And he slowly made his way to the kitchen, grumbling under his breath all the way about his bad luck running into his mother this morning of all mornings.

His mother, Elsbeth, stared after him and shook her head in dismay.  "That child is my last and I can't wait until he is old enough to kick out of the house.  He isn't Brock and he is hopeless with herbs and potions.".  Her long black hair extended past her knees and had yet to be tied back for the day.  Elsbeth was vain about her hair and she spent the first part of every morning plaiting her hair.  As she shook her head, she headed back into her bedroom.  She sat in front of her mirror, her most prized possession, and assessed herself.

"The wrinkles are becoming more pronounced, I must discover a cream that will make them fade.  The village can't see me age and grow old and feeble.  I am the great and mysterious Elsbeth, never shall I be seen as old."

Little did she know, that Brock had woken up when he heard voices in the hallway.  "What she doesn't realize is that soon the village will fear her no longer and will come to me for all their potion needs." His voice cracked mid-sentence, that curious mix of husky and childlike that most teenage boys experience. Brock was large for his age, fifteen last winter, and had a complexion that matched his personality.  He wasn't liked by others and spent most of his days with his mother as his only company.  He paid no attention to Flinn, ignoring him entirely unless it was to mock him or trip him up.

Flinn slipped into the small kitchen and quickly lit the stove and set the kettle to boil.  He didn't know any other life and didn't expect any kindness from his own family.  Shivering slightly as he went to collect the requested items for his mother, Flinn paused to watch the sun peak over the horizon and light up the morning sky in a brilliant array of colors.  The sublet pinks and pale oranges of the morning sky promised warmer days to come, this realization made Flinn smile.

Flinn quickly gathered the rosemary, the woody stems and strong fragrance reminding him of Crispin, strong and stalwart, unshakable.  The lilies reminded him of Arsenic, delicate and strong.  Requested items gathered, Flinn picked up a rock and attempted to skim it across the stream.  The rock sunk quickly and Flinn laughed muttering, "Someday I will figure out how to make rocks skip like Zovah does."

Flinn walked toward the house slowly, thinking about the day ahead.  His face screwed up in  thought, his brow wrinkled as he tried to figure out how to disappear before his mother came up with some awful chore designed to keep him hidden away from her visitors.

"I know, while she drinks her tea I will grab my fishing gear and head out.  So long as I come home with fish for dinner, I will hopefully avoid getting in too much trouble." He thought to himself and a slow smile flitted across his face momentarily.

Placing the rosemary and lilies in the herb room, Flinn made sure to be as quiet as he could possibly be.  He grabbed his fishing gear without being seen or heard and left the house.  He knew that neither his mother or brother would give him a second thought until much later in the afternoon, and by then he would have met-up with Crispin and Arsenic and finally been introduced to Hermonia.

The Widow’s Quest Begins, part 2

Claudia slipped from the SUV and fumbled for the key to the motorhome, memories cascading like a waterfall.  Abe spending countless hours locked in the garage after work, early weekend mornings, after Mass on Sundays, and grabbing a sandwich and heading back out to the garage as he wolfed down dinner.  She remembered feeling neglected and jealous of the motorhome in the beginning but in the end, she loved the motorhome as much as Abe. 

The key slid easily into the lock and the door opened and Claudia was overwhelmed with Abe’s scent.  She breathed deeply, inhaling that wonderful mix of sandalwood, motor grease, sawdust, and BBQ that she wished could be captured in a bottle for all time.  Yes, the air was stale and there were other odors mixed in but all she could smell was Abe and she quickly shut the door behind her trying to preserve the last of the heavenly scent before it escaped to be lost forever.

Claudia collapsed in the nearest open spot and gave herself up to the moment.  Breathing in the very essence of Abe, hearing his laughter, and catching the mere perception of Abe out of the corner of her eye.  Claudia shook her head in an attempt to clear her head and to think clearly.

“Oh Abe, what am I supposed to do without you?  How am I supposed to go on with our life if you aren’t here?”

Silence was the only response to her question.  The sun filtered through the closed blinds in the living area of the motorhome.  The subtle pale blues and lavenders creating a warm and cozy feeling.  Claudia slipped off her shoes and stood, determination flooding through her.  She opened the cabinet nearest and quickly emptied it’s contents all over the table.  It was an assortment of board games and a couple of decks of cards.  She quickly rifled through the boxes but only found the expected contents in each one.  As she shoved the games and cards back, she bite her lip in consternation. 

She went through all the cabinets in the living area and kitchen efficiently but thoroughly.  There was nothing remotely unexpected in any of them.  She did find an unexpected $50 in spare change and bills but surely that wasn’t what Abe considered a precious family treasure.  All the remained was the bedroom and she didn’t know if she could face the bedroom.

Claudia sat down and forced herself to try and relax.  She could feel the tension and the anticipation in her muscles.  A couple of quick stretches and a silently prayer and she was ready to face the bedroom.  As she opened the door, she saw their bed and she gasped involuntarily.

As she slumped against the door, she sighed heavily and felt a couple of tears trickle down her face.  She forced herself forward and sat down on the bed.  As she sunk into the mattress, she glanced around trying to figure out where Abe could have hidden something.  She quickly eliminated the drawers on her side of the room.  Abe wouldn’t have hidden something on her side in case she discovered before it was intended to be discovered.  She settled on his side of the room and quickly dumped the contents of his side of the room on the bed. 

Settling herself amongst the clothes and cluttered of Abe’s, she began to sort.  Nothing unusual, spares socks and shorts, hiking boots, jeans, sweaters, shirts, and sneakers.  All items she expected to find.  She sorted through the couple of books Abe had stashed, no secret notes or treasure maps slipped out pointing to “X” marks the spot.  Frustration set-in once again and as she replaced the clutter back in it’s appropriate spot she talked to Abe.

“Abe, why did you give me some impossible quest and not even leaving me a clue?”  Her voice was husky with emotion and exhaustion.  “I’ve searched the two most obvious locations today and come up empty, not even a note.  I miss you more than words can say but I never would have guessed you could be as frustrating in death as you were in life.”  She shook her head and laughed at this last statement.

There was a smile on her face as she surveyed the room.  “Well, it’s back in order and I’m exhausted and hungry.  I’m going home and I will tackle this again tomorrow. Why am I talking to myself?”

Locking the motorhome behind her, she climbed into the SUV and drove home. 

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The Widow’s Quest Begins, part 1

Claudia awoke early the next morning, exhausted emotionally but energized at the same time.  She dreamt of Abe last night which had become normal, but as she lay there in the pre-dawn light she reflected on last night’s dream.  Unlike previous nights, Abe wasn’t reaching out to her or walking away from her rather last night it was images of Abe as he lived his life.  Laughing and engaging in activities he loved while he was alive.  She smiled as the images danced in her head, Abe lighting the grill and prepping for a weekend in the woods. 

“The dream couldn’t have been just a mere coincidence,” Claudia thought.  “Abe was trying to telling me something, a clue maybe?”

Claudia mulled this thought over as she made coffee and carried it back into the bedroom.  As the coffee cooled and she showered, the thought wouldn’t be dismissed that her dream had significance.  Slipping into her comfortable navy sweats and Abe’s soft and favorite t-shirt emblazoned with Animal from the Muppets, Claudia grabbed her coffee cup and made her way to the kitchen and made herself another cup.

As the coffee brewed, Claudia grabbed some paper and a pen making a list of all the likely places Abe could have hidden this family treasure.

1. Boat
2. Camper
3. Under the bed
4. Hidden compartment in his desk?
5. Back of the file cabinet

A smile graced Claudia’s face, not one of those fake, insincere smiles she had been flashing to family and friends since Abe’s death.  This smile came from the heart and lit-up her face as she thought about Abe.  Unbeknownst to Claudia, the healing process had begun and she was going to be fine in the coming months.  Abe might be physically absent but his presence and love would be felt for the remainder of her days.

“The boat and the camper are the least likely I think.  I’m going to tackle those first.”  As she sipped her coffee, she realized that she had begun to talk out loud to herself to fill the silence. Shrugging her shoulders, she decided that if it brought her comfort than it wasn’t hurting anyone.

As the door to the garage silently shut behind her, Claudia made her way to the boat.  The three car-garage held their SUV and the boat.  The camper was stored at a facility a couple of miles down the road.  “Boat first, no sense driving over there if the treasure is hidden in the boat.”

She climbed into the loving restored boat and the memories came flooding back.  Abe hunched over the crumbling and rotting wood as he assured her that despite it’s outward appearance now, one day she would be a thing of beauty.  Claudia shook her head now, as she had all those years ago, smiling at the memory and the beautiful boat Abe had restored.  Over the next hour or two, every cushion and cubby hole was thoroughly searched and although she found a pair of lost earrings and a couple half-finished paperbacks there was nothing resembling a family treasure hundreds of years old.

Her hair had slipped out of it’s pony tail and as she re-secured her hair, she surveyed the mess she had made, there were cushions haphazardly placed, cubbyholes half-way closed, and bits and pieces of their life scattered on every available surface.  The sight brought a heavy hearted smile to her face and Claudia sat down with an audible “thud” as she surveyed the mess.  “Oh Abe, I miss you.  I miss reaching out and feeling you beside me.  And most of all, I miss knowing that we will never again have a sunset boat trip on the lake.”  The tears flowed but she made no effort to stop them, nor did she feel guilty for the first time since that phone call a month ago for being alive without him. 

The tears passed as she straightened up the boat.  Once the boat was once again immaculate, Claudia climbed down and brushed herself off.  Without sparing second thought for how she must look, she grabbed the keys to the car and the camper and headed out.  The camper was only fifteen minutes down the road and Claudia made it without really paying attention to where she was going.  Pulling up to the camper, another wave of memories engulfed her.  Another of Abe’s restoration projects, this one an old motorhome from the 1970’s.  She remembered the look on his face as he proudly drove up in the thing as she came out the front door. 

“Abe seriously, it is in worse condition than the half-finished boat you are reviving in the garage.  What are we supposed to do with this, this thing?” her voice was filled with contempt, confusion and exasperation all at the same time.

Abe had smiled as he parked the motorhome and walked over to her.  “Don’t worry honey bunch, it will be lovely and we can spend our golden years escaping into the woods and away from the hustle and bustle.  Just imagine, our own private hide-away just ready and waiting for us whenever we want.  I promise it will be perfect.”

Claudia shook her head, trying to clear the memories.  “Oh Abe, it is beautiful and I would have loved to spend time in the woods with you.”  Again, the tears started as she slipped from the SUV and unlocked the camper.

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Dragon’s Head Village: The Birth of a Friendship, part two

Flinn stood calmly and looked curiously at Crispin and Arsenic. Crispin couldn’t believe the façade of calm and pounced on Flinn. Claws out, he landed on Flinn’s bare leg and hung on as if Buttercup had come back to life before his eyes.

Flinn flinched but made no move to remove Crispin from his leg. Rather, he said “That really smarts Crispin, if you wanted my attention you could have just asked me a question.”

Arsenic merely laughed and made his way up to Flinn’s left shoulder. “Don’t mind him, he’s grumpy and he doesn’t really know who he can trust.”

Flinn nodded and merely reached down and stroked the bristled fur on Crispin’s spine. “I promise Crispin, you can trust me.”

Crispin growled and released his hold on the boy’s leg. “We shall see about that. After all, I’ve have heard the whispers about your mother.”

Flinn slumped down against the base of the tree, his whole demeanor instantly changed. “What are they saying now? I’ve seen the looks when I walk in the village. I have no friends and it is lonely.”

Arsenic settled on Flinn’s shoulder and spoke up. “We, Crispin and I, have been talking. I have come up with a plan and I think I’ve convinced our friendly dragon here to help us all. But it means we all have to trust one another and be willing to take a risk.”

“I still think it is a horrible idea,” muttered Crispin. “I mean after all, a dragon, a fairy, a boy, and a wee girl unite to save a village? It’s daft.”

“What wee girl are you talking about? I want to help.” There was an air of excitement and curiosity in Flinn’s voice that was undeniable.

Arsenic spoke before there was a chance to for Crispin to start to complain. “Flinn, first anything we talk about this afternoon is between the three of us. Promise?”

Flinn vigorously nodded his head, his long brown hair slipping over his eyes as he nodded his head.

“Alright then, here’s the situation. I’m a horrible flower fairy. Everything I touch withers and dies and yet I love the village and the people. The other fairies are afraid I have something catching and they ignore me most of the time. Crispin here has a night time problem, he can’t sleep and so he roams the village at night. I followed him several nights and you will never guess what our “oh so scary” dragon here does on these nights.”

“What? Does he plug chimneys or dig up rose gardens?”

Crispin scowled, the displeasure evident on his face. “I do not dig up rose gardens. I told you this was a bad idea Arsenic. Can we kindly go now before this goes any further?”

Arsenic just laughed and ignored the plea. “Flinn he actually helps people at night. He sneaks into houses and shops and gardens and does things that need to be done. I’ve seen him stoke a fire that has almost gone out and tuck a smile child back into bed after the covers have ended up on the floor. One night I watched with amazement as Crispin straightened the butcher’s shop after a particularly bad day for the butcher.”

Flinn looked down at Crispin and smiled. “I never thought the stories about him were true. They seemed like too much bluster and not enough sustenance to be honest. Who is the wee girl and how do I fit into the plan you have?”

“The wee girl is Hermonia, she just moved back into town with her parents. She is three, maybe four, and she, like you, can see fairies. She is also not fearful of Crispin. She is very curious and intelligent and is fearless. I quite like her but Crispin is completely nervous about trusting one so young.”

“I’ve met her once when she came to my mother’s with her parents. She was quite talkative and funny. I liked her. But how do I fit into your plan? I am just a boy and according to my mother not a particularly bright or funny one.”

Crispin spoke up, “Your mother is wrong. I’ve watched from a distance since you were very small. Your mother is a bully who favors your sister because she wants her to someday take over the herbal business from her. Your mother has convinced everyone she’s a ‘witch’ and thus the village fears her. I think you are smarter than your mother and sister combined.”

Flinn just stared at Crispin, a bewildered look on his face. “You’ve been watching me? I never even knew.”

Crispin nodded, “Yes but I think you and Hermonia are too young to be involved in Arsenic’s crazy plan. It’s one thing if I get caught sneaking around, everyone already doesn’t trust me but you and Hermonia are innocent and if we get caught there is nothing we can do to help you. The village doesn’t even know about the flower fairies and they will never believe that I can talk.”

Flinn nodded, his face pensive. “That is true but although I’m only eight I know that a life without risk is boring. I’m already bored and lonely enough. I want to help. I understand the risks but I would rather run the risk of getting caught then doing nothing.”

Arsenic fluttered down to the ground standing between Crispin and Flinn. “Then it is a deal. The three of us are in. That just leaves having a conversation with Hermonia.   She is always with an adult unless she slips out of the house to talk to the fairies. I guess I will try and catch her on one of those occasions.”

“I heard she’s coming her in the morning with her mother. I’m not sure why they are coming or how long they will be here.” Flinn spoke up, excited and nervous.

“Then tomorrow morning it is. I will be here with the first light since I’ve noticed the Hermonia likes to wake up with the sun. Crispin I will brief you at tea time if you can manage to sneak away from the afternoon walk.”

Crispin nodded his head slowly, “It seems like the best plan. Although I still think it has too many risks for the children to take.”

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The Widow's Gift, part four

Claudia forced herself to relax and ease in the tension building in her shoulders. Abe’s letter was sitting on her knee, silently demanding to be read. Claudia felt the tension, the longing, the need to read the letter but knew that continuing to read the letter would mean accepting, once and for all, that Abe was really gone and would never again be walking through the door.
Sighing, she picked up the letter and forced herself to continue reading.

I know how hard this is for you but I also know you are stronger than you think and that with time you will be fine. I wrote two letters, one for you and one for Jared as is family tradition. Stop wrinkling your brow, there is one secret I kept from you all these years and this letter will explain it. Had life turned out differently, Jared would have received the letter explaining all of this so that he could pass on the tradition.

Before I explain further, I need your promise that once you have read this you will make similar provisions leaving the contents of this letter and your addition to it, to Jared. Family tradition is clear, that it passes from husband to wife or oldest son. I fulfilled my obligations when I left you the family tradition and I will admit that it is a puzzle I know you will enjoy.

Now enough of being secret and obtuse. For the last five hundred years, the oldest male member of the family has hidden and passed on a cache of wealth to be used in case of a threat to the safety and stability of the family as a whole. The cache has been used and rebuilt many times, most recently in the Revolutionary War.

Since then, after the family was moved out of New York and to Philadelphia, the cache has grown in value and wealth. It is never kept in a bank and is never kept in the form of liquid cash or stocks. It must always be kept in a commodity that can be liquidated if necessary regardless of where the family ends up. The only other stipulate placed on the cache is that it must be a mix of assets that can be liquidated so that the cache is insulated from fluctuations in value.

I learned of the cache when my father passed fifteen years ago. If you remember, I went on a business trip after Dad passed. I had to find the cache and make sense of the contents thereof. It felt like an unnecessary wild goose chase when I got my letter and I freely admit I was pissed off at my dad. However, now I understand the value of the cache and the necessity for secrecy.

Now for the puzzle part of the tradition. In an abundance of caution, the family tradition is that the location of the cache is never written down. Each must find the cache left to them without a clue. All I can say is that the cache is located on the property and that it is something you use every day almost.

It will not be easy to discover and will undoubtedly cause you to swear at me loudly in the coming weeks. There is an unintended side benefit to the tradition, the search helps you work through the grief, anger, and loneliness. Well, that’s what I discovered as I mourned Dad and searched for the cache.

I know, Claudia. I can hear you think and grumbling at me without even being aware. I promise love if I didn’t think you were strong enough to see this through then I would have broken tradition and passed the cache directly to Jared. Please don’t seek help from the children and please don’t fret if you don’t find it immediately. Unlike my dad, I think I hid it so well it will take much longer than a couple of weeks to find.

You are the love of my life and not even death can deny how deeply I love you. I am still there, standing beside you every day. You will never be alone. Don’t give up on life because I am not there to share it. Please remember that I love you but I do not want you to give up on life because I passed first. Be happy, laugh every day, go outside and tend the garden. If you find new love, then embrace it with open arms and my blessing. I am gone but I will always be with you. You made my life complete and made me a better person my love.

Abe

Claudia felt the letter slip from her hand as the tears poured down her face. Subconsciously, she reached a hand up behind her search for Abe. Finding nothing, the tears intensified and the sound of her screaming in agony echoed through the house.

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The Widow’s Gift, part three

Taking a deep breath, Claudia calmed her nerves and picked up Abe’s letter once again.

It was always my intent to outlive you my love so that you never had to face the pain and sorrow of my passing alone.  Because I know you my dearest love, you have isolated yourself from family and friends and have suppressed your grief and anger until everyone truly believed you were alright.  I know you, I know you’re sobbing as you struggle to read this through your tears.  Let it go love, cry and let the emotion out before it eats you alive.

Claudia read the last sentence and despite her valiant efforts to control the crying, the gut wrenching tears and loneliness returned.  She fled her comfortable chair and got up and went into their bedroom.  She grabbed her stuffed lamb she had since childhood and curled up on Abe’s side of the bed and just let the grief and tears consume her.  She made no effort to stifle the sobs or bury the anger.  She clutched Lambie and Abe’s pillow and cried herself to sleep.

Claudia awoke a couple of hours later, still curled up on Abe’s side of the bed.  She inhaled deeply and a wave of loneliness hit her as she realized that his scent had almost completely faded from the pillow.  Lacking the energy to scream her refusal to accept she would never again smell her husband’s scent was just one small sign of acceptance of his death.  Claudia sat up and headed for the shower.  She was tired and sore from the tension and emotional roller coaster of the last month.  On the spur of the moment, she turned on the tub and decided a good soak would relax her.  As the tub filled, Claudia jumped into the shower and washed her hair.  Her hair was wrapped in a soft, fluffy turquoise towel as she eased herself into the steaming hot, vanilla scented bathwater. 

Squeaky made an appearance but fled as soon as he realized that the bathtub was full.  Claudia smiled at his predictable behavior and sank further into the blistering heat of the bath.  The hot water worked miracles on her tense and sore muscles and slowly the pent up emotional energy seeped from her into the bathwater.  As she sat there, letting the water melt away the tension Claudia smiled slowly to herself. 

Abe loved to take baths, he could soak in the tub for hours without reading a book or listening to a ball game.  Claudia, on the other hand, had to read or listen to a ball game if she had any chance of staying in a bath for more than twenty minutes.  Abe used to come in with a luscious Lemon Drop and perch on the side of the tub and talk on those rare occasion when Claudia took a bath during their marriage.  She always knew he was trying to delay her into soaking longer but they both knew the stall tactic only worked as long as her drink lasted.  It was a pleasant and happy memory, no hint of sadness.

As she stepped from the tub and wrapped herself in a matching towel, Claudia shook her graying hair free from its towel.  Quickly bringing some semblance of order to her hair, Claudia dried herself off and climbed into a pair of her lounge around and do nothing pajama pants and a t-shirt.  These particular pajama pants were flannel and covered in owls dancing on branches and she had pulled on one of Abe’s t-shirts without thinking about it.  It came half-way down her thigh and was much to large for her, but it was comforting and familiar.

Her bare feet were soundless as the sank into the plush carpet, and once again Claudia was very thankful she had “won” that argument with Abe.  Abe’s letter had tumbled to the floor when she fled the room several hours ago.  Picking up the letter, she realized for the first time that it was several pages in length as the moonlight started to flood the room.  Her curiosity was now much stronger than the emotional torment the letter represented.  What could have been so important that Abe, not known for his handwritten letters, would write one to her from the grave?  She settled back into her chair and turned on her lamp so that she could read the letter.

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Dragon's Head Village: The Birth of a Friendship, part one

Crispin and Arsenic quickly made their way back to the village, each intent on making a better future for the village.  Crispin flew straight for the herb garden that grew at Buttercup’s tail, still not believing that this insane plan concocted by Arsenic was viable.  Arsenic held on tightly to the fur around Crispin’s neck, straining to see over the dragon’s head and failing to see anything more than trees whizzing by.

The village came into view and Crispin slowed his flight, being more careful to avoid being seen by villagers out and about.  Arsenic tightened his hold and leaned down close to one of Crispin’s ears and said, “There he is, Flinn.  Stop on the outskirts of the garden so we don’t startle him.”

Crispin nodded his head to indicate he understood and came gliding to a stop on the very outskirt of the herb garden.  The rosemary and lavender were in bloom and the garden smelled wonderful to Crispin.  Arsenic slid off the dragon and regained his equilibrium as his wings fluttered open and lifted him just off the ground.  He glanced around and didn’t spy any villagers, besides Flinn, in the garden.

“Let me go talk to him first, alright?”  Arsenic’s voice was whispered and hurried.

“Alright, but if this is going to work then I need to meet the boy and get a sense of his personality.”  Crispin growled in return.

Arsenic nodded his head and fluttered off.  Crispin watched as the crimson wings fluttered toward the child, a moving red flash among a sea of green leaves and purple flowers.  He was still dubious about the whole plan but he was willing to give Arsenic the benefit of the doubt.

Arsenic flew toward Flinn, going over the plan in his head and offering a silent plea that his instincts were true.  He approached Flinn and smiled as he heard the lad humming to himself.  He waited patiently until the tune was completed and then he perched on the lad’s shoulder.

“Hi Flinn, that was a beautiful tune.”

Flinn spun around looking for the familiar voice but somehow Arsenic always managed to remain just out of view.  Arsenic laughed and then fluttered up and into view.  Flinn laughed, “Howdy Arsenic, I didn’t expect to see you today.”

Flinn was a small boy for his age, slim with pale brown hair and laughing green eyes that seemed to laugh of their own accord.  He was holding a basket filled with various herbs and flowers for his mother undoubtedly.  He seemed content but people saw what they wanted to see.

“I have been thinking about our last talk.  Did you mean what you said?  Do you really want to help make life here better?”

Flinn nodded his head vigorously, his brown hair sliding into his eyes.  “I’m bored.  Mother doesn’t think I have any potential but I just know she’s wrong.  I know all kinds of things but I don’t necessarily want to spend my days and nights brewing potions.”

Arsenic smiled and settled back down on Flinn’s shoulder.  “Do you know Crispin?”

Flinn shivered and nodded his head, “I know of him but I’ve never met him.  People say he is a terror but somehow I find that hard to believe.  After all, how fearsome and terrifying can a kitty cat dragon be?”

Arsenic heard this and also heard Crispin come roaring out of the edge of the garden where he had been waiting.  Arsenic had to give Flinn credit, he didn’t flinch as the white fur ball came hurtling toward him, teeth bared, eyes flashing angrily.  Flinn stood his ground and watched the show Crispin was putting on.  He was utterly unfazed by the display of anger and threat, instead waiting patiently for the posturing to end.

“You must be ‘The Terror of the Village’.  I’m Flinn, pleased to meet you.”  His outstretched hand was covered in dirt and grime which he didn’t even try to brush off.

Crispin stared at the outstretched hand, curious about what was expected of him.  Arsenic burst out laughing and whispered something in Flinn’s ear.

Flinn shook his head and lowered his hand saying, “Sorry about that I wasn’t thinking.  What is the proper greeting for a dragon?”

Crispin stared up, this was a question he had never been asked and didn’t know the proper answer too.  He sat down and stared up at Flinn pondering the answer.

 

The Widow's Gift, part two

Claudia petted Squeaky and stared at the letter in her hands, her gaze unfocused and absent minded.  She let the memories of the past month wash over her, like an ice cold shower cold, hard and unrelenting.  Abe’s death, the sterile white walls of the hospital, the packed pews of St. Matt’s for his funeral service, and the finality of the dirt hitting his casket.  There was laughter and family and friends at his wake which brought comfort and sorrow at the same time.  Their friends and family brought Abe’s memory to life through their stories and laughter.  She would cherish those moments most of all, the laughter brought hope that life hadn’t evaporated along with the love of her life.

And now, in the stillness of their house there was just Claudia and her memories.  Squeaky nudged closer, feeling her emotional turmoil and trying to offer comfort in the only matter he knew how.  Abe’s letter stared up at her, she could hear his voice in her head telling her to read the letter but still she struggled to open the letter.  “I am being foolish,” she whispered softly.  “I know he is never coming home and yet, I can’t bring myself to accept that in my heart.”  Her tears slid silently down her checks, the wracking sobs were gone and all that was left was the silent grief that slowly comes with acceptance.

As the tears slowed, Claudia fingered Abe’s letter.  Running her finger repeatedly over Abe’s handwriting, unconsciously shaking her head at the familiar scrawl.  He had written so few letters to her throughout their marriage that regardless of what was contained in this letter, she would cherish the letter as the last physical contact from Abe.  Claudia squirmed in her chair and Squeaky picked this moment to flee.

“No sense putting off the inevitable” Claudia sighed and her hand trembled as she picked up the letter.  Her hand shook so badly with emotion that she struggled to gain control of her hand as she reached for the letter opener.  Her hand shook as she sliced open the letter and slipped the letter out.  It tumbled onto her lap and stared up demanding nothing and yet requiring her heart and soul to open.

She picked up the letter and as her hand trembled, she opened the letter and saw Abe’s handwriting staring back at her.

My Dearest Love,

If you are reading this, please know that I love you more than words can ever express.  I know that if you are reading this than unfortunately, I left this world before you.  Know that I have done my best to provide for you in that event and that I love you still.

The letter fluttered from her hands and fell into her lap.  The tears once again fell unchecked down her checks and she made no effort to staunch their flow.  She said a silent prayer as the tears fell, “God grant me the strength to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.”

The familiar prayer was comforting but if she were honest with herself and God, Claudia would have preferred the comfort of Abe’s strong arms holding her tight to whispered prayers for strength.

The Widow’s Gift, part one

The car pulled into the driveway and into the garage, the tension smacked Claudia like she had just run into a brick wall at speed.  She somehow had managed to remain calm and relaxed on the drive home from the meeting, but that colossal effort came to an end as soon as she was safely at home.  As the garage door closed behind her, the tears began to slip down her checks unchecked and she made no effort to staunch the flow of tears as she gathered her purse and headed inside.

Claudia slipped her shoes off the moment she got inside, her feet had been trapped long enough in the heels.  The feel of her toes sinking into the carpet was something of a relief.  It immediately eased the tension  but did not stop the tide of tears.  As she dropped her shoes and purse behind her, she made  her way to her favorite reading chair.  The chair was old but much loved.  It had been built by her great-grandfather to accommodate him and his two children on either side of him as he read to them.  It’s broad base and winged back made a great place to curl up and lose yourself in a great mystery or to sit and stitch while watching sports or movies.  The chair had just been reupholstered last month and Claudia loved the large floral pattern she had chosen.

As she sank into the familiar comfort of the chair, her cat Squeaky jumped up and demanded attention.  As she absent mindedly petted him, she stared at the letter in her hand.  The lawyer had handed her the letter after the reading of the will was concluded.  Claudia was unsure she wanted to open the letter, afraid that the contents would be too much and that grief and loneliness would overwhelm her.  The house was so empty now, so silent.  Over the last month, Claudia had been busy with arrangements and family and had put off her own grieving but she knew that now it was time to come to grips with the emptiness.

The tears slowly began to stop, to tired to continue to cry Claudia dried her eyes and blew her nose.  Squeaky settled down beside her, his bulk a comforting weight against her hip.  The letter lay in her lap, her husband’s scrawl staring up at her from the envelope,  “My dearest love”.   Claudia couldn’t do this, not now.  The wound was too fresh and too raw, if she opened the letter then she was admitting that he would never walk through the door again, never kiss her goodnight, or tease her about being short.  She knew he  was gone rationally but her heart still was not ready to let go and deal with the grief. 

As fresh tears rolled down her face, Claudia relieved the knock on the door and the agonizing trip to the hospital.  There looking paler than she had ever seen him lay her husband of thirty years.  He reached his hand out and squeezed as hard as he could when she laid her hand in his but for the first time, there was no strength in his grip and Claudia panicked.  She barely remembered leaning down to kiss him and tell him how deeply she loved him before being shoved out of the room as medical equipment began to screaming alarms.  Staring in that tiny window in the door, not knowing if he would make it was the hardest thing she had ever faced until suddenly the medical alarms fell silent and the medical team stepped away from him.  She screamed and flew into the room, her terror and grief were palpable to the medical staff that caught her as she lunged for him.

Claudia pulled free of the nurse that had caught her and crawled into bed, laying next to him.  She covered him in kisses, talking to him constantly, pleading with him to come back to her and not leave her alone like this.  There was no response, no familiar heartbeat in his chest, no ruffling of her hair as her head lay on his chest.  Eventually the door to the room opened again and this time it admitted her brother, Paul.  He sat silently on the other side of the bed and eventually started talking to Claudia.  She barely heard him, she was so angry and so scared that it wasn’t possible to have a rational conversation with her brother.  Some joyriding teenager just stole the most precious thing from her and it was never going to be ok again. 

Dragon’s Head Village: Crispin and Arsenic Reach Accord, part 3

Arsenic stared into Crispin’s blue eyes and waited for him to say something.  Crispin stared at Arsenic, not really seeing him but staring off into the distance at the waves crashing onto shore.  Finally Arsenic could tolerate the silence no longer and carried on with sharing his plan.

“If you haven’t noticed, there is something unique and special about the new girl child that showed up when Catha moved back.  She sees fairies for a start and she is incredibly smart from the conversations I’ve overheard her having with Flavia.  She is gentle and funny and I think she could be a great help to us.”

“Us?”  Crispin roared.  “Who says there is an us?  I haven’t even agreed to work with you and now you are talking about bringing in a human child?”

“Well, actually two human children.  The Alchemist’s son, Flinn, has that same affinity for the unseen world around him.  I’ve had several conversations with the lad when I go over there.  He is an incredibly funny and curious child.  I think he is a bit older than Hermonia but I think both children can help expand the work you do under the covers of darkness.”

Crispin sprang to his feet and his eyes were flashing in pure irritation and anger.  “Now it isn’t just one child, it’s two in addition to you.  How on earth do you think this is going to work?  You can’t lift anything more heavy than a flower stem and yet you think you can help me aid the village?  You want to bring in two children who haven’t yet made it through their first  ten years of life combined into helping?  How precisely do you think that is going to work?  What makes you think that Hermonia and Flinn would be capable of keeping a secret?”

Arsenic listened to the highly irritated rumbling issuing from Crispin and silently acknowledged that he made a couple of good points.  As soon as Crispin finished, Arsenic settled to the ground and his wings grew still.  Their crimson flash was still as he settled amongst the rocks and ground covering.

“I have the one thing you don’t have and that is unfettered access to anywhere in the village.  I am not seen by villagers and thus I don’t have a reputation amongst the villagers.  I know of problems and issues that need solving that aren’t necessarily easy to see by a dragon who is known as ‘The Terror of the Village’.”

Crispin stared down at Arsenic, the truth of his words rang true and to himself Crispin acknowledged that he did in fact need help.  But really, help from the worst flower fairy in the history of flower fairies?   There was far too much truth in his words to deny what Arsenic said but was he willing to admit that to Arsenic and agree to his plans?

Arsenic just waited patiently, for the first time since he emerged from his flower three years ago.  He was confident and sure of his plan.  He knew he was meant for something more significant and life affirming than tending flowers and gardens.  He knew there was something special in the children and that the three of them, along with Crispin, could improve the lives of those around village. 

“Alright, say I agree to this incredible plan of yours, and I’m not saying I agree.  I was just wondering what you thought the first step might be when we return to the village.”  Crispin’s voice held a hint of curiosity and intrigue.

“The first step is very simple, we fly back to the village and met Flinn.  Late afternoon’s he loves to roam the herb garden that grows near the spine of Buttercup’s tail.  He and I regularly talk and he is quite funny.  He is bored and looking for things to do.  His mum, Ciara, doesn’t think there is anything especially magical or special in Flinn in comparison to his older sister, Robyna.”  There was a tinge of excitement and anticipation in Arsenic’s voice.

Crispin settled on the ground in front of Arsenic and looked the fairy in the eyes, he could see no trace of deceit or treachery.  He was sincere and excited about the prospect of helping the villagers and the two incredibly special children that lived in the village.  The only question that remained for Crispin was whether or not to trust Arsenic.

The two former combatants stared at one another for what seemed an eternity.  Eventually, Crispin made his decision and nodded his head and Arsenic scrambled aboard and the two took flight headed home.

 

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Jane & Fred

Jane hurled clothes from their closet onto the bed in sheer frustration and Fred wisely said nothing as he dodged the outfits hurtling toward him.  He watched as random weekend wear piled on the bed, what was an unorganized random collection of clothes clearly had a purpose for Jane.  He could hear her muttering under her breath but wisely decided to keep his mouth shut.

“Who does he think he is?  I invite him over for advice and help and all that pompous windbag can tell me is that he will have to look into it!”

Fred grunted his agreement and smiled to himself as George scampered for cover under the bed.  Jane paused and finally took a breath, turning around to glare at her husband.

“Are you grunting in agreement with me or with Gordie for taking the safe, academic road?”  There was a hurt tone in Jane’s voice.

Fred stayed on the bed, comfortably leaning back into the excess of pillows and ignoring the bait tossed at him by Jane.  He smiled quite contentedly, admiring how incredibly attractive his wife was when she was flustered and in a tiff about something.  Her violet eyes lightening up, her black hair in wild disarray, and her chest heaving from exertion and frustration. 

Jane glanced up and caught the admiring gaze of her husband and she burst out laughing.  She flopped onto the bed next to Fred and snuggled into his chest.  The familiar warmth and breathing of his comfortable presence enough to wipe out the frustration she had been so haphazardly venting mere moments before.  “Oh I’ve created quite a mess haven’t I?”  There was laughter in her voice.

“You seem to have tossed enough clothes on the bed for at least a week.  Are you running away from home forever?”  Fred was laughing as he spoke.

Jane’s reply was lost in his chest as she fell asleep where she lay.  Fred let her sleep, unwilling to disturb her nap when he knew how little restful sleep she had gotten in the past couple of weeks.  The responsibility of the journals and the creative drive was keeping her up at night.  Usually, Jane would crawl into bed and fall sleep to an Old Time Radio program long before he was even thinking about heading to bed, but lately he would come to bed to find her wide awake staring at the ceiling.  She would eventually drift off to sleep once he came to bed but she was always up before the sun each morning.  He would often find her sitting amongst the journals lost in the lives of the people from long ago.

Eventually, Fred slipped from the bed without waking Jane.  Softly closing the door behind him he went in search of the workmen.  The office addition was taking longer than expected and Fred was determined that barring a major outbreak of rain the office would be finished within the coming week.  The foreman stepped forward and before he could speak Fred held out his hand to stop him.

“I’ve had a conversation with your boss and before we have yet another discussion about impending delays due to this or that, let me be perfectly clear.  The job will be completed and approved this week to my satisfaction or your company will be replaced and reported.  Your boss is aware of this and before I hear one more conversation on why something cannot be completed.”

The foreman stopped in his tracks and stared for a moment before nodding his head and turning around.  There was construction dust everywhere and tools scattered about like children’s toys.  The office was about half done and looked like a complete mess.  He shook his head and went to grab a beer. 

 

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Dragon’s Head Village: Crispin & Arsenic Reach Accord, part 2

Arsenic tried very hard to not shiver, it was humiliating enough he was huddling next to Crispin for warmth.  Arsenic was wise enough to know that a little humiliation was better than freezing to death by the seaside.  Crispin was warm but if Arsenic held very still he could feel the slight shiver as it trembled through his body. 

Crispin lied there and contemplated what Arsenic knew.  He had been very sure that he hadn’t been seen when he snuck out and was out and about under the cover of darkness.  Now, he was sitting here on the famous bluff where Norman and Buttercup first met and he couldn’t stop thinking.  Buttercup had taken a chance with Norman and now he was wondering if he needed to take a chance with Arsenic. 

Arsenic was notorious in the fairy world, Crispin knew that much.   Arsenic had the reputation for being an extremely lazy flower fairy, an incredibly poor gardener with an inherent talent for killing perfectly healthy and flourishing flowers.  There had to be a reason that a failed flower fairy has up and about in the dead of night and Crispin was determined to figure out why.

Arsenic was standing there, covered if silky white fur, wondering why he had taunted the dragon and what he expected out of the encounter.  He was a failure as a flower fairy and now he challenged a dragon in front of the other fairies.  He knew they would have a slew of questions when he returned and he would have to figure out something to tell the fairies to put them off the scent of Crispin’s nighttime adventures. 

Crispin turned his head and stared at Arsenic.  “I admit it, I sneak out of the house on a regular basis and that I thought it was secret.  I help out with little things and up until now, it has gone completely unnoticed.  So, I’m wondering what you were doing up at that time of night and what you intend to do with that knowledge.”  His voice held an unspoken challenge.

Arsenic shifted so that he could face Crispin and slid to sitting position.  He was immediately buried by the fluffy white tail of Crispin and fluttered up covered in stray white fur from Crispin’s tail.  He sputtered and replied, “Truth is I can’t sleep and so I wander the village at night.  I usually sit outside on an open window sill and watch families sleeping so peacefully.  I’m jealous of their ability to sleep if I’m honest.”  His voice was wistful and his longing for acceptance was clearly evident.

Crispin laughed, a deep belly rumbling laugh that enveloped his whole body.  His laughter was contagious and infectious.  Soon, Arsenic was laughing right along with Crispin his crimson wings flapping wildly as he laughed.  Their laughter was carried away on the wind and shared with the various creatures, great and small, along the way.

“So then, Crispin the Trickster, what do we do now?”  Arsenic could barely choke the words out he was laughing so hard.

Crispin tried to respond but each attempt was choked off in another round of laughter.  Soon their combined laughter began to diminish each was hiccupping from laughing so hard.  Eventually peace and quiet returned to the bluff and soon they realized the wind had subsided along with their laughter.

“What now Arsenic?  Where do a dragon and fairy go from here?”  Crispin was clearly thinking out loud and Arsenic flutter up and away from his warm body.

He fluttered over to the front of Crispin and looked the dragon in the eye.  “I think I have a plan.”

 

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Dragon’s Head Village: Arsenic and Crispin reach Accord, part 1

Crispin fluttered just off the edge of the cliff where Arsenic fluttered impatiently. The wind gusted, throwing the anxious dragon and defiant fairy off balance. Arsenic set himself down on the cliff and looked at Crispin. Crispin was struggling against the gusty breeze and finally he came to rest beside Arsenic on the cliff.

“Hard to look intimidating when being tossed around like a ragdoll by the wind isn’t it?” There was a tinge of humor in Arsenic’s voice. “I have the same problem with the slightest breeze.”

“It is highly frustrating,” Crispin’s voice was resigned to being forced from his position of strength in the air. “Right, let’s get down to it then shall we?”

Arsenic laughed, “Fire away. I have nothing to hide.”

‘What exactly is it that you think you know about me? About my supposed actions between the covers of dusk and dawn.”

Arsenic stared at Crispin, watched as the gusting wind caught his silky white coat and ruffled his fur. Crispin appeared not to notice, but Arsenic knew that the wind was seriously messing with Crispin’s plans to look intimidating and fearsome. He smiled slyly to himself but Crispin caught it and worried for the first time that Arsenic knew his secret.

“Alright, mighty dragon I will tell you what I know. In return, I want one thing.”

“What do you want? No wait, strike that. I refuse to make promises under duress or blackmail.” There was a growl in Crispin’s throat but Arsenic seemed undeterred.

“Fine, but I’m sure after I tell you what I know and what I want you will agree.” There was a hint of barely contained laughter in Arsenic’s voice.

Crispin rumbled something under his breath but failed to say anything in response. He sat there next to Arsenic, fluffy white tail wrapped in close. Arsenic was fluttering next to Crispin’s face so that he could look him in the face but Crispin noticed the slight but persistent shiver that consuming Arsenic.

“Look, I can hear you if you are on the ground and not fluttering about in the breeze like a flower petal being tossed about on the wind. Tuck in under the warmth of my tail and I’ll lower my head to listen.”

Arsenic considered the proposition for a moment before conceding that he was cold and it was a struggle to maintain his position in the wind. He conceded gracefully and landed. Crispin flicked his tail open and Arsenic slipped in. His crimson coloring a bright red stain against the snow white of Crispin’s fur.

Arsenic was immediately warmer, the shivering ceased and the feeling began to return to his fingers and toes. The wind was growing fiercer and the sun was slipping further and further behind the clouds. “Looks like a storm is brewing, are you sure you will be capable of getting us back to the village?” There was a hint of concern in his voice.

“It’s a wee storm, nothing I can’t fly through. Besides even if I can’t, I’m sure we can take cover in one of the nearby caves. Now stop stalling, what exactly is it that you think you know?”

Arsenic nodded his head in agreement and then spoke, his voice low and rumbling deep in his slight frame. “I know that under the cover of darkness, you slip out of Zovah’s house and you wander about the village doing good deeds that go unnoticed by the villagers. I’ve seen you take loaves of bread and excess fruit and vegetables and deliver them to families that have slightly less than they need to thrive. I’ve watched you weed flower beds for those that are aging. I’ve seen you fly through the window of a restless child who is having trouble sleeping. I’ve listened to you purring to settle a restless dreams. I’ve watched you curl up and warm the bed those that have recently lost a loved one.”

Crispin listened and while he listened, some of the starch and vigor slipped from his stiff and proper bearing. Arsenic was huddled between his body and tail spilling his secrets like wine from a bottle.

Dragon’s Head Village: Crispin and Arsenic part 1

Crispin came to a smooth landing on the bluff that Norman first spoke to Buttercup all those years ago.  He waited patiently for Arsenic to climb down before he spoke.

Arsenic scampered off Crispin like his wings were on fire.  Flying on the back of a dragon, even one as small as Crispin, was much different than flying around under your own power and at an altitude of your choosing.

“Was it absolutely necessary to fly so high or so fast?”  Arsenic whined mostly to himself as his feet finally came into contact with the ground.

Crispin’s head snapped and he glared at Arsenic, “Complaining within ear shot of a dragon is never wise.”

Arsenic just laughed, he laughed so hard he fell flat on his rear end, clutching his stomach as he rolled around on the ground laughing.

Crispin was at first shocked that he was being so openly mocked and then he was furious.  He drew himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest and stood over Arsenic.  This just made Arsenic laugh even harder, Crispin didn’t think that was possible but sure enough Arsenic was now snorting as he laughed at the big, bad kitty dragon standing over him.

Crispin’s anger fled and feeling deflated he abruptly sat down.  He was stumped, the flower fairy was completely and utterly unafraid of him.  How was that possible?  He was a dragon, he could breathe fire when necessary.  He wasn’t some soft and cuddly kitten curled up next to the fire waiting for the next saucer of milk to be delivered.  So, how was it possible that the wee flower fairy in front of him did not fear him in the slightest?

Crispin had no choice, he had to wait until Arsenic regained control of his senses and stopped laughing at him.  It took a full five minutes, which were the longest five minutes of his life, until Arsenic had stopped laughing.  The air surrounding the two was alive, electric with the anticipated conversation between the fearsome dragon and the failed flower fairy.

“Alright spill it Arsenic, what do you know and why are you laughing at me?” Crispin was genuinely curious and his normal grumble was absent.

“The great and fearsome Crispin,” Arsenic’s tone of mocking.  “I’ve seen you stalking about the village at night when you think everyone is tucked up and sound asleep for the night.  But I know what you really do when you aren’t trying to protect your reputation.”

Crispin looked momentarily startled but he quickly masked his emotions and the grumbled, “What are you going on about?  I am as fearsome as my reputation.  Make no mistake, I am all dragon.”

Arsenic smirked at Crispin, “Is that why you sneak out of Zovah’s front door every night and proceed to do good deeds every night?”

Crispin’s face momentarily dissolved into shock but he quickly gained control over his emotions.  He threatened to swipe his paw in Arsenic’s direction, “Blasted flower fairy of death didn’t so much as flinch” he thought to himself.  Out loud he said, “What exactly is it that you think you’ve seen me do at night?”

Arsenic stared up at the dragon grumbling in front of him, unphased by the grumbling or the threatened paw swipes.  “Where you like me to begin?  The village square, the gardens around the village, or the elderly?”

Crispin stared at him, the shock on his face very apparent.  “How could you possibly know about any of those things?”  HIs voice wasn’t grumbly any more, it was embarrassed.

Arsenic fluttered up, his wings barely disturbing the air around him.  When he was eye level with Crispin he whispered, “Well, I may be the worst flower fairy ever but it doesn’t mean I don’t love my village.”

 

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Jane and the Journals, part 4

Gordie pulled into the driveway and saw his two old friends sitting on their front porch the picture of domestic bliss. He envied them. He had yet to find anyone he loved enough to pull him away from books for any length of time. Fred’s head bent low to hear something Jane was saying. Gordie watched them, as always marveling at the ease that develops between long time partners, knowing that he wanted that same ease and deep friendship when he finally found that one special woman.

Getting out of the late model sports car, Gordie strolled toward his friends, greeting them as he went. “Afternoon lovebirds!”

Jane laughed and waved to him. “Afternoon Gordie, thanks for coming on such short notice. I really appreciate it.”

“That’s what old friends are for aren’t they? Besides, you gave me the perfect opportunity to skip out of afternoon classes and meetings. Sometimes, I regret becoming Dean. It is far more politics and competition than I think I have the patience for.”

Fred laughed, a deep belly laugh. “Gordon Albert Fellstone that is the biggest load of bull I’ve heard you utter since we were nine and you claimed to have kissed Sally Jefferson at the creek.”

Gordie joined the laughter, “yeah ok so I love it. I have never had so much fun at work. So, I hear all the noise which I can only assume are the workmen you told me about at lunch yesterday Fred but Jane I’ll admit I’m very intrigued about the journals you called me about yesterday.”

“I really do appreciate you dropping everything today. Let me get you a glass of iced tea and I’ll meet you in my office.” Jane said as she got out of her chair.

Fred watched as Jane disappeared into the house, Gordie watched Fred’s appreciative face as Jane disappeared from view. “Gordie I am still in love with her after all these years and bud, someday you will find someone as amazing. Now, go find my wife while I change into more comfortable clothes and I’ll join you in the office.”

Jane made a pitcher of iced tea and grabbing three glasses, headed for her office. Gordie walked in just as Jane finished pouring two glasses, handing one to him she said, “Welcome to contained chaos Perkin style.” There was laughter and a hint of frustration in her voice.

Gordie was just starting at the piles on the floor. The general chaos of Jane’s office he ignored, used to that level of chaos in Jane’s writing area. The piles however were of great interest to him and he quickly looked around for a place to sit down. Finding none, he carefully scooped up a stack from the floor and headed for the dining room completely oblivious to Jane’s cry of dismay.

He set the stack of journals on the table and quickly seated himself. His six foot six frame and broad build dwarfing the chairs on either side of him. Jane followed him into the dining room. “What are you doing? I had those all arranged and sorted. Just march yourself back there and return them to their spot in my office.” Her tone was irritated and frustrated.

“Jane Allison Perkin you called me to help you so sit down, shut up, and let me help you.” He never even glanced up at her as he carefully opened the journal at the top of the pile.

7 April 1824

Today I was lucky enough to attend the first performance with my Mistress of Missa solemnis by a composer named Beethoven. It was beautiful and awe inspiring.

Gordie set the journal aside and opened the next one in the stack. Jane just watched from the doorway, silently sipping her tea.

August 14^th 1900

I woke up this morning on my second day in Peking. I am still worn out from the long journey but I awoke this morning energized and ready to explore my new surroundings. Then I heard the sounds of many, many boots slamming the streets at once quickly followed by the sounds of weapon fire. I grabbed my Bible and books and dove under the bed. I’m flat out scared but I figured if I was going to die in a foreign land there would be some record of my last moments.

“Jane, do you have any idea the treasure trove of information contained in just these first two exemplars?” The awe and reverence in Gordie’s voice was staggering. “A firsthand account from a non-noble of the first performance of Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis and an accounting of the Boxer Rebellion of a tourist civilian.”

Fred walked in and caught the last statement and whistled. “We knew Aunt Liza had left us invaluable journals but that seems too good to be true.”

“So, how do we preserve them? I want to be able to use them for my books but I also know we need to preserve these glimpses of history for future generations.” Jane’s voice was a mixture of frustration and awe.

 

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Dragon’s Head Village: Crispin meets Hermonia part 4

Hermonia was confused and her face screwed up in concentration. Crispin was clearly upset and so was the fairy Arsenic but she didn’t understand why. So, in an attempt to make peace, Hermonia scooped up Crispin in her arms and went running off toward the back door of Rachel and Roland’s back door.

Crispin was so startle by the abrupt change that he was speechless, that is until he heard the riotous, raucous laughter of Arsenic from behind him. The laughter was loud and grating and sent Crispin over the edge. He quickly became a snarling, angry ball of white fur intent on escaping the arms of Hermonia. Hermonia was oblivious to Crispin’s anger or Arsenic’s mocking laughter, for despite Crispin’s intense anger he had yet to scratch or harm Hermonia. His struggle to escape was little more than a non-dragon cat put up when trying to escape the loving grasp of a three-year old captor.

“I have to set you down now Crispin so that you can come inside and meet Grammy and Grandaddy.” Hermonia said as she carefully set Crispin down on the grass. She was attempting to jump up to open the back door and didn’t see the white streak as Crispin launched himself at Arsenic.

Hermonia got the door open and promptly turned around to gather Crispin in her arms once more. He wasn’t where she left him and it broke her heart. She immediately burst into sobs, so loud that they sounded like thunder to the fairies still transfixed by the Crispin and Arsenic affair, Hermonia sobbed and fairies watched, Crispin and Arsenic circled one another like prized fighters waiting for the bell to be rung.

Crispin’s voice was low and grumbly, “You will keep your alleged knowledge to yourself if you know what is good for you.” The words were spat out with such force that there was no doubt of the implied threat behind the words.

Arsenic laughed, although he did move away ever so slightly from Crispin. “What will the big bad dragon kitty do to me?”

There was a collective gasp from the fairies. Their horror at Arsenic’s taunt to Crispin was palpable. But despite their obvious fear, not one fairy flew away home. Instead their collection of delicate but brightly colored wings pressed closer to the two combatants.

Crispin shook his head, he was trying to clear his ears because he couldn’t believe that this flower fairy had just challenged him publicly. His ears appeared to be working just fine though because Arsenic was still laughing at him. “Listen here you pathetic excuse for a flower fairy,” but before he could finish he was rudely interrupted.

“Pathetic excuse am I?” Arsenic sneered as he interrupted. “I’m not the one living lie. I am who I am, I don’t have two faces unlike a certain kitty dragon I know.”

Again the fairies gasped and pressed forward. Crispin growled, “Alright, time to settle this between us and away from prying eyes and ears.”

Arsenic stepped forward, staring cautiously at Crispin and saw no threat and no deceit in his hazel green eyes. “Agreed, where too?”

Crispin thought for a moment and said, “Climb on and I’ll tell you in midflight, that way we can’t be followed.”

Arsenic thought briefly but agreed to Crispin’s terms. His fire red wings a momentarily blur of motion as he climbed on Crispin’s back. His wings a small red smear against the crisp white fur of Crispin. The gathering of fairies was stunned by this turn of events and watched as the two combatants lifted off and were soon nothing more than a white blur amongst fluffy white clouds.

Crispin spoke as he flew, “We will go to where Buttercup and Norman first met. It is neutral ground and we shouldn’t be disturbed.”

Arsenic thought about this for a moment and then voiced his agreement.

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