A Journey

Was it in the dark of night?

Was it on the back of a donkey?

We know so little.

 

Shepherds… the lowly ones of society… called by angels

Wise men… magi… astrologers… kings… followed a star

Animals… sheep… cows… doves… goats… the first witnesses

 

An inn without room… without space… no place for birthing

A stable… clean… dark… quiet

 

Mary was a girl… a virgin… well-spoken… poetic

Joseph was a carpenter… a good man… he wouldn’t disgrace her

Jesus was a baby… innocent and holy

 

He would grow… from infant to boy to man

He would be tempted… teach, preach and heal

He would die… betrayed by a kiss… by a friend… for our sins

He would rise… our Savior… triumphant in glory

For now, though, we remember the beginning of the journey.

 

A little town… the city of David… Bethlehem

The Cat from the Briny Deeps

this is the statue which inspired my story.

Sailors and longshoremen alike love a tall tale. Whether the stories are of the enormous fish that got away or the storm that wrecked their last ship, taking all hands save them, tales are made to be swapped. One such story is the the tale of the Cat from the Briny Deeps. The Cat is a hideous creature. It’s fur is matted and tangled with seaweed and bits of flotsam. It’s eyes glow, as any cat’s will in the moonlit dark of night. Sailors say that if you are good to cats – feed them, house them, care for them – you have nothing to fear. However, beware the Cat from the Briny Deeps if you should harm an feline; especially if you harm a cat with water, for that is the Cat’s element.

Amos hated cats. If he’d been asked, he could never have said why. All he’d say was that they were horrid creatures. They couldn’t be trained. They shed everywhere. They smelled. He’d give all these reasons and more but none of them really truly fit.

Thus, the last person who should have found the bag of kittens was Amos. He was exiting the creek-side bar and heading toward his boat when he heard a soft cry. Where many people would have taken the kittens to a pet store or vet; others might have kept the kittens or given them to cat-loving friends. Amos scooped up the mewling bag, tied it tightly shut and hurled it into the creek.

He huffed out a breath and directed a kick at a kitten that had escaped the bag before he found it. The baby cat scurried under a dumpster and hid until he’d disappeared. She listened the cries of her brothers and sisters as they faded away and the bag disappeared beneath the water.

Amos stomped down the dock and stepped over on to his boat. He’d sleep on the boat tonight. The water was cooler than his house on a summer night. He undressed and got ready to climb into bed. He was almost asleep when he heard a loud splash, as if something had fallen in the water.

He peered out the porthole and, seeing a small pool of water on the dock and nothing else, he shrugged and laid back down. He flipped the radio on and laid there listening to the music. He was starting to drift off when he realized that there was a sound that was rhythmic but contrary to the beat of the music.

Amos jerked awake. He flipped off the radio and a soft sound like sopping wet footsteps reached his ears. It sounded like something was on his boat. He stood and climbed up onto the deck. There was nothing there, but the deck was wet. He looked around the boat. He looked toward the front of the boat. He even looked over the edge. He was alone.

Shaking his head, Amos headed back down to the cabin. He laid back down, listening to the water gently slapping on the side of the boat. He was nearly asleep when he felt something join him on the bed. He tried to rouse himself but he was too relaxed. He felt the intruder’s hands on his chest. Now, he finally woke.

At first he didn’t know what he was seeing. Then he realized that he was gazing into the glowing eyes of a cat. There was a soft low growl and then Amos screamed.

In the morning, Frank, whose boat was next to Amos’s arrived. He was planning to head out with his family for a picnic on the islands. He saw that the door to Amos’s boat’s cabin was open and, frowning, climbed on board. He crept down to the cabin and looked around. There was nothing and no one in the cabin. However, everything was covered in cat hair. As for Amos, he was never seen or heard from again.

Music inside

Music Inside

Arthur listened to the choir sing, wanting to join in – wanting to dance. He did neither. He sat still. His feet were flat and firm against the tiled floor. His hands were folded primly in his lap. His back was straight and his gaze was focused straight ahead. He kept the smile that threatened from his lips. Father would not approve. Music was not for the upper class to make. Dances were staid and proper not full of wild bounces and spins like the groundlings in the audience.

His eyes darted over to his parents, prim and proper as he was. Then the movement of the singers and the crowd distracted him from them. The singers rocked and swayed. They clapped their hands and smiled, looking at each other and not their audience. The groundlings spun, some even sang along. One boy caught his eye and he couldn’t help but respond to the contagious grin with a soft smile of his own.

The boy’s grin widened and he grabbed another boy’s hand, gesturing up to Arthur. The other boy also shot him a smile. Arthur blushed, suddenly embarrassed – uncertain. His eyes went to his father, who was now scowling at him.

“Sorry,” he whispered, casting his gaze down.

**
“Many nights we prayed,” Michael sang, gesturing for Arthur to join in. “C’mon, you know this one, sing with me,” he encouraged. “Many nights we prayed…”

“With no proof anyone could hear, in our hearts a hopeful song, we barely understood,” Elijah continued for him. He took Felicia’s hand as she smiled, ready to join in.

“Now we are not afraid, although we know there’s much to fear,” she sang. She took his hand and held it as she sang, “We were moving mountains long before we knew we could.”

“There can be miracles, when you believe,” they chorused, gathering around him. “Though hope is frail, it’s hard to kill. Who knows what miracles, you can achieve? When you believe, somehow you will… You will when you believe.”

“Next verse is all you. Sing, Arthur. You can… it’s the only way for the magic to come out.”

“We need you to sing, Arthur,” Elijah encouraged.

Arthur opened his mouth but no sound came out. He closed his eyes and saw his father’s scowling face. “Open your eyes,” Matilda whispered. “Look at us. Don’t think of anything but the music.”

“In this… time of fear,” Arthur managed, his voice shaking but on pitch. “When prayers so often proved in vain, hope seemed like a summer bird, too swiftly flown away.” All around them a soft green glow began, his voice grew in volume and confidence.

“Yet now I’m standing here,” he continued, gazing over at Michael as the boy echoed him. Allowing himself a small smile, he continued, “with heart so full I can’t explain, seeking faith and speaking words I never thought I’d say.”

Now the entire chorus joined the refrain and Arthur could feel their magic swelling with his. Their light was pushing the darkness away. People around them were beginning to stir. “Sing,” Michael urged them.

“Ashira l’adonai ki gaoh ga-ah,” Felicia sang in her high soft voice. Grinning, she continued, “Ashira l’adonai ki gaoh ga-ah. Mi chamocha baelim adonai.” Matilda grinned and took her hand, joining in as the song continued, “Mi kamocha nedar bakodesh. Nachita v’chas-d’cha am zu ga-alta. Nachita v’chas-d’cha am zu ga-alta. Ashira, ashira, ashira”

Athur began bouncing as they sang and as he and the other boys joined in, repeating the foreign words. Suddenly, he found that he was spinning and dancing with the others. He was, as his father had always warned, losing himself in the music – in the magic – but at the same time he felt so free.

He paused, taking Matilda and Michael by the hand as they sang with the chorus, now growing steadily in numbers “There can be miracles, when you believe. Though hope is frail it’s hard to kill”

Grinning, Elijah echoed, “It’s hard to kill.”

Arthur nodded, smiling broadly back. He looked around seeing his brothers and parents among those beginning to wake from the dreadful slumber. He felt tears start in his eyes as his brothers and mother joined in. “Who knows what miracles you can achieve.”

”You can achieve,” he echoed, nodding at his father. The older man nodded back, joining in as the chorus, now the entire village, continued, “When you believe, somehow you will… Now you will! You will when you believe”

“When you believe!” the men in the chorus echoed.

”You will when you believe,” Michael sang and Arthur joined him, softly singing, “You will believe.”

“We did it,” he whispered. “We won.”

“You did it,” Michael corrected. “Only with you could we have done this, Arthur… only with your voice and magic.”

His father walked over, shaking his head in wonder. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I let my fear of the magic hold you back. If you wish, you can attend the school.”

“Father?” Arthur whispered. He spun back and looked over his friends smiling face. “Father! I do! I wish very much. Thank you with all my heart.” Then for the first time in his life, he laughed and hugged the older man. Such joy was bubbling up in his heart that he couldn’t contain it. Giggling softly, he spun away over the soft earth, hardly noticing that everyplace his feet touched, tiny flowers sprang up.

Fear Itself

Arthur woke with his fairy friends floating around him. “Arthur,” Dandelion said softly as she lighted on his chest. “I had a vision. Can you feel it too?”

“Something’s coming,” he said softly. He sat up and slipped out of the bed. Silently, he crept through the house. It was an old Victorian house and the ceilings were very high. He was amazed at how many of his fairy friends were in the house, even the ones that usually stayed outside in the forest.

“Something bad is coming, Arthur,” Poppy added.

“If… when it comes, hide. I can sense that whatever comes it will be worse for you, than for me.” He gathered up his magic. He could feel the fairies around him helping him, drawing more energy to him. “Thanks, all of you. Now hide, it’s here.”

He ducked down as the door flew off its hinges. He was glad to see most of the fairies flew out of the room, up toward his bedroom. Dandelion and Poppy remained with him though and he sighed softly.

“I’m not leaving you, Arthur,” Dandelion whispered as they ducked away from the form that moved into the house.

“Understood,” he hissed. “Poppy, please, go. I’d hate for anything to happen to you.” He was relieved when she flew up to follow the others but then Poppy cried out in pain and she seemed to be dragged toward the form.

“Poppy!” Arthur screamed. He heard Dandelion echo him and then there was a shrill scream and then the soft red glow that always floated around Poppy disappeared.

Dandelion lighted on his shoulder and gasped, “She’s gone.”

“He… he ate her,” he said softly. Tears filled his eyes, but he dashed them away and then dodged as something tried to catch his arm. “Please Dandelion. I – I couldn’t bear to lose you too.”

“Nor I you, Arthur. Do you trust me?” Dandelion said.

“With my life – my very soul,” Arthur breathed. She floated down to the palms of his hands and he felt words enter his mind. Softly, he repeated them. As the spell took hold, everything around him seemed to grow. Now, he could hide more easily. He noted, with a small start that Dandelion was the same size as he was.

“Run,” she said, tugging him by his hands. Soon they were hiding together under the couch. He was afraid, but not for himself. He was afraid for Dandelion. Suddenly, he was keenly aware of how very beautiful she was.

“What now?” he whispered. “It’s still out there.”

“Place a ward up,” she said softly. They nestled together and he held out his hands and murmured the word that would set up the ward. A moment later, a glistening shield surrounded them. “It’s smaller so it won’t take as much energy to maintain.”

“Which is why you shrunk me,” Arthur said. He sighed softly and leaned back against the wall. He couldn’t restrain the smile on his face when Dandelion leaned against him. “We’ll have to wait until morning, I think.”

“It’ll leave by then and since we’re down here and not moving, he can’t find us. We’ll be safe now,” Dandelion said.

“Wish we’d thought of this before… Poppy…” Arthur looked away as tears filled his eyes again.

“Let them come, Arthur. You’ve known Poppy for centuries. We both have.” He felt her tears soak into his chest as his flowed into her hair. Soon they had cried themselves to sleep.

They woke together in the morning. Arthur sat up and loosed the ward. He slipped out from under the couch. “What was that thing last night.”

“A monster… made by the fears of a… a nation,” Dandelion said. She looked down and sighed as Arthur gasped softly.

“I made that thing,” Arthur whispered. “My fears and anxieties… summoned it? And… it killed Poppy.” He looked down and sighed. “Damn it,” he murmured. “What do I do, Dandelion? If I made it and summoned it then I’m the one who needs to deal with it.”

“And it’s made up of your fears so that will be all the more difficult for you,” she said. She took his hand and said, “You can do it with help, Arthur.”

Easter Poem

Teach me a new song, O Lord
A song of joy and peace
This day of celebration
When you are raised
For us.

Teach me a new song, O Lord
A song of praise and love
This day of jubilation
When you triumphed
O’er the grave.

My Hero

Leonas realized early on in their relationship that there were aspects that were uneven. Henryk was a warrior – a knight of Lenkiya – and he was a scholar. He looked to Henryk for protection and reassurance. When times were hard, he had Henryk to fall back on.

However, Leonas was less able, though no less willing, to reciprocate for Henryk. As a simple scholar, he could not protect the knight. He could rarely find words of reassurance for the rare moments that Henryk was upset or scared. Heaving a sigh, he looked out the window at the barren winter garden.

“Copper for your thoughts,” Henryk breathed into his ear. He set his hands on Leonas’s hips and turned the other to face him. “So quiet, kocha. What are you thinking?”

“You protect me and always know just what to say…. And I… I… what do I do for you? I just wish I could be there for you like you are for me,” Leonas said.

“You are though, Leo. Even when you can’t think of what to say to ease my pain or fear, you’re there to hold me and kiss my tears away. With you, I don’t need to always be the strong one. I can let my guard down and be myself.” He tilted his head and gazed into Leonas’s eyes. “You see?”

“I… guess,” Leonas said softly. He looked down and Henryk tipped his head up and smiled at him. “You… you’re my hero and I…”

“You’re my hero too,” Henryk said softly.

Taking a Holiday

Leonas looked up to find Lovisa frowning at him. “Hello,” he greeted before returning his gaze to his book.

A soft sound of protest escaped him as the book was tugged out of his hands. “Leo,” Lovisa said. “We’re free. You don’t have to write a history of Seska anymore. Why don’t you relax?”

“For me this is relaxing,” Leonas said softly. “Give me back my book.”

“No, tomorrow you and Henryk are getting married formally and today you and I are going into town to get you ready,” she protested. She slipped a sheet of paper into the book to hold Leonas’s place, then dragged him out of the room.

“I’m a boy,” Leonas reminded her softly. “I’m not getting dolled up for the wedding. I’m going to wear formal scholar’s robes and… you aren’t listening.”

“Just because you’re a boy doesn’t mean you can’t get your hair done nice and let yourself be pampered a bit,” Lovisa said. “There’s a spa that the local inn runs that people from miles around come for.”

“Then I very much doubt they’ll be able to take us today,” Leonas said, trying to get away from the strong willed woman.

Giggling softly Lovisa shook her head. “You won’t get away that easily,” she said as she led him into the inn. Leonas could tell by the reception they got that they were expected.

He tried not to enjoy the pampering that Lovisa insisted he get. It wasn’t exactly masculine to enjoy people soaking his feet and hands in softening creams and making his hair and nails shine. In the end, the small part of him that was vain won out.

He smiled at his reflection as the woman assigned to him finished cutting his hair. It was no longer shaggy. The bob style that he usually wore was now neat and tidy. Any locks that were out of place were artfully made to be that way.

“You had fun,” Lovisa sang softly as they walked out of the building.

“I suppose,” Leonas said softly, gazing at himself in the reflection of a shop window. “I should get back to work.”

“Dinner,” Lovisa said softly, guiding him to a little bistro. “They have noodles and veal and… you can eat veal, right?”

“But… they’re baby cows…” Leonas trailed off, though he was nodding.

“We’ll have the chicken then,” Lovisa said. “We’ll have dinner and then you can go back home and rest for the night. No working. Find something fun to do.”

“Research is fun…”

Star-gazing is more fun,” Henryk said from behind him. Leonas spun around and smiled at his intended. “You look so handsome, kocha. I can hardly wait for tomorrow. May I join you?”

“Sure, the more the merrier,”Lovisa said. Then, with a sly look on her face, she added, “though I thought you weren’t supposed to see the bride until after the wedding.”

“Bride!” Leonas snapped. “I’m… I’m not a bride. I’m a boy.”

“We can’t both be the groom, kocha,” Henryk teased. He kissed Leonas on the nose and said, “I’ll be the bride.”

Leonas giggled and shook his head. He took a bit of the noodles that the waitress brought and after he’d swallowed pointed his fork at Henryk and said, “You think I’m going to protest that you are a warrior and shouldn’t be the bride, but I am not. Instead, I will allow that we cannot both be grooms, but add that since we are not technically human and this is not technically a normal wedding that technically, there is neither bride nor a groom.”

Henryk grinned and chewed thoughtfully on a bite of chicken before adding, “Father Christien will pronounce us man and wife though.”

A Little Sport

Henryk came out into the garden, half-expecting Leonas to be sitting on the grass either reading or writing. Over their years of associating with one another, he’d come to see the other boy as a quiet, bookish homebody. He didn’t expect to find the boy… being boyish and playing around with a little cloth ball filled with grain.

Henryk recognized the game as one that he’d played with the boys from the villages when he had free time. He had no idea that Leonas was just as familiar with it. As the ball sailed out of Leonas’s circle, Henryk caught it with his foot and sent it flying back.

“Thanks,” Leonas called to him. With a sudden impish grin, he kicked the ball back toward Henryk. Soon they were kicking the ball back and forth between each other. Henryk found that Leonas was a rather competitive player and had a knack for landing the ball in his area with just the right angle that he’d catch it but not be able to control its movements.

“I give, you win,” he said when they were both breathless and beginning to giggle softly. Henryk kicked the ball one last time and Leonas caught it with his hand, signaling the game’s end. “I didn’t know you could play that game so well. Why don’t you ever come down to the village to play?”

Leonas sighed and settled back against a tree. “How would it look for a university professor to play a child’s game, Henryk?”

“Like he knows how to have fun and act his age, kocha,” Henryk said. “It’s settled. Next time I have free time to go to the village, you are coming with me.”

“Alright,” Leonas agreed, with only a token show of reluctance.

What do you mean?

Leonas looked up as Henryk came in. “Hello, mono svie. Dieter told me that he was sending you to help me with the library cleaning today.”

“Yeah,” Henryk said. He looked around and sighed. “What do you need help with exactly?”

“The shelves are stacked with too many books for me to read myself. Even with Marius here, it’ll take forever. It’ll go quicker with three,” Leonas said. He started to turn away and paused when Henryk groaned.

“We’re really supposed to read all these books,” he said, disbelief coloring his tone.

Leonas chuckled and shook his head. “Not the books, the shelves.”

“We’re… reading the shelves?”

Leonas frowned. “You don’t know what I mean… of course not. You aren’t a scholar. You don’t spend much time in libraries. Dust the books, look out for any that have damage from bugs or mice or just mistreatment and straighten any that are trying to hide behind the rest.”

“Oh, is that all? And that’s called reading a shelf?” Henryk said. “Learn something new everyday.”

“Indeed you do,” Leonas said as he turned toward a set of shelves.

A Case of the Sniffles

Leonas sat in the window seat and stared outside as he watched the rain made streaks across the window. He had been outside, in the garden, only moments ago. He’d moved inside as soon as the rain had started but had still managed to get soaked by the sudden shower. Sniffling lightly, he thought about another day, similar to this one. The only difference was that he hadn’t been at his own home when that shower had soaked him. He hadn’t had clothes to change into, like the plush robe he now wore.

Dieter had ordered him to collect a basket of plums. It seemed like a simple enough chore; until he realized that there was no ladder to help him reach into the high tree branches. He had to climb up into the tree to reach the ripe fruits. The next trick had been figuring out how to climb the tree and gather the fruits at the same time. In the end, he’d rigged a shoulder strap of sorts onto the basket.

Now, perched precariously on a branch, Leonas carefully picked plum after plum, slipping them into the basket he’d looped over one shoulder. He heard a soft rumble in the distance and sighed. Thunder could only mean one thing. The thought crossed his mind at the moment that the rain started. It didn’t begin as a light shower either, it started as a downpour.

With a disgusted shout, Leonas clambered out of the tree. It was already beginning to sway dangerously in the ever-strengthening wind. Lightning flashed as his feet reached the damp earth. Slipping a little on the rain-soaked tiles of the garden path, he ran inside.

“You’re soaked,” Dieter said softly as Leonas entered the manor. He looked at the basket and shook his head as he noted, “It’s only half full.”

“I – I’m s-sorry, Sir Dieter,” Leonas said. He could feel a chill already setting in, but his shivering wasn’t solely a result of the weather. “The wind and the lightning… it wasn’t safe out there. I’ll finish when the storm p-passes, I swear it.”

“Indeed,” Dieter said. He took the basket and set it beside the door and then guided Leonas up the back staircase to the living area of the manor. Leonas studiously kept his gaze on the floor even as Dieter drew him into the master suite.

He gave no protest as Dieter stripped his wet clothes off and hung them in an adjoining bathroom. Dressed only in a light undertunic and drawers, Leonas’s shiveres increased as Dieter drew him over to the bed. “Sir Dieter?” Leonas asked, finally forcing his gaze up and onto the taller man’s gray eyes.

“The master bedroom is warmer than the servant’s quarters, Lettowen. I wouldn’t wish for you to catch a chill, after all.” To Leonas’s surprise, the Seskan knight merely bundled him into the bed and then left the room. Heaving a deep sigh, Leonas laid back on the soft sheets and, intending to await Dieter’s return, tucked the heavy quilt around himself. Without meaning to, he was asleep within minutes.

Nothing had ever come of the strange event. The only thing it seemed to imply was that Dieter wasn’t quite as evil as he often seemed. Leonas sighed and slipped out of the window seat, sniffling again. He may not have caught a cold that day but he had no doubt that he had this time.