Strike! -Or a little, childish extravaganza-

Dum-Dum, the imp who worked as doorman closed the gate with a slam, missing just for a mite to catch and rip the glorious train of the dress of Day going out to a earned rest till next dawn.

After walking two steps away, Dum-Dum, remembered he had not locked the gate and got back, gave two whole turns to the old key, mumbling, which was not odd for him, who was always mumbling. We do not know what he mumbled, but most of us suspect he just tried to look threatening, as if he were casting a spell.

After a few moments, while Sky seemed undecided what to do, the imp wobbled toward the other gate and unlocking it opened the gap widely, letting Night introduce her first tendrils and making Sky decide to cover itself with a dense indigo colour.

The mechanical Cuckoo appeared at the door of the old clock, telling the working sprites they were on time, as it was the right thing to do.

Meanwhile, Night has covered Sky completely, and Litty, the Lit, the small fairy flew up towards the old lamps scattered around the cloak of Night lighting the lanterns called Stars.

Cuckoo opened the clock door again, and sang forlornly, as is usual of him, giving cue to the next step.

Next step?

Everybody looked up...

Where is Moon? She should have already climbed a third of the circuit, but she was nowhere to be seen!

Bossy, the Boss, foreman of sprites consulted his chart and said in surprise:

"Moon is in Crescent Gibbous, it should be plainly seen hanging of her thread!"

Everybody was fretting around, what happened? This was not natural.

Maybe, Witchy, the Witch was playing some of her tricks ruining the order and neatness of things.

Then again, she would not dare to do it. Oberon would break her wand, if she would!

What happened? Bossy tried to think coherently, then he remembered that Moon was put on Sky by Cicly, the Bike, and went to see him.

Bossy found Cicly sitting on his easy chair, eating a banana, while Moon was on her hook, ready to be cycled into Sky.

"Himmel in Hölle, Cicly! What are you doing mooning away like this! You are late, this night bats will be lost in a moonless sky, and most of the world will think Sky will fall on their heads!"

"Bats do not need Moon to fly, Bossy, and it would be a great thing if Sky falls on the head of those stubborn citizens", Cicly answered spittting banana bits with each word. This sprite never showed manners!

"But, but!", the German accent made Cicly to misunderstand Bossy.

"I told you bats are all right with their echo-guiding system". Replied Cicly between two big yawns! I told you he was very rude.

"No, no", Bossy was getting very angry, "I mean you must cycle Moon towards its place before you get us all into trouble."

"Not a chance", Cicly was adamant. "I am fed up with this bike business, I won't climb on it anymore!"

"But, but", Bossy repeated himself.

"I told you, Bossy, bats..."

"Shut up, you, you, you...", Bossy swallowed several times, waited until the purple on his face went back to normal colour, and added:

"You were created for that function, even you are called Cicly, the Bike, honoring the job. Don't you understand it?"

"I do not care, Bossy", Cicly put a bored expression on his face, "Right now I am on strike!"

"What do you want to strike to, and why?" Bossy looked confused.

"Stop being the alien, you German sprite!" Cicly sounded insultingly bored.

"Not strike as hit", he added, "strike as not working when you belong to a Union, see?"

"Union? What's a Union. You do not belong to any Union, Cicly, there are not Unions in Fairyland". Now Bossy looked as if he were talking to an Orc, confused and lost!

"I just created it", Cicly was enjoying this chat!

"Stop talking nonsense, and climb on that bike, you piece of useless rag" I am not sure Bossy was using a German insult, but it made no sense.

"Never sawn a hospital", Cicly was creating sentences without meaning that would confuse Bossy more and more.

"Darn it, Cicly, go and climb on that bike, or... or...", again Bossy was lacking words.

This was the first time a sprite disobeyed a direct order from Bossy, so he didn't know how to follow the "or" word!

"Or what!" was the logical answer of the rebel imp.

"Yes, or what!", said Bossy very much confused, thinking Cicly was helping him with the language!

"Ha, ha", laughed Cicly, "you are funny!" "Now, this Moon will never go up Sky unless you accept my demands!"

"Your demands? What do you mean, demands?" The chat was not going by normal paths for Bossy.

"My demands, Bossy, «what I want!»" Cicly was enjoying this situation.

"What you want? And what, what do you want?" Bossy faltered.

"I want three things:" Cicly started showing his fingers:

1) "Find other dummy to pedal that stupid bike up into Sky!"

2) "Take me for a trip around the world, I want to see new places"

3) "Find me a job with Santa on the North Pole"

This was the first time in his zillion years of life Bossy found himself into a quagmire. He didn't know what to do.

It was then that Night came in to help him.

"Now", said Night talking slowly and batting her long eyelashes, "now, let me understand your position clearly, Cicly".

"Have you been reading some smuggled human book, lately, sqklrty?". Asked Night.

(I assume you remember that «sqklrty» means «my preferred pet» or something similar, it seems to be a very much used word when you speak somewhat condescending, or patronizing another fairy.)

Cicly face was a brilliant red colour, and he had some difficulty to speak:

"Well, errr, I, errr, yes I found some few pages flying in the Speaking Forest, and then I was talking with an old birch about the Rights of the Workers. The tree told me about some things that were not known when we inherited Galwrst, eerrr, I mean, Fairyland, but are in force now in the human world.

"Humm...", Night nodded wisely, while trying, unsuccessfully, to hide a smile behind a little star. "I thought something like that was the source of this situation".

"I will explain these things to you", Night's countenance was very serious, and grave, "so be quiet, and listen carefully because it is very important for you to understand!"

Cicly sat on the ground and looked up at Night trying to look like a very composed imp.

"As time passed in the human world", Night started, "thing were from bad to worse, and people fought one another, so some of them thought it was a good idea to get together so they could be stronger, these groups were called «Unions», and in a way they were successful."

"While this action was indispensable in the human world", Night went on, "it was absolutely unnecessary here, since we are very reasonable people, and we help each other to be happy, just the opposite as it happens in the world of humans".

"So, your strike is a nonsense here, you have nobody trying to take anything from you, nor wanting to harm you in any way" Night spoke slowly and Cicly was following each word attentively.

"About your «demands»", Night kept pressing "it is a bigger nonsense yet, if that is possible. Let's see one by one separately:"

1) "Find other dummy to pedal that stupid bike up into Sky!"

   "In Galwrth there is only one goblin who can get Moon up hanging from Sky, and he must be created from the krwmton flower gathered under the Moon Stwtrs Season and mixed with strong yellow mead: That is YOU. So, there is no other «dummy to pedal that stupid bike up into the sky» but YOU!"

2) "Take me for a trip around the world, I want to see new places"

   "You cannot leave Galwrth unless King Oberon, or Queen Titania authorized you «to live»" into a human mind. You know you have not that kind of authorization so you cannot take a trip to visit the world."

3) "Find me a job with Santa on the North Pole"

   "Again, you are a goblin, not an elf, so you cannot work for Santa because it goes against the rules and you know how rigid is he when we speak about rules."

"Am I clear enough, sqklrty?" Night seemed very solicitous in her question.

"Yes, ma'am", Cicly sounded subdued and submissive.

"Fine", now there was an edge of command in her voice, "then, stop all this nonsense and go to fulfill your duty accordingly!"

"Yes, ma'am", Cicly got on his feet and walked toward the bike obediently.

He was nearing the place to get on the bike when he looked at Moon, he thought she was smiling to him and winking as in connivance, but when he looked again Moon had the two eyes closed and was waiting patiently to be raised to Sky.

Cicly mounted his bike and started his trip into Sky to leave Moon at her place, everything seemed to be on the normal way again, only some scientists in the world are still trying to explain scientifically why that particular day the moon seemed to be late in starting its path through the sky.


The music is Beethoven's "Sonata No.14 Moonlight" piano solo by Daniel Barenboim.

© 2015 Od Liam.

Beware!

I met this lady from Asword,
Who never misused a word,
If she wanted to say 'I hate you',
She never use more than that few,
Then cut you down with her sword.


The music is a fragment of "Mourir d'aimer" by Charles Aznavour.

© 2014 Od Liam.

Activities at sylvan dawn

At early morning, and because it was snuggled on top of a tall red maple tree, the sun touched slightly Mr. Swallow Sr.'s nest.

This slight touch was enough to wake up his offspring, and they, as all little birds often do, immediately started to ask for their breakfast.

Mr. Swallow Sr. shook his slumbering state vigorously jumping and jolting around, and then flew away to look for the per diem food for his nestlings as it was his duty.

All this activity produced enough moment as to let a dew bead fall down from a nearby leaf. This little offer from above went down into the still shadowy part of the forest, it got into a goblet like flower that could not stand the élan brought by the dew bead and turned upside down letting the small cold lozenge keep its falling until it went flat on a big fern, and started to slide toward the pointed end of a leaf, following its midrib.

Coming down from the fern, the dew bead fell squarely on the head of Ruck, the little white imp, who was still asleep since the light from the sun was feeble yet.

Clearly stunned, the fairy tried to go back to sleep, but it was not possible, her leaf-bed was a mess, damp, and cold.

She shake her head, still blank, since the only thing that would have occurred to her was swearing, but we all know that well-behaved sprites do not use foul language. 

After some instant, Ruck felt her notions herding back in a stampede that almost make them fall down her ears.

She sat on her heels disconcerted for a while, letting reason heap thoughts in order. Finally she found the tail of her ideas and could start to think rationally again...

What happened?

She looked at her poor self, dripping water as a defective faucet.

Maybe she was loosing the control of her body? But she was only four hundred years old, at the peak of her life, not old enough yet! Besides, she is a fairy, and fairies do not age!

Is it rain?

Then she looked up and saw the remaining of water still clinging stubbornly from the fern leaf. Understanding rushed in, and her mind cleared everything in a second.

Not rain, it was a glorious sunny day, some rays from the sun already reached into the lower layers of the forest.

Then what?

Dew! it was a dew bead! What extraordinary coincidence!

A timid sun ray touched the leaf where Ruck was, and let her dry her wings. After thanking the ray for its service, Ruck started to fly toward the Wotdras House where the meeting to assign the daily chores would be held.


The music is "Celtic Elf's Music - Sylvan Elves" by Derek Fiechter.

© 2014 Od Liam.

Sad Party

To the birthday party of a mate,
I was arriving very late,
They had eaten all the dips,
I only tasted them with my fingertips,
And there was not a drop of chocolate.


The music is a fragment of "La Campanella" (The Little Bell) by Franz Liszt performed by Arthur Rubinstein.

© 2014 Od Liam.

Beat the «chuño»

I have been accompanying a group of European tourists to some faraway places from what we normally call civilization, and I was behind on the knowledge of the events taking place in the world.

This prompted me to make my first mistake, that is, I was just alone in my room and waiting for the start of the next assignation, so I turned on the television.

Five minutes later, wrapped in a deep bitterness, turned off the horrifying images, closing the terrible reviews that accompanied them at the same time.

So great was the grief that caused me the gloomy reality that almost could not stop making my second mistake: to put into words, almost aloud, the feelings that seized me:

-Poor People!

In my conscious I encompassed both, the people who suffer, and the journalists covering the events described.

I had barely finished saying the last exclamation point when I started to pay for my carelessness:

-Fear not, -Elf 's voice said from the door of my mind, which made me think he was hiding behind the door to intervene as soon as possible. The dwarf knows me so well that he can predict my actions well in advance. I do not know whether to thank him or hate his guts for his support!

-Evil is so degenerate that takes self-destruction in its nature, -he added with a conviction that upset me at once, as if I had been insulted.

-Maybe you're right! -I said fiercely, -but meanwhile it destroys everything, and innocents pay for the...  for the ... -I found not the right word.

-extravagances of evil ... -Elf helped .

-Those were not the words I was looking for, but you can use them, -I said still angry.

-You're right, - he replied with a tinge of sadness. It is part of the distortion imposed by evil in the real world. Some humans like the euphemism "Collateral damage." to identify this terrible outcome. 

-Unfortunately, went on the sprite, when humanity agreed to be governed by those laws, also accepted all the collateral damages that accompany them.


Governed by those laws? What was this little scarecrow talking about?

-I did not agree to abide any evil! -I went into a rage again, sensing an accusation I judged was unfair.

-All right,  -Elf answered me softly. -It is not worth to discuss a reality you can see every day. But again, except for the injustices that evil brings, which will be handle presently, it will fall under its own evil, it is for sure. Like cancer, while killing its victim (which is unfair ), kills itself.

-Where did you get all this nonsense. -My question originated more in my bewilderment at the security Elf showed than to qualify his words, I was trying to unbalance his autonomy.

-Look, I will tell you an example , -Elf continued imperturbably, - few years ago a talented writer named Will Cuppy wrote a book entitled «Decline and Fall of Practically Everybody (1950)». In this little work, hard to humanity, he took the subject with a grain of salt to moderate the impact of reality, he re-writes the biography of famous people in history and posits his thesis: "To be remembered as a hero, it is needed to be responsible for 100,000 deaths or more.

-This makes winners of that dubious honor, among other people, such individuals as William the Conqueror, Alexander the Great, and Richard the Lionheart. I can not quote you the work, even if it is not very long, but I can mention as an example, what he wrote about Henry VIII Tudor:

-«We are unfair to the monarch, we call him a murderer, and in truth he is solely responsible for the death of 33% of his wives, and  we forget that he is the father of the peerless Elizabeth I, who can be in these biographies by her own right.»

-You see, evil is untouchable important in all history.

As usual, I had no words to argue, the dwarf had won his postulation.

For the first time in our discussions I was able to take the lead, and I chose to ignore him by opening a book, and pretending to read.


A few seconds later I felt his steps going back to the entrance hallway to my mind and I could see him returning to the Archive, shaking his head from side to side muttering something like:

-It's going to be difficult to complete this mission.

I did not know what to think .



Out of context epilogue I recently learned a very common expression, so I was told by the local people, used by the inhabitants of Santa Fe in the Argentine Northeast: «Beat the chuño.»

When I asked what it meant, they explained that there is a special potato flour, named "chuño" [tʃuɲo], that can be whipped into a very thick and nourishing cream. Beating it with extreme care because if done wrong the pasta tends to clump, lose consistency and taste.

By using the similarity the «Beat the chuño» expression is like "thinking" because if a person loses the habit of reasoning the brain develops lumps and loses the ability to create .

Hence the title of this story .


The music is "Danse Macabre" by Camille Saint Saënz, and flows along with the dance humanity share with Evil.

© 2014 Od Liam.

The red-haired man

The storm stretched its first thunder and lightning near the ninth hour.

The redhead man, desperate, ran between the stones that seemed to move by their own volition .

He crossed the wide entrance of the sacred building and terrified by the fragility that seemed to come from the columns that supported the broad roof, approached the group of holy men, and as none of them paid any attention to him, decided to put in the hands of a servant the goatskin bag he carried in his belt.

He retraced his steps, and ran, soaked in seconds by the terrible downpour, came to the potter's land where a lone olive tree with gnarled and almost dead branches rose.

Anxiety gripped his throat tighter than the rustic rope, he was a 'qanaim', jealous for the rights of the Perpetual Being .

His fall into Eternity was an infinite second, but from the very poor view of time, did not last long.

The thoughts of human beings, restricted by all the flaws that they boast, created a direct journey to the realm of shadows but ...

Who can really know? Who can be aware of the infinite length of a rope in the no-time ?

There might have been room for repentance and forgiveness. They say that Wisdom is also exceedingly Merciful.

Or, maybe we did not understand the plot.

Meanwhile, in the holy place, while some columns collapsed to the strike of the quake, and the long veil covering the Mystery was torn from the top, the astonished eyes of a servant watched with amazement the thirty pieces of silver in the goatskin bag left by the mysterious red-haired man.


The music is a fragment of "Storm" by Antonio Vivaldi.

© 2014 Od Liam.

Foreboding

Darkness surrounded the isolated house, high trees mixed their lower boughs with the low shrubs that covered most of the place. Silence was ominous, not even the doleful hooting of owls, so common on the isle, were heard.

My heart beating at an inconceivable rhythm seemed near to collapse, my mind working overtime was very clear, dread spreading over my soul gripping it in its talons and bringing it to the feeling of being high on a promontory and ready to jump to emptiness.

There was no promontory, only this desolate piece of land with a horrid cabin in the middle of a hideous forest.

Why I felt this strange sense of high rocks? It was so vivid I almost faint of fright!

The owls' hoots? Common on the island? How do I know there are owls, and that I am on an island?

Preposterous thoughts vied to gain access to my awareness, I seem to remember...

No, I do not remember how I reached here, I was in a blank state and then the fetid breath of the island soil reached me without warning.

There must be a rational explanation, always there is a rational explanation, but at the moment it eluded me. I could only experiment the abominable, the obnoxious, and awful felling of being pushed into the snout of evil.




I approached the cabin, my quivering hand reached by its own volition the rusted clasp that was used to lock it, the atmosphere was charged with small sparks apparently coming from my own body.



I do not want to enter there!

What pushes me into it?

What weird force urges all my being into an action so revolting I would die if let my body performs it?

How can I stop this... this terrible compulsion heaving my viscera, and making my heart hit my throat in desperation?

The door turned with a high shriek of rusty and decayed hinges, but the noise was attenuated by the thick silence of the woods.

To my harried senses appeared a point of light over the wooden table that was  miraculously held erect by a lonely leg.

The tiny light grew quickly, and scathingly into a high pitch howl that slowly changed from the Banshee Cry it was performing into the... clock alarm.


The music is a fragment of "It's Alive" from Oldboy movie Sdtrk.

© 2013 Od Liam.

Criollo Duel - An almost Borgesian tale

The lonely corner poured memories under the cone of shadows of the old gas lantern that survived despite the heavy stones that came from the hands of the little sparrows in disguise as small human beings.

Love hiding in a dark hallway whispered lies into the unfaithful ear as it drank anxiously from the bowl of  desire, but it was not alone, the hatred of jealousy approached stealthily travelling on a horse full of fury, and just feeling on its face the wild wind of revenge.

Two surprised screams were the prelude of the encounter and the knife found a sheath in the body of the thankless lass that forgot the promises made in the heat of another love.

As a shadow falls in the final solitude, two other shadows are face to face under the indifferent light of the lantern, the knives slow ballet unfolds in the night silence, and the calculated paces were accompanied by flashes of the lantern light on hard steel.

None of them will return from this journey, and the blood will stain the sidewalk mixing the empty bravura, and the futile defense of honor making all of it sink into the mud of eternity no one remembers.

Upon returning the calm, the gaunt moon looked almost without wonder on an everyday scene.

The lantern recalls that under its light were won and lost many lives, as in this very night, that copying the ways of a Shakespearean tragedy, all are dead, even the audience itself.

Leaving only reverberating the distant whistle that accompanies and envelops another solitaire ruffian that leaves its imprint on the fabric of eternal human passions.


The music is a fragment of the tango "Duelo Criollo" (Criollo Duel) by Juan Razzano and Lito Bayardo.

© 2013 Od Liam.

Resilience

Essay on self-definition

WARNING!

If I were you I would not lose time reading the following!

You have been WARNED!


Here we go!

This is one of those things that get people when they are unaware, or have been always under the cover of something or somebody. Or maybe it is not so, and resilience as reality has some actual, if restricted, existence.

It is like me to give an opinion without the least support! I do not know what resilience is... I cannot know since I was always possessed by it. Do you follow this zany thought?

Blonde Elf (not Celt)

I was a Celt in a mixed society most of my small years. Next I went on being a Celt in the middle of a Caucasian-Latino-Greek-rednecks-Asian, (as Americans think them all), and several other ethnics to complete the stew, so I was alone and lonesome, resilience as reality, surrounded me daily, if I wanted to go on living.

Then I was a Celt between Celts, and that small time in life, gave me the distance to get a perspective about, again, resilience and reality. Fate fell down on my head and once more I was a Celt loose in the world.

A lot of time in the Asian South-East, taught me patience and acceptance, which can be balanced to resilience if you are not too demanding.

Then I went on being a Celt in South America, where I was taught to be a true Celt, without rejecting integration! Even risking being absorbed by the environment and disappear into an indistinct mass of ethnics residues.

So do not ask me what to be a Celt is.

Resilience and reality are two differently similar things around me since I have realised I was alive, so, how can I define or tell any story about me, or of a thing that is me, anyway!

Elf (only a bit darker)

You see, to read this is a total waste of time, but you had been warned, and as the old saying express: When there is a warning, there is not treason.






This is "Celtic Dream" by Zero Project.

© 2013 Od Liam.

Merry-go-round

The Southern Wind threats to become a gale.

It is not a surprise, when Persephone comes out of Avernus each year, her mother is angry remembering the pact they had to accept with Hades and let her anger shows in it.

The fetid, vexed breath of the goddess glows over the Mediterranean watershed taking with it all the spoils of death left by Atropos, making room for new lives.

Behind the hot wind, little Khronos, not the Titan of course, sweeps memories into oblivion.

On this new space Clotho starts her spinning with an original thread in her distaff, and a new cycle starts to be woven.

Five Sentence Fiction

Prompt word: ERASED

The music is a fragment of "Carousel" by Circus Contraption.

© 2013 Od Liam.

Aria

As part of the initial silence, and without interruption, the sweet tendrils of music coming from the orchestra pit start to fill the spaces of silence, and the expectation brings with it a desire impossible to fill .

Beniamino whispers the first words of "E lucevan le stelle"; the faint steps of Floria walking on the sand, the harsh grinding of hinges on the garden gate, the overwhelming expectation of the encounter, and the feverish  movements of Mario hands removing the veils that hide the gentle figure, predict the presence of love ...

The perfume, the intangible breath that transmute blood into perfervid lava flow, and ignites the burning heart embers as igneous torches melting two passions in an ecstatic summit, fills the theatre.

All that magic drags the audience towards a mystical vicarious pleasure, full of delight and belonging.

There we are, defenseless against the apotheosis of this feeling that annihilates us and gives us life, leaving us exhausted, consumed by an experience we long to repeat.

Five Sentence Fiction

Prompt word: ENRAPTURE.

The music is the aria "E Lucevan le Stelle" (And the stars Sparkled)  from the opera "Tosca" by Giacomo Puccini, sang by Beniamino Gigli.

© 2013 Od Liam.

Midnight

It was dusk, the last sparks of the day fled aghast from the somber shroud Lady Night was bringing over the world.

The first shadows already took the shapes of the guests that were coming into the low-lands in their best raiments, earnest to fulfil the especial gala.

Riding his black stallion Old Nick arrived with Lilith on the horse rump, alighted with alacrity and started to dance marking the beat with his tail that was ending in an arrow.

The sky was full of broom riders with black pointed hats and wide gowns filling the air with their rude chant asking Evil to bring its disease onto the region.


It was Walpurgis Night, and the Unholy Coven glowed in its apotheosis!

Five Sentence Fiction

The music is a fragment of "The Rise of the Dark Lord" by Pagan Altar.

© 2013 Od Liam.

Copyright

White lightnings lit partially a gloomy sky, surprisingly cloudless.

A single peak projected its bare needle from the shoulder of the bleak range of mountains into the forbidding firmament, while the claps of thunder seemed to wrap the isolated rock in its upper layers.

Obscure flying figures circled the place giving it a phantasmagoric facade.

In a secluded boudoir, at the top of the frightening summit, a dark feminine shape, in full regalia, her body wreathed in black dahlias walked anxiously towards one wall, and looking at a glass hanging between drapes, without suppressing her angst, asked with a strangled voice:

Mirror, mirror, on the wall...

The lugubrious voice from the looking-glass interrupted her:

Beware, Belz-abâ, you are about to commit plagiarism...!


The music is a fragment from "Same Ol' Mistakes" by Rihanna.

© 2013 Od Liam.

Moth

The light, the light...

That bottomless white pit of power that attracts me.

The one that fascinates me, that transports me into an ecstasy of excitement.

Which possesses me, and...

 ...immolates me!

Five Sentence Fiction

 We are listening to a fragment of "Ecstasy" by ATB,

© 2013 Od Liam

Lame Limerick

Followed by a spectacular blond,

A man appeared with almost no sound.

They asked of him for afar,

Who, in this oddly world, you are?

You see, he lamely said, I'm Bond, James Bond

The music is a fragment of Bond's theme "From Russia with Love" by John Barry Orch.

© 2013 Od Liam.

The White Lion

I went to the Hunters' Club, they said there was a gathering to recount member's adventures and I wanted to tell them about my last one, at my arrival there were already several persons waiting to tell their stories, I took my time listening to other people tales, and when there was a lull around the guests, I started, harrumphing:


A few months ago I went to the African savannah looking for a rare white lion the natives mentioned had been seen prowling on the field, my expertise made easy to find the animal, and as I started to raise the gun to my face I heard a low growl to my right, surprised I looked toward the bushes and saw a big white lioness already charging for my throat!




I made a long silence looking at my audience...





Then, one of them could not endure the suspense, and asked in a small voice: How did you escape?

I didn't! I said, while I dissolved into thin air.

Five Sentence Fiction

The music is a fragment of "Tempting Secrets" from "Incompetech" at http://incompetech.com/ by Kevin MacLeod.

© 2013 Od Liam.

Garden

The little hand of the soft breeze caresses the multicolored leaves and petals that populate trees and blossoms in the small garden, producing a murmur of ancient stories.

The noisy creek coming down from the not so steep slope sings a love song never written, and then as if tired by the effort stops in a shallow pond that mirrors the world around it, while the Orchid yielding to the bouncy impulse of the breeze's hand, inclines its beautiful countenance toward the quiet water of the pond.

The slow sway of the long and limber stem let the perception of the magic beauty of the regal bloom to scatter all over the confined space of the garden and wakes echoes of admiration from other crammed bouquets around the pond, and while the wallflowers emit, as a due tribute, a mild scent that gives sweet waves of perfume to the breeze, the camellias acknowledge the nobility of the beautiful Orchid through a shy flutter of their snow-white petals adding wonder to the awe of the Summer evening!

On one accord the whole garden quivers in harmony with the gentleness and pleasure that the contemplation of beauty brings to Nature's creatures!

From far away upon the red-cochineal horizon, the setting sun reaches through shredded and rosy clouds towards the happy garden bringing forth the smile of the Maker, delighted by His Own 'Craft-Deity-Ship'!

 Five Sentence Fiction

The music is "Nostalgy" by Richard Clyderman.


© 2013 Od Liam.

A Kiss of Butterfly

The blue iris daintily opened its petals letting the dawn dew lie down on its corolla.

The fineness of the flower and the sparks of the early light on the purity of the soft tears from heaven attracted a splash of color in a butterfly costume; it landed softly on the clean surface and moved its wings slowly as if trying to comfort the florescence.

Gently Butterfly unfolded its tongue shyly caressing the inner chalice causing a quivering of pollen avid pistils.

While Butterfly quaffed the nectar, the stamens shudder in harmony throwing a fertile cloud over the carpel giving birth to a new generation.

Then in silence as it came, Butterfly flew away satisfied, while the corolla was left nodding softly an appreciative symbiosis...

Five Sentence Fiction

Beauty

Fragment of  "Waltz of remembrance" by Prince Kalender.

© 2013 Od Liam.

Fruitless revamp

Retaliation

I met this boy from Mongolia,
Who bought a bouquet of magnolia,
To regale his little girlfriend,
Trying to make some amend.
But she wanted only sauce of soya.


The music is a fragment of "Funny music" by Unknown.

© 2013 Od Liam.

Posh Gift

Heavens

Heavens was fed up with all these petty domestic spars.

Each time one of them wanted to show who was in command, there appeared these demands of a rash meeting of the Council to authorise a scolding for the supposedly guilty part.

Sky came into the Meeting Room donned in a pale blue garment as were his whims.

He had brought a present for Heavens (clever move), and immediately made his presentation.

Sky and Geah

Heavens thought it was a bit of a childish way to punish Sky's wife Geah and their children, but he had to recognise that Thunder was an impressive invention, and would scare those hearing it, besides the gift of the Lightning, another invention Sky gave him, was really nice, undoubtly, this will change deeply the way rain was up to now, and Heavens will be delighted to send some of those beautiful lines of light onto the rebel Geah!

Five Sentences Fiction

The music is "La Bohème" by Charles Aznavour.

© 2013 Od Liam.