Category Archives: NOVEL WRITING

The Education of Poppensparkle… Canto 2

Canto 2 – Aargh!  Teachers!

The sunroom was built into the hollow in the heights of the willow tree, almost at the level of the tallest tower.  A Fairy-glass ceiling let the yellow-green sunlight in and kept the snow and rain out.  The walls were covered in elaborate cross-stitch tapestries depicting famous moments in Tellosian history like the death of the former Erlking, Wotan, the killing of the evil dragon Darvon Redsoul by the Mouse from Cornucopia, and the final battle of the Gingerbread War.

“So, this is the new student I am saddled with.  The last time we crossed paths, she tried to take over my body using the soul of that horrid Necromancer.  The first mistake she makes, she gets executed.  I’ll add her head to the collection of my worst enemies.”  The booming voice, of course, was her new master, Pippen, the High Wizard of Tellosia.

“Master, you must be patient with her.  The White Stag will be mad if you cut her head off for a flimsy excuse.  Besides, she was given to you as an apprentice because she possesses great potential power, and the Stag will remind you of the lesson Eli Tragedy taught you the hard way; No student ever learned anything after their head was chopped off.”  Tod was on her side, at least.  But it didn’t escape her notice that in Zauberin, his name literally meant “Death.”

“She’s a pretty little one.  I promise to keep her in line and make her behave,” said the beautiful adult Butterfly Child, obviously the one named Glittershine.

“I don’t understand why I have to put up with such nonsense.  Before the White Stag filled in as interim Erlking, I was doing fine administering this kingdom for him.”

“Yes, but taking too much responsibility into your own hands is the reason he wants to relieve you of some of your burdens.”  Tod was very diplomatic.  That was a particularly oily way to tell the burly, golden-haired wizard that he was becoming too much of a hated tyrant.  But he did it with such practiced mastery.

The fifth person in the room was Prinz Flute.  He was Pippen’s own half-faun son and  really quite handsome.  He was, however, much older than he looked.  

He was the size and shape of an eleven-year-old Fairy boy, even though Poppy knew he had to be at least twice her age, and she was sixteen-Fairy-years old.

Flute had been silent for the initial round of complaints and soothing, placating lies to answer those complaints.  He had merely been watching Poppy intently.

“Are you going to undertake actually teaching this girl magic?” Flute now asked.

“What?  Well… I guess I must.  At least long enough to accuse her of something worth executing her for.”

“Have you tested the girl with the Magical Drassylic Script Test?”

“Oh, right.  Magic reading.  That will prove if she’s worthy to continue to live or not.”

Flute moved to a desk piled high with magical scrolls.  He plucked one out of the pile and handed it to Poppy.

“Please read that aloud, what it actually says, not whatever might be whispered to you from the background.”

Poppy unrolled the scroll, looked at the squiggly-lined gibberish it contained, and almost instantly began to read and understand.

“The fool transcribing this document is using a magical cheat to understand it, and so he is writing down what he thinks it means, The beginnings of the deep language begin with the elvish, Quenyan, but the truly deepest of the deep comes from the Draconic Drassyl…

“Enough!  That is not what it says!  I transcribed that myself.  I…”

Flute interrupted Pippen before the anger caused his blond hair to turn to flames.  He took the scroll from Poppy and handed it to Glimmershine.

“Did she not read it correctly?” Flute asked.

“Oh, my.  She did indeed read the correct Drassylic, not the Quenyan cheat text.”  Glimmershine blanched as she looked at Pippen after testifying to the reveal.

“Father, this magic student is beyond the capabilities of most to teach.  I am personally impressed by the depth of her understanding.  And to thoroughly teach her, I believe it will take a group effort.”

“A group effort?”  Pippen seemed stunned.

“Yes.  Tod can teach her the ways of the royal court.  Glittershine and I can take care of the routine teaching of magic skills, and we will come to you with matters that require such great skill that only you can handle the teaching of it.”

“Yes, that plan makes sense… Are you sure we shouldn’t just cut off her head?  You know, to be on the safe side…?”

“Oh, no… this one is a rare talent.  You cannot imagine how upset the White Stag will be if we don’t develop her skills to our maximum benefit.”

“Well, okay… But you and Glittershine will be doing the most work.  And you will hardly need me at all for the first year…”

“And that’s just how the White Stag wants it.  You remember… you have too many responsibilities and you must concentrate on where your skills are needed most.  Not… you know… wasting them.”

“Yes, I see that now.”  Apparently satisfied at last, he took the Drassylic Test Scroll from Glittershine and walked out of the sunroom looking at it and muttering to himself.

Tod was immediately kneeling before Prinz Flute.  “Oh, my Prinz, you have saved both Poppy and me.  How can I repay you?”

“By doing exactly the education plan I outlined to my father.”

“But that means you will be teaching Poppensparkle when you should be doing magical research for the White Stag.  Won’t that cause you problems of your own?”

“You don’t know what my research is all about, do you?”

“No, I guess not.”

“And believe me, I have not failed to notice how attractive this young Fairy is.  My interest in the education of this one is not only about the good of the people.”

Poppy began blushing at that.  Flute looked to be several years younger than her, and yet, she knew he was actually several years older than she was.  He was definitely not unattractive himself.  But it would be weird. Interesting… but weird.

Prinz Flute

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Is Mickey Icky?


This post is about writer doubt. And Stephen King. Do those two things go together? If they don’t then Mickey is an awful writer and does not know how to do what he does. It would mean Mickey is icky.
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I used to think Stephen King was a totally over-rated writer. Back in the early eighties I read Carrie, King’s first novel, and got halfway through Firestarter, and had to give up. Partly because the book was overdue at the library, and also because I found the books mechanical and somewhat joyless in the writing. I thought he suffered greatly in comparison to writers I was in love with at the time like Ray Bradbury and Thomas Mann. I began to tell others that King was somewhat icky.
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But King was obviously also somewhat successful. He began to get his books made into movies and people who don’t read discovered the evil genius of a man who tells stories to scare them and laces them with a bit of real humanity, real human feeling, and love.
I saw it first in Stand by Me. That movie, starring young Wil Wheaton as the Steven King autobiographical character, really touched my heart and really made for me a deep psyche-to-psyche connection to somebody who wasn’t just a filmmaker, but somebody who was, at heart, a real human being, a real story-teller.

Now, the psyche I was connecting to may very well have been Rob Reiner, a gifted story-teller and film-maker. But it wasn’t the only King movie that reached me. The television mini-series made from It touched a lot more than just the fear centers of my brain as well. And people whose opinions I respect began telling me that the books The Dark Tower Trilogy and Misery were also amazing pieces of literature.
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So I picked up a copy of Hearts in Atlantis at Half-Price Books and began reading a Stephen King novel for the first time since the 80’s. MY HOLY GOD! King is not a little bit icky. He is so NOT ICKY that it makes Mickey sicky to have ever thought King was even a little bit icky! Here is a writer who loves to write. He whirls through pages with the writer’s equivalent of ballet moves, pirouettes of prose, grand jetés of character building, and thematic arabesque penchées on every side of the stage. I love what I have discovered in a writer I thought was somewhat icky. Growth and power, passion and precision, a real love of both the words and the story. He may not know what he is doing. But I know. And I love it.
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And so, while I have been editing the first novel I ever wrote, Superchicken, to make it ready for self-publishing, I have begun to ask myself the self-critical question, “Is Mickey really icky when he writes?” My first novel is full of winces and blunders and head-banging wonders that make me want to throw the whole thing out. But I can’t throw it out. It is the baby in the first bathwater that I ever drew from the tap. The answer to the questions of Micky ickiness have yet to be determined, and not by me. I guess I have to leave it up to you.

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The Education of Poppensparkle… Canto 1

Canto 1 – Poppy’s New Digs

It was hard to get her eyes open on that first morning.  The White Stag had taken away all the memories of her abuse at the hands of the evil Necromancer, but that hadn’t kept her from having nightmares of nameless terrors stalking her in the darkness.  And she wasn’t used to sleeping in a soft bed in the Palace of Cair Tellos, the Willowcastle and Capitol of all of Tellosia.

She rubbed at both of her eyes.  She yawned extra large.  She then used the reverse of the Wingaway Spell to restore her butterfly wings.  She was still naked, and seriously planning to go out like that, looking forward to a nude sky-dance in the morning sunlight.  But the enchanted clothing, top and bottom, were still there where Tod had placed them the night before.  They were blue and lighter blue with yellow spots on them, a match for the colors of her butterfly wings.  But never in her life before had she been forced to wear clothing.  Not even the Necromancer was that cruel.  Butterfly Children were Fairies made for flying unencumbered by clothing, armor, or any other bindings.  They were magical beings meant for a life of joy and unbound freedom.

“So, you are awake,” Tod said, poking his head into the chamber where she had slept.

“Yes.  But I’m not happy.  Why do I have to be a wizard’s apprentice?  And why do I have to wear clothing?”

Tod was a fairly ordinary-looking Sylph with brown hair and large, soulful brown eyes.  And he never answered fast, always apparently thinking of all the possible answers before saying anything.  That was nothing like the evil Necromancer.  He started every answer with a yell, a threat, and an impossibly difficult order.

“When your sister and the White Stag rescued you, you were found to have considerable magical power in your little blond brain.  That means you have value.  And the White Stag decided to give you to Master Pippen in order to train you with those valuable skills.”

“So, is it like being a student, or more like a slave?”

“Well, I’m the Castle Steward, not an apprentice myself.  But from what I can see, it is more like being a slave.  But a valuable slave.  You will be treated well if you continue to obey.”

“So, I’m to be constantly whipped and told how bad I am.  I knew it!  How about answering the question about the clothes?”

“I am well aware that Fairies prefer to be nude and natural.  But Master Pippen believes that leaves you vulnerable.  Everyone who lives in the upper reaches of the Willow Castle must wear magical clothing.  One piece to protect you from mind-reading and mind-control.  And another piece to protect you from possession, like the Necromancer did to you in the final battle.”

She wanted to beat him with her fists because it seemed so unfair.  She had been a slave to the Necromancer, and now that she was free of him for the first time in her life, she would be a slave to Master Pippen.  And beating Tod with fists was entirely unworkable as a plan.  He was a full three inches tall and stood over her by more than half an inch.  And he had training in both hand-to-hand combat and blade combat.  She would never land a single light-fisted girly blow.

She picked up the clothing to look at it more closely.  It was a two-piece suit, the top part, which would cover her smallish breasts bore the pentagram of wizard-armor.  And the blue bottoms that would cover her sit-down parts were stitched  with soul-sealing designs.  The clothes were much like a Slow One’s swimsuit, the kind the gigantic Slow-One females called a “bikini.”  She guessed she could wear something that small since it was made in a way that would not interfere with her butterfly wings.

“I’m going to look ugly in this thing.”

“Try it on.  Let’s see.”

She put both parts on with some awkwardness, not being at all used to the idea of wearing clothes.

‘You are actually quite pretty to look at wearing that,” said Tod with a simple smile.

She still felt like smacking him, but the compliment was not unwelcome.

“This place is going to take some getting used to.  It’s not like Mortimer’s Mudwallow in any way.  I don’t know how to live in a castle or a royal court.  Master Pippen will have my head chopped off before the week is out.”

“Poppy, his reputation isn’t really the way he is.  He only executes Fairies if they break a minor law or make him really angry for some reason.  And besides, I am told you are my responsibility for the time being.  Only two of the five apprentices I have taken care of got beheaded.  Oh, and one exploded during a magical experiment on the roof.  But the odds are still… well, not entirely against you.”

“You should ask my sister, Derfentwinkle, about how that will probably go.  I was always annoying or arguing with the Necromancer.  And he was a scary and cruel master.  Just not as into executions as Master Pippen obviously is.”

“You don’t need to worry overmuch.  Both Glittershine and I will be nearby to help you.”

“Who is Glittershine?  Have I met him or her yet?”

“You have not… or you would remember.  She’s a Butterfly Child like you, but one experienced with Fairy magic and potions.”

“When do I meet her?”

“Now, since you’re awake and dressed.  Master Pippen is expecting all of us in the sunroom.”

Poppensparkle was not wild about this new life that had been thrust upon her.  But it was better than the painful abuse the stinky old Necromancer had heaped upon her…  At least, she dearly hoped that it would be .

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He Rose on a Golden Wing… Canto 11

Adagio for Strings – Samuel Barber

After lunch in the school cafeteria, Valerie found her former Pirate crew by Ricky’s locker.

“I didn’t tell you this before, but I invited Dilsey Murphy to our next confessional at the skinny-dipping pond.”  She then found herself looking into two shocked and dismayed faces.

“I don’t think I can do the naked-truth thing in front of any girl but you, Val,” Ricky said with a slight shudder in his voice.

“I can’t do that in front of anybody,” reminded Billy.  “And while we all need the chance to talk about what’s hurting us, I don’t think Dilsey will understand any of it.”

“Yeah, she hasn’t gone through the crap we have.  She won’t get what we’re talking about,” added Ricky.

“I think anyone can understand about being depressed.  And anyone can benefit by talking through it.”

“Well, maybe.   But shouldn’t we cancel the naked-truth thing?” asked Ricky.

“Cancel it,” said Billy.

“We’ll see what’s possible.  But if she comes, we can postpone getting naked.  It may be too cold anyway.”

“Yeah.  That’s a good point,” said Ricky.

“I suppose it won’t hurt to talk about Francois in front of Dilsey.  She remembers him too, I’m sure.”  Billy stuffed books in his locker as he was headed to P.E.

“Sure, of course she remembers him.”

“But she wasn’t with us during the blizzard.  And she never met Tommy or Denny,” reminded Ricky.

“I never met them either, but I remember the stories about them,” said Billy.  “But I gotta go now.  I have to dress out for P.E. or risk another failing grade.”

“So, go.  Have fun with the nakedness in the locker room, Billy.”  Valerie grinned at him as she enjoyed his annoyed grimace.

“I gotta go too,” said Ricky as he slammed his locker shut and took off towards Berensen’s room, completely forgetting his History book in his locker.

Valerie was going to head to her class when a slamming locker door eight lockers down caught her attention.

“You had some nerve ruining the dance last week.  You made yourself the center of attention and took all the joy out of the entire place.”

“You wouldn’t understand, Char.  You only understand your own selfish stuff.”

“Don’t you think I can see the selfishness in you?  Needing to be the focus of attention because you lost your daddy.  We all pity you, but it doesn’t make everything always about you.”

They were alone in the hallway.  The bell rang for fifth period.  It was a good thing the hallway was so quiet.  It meant neither girl was willing to yell and draw everybody out of their classrooms again.

“We are going to be walking on eggshells all week this week, and probably next week too, just so the crazy girl won’t have another hissy fit in the middle of everything.”

Valerie was instantly exhausted.  Her arms and legs were now full of lead.  And there was a crushing pressure in her chest.  She knew this was going to happen.  She just needed it to end more quickly than it was going to.

“You got your wish because of it.  You’re head cheerleader now.”

“I have wanted to be that since I was little and didn’t know Valerie Elaine Clarke even existed!  I worked hard for it all through junior high and high school.  And when I got it, it was not because I won it for myself, not because I beat you out for it… but because you just gave it up.  You got it all so easily.  And you threw it away.  You didn’t even give me the chance to earn it.  I will never forgive you for what you took away from me.”

“Don’t forgive me, then.  I ain’t asking.”

“And you get all the best boys, too.  Ricky is so handsome.  And he doesn’t have eyes for anybody but you.  And you don’t even bother to see it.”

“Ricky’s my friend.  Not my boyfriend.”

“See what I mean?  You threw that away too.”

“Go ahead and hate me, Char.  You are probably right to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Val.  I always wanted to BE you.  But I have to get over it now.  I’m sorry your father died.  But that doesn’t give you the right to act the way you do.”

Valerie no longer had the power to continue the conversation.  She hung her head.  She turned slowly towards class and the inevitable tardy slip.  Charlotte walked off in the other direction, even though she had the same class that Val did.

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Pirate Novels

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My first novel-length piece of writing was attempted in college.  I finished it in four years.  It was a pirate tale about a young man, a pirate named Graff the Changeling.  You see him in this illustration I created in 1980 with his two young sons, Rene and Emery.  Because their mother was a fairy, the boys have pointed ears and horns.    It was an attempt at serious fantasy adventure fiction that was so awful, it became a comedy before it was through.  I called it The Graff Tales, and I still have it.  But I promise you, I will never, ever try to publish the horrible thing.  My sisters served as my beta readers for this story.  They both liked the oral stories I told, and they eagerly awaited something like they remembered from our shared childhood.  They both were a bit disappointed by my first prose attempt.  There was a knight called Sir Rosewall in the story.  He was a hapless knighted fool who lived in poverty and swore to reclaim his honor with great deeds, but as he goes to sea as a kidnapped sailor, all he manages to do is fall down a lot and bump his large head frequently.  In the first scene when he enters the story, long about chapter four, he exits a cottage and has to punt a piglet to get out without falling down.  This pig-punting thing was repeated more than once with this character.  My sisters joked that the “pig-in-the-doorway” motif would be my lasting contribution to literature.  Fortunately for me, it was not.  I am probably the only one who even remembers there was such a novel.

But my biggest failing with writing and storytelling was always that I could be too creative.  The story featured a flying pirate ship that was raised from the bottom of the ocean by fairy magic.  The crew were re-animated skeletons.  The gorilla who lived on the island where the ship’s survivors had been marooned would also join the crew.  His name was Hairy Arnold.  One villain was the pirate captain Horner, a man with a silver nose-piece because he had lost his real nose to a cannon shot.  Another was a red-bearded dandy named Captain Dangerous.  But the biggest villain of all was the Heretic, who turned out to be a demon in human guise.  It was all about escaping from pirates who wanted to kill you and hitting soldiers with fish in the fish market.  There were crocodile-headed men and little child-like fairies called Peris that lived in the city where Graff was trapped and transformed into a monster by the Heretic.

My plot was too convoluted and my characters too wildly diverse and unlikely.  The result was something far too bizarre to be serious fiction.  The only way it could actually be interpreted was as a piece of comedy.  There-in lay the solution to my identity problem as a writer.  I had to stop trying to be serious.  My imagination too often bent the rules of physics and reality.  So I had to stop trying for realism and believability.

 

In the end all the main characters die.  All except for young Rene who becomes a pirate hunter.  Of course, I follow Graff and Emery through to heaven because, well, it was a first person narrative and the narrator died.  So, I vowed to myself that I would never let this horrible piece of nonsense see the light of day.  I would never try to publish it, rewrite it, or even tell anyone about it.  And so to this very day I… oopsie.

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He Rose on a Golden Wing… Canto 10

Adagio in G-Minor (Albinoni)

Weeping violins were playing on Mom’s kitchen radio as she had it playing something from the classical music station in Des Moines. The announcer said something about the music being composed by a Venetian master, Tomaso Albinoni, in the 18th Century, and now being known as being synonymous with sorrow and sadness. As Valerie placed the spoons and the forks, she felt like it was the perfect background music for her entire life.

“So, Rance, be honest with me,” Mom said. “Did Val apologize to Dash for the misery she caused him at the dance?”

“Well, she made a promise to him about what she would never do again.”

“That’s not the whole truth,” said Valerie.

“Oh? Why don’t you explain your version of the conversation then,” said Uncle Rance with a smile that seemed somehow sad.

“Uncle Dash was afraid I was being like Stacey, that I was going to run away and never come back.”

“And what did you tell him about that?” Mom asked point blank.

Tim and Aunt Jen sat silently at their places at the table. They were both looking at her with unsmiling lips tightly pressed together… as if they feared the answer.

“You know what a cardinal is, right?”

“The little red song bird?”

“Yes, the bright red bird we often see in the snow around Christmastime. The one that doesn’t fly away when the winter comes? Never migrates? Never flies away from the cold, and the wind, and hard times?”

“What does that mean? That you promise not to run away from your problems?”

“Well, if a little red songbird can do it…”

Mom put her hand over her eyes. Was she crying? Had she said the wrong thing?

”Do you have any idea how much what you did probably hurt your Uncle Dash? You know he loved your Daddy very much. And he’s tried so hard to be like a father to you since…” A sob caught in Mom’s throat.

“She told Dash that she didn’t blame him. She blamed herself.” Uncle Rance had no right to say that part out loud. But… she couldn’t say it herself. Not after shouting it in front of Charlotte and the whole world. Why didn’t they just talk about it all behind her back like normal parents do?

“Did you know that Tim kissed Dilsey on his date? Did he tell you that?” She knew that one wasn’t hers to tell. But she needed to change the topic. Needed it desperately. She could always apologize to the king of brats later.

Tim was grinning at that.

“Is it true?” Aunt Jen asked, smiling for the first time in a while.

“How did you know that, Val?” Tim asked.

“Dilsey told me.”

“Was she bragging… or complaining?”

“What do you think, Lothario?”

“More like Romeo, I think.”

“I hope you didn’t do something you didn’t have her permission to do,” said Uncle Rance.

“You know, Val, I wasn’t done with the other topic yet,” said Mom.

“What topic would that be?”

“You are not the only one who was devastated by what your father did.”

“I know that, Mom. I was here when we lived through all of that… more than once, I think.”

She hadn’t taken the hand away from her eyes since she first put it there.

“I love you, Val. You know that, right?”

“I love you too, Mom.”

“And you know I worry about the fact that suicide might run in families… I’ve thought about it. And I am afraid you have too. Can you…?”

“Promise you?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t. But I am like the cardinal, Mom. And suicide is a form of running away.”

At that point, nobody had dry eyes but Valerie.

“I… I want you to write the thing about cardinals down for me, Val. I need that in writing.”

All Val could do was nod, or she would be bawling too.

“Well, now that we have all ruined our appetites, maybe we should think about actually eating something,” said Uncle Rance with a soft chuckle and tears still in his eyes.

The dinner changed into a rather quiet discussion about more normal family things, and Dilsey and Tim’s first kiss. And, sporadically, some roast beef and mashed potatoes was eaten too.

Later, as the Kelloggs were leaving, Tim stood in front of Valerie at the door. Tears glistened in his eyes again.

“You know, Val, I really liked the cardinal thing too. Blueberry is in the hospital. One of my Pirates is very ill.”

“Dilsey told me about that too.”

“Did she tell you we need to visit her? There are hard winter times coming our way there too.”

“We’ll be there for her, I promise.”

She wrapped him in a hug then. The first time in a very long time. He didn’t resist. If anything, he was hugging her back.

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He Rose on a Golden Wing… Canto 9

Chopin – Nocturne in E Flat Major (Op. 9 No. 2)

Dilsey Murphy made her way back to Val’s usual seat on the bus the first thing in the morning.  Usually Valerie rode to school of a morning with Ricky in his hand-me-down Ford Fiesta, but he had football practice after school on Mondays through Thursdays.  So, Val was available to sit with Dilsey on a cold Tuesday morning in October.

“Hello, Dils.  Something the matter?”

“It’s Blueberry.  She’s sick this morning.  Not going to school like usual.”

“How’s Mike taking it?  Worried?”

Mike Murphy was Dilsey’s younger brother.  Blueberry Bates was his eighth-grade lady love.  They were always together like salt and pepper shakers on a restaurant table.

“He’s devastated.  The Bates sisters took Blue to the emergency room last night.  She’s in the hospital now.”

“Oh, that’s terrible!  We’ll have to go visit her as soon as possible.”

“She’s not conscious.  Maybe a coma…”

Dilsey sat down next to Valerie and the first thing Val did was put an arm around her and pull her in close.  Dilsey laid her head on Val’s shoulder.  Tears followed.

It’s funny how things work in real life.  Not so long ago it was Val in tears, laying her head on Mary Philips’ shoulder.  Then Mary had been the actual leader of the Norwall Pirates, the infamous liars’ club.  But when Mary was going away to college, she didn’t turn to any of the boys to lead the club.  She asked Valerie to do it.  And then Val shouldered the responsibility until she finally handed the leadership of the infamous werewolf chasers and undead wizard whackers off to her cousin, the Terrible Timothy.

“Is it enough just to hold you like this?  Or is there something you wanna talk about?”

“Holding me helps.  Did I tell you I kissed him?”

“On your date?”

“Yeah.  After the movie.”

“That’s sweet.  But don’t let him take advantage of you.”

“I know… he’s a boy.  And he tells a lot of lies.”

“Big ones… black in color… with hair on them… and sometimes spider legs.”

Through the tears, Dilsey chuckled at “spider legs.” 

“But he has a good heart.”

“He does.  You know he was pretty awful to Blueberry about the whole transgender thing, though.”

“Yeah.  Blue has never really been a boy.  But it was hard for him to accept that when he found out she was born with a penis.”

“Empathy for others was never something he was good at.”

“The Bates sisters convinced him though.  They showed him the x-rays that showed that Blue also had malformed ovaries.  She was only a boy on the outside part.”

“I didn’t know that.  I always thought she just needed to be a girl that badly.”

“Do you think it’s easier to be a boy than it is to be a girl?”  Dilsey looked up at Val and the tears were gone.

“I suppose it is to be your brother Danny.  He always sees the funny side of everything and life is mostly one big joke to him.”

“Yeah, but my brother Mike is the opposite.  He takes things way too seriously.  He fights with Mom more than any of the rest of us.  And he really loves Blue, even though he tells me how much he struggles to understand her most of time.  Mom couldn’t force him to go to school today because Blue is in the hospital.”

“Mike is a gallant young man.  You’re right.  It must be harder to be him than it is to be either of us.”

“I wouldn’t want to be Tim either.  It has to be hard to be that smart and that imaginative all the time.”

“I suppose you’re right.  More than half of all the weird things the Pirates have done over the years happened because of what was going on in Tim’s evil brain.”

“His brain’s not evil, Val.  He has a good brain.”

“Sure he does.  And it’s a fine thing for you to admire him for it.  I just say things like that ‘cause… you know… cousins.”

“Sure.  It’s just like me saying brothers.”

“You know, Dils, it’s a good thing to be able to talk like this.  Me and two former Pirates have started meeting down at the skinny-dipping pond.  It might be good to have another girl there.”

“Really?  Who are the other two?”

“Ricky Porter and Billy Martin.”

“Oh, uh… I don’t really know them.”

“Well, if you come along with me next time, you’ll get to know them better.  It could be good for all of us.  Some of us have problems with depression and it helps to be able to talk about anything and everything with people who will at least try to understand.”

“Yeah.  That might be good.”

“I will get in touch with you for the next time.”

“Yeah, um… okay.”

The two girls sat together in silence for the last couple of miles to Belle City High School.  It felt good to hold somebody like Dilsey.  She was warm and soft and good to be near.  And when they left the bus together, Valerie felt like now she was the wise older girl, while Dilsey had taken Val’s former place as the apprentice.  She would be happy to pass on all the things she learned from Mary when she was younger.  In fact, it felt like a real important responsibility.

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Sudden Inspiration

I have been searching for a way to continue my Tuesday novel-writing posts with a novel different from my main work in progress. It sort-of solved the problem with a sudden realization that since fairies bewitched my novel-writing process in the making of The Necromancer’s Apprentice, I might as well pick up a thread from that novel.

PoppenSparkle is the character rescued from the dungeon in the previous book. She had absolutely no chance to shine in that book. Released from captivity by evil fairies, she is the sister of Derfentwinkle, a butterfly child, and gifted with wizard ability.

Every student wizard has to be assigned to a master wizard to learn the truth about magic. And Poppy was assigned to a real sour potato of a master.

It will be a story about a teacher and a student, and how they work out a way to get everything that each one needs from the other. It will give me a chance to do more world-building on the Fairy Kingdom of Tellosia. And more chances to create some teacher-comedy in a setting where I can create a lot of crazy stuff and draw more cartoons.

I may not get started for another couple of weeks yet, but the idea is growing by the hour.

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He Rose on a Golden Wing… Canto 8

Chopin – Heroic Polonaise (Op. 53 in A Flat Major)

After school Valerie was still in Uncle Rance’s Freshmen English Classroom, not because she was re-taking his Freshmen English Class, but because he had asked her to stay and not ride the bus.  He was her Uncle.  Married to her father’s only sister.  And he was one of those adults she had to listen to no matter what.

“Your grades are going down again, Val.  You used to make A’s, especially in Science.”

“I know.  I just don’t get Mr. Walther’s Physics Class.”

“He’s the same teacher you had for Chemistry last year, and you aced that.  You were his best student.”

“Yeah.  But Danny was in that class too.  He flunked it as a Junior.  And he’s the only one that can explain some of Mr. Walther’s jokes to me.”

“You don’t need to understand jokes to get the science.  It is precise and mathematical, provable by experiment.”

“I know that.  But somehow Mr. Walther’s teaching style works better when I understand his jokes.”

Uncle Rance walked over to his desk and sat down behind a huge pile of Freshman writing folders.

“Your Uncle Dash is coming to take you home this evening.”

“What?  Why?”

“You have to ask after the fiasco at the dance?”

“Oh, please.  He doesn’t need to get mad at me over that.  The same thing would’ve happened to me if you had gone with me instead of Uncle Dash.  It wasn’t about him.”

“I think he knows that.  But we’re worried about you.”

“That’s it exactly,” Uncle Dash said from the classroom doorway.

“Hi, I could’ve gone home on the bus.”

“No, you couldn’t.  I needed to talk to you.”

“Come in and take a seat, Dash,” Uncle Rance said.  “Or do you need to talk to her in private.”

“No, you can help with this too.  Valerie needs to know that she can rely on the men in this family when it comes to things her father can’t do for her anymore.”

“So, you do understand why I couldn’t handle being at that dance, huh?”

“Of course.  You told me flat out.  It was a father/daughter dance.  And I’m not Kyle.”

A sharp sob escaped Valerie’s lips, and then she was back to her usual composure.  “It’s so much more than that.  More than I could ever talk about with either of you.”

“The school guidance counselor?  He’s overworked with college-readiness seminars and whatnot.  But he’s willing to do what he can.”

“No.”

“What can we do to help, then?” Uncle Rance asked.

“I don’t know.  Nothing, I guess.  My head is wrapped in darkness.  And I have to find my own way out.”

“But you know you can talk to either of us,” said Uncle Rance.

“Or your Aunt Jen.  Or Aunt Patty,” said Uncle Dash, naming his sister and his wife.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no, Val?”  Uncle Dash’s eyes betrayed the stinging in his heart.  Val’s words at the dance had hurt him deeply.  And he was the kind of man who always had to have the solution to every problem.

“Just no.  I mean, I appreciate that you want to help.  But it won’t work.  I have to find my own way out.”

“Stacy had to find her own way out too, and she ran away.  Promise me you won’t run away too!”  Dash’s face was grim and stiff, betraying what he feared she really would do.  And Valerie understood why.  Her cousin had run away to be with the man she loved.  But Uncle Dash could never approve of the restless and reckless Toad.  He still didn’t after all the intervening years.  The men in her life were too tightly wound, too strictly self-disciplined to know when to admit they were wrong and try to go down another pathway.

“Maybe we just need to have confidence in Valerie, Dash,” Uncle Rance said.  “Sometimes the right thing to do is trust that the other person will choose to do the right thing.”

“I still need to hear you say you won’t run away, Val.  Not like Stacy did.”

“I promise.  There are things ahead you’re probably not gonna like.  But running away is not on my list.”

Her two Uncles accepted that then.  And what followed was a long, quiet pickup-ride home courtesy of Dash Clarke.

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He Rose on a Golden Wing… Canto 7

Scherzo in C Minor for Bb Clarinet by Paul Koepke

The three of them walked all the way out to the oxbow pond on the Iowa River together, but Billy was really dragging his feet.

“Why so slow, Billy boy?” Ricky asked.

“Well, um… you know she’s gonna make us get naked out at the skinny-dipping pond, right?”

“Val?  You haven’t forgotten about that by now?  It’s damned cold, you know.”  All three of them wore jackets as the October air turned chilly.

“I haven’t forgotten.  We’ll do that eventually.  Naked honesty, like in gazebo at Celephais.  But not yet today.”

“I… I can’t do the naked thing, Valerie,” Billy complained.

“Yes, you can.  You did it with Francois, Giselle, and I before Francoise died.”

“That dream stuff never really happened, you know.  People can’t share dreams.  Not really.  We just remember talking about it with Francois.  We just convinced ourselves we all had the same dreams.”

The three of them climbed through the barbed-wire fence around the pasture bordering the oxbow as Billy complained.

“It was real enough, no matter the actual truth of it.  I remember it so vividly, it’s real now even if it wasn’t real then.”

They moved down to the flattened area of grass by the banks of the pond.  They each selected a spot to sit where they could talk without making actual eye contact.

“Val, we heard about the dance.  Billy, Terry, and me, we all decided we’d figure out some way to bring you out of your great sadness.”

“Yeah,” said Billy.  “We know how dangerous depression is.  And we don’t want you to miss another week of school.”

“Guys, what you’re doing about it here is enough.  A place to talk… a place to say what’s true without any interference…  That’s what I really need.”

 “One thing that’s true is that I don’t want to take my clothes off while talking.”

“Shut up, Billy,” Ricky said.  “When the time comes, I’ll strip you myself if I need to.”

Billy looked huffy and about to get mad, a rare thing for the skinny boy.

Valerie quickly interceded.  “Nobody will make you do anything you don’t really want to do.  Besides, I’ve already seen you naked, so there’s nothing to fret yourself about.”

“No, you haven’t!  Celephais is not real.  That was just in your dream.”

“Then how do I know your cute little thing was completely hairless back in the seventh grade?”

Billy swallowed audibly.  “You’re just guessing.”

“Well, maybe so.  But you don’t know for sure.”

It was quiet between the three of them for several long minutes.

“All I really need is someone to actually listen to me,” Valerie finally said.  “You can both do that for me, can’t you?”

“Yeah,” they both said.

“In fact, I thought of something else that might help all three of us.”  Ricky’s face was totally serious for a change.

“What’s that?” Val asked.

“Marahoochie cigarettes…” Ricky said.

“What?”

“Marijuana.  You know, the goof sticks.  We three can get high together.  It’ll make us get more creative like John Lennon did.”

“No, you can’t!” Billy said.

“Why not?”

“It’s illegal.  And your adopted dad is a cop.  How will that look when Cliff has to put you in jail?”

“Ah, we don’t have to get caught.  We’re smart enough to get away with it.”

“But it’s a gateway drug.  We’ll end up on heroine, or maybe dead.”

“It’s not like that.  Terry and I tried it.  People don’t die from overdoses of marijuana.  And it’s easy to control.  It’s less addictive than regular cigarettes.”

“It’s my decision, isn’t it?” asked Valerie.  “We’re here because of me, right?”

“Yeah.”

“But I don’t want to smoke anything.”

“We don’t have to smoke it.  Terry and I can bake it into brownies.”

“Where are you gonna get it?” asked Billy.  “You know any drug dealers around here?”

“Uncle Harker does.”

“Harker Dawes? Terry’s Uncle Harker?”  Val was astounded.

“Yes.”

“How does Harker Dawes know a drug dealer?”

“Well… you see… Harker runs Kingman’s Grocery Store now, since he lost the hardware store.  And he has trouble dealing with the usual suppliers.  So, he tried this new guy.  And this new guy sold him some new-fangled health foods, you see.  And the Mexican carrot greens were really marijuana.”

“Harker bought actual marijuana?” Billy asked.

“He did.  But, of course, he didn’t know it was marijuana.  He thought they were actually Mexican carrot greens.”

“You are trying to say Harker Dawes is that dumb?  Or the food supplier?”

“The supply guy was using code for selling the drug.  He thought Harker knew what it really was.  But you know Harker.  He believes whatever he’s told, even if it is a criminal telling him.”

“But he knows it now?” asked Val.

“Well… no.  Terry wanted to tell him, but he doesn’t know any sign for marijuana.  And he only speaks sign language.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

“Um, yeah… that’s how I’m gonna hook you up with some good weed.  I already tried to smoke it.  But it really worked best when we got Ma Dawes to bake some brownies with it inside.  We told her Mexican carrot greens make good spice for brownies.  Everybody really loves her brownies now.”

Billy and Valerie both stared in amazement at Ricky’s sneakers.  They knew enough about the Dawes family, the family that adopted Terry during the blizzard, to know the story was absolutely true.  But they were both too stunned to laugh.

“You’ll bring some brownies here, then?” Valerie asked.

“Of course.”

Billy glared at the both of them.  “You don’t expect me to break the law with you like that, do you?”

“Yes.  And naked while you do it,” said Valerie.

“I could just report you both to Cliff and get you arrested.”  

“But you won’t do that.  You are too kind-hearted and too good of a friend,” said Valerie.

“I suppose you are right.  But not naked, though.”

“Right.  Not naked.  For now.”

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