12th January: Fight

Challenge: Dialogue based.

‘Who’s fightin’?’

‘A fight? Where!’

‘No one’s fighting, go back to bed.’

‘There’s a fight?’

‘Now look! You’ve gone and woke the whole house.’

‘Sorry mum, but I heard someone say there was a fight.’

‘It’s nothing, go back to bed.’

‘Wos it Da? Has he ‘ad a fight at work?’

‘Don’t be stupid Carol.’

‘But I wanna know who’s fightin’. If George an’ Arnie get’s to know-‘

‘No one get’s to know. Bed. All of you.’

‘Thanks Carol. You’ve woke us all up and there isn’t even a fight.’

‘I’m tellin’ you, I ‘eard mum on the phone an’ she said there ‘ad been an awful fight.’

‘Probably talking about the news.’

‘Well, she’s not gonna tell us, is she?’

‘Might have told me if Carol hadn’t butted in!’

‘Don’t be stupid. She never tells us nothin’

‘Bed! Don’t make me come up there!’

‘Night Mum!’

Advertisements
12th January: Fight

11th January: Mischief

Many stories tell of mischief and mayhem, they tell it in all sorts of ways, caused by all manner of creature. Most use fairies or goblins, they call them sprites or fear to give them names at all. Mischief to one species can be torment or suffering to another, such as milk going sour or hearing the patter of tiny feet, seeing something out the corner of your eye that when you turn isn’t there.

When I was younger I used to believe that my toys woke up when I slept, one of the reasons that I loved the film Toy Story. I firmly believed that they fought monsters under my bead. And sometimes, they too would engage in mischief. That age old idea that something has moved from where you left it.

So really, what’s to say that the two aren’t interlinked?

‘Put it down!’ came a harsh whisper from the top of the bed, ‘She’s coming!’

There was a soft thump as the toy was dropped on the floor. The door opened and a young girl skipped into the room. She was calling to a person downstairs.

‘I just need Isabell!’ But Isabell was not on the pillow where she had been carefully placed. instead she was sprawled on the floor. Her lace bonnet several feet from her head, and her skirts all askew. ‘Isabell!’ the girl chided, ‘What are you ding on the floor!’

The doll was carefully picked up, brushed off and her lace bonnet fastened back on, then she was swiftly escorted from the room. That was all the fuss that was made. Perhaps an adult would have wondered how a doll had managed to get out of the covers, and roll of the bed to be so artfully spread about; but to a child it made perfect sense, Isabell had tried to get to her.  Perfectly logical.

If there were mischievous eyes peering from under the bed, well, a lady like Isabell couldn’t have been expected to climb off the bed by herself, could she.

11th January: Mischief

10th January: Confused

‘It really is quite simple,’ Dave said.

‘No, I get what you’re saying, I just don’t understand why,’ replied Hep-B-2-9. Dave stared, considering the reptilian alien before him.

‘You’re confused about the why?’ he asked.

‘It simply doesn’t make any sense. How does the paper have any effect on the rock?’

‘Well it,’ Dave paused, ‘I suppose it kind of covers the rock,’ He made a motion with his hands, ‘Maybe it blinds it?’ Dave trailed off, feeling confused himself.

‘But, human-Dave, rocks do not have eyes.’

‘Oh, no. No. Not literal eyes.’ Dave said, shaking his head, ‘It’s a thing called personification, where you give an object human, er, traits.’ He trailed off, fidgeting under Hep-B-2-9’s five eyes.

‘Human-Dave.’ Hep-B-2-9 finally said.

‘Yes?’ Asked Dave, hopefully.

‘I have eyes.’

‘This isn’t working.’

‘My eyes are fully functional under human understanding of eyes.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

What had been a simple conversation about Earth games had suddenly taken a strange twist.

‘Human-Dave, am I a rock?’

Dave had no idea how it had happened.

‘Human-Dave?’

‘Yes Hep-B?’

‘Would you like to play  rock-beating-scissors-with-paper?’

‘It’s just called rock, paper, scissors.’

‘Oh. Would you like to play?’

‘Yeah, alright.’

10th January: Confused

9th January: Switching

Based on a crossover fanfiction between Wicked, the musical, and Disney’s Descendants.

Switching from Glinda the Good to Maleficent the evil fairy hadn’t been very easy. In fact, it hadn’t been her choice at all. As ever the Wizard and Madam Morrible made a chilling couple. Glinda had taken Elphaba’s death very hard, and she found it far too difficult to continue the charade that the duo had thought up for her, however they also seemed to believe that Glinda had signed her life away to them, in blood. Now not even Fieyero was there to help her.

Once they had realised that Glinda was serious about no longer performing her ‘duties’ as the good witch nasty rumours began to spread about her true involvement with the wicked witch of the west. Then, one day the wizard disappeared and that was when Glinda knew she was really in trouble. news spread quickly that Glinda was somehow responsible for the wizard vanishing. So she did the only thing she could, she ran.

She spent a lot of time on the run, many years passed without her truly noticing. This time allowed her to get to grips with some of the more difficult spells in the Grimmorie. Most of them were defensive, but she would have been stupid to ignore the dangerous ones, and many of them saved her life more times than she would care to admit. Still, some nights she found herself wishing that she had even a singular speck of the easy talent that Elphaba had shown.

Years later found a blonde woman on the streets of an unfamiliar kingdom, far far from the Emerald City and those that once sang the name of Glinda the Good. So too were the pink frills and glittering gowns gone, now she was dressed in rags, bitter and twisted against the world and those who had cursed her to this life.

In this kingdom she head of a new king and his new bride, along side tales of their goodness and kindness. Intrigued and slightly hopeful she slipped into the castle, but inside she was enraged to find the Wizard, sat comfortable and plush on the throne. Once more he had wormed his way into a position of power where he could ruin more lived. Glinda tried in vain to warn the kingdom of the danger he posed but the King or the Wizard had prepared for this moment. He rose with a shout and warned them all that she was an evil fairy who had hunted him since childhood. The local fairies rose against her and branded her Maleficent, for the malice they thought she contained.

Branded with this new name Glinda found herself banished to the edges of the kingdom, where she once more felt the sting of rejection and came to truly understand the treatment Elphaba had endured all her life. This time, though, Glinda was ready, and she was angry. So she patiently waited until the time was right.

An announcement for the newborn princess was called all though out the land, the king had been blessed with a child. Maleficent came to the castle, ready to give her blessing upon the child, despite not receiving any invitation, for it was customary in this kingdom to invite anyone of power, and she certainly had power.

‘You’re not upset?’ the new queen asked. Beside her the Wizard glared, untrusting of Glinda’s kind smile. And he was right too, for Glinda was here to exact her revenge, for Elephaba and herself. She saw her chance, and she took it, laying upon the baby a curse. As she looked into the Wizard’s eyes she knew he understood, he had used them as puppets, tiny creatures to dance to his whim. Now his child would be her puppet, dancing on the strings she played, ones that would lead to her death, just as it had lead to Elphaba’s and Glinda the Good’s.

Then she left, and she believed that finally she would have the peace that had been denied to her.

 

9th January: Switching

Day 8: Introduction

My name is Ceris. I am over 200 years old, my brother is Death, my father is Lucifer, and my mother was called Persephone. I was accused of her murder when I was 70 and locked in a cage in the pits of Hell until I was finally released by my brother after my 180th birthday. He released me because he had renounced the throne of hell, and it must have a living heir. My father was furious. He had spent decades teaching Methalis how to rule, however Methalis wished to make something more of himself. So, when my father banished him in anger, thinking it would teach Methalis a lesson, he was shocked to find out that instead Methalis had joined the Reaper Core, and was now training to become the next Death.

As the only other heir my father finally had to recognise me. He made me the Gatekeeper of Hell, a lonely position on the very boarder of the kingdom. Little did he realise the power he had given me. As Gatekeeper I was charged with the protection of the lands, this gave me the chance to really look into my mothers death.

I soon discovered that a demon, named Lilith, had wormed her way into my father’s court. From her position there she had been whispering lies and tricks right into my father’s ear. She poisoned his mind, made him believe that Persephone was teaching Methalis all the duties of the Grecian goddess that she was descended from. He thought that my mother was trying to steal Methalis away for 6 months of the year, making him unfit to take Lucifer’s place and rule. His greatest fear was that Methalis would choose Persephone’s role instead of his own, but instead my father’s actions drove him further and further away until Methalis chose Death instead. Besides, my father was half right, she was teaching Methalis, but she was teaching me too.

So, he killed her, with Lilith’s help, and then he pinned the blame on his youngest child. As king no one dared question him, no one except my brother. I was locked away, alone and in the dark. There I fear that I went mad, for I saw creatures in the shadows and when I was free they followed me. They took on the shapes of dogs, red eyes and sharp teeth that glinted madly, they followed my every command. When I first met Cerberous at the gates I truly thought I had lost control, but then I found that he was the original hell-hound. Perhaps in my loneliness Hell had made me some friends? Through many trials I earned Cerberous’ trust and loyalty.

Now I stand with the hounds at my command, and all the powers of Hell behind me. My father does not have long left in this world, and once God has fallen I know that Lilith will seize her chance to try and claim the throne. That is when I will reveal myself. That is when I will finally become queen.

My brother is Death, my father is Lucifer, but I am the Devil. And Earth will bow at my command.

Day 8: Introduction

Day 7: Phone Call

She waited all night for a phone call that never came.

All day for a message that never arrived.

Her friends told her, ‘Don’t worry about it. He obviously wasn’t interested, I don’t know why you care, he wasn’t even that nice.’

She would agree and nod her head each time they told her. Maybe he wasn’t the best looking, but neither was she. At dinner he had said, ‘I’d love to get to know you better.’ When he put her into the taxi (like a gentleman) he told her, ‘I’ll call you.’

Stupid, she thought, I’ve just been really stupid.

So she moved on, or rather she forced herself to stop looking at the phone, told her friends she didn’t care anymore. Saturday nights were reserved for friends or movie nights on the couch. This was a good thing, some time to herself.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi! I’m sorry it’s been a while. You really won’t believe the story!’

Just like that she was back tot he day after the date. Then, she was at the day before the second date. Then the say of the engagement. Suddenly, without knowing how, she was lying in bed the day after the wedding.

So he didn’t phone straight away, she thought to herself, at least he bothered to ring at all. She smiled at him and decided it was better the way it happened. Now she had a story to tell.

Day 7: Phone Call

Day 6: Food

The hall was, as ever, bursting with laughter, song and the clatter of cutlery. Many of the children were running wild, adults long since passed the point of caring. Servants moved gracefully between the the chairs and tables, filling goblets and clearing plates. The king surveyed his gentry with pleasure. All of this came at the end of many months of war. Yet they had won, prevailed despite the odds. The tables groaned under the weight of heavy plates of meats and poultry, breads and spreads, puddings and wines.

If you looked closely you could see the strain of war, clothing that was patched and meats that were thin on the bone, bread made of more air than wheat. Even some of the lower class gentry were here, filling empty spots. Still, the king thought it about time that things changed, and after the toils of the war he wanted to do right by his people.

‘My lords and ladies,’ he said, standing to catch their attention, even though his booming voice had already caught it, ‘I welcome you to this most fantastic feast, even those of you no so accustomed to attending such events,’ some of the lower class squirmed uncomfortably, ‘this war we have fought has not been an easy one. Our crops have failed, our houses burnt, and our forces slain. But we are victorious!’

A cheer echoed throughout the hall. Hundred of voices yelling in triumph together. He allowed them their cheer before raising a hand to ask for silence. ‘Thank you for your support, and for everything that you have all donated to the war effort. Now, I must ask you one last thing, let us raise of goblets in a toast, to those who did not make it!’ An echo rose from the crowd, their goblets glinting in the candlelight. There was moments silence.

‘Now I ask you, join me in giving thanks to those of our forces who made it home to us!’ The great grand doors at the bottom of the hall swung open, revealing two lines of soldiers, tired and battle weary, they stood to attention for their king. ‘I have not told you why I summoned you here,’ he said to the soldiers, ‘for all you know I am sending you off to another war. Yet, you have all still come, and to honour that courage, bravery, and most of all loyalty, I give you not only my thanks but my table and my goblet. Tonight my food is yours, and tomorrow all the kingdom shall know your names and the deeds you have done. I will hold a ceremony to honour you all!’

His decree was met with a wild cheer from the gentry in the hall. More than one of the soldiers was wearing a nervous smile as they relaxed. Then they were spread out around the room, one of them even taking the kings throne (at his insistence), while the king himself sat on a stool beside him.More food was brought out, everything from full pigs to succulent beef joins, vegetable dishes, mashed, stewed, boiled. Pitchers of wine and gallons of water. Every resource the king had came to the tables in front of the soldiers. A never ending parade of pies, crumbles, tarts, cheeses, and even a sponge cake.

That night was talked about for months after and the king was never more widely respected or loved. the food had never tasted better nor wine sweeter since.

Day 6: Food