Thursday 31 May 2018

Day 30 - Dawn's Perspective

    There was something there, she could tell, she could feel the air shift. Not a big shift, not a draft or anything like that.  Having laid still, watching her treasure reflect the glow of the torches that where scattered, floating around the room; digesting the cow that had been dinner two months earlier.  In that whole time the air had not shifted.
    It was everything she could do to sit and wait, having noticed the air movement Dawn had slowed her heartbeat and breathing even more.  If you were going to take two months to digest a cow you had to be skilled at regulating your body and the energy it consumed.  Now her breathing slowed down to less than one breath a minute, trying to reduce any noise her body would produce to try and hear better.
   Then she heard it.
    ‘What?’
    ‘It’s a dragon you dope. Go have a look.’
    ‘What? Why me?’
    ‘Your the burglar.’
    It was great, the voices where humanoids of some sort, not like the ones she had spent half a century getting rid of, out of her catacombs; kobolds, Orissa and other such foul smelling bitter tasting creatures.  These ones were smart, they'd realised that they had come across a Dragon's lair.  At least one of them had experienced dragons before; this made her very curious.
   She dare not move, luckily two months ago knowing that she was about to hibernate to digest she had wiggled her way into her gold, so deep that the treasure had covered the length and breadth of her body with the exception of her eyes, nostrils and head frill being the only things visible above the treasure.
   The air was moving again, one of the humanoids was coming down the tunnel, cautiously, slowly.  She waited, not moving, breathing so slow, heart near stopped excitement and anticipation coursing through her body.  It was so exciting to finally have a visitor coming to her, and one that seemed intelligent, much more intelligent than her previous companions.
   Whoever it was it was cautious, blinking slowly she opened her eyes to see a small humans swing into her cavern.  Even though the cavern was exceptionally well lit by all of her floating flames the half human was hard to spot, it’s skills at hiding in the shadows were tremendous.  She could see it scanning, looking everywhere.  Oddly there was not stench of fear, there barely discernible smell, this creature was so good at what it was doing it not only blended into the shadows, it’s smell melded with her treasure.
   This half human was so good it was almost tempting to let it take some of her gold; it wouldn’t be able to carry that much.  She wanted something so much more than the gold; that could come and go, it always had.  She’d gather it, someone or something would steal it, more would come; some would some succeed some wouldn’t.  What Dawn wanted was some conversation, it had been so long since she’d had some conversation.
    The human had stopped now, it was squatting in the shadows, she could not make out what it was doing so she imagined it scanning the her domain.  How was she going to reveal herself, would she simply rise out of the treasure.  She’d done that in the past hoping for a conversation only to cause her guest to faint.  No this time she would try something different.
   Taking a deep breath, inhaling as much air as she could, exhaling whispering the cantrip.  A sense of glee swelled up in her as the little humanoid floated into the air, it made no noise, it was obviously to calm and collected for that, as if it had experienced.
   ‘Hello Dragon.’
   She rose out of her treasure, the tinkle of gold and jewels falling all about her. 
   ‘Hello Little human, why are you not scared?’
   ‘You are majestic, more majestic than any creature I have seen before. As far as I am concerned I have gotten everything I came for.’
   ‘You faltter me little man, you are a man are you not.’
   ‘Yes, my name’s Harry, yours?’
   ‘Bit impertinent of you, what do you want to do with my name?’
   ‘Oh nothing really, just wanting it to complete the story when I tell it to my grandchildren.’
   Dawn watched as the half man floated in front of her, curious, confidant.  This character was definitely foolhardy, yet not a fool.  Now she had him, what would she do with him?  
   ‘Grandchildren? Humans are not that long lived that someone such as you could possibly have grandchildren.’
   The creature Harry burst out laughing; ‘Oh Dragon I am so much more than you think I am. What is your name? You’ve got me floating around, it’s not like I can do anything to you?’
   ‘Are you alone?’
   ‘No.’
   She knew there was at least one more, she’d heard them speaking, was there fore those, did she need to be scared. The two of them stared at each other, he’d drawn no weapons. The air was still relatively still, although with all the commotion of the half man floating around she could not really tell.  Thinking back, the movement before he’d arrived had always been just slight.
   ‘How Many?’
   ‘Oh Just one.’
   ‘Is it like you?’
   ‘Tell me your name and I will answer your questions.’
   ‘Dawn.’
    The little creature started to laugh; first a bit of a chuckle and then pure unhinhibtted laughter.
   ‘What’s so fun little man?’
   ‘Well Dawn the Dragon, you’re talking to Harry the halfling.’
   Dawn Gaffawed, her deep sultry voice making the loudest noise she’d made in months.  She liked this Harry.


The voice prompt today from Story a day was - to write the other perspective of a story you have written - Day 13 is the reverse of this story.
http://afstoryaday.blogspot.com/2018/05/day-13-dawn.html


Wednesday 30 May 2018

Day 29 - Thumb Print

   'Hurry up, Just cut his thumb off.'
   Mort had thought about this. He knew this muppet had a bucket load of bitcoin on his phone, and that of course was protected by his fingerprint.  The couldn't simply ask him for his pin number as they'd slipped him a mickey at the restaurant.
   'Mate, we want him to simply think he's lost his phone, not racing around to hospitals, getting cops all hot under the collar about a missing thumb.'
   'So what are you going to do, He's going to come around soon.'
   'Look Jake, be cool, take the phone go wait in the car, if you seen anyone coming in honk twice, I'll get myself out of here if I need to and meet up with you later.'
   'Right punk, I'll give you five minutes and honk as I leave if you don't hurry up.'
    Thank god that righteous git was out of the room, now to get himself the upper hand here.  reaching into his pocket he pulled out a lighter, a glue stick, small square of foil.  Working as quick and quietly as possible he heated the stick, putting a dollop on the foil then pushing the muppets finger into it capture the fingerprint indentations.
    Mort knew he only had to do the left hand, he'd watched the fellow at the restaurant, flicking through his phone, scanning emails or something, all with his left hand.  This guy was like a gift from heaven, bloody expensive suit, briefcase tie.  Seemed to be in a rush, obviously some sort of power dude on a business trip.
    Jake to his credit had been on the register when he made the payment, not only did he manage recognise it as a bitcoin transaction he got a glance at the balance as it flashed up on the dudes screen.  He'd let Mort know straight away who discretely followed him back down the street and into the hotel he was staying in. 
   Watched him check in to his room, tailed him to the third floor and then waited to see where he went next.  That is when he hit the jackpot, the fellow came back out of his room in very short order having only lost his tie before he headed down to the hotel bar for a beer. That is when Mort and Jake struck.
   Once he had taken an two indents of the left thumb, index and middle fingers he  blew on the glue spots on the foil to make sure his handwork was dry, then slipped it into an envelope he'd bought with him.  He was a genius, he'd finish it all off later, within an hour all the muppets coin would be theirs.

------------

This is a good seed for a future short story - I think I will circle back on this one.





Day 28 - Red Wine Rationalist

    'OK, get this, I bet you Trump get's re-elected in 2020.'
    Mick looked at his mate, the two of them were into their second bottle of red, outside it was cold and wet, inside, warm and comfortable, not to hot and not to cold.  Just right to listen, if not egg on his rational philosophical pal. With the added bonus was it was Johns Red wine he was drinking, which was always bloody good wine.'
    'Ok you've been banging on about Trump for yonks, you won the last Trump bet, I'm not sure I want to take another one.'
    'Alright then, what if I based my logic on everything else but trump, I'll give you some rationale to my prediction and you can decide on what the wager is.'
    Watching John's face Mick new he was in for a good serve this time. He had been here so many times before it was ridiculous, and still he managed to get sucked right in.
    'What's the logic then?'
    John shifted forward in his seat, poured himself another Red and lent forward on his elbows.
    'Right, you've heard the term Post Truth World?'
    'Yeah everyone talks about that relative to Trump.  I thought you weren't going to talk about Trump.'
    'I'm not, not mentioned him at all, you're jumping to conclusions.  So what is it about?'
    'I don't know really, I've not thought about it a lot beyond the noise that is Trump, the habitual liar that he is.'
    'Oh, oh. You've hit on another topic their, would you believe they are now referring to them as False Claims.'
    'You're shittin me?'
    'No not at all, there's this fellow Daniel Dale who's been tracking Trumps lies, I mean false claims.  He isn't saying Trump doesn't lie, in fact he says he lies a lot, just that some aren't necessary lies if your so ignorant you believe them. So could you actually be lying if you think they are true. And that's not counting the ones he simply get's confused on, like blaming democrats for his own dodgy border policies.'
    'Ok I think we've just hit on a good understanding of Post Truth, where lies are no longer really lies just reflective ignorance and confusion on a grander scale.'
    'Bingo!'
    Mick took a swig of his wine, not that it was going to help him, his head was foggy enough without all of this double speak.
    'So.' John continued 'So theirs research out there that says by 2022, most people in places like Australia, UK, you know first world countries will consume more false information than true.  America of course appears to be leading the way.'
    'Hold a tic, I need to do a pee.'
    'Grab a bottle on the way back.'
    John watched his friend wander away, he loved it when Mick came over. They'd always manage to sit and have a good old chat, someone he could take the time to express his views to, someone who understood he was a maven of information pulling together threads into some sort of idea and then letting giving him a chance to externalise his thinking into some sort of coherent thought.
    'Where's your corkscrew?'
    'They are all twist tops these days, I've not had a cork in a bottle in this house in years.'
    'Not that you knew of anyway, this ones a '87 shiraz.'
    'Top Draw below the chopping board.'
    'So what were you saying?' Mick casually asked as he popped a cork from a 31 year old Shiraz. John was a smart bugger but Mick was going to take advantage of his absent mindedness; filling both their empty glasses with what he was hoping was a bloody good red.
    'OK, take this idea of ignorance and confusion, We won't even mention lies, throw in social media, then tie that with the idea of confirmation bias, tickle it with some outrage and whacko you've got yourself an post truth incubator on steroids.'
    'No your making no sense what-so-ever.'
    'All right let me wind it back a little, do you use facebook?'
    'I'll be honest, I've got an account but I am way to busy for that way to superficial.'
    'OK so you and I might be the odd ones out there, anyway let's call it a confirmation bias platform.  there is all this evidence out there that the engines of the web, be it google be it facebook start to target you with advertisements.  You know, you look at a camper trailer one Christmas and blow me down if the same add doesn't come up again around the same time each year.'
    'Yeah.'
    'right now add to that idea that we all move in circles of friends, for example, most of us don't smoke many of us drink.'
    'Name someone in our circle who smokes right now?'
    'I can't that's the point I am trying to make.'
    'ok so what your saying is a circle of friends using a social platform are getting the same adds and information and not the stuff outside of that which is a bit confirmation bias you are talking about.'
    John took a swig of his wine, it was a bloody good wine. Leaning forward to top up Mick's glass he looked at his friend, happy that he was getting it.  He continued.
    'Right so now you've got the bulk of it, now you just need to add in a nefarious actor like Trumps Veles.'
    'TRUMP!'
    'You're a goose Mick.  Veles is a place in Macedonia, it's known as the fake news hub.  It's actually just Veles, people now call it trumps Veles.'
    'oh.'
    'Right then, so in Veles you have these nefarious actors who do all sorts of stuff, they create fake news and mash it up with real news.  Then they inject it into the CB Platforms.  All the better if they can load it into the space and trigger Outrage.'
    'Why outrage?'
    'Outrage generates dollars, that and porn. Upside of Outrage is you can hit a much much larger market, and because outrage is something you don't have to be secret about it can be amplified.'
    'Fair enough, but how does outrage generate dollars?'
    'Well the Web engines I mentioned earlier are based on advertising, advertising means money with people getting clicks for whenever someone clicks on an add associated with their site or content.'
    'OK?'
     'So what these nefarious actors try to do, and America seems awfully susceptible to this because of the religiosity of politics, is inject the polarised views into the CB platforms and blow me down if they don't trigger a social flare.'
     'Social flare?'
     'Think Solar flare form the sun, this one is simply a social flare, that then ends up with all sorts of things, like PizzaGate where some fake news incited some silly fellow to go shooting people in a pizza shop in America.'
     'OK. OK. You're doing my head in.  What and how does all of this lead to you betting that Trump is going to win in 2020?'
     'Mate, he has as good as won it already.'
     The two of them sat in silence for a minute, Mick shacking the last drops of wine from the bottle.
     'I'm not taking the bet.'

======

Is this all fiction?  Or is it Fake News - I thought I'd include a few of the links that helped inform this one.

http://projects.thestar.com/donald-trump-fact-check/

https://www.gartner.com/newsroom/id/3811367

https://sydney.edu.au/news-opinion/news/2017/11/17/we_re-in-a-post-truth-world-with-eroding-trust--it-can-t-end-wel.html

https://www.washington.edu/news/2017/07/11/lip-syncing-obama-new-tools-turn-audio-clips-into-realistic-video/

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-12-05/fake-news-story-led-man-to-shoot-inside-pizza-shop:-police/8094310


https://edition.cnn.com/videos/cnnmoney/2017/09/12/the-macedonia-story-full-subs-lon-orig.cnn

Tuesday 29 May 2018

Day 27 - Silence

Silence is insidious,
it is the stuff of secrets and sins
it eats at the soul
and succors on sadness.

Silence is subtle
it brings down sickness
it erodes your stamina
and stimulates seclusion.

Silence is sorrow
it is the stuff of suppression
it erases your sense of self
and is the source of submission.

Silence is a punishment
it is solitary confinement
it isolates the soul
and breaks your psyche.

Silence needs to be shattered
to let your self-prevail
to nurture your soul
making you whole.

Day 26 - Thug, Lifter and Twitcher (Again)


I have previously written about these characters, this is a continuation of their story, so if you'd like to read that first - go here.  Else for the purposes of 'Story a Day' this one should stand alone fairly well.

    'For a halfling, this guy is bloody heavy.' thug moaned as he adjusted the weight of Lifter for the tenth time.  It had been five days since Lifter had copped it in the eye, and his two ever loyal friends had patched him up to return to Decans Village to get him fixed.
   'Nearly there Thug, we'll get him seen to, patch him up and then head back.'
    'Should be some challenge in that Twitch, we've got no money. We spent it on supplies for the hair-brained quest that's now cost Lifty his eye.'
    Lifter knew he was in for it, at least it was only half as bad as usual.  With Lifter being unconscious for the last couple of days it had only been Thug pointing out the problems with the situation they now found themselves in.
    He was confident he had been right. He'd done all his research and it all told him there was still treasure to be had in the Ruby tower. He would have to wait now before he could prove himself right.
    He didn't mind though, Lifter and Thug had been with him for a long time.  They'd always managed to muddle their way through life one way or another. On quests, he researched and planned, or through 'tasks' as lifter called them, and finally through good old gambling on Thug in bare-knuckle fighting.
    Their situation now though was very serious. Yeah sure there had been injuries before, Thug had broken his nose, there'd been cuts and grazes, burns singed hair, broken bones all of those things.  
    This time though, an eye, oh god to lose an eye, especially for a master thief like Lifter, he needed that second eye to help him judge distances, throw knives all sorts of stuff.
    Twitch kept all of these thoughts to himself as he looked across at Thug.  He was going to have to go to one of the guilds. They had all paid their dues over the years for this exact sort of situation.  The only challenge was which guild.
    The Mages guild was run by a right pompous git. One of those bloody academic magicians who locked themselves away behind the guild walls profiteering off the membership. He'd bloody wet himself if he ever went question. He knew that git would not be any help.
    Of course, there was the thieves guild now if he could only find them that would be great. Bloody secretive bunch remained out of site all the bloody time, yeah Lifter would know what to look for he'd never shared the knowledge though.  They didn't even have any gold or treasure to try and lure one of the little bugger pick-pockets into a trap.
    So it would have to be the adventurers guild. Probably the least equipped of the three for what they needed, but the most accommodating, less prejudicial of them all.  He'd have to hope that they would run into one of their more fortunate friends or someone who owed them.
    'Thug, we've got to go to the pub.'
    'Twitch you know that's not any sort of place to take Lifty, it's a bloody social club, not a real guild like the thieves or the mages guilds.'
    'I know, it's all I can think of though.'
    'How about the clerics?'
    'Mate you know we don't have any coin, how do you think we're going to pay for the healing.'
    'It's the only way we will save his eye. Look I'll sell my one of my weapons, all of them if I have to.'
    'OK you're right, we'll take him over to the chapel and see what we can do.'
    They continued on past the adventurers guild, up the slight rise towards the little building that was the chapel in the town.  As they approached the small one-room building with its whitewashed walls and thatched roof Lifter was able to observe there was more than one cleric in town.
   There were three clerics in town, now this played into their favor. As he could see all three clerics were from three very distinctly different dispositions. These three characters in their own perverse way are continuously looking for converts to their respective gods.  He'd have a bidding war on his hands.
    First, there was the alabaster fellow, they'd dealt with these guys before.  Your run of the mill cleric who made a quid by travelling from town to town.  A Journeyman cleric who if they were lucky could do some mine healing, he was not sure if he could do an eye.
   Then there was the Drow priestess, one of the Spider Queen Lloth's minions.  She didn't look so bad, being a fighting cleric she was dressed in a shaped hard leather breastplate, thick leather skirt, pleated to allow movement, and a weighted mace on her hip.
    As much as the Drow priestess looked as though she could handle herself he was somewhat reserved on how she would go about healing his friend and the cost she may place upon the task.
    Finally, there was a jolly monk a worshipper of Heironeous the god of valor.  These characters could more often than not be a bit hit and miss when it comes to healing, yeah sure they could nurse someone to health, but unless they are actively engaged with there god, useless when it comes to healing a wound like the one Lifter now had.
   'Oi, which of you three can help my friend here?'
    Thug the ever consistent charmer had started off well.
    'My learned friends, please excuse my companions abruptness, he is anxious about his friend's eye.'
    'I can help.' It was the alabaster who had spoken, they drow priestess turned back to her praying and the monk simply stood quietly as monks do, dark wise eyes taking in the scene.
   'Have you done this sort of thing before, you know healed eyes?'
    'Yes my dear wizard, now give me a look and I will see what I can do.'
    'Is there a cost?'
    'Let me fix him first, then if he is healed to your satisfaction we can discuss the price.'

Day 25 - Chapter 3


Chapter 3

Durog’s farm was the logical place to go. Bobmadik only hoped that his friends' farm had not fallen to the same fate as his own.  His concerns, although unspoken was definitely shared by his wife, as the party of three lifted their pace, silently praying their friend was alive and well.
The trip to Durog’s farm was a little over an hours walk from their home along a path well worn as the two families often made the trip alone or together, two to three times a week.
Taesha and Aelen to visit with Dalia and Olin, or whole families transiting in either direction for a weekly feast. Joyous times of storytelling, news sharing, eating and festivities. Festivities often resulting in one family or the other sleeping on the floor or sharing beds so as not to travel back in the dark.
Durog and his family had been friends from the outset. Bob and Taesha had gone straight to Durog’s farm when they had left Dalgroth. This was as his father Bombading had directed providing his son with a letter of introduction at their final farewell.  
Bob had never known what his father had written; nor how or why he knew of Durog. Bob had respected his father's seal and had never broken it to read the note. He had respected his father's privacy to the point he had never even inquired of  Durog what his father had written.
All he knew was that Durog and he had become fast friends and over the last three years they had often toiled together doing work on both their farms.
First Durog helping Bob and Taesha to build their new home. Then the two of them working together tilling their fields, felling trees to build fences, expand homes and stockpile wood for the cold winters that hit the valley.
‘Hi Di Ho!’ Bob’s contemplation was shattered by the loud booming voice of Durog walking up the path towards them. ‘You looking for your ol‘orse?’ Stepping aside to reveal apples the horse walking behind, head hung low.
‘Durog, it’s so good to see you. Is everything ok? Are Dalia and Olin ok? Please tell me they are ok?’
‘Oi, slow down wee lassie, what’s goin on?’
Bob stopped facing his friend as Taesha lifted Aelen onto the horses back.
‘Durog, our farm's gone. A warband of Kobolds burnt it down, they took Taesha and Aelen from me.’
‘Ey! Stop Laddie, the trail’s not the place for this sort of conversation. Does splain why old apples here turned up at my place.  Come on, let's get off the track quickly. back to my place. You lead the way, I’ll go cover our passing.’
Bob, without speaking pulled one of his battle axes and passed it towards Durog with the haft out. ‘Nah Laddie, I’ve got my falch.  You get going, I’ll catch up in a bit.’
Bob recognised the hook and grip of a falchion rising above Durog’s left shoulder.  Bob had never known Durog to carry a weapon.
Silently acknowledging the old Dwarves instincts Bob moved forward taking the horses lead rope from Taesha, turning Apples on the path towards Durog’s farm.
Taesha dropped in walking several feet behind apples so as not to scare the horse. Glancing behind her she watched as the glint of Durog’s falchion disappeared back towards their farm.
A very short time after parting ways with the older dwarf, the trail they had been following dropped into the open field of the lower valley.  The vista they walked into was spectacular, although the shadow’s of the valley walls had started to stretch with the lowering sun. Bob could see straight down the valley with the darkening sky changing the horizon into a silhouette of black.
Durog’s farm sat on the far side below the cliffs and steep hills of the valley walls.  With a commanding view from the front porch, it watched over the valley that was Durog’s domain, providing some protection and early warning if anyone was to approach Bobmadik’s farm and the Elven child living there.
Olin, Durog’s son was standing just off the opening, resting his hands on the haft of a large logging axe. ‘Hi Di Ho, family.’
‘Hi Di Ho Olin.’ They replied in unison, literally singing the greeting due to an overwhelming sense of relief they all felt at seeing Olin and his home intact.  
‘Come, Mother is expecting you.’
‘How so Olin? We are not due for another three days.’ Taesha enquired wondering why Dalia would be expecting them.
‘When Apples turned up without you, all lathered up, prancing and agitated. Dad thought it best we go find out what is going on? There have been a few odd things going on.  Dad even killed a Kobold below the western face two days ago.’
‘A Kobold! That is what tried to take Aelen and I.’
‘Come family, we need to get inside.  If I don’t have you in front of mum straight away I will be in trouble, and if dad finds you out here, I’ll be in even more trouble.’
Olin took the lead rope for apples letting Bob stand back as he passed and take his wife’s hand to walk across the valley.  Aelen had fallen asleep on the horse as his little life had been in turmoil for a day and a half now; exhaustion overwhelming the little elf.
As they approached the cabin the door opened light streaming out as Dalia stood silhouetted in the door frame, skipping down the stairs as the young family and her son approached.
‘Thank god you’re ok’ Dalia embraced Taesha, ‘Quick, inside now.’
She released Taesha from her embrace, gave Bob a quick hug and then turned lifting Aelen asleep from the horse and started turned to go inside. ‘Come, come.’
Climbing the few steps into the house Taesha and Bob entered to see Dalia disappear behind a woven curtain into the back of the cabin with their child. Comfortable in the idea that he would be put to bed in Dalia’s own bed.
‘Sit, Sit.’ Fussing about them as she returned forcing the two to sit and rest, fatigue washing over the two of them, Bob realised that it was pure adrenaline and concern for his family and friends that had been keeping him upright for the last several hours.
The two sat in silence, as Dalia plonked a jar of mead in front of them both, then a cut of meat, chunks of cheese, bread and coated it all in a thick broth ‘Eat.’
‘Dalia, shouldn’t we wait for Durog and Olin? This is rude of us.’
‘Oh look at you, all prim and proper as usual. Taesha my sweet, I do not know what you have been through, but the two of you look a right mess, I’ve never seen you so unkempt in all the years I have known you. Your horse turns up in a lather, we saw smoke rising from your farm, Durog killed a Kobold, he insists we all carry weapons wherever we go now, Olin his axe, Durog his Falch, me this knife.’ As she drew a long dagger from her apron.
‘So you two eat and rest, the menfolk will be back soon enough, then we can talk.’
After they had eaten their fill, Dalia fussing over them the whole time they moved to the chairs in front of the fire sitting close together, both being compliant as they did not have the strength left in them to fight against Dalia’s caring demands.
Sometime later Bob jolted awake as he heard the door open as both Olin and Durog entered the cabin.  Olin placed his axe against the wall and went straight to stoke the fire that had died down as Bob and Taesha had been asleep.  Durog hugged and spoke to his wife briefly.
Standing Bob walked towards his friend who gestured for him to sit at the main table, Dalia going to the back room again, returning with a blanket to cover the still sleeping Taesha.  
Durog poured some mead and sat down, sitting a cup in front of them both. ‘So what happened friend? I ran back to your farm only to find it burnt to the ground.’
Bobmadik told his three friends the story as he knew it, from the work he’d been doing in the top paddock to the discovery of his house, pursuit of the abductors, the rescue and the flight to the safety of Durog’s farm.
The three of them sat quietly, listening, Durog occasionally interrupting asking a question for clarity when he finished they all sat silent for a moment before Durog broke the silence.
‘Well then, that confirms it, we are off to Dalgroth’
‘We, what do you mean we, how did you know I was heading to Dalgroth?’ Bob was flummoxed by his friend's response; his conclusion that Bob and Taesha would have already decided to go back to Dalgroth.
“Pretty easy ‘ol Bobbo, I know you will have deduced that the kobolds were after Aelen by now.  Why else would they be keeping them alive, now you need to work out why they are after him, and the logical place to start would be back at Dalgroth where he first entered your life.’
‘But Durog, you can’t leave your farm, all the work you have put into it.’
‘Oh don’t worry about that, Dalia and Olin will be able to deal with this place, plus being away from you lot will by its nature cause them to be in the safest place they could be.’
‘But you do not need to come friend, stay here with your family, we will return when we can.’
‘No Bob, your father would have me drawn and quartered if anything was to happen to you all.’
‘Drawn and Quartered. What are you talking about?’
‘Well your father and I go back a long way, we used to adventure together. When he inherited the throne of Dalgroth I stayed on for a while, then when you boys were born your father wanted someone to find or make a safe haven.  As Dalia and I were not long married, and I was yearning for something constructive to do. I volunteered.’
Bobmadik was stunned. He needed to explain this to Taesha, it appears as much as his father exiled him, he had not. He had knowingly sent Bob and his family to a safe haven he had sought years before.
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Well, how old is Olin again?’
With exasperation Dalia burst out with ‘28 Durog, your son is 28 years.’
‘Ok then, so it’s 30 odd years plus or minus some.’
‘You mean you’ve been waiting here all this time, just in case we needed a safe haven?’
‘Yes Bob, we have.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Duty Son. Duty with benefits, I have a loving family and great friends in you all.  Now, what are we going to do?’
‘We need to leave tomorrow.’
‘Right, we leave before light.’
Durog, Bob, Olin and Dalia spoke in hushed tones for another hour, detailing what they needed to prepare. Both Olin and Dalia went to bed first, recognising they would have to be the first awake. Olin the ever dutiful son taking Aelen from his mother's bed so his parents could have some time together before he left in the morning.
Bob and Durog sat in silence as they prepared for bed. Once they had gone to bed and all the movement had settled, Bob broke the silence.
‘What aren’t you telling me Durog?’
‘When I went back to your farm earlier, not only did I discover it burnt to the grown, I spotted a Drow.  It was snooping around trying to pick-up your trail.’
‘A dark elf?’
‘Not just a dark elf, a Drow Assassin. She wore the black of the of the queen's guard. That will be who put the kobolds on you.  I thought it was unnatural for the Kobolds to kidnap without something hiring them or pushing them to do so.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘We keep watch laddie, and seen as you’ve had a sleep you get first watch.’
Bob watched as Durog took a long knife and his Falch into the back room. He knew the Falchion was next to useless in his cabin, hence the long knife.
Bob extinguished the lantern that had been alight, better that he let his night sight develop, there was no way he wanted to be disadvantaged floundering around trying to adjust his eyesight to the dark after he needed it.

Monday 28 May 2018

Day 24 - As May Melts Away

The days of May are ticking away.
I'm running through several days of delay.
With Day 28 being today.
I am writing day 24 to my dismay.
This little ditty is a cheats way
of trying to fill up the 31 days of May.

It's interesting to see.
How creative I can be.
As each day is an anomaly
that requires me to imaginatively
write busily like a bee
trying to fill the 31 pages of a paper tree.


Day 22 - An extra hour

    'Derrick, what if you had an extra hour in your day?'
    'Who are you? how do you know my name?'
    'That doesn't matter. Do you want the hour?'
    Derrick stood looking at the fellow in front of him. Short about 5 foot 7 inches, bespectacled, balding, plain grey suit, white shirt and blue tie.  Derrick first noticed the fellow about a week ago, and had spotted him at least once a day ever since.  Be it on his way to work, at lunch; he even saw him in the Doctors Reception when he went to get an ingrown hair pulled.
   Now though, the little bugger was standing at the entrance to his apartment block.  Derrick had spotted him about half a block ago, so frequent now that as he approached his interest was piqued. Was this guy following him? preempting his travels.  He'd said hello, and now the guy was trying to sell him something.
   'Everyone would want an extra hour in their day, why do you ask? it's not as if you can give it to me.'
   'I can, so do you want it?'
   'Would it cost me?'
   'I'm not sure, it depends on what you determine as cost.'
   'Money.'
   'No, not money.'
   'Ok, I'll take it.'
   'Good, it is yours now, goodbye.'
   And with that, he was off. Not running, he simply moved on.  Derrick watched as the short balding man walked off down the street, turning right onto camp street and disappearing. He stood there for a few more minutes wondering at the oddness of the fellow and the discussion they had.

   'Hey Derrick! You're early man.  How's everything going?'
   'What do you mean I am early, it's 9 am, I am right on time.'
   'Nah mate, by my time it's only 8.'
   This was odd, this had been happening to him more and more lately. Most mornings he was finding that his watch as an hour fast by the time he got to work.  So much so he'd even gone and bought himself a new watch. Yet the same thing happened again, and again.
   'Oh well, seeing I'm early, you want a hand?'
   'For sure, I'll shout you a coffee when we are done, we should be able to get ready for the first meeting twice as fast now your here.'

   He looked at the bedside clock on the side of his bed, and again at his watch. The night before he'd gone to bed with his wrist watch only an hour ahead, yet when the alarm clock went off at 7 am his watch was showing 9 am.  It had gained another hour over night.  He tapped his watch.

   Ok he was going to work this out. It had been bugging him since he'd met the grey little man.  At first he simply thought he'd had an odd encounter, then he simply thought his watch was dodgy. After about three days of trying different experiments, winding the clock back, leaving it when it moved forward over a day or two. He was now certain something was happening in the night, somehow his watch as gaining an hour overnight compared to every other clock in the house.
   He'd even gone to bed with two wrist watches on, both the old one, and the new one he'd bought when he thought the old one was playing up. Both watches moved forward and hour, whilst his kitchen clock and bedside clock did not.
   Setting an alarm to go off every hour on the hour on his iPad he sat down on the couch, started the TV ready to see if he could catch the time shift.  He'd sit-up all night and see if he would work it out.
   As the night wore on, after the evening programs had given over to the infomercial world he'd started playing his WiiU breath of the wild.  Every hour on the hour his alarm would go off. He would check both his wrist watch and all three of the house clocks that he had moved into the lounge-room where he was gaming. If they were the same he'd continue on.
   This was the routine he went through, 10pm, 11pm, Midnight, 1am, 2am, 3am; and that was when it happened. His wrist watch was showing 4am whilst the alarm and every other clock was showing 3am.  He wasn't certain, he hadn't noticed anything unusual.
   It told him a lot, yet told him nothing. Tired Derrick retired to bed, he needed to clear his head, to see if he could work this out in the morning.

   The alarm went of at 7am, and sure enough his watch was still an hour ahead of his bedside clock. What or how was he going to do this next? how was he going to determine if he really was gaining an hour a day, and if he was why had the little grey man given it to him?

====

Below are the notes that this started with - as it is story a day and I am playing catch-up I think I will leave this idea where it is and come back to it post May.

Idea in brief: stumble across a wishing rock (or genie bottle) and clean up the bottle, genie pops out and offers one wish, not three wishes, just one wish the issue is he only knows how to grant one wish which is to give you an extra hour in the day that no-one else has.  

Don't know how it works nor do you really care, it's your hour and you will use it how ever you want.  What you realise is that in that hour no-one else is around, they are frozen in place.

It gives you all sorts of powers to do things, to do good to do bad.  To save time in travel.

You can't exercise it at will, do you find others wandering in the same period.

Greatest Alibi ever, do you go into business..

Actually are their a whole cast of people who have this opportunity.

Maybe it's not a genie, maybe it's a gift from a stranger, the stranger being an Alien Scientist researching human nature, carrying out an experiment, looking to the statistical anomalies.




Day 23 - Bad Water

 
    Eric opened the medicine cabinet looking for a ibuprofen, he'd been at Jake's apartment for hours, they'd necked two bottles of Red wine and moved onto the Scotch.  Eric's head was thumping.  Thank god Jake had ordered a Meat lovers pizza, and some soft drink. He knew it was only an intermission to the drinking, hence searching for a ibuprofen.
   What greeted him though had him a bit miffed.  Yeah sure he found some panadol, the whole cabinet was pristine, much the same as Jake and the way he dressed, the apartment he kept, everything. Jake was an anal-retentive in some ways, so what shocked him was the clear plastic water bottle, blue capped with the label ripped off, written in black text-a barely legible due to the liquid inside was 'Evil', 'Demon' and 'Devil'. written vertically down three points of the
    The liquid inside was a murky brown with black crystalised tendrils growing in random directions. The contents of the bottle was as ugly as the three words written down the side of it. This did not make any sense what-so-ever.
    Eric had known Jake for about 18 months. They had become fast friends when they met during the induction at work, and after the first night out were near on inseparable. To the point that the two of them had rented apartments in the same building block. Close enough to hang-out constantly far enough away to ensure there was a level of privacy, and independence afforded to them both.
    This was odd, nothing had prepared him for such a site in Jake's apartment. Grabbing the bottle without thinking he went to ask Jake about it.  The feel of the bottle odd, in his hand, somehow warm, yet cold, malleable like clay all of which felt contradictory to what he expected; it did not feel like a bottle of water.
    'Hey Jake. What's this?' placing the bottle on the table in front of him.
    Jake did not flinch, did not challenge Eric or accuse him of going through his private stuff, it was if it was expected, as if he was meant to find the bottle. He literally did not bat an eyelid.
    'Oh that's an experiment. A fellow Dr Masaru Emoto did some experiments playing music to water, it responded.  I thought I'd try something different.'
    'Seriously? These words.'
    'Yeah interesting isn't it.'
    Eric looked at Jake; he had never expected something like this from his friend. A fellow who was so about appearance, about being upwardly mobile that he could not fathom he would have time for something like this.
    'How long have you had it?'
    'Oh about five years.'
    'What, so you're telling me, you bought this thing with you?'
    'Yep.'
    'You mean, you basically turned up here with nothing, a small day pack supposedly with all your worldly belongings, and this was in the bag.'
    'Sure did.'
    'You're weird man!'
    Jake stood, took the bottle and walked over to the fridge, opening the small cupboard above it and putting the bottle in there.
    'You want a beer?'
    Sitting down Jake twisted the cap of a stubby and passed it across to Eric, then did the same for himself.
   'To be hones mate, I don't know what to do with it. I am scared of it.'
   'What do you mean?'
   'Well I did it in uni, some of my buddies and I had seen Emoto's studies in a biology class or something and thought we'd try an experiment. So we wrote some lovely words on one bottle, some sad words on another and then some evil words; that's the one in the cupboard.'
    'And?'
    'Well, one of the girls drank the lovely water, and felt great, she got glow about her that was unbelievable, it didn't seem to fade. On the sad ones we simply poured it into a flower pot, a daisy if I am right. It didn't die it just drooped.'
    'So?'
    'Well then I was stuck with the evil bottle, I couldn't get rid of it, not after what I'd seen with the girl and the flower.'
    'What do you bloody mean, you could have poured it down the sink.'
    'Did you have a good look at it?  It's evil mate, like it's labelled. I'm not going to drink it, I can't pour it down the sink, that flows to the ocean. I can't leave it behind some bloody kid will find it.'
    'So what, you're just going to keep it with you forever. You know its festering, getting worse. You can see that straight away.'
    'Yeah, I know.'
    'Ever thought of taking it to a priest, rabbi or someone like that?'
    'I have, I don't know any. You don't think they'd laugh at me?'
    'Nah, shit no. The Catholics, they are right into this stuff.  These days exorcism is like great brand management compared to all that pedophile stuff they are dealing with.'
    'Do you know any priests.'
    'Yeah, one, stands out a mile, one of the best I've ever met, I was an alter boy to him, I'll ring mum and get his number.'
   'Excellent. I think it is affecting me.'
   'No Shit Sherlock, that dark shit would affect anyone, even creeps me out knowing it is in your cupboard.'
    
--------------


Dr Masaru Emoto - https://youtu.be/au4qx_l8KEU


Wednesday 23 May 2018

Day 21 - News Flash

 
 'Good Evening Viewers this is Alice Liddel from Wonderland News Corporation coming to you from downtown Rhymeville.  Today I am having to report upon a catastrophe for one of our most recognisable citizens, Humpty-Dumpty.'
   'I am told HD had been out and about on the town with his pals for a leisurely lunch on this fine day, unfortunately that day has not ended well for him, as he has unfortunately fallen from a wall where we believe his friends had thought to leave him safely propped up while they went to get someone to help roll him home.'
   'It appears that HD had over indulged in his preferred drink of Boiled Brandy & Ale often referred to as BBA.
   'Note though it is not all bad news, it is reported that Humpty is not yet dead, there's a breadth of advisers about trying to solve this problem.  For all reports it appears this is not the first time it has happened.'
   'Here in Rhymeville  where our population is pretty stable there are four-score men and three-score more who encountered such a situation back in 1797 and 1810 respectively.  Although scores of men where involved on both these occasions, neither of these groups succeeded in putting HD back together then.'
   'It's also been reported by James Orchard Halliwell that Humpty-Dumpty had a fall into a beck in 1842. It's understandable my viewers that you may be curious as to what the heck is a beck? Well you see it's a stream and on this occasion it was reported that HD broke the sinews in his neck. In this report by James Halliwell forty doctors and forty wrights could not put humpty dumpty to right.  That aside though officials are asking if any of those doctors or wrights are watching the broadcast could they please get in touch.'
   'Then again, over beyond the wall you will see all the kings horses and all the kings men milling about arguing over how to put Humpty together again, as they have been trying to succeed at this again and again.'
    'So all in all everyone, it is pure chaos down here as catastrophe's such as this in Rhymesville are big news, we have horses and men milling about trying to work out just how to put Humpty together again.  This does look like it will take some time to resolve, and we will keep you informed of the developments throughout the night, now back to you Cheshire at Wonderland central'

                                                               -------

The prompt from story-a-day was to write a News Story My source for this idea was the wikipedia page for Humpty Dumpty woth a squiz to see how I wove in the wikifacts.
    '


Day 20 - Bad guys wear suits

    The reflection in the mirror looked spectacular, his slim lined Navy blue, crisp white shirt, silver D&G cuff links, red power tie.  He would be the best dressed bloke in the room, blending in, but not. Not only confirming with the rest of them, leading the conformity, showing the way it is meant to be done.  Looking the part of success that others aspired to.
    He knew the power of a good suit, it had gotten him in and out of all sorts of situations. He was the whole package, not only did his suit look good, he looked good.  As much as he was a conformist he knew he was different.
    Unlike the sheep who whore suits simply because they were told, because that’s what a business man wears.  So old school thinking, as if a suit gave you an increased IQ.  What smucks many of them, it was as if the ties the knotted in all sorts of perversions of the Windsor starved them of oxygen reducing their sense.
   He was different, he wasn’t incompetent, he knew he didn’t know anything at all about banking, he didn’t really need to, none of them really needed to.  Incompetence to him was when you thought you knew something, thought you were good and yet you were not.  All he needed was his suit and his confidence.  Eventually once he climbed the executive ladder all of those things would be come easier.
   All these sheep in suits, yeah, they’d benefit and make some money by getting caught up in the flow. That didn’t matter, eventually they would all be his minions.  He was going to be one of the chosen ones in the longer-term. An anonymous board member getting paid a bucket load to look good and speak well.  So far removed from reality that they believed saying things like ‘Good to Great’, ‘We will succeed’ and other blah actually makes a difference.  
    Tugging his suit sleave to cover his shirt cuffs just so, he slipped his iPhone into his breast pocket and strode out the door knowing, confidant in himself that it was all about him and no-one else mattered. He would eventually be a powerful man in the background, making millions and that everyone would be at his service. Be they Luietenants carrying out his every wish, or mere human flotsam, just another person to be consumed for his benefit.

Monday 21 May 2018

Day 19 - On Beyond Meetings

Inspired by Dr Seuss ‘On beyond Zebra’

Said Mertle Moran Maloney Modal,
My Project Manager learning to tell.
‘Agenda’s are to be sequenced, and actions are to close.’
‘Minutes minute the moment, and often misspelled.’
‘Objections are to be handled and exceptions dispelled.’
‘I know all about meetings, there’s nothing to tell.’
‘So I know everything we know of how meetings go.’

Then he almost fainted and staggered a step.
When I picked up a card and said; ‘Oh no, there’s a lot more yet.’
‘Things that you never dreamt of before!’
‘Of course you could stop if you wanted no more.’
‘Most people do stop, only to meet infinitely more.’
‘Not I though as meetings are a bore!’

‘For where I go there’s teamwork and more.’
‘There’s fun to be had and outcomes galore.’
‘We look at our Kanbans, tell stories and more.’
‘Actions are what we are about and a lot, lot more.’
‘It’s amazing in truth, what can be done.’
‘When you are tempted not to meet anyone.’

‘So beyond meetings there are stand ups to be had.’
‘Where you and friends stand around and con flab.’
‘con flabbing is the art of now next and no more.’
‘Dealing with those blockers through the scrum master and more.’

‘For being agile is what we are about.’

‘Delivering outcomes instead of sitting about.’

‘Iterate and sprint, versus sitting to think.’

‘Action over procrastination is at our core’

‘Let meetings that bore, be no more.’



Day 18 - Chapter 2


You can find Chapter 1 Here

Chapter 2


            ‘What are we going to do now Bob?’
            ‘I don’t know Hun, I don’t know.’
            He had finally stopped at the edge of the forest; they’d been traveling for several hours since the skirmish at the campsite. Bobmadik stood scanning the field in front of him, still in shadow although the pre-dawn sky above was starting to lighten.
            As he had thought when they set out, there really was nothing to return to at the farm. He could still see the ashen remnants of what had been their home, tendrils of smoke rising from the ruin. ‘Taesha, I think we need to return to Dalgroth.’
            ‘Why? They were very clear. Aelen is not welcome there.’
            ‘I know, we have to find out why?’ He looked at Taesha, Aelen asleep on her back. She was beautiful to him. They’d been on the run for hours and she had done her fair share of carrying Aelen on her back.
            Over several hours they had fallen into an unspoken rhythm, knowing each other so well that they were able to stop and pass the sleeping child between them without a word or sound uttered.  It was the stoic nature of the mountain dwarves that propelled them forward; stamina shared equally between the two, male and female; the difference negligible.
            ‘Look Tash; my father’
            ‘Your FATHER! He did nothing Bob, NOTHING!’
            ‘No Tash, you’re wrong, he let us leave. He did not have to, he could have bowed to the council's wishes and taken Aelen from us to discard him in the forest somewhere; to fend for himself. He let us go, he did the best he could under the circumstances.’
            ‘I know, I know. Sorry. Still, we can’t go back there, they will take Aelen. They will punish you for disobeying the council; your father won’t have any choice but to banish you for disobeying the will of the council’
            ‘Tash, you might be right, we have to do something though. Right now I think we need to get going again.’ Lifting Aelen from his mother's back Bob turned and started walking through the forest, keeping the field to his right.
            ‘Where are we going?’
            ‘We need to get to the other side, out to the road. We can head east to Durog’s farm, he will help us.’
            ‘Why are you going that way?’
            Bob stopped, turning to look back at Taesha who had not moved from where they had been talking. ‘Tash, we can’t go across the field, we have to go around. Anything; anyone could be watching for our return’
            ‘But they’re behind us, you killed three of them, there’s only four left, they will be scared to follow you. Surely we can run down to the cabin and see if there is anything we can salvage anything. We have nothing; we need something. My jewelry box, we can sell the jewels for coin, we need coin.’
            ‘Tash, Hun’ Bob walked back towards his wife, he realised this was the first time they had stopped since he had pulled the two of them from creature’s camp. ‘Tash. We can’t. Those creatures. I’ve seen them before.’
            ‘What do you mean?’
            ‘They are Kobolds, that was a Warband and they were here for a reason. Their kind never wanders far from their lairs unless they have a good reason. Also, they tend to eat or sell their captives. That lot did not look like they were getting ready to eat you two.’
            ‘Kobolds! What? Where have you seen them before’
‘Tash please, we don’t have time, we need to keep moving, they will be reluctant to follow-us beyond the woods, if they follow us at all. Please we need to go and we can’t risk being caught out there, in the open.’ Taking Taesha’s hand he pulled her forward, he held her hand as long as he could before the absence of a trail mean he needed to use it to stabilize himself; he hated letting her hand go. He knew she was hurting, sad that their idyllic little home and their valley life was now gone.
            They walked in silence, the valley, and their smoldering home constantly on their right.  Aelen woke, hugged his father and climbed up onto his shoulders. He didn’t speak.  This was not unusual; he had rarely spoken in the time he had been with his adopted parents. Perched on his father’s shoulders Aelen looked around gesturing to his mother who waved back.
            After an hour they reached the opposite side of the field from where they had stood and talked. Taking Aelen from his shoulders and putting him on the ground Bob knelt ‘Aelen, I need to go away for a few minutes, please look after your mother for me.’
            Aelen nodded stepped to his mother and simply slipped his hand inside of hers. ‘I will be back in a few minutes, please be safe.’ Bob turned, not waiting for either of them to say anything and he stepped away into the brush, stopping only briefly after a few meters to turn and look back, they were gone; hidden from site. Safe, he hoped.
            After several minutes he found what he was looking for, not that he was really looking, he knew exactly where to find the small cairn of boulders. As he approached, it caused him to realise how much they had lost. It felt like only yesterday that he had built this cairn, yet looking at it now, the small boulders moss covered, the shrubs and small trees grown around it as if it had been here for years.
            Years. It was a little over three years since they had arrived in the valley. Aelen was one when they first came here, now he was a sage four-year-old who always looked wiser than his years. Three years; such a short period of time.
            Bobmadik knelt in front of the cairn and lifted the first melon-sized rock away, then a second, a third, finally spotting what he had been looking for. Reaching in his fingers closed around soft leather, tugging firmly he pulled a package free from the remaining stones.
            Laying the leather wrap on the ground he pulled on the drawstring and opened the package, rolling it out as he would a cloth for a picnic.  There in front of him as he expected was everything he needed right now.
            A gold chain with his family seal on it; his two battle axes, a hard leather belt and harness with loops for his axes, a scabbard containing a dagger, and a pouch with some coin in it.
            Standing Bobmadik slung the harness over his shoulder and fastened the belt around his waist. Taking a moment to adjust the belt to his waist, he checked that the dagger was placed in the middle of his back, pulling it free and sliding it back into the scabbard remembering the ease with which he had done this in the past.
            Once he was happy with the fit he bent and picked up the two axes; one in each hand. It had been a long time since he had last held the weapons. Yet he could not help but marvel how indistinguishable they were from each other. It was only the feel, the balance that told him one from the other.
            Each ax had a two-foot long metal shaft wrapped in leather for the grip. One side of the ax head had a curved and thin edge for slashing, the flip side a weighted spike for piercing armor.  The pommel of each engraved with the Dwarven ruins BD
            His fingers wrapping around the grip of each ax, becoming an extension of his body, a familiarity washing over him that he had not felt for a long time. He paused only momentarily to contemplate what was in front of him. To wonder what had compelled him to reach into his past to equip himself and protect his small family into the future.
            In one fluid motion, he spun both axes in unison in his hands sliding the handles into the locket and chape made for them on the harness. Bending again he picked up the leather cloth and strap. Turning walking back the way he had come, toward his family.
            A few minutes later he walked back into the space that he had left Taesha and Aelen. He stopped and scanned the forest around him, he could not see them at all, could not hear them. Speaking firmly, not loudly out of a fear of being heard a fear that someone or something was following them.
            A moment later they stepped from the forest right in front of him; he was amazed at how well they had hidden. ‘Come on, we have to go. We should be able to make it to Durog’s farm before nightfall.’
            ‘Where did you get those from?’
            ‘I stowed them here when we first came’
            ‘I’ve never seen them. How is it that I’ve never seen them? How do you know about kobolds? How did you kill three of them without waking the rest?’
            ‘Your questions have to wait, we need to go.’
            ‘I feel like I don’t know you.’
            ‘Taesha, I will answer all your questions; I am still the same dwarf you married’
            Bobmadik pulled a patch of red cloth from his waist belt. Squatting he gestured towards Aelen with the cloth ‘Here son, I found this yesterday and only just now remembered it.’  Aelen hugged his father, then slipped his hand into his mothers and pulled her forward, towards Durog’s farm.