Profane Tales: Melancholy & Magic (part 2 of 2)

4-unicorn & siren
THE UNICORN found welcomed silence among the Fairy forest. He found a tree to lean against, for he was bone-weary and ready to sleep without waking.
Solitude was cut short by the sound of a woeful song. The voice was one the Unicorn thought he knew, female and too enchanting to be mortal. It may have worked to weary a mortal traveler into lying down to weep. But he was not mortal. Instead he was filled with curiosity.
"Your ha ho has. So full of joy.
words you pass make me a toy.
My wings are soaked,
my bones already dried.
So build you hungry fire.
So build it high.
Your painted lies, your this and thats

Your torchlight cries with sharpened flats
My wings are broken, so throw your spears
You delay my defeat
‘for cries are music to your ears."
A sob broke the ballad’s end and by then the Unicorn found the Siren beneath a tree, knees hugged to her chest. A veil half-concealed her countenance but he knew there was only one siren with a veil. That of their oracle.
"You sing when it does you no good, siren. Tamryn, dry your ears and fly from this world. It is not for you. You are demon and they are fae."
"I belong in no world now. I am the last of my kind," she sighed and lowered her head, dark hair falling in a curtain.
The Unicorn saw no wings but he knew it was an illusion to make her seem harmless. He kept his distance, for though they dined on men, sirens were unpredictable.
"If you are the last then a decision should be made whether you wish to perish or live on. Action must be taken. Passivity is nothing and will lead to nothing."
"And so you are here to mock me, too?" the Siren asked.
"I find few things funny, Siren. Our melancholy is as one. They have all broken my horn."
This captured the creature's ear and she lifted her head. "I see your horn, Unicorn."
"And I still see your wings beneath the glamor."
There was a faint smile behind the veil. "We are of opposing natures. You protect innocence and purity."
"Sirens eat the tempted mortal. I do not see how this makes us very different."
"I..." she told him with a sharp gesture "eat virgins."
"I see." The Unicorn lowered his horn. It was not something he wished to do, to slay this pitiful creature. Likewise, she rose to his challenge. As his horn let out a ghostly light, her disguise as an ordinary woman melted. She spread her arms, her veil going black and feathers appearing where her white dress had been. Great, magnificent black wings unfolded before the Unicorn and where had sat a demur creature a fearsome Siren with midnight-black wings awaited the white creature's next move.
The Unicorn backed. "I do not wish to fight you."
"I do not wish to fight you," the Siren returned.
"Lower your wings and I shall lower my horn."
The Siren was afraid, this was clear in the way her feathers ruffled. But she lowered her wings. For this show of trust, the Unicorn lowered his horn. He also set his head down and began to walk away. The demoness followed, at first in silence but then "May I join you? I promise I will not touch you."
"Yes, you may come along. I am leaving this world. I must return to the mortal one, where demons and men have free reign."
"I must, too."
"Then walk by my side."
Tamryn obeyed. The veiled Siren walked with the unicorn, neither touching but each smiling slightly.

5-the Unicorn lives
IN THE mortal kingdom, the executioner still waited with an assembly of guards. All hung their head when they saw the white creature approaching. The Unicorn was luminous at night, like a beam of moonlight. His own head was not hung as low as earlier but he approached his certain death with a steady gaze.
"I had hoped...he would not come," spoke one man, echoing the thoughts of all.
Of all the heads hung, the executioner's was the heaviest. He was now to behead a unicorn.
The Unicorn knelt before the tree stump where he was to place his head. "I have known so much time that Death appears like dawn light and tomorrow sounds like Nothing."
A long silence stretched over them all as the unicorn offered his neck to cut.
But a voice glided through the quiet. It was a feminine voice, its words difficult to discern.
Yet the Unicorn knew enchantment when he heard it. Of all the men about to witness this execution, it was the executioner who stirred at the sound of the voice.
"She is calling me..." he whispered.
"Do not listen to it!" one of the men warned him.
"I have no choice..." he told the others. Then, with his axe in hand, he followed the voice. “It is the Angel of Death.
Deeper into the forest, the voice was singing. Beckoning the innocent and the pure to an embrace.

Only the bravest guards chased after him in an attempt to break his trance.

By the castle, the Unicorn stood. He had begun to trot into the forest after the Executioner. But fanfare announced the return of someone of the the princess Amethyst.

The Unicorn turned as lift of gloom could be seen on the way he ran. While the other men were discovering the Executioner's axe, the virgin and the Unicorn were reunited. Somewhere in the shadows of the forest, the siren watched, humming a merry tune.

Profane Tales: Melancholy & Magic (part 1 of 2)

1
SOMEWHERE IN the Kingdom of a mortal King, a Princess was away and visiting her relatives. In her long absence, the Unicorn who was her protector and friend would lie in the king's garden and sleep. When he woke he stared into the sky and wished for an end to his memories. Time for him had become heavy. He bowed his head and stood that way as hours passed. Every mortal man, woman and child who crossed his path would bow their heads as well and begin to weep. The Unicorn's sorrow touched every mortal who saw him.

"Look at the Unicorn," they would say, but instead of the joy or wonder that usually followed, a melancholy of deepest black settled on them.

It became so dark in their hearts that the mortal King had to make a decision. "Every time my daughter is gone for more than a few days this happens. We cannot keep living this way. Nor will the Unicorn go to hang his head elsewhere, no matter how we shoo or threaten him. Something must be done."

With a weeping heart the King ordered that the ancient creature at last be put to rest. As the guards arrived to tell the Unicorn this news, he lifted his head, white fur shining in the moonlight. He nodded and let his head drop again. The creature made no move to run or fight.

"Have you nothing to say?" the Guard asked.

"What difference shall it make if I am quiet or I speak? In eternity, all paths lead back to an end."

The guards stepped away and gave the Unicorn some time before they would return with the axe to do the deed. Unseen, all of this was watched by the keen eye of Puck. Or as some mortals knew him, "Robin Goodfellow." 

He lamented, "No! That is almost the last Unicorn there is. Noble and powerful creature! My King will not hear of this creature of night perishing in such an anti-climatic way! I must tell him!"
And so Puck did.

2
SOMEWHERE IN the Other World, the one of Fae and fantastical things, the Queen of Fae had ordered the execution of a dangerous being. The Queen stood surrounded by her guards and with axe in hand. In front of her knelt a she-creature with black wings and a veil over her face. As the Queen lifted her axe, the sun began to set. The scarlet-haired beauty looked at her shadow beside the siren and sighed.
"Here. Let my husband deal with the bloody part of this ritual. I retire, it is his time," she told the guards.

Some of them gaped but the older ones merely shook heads for the familiar order. The Queen, more accustomed to the diplomatic daytime duties, left on the back of her fantastical flying creature. The trembling siren lifted her head, a look of perplexity visible beneath her veil.

When night fell there was a clap of thunder and gust of wind. The King of Fae appeared in a grand sweep of splendor and the guards announced him. His voice was the terror of nightfall, cut and scratched from years of warring " WHAT IS THIS MY WIFE LEAVES ME? AN AXE AND A HARPY?"

"A siren, actually, your majesty," Puck appeared in time for the King's entrance. "The last of her kind, I believe. She ate most anything she could lure to her path."

"But is that not the nature of the beast? Why are we executing her?" he rasped.

"Particularly, she ate virgins. Whom your wife protects."

"She is the very last. And we have no war against these particular demons. They mind their own. One must eat to live!" the King announced, voice still a cascade of power.

Puck cleared his throat, his floppy ears lying flat. He was used to his King's overwhelming presence. But the siren clearly was not. She had curled up on the ground in a tight ball of whimpers and feathers.

"Perhaps we could convince Her Majesty to spare the poor thing if she heard her sing. Such a song is a treasure, especially if this is the last."

Oberon nodded. His bronze eyes lit. "Yes. SING, SIREN!"

The little veiled siren lifted her head up, entire body shivering. She opened her mouth, took in a breath of night air and sang. But it was a frightened squeak, something a mouse might have topped in a contest.

Puck winced. "Not a show-stopper."

"Sing if you WISH TO LIVE, CREATURE!"

"Your Majesty, that may not be the way to go about coaxing a song out of a frightened siren. And on that topic. I have news for you about our favored Unicorn."

Oberon turned to meet Puck's gaze with his own, curious. "What news have you?"

"The King who keeps him plans to execute him. The poor creature is melancholic and a Unicorn's sorrow spreads to all mortals in the area. Quite a tear-jerker."

"And so they should make the thing glad! Killing it fixes nothing, for then they have unicorn blood on their hands and nothing cures such regret! SHOULD I SPEAK TO THEM?" he belted.

"I do not favor that idea either, Your Highness," Puck gave an innocent smile. "But I do have an idea."

"You have my ear."

"I believe these pathetic creatures could help one another. This siren is an immortal maiden. The unicorn is an immortal friend. Both probably the last of their kind. He may stir the song in her once again and that will stir him to smile, for her song is balm to the soul. It is too bad she cannot sing right now. You should hear the kind of notes these creatures can hit--"

"Done! We shall show them to one another. But first we must take the Unicorn from the mortal king's court."

"You cannot drive a unicorn where it does not want to be..." Puck sang-song.

"Mortals cannot drive unicorns. We shall see what an immortal King can do!" the tall fairy exclaimed, lifting from the ground with his large wings.


3
WHERE THE Unicorn sulked by the castle fountain there was no sign of other life around him. But in his own reflection, he could see the moon become clouded. He recognized the outline of the Fairy King on the Moon and his eyes opened wider, delicate ears set to twitching. From the water of the fountain several water sprites jumped. They seized the Unicorn with expert hands and pulled him face first into the water.

That water was deeper. Deeper than any man-made fountain, for it led into the Other World.

The Unicorn emerged from the deep and found himself in a pond far, far from the kingdom where he had been. He jumped from the pond and skittered about like a newborn deer.

"I apologize on behalf of the King," came a familiar voice.

"Robin! What is this meaning of this!" the disgruntled, wet unicorn commanded. "Has the King lost his already hole-ridden mind?"

"Shhh..." Puck shushed him and laughed. "We wanted you safe from the axe."

"Out of the boiling pot and into the fire. I know where I am, fae. I have been here before and it is as dull as the mortal demon-haunted world."

Puck's ears drooped, large brown eyes reflecting true hurt. "Now, Unicorn, why be so harsh. We only want to see you happy again."

"I have not been happy. I have not known happiness for longer than you, your King, your Queen or any of the beings here have lived. I am older than this very realm."

"We thought we might have found a kindred spirit for you. If you want to be difficult then do so." Puck folded his arms and shook his head. "But you will have my King to answer to."

"I have a King to answer to in your world and in another world. I am tired of kings. Let them question me, let the axe fall. I do not care."

The Unicorn shook himself off and began to walk in the opposite direction of Puck. His head was turned upward while little droplets of water fell from his body. Never had a Unicorn looked so mournful.

---
A/N: Not sure why blogspot isn't letting me space this story properly or not publishing it on time. I'm working on remedying this. Part 2 shall be up Sunday. As always, feedback is welcome and let me know you like by sharing. <3, LB

DEAREST ARTISTS: Breaking the Ice- a short story [part 2 of 2]

5- Claudia’s letter back

The little blue dot on Mona’s laptop blinked at her the moment she stumbled into her hotel room  She threw her keys and jacket off but left the light switch alone, preferring the partial dark. It could give her time to process all she had just seen. Or imagined. Blinding light would be too much.

But that blue blinking light beckoned her to the computer.

The surrealism of the night clung to her.

If she connected to the speedy, gritty, garish digital world then she would know for sure she was losing her mind. Finally. After all these years and all the absurdities she had encountered.

Yet skipping the opportunity to read a letter from Claudia was not in her favor. Nor did crashing into deep R.E.M. sleep seem like a particularly fine idea.

The lid of the laptop lifted to illuminate the room.

“YOU’VE GOT MAIL!”

She nearly jumped out of her skin. Claudia had replied to her email about the painted pond and its mystique.

“Hello,” the email began. Mona  was hoping to find an objective opinion that would explain it away.

“What if locals paint the pond each year and the police figured that out by now and, what with the tragedy of those missing children, do not stand in the way of the town’s way of coping. Sure, the oil paint is bad for the water. But acrylic might not work so well because it dries fast and water color would be asinine on ice. In  fact, I don’t see how painting ice is a good idea at all. How much is it? It must be layers upon layers of the stuff!

What are you up to? Are you feeling less blue up there? I know it’s cold. I honestly don’t know how northerners can handle it. Have any hot chocolate with mushrooms. Make it really hot. So hot it burns your mouth. Maybe I shall have empathy burns with you.:3 “

She had no time to collect her thoughts. Mona typed a stream-of-conscious response then and there before the shock of the night could render her wordless.

“Claudia, something weird has happened. I don’t just mean unusual or bizarre. I mean weird like I haven’t seen in a long time. Not since you were out in the coma. But somehow that was explicable. You know what I mean? There was a reason to the rhyme. This, this is the kind of thing you read about or hear about on the talk shows where people report alien abductions. Which is going to leave me to ask you...am I crazy?”

She hammered out the event that had occurred a half hour ago at the pond. All that she could remember. In no particular order. By the time the event was typed and sent, her forehead nearly collided with the keyboard.

Deep, deep in sleep.

Dreaming about art.

About painting the pond while naked.

 Her hair being used as a brush.

There is a crowd and people are repeating some elusive ingredient to melting ice.

Salt. Salt poured on ice cubes. Sully had told her once that salt in a hollow wand waved over ice makes a street magician look like he’s melting it. But it’s a silly trick.

“You’ve got mail…” a child whispered.

Mona’s eyes fluttered open. Her laptop was still on and the screen dark. But the sound of her mail-service had alerted her. She touched the finger to the sensor and discovered another message from Claudia. She must be wide awake in Louisiana.

“Why didn’t you dance with him?” her message inquired. “Were you afraid or was it just because you didn’t know how to ice skate that well? Do you get a menacing air from him? Be careful but maybe Aubrey and Sully could help you figure this out. Don’t do anything that doesn’t feel safe but...I don’t know, Mona. That is weird. Why would he appear doing that on that particular pond.  (PS- I realize I sound like a loony, assuming he’s not an ordinary man. He probably is someone who lost a kid and ice-skates there to cope. Maybe?  Maybe call the police? Take a deep breath. Try to relax. And you asked if you’re crazy. Remember what my psych said? Crazy people don’t ask if they’re crazy.”

Claudia must not know how sane she sounded in Mona’s moment of puzzlement. Her next action was to instant message Aubrey on his much hated Skype. He was always complaining about uninstalling it and yet there he was whenever anyone needed to get in touch with him.

MonaPizza: Aubrey!

Aub: Oh dear. Who died?

MonaPizza: That isn’t funny. Listen, I saw something weird at that pond. Weirder than the paint.

Aub: And what was that, my gourmet paranoid?

MonaPizza: I think it was a ghost. But I’m not sure.

There was a long pause in between his next message.

Aub: Listen. I’ve read that taking too much xanax can do things to someone’s mind.

MonaPizza: This isn’t a joke. I saw a man there. Figure skating.

Aub: My oh my.

MonaPizza: You think I’m high?

Aub: At least higher than me. Was he any good?

MonaPizza: He was amazing. Do you know if Sully is done with her concert?

Aub: Yes and probably fainted by now. Concerts like that drain a diva, you know?

MonaPizza: We have to tell her about this. She’ll give me the benefit of a doubt.

Aub: I wonder if those benefits include not laughing.

MonaPizza: Message her. She’ll want to get out of that hotel with the back-up dancers.  I’ll meet you both by the pond.

Aub: Why do I have to message her?

MonaPizza: Aubrey, you’re a writer! You came here for experience! To absorb the atmosphere! Get like a sponge and do it!

Aub: If you insist.

MonaPizza: See you both in a while.

Aub: Mona?

MonaPizza: Yes?

Aub: Bring pepper spray. .

That won a smile. Nice to remember that under the snark he did care about her.

6- a dance

Sully’s high timbre carried in the air. Snowflakes had begun to fall by the time Mona found her friends. The tall figure of Aubrey leaned against a tree and Sully seated nearby, playing in the snow. She was singing that creepy Alvin & the Chipmonks Christmas song.

Mona bit her lip as she appeared before them. “You two are great friends.”

“Yes, well, humoring friends’ paranoid delusions comes with the package. That it does have its limits.” Aubrey stretched while Sully scrambled to her feet.

“So what’s all this fuss?” she asked. “I should be resting it.”

 “Come on,” Mona took Sully’s hand and led them to the pond.

The moonlight was still spilling across the ice’s surface, casting the painted mural of the swans and geese in an ethereal wash. “...there’s more. Someone painted more while I was gone.”

Her friends were silent. There was no arguing that. The mural had grown since last they saw it.

“I’m stumped…” Sully squeaked.

“Are those…” Mona turned her scrutiny to Sully “--skates? Did you bring rollerblades?”

“Sure. Why not? Maybe I can one-up him.”

“The circus is always in town around you people…” Aubrey held up a hand. “Wait a moment…”

He squinted and bared his teeth. That was a usual sign of heavy thinking. Mona traced his gaze.

The stranger had returned. It was evident that Sully and Aubrey could see him.

He glided forward, black silhouette shining in the moonlight. He flew through a few figures and landed before them, arm outstretched to them.

All Mona could do was take in breath after breath of winter air. Beside her Aubrey was reticent, almost respectful in his silence. But Sully was walking forward.

“Sully!” Mona made a grab for her but she had ducked. She tied her skates on without explanation or apology. Meanwhile, the man waited for her, arm outstretched with the patience of a trained dancer. Mona pursued her friend. When she reached the smaller woman she saw that Sully’s eyes seemed to look through her. She was utterly absorbed in the stranger.

Sully’s petite frame joined the man’s in the moonlight. She took his hand and he positioned them.

“Sully…” Mona blurted.

When the dance couple shifted even slightly, Mona went to lunge forward. Aubrey’s arm stopped her. “She’ll...she’ll be hurt…”

Why did her own voice sound so distant?

Sully and the masked man began their dance. They glided in Os and 8s. He spun her and she flipped, but always landed just in time to balance herself. Sully was like a feather, and then like a bird. He was support, holding her up, catching her before she fell, then he was the wind beneath her wings. He tossed her, caught her, spun her, threw her and balanced her.

Their dance swelled in danger and aggression.

Mona pulled free of Aubrey and ran for them. But her male friend stopped her again. “Let it go. Let them go.”

“They’ll drown if it cracks!”

Now Sully was being held high in the air, flapping her arms in grace. The shadow of a larger bird held the smaller one as it flapped its wings. Learning to fly.

At last the two dancers stopped, hand-in-hand. With a final bow. The masked stranger leaned in, whispered something in Sully’s ear. If only Mona could hear it from here. He spun around and skated in the direction of the darkest shadows that night. Right at Sully’s feet the ice began to crack. Steam was rising. The young dancer shook her head and the haze of the moment passed.

“OH SHIT!” she yelled. The beauty of the scene also shattered.  The pond was defrosting by the second. She bolted towards the shore with the ice cracking and gaping behind her.

This time Aubrey did not hold Mon back as she shot out and clasped Sully’s arms. She pulled the smaller woman onto the snowy shore.

The three friends gazed out at the rising steam from the melting pond.

The imprint of the painting floated atop the water. But now it was all too much. Mona took both friends’ hands and ran from the pond.

“Sully, what the hell got into you?”

“I don’t know, I lost control!”

When Mona looked back to the rising mist she thought she saw eyes in them. Several of them, several faces, but none of them frowning.

7- the memorial

“I’m not sure. Geese just don’t make for intriguing beasts,” Aubrey was arguing with Sully again.

The following day, with the sun out and civilian volunteers at the pond, Mona could hardly recognize the setting. The pond was icy but not frozen over. The oil paint was being worked out by the volunteers. Mona leaned against a tree as she watched.

“The shark in Jaws wasn’t a great white. They changed it to one for the movie. You could do that with the geese. Make them swans or something more poetic,” Sully carried on\. She seemed untouched by the events of last night. Aside from excessive yawning and dark circles under her eyes, she was her usual post-concert self.

“I wonder where he went…” Mona thought aloud.

“Wherever phantoms go when their haunting ends,” Aubrey suggested.

“What about a non-supernatural explanation?” she asked.

“He got over his little brother’s disappearance, is cured of his psychosis and will live a fruitful and healthy life,” Aubrey droned.

“What does it matter?” was Sully’s characteristic response.

Mona had written her own theories to Claudia earlier that day.

“In that moment, watching Sully skate on thin ice with a masked stranger, I wasn’t only me anymore. I was their parents. Their guardians. My heart was torn between my body and the body of my loved one. Even Aubrey played a part. He held me back. I ached so much during that dance. I watched a child leave my protection, spread her wings and attempt to fly. That is a horror I’ve never encountered before. I am not a parent. I was in that moment. I know it makes no sense. But as Sully would say “God is Absurdity.” When I let them finish the dance, steam began to form and the pond broke open.”

“Hey, Sully…” Mona asked.

“Hm?” She looked at her. “I won’t ask any more questions about it until you're ready. But one more for now.”

“Sure, shoot.” She swept her short hair behind her ear.

“What did he whisper to you?”

Sully’s green eyes focused elsewhere. “I’ll tell you soon. Not now.”

Mona nodded. She had not expected a straight answer. This was all too surreal to sort right away. She wandered over to the goose memorial. The mother goose with her head turned upward as she called for her goslings. But what was this? Another goose head was sticking out from the snow. Mona dusted the snow off with a gentle hand.

They were all there. Six little geese. Her goslings were there, buried out of sight.

___

I hope you enjoyed the ending of this short story. Next up, a web comic for you! Check back Wednesday!

As always, feedback is welcomed!