The Hatching

11.13.09

Posted by mazzz in Leeds  |  25 Comments »

Rothbert Spires, current Scholar of the Court, put on his ceremonial robes and strode to the workroom. After ten years of believing those cursed birds had become extinct, he now found himself having to perfom a Tallid reading; if the reading turned out to be a bad one, it was very likely he would be beheaded before the day was out. He wanted to make sure everything was set up properly. He would be presenting his findings in front of the most exalted of audiences for the first time. He had prepared for it as much as was possible, but some things were after all out of his control, and science alone could not be relied upon; he prayed for a little luck.
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First Place

11.05.09

Posted by mazzz in Leeds  |  27 Comments »

I have been preparing for this day for a year, but it feels like a lifetime. Ever since the prize for first place was announced, I knew I would have to not only enter the race, but also win it; all year I have been training for it, to the exclusion of almost all other activity. I whisper a prayer to the Great Lady of the Eastern Plains and look into my beast’s eyes.
“We can do it, Squibs.” She flaps her ears and smiles at me as only an elephant can, and I feel bolstered. We make a strong team – the bookmakers have declared our odds to be astronomical, but I believe we can prove them wrong. Squibs knows what is at stake: the prize is a dance with the Princess Alita, the brightest jewel in the kingdom’s crown. I am only a cobbler’s son, but tonight I have the chance of holding in my arms the most beautiful girl in the land.
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Riot

10.29.09

Posted by mazzz in Leeds  |  32 Comments »

The soul-searching is over. I have been through all the stages: anger, then denial; from there to doubt; eventually to acceptance, and finally beyond that to conviction. I now know what I must do, and that I must act fast. I set off, stopping only to collect the one weapon I will need on my quest. I pass the fires still burning from last night, the broken glass from shop windows, the assortment of charred items strewn across the pavement. This is not a night to be crossing the city, but cross it I must. I am frightened, but I am also bolstered by determination and the hope of redemption.

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Of Blood and Bare Breasts

10.23.09

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The Laurentian warrior lords sit around the banquet table, enjoying what has for the past few weeks been a nightly event. The atmosphere is as usual one of unbridled raucousness, and of an uncouthness that only noblemen can manage. The Campagnard Elder is shackled to the wall behind the lord Daubert, the cuts and bruises on the old man’s face a map of his tormentors’ character. He ignores their jeers and keeps his gaze set on a point in the distance; his back is straight, his chin high, his face impassive.

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High Feast

10.15.09

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Captain Drew boarded the transfer vessel to the Lauk-Parthians’ ship with excitement. He had given up hope of humanity ever making contact with a peaceful extra-colonial race in his lifetime – he had certainly never expected to be the guest of honour at a banquet held by such a people. He nervously patted the front pocket of his dress uniform to check his speech tablet was there; he had practised delivering the speech for so long during the previous evening unit that he didn’t really need the prompt, but he didn’t like to take chances. It was such a momentous event after all – and indeed one that the First Minister of the Colonies herself would be attending instead of him, had she not been 12 parsecs away, orbiting Jupiter on Satellite A. Read the rest of this entry »

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Late Bloomer

10.08.09

Posted by mazzz in Leeds  |  36 Comments »

Gods do not always beget gods. It is rare, but sometimes it happens that the union of two perfectly ordinary gods can result in a mortal child. I fear I might be such a child. I am 14 – not far from 15, in fact – but my back is still bare. A few months ago there was another in my group of peers who had not sprouted yet either, so no one was worried. Late bloomers, they called us. It will come, they said. You will sprout when you least expect it, they promised. But my back is still bare.
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Puma and Jaguar Save the Planet

10.02.09

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Rushka, Galactic Overlord of the Kharsh Group, Commander of the Luarrh Nebulae, Honorary High Pontiff of the Moons of Aramis and would-be conqueror of Planet Earth, stood cornered with a small armoury of laser guns pointed at his chest and head. He hadn’t expected this insignificant, isolated planet to produce any resistance worth worrying about. Earth’s technology was inferior – humans had not even managed to get as far as the edge of their own solar system, for Marrh’s sake! He observed his nemeses in disbelief: not an army, not a battalion, not even a platoon. Two Earthlings – two!
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A Daemon Meets Its Maker

09.25.09

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dae-mon [day-muhn]

– noun
1. Classical:
“supernatural beings between mortals and gods, such as inferior divinities and ghosts of dead heroes” – Plato, “Symposium”

2. Computer Science:
An operating system process that runs in the background “and does something
(more or less automagically) that the users can’t be bothered with doing themselves” – Peter, Unix.com
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Anti-Social Networking

09.18.09

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She was enjoying a rare evening in on her own, as he had gone to the pub for a solitary session, to have a drink and a think. She settled onto the sofa with a glass of wine and a novel about a deadly virus, bio-engineered by an alien race who wished to take over the planet.
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Question for the Bear

09.09.09

Posted by mazzz in Leeds  |  10 Comments »

It had been bothering him for days, but up to now he had hesitated to speak to anyone about it. He went first to get his brother’s opinion but the older boy only widened his eyes and told him to hush. Stubborn, the boy braced himself and went to ask his father. He received a clip on the ear for his trouble, which wasn’t wholly unexpected, and went to sit under his favourite tree to sulk, resigned.

A little later, his father surprised him by sitting next to him, and saying gently:
“Some things were not meant for boys to know. Some not even for men.”
He sat there for a good while after his father left, a little stunned. This was almost akin to an apology – something his father never indulged in. He had been ready to abandon his quest for an answer, but his father’s behaviour bolstered him. It reassured him that his question was important. He decided to branch out a little, and went to find his mother.

After a boy passes a certain age, and has begun his journey towards manhood, it becomes unthinkable for him to discuss important issues with his mother; for what can a mother know of the world of men? In this case though, the boy felt compelled to speak with her, although he could not imagine why.

“You should go to the Elders with this”, she said.

He was surprised, elated, and also nervous. It was not an answer he had been expecting, but as soon as it was uttered, he knew it had always been the answer he’d been hoping for. It was not until much later, with the benefit of hindsight, that he realised the look on his mother’s face had been the same one she put on to disguise the fact that his mischief amused her, while scolding him for it.

He waited until the appropriate time to visit with the Elders, his nervousness growing. Boys his age would go out of their way to avoid the forbidding old men, and yet here he was placing himself in the Elders’ path voluntarily.

Sundown finally came, so he made his way to the gathering point. When it was his turn, he was ushered into the Elders’ enclosure. A little stutter in his voice, he raised the issue to the tribe leaders. He was met by silence. The five men appraised him sternly and intently, and exchanged glances between themselves. They seemed like angry, apprehensive glances to the boy, but he tried to dismiss these thoughts as the product of a young mind inexperienced in reading people – certainly venerable people such as the Elders. He was told to leave the enclosure, and that he would be summoned when the council was ready to discuss his issue.

A few days passed, and the boy’s initial nervousness and excitement had been replaced by interest in other things – there had been work to do, and games to be played. He had almost forgotten about his issue (he had, after all, left it in capable hands), and thought nothing of the hushed conversations among the older people in the tribe, and failed to notice that there was a certain tension in relationships between villagers which perhaps had not been there before. When the summons came, it sought the presence of himself, and that of his father. Together, his father’s face a study in anger, his that of a boy much younger than his years, they walked to the enclosure.

The Elders were sat in a semi-circle, in full ceremonial clothing, which caused both father and son some concern. The acting tribe leader beckoned to them to come forward.

“We cannot answer your question”, he said. “You are going to have to talk to the bear.”
The boy was shocked. Never in the history of his people had someone as young as him been allowed to go to the bear. A few had asked, over the years, but had been denied instantly. He felt proud, but also terrified. The look on his father’s face he couldn’t quite interpret, but at least the boy was no longer worried about being punished when they left the enclosure.

One cannot simply go up to a bear and start talking. There are certain procedures that must be followed, and so the boy spent the next few days in the company of one or other of the Elders, receiving instruction: how to approach, how to show respect, how to bow; how to formulate one’s question in a way that makes it clear that one is kindly requesting that the bear consider devoting some of his time to one’s measly concern, and not demanding a response. The boy found himself fascinated by bear lore, and the Elders warmed to their pupil, despite themselves.

The particular bear that had been assigned to his people was an old soul; his wisdom had been a help to them for almost two generations now. He had been becoming easier to anger over the last few seasons however, and the boy once again felt apprehensive. He remembered his grandfather’s story about the Elder who had met his death at the claws of the bear’s predecessor, despite following procedure and showing no disrespect. The story being in living memory made it all the more poignant and as the time neared for the boy to leave on his quest, he became increasingly subdued.

Finally, the day of his journey dawned. His mother saw him to the edge of the village and embraced him and spoke warm words to him in an uneasy voice. His father walked with him for about half a day, to the outskirts of the Deep Forest. Those without good reason to be in the forest enter at their own peril, so it was from here that the boy would journey on alone. His father wished to impart some words of wisdom, or at least encouragement, but found himself unable to think of anything lofty enough for such a momentous event. He settled for gripping the boy’s shoulders and showing him how proud he was with his eyes and his smile. The boy returned the smile and with a lurch in his heart, turned around and stepped into the forest.

The rest of the day passed without incident and by nightfall he had found a quiet clearing where he could make a bed, prepare and eat some food, and gather his thoughts for the possible challenges he faced over the next day. His main worry was that he was carrying no weapons; the Elders had insisted upon this – it was a sign of respect towards the bear, and therefore non-negotiable – and assured him that he would need none. Back in the village, he would never have doubted the word of the tribe leaders, but he was sat on his own, in the dark, in a forest teeming with all sorts of dangers. He eventually drifted off into an uneasy sleep, and dreamt of teeth and limbs and his mother’s face.

He awoke with a start at first light, bad dreams all but forgotten. His enthusiasm for the adventure ahead had returned, and he set off with a spring in his step. In his exuberance, he failed to notice the cougar in the tree up ahead, until she jumped down in front of him, appraising him as she stood poised to pounce.
“I am going to see the bear”, he said, as the Elders had instructed.
The cat laid her ears flat on her head, bid him good day with pursed lips, and returned to her tree where she proceeded to ignore him. He stood in shock for a short while – polite encounters with cougars were not unheard of, but very rare. He then walked on heartened, and feeling a little foolish about the doubts that had kept him awake the night before.

As the boy was nearing the bear’s domain, the creature himself sat in his usual spot, his back hunched, his head bowed from tiredness. There had been a seemingly endless procession of old men for the last few days, all with tiresome questions. All questions he was able to answer, but he was finding their tedium almost unbearable. Maybe he was just getting too old for this – he cursed whoever it was that decided that oracle bear appointment should be for life. He would have retired years ago if he’d had the choice; instead he had to put up with day upon day of solemn, austere old men, their grey hair long, their faces longer.

One more to go, then – the last of the day. He looked at the figure, standing awkwardly in the respectful bowed stance the bear had long since come to hate. However a closer look told him that this was no old man – the creature’s hair was dark, and barely fell below its chin, and its stature was small. There was neither austerity nor solemnity in its look, only awe and timidity. And something else – something the bear had not seen in a long time: excitement.
“Why, it’s only a cub”, he thought. “Maybe this will be interesting, for a change”.
He motioned to the cub to approach.

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