A Royal Pain" by;Fjm

  The atmosphere was leaden with an aura of pure terror. This was the kind of fear that churned deep within a person’s gut and seemed to add suffocating weight to the lungs, making each breath an almost painful labor; the kind of fear that held the heart in its icy claw. But Sara was used to this. The feeling was always present when her King was there, and she had experienced it often enough to be able to ignore its effects almost completely. In fact, she somewhat enjoyed it: The fear meant that he was with her, that she once again had the opportunity to look upon his face.
    And what a divine face it was! The man who stood so breathtakingly close to her could only be described as flawless. His pale, porcelain skin contrasted exquisitely with the midnight black curtain of hair which fell around the contours of his cheeks. He was tall; lean. There was an overwhelming sense of power in his stance, hinting at all the damage he was capable of. The only oddity of his features were the two crimson horns jutting from his forehead. These were as much an enigma today as they were the first time she had seen them.
    “It took you long enough,” she said to him in a cool voice after a few moments. Her attitude was an act, of course. It was all part of the twisted game they played. The King would abuse her, both mentally and physically, and Sara would pretend to hate him for it. But they both knew it was a lie. In truth, Sara loved the King; loved him with a fervor that bordered on obsession.
    “Long time no see,” he greeted. His manner was somewhat cocky, as usual. “You’ve been stirring up some real trouble, you know. I’m impressed.”
    There were several things he could be referring to, and none of them were good. “Trouble with whom?”
    Leroy chuckled. “For starters, the Queen. She’s very angry with you. Mad enough to kill, I’d say.” There was a trace of something in his voice that Sara didn’t like. Something buried under his arrogant air. She couldn’t tell what it was, but she knew it must be important. After all, this was only the second time he’d allowed her to see his true form, which at least meant that he’d be talking to her today.
    “Well, that’s your fault, isn’t it? If you weren’t always trying to screw with my head, I might actually know what’s going on for a change.” She crossed her arms over her chest, looking into his fiery red eyes. “Besides, you’re the King. Why can’t you just kill her and get it over with? She’s after you, too, I believe.”
    Leroy grinned that reckless grin of his. “Oh, the thought of crushing the life from that bitch… But,” he sighed dramatically, “I’m afraid it’s against the rules.”
    Sara snorted. “Since when do you play by the rules?” From the day she had met him, the King had done nothing but follow his own whims. As ironic as it seemed, anarchy suited him. Disarray and chaos were as much a part of him as his name.
    “I don’t,” he stated simply. “But in this game, cheating isn’t an option. Which is why I need… an assistant, of sorts.”
    “You mean me.” A little thrill of excitement swept through her, but she kept her expression calm. She knew that whatever little scheme he had in mind was dangerous, that she could very well end up dying. However, Sara had never had much self-preservation when it came to adventure. Especially if that adventure happened to be Leroy.
    The King looked at her, and while his countenance was one of lazy amusement, it seemed to belie something far more sinister. “Precisely. But first, I need to know: How far are you willing to go to serve me, Princess?”
    Sara shifted uncomfortably at this nickname and all that it implied. It reminded her once more of how little she really knew about him, of how much might be at stake if her friend’s prophecy was correct. Regicide. The word echoed unpleasantly in her mind. Surely someone as powerful as Leroy couldn’t be killed, but nevertheless it was an idea that haunted her. “Too far,” she answered finally.
    The smirk that lit on Leroy’s lips suggested that he had already known what her response would be. “Very well. Then it is now your formal duty to kill the Queen.”
    This was so sudden, that it took her a moment to process the words. “But… I can rarely ever lay a hit on you, much less do any damage. And she’s just as powerful.” It wasn’t that she feared the Queen. Sara had faced her several times already, and quite enjoyed trying to escape from her many minions. She just didn’t understand why Leroy would use her to fight such an unbeatable opponent.
    “This is a game about choosing the players,” Leroy told her. (She had long since discovered that everything in this world was a game.) “Think of it this way: When two people are playing chess, the players don’t harm each other to win, do they? Of course not. They use their playing pieces. Alternatively, the players don’t wipe out their opponent’s pieces by force. It’s all about strategy.”
    “Are you saying that she can’t touch me?”
    “Oh, she can touch you all she wants. She just can’t be the one to kill you.” How reassuring.
    “Great. What else do I need to know?” Sara noticed with some despair that the air had taken on a hazy, shimmering quality. She would be returning to her world soon.
    “I’m afraid I can’t answer that. You’ll have to work out the details on your own.”
    She huffed. “Fine. At least tell me this,” Sara paused, looking into his eyes as if she expected the answer to be written within their fiery depths. All she saw was mischief and bloodlust. “Which chess piece am I?”
    He smiled broadly, teasingly, and this image was the last thing she saw before emerging from the dream. In her dark room, his response resounded through the shadows: “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

"The Gypsy Travels" BY;Fjm

 Maia stuck herself in the finger with the needle.  Again.  It was no use.  No matter how hard she tried, she just wasn’t any good at sewing.  She looked down at her finger.  Already a drop of blood was forming.  A deep red color, it formed a perfect round dot on her fingertip.  An impossibly small red pearl.
          Quickly, she licked it off of her finger.  Turning to look for where she had dropped the needle, she cursed.  Sewing was a mind-numbing, astoundingly dull task.
          “It’s your fault you know,” said the fat tabby cat resting on the stone rim of the fire pit that marked the center of the tent.  “You just had to go running around with those no account friends of yours.  And through a field of Pakta bushes, no less!  What were you thinking, Maia?”
          Maia glared at him.  The tabby, not really expecting an answer, continued.
          “It was beautiful skirt, too. And—”
          “A family heirloom?”  Maia snapped.  She’d had just about enough.  “You think Mama didn’t give me an impossibly long lecture when she let me wear it?  She’s told me.  I hadn’t talked to Papa in a week and the first thing he said was about the honor of wearing such a piece of finery.  Auntie told me.  All my friends have said something.  Only the spirits know how many times Aridan has brought it up!”
          The cat blinked at her and curled back into a ball.
          Maia sighed.  In truth she was sorry she had ripped the skirt.  She turned back to where it lay on the old wooden table.  It was a beautiful piece of clothing.  And yes, an heirloom, too.  A smooth, rich olive green, with many clear glass bead sewn on, it captured and refracted all light thrown on it.  When she wore it, Maia felt like she was dancing with the faeries she read about in her stories, the faeries from the old time.
          That was the only reason she had worn it outside the tent before today.  To show her friends how she could dance with the light.  To show them how she could be a part of a swirling, hypnotic faerie game.  They watched for a little while, but soon wanted to do other things.  Maia, not wanting to feel left out and sure that she could keep the skirt safe, went along.
          At least she and Mama had managed to keep Aridan from noticing that the skirt was ripped.  Maia closed her eyes.  She could just imagine it.  Aridan would take it as a personal offense.  A cruel trick meant to undermine her joy.  She would burst into tears and cry that with one ripped skirt, Maia had ruined her special day.
          Maia opened her eyes and glanced over at the skirt.  The rip wasn’t so bad.  The ankle-length skirt had only been ripped up to the knee.  Maybe Aridan wouldn’t notice.
          Her thoughts were disturbed by a loud yelling coming from outside the tent.  She hurried to the opening and threw the flap open wide.
          It was a beautiful spring day.  It had rained two nights earlier and the grass and trees smelled clean and fresh.  All around men and women, in their best clothes, rushed about preparing for the wedding.  It was a very important day.  Maia’s older sister Aridan was marrying her long-time betrothed, Jiro.
          Everyone was trying his or her best to make this a perfect day for her, for Maia’s entire family.  (Except for Maia, it seemed.)  The marriage of the eldest granddaughter of the tribe mother was a huge event, one that had been planned since Aridan’s birth.
          The gifts she was given were astonishing.  Maia had seen some as they were brought into the tent specifically set aside for such a purpose.  Precious metals stretched into wires that were braided and woven into hair ornaments.  Beautiful gems from far off in the Southeast.  There were piles of carefully stitched skirts and dresses and shawls that had taken the elder women of the Antrani tribe half their lives to make.
          Maia knew that that was only the beginning.  Today’s feast was sure to be something that would be the subject of conversations for years to come.  Every kind of meat, poultry, fowl, and fish that was known would be served.  Deserts so rich one could barely finish one bite.  Exquisite scenes of ships on the sea or wizards or dragons created out of spun sugar would be served.  The thought of it alone, made Maia’s mouth water.  She knew, that people would one day talk of this day proudly.  Old and feeble, they would tell their grandchildren, “I was at Aridan-Dasan’s wedding and it was a sight to see.”
          Maia sighed, pursing her lips together.  No one would make this much of a fuss over her when she got married, if she got married.  Why would they?  Aridan was going to be the Tribe Mother some day.  Usually the rite was passed down from mother to daughter but Maia’s grandmother had had only sons, her father being the eldest.  Soon, the firstborn daughter of the firstborn son of the Tribe Mother would rule.  Maia would probably end up being her attendant, just as her uncles served her father.  Being the firstborn was everything.  She sighed again.  Her whole worth, her person, was decided before she came out of the womb.  Sometimes she felt as if it would have been better had she not come out at all.
          All her life, she was simply second.  Second at everything.  She knew her parents loved her, but when it came down to it, she knew that Aridan was more important.  Maia was actually the middle child.  Her little sister, about nine years younger than her, at age six, was oblivious to the special treatment of her eldest sister.  Tari was still the baby of the family and got more attention than Maia.  She was the forgotten daughter.
          Being forgotten did have its advantages, though.  She got to go out and have fun with her friends more often than Aridan ever did.  If Aridan wanted to go out and pick wildflowers, she got a lecture on her duty to her people and had to stay and help the older ladies sew.  If Maia even asked, she got an irritated, “You’re fifteen, do you need my permission for everything, Maia-Dasan?”
          The only problem was that, here, in the village, her freedom was played out.  She knew every tree in the forest, every path of every small winding brook.  She wanted to get out, to see the world.
          She turned back to her tent.  Maia knew what would happen to her.  She would become a typical Antrani woman, staying at home, raising children.  The wedding today was like a sentencing.  The ceremony was confirming Aridan’s right to rule.  Maia would never do anything as great with her life.  She would be condemned to an oblivion of sewing.
She grimaced.  That was not the life she wanted.  Closing the tent flap, she realized how stuffy it was inside.  She walked over to the window and untied the flap that kept it closed.  This way, she thought, I can keep the breeze of the outside without having to see them planning my end.
She sat down one the stone hearth next to the tabby cat.  Leaning down so that her mouth was level with his ear she whispered, “Arti…”
He awoke with a start, hissing at her.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Arti, don’t you think it’s time we went away?”
He closed his eyes.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes you do.  We could go on an adventure.  It would be fantastic.  Like in the stories.”
“You read too many fancy adventure novels.  They put ideas into your head.  I told your mother they were a bad idea.  She shouldn’t have let you read them.”
“Yes, but she did and now I want to go on an adventure!”
No answer.  He seemed to have fallen asleep again.  Maia leaned closer.  There was no purring sound either.  Such a little faker, she thought.
“Arti, you know—”
He opened one eye and glared at her.  “I haven’t the faintest idea who you’re talking to.”
“Spirits forgive me!” she gasped in mock horror, “How could I mistake one so magnificent as yourself for a common cat?”  She fell into a deep bow.   “Your honorable sir, Artaxiad Delrubbian XII, may I present you with a hypothetical situation?”
Artaxiad got up and stretched.  “Go on.”
“Say I just run away.  Without you.  Them Mama comes in here demanding to know why you didn’t stop me.  Or at least go with me to see to my safety.  You’ll get banished.  Or killed.  I may not be Aridan, but my family cares about enough to do at least that.  I think.”
“Don’t be silly.  You wouldn’t really leave.  Not without me.”  He jumped off the hearth and onto the woven mat that lined the floor.
She gazed away from him nonchalantly.  “I might.”
“Where would you go?  You don’t know anything about the outside world at all.”
“I know some things.”
“Like what?”
“Well, like—”
“Like the nonsense you read in your stories.”
“I know where I’d go first.”
“Where?”
“To the city!”
“Oh no you don’t!  Don’t even start talking like that, Maia!”
“We could do it!  Go to Foxbury!  Can’t you just see it?  The Palace of Dreams!  The Hall of the Victorious!  We could meet the wizards and the sorceresses—“
“Stop Maia, don’t talk of magic.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is, we both know Mama can—”
“Quiet!  Magic is dangerous, Maia.  Just because your mother can do a few simple spells does not make it alright.”
“But she learned it in the city…”
“No, she was born with it.  Her talent is unrefined.  Maia, magic isn’t our way.  We’re Antrani.  We trust in our spirit ancestors.  Magic is foreign.  Not many people know that your mother can do spells.  If they did, they probably wouldn’t have allowed your parents to marry.”
“But we could go to the city and not learn magic!  We could just meet the people!  What’s it like, Arti?”
“Oh, I knew I’d rue the day I told you I used to live there.”
“When you were human.”
“Yes,” he snapped.  “When I was human.”
“Is that why you don’t like magic?  Because it did this to you?”
“No.”
She shrugged.  “Just think, though.  We could meet the King and Queen!”
“If they’re still alive.”
She picked him up off of the floor and, holding him like a baby, continued, deaf to his yowls.
“Can’t you just picture them, sitting on their thrones?  The King, sitting tall, regal and just.  I bet he’s handsome.  Was he handsome, Arti?”
“Not the one I remember.”
“And the Queen, what about her?”
“A sour, ruthless harpie!”
“Arti!”
“You asked, I answered.”
“But wait, after we’ve visited the royal city, we could go to other places.  Places where they speak in tongues.  Places where they dress differently.  Places where the world is upside-down.  Where they sleep in the daytime and live at night.  Places where they’re friendly.  Places where—”
After all his howling and squirming, Artaxiad had finally broken free.  As he landed on the floor he snapped at her.  “Places where what?”
Maia looked down at the floor, her moment of whimsical folly and bubbly hope past.  She closed her eyes.  She didn’t want to see his smirking eyes on her.  Not now.
“Places where they don’t treat you like you’re second best.”
Artaxiad came closer.  She could feel him entwining himself around her legs.  She bent down and picked him up, and the two of them sat together on the hearth.  She felt a single tear roll down her cheek.
They sat for a long time.  Not saying anything.  After a bit, he stirred.
          “Maia—”
“Hmmm?”
“Maia, get up.  You’re mothers coming.”
She jumped up, letting him find his own way down to the floor.  Arti wouldn’t be wrong.  Wiping her hands on her skirt and her eyes on her sleeve, she turned to face the tent opening as one of her mother’s attendants opened the flap.
As she walked in, Maia was struck again at how beautiful her mother was.  Maia looked nothing like her, she knew.  Maia’s mother had given her rosebud mouth and wide, doe eyes to Aridan.  She gave her slender figure and full black hair to Tari.  The only thing Maia had of hers was her soft, light brown complexion and a long sloping nose.  Maia’s straight, unruly brown hair was from her father as was her tight-lipped mouth.
Today, Maia knew, she looked even less like her mother.  She was dressed in a beautiful magenta dress wrap with golden embroidery.  She had rings on every finger and her hair was done up with beautiful red ribbons that matched her dress.
She smiled a flitting, worried smile at Maia, her eyes glancing back to the sewing table.  Her mother usually looked regal, completely unruffled by all the chaos around her.  Today, it was not the case.
“Maia,” she hesitated.  “How’s the skirt coming along?  You need to change.”
Maia turned back and picked up the skirt, lifting it up to the light.  She could trace her clumsy backstitch up the side to the spot the places where beads had fallen off.  It would have to do, there wasn’t much time left.
“It’s alright.”
Her mother let out a breath.  “Great.  Now you can just get changed.”  She clapped and her attendants left the tent.  “We can go outside and—” Her eyes had been traveling up the length of her.  She had stopped when she saw Maia’s hair.  “Maia!  Your hair!  It’s not even done yet!  What were you thinking?  It’s almost time to go and it looks like you just rolled out of bed!”
Maia tugged on a lock of hair that went down to her waist.  It was true, she looked a mess and had completely forgotten to even brush her hair.  She could feel her mother’s disappointed eyes on her.  From her mother’s point of view, this was an important day for Maia, too.  Aridan had been engaged since birth.  Now, since she was nearing the age of sixteen, Maia would soon be betrothed.  The wedding was an important social event and she was expected to show all the families that she would make an excellent wife for their sons.
Maia’s mother pursed her lips.  “Close the window.”
As Maia hurried to let the flap down, her mother turned back to the entrance and tied the front flap down.
“Okay,” her mother said.  “You cannot tell anyone about this, Maia.  I’m only doing it because today is a very important day and nothing can go wrong.  No one, Maia-Dasan!”
“Yes, I understand.”  Maia tried to hide the excitement in her voice.  She had only seen her mother do a spell once before, to help move a cart that had fallen on a merchant.  She wasn’t very powerful but her effort had helped the men lift the cart and save the merchant’s life.
“Alright.”
Maia’s mother closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  She brought her hand palm upward until they were about level with Maia’s shoulders.  Thin streams of orange light bled from her fingertips and flowed into Maia’s hair.  She could feel it moving all around her, lifting sections, tying back certain parts.  The orange light streams worked quickly.  Maia thought they smelled sweet, a little like honeysuckle.  When one stream accidentally grazed her skin, she jumped.  It was hot.  Maia’s mother, lost in the magic, mumbled an apology.
When at last it was done, her hair was pinned and set.  She didn’t have a mirror, but the look in her mother’s eyes told her that she looked at least respectable.
Her mother smiled.  “Alright, put the skirt on and then we can—”
“Maia-Dasan?” came a voice from the outside.
Her mother answered, “Yes?”
“Ledell?”  Maia frowned.  Who was using her mother’s first name is such a casual fashion?
Her mother undid the flap of the opening.  It was her father outside.  Clean-shaven, tall and dressed in his best jacket he looked a bit imposing.  Maia blinked.  How could she not have recognized his voice?  She knew, she hardly ever talked to her father anymore.  Not with the plans for the wedding.
“What’s going on?” Maia’s mother asked.
Her father, his face grim, turned his gaze to Maia.  “She wants to see you?”
“Who?” Maia asked.
“The—the Tribe Mother.”
Her mother’s eyes were wide.  The tribe mother was revered.  Rarely even seen outside of her tent, her appearance anywhere was a great event.  Everyone knew she would attend the wedding ceremony.  That fact alone frightened some people.  In addition to never coming out of her tent, she never invited anyone but her personal guard inside it.  They carried her messages, her instructions out to the Antrani.  She had not spoken to her own son in years.  Now she wanted to see Maia?
“Well?” Her father stared at her.  “What are you doing just standing there?  Don’t keep her waiting.”
Maia couldn’t make her legs move.  “What does she want?”
“They didn’t see fit to tell me.  Now go, the Tribe Mother waits!”
As Maia rushed out of the tent, she thought about her father’s words.  “The Tribe Mother waits.”  She was his own mother and he didn’t even call her by her name, just her appellation.  Maia heard a mewing at her feet.  She looked down.  Artaxiad had followed.  She scooped him up into her arms.
He looked up inquisitively into her eyes.
          “What does she want with you?”
          “I don’t know.”

"To Weave a Tale"BY;Fjm

I sit here hunched at my loom, waiting for the lonely night to creep in through the open window. I have seen a thousands of such nights and will probably see thousands more, but this one, I tell myself will be different to those I have already seen. As the shadows lengthen and the room grows steadily colder,I reach over and brush my hands over the lifeless coals, as they erupt into flame I lean back in my uncomfortable, wooden armchair and continue with my work that I am doomed to slave over for all eternity.
As I weave I remember the memory of that fateful day all those years ago, the day when this forsaken bargain came into account. I was only fifteen then and had many friends, although I doubt any of them would remember me now. I was training to be a high sorceress in a special academy; I enjoyed the work and the girly gossip that seemed to circulate round the dormitories every night. The girls recounting certain lessons for humorous or interesting moments. Oh yes, I reflected bitterly, a farmer's daughter from the very fringes of the civilized world in a very selective academy, that was full to the rafters with rich heiresses and the aristocracy's spawn. Oh yes, I loved it.
How I had got into the academy was a mystery to everyone except my family and myself and none of us were prepared to tell the dismal tale. In truth I didn't believe it myself, to my shame and horror I thought it was a dark tale my family had told me to hide the truth, I was a fool not to believe them. So I passed many happy years in a blissful ignorance that my life would always be like this, how wrong I was. On the eve of my sixteenth birthday all dreams were shattered, forever. In the middle of the afternoonlessons a man clothed entirely in black arrived at the academy, requesting to see me. I was taken from my studiesand brought before him in the garden, his visit is so vivid in my memory that I remember every miniscule detail, from the magenta coloured roses that were in full bloom, to the blinding shine of my white enchanter's dress and the glimmer of my engraved silver circ placed fashionably on my brow. As I followed my teacher up the cobbled path to the middle of the white courtyard the man turned to face us. Although his features were hidden by the fringe of his black cloak I knew instantly who he was.
He was the figure who haunted my dreams every night and the demon who ensnared me in my nightmares. The dark shadow that constantly followed me every day, my childhood's demon, the monster under my bed, call it what you will, we all have one. It was just mine was alive, breathing and chillingly real. When my teacher introduced me I was hardly listening, my hands had started shaking and my throat was dry, my nightmare was once again reaching out towards me and I couldn't stop it. I couldn't run, run away to my land, my safe haven I had built for myself, to hide in its high towers but I found that I couldn't anymore. I thought my life was closing in on me. It was then that he spoke, with that same supernatural voice I had heard so many times before inside my head. "Your family promised me something long ago in exchange for something they needed desperately. Do you know what theypromised me, Elenor?" It was all I could do to stop myself running back to my class and my friends but I forced myself to face my demon, after a few minutes I nodded slowly. As he spoke again I could have sworn that I felt my blood run cold. "What did they promise me Elenor?" He asked in sinister voice. I didn't want to answer, I didn't want to tell him,and in any case he already knew he was just testing my nerves. It was only then that I realised that my teacherwas gone, and that I was here on my one with this man. Suddenly hundreds of questions burst into my head.When had she left? What had she heard? If she had heard anything would she tell?I had started to shiver and I had to hold my arms to attempt to disguise it, but it was no use. "What did they promise me?" the man asked again a little more impatiently, but I couldn't move the fear that had threatened, it seemed had finally taken hold. I don't know how long I just stood there although it felt like years it must have only a few seconds since the man asked again more forcefully. They would stand here until I answered and in a bizarre way I was holding up my own happiness, but that wasn't the reason I wasn't answering. It was simplybecause I didn't know what would happen when I went back to class or when I finally became a high sorceress, I didn'tknow if this man would always be my shadow, would he follow me all my life everywhere I went and never stop, that's what I was truly afraid of. I was afraid of uncertainty itself.
The man asked a final time and I urged myself to answer." They promised that you would receive one of their daughters in return for my place at this school." It came out almost silently and as I said it my voice cracked. "That's right, your father promised me a daughter in return for your place at this school, and your mother gave birth to two girls didn't she." This was true I did have a sister, Sarah. How did he know this? Has he been scrying on me? She had stayed at the farm to help while I went to the academy. I hadn't seen her in at least ten years. "Well as you have rightly pointed out your father owes me a daughter and I am here to collect the debt to be paid." I didn't understand, Sarah had always excepted her fate as the debt to be paid none of the family had ever questioned that and if the time has come he should be collecting Sarah so why was he here,"Why are you here? Sarah is the daughter of which you speak so why aren't you at the farm?" "Ah, but Sarah is not there?" "Why not?" I asked, Sarah had never been five miles out of the village before so where had she gone, and if she had left the village she wouldn't have gone that far, she would be easily found. "She died five years ago of a passing disease." The man replied flatly, I felt as if he had just ripped my beating heart straight out of my chest. Sarah dead, it wasn't true it can't be, Sarah had sacrificed her life for my happiness, so that I could be happy and live my life for the both of us, but she had betrayed me. The only thing she could have done to make my life hell while she would be resting blissfully unaware in the land across the golden river and she had done it. I hated her, I really did. I blamed her for dying although I knew it wasn't her fault. I couldn't forgive her for the life of eternal misery that she was condemning me to. I couldn't forgive her. My soul would not.
I kept cursing Sarah as the man led me out of the courtyard and past my beloved classrooms, and through the sun drenched corridors, but the sun felt cold on my face. He led the way to the main gate and beyond to two horses standing tethered to a tree, and to my dismay my trunk was resting up against the large trunk of an old oak tree a few yards away.Had he looked inside? Had he been in my room? Had he seen those secret letters from my friends and family? Exactly how much did this man know about me?He led me over to a rusty brown coloured horse and ordered me to mount it. I didn't bother to protest, I knew I would be helpless and a waste of time. It was this feeling of helpless, that I could do nothing except watching my precious future slipping away slowly in front of my eyes that made me sad. Once the man had mounted the other, black horse he grabbed my reins and led meat a painfully slowly pace into the forest. Before we reached the fringes the forest I glanced back at the life I should have had, all the friends I was leaving behind and I hardly noticed the tears now rolling uncontrollably down my cheeks. As the darkness of the forest closed around me I closed my eyes and let the rhythm of the horse sway me to and fro, my makeshift world that had once felt so warm and safe in flaming ruins behind me.
The first night here was the worst I have ever endured; I swear the Gods made it so to torment me for hating my sister.The man had taken me to the uppermost room in a tower that seemed to reach to the very core of the sky. There he imprisoned me forever to weave this accursed web for his dark purposes, I weaved night and day, year after year, I weaved stories of other people like me imprisoned in this sinister fairy tale, held hostage by their own misery. I told tales of sadness, of loss and depravity, of darkness and despair. For years I told of other people's sadness without having a chance to grieve for my own. About ten years into my service I received news that my Mother, Father and baby brother had all died due to an unexpected outbreak of the plague, when I heard I was sure that the man had something to do with it, but since I had no proof then there was nothing I could do. So instead I passed many years in a comfortable silence, weaving other people's desolate tales, never even hinting at my own. The web of sorrow I called it, it had every single tale of every single person and I could never stop weaving since the man had made me immortal for the sole reason to simply keep on weaving. And here I sit, silent and alone for eternity, forever doomedto weave of others despair instead of my own, imprisoned in a nightmare of my own making.
The firelight waning on my face as the joyful sun peeps over the dark horizon I look down at the redundant needle inmy dry fingers, and I try to smile. New tears spill into my hands, the sight of my families smiling faces now afresh in my mind, the needle falls out of my hands as I cup them round my wrinkled face and I hear it tinkle merrily on the floor amongst the pool of tears.
This is what I am and what I am to become, forgive me.

"Oshworld´s adventure part three (Borg)"by;fJM

  For miles, all that could be heard was a sound. It was dim from far away, but if you were close, it was distinct and loud. It came out as a low roar which sent raka-birds (birds with heavy stomachs that caused flight to be almost impossible) up into the air, and then seconds later, ungracefully, back down. What this sound was, only few knew, and the very unperceptive Oshworld, who barley heard the quiet sound over that of the forest, was defiantly not one of those in knowledge.

‘Did any of you hear anything?’ asked Shrubpoo

‘Yes, I heard my whisper of, shut up Shrubpoo!’ Laughed Treeis loudly.

Oshworld, who didn’t really find it funny, but wanted to strengthen his bond with Treeis joined in hysterically. Maymay, watched them curiously.

As Treeis laughed and Oshworld rolled on the floor waving his flabby arms around, an unseen onlooker, who was traveling by through the forest, saw them. The onlooker shuddered, ‘monsters slay me if I ever end up with a bunch like that.’

Who this stranger was, and why he was mentioned, shall be got to.

........

In good time.

After a while the laughter came to a close. Shrubpoo got huffy, raving wildly about how the joke wasn’t funny, and then walked off, saying they had to get on. Which was true. So far the group hadn’t covered much ground since setting off only a few hours earlier. They were still in the forest (the one where Oshworld had made his decision to take the adventure) and night was fast approaching. The group moved on, and traveled far.

When night fell, all four drifted off into an easy sleep, and then awoke early in the morning to set off.

‘Feeling fresh!’ exclaimed Oshworld.

‘Good of you to share that with us all.’ Said Maymay.

‘Oh,’ Said Oshworld, slightly taken aback, then, remembering that he should be as smooth as a smooth stone when it came to Maymay, ‘ It’s my pleasure. Say, want to date?’

Maymay smiled. ‘Do you know why I am here Oshworld?’

‘Nope.

...

 Why are you here?’

‘I’m a mage. I’m her to fight against the evil forces,’ She paused, ‘not to date.’ She winked, and walked off.

Oshworld blushed; that hadn’t gone the way he had hoped. ‘Oh well,’ he sighed, ‘I have this whole trip to make her see what she’s missing out on!’

Maymay, who had only been a few paces ahead of him, started to laugh. The day moved on, becoming early evening.

A mile away from Oshworld, Maymay, Shrubpoo and Treeis, a traveler heard a distinct roar, about a mile behind him. He cursed, dropped his heavy bag of belongings, and sprinted back the way he had come.

For Oshworld, the roar was a little too close for comfort, and when I say a little too close, I mean the roar was directly next to Oshworld’s right ear because the creature that it had come from was right next to Oshworld. He hadn"t noticed due to it being hidden from sight by a large bush, and the next thing Oshworld knew, the beast had torn through the vegetation, and was looking directly into his eyes. It was an ogre. Tall, broad, bald, terrifying, and bloody ugly.

Oshworld screamed, and raced off to find Shrubpoo. If anybody could fight this ogre, it would be him, the larger of the trees. As he ran for his life, Treeis emerged in front of him, looking confused. Then, taking one look at the pursuing ogre, cried ‘Oh balls" and ran for his life.

Treeis and Oshworld ran out of the denser wood, and into a clearing. Maymay and Shrubpoo were talking, but turned there heads in surprise. There wasn’t much time for thought. Shrubpoo, who saw the ogre directly behind the lagging Oshworld, charged.

The ogre, seeing the Shrubpoo in all his fury, took his attention off Oshworld, and got ready to fight. Things happened very quickly. Shrubpoo smashed into the ogre, but the ogre had braced himself. Shrubpoo, very much like Oshworld had done when he collided with Shrubpoo only a day beforehand, flew off to the side, unconscious.

‘What,’ gasped Oshworld turning around, whistle tripping over, just in time to witness the collision, '.....Well looks like your up Treeis.’

Treeis didn’t respond, he was to busy running. Maymay, realizing that the ogre had his sights back on Oshworld, started to form a spell. Just in time, a green spark of magic hit the ogre, making it hesitate. This enabled Oshworld to roll over, missing getting crushed by the ogres large foot. Oshworld tried to stand up, but his limbs were weak from running and all he could do was slowly crawl. This was no good, the ogre would kill him in a matter of seconds; there was no hope. Treeis was many meters away, now realizing his mistake and rushing back, but it wouldn’t be in time. Shurbpoo was unconscious, and would be in that state for the next ten minuets at the least. Maymay wasn’t skilled enough in magic to do much damage.

Oshworld felt large, sweaty hands grasp him, and with colossal strength lift him off the ground. He knew this was it, and let out a long scream, which died out, as the hands began to tighten, crushing him. Everything went black.

"Oshworld´s adventure part one (The beginning of something epic)"

By;Fjm

Oshworld, was a young, stupid, Faun. He was also rather chubby, smelly, and most obvious of all, had blue fur. Which, was unlucky for Fauns, as it was a really unattractive color for them. Fauns literally hated it......

 So to be said nicely: Oshworld was a complete reject.

Of course however, as we all know, Fauns are very kind people (if you can really call them people).

This meant that he was accepted, by the pity of their hearts, into the Faun society. His parents didn"t get him put down, and instead, they brought him up as any Faun girl should be. Unfortunately, Oshworld wasn"t a girl, and it wasn"t until five years later, when Oshworld plucked up the courage to tell them, that they realized he was a Faun male.

‘Maybe he’s pretending. A little joke perhaps?’ said Dadvis, Oshworld’s dad said very hopefully.

It was a warm summers day and Oshworld and his parents were in their house. The news about Oshworld being a boy had just been broken.

‘No, no, I am a boy, trust me!’ Replied Oshworld keenly, burping as he said it.

Both Dadvis, and Uuuu (Oshworld’s mother) looked at him in disgust at the burp he had done; It had been both loud and weird sounding. There was an awkward silence that lingered, like the smell of his burp, which didn"t help things.

Oshworld smiled back innocently and then Uuuu spoke.

‘Well, this isn"t such a problem,’ (it was), ‘ we’ll just have to start teaching you how to be a man!’

From that day on, Oshworld was taught by his father how to do manly stuff. The problem was, Oshworld wasn’t very good at physical work and so after years of gradual learning, Oshworld, was still, a nasty black dot (well blue actually), on the faun society,

Dadvis knew that Oshworld would never get a real job in the Faun society and so he made one up for him. He called it tree keeping. What Oshworld would do, would be to walk around and talk to all the trees, making sure they were happy. This is how, Oshworld ended up as, a Tree keeper........

(This is were the good stuff begins.)

It was a hot summers day, similar to the day, almost ten years ago, when he gender incident had come up. Most people were in their houses, trying to cool down, or others, mainly children, were out in the lake swimming. Up by a small group of beautiful and large trees, Oshworld sat on the ground singing to his trees that were behind him, keeping them company.

‘Trees! Trees! Oh look you trees. I sing a song for you, you know. Yes for you, oh do, oh la de la de new. I sing, oh do bring, me joy by saying to you like my song. Speak, you don’t speak. You silly tree, you silly fee.....’ and on and on he sung, in a horrible out of pitch voice, singing words that didn"t even exist.

Then, a muffled voice, saying something hard to make out, came from behind Oshworld. It was as deep, and calm voice, which made Oshworld gasp in shock.

‘Hello!’ shouted Oshworld, standing up, but not turning round, and not really knowing what he was doing.

‘Hello.’ Replied the voice.

Oshworld then turned round. In front of him was nothing but the few trees he had been singing to. How curious he thought. Squinting his eyes, he peered through the trees, in search for the one who had spoke.

Nothing was said for a few seconds, and all that could be heard was the birds singing and the dim noise of children playing far away. Then, as sudden as the hello had come, the same voice spoke again. Well, it was actually more of a shout and laugh. But anyway, with tremendous volume the voice bellowed out ‘Hehehheeh! Hahahae! HOOOOO!’

Oshworld yelped, ran, tripped over and yelped again. It turned quite, the laughter stopped. Then like a blast of great fire coming from a dragon, the one laughing voice, which started up again, was joined with many.

Too scared to stand up, Oshworld used his cunning and started to roll away from where the noises were coming from. He praised himself greatly for being so smart, and now that he had escaped he would go home and eat; of course, he would have to keep rolling to get there, he didn’t dare stand up and reveal his (all to visible) unseeable position, and so he kept rolling away, along the increasingly steep land.

However, Oshworld didn"t get very far away, for the land got so steep that rolling was impossible. He lay there, perfectly still, and closed his eyes. His logic was, and it made some sense, that if he couldn"t see the people who had scared him, they wouldn"t be able to see him.

‘Ingenious.’ He muttered to himself, and then alarmingly quickly, he drifted off into a deep sleep.

When Oshworld awoke, many hours later, he found himself in a clearing, surrounded on all sides by a kind looking forest. In the middle of the clearing, near where he was now sitting, there was a small pool, which radiated out blissful amounts of heat which spread out, warming the whole glade. Little sunlight penetrated through the tall and dense trees all around, and Oshworld thought it gave the clearing a relaxing feel. Looking around, he saw many of the tress bore wondrous fruits, that he had never seen before. Around the stumps of the trees, and dotted around the grass covered earth, there were also many beautiful flowers, which gave off attractive scents, which made Oshworld start snorting heavily, trying to smell all the different aromas more clearly. Oshworld, not thinking clearly, in a kind of trance, started to sluggishly walk around on the spot. ‘Woops!’ He barley said, as he slipped over on the warm ground near the pool. The grass was quite tall here, and softened his trip so that he didn"t feel a thing. ‘Ohhhh!’ He replied in delight at not being hurt like he normally did when he fell over.

He sat where he fell, admiring the place he had ended up in. How did he get here? Maybe he had died and his was heaven? He thought back to the last thing he had remembered, which would be him......Which would be him fleeing from the loud voices, he remembered at last, after ten minuets of pondering. Most curious he thought.

Maybe he was dead then........... Although, an alternative theory stood. Say the laughing voices had caught up with him as he was trying to escape from them, and then they bonked him on the head....then, it could be that he wasn"t  dead and he had just been ‘bonked’ and he fell unconscious. In-fact, he did remember shutting his eyes and all going blank!

‘Aha!’ he accidentally shouted at him sussing out what had happened. He quickly checked around to make sure nobody heard his apparent random call out. Then, thinking he would have plenty of time to look for a way out of the forest that surrounded him, he jumped into the deliciously warm water, enjoying every second of its luxurious heat.

‘An interesting character, thought I"m not sure he’s the right one.’ Said an onlooker, who was hidden on the outskirts of the glade.

‘He is, he’s blue isn"t he?’ said a figure next to the first.

‘But, look at him! Does he look like he is capable.....,’ as the first figure spoke again, Oshworld tried to get out of the pool, but slipped and fell backwards back into the waters, ‘.....for what we ask?’

‘I believe that the answer is yes, he is capable. But it will take time."

‘Then,’ Said the first one, getting ready to move, ‘ We will have to introduce ourselves.’

Both the figures moved out of cover, and into the light of day. Oshworld who had been blowing bubbles underwater, arose with a delighted smile on his face. Then, looking out of the water, his eyes caught sight of two large shapes, and a horrified scream came out of his mouth.......