Notebook: a tale of four brothers (short story, part 2: Darmay)

Notebook: a tale of four brothers

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PART 2: Darmay

One eager, one curious and one just used to getting everything.

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(click here for part 1)

He straightened his crown properly and launched forward. Immediately the coronet was beaten off his head and Robert was in hot pursuit through the air. His clothes jingled like a dozen tiny bells. He slammed on his back against his brothers.

“Robert, give it up!”

“Edward’s right, it’s no use. That thing is way too big for you.”

“Nonsense!”

Robert crawled back up and brushed his clothes off. Hardly five minutes later, he was again flung through midair. The monster seemed all but impressed.

“Cut it out, already, you’re going to break something!”

“This isn’t helping.”

“We need a new strategy. No matter how much I try, I can’t get anywhere near its eye, he’s much too tall. Unless...”

George and Edward looked at each other and then him.

“Unless what?”

“I thought you’d never ask!”

Without another word, he scooped up Edward and took him on the shoulders.

“We’re higher this way.”

“No way, put me down! Robert?! Please don’t make me get near that thing, I’m scared!”

“Quit whining! George, we’ll distract him, you sneak up from behind and tackle it.”

“Sure, maybe it will take long enough to kill us for that... I’m gonna shit my pants Robert, I’m going to shit them right in your neck, if you don’t put me down RIGHT NOW!”

“Here we go...”

“NOOO!!!”

Edward covered his eyes.

“Will you work with me here, I can’t keep my balance with you leaning left and right!”

“I’m trying to dodge the punches, if you don’t mind, I’m not going to be your damn safety pillow!”

Robert staggered back and front, trying to keep them both upright. It was a very shaky constellation.

“George?”

“I can’t get past if you don’t keep it busy!”

“Edward? Keep its attention. Watch the fists, idiot!”

“I can’t see anything but fists at the moment.”

“Get closer!”

“What?! I don’t wanna die...”

“Blow, damn it!”

Edward puffed into the sky, refusing to bend his neck even the slightest in the monster’s direction while its arms kept swinging away at them.

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, you wouldn’t even blow out a candle that way, you sissy!”

“Would you rather be up here, if you’re so much better, your majesty?”

With a furious growl, the creature tripped over the outstretched leg of George, who hastily got far out  of the way.

A sigh of relief ran through the trio.

“Now that was close.”

They made it across the bridge and continued their way undisturbed. For hours to come they would meet no one and see no trace of human civilization.

“It’s a bit funny though. It’s as if the land’s deserted.”

“Let’s hope not. I’d like to be nice and comfy and warm once it gets cold. If we don’t find some houses soon, we’re going to have to spend the night outside.”

“I hope we find a castle.”

“A castle?”

“Yeah, I’m a prince aren’t I? That would make this my land. A prince without a castle, what kind of a ridiculous prince would that be?”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Robert.”

“You’ll see, the first town we get to will welcome us like royalty.”

“If you say so...”

“I’m hungry.” Edward said whiney.

“We’re all hungry, Edward.” George replied annoyed. He could be such a child sometimes. As if their difference in height, despite being twins, was sufficiently telling for the parallel distinction in maturity.

“It couldn’t possibly take so long to the nearest town. Why would people take the trouble to build roads if they lead nowhere?” Robert wondered.

“Maybe this parallel world is empty, until the narrator invents something. Perhaps we should ask Michael for help.”

All three cried from the top of their lungs.

“Auch! That hurts my ears, stop screaming! I’m here, what is it?”

“We need somewhere to go, a town or something.”

“A city, make it a city! It better be big. I don’t want to rule anything small.”

“With a gigantic palace!” Edward exclaimed enthusiastically.

“And a market, we’ll need to get supplies.” George added in his matter-of-fact kind of way.

“I’ll see what I can whip up, hang on.”

The group left the path

and made their way

for aftermath

they reached Darmay.

“Hm, the prince of Darmay. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Okay, so we left the path, where is it?”

“We should have seen it already. You can’t miss a big city in a plain.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, I’m not done yet. It’s not easy to come up with something that actually rhymes too, you know. Where was I... Right, Darmay. Here goes:”

which in scorching desert lay

Immediately the landscape changed all around and they started to see a large shape looming up from the ground and getting clearer as Edward’s words echoed through the alternate universe.

around a fountain from which water sprung

as clear and light as day

that was said to keep you young

if you drink it may

“You just had to come up with a frigging desert?!”

“How about: thanks, narrator?”

“It sure as hell took you long enough!”

“Okay, okay, let’s just get moving.”

They enter the big wide-open wooden gates of Darmay. As soon as they were inside, the robust entrance was closed behind them. Like thunder, Michael’s voice again rung out.

This city of a thousand wonder,

home to witches and wizards,

every day went down and under

to shield itself from raging blizzards

Each traveller that reach it might

must wait to leave till it emerges

so he who Darmay searches

shall stay within a whole fortnight

“WHAT?! A fortnight? What the hell are we supposed to do for a whole fortnight? Where are we going to sleep? What are we going to eat?”

“I'm working on it! Jees, give me a break, will you? Just go inside, find someplace warm to sleep and I’ll figure something out to get you out of there in the morning.”

Someone knocked on the attic door. All four boys held their breath.

“What is that?”

“Someone’s here, I told you that would happen, Robert!”

“Boys?”

“It’s mum, hold on and don’t say a word! I’ll be right back.”

“Boys, I’ve brought you some biscuits...”

“Oh, God, what should I tell her...”

The boy opened the door just a crack.

“Hey, mum.”

He reached his arm through the small opening for the plate of cookies. His mother tried to peer in past him. He blocked the way, laughing nervously.

“What are you guys doing in there?”

“Nothing, playing.”

“You know your father doesn’t like for you to be up there. The floorboards are very old, it’s dangerous.”

“We’ll be careful.”

“Alright then.”

Michael shut the door and leaned against it in-and exhaling deeply. Close call...

In the other world, the three siblings found themselves stranded in the great capital of magic.

To be continued...

Calypso (short story)

Introduction:

Hey guys, how’s it going?

This is a very old story, and with old I mean practically prehistoric. Judging by the font and style of the original, I must have written it somewhere in my early to mid teens. I was going through some of my older files the other day, files I managed to save from my previous computer (which crashed, taking a lot of files with it into oblivion), and found a real treasure vault worth of ‘blogable’ stories. Unfortunately, I secured most of them with two passwords (Yes, I’m paranoid...) and of course, I forgot the password. Nice and clever. Anyway, in those days I wrote a lot but I hardly finished anything because at the time, I didn’t write short stories. Things were either novels are poems and there was nothing in between. Writers among you will know how few ideas actually make it into novels. All of the stories from that time are very short, unfinished and in Dutch, so it is going to take some time to brew some sort of ending for them and translate them into English. I have to polish them a little too. Do take into consideration that these are the fruits of a youthful mind, so don’t judge too harshly. They’re not perfect, but I hope you’ll like them. I’m glad that after so much time, I can share them with the world after all. Especially since I don’t have much energy to come up with something new at the moment, so I have something to fall back on to keep providing fresh posts. Let me know what you think!

All best wishes,

Stories Inc.

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Calypso

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She heard the rushing of the sea and the gentle splashing of the waves against the wooden boards of the ship. So melodic. Like a lullaby. In her imagination, she could clearly see the bow proudly cleaving through the water. The pressure of the rocking motion squeezed her stomach, but she was used to it. Unlike Dave and Tommy. Their father’s disapproving look stalked the pair of silhouettes hanging over the side. He shook his head.

She knew it hurt him that each of his sons hated the sea. Landlubbers, he called them. And they were. She on the other hand loved that big blue splendour gliding by. After all, her brothers could not say they were born on a ship, amidst the raging no man’s land, like herself. Slight parental miscalculation...

Sometimes she’d climb up the ledge of the front and spread her arms, as in Titanic, and pretend she could fly. Every now and then, a dolphin would jump up playfully and track the ship, making it’s cheerful cries. Like a child laughing. She adored those moments, here, all of them together, sailing the open seas and watching the sunset over the water. Lovely.

She came up the stairs from the hold and noticed a small spot in the distance. As it came closer, she realized it was a small speedboat heading towards them. The local police. Policia.

“Dad, we’ve got company.” Dave called out in between hurls.

Dad hastily prepared to meet the visitors. He was the only one in the family who spoke the local language well enough. She herself only knew a few words, but could usually not make much sense of what was being said. Pretty logical, the way they really rattled along around here.

“Cally, go get your mother.”

Her mother was busy cleaning up after her brothers again in the hold.

“Mum, some men from the police are here to talk to dad. He said to call you.”

“Stay here, Cally, I’ll be right back. It’s always the same thing, every darn trip. When will they finally get this land properly organised?”

Her dad came to the stairs. She could already hear the engine. They would soon board the ship.

“Mary, get a bottle of our best wine ready. And something to eat.” It was his experience that all of the locals were much easier to handle if you pampered them a little.

“Be a good girl, Cally, and guard our stuff, will you?”

“Sure.” It was a commonly known fact that the policia in this parts was rather grabby when it came to property. They did not get much supervision way outback.

Her father welcomed the strangers to his ship as if they were long last friends. The men spoke their rapid unintelligible dialect and her father replied. She could clearly hear a nervous tone in his voice. Even though she couldn’t make out what they were saying, it was obvious things were escalating from the way they were shouting. She heard her father say something about vino and the voices lowered for a minute. Then the sound of breaking glass broke the silence. The shouting recommenced, now her father was yelling too. Footsteps came her way.

Quickly she covered their stash with sheets. They came downstairs. Her father tried to stop them, but they pushed him away and descended, quickly followed by the desperate man trying to reason with them. Soon the whole family and the heavily armed officers were gathered in the hold. Her mother signalled and she ran to her, held and protected from the greedy eyes. It was known what immoral things they did in these waters. The tales were widely told.

It wasn’t long for they uncovered the neatly packaged powders and weeds. They had a nose for these things. Sweat began dripping down her father’s face. They could lock you up for life for this, we all knew. And that was as good as death sentence in these jails.

“What’s this?” They asked dad. All of us knew, they especially. Were they trying to intimidate us?

“Herbs.” He replied.

A slap resonated through the very bowels of ship. Dad was shocked, angry, it was clear, but he did not react. He knew he would be risking our lives if he did.

They ripped open a few of the goods, blabbering among themselves. Dad made a step to intervene, but one of the cops raised a club in a warning gesture. He gave up and waiting, watching them with a heavy heart.

The eldest of the group tasted and turned towards him, making a few threatening steps trying to stare my father down. They were nearly face to face when he finally opened his mouth to give the verdict. They did love to display power.

“This is good stuff.” He said – I could understand that much – and smiled a greasy smile, flashing a whole set of brownish rotten away teeth. A sigh of relief. They just wanted their cut.

“You could sell this anywhere. There’s a pretty good market for it up north. Just go to the taverna rosso and say Guanez sent you.”

“I’ll do that, thank you.” He handed the officer a stack of money.

He briefly ran his hand over the bills with routine fingers to make an estimation of the value.

“We will expect more when you return.”

Dad nodded. All of them were glad it was over. Nothing compares to the release that ran through them each time they watched another speedboat disappear without anyone being harmed.

“I don’t like bringing the children into this. It is bound to go wrong some time, Donald, you know it is. We’ve just been lucky.”

“Mary, just one more won’t hurt. It’s the last, I promise.”

She was silent. That’s what he said every time.

In Memoriam: a letter to the world

Hey Forum,

Today’s post is not going to be a story. This is going to be about digesting one. And all the horror it brings. You see, I heard a story today. I went applying for a new job and took an exam. I came back out and got in the car. My family came to pick me up. And there I heard that my uncle, my good and strong and healthy uncle, had had a car accident and died. There’s been some snow lately. He went to work early this morning to spread salt over the parking lots of a business. Then, on a big empty road, some asshole with half a brain crashed in the back of his small tractor. He was killed instantly. I can guess some of the details. I just came back from their place and now I can truly say that I’ve learned a few things. I’ve learned that:

Dying is picking up the phone every two minutes to hear how sorry people are.

Dying is trying not to throw up.

Dying is walking around in circles looking for something to do.

Dying is wanting so hard not to hate the asshole who caused this.

Dying is trying to understand what it means that he “didn’t make it”.

Dying is fathoming that “crash” is lethal and no one will come running in to say he’s in the hospital and going to be fine.

Dying is the prospect of the first Christmas without him.

Dying is walking the dog to get out of the house.

Dying is cooking soup.

Dying is crying babies and the frantic effort to soothe and feed them.

Dying is two teenagers figuring out how to say that their daddy is dead.

Dying is making coffee for the police-officer.

Dying is rounding up biscuits and filling out papers and waiting around for a chance to see him one more time.

Dying is looking for that last photograph.

Dying has nothing to do with saying goodbye.

His family would be the first place I’d run to if I was ever left alone, where I always felt welcome and free to be whoever I wanted to be. They would never turn me, or anybody else, out when I needed help. That family loved each other, trusted each other, were true with one another like hardly any I know. And my uncle was someone to depend on. He was strong and stable. Somebody who knew exactly what to do and what to say. He only did what he loved and anything he did, he did with passion, everything he said, he said with heart. He had a philosophy of his own and he enjoyed life to the fullest, every single day of it.

I can’t help but wondering if that’s why he was granted so many fewer than the rest of us. Now I know for the first time what it means when people leave their loving home and don’t come back. That on such a banal average middle-of-the-week Wednesday someone leaves for work whistling, and returns no more. Now I know what waiting, real, unrelieved waiting feels like. I can’t even make an inventory of everything that’s running though my mind right now. That doesn’t change the fact that I have to come up with some clever rhymes fast for his mortuary card.

I’m not doing this for sympathy. Frankly, I could care less about your condolences, so don’t leave me any. Don’t say you’re sorry, you weren’t even there. Don’t say it’s horrible, I know it is. Unless you can magically bring him back, don’t say anything at all. I just want you to know how good and kind he was and what a loss he leaves and I want you to think. I want you to remember each and every time you pump that gas, for your loved ones’ sakes and everyone else’s. Don’t be some family’s asshole...

Notebook: a tale of four brothers (short story) - Update

Notebook: a tale of four brothers

Introduction

This is an idea I’ve been playing around with for at least some years now. I (semi-)specialised in (mainly Dutch) mediaeval literature during my training, so I’ve read my share of rhyming middle-Dutch romances with knights in them. When I read too many of them, this came pouring out. Especially the rhyming bits were inspired by it and so was the general ‘quest’ and the highly present narrator-figure, but I couldn’t string everything together and make out a beginning and an end. Now I might’ve. It’s already more of a series and who knows, maybe it’ll turn into a novel in the end.

I gave it a provisional title, because I had to call it something, but I might change my mind on that later. This is just a first draft so it may alter greatly. Let me know what you think and feedback and/or suggestions are very welcome. I guess I’ll adapt and expand as I go.

source of the image: http://ep.yimg.com/ca/I/tribal-celtic-tattoos_2097_50446880

(note: this is the once updated version. I took out some spelling mistakes and, considering the helpful comments of Diego Green and Timothy, made an effort to distinguish between the siblings more consistently. Their character is to be developed a bit more in later parts, at least that is my intention. Hope you like it and leave any kind of constructive comments below. Thanks in advance)

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PART 1: broken commandments

“A book is a mirror. When a monkey looks in, no apostle can look out.”

Georg Lichtenberg

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“Don’t!”

“Oh, please, don’t be ridiculous, Michael.”

“Yeah, it’s just a book, for God’s sakes.”

“You know we’re not supposed to be up here.” The boy replied. “What if they find out?”

“No one is going to find out, you chicken and even if they do, it’s not like we’re wrecking things. There’s nothing else we can do with that bloody rain.”

“Dad will be angry!”

“So, I’ll tell them we made you come, now quit being such a pain and give me that book!”

Reluctantly, the boy let go of his clenched treasure, which immediately passed into three sets of hands at once.

As soon as they touched it, Michael saw a flash of gold appear on the cover.

“What’s that?”

It were apparently letters. In a shaky voice, he read aloud:

Reader, behold!

Another world, shall soon unfold...

“Let go of that book! It’s evil!”

“Did you fall down and hit your head?!”

“I’m telling you, there’s something wrong with it, look!”

“Look where, nutcase?”

“The letters, on the cover, they weren’t there before!”

“What letters? There’s nothing on the cover.”

He showed him the front of the book. It was blank.

“I don’t understand, I...”

“Nice try, kiddo!” The second youngest brother replied.

“I think he finally snapped, Edward.” His by five minutes older twin George added, dryly.

“Perhaps he just wants some attention.” The oldest sibling briskly ran through his younger brother’s hair.

“There, there, boy.”

“Cut it out, I’m not a dog, Robert!”

Robert clutched the book. He wiped the cobwebs off the cover and eagerly opened the volume. The three elder brothers coughed in the cloud of dust.

As soon as the manuscript lay open, a beam of violently bright light emerged from the pages to blind the siblings. They covered their eyes, but it burned through their eyelids. When they opened them, all had changed.

Michael got up from his squatting position and looked around in the filthy attic. They were gone! The book was on the floor, open, and his siblings had vanished.

“Robert? George! It’s not funny guys, come out? Edward, I know you’re in here!”

It wasn’t a joke. They had really disappeared. Confused, he staggered towards the manuscript and picked it up. The minute his fingertips touched its cover, it was as if a lightning bolt went through him. Electricity flowed into his body and he could feel smoke whirl up from his skin, his ears, his hair. In that instance, he ceased to be ‘Michael’ and became ‘Narrator’.

“Michael? Michael!” Three frightened voices called out from the book. The boy snapped out of his daze and answered.

“I’m right here!”

“Where?”

“In the attic, where else?”

“We can’t see you, you idiot. We’re in the damn book!”

“And we’re dressed like bloody knights!” Edward exclaimed.

“In the book?! How the hell can you be in the book?”

“How should we know? The darn thing’s got a spell on it or something.”

“But you can hear me?”

“YEAH. Get us out!”

“How could I possibly...”

“Well, what does the book say?”

“Good thinking.”

He went through the pages.

“Th... There’s nothing there, it’s empty!” He cried out.

“What?”

“Wait, something comes up.” A black spot swelled on the page and formed into words, then sentences.

For the three to re-ascend,

the tale be spun until the end

“What is that supposed to mean?” Edward yelled.

“I think the book wants us to finish the story.” George replied pensively.

“What story? You heard Michael. There’s no text. We’re stuck here!”

“Guys! Use your brains and shut your waffles, will you?” Robert intervened. “Now why is Michael still up there, when we’re here?”

“He wasn’t touching the book.” George pondered.

“Yes, but that’s not all. The light was everywhere, it dragged us in here. There must be a reason for Michael to have stayed behind. I’m sure he can get us back. He’s our only link left to the real world.”

Robert took a few steps forward and cried up to the sky.

“Michael? Michael, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Robert, I can hear you, you don’t have to shout.”

“Micky, make up a tale to bring us home.”

“Okay, just a sec, uh... Three boys were taken in the book and... then they came back out.”

“Very good.”

“Nothing’s happening.”

“Why are we still here?”

“Think back to what the book said... Ah, that’s it. Michael, you have to make it rhyme.”

“Rhyme?”

“Just do it. Everything else rhymed.”

“Okay, I’ll give it a try. Let me see... What does the book-world look like.”

They were standing in a green pasture. Peaceful breeze played with the longer blades of grass. Birds were singing.

“Uh... Like a meadow. There’s really nothing special to see here.”

All of a sudden Robert noticed George on his knees in the grass, pushing his glasses up and mumbling to himself.

“It’s just impossible.” He picked some blades of grass and smelled them, feeling around. “It defies all reason. Maybe we fell asleep.”

“Three or four people, dreaming the same thing?” Robert raised an eyebrow and picked up a small pebble. “Dream this!”

“Aw!”

“Hurt, didn’t it? So far for your theory. Now get your ass over here!”

George fidgeted with his spectacles. He was nervous, straining his brain to make sense of the situation.

“We’re ready for you, Michael.”

 “Alright, let’s see... How’s this? The three boys, their lesson learned, to their home then returned.”

The pages from the book lit up as Michael scribbled the words into it.

“Michael, I think it’s working!”

Then Michael spoke again. Something came over him and settled like a white film over his eyes. His voice resonated through the alternate world, with a distinctive echo of another, speaking in chorus with him.

When fulfilled, they shall return,

first their lesson, they must learn.

“Michael, what the hell are you doing?!”

“It’s not me doing it, I swear! It’s like my lips move on their own.”

“Get a grip, will you?” Edward yelled.

“Stop harassing the boy, Edward, you heard him, didn’t you? It’s not his fault. He’s just as enchanted as we are.”

“George has a point, Edward.” Robert scanned the sloping land. “We may want to look around. We don’t know how long we’ll be down here, so we’ll need some place to stay when it gets dark.”

The trio made off. They soon came across a path.

“Maybe if we follow this, we’ll find a village or a house or something.”

The path quickly turned into a road, but still there was no person in sight and not a single building. After at least half an hour of walking, and wining on the part of the youngest boy who was not at all accustomed to hikes, they heard the sound of running water. They came across a mighty river.

“Oh, just great! Now how are we going to cross that?”

“Well, the current’s too strong to swim.”

“Let’s go looking. There must be a bridge somewhere. Hey, Michael, rhyme us a way to get to the other side.”

The siblings crossed plain and mound

till at long last, a bridge was found

“How’s that?”

“Brilliant, thanks, sport.”

Barely had they put a single foot on the bridge, when a deep voice bellowed.

“Who dares cross my bridge.” From the heavens, the narrator’s voice again resounded.

But for this bridge, there was a guard

who many knight before had marred.

With fists as rocks

he slaughtered flocks

of soldiers strong and brave

who to defeat him, crave.

“I don’t like the looks of this! Let’s get out of here quickly, before that guard shows up. We can just make it.”

“And what’s up with this guy’s grammar. Is he spastic?”

“Edward, do not, insult, the narrator...”

Be Robert’s attempt great,

to not insult, it is too late.

“Oh, crap, here we go, thanks a lot, Edward.”

The bridge started to pound under the feet of something big coming their way.

“God, I hope that’s just an earth-quake.”

And there they met a Dilgemesh,

a creature large and frightening,

who had a taste for human flesh,

and was as fast as lightening.

And there it was, stomping across the wooden overpass. It was at least six feet seven tall and two men wide, hairy and muscular, with filthy brown manes falling all the way down to the waist. Three eyes, it had and was a horror to behold.

“MICHAEL!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying, don’t push me!”

“We’re getting eaten down here!”

“Alright, alright, how’s this:

The Dilgemesh, the prince well knew,

is the weakest thing in all of Grover,

it would simply tipple over

if you but blew in its third eye,

so surely, it would die.

“Oh great, how could we possibly get to its eye?”

“Think fast, George, you’re the brainy one.”

“And where the hell is Grover?”

“You’re in it, Edward! I named it the land of Grover, it was the first name I could think of that rhymed.”

A small crown fell from the sky and landed before their feet.

“The prince has to do it.”

“Who’s the prince?”

“I don’t want to be the prince, not if I’d have to go fight that! Here, George, you take it.”

“What, me? Robert is the oldest, let him take it.”

“Fine! I’ll do it! It’s only fair.” Robert said.

The other two looked at him dumbfounded.

“What, are you mad? It will maul you!”

“Thanks for the confidence, guys. It warms my heart.”

“Well, it was good knowing ya.”

Robert took a deep breath and prepared to go into battle with the much larger creature that was coming their way. Edward grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. He was relieved.

“Robert?”

“Yes?”

“Can I have your CD’s?”

Annoyed, he jerked free.

To be continued...