For a long time the whispers of the tentacle creatures followed them. Pahana tensed, waiting for a whipcord to wrap around her neck and pull her off the tiger’s back, or one of the giant’s legs to crash down in front of her, blocking her path. She relaxed when the sound of her pursuers faded behind her. She slipped into a trance, soothed by the movement of Ansus and the bobbing yellow circles of the tiger’s eyes on the grey flagstones ahead.
‘We should rest now,’ Ansus said. She slowed to a walk, padding softly for a while before stopping. Pahana slid off her back and the tiger flopped onto the cool flagstones. Pahana looked around. Water dripped down the walls and the floor was jagged and uneven, flagstones pushed up to reveal inky black earth underneath. White maggots wriggled within the dirt. Pahana moved away from them. Ansus lay against the wall panting, stretched out with her tail tip twitching.
‘I can see you,’ Pahana said. She looked around with renewed interest. She could actually see her surroundings, and not because of the tiger’s eyes. A dull glow pervaded the air, illuminating the floor and walls.
‘It’s the lake,’ Ansus said.
More...
Pahana had not noticed a lake. She turned in a circle looking for it. Behind her the glow faded into the night she was used to, and a stale breath hinted at the larger space they had left behind. She looked at the walls again and realised it was the water dripping down them that provided the scant light. The water fell in single streams but gathered in rivulets in the grooves of the flagstones and flowed away from the Pahana. She followed the flow of the water. A few steps past Ansus the rivulets formed a circular pool, as broad as the span of Pahana’s arms from fingertip to fingertip. She had not realised it was there because, even though the glowing water was bright to her dark dampened eyes, it cast little light, only enough for her to see her immediate surroundings.
‘It’s a small lake,’ Pahana called back to Ansus.
‘Don’t drink from it,’ the tiger cautioned.
Pahana knelt down beside the pool. Because of the concentration of water, the light produced by the pool was much stronger than the drips on the wall. The pale white glow made it look cool and refreshing. Pahana wanted to run her fingers through it, to find out how deep it was. She rested her hands on her knees, in case the water was dangerous to touch as well as drink, and leaned out over the water.
The pool was brighter when viewed from above. The water was still and mirror like. Pahana looked for her reflection. A face peered back out of the pool. She studied it, curious to find out what she looked like and how much damage the Mubby had done to her. The face in the pool was round, with smooth brown skin. Hair framed the face, except Pahana wouldn’t call it hair in the traditional sense. It looked more like moss and strands of tree bark, silver brown and green shimmering in the light. What impressed her most about the face was its eyes. They shone with their own light, like Ansus’, and were a deep electric blue. At least, she thought they were, but the more that she looked at them the more they changed – phasing purple, violet, aquamarine, green, brown and ochre – until she could not tell what colour they were any more. Pleased with her appearance, she raised her hand to probe the wound on the top of her head. She could feel her hair under her fingers – it felt matted and coarse, like horsehair – but there was no corresponding movement from her reflection. The face continued to smile back at her, its eyes oscillating though the whole spectrum. Perturbed, Pahana moved her head side to side, again without a corresponding change in the pool. She wasn’t looking at her reflection; there was something in the pool looking back at her. Frightened, Pahana scuttled away from the edge of the water. No fanged jaw or clawed hand reached for her from below the smooth surface. She waited. The water continued to drip from the walls, flowing towards the pool. A few steps away Ansus lay panting, her tail tap tapping against the wall. Pahana wanted to move closer to the tiger, but she also wanted to look into the pool again. The face had not looked dangerous. It had seemed pleasant. She had been happy to call it her own.
She wiped her hands on her legs and glanced at Ansus again. The tiger was staring into space, recuperating. Surely she would have known if danger was imminent? Pahana pulled herself closer to the pool and tried to look into it slyly, however it was a smooth silver surface when viewed from the side. She could see no reflection, or anything pretending to be a reflection. She leaned further out, ready to pull back at any moment if something rose out of the lake. Slowly an image came into view once more. This time she saw a bright blue sky, laced with puffs of cloud. The sun was shining, but she could not see its golden orb. A forest came into view; the trees broad leafed, raising their branches towards the light. Within the forest there was a clearing, a small house growing out of the ground at its centre. The image was so pretty and so alien from her surroundings that Pahana wondered if it was a picture. She wanted to touch the water’s surface to see if the painting lay beneath it, but she drew her hand back when the door of the hut opened and a woman stepped out into the clearing. She was small and appeared to be formed out of knotted wood. Her slim smooth limbs were mahogany, like her face. She wore a long dress made out of grass and bird feathers. Her hair of moss and bark strips fluttered in the wind as she moved. Where she stepped on the grass flowers bloomed. The trees bowed towards her, in reverence or a desire to be near her, Pahana could not say. The woman started to dance – not in a formal way, but with light fluid movements that appeared almost as a language that was just out Pahana’s grasp to decipher. Animals, drawn by the dance, came out of the forest and gathered around the woman. Colourful birds garlanded the trees. Pahana watched, enraptured. The woman swirled faster until she seemed to fly. There was no sound with the picture, but Pahana imagined the birds providing music for the dance while the larger animals beat time. The woman twirled, leaping across the clearing. With a push from her powerful legs she reached upwards, her hands grasping for the sky. Pahana moved back, thinking the woman would leave the clearing and shoot out of the water in front of her. For a moment it seemed likely. The woman’s twig fingers reached for Pahana. She seemed so close, so easy to touch, and then her flight was cut short and she dropped, like all non-winged things, back down to earth, to the clearing and the waiting animals. The dance over, she crouched panting from her exertion, her head lifted to the sky where Pahana watched. Even though there was no sound, the woman was speaking and Pahana could understand the words.
‘Come join me. I am waiting.’
The image blinked out and the pool was just a skim of slightly greenish water across a shallow depression on the floor. Pahana shivered, missing the light from the sun, the water no longer so bright. She was breathless, panting as if she too had danced in the clearing.
Ansus padded towards her. ‘Time to go,’ she said.
Pahana looked around. How long had she been staring into the pool? She stood up, leaning on the wall for support. Even though her own wounds still wept and smarted, the puncture holes on the tiger’s neck and shoulders had faded to pale scars.
‘Your injuries,’ Pahana said, reaching out to touch the tiger.
Ansus pushed past her, taking care not to step in the pool, and stalked down the corridor. ‘I’m a quick healer,’ she said.
Pahana waddled after the tiger. Her body ached. ‘What is this place?’
‘A maze,’ Ansus said.
‘How did I get here, was I born here?’
The tiger growled. ‘You have not always been here.’
Pahana tripped over a raised flagstone, her foot plunging into the sticky black earth beside it. The white maggots squealed, wriggling towards her foot. She stepped back quickly, but not before one of the maggots had latched onto her toe. She stamped her foot to dislodge it and then tried waving it in the air. The maggot hung on, borrowing deeper into her flesh. She reached down and grasped the fat creature between thumb and forefinger. She pulled, surprised at how much force she had to exert to withdraw it. It came free with much pain and a geyser of blood. She threw it away. It crashed against the opposite wall and slid to the ground a pile of mush.
‘Who would build such a horrible place?’ Pahana said, hobbling after Ansus, who had not waited for her.
They continued walking, although Pahana took more care to avoid the patches of earth and the worm like inhabitants.
‘How far is it to the exit?’ Pahana asked. ‘I feel so tired, I don’t know if I can walk much further.’
‘When you cannot go on I will carry you,’ Ansus said. ‘The maze is very large and I do not have a map. There are many spells cast at each turn to deceive you into taking the wrong turn. I must concentrate to see through these symbols and find the true path.’
‘Oh.’ Pahana wondered if the tiger was telling her to shut up. ‘I’m so tired, can’t we rest for a little while? I don’t heal quickly like you.’
‘We can’t stop now, we are too close.’
Pahana looked behind her. ‘To those things you mean? Those things that are following us?’
‘No, it will take them a while to find us again. When Angel brought me here she left a strong residue that signalled to them where we were, but it has dissipated and I am not as bright a beacon for them to be aware of me.’
‘What are we close to then?’
Ansus growled and looked over her shoulder at Pahana. ‘Your head.’
‘We’re looking for my head?’
The tiger grimaced. ‘Of course not, not the whole of it anyway, part of it.’
Pahana felt her head. Her fingers crawled up her scalp, probing. The holes behind her ears were inflamed and sore. Hidden beneath the dirt she could feel the lumps of old scars. At the top of her head she encountered sharp edges. It hurt to touch them, stabbing pains running down her face and neck which made her want to vomit and filled her with fear that her right eye was going to bulge out of its socket. She withdrew her hand, afraid to cause more pain.
‘What happened to me?’
‘The Mubby. It took part of your head away, removed things from your brain.’
Pahana shuddered. ‘Is that why I can’t remember anything – before here, I mean?’
‘Perhaps. It is close, though, the missing part. We need to find it before we can go much further.’
Missing. Parts of her were missing. Pahana wanted to feel for the hole in her skull again, delve her fingers into it and feel the damp stickiness of her brain. She tried to quell the impulse by remembering how painful it had been to even touch the edge of the wound.
‘How is that possible? How can I move if I am missing part of my brain?’
‘Things work differently here to the outer worlds.’
If the Mubby had taken parts of brain, what other body parts had it stolen? She touched her chest, running her fingers across the long weal that dissected it. She felt tears salting the back of her throat.
‘I don’t like it here. I want to get out of here. I want to leave.’
‘There is no need to shout,’ Ansus said. The tiger’s already gruff voice sounded even sterner.
Tears trickled down Pahana’s face, making the holes in her cheeks sting. She choked on her anguish but she held her screams in.
They walked in silence. The ache in Pahana’s limbs grew stronger. She felt she was wading through custard, every step more difficult than the last. She concentrated on moving forward, even as her body begged her to stop, threatening to tear itself apart, scattering the different pieces and collapsing in a quivering heap if she continued on. She ignored it and, despite the feeling of being pulled in all directions, she managed to keep in one piece.
Ansus stopped and Pahana, focusing on each footfall, bumped into her. The tiger growled and slapped Pahana with her tail.
‘Now we must go down,’ Ansus said, moving forward.
Steps descended down into darkness. Shallow stone steps winding away endlessly. Pahana sighed and hung back.
‘They could be going up,’ Ansus said.
It was disorientating descending with darkness above and below and only a small glow of light all around. The water stopped flowing down the walls and they became dry, changing from blocks of stone to cratered concrete. Luminous lichens growing on the surface of the concrete continued to provide light for Pahana to see by. Underneath the growths she saw faded symbols and letters, pictures of things long forgotten. She peered at the pictures, but they were so faded she couldn’t make them out and she didn’t want to stop to study them because she didn’t want to lose Ansus.
The steps changed to concrete under her feet, the scuffed surface painted with black lines. The skin on her palm was scraped from trailing it along the rough surface of the wall. She felt her feet were speeding up as she descended the steps and she was afraid she would run endlessly onward until she could no longer keep up with the speed of her feet and tumble down, down into the dark. Just when she thought she could no longer take it, the steps ended in a concrete platform. On either side doorways terminated on the platform. Ahead lay a pit of darkness, leading away on either side into tunnels. Ansus stopped beside her, sniffing the air.
‘Something is coming,’ she said.
Wind blew out of the tunnel on the left, carrying sulphurous fumes on its chilling breath.
‘Where are we?’ Pahana asked.
Ansus swished her tail. ‘I don’t know.’ She stepped further out onto the platform, looking left and right. A bright orange ball appeared in the tunnel. An animal roar floated towards her.
Pahana slumped against the wall. ‘I can’t go on, I’m too tired. I need to sleep.’
Ansus growled. ‘Something is coming, we need to leave this place.’
‘You’ll have to carry me,’ Pahana said.
‘We must conceal ourselves.’ Ansus turned away from the edge of the platform and walked along its length. She paused at each doorway, examining them. Pahana stumbled after her.
‘Which one do we take?’
‘This one,’ Ansus said, choosing the doorway on the opposite end of the platform to the one that had brought them there. Pahana walked towards it. As she passed the doorway before it, a figure stepped out of the opening, wrapped its arm around Pahana’s neck and pressed something sharp against her throat. A deep voice rasped in her ear.
‘Move and you’re dead.’
Monday, November 03, 2008
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Chapter Two - Hole in the Head
The darkness hissed. Pahana could see it roiling beyond the limit of Ansus’ eyes. Voices whispered outside the reach of her understanding. She pressed her back against the wall, curling her hands into fists with difficulty.
‘We must fight,’ Ansus growled.
A shadowy tendril shot out of the darkness, snaking towards Pahana. Ansus leapt forward, sparks flashing from her jaws as her teeth sheered together. The thread dissipated in the light of her eyes, but another flew through the air from the right, causing the tiger to spin around. Again it dissolved before she could make contact, before another lured her further from the wall and Pahana.
‘Fight Pahana, follow me,’ the tiger snarled, her gruff voice growing fainter.
More...
A feeler brushed against Pahana’s foot. She thought it was the blunt end of Ansus’ tail, but then it whipped around her ankle and tightened into her flesh like a cord. The whispers grew louder, coiling around her and rippling across her flesh.
Fight! Fight! They’re coming to get you.
Light glimmered and blossomed in front of her. Pahana blinked. She was in a schoolyard, the grey tarmac pock marked and gritty. She knelt, nose pressed against the cast iron railings that enclosed the yard, her little hands wrapped around the peeling spokes. A beetle crawled across her knuckles, making her skin itch.
‘They’re coming to get you, Pahana.’
A band of children – girls from her class – resolved into being forming a semi circle around her. Their faces, framed with pigtails and French plaits, were twisted with evil glee. Pahana shied away from them, hanging onto the rails for support. Where was Ansus? There had been a tiger in front of her a moment ago, hadn’t there? She shook her head. The hissing darkness was receding, the diluted winter sunshine of the playground growing more solid in her new reality.
‘You’re in trouble now.’ A squat red head with freckles prodded Pahana in the stomach. The pain caused by the touch was disproportionate to the size of the child’s finger.
‘They’ll beat you black and blue. They’ll mush you through the railings. They stomp on your hands and bounce on your belly.’
Pahana squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn’t real. She was with a tiger, in the cold and the dark, with creatures hissing about her. Yet the chanting sounded so real and the railings felt solid in her grasp. She opened her eyes. She was still in the playground. The girls were laughing and clapping, pointing at something that approached from the other side of the yard, out of the shadows of the beige pre-fabricated buildings. Pahana could feel the air growing thicker with the advance of her tormenters, but the ring of children hid them from view.
‘You’re not real,’ she shouted. ‘This isn’t real. I’m not here. Leave me alone.’
The girls giggled. Slowly the ones in the middle stepped back to make way for what approached. Pahana didn’t want to see, but she couldn’t look away. A group of boys, led by a tall thin girl stalked towards her. The boys grinned, but not in a good way, and the girl’s dark eyes were black holes devouring everything in her path.
‘Kill her, mush her, rip her, push her,’ the girls squealed. ‘Pancake Pahana, pancake Pahana.’
Pahana pushed her shoulder through the railings. She was small and she was sure she could fit through. There was a field beyond, and a road lined with buildings in the distance. She lifted her leg and stepped onto the grass of the field. It was wet and her foot was sucked into the ground, damp soaking through the wrinkled sock that flopped about her ankle. Next came her head. She turned away from her attackers and pushed her head through the bars. She could feel the railings moving, drawing closer together as she tried to fit through them. Her head stuck at her ears. She tried to pull back, but she was caught. The grass twined around her ankle, cutting her bare leg with its sharp blades. She screamed for help, inarticulate in her panic. In the schoolyard, hands grasped her other leg. She kicked out, and the fingers slipped, tracing searing lines across her calf.
‘We have you now. You won’t escape.’
‘Fight, Pahana, fight.’
She kicked again. Her foot felt something – not exactly solid – that wobbled against her touch and was pushed back. She wriggled her body, working hard to get through the railings and escape into the field despite the pain. She felt her ears being torn from the sides of her head, her hair being ripped from her scalp. She screamed, but she did not give up.
Bloody, she flopped onto the grass on the other side of the railings amid the angry shouts of the children she had left behind in the playground. As her hands touched the ground it disappeared and she fell forward into the earth, its dark maw closing behind her.
‘Fight it, Pahana.’
She recognised the gruff voice. Ansus Khan’s flashing teeth and claws cut through the darkness beside her. She tried to move, crawling forward on her elbows and kicking with her feet, but her legs were trapped. In the light of Ansus’ glowing eyes Pahana was able to see what held her. A large gelatinous substance pulsated on the wall behind her, whip like cords emanating from its centre. They trailed across her legs, gripping her feet and calves and wiggling towards her thighs. Welts on her arms, the blood black under Ansus’ gaze, showed the places where she had been caught and had escaped. Other blobs seemed to gather from out of the darkness, forming into gloopy lumps on the walls and floor. They lashed out at the tiger, who bit and clawed at them, before moving closer to Pahana. She could hear the voices of the blobs whispering in their grey matter, shouting and screaming in voices hideous and low. A tendril grazed her temple and for a moment she was back in the playground, before the tiger’s large paw swiped through the strand, scattering it into pieces.
‘I’ll cut you free,’ Ansus said, leaping over Pahana and ripping the tentactled mould from the wall. It fell onto the flagstones with a wet plop. ‘Prepare to run.’
‘I can’t, I can’t move,’ Pahana said.
The tiger growled. ‘I will carry you then. Climb upon my back when I say.’
Pahana kicked at the threads gripping her legs. Ansus cut through them, the substance that had formed the vines being absorbed back into the darkness under her touch leaving Pahana’s legs bleeding and raw. Freed, she pulled her legs up, rising onto her knees, her arms straightening to support her upper body. The effort made her pant, her head swirling in clouds of confusion.
‘These are just the foot soldiers,’ Ansus said.
The darkness was alive, and had many fingers. Pahana tried to brush its questing grip away when it touched her skin, each feeler a drop of acid on her flesh. She struggled to keep awake, waiting for Ansus’ word.
‘Get ready,’ the tiger growled.
Heavy feet galloped closer. Deep throated growls escaped from a larynx other than the tigers. A horrid stench alerted Pahana to the Mubby’s presence seconds before it attacked.
‘Ansus,’ she screamed.
Strong hands gripped Pahana under the chin. Her head was pressed into a hairless armpit, scaly skin scraping her cheek. The smell violated her nostrils, making the acid in her stomach boil to the back of her throat. Her feet flopped on the flagstones as the Mubby dragged her away, its speed and strength surprising. She wanted to call out again, but she was afraid to open her mouth in case the smell invaded even further. The sounds of the tiger fighting, muffled through the matted hair of the Mubby’s arm, faded and stopped. At the same time the pace of the creature slowed. It halted, dropping Pahana onto the dank floor. She gasped for breath, the fetid air pleasant after the Mubby.
‘Leave me alone,’ Pahana said, struggling to sit up. Without the tiger’s eye light she was blind. She could hear the Mubby snuffling around her, licking its lips. It sounded like it was laughing at her. Claws raked down her cheek. She hit out, her hand connecting with a scaled arm as hard as metal. The impact jarred her shoulder. She fell forward, out of the Mubby’s grasp. Its claws tapped against the flagstones and it growled. Pahana wriggled to the side and felt the movement of air brush past her face as the creature reached for her and hit empty space where her head had been a moment before. The Mubby growled again and reached for her. This time she could not move fast enough to escape. Its rough hands caught her head, its claws digging in to the soft spots behind her ears. The creature gurgled, slobbering over her. Pahana braced herself for the pain of the strike.
Roaring, teeth bared and claws unsheathed, Ansus Khan ran out of the darkness and crashed into the Mubby, knocking it clear of Pahana. Her neck ached from the violent release from the creature’s hold as Pahana crawled away from the fight. After two lengths she was exhausted and collapsed. She looked back, guided by the snarls and growls to where Ansus and the Mubby were locked in battle. By the light of the tiger’s eyes, Pahana got her first look at the creature that tortured her daily. It was huge, half again as large as Ansus, with enormous shoulders and small, tapering hips. As they fought, Pahana caught glimpses of the Mubby. A long thin tail, covered in scales. Stubby fingers ending in long thick claws, and rat’s tails of matted fur falling in a cloak from muscular shoulders, above which rested a monstrous head. Enormous fish eyes – pale, white and dead – perfect for seeing in the dark, bulged from the top of the head, leaking a pungent fluid that dripped down over the filth encrusted scales of the face. A large nose, surrounded by fleshy petals, glistened in the orange light. Below the nose a dagger sharp spear of bone protruded from the mouth, died black with blood, a narrow pink tongue curling and unfurling from the end of the spear.
Ansus reared onto her hindquarters, swinging with her front paws at the Mubby. Each blow against its armoured flesh scattered sparks of fluorescent green into the dark. The monster seemed undaunted with the tiger’s attack and swung back, its arms like clubs, its claws sinking deep into Ansus’ back and shoulders. The tiger roared in pain and lunged for the Mubby’s chest, but its flesh was as hard and invulnerable under the thick felt of its body as it was on its shoulders. The low lunge left the tiger’s head vulnerable. The Mubby reached up, grasping Ansus around the head and digging its claws in behind her ears.
‘No,’ Pahana said, afraid that the tiger would be crushed, leaving her defenceless and once more at the mercy of the Mubby.
Without the tiger to disperse them, the sticky grey threads of darkness were forming around Pahana again. The feelers were tickling her fingertips and she could hear the squelch of the gelid bodies dragging closer. Something else was approaching also, something large and slow that shook the flagstones under Pahana’s ear with each footfall.
She crawled away from the tendrils, moving closer to the tiger and the Mubby. The Mubby’s naked tail scraped across her thigh then flew above her head as Ansus shifted weight, shoving the monster off balance. Pahana found the wall and pressed her back against it. To her left the unseen creatures of the dark approached, whispering to her. On her right Ansus’ cries of pain grew shrill. The Mubby was compressing the tiger’s skull between its hands, its long claws seeking to pierce her eyes. Ansus had wedged her forepaws against the monster’s chest in an effort to push it away, but despite her great strength, the Mubby was slowly overpowering her.
‘No, Ansus,’ Pahana called to the tiger. ‘You must win, I need you, Ansus Khan.’
Pahana saw a change come over the tiger. Her cries of pain deepened to a guttural roar of rage. Her tense forelegs gave way, no longer battling her enemy but instead moving forward to embrace it. Surprised, the Mubby loosened its grip on the tiger’s skull as she fell towards it. Ansus broke free of the crushing hold, her head on a collision course with the Mubby’s pale, deathlike eyes. Pahana wanted to look away, but couldn’t, as the tiger closed her jaws around the long spear of bone that formed part of the monster’s mouth. With a loud crunch, the proboscis shattered in Ansus’ teeth. The tiger pulled back her head, ripping the spear and the Mubby’s tongue free from its face. Now it was the turn for the monster to scream in pain. Its hands reached for its face, covering the hole where its mouth once had been and which now oozed a thick dark liquid. Its fleshy nose wobbled and it drew away from Ansus. The tiger bared her teeth and lunged for one of the Mubby’s bulging eyes, but the monster had already turned and fled into the dark.
Pahana moved away from the wall. Thick tentacles moved the air above her head, seeking her out.
‘Ansus, over here.’
The tiger limped towards her, spitting out the shards of bones that had lodged between her teeth. ‘Climb on,’ she said.
‘You’re injured.’ Pahana caressed the tiger, tentatively probing her injuries. She could fit her finger into one of the holes on the tiger’s shoulder. It reminded her of the wound in her cheek.
‘It’ll be worse if we wait around here for much longer.’
Pahana grabbed a handful of fur on the tiger’s back and pulled herself up. With difficulty she straddled the cat. Despite Ansus’ size, Pahana had to stick her legs forward to keep her heels from touching the ground. The tiger’s backbone stuck into her uncomfortably. Once she was aboard, the tiger started moving – slowly at first, until Pahana got her balance, and then she broke into a fast lope.
‘Where are we going?’ Pahana asked.
‘Somewhere with a bit more light,’ Ansus said. ‘And as far away from that as possible.’
Pahana looked ahead. For a moment the tiger’s eyes illuminated a forest of legs, the surface of each covered with round, teeth filled mouths. Behind the legs an enormous bulbous body quivered, making the ground shake with each step as it was dragged along. Before she could get a better look, the tiger turned and carried Pahana away in to the darkness.
‘We must fight,’ Ansus growled.
A shadowy tendril shot out of the darkness, snaking towards Pahana. Ansus leapt forward, sparks flashing from her jaws as her teeth sheered together. The thread dissipated in the light of her eyes, but another flew through the air from the right, causing the tiger to spin around. Again it dissolved before she could make contact, before another lured her further from the wall and Pahana.
‘Fight Pahana, follow me,’ the tiger snarled, her gruff voice growing fainter.
More...
A feeler brushed against Pahana’s foot. She thought it was the blunt end of Ansus’ tail, but then it whipped around her ankle and tightened into her flesh like a cord. The whispers grew louder, coiling around her and rippling across her flesh.
Fight! Fight! They’re coming to get you.
Light glimmered and blossomed in front of her. Pahana blinked. She was in a schoolyard, the grey tarmac pock marked and gritty. She knelt, nose pressed against the cast iron railings that enclosed the yard, her little hands wrapped around the peeling spokes. A beetle crawled across her knuckles, making her skin itch.
‘They’re coming to get you, Pahana.’
A band of children – girls from her class – resolved into being forming a semi circle around her. Their faces, framed with pigtails and French plaits, were twisted with evil glee. Pahana shied away from them, hanging onto the rails for support. Where was Ansus? There had been a tiger in front of her a moment ago, hadn’t there? She shook her head. The hissing darkness was receding, the diluted winter sunshine of the playground growing more solid in her new reality.
‘You’re in trouble now.’ A squat red head with freckles prodded Pahana in the stomach. The pain caused by the touch was disproportionate to the size of the child’s finger.
‘They’ll beat you black and blue. They’ll mush you through the railings. They stomp on your hands and bounce on your belly.’
Pahana squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn’t real. She was with a tiger, in the cold and the dark, with creatures hissing about her. Yet the chanting sounded so real and the railings felt solid in her grasp. She opened her eyes. She was still in the playground. The girls were laughing and clapping, pointing at something that approached from the other side of the yard, out of the shadows of the beige pre-fabricated buildings. Pahana could feel the air growing thicker with the advance of her tormenters, but the ring of children hid them from view.
‘You’re not real,’ she shouted. ‘This isn’t real. I’m not here. Leave me alone.’
The girls giggled. Slowly the ones in the middle stepped back to make way for what approached. Pahana didn’t want to see, but she couldn’t look away. A group of boys, led by a tall thin girl stalked towards her. The boys grinned, but not in a good way, and the girl’s dark eyes were black holes devouring everything in her path.
‘Kill her, mush her, rip her, push her,’ the girls squealed. ‘Pancake Pahana, pancake Pahana.’
Pahana pushed her shoulder through the railings. She was small and she was sure she could fit through. There was a field beyond, and a road lined with buildings in the distance. She lifted her leg and stepped onto the grass of the field. It was wet and her foot was sucked into the ground, damp soaking through the wrinkled sock that flopped about her ankle. Next came her head. She turned away from her attackers and pushed her head through the bars. She could feel the railings moving, drawing closer together as she tried to fit through them. Her head stuck at her ears. She tried to pull back, but she was caught. The grass twined around her ankle, cutting her bare leg with its sharp blades. She screamed for help, inarticulate in her panic. In the schoolyard, hands grasped her other leg. She kicked out, and the fingers slipped, tracing searing lines across her calf.
‘We have you now. You won’t escape.’
‘Fight, Pahana, fight.’
She kicked again. Her foot felt something – not exactly solid – that wobbled against her touch and was pushed back. She wriggled her body, working hard to get through the railings and escape into the field despite the pain. She felt her ears being torn from the sides of her head, her hair being ripped from her scalp. She screamed, but she did not give up.
Bloody, she flopped onto the grass on the other side of the railings amid the angry shouts of the children she had left behind in the playground. As her hands touched the ground it disappeared and she fell forward into the earth, its dark maw closing behind her.
‘Fight it, Pahana.’
She recognised the gruff voice. Ansus Khan’s flashing teeth and claws cut through the darkness beside her. She tried to move, crawling forward on her elbows and kicking with her feet, but her legs were trapped. In the light of Ansus’ glowing eyes Pahana was able to see what held her. A large gelatinous substance pulsated on the wall behind her, whip like cords emanating from its centre. They trailed across her legs, gripping her feet and calves and wiggling towards her thighs. Welts on her arms, the blood black under Ansus’ gaze, showed the places where she had been caught and had escaped. Other blobs seemed to gather from out of the darkness, forming into gloopy lumps on the walls and floor. They lashed out at the tiger, who bit and clawed at them, before moving closer to Pahana. She could hear the voices of the blobs whispering in their grey matter, shouting and screaming in voices hideous and low. A tendril grazed her temple and for a moment she was back in the playground, before the tiger’s large paw swiped through the strand, scattering it into pieces.
‘I’ll cut you free,’ Ansus said, leaping over Pahana and ripping the tentactled mould from the wall. It fell onto the flagstones with a wet plop. ‘Prepare to run.’
‘I can’t, I can’t move,’ Pahana said.
The tiger growled. ‘I will carry you then. Climb upon my back when I say.’
Pahana kicked at the threads gripping her legs. Ansus cut through them, the substance that had formed the vines being absorbed back into the darkness under her touch leaving Pahana’s legs bleeding and raw. Freed, she pulled her legs up, rising onto her knees, her arms straightening to support her upper body. The effort made her pant, her head swirling in clouds of confusion.
‘These are just the foot soldiers,’ Ansus said.
The darkness was alive, and had many fingers. Pahana tried to brush its questing grip away when it touched her skin, each feeler a drop of acid on her flesh. She struggled to keep awake, waiting for Ansus’ word.
‘Get ready,’ the tiger growled.
Heavy feet galloped closer. Deep throated growls escaped from a larynx other than the tigers. A horrid stench alerted Pahana to the Mubby’s presence seconds before it attacked.
‘Ansus,’ she screamed.
Strong hands gripped Pahana under the chin. Her head was pressed into a hairless armpit, scaly skin scraping her cheek. The smell violated her nostrils, making the acid in her stomach boil to the back of her throat. Her feet flopped on the flagstones as the Mubby dragged her away, its speed and strength surprising. She wanted to call out again, but she was afraid to open her mouth in case the smell invaded even further. The sounds of the tiger fighting, muffled through the matted hair of the Mubby’s arm, faded and stopped. At the same time the pace of the creature slowed. It halted, dropping Pahana onto the dank floor. She gasped for breath, the fetid air pleasant after the Mubby.
‘Leave me alone,’ Pahana said, struggling to sit up. Without the tiger’s eye light she was blind. She could hear the Mubby snuffling around her, licking its lips. It sounded like it was laughing at her. Claws raked down her cheek. She hit out, her hand connecting with a scaled arm as hard as metal. The impact jarred her shoulder. She fell forward, out of the Mubby’s grasp. Its claws tapped against the flagstones and it growled. Pahana wriggled to the side and felt the movement of air brush past her face as the creature reached for her and hit empty space where her head had been a moment before. The Mubby growled again and reached for her. This time she could not move fast enough to escape. Its rough hands caught her head, its claws digging in to the soft spots behind her ears. The creature gurgled, slobbering over her. Pahana braced herself for the pain of the strike.
Roaring, teeth bared and claws unsheathed, Ansus Khan ran out of the darkness and crashed into the Mubby, knocking it clear of Pahana. Her neck ached from the violent release from the creature’s hold as Pahana crawled away from the fight. After two lengths she was exhausted and collapsed. She looked back, guided by the snarls and growls to where Ansus and the Mubby were locked in battle. By the light of the tiger’s eyes, Pahana got her first look at the creature that tortured her daily. It was huge, half again as large as Ansus, with enormous shoulders and small, tapering hips. As they fought, Pahana caught glimpses of the Mubby. A long thin tail, covered in scales. Stubby fingers ending in long thick claws, and rat’s tails of matted fur falling in a cloak from muscular shoulders, above which rested a monstrous head. Enormous fish eyes – pale, white and dead – perfect for seeing in the dark, bulged from the top of the head, leaking a pungent fluid that dripped down over the filth encrusted scales of the face. A large nose, surrounded by fleshy petals, glistened in the orange light. Below the nose a dagger sharp spear of bone protruded from the mouth, died black with blood, a narrow pink tongue curling and unfurling from the end of the spear.
Ansus reared onto her hindquarters, swinging with her front paws at the Mubby. Each blow against its armoured flesh scattered sparks of fluorescent green into the dark. The monster seemed undaunted with the tiger’s attack and swung back, its arms like clubs, its claws sinking deep into Ansus’ back and shoulders. The tiger roared in pain and lunged for the Mubby’s chest, but its flesh was as hard and invulnerable under the thick felt of its body as it was on its shoulders. The low lunge left the tiger’s head vulnerable. The Mubby reached up, grasping Ansus around the head and digging its claws in behind her ears.
‘No,’ Pahana said, afraid that the tiger would be crushed, leaving her defenceless and once more at the mercy of the Mubby.
Without the tiger to disperse them, the sticky grey threads of darkness were forming around Pahana again. The feelers were tickling her fingertips and she could hear the squelch of the gelid bodies dragging closer. Something else was approaching also, something large and slow that shook the flagstones under Pahana’s ear with each footfall.
She crawled away from the tendrils, moving closer to the tiger and the Mubby. The Mubby’s naked tail scraped across her thigh then flew above her head as Ansus shifted weight, shoving the monster off balance. Pahana found the wall and pressed her back against it. To her left the unseen creatures of the dark approached, whispering to her. On her right Ansus’ cries of pain grew shrill. The Mubby was compressing the tiger’s skull between its hands, its long claws seeking to pierce her eyes. Ansus had wedged her forepaws against the monster’s chest in an effort to push it away, but despite her great strength, the Mubby was slowly overpowering her.
‘No, Ansus,’ Pahana called to the tiger. ‘You must win, I need you, Ansus Khan.’
Pahana saw a change come over the tiger. Her cries of pain deepened to a guttural roar of rage. Her tense forelegs gave way, no longer battling her enemy but instead moving forward to embrace it. Surprised, the Mubby loosened its grip on the tiger’s skull as she fell towards it. Ansus broke free of the crushing hold, her head on a collision course with the Mubby’s pale, deathlike eyes. Pahana wanted to look away, but couldn’t, as the tiger closed her jaws around the long spear of bone that formed part of the monster’s mouth. With a loud crunch, the proboscis shattered in Ansus’ teeth. The tiger pulled back her head, ripping the spear and the Mubby’s tongue free from its face. Now it was the turn for the monster to scream in pain. Its hands reached for its face, covering the hole where its mouth once had been and which now oozed a thick dark liquid. Its fleshy nose wobbled and it drew away from Ansus. The tiger bared her teeth and lunged for one of the Mubby’s bulging eyes, but the monster had already turned and fled into the dark.
Pahana moved away from the wall. Thick tentacles moved the air above her head, seeking her out.
‘Ansus, over here.’
The tiger limped towards her, spitting out the shards of bones that had lodged between her teeth. ‘Climb on,’ she said.
‘You’re injured.’ Pahana caressed the tiger, tentatively probing her injuries. She could fit her finger into one of the holes on the tiger’s shoulder. It reminded her of the wound in her cheek.
‘It’ll be worse if we wait around here for much longer.’
Pahana grabbed a handful of fur on the tiger’s back and pulled herself up. With difficulty she straddled the cat. Despite Ansus’ size, Pahana had to stick her legs forward to keep her heels from touching the ground. The tiger’s backbone stuck into her uncomfortably. Once she was aboard, the tiger started moving – slowly at first, until Pahana got her balance, and then she broke into a fast lope.
‘Where are we going?’ Pahana asked.
‘Somewhere with a bit more light,’ Ansus said. ‘And as far away from that as possible.’
Pahana looked ahead. For a moment the tiger’s eyes illuminated a forest of legs, the surface of each covered with round, teeth filled mouths. Behind the legs an enormous bulbous body quivered, making the ground shake with each step as it was dragged along. Before she could get a better look, the tiger turned and carried Pahana away in to the darkness.
Saturday, November 01, 2008
Chapter One - Touched
Something stalked the hall.
She opened her eyes. Golden autumn sunshine shone through the curtainless window at the end of the bed, fading the flickering images on the black and white television to obscurity. Curled up in bed, duvet tucked to her chin, Pahana knew she should be warm but she could not keep from shivering.
The bedroom door creaked open. Pahana flinched. Her mother’s round face peered into the room, her forehead creased with worry.
‘How are you feeling?’
Pahana smiled. ‘Tired,’ she said. ‘Cold.’
Her mother entered the small room and placed her palm on Pahana’s forehead. Flour was encrusted around her fingernails. She must have been baking. Pahana couldn’t smell any enticing odours wafting up from the kitchen.
‘You’re shivering.’ Her mother tut-tutted. ‘What would you say if I sat with you for a while and we watched some TV together?’
‘I’d like that.’
Her mother sat down on the side of the bed, her arm around Pahana’s shoulders. The bed was small; there wasn’t enough room for two. Pahana was forced against the wall. It felt icy to the touch.
‘There, that’s better,’ her mother said, swinging her legs onto the bed.
Pahana heard the footsteps again; the slow pad of a predator stalking the corridor outside her room. It stopped, and then started again, drawing nearer. She tensed.
‘What is it?’ her mother asked.
‘Can you hear it?’
The floorboards at the top of the stairs creaked as the thing crossed them. Its steps were heavy, like her father when he couldn’t sleep and paced at night.
‘Hear what?’
Pahana sat up, her eyes on the door. A low growl sounded outside her room. ‘That,’ she whispered.
Her mother laughed. ‘Oh, that’s nothing. That’s just the Mubby.’
Claws scrabbled against the thin plywood door. It exploded inwards, hitting Pahana’s mother on the side of the head and knocking her unconscious. She slumped onto the floor, a trickle of blood snaking down her cheek. The door, in splinters, rained over her body. The doorway was a black hole, sucking the light out from the window. The growl sounded again. Pahana tried to press her body into the wall, willing herself to become as cold and numb as the ice of the plaster. Something, a blur of fur and scales, detached from the doorway and threw itself towards the bed.
More...
Pahana opened her eyes. Darkness surrounded her, falling upon her eyes and ears in the sticky black threads of the night spider. She was not in bed, but the wall she lay against was as cold as the one in her bedroom. She shook her head to clear it. Something was stalking her. She could still hear it breathing. It padded closer, growling.
She tried to sit up. She was so tired she could barely move. She pressed against the damp floor and raised her body a few inches. The small movement made her head swim and the blood pound in her ears. Not a good idea, she thought, lying prone again. Maybe if I am as still as possible it won’t notice I’m here and leave me alone.
It came closer. She could smell it now. The aroma of clothes left long unwashed, the scent of a dirty litter tray and food gone bad all rolled up into one disgusting stench that made Pahana gag. She choked, and the thing pounced. It landed on her back. Heavy paws pushed her down into the stone floor, while clawed hands reached for her head and pulled it back painfully. She could feel the claws piercing her skin, delving into her cheeks and coming out inside her mouth. She bit into the claw that emerged between her teeth. It tasted of metal, its hardness making her jaw ache. Other claws punctured the skin of her forehead, scraping against bone. Blood washed her face, clotting in her eyelashes and making her skin sticky.
She couldn’t fight. She lay still, frozen in its grasp. It hurt like hell, but the thought of moving – of tearing flesh ripping free from those claws – made her more frightened of change. She heard a wet sneeze beside her ear. The creature – what had her mother called it? The Mubby – was licking its lips. Its grasping hands yanked her head back further until she thought her neck was going to break with the contortion. It would be a merciful release. She almost wished it would. The Mubby snuffled again and then she felt its jaws clamp down upon her skull. There was a moment of intense, bone liquefying pain. Pahana screamed, her voice echoing in the dark. When the sound of her voice died, she was left numb listening to the Mubby lapping at her head.
Time. How does one trace its passing when there is no light, no movement, no tick of the hands travelling on a clock face? There was no time for Pahana, only the Now. The rushing static now, where she was immovable, frozen to the floor, aware she was alive because of the timpani of her heart within her chest and the pain that traced its way through her body. Had she slept? She couldn’t tell. She knew she was alone. How had she got here? Had she ever been anywhere else? She couldn’t remember. She had memories of other times, glimpses of light and warmth, but perhaps they were illusions conjured by her mind to ease the horror of the now.
Slowly she raised her hand to feel around her face and head, assessing the damage. Her fingertips brushed against the flakes of dried blood, and then fell into the claw holes left in her cheeks. She didn’t dare explore the dull ache in the back of her skull, afraid to find out what the Mubby had done to her.
I will get out of this, Pahana whispered. Others will come looking for me.
She lay still and listened for the sounds of the creature moving in the darkness. She heard nothing. Whether it lay quietly sleeping beside her or had left, she did not know. She placed the side of her hand against the wall and slowly pulled herself forward, feeling for gaps in the wall that might lead to something other than Now, her eyes searching for a hint of far away light that might signal escape.
What if it is not dark, and my eyes have been ripped from my face? The thought struck Pahana motionless. What if the Mubby and a whole host of creatures stood over her, washed in daylight, laughing at her pitiful efforts to escape. She was too afraid to feel for her eyes, in case she was right and found the sockets empty.
She was still rocking from the thought when a speck of light ahead resolved the question. It hurt her to look at it, but if she pressed her face into the ground she could see it out of the corner of her eye without pain. Slowly she discerned colours in the pulsating cloud – blue, yellow and orange. It swayed back and forth, coming closer.
‘Pahana?’
The voice was sweet, but she was afraid to answer.
‘Pahana?’
Footsteps – heavy paws stalking closer. Pahana closed her eyes, shutting out the light, bracing herself for the attack. Something large and bestial approached, bringing the light with it. She could smell it’s animal scent, not unpleasant, as it stopped in front of her. Stale breath blew against her skin.
‘Pahana, open your eyes. There is no need to be afraid.’
The light was very bright now. She could see it pressing against her eyelids, turning the darkness red.
‘I am here to help you.’
A hand touched the back of her neck. The caress was soothing, unlike the grip of the Mubby. Pahana opened her eyes. The light was so bright that it stabbed into her eyes. They watered, making the colours before her run in a shower of tears. Two creatures stood before her. One stood square on four powerful paws, each as large as dinner plates, its orange fur streaked with black marks. A tiger. The other was a woman, tall and elegant clad in blue, with golden hair haloing her head. From her back sprouted fourfold wings of incredible delicacy and beauty. It was from the wings that the light emanated, widening the circle of brightness with each beat.
The woman crouched above Pahana, one hand resting on the tiger’s broad back, the other gentling touching Pahana’s head. She smiled, her soft face filled with love.
Pahana wanted to rub her eyes to make sure this was not another mirage. She wanted to touch the bare feet of the woman, rub her fingers across the furry toes of the tiger, but she was afraid that if she moved she would shatter the illusion and they would vanish, leaving her alone in the darkness once more. The night was always so much darker after the light.
‘Who are you?’ Pahana said.
‘I am Angel, and this is Ansus Khan,’ the woman said. ‘I have been looking for you for a long time.’
The tiger lowered its head and sniffed Pahana’s face. It licked her head, its tongue rasping against her skin.
‘My, you are in quite a state,’ Angel said. ‘Sit up, so I can look at you.’
‘I can’t,’ Pahana said. ‘I’m so tired, I can barely move.’
‘I know.’ Angel grasped Pahana’s shoulders and lifted her into a sitting position, her back resting against the cold wall. ‘Oh dear, they have done quite a number on you, haven’t they?’
Pahana tried to look down, but Angel caught her chin and held her head up so she couldn’t ‘t see. She caught a glimpse of a long red scar tracing a route across her chest.
‘It is better if you don’t look,’ Angel said.
The tiger moved closer, its whiskers tickling Pahana’s flesh. It sniffed her carefully from head to toe and then started to lick her hands and face.
‘Ansus is cleaning up the worst of it, but your wounds will take time to heal,’ Angel explained.
‘Can’t you heal me?’ Pahana said. ‘Haven’t you come to rescue me?’
Angel smiled. Pahana had seen such a smile before on the faces of many people. It was the expression they used just before they told you bad news, as if smiling could lessen the blow. ‘I have come to help you. I’ve been looking for you for a long time, but it has been very hard to find you. The magic around this place is very strong, and I can only penetrate it for so long before I am discovered and expelled.’
Pahana shuddered. The tiger raised its head and looked at her quizzically, its amber eyes shining with their own light independent from Angel’s wings. ‘You can’t leave me here alone, there are things here – what about the Mubby? What if it comes back?’
Angel pushed the hair away from Pahana’s face. The strands were stiff, glued together with filth. ‘Even though I cannot stay with you, I will not leave you alone. That is why I brought Ansus Khan with me. She volunteered to be your guide. She is going to help you escape when I cannot.’
Pahana looked at the tiger again. It winked at her. ‘But what is this place? Why am I here? Please don’t leave me alone in the dark again.’
‘It’s a maze,’ Angel said. ‘A labyrinth, magically constructed and home to a variety of fearsome beasts.’
‘You aren’t making me feel any better.’
‘The labyrinth is heavily disguised, its outer shell marked with many ruins, its entrances all sealed with spells. They will not detect Ansus, she will stay with you, but they will know I am here. Yes, in fact I can feel them looking for me know.’ Angel’s light flickered. For a moment she vanished and then she was back again, her warm hands wrapped around Pahana’s arms.
‘Can’t you take me away with you, the way you brought the tiger here?’
Ansus Khan stood up, swinging around to face out, her long tail thumping against the wall. A growl rumbled deep in her throat.
‘They have found me,’ Angel said. She gripped Pahana tighter and leaned close to her face, whispering rapidly. ‘I cannot take you with me. They have placed many spells upon you, chaining you to this place. It would take many powerful people to break these chains, and even if I could get them here, we would not be left in peace long enough to do the work.’
‘I’m trapped then.’ Pahana didn’t mean to shout. Ansus glared at her over her shoulder, one large paw placed on her leg to quiet her.
‘No, there are other ways you can break the spells – slower ways, but just as effective. Ansus Khan will help you. She will show you the way. I must go now, they are coming for me, and I must be gone before they find me or I will not be able to go and I will be of no use to you trapped here also – or worse. I will be back, if I can. Keep faith, Pahana, and do not be afraid.’
The tiger bowed her head to the woman and they exchanged looks. Angel squeezed Pahana’s arms one more time, and then she was gone. The ghostly image of her light bearing wings stayed on Pahana’s retinas before they too faded, leaving her at the mercy of the darkness once more.
Ansus Khan’s eyes glowed amber in the black, twin beams of orange that cast light inches in front of the tiger’s face. She turned her head, casting the lights on to Pahana. ‘They are coming,’ she growled. ‘Get ready.’
She opened her eyes. Golden autumn sunshine shone through the curtainless window at the end of the bed, fading the flickering images on the black and white television to obscurity. Curled up in bed, duvet tucked to her chin, Pahana knew she should be warm but she could not keep from shivering.
The bedroom door creaked open. Pahana flinched. Her mother’s round face peered into the room, her forehead creased with worry.
‘How are you feeling?’
Pahana smiled. ‘Tired,’ she said. ‘Cold.’
Her mother entered the small room and placed her palm on Pahana’s forehead. Flour was encrusted around her fingernails. She must have been baking. Pahana couldn’t smell any enticing odours wafting up from the kitchen.
‘You’re shivering.’ Her mother tut-tutted. ‘What would you say if I sat with you for a while and we watched some TV together?’
‘I’d like that.’
Her mother sat down on the side of the bed, her arm around Pahana’s shoulders. The bed was small; there wasn’t enough room for two. Pahana was forced against the wall. It felt icy to the touch.
‘There, that’s better,’ her mother said, swinging her legs onto the bed.
Pahana heard the footsteps again; the slow pad of a predator stalking the corridor outside her room. It stopped, and then started again, drawing nearer. She tensed.
‘What is it?’ her mother asked.
‘Can you hear it?’
The floorboards at the top of the stairs creaked as the thing crossed them. Its steps were heavy, like her father when he couldn’t sleep and paced at night.
‘Hear what?’
Pahana sat up, her eyes on the door. A low growl sounded outside her room. ‘That,’ she whispered.
Her mother laughed. ‘Oh, that’s nothing. That’s just the Mubby.’
Claws scrabbled against the thin plywood door. It exploded inwards, hitting Pahana’s mother on the side of the head and knocking her unconscious. She slumped onto the floor, a trickle of blood snaking down her cheek. The door, in splinters, rained over her body. The doorway was a black hole, sucking the light out from the window. The growl sounded again. Pahana tried to press her body into the wall, willing herself to become as cold and numb as the ice of the plaster. Something, a blur of fur and scales, detached from the doorway and threw itself towards the bed.
More...
Pahana opened her eyes. Darkness surrounded her, falling upon her eyes and ears in the sticky black threads of the night spider. She was not in bed, but the wall she lay against was as cold as the one in her bedroom. She shook her head to clear it. Something was stalking her. She could still hear it breathing. It padded closer, growling.
She tried to sit up. She was so tired she could barely move. She pressed against the damp floor and raised her body a few inches. The small movement made her head swim and the blood pound in her ears. Not a good idea, she thought, lying prone again. Maybe if I am as still as possible it won’t notice I’m here and leave me alone.
It came closer. She could smell it now. The aroma of clothes left long unwashed, the scent of a dirty litter tray and food gone bad all rolled up into one disgusting stench that made Pahana gag. She choked, and the thing pounced. It landed on her back. Heavy paws pushed her down into the stone floor, while clawed hands reached for her head and pulled it back painfully. She could feel the claws piercing her skin, delving into her cheeks and coming out inside her mouth. She bit into the claw that emerged between her teeth. It tasted of metal, its hardness making her jaw ache. Other claws punctured the skin of her forehead, scraping against bone. Blood washed her face, clotting in her eyelashes and making her skin sticky.
She couldn’t fight. She lay still, frozen in its grasp. It hurt like hell, but the thought of moving – of tearing flesh ripping free from those claws – made her more frightened of change. She heard a wet sneeze beside her ear. The creature – what had her mother called it? The Mubby – was licking its lips. Its grasping hands yanked her head back further until she thought her neck was going to break with the contortion. It would be a merciful release. She almost wished it would. The Mubby snuffled again and then she felt its jaws clamp down upon her skull. There was a moment of intense, bone liquefying pain. Pahana screamed, her voice echoing in the dark. When the sound of her voice died, she was left numb listening to the Mubby lapping at her head.
Time. How does one trace its passing when there is no light, no movement, no tick of the hands travelling on a clock face? There was no time for Pahana, only the Now. The rushing static now, where she was immovable, frozen to the floor, aware she was alive because of the timpani of her heart within her chest and the pain that traced its way through her body. Had she slept? She couldn’t tell. She knew she was alone. How had she got here? Had she ever been anywhere else? She couldn’t remember. She had memories of other times, glimpses of light and warmth, but perhaps they were illusions conjured by her mind to ease the horror of the now.
Slowly she raised her hand to feel around her face and head, assessing the damage. Her fingertips brushed against the flakes of dried blood, and then fell into the claw holes left in her cheeks. She didn’t dare explore the dull ache in the back of her skull, afraid to find out what the Mubby had done to her.
I will get out of this, Pahana whispered. Others will come looking for me.
She lay still and listened for the sounds of the creature moving in the darkness. She heard nothing. Whether it lay quietly sleeping beside her or had left, she did not know. She placed the side of her hand against the wall and slowly pulled herself forward, feeling for gaps in the wall that might lead to something other than Now, her eyes searching for a hint of far away light that might signal escape.
What if it is not dark, and my eyes have been ripped from my face? The thought struck Pahana motionless. What if the Mubby and a whole host of creatures stood over her, washed in daylight, laughing at her pitiful efforts to escape. She was too afraid to feel for her eyes, in case she was right and found the sockets empty.
She was still rocking from the thought when a speck of light ahead resolved the question. It hurt her to look at it, but if she pressed her face into the ground she could see it out of the corner of her eye without pain. Slowly she discerned colours in the pulsating cloud – blue, yellow and orange. It swayed back and forth, coming closer.
‘Pahana?’
The voice was sweet, but she was afraid to answer.
‘Pahana?’
Footsteps – heavy paws stalking closer. Pahana closed her eyes, shutting out the light, bracing herself for the attack. Something large and bestial approached, bringing the light with it. She could smell it’s animal scent, not unpleasant, as it stopped in front of her. Stale breath blew against her skin.
‘Pahana, open your eyes. There is no need to be afraid.’
The light was very bright now. She could see it pressing against her eyelids, turning the darkness red.
‘I am here to help you.’
A hand touched the back of her neck. The caress was soothing, unlike the grip of the Mubby. Pahana opened her eyes. The light was so bright that it stabbed into her eyes. They watered, making the colours before her run in a shower of tears. Two creatures stood before her. One stood square on four powerful paws, each as large as dinner plates, its orange fur streaked with black marks. A tiger. The other was a woman, tall and elegant clad in blue, with golden hair haloing her head. From her back sprouted fourfold wings of incredible delicacy and beauty. It was from the wings that the light emanated, widening the circle of brightness with each beat.
The woman crouched above Pahana, one hand resting on the tiger’s broad back, the other gentling touching Pahana’s head. She smiled, her soft face filled with love.
Pahana wanted to rub her eyes to make sure this was not another mirage. She wanted to touch the bare feet of the woman, rub her fingers across the furry toes of the tiger, but she was afraid that if she moved she would shatter the illusion and they would vanish, leaving her alone in the darkness once more. The night was always so much darker after the light.
‘Who are you?’ Pahana said.
‘I am Angel, and this is Ansus Khan,’ the woman said. ‘I have been looking for you for a long time.’
The tiger lowered its head and sniffed Pahana’s face. It licked her head, its tongue rasping against her skin.
‘My, you are in quite a state,’ Angel said. ‘Sit up, so I can look at you.’
‘I can’t,’ Pahana said. ‘I’m so tired, I can barely move.’
‘I know.’ Angel grasped Pahana’s shoulders and lifted her into a sitting position, her back resting against the cold wall. ‘Oh dear, they have done quite a number on you, haven’t they?’
Pahana tried to look down, but Angel caught her chin and held her head up so she couldn’t ‘t see. She caught a glimpse of a long red scar tracing a route across her chest.
‘It is better if you don’t look,’ Angel said.
The tiger moved closer, its whiskers tickling Pahana’s flesh. It sniffed her carefully from head to toe and then started to lick her hands and face.
‘Ansus is cleaning up the worst of it, but your wounds will take time to heal,’ Angel explained.
‘Can’t you heal me?’ Pahana said. ‘Haven’t you come to rescue me?’
Angel smiled. Pahana had seen such a smile before on the faces of many people. It was the expression they used just before they told you bad news, as if smiling could lessen the blow. ‘I have come to help you. I’ve been looking for you for a long time, but it has been very hard to find you. The magic around this place is very strong, and I can only penetrate it for so long before I am discovered and expelled.’
Pahana shuddered. The tiger raised its head and looked at her quizzically, its amber eyes shining with their own light independent from Angel’s wings. ‘You can’t leave me here alone, there are things here – what about the Mubby? What if it comes back?’
Angel pushed the hair away from Pahana’s face. The strands were stiff, glued together with filth. ‘Even though I cannot stay with you, I will not leave you alone. That is why I brought Ansus Khan with me. She volunteered to be your guide. She is going to help you escape when I cannot.’
Pahana looked at the tiger again. It winked at her. ‘But what is this place? Why am I here? Please don’t leave me alone in the dark again.’
‘It’s a maze,’ Angel said. ‘A labyrinth, magically constructed and home to a variety of fearsome beasts.’
‘You aren’t making me feel any better.’
‘The labyrinth is heavily disguised, its outer shell marked with many ruins, its entrances all sealed with spells. They will not detect Ansus, she will stay with you, but they will know I am here. Yes, in fact I can feel them looking for me know.’ Angel’s light flickered. For a moment she vanished and then she was back again, her warm hands wrapped around Pahana’s arms.
‘Can’t you take me away with you, the way you brought the tiger here?’
Ansus Khan stood up, swinging around to face out, her long tail thumping against the wall. A growl rumbled deep in her throat.
‘They have found me,’ Angel said. She gripped Pahana tighter and leaned close to her face, whispering rapidly. ‘I cannot take you with me. They have placed many spells upon you, chaining you to this place. It would take many powerful people to break these chains, and even if I could get them here, we would not be left in peace long enough to do the work.’
‘I’m trapped then.’ Pahana didn’t mean to shout. Ansus glared at her over her shoulder, one large paw placed on her leg to quiet her.
‘No, there are other ways you can break the spells – slower ways, but just as effective. Ansus Khan will help you. She will show you the way. I must go now, they are coming for me, and I must be gone before they find me or I will not be able to go and I will be of no use to you trapped here also – or worse. I will be back, if I can. Keep faith, Pahana, and do not be afraid.’
The tiger bowed her head to the woman and they exchanged looks. Angel squeezed Pahana’s arms one more time, and then she was gone. The ghostly image of her light bearing wings stayed on Pahana’s retinas before they too faded, leaving her at the mercy of the darkness once more.
Ansus Khan’s eyes glowed amber in the black, twin beams of orange that cast light inches in front of the tiger’s face. She turned her head, casting the lights on to Pahana. ‘They are coming,’ she growled. ‘Get ready.’
Friday, October 31, 2008
And my Blovel for November will be...
The story of Pahana, a young woman trapped within the heart of a dark labyrinth, unable to escape, tortured and preyed upon by monsters that come out of the night. That is until she is visited by an angel named - Angel - and a tiger called Ansus Khan who help guide her through the perils of the maze and discover the identity of the demon who trapped her in the first place.
National Novel BLOGGING month
First off - HAPPY HALLOWEEN everyone! If you are going to a party or dancing around a bonfire, I hope you have a great time. If you're not doing anything special, at least pop a horror DVD into the player and spook yourself!Now, tomorrow is the 1st of November, which means the start of NaNoWriMo. I was in a quandary about what to do with it, and I have finally made up my mind. I am going to BLOG my novel! What I will do is each day post a section of the novel. Comment on it and say what you want included in the next day's installment - no matter how crazy - and I will incorporate it into the plot. That way it won't just be my November novel but OUR November novel!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Lions and Tigers and Bears - oh my!
My education has been very remiss. Apparently tigers and lions riding horses is de rigueur. In fact, any large predatory animal riding horses seems to be a regular form of entertainment in other parts of the world, most notably China, where it is a main attraction of many zoos/circuses. Bears are also made to ride motorcycles, monkeys ride dogs and on it goes, any animal combination you can think of. 
Hoofpot first alerted me to this fact after seeing a picture in a magazine of a lion riding a horse. I was intrigued by this. Regrettably my first reaction was 'Cool!'. I can understand how you can get a predator not to kill a prey animal (having had cats and a dwarf rabbit who coexisted happily together, to the fact they used to groom each other) but I find it harder to imagine how you can train a horse not to be afraid of a lion when your average equid is afraid of a paper bag in a bush. Then again, if you can get a horse to accept a human on its back, why not a lion or a tiger or a bear? (especially when the bear is chained to the horse's back by his nose)
Saying that, I don't know what methods these places use to force their animals into such arrangements. I would love to think it was through kindness and positive reinforcement training, but I very much doubt it. However, I still thought it was pretty cool and was looking forward to blogging about it when I found another video on youtube. It was a man being attacked (for real) by a lion in a circus. I found the video shocking because I have seen the same look in domesticated animals as the lion had when they get a bone or favoured treat and they are not going to give it up for anything, and it was horrible to see that look when the bone was replaced by a man. It is also horrifying to see how frail we really are, and it was disturbing to see the lion killed. The lion was eventually shot and the man, badly mauled and even more badly shocked, received medical attention. What exactly happened or if the man lived, I don't know. The video was not in English. Now, what really upset me about this clip were the comments posted by other youtubers. Many thought it was fake, because of the way the lion died (they had obviously never seen an animal die before). Others thought a dog who was in the clip was a lion cub and thought it was sad that it should see its father die in front of it (well, when you can't tell a lion cub from a dog, it isn't surprising that you have such sentiments) but what really got to me was that over 90% of the comments were in sympathy for the lion and thought the man should have been shot and allowed to be eaten. What did he expect, messing with nature? Now, I don't approve of animals being treated cruelly and you have to respect all animals, especially ones like lions who can kill you so easily and it was unpleasant to see the lion killed but my sympathy was with THE MAN! I don't know how anyone can watch someone suffering so much, no matter what circumstances led into the attack, and think he deserved it and should be left to be eaten. And then what? Allow the lion free to kill and eat any other people it met? The sad fact is, that lion could not be returned to the wild (even if they had wanted to) and could never be trusted around people again. What option was left but death? It saddens me that we have come to a stage where the death of a lion who was chomping down on a human being is seen as more tragic than the (possibly fatal) attack of a member of our own species. If I ever meet the people who commented on this video, and they happen to be attacked by a lion, I know how they will like to be treated - just leave the lion to his meal and walk away while they are chewed up.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Possible Job #4: Photography Studio
A new branch of photography studios are looking for workers in Dundalk. The plus side is that the work is part time, it is in a creative field, training is provided and it is local. The downside is that the pay is very very small. I am sure there is the possibility to improve your income as the studio takes off, but as the purpose of this exercise is to fund my writing rather than find another career, I don't think it is viable.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Possible Job #3: Charity Fundraiser
A charity in Dublin is looking for outgoing enthusiastic people to fund raise for them in the city and around the country. They are offering a very nice weekly remuneration, which makes me think it is short term work (perhaps just til Christmas) or else a scam. I am not particularly interested in the work, but the money is very tempting. What makes me think I am qualified for such a job? Well, I am outgoing (ish) and enthusiastic (at times) and I have experience of organising things - like the Belly Dance workshop in May.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Possible Job # 2: Work in Bookshop
I have always found the thought of working in a shop very attractive. When I was a child I would set up shop and try to sell things to my siblings. Then again, I also wrote magazines and newspapers and tried to sell them too (which reminds me of the time I sold a year's subscription for a monthly magazine that was only published twice!), but that is beside the point. Maybe I am a shop girl at heart, and working in a bookshop/DVD rental store or cinema would certainly bring me closer to the things I love. If I worked in a bookshop I might even be able to persuade them to sell my books or host a themed book night once a month (don't ask me what that would entail, it has only just occurred to me, but it sounds like a good idea). However, there are downsides. Having never worked in retail, I would enter at the lowest end of the wage scale and the hours would be long and demanding, as working with the public all day is draining. This would leave less time for writing with less pay off on the money end. I also imagine that the reality of working in a bookshop would be very different from my fantasy (which entails rummaging through boxes of old and dusty books to find magical treasures and spending coffee breaks discussing the deeper meaning of the spider in Richard Matheson's The Shrinking Man). And I have yet to find a book shop that is hiring (although I haven't looked very hard).
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Possible job #1: temp agency
What I like about going to a temp agency is that I should be able to work a few weeks on and then take a few weeks off to concentrating on my writing. Also I have experience of office work (four years + in a legal office) so that should help me find positions. I know Daisy Stiener took this route in Spaced with limited success but I am hopeful that it will be more successful with me and I will be able to use it to make money while fitting it around acting and writing. Now all I have to do is find some agencies, write up my cv and send it into them and wait and see what happens.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Become a Follower
Calling all you bloggers out there! Have a blog and read the Inkpot Files? Want to get updates on posts without having to remember the URL everywhere you go? No problem. Click on the handy little button on the sidebar to your right and become a follower of this blog. The Inkpot Files will be added to your reading list on the dashboard and will be updated with all the new posts everytime you log on. You can choose to follow publically, which will add your profile pic and a link to your blog in the side bar. Not only will this let people know you support my blog, but it will bring interest to your own blog. If you want to follow anonymously, you can do that too. Haven't got a blog yet? Don't worry! It is easy to sign up to blogger and create your own blog. The good thing is, if you aren't on my reading list already, there is a strong possibility I will add your blog after you start following mine!
Friday, October 24, 2008
The End of the Inkpot Files???
Despite my recent successes at publication I am not yet making a living out of writing. I know this will come as a surprise to you, but it is the sad truth. Perhaps if I could live on a handful of grain a day and never leave my den I would be ok, but unfortunately I can't. My family have been very supportive and I thank them for helping me out in so many ways. However, it has come to the stage where I can no longer make ends meet and it kills me to ask for handouts all the time. I know I am a sponge, but I don't like to be reminded of it daily. So I have come to the realisation that I must now go looking for a nine to five job. It makes me feel such a failure. I wanted to give this a chance for five years and I'm only a little over two. I've done part time work before to help keep me going, but doing bits here and there isn't going to cut it any more. I feel such a failure. I feel I am turning my back on everything I have spent the last two years working on. I feel I am taking huge steps backwards in my life and I hate it. If this was a sound file rather than text I would be screaming at this stage. It isn't the fact that I have to look for a job that ties knots of frustration and dread in my stomach. It's more the fact that earlier this year I thought I would be well on the road by now. Not rolling in money, but broadening my horizons and doing what I loved. Instead it is like I have entered a time warp and gone back eight years, except with more financial commitments. I can't believe I have done this to myself. Scrolling through lists of jobs on the Internet - most of them denied to me because of my lack of experience and qualifications - is like digging the grave for my last shred of hope. Of course I can write and work nine to five at the same time. Everyone must make money to make ends meet. I just can't get over the enormous pit of despair I've dug for myself at the thought of writing not being my 'job' anymore.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
School Reunion
On Chuck this week Chuck went to Sarah's ten year school reunion. I don't know if my school is having a reunion (I certainly won't be going to it if they are) but it will be ten years from when I (first) left school and seeing how much Sarah had changed from the time she was a senior in high school made me look at my own life. Have I changed much in ten years? Well, apart from being more hopeless and bitter, not that much. Still over weight, still penniless, still living at home. The incidentals have changed but not the major stuff. I know it is shallow, but what is the point of going to a school reunion if not to rub your classmates faces in how successful you have become? Maybe if I had been able to attend school regularly or had made friends there things would be different. Paintpot went to her 30 year school reunion recently (gosh that sounds scary) and thoroughly enjoyed it, but then again I think she and I are from different molds, different species and possibly different planets. According to my mother, all her year (Paintpot's) were exceptionally brilliant and did very well for themselves. Good for them. From what I know of my year, they didn't quite make the doctors and lawyers stage. Single mothers and school teachers are more like it. However, given my circumstances even that is a phenomenal success compared to me. Self pity much?
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
National Novel Writing Month
November is fast approaching and it is that time of year again to consider National Novel Writing Month - the international event where people attempt the mad dash of writing a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. Last year I tried to write a book based on my journey as I travelled around New Zealand and failed. This year I have no plot and no inclination to sign up. I have loads of ideas for novels I want to write, but I want to give them time to write them properly, not in a whirlwind of purple prose that exists only to boost my word count. What I love about NaNoWriMo is the way it has helped loosen up my writing in previous years and taught me to have fun with writing again. Perhaps that is why I should participate again this year. However, I feel I should be writing for profit rather than purely for fun and I don't know if I should give the time to NaNo. Maybe that would make more sense if I was actually writing anything at the moment.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Bad news
First of all I want to apologize for my tardiness in blogging this week. I had my posts all planned out in my head but I didn't actually type them out because 1. I was so depressed at not getting my iPhone 2. I was so excited when I actually got my iphone 3. I was so tired after spending all night playing with my iPhone. I know having the posts planned in my head is no good to you until they invent direct brain to blog transfer, so I am sorry. Mea culpa.
Secondly I must explain about my obscure post of the other day. It was about getting my iPhone and was written on the phone but, because at the time I had not installed this application, I could not write my post beyond this heading.
This leads me to the heading of this post. I am not writing this from my phone because I am travelling or because of fun but out of necessity (not that it isn't fun!). It is because I have killed my laptop once again. I don't think it could take all the work and programmes of the last few days and then my hamfisted approach to dealing with it didn't help either. I think the problem is, like everything in my life, not the things that happen but how I deal with them ( that made more sense in my head). Anyway old lappie is dead and this time, out of respect for the departed, I'm going to leave him that way. I haven't done any writing in ages anyway and the only things I've lost are all the things I was planning for Christmas presents and the hours of (now) wasted time reloading my music library to iTunes. So, until I can afford to buy a new laptop (some time in the next century unless I turn to companionship in the firefly sense of the word and, to be honest, I don't think I'd make very much at that) I'm going to stick to the desktop and more medieval forms of writing (pen and paper), use my phone for email and scrounge off Hoofpot to charge my various USB dependent devices (thank God I-p came with a socket chargeing adaptor device. At least that's what I think it is).
So bear with me. I will try to keep you updated as I continue to drive my life (and electrical equipment) into the ground but I might be slow to reply to your comments.
Now, where's a pint of ben and jerry's cookie dough ice cream when u need it? Another night crying myself to sleep me thinks.
Secondly I must explain about my obscure post of the other day. It was about getting my iPhone and was written on the phone but, because at the time I had not installed this application, I could not write my post beyond this heading.
This leads me to the heading of this post. I am not writing this from my phone because I am travelling or because of fun but out of necessity (not that it isn't fun!). It is because I have killed my laptop once again. I don't think it could take all the work and programmes of the last few days and then my hamfisted approach to dealing with it didn't help either. I think the problem is, like everything in my life, not the things that happen but how I deal with them ( that made more sense in my head). Anyway old lappie is dead and this time, out of respect for the departed, I'm going to leave him that way. I haven't done any writing in ages anyway and the only things I've lost are all the things I was planning for Christmas presents and the hours of (now) wasted time reloading my music library to iTunes. So, until I can afford to buy a new laptop (some time in the next century unless I turn to companionship in the firefly sense of the word and, to be honest, I don't think I'd make very much at that) I'm going to stick to the desktop and more medieval forms of writing (pen and paper), use my phone for email and scrounge off Hoofpot to charge my various USB dependent devices (thank God I-p came with a socket chargeing adaptor device. At least that's what I think it is).
So bear with me. I will try to keep you updated as I continue to drive my life (and electrical equipment) into the ground but I might be slow to reply to your comments.
Now, where's a pint of ben and jerry's cookie dough ice cream when u need it? Another night crying myself to sleep me thinks.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
Days like these
I wanted to post today about my new iphone. I wanted to go into ecstasies about how cool it was, how much I could do with it and how I didn't know how I lived my life without it. I wanted to write my post with it, but alas, Madame Fortuna had other ideas.
The mission started at 12.30pm when I went into the phone shop. I was changing from prepay to a contract so I had to endure a barrage of questions about my living arrangements and produce written documentation stating I lived where I said I did. Unfortunately my proof of address had to be dated within the last 3 months, and my letter missed it by 3 days, so I had to go home and get a new letter. That took the best part of half an hour and when I returned to the store the assistant who had helped me had gone on lunch. I then had to queue for forty minutes before the new assistant got around to me. She accepted my new letter but had bad news - they had no black 16g iphones left in stock.
Actually, that is not strictly true. They had ONE black 16g iphone left in stock but she was holding it for someone. I asked if she could hold one for me when new stock came in but she said it wasn't their policy to keep phones on hold. Upon my request she phoned the other phone shop in the town and they did have the right iphone but they wouldn't send it over to her. I decided to go to the other shop because what is the point of spending so much money on a phone when it isn't the one you want? This caused more hassle, of course, as she had to get all my information and documentation together for me to take to the other shop. Compounded with this was the fact that the assistant in the other shop had gone on lunch and wouldn't be back until 3.30pm.
It was now after 2pm. Armed with my information I got lunch and wondered how to spend my time while I waited for the assistant to return from lunch. I browsed the shops for a while, but without money shopping isn't much fun. I drove around to pass time and then headed to the second phone shop. There was a poster pasted to the phone shop window.
'Closed for lunch. Back at 4pm'.
As it was only 3.30pm, I got a coffee to pass the time and on the dot of 4pm I went to the phone shop. The assistant, just returned from lunch and the headphones hardly out of his ears, looked a bit surprised to see me. My expression was perhaps not the friendliest as I was not in a particularly good mood at that point. Nothing against the assistant, just not in a good mood. He was pleasant, but did not exude confidence as he had to phone someone to get help on every step of setting up my account and ringing up my purchases. However, the final blow of the day came when it was time to pay. I had a gift card to pay for my phone but - surprise, surprise - the gift card reader wasn't working in the shop! To be fair, the assistant did try hard to fix it and was very apologetic, but at 4.30pm, after four hours of trying to buy a phone, I had no option but to go home without one. Very disappointing.
The gift card reader should be fixed by tomorrow and I'll pick up my phone then, which has been set aside for me, but still...
Don't know if I will have the same thrill when it comes to blogging about my phone tomorrow.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Quote of the week
"It is the largest gold statue made by man since ancient Egyptian times, weighing 50kg, around the same as its subject."
Telegraph reporter Aislinn Simpson in reference to the rather obscenely posed gold statue of Kate Moss by sculptor Marc Quinn.
I wasn't aware that animals were busy sculpting in gold, or does she mean aliens?
Edit: Here is a link to a picture of the statue for anyone who is interested.
Telegraph reporter Aislinn Simpson in reference to the rather obscenely posed gold statue of Kate Moss by sculptor Marc Quinn.
I wasn't aware that animals were busy sculpting in gold, or does she mean aliens?
Edit: Here is a link to a picture of the statue for anyone who is interested.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Friday, October 10, 2008
Did you know?
#1 That when struck, the moon rings like a bell?
I have yet to find any 'official' information on this, but apparently NASA detonated controlled explosions on the moon and discovered that it 'rang like a bell' for up to an hour after the explosion. How sound was recorded either through the vacuum of space or the thin atmosphere of the moon, I don't know. A more likely explanation might be that they recorded reverberations that were similar to a ringing bell.
What does this mean? I'm not sure exactly, but according to my investigations it could mean a number of things.
a) The moon is home to a base of Zetan aliens and the explosions sent the hollow interiors of their subterranean homes ringing. Ever wonder why we aren't all living on the moon by this stage? Apparently the Zetan's told Aldrin and Armstrong, in no uncertain terms, to hit the road and never come back no more. Why is there a Zetan alien base on the moon? Beats me, but I gather there are similar bases on Mars and its moons. NASA have been hiding the photographic evidence for years.
b) The moon is a space ship and only relatively recently brought into orbit around the earth. Who built and piloted the space ship is a mystery, but everyone seems to agree that it was positioned in orbit to help promote life on earth - to make it a farming planet, as one person put it. What or who they are farming is beyond me. However, as many people seem to suggest that the moon didn't reach orbit until after life was quite well established on the earth, I don't know if it really worked as an alien experiment.
c) According to one source, if you slow down the recordings of the ringing moon (again, don't know how sound was recorded) a voice speaking (ancient) Aramaic can be heard. What is the voice saying? We don't know. Once again those evil people at NASA are suppressing the information so we can't learn the truth.
#2 That among the gold and treasures of Tutankhamen's tomb there were also mummified pterosaurs?
This came as a surprise to me. Not that pterosaurs exist in a (relatively) modern age but that a) they were in Egypt and b) they were in King Tut's tomb. The story goes, or so my source tells me, that the mummified pterosaurs disappeared soon after discovery and that all eye witnesses died. Could that be a result of the curse or a more sinister reason? Unfortunately, because of the quick removal of the pterosaurs and the people who saw them (perhaps by Zetan's on their moon base???) there is no description of the type of pterosaur with Tut nor how large or well preserved they were. Shame. If they aren't on the moon, perhaps they are in a big wooden box sealed in a vault of the Smithsonian?
For those of you who don't know what a Pterosaur is, they are (were) flying creatures with leathery bat like wings and perhaps furry bodies. Some have long thin tails with a diamond shaped appendage at the end. Others have boney head crests. They have long beaks with teeth and some grew to enormous size. They are believed extinct by many, but there is much eye witness reports of different types from all around the world suggesting that they are still with us, with the most notable coming from Papa New Guinea.
#3 That Velociraptors live in Turkey?
As recently as the seventies, an expedition searching for the remains of Noah's Ark on Mount Ararat were attacked by ferocious Velociraptors. Among the casualties reported were three arms, two feet and a chunk of thigh. I'm not sure if this was the typical body construction of the people on the expedition, or if there were several people injured, but I am a bit disappointed that the velociraptors only took body parts and not full bodies. This list sounds more like the shopping list on Alive! rather than Jurassic Park. Anyway, I digress. I was desperate to find out more about this encounter with Velociraptors - were they guardians of the Ark? How did they withstand the extreme conditions of Mount Ararat? Why haven't they moved into more populated areas of Turkey? - however, my investigations revealed no further reports. I can only conclude that NASA have also suppressed this information.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Where does he keep his armies?
Karl Merk, a German farmer, has become the first person to receive a double arm transplant! He lost his arms below the shoulder six years ago in a farming accident but, thanks to long and extensive surgery earlier this year, he now has two brand new arms. So far his body hasn't rejected them and he is able to move his fingers, open doors and turn on lights. Doctors are hopeful that, all going well, he will have full movement in his new arms within two years.
Wow. I mean WOW wow. I thought a face transplant was amazing. They will have a head museum next.
Read the story here.
Best of luck to Mr Merk, it really is an amazing thing and I hope that his arms heal really well and he is able to do all the things he hasn't been able to in the last six years. However, am I the only one thinking it - evil arms anyone? If I were him, I think I would be a little bit worried.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Photo Manipulation
I watched this programme last night about how much photo manipulation goes on in the magazine and advertising industry. Not a photo is published without the already perfect models having their blemishes removed, their skin tones evened out and, many times, their body shape made thinner and taller. Watching this inspired me to do some of my own photo manips, the result of which can be seen above. I don't have the skill or the programmes of the professionals, but I am happy enough with the result. If only I actually looked like that.Tuesday, October 07, 2008
How to lose friends and alienate people
I don't need to see a film to learn how to do this, I'm doing a pretty good job on my own! If there is anyone looking at this blog after all these months of inactivity, I'm sorry. I would love to say I was too busy finalising the details of my book deal, or travelling the world, or even writing, but no.
I'm afraid not.
To be honest, I had a melt down over the summer and decided to live in a very dark place with that part of me that likes to tell me I'll amount to nothing and I'm better off dead. I like to call her Miranda. She likes to eat pizza and lives at the bottom of a deep, dark well. She is always there, in the back of the forest of my mind, and occasionally she pops out of her hole to kick me in the shins. She usually waits until I'm tired or stressed to visit. She has good timing that way. You probably have someone like her living in your head too. However, this is the first time I've gone to stay in her hole with her. It is very dark down there, so you don't have to look at yourself and see that things can be different. And she encourages you not to speak to people, to cut yourself off from the world. Perhaps the worst thing she can do is to tell you that things will never change and you should give up hope.
The good news is, I've thanked Miranda for her hospitality and climbed out of that hole. The bad news is, it is really hard to pick up the pieces and make amends after you have neglected things for so long. You just can't walk back into life after refusing to take its calls and expect things to be the same as they were when you left off. It's tough.
Today I'm feeling rotten from the tail end of a cold, can't fit into my clothes and haven't got any money. I'm feeling like a sim who is being played by an evil child who wants to keep them up all night drinking coffee and then laugh when they wet themselves and all their friends shun them. Perhaps I will be kinder to my sims the next time I'll play. :)
Anyway, that's enough about me. How are you? Is there anyone left out there to reply?
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Do dog breeders actually LIKE dogs?
I've been around pedigree dogs for nineteen years and I've been to my fair share of dog shows and I have to ask - do dog breeders actually like dogs? Every pedigree dog we have owned has suffered from in breeding. They have been crippled by arthritis, hyper sensitivity, ulcers, weak stomachs, poor immune systems, dislocating patellas, prone to infection and died young. Our non pure bred dogs have been marked by their good health in comparison. I love pedigree dogs. I've lived under the illusion that the Kennel Club works to improve the health of breeds throughout the country, but looking at pure bred dog breeds today you have to wonder. I know from my experience of showing that the dogs were, on the whole, wheeled into the show venue in crates, taken out only to be groomed within an inch of their lives and taken into the show ring. Many of them were shy, frightened individuals that may have looked pretty but were a far cry from the working dog they were originally bred for. How many champion pooches today would be able to hold up if they were taken out into the field they were originally intended for? Would Bulldogs be able to bull bait and Basset Hounds be able to hunt? I don't think so.
Take the German Shepherd Dog for example. One of my favourite breeds. The first photograph is an example of the type of dog seen in the show ring. Note the deeply sloping back and the elongated weak looking hind legs. The second picture is slightly more robust, with more balanced front and hind quarters and is an example of the so called 'working GSD' that many breeders are trying to produce to save the breed from crippling extinction. I have a GSD so I know first hand what problems these dogs can suffer from - hip dysplasia, early onset arthritis, skin problems, ear problems, self mutilation, stomach problems, twisted bowel... the list goes on and on. I can understand the desire to produce dogs with large shoulders and tiny hips - it gives them an attractive silhouette - but the increasingly narrow hips and wobbly legs that are winning rosettes in the show ring are ruining what should be a robust, intelligent, sensitive, loving dog. When is function over appearance going to be applauded? When will dogs that are dogs - strong, healthy and good tempered - be rewarded over the in bred?
Then there is the Basset Hound. The top picture shows the Basset Hound of today - its heavily folded skin and long ears highly prized by judges. How different this once active hunting dog is from his ancestors of 60 years ago, pictured below getting ready for a hare hunt. Modern Basset Hounds often trip over their own ears and are plagued by skin infections due to their many folds. Who first thought that this type of dog was attractive? I much prefer the lean, muscular healthy lines of the former model to the modern version. Not that I think this dog is ugly, he is a cute creature, but when I look at dogs like the Basset, the Daschund or the Peke I can't help but wonder have people gone too far? When a dog has been bred to such a state that it impairs its ability to be a dog, then things have gone too far. Take the English Bulldog for example. Apparently it can no longer mate without human assistance nor give birth naturally. It makes you wonder.
The Pug is undeniably cute, and has been around for a very long time, but apparently in the quest for an even flatter face modern Pugs are suffering the consequences. Breathing problems as well as difficulties with their eyes, dislocating patellas and a host of other problems bring them close to equalling the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel - arguably the unhealthiest dog breed in existence - in the list of genetic faults they can suffer from. Despite - or because - of being so popular, the Cavalier is beset with one congenital disease after another. They are a beautiful dog, both in appearance and temperament, but are so unhealthy that practically all of them will be victim to one genetic disease or another. It is a horrible thing to hold a puppy in your arms and know what is going to kill it.With adherence to human whims dominating over an animal's health and happiness, and the very body which is supposed to protect the breeds encouraging deformity and in breeding, it is hard to see how there is a way out of this mess. Personally I think breeds like the Cavalier have no hope unless new blood is introduced to them, crossing them back to the spaniels and pugs they originated from. Whether this will happen or not, I don't know. Perhaps cloning of champion stud dogs will become common practice to further lessen pedigree dogs chance of survival.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Another one hits the mark!
Good news from the wonderful people at Pen Pricks, the home of micro fiction. They have accepted my fantasy tale 'Sunday Afternoon' for publication in their October issue. Yay!
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Voting at Invisible Ink is now possible
You can now vote for my story 'All in the family' at the Invisible Ink website. You will have to register an account with them to vote or leave comments, but don't worry, it is free and you don't have to sign up for anything. It is just to make sure you are a real person and not a robot (or so they say).
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Review of the Dark Knight
What doesn't kill you makes you stranger. So says the Joker in Christopher Nolan's second installment of the Batman franchise, The Dark Knight. Following on closely from the first film - Batman Begins - The Dark Knight sees Gotham City besieged by a new villain. A psychopath who wears make up and a purple suit, known only as the Joker. We are also introduced to the White Knight of Gotham - District Attorney Harvey Dent. What follows is two and a half hours of dark action that pushes the comic book movie genre to its limits. The theme of this movie is choice, and the consequence of the choices we make. It runs from the self proclaimed agent of chaos, the Joker, to rule abiding Batman (albeit his own rules) and Harvey Dent. It shows us how the consequences of your actions can be difficult to live with and will, for some, break you. This is a film with flaws. It is not the best movie of all time, possibly not even of the summer, but it is the first movie in a long time that I enjoyed from beginning to end and left the cinema feeling thoroughly satisfied. It had a STORY, pitch perfect performances from the ENTIRE CAST, not just Heath Ledger (although hats off to Heath and Mr Nolan for making my least favourite Bat-verse character incredibly watchable) great action sequences and a gritty, realistic tone (as much as is possible in a movie that centers on a millionaire who dresses up as a bat and fights crime on the mean streets of his city). Will this movie stand the test of time? I don't know, that will remain to be seen, but forget about the hyperbole, ignore the nay-sayers and go see it. I highly recommend it. 5/5.
Friday, August 15, 2008
This one is for Firefly fans
For all you Browncoats out there, there is a new installment of the Serenity comic over at Dark Horse comics myspace page. It is incredibly awesome. Read it here.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
What have I learned from rejection?
Find out the answer at Tiny Lights: Searchlights and signal flares
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Quotes of the week
"You have to learn to walk before you can fall"
as said by a logger on Channel 4's new series 'Dangerous Jobs for Girls'
and
"The story...will strike a chord with anyone with a father"
as posted in a review of a film on imdb.com
as said by a logger on Channel 4's new series 'Dangerous Jobs for Girls'
and
"The story...will strike a chord with anyone with a father"
as posted in a review of a film on imdb.com
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Things that shock people
I have learned from experience that you shock people when...
1. You wear purple eye shadow and a red top. I almost sent a make up woman on a film set into cardiac arrest once when I turned up with purple eye shadow and a red top. Ready for my close up? She thought not.
2. You tell people that you don't drink alcohol. I don't know what the experience of other non drinkers out there has been, but anytime I've told someone I don't drink alcohol they seem to take it as either a personal insult to their way of life or a challenge to make me drink before the night is through - or both. The look on their faces is almost akin to telling them I eat human flesh with fava beans for breakfast (minus the nice Chianti of course).
3. You pick the vegetarian choice on a menu. Ok, I'm not vegetarian but both knowing them and being mistaken for them has led me to realise that admitting to being one in public is almost as bad as saying you don't drink alcohol. Invariably when someone confesses to being vegetarian the meat heads in company will list all the animals they have eaten and how delicious they were.
4. You tell people you write horror fiction. Ok, maybe this one only applies to me. I've been called a dark horse when I told one person what I did. I'm not sure what horror writers look like, but maybe the goth look would be what people expect.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Cool Contest Challenge
Here is the link to my winning entry in the Cool Stuff 4 Writers July cool contest challenge - FIRST SWIM. I got chills when I logged onto their site this morning and saw my name on the homepage. By chills I mean pleasant tingles of excitement. Chills are good. Remember folks, before you run off to read my winning story, the brief for the contest was to write a beach scene using purple prose. If you think the writing is bad, it is supposed to be. So bad it's good, yeah baby! While you're over there at Cool Stuff 4 Writers, have a look around. You'll be sure to find something of interest.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Cool news
Cave canem. Carpe diem. Caveat emptor. In vino veritas. Veni vidi visa.
Yes dear reader, I have been forced to eat my words - but oh, what a sweet taste they have! While I haven't woken up spouting Latin and looking like Shakira, I have won a competition that I thought was a sure fire rejection! I got great news this evening from the lovely Sandy at Coolstuff4writers that my submission to the July cool contest challenge has been selected as the winner! I'll have the link to my winning entry on the blog in a few days.
Coolstuff4writers is a wonderful resource for writers providing informative articles on all disciplines of writing and publication, an announcement board for news, interviews, incredibly cool stuff to buy to liven up your office and of course the monthly cool contest challenge, which has a $25 prize. The people at coolstuff4writers are really friendly and nice and the site is a fund of information so I can't urge you enough to drop by and look around. You will be amazed at what you find there. I would especially recommend the Book Dr's advice and the past winning entries of the cool contest challenge. I find the first a great resource and the second a valuable way to waste away five minutes when your brain needs a break.
August is turning out of be a good month for my writing with stories appearing in Alienskin magazine, Invisible Ink anthology 2, coolstuff4writes, Tiny lights and hopefully Afflicted hitting the shelves.
And here are some Latin phrases I learned today that I particularly like:-
1. cave laborem "beware of work" - my new motto
2. caveat lector "let the reader beware" - what I am going to print on the front cover of my books
3. cave nil vino "beware of running out of wine" - this one's for you Valpot
4. carpe noctem "seize the night" - who wants the day anyway?
and last, but not least...
5. cacoethes scribendi "bad habit of writing" - apparently means an insatiable urge to write. I like, I like (don't even think of asking me to pronounce it).
Friday, August 08, 2008
The Dublin Horse Show
Went to the RDS today with Hoofpot to watch the Nation's Cup or, as it is more commonly known in Ireland, The Aga Khan. Eight different nations, four riders per team and two rounds of some of the best show jumping around. The weather in Dublin was lovely, for a change, and the going was good in the main arena in the RDS (can't say the same for Ring 1 where the showing classes were held, it was a quagmire). The course was nice and hard and there were only 2 clear rounds in the first leg of the competition. Even Germany, who were favourites and have won the Aga Khan the last two years (you get to keep the trophy if you win three years in a row. So far only 3 nations have done that - Ireland, GB and I can't remember the third) managed to accrue 21 points in their three best rounds. They pulled it together in the second round and had four time penalties, which left them with a total of 24 points and got them third position. Team GB had a fantastic first round with 7 combined points and went on to have an equally good second round to take first. Despite having Eddie Macken, Cian O'Connor, Jessica Kurten and Olympic hopeful Denis Lynch, we failed to live up to early promise and came second. Better than the last few years when we were third. I long for the return of the days when we won all the time.
Funnily enough, even though the jumping was exciting, I didn't enjoy the RDS this year. I've only missed going to the Horse Show once in the last ten years, and I've always enjoyed it but not this year. Maybe it was because I was feeling tired, or low or just because I seem to be sucking the joy out of everything recently. I don't know, it was a shame and I think I ruined Hoofpot's day too. Sorry Hoofpot. It was interesting watching my fellow spectators though. Like one woman who stood up and blew kisses at Eddie Macken or the face of another woman who found someone sitting in her seat. Licking lemons doesn't come close to how sour her mouth looked.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Afflicted up date
Afflicted has arrived! Well, the proof copy has anyway, as pictured here with my goth self. It is very cute and I'm really pleased with the quality of the colours on the cover. Sometimes when you see it printed it isn't as pretty as on the computer screen. I am also very happy with lulu because I ordered it on Friday, it shipped on Saturday and it arrived today. I call that SPEEDY. I have to read through it, make sure there aren't any mistakes and approve it for distribution and then it will be on sale BABY! Get your credit cards ready, people, Afflicted will soon be unleashed upon the world.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Rant
You know what I hate? You know what really gets under my skin? Publications that couldn't be bothered to reply to your submission and let you know you've been rejected. I know they usually give you a date that you should query by, but what is the point in querying when the issue you were submitting for has already been published and your work is not in it? How would you word that email. 'Er, hi, I was just wondering if you rejected me because I didn't see my story in the issue I submitted for?' I don't think so. I would think there was something wrong with my email but I get family emails no problem and the other rejections seem to get through just fine. My acceptance ratio on Duotrope has gone down to 22%. Apparently that is still higher than average for users on the site. My mind boggles at what is average! I hope that for some of the submissions I have labeled as rejected I have been too hasty and one day the acceptance email will arrive in my inbox. It might be the same day that I wake up a size 8 and know how to speak fluent Latin, but hey, anything is possible - right?
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Winter is coming
I was struck with the fact that summer is on the wane and autumn is upon us once again when I noticed that it is no longer bright at 4am. I'm sure it has been a gradual decline in brightness but it seems like only yesterday the birds where welcoming in the dawn at 4am and now they are still silent at 5am. The year is winding down again. Winter is approaching. I feel sad.
Monday, August 04, 2008
Where does your Bogeyman live?
I got into a discussion with Hoofpot and Valpot today about the Bogeyman in our house and where he lives. For me, since childhood, he has dwelt at the end of the upstairs landing. The way our house is set up is that at the top of the stairs there are bedrooms to the right (the extension), a small area with a window to the left which leads onto a corridor with more bedrooms and at the end of the corridor is the bathroom. Outside the bathroom is a light. At night, when it is dark, the light in the corridor reaches to the small area with the window at the top of the stairs. This area is always in shadow, leading into darkness. For me, this is where my Bogeyman hides, on the edge of the shadow, waiting for you to enter the corridor on the way to the bathroom. He is tall, wears a suit and has a face without any features. He carries with him an aura of menace and is undeniably, utterly and totally evil. He has also hunted me in my dreams and even now, as an adult, I still run past the stairs at night knowing he is waiting above (I now sleep downstairs). Valpot knows this Bogeyman well, although she has never seen his featureless face as his face is always in shadow. However, I suspect he is the same Bogeyman. Hoofpot didn't join in on the conversation, as she felt it was unwise to discuss things that scare you late at night, before bedtime. She was right, because Valpot and I succeeded in scaring each other so much we didn't want to leave the kitchen.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Writing Up Date
I have two pieces of good news to blog about today. First off, Alienskin Magazine. It has been years in the making, it was my first accepted work and first paid fiction sale and finally it is here, online, for all to read. It even has a really cool graphic to go with it and everything. I am so excited I could jump write (heehee) out of my skin. And to make it even better, it is in the anniversary edition of Alienskin Magazine. All those years ago when I first found it on the net - when it was still a monthly publication - and I dreamed of having a story in it, I never thought I would actually be in the anniversary edition no less. Go check it out now, be horrified and then come back and tell me what you think. It will only be online for two months, so snap it up while you still can. Click on the links above or here to access my story. My second piece of good news is that Invisible Ink Anthology 2 is finally for sale! Yes, dear readers this month you have not one but TWO of my stories to delight and entertain you. Pop on over to Baineth publishers and order your copy of the anthology now, read it when it arrives and then VOTE FOR MY STORY. There is a possible £1,000 prize and publishing deal in it for me if my story wins first prize as voted by you, dear readers, so help me get to that magic first place. Love and light, the Inkpot.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Scraping across the finish line - or not
I'm still smarting from missing Dr Doom's deadline for the Alienskin Magazine Demon Toys flash fiction competition. After four months of having it in my calendar I sat down on July 31st - EST clocks open on my desktop - and started to write my story. Half way through I realised that the deadline was midnight EST July 30th, not 31st. For my regular readers, you might remember my post a few months ago about not leaving things to the last minute anymore. Well, I guess things haven't changed as I left three story entries to the last minute - two I managed to submit on time, the third I missed by a day (Demon Toys). I've started August off on a good note, however, and submitted a story well ahead of its August 15th deadline. May this forward thinking continue.
Friday, August 01, 2008
Things to look out for in August
1. My story 'Who's for dinner?' published in the August/September edition of Alienskin Magazine
2. The things I have learned from rejection in Tiny Lights: Searchlights and Signal Flares
3. Valinora Troy's story 'Last' in Apollo's Lyre
4. Hopefully The Invisible Ink Anthology 2
5. Possibly the launch of International Day of Books titles 'Afflicted' and 'The Other Side of the Mirror'
2. The things I have learned from rejection in Tiny Lights: Searchlights and Signal Flares
3. Valinora Troy's story 'Last' in Apollo's Lyre
4. Hopefully The Invisible Ink Anthology 2
5. Possibly the launch of International Day of Books titles 'Afflicted' and 'The Other Side of the Mirror'
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