Lily Lawson's Blog: Lily's log, page 8

Impossibly tiny trophies

Impossibly tiny trophies sat on the shelf in Reuben’s crowded sitting room. Jess had to get up so close to see them her nose almost knocked them off.

‘What are they for?’

Reuben ran his fingers through his long grey hair.

‘All things are revealed in time my child. Sit with me and have some tea.’

Jess sat opposite Reuben and drank her tea.

***

Jess reached up to get the trophies off the shelf.

‘Don’t touch them until you are ready for them.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘They may be tiny, but they are powerful. Each one contains powerful magic.’

‘You mean when we wave our hands and things move around or we make fire or dirty things are clean and we heal cuts and …’

‘That’s ordinary magic. ‘

Reuben wave his hands, and all was clean and tidy.

‘These cups I take with me on my travels. They help keep me safe.’

‘How?’

‘The bronze one takes me where I want to go and brings me home. I hold it, speak the location and I’m there.’

‘Wow, that’s faster than the bus.’

‘Very much so.’

He stroked his beard.

‘The silver warns me of danger. It vibrates when it senses trouble so I can leave as soon as possible.’

‘Have you been in danger?’

‘I have.’

‘What happened?’

‘I got home safely and that is all you need to know.’

Jess shifted on her chair and tightened her ponytail.

‘I understand. What about the gold one?’

‘Ah the gold one… the gold one is the most powerful.’

Reuben rubbed his face with his hands.

‘What does it do?’

‘My darling granddaughter I love you very much. I don’t want you to think badly of me, but I have done some things I am not proud of.’

‘I love you too grandad and I could never think badly of you. Is it not true that we all do things we are not proud of?’

‘It is indeed.’ He took both her hands in his.

‘You need to understand that I only did what was necessary.’

‘ok’

‘I have killed people.’ Reuben hung his head.

‘With the gold cup… how?’

‘My belt lets me know if people are in trouble.’

‘I thought the silver cup did that…’

‘Only when I have it on me and it only alerts me that I am in danger.’

‘The things that hang from my belt, each one represents someone I care about. These people live all over the world. When the trinket for that person vibrates it means they are in trouble. If one of those people is in danger I have to act – you understand?’

‘I do grandad.’

‘Sometimes I had to use my power to kill someone who was going to kill someone I care about.’

‘How does it work?’

‘I tell it what to do. It gets warm when its working. When it cools, I know it is done. Then I make sure people are safe and leave, sometimes they have to come with me.’

‘I see.’

‘One day I will make you, your own tiny cups to sit on your shelf, but I need to be sure you know how to use them. So we will practice together, one cup at a time.’

‘My dad doesn’t have the cups.’

‘No, your dad will not use them. He chooses to stay here and leave it all to me. He has protection like you do.’

‘He could change his mind.’

‘He can at any time, but he has seen me live with the consequences of what the cups can do. He wants you to make your own mind up how much magic you use. He has agreed to let me take you with me so you can decide for yourself.’

‘When do we start?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Can I stay here tonight?'

‘I think its best you go home and see your parents. These journeys can be long and …’

‘Dangerous?’

‘Sometimes yes. So just in case…’

‘I have to say goodbye.’

‘Yes child, you do.’

‘It’s ok I understand. Till tomorrow.’

‘Till tomorrow.’

Cat picture prompt

‘Never live with a writer. She was up at 7, crashing about, waking me up again. I got a bit of quiet and had a snooze. She came back and stomped muddy footprints everywhere including my afternoon snooze spot. She better clean that up or she’ll be sorry. She filled my food and water bowls thank goodness, sometimes she forgets, and I have to find her in this jumble of a house and remind her of her priorities. There is a sneaky one under her writing desk, but I try to keep that for emergencies because there are often emergencies when she’s writing or reading. Us cats need our water too you know. When she’s writing I try and stay away if she does the shouting at screen thing. I can’t be doing with all that. She asks me a lot of questions I don’t know the answers to, I’m not the one writing the book, so how would I know? Far too much effort for my liking. She does this dance thing where she moves around with odd objects and looks in the mirror a lot. When he’s here, she gets him to join in, it’s not like anything I’ve seen before. She seems to be practicing how to kill him, he’s often on the floor, in some strange position, in my way and she starts asking him the questions. She hasn’t managed to kill him yet; he’s still talking to me as if I’m an idiot, unfortunately. He does feed me now and then or get me water, so I try to give him some attention. He forgets who’s in charge round here and has to be reminded occasionally. Sometimes they have the gall to shut me out of rooms. If I can be bothered, I make a fuss. If not, I spread out on the big bed or in front of the bathroom door. When she’s in a good mood that laptop thing is lovely and warm, and she can be quite comfy to explore. I can’t be doing with all this irregularity; I need my routine and them wandering around making a mess, getting in my way, is not on. She seems to need reminding I’m more important than he is, and certainly more than some face on a screen or all that writing nonsense. I will not be ignored.’

Sunrise without singing

Black night diminishes.

The speck of light we anticipated grows.

The uniqueness of each day

reflected in the magic of its beginning.

Hope,

joy,

relief,

surrender,

emotional spaghetti twisting us.

Yesterday,

today,

tomorrow,

a tangled heap.

Things we shed along the way

picked up,

examined,

given back,

the lightened load heavier again.

We find a home for all we cannot carry,

recognise it had something left to teach us,

we hadn’t found the right time to let it go.

There is no sunrise without singing.

Mournful,

calm,

joyous.

Its up to us to find our song.

Travelling, Farm, Contagious

‘Before The Incident humans and Homogaea mingled and mated. The Incident left our race and our city vulnerable. Our immune systems are compromised and exposure to full humans is now lethal. We installed the mortar to protect our city, but we have no protection for ourselves. One being can infect the whole population if they become contagious.’

‘So one of our ancestors was Homogaea?’

Z twisted its fingers.

‘The Homogaea were hunters and gatherers when The Incident happened some she Homogaeans were left behind. Those who were …’

‘Pregnant?’ Aaron looked Z in its eyes

‘Is that your word? Withbabe.’

‘To a human male?’ Ben looked around him.

‘As you say.’ Z shifted.

‘She Homogaea in heat are beautiful creatures able to become whatever their mate finds irresistible. They would find human male’s easy prey. We couldn’t risk half Homogaea being part of our city if they brought full humans.’

‘This is fascinating, but we need a plan. How do we get out of here? We can’t go back the way we came.’

Ben wandered around.

‘We have a shuttle. It will travel you to the end of our city. You will find steps, climb them. You will be in an animal home on the farm.’

‘You mean a barn?’

Aaron ruffled his hair.

‘As you say.’ Z opened a chest.

‘Don’t tell anyone where these papers came from or show them to anyone, they map our city.’

‘We won’t.’ Aaron put them in his pocket.

‘We will find out who owns the land and see what we can do.’

Ben laid his hands on Z’s shoulders.

***

Travelling on the shuttle sent Ben and Aaron was quicker than Aaron and Ben expected. In what seemed like seconds they were at the steps.

‘How do we get back to you?’ Aaron asked the driver.

‘Put all your hands on the door and it will open.’

‘All? So four hands?’

‘Six.’

‘Six? Any six?’

‘You will find the right person when the time comes.’

The shuttle left. Ben and Aaron climbed the steps.

Picture prompt - lock and key

‘They were just lying there?’ Aaron picked up the key.

‘Yes, I dislodged a stone when I stumbled and saw something glinting. I moved the stone and there they were, the lock and key.’

Ben examined the lock.

‘I wonder what they’re for?’

‘No idea.’

Ben put the key in the lock and turned it.

Sparks flew and he was knocked to the ground.

Aaron dropped to his knees to check on his friend.

As Aaron touched Ben there was a loud crash, a hole opened in the earth and they both slid down a chute.

A being greeted them ‘Welcome to Gaeapolis I am Z.’

‘I’m Aaron and this is …’

‘Welcome Aaron, welcome Ben.’

‘How do you know my name?’

‘We know many things, when the lock and key are held, we know who touches them.’

‘What is this place?’

‘It’s a city.’

‘But its …’

‘Underground? 3000 years ago the earth moved and took our city underground and our people, the Homogaea, with it. The motra has transmitted a warning, your people are to build over us. Our city will be destroyed if your people build above it.’

‘The motra?’

‘We installed a warning system it transmits conversations that contain threat held on our land.’

‘I hope your city isn’t destroyed.’

‘We asked for help, and you are here to help us.’

‘How can we help?’

‘You need to stop the building work.’

‘We can find out who it is, and you can speak to them.’

‘No, the Homogaea must not meet humans they will perish.’

‘But we are humans.’

‘If you can access Gaeapolis you must be part Homogaea.’

‘What?’ Ben and Aaron said in unison.

All of it, tumbling …

Rose had dreamed of writing in her own haven by the sea for longer than she cared to remember. This one was a steal, and the previous tenant was heading out of the country so in something of a rush to offload the place. With her rose tinted spectacles firmly in position she signed on the dotted line.

The peace and quiet was infiltrated occasionally by the odd rumble but Rose quickly settled in and began writing her latest novel. She went for a wander every day and met a few folks.

‘You’re new here ain’t ye?’

The postman put his bag down and leaned on the porch rail.

‘Yes, I am, moved in last week.’

‘I hear tell you’re one of them writer types. Come to do a story have ye?’

Rose hovered in the doorway.

‘I’m working on my latest novel at the moment.’

‘Going to mention the Miller’s place?’

‘I don’t know anything about it.’

‘Fetch us a drink and I’ll tell ye all about it, better yet get ye car out and I’ll hop in and take ye so ye can see for yeself.’

‘I’ll get the keys and a bottle of pop.’

‘You’re a good ‘un.’

***

The site greeted them as soon as they turned into the road.

The Miller’s house, all of it, tumbling into the sea while they stood and watched.

Rose pulled over.

‘What’s happening?’

‘Oh the village’s falling into the sea. It’ll be a few months maybe a year before your place does don’t fret.’

He slipped into the line.

He slipped into the line.Elizabeth held tight to Harry’s hand.

‘What would it take to stop you?’

‘The end of the war.’

‘Marry me.’

‘What?’

‘You heard. If there’s a chance you might not come home to me at least let me have your name.’

‘I’ll come home.’

‘So you won’t marry me then.’

‘I want you to have the best big day not 5 minutes in a registry like we’d have to if we tie the knot now.’

‘If I can find a minister… or do you not want me to be your wife?’

Harry kissed her.

‘You know I love you is that not enough?’

Voices from the line chipped in.

‘I’ll marry you sweetheart.’

‘I’d have her up the aisle before she changes her mind, girl like that wanting a fella like you…’

‘Come on Harry make an honest woman of her before someone else does.’

Elizabeth put her hand over her mouth to hide her smile.

‘Harry …’

‘If you are sure this is what you want, I’ll go ask your father tonight. If he gives his blessing and we can get things arranged before I go …’

‘I don’t need a fancy frock and loads of folks. I just need you.’

‘Elizabeth, you are one in a million.’

‘I know, that’s why you love me.’

‘and that’s why I’m coming home.’

They met once a year, at the same place.

They met once a year, at the same place.

The past and future worlds they normally inhabited forgotten for this single day to be in this time that belonged to neither of them.

An accidental fast forward from a war-torn city led Jed to this year. A flip back to avoid alien abduction caused Tea to be here when he arrived.

They managed to work out how to get back here on purpose. This mountain hide out no-one knew existed.

Tea loved Jed’s stories about his time the shared connections of living in a bustling city. Jed found hope in Tea’s that the human race had a future even if it was in a way beyond his imagination.

Image from Pixabay

Picture prompt – see image

She caught the dresser as she stumbled and smashed the photo to the floor. Doreen landed in a heap on the sofa and burst into tears.

‘Not again! It can’t be happening again.’

Celia sat next to her mother and put her arms round her.

‘Lucy will be ok, she has us. We’ll help her raise Thomas. We know what it’s like, raising a child alone.’

‘And being a child without a father. Senseless violence. 80 years, 80 bloody years and we’ve learnt nothing.’

‘I know it’s horrible.’

‘I was only two, I have no memory of my dad thanks to Hitler just a damn photo. The Falklands took Robert and then you lost Richard.’

‘At least Lucy remembers her dad.’

‘Fifteen is too young to lose your dad.’

‘So is six. Thomas is the same age I was.’

‘When you marry a soldier or a fireman you know there’s a risk. This was a stupid idiot with a knife. Matt died because he was there, he didn’t do anything, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He went out for groceries for heaven’s sake! Is that not safe now?’

‘Kids losing their fathers because someone is angry. We all get angry, but we don’t all kill people.’

‘My father thought he was fighting for freedom. To keep us all safe. Robert was protecting people, Richard was saving people, Matt just wanted to fed his son. None of them needed to die so bloody young but Matt didn’t sign up to put himself in danger, he was a youth worker trying to help kids like the one who put a knife in him. This has to stop!’

‘This is another kind of war. One no-one signed up for.’

'Jane’s heart froze …'

Jane’s heart froze. Dr Basilisk labelled her frozen body ‘Snowflake 37’ and rubbed his hands. His banking app showed her £250,000 had landed in his account.

The pretty ones were the easiest to fool. They would pay anything not to look old and wrinkled. Convincing them 9 months at below freezing would give them eternal youth only took a fancy website and a list of fake reviews. They sold whatever they could to pay the inflated price tag and get into his custom-built watery coffins.

It didn’t work of course, and the victims were simply dead. By the time the families realised what was happening it was too late, and Dr Basilisk was off in his private jet to con more young things out of their fortune with his fake internet qualification.