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Camaraderie: A Dark Fairytale
It is not within the depths of Hell that Evil keeps, but wherever there is want for right and men don't dream, but sleep.
Nor is it within four walls, as in our folk and lore, nor bound by golden key, nor choked by lock'ed door.
Evil is left to walk among us gracefully. It has no single face. A tidal wave of molten, wicked fury, attacking without reason both the free and chaste.
The Evil One, the bringer of malignancy and all that does corrupt our earth, will just as likely make his home within a killer's grave, as by your fire and upon your hearth.
He is a thing with ghastly thousand faces, be they young or old, born or made or new. He might pass among you quietly, or wreak havoc, everything askew.
He wears no more than simple human mask, rendered so of flesh and blood and bile. Often is the face revealed to be so mild, be it young or old, man or woman or, God forbid, a child! "
"Camaraderie appeared small, frail, and fragile if one did not look properly. If a person saw through the eyes of a mother, or someone who tries nobly to see the best in people, they would see only a quiet and lovely little girl.
They wouldn't see the unnatural rosiness that flared in her cheeks when she saw that someone was afraid. Nor would they see her smile when someone found the carcasses of small animals, victim to all kinds of bloody abominations that she left in the halls and garden. She blamed the fruits of her games on the cats, and got away with it because of the human tendency to see only what they want to see...
"The demon cat had trouble holding the pen between the pads of its paws. He dropped it, splattered the page, cursed. The angels that floated about like aimless, faceless, shimmering statues flinched. They did not like having Martchurix in Heaven. Though they had been told that they were to be courteous and accepting (and they tried, really they did) they did not acknowledge the creature. They did not know how, when he repulsed them so...
Animals were not ordinarily allowed in Heaven. Martchurix was the only one. The angels did not know why, but Martchurix was an exception. Although he was an animal, he did not behave like one. Upon entering Heaven, his only request was a large blank book and an unlimited supply of pens and ink.
He wrote of his life on Earth. Words were all he had in his bright death filled with cold angels. His time could only be made bearable in the telling. Her story flowed through his veins like the poisons Camaraderie used to kill those she should have loved.
He never thought he would have a word to give again. Only in death did he begin to live. He lost his word, but gained a new voice in a new form.
The angels did not know what he was writing. Sometimes, they found themselves wondering, in their collective mind, if he was dangerous to them. They dismissed the idea. What harm could he do? He wrote."
> "Martchurix tells the tale of his life as a demon conjured into the body of a cat for the sole purpose of acting an accomplice in murder with grace and style. At times wrenching, at times hilarious, this is a tale that anyone with a brain and a sense of humor will enjoy immensely. Sure to be the great satire of this age!" - God
About the Author
Born and raised in Memphis, TN, Meagan Mandell relocated to Eugene, OR when she was eleven. Mostly, she lived in her head. At sixteen, Meagan left home and moved to Boulder, CO, where she found her people.
Meagan Mandell started Camaraderie when she was fourteen, and finished it when she was seventeen. Meagan continues her career as a fantasy writer, and is currently working on her first full-length novel, titled Monster and Mouse.
Nor is it within four walls, as in our folk and lore, nor bound by golden key, nor choked by lock'ed door.
Evil is left to walk among us gracefully. It has no single face. A tidal wave of molten, wicked fury, attacking without reason both the free and chaste.
The Evil One, the bringer of malignancy and all that does corrupt our earth, will just as likely make his home within a killer's grave, as by your fire and upon your hearth.
He is a thing with ghastly thousand faces, be they young or old, born or made or new. He might pass among you quietly, or wreak havoc, everything askew.
He wears no more than simple human mask, rendered so of flesh and blood and bile. Often is the face revealed to be so mild, be it young or old, man or woman or, God forbid, a child! "
"Camaraderie appeared small, frail, and fragile if one did not look properly. If a person saw through the eyes of a mother, or someone who tries nobly to see the best in people, they would see only a quiet and lovely little girl.
They wouldn't see the unnatural rosiness that flared in her cheeks when she saw that someone was afraid. Nor would they see her smile when someone found the carcasses of small animals, victim to all kinds of bloody abominations that she left in the halls and garden. She blamed the fruits of her games on the cats, and got away with it because of the human tendency to see only what they want to see...
"The demon cat had trouble holding the pen between the pads of its paws. He dropped it, splattered the page, cursed. The angels that floated about like aimless, faceless, shimmering statues flinched. They did not like having Martchurix in Heaven. Though they had been told that they were to be courteous and accepting (and they tried, really they did) they did not acknowledge the creature. They did not know how, when he repulsed them so...
Animals were not ordinarily allowed in Heaven. Martchurix was the only one. The angels did not know why, but Martchurix was an exception. Although he was an animal, he did not behave like one. Upon entering Heaven, his only request was a large blank book and an unlimited supply of pens and ink.
He wrote of his life on Earth. Words were all he had in his bright death filled with cold angels. His time could only be made bearable in the telling. Her story flowed through his veins like the poisons Camaraderie used to kill those she should have loved.
He never thought he would have a word to give again. Only in death did he begin to live. He lost his word, but gained a new voice in a new form.
The angels did not know what he was writing. Sometimes, they found themselves wondering, in their collective mind, if he was dangerous to them. They dismissed the idea. What harm could he do? He wrote."
> "Martchurix tells the tale of his life as a demon conjured into the body of a cat for the sole purpose of acting an accomplice in murder with grace and style. At times wrenching, at times hilarious, this is a tale that anyone with a brain and a sense of humor will enjoy immensely. Sure to be the great satire of this age!" - God
About the Author
Born and raised in Memphis, TN, Meagan Mandell relocated to Eugene, OR when she was eleven. Mostly, she lived in her head. At sixteen, Meagan left home and moved to Boulder, CO, where she found her people.
Meagan Mandell started Camaraderie when she was fourteen, and finished it when she was seventeen. Meagan continues her career as a fantasy writer, and is currently working on her first full-length novel, titled Monster and Mouse.
158 pages, Paperback
First published February 25, 2010
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July 3, 2014
Terrifying and beautiful at the same time. A story about Evil and Love. Justice can be discovered in the hearts of the most unlikely creatures, Truth found hiding behind the most terrible mask. This is not a fairytale for those with weak stomachs or hearts. You have been warned.
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