#imagine reading under a glowing weeping willow

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Day 9: ghost zone

Ghostly Flora and Fauna

A guide to common plants

By Ghost Writer and Undergrowth

The various leafy plants are called Polypodiophyta, or Fernals. These are mutations of the human fern plant that found its way here through natural portals. Apart from their glow and edibility, though they are quite bitter, they don’t do much else.

On the upper left, we have the Alta ​​Esculenta, or the Mavor plant. The center orange part is an edible fruit.  According to our interviewee, Danny Fenton, they taste “like citrusy mangos with a touch of battery acid.”

Below that we have the Nox Filicus, more commonly known as the Night Fern. This functions much like what Fenton called a ‘sea anemone’ that only allows small blob ghosts near. Any more powerful ghosts will be ‘stung’ and have to receive immediate medical attention lest they want their appearance to become unstable.

In the upper middle we have the Malum Hydriam, the Blob Catcher. As its more common name suggests, it attracts small blob ghosts which it then catches and absorbs.

The one pictured in the lower middle is the Extractus Malus, the common Shroom. This plant helps filter pollution and foreign particles out of ectoplasm.

The one on the right is the Salicum Candentis, the Glowing Willow. These plants are considered sacred and are said to be connected to the core of the Zone itself. Like the common Shroom, it also helps extract contamination. But more importantly it also produces pure ectoplasm and its blossoms can help with medical issues such as calming a ghost down from an obsession trance and helping a ghost who's lost touch with their obsession not retreat into their core. 

Most importantly, they are integral to the coronation of new kings. A potion is made using the blossoms and the king to be is to drink it then walk up to the trunk where they will be obscured by the branches. If they walk out then the Zone has accepted them as king and they are imbued with knowledge of the movements of the Zone and an inner sense for navigating the ever shifting islands.  

However, this plant is not without its dangers. As stated, it can have a calming effect on ghosts, but if a ghost were to be near to the tree for an extended period of time it would have a soporific effect and the ghost would fall into a deep sleep like trance. The branches would then gradually wrap around the ghost pulling them toward the trunk where it will slowly begin to absorb the ghost leaving only the ghost’s core. Recovery is possible, but will take a long time and the ghost, once emerged from its core, will be back at the strength level of the newly dead.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Moonflower

Prompts: Hello there! If you are taking request/prompt/whatever you want to call its I have one. Basically Roman (Sanders) (and Remus?) is a ghost/soul thingy and has powers that rely on the moon. One of the sides find him (them?) and DRLAMP (ether in between /p and /r with hints of both and/or Creative twins are /p and the others are /r.) happens. In terms of powers and looks on a new moon Roman(and Remus?) is visible and looks like what you imagine a ghost to look like no matter what and is pretty much f ed if you see him. In terms of powers and looks on a full moon Roman(and Remus?) can look basically however he wants (but always looks pretty weak(not that he is weak)) and is really strong (not fiscally but with his powers) and he is a fast boi. In terms of powers and looks between those as it gets closer to the full moon he gets stronger and as it gets farther from the full moon he gets weaker (for looks same thing happens but with looks instead of powers.) In terms of what powers in the first place probably magic and stuff like that. Thanks and sorry if I missed spelled something. Bi! (Sorry I had to.) - uhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous

Hi! I’m a HUGE fan of your work, I’ve been bingeing (is that how you spell it???) all of your sander sides stuff! 

And if you have time, and if you wish, could you (maybe) write a fic with Roman just teasing anyone (or EVERYONE-) under their utterly melted? Like how you described in the ‘Hot mess’ fic?? - infinite-hearts-333

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: royality, p subtle but there ish

Word Count: 6147

In the corner of Everhart Estate lies the Moon Garden. A small lake, crystal clear even in the worst of rainstorms, surrounded by pale lilies and weeping willows. A single tree log, covered in moss, guards the entrance, big enough to dissuade most. If you were to ask most of the estate’s visitors if they had seen the moon garden, they would laugh in your face. 

“Another garden,” they would scoff, “why would they need another? That big log is just there to denote the edge of the property. So much nicer than a fence.”

But of course, if one looks at a map of Everhart Estate, one would notice that isn’t true. Most visitors aren’t in the habit of scrutinizing maps before they come, however, and so the garden remains a well-kept secret. 

The young master of the estate, Patton Everhart, stumbles into this garden quite accidentally.

In the corner of Everhart Estate lies the Moon Garden. A small lake, crystal clear even in the worst of rainstorms, surrounded by pale lilies and weeping willows. A single tree log, covered in moss, guards the entrance, big enough to dissuade most. If you were to ask most of the estate’s visitors if they had seen the moon garden, they would laugh in your face. 

“Another garden,” they would scoff, “why would they need another? That big log is just there to denote the edge of the property. So much nicer than a fence.”

But of course, if one looks at a map of Everhart Estate, one would notice that isn’t true. Most visitors aren’t in the habit of scrutinizing maps before they come, however, and so the garden remains a well-kept secret. 

The young master of the estate, Patton Everhart, stumbles into this garden quite accidentally. He slips beneath the log one evening and his mouth drops open in shock. A glittering lake, a starry sky, and flowers that almost seem to glow. He runs back to his father and asks what the garden is, who planted the flowers, and his father gives him a small smile. 

“I don’t know, my dear boy,” he says, crouching to rest a hand on Patton’s shoulder, “I’ve never been able to find that out.”

“I want to show everyone,” Patton gushes, “it’s so pretty!”

His father is oddly quiet for a moment. Patton’s exuberance fades. 

“F-Father? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, my boy, no such thing. It’s only…” He hesitates. “Come, come sit.”

They guide themselves into the father’s study, taking a seat on overstuffed couches as the father lays a hand on the boy’s shoulder once more. 

“I am glad you have found the garden,” he begins, “so very glad. It brought me solace in the moments when I needed it most and I wish only the best for you.”

Patton nods, wondering where this is going. 

“But,” his father sighs, “I must confess I…still feel some selfishness over it. You are my son, I would never mind sharing with you, but…”

“But anyone else would be different,” Patton finishes, “I understand.”

His father smiles gratefully. “We open our doors to so many, is it wrong of us to want a few places to ourselves?”

“No, I guess not.” Patton twists his hands together. “But what about the man who was there?”

His father stops. He looks at Patton with wide eyes. “A man? There, in the Moon Garden?”

“Yes. I saw him.”

As Patton had turned to go, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He paused, leaning around the edge of the nearest weeping willow to see what it was. 

At the edge of the lake, reclined on the shore, was a man. A rich red cloak covered his shoulders, the light gleaming off the gold pin on one side of his chest. His hair, short, coiffed, brown, glinted in the soft light too. 

Patton leaned closer, eyes wide. He had never seen someone like this before.

As he watched, the man lifted his hand toward the flowers, the petals just brushing his fingertips. In the starlight, it almost looked as though they glowed brighter.

Patton shifted his weight and felt a twig snap under his boot.

The man looked over. Patton’s breath caught in his throat as the man spotted him. For long seconds, the two didn’t move. 

Then the man smiled, carefully getting to his feet and turning to vanish into the underbrush.

“That’s what happened, Father,” Patton finishes, “I promise.”

“I believe you, dear boy.” The father hums distractedly.

“Do you…know him, Father?”

“As a friend, no, I don’t. But I have seen him before.” A small smile comes to his face. “I should’ve guessed he would linger in the Moon Garden.”

Patton fiddles with his hands, waiting for his father to finish his thoughts. Sure enough, he shakes himself a moment later and smiles at Patton. 

“That man is fine, dear boy. It is as much his garden as it is ours.”

“Wait, does he live here?”

His father only smiles. “In a manner of speaking."

2.

“The best thing,” Patton remembers his old groundskeeper saying, “about a warm autumn is that the night comes sooner but they stay pleasant as can be.”

He finds himself agreeing wholeheartedly with that statement when a heat wave sweeps through as the leaves begin to lose the last of their summer luster. Even as dusk falls and the skies turn from blue to pink to red, the breeze never raises more than a slight chill across his arms as he wanders through the grounds. 

His hand brushes along the top of the hedges, smiling at the few birds that swoop down to curiously investigate his hand. He loses himself in watching them swoop and swerve through the sky, only realizing it’s far too late for him to be out when he has to squint to discern them. 

He looks around. He’s at least a ten-minute walk from the main house. He sighs, resigning himself to getting back a little late and making the housekeeper worry when he spots the moss-covered log. 

Surely…surely it would be alright to spend a few more moments out? Just to see the Moon Garden?

He glances up, smiling as the full moon glistens in an inky sky. 

It would be a shame to miss it in its full glory. 

He ducks swiftly under the log, brushing aside the loose tendrils of ivy. As he emerges, the lake looks to be made of quicksilver, rippling gently as the breeze blows across it. The willow branches sway in the wake of his movement, accompanying him down to the water’s edge.

He crouches, reaching slowly for the ripples lapping against the shore, letting the tips of his fingers dip beneath the surface. As he does so, the ripples grow larger, his reflection obscured in the water’s surface. Underneath, the parts of his skin he can see have an almost ethereal glow to them, shimmering in the pale moonlight. 

As he withdraws his hand, he lowers himself further, waiting for the water’s surface to settle. His reflection swims back into view, wearing a grin he can feel in his cheeks. 

At least until he notices the reflection of someone else standing behind him. 

“Ah!”

“Easy,” the man says as Patton whirls around, almost losing his balance, “I’m sorry, my darling, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Patton holds a hand over his chest to calm his racing heart. “Who—who are you?”

The man smiles, crouching down so his face is level with Patton’s. “Why, have you forgotten me so quickly?”

The red cloak over his shoulders flutters. Patton’s eyes widen. 

“I’m hurt,” the man pouts, “I thought we were more than just ships passing in the night.”

“You’re the man I saw here last time,” Patton says, oblivious to the melodrama, “you—you were making the flowers grow.”

The man chuckles, dropping the charade, nodding. “That’s right, my darling. And you’re the adorable little dear that was hiding behind the willow tree.”

Patton’s face flushes. 

“Well, isn’t that precious,” the man murmurs, mostly to himself, reaching out to offer Patton a hand out of his uncomfortable position. 

He takes it, only to yelp in surprise when the man pulls him easily upright. “How—“

The man chuckles. “Stronger than I look, hmm?”

“Yes—yes, you are.” Patton shakes himself, cheeks flushing anew from embarrassment. He holds out his hand. “Patton Everhart.”

“Roman.” Roman holds his hand out to take Patton’s but instead of shaking it, he brings it up to his mouth. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“You—I—okay.”

He chuckles as Patton’s face burns brighter. “Too much, darling?”

“Yes.”

“My apologies.” He lets his hand go. “You must be the young man everyone’s talking about.”

“I—wait, everyone?”

“The kind one that runs the book fair in town? The one that helps to organize the markets?” Roman tilts his head. “Hmm?”

“…yeah, that’s me.”

Roman’s smile widens. “Then it truly is a pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well,” Patton says, glancing away, “but I’ve…I don’t know anything about you, I’m afraid. I only know what my father told me.”

“Oh?” Roman leans against the tree. “And what did he tell you?”

“That this is as much your garden as it is ours.”

“Well, yes, I suppose that’s true.” Roman gestures to the lake, grown still by now, with the moon reflected in its basin. “Welcome to my kingdom, my darling.”

Despite himself, Patton laughs. “What does that make you, then, a prince?”

Roman grins. “Why of course.”

Before either can say anything more, they hear a distant voice calling for Patton. 

“I have to go,” he says, reluctantly moving back toward the log, “will…will I see you again?”

“This is my kingdom, my dear Patton, what sort of prince would I be if I weren’t here to greet my visitors?”

I was right, Patton thinks as he winds his way back toward the house, it was worth staying out a little longer. 

3.

Roman is there waiting for Patton the next time he rushes past the log. He turns, smiling, only to laugh and open his arms to catch him as he stumbles. 

“Careful, darling,” he whispers, slowly righting them, “don’t hurt yourself.”

“I wanted to see you,” Patton mumbles into Roman’s shoulder, “and that root wasn’t there last time.”

“No? Shall we take it up with the tree, then, who so rudely interposed between you and the grass?”

Patton swats at his shoulder. “Don’t tease. Not all of us are gifted with excellent coordination.”

“If you wanted me to carry you, my sweet, you only had to ask.”

“What? No, that’s not what I—how did you—“ He narrows his eyes as Roman bursts out laughing. “Can you even lift me?”

He regrets letting the words leave his lips when Roman raises an eyebrow. Then warm hands take his wrists, guiding them around Roman’s neck, before an arm slings itself under his knees and picks him up like a child. He lets out a noise of surprise, clinging to Roman, only to be met with a chuckle as Roman holds him easily. 

“Comfortable, my darling?”

“What—how—uh—“

“I told you,” Roman says as he carries Patton over to a flat rock near the water’s edge, “stronger than I look.”

He sets him down just as gently, taking a seat next to him. 

“Any more concerns you have?”

It’s asked lightly, meant to be a jest, but several questions find their way to the tip of Patton’s tongue. He swallows, trying to make them leave, but Roman spots it and he tuts, reaching out to cup his face. 

“Go on,” he encourages in a soft voice, “ask me.”

“Where did you come from?” Patton gestures to Roman’s clothes. “I’ve never seen anyone dressed like that.”

“I’ve been told my tastes are dramatic.” Roman gestures to himself. “Can’t imagine why. But I’m from here, Patton, same as you.”

“Then how come I’ve never heard of you before?”

“I like my privacy. Oh, no you don’t,” he says, reaching out and stilling Patton when he tries to pull away, “you don’t count, darling. I like having you around.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Anything else?”

Patton glances at the lilies next to them, watching the moon glint off their pale petals. “When I first saw you, and you were…tending to the flowers, what were you doing?”

Roman moves a little closer, reaching across him to take the flower’s stem in his hand. “Do you want to see?”

“Please?”

“And I got a ‘please,’ aren’t you wonderful?” 

Patton valiantly ignores the heat rushing to his face in favor of watching Roman’s thumb brushing against the base of the bloom. His eyes widen as the flower begins to glow, the light bringing out hues of blue, purple, pink along the edges as it fades to a yellow center. He gasps, only for it to turn to a sound of protest when Roman twists the stem, snapping it off and holding it out. 

“Relax, Patton,” he says, brushing his fingers over the still-planted stem, “see?”

Indeed, another bloom takes shape before his eyes, the bud unfurling into the quiet moonlight. Little motes of light drift up to the sky, becoming as soft as the stars.

“H-how—you—how did you—“

In response, Roman simply holds out the flower. Patton takes it with trembling fingers, staring at it in wonder. 

“Evermoon lilies,” Roman explains in a soft voice, “that grow best under moon light.”

“But you—you just—“

“Helped them grow?”

Patton lets out an almost hysterical snort. “I’ve seen a lot of gardeners, Roman, that’s more than just ‘helping them grow.’”

Roman chuckles. “Or perhaps these flowers are special and will do that with anyone.”

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

“There are more,” Roman points out, gesturing to the swaying stalks, “feel free to test it.”

He shakes his head. “No, thank you. I…I’d hate to ruin them.”

He looks down again as Roman coaxes the bloom from his fingers, settling it behind his ear. “There. That’s better, then, isn’t it?”

“B-better?”

Roman nods to his lap. “Now your hands are free.”

“R-Roman, I—“

“It’s alright,” Roman interrupts softly, his expression kind, “you won’t ruin anything, Patton, go on. Pick one.”

Patton bites his lip, turning back to the shifting blooms. He spots a small one, petals somewhat curled in on themselves, and reaches for the stem. 

It snaps in his hand and his heart pounds in his throat. 

After a few moments, a soft blue light glows from the remaining stem and a new bloom takes shape, petals spread wide and glowing in the shadow of the tree. 

“That’s all it is,” comes Roman’s voice, “making sure the blooms are healthy. Very well done, Patton.”

Nimble fingers take the bloom from him once more, tucking it behind his other ear. A hand on his chin turns him to face Roman, who smiles and runs a finger over his jaw. 

“How pretty.” 

“R-Roman!”

“Oh, alright, alright, I’ll stop. You fluster too easily.” Patton tries to glare but it just comes out as a pout. “You’re not making it easy on me, darling, you’re being too adorable.”

He lightly shoves Roman’s shoulder. “You said you’d stop!”

“You’re objectively adorable, darling, there’s nothing I can do about that.”

“I am not.”

Roman raises a challenging eyebrow. “Do I need to prove it?”

“No, no, that’s fine, I, um…I concede.”

He chuckles, patting his shoulder. “Good man. Now, it’s getting awfully late, so why don’t you head back in?”

That’s the smart idea, but Patton doesn’t want to pry himself from the lakeshore. Roman seems to figure this out too because he rolls his eyes fondly, scooping Patton effortlessly into his arms again, laughing at the squeak of surprise. 

“Off you go, now,” he bids as he sets Patton down near the log, “the garden will still be here when you come back.”

“Will you be too?”

“Of course, my darling.”

4.

But Roman isn’t there the next time Patton ducks beneath the log. The Moon Garden is empty, only the rustling sounds of the breeze blowing through the flowers and the trees accompanying his heavy breaths. He glances around, wondering if he’ll spot him in the underbrush. 

No. There’s nothing. 

He’s about to go search for him elsewhere on the grounds when ripples appear at the center of the lake. 

Patton pauses, turning to face the water’s edge, his head titled to the side. 

The ripples get larger, and larger, and larger. Something dark appears at the center. 

Patton’s breath catches in his throat. 

Something rises out of the center of the lake, dripping wet, the water so dark it looks like blood. Patton steps back, heart in his throat, when the figure raises its head and glares at him with piercing eyes.

“What’s this,” it rumbles with a deep, grating voice, “a little morsel, wandering into my lair?”

The wind roars as the figure is suddenly right in front of him. There’s still fine spray settling in the water as it looms close, too close, to Patton’s face. There’s a manic gleam in the figure’s eyes that makes Patton go still with fear. 

“Don’t you know it’s rude to trespass?”

Patton swallows through a dry throat. “I-I—I didn’t mean to—“

The figure snarls, making Patton interrupt himself with a squeak of fear. 

“I’m sorry—“

“Sorry?” The figure looms over him. “Just how sorry?”

Its hand draws back, nails gleaming in the moonlight, and Patton squeezes his eyes shut as it swings down—

“Remus, no!”

Roman!

Patton throws himself away from the figure, landing hard on his hands and scrambling backward. Roman appears next to him, opening his arms and gathering him to his chest as Patton shudders. 

“Shh, shh, my darling, it’s alright, I’m here now.” Roman’s hand cards through his hair. “It’s alright, you won’t be harmed, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

“What—what did I do wrong?”

“Not a thing, my sweet, not a thing.” Roman raises his head to glare at the figure. “My brother just gets a little territorial.”

“Your…brother?”

“Wait,” the figure says, sounding much less intimidating than it did a moment ago, “is that your human, Roro?”

Roman splutters. “No, he’s not mine, Remus—“

“You sure? This isn’t the human you’ve been telling me about?”

“Well—yes, he is, but he’s not—“

“So it is your human, got it!” The figure claps its hands as Roman sighs, giving itself a shake until it, well, until it looks a bit like Roman. The other man smiles, crouching down. “Sorry, little one, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Fighting the whiplash of what just happened, Patton peeks around Roman’s shoulder. “You…you’re Roman’s brother?”

“Yep, that’s me. Name’s Remus. If I knew who you were, I wouldn’t have scared you so much.”

Roman rubs the back of Patton’s neck. “Are you alright, my darling?”

“You even call him yours, what do you mean he’s not?”

“Remus.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. For now.”

Roman ignores the jab in favor of leaning down to brush Patton’s hair from his forehead. “Patton? Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m fine, I’m fine, I just—“ He looks up. “Where were you?”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here, I had to tend to something.” He helps him up. “If I’d known Remus would be so…well, prompt, I would have come back sooner.”

Remus snorts. “You say that like you haven’t been saved many times by how prompt I am.”

“What’s going on,” Patton blurts, the tight feeling in his chest yet to dissipate as Remus stands up, “I—who are you?”

“I’m Remus,” Remus repeats, voice softening a little, “I’m Roman’s brother. I help take care of the Moon Garden.”

“Were you going to…eat me?”

“No, little one, I just wanted to scare you off.” He bows his head. “I am sorry about that, by the way, I didn’t know you were the one Roman talks about.”

Shelving the fact that Roman talks about him for later, Patton glances around. “Why did you want to scare me?”

“Humans have tried to steal the evermoon lilies before,” Roman explains softly, “Remus was protecting them.”

Patton’s heart drops. “But I—last time, I—the flowers—“

“Peace, little one,” Remus chuckles, “Roman gave those to you. That’s different.”

“S-so I’m…fine?”

Remus’s gaze gives him a once-over. “Oh, I’d say so.”

And, right on cue, Patton’s face turns a bright red. 

“Wow.”

“Oh, I know, right?”

“Roman!”

“What? I told you, objectively adorable.”

“Roman!”

“You were right, Ro, I could just eat him all up. Shh, shh, little one,” Remus murmurs, holding up his hands as Patton whips around to face him, “I’m only teasing. I won’t.”

Patton buries his face in his hands, must to the amusement of the two brothers, willing the flush in his cheeks to fade. A warm hand lands on his shoulder a few moments later, rubbing softly. The fear rushes away, leaving him staggering as he leans against Roman. 

“Shh, darling, I’ve got you. Sit, it’s alright.” The grass rustles underneath them. “There. Are you alright?”

“He’s overwhelmed, Roro, that’s all. Give him a second.”

“How are you suddenly the expert on humans?”

“I’m the one who has to interact with them when they’re here and they don’t want to leave, you get good at reading them. You’re the big sap who—“

“Shut up!”

“No can do, little brother, who else is going to keep you humble?”

“We’re twins, you absolute—“

“I was born first.”

“You were not!”

“Was too!”

“Were not!”

Despite himself, Patton lets out a giggle as the two bicker. Fantastical as they may be, they’re just like every other set of siblings he’s ever known.

5.

His father catches him just as he’s about to duck outside. 

“Patton, will you come to my study for a moment?”

Patton follows, sitting on the couch and letting his father pull him close to rest his head on his shoulder. “What is it?”

His father is quiet for a moment. “We have to go on a long trip, my dear boy.”

“What? Why?”

“Your uncle has requested the family’s presence at his business celebration,” his father says with the tone of someone who’s been informed the dog has done its business in the front room, “and no amount of pleading will get us out of it.”

Patton shifts against his father’s side. “But it’s so boring.”

“Believe me, I know. And you and your mother will only be able to pull me away from his ‘discussions’ for so long.”

“…how long will we be gone?”

His father sighs. “Two weeks, at least.”

Two weeks of not going to the Moon Garden. Two weeks without seeing Roman or Remus. Two weeks of being surrounded by family that only wishes to talk to him if he’s done something ‘useful’ with his life.

“…I don’t want to go.”

“Neither do I, dear boy, neither do I.” His father sighs. “I suppose the only good news is that your mother’s business trip is ending and we’ll be able to spend time with her.”

“Will she be coming home with us?”

“Yes.” His father smiles, the familiar affections seeping into his tone as he speaks about Patton’s mother. “It will be nice to have her home again.”

“I miss her.”

“I miss her too.” His father squeezes him to his side before standing. “There, see? Something to look forward to.”

There isn’t time to visit the Moon Garden again; they leave bright and early the next morning and Patton is roped into packing all his things until he collapses onto the bed, fast asleep. 

It is nice to see his mother again, nice to run into the few cousins he actually enjoys spending time with. It’s less nice to be reminded that he should be looking for a partner to settle down with and ‘get his head into business, finally.’ The two weeks pass in a daze of pasting on a smile and wishing he could be back by the lake, watching the evermoon lilies bloom. 

He’s almost too excited to sit still as they travel back to Everhart Estate, making his parents laugh at his exuberance. 

“If I didn’t know any better,” his mother teases, reaching out to cuddle him close, “I’d think you had a suitor waiting for you at home.”

“Mother!”

“I haven’t seen my little boy in so long, I’ve missed being able to talk to you!”

“I’m not little, not anymore.”

“You’ll always be my little boy.” 

“She’s right, Patton.”

“You’re no help.”

“I’m your father, I’m not supposed to be of help in situations like this.” His father reaches out to muss up his hair. “Your excitement wouldn’t have anything to do with your late night outings, would it?”

“Father!”

“Late night outings?” His mother’s eyes gleam. “So you do have a suitor?”

“No!” His hands twist together in his lap. “I’ve been…going to the Moon Garden.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, his parents’ expressions soften. His mother smiles and reaches to cup his face. “Don’t you worry, dear heart, we’ll be back before you know it.”

Of course, being back doesn’t mean being free. He has to help unload everything, unpack, sit down for dinner because it’s my first dinner home, dear heart, I want my family to eat with me, before he’s finally allowed to leave. 

The path is darker than he remembers it, rushing through the grounds until he finds the familiar log. He ducks underneath, smile wide, ready to greet Roman and Remus and apologize for being gone so long, when—

He freezes. 

The garden is dark. 

The lake looks like a pit, yawning into blackness. Even the flowers look smaller, less there, and the trees swish ominously in the quiet. He turns, slowly, hoping this is one of Remus’s pranks or something, but there’s no one to be seen. 

“Roman?” He turns again. “Remus?”

Nothing. 

He turns around again, hoping to catch sight of them, only to hear soft whispers coming from the rocks. He pauses, glancing over, only to see motes of scintillating light glowing near the water’s edge. 

He creeps closer, heart in his throat, only to gasp when he sees two silhouettes form, looking at him with soft smiles. 

“R-Roman? Remus?”

“Hello, little one,” Remus says in a soft whisper, “come closer, it’s alright.”

Patton doesn’t quite fall to his knees, but it’s a close thing. “What—what happened? Are you okay? What—“

A horrible thought crosses his mind. 

“This isn’t because I l-left, is it?”

“No, no, my darling,” comes Roman’s soft voice, “this happens every new moon.”

“I-it does?”

Remus smiles and reaches for Patton. Patton reaches back only to cry out in horror as Remus’s hand evaporates into mist as soon as it nears his. He rears back, only for both twins to let out soothing noises as Remus reforms without a problem. 

“What—what are you?”

“Moon spirits,” Remus says, gesturing to the flowers, “we tend to the evermoon lilies to ensure they grow properly.”

“So you—you’re connected to the moon?”

“That’s right.” Roman reaches out. “It’s alright, darling, come here.”

Patton sits warily on the rock as the two settle either side of him. “Won’t I hurt you?”

Roman waves a hand and it passes through him. “Nothing here to hurt.”

Patton just looks at him blankly. “So you—you’re—you tend to the flowers?”

“Evermoon lilies are powerful magical ingredients,” Roman explains, “they can grant strength, speed, vitality…”

“Like you?”

“Like us.”

“But they’re only as strong as the moon is when they’re picked,” Remus adds, “which is why the garden doesn’t look nearly as impressive as it normally does.”

“Because it’s a new moon.”

“Exactly.”

“Is…is that why you two are more powerful during the full moon as well?” They nod. “Is that why Remus tried to scare me away?”

“I did apologize for that, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Yes, Patton,” Roman says, “that’s right.”

“O-oh.”

Remus lets out a quiet hum when Patton looks sadly at the lake. “Come, little one, what’s the matter?”

“I-I was coming to apologize for being gone so long,” he mumbles, “and then I thought it was my fault that you weren’t—weren’t here, and I—“

“Oh, darling,” Roman murmurs, “how I wish I could hug you.”

“We’re right here,” Remus agrees, “you’re okay. It’s alright, now, little one, you’re alright.”

“C-Can I just stay here? For a bit? With you?”

The twins smile and the garden warms a little. 

“For as long as you like, little one,” Remus promises, “you will always be safe here.”

+1. 

Patton tears through the trees, sobbing as he skirts around hedges and bushes, chest on fire. He can still hear the awful words pounding in his ears, drowned out only by the sound of his own heartbeat. He swerves around the roses and keeps running. 

He doesn’t realize his feet have steered him to the Moon Garden even though it’s broad daylight until he’s ducking under the log and emerging by the lake. His heart clenches, knowing it’s unlikely the twins will be here, it’s not night yet, but—

“Patton?”

“Whoa, hey, little one, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, dear, you’re crying, come—come, my darling, come here—“

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

They’re…they’re here?

He barely has time to register that yes, the twins are here before Roman is in front of him, reaching out to cup his face in his hands, worriedly looking him over. 

“Sweetheart, are you hurt? Did you injure yourself?” He looks up and catches sight of Patton’s face and he melts. “Oh, my darling, what’s the matter?”

The only thing that escapes Patton is a sob. 

“Hush, my precious thing,” Roman soothes, slowly crouching and pulling Patton into his lap, “I’ve got you now, do you see? You’re here with me, I’ve got you, nothing can harm you here.”

“Deep breaths, little one,” comes Remus’s voice, “that’s it, now…”

The small animal that lives in Patton’s chest whispers that Roman is big and warm and soft, and that he smells like the garden. He lets Roman cuddle him close, still letting out big ugly sobs against a willing shoulder. 

“I’m here,” Roman murmurs, weathering the storm with admirable grace, “so is Remus.”

“Right here, little one.” A hand cards through his hair. “I told you, no harm will come to you in this garden, we’ll look after you, petal.”

Petal. The pet name makes him feel soft, small, cared for. 

“What happened, darling?”

“Not yet, Roro. You gotta let him cry it out a bit more.”

Roman hushes, letting Remus trace meaningless patterns on the parts of Patton’s back he can reach. The touch is gentle, grounding, just enough to pull him back from the worst of the words. When he sags into Roman’s arms, Remus hums quietly and takes a seat where Patton can see him. 

“Do you want to tell us what happened, petal?”

Patton hiccups. “I-it’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” comes the gentle correction, “it made you upset.”

“But I—“

“Petal.”

Patton sighs. “I…one of my father’s business associates came by the estate unexpectedly. He…he asked why I hadn’t started helping with the business yet, since I’m—I’m of age.”

“Do you want to help with the business?”

“No. I’m—I’m doing other work in town. With—with the library and every—everything.”

Roman gives him a squeeze. “And you’re doing it wonderfully.”

Tears well afresh in his eyes and Remus wipes them away. “What happened next?”

“He said—he said—“ Patton sniffles— “he said he’d never let me live under his roof if he was my father, that he’d—he’d disown me for being such a worthless traitor.”

Remus growls and Roman suddenly hugs him very tight. “That is a lie, Patton, you are not worthless, you are not a traitor, you are wonderful just the way you are, do you understand?”

“He’s right, my darling,” Roman murmurs, “you’re perfect. Don’t you pay that beast of a man any mind, you understand?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Of course, petal.” Remus tilts his head. “You don’t think anyone else will believe those awful things, do you?”

Patton hesitates a second too long. Remus lets out a soft noise. 

“Oh, petal, it’s alright. No one who truly knows you would believe that.”

“N-not anyone?”

A crash of twigs and a frantic voice. 

“Why don’t you ask your father?”

A few moments later, Patton’s father ducks under the log, expression harried until he spots his son in Roman’s arms. He lets out a wounded noise, surging forward and falling to his knees. Patton sniffles and reaches for him. 

“Oh, my dear boy,” he mumbles as Roman helps scoop him into his lap, “oh, my dear, dear boy, I am so sorry, I am so sorry that he said such awful things to you.”

“They—they’re not true, right?”

“No, Patton, they are not true and never will be. You are my son and nothing will ever change that. I will always love you, no matter who you choose to be.” A fierce kiss is pressed to his forehead. “My boy…”

“See, petal?” Remus chuckles. “I told you.”

“Thank you both,” his father murmurs, “for taking care of him.”

“The pleasure is ours,” Roman says, “he’s a wonder.”

“You—you know them?”

His father chuckles. “You think you’re the first child to wander out here late at night?”

“He has better manners than you did,” Remus snorts.

“Well, you have his mother to thank for that.”

“He blushes like you, though.” Roman chuckles and reaches out to ruffle both of their hair. “Like father, like son.”

“Does he ever,” Patton mumbles in his father’s ear, “stop doing that?”

His father sighs. “No, my dear boy, I’m afraid not.”

“Where—where’s Mother?”

“Currently flaying that bastard alive. She promised she’d come find us when she was done.”

Remus hums. “Does she need help?”

“She can handle herself.”

“Oh, I know.” Remus grins darkly. “But does she want help?”

His father chuckles. “No, Remus, I think she’s got it covered.”

Sure enough, quiet footsteps signal the approach of someone else. Patton peeks his tear-stained face over his father’s shoulder to see his mother step into the garden, her expression stern but softening as she sees him. 

“Oh, dear heart,” his mother murmurs, crouching to cup his cheek, “I’m so sorry. You’re alright, now, he won’t ever show his face around here again.”

“Good,” Remus growls.

“You look well, Mrs. Everhart,” Roman says gallantly, “righteous fury suits you.”

“Not now, Roman.” She glances at him. “And you can take that surprise out of your voice.”

“Surprised? I would never.”

Remus chucks a rock at Roman. “Knock it off, Roro, petal’s still upset.”

“Right, right, sorry.”

Patton just snuggles deeper into his father’s embrace, letting him hush the last of his sobs as he pulls him close. “It’s alright, my dear boy, you’re safe now.”

“C-can we stay?”

“I think we’ll have to ask Roman and Remus.”

“The moon’s still visible in the sky,” Remus says, gesturing upwards, “as long as it’s there, we’ll be here too.”

“S-so we can stay?”

“Of course, petal.”

Patton opens his mouth to ask something else when his stomach rumbles. His mother laughs. 

“It seems a picnic is in order, hm?” She taps his father’s shoulder. “Come help, leave him with them.”

His father gives him one last squeeze before his parents duck behind the log. Patton watches them go, letting Roman wrap his arms around him again. 

“How long have you guys been here,” he mumbles, “if you knew my father when he was little?”

“A long time, little one.” Remus glances at Roman. “And he’s been a flirt for all of it.”

“Hey!”

“You have.”

“And you’ve been terrorizing people for just as long.”

“You have your way of entertaining yourself, I have mine.”

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[instruth]

Hi Friends,

I composed my first long imaginary poem many years ago. Some of you may have read it, but you may not know the historical events behind it.

I met a schoolmate from St Joseph’s, Kuching on chat group a few years ago. His name is Andrew Yeo. Through him I met his wife, also from Kuching. Her name is Christina Chin.

She is my fellow Hakka dialect clan whom I later discovered, surprisingly, was a neighbor of my maternal grandparents (also Hakka clans). She and I recollected many pleasant memories of our childhood days. I left Kuching for my studies in Singapore. She married Andrew and moved to Kuala Lumpur.

It was many years of being separated in different countries, with forgotten memories of our childhood days.

Heavens! We could not even recognized each other. We reflected on times gone by, including the now abandoned railway track, along which was a tuck shop canteen operated by Christina’s family, that I frequented often as a child, for local cakes, all kinds of soft drinks, ice ‘kachang’, and ‘kantong’ (local ice delicacies).

It was Christina who helped me join a poetry group on Facebook about five years ago.

I shared my imaginary long poem with her. And she produced two digital arts, based on my poem, that was later published in my poetry book, Poetry By Experience.

I like to share this poem here with my friends, together with Christina’s beautiful digital arts.

I hope you like them.

Enjoy.

DESOLATE WALK - by J. P. Lee

The distant times return, riding on a freight train,

projecting images onto the screen of my mind.

My spirit weeps, my soul thus bleeds,

wounded by the sharp blade of a painful memory.

I walk past the ruined castle, lo beyond the broken brick walls,

where once the smiling garden greeted the dawning of day,

where sprawling blossoms lined the narrow pathways,

and cheering creepers roofing over

the wooden benches on the sidewalks.

I tip toe to near the edge of a past forgotten recluse,

where there still stands that platform with a comforting ritual,

for viewing the distant horizon across the vastness of the sea,

to receive an inspiring thought - even stir up a miraculous healing or two.

The hand-carved bench of oak is still there, though now worn and broken,

and, oh good heavens! - See!

That weather-designed couch of rock for two, on which young lovers once reposedly made their pledges in sweet whisperings;

and older couples revisited to renew their matrimonial promises with a tender loving kiss.

Alas!

These compassionate whisperings and tender promises are no more.

They have been replaced, contracted rigidly and guarded lovelessly on paper, no longer freely written upon the heart.

Beyond this viewing gallery and below, the deserted shore looks more like a cemetery plot in the shadows,

lined with the scarred trunks of palm trees, exhibited as figures with long scraggy hairs and with heads hung low.

A walk down the stone-steps, moist and mossed, leads to the place where once was a peopled beach, with the scented cooling of fanning palm leaves,

waving and grinning to the assembled crowd.

This pompous and celebrated event too has vanished.

Lifelessness and desolation capture a melancholic scene,

with eerie chantings echoing from the morbid graves.

A faint hope of activity sprouts meagerly on the ground but a closer look reveals it is just an invasion of ants set upon a decaying prey.

Looking up to the castle for consolation only amplifies the cries of the dullards,

the insensitive and the selfish,

with a score to settle, for the sinner still has his sins to answer for.

What a measly task!

What magic is there to recreate the living voice of music - the whispering of a gentle breeze, soothing sound of water tripping over the stones, and the addictive laughter of children at play?

Up yonder mountains -

skirted by bare trees with peeled barks, where no more the singing robins build their nests, ground carpeted by blackened and crumpled foliage.

And overlooking the valleys,

the picture of sloping green meadows comes into view,

spreading out in dotting spots of white, weaving a tapestry of a gentle grazing task, pleasing to the eyes and easing many a troubled mind.

The deathly silence arouses and stimulates a need to restore life through the grace of imagination

- presenting as the bowing of the swaying willows beside the brook,

like ballerinas dancing to the symphony of whistling wind,

before a captivated audience of long, wild grass on the opposite bank,

dangling over the glassy water,

clapping softly before dipping into the gentle stream,

sending ripples of appreciation across for an encore.

A passing breeze comes to oblige every call for a repeat performance.

Such beauty and bliss, a sanctuary missed.

Evening heralds the cold embrace of a misty night.

The clouded moon tries to hide its solitary frown;

the distant stars blinked weakly in utter confusion.

The night lingers and delays the approach of dawn.

I stumble - many times,

but I am not lost for I am still searching.

I persevere, bear the pain and carry my cross. I shall not let it break me.

Then I know I will find what I am looking for.

I return to the gallery, peering at the dark horizon,

awaiting the moment of glory to catch a glimpse of the distant flickering glow of dawn,

rising from under the far horizon.

From whence the sun will surely rise again!

a memory weaves

a colorful tapestry

in silent prayer

©Johnny J P Lee

19 February 2021

Haibun (prose / haiku 5-7-5)

Digital Arts Credit, Christina Chin

[phantomphangphucker]

Journey Through The Mists - PhannieMay - Day 9 World Building

Summary: The Fenton parents decide its high time to actually check out the GZ, especially after this new land mass appeared right near their portal.

Jack and Maddie are giving themselves a good pat down, making sure they’ve got everything they need and that their suits are covering them head to toe. With a strong nod, Maddie turns to Jack, “I’d say we’re good to go, Jack dear”.

Jack grins goofily as he opens the portal and joins his wife in the Spectre Speeder, “I still can’t believe all our Spectral readers came back showing that going in is actually safe!”

Maddie nods as they fly slowly in, “still not worth the risk of skin exposure of course”. Jack slaps the torso of his suit humorously, “and that’s the wonders of jumpsuits!... To bad Danny-boy’s so opposed to wearing one”.

Looking around the Fenton’s elect for silence, no way to know just what might be around. But, unsurprisingly, Jack doesn’t last long, “would you look at that! There are plants! They glow!”. Maddie is tempted to shush him but she’s almost as excited as him, muttering to herself, “well, I don’t see any ghosts so I think we might be fine here”. However, the heavy mist covering the small island in front of them is putting her a bit on edge. She prefers to actually be able to see easily, but this will also help hide them and the Speeder; should anything come looking.

Landing the Speeder down, the pair triple check their jumpsuits before nabbing sample kits and heading out onto the island. Jack mutters as he runs a gloved hand over some of the fern brush, “why is it white though? Shouldn’t this all be green?”. Maddie nods as she’s attempting to collect clippings from the, also white, grass; which keeps dissolving near instantly, before reforming as it was prior to being clipped. Smirking as she manages to finally catch some of the ectoplasm before it fully dissipates, “it doesn’t even dissolve into the proper green either. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen white ectoplasm before”. As Maddie stands and looks around, “not only that but, according to our sensors, this island didn’t even use to be here. It formed practically overnight, two days ago”.

Jack is far more excited and unrestrained than his wife, “I know! It’s like a brand new discovery! No clue yet what’s caused it though...” Jack trails off as he tries to get ectoplasmic energy and density readings off of the thick mist.

Maddie watches amused as Jack faces different directions and gets a large grin on his face, “looks like it’s actually thicker in this direction!”. Knowing full well Jack’s just going to run off, she picks up their cases and heads off in the direction Jack’s facing before he even starts off.

Maddie, confused, pokes at and eventually traps a jar around what looks like a white glowing fairy light, with specks of blues and greens dancing inside. Putting a blanket over it and glancing underneath, “Jack! These orbs are actually lights! Somehow”. Shaking her head a bit as she looks up at Jack, as he runs over to check it out. Maddie can’t help but take a picture of Jack kneeling over and shoving his head under the blanket, before pondering out loud, “it’s not even like it’s just natural ghostly glow. It’s literally lighting up the entire space, like some sort of self-sustaining ecto-light. I’ve seen ghosts create them in their hands before but there are no ghosts around”. Jack bolts up excitedly flinging the blanket away, “maybe they’re tied to a ghost with Photokinesis!”.

Maddie quickly shakes her head, “but they’re just floating around? Even if this could be a ghosts lair, there’d be no reason to have these just floating around”. Though Maddie can’t help but admit that they do make it easier to see in the mist, even if that would be completely pointless to a ghost. Especially if this was a lair, since the ghost could just will away the mist. Shaking her head as she shoves the jar into her bag and continues on.

“I never imaged a place in the ghost zone could be arguably beautiful”, Maddie can’t help but mutter as she traces her finger over the petal of a moonflower. While Jack examines some black and pale blue morning glories peppering black vines, wrapping around the trunk of a tree. Brushing red leaves from a weeping willow out of her face, Maddie walks around the flower promptly realising its moving with her. Slightly creeped out, “now see that’s what I’d expect from something ghostly”.

Jack yelps a bit startled as the results for the ectoplasmic energy level test finally come back. Tapping at the screen a bit to make sure the results are right before speaking up, “Mads! There’s no way this isn’t a lair! These readings are way too high to just be created by the GZ itself. Heck! This ghostie has to be a strong fellow for these kinds of readings!”. Maddie shakes her head, surprised at the ectoplasmic level of three, which would only be a zero if this was Zone made, “wow, this mist or even the entire environment must have some level of consciousness. Or maybe it’s linked to the ghost?”. Maddie pales a bit as she clues in that that would mean that whoever this lair belongs to, probably knows they’re here. Even Jack frowns, checking that the Speeder tracker is still working, as both of them keep their weapons within easier reach.

As they’re walking past some trees, Maddie stops, “honey? I think there’s a pond over there, with actual water or something in it? And it’s, growing?”. Jack tilts his head over and sure enough there’s a light blue pond, upon closer inspection the pair can see what looks like neon green carbonation bubbles fizzing off the surface. Shrugging, Jack dips his fingers in and swirls them around, “it acts just like regular water?!”. Cupping some up and letting it pour out of his hands slowly, staring in amazement; while Maddie scoops up a sample. Shaking the container around, it’s clear the water is not actually carbonated. But she’s till confused by the fact that only the neon fizzing seems to glow, “it’s really is almost as if it’s regular water. If you exclude the green fizz”.

Jack grabs the container as soon as Maddie puts it down, opening it up and dropping none of the mini weights they brought with them inside. Tapping his chin, “well it looks like it’s actually less dense than regular water. So it’s definitely not the same”. The pair back off as Jack nearly slips into the “water”, confirming that the pond is indeed getting bigger. Shaking his foot off, “I wonder if lairs can change of their own accord! Or is the ghost doing this?”. Neither is really sure so they simply write that down as another mystery, before they decide to move on. Both would rather not find out what happens if they actually fall into the expanding body of “water”.

Their bags are decently full of samples but Jack shakes his head at his wife, “I would really like to find the epicentre of this fog, Mads”. Maddie sighs fondly, “well then let’s just hope that it’s not the ghost”. Maddie can’t help but glare down at the ghost sensor on her wrist, which still is showing “no ghosts”. Which at this point is starting to worry her, there really should at least be the occasional fly-by ghost.

Checking her wrist again after about half an hour, “Jack, somethings off. Either the sensor isn’t working, there’s interference, or something is actively keeping the ghosts away from here. And I don’t like any of those possibilities”. Maddie growing paranoia is only heightened by the grass suddenly going from a few inches tall to a solid foot tall. Both of them glare incredulously at the tall grass, which could now be easily hiding something without them even being able to tell. “Mads, there’s wind”, Maddie glances at her husband before bending down to stare at the grass, which does appear to be being blown by wind. Looking back up she spots red and white petals blowing out of the trees, akin to cherry blossoms, while Jack spins around slowly in a circle. Both watching as the leaves move about in the air lightly and swirling, but dissipating just before touching the grass. Maddie can’t help but admit that’s is extremely pretty and serene, whispering, “what even is this place? Why would a ghost want a place like this? It’s so...”.

“Human?”, Maddie nods up at Jack, gulping a little. Standing up, she pulls one of the petals out of the air. She can’t help but wonder if it carries a scent, so she bags it. Pulling her hands to her chest and looking to Jack, “ghosts are supposed to be monsters, evil, uncaring and unfeeling. But this...this is like a place of comfort, still unnerving and ghostly, like a beach at night. Why?”.

“I don’t know Mads. Somehow that makes this more daunting than if it was some forest of dead trees. At least I’d know what to do with that”, Jack shakes his head but is still far too eager to see the source of the mist to turn back yet.

“Uh Mads?”, Maddie only has to take a few steps to catch up enough with her husband to see through the mist enough to spot what he’s gapping at. In the distance, there is a very apparent large wall. Jet black bricks with white mortar, the fogs too thick to make out just how tall it is and they’re still too far away to make out any major details. “You think ghosts have houses?”, Jack talks quietly for a change, slightly out of awe and slightly out of concern there’s a likely powerful ghost around. Maddie writes in her notebook furiously as she responds, “maybe. I imagine not all of them have the same style of lairs. That would be very boring and there’s nothing boring about ghosts. But I could see no other reason for a wall like this”.

Nodding his head towards the building while looking at Maddie. Both them adjust their weapons to be a bit easier to access, as they approach the wall.

Tapping on the wall, Jack’s surprised at just how much it’s like regular brick, “for everything being so hard to see here, with all this mist, it’s all so detailed”. Maddie nods as she can feel the different textures between the bricks and mortar, as she runs her hand along the wall while they walk.

Touching her hand to the indented corner between the wall they’ve been following and a clearly curved bit of wall, “Jack, I think this might just be a castle”. Jack traps on her shoulder, as he’s much more interested in the tangles of rose bushes. Dangerous looking leafless black thorns, off-put but large soft looking white roses; the threat of thorns is even further offset by the intertwined purple asters. Jack’s noticed that the bushes have been slowly growing more numerous as they’ve walked. Some cluster around the bases of trees, others climbing up the trunks, others yet spider-webbing across open ground. Maddie, after also examining how the mist is thicker, “I think the deeper we go, the more unusual this all is”. Maddie tilts her head a bit, having never really expecting her gardeners' knowledge to be useful, “purple asters...those are a symbol of royalty. Combine that with what’s likely a castle...”.

Jack barely manages to keep his voice a whisper, “royalty! Ghost royalty!”. Furrowing his brows, “but so new? So close to our portal?”. Jack goes wide-eyed as he remembers the recent defeat of the Pariah guy, “Mads! You don’t think that maybe? Maybe this is the new ghost kings castle!?”. Jack’s torn between finding this awesome, being concerned that it’s so close to home, or fearful for his and his wife’s safety. While Maddie is more focused on just how this place is decorated, “Jack, maybe this is a good thing. This place, it’s not threatening or even all that unpleasant. Creepy in a ghost kind of way but still”. Patting at her bag, “fairy lights are guides, white roses mean purity, thorns are a form of protection, crystal clear water is a sign it’s safe. Even this mist, it’s like a protective blanket of white and it sparkles faintly”. Eyeing her clearly confused husband, “the previous king was downright evil. With extra evil. Maybe...maybe that’s why ghost have always been evil and violent. Because their king was”.

Jack blinks a bit, turning back to the wall and patting it tentatively, “then maybe this one, isn’t? Isn’t evil?”. Both them can’t help but gape at the wall as if it holds all the answers. “Jack...Jack, this could change everything. We can’t, we can’t mess this up”, locking her eyes with him through their goggles, “if we see this ghost, we leave. If it shows up on the sensors, we leave. We can’t risk even the possibility of ghosts no longer being pure evil, for a conversation or to capture this ghost”. Maddie’s both less and more tense, as her husband nods curtly at her.

The mist is so thick by the time they find the door that they really can’t tell if there are any symbols on the, black with green graining, oak door. Maddie mutters quietly as she traces her hand over the grain, “oak for strength”. Turning to her husband who nods, so the pair push the door open slowly. Sticking her head in the first thing she notices is the massive Yew trees with glowing green leaves and black trunks lining the walls. Also spotting the blue daffodils peppering around the trunk bases, “death, rebirth, eternal life. I’m starting to think there’s nothing here without deeper meaning”. Jack mutters as he sticks his head in as well, “Death and life? I think you might be reading into it too m-”. Jack cuts himself off as he spots the throne. The sharp angular white and black frame is peppered with green and red stones, white flames appear to come off the back of it and blaze skyward. But that’s not what captures Jack’s attention and Maddie’s as well, as she picks up on his sudden silence. Sitting on the throne is Phantom, eyes closed and head resting on a closed fist. A black velvet cape, that looks to have a white lining, with white flames around the collar; adorns his shoulders. While a blazing green crown floats above his head. Both of them can tell that the mist is clearly wafting off of him as they gape.

Both of them slowly close the door and take a few slightly shaky steps back, looking back to each other before Jack promptly gets out the Speeder tracker and points the way back; through a couple wisteria trees.

The pair are silent for a while, Jack’s the one the break it as he laughs faintly, staring at some flowers that even he recognises. Maddie turns her head to him, slightly confused just before he speaks, “look, ghost orchids”. Maddie can’t help but laugh a little too as she crouches down and cups the flower, “definitely Phantom alright”. Deciding to take a picture of the rare flower, answering her husbands' quizzical stance, “it’s unlikely we’ll ever see another growing wild like this, even if it’s just a bunch of ectoplasm”. Shaking her head as they head off again, “Phantom just keeps getting stranger and stranger”.

Arriving at the Speeder, Maddie looks back at the mist covered lair, muttering, “maybe, we really were wrong about you. I kind of hope so”.

Bonus scene 

Jack and Maddie sit at the kitchen table, Maddie mutters as she fiddles with her teacup, “I guess, we really shouldn’t be surprised. He defeated him after all, didn’t he”. Jack nods and leans forward on the table, “I think we should keep this to ourselves. Don’t want to scare the kiddies, specially since they all seem to love him so much”. Maddie simply nods as Danny finally gets up.

Both them can’t help but smile as they watch their son stretch and yawn, scratching at his messy hair, “it’s like eleven a.m.? What no ghost hunting or inventing?”.

“Naw Sweetie, today felt like a rest day. Sometimes even we need a break from all the craziness”

Danny smirks mischievously as he fetches himself some cereal, “yeah the world of ghost stuff sure seems like a wild ride. That’s Amity for you though, wouldn’t be surprised if the town was one big government secret. Or if half the residents or even ghosts here have crazy secrets and stories”. Jack can’t help but chuckle, Amity was weird but it was perfect for them.

Danny points his spoon humorously at them between bites, “and some secrets need to be kept and some stories should never be told, I’m sure”.

End.

[borntobelime]

Shidge Galra/Altean AU

This is another AU I talked with @nicht-vobla but honestly i have something else also in mind to give her as a tribute from our chats .... This one is for  @besh-drawing-stuff  HAPPY BIRTHDAY (so its kinda like a late birthday gift ) (because the idea i had kinda reminded me of your rose Goddess Au (you’ll see why )  I Call It  : Warrior’s Lullaby 

During the destruction of Altea a couple of Altean Alchemists launch a Cryopod into space inside the Cryopod is there baby girl Katie for many many years the pod traveled through the universe until it entered the atmosphere of planet Olkarion the pod crushed into the forest close to the great tree the olkari found the pod and soon discovered what was inside the olkari named Reiner took in the baby under her care and raised her as her own.

Inside the pod she found information that confirmed that the baby was an altean  there was a small video projector on a recorded message  it was too damaged to project the images and the full video  but some of the audio  was not as damaged she made out the important parts of it ….My name is Samuel  my wife Coleen…and……...……………. whoever finds this pod please look after our child Katelyn protect her from what we can not…………….. the galra are taking over we don’t have much time  ………..  .she could only make out those parts she knew very well from history of the destruction of Altea and the race itself fearing for the child’s and her planets safety she gave her a new name …..Your name is Katelyn this your Altean name  it will only be known between us  (reiner would never have kept her in the dark) ….from now on you are one of us dear on  i will give you a second name an olkari name …. Pidge …..Pidge grew up with the Olkari even though she knew only knew very few about where she came from her only clues was her old name stories about a planet  she never seen she wasn’t always feeling alone her powers grew stronger as she grew older been an Altean growing up in the forest her magic adapted differently not only she learned the Olkari  magic  her connection in nature grew so it was able to use nature magic she could make plants grow and move and heal Reiner was very proud of her daughter’s gifts she always tried to find anything she could based on altean alchemy to help her in to learning but  unfortunately there resources were very low to all this lost knowledge , Pidge didn’t had any trouble fitting in but always been aware of she is not olkari   she would use he chameleon like abilities to try and fit in even wear her hood  as to also wear her at first with other kids  but Reiner told her to be herself but if she felt more secure that way she will not stop her from doing so and so she was her passion in tech and knowledge her love for nature 

Commander Takashi Shirogane also known as Commander Shiro or Champion  from the Galra Empire proud of his race he was born raised in in a environment of constant violence

conquered planets in the name of the emperor Zarkon defeated all his enemies or more like executing them wherever in the arena or on a war  learned to live with the words Victory or Death a true Galran warrior

He was sent off on a scout mission quite a boring one for his taste  to planet Olkarion to gather data on the quintencesse there the quintencensse signals were indeed very unique so he hopes he gets the opportunity to invade the planet when he returns with good resorts  but  there was a glitch on the system of his ship and he lost control of it and crushed on olkarion during the night …the crush was hard his wounds were too deep  he was  impaled by parts of  the ship .the last thing he remembers is a figure tearing a hole on his ship’s  ceiling from the outside ……….

He wakes up in a small room his vision a bit blurry and he hurts everywhere and he feels like his is burning with fever the only thing he can tell is  the  figure is trying to treat hi  …and a warm light over his injuries …...a few days he is recovered enough not to sleep out of consciousness and then he meets her or more like grabs her shawl and removes it revealing a beautiful creature …and the last thing he sees is a vine grabbing him and hitting him hard against the wall . Later waking up tied up on a bed and the woman’s glowing  hand on his head after a lot of negotiations of he will not try anything funny she untied him and as his recovery progresses enough for him to stand he gets to know his savior  ..Pidge offers him to show him around the forest …..she understands what his motives are knowing been a galra and what he wants from her planet so she tries to show him the importance of every existence (yes think of it like the avatar(2009 film)  or pocahontas )  …… she gets him a cloak  so he can stay low and for the next days  she shows him around the city how a civilization can grow without wars she shows him the forest and even go on a boat ride and last but not least the great tree (that is a weeping willow like  ) that glows in the night ………..they look at the night sky for once shiro feels something he never felt or knew if he could feel …..Peace is that what it is ?………... she is like i wish i could go around the universe and travel on different places…...for one moment he thinks maybe he could  do that show her the universe but no he is still  royal to the empire and yet why does he feel so confused about it …and so he asks her why you are not an olkari so why do you love this place ….its my home , just because i am not a olkari doesn’t mean this is not my home ...home can be anywhere you want to ..they stay here in silent …they fall asleep under the stars …shiro wakes up finding pidge a few feet away seeing listening to a small audio the recorded message from her lost family she says i know they are not here anymore i never met the never seen them   but what  i know is  they really cared about me and that is all that matters Mama told me this tree is a symbol of everything is connected i come here to think often and sometimes its like i  feel there presence .....she  wanted me to have this to know no matter what i will they watch over me ..do you have someone like that ………….no ...i was raised by the military as long as i remember  ...do you ever wonder about it ? no the galra don’t wonder about things like that she says i asked you not the galra ...then the answer is the same no i don’t or had someone to make me even wonder if i am watched over ….she takes of her necklace  …….now you do she smiles ….......pidge with her abilities tries to rebuild his ship totally nerding out on it and his arm because how different galra technology is ..but  when she finished  shiro offers her to come with him to save her and not her planet she refuses to do so ..he says i  don’t know when they will come if they come but the least i can do is to find a way to open negotiations i can try that when he takes off  a galra armada are starting invading by Sendak they get a message Shiro ordering to  stop the invasion claiming he found on this planet very valuable resources that could be lost during the attack   ….Sendak says denied saying  he has  orders from the hire ups  who ? …. Haggar comes out  she  came to research the data she gathered from shiro’s  last update  they we couldn’t get in contact with so she arranged commander’s sendak’s armada  to invade …..Shiro blames himself  over the fact it was his fault after all  he speed up the invasion .....before he makes a decision to turn back or join sendak he gets a message of the emperor himself to report his absence he has no choice but to follow the order ….meanwhile as the galra attack and destroy the city and the forest …..Pidge tries to fight protect her home but the galra win and so everyone is under their  rule . she tried to make a one last stand but she loses due to the witch Haggar’s powers been far great ...Haggar see her potential and takes her as her prisoner planing to turn her into a druid just like her .

Shiro comes back to the galra everyone welcoming him back after the sudden disappearance it feels like he never left and yet he feels different he feels she changed him …..he soon gets news about olkarion before sendak suggests to drain the planet shiro stops him saying the olkari are more useful alive…fearing for what happened to pidge …...3 months later after trying to research every possible way Pidge could survive maybe she evacuated or maybe she is with the rebels of the olkari...or maybe she is ...dead ? no he can’t think of that ….. he visits Haggar receive a report for a  mission  but Haggar is not there yet he hears a sound coming out he would usually ignore that that but he got curious so he enters the door and so he finally sees her on Haggar’s lab strapped and starting to change … her marks growing her hair turning a bit white and a blue tone starting to slowly spread on her body …...she begs shiro to help her shiro can’t move from the shock haggar comes in and sees shiro …..Beautiful isn’t she …She will make a fine druid to serve the empire…….I tried to see  her memories ….but  she is still strong i can’t read her yet  very well  but it will not matter she will not need them here is the report commander  you may go…..she turns and shiro is about to leave but hears a faint…. Please help me ..Shi..ro….haggar turns did you hear something ? no ma’m ...i must have been imagining things….she turns only to face shiro’s attack it knocks her out  shiro tears the straps off and picks pidge bridal style the alarms start he fights his way through the sentries into a ship for escape   her condition getting worse  but they reach the planet Olkarion and he takes her to the great tree there she  starts to transform back into her old self …..you saved me ….i am never letting you go again …and they kiss ..they know they can’t stay for long on the planet  but they have enough time for pidge to reunite with Reiner

On the day of there departure Reiner asks Shiro to look after her Shiro simply says Always….You have my word .

And so the couple travels around the universe seeing new worlds together and they join the rebellion and the blades in hope of saving Olkarion and  for a better future  

[believingispowerfulmagic]

Spooky OQ: The Mausoleum

4.     Cemetery

Regina glanced up and down the country road, watching for any cars that might be coming. She knew none would drive down this way, especially not this late at night. It wasn’t used much anymore, not since the town built the main road that connected Storybrooke to its two closest towns years before her birth. The only people who now used the dirt road they were on were those who wanted to go on a long drive or who wanted to visit the old town cemetery, like them.

She looked over her shoulder to see how her friends were doing. Her boyfriend, Robin, was crouched down picking the lock on the gates to the cemetery while their friend Emma held her flashlight to give him light. Killian stood nearby, peering through the fence into the dark graveyard. “This is going to be so amazing,” he said.

“I know,” Emma replied, grinning. “Do you think the stories are true?”

“Of course not, Emma. Ghosts don’t exist,” Regina scoffed, trying to sound braver then she felt.

Emma’s grin turned into a scowl. “Why are you even here then? If you’re going to be a wet blanket, you could’ve stayed with Mary Margaret and David.”

Regina seethed, seeing red as she turned around. “I’m a wet blanket for not wanting to break into someplace where we are clearly not wanted. Nor am I one for wanting to disturb sacred ground and the resting place for so many souls. It just seems…wrong.”

“Admit it, Regina, you’re just scared,” Emma shot back. It sounded like she was close to clucking at her.

Straightening up, Robin sighed. “Emma, leave her alone. If she doesn’t want to come in, that’s fine. You and Killian can go in while I take her home.”

“Come on, mate, we agreed to do this together. Regina can wait in the car.” Killian clapped him on the shoulder, shaking his arm.

Regina frowned, crossing her arms. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here.”

Shaking off Killian, Robin approached her and gently gripped her arms. He crouched down a bit to make sure he was looking in her eyes. “If you want to go home, just say the word. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want.”

Melting under his gaze, she almost asked him to take her home so they could cuddle and watching movies together. But Regina caught sight of Emma over his shoulder, flapping her arms as if they were wings. She was calling Regina out and that couldn’t stand.

Squaring her shoulders, Regina met Robin’s eyes again. “I’m fine. Let’s go in, prove that this stupid ghost doesn’t really exist and get out of here.”

“That’s the spirit,” Killian said before chuckling at his own stupid joke. He swung the gate open, its creak echoing around the empty graveyard.

Robin took Regina’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “You give me the word and we can go, lovely. It’ll be okay,” he told her.

“Thanks,” she whispered, her bravado already failing as they followed Killian and Emma into the graveyard. She swallowed, reminding herself that there was nothing to worry about.

The dead couldn’t hurt them.

Regina didn’t have a good grasp of time but she had to guess they had been wandering around the cemetery for almost an hour. They passed by several tombstones and she stopped to read them, marking the ones from back when the town was founded back in the early 19th century. “Imagine what life was like for them back then,” she said.

“They definitely wouldn’t recognize Storybrooke now,” Robin replied, standing beside her. “Imagine trying to explain cars to them? Or television? Or any modern device?”

“There’s probably a lot they could still tell us about, though.” Regina glanced over at another tombstone—1868. “This one experienced the Civil War. Wow.”

“Stop geeking out over there, Regina,” Emma called out from a nearby hill. “We’re almost at the part of the cemetery they say the ghost inhabits. The one where they put the prisoners and those executed for crimes.”

Killian motioned for them to follow. “Come on, you two.”

Regina glanced back at the tombstones, deciding that she would come back another time—during the day—to study the history in this place. She took Robin’s hand. “I guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

He gave her hand a squeeze as they headed down the broken stone path leading down to the derelict section of the graveyard. Tombstones there were knocked over, some were crumbling and most were so faded, whoever was buried beneath them were lost to time. Bare, gnarled trees grew among the stones, all radiating out from one weeping willow whose branches waved in the cold wind that now blowing through the area. They brushed against the imposing mausoleum at the very end of the cemetery, marble gargoyles perched at the edge as they smiled wickedly at them.

Cold seeped into Regina’s bones and she felt like she would never be warm again. She struggled to breathe as she inched closer to Robin. He wrapped his arm around her. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

She tried to believe him…until all their flashlights all died at once. With the moon shrouded by clouds, it became difficult to see and everything turned into blobs in the darkness.

Killian frowned, shaking his. “Bloody useless torch.”

“Guys, they say when a ghost tries to manifest, it pulls energy from electrical items, draining batteries. Maybe a ghost wants to show itself to us,” Emma said, her voice full of excitement as she looked around.

“Do we want to meet a ghost from down here?” Robin asked, frowning. “What if it tries to kill us?”

Killian rolled his eyes. “Ghosts can’t kill you. They’re dead and have no bodies.”

“They can’t kill you because they aren’t real,” Regina insisted, though her body was trembling and she had the distinct feeling they were being watched. She continued, though. “Our flashlights died because you got cheap batteries.”

“We all can’t have rich parents who can buy the good kind,” he snapped back at her.

Robin stepped between them, giving Killian a push. “Leave her alone, mate, or you we’ll be having a conversation.”

“Come on,” Emma said, pointing to the mausoleum. “The ghost is supposedly in there. We have to go in to see him.”

Looking at the mausoleum, Regina felt pure dread. Despite the chill still wracking her body, she broke out into a sweat and her gut told her to not go into the mausoleum. Her feet felt rooted to the ground as her heart beat wildly in her chest, keeping her in place. Shadows moved all around her, pushing her away from the imposing building.

“Regina? Are you coming?” Robin asked. She tried to answer him but no sound came out of her mouth. Tears pricked her eyes and he gathered her in his arms, holding her close.

“Well? Is she in or is she out?” Killian called out.

Robin looked over his shoulder. “We’re both out. I’m taking her home.”

“Let her go back to the car and wait for us,” he argued. “There’s no reason why you should miss out on this.”

“I’m not leaving her, not for some stupid ghost story. You two have your fun, we’re leaving,” Robin said, wrapping his arm around Regina. “Call me in the morning, yeah?”

Emma smirk. “Oh, yes. We’ll tell you about everything you missed.”

“Come on, Regina.” Robin pulled her forward and her feet finally worked again once she was moving away from the mausoleum. She looked back, watching Emma and Killian disappear into the darkness of the building. An eerie red light glowed from the eyes of the gargoyles overhead and she gasped, looking away.

It had to be her mind playing a trick on her.

She and Robin made it back to the main part of the cemetery and a feeling of peace washed over her. Regina felt safe and the pressure was lifted from her chest, allowing her to breathe normally again. Warmth from Robin finally crept into her limbs as she curled closer to him. “Thank you. I know you were looking forward to that…”

“Yeah, but it got a little too creepy,” he said, the two walking back toward the gate. “It was like something didn’t want me to go in there.”

“I felt the same way,” she admitted. “I think it was our preservation instinct.”

He chuckled, kissing her head. “My little scientist.”

They left the cemetery and returned to Robin’s car. As she reached for the door handle, she noticed the sky by the back of the cemetery glowed red, as if something was on fire. She pointed it to Robin. “What do you think that is?”

“What?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

Regina blinked and the sky returned to normal. She frowned. “Never mind. My eyes must be playing tricks on me.”

They climbed into the car and Robin started it as Regina turned on the radio, eager for some music. A loud shriek came from the speakers and they winced. She reached out to turn it off, a chill going through when she thought she heard what sounded like a laugh. With a flick of the switch, she plunged the car into silence again. “Let’s just get out of here,” she said.

“Agreed,” Robin replied, flooring the car and pealing down the road.

Emma and Killian never called to say they got home safely as they never returned home after that night. The police investigated, talking to Robin and Regina about the last time they saw the couple. Both spoke about seeing the couple go into the mausoleum before they left the cemetery. When the police went to the cemetery, they found Killian’s beat up truck but no sign of the two teenagers.

Despite several of their friends—Robin and Regina included—testifying that neither Emma nor Killian mentioned running away, the police concluded that’s what had happened. After all, both were in the foster care system and had ended up in their current group home after previously running away. While the police weren’t too sure why Killian and Emma didn’t take the car, they figured the two were long gone.

No one in their social circles believed that though. Even if they had run away, all of them believed that either Emma or Killian would’ve reached out to let them know. They would’ve wanted them to know they were safe and probably would’ve wanted the items they had left behind, which just reinforced the idea they hadn’t run away. Regina held Emma’s beloved baby blanket—the only thing she had from her parents—and knew her friend would never leave without it. She took it home with her, cherishing it forever.

Robin and Regina never spoke about the other things they experienced that night—the strange feeling that told them they needed to leave, the cold, the flashlights turning off, the glowing red eyes, the red sky or the strange sounds that came from the radio. After graduating from high school, they moved far away from Storybrooke and married after college. They started their own family and went on with their lives.

Still, Regina looked for Emma and Killian whenever they went some place new, wondering if their friends had created a new life for themselves. However, deep in her heart, she knew she would never see them again. Something supernatural had happened in that cemetery that night and had taken her friends.

Forever.

Sorry Captain Swan fans!

[apoweewee]

I Dream...

I dream of you. I dream of us. Together in that little cottage in the country surrounded by trees and lakes and streams. This is where we find our solace. Fishing on this little rowboat in the middle of a beautiful blue lake....just the two of us. Swinging on a hammock that we've tied to two of the biggest weeping willow trees you could ever imagine. The warm summer air and breeze blowing your hair just the right amount. So free. So beautiful. We are taking turns reading to each other...a romantic love story..while we play with each others hair. Once the sun goes down just below the tree line, we make love. Under the beautiful glimmer of light still barely there from the sunset, we explore each other and enjoy each other... all night. We pause... just long enough to count the always growing number of stars and we wait. I wait. I wait for the sunrise to glow on your beautiful face and our brand new day together. I dream...I pay! ♡

AR♡

[scandinaviacroatiaengbergs]

Monday: A Full Day in Zagreb

So, let me start off with a few observations about Zagreb. Overall, it is pretty interesting going anywhere after visiting insanely clean Scandinavian cities.  Because of the wealth of those countries and their robust social infrastructure programs, and the money available for city projects (I would imagine), and just habits formed by the people in those nations as pushed byt heir governments (such as about recycling), you don’t see a lot of garbage on the  streets or graffiti on buildings in the Scandinavian metropolises.  Of course, there is some graffiti (oh! And I forgot to mention, about street art: the unauthorized Banksy museum, which I read about, is in Gothenburg of all places, right off the central square, and we walked right past it), but it is pretty minimal. Now, Zabreb, on the other hand, has a lot of graffiti, some of it more finessed and intended to be public art, but other graffiti is just tagging.  There was, in fact, a wall of graffiti on our Airbnb building.  Also, as we noticed in the Baltics, the exteriors of a lot of medium-rise (like 10-story) buildings have some, how shall we say, “deferred maintenance.”  They look sort of shabby on the outside, but as we learned in Vilnius, most strongly, a place can look really run-down from the outside but be really, really spruced up and fancy on the inside.  I wondered whether this was the case in Zagreb, but I didn’t get to find out.  Our Airbnb was a two-story square, contemporary house, basically, that had been broken up into several apartments.  Ours was on the first floor. We also noticed, walking around in the afternoon (which I will detail below), that people are very social.  There is also a lot of smoking going on still.  Everywhere you go, if there is a relatively tall building, it has an outdoor seating area outside, and you will often see groups of 3 or 4 older men, sitting there, drinking coffee, hard liquor, or beer, and just chatting away.  It seems very “old world,” like I imagine my Great-Grandpa Julius (who I never met) doing in New York in the ‘40s and ‘50s with other men who spoke Yiddish. I don’t know if he did, because from what I have heard he just spent his days in the front of the sign shop, reading the Forward, but it seems like it is that kind of older guy who sits with a group of pals and talks the afternoon away at these sidewalk cafes.

Anyway, enough observations. When we got in on Sunday night, the host met us and showed us the ins-and-outs of the place (not much to figure out). This is an apartment that is only used as an Airbnb; it is not anyone’s home (I prefer Airbnbs that are people’s homes). But, this place was really clean, with nice beds, and everything we needed in the kitchen (with another sandwich maker! I am beginning to think I might need Santa to bring me a panini press).

I went to bed too late, as always, and the kids got to bed pretty late on Sunday night because of our jaunt to Badovinci, as I mentioned.  When they woke up Monday morning, Eric had yogurts for them, which he bought the night before during his jaunt to the 24-hour store, which was not a proper grocery but more of a “party store,” as Michiganders say.  But there was a really nice bakery next store to that, also open 24 hours, so Eric got some bread and weird seeded pastries, as well.  So, breakfast Monday was yogurt and bread.  Rowan go the special treat of having a pistachio Greek yogurt, which I’d bought for him in Zadar, too, but Eric accidentally ate ;) So, after we had breakfast, we walked out for  a day of adventuring! Just a side note: it was very hot and humid. First off, we walked down a substantive road and passed a mirrored-glass office building, in which was housed, in part, the Finnish Embassy! Next up, we took a wrong turn and ended up not being able to go over the train tracks., but we saw a cat ambling across the street. Then, we rerouted and went under an overpass and kept on truckin’ toward the city center (“centar,” actually), and we saw a sign (actually many) for a concert by the Cure, but I didn’t make note of the day, figuring it had already passed, and lamenting that we probably couldn’t go anyway, though I’d love my kids to hear, as I did when I was 18, them play a 14-minute-long version of “A Forest.” Anyway,  first up, we visited a playground.  At the playground, there was one of those spiderweb climbing structures, so of course Rowan checked that out, but this one high the added risk factor of being able to spin, which, when it did, made it look like  a Christmas tree. There was also a merry-go-round, which Rowan took to running around really fast and then hopping on.  I remember doing that as a kid.  Cece thought he was spinning it too fast. This little park/playground also had a small pond/water-feature with a little cherub-boy statue, holding his pee-pee, aiming into the pond.  When we were there, the statue was emitting no “pee pee” into the pond, but I figured that a stream of “urine” was the intention of the cherub’s design and his proximity to the little pond.  In fact, a man was cleaning the pond when we were there.  Later, when we walked back by, after several hours, the statue was doing what it was designed to do . . . We walked down to the central plaza where the Zagreb Cathedral is.  Wow, what an amazing structure.  It is sooooooo tall and soooooo ornate. It was damaged in the early-20th century during an earthquake and then, during the Communist era, there was little interest in maintaining religious buildings.  So, since the ‘90s, there has been a lot of money spent and a lot of effort put in to repairing the Cathedral, and we saw men busily at work, way up high on one of the sides, the day we were there. We continued on from there, and Cece insisted on walking on her own, or “in your shadow,” which was a bit tricky because it was midday, so she was regularly right under my feet.  We got to another playground, in a really big park (basically behind the church, but we’d gone around several blocks to get there), and it was full of huge trees, most memorably some beautiful weeping willows.  There was also some lack of maintenance at the park, as it appears that lots of people might use it as a place to sit and drink beer, but the playground was a perfect spot for the kids to do some “circuits,” which they did: running up the slides, climbing up the sliding pole (Rowan did this, as it happens to be one of his favorite things to do), walking across the wobbly rope bridge, across every other piece of equipment, a few swings on the swings, with lots of running from piece of equipment to piece of equipment. By this point, we were definitely hungry for lunch, so we walked on, and we had a few spots identified, via Google, as possible targets for lunch, but before we got to any, we saw place that I believe was actually called “Good Food,” and it looked like the kind of yuppie-ish, salad-and-juice oriented place that might just suit us. Sure enough, it was very on-target.  You could take a piece of paper with all kinds of salad ingredients listed on it, and tick the boxes for the items you wanted.  Eric and I did this, and so did Rowan!  Cece chose a sandwich.  Rowan’s salad was pretty funny, in that it had no lettuce, but lots of other good ingredients (like red pepper, broccoli, and garbanzo beans) and then something sweet: dried cranberries.  We also got a juice called “Hollywood Glow,” which had oranges, apples, and I can’t remember what the third ingredient was.  Eric and I both “tested” it, and then the kids finished it off in one turn each. Neither Rowan nor I could finish all the salad we ordered, so we took them to go and walked back toward our Airbnb, because I needed to be on a call at 3 p.m. As we walked, we went down the central shopping street, which I enjoyed seeing (and I popped into a Benetton, because they always have a piece of my heart), and the kids found a sort of nautical-themed playscape in the plaza, and played there for a good 15 minutes. We got home and I had fifteen minutes to spare before my call, and I got a fighting Cece down for nap, and she was *exhausted* -- she made not a single peep after I closed the door to her room and she slept well until I woke her up at 4:15. We were going to go to the zoo next! We drove to the zoo, because, a) we figured we’d put our Peugeot through even more city-driving paces, and b) it was too far to go by foot and we didn’t want to bother to figure out the trams.  We got to the zoo around 4:30, and, unlike our Albuquerque Zoo (and I believe many other zoos), they did not close at 5 p.m.!  In Albuquerque, the zoo closes at that hour all year, I guess to keep things consistent for the animals and to give them a good break from the human visitors.   But, the Zagreb Zoo in the summertime is open until 8 p.m. It was such a nice zoo! Pretty much right away, we went into the reptile and snake habitat building, and we ended up learning that if you ducked around a corner behind one of the enclosures, you went into a network of other indoor exhibits, for all kinds of animals! Maybe because I skip the snake exhibit at the Albuquerque Zoo pretty often so I am not sure how many snakes and lizards and the like we have in Albuquerque to use as comparison, this zoo seemed to have *a lot* -- and they had a young crocodile and its mom, and the young guy was just lying on his mom’s back the whole time, occasionally moving one arm. We left the snake-oriented building and continued on to see critters that are more to my taste.  They had red pandas, zebras, three female lions and a male lion – and they were pretty active!, some huge birds, lemurs, lots of monkeys and orangutans, a petting zoo with some eager goats, and a very fun sea lion exhibit, which looked like it had a mommy and daddy sea lion with their baby, who was still a nursling.  That exhibit was very popular with the zoo visitors, and the sea lions made it worth our wait!  The two adults were playing with and prodding each other – one from the water and the other up on a catwalk.  The big one in the water swooped up and snapped/barked at the one on the catwalk, and when it had had enough of that, it dove into the water and they chased each other around, zooming like crazy through the water for a while! They were fun to watch. We got ice cream, went to the play area, and then, finally, when the mosquitos were coming out in the evening, we decided to leave, as it was about closing time anyway.  The zoo was like $8 for all of us! It was a really pretty zoo, and they had some multi-animal enclosures, where animals who I guess get along together got to be together in their habitats there. We drove back to the Airbnb and I noticed, from that vantage, that a huge building right across from the zoo was a stadium for Dynamo, which is a very popular Croatian soccer team.  That was cool to see! They even sold some Dynamo gear at the zoo gift shop. We got back to our Airbnb  at about 8:30 and then we had our leftovers and grilled cheese sandwiches and then, as always happens, the kids became totally unhinged wild creatures (as if taking inspiration from some of the friends they visited at the zoo) before bedtime.  This happens soooo often and by the time they finally relent and go to sleep, I am at my wit’s end.  They were asleep by 9:30, thank heavens, after Eric read them a chapter out of the 7th book in the Moominvalley series, which we’ve been making our way through over the last year or so, as we sprinkle it in with more books that Rowan can read some of himself.   Eric has been really good about working on this trip with Rowan on his “keys,” – a ring of flash cards his teacher made for all of the kids at Kindergarten during the year. He is getting them!  Reading isn’t his strongest school area, but we’re working on it and we’re super impressed by his progress. After the kids went to bed, Eric and I got our things organized for leaving the next morning which, I was glad to learn, was a later departure than I had thought! Woohoo! In my next post, I will regale you all with stories of our last Zagreb morning, our flight from Zagreb to London, and our afternoon in London.  After that is our big push back home – three flights: London to New York, New York to Dallas, and Dallas to ABQ, all in one day.  We’ll all sure be tired after that series!

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The Little Mermaid

by Hans Christian Andersen (1836)

FAR out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it: many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects. We must not imagine that there is nothing at the bottom of the sea but bare yellow sand. No, indeed; the most singular flowers and plants grow there; the leaves and stems of which are so pliant, that the slightest agitation of the water causes them to stir as if they had life. Fishes, both large and small, glide between the branches, as birds fly among the trees here upon land. In the deepest spot of all, stands the castle of the Sea King. Its walls are built of coral, and the long, gothic windows are of the clearest amber. The roof is formed of shells, that open and close as the water flows over them. Their appearance is very beautiful, for in each lies a glittering pearl, which would be fit for the diadem of a queen.

The Sea King had been a widower for many years, and his aged mother kept house for him. She was a very wise woman, and exceedingly proud of her high birth; on that account she wore twelve oysters on her tail; while others, also of high rank, were only allowed to wear six. She was, however, deserving of very great praise, especially for her care of the little sea-princesses, her grand-daughters. They were six beautiful children; but the youngest was the prettiest of them all; her skin was as clear and delicate as a rose-leaf, and her eyes as blue as the deepest sea; but, like all the others, she had no feet, and her body ended in a fish’s tail. All day long they played in the great halls of the castle, or among the living flowers that grew out of the walls. The large amber windows were open, and the fish swam in, just as the swallows fly into our houses when we open the windows, excepting that the fishes swam up to the princesses, ate out of their hands, and allowed themselves to be stroked. Outside the castle there was a beautiful garden, in which grew bright red and dark blue flowers, and blossoms like flames of fire; the fruit glittered like gold, and the leaves and stems waved to and fro continually. The earth itself was the finest sand, but blue as the flame of burning sulphur. Over everything lay a peculiar blue radiance, as if it were surrounded by the air from above, through which the blue sky shone, instead of the dark depths of the sea. In calm weather the sun could be seen, looking like a purple flower, with the light streaming from the calyx. Each of the young princesses had a little plot of ground in the garden, where she might dig and plant as she pleased. One arranged her flower-bed into the form of a whale; another thought it better to make hers like the figure of a little mermaid; but that of the youngest was round like the sun, and contained flowers as red as his rays at sunset. She was a strange child, quiet and thoughtful; and while her sisters would be delighted with the wonderful things which they obtained from the wrecks of vessels, she cared for nothing but her pretty red flowers, like the sun, excepting a beautiful marble statue. It was the representation of a handsome boy, carved out of pure white stone, which had fallen to the bottom of the sea from a wreck. She planted by the statue a rose-colored weeping willow. It grew splendidly, and very soon hung its fresh branches over the statue, almost down to the blue sands. The shadow had a violet tint, and waved to and fro like the branches; it seemed as if the crown of the tree and the root were at play, and trying to kiss each other. Nothing gave her so much pleasure as to hear about the world above the sea. She made her old grandmother tell her all she knew of the ships and of the towns, the people and the animals. To her it seemed most wonderful and beautiful to hear that the flowers of the land should have fragrance, and not those below the sea; that the trees of the forest should be green; and that the fishes among the trees could sing so sweetly, that it was quite a pleasure to hear them. Her grandmother called the little birds fishes, or she would not have understood her; for she had never seen birds.

“When you have reached your fifteenth year,” said the grand-mother, “you will have permission to rise up out of the sea, to sit on the rocks in the moonlight, while the great ships are sailing by; and then you will see both forests and towns.”

In the following year, one of the sisters would be fifteen: but as each was a year younger than the other, the youngest would have to wait five years before her turn came to rise up from the bottom of the ocean, and see the earth as we do. However, each promised to tell the others what she saw on her first visit, and what she thought the most beautiful; for their grandmother could not tell them enough; there were so many things on which they wanted information. None of them longed so much for her turn to come as the youngest, she who had the longest time to wait, and who was so quiet and thoughtful. Many nights she stood by the open window, looking up through the dark blue water, and watching the fish as they splashed about with their fins and tails. She could see the moon and stars shining faintly; but through the water they looked larger than they do to our eyes. When something like a black cloud passed between her and them, she knew that it was either a whale swimming over her head, or a ship full of human beings, who never imagined that a pretty little mermaid was standing beneath them, holding out her white hands towards the keel of their ship.

As soon as the eldest was fifteen, she was allowed to rise to the surface of the ocean. When she came back, she had hundreds of things to talk about; but the most beautiful, she said, was to lie in the moonlight, on a sandbank, in the quiet sea, near the coast, and to gaze on a large town nearby, where the lights were twinkling like hundreds of stars; to listen to the sounds of the music, the noise of carriages, and the voices of human beings, and then to hear the merry bells peal out from the church steeples; and because she could not go near to all those wonderful things, she longed for them more than ever. Oh, did not the youngest sister listen eagerly to all these descriptions? and afterwards, when she stood at the open window looking up through the dark blue water, she thought of the great city, with all its bustle and noise, and even fancied she could hear the sound of the church bells, down in the depths of the sea.

In another year the second sister received permission to rise to the surface of the water, and to swim about where she pleased. She rose just as the sun was setting, and this, she said, was the most beautiful sight of all. The whole sky looked like gold, while violet and rose-colored clouds, which she could not describe, floated over her; and, still more rapidly than the clouds, flew a large flock of wild swans towards the setting sun, looking like a long white veil across the sea. She also swam towards the sun; but it sunk into the waves, and the rosy tints faded from the clouds and from the sea.

The third sister’s turn followed; she was the boldest of them all, and she swam up a broad river that emptied itself into the sea. On the banks she saw green hills covered with beautiful vines; palaces and castles peeped out from amid the proud trees of the forest; she heard the birds singing, and the rays of the sun were so powerful that she was obliged often to dive down under the water to cool her burning face. In a narrow creek she found a whole troop of little human children, quite naked, and sporting about in the water; she wanted to play with them, but they fled in a great fright; and then a little black animal came to the water; it was a dog, but she did not know that, for she had never before seen one. This animal barked at her so terribly that she became frightened, and rushed back to the open sea. But she said she should never forget the beautiful forest, the green hills, and the pretty little children who could swim in the water, although they had not fish’s tails.

The fourth sister was more timid; she remained in the midst of the sea, but she said it was quite as beautiful there as nearer the land. She could see for so many miles around her, and the sky above looked like a bell of glass. She had seen the ships, but at such a great distance that they looked like sea-gulls. The dolphins sported in the waves, and the great whales spouted water from their nostrils till it seemed as if a hundred fountains were playing in every direction.

The fifth sister’s birthday occurred in the winter; so when her turn came, she saw what the others had not seen the first time they went up. The sea looked quite green, and large icebergs were floating about, each like a pearl, she said, but larger and loftier than the churches built by men. They were of the most singular shapes, and glittered like diamonds. She had seated herself upon one of the largest, and let the wind play with her long hair, and she remarked that all the ships sailed by rapidly, and steered as far away as they could from the iceberg, as if they were afraid of it. Towards evening, as the sun went down, dark clouds covered the sky, the thunder rolled and the lightning flashed, and the red light glowed on the icebergs as they rocked and tossed on the heaving sea. On all the ships the sails were reefed with fear and trembling, while she sat calmly on the floating iceberg, watching the blue lightning, as it darted its forked flashes into the sea.

When first the sisters had permission to rise to the surface, they were each delighted with the new and beautiful sights they saw; but now, as grown-up girls, they could go when they pleased, and they had become indifferent about it. They wished themselves back again in the water, and after a month had passed they said it was much more beautiful down below, and pleasanter to be at home. Yet often, in the evening hours, the five sisters would twine their arms round each other, and rise to the surface, in a row. They had more beautiful voices than any human being could have; and before the approach of a storm, and when they expected a ship would be lost, they swam before the vessel, and sang sweetly of the delights to be found in the depths of the sea, and begging the sailors not to fear if they sank to the bottom. But the sailors could not understand the song, they took it for the howling of the storm. And these things were never to be beautiful for them; for if the ship sank, the men were drowned, and their dead bodies alone reached the palace of the Sea King.

When the sisters rose, arm-in-arm, through the water in this way, their youngest sister would stand quite alone, looking after them, ready to cry, only that the mermaids have no tears, and therefore they suffer more. “Oh, were I but fifteen years old,” said she: “I know that I shall love the world up there, and all the people who live in it.”

At last she reached her fifteenth year. “Well, now, you are grown up,” said the old dowager, her grandmother; “so you must let me adorn you like your other sisters;” and she placed a wreath of white lilies in her hair, and every flower leaf was half a pearl. Then the old lady ordered eight great oysters to attach themselves to the tail of the princess to show her high rank.

“But they hurt me so,” said the little mermaid.

“Pride must suffer pain,” replied the old lady. Oh, how gladly she would have shaken off all this grandeur, and laid aside the heavy wreath! The red flowers in her own garden would have suited her much better, but she could not help herself: so she said, “Farewell,” and rose as lightly as a bubble to the surface of the water. The sun had just set as she raised her head above the waves; but the clouds were tinted with crimson and gold, and through the glimmering twilight beamed the evening star in all its beauty. The sea was calm, and the air mild and fresh. A large ship, with three masts, lay becalmed on the water, with only one sail set; for not a breeze stiffed, and the sailors sat idle on deck or amongst the rigging. There was music and song on board; and, as darkness came on, a hundred colored lanterns were lighted, as if the flags of all nations waved in the air. The little mermaid swam close to the cabin windows; and now and then, as the waves lifted her up, she could look in through clear glass window-panes, and see a number of well-dressed people within. Among them was a young prince, the most beautiful of all, with large black eyes; he was sixteen years of age, and his birthday was being kept with much rejoicing. The sailors were dancing on deck, but when the prince came out of the cabin, more than a hundred rockets rose in the air, making it as bright as day. The little mermaid was so startled that she dived under water; and when she again stretched out her head, it appeared as if all the stars of heaven were falling around her, she had never seen such fireworks before. Great suns spurted fire about, splendid fireflies flew into the blue air, and everything was reflected in the clear, calm sea beneath. The ship itself was so brightly illuminated that all the people, and even the smallest rope, could be distinctly and plainly seen. And how handsome the young prince looked, as he pressed the hands of all present and smiled at them, while the music resounded through the clear night air.

It was very late; yet the little mermaid could not take her eyes from the ship, or from the beautiful prince. The colored lanterns had been extinguished, no more rockets rose in the air, and the cannon had ceased firing; but the sea became restless, and a moaning, grumbling sound could be heard beneath the waves: still the little mermaid remained by the cabin window, rocking up and down on the water, which enabled her to look in. After a while, the sails were quickly unfurled, and the noble ship continued her passage; but soon the waves rose higher, heavy clouds darkened the sky, and lightning appeared in the distance. A dreadful storm was approaching; once more the sails were reefed, and the great ship pursued her flying course over the raging sea. The waves rose mountains high, as if they would have overtopped the mast; but the ship dived like a swan between them, and then rose again on their lofty, foaming crests. To the little mermaid this appeared pleasant sport; not so to the sailors. At length the ship groaned and creaked; the thick planks gave way under the lashing of the sea as it broke over the deck; the mainmast snapped asunder like a reed; the ship lay over on her side; and the water rushed in. The little mermaid now perceived that the crew were in danger; even she herself was obliged to be careful to avoid the beams and planks of the wreck which lay scattered on the water. At one moment it was so pitch dark that she could not see a single object, but a flash of lightning revealed the whole scene; she could see every one who had been on board excepting the prince; when the ship parted, she had seen him sink into the deep waves, and she was glad, for she thought he would now be with her; and then she remembered that human beings could not live in the water, so that when he got down to her father’s palace he would be quite dead. But he must not die. So she swam about among the beams and planks which strewed the surface of the sea, forgetting that they could crush her to pieces. Then she dived deeply under the dark waters, rising and falling with the waves, till at length she managed to reach the young prince, who was fast losing the power of swimming in that stormy sea. His limbs were failing him, his beautiful eyes were closed, and he would have died had not the little mermaid come to his assistance. She held his head above the water, and let the waves drift them where they would.

In the morning the storm had ceased; but of the ship not a single fragment could be seen. The sun rose up red and glowing from the water, and its beams brought back the hue of health to the prince’s cheeks; but his eyes remained closed. The mermaid kissed his high, smooth forehead, and stroked back his wet hair; he seemed to her like the marble statue in her little garden, and she kissed him again, and wished that he might live. Presently they came in sight of land; she saw lofty blue mountains, on which the white snow rested as if a flock of swans were lying upon them. Near the coast were beautiful green forests, and close by stood a large building, whether a church or a convent she could not tell. Orange and citron trees grew in the garden, and before the door stood lofty palms. The sea here formed a little bay, in which the water was quite still, but very deep; so she swam with the handsome prince to the beach, which was covered with fine, white sand, and there she laid him in the warm sunshine, taking care to raise his head higher than his body. Then bells sounded in the large white building, and a number of young girls came into the garden. The little mermaid swam out farther from the shore and placed herself between some high rocks that rose out of the water; then she covered her head and neck with the foam of the sea so that her little face might not be seen, and watched to see what would become of the poor prince. She did not wait long before she saw a young girl approach the spot where he lay. She seemed frightened at first, but only for a moment; then she fetched a number of people, and the mermaid saw that the prince came to life again, and smiled upon those who stood round him. But to her he sent no smile; he knew not that she had saved him. This made her very unhappy, and when he was led away into the great building, she dived down sorrowfully into the water, and returned to her father’s castle. She had always been silent and thoughtful, and now she was more so than ever. Her sisters asked her what she had seen during her first visit to the surface of the water; but she would tell them nothing. Many an evening and morning did she rise to the place where she had left the prince. She saw the fruits in the garden ripen till they were gathered, the snow on the tops of the mountains melt away; but she never saw the prince, and therefore she returned home, always more sorrowful than before. It was her only comfort to sit in her own little garden, and fling her arm round the beautiful marble statue which was like the prince; but she gave up tending her flowers, and they grew in wild confusion over the paths, twining their long leaves and stems round the branches of the trees, so that the whole place became dark and gloomy. At length she could bear it no longer, and told one of her sisters all about it. Then the others heard the secret, and very soon it became known to two mermaids whose intimate friend happened to know who the prince was. She had also seen the festival on board ship, and she told them where the prince came from, and where his palace stood.

“Come, little sister,” said the other princesses; then they entwined their arms and rose up in a long row to the surface of the water, close by the spot where they knew the prince’s palace stood. It was built of bright yellow shining stone, with long flights of marble steps, one of which reached quite down to the sea. Splendid gilded cupolas rose over the roof, and between the pillars that surrounded the whole building stood life-like statues of marble. Through the clear crystal of the lofty windows could be seen noble rooms, with costly silk curtains and hangings of tapestry; while the walls were covered with beautiful paintings which were a pleasure to look at. In the centre of the largest saloon a fountain threw its sparkling jets high up into the glass cupola of the ceiling, through which the sun shone down upon the water and upon the beautiful plants growing round the basin of the fountain. Now that she knew where he lived, she spent many an evening and many a night on the water near the palace. She would swim much nearer the shore than any of the others ventured to do; indeed once she went quite up the narrow channel under the marble balcony, which threw a broad shadow on the water. Here she would sit and watch the young prince, who thought himself quite alone in the bright moonlight. She saw him many times of an evening sailing in a pleasant boat, with music playing and flags waving. She peeped out from among the green rushes, and if the wind caught her long silvery-white veil, those who saw it believed it to be a swan, spreading out its wings. On many a night, too, when the fishermen, with their torches, were out at sea, she heard them relate so many good things about the doings of the young prince, that she was glad she had saved his life when he had been tossed about half-dead on the waves. And she remembered that his head had rested on her bosom, and how heartily she had kissed him; but he knew nothing of all this, and could not even dream of her. She grew more and more fond of human beings, and wished more and more to be able to wander about with those whose world seemed to be so much larger than her own. They could fly over the sea in ships, and mount the high hills which were far above the clouds; and the lands they possessed, their woods and their fields, stretched far away beyond the reach of her sight. There was so much that she wished to know, and her sisters were unable to answer all her questions. Then she applied to her old grandmother, who knew all about the upper world, which she very rightly called the lands above the sea.

“If human beings are not drowned,” asked the little mermaid, “can they live forever? do they never die as we do here in the sea?”

“Yes,” replied the old lady, “they must also die, and their term of life is even shorter than ours. We sometimes live to three hundred years, but when we cease to exist here we only become the foam on the surface of the water, and we have not even a grave down here of those we love. We have not immortal souls, we shall never live again; but, like the green sea-weed, when once it has been cut off, we can never flourish more. Human beings, on the contrary, have a soul which lives forever, lives after the body has been turned to dust. It rises up through the clear, pure air beyond the glittering stars. As we rise out of the water, and behold all the land of the earth, so do they rise to unknown and glorious regions which we shall never see.”

“Why have not we an immortal soul?” asked the little mermaid mournfully; “I would give gladly all the hundreds of years that I have to live, to be a human being only for one day, and to have the hope of knowing the happiness of that glorious world above the stars.”

“You must not think of that,” said the old woman; “we feel ourselves to be much happier and much better off than human beings.”

“So I shall die,” said the little mermaid, “and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven about never again to hear the music of the waves, or to see the pretty flowers nor the red sun. Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?”

“No,” said the old woman, “unless a man were to love you so much that you were more to him than his father or mother; and if all his thoughts and all his love were fixed upon you, and the priest placed his right hand in yours, and he promised to be true to you here and hereafter, then his soul would glide into your body and you would obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to you and retain his own as well; but this can never happen. Your fish’s tail, which amongst us is considered so beautiful, is thought on earth to be quite ugly; they do not know any better, and they think it necessary to have two stout props, which they call legs, in order to be handsome.”

Then the little mermaid sighed, and looked sorrowfully at her fish’s tail. “Let us be happy,” said the old lady, “and dart and spring about during the three hundred years that we have to live, which is really quite long enough; after that we can rest ourselves all the better. This evening we are going to have a court ball.”

It is one of those splendid sights which we can never see on earth. The walls and the ceiling of the large ball-room were of thick, but transparent crystal. May hundreds of colossal shells, some of a deep red, others of a grass green, stood on each side in rows, with blue fire in them, which lighted up the whole saloon, and shone through the walls, so that the sea was also illuminated. Innumerable fishes, great and small, swam past the crystal walls; on some of them the scales glowed with a purple brilliancy, and on others they shone like silver and gold. Through the halls flowed a broad stream, and in it danced the mermen and the mermaids to the music of their own sweet singing. No one on earth has such a lovely voice as theirs. The little mermaid sang more sweetly than them all. The whole court applauded her with hands and tails; and for a moment her heart felt quite gay, for she knew she had the loveliest voice of any on earth or in the sea. But she soon thought again of the world above her, for she could not forget the charming prince, nor her sorrow that she had not an immortal soul like his; therefore she crept away silently out of her father’s palace, and while everything within was gladness and song, she sat in her own little garden sorrowful and alone. Then she heard the bugle sounding through the water, and thought—“He is certainly sailing above, he on whom my wishes depend, and in whose hands I should like to place the happiness of my life. I will venture all for him, and to win an immortal soul, while my sisters are dancing in my father’s palace, I will go to the sea witch, of whom I have always been so much afraid, but she can give me counsel and help.”

And then the little mermaid went out from her garden, and took the road to the foaming whirlpools, behind which the sorceress lived. She had never been that way before: neither flowers nor grass grew there; nothing but bare, gray, sandy ground stretched out to the whirlpool, where the water, like foaming mill-wheels, whirled round everything that it seized, and cast it into the fathomless deep. Through the midst of these crushing whirlpools the little mermaid was obliged to pass, to reach the dominions of the sea witch; and also for a long distance the only road lay right across a quantity of warm, bubbling mire, called by the witch her turfmoor. Beyond this stood her house, in the centre of a strange forest, in which all the trees and flowers were polypi, half animals and half plants; they looked like serpents with a hundred heads growing out of the ground. The branches were long slimy arms, with fingers like flexible worms, moving limb after limb from the root to the top. All that could be reached in the sea they seized upon, and held fast, so that it never escaped from their clutches. The little mermaid was so alarmed at what she saw, that she stood still, and her heart beat with fear, and she was very nearly turning back; but she thought of the prince, and of the human soul for which she longed, and her courage returned. She fastened her long flowing hair round her head, so that the polypi might not seize hold of it. She laid her hands together across her bosom, and then she darted forward as a fish shoots through the water, between the supple arms and fingers of the ugly polypi, which were stretched out on each side of her. She saw that each held in its grasp something it had seized with its numerous little arms, as if they were iron bands. The white skeletons of human beings who had perished at sea, and had sunk down into the deep waters, skeletons of land animals, oars, rudders, and chests of ships were lying tightly grasped by their clinging arms; even a little mermaid, whom they had caught and strangled; and this seemed the most shocking of all to the little princess.

She now came to a space of marshy ground in the wood, where large, fat water-snakes were rolling in the mire, and showing their ugly, drab-colored bodies. In the midst of this spot stood a house, built with the bones of shipwrecked human beings. There sat the sea witch, allowing a toad to eat from her mouth, just as people sometimes feed a canary with a piece of sugar. She called the ugly water-snakes her little chickens, and allowed them to crawl all over her bosom.

“I know what you want,” said the sea witch; “it is very stupid of you, but you shall have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess. You want to get rid of your fish’s tail, and to have two supports instead of it, like human beings on earth, so that the young prince may fall in love with you, and that you may have an immortal soul.” And then the witch laughed so loud and disgustingly, that the toad and the snakes fell to the ground, and lay there wriggling about. “You are but just in time,” said the witch; “for after sunrise to-morrow I should not be able to help you till the end of another year. I will prepare a draught for you, with which you must swim to land tomorrow before sunrise, and sit down on the shore and drink it. Your tail will then disappear, and shrink up into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still have the same floating gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly; but at every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp knives, and that the blood must flow. If you will bear all this, I will help you.”

“Yes, I will,” said the little princess in a trembling voice, as she thought of the prince and the immortal soul.

“But think again,” said the witch; “for when once your shape has become like a human being, you can no more be a mermaid. You will never return through the water to your sisters, or to your father’s palace again; and if you do not win the love of the prince, so that he is willing to forget his father and mother for your sake, and to love you with his whole soul, and allow the priest to join your hands that you may be man and wife, then you will never have an immortal soul. The first morning after he marries another your heart will break, and you will become foam on the crest of the waves.”

“I will do it,” said the little mermaid, and she became pale as death.

“But I must be paid also,” said the witch, “and it is not a trifle that I ask. You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the depths of the sea, and you believe that you will be able to charm the prince with it also, but this voice you must give to me; the best thing you possess will I have for the price of my draught. My own blood must be mixed with it, that it may be as sharp as a two-edged sword.”

“But if you take away my voice,” said the little mermaid, “what is left for me?”

“Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive eyes; surely with these you can enchain a man’s heart. Well, have you lost your courage? Put out your little tongue that I may cut it off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful draught.”

“It shall be,” said the little mermaid.

Then the witch placed her cauldron on the fire, to prepare the magic draught.

“Cleanliness is a good thing,” said she, scouring the vessel with snakes, which she had tied together in a large knot; then she pricked herself in the breast, and let the black blood drop into it. The steam that rose formed itself into such horrible shapes that no one could look at them without fear. Every moment the witch threw something else into the vessel, and when it began to boil, the sound was like the weeping of a crocodile. When at last the magic draught was ready, it looked like the clearest water. “There it is for you,” said the witch. Then she cut off the mermaid’s tongue, so that she became dumb, and would never again speak or sing. “If the polypi should seize hold of you as you return through the wood,” said the witch, “throw over them a few drops of the potion, and their fingers will be torn into a thousand pieces.” But the little mermaid had no occasion to do this, for the polypi sprang back in terror when they caught sight of the glittering draught, which shone in her hand like a twinkling star.

So she passed quickly through the wood and the marsh, and between the rushing whirlpools. She saw that in her father’s palace the torches in the ballroom were extinguished, and all within asleep; but she did not venture to go in to them, for now she was dumb and going to leave them forever, she felt as if her heart would break. She stole into the garden, took a flower from the flower-beds of each of her sisters, kissed her hand a thousand times towards the palace, and then rose up through the dark blue waters. The sun had not risen when she came in sight of the prince’s palace, and approached the beautiful marble steps, but the moon shone clear and bright. Then the little mermaid drank the magic draught, and it seemed as if a two-edged sword went through her delicate body: she fell into a swoon, and lay like one dead. When the sun arose and shone over the sea, she recovered, and felt a sharp pain; but just before her stood the handsome young prince. He fixed his coal-black eyes upon her so earnestly that she cast down her own, and then became aware that her fish’s tail was gone, and that she had as pretty a pair of white legs and tiny feet as any little maiden could have; but she had no clothes, so she wrapped herself in her long, thick hair. The prince asked her who she was, and where she came from, and she looked at him mildly and sorrowfully with her deep blue eyes; but she could not speak. Every step she took was as the witch had said it would be, she felt as if treading upon the points of needles or sharp knives; but she bore it willingly, and stepped as lightly by the prince’s side as a soap-bubble, so that he and all who saw her wondered at her graceful-swaying movements. She was very soon arrayed in costly robes of silk and muslin, and was the most beautiful creature in the palace; but she was dumb, and could neither speak nor sing.

Beautiful female slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped forward and sang before the prince and his royal parents: one sang better than all the others, and the prince clapped his hands and smiled at her. This was great sorrow to the little mermaid; she knew how much more sweetly she herself could sing once, and she thought, “Oh if he could only know that! I have given away my voice forever, to be with him.”

The slaves next performed some pretty fairy-like dances, to the sound of beautiful music. Then the little mermaid raised her lovely white arms, stood on the tips of her toes, and glided over the floor, and danced as no one yet had been able to dance. At each moment her beauty became more revealed, and her expressive eyes appealed more directly to the heart than the songs of the slaves. Every one was enchanted, especially the prince, who called her his little foundling; and she danced again quite readily, to please him, though each time her foot touched the floor it seemed as if she trod on sharp knives.

The prince said she should remain with him always, and she received permission to sleep at his door, on a velvet cushion. He had a page’s dress made for her, that she might accompany him on horseback. They rode together through the sweet-scented woods, where the green boughs touched their shoulders, and the little birds sang among the fresh leaves. She climbed with the prince to the tops of high mountains; and although her tender feet bled so that even her steps were marked, she only laughed, and followed him till they could see the clouds beneath them looking like a flock of birds travelling to distant lands. While at the prince’s palace, and when all the household were asleep, she would go and sit on the broad marble steps; for it eased her burning feet to bathe them in the cold sea-water; and then she thought of all those below in the deep.

Once during the night her sisters came up arm-in-arm, singing sorrowfully, as they floated on the water. She beckoned to them, and then they recognized her, and told her how she had grieved them. After that, they came to the same place every night; and once she saw in the distance her old grandmother, who had not been to the surface of the sea for many years, and the old Sea King, her father, with his crown on his head. They stretched out their hands towards her, but they did not venture so near the land as her sisters did.

As the days passed, she loved the prince more fondly, and he loved her as he would love a little child, but it never came into his head to make her his wife; yet, unless he married her, she could not receive an immortal soul; and, on the morning after his marriage with another, she would dissolve into the foam of the sea.

“Do you not love me the best of them all?” the eyes of the little mermaid seemed to say, when he took her in his arms, and kissed her fair forehead.

“Yes, you are dear to me,” said the prince; “for you have the best heart, and you are the most devoted to me; you are like a young maiden whom I once saw, but whom I shall never meet again. I was in a ship that was wrecked, and the waves cast me ashore near a holy temple, where several young maidens performed the service. The youngest of them found me on the shore, and saved my life. I saw her but twice, and she is the only one in the world whom I could love; but you are like her, and you have almost driven her image out of my mind. She belongs to the holy temple, and my good fortune has sent you to me instead of her; and we will never part.”

“Ah, he knows not that it was I who saved his life,” thought the little mermaid. “I carried him over the sea to the wood where the temple stands: I sat beneath the foam, and watched till the human beings came to help him. I saw the pretty maiden that he loves better than he loves me;” and the mermaid sighed deeply, but she could not shed tears. “He says the maiden belongs to the holy temple, therefore she will never return to the world. They will meet no more: while I am by his side, and see him every day. I will take care of him, and love him, and give up my life for his sake.”

Very soon it was said that the prince must marry, and that the beautiful daughter of a neighboring king would be his wife, for a fine ship was being fitted out. Although the prince gave out that he merely intended to pay a visit to the king, it was generally supposed that he really went to see his daughter. A great company were to go with him. The little mermaid smiled, and shook her head. She knew the prince’s thoughts better than any of the others.

“I must travel,” he had said to her; “I must see this beautiful princess; my parents desire it; but they will not oblige me to bring her home as my bride. I cannot love her; she is not like the beautiful maiden in the temple, whom you resemble. If I were forced to choose a bride, I would rather choose you, my dumb foundling, with those expressive eyes.” And then he kissed her rosy mouth, played with her long waving hair, and laid his head on her heart, while she dreamed of human happiness and an immortal soul. “You are not afraid of the sea, my dumb child,” said he, as they stood on the deck of the noble ship which was to carry them to the country of the neighboring king. And then he told her of storm and of calm, of strange fishes in the deep beneath them, and of what the divers had seen there; and she smiled at his descriptions, for she knew better than any one what wonders were at the bottom of the sea.

In the moonlight, when all on board were asleep, excepting the man at the helm, who was steering, she sat on the deck, gazing down through the clear water. She thought she could distinguish her father’s castle, and upon it her aged grandmother, with the silver crown on her head, looking through the rushing tide at the keel of the vessel. Then her sisters came up on the waves, and gazed at her mournfully, wringing their white hands. She beckoned to them, and smiled, and wanted to tell them how happy and well off she was; but the cabin-boy approached, and when her sisters dived down he thought it was only the foam of the sea which he saw.

The next morning the ship sailed into the harbor of a beautiful town belonging to the king whom the prince was going to visit. The church bells were ringing, and from the high towers sounded a flourish of trumpets; and soldiers, with flying colors and glittering bayonets, lined the rocks through which they passed. Every day was a festival; balls and entertainments followed one another.

But the princess had not yet appeared. People said that she was being brought up and educated in a religious house, where she was learning every royal virtue. At last she came. Then the little mermaid, who was very anxious to see whether she was really beautiful, was obliged to acknowledge that she had never seen a more perfect vision of beauty. Her skin was delicately fair, and beneath her long dark eye-lashes her laughing blue eyes shone with truth and purity.

“It was you,” said the prince, “who saved my life when I lay dead on the beach,” and he folded his blushing bride in his arms. “Oh, I am too happy,” said he to the little mermaid; “my fondest hopes are all fulfilled. You will rejoice at my happiness; for your devotion to me is great and sincere.”

The little mermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart were already broken. His wedding morning would bring death to her, and she would change into the foam of the sea. All the church bells rung, and the heralds rode about the town proclaiming the betrothal. Perfumed oil was burning in costly silver lamps on every altar. The priests waved the censers, while the bride and bridegroom joined their hands and received the blessing of the bishop. The little mermaid, dressed in silk and gold, held up the bride’s train; but her ears heard nothing of the festive music, and her eyes saw not the holy ceremony; she thought of the night of death which was coming to her, and of all she had lost in the world. On the same evening the bride and bridegroom went on board ship; cannons were roaring, flags waving, and in the centre of the ship a costly tent of purple and gold had been erected. It contained elegant couches, for the reception of the bridal pair during the night. The ship, with swelling sails and a favorable wind, glided away smoothly and lightly over the calm sea. When it grew dark a number of colored lamps were lit, and the sailors danced merrily on the deck. The little mermaid could not help thinking of her first rising out of the sea, when she had seen similar festivities and joys; and she joined in the dance, poised herself in the air as a swallow when he pursues his prey, and all present cheered her with wonder. She had never danced so elegantly before. Her tender feet felt as if cut with sharp knives, but she cared not for it; a sharper pang had pierced through her heart. She knew this was the last evening she should ever see the prince, for whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home; she had given up her beautiful voice, and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him, while he knew nothing of it. This was the last evening that she would breathe the same air with him, or gaze on the starry sky and the deep sea; an eternal night, without a thought or a dream, awaited her: she had no soul and now she could never win one. All was joy and gayety on board ship till long after midnight; she laughed and danced with the rest, while the thoughts of death were in her heart. The prince kissed his beautiful bride, while she played with his raven hair, till they went arm-in-arm to rest in the splendid tent. Then all became still on board the ship; the helmsman, alone awake, stood at the helm. The little mermaid leaned her white arms on the edge of the vessel, and looked towards the east for the first blush of morning, for that first ray of dawn that would bring her death. She saw her sisters rising out of the flood: they were as pale as herself; but their long beautiful hair waved no more in the wind, and had been cut off.

“We have given our hair to the witch,” said they, “to obtain help for you, that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife: here it is, see it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge it into the heart of the prince; when the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again, and form into a fish’s tail, and you will be once more a mermaid, and return to us to live out your three hundred years before you die and change into the salt sea foam. Haste, then; he or you must die before sunrise. Our old grandmother moans so for you, that her white hair is falling off from sorrow, as ours fell under the witch’s scissors. Kill the prince and come back; hasten: do you not see the first red streaks in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die.” And then they sighed deeply and mournfully, and sank down beneath the waves.

The little mermaid drew back the crimson curtain of the tent, and beheld the fair bride with her head resting on the prince’s breast. She bent down and kissed his fair brow, then looked at the sky on which the rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter; then she glanced at the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes on the prince, who whispered the name of his bride in his dreams. She was in his thoughts, and the knife trembled in the hand of the little mermaid: then she flung it far away from her into the waves; the water turned red where it fell, and the drops that spurted up looked like blood. She cast one more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw herself from the ship into the sea, and thought her body was dissolving into foam. The sun rose above the waves, and his warm rays fell on the cold foam of the little mermaid, who did not feel as if she were dying. She saw the bright sun, and all around her floated hundreds of transparent beautiful beings; she could see through them the white sails of the ship, and the red clouds in the sky; their speech was melodious, but too ethereal to be heard by mortal ears, as they were also unseen by mortal eyes. The little mermaid perceived that she had a body like theirs, and that she continued to rise higher and higher out of the foam. “Where am I?” asked she, and her voice sounded ethereal, as the voice of those who were with her; no earthly music could imitate it.

“Among the daughters of the air,” answered one of them. “A mermaid has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal destiny. But the daughters of the air, although they do not possess an immortal soul, can, by their good deeds, procure one for themselves. We fly to warm countries, and cool the sultry air that destroys mankind with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to spread health and restoration. After we have striven for three hundred years to all the good in our power, we receive an immortal soul and take part in the happiness of mankind. You, poor little mermaid, have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing; you have suffered and endured and raised yourself to the spirit-world by your good deeds; and now, by striving for three hundred years in the same way, you may obtain an immortal soul.”

The little mermaid lifted her glorified eyes towards the sun, and felt them, for the first time, filling with tears. On the ship, in which she had left the prince, there were life and noise; she saw him and his beautiful bride searching for her; sorrowfully they gazed at the pearly foam, as if they knew she had thrown herself into the waves. Unseen she kissed the forehead of her bride, and fanned the prince, and then mounted with the other children of the air to a rosy cloud that floated through the aether.

“After three hundred years, thus shall we float into the kingdom of heaven,” said she. “And we may even get there sooner,” whispered one of her companions. “Unseen we can enter the houses of men, where there are children, and for every day on which we find a good child, who is the joy of his parents and deserves their love, our time of probation is shortened. The child does not know, when we fly through the room, that we smile with joy at his good conduct, for we can count one year less of our three hundred years. But when we see a naughty or a wicked child, we shed tears of sorrow, and for every tear a day is added to our time of trial!”

The Little Mermaid was originally published on PinkWrite