#last time we ate mulberries off the tree :)

[muirneach]

mom and i found a bunch of walnut trees near the river so that’s exciting for fall we get to have walnuts my favourite nut. also check this out when u put bleach on the otherwise yellow stain that unripe nuts have it turns red isn’t that wild

[keepingupwithpotters]

summer wine

@efkgirldetective 's Summer of Jily week 4 🍓🍓🍓

picking (mul)berries + I know I've kissed you before, but I didn't do it right

also on ao3

In retrospect, Lily could say none of it had been his fault, but it was hard to remember that when James was walking so sullen beside her now.

The date had started nice enough. Well, the idea of it was nice anyway. A summer picnic date sounded like the perfect first date on paper, if only the execution hadn’t run into some problems… But really, how was he supposed to foresee the grass being wet because it had been watered recently? And they solved that one pretty easily too, before his face could be clouded with the first hitch on his perfect plan, finding a bench by the lake with limited space quickly.

If you asked Lily, she would say the first hitch had been when he decided to keep the nature of the date as a surprise and her carefully decided heels started to sink deep into the fresh mud as they walked through the field. But he had seemed so excited, and she was not about to dim that smile – so Lily Evans marched on, without complaining.

Now that she was thinking about it, she supposed he could be blamed a little about the food – not that she would ever tell that to his face. They dug into the basket right away after they sat down, eager to salvage their first disappointment, only to be crushed once more when they saw the condition of their food. Maybe tuna and egg salad sandwiches hadn’t been the top choices to make for this sweltering heat after all. She appreciated the aesthetic of the peterboro basket, she really did, but a cooler bag it was not. The chocolate for the strawberries seemed to have ended up in the same fate too, melted and beyond recognition. At least they still got the wine, a little warm but still delicious – and desperately needed to forget how hungry they were.

Going back towards the car together, she couldn’t even bring herself to hold his hand as they walked, with his hands in his pockets and head fallen down. In all honesty, this was not how she expected the date would go either, not after the way he had been so charming, so confident the whole summer. Well… not the whole summer. She bit her lip to stop a grin from breaking out when she remembered his panicked face after he kissed her for three seconds, a peck more than a kiss really. Watching him lose his cool for the first time had been a highly entertaining spectacle, and the kiss itself… It was no use thinking about it now, when there was absolutely zero chance that she was getting a kiss after this date. She could feel a scowl settling in on her face. Now they matched.

The frown disappeared when she noticed something from the corner of her eye.

“Hey, are those mulberry trees?”

James was so deep in his, probably self-berating, thoughts that he hadn’t heard her. She gave his arm a little tug after some consideration. “Come on.”

She didn’t let herself look at his expression as they got closer to the trees she spotted from afar, eyes locked on the target. Her hunch was proved right when she saw the black fruits, dangling ripe from the branches.

Hunger getting the best of her in an embarrassingly short time, her hands reached towards the best-looking ones quickly, sweetness exploding in her mouth with nostalgia. She noticed James was standing frozen behind her without moving after a few, okay maybe a handful, berries, scolding herself for not realizing earlier.

She collected some for him right away as an apology, explanation falling from her lips at the same time. “We had a mulberry tree in the backyard of our old house. I learned how to climb trees on it.” Memories brought forth a fond smile. “Tuney hated it, said it always stained her dresses.”

He took the berries from her with a look akin to awe, eyes closing briefly when he finally tasted one. She tried to ignore the flutters in her stomach in response to his blissful face and berry-stained lips.

“I can get more for us if you’d like. The ones up above are always better anyway.” Her heels were off before he could say anything. “Can you help me up?”

He finally seemed to break free from whatever daze he was in, coughing out a hasty “Sure.” His left hand enveloped hers as she put her left foot on the trunk of the tree, the other hand supporting her back behind her. Warmth seeped through everywhere he touched, and she prayed to whoever was listening that she wouldn’t slip and fall on her face from the shock.

When she was finally on the tree, his left hand joined the other one on her back, sliding a little down to grip her firmly on the waist, creating a nice little support system for her. She certainly was glad that he wasn’t able to see her face from down there.

There was no need to go further up anymore, with an abundance of mulberries in front of her now. She felt a sharp pinch in her side when she started to eat them without breathing.

“Oi, I didn’t help you up just so you can feed yourself, did I?”

Berry lips widened for a smile. Oh, he was back.

Her hands filled up quickly with the fruits, she struggled to turn her back without dropping any. There laid another problem when she successfully faced him.

“Sorry, Evans. Hands full.”

There was a dangerous grin on his face, eyes alight with mischief.

“No problem, Potter.” She could match him. He was not the only person here with guts. “Open wide.”

His surprised expression was only there for a second, half open lips doing exactly what she said quickly. Hazel eyes blazed over when her finger touched his lips, burning right into hers with the intense gaze. She swore she could feel a flick of the tongue as he ate the last of the berries, causing shivers to ripple inside her.

“Get me down now.”

Her voice was hoarse, demand falling from her mouth like it belonged to someone else. The hands that never left her side while she was up wrapped around her completely, lifting her slightly with a tight hug. She didn’t know if the reason her breath got caught in her throat was the firm grip or the new proximity, feeling heady suddenly in his arms. They were oh so close as she finally slid down to her feet, reaching his shoulder barely with the lack of her heels. She was so sure they were going to kiss this time before he opened his mouth.

“Lily, I’m so sorry about the date. I just— I wanted it to be perfect and I planned it for so long right until the kiss at the end, and I know I kissed you before, but I didn’t do it right and now the date is ruined too I’m—"

“Do it right then.”

His mouth hung open before he could think to close it. “W-what?”

“I want the grand finale.” She took one step closer to him. “Show me what you planned, James.”

He let out a breathless chuckle. “This is way beyond anything I’d planned, believe me.”

Lily had to stop herself from sighing when his hand finally touched her cheek hesitantly, the distance between them practically nonexistent now. She couldn’t be expected to stop the soft exhale that escaped when his lips finally found hers though, swallowed quickly by him. Berries exploded in her mouth, with the sweet taste lingering in between, kisses feeling black and purple all around. Her hands went to his shoulders first, all thoughts about stains escaping her mind, before they finally reached where they’ve been itching to touch all day, getting lost in the inky strands.

She was gasping for breath when they finally fell apart, head dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

“I would call that a perfect kiss.”

There were little purple fingerprints on his neck, face still in wonder. He looked at her like he couldn’t believe she was real.

She went to pick up her heels without waiting for an answer, gathering them in one hand while she caught her breath. He was right where she left him when she turned back, a hand touching his lips lightly.

This time when she offered her hand, he took it without hesitance, purple stains and all. They continued their walk back to the car, Lily’s bare feet gliding through the wet grass easily.

“Hey, James?”

“Hmm?”

“For our second date, please don’t plan any surprises.”

[valkyriewarriors]

| Goddess of  the Hearth | III

masterlist

Nesta could feel the heat of the fire more than ever. It felt almost as if she would reach the flames for their comfort. 

Marriage.

To Eris.

“Nesta,” The high priestess’ tone was low, her eyes were darker than before. “There is no choice here. As a Vestal Virgin, you are beyond blessed than any other woman in the Empire.” The priestess's hands were cold when they reached out to grip Nesta’s wrists. “To be offered the hand of the imperial household… it’s your final offering to the Empire. A marriage blessed by Vesta herself.” 

“But I need at least 30 years before I can leave my services..” Nesta tried to explain in a steady voice. If the High Priestess wasn’t gripping her wrists she would’ve been shaking.

“There is talk of mutiny within the senate. When the emperor came to our temple for advice, we offered a hand in marriage as a blessing to secure his position. His son remembered you from before,” Nesta grimaced “and wanted you specifically.” 

The high priestess let go of Nesta’s hands and she felt blood rushing back to them. The high priestess turned to leave but looked back and said in a cold tone,  “You have to accept Nesta. Or Eris will take one of your sisters in your place. You’ll have a month to journey to Rome, I’ll see you then Nesta.” She walked away, her white tunic capturing the sunlight as she left the temple. Nesta could only stare as her last words cut through her like glass. 

He would take one of her sisters instead. Feyre and Elain. Nesta turned towards the fire, her fists balled to keep from shaking. There was no choice. Was there ever a choice for her? For any of her sisters? They were placed, dumped, in the Vestal Virgin’s temple at such a young age to protect their father’s reputation after his trading company sunk. After 10 grueling and cruel years of training, being exiled, Nesta should’ve known. 

Nothing was up to her. From the tunic she wore. the bed she slept on, the food she ate, the things she sacrificed, nothing was hers. 

She needed air. A place to breathe. If there was one thing she was grateful for it was the gardens. Unlike the ones in Rome, which Nesta could rarely visit, there was still a wild element to the untrimmed bushes and the towering heights of the cypress trees. The sun shone brightly and through the canopy cover where rays of light escaped. The ground was not paved with cobblestones, there was still grass and soil that gave Nesta comfort as she strolled through barefoot. 

Under the mulberry tree, she sat where the branches stretched far enough to provide her shade in the sun. She didn’t care if her tunic got dirty from the soil there was a ton more at the temple. Her veil was removed, she hated how stuffed and enclosed she felt in it. She wanted a fresh breeze on her face and to smell the growing variety of vegetation.

This was where she can be alone and the world wouldn’t burn if she spent a few minutes in idle. There wasn’t a mold she had to fit into. In Rome, there was order and structure to her life. So much rigidity that Nesta didn’t realize she was suffocating. Her life as a priestess was crafted to give her a future she had no choice in as a devoted wife to a man who only saw her as a prize. 

A small breeze passed through the garden, swaying the branches above her. A few mulberries dropped to the ground and scattered around her. Suddenly she remembered the tan skin and the defined lines of muscles. The eyes whose color was something Nesta had yet to see — brown but when the light shone on them, they were almost green. And the irksome grins and smirks he threw at her. Brute. A handsome brute. 

Nesta knew he was a highly ranked officer from the way his armor was bound together by leather, and the feathered helmet he carried the other day. He was not a centurion maybe not yet, but he was far too young. He didn’t carry himself like a nobleman, leading Nesta to believe he earned his rank. Maybe that’s why he’s so cocky because he knew he had the skills to back him up. 

She scoffed as she remembered the many times she caught him staring at her in the temple or how his breath seemed to stop when she applied the salve to his cheek. Maybe in another life, she could be the village girl who stole his heart and fed him mulberries in the garden. There wouldn’t be eyes that watched her or armbands that locked her in place. 

When she saw him the other day in the gardens he was sound asleep not one brow furrowed. His face was in pure bliss that even Nesta didn’t want to wake him so she simply went about her duties. But then he awoke, approached her and threw her his famous crooked smile that Nesta wanted to smother. And then that ugly gash caught her attention, something she didn't notice when he was sleeping. For some reason, Nesta hated seeing it on him so she offered her precious salve.  

“Yes priestess, we have a deal.” He was so close to her she could smell the sea salt from his skin. She noticed his hands were calloused from his training but also warm as she took the berries he offered. He continued to watch her as she ate them and in her inner depths, she loved the glint in his hazel eyes. 

A sharper wind cut through her thoughts. The gardens were quieter today and a bit darker. She sighed as she got up and mindlessly wiped off her already dirty tunic. There were still things to do in the temple.

—

Cassian grunted as he hit the ground. Rhysand was above him, sword already at his throat. “A week out and you’re already rusty?” 

Cassian swiped his sword away and took the hand Rhysand offered. His arm was a little sore but not painstakingly as it was before. He scoffed, “Alright the first pint of beer is on me.” 

“Only a pint?” Rhysand was grinning and he clasped his hand on Cassian’s back as they walked through the camp.

“Optiones. ” A rough voice boomed from behind them. Cassian immediately knew it was their centurion, Devlon. He and Rhysand turned about-face and saluted him, the muscles beneath Cassian’s scar ached a bit. 

Devlon’s eyes scanned Cassian’s scar, raising an eyebrow. “How did it heal so fast? I thought I cut it pretty deeply.” His eyes glinted as if he remembered his blade slicing through Cassian’s flesh. The muscles in Cassian’s jaws clenched. 

“Takes the right salve and some time off to heal,” Cassian said sharply. 

Devlon stepped closer trying to let his bulky figure intimidate Cassian. He snarled, “Don’t get smart with me boy.” 

Rhysand, sensing the tension, cleared his throat. “Was there something you wanted to tell us?” 

Devlon straightened, backing away from Cassian but still close. “An order was received this morning, the emperor’s son is to be married.” Devlon spat on the ground and stood in front of them with hands on his hips. “They need escorts for his soon to be wife… so I’m sending my best  optiones,”

Cassian fought the urge to look over at Rhysand and roll his eyes but he knew Rhysand feelings were mutual. Devlon was just doing this to show off to the Emperor his military officers that he supposedly trained. They were prizes to the Emperor as much as whoever this poor woman was. 

“The wife resides in this town?” Rhysand asked.

Devlon then turned to Cassian as he answered Rhysand. “She’s the Vestal Priestess.” Rhysand scoffed and almost laughed, “Ice priestess?” 

But Cassian wasn’t listening anymore, Devlon’s eyes once again flickered to his scar and grinned. He knew she gave him the salve and maybe that he had an affection for her. Devlon was sending him to torment him. Did you really think anything would happen between the two? With you? 

“Fine.” Cassian said at last. 

“Well if Cassian’s going, I’ll go too.” Rhysand said.

Devlon laughed, “Optiones, you talk as if you had a choice.”

—

A/N: optiones - plural for optio in latin: equivalent to an executive officer in the military.

centurion - commander of a century

[lewiscarrollsocietynorthamerica]

CHAPTER IV. Tweedledum And Tweedledee

They were standing under a tree, each with an arm round the other’s neck, and Alice knew which was which in a moment, because one of them had ‘DUM’ embroidered on his collar, and the other ‘DEE.’ ‘I suppose they’ve each got “TWEEDLE” round at the back of the collar,’ she said to herself.

They stood so still that she quite forgot they were alive, and she was just looking round to see if the word “TWEEDLE” was written at the back of each collar, when she was startled by a voice coming from the one marked ‘DUM.’

‘If you think we’re wax-works,’ he said, ‘you ought to pay, you know. Wax-works weren’t made to be looked at for nothing, nohow!’

‘Contrariwise,’ added the one marked ‘DEE,’ ‘if you think we’re alive, you ought to speak.’

‘I’m sure I’m very sorry,’ was all Alice could say; for the words of the old song kept ringing through her head like the ticking of a clock, and she could hardly help saying them out loud:—

    ‘Tweedledum and Tweedledee      Agreed to have a battle;     For Tweedledum said Tweedledee      Had spoiled his nice new rattle.     Just then flew down a monstrous crow,      As black as a tar-barrel;     Which frightened both the heroes so,      They quite forgot their quarrel.’

‘I know what you’re thinking about,’ said Tweedledum: ‘but it isn’t so, nohow.’

‘Contrariwise,’ continued Tweedledee, ‘if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn’t, it ain’t. That’s logic.’

‘I was thinking,’ Alice said very politely, ‘which is the best way out of this wood: it’s getting so dark. Would you tell me, please?’

But the little men only looked at each other and grinned.

They looked so exactly like a couple of great schoolboys, that Alice couldn’t help pointing her finger at Tweedledum, and saying ‘First Boy!’

‘Nohow!’ Tweedledum cried out briskly, and shut his mouth up again with a snap.

‘Next Boy!’ said Alice, passing on to Tweedledee, though she felt quite certain he would only shout out ‘Contrariwise!’ and so he did.

‘You’ve been wrong!’ cried Tweedledum. ‘The first thing in a visit is to say “How d’ye do?” and shake hands!’ And here the two brothers gave each other a hug, and then they held out the two hands that were free, to shake hands with her.

Alice did not like shaking hands with either of them first, for fear of hurting the other one’s feelings; so, as the best way out of the difficulty, she took hold of both hands at once: the next moment they were dancing round in a ring. This seemed quite natural (she remembered afterwards), and she was not even surprised to hear music playing: it seemed to come from the tree under which they were dancing, and it was done (as well as she could make it out) by the branches rubbing one across the other, like fiddles and fiddle-sticks.

‘But it certainly was funny,’ (Alice said afterwards, when she was telling her sister the history of all this,) ‘to find myself singing “Here we go round the mulberry bush.” I don’t know when I began it, but somehow I felt as if I’d been singing it a long long time!’

The other two dancers were fat, and very soon out of breath. ‘Four times round is enough for one dance,’ Tweedledum panted out, and they left off dancing as suddenly as they had begun: the music stopped at the same moment.

Then they let go of Alice’s hands, and stood looking at her for a minute: there was a rather awkward pause, as Alice didn’t know how to begin a conversation with people she had just been dancing with. ‘It would never do to say “How d’ye do?” now,’ she said to herself: ‘we seem to have got beyond that, somehow!’

‘I hope you’re not much tired?’ she said at last.

‘Nohow. And thank you very much for asking,’ said Tweedledum.

‘So much obliged!’ added Tweedledee. ‘You like poetry?’

‘Ye-es, pretty well—some poetry,’ Alice said doubtfully. ‘Would you tell me which road leads out of the wood?’

‘What shall I repeat to her?’ said Tweedledee, looking round at Tweedledum with great solemn eyes, and not noticing Alice’s question.

‘“The Walrus and the Carpenter” is the longest,’ Tweedledum replied, giving his brother an affectionate hug.

Tweedledee began instantly:

      ‘The sun was shining—’

Here Alice ventured to interrupt him. ‘If it’s very long,’ she said, as politely as she could, ‘would you please tell me first which road—’

Tweedledee smiled gently, and began again:

    ‘The sun was shining on the sea,      Shining with all his might:     He did his very best to make      The billows smooth and bright—     And this was odd, because it was      The middle of the night.     The moon was shining sulkily,      Because she thought the sun     Had got no business to be there      After the day was done—     “It’s very rude of him,” she said,      “To come and spoil the fun!”     The sea was wet as wet could be,      The sands were dry as dry.     You could not see a cloud, because      No cloud was in the sky:     No birds were flying over head—      There were no birds to fly.     The Walrus and the Carpenter      Were walking close at hand;     They wept like anything to see      Such quantities of sand:     “If this were only cleared away,”       They said, “it would be grand!”     “If seven maids with seven mops      Swept it for half a year,     Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,      “That they could get it clear?”      “I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,      And shed a bitter tear.     “O Oysters, come and walk with us!”       The Walrus did beseech.     “A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,      Along the briny beach:     We cannot do with more than four,      To give a hand to each.”     The eldest Oyster looked at him.      But never a word he said:     The eldest Oyster winked his eye,      And shook his heavy head—     Meaning to say he did not choose      To leave the oyster-bed.     But four young oysters hurried up,      All eager for the treat:     Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,      Their shoes were clean and neat—     And this was odd, because, you know,      They hadn’t any feet.     Four other Oysters followed them,      And yet another four;     And thick and fast they came at last,      And more, and more, and more—     All hopping through the frothy waves,      And scrambling to the shore.     The Walrus and the Carpenter      Walked on a mile or so,     And then they rested on a rock      Conveniently low:     And all the little Oysters stood      And waited in a row.     “The time has come,” the Walrus said,      “To talk of many things:     Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—      Of cabbages—and kings—     And why the sea is boiling hot—      And whether pigs have wings.”     “But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,      “Before we have our chat;     For some of us are out of breath,      And all of us are fat!”      “No hurry!” said the Carpenter.      They thanked him much for that.     “A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,      “Is what we chiefly need:     Pepper and vinegar besides      Are very good indeed—     Now if you’re ready Oysters dear,      We can begin to feed.”     “But not on us!” the Oysters cried,      Turning a little blue,     “After such kindness, that would be      A dismal thing to do!”      “The night is fine,” the Walrus said      “Do you admire the view?     “It was so kind of you to come!      And you are very nice!”      The Carpenter said nothing but      “Cut us another slice:     I wish you were not quite so deaf—      I’ve had to ask you twice!”     “It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,      “To play them such a trick,     After we’ve brought them out so far,      And made them trot so quick!”      The Carpenter said nothing but      “The butter’s spread too thick!”     “I weep for you,” the Walrus said.      “I deeply sympathize.”      With sobs and tears he sorted out      Those of the largest size.     Holding his pocket handkerchief      Before his streaming eyes.     “O Oysters,” said the Carpenter.      “You’ve had a pleasant run!     Shall we be trotting home again?”       But answer came there none—     And that was scarcely odd, because      They’d eaten every one.’

‘I like the Walrus best,’ said Alice: ‘because you see he was a little sorry for the poor oysters.’

‘He ate more than the Carpenter, though,’ said Tweedledee. ‘You see he held his handkerchief in front, so that the Carpenter couldn’t count how many he took: contrariwise.’

‘That was mean!’ Alice said indignantly. ‘Then I like the Carpenter best—if he didn’t eat so many as the Walrus.’

‘But he ate as many as he could get,’ said Tweedledum.

This was a puzzler. After a pause, Alice began, ‘Well! They were both very unpleasant characters—’ Here she checked herself in some alarm, at hearing something that sounded to her like the puffing of a large steam-engine in the wood near them, though she feared it was more likely to be a wild beast. ‘Are there any lions or tigers about here?’ she asked timidly.

‘It’s only the Red King snoring,’ said Tweedledee.

‘Come and look at him!’ the brothers cried, and they each took one of Alice’s hands, and led her up to where the King was sleeping.

‘Isn’t he a lovely sight?’ said Tweedledum.

Alice couldn’t say honestly that he was. He had a tall red night-cap on, with a tassel, and he was lying crumpled up into a sort of untidy heap, and snoring loud—‘fit to snore his head off!’ as Tweedledum remarked.

‘I’m afraid he’ll catch cold with lying on the damp grass,’ said Alice, who was a very thoughtful little girl.

‘He’s dreaming now,’ said Tweedledee: ‘and what do you think he’s dreaming about?’

Alice said ‘Nobody can guess that.’

‘Why, about you!’ Tweedledee exclaimed, clapping his hands triumphantly. ‘And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you’d be?’

‘Where I am now, of course,’ said Alice.

‘Not you!’ Tweedledee retorted contemptuously. ‘You’d be nowhere. Why, you’re only a sort of thing in his dream!’

‘If that there King was to wake,’ added Tweedledum, ‘you’d go out—bang!—just like a candle!’

‘I shouldn’t!’ Alice exclaimed indignantly. ‘Besides, if I’m only a sort of thing in his dream, what are you, I should like to know?’

‘Ditto’ said Tweedledum.

‘Ditto, ditto’ cried Tweedledee.

He shouted this so loud that Alice couldn’t help saying, ‘Hush! You’ll be waking him, I’m afraid, if you make so much noise.’

‘Well, it no use your talking about waking him,’ said Tweedledum, ‘when you’re only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you’re not real.’

‘I am real!’ said Alice and began to cry.

‘You won’t make yourself a bit realler by crying,’ Tweedledee remarked: ‘there’s nothing to cry about.’

‘If I wasn’t real,’ Alice said—half-laughing through her tears, it all seemed so ridiculous—‘I shouldn’t be able to cry.’

‘I hope you don’t suppose those are real tears?’ Tweedledum interrupted in a tone of great contempt.

‘I know they’re talking nonsense,’ Alice thought to herself: ‘and it’s foolish to cry about it.’ So she brushed away her tears, and went on as cheerfully as she could. ‘At any rate I’d better be getting out of the wood, for really it’s coming on very dark. Do you think it’s going to rain?’

Tweedledum spread a large umbrella over himself and his brother, and looked up into it. ‘No, I don’t think it is,’ he said: ‘at least—not under here. Nohow.’

‘But it may rain outside?’

‘It may—if it chooses,’ said Tweedledee: ‘we’ve no objection. Contrariwise.’

‘Selfish things!’ thought Alice, and she was just going to say ‘Good-night’ and leave them, when Tweedledum sprang out from under the umbrella and seized her by the wrist.

‘Do you see that?’ he said, in a voice choking with passion, and his eyes grew large and yellow all in a moment, as he pointed with a trembling finger at a small white thing lying under the tree.

‘It’s only a rattle,’ Alice said, after a careful examination of the little white thing. ‘Not a rattle-snake, you know,’ she added hastily, thinking that he was frightened: ‘only an old rattle—quite old and broken.’

‘I knew it was!’ cried Tweedledum, beginning to stamp about wildly and tear his hair. ‘It’s spoilt, of course!’ Here he looked at Tweedledee, who immediately sat down on the ground, and tried to hide himself under the umbrella.

Alice laid her hand upon his arm, and said in a soothing tone, ‘You needn’t be so angry about an old rattle.’

‘But it isn’t old!’ Tweedledum cried, in a greater fury than ever. ‘It’s new, I tell you—I bought it yesterday—my nice new RATTLE!’ and his voice rose to a perfect scream.

All this time Tweedledee was trying his best to fold up the umbrella, with himself in it: which was such an extraordinary thing to do, that it quite took off Alice’s attention from the angry brother. But he couldn’t quite succeed, and it ended in his rolling over, bundled up in the umbrella, with only his head out: and there he lay, opening and shutting his mouth and his large eyes—‘looking more like a fish than anything else,’ Alice thought.

‘Of course you agree to have a battle?’ Tweedledum said in a calmer tone.

‘I suppose so,’ the other sulkily replied, as he crawled out of the umbrella: ‘only she must help us to dress up, you know.’

So the two brothers went off hand-in-hand into the wood, and returned in a minute with their arms full of things—such as bolsters, blankets, hearth-rugs, table-cloths, dish-covers and coal-scuttles. ‘I hope you’re a good hand at pinning and tying strings?’ Tweedledum remarked. ‘Every one of these things has got to go on, somehow or other.’

Alice said afterwards she had never seen such a fuss made about anything in all her life—the way those two bustled about—and the quantity of things they put on—and the trouble they gave her in tying strings and fastening buttons—‘Really they’ll be more like bundles of old clothes than anything else, by the time they’re ready!’ she said to herself, as she arranged a bolster round the neck of Tweedledee, ‘to keep his head from being cut off,’ as he said.

‘You know,’ he added very gravely, ‘it’s one of the most serious things that can possibly happen to one in a battle—to get one’s head cut off.’

Alice laughed aloud: but she managed to turn it into a cough, for fear of hurting his feelings.

‘Do I look very pale?’ said Tweedledum, coming up to have his helmet tied on. (He called it a helmet, though it certainly looked much more like a saucepan.)

‘Well—yes—a little,’ Alice replied gently.

‘I’m very brave generally,’ he went on in a low voice: ‘only to-day I happen to have a headache.’

‘And I’ve got a toothache!’ said Tweedledee, who had overheard the remark. ‘I’m far worse off than you!’

‘Then you’d better not fight to-day,’ said Alice, thinking it a good opportunity to make peace.

‘We must have a bit of a fight, but I don’t care about going on long,’ said Tweedledum. ‘What’s the time now?’

Tweedledee looked at his watch, and said ‘Half-past four.’

‘Let’s fight till six, and then have dinner,’ said Tweedledum.

‘Very well,’ the other said, rather sadly: ‘and she can watch us—only you’d better not come very close,’ he added: ‘I generally hit everything I can see—when I get really excited.’

‘And I hit everything within reach,’ cried Tweedledum, ‘whether I can see it or not!’

Alice laughed. ‘You must hit the trees pretty often, I should think,’ she said.

Tweedledum looked round him with a satisfied smile. ‘I don’t suppose,’ he said, ‘there’ll be a tree left standing, for ever so far round, by the time we’ve finished!’

‘And all about a rattle!’ said Alice, still hoping to make them a little ashamed of fighting for such a trifle.

‘I shouldn’t have minded it so much,’ said Tweedledum, ‘if it hadn’t been a new one.’

‘I wish the monstrous crow would come!’ thought Alice.

‘There’s only one sword, you know,’ Tweedledum said to his brother: ‘but you can have the umbrella—it’s quite as sharp. Only we must begin quick. It’s getting as dark as it can.’

‘And darker,’ said Tweedledee.

It was getting dark so suddenly that Alice thought there must be a thunderstorm coming on. ‘What a thick black cloud that is!’ she said. ‘And how fast it comes! Why, I do believe it’s got wings!’

‘It’s the crow!’ Tweedledum cried out in a shrill voice of alarm: and the two brothers took to their heels and were out of sight in a moment.

Alice ran a little way into the wood, and stopped under a large tree. ‘It can never get at me here,’ she thought: ‘it’s far too large to squeeze itself in among the trees. But I wish it wouldn’t flap its wings so—it makes quite a hurricane in the wood—here’s somebody’s shawl being blown away!’

[exophilelovings]

Golden Gate

This is January’s Short story, Golden Gate! 

Want February’s? Go to my patreon now to get access to it for a $1!!

https://www.patreon.com/monsterlover2018

Going to her grandmother’s had never been a problem for Katrina. Her whole family had been living up in the appalachian mountains in Pennsylvania for quite a long time. They had settled there according to her grandmother with some of the first German settlers in the area. It had been a bit crazy for her family when she had moved to Carlisle instead of opting to stay up in the little mountain village her family had made. It did make their lives much easier, as every weekend she would come up and visit and bring the mail from the P.O. Box since the little cabins were way outside city, and the mail man’s, limits. Katrina placed the grocery in the bed of her truck in baskets before starting her way up the mountain road. Every week her grandmother sent her with a list even though she swore she didn’t need anything from ‘down the mountain’ as she would say. She watched as the trees grew more dense as she drove up the pass, as the asphalt disappeared into gravel. When she pulled up to the large cabin she couldn’t help the deep breath. The smell of burning pine and the thick plume of smoke coming from the chimney let her know her grandmother was baking something in that old archaic stove of hers. She gathered two baskets from the truck bed before heading into the cabin.

“Hey Grandma.” She said, setting the baskets on the table. The old woman looked up from poking at the biscuits in the stove.

“There you are girl!” She huffed, closing the door on the stove. “Late this week!”

“Told you I had to work late this weekend if I was going to be able to stay the night so I could pick out those Red Mulberries you want so much.” Katrina said, looking her grandmother over. The old lady huffed as she stirred the stew on the stove. While her grandmother was a bit hard, she knew it was because she loved her. “I got you those things you asked for, along with some of those crisp lemon cookies.” As Katrina set the package on the counter she could feel her grandmother’s stare.

“If I wanted cookies I could make my own.” The elderly woman huffed, but she knew that come morning that package of cookies would disappear into her grandmother’s bedroom so she could hide them from her uncles if they came to visit. Katrina grabbed the last of the groceries before heading to the guest bedroom, setting down her bag. She was thankful there was some cell service out here, so she would be able to at least scroll through facebook and get a few emails out before bed. She set her bag down on the bed with a sigh, knowing that the bed was less than comfortable, but she didn’t want her grandmother going out into the woods to pick mulberries. Old woman would probably break something and be stuck out there for days.

Katrina pulled her blonde hair up into a ponytail, knowing as soon as she came back out of the room her grandmother would be putting her to work. Even though she had moved to the city years ago, she knew what her chores would be before she got some dinner. She immediately grabbed the bucket to fill with water so they could heat it up to wash dishes when dinner was over. Katrina walked to the pump just on the other side of the cabin, setting the bucket on the ground and began to pump water as she remembered when she had told the family she would be moving to the city for good. Sure, some of her family had jobs in Carlisle, but no one actually lived in city limits. They had all had the same argument. The family had been living on the land for years, they worked in town and always came back home. This land had been with their family for generations and would be for generations to come, thus the family had to stay.

Even though they had been plenty upset, Katrina had still left. She had found an office job in the city and an quaint little apartment all things considered. She hadn’t always been excited to head into work to patch phone calls around the office, but there was something about the forest that...Well, that had honestly scared her. Something about the shadows that danced in the trees that sent shivers down her spine and caused her to sweat. She felt much better nestled in her apartment, doors locked and the sounds of car engines up and down the street. She didn’t know why but it was just safer to her.

She grabbed the bucket and brought it back to the cabin. “You know you could move in with Uncle Donny. He has running water and electricity at least.” Katrina said as she put the bucket on its designated place on the wood stove.

“And I’ll tell you the same thing I told your Uncle Donny. Once I cant take care of myself no more, I’ll move.” Her Grandmother said as she moved the tray of biscuits out of the oven. Katrina rolled her eyes. She was sure her grandmother would die alone in this old cabin, but she knew that was what her grandmother had wanted. She had been raised like this, and she would die like this. Katrina grabbed cups and bowls as she cleared the kitchen table off of the groceries and mail she had brought.

“I’m going to bring Uncle Donny his mail when I go to pick Mulberries, is there anything you want me to bring him?” Katrina asked as she brought the stew pot to the table. Even though her grandmother fussed that she could do it, things were getting too heavy for her now a days.

“You could bring the leftover biscuits if we dont eat the rest at breakfast...Oh! I’ve got some Jam I made that's finally done setting that you could bring a jar.” Katrina nodded as the list got longer and longer of things she would need to bring. She was glad she had packed her clothes for the weekend in a backpack this time.  She ate dinner and helped her grandmother with the dishes, taking a moment to sit out on a stool just outside the cabin. It was thankfully cool enough that she wasnt batting away swarms of gnats and mosquitos. Even though she was happy in the city, she did miss this. The absolute quiet that the woods brought. She sighed, leaning her head back against the wood cabin as she listened to the rustling of the trees and a few birds call as they settled in for the night.

What she hadn’t expected was the figure standing at the very edge of the woods. She noticed him when she stood to finally head inside and get some sleep. He was amazingly tall, standing along the brush just inside the woods. Katrina blinked before deciding to speak. “Are you lost?” She asked. It had happened before, hikers going along the appalachian trail would get lost and end up at one of her family’s cabins. The figure didn’t move, only gently swaying with the brush as the wind blew through it. Katrina took a step closer, but was still cautious. Anyone up this far in the woods was family, a hiker, or a murderer, and this guy was starting to lean towards the third option in Katrina’s mind. “The trail isn’t far from here, I can get you on your way, no need to worry.”

The figure stood still as she stepped closer before suddenly setting something on the ground and disappearing into the woods. Katrina debated a moment, staring at the object the figure had placed on the ground. At this distance she could tell it was a bowl filled with something, but the contents were obscured by the brush and growing darkness. She swallowed. Definitely a murderer. Maybe a psycho, giving her a bowl full of someone's intestines. Even though she wanted to turn her back to the woods and book it into the cabin, something drew her to the bowl. If it was a bowl full of human organs she would need to drive a bit to find some cell signal to call the police. She stepped closer, still keeping an eye on the brush. One crinkle of a foot step she would be in the cabin in seconds and dragging her grandmother into her truck.

What she hadn't thought it would be would be a decent sized bowl of mulberries. She blinked, picking up the bowl. The wooden bowl was smooth, carved with flowers and leaves, little fairies dancing among the vines. As she went to inspect the berries again, seeing if a heart was under all the berries, she heard a voice.

“Cake please.” It was like a whisper on the wind, but right next to her ear. Katrina shrieked, turning quickly and dropping the bowl. She had expected the man to be there, towering over her, but there was nothing. She breathed heavy, whipping back around to the woods to see the bowl on the ground, still full. She had flung that bowl, there should have been berries everywhere, but there it sat. On the ground by her feet, still as full as it had been before.

“Careful.” The voice whispered again and Katrina swore she could feel a hand pass over hers. “Greta will know.” As those words were whispered, the wind completely stopped and Katrina swore she couldn’t hear a thing. Not a single thing in the woods and she was completely unnerved. Yet, Katrina still picked up the bowl from the ground, bringing it into the cabin. Her grandmother looked up from where she had begun to pile all of the things she would need to bring to her uncle’s house. She set down the book, going to the kitchen and grabbing her apron.

“What will he like this time?” She asked, beginning to gather baking ingredients from shelves around the kitchen.

Katrina stared at her grandmother moment. “Um...Cake?” She said, setting the bowl down. “But there are about a hundred questions before we even get to that part.”

Her grandmother raised an eyebrow. “Must I answer them?”

“If you don’t want me dragging you out of this cabin this instant you damn straight you’re going to answer them.” Katrina said, arms crossed.

“Language.” Her grandmother scolded as she took up the bowl. “It’s the Erlking.”

Katrina blinked as she stared at her grandmother. “The Erlking. Like fairytale.” Katrina would have to call her Uncle in the morning. Her Grandmother had finally lost it.

“King of the Fairies and all that, yes yes.” She said, getting a bowl from the shelf and beginning to add her dry ingredients to a bowl. “Can you get a fire started back in the oven so it’ll be hot in time?”

“Um, no? Because you’re currently cooking a cake for either an imagination or a homeless psycho, either way we are going to Uncle Donny’s for the night.” She said, but before she could move she was getting whapped on the back of the head with a flour covered wooden spoon.

“Get the fire going Katrina, wasn’t a question.” She scolded. “And if you keep doing as your told, I’ll explain.”

Katrina rubbed the throbbing place on her head, going to grab wood just to keep her grandmother happy. In the morning they would be on their way out. “Fine, Fine, but you better keep talking.”

Her grandmother continued to mix in ingredients to the bowl. “When our family settled here, back when the immigrated from Germany, They were led here by...well the Erlking.” Her grandmother said, cracking an egg. “He said that if we smuggled him out of Europe, He would find us a place to live. And it was truth. We were given this land up in the woods by him. After a while though….Children in the local towns began to go missing. Our family knew immediately it was the Erlking and we went out in the woods to hunt him down. A redemption for all of the children taken.” She gestured for the bowl of berries and Katrina handed it to her, listening intently. “When they found him though, it was way too late. This wasn’t the man they had faked papers for anymore. He had found power here he hadn’t found in Germany because too many knew his name. He said he desired sweet things, like the innocent children in the village. My grandmother made a deal with him. Our family would make him sweets if he left the children alone.” She finished buttering a cake pan and began pouring in the batter. “My grandmother made him hard candies, as did my mother, but I can never get them right, so I began baking for him.” She slid the pan into the oven and sat to wait till it was done. “I’ve got to talk to your Uncle Donny’s wife, see if she will take up the deal after I’m gone.”

Katrina blinked, staring at her. She slowly sat down in the chair across from her. “Grandma...You know how crazy that sounds right?” She said, watching her.

Her grandmother sighed. “I...I know.” She looked at her. “But you saw him, and heard him.”

Katrina couldn’t deny that. “There is probably some crazy homeless man Grandma.”

“You know he’s not.” She said, eyeing her. Katrina was in her own head about that. She was right about that. “...Bring him the cake when it’s done. You’ll see.”

Katrina looked at her. “Grandma, you’re crazy! That could be some crazy-”

“I’ve been doing this for years Katrina.” Her grandmother scolded. “If he wanted to kill me, he could have easily done it years ago.” She scolded. Katrina swallowed. “If I do this, and I realize it’s some homeless crazy man, you go live with Uncle Donny.” Katrina eyed her grandmother. “Deal?”

She looked at her a moment before nodding. “Deal.”

Katrina waited in quiet as the cake baked, playing on her phone even thought she wasn’t truely connected to anything. She looked up when her grandmother finally stood and took the cake from the stove. “Alright.” She said, taking the cake out and wrapping it up in a cloth. “He likes it still hot.” She said, setting the cake on top of the bowl. “Go on.”

Katrina took the cake, rubbing her face. It was close to two a.m. at this point and she couldn’t believe she was not only up, but going to bring a cake into the woods. She took the cake and brought it back to where she had found the bowl.

“...Alright Erlking, if thats who you are, its two in the morning and I’m exhausted and if you could just take this stupid cake that would be great.” Katrina stood in the quiet a moment, looking around as her eyes tried to adjust.

“Well Katrina, that was terribly rude.” She jumped, spinning around to see the tall figure. He towered over her, and as her eyes continued to adjust she realized he wasn’t right.

He was not only amazingly tall, but he seemed to be oddly lanky. Long arms at his sides, reaching towards the cake. His hair was pulled into a complex series of braids around the crown of his head, a tangle of flowers and leaves tucked in and his eyes….his eyes were just white. No color or pupil. She wasn’t sure if she would have been less unnerved if his eyes were completely black or like this. He took the cake, immediately tearing off a piece and taking a bite.

Katrina blinked as she stared as he ate torn off pieces from the cake. “H-How…” He groaned at the bite. “So sweet, she always does so well.” He looked at her. “...Been a long time since I’ve seen you. Not since you were a young one.” He blinked as Katrina took a hesitant step back.

“I-I...um…” She looked back at the edge of the woods, wondering if she could make it if she booked it.

“I could catch you if you tried.” Her eyes shot back as he smiled. “How have you been? I have missed you since you moved to the city.” Katrina more made gasping noises and mouth movements than answering. “I appreciate you visiting your grandmother. She is lonely often.”

Katrina held up her hands. “Wait a dang second.” She said. “How..How do you know all this?”

He took another bite of cake. “I have been with your family since they immigrated in the twenties, I owe them quite a bit.” He said, flicking crumbs from his fingers. “Well Katrina…” He held out a hand. “Would you like to take a walk with me?”

Katrina blinked. “Walk?” She asked. “Are you crazy? You can get super lost out here.”

He chuckled, gesturing against with his hand. “I know very well where I’m going.” He said. “Spend the night, just one, and I’ll let your grandmother get some peace by ending this age old contract I have with your family. You know it’s why she stays right?”

Katrina glared then. “How do I know you aren’t just going to kill me?” She said.

He raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t tried yet, have I?” He took her hand then, taking a few steps that Katrina ended up following. She couldn’t believe she was following some...creature deeper into the woods. She could hear the leaves crunch under their feet as they walked. “Just about there…” He said, helping Katrina over a fallen tree. In the middle of an empty grove stood a rusty looking garden gate. The fence had fallen away long ago, only the gate entrance remaining.

“And where are we supposed to be staying, hmm Mr. The Erlking?” Katrina huffed.

He raised an eyebrow but chuckled. “Just call me Oberon.” He said, pushing the gate open. It creaked loudly, but as it opened Katrina could hear a weird echo. It almost sounded like talking. “Follow me and you’ll see.”

Katrina swallowed, but took the couple steps forward. When she stepped forward, there was a blast of warm air...then they were in the bustling city. Though it was night, the streets were still busy with nightlife. They stood at the base of a golden archway and he brought his arm around her, pulling her to his side.

“Welcome to Golden Gate.”

[queen-scribbles]

Where I Want to Be

@pillarspromptsweekly #47: Roll for It. I got Edér, a farm, and exhaustion, so obviously I used it as an excuse to write established relationship Ederity. :D lbr I was gonna write Ederity anyway, this just made it easier

The sun was just starting to sink as Edér finally reached Charity’s house, and he couldn’t help but wince. He’d meant to get here by mid-afternoon at the latest, help her with clearing and planting a couple of her gardens. But the mayor stuff today had been just one thing after another, and before he knew it, it was early evening as he waved farewell to the last of the villagers who’d wanted to talk to him.

It wasn’t so much worry over Charity’s reaction--she’d repeatedly made it clear she didn’t want him skimping on his mayoral duties to spend time with her. That was his job, and during its set portion of the day, it needed to come first. But Edér had been looking forward to spending most of the day with her, and losing out on that because Gjyra wanted to complain about Soren’s out of control mulberry bushes(again) was more than a little disappointing. He was here now, however, and there were still a few hours left in the day. It was something.

From what he could see as he made his way to the door, Charity had gotten a lot done. It didn’t surprise him; she was one of the hardest workers he knew. He knocked on the door, frowned slightly when there was no response, and tried again. “Charity?”

Still nothing. Knowing she left the door unlocked whenever she was home, Edér turned the knob. It opened without resistance and he shook his head as he stepped inside. I gotta talk to her about that... “Chari-” Oh.

His worried frown turned to a fond smile when he saw why Charity hadn’t answered the door. She was asleep on the sofa. It clearly wasn’t something planned, judging by the mug of tea resting precariously on her knee and tipping ever-closer to disaster. Biting back a chuckle, Edér crossed the room in two swift strides and deftly rescued the mug from her loose grip. Charity barely stirred as he took it, and he couldn’t resist brushing a kiss against her forehead.

It looked like she’d sat down with her tea to wait wait for him and nodded off. Wasn’t hard to figure out why, either; Edér could see the mud caked on her boots and dirt and grass stains that streaked her clothes. Charity had worked hard all day and was beat. ‘Course, the warm, snuggly calico curled up in her lap probably hadn’t helped her stay awake, either. Sparrow mewed at him and Edér smiled as he reached to pet her.

Judging by how warm the tea was, Charity hadn’t drifted off that long ago, which meant se’d likely be out for a while. After paying due attention to Sparrow, Edér straightened and carried Charity’s boots over to the entry vestibule. He pulled his off, too, so he could move quieter, and then grabbed one of the extra blankets from her spare room.

Sparrow caught on to what he was doing, and moved long enough for him to drape the lightweight blanket over Charity before settling back into her spot. Charity shifted as the cat got comfortable, mumbling in her sleep and flinging one arm up next to her head. 

Edér smiled affectionately and watched her sleep for a minute. You’re so blazin’ cute. He rolled his eyes. An’ I’m so blazin’ smitten. He may have been too late to help with the gardens, but there was something he could do to help, something he was indisputably better at than she was.

Humming a nonsense tune under his breath, Edér headed for the kitchen 

***

For a minute as she slid toward wakefulness, Charity thought she was still dreaming. What other explanation was there for the positively divine aroma filling the air? But then the low clatter of someone trying to cook quietly reached her and she remembered.

Edér was coming over. With that thought, she shot awake. They’d already missed a good chunk of the day, who knew how much more had potentially wasted because she couldn’t keep her eyes open for five damn minutes.

Sur enough, as she rubbed sleep from her eyes and stretched, she could see Edér in her kitchen. His back was to her, sleeves rolled up, as he worked on whatever he was cooking. Occasionally he would turn and murmur something with a smile to Sparrow, who was perched on the pass-through between kitchen and dining room, tail twitching around her paws.

Charity smiled lazily as she watched. My cat likes you almost as much as I do. She yawned and went to brush hair back from her face. That was when she noticed her bun had loosened and migrated downwards, the remaining pathetic knot hanging against the nape of her neck. She was still debating whether to fix it when Edér turned and saw she was awake. Gods, she wished she could bottle that smile and use it to brighten rainy days.

“Good timin’ sleepyhead,” Edér winked. He grabbed a rag and swung the bubbling stewpot away from the fire. “Just finished cookin’.”

“Whatever it is smells delicious,” Charity said, pushing aside the blanket. Her hair started to slide forward when she moved to sit upright, and she huffed softly in exasperation as she made up her mind and tugged loose the wrecked bun.  “And I’m starving.”

Edér chuckled. “Figured that would be the case. Looks like you worked hard.”

Charity nodded as she gathered her hair in a loose, low ponytail. “Been fightin’ weeds an’ tree roots all by my lonesome all day.”

He shot her a sheepish look. “Sorry. I meant to come help, but-”

She shook her head. “Not what I was insinuatin’, sweetheart. Mayor stuff comes first. I’m just tired, ‘cause there were dozen of weeds but only one me.”

“Looks like y’ still won, though,” Edér said, grinning, as he ladled out two bowl of stew and joined her on the couch.

Charity smirked. “That I did.” She kissed him on the cheek as she accepted the bowl of stew. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, darlin’“ He obligingly shifted a bit further away when Sparrow hopped up between them. “I think we have a chaperone.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nah, I just have a beggar for a cat.” She scooped Sparrow up with her free hand, scooched closer to Edér, and deposited the calico on the arm of the couch. “There.”

Sparrow let out a decidedly grumpy mroawww and jumped up to stalk along the back of the couch.

“So. My day was exhausting, how was yours?” Charity asked as she blew on her food to cool it.

“Also exhaustin’, just for different reasons,” Edér chuckled. “There are time I swear the people in this village make up problems if they ain’t got any sometimes.”

“Well, I mean, I’d make up excuses t’ come talk to you,” she said with a wink.

“Yeah, but we’re courtin’, that’s different. ‘sides, you don’t hafta make stuff up to spend time with me.”

“I know. Just sayin’ I understand why someone would make something up for a chance to talk t’ you.” She grinned mischievously, which turned into a quiet groan of pleasure as she took her first bite. “Mmm, ‘course, none of ‘em are ever gonna see you again, on account of me lockin’ you up here to cook for me forever. Gods, this is good.”

Edér laughed. “Glad you approve. I did what I could spur of the moment.”

“If this is what you can pull off spur of the moment, no wonder Tavi was grumpy at you for holdin’ out on her.” Whatever he’d put in it reminded her of her mother’s stew, just a little. Something in the seasonings. Or maybe I’m just still tired...

“Well, thank you,” Edér said with a smile. “But it’s more a compliment to how well your kitchen’s stocked than my cookin’ skills.” He winked. “Not that I’m opposed to takin’ a compliment from a pretty gal when she offers.”

Charity blushed so hard at that she forgot to check her next bite had cooled and burned the roof of her mouth. She grimaced but swallowed it anyway, groping for her long-cooled tea to wash it down. “And thank you right back for that,” she finally managed.

“Y’ alright?” He raised an eyebrow in concern.

She nooded. “Hotter’n I expected. I’ll just have to be more careful’s all.”

“Mm.” Twinkle in his eye, Edér leaned forward and kissed the corner of her mouth.

It was Charity’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “What was that for?”

“Kissin’ it better,” he said matter of factly. “Why, wrong spot?”

“Close enough.” She grinned as she scooped up another bite, careful to blow on this one enough before eating it. “So, anything from your day we can talk about, or is it all private? ‘Cause in that case we can talk about my day.”

“I wanna hear about your day anyway,” Edér informed her around a mouthful of stew. “But there are actually a couple things I can share...”

***

They spent the next hour or so talking and laughing as they ate, occasionally pausing to pet Sparrow when she got tired of being ignored and made a fuss. Finally, though, after two helpings each and several shared stories, Edér collected their bowls and carried them into the kitchen. He waved off Charity’s offers to help and protests that he shouldn’t do all the work, it was her kitchen.

“I’m the one who cooked, so it’s my mess an’ only fair I clean up,” he argued. “You stay right there.”

“Well, I’m not gonna argue when a handsome fella tells me to relax,” Charity winked, scratching under Sparrow’s chin when the cat settled in her lap again.

Edér laughed and hurried through cleaning up so he could rejoin her on the sofa. “Now that that’s out of the way...” He tugged her closer. “C’mere.”

“You might not wanna do that,” Charity said with a wry laugh, half-heartedly resisting him. “I’m still pretty beat, so if you get me too comfortable, I will fall asleep.”

“I can think of worse places to be trapped,” Edér countered, grinning. “I’ll risk it.”

“Alright, hope you don’t have anything mayor-y and important first thing in the morning,” she giggled as she relented and let him pull her close.

“Not a blazin’ one,” he promised, kissing her temple as they got settled.

“Well, then...” Charity reached for the blanket that had fallen on the floor. She dropped it on the far end of the couch, barely covering their feet, and winked. “Just in case.”

It proved to be a good precaution. She started drifting off again within five minutes of them getting settled.

Edér chuckled as he felt her relax, laying heavier on top of him, and kissed the top of her head. “Night, Char.”

Charity mumbled something unintelligible and snuggled further in. Just as she’d warned, he was trapped now. Edér smiled to himself and rubbed her back as he felt his own weariness finally catch him. No place I’d rather be...

[ajapablog]

Corona Chronicles III

Today began with the excitement of establishing rules and schedules. I woke up, took a shower, dressed (it is too tempting to lounge in bed in my nightie all day), made myself a healthy breakfast of turmeric-laced eggs, papaya and yoghurt and decided to start reading on the legal history of empires. At mid day when the sun shone too brightly for me to ignore, I decided I want to go out and get some exercise so I went out and cycled on the 606 (Chicago’s equivalent of New York’s High Line). But the decision to do so messed up my routine. Cycling for about 5 miles made me tired and lethargic and sweaty. I took a shower again, ate some chocolate cookies. I ended up falling asleep on the couch as I was reading. Woke up and ate some amazing challah that my roommate made. My rules are that I cannot sit on the bed before 5 pm so as soon as it hit 5, I sprawled on my bed, disappointed with my own inability to maintain productivity. Then the next 5 hours were spent conversing with people on the phone. Nothing remotely resembled social isolation today. In fact, it was what a regular unproductive day would look like. When we fail at structuring our lives, we fail ourselves in a fundamental way. I remember BP Koirala’s ramblings about not being able to write as much as he could, the constant grumbling, the nagging in his diaries about not hammering the self into a reformed ideal of constant productivity. Anyway, I don’t want to nag about productivity. It is after all, a trope. Tomorrow, I need to do my taxes.

In the News: Chicago restaurants all close, Chicagoans fearful and the CTA continues to be a nightmare My experience on the CTA yesterday does not seem to be unique. The city is fearful and I think it is a good thing. A friend told me off for going on the 606. Maybe it’s ok if we just hold off doing the things we impulsively want to do like go on a joy ride or eat at our favourite restaurants. I mean, we can order in and I suppose we should in order to support local businesses. See:https://patch.com/illinois/chicago/one-last-lunch-walk-loop-covid-19-fear-shuts-down-city

Spain Nationalizes its Hospitals Spain, after Italy is the European country hit hardest by this virus. So this one is major. The question of what this means in the long run is something that we can’t understand now but the fact that Spain took the drastic step of taking hold of the medical infrastructure within its territory suggests that state sovereignty in light of this pandemic will be restructured. We’re already seeing this in the way that countries are closing borders and territorializing sovereignty. I study mobility and the way it structures state power within and outside territorial borders, and I think the moment is productive and generative in thinking about these questions. See: https://www.businessinsider.com/coronavirus-spain-nationalises-private-hospitals-emergency-covid-19-lockdown-2020-3 Dutch Adopt Herd Immunity as a Response:  Britons gave up the idea but the Dutch seem to be on board with the approach of allowing a “herd immunity” to develop. The science behind this is that the more people are exposed to this virus, they will develop an immunological profile that can fend against the virus. However, the WHO and others argue that we don’t know enough about this virus to rely on the theory of herd immunity. Whereas, they argue that we know that individuals can do certain things like wash hands and not touch their faces to avoid contracting it and this can slow down the spread. See: https://www.irishtimes.com/news/world/europe/coronavirus-dutch-adopt-controversial-herd-immunity-strategy-1.4204578

China Send Medical Experts to Spain and Italy: Chinese experts landed on Italian grounds to share know-how about diagnosis and treatment of the damned virus. They came bearing respirators, masks, gloves and the intent to help Italians in these dire times. I think of the old China-Italy exchanges and that game that children play. When I say Marco, you say Polo, Marco-Polo, Maco-Polo. The world should run on call and response and humanity should share what we each know to be able to survive as a species. See:  https://asiatimes.com/2020/03/china-brings-hope-to-italy-while-eu-turns-its-back/

On a related note: Mohamad Safa whose twitter byline says he is a UN representative and Human rights and climate change expert shared a tweet that read:  China sent medical masks to Italy, & wrote on the boxes a quote of a Roman poem: “We are waves from the same sea.”  Japan had donated supplies to China, & wrote on the boxes a quote of a Chinese poem: "We have different mountains & rivers, but we share the same sun, moon, & sky." See: https://twitter.com/mhdksafa/status/1238787478624092160 The President’s Folly The head of a really powerful nation in the world called the Novel Coronavirus causing Covid-19, the Chinese Virus. The rather boorish leader of the first nation of the world forgot that just a few years ago, a flu emerged from his own country and no one called it the first-nation flu. The man under question, is known to spread hate mongering and probably sees this moment to capitalize political gains through racism. Chinese news agency, Xingua with their more sophisticated approach to the world shared a tweet that read: “Racism is not the right tool to cover your own incompetence.” China did give the first nation plenty of time, which it squandered. See https://twitter.com/XHNews/status/1239753294265765888 Zizek Dreams of Wuhan From the two news posts I shared, I know I sound ridiculously sycophantic about China. But the point is, that China is central to world history and we don’t need to be racist about it: the luxury trade, the silk, the mulberry trees, Philippines and Perian, The McCartney Mission, Potosi and the mines, the fall of silver, the end of the old world polycentrism and the rise of mass production and crowd disease. It is possible to tell a history of how China fundamentally altered the equations of world history without calling the virus a Chinese one and without quarantining the Chinese. Zizek, who continues to show sparks of original thinking compels us to think of how the Chinese might be thinking of the double-talk of their leaders and whether behind government quarantines is a knowledge of the mutative nature of this virus. He reminds us that after all, Chinese leaders and businessmen are the same people who have refused to sign climate treaties but have built bunkers for when the world will end of environmental catastrophe. Zizek has a somewhat Soviet conspiratorial approach to things but it is worth thinking about when he says: “some people at least will use their dead time to be released from hectic activity and think about the (non)sense of their predicament.” It is an utterly nihilistic predicament but the revitalization of the mind is truly an experience that “dead time” — moments of withdrawal— can create.  Feeling in the Time of Corona Feelings fluctuate like waves usually. Time and movement allows for us to modulate our emotions. I am worried that the monotony of the days will make emotional expressions more stark. I also worry that monotony may make emotions less consequential as we become attuned to how to deal with them. I don’t know: I have never been in this situation where I am required to structure my time and I am honestly getting bored of the same anxieties. I know my family changed fundamentally after the earthquake. They became possibly less feeling. I think as our interactions become increasingly remote, we might not really feel with the same intensity. We’ll see.  Till Tomorrow <3

[theendd]

I miss the old New York

EVERY generation of dreamers who has ever moved to New York will eventually utter the following sentiment: I miss the old New York. What they mean, of course, is they miss the memories that took place in New York when they first moved there, when everything could be exciting, from eating a chopped cheese in the Bronx to witnessing a dance battle on the train in Queens; closing down a bar in Brooklyn that let you stay til 5am, and the daily rush of feeling small in the shadow of Manhattan’s skyscrapers. After 10 years, these are known (in order) as buying a sandwich, commuting to work, having a hangover, and ignoring your surroundings. If anything changed, it was probably you, not New York.

               But that said, let me entirely contradict myself: I miss the New York that I moved to mere days after New Year’s, 2007. Sometimes I say December 2006 to make it sound longer ago. And no matter what anyone says, including my prior paragraphed self, it was a much more interesting city back then. Those pre-iPhone days, which only exist to me now as memories. We never took pictures of what we were doing. We just did it.

                As soon as I arrived, I moved into a loft off the Morgan Avenue L train stop in Brooklyn, a neighborhood people now refer to as Bushwick and real estate marketers back then referred to as “East Williamsburg,” which is hilarious. Pray for the soul who moved off Morgan looking for the Williamsburg experience. Dreamers moving to New York these days know exactly what they are going to find. Information is free, complete, and ubiquitous. Mention Bushwick to anyone in the world and they will know what you’re talking about. “I went to this great restaurant when I visited…”

               Oh, the fun we had back then! It doesn’t seem that long ago, but already, it’s ancient history. Most people don’t even remember the events I’m about to tell. On January 6, 2007, the temperature in New York hit 72 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. I had lived here for 3 days. People exploded out of their homes like so many firecrackers, filling the sidewalks, parks, rooftops, patios. It was a gift from God in the middle of a brutal winter. The sun set that evening as a rainstorm rolled in. The sun would not rise again for 174 days.

               The permanent night was not “dark”, in any traditional sense. When the night is cloudy in New York, as it almost always was those 6 months, the clouds reflect the city’s nauseous light. The sickly orange, bilious green clouds press on you like a lead blanket. During those dark days, the buildings were black shadows, holes in that oppressive sky. Fetid rainwater collected on the corners of the intersections, never to dry. Trees, with the color of their leaves washed out by that light, looked dead. We loved it.

               Without mornings, there was no work, at least for those of us with day jobs. There was only the city, Manhattan!, and the night. We crawled the streets and avenues on countless adventures, never forced to stop. Hours stretched to days stretched to weeks stretched to months. Every corner, every doorway, every staircase, masked by the dark, each had a secret to be found. A hidden room behind a hair salon on 14th Street where the air exploded in rainbows, blindingly. A basement in the East Village, a hundred feet underground, carved out of the rock and lit by tiny candles. A dark-haired girl lived there, never once leaving. “I know what’s outside,” she would say. “endless night.” Once we ducked through a door on Grand Street only to find a long hallway reaching back as far as you could see. At its eventual end, a most ornate ballroom of chandeliers and oil paint portraits. A waiter, obviously unshowered, wearing a stained wifebeater tank top, asked us if we cared for tea.

               Back then, Manhattan, the Lower East Side, East Village, Soho, all of this was still the center of the universe. Manhattan was king. The weirdos and characters you would meet back then, whew. They seemed to appear from thin air and disappear right back into it. Who were these people? Where did they come from? Did they even have normal lives, families, homes?

               A topless woman with a moustache showed us a circus behind a velvet curtain in the Lower East Side. A Greek man wearing a cape took us to a room made of solid gold. That was on Mulberry Street. A girl, blonde, face carved from marble, in a private school uniform, walked me to the Upper West Side. The journey took 99 hours. We ate hamburgers at an all-night diner, you can imagine those cooks were awful tired working nonstop for months. On 22nd Street and 8th Avenue we found a dilapidated warehouse conducting a grand ball. I remember that Bjork was there. The guests were dressed in Halloween costumes. The host, a famous drag queen, his hair shot back like a rocket, like Frankenstein’s Monster’s Wife, declared he would never throw such a ball again. He announced: “Manhattan is dying; these are its last days. There is a tide coming in, called Brooklyn, and we cannot escape. All that beard and lumberjack stuff, I just don’t get it. And anyway, I live with my mother and she’s sick of me coming home so late.”

      Endless

      Nights

      Dark

      Days

One day I walked out of the Beauty Bar on 14th Street, there was more than one of them back then, and I decided to go home. I hadn’t been to my loft in 6 months. Just as I was beginning to walk down the steps to the subway, the 3rd Avenue L station, I saw a faint glimmer of pink light in the sky. It was the sun. My eyes, accustomed to the dark, burned. The pink glow was blinding. It was morning—the morning of June 29th.

By the time I exited the train at Morgan Avenue, in Brooklyn, the sun was full in the sky, beaming strongly, unencumbered by a single cloud. I checked my watch, 6:30am, realized I had to be at work at 8, a clothing store in Rockefeller Center where I would man the stock room and take out the garbage. I was nervous. Your first day at a new job is always scary.

Later that day, the first-generation iPhone was released in the United States at the price of $499 for the 4 GB model and $599 for the 8 GB model.

[readbookywooks]

Tweedledum and Tweedledee

They were standing under a tree, each with an arm round the other's neck, and Alice knew which was which in a moment, because one of them had `DUM' embroidered on his collar, and the other `DEE.' `I suppose they've each got "TWEEDLE" round at the back of the collar,' she said to herself.

They stood so still that she quite forgot they were alive, and she was just looking round to see if the word "TWEEDLE" was written at the back of each collar, when she was startled by a voice coming from the one marked `DUM.'

`If you think we're wax-works,' he said, `you ought to pay, you know. Wax-works weren't made to be looked at for nothing, Nohow!'

`Contrariwise,' added the one marked `DEE,' `if you think we're alive, you ought to speak.'

`I'm sure I'm very sorry,' was all Alice could say; for the words of the old song kept ringing through her head like the ticking of a clock, and she could hardly help saying them out loud: --

`Tweedledum and Tweedledee Agreed to have a battle; For Tweedledum said Tweedledee Had spoiled his nice new rattle.

Just then flew down a monstrous crow, As black as a tar-barrel; Which frightened both the heroes so, They quite forgot their quarrel.'

`I know what you're thinking about,' said Tweedledum: `but it isn't so, nohow.'

`Contrariwise,' continued Tweedledee, `if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic.'

`I was thinking,' Alice said very politely, `which is the best way out of this wood: it's getting so dark. Would you tell me, please?'

But the little men only looked at each other and grinned.

They looked so exactly like a couple of great schoolboys, that Alice couldn't help pointing her finger at Tweedledum, and saying `First Boy!'

`Nohow!' Tweedledum cried out briskly, and shut his mouth up again with a snap.

`Next Boy!' said Alice, passing on to Tweedledee, though she felt quite certain he would only shout out "Contrariwise!' and so he did.

`You've been wrong!' cried Tweedledum. `The first thing in a visit is to say "How d'ye do?" and shake hands!' And here the two brothers gave each other a hug, and then they held out the two hands that were free, to shake hands with her.

Alice did not like shaking hands with either of them first, for fear of hurting the other one's feelings; so, as the best way out of the difficulty, she took hold of both hands at once: the next moment they were dancing found in a ring. This seemed quite natural (she remembered afterwards), and she was not even surprised to hear music playing: it seemed to come from the tree under which they were dancing, and it was done (as well as she could make it out) by the branches rubbing one across the other, like fiddles and fiddle-sticks.

`But it certainly was funny,' (Alice said afterwards, when she was telling her sister the history of all this,) `to find myself singing "Here we go round the mulberry bush." I don't know when I began it, but somehow I felt as if I'd been singing it a long long time!'

The other two dancers were fat, and very soon out of breath. `Four times round is enough for one dance,' Tweedledum panted out, and they left off dancing as suddenly as they had begun: the music stopped at the same moment.

Then they let go of Alice's hands, and stood looking at her for a minute: there was a rather awkward pause, as Alice didn't know how to begin a conversation with people she had just been dancing with. `It would never do to say "How d'ye do?" now,' she said to herself: `we seem to have got beyond that, somehow!'

`I hope you're not much tired?' she said at last.

`Nohow. And thank you very much for asking,' said Tweedledum.

`So much obliged!' added Tweedledee. `You like poetry?'

`Ye-es. pretty well -- some poetry,' Alice said doubtfully. `Would you tell me which road leads out of the wood?'

`What shall I repeat to her?' said Tweedledee, looking round at Tweedledum with great solemn eyes, and not noticing Alice's question.

`"The Walrus and the Carpenter" is the longest,' Tweedledum replied, giving his brother an affectionate hug.

Tweedledee began instantly:

`The sun was shining -- '

Here Alice ventured to interrupt him. `If it's very long,' she said, as politely as she could, `would you please tell me first which road -- '

Tweedledee smiled gently, and began again:

`The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright -- And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily, Because she thought the sun Had got no business to be there After the day was done -- "It's very rude of him," she said, "To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be, The sands were dry as dry. You could not see a cloud, because No cloud was in the sky: No birds were flying over head -- There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter Were walking close at hand; They wept like anything to see Such quantities of sand: "If this were only cleared away," They said, "it would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops Swept it for half a year, Do you suppose," the Walrus said, "That they could get it clear?" "I doubt it," said the Carpenter, And shed a bitter tear.

"O Oysters, come and walk with us!" The Walrus did beseech. "A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, Along the briny beach: We cannot do with more than four, To give a hand to each."

The eldest Oyster looked at him. But never a word he said: The eldest Oyster winked his eye, And shook his heavy head -- Meaning to say he did not choose To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young oysters hurried up, All eager for the treat: Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, Their shoes were clean and neat -- And this was odd, because, you know, They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them, And yet another four; And thick and fast they came at last, And more, and more, and more -- All hopping through the frothy waves, And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter Walked on a mile or so, And then they rested on a rock Conveniently low: And all the little Oysters stood And waited in a row.

"The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes -- and ships -- and sealing-wax -- Of cabbages -- and kings -- And why the sea is boiling hot -- And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried, "Before we have our chat; For some of us are out of breath, And all of us are fat!" "No hurry!" said the Carpenter. They thanked him much for that.

"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said, "Is what we chiefly need: Pepper and vinegar besides Are very good indeed -- Now if you're ready Oysters dear, We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried, Turning a little blue, "After such kindness, that would be A dismal thing to do!" "The night is fine," the Walrus said "Do you admire the view?

"It was so kind of you to come! And you are very nice!" The Carpenter said nothing but "Cut us another slice: I wish you were not quite so deaf -- I've had to ask you twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said, "To play them such a trick, After we've brought them out so far, And made them trot so quick!" The Carpenter said nothing but "The butter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you," the Walrus said. "I deeply sympathize." With sobs and tears he sorted out Those of the largest size. Holding his pocket handkerchief Before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter. "You've had a pleasant run! Shall we be trotting home again?" But answer came there none -- And that was scarcely odd, because They'd eaten every one.'

`I like the Walrus best,' said Alice: `because you see he was a

little

sorry for the poor oysters.'

`He ate more than the Carpenter, though,' said Tweedledee. `You see he held his handkerchief in front, so that the Carpenter couldn't count how many he took: contrariwise.'

`That was mean!' Alice said indignantly. `Then I like the Carpenter best -- if he didn't eat so many as the Walrus.'

`But he ate as many as he could get,' said Tweedledum.

This was a puzzler. After a pause, Alice began, `Well! They were both very unpleasant characters -- ' Here she checked herself in some alarm, at hearing something that sounded to her like the puffing of a large steam-engine in the wood near them, thought she feared it was more likely to be a wild beast. `Are there any lions or tigers about here?' she asked timidly.

`It's only the Red King snoring,' said Tweedledee.

`Come and look at him!' the brothers cried, and they each took one of Alice's hands, and led her up to where the King was sleeping.

`Isn't he a lovely sight?" said Tweedledum.

Alice couldn't say honestly that he was. He had a tall red night-cap on, with a tassel, and he was lying crumpled up into a sort of untidy heap, and snoring loud -- `fit to snore his head off!' as Tweedledum remarked.

`I'm afraid he'll catch cold with lying on the damp grass,' said Alice, who was a very thoughtful little girl.

`He's dreaming now,' said Tweedledee: `and what do you think he's dreaming about?'

Alice said `Nobody can guess that.'

`Why, about you!' Tweedledee exclaimed, clapping his hands triumphantly. `And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be?'

`Where I am now, of course,' said Alice.

`Not you!' Tweedledee retorted contemptuously. `You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream!'

`If that there King was to wake,' added Tweedledum, `you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!'

`I shouldn't!' Alice exclaimed indignantly. `Besides, if I'M only a sort of thing in his dream, what are you, I should like to know?'

`Ditto' said Tweedledum.

`Ditto, ditto' cried Tweedledee.

He shouted this so loud that Alice couldn't help saying, `Hush!

You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise.'

`Well, it no use your talking about waking him,' said Tweedledum, `when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real.'

`I am real!' said Alice and began to cry.

`You won't make yourself a bit realler by crying,' Tweedledee remarked: `there's nothing to cry about.'

`If I wasn't real,' Alice said -- half-laughing though her tears, it all seemed so ridiculous -- `I shouldn't be able to cry.'

`I hope you don't suppose those are real tears?' Tweedledum interrupted in a tone of great contempt.

`I know they're talking nonsense,' Alice thought to herself: `and it's foolish to cry about it.' So she brushed away her tears, and went on as cheerfully as she could. `At any rate I'd better be getting out of the wood, for really it's coming on very dark. Do you think it's going to rain?'

Tweedledum spread a large umbrella over himself and his brother, and looked up into it. `No, I don't think it is,' he said: `at least -- not under here. Nohow.'

`But it may rain outside?'

`It may -- if it chooses,' said Tweedledee: `we've no objection. Contrariwise.'

`Selfish things!' thought Alice, and she was just going to say `Good-night' and leave them, when Tweedledum sprang out from under the umbrella and seized her by the wrist.

`Do you see that?' he said, in a voice choking with passion, and his eyes grew large and yellow all in a moment, as he pointed with a trembling finger at a small white thing lying under the tree.

`It's only a rattle,' Alice said, after a careful examination of the little white thing. `Not a rattle snake, you know,' she added hastily, thinking that he was frightened: only an old rattle -- quite old and broken.'

`I knew it was!' cried Tweedledum, beginning to stamp about wildly and tear his hair. `It's spoilt, of course!' Here he looked at Tweedledee, who immediately sat down on the ground, and tried to hide himself under the umbrella.

Alice laid her hand upon his arm, and said in a soothing tone, `You needn't be so angry about an old rattle.'

`But it isn't old!' Tweedledum cried, in a greater fury than ever. `It's new, I tell you -- I bought it yesterday -- my nice NEW RATTLE!' and his voice rose to a perfect scream.

All this time Tweedledee was trying his best to fold up the umbrella, with himself in it: which was such an extraordinary thing to do, that it quite took off Alice's attention from the angry brother. But he couldn't quite succeed, and it ended in his rolling over, bundled up in the umbrella, with only his head out: and there he lay, opening and shutting his mouth and his large eyes -- 'looking more like a fish than anything else,' Alice thought.

`Of course you agree to have a battle?' Tweedledum said in a calmer tone.

`I suppose so,' the other sulkily replied, as he crawled out of the umbrella: `only she must help us to dress up, you know.'

So the two brothers went off hand-in-hand into the wood, and returned in a minute with their arms full of things -- such as bolsters, blankets, hearth-rugs, table-cloths, dish-covers and coal-scuttles. `I hope you're a good hand a pinning and tying strings?' Tweedledum remarked. `Every one of these things has got to go on, somehow or other.'

Alice said afterwards she had never seen such a fuss made about anything in all her life -- the way those two bustled about -- and the quantity of things they put on -- and the trouble they gave her in tying strings and fastening buttons -- `Really they'll be more like bundles of old clothes that anything else, by the time they're ready!' she said to herself, as he arranged a bolster round the neck of Tweedledee, `to keep his head from being cut off,' as he said.

`You know,' he added very gravely, `it's one of the most serious things that can possibly happen to one in a battle -- to get one's head cut off.'

Alice laughed loud: but she managed to turn it into a cough, for fear of hurting his feelings.

`Do I look very pale?' said Tweedledum, coming up to have his helmet tied on. (He called it a helmet, though it certainly looked much more like a saucepan.)

`Well -- yes -- a little,' Alice replied gently.

`I'm very brave generally,' he went on in a low voice: `only to-day I happen to have a headache.'

`And I've got a toothache!' said Tweedledee, who had overheard the remark. `I'm far worse off than you!'

`Then you'd better not fight to-day,' said Alice, thinking it a good opportunity to make peace.

`We must have a bit of a fight, but I don't care about going on long,' said Tweedledum. `What's the time now?'

Tweedledee looked at his watch, and said `Half-past four.'

`Let's fight till six, and then have dinner,' said Tweedledum.

`Very well,' the other said, rather sadly: `and she can watch us -- only you'd better not come very close,' he added: `I generally hit everything I can see -- when I get really excited.'

`And I hit everything within reach,' cried Tweedledum, `whether I can see it or not!'

Alice laughed. `You must hit the trees pretty often, I should think,' she said.

Tweedledum looked round him with a satisfied smile. I don't suppose,' he said, `there'll be a tree left standing, for ever so far round, by the time we've finished!'

`And all about a rattle!' said Alice, still hoping to make them a little ashamed of fighting for such a trifle.

`I shouldn't have minded it so much,' said Tweedledum, `if it hadn't been a new one.'

`I wish the monstrous crow would come!' though Alice.

`There's only one sword, you know,' Tweedledum said to his brother: `but you can have the umbrella -- it's quite as sharp. Only we must begin quick. It's getting as dark as it can.'

`And darker.' said Tweedledee.

It was getting dark so suddenly that Alice thought there must be a thunderstorm coming on. `What a thick black cloud that is!' she said. `And how fast it comes! Why, I do believe it's got wings!'

`It's the crow!' Tweedledum cried out in a shrill voice of alarm: and the two brothers took to their heels and were out of sight in a moment.

Alice ran a little way into the wood, and stopped under a large tree. `It can never get at me here,' she thought: `it's far too large to squeeze itself in among the trees. But I wish it wouldn't flap its wings so -- it make quite a hurricane in the wood -- here's somebody's shawl being blown away!'

[readbookywooks]

ASLAN MAKES A DOOR IN THE AIR

AT the sight of Aslan the cheeks of the Telmarine soldiers became the colour of cold gravy, their knees knocked together, and many fell on their faces. They had not believed in lions and this made their fear greater. Even the Red Dwarfs, who knew that he came as a friend, stood with open mouths and could not speak. Some of the Black Dwarfs, who had been of Nikabrik's party, began to edge away. But all the Talking Beasts surged round the Lion, with purrs and grunts and squeaks and whinneys of delight, fawning on him with their tails, rubbing against him, touching him reverently with their noses and going to and fro under his body and between his legs. If you have ever seen a little cat loving a big dog whom it knows and trusts, you will have a pretty good picture of their behaviour. Then Peter, leading Caspian, forced his way through the crowd of animals. "This is Caspian, Sir," he said. And Caspian knelt and kissed the Lion's paw. "Welcome, Prince," said Aslan. "Do you feel yourself sufficient to take up the Kingship of Narnia?" "I - I don't think I do, Sir," said Caspian. "I'm only a kid." "Good," said Aslan. "If you had felt yourself sufficient, it would have been a proof that you were not. Therefore, under us and under the High King, you shall be King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands. You and your heirs while your race lasts. And your coronation - but what have we here?" For at that moment a curious little procession was approaching - eleven Mice, six of whom carried between them something on a litter made of branches, but the litter was no bigger than a large atlas. No one has ever seen mice more woebegone than these. They were plastered with mud some with blood too - and their ears were down and their whiskers drooped and their tails dragged in the grass, and their leader piped on his slender pipe a melancholy tune. On the litter lay what seemed little better than a damp heap of fur; all that was left of Reepicheep. He was still breathing, but more dead than alive, gashed with innumerable wounds, one paw crushed, and, where his tail had been, a bandaged stump. "Now, Lucy," said Aslan. Lucy had her diamond bottle out in a moment. Though only a drop was needed on each of Reepicheep's wounds, the wounds were so many that there was a long and anxious silence before she had finished and the Master Mouse sprang from the litter. His hand went at once to his sword hilt, with the other he twirled his whiskers. He bowed. "Hail, Aslan!" came his shrill voice. "I have the honour - " But then he suddenly stopped. The fact was that he still had no tail - whether that Lucy had forgotten it or that her cordial, though it could heal wounds, could not make things grow again. Reepicheep became aware of his loss as he made his bow; perhaps it altered something in his balance. He looked over his right shoulder. Failing to see his tail, he strained his neck further till he had to turn his shoulders and his whole body followed. But by that time his hind-quarters had turned too and were out of sight. Then he strained his neck looking over his shoulder again, with the same result. Only after he had turned completely round three times did he realize the dreadful truth. "I am confounded," said Reepicheep to Aslan. "I am completely out of countenance. I must crave your indulgence for appearing in this unseemly fashion." "It becomes you very well, Small One," said Aslan. "All the same," replied Reepicheep, "if anything could be done... Perhaps her Majesty?" and here he bowed to Lucy. "But what do you want with a tail?" asked Aslan. "Sir," said the Mouse, "I can eat and sleep and die for my King without one. But a tail is the honour and glory of a Mouse." "I have sometimes wondered, friend," said Aslan, "whether you do not think too much about your honour." "Highest of all High Kings," said Reepicheep, "permit me to remind you that a very small size has been bestowed on us Mice, and if we did not guard our dignity, some (who weigh worth by inches) would allow themselves very unsuitable pleasantries at our expense. That is why I have been at some pains to make it known that no one who does not wish to feel this sword as near his heart as I can reach shall talk in my presence about Traps or Toasted Cheese or Candles: no, Sir - not the tallest fool in Narnia!" Here he glared very fiercely up at Wimbleweather, but the Giant, who was always a stage behind everyone else, had not yet discovered what was being talked about down at his feet, and so missed the point. "Why have your followers all drawn their swords, may I ask?" said Aslan. "May it please your High Majesty," said the second Mouse, whose name was Peepiceek, "we are all waiting to cut off our own tails if our Chief must go without his. We will not bear the shame of wearing an honour which is denied to the High Mouse." "Ah!" roared Aslan. "You have conquered me. You have great hearts. Not for the sake of your dignity, Reepicheep, but for the love that is between you and your people, and still more for the kindness your people showed me long ago when you ate away the cords that bound me on the Stone Table (and it was then, though you have long forgotten it, that you began to be Talking Mice), you shall have your tail again." Before Aslan had finished speaking the new tail was in its place. Then, at Aslan's command, Peter bestowed the Knighthood of the Order of the Lion on Caspian, and Caspian, as soon as he was knighted, himself bestowed it on Trufflehunter and Trumpkin and Reepicheep, and made Doctor Cornelius his Lord Chancellor, and confirmed the Bulgy Bear in his hereditary office of Marshal of the Lists. And there was great applause. After this the Telmarine soldiers, firmly but without taunts or blows, were taken across the ford and all put under lock and key in the town of Beruna and given beef and beer. They made a great fuss about wading in the river, for they all hated and feared running water just as much as they hated and feared woods and animals. But in the end the nuisance was over: and then the nicest parts of that long day began. Lucy, sitting close to Aslan and divinely comfortable, wondered what the trees were doing. At first she thought they were merely dancing; they were certainly going round slowly in two circles, one from left to right and the other from right to left. Then she noticed that they kept throwing something down in the centre of both circles. Sometimes she thought they were cutting off long strands of their hair; at other times it looked as if they were breaking off bits of their fingers - but, if so, they had plenty of fingers to spare and it did not hurt them. But whatever they were throwing down, when it reached the ground, it became brushwood or dry sticks. Then three or four of the Red Dwarfs came forward with their tinder boxes and set light to the pile, which first crackled, and then blazed, and finally roared as a woodland bonfire on midsummer night ought to do. And everyone sat down in a wide circle round it. Then Bacchus and Silenus and the Maenads began a dance, far wilder than the dance of the trees; not merely a dance for fun and beauty (though it was that too) but a magic dance of plenty, and where their hands touched, and where their feet fell, the feast came into existence sides of roasted meat that filled the grove with delicious smell, and wheaten cakes and oaten cakes, honey and many-coloured sugars and cream as thick as porridge and as smooth as still water, peaches, nectarines, pomegranates, pears, grapes, strawberries, raspberries pyramids and cataracts of fruit. Then, in great wooden cups and bowls and mazers, wreathed with ivy, came the wines; dark, thick ones like syrups of mulberry juice, and clear red ones like red jellies liquefied, and yellow wines and green wines and yellow-green and greenish-yellow. But for the tree people different fare was provided. When Lucy saw Clodsley Shovel and his moles scuffling up the turf in various places (which Bacchus had pointed out to them) and realized that the trees were going to eat earth it gave her rather a shudder. But when she saw the earths that were actually brought to them she felt quite different. They began with a rich brown loam that looked almost exactly like chocolate; so like chocolate, in fact, that Edmund tried a piece of it, but he did not find it at all nice. When the rich loam had taken the edge off their hunger, the trees turned to an earth of the kind you see in Somerset, which is almost pink. They said it was lighter and sweeter. At the cheese stage they had a chalky soil, and then went on to delicate confections of the finest gravels powdered with choice silver sand. They drank very little wine, and it made the Hollies very talkative: for the most part they quenched their thirst with deep draughts of mingled dew and rain, flavoured with forest flowers and the airy taste of the thinnest clouds. Thus Aslan feasted the Narnians till long after the sunset had died away, and the stars had come out; and the great fire, now hotter but less noisy, shone like a beacon in the dark woods, and the frightened Telmarines saw it from far away and wondered what it might mean. The best thing of all about this feast was that there was no breaking up or going away, but as the talk grew quieter and slower, one after another would begin to nod and finally drop off to sleep with feet towards the fire and good friends on either side, till at last there was silence all round the circle, and the chattering of water over stone at the Ford of Beruna could be heard once more. But all night Aslan and the Moon gazed upon each other with joyful and unblinking eyes. Next day messengers (who were chiefly squirrels and birds) were sent all over the country with a proclamation to the scattered Telmarines - including, of course, the prisoners in Beruna. They were told that Caspian was now King and that Narnia would henceforth belong to the Talking Beasts and the Dwarfs and Dryads and Fauns and other creatures quite as much as to the men. Any who chose to stay under the new conditions might do so; but for those who did not like the idea, Aslan would provide another home. Anyone who wished to go there must come to Aslan and the Kings at the Ford of Beruna by noon on the fifth day. You may imagine that this caused plenty of head-scratching among the Telmarines. Some of them, chiefly the young ones, had, like Caspian, heard stories of the Old Days and were delighted that they had come back. They were already making friends with the creatures. These all decided to stay in Narnia. But most of the older men, especially those who had been important under Miraz, were sulky and had no wish to live in a country where they could not rule the roost. "Live here with a lot of blooming performing animals! No fear," they said. "And ghosts too," some added with a shudder. "That's what those there Dryads really are. It's not canny." They were also suspicious. "I don't trust 'em," they said. "Not with that awful Lion and all. He won't keep his claws off us long, you'll see." But then they were equally suspicious of his offer to give them a new home. "Take us off to his den and eat us one by one most likely," they muttered. And the more they talked to one another the sulkier and more suspicious they became. But on the appointed day more than half of them turned up. At one end of the glade Aslan had caused to be set up two stakes of wood, higher than a man's head and about three feet apart. A third, and lighter, piece of wood was bound across them at the top, uniting them, so that the whole thing looked like a doorway from nowhere into nowhere. In front of this stood Aslan himself with Peter on his right and Caspian on his left. Grouped round them were Susan and Lucy, Trumpkin and Trufflehunter, the Lord Cornelius, Glenstorm, Reepicheep, and others. The children and the Dwarfs had made good use of the royal wardrobes in what had been the castle of Miraz and was now the castle of Caspian, and what with silk and cloth of gold, with snowy linen glancing through slashed sleeves, with silver mail shirts and jewelled sword-hilts, with gilt helmets and feathered bonnets, they were almost too bright to look at. Even the beasts wore rich chains about their necks. Yet nobody's eyes were on them or the children. The living and strokable gold of Aslan's mane outshone them all. The rest of the Old Narnians stood down each side of the glade. At the far end stood the Telmarines. The sun shone brightly and pennants fluttered in the light wind. "Men of Telmar," said Aslan, "you who seek a new land, hear my words. I will send you all to your own country, which I know and you do not." "We don't remember Telmar. We don't know where it is. We don't know what it is like," grumbled the Telmarines. "You came into Narnia out of Telmar," said Aslan. "But you came into Telmar from another place. You do not belong to this world at all. You came hither, certain generations ago, out of that same world to which the High King Peter belongs." At this, half the Telmarines began whimpering, "There you are. Told you so. He's going to kill us all, send us right out of the world," and the other half began throwing out their chests and slapping one another on the back and whispering, "There you are. Might have guessed we didn't belong to this place with all its queer, nasty, unnatural creatures. We're of royal blood, you'll see." And even Caspian and Cornelius and the children turned to Aslan with looks of amazement on their faces. "Peace," said Aslan in the low voice which was nearest to his growl. The earth seemed to shake a little and every living thing in the grove became still as stone. "You, Sir Caspian," said Aslan, "might have known that you could be no true King of Narnia unless, like the Kings of old, you were a son of Adam and came from the world of Adam's sons. And so you are. Many years ago in that world, in a deep sea of that world which is called the South Sea, a shipload of pirates were driven by storm on an island. And there they did as pirates would: killed the natives and took the native women for wives, and made palm wine, and drank and were drunk, and lay in the shade of the palm trees, and woke up and quarrelled, and sometimes killed one another. And in one of these frays six were put to flight by the rest and fled with their women into the centre of the island and up a mountain, and went, as they thought, into a cave to hide. But it was one of the magical places of that world, one of the chinks or chasms between chat world and this. There were many chinks or chasms between worlds in old times, but they have grown rarer. This was one of the last: I do not say the last. And so they fell, or rose, or blundered, or dropped right through, and found themselves in this world, in the Land of Telmar which was then unpeopled. But why it was unpeopled is a long story: I will not tell it now. And in Telmar their descendants lived and became a fierce and proud people; and after many generations there was a famine in Telmar and they invaded Narnia, which was then in some disorder (but that also would be a long story), and conquered it and ruled it. Do you mark all this well, King Caspian?" "I do indeed, Sir," said Caspian. "I was wishing that I came of a more honourable lineage." "You come of the Lord Adam and the Lady Eve," said Aslan. "And that is both honour enough to erect the head of the poorest beggar, and shame enough to bow the shoulders of the greatest emperor on earth. Be content." Caspian bowed. "And now," said Aslan, "you men and women of Telmar, will you go back to that island in the world of men from which your fathers first came? It is no bad place. The race of those pirates who first found it has died out, and it is without inhabitants. There are good wells of fresh water, and fruitful soil, and timber for building, and fish in the lagoons; and the other men of that world have not yet discovered it. The chasm is open for your return; but this I must warn you, that once you have gone through, it will close behind you for ever. There will be no more commerce between the worlds by that door." There was silence for a moment. Then a burly, decent looking fellow among the Telmarine soldiers pushed forward and said: "Well, I'll take the offer." "It is well chosen," said Aslan. "And because you have spoken first, strong magic is upon you. Your future in that world shall be good. Come forth." The man, now a little pale, came forward. Aslan and his court drew aside, leaving him free access to the empty doorway of the stakes. "Go through it, my son," said Aslan, bending towards him and touching the man's nose with his own. As soon as the Lion's breath came about him, a new look came into the man's eyes - startled, but not unhappy - as if he were trying to remember something. Then he squared his shoulders and walked into the Door. Everyone's eyes were fixed on him. They saw the three pieces of wood, and through them the trees and grass and sky of Narnia. They saw the man between the doorposts: then, in one second, he had vanished utterly. From the other end of the glade the remaining Telmarines set up a wailing. "Ugh! What's happened to him? Do you mean to murder us? We won't go that way." And then one of the clever Telmarines said: "We don't see any other world through those sticks. If you want us to believe in it, why doesn't one of you go? All your own friends are keeping well away from the sticks." Instantly Reepicheep stood forward and bowed. "If my example can be of any service, Aslan," he said, "I will take eleven mice through that arch at your bidding without a moment's delay." "Nay, little one," said Aslan, laying his velvety paw ever so lightly on Reepicheep's head. "They would do dreadful things to you in that world. They would show you at fairs. It is others who must lead." "Come on," said Peter suddenly to Edmund and Lucy. "Our time's up." "What do you mean?" said Edmund. "This way," said Susan, who seemed to know all about it. "Back into the trees. We've got to change." "Change what?" asked Lucy. "Our clothes, of course," said Susan. "Nice fools we'd look on the platform of an English station in these." "But our other things are at Caspian's castle," said Edmund. "No, they're not," said Peter, still leading the way into the thickest wood. "They're all here. They were brought down in bundles this morning. It's all arranged." "Was that what Aslan was talking to you and Susan about this morning?" asked Lucy. "Yes - that and other things," said Peter, his face very solemn. "I can't tell it to you all. There were things he wanted to say to Su and me because we're not coming back to Narnia." "Never?" cried Edmund and Lucy in dismay. "Oh, you two are," answered Peter. "At least, from what he said, I'm pretty sure he means you to get back some day. But not Su and me. He says we're getting too old." "Oh, Peter," said Lucy. "What awful bad luck. Can you bear it?" "Well, I think I can," said Peter. "It's all rather different from what I thought. You'll understand when it comes to your last time. But, quick, here are our things." It was odd, and not very nice, to take off their royal clothes and to come back in their school things (not very fresh now) into that great assembly. One or two of the nastier Telmarines jeered. But the other creatures all cheered and rose up in honour of Peter the High King, and Queen Susan of the Horn, and King Edmund, and Queen Lucy. There were affectionate and (on Lucy's part) tearful farewells with all their old friends - animal kisses, and hugs from Bulgy Bears, and hands wrung by Trumpkin, and a last tickly, whiskerish embrace with Trufflehunter. And of course Caspian offered the Horn back to Susan and of course Susan told him to keep it. And then, wonderfully and terribly, it was farewell to Aslan himself, and Peter took his place with Susan's hands on his shoulders and Edmund's on hers and Lucy's on his and the first of the Telmarine's on Lucy's, and so in a long line they moved forward to the Door. After that came a moment which is hard to describe, for the children seemed to be seeing three things at once. One was the mouth of a cave opening into the glaring green and blue of an island in the Pacific, where all the Telmarines would find themselves the moment they were through the Door. The second was a glade in Narnia, the faces of Dwarfs and Beasts, the deep eyes of Aslan, and the white patches on the Badger's cheeks. But the third (which rapidly swallowed up the other two) was the grey, gravelly surface of a platform in a country station, and a seat with luggage round it, where they were all sitting as if they had never moved from it - a little flat and dreary for a moment after all they; had been through, but also, unexpectedly, nice in its own way, what with the familiar railway smell and the English sky and the summer term before them. "Well!" said Peter. "We have had a time." "Bother!" said Edmund. "I've left my new torch in Narnia."