England Needs This Holiday. Truly, It Does.

So, this past week, Danni introduced me to the Thanksgiving holiday. Well, rather, re-introduced me. I have celebrated Thanksgiving before when the Gallaghers were living in Wales not long ago. It was a rather hurried affair with some cranberries, a large roasted goose, and mashed potatoes. I would have been more impressed if my less than creative sister hadn't simply gone and bought everything pre-made.

But this year, it was up to yours truly to provide an excellent holiday celebration for my poor parent-deprived niece. So I Googled traditional Thanksgiving dinner and I made every single one I could manage.

The sweet potatoes were my favorite. I used a graham cracker, baked apple and marshmallow topping. My turkey was a thing of beauty, crammed with the most savory stuffing. I do believe that even Danni liked it, though she wouldn't be so favorable if she knew what I put in the stuffing. We'll just not say anything about that.

Mashed potatoes, homemade cranberry sauce, bread pudding, fried okra and green bean casserole, and a magnificent pumpkin pie for dessert. I am amazing.

Anyway, yesterday I decided to use the leftovers to create the sandwich of a lifetime. It was, in fact, the most fantastic creation that this world has ever seen. I'm pretty sure that the Faeries would think it was magic. I used a little of everything from Thanksgiving dinner and piled it between two very large slices of bread.

Heaven.

For some reason, Danni would not eat one. She did, however, eat the Thanksgiving pizza that I formed in which everything went into a crust, topped with smoked gruyer and some brie.

I am the British Lord of Thanksgiving.

Attention Characters of Lantern Hollow Press

Dear characters of Lantern Hollow Press,

This is a an official notice to inform you that the call for one Renard Breen's apprehension has been answered, and that the information-gathering phase of the operation has begun. Please contact Andreas Livson of Midgard (by responding to the post) with any information deemed useful and appropriate for the capture of this menace such as but not limited to:

-perceived weaknesses or allergies

-patterns of behavior (if any)

-notable abilities and/or powers

-(for you magic-users out there) forms of magic capable of detaining and/or detecting the target

-last known whereabouts

Thank you for cooperating in this important endeavor.

-erikthereddest

If You Find Him In Your Head... Well, That Might be My Fault

So, I found myself dreamwalking last night. I must have slipped into the dream world before I fell asleep. Either that, or it is possible to sleepwalk while dreamwalking. Or… sleep-dreamwalk. Or whatever. I don’t know.

All I know is that one minute I was curled up by a very friendly fire, and the next, I was wandering the dark world of dreams.

I guess when you’re sleep-dreamwalking, you don’t have as much control, because I fell into someone’s dream almost immediately. It just opened up and I dropped in.

Let me tell you, I never want to end up in the dreams of someone like that again. It was disturbing. First of all, the sky was purple. I landed on something soft, but it wasn’t grass. I felt more like really long, thick fur. Fortunately, whatever it was did not seem to be alive.

While my eyes were trying to adjust to too much color and I was attempting to stand up on what was a really flimsy fur landscape, I noticed the inhabitant of the dream perched on a giant brass mushroom nearby. Or at least, I thought it was a mushroom, but it could have been a button.

He asked me where I’d come from and how I got here. I told him it was an accident and that I would leave him and his…. furry world…. promptly.

“No,” he said, sounding cheerful and interested, “I’d rather like to find out more about you. The name’s Breen. I’ve never had someone sneak into my dreams before. Can you teach me how to do it? It’d be awfully swell to be able to sneak around in people’s heads. Oh, the things I could do.”

Let me just say that he did not look like a trustworthy sort of person.

“Sorry,” I told him, “but you have to have a special kind of magic to dreamwalk. Really, I need to get going.”

“Well, don’t forget your shoes,” he said.

I stared at my boots dangling from his hands. How had he gotten them? When I reached for them, he gave a naughty chuckle and tossed them in the air. I lunged for them before they could fly off the edge.

I pulled them on my feet and immediately began assembling a mental bridge. The door was, as usual, out in the middle of nowhere beyond the edge of his dream. I staggered across the bridge toward the door and fell through.

I could hear the weird little dreamer laughing as I fell out of his head. And I think he said something about how his author would appreciate the feet... but I'm not sure.

I woke up that morning with two very terrifying discoveries.

First of all, when I pulled my boots off, I discovered that my feet were dyed a very distinctive, familiar shade of purple. I don’t know how that nasty little creature did it.

And secondly, and much more disturbingly, I realized that there is the slightest chance that I could possibly have left the door open.

Let’s just hope that what’s his name doesn’t figure out how to sneak out into the dream world before he wakes up.

Renard's Latest Antics

Well, Renard is still at it, securing his title as the naughtiest piskie ever to torment our world. Honestly, I'm getting more than just a little frustrated with him. He's even pranking me (his author)! This morning, my car was emitting an odd green smoke. Come to found out, Renard had filled the gas tank with poisoned dragon's liver. It didn't really harm the car, thankfully, but it did turn all of the foliage that the smoke hit a stark white. Oh, that Renard!

From the postcards that he has been sending me, I've a rough idea of some of Renard's latest antics. Among other things, he caused a caterpillar stampede in Vienna (don't ask), replaced the coffee at several large companies with a hair growth serum that he recently invented, and terrorized yet another university campus (he put up signs that read "free beer" in front of all of the dean's offices). And of course, Renard is still thoroughly angering Mal DaPone (the infamous magical mobster). This time, he put his magical adhesive inside the guns of all of Mal's men, so that when they shot people, they glued themselves to their victims. Mal is quite possibly the angriest that I have ever seen him.

Google called earlier yesterday, complaining that someone has been replacing their street view images with photos of gas station restrooms. They figure Renard is to blame, and I'm quite certain that they're right. Whatever am I to do about this disobedient piskie?!

Won't someone please, please, please catch Renard?

This is getting wierder by the day.... This Green Man is everywhere!

Okay, so I've learned that in our world it's pretty much like what everyone said. It seems that its some kind of creature, but no one is really sure exactly what kind. People see them in mystical places all over the world, and they have for centuries. They think that they've sort of grown up in a whole bunch of different cultures at the same time, and they don't know why. I wonder: Are they all copies of originals? Maybe of the original?

Well, if that's true, then we've got a whole freakin' colony of them around here. Now that I've got green men on the mind, I notice them everywhere around Waverly Hall. They're over the doors, on the walls, even on the downspouts. When it rains it looks like they're spewing water out of their mouths.

I wish I hadn't noticed them at all. Now no matter where I go, I feel like I'm being stared at. Well, come to think of it, I've always felt that way around here....

Tomorrow I'm going to take everyone's advice and try to talk to the one outside my room. Tomorrow. Or the next day. I'll let everyone know how it goes.

TTYL,
Meg

At Least I Got Free Cheese

Everyone seems so worried about this nonsensical creature Renard Breen. But being a half-faerie myself, I can’t say he’s been able to bother me overmuch.

The first thing he tried to do was steal a sandwich I’d left on the back porch. It was a particularly beautiful sandwich involving several slices of pickles, mayonnaise, swiss cheese, roast beef, alfalfa sprouts, and shredded carrots, all between two thick pieces of cinnamon raisin bread. I was looking forward to that sandwich and was about to enjoy the first bite when my mobile rang inside.

I left the sandwich by my chair and went to answer. No one was on the other end. When I came back, Danni's cat Lucy was there, hissing and spitting and pacing back and forth on the table in front of my sandwich as if it was her sworn duty to guard it.

She didn’t look all too pleased to see me either and promptly waddled off when I sat back down to enjoy the sandwich. I saw a very annoyed looking pair of eyes in the trees beyond the porch. Cats are marvelous deterants for any sort of fae creature, I’ve always found, though being part-fae means that they don’t like me either.

Later that afternoon not long before Danni got home from school, my phone rang again. This time, the voice on the other end informed me that I had received a package and it was waiting on the front porch. That didn’t make much sense since my home is in London, but a knock came at the door, so I went and opened it and there was, indeed, a large package.

I suppose I should’ve been suspicious, but I am a kind and trusting soul, so I dragged it inside. The alarms went off immediately.

Whoever this Breen fellow is, he had decided to smuggle himself inside, along with three firecrackers, a can of processed cheese, and a bottle of blue hair dye. For what purpose, I will never know because the faerie alarm system and two irate cats sent him flying back out the front door.

He left the can of cheese behind. I believe I have some crackers around here somewhere…

I've Been a Busy Piskie!

I've been having such a lot of hoonyburckle fun ever since I broke out of that tightly constraining story. Hee hee, oh wolly-golly-gladstone, what fun I've had! I figured out how to get into loads of other stories, and it has just been one merry escapade after another. I found my way into some story about a girl who has a pet dragon and gave her dragon hiccup-potion. Hee hee, betcha that critter's still bouncing up and down going "Hick-blurtch, hick-blurtch!" and sending out flames everywhere. Almost toasted my trousers, but it was worth it.

Then I found this other story with a big house that stuff moves around in. Nice girl lives there, Meggie or Maggie, or maybe her name was Matilda-Marlene -- anyhow, I dressed up this merry fellow she had living in her wall and put around a few surprises for her to find. She's got a neat pet, too -- some furry critter with real big ears. Been thinking maybe I might do something with 'em; you know, tie 'em in a knot, turn 'em green, something along those lines.

Oh, and what a load of sugarippidity fun I've been having with universities! Hee hee, those announcement systems were made for someone like me! Those students'll believe anything! I went to a college football game while I was at it; the game got a little dull, so I put a dizziness spell on all the players. Hee hee, that was the best game I ever watched!


Ooh, and guess what I did at a coupla colleges down in Florida . . . erased the transcripts of all the senior math and engineering majors! Then I changed a few classifications; you know, made some grad students into freshmen, altered the spring schedules a bunch of the kids are registered for . . . hee hee hee, that one was the best! Betcha those sports management majors are gonna be scratching their heads wondering why they signed up for advanced calculus, French literature, and underwater basket-weaving! I even signed up some home economics majors for nihilist philosophy! Then I played around with the teaching schedules for the professors, too! Ooh, I just can't wait to show up in the spring to glory in all the chaos!

Well sir, after all that fun yesterday, I just didn't know how to top it today. I mean, how do you rival kurgledoggle jokes like those? I figured I'd have me some more laughs mucking about in other people's stories, so I went down to my favorite spot in the world, the public library. There's always loads to do there! You know, use my magic adhesive to glue folks to bookshelves, set off fire alarms, turn the librarian into a goat for a little while . . . ah, the happy memories! Almost makes me tear up a bit; I'm sentimental that way sometimes. Well, I figured I'd go play in a classic for a while; they call 'em classics for a reason, you know. So, I broke into ole Mal DaPone's favorite novel, Moby Dick. You know, the story about that big fish or whale or whatever the critter is?

I was planning to trap the critter into a fishbowl, but then I had a better idea. I gave him a big ole bottle full of hair-growth serum. Hee hee, ever seen a hairy whale before? Boy did that critter splash about in fright! And that sea captain . . . well sir, he just isn't near as brave as folks may think. You'd think he never saw a whale with long, Rapunzel-like blond curls! Well, come to think of it, I guess most people haven't . . . hmm. Guess I judged him too harshly. Anyhow, the whale got sorta depressed about the whole business, wasn't having near the fun I was, so I got to feeling sorry for him. I mean, he was just too fat to pull off that look! So, I gave him some shrinking potion. Or at least, I meant to. In my defense, my pockets got awful wet from all that seawater, so how was I to help it if a few labels fell off of bottles? Anyhow, what I gave that whale was clearly not shrinking potion:

Oops.

Aw well, that big fish was getting kinda corny, after all these years. The novel needed a more exciting conclusion!

Hi-ho, time to go play with the United States Postal Service. Those folks could use a little stirring up . . . now whatever did I do with that hurricane-in-a-bottle that I used to have?

Okaaaayy...

Right. Sure. Sooooo....

I walk out of my room yesterday morning, having finally worked up the courage to try talking to the Green Man face thingie. Only one problem: The flippin' thing was gone! I asked Mrs. Davidson about it, and she doesn't remember ever seeing a carving there at all.

And today it just got weirder.... When I came out today, the face was back, but this time it was wearing a set of those funny face glasses, a santa hat, and hat a sign around its neck that said "I brake for squabbits."

There was an old food can sitting in the middle of the floor. Beans from Remelarde Farms, some where in France.... A can of French beans got into the middle of the floor under a weird face in a santa hat and funny glasses. I think I'm finally getting used to this.

I know people suggested that I talk to it, but I just couldn't keep a straight face with the nose and stuff. So, Reep and I are in the library now trying to find some more books about this Green Man....

TTYL,
Meg

Update on Renard

Since posting yesterday, I have been made aware of a host of recent shenanigans that all sound like Renard's handiwork:

1. Phone lines were rerouted throughout Virginia, West Virginia, and North Carolina, so that people who intended to call in sick to work accidentally reached gleeful telemarketing firms instead. There is an unsubstantiated rumor of similar occurrences taking place in Ohio.

2. Fourteen libraries have contacted me to report multiple novels that have apparently been cut in half, then stitched together with completely unrelated technical manuals. One library in Illinois left a message on my voicemail this morning, saying "Never before has Elizabeth Bennett turned down Mr. Darcy's first proposal, then learned how to correctly perform a lobotomy."

3. Several university professors have complained about mass emails being sent to students proclaiming yesterday to be "Topless Tuesday."

4. The Washington, D.C. metro system reports flocks of agitated pigeons being released inside several of their cars yesterday during the evening rush hour. This morning, New York City reports higher than average instances of pedestrians being targeted by pigeons.

5. An attempt was made to link all of the Lantern Hollow Press blogs to a Nigerian bank account.

Readers and Characters, I humbly apologize to all of you from the bottom of my heart for the trouble that Renard has caused, and continues to cause. I ought to have kept a much closer eye on him. I freely admit that it was owing to my own negligence that he escaped from his story.

URGENT!

Attention all characters:

I'm not certain how, but Renard Breen has escaped from his story and has gone rogue. I have no idea where he's gotten to, but this is very bad. Very, very bad.

Renard is not evil or malicious, but he is a piskie, and is not to be trusted. He enjoys pulling pranks, creating chaotic situations, and just messing up people's lives in small or large annoying ways. I don't believe him capable of causing deliberate serious injuries or deaths, but one can never be too certain with piskies.

Renard is about five foot six, has a slender physique, and appears to be between his mid-twenties to mid-thirties (actually, he's much older, but piskies hide their age well for the first hundred years or so). He has short reddish-brown hair and bright, amber-colored eyes. He is usually very jovial.

If you see Renard, approach him with caution. He's not dangerous, as I said before, but he is very quick and spry, not to mention creative and intelligent. He has a particular fondness for cream, so if you were to offer him a bowl of it, he might let his guard down enough to be caught. Renard is afraid of cats, so you might also be able to use that to your advantage.

Please help me catch Renard quickly! He's too much of a troublemaker to be allowed to remain on the loose.

The Madness...

Ok, I know it has been a while since last I posted, but things here have been a little on the crazy side. White has been in a right awful mood because his wife is stuck in the Living world and his bad mood has driven everything mad. The Styx started to rise and we had to sand bag the entire back yard...and do you know how hard it is to sand bag a backyard that is ever-changing. I am so tired. I don't think I have slept a full night in over three weeks. But I think we bagged the last of the backyards and the Styx is holding steady. The cats are going crazy too and the Ferryman won't ferry across the Styx when it is this high so the House is crowded. Fortunately, the House expands to allow for the more guests but Nora is having trouble keeping the dead out of her Kitchen and she has started to allow cats into her kitchen to keep them out. Nora is letting cats in her Kitchen! Sorry, most of you would not understand how frightful this thought is. Nora keeps her kitchen clear and free of cats, dogs and dead people...but here she is letting the cats prowl in the pantry. Grimm is out on assignment of White so it is just Violet to keep me company. She has it in her head that she is going to teach me the piano...well I must be going. Violet is hollering at me. I think I am going to have to practice scales with her again. She is really an obnoxious teacher...

Stuck

It has been nearly two days of muddy travel. I should have know better than to set out in the midst of the rains, but...my departure was timely. Four times I became stuck fast in the mud, disgusting stuff, my robes are filthy and I must look quite disheveled. In fact I have taken note of several patrons of this very inn who have not taken their eyes off of me since I sat down. To think that rain and mud would so lengthen my journey. I should have been in Guangai early this morning, instead I will not arrive until tomorrow after the noon meal at the earliest.

I suppose I should have anticipated this, certainly a few of the sutras have helped me on my way, the magic of the god-king Abin-Thul is a powerful thing. Nonetheless I do not wish to be held up by such a...insignificant thing as rain. I suppose there is no help for it, I shall spend my night here and start out again in the morning, perhaps the road will be dryer tomorrow. At least my food is hot as is my jiu, and I have a bed for the night. I spent last night in some peasants bed...it was filled with bugs.

I cannot wait to reach Guangai where my real journey will begin. I wonder what the Saru eat...I wonder if they drink jiu...I may order another bottle before I leave.

That did NOT just happen....

Okay...so...I've got this like FACE on the freaking wall across the freaking hall from the freaking door to my freaking room! And I think the freaking thing just LOOKED at me a little while ago! I'd just about swear that it did. Its eyes were following me and it smiled more than usual! I tried to take a picture of the wall to post it, but my phone keeps screwing up. First something was in the way (NOT my finger) and then the pic was blurry, and then my battery just completely died, even though I KNOW it was charged up an hour ago.

I was able to google it and find something that looks pretty close to the face. It's on the left. Does anyone know what in the world it is? The one across from my door is all in wood, carved into the paneling. It's about a foot across and the leaves and vines creeping all over it run across the wall.

I've seen some pretty crazy stuff in the last year, but I don't like the idea of going to sleep with this thing staring at my door. I might just move a chair in front of the door tonight.

Does anybody have any idea what this is? I'll take freaking ideas and plain ones!

Trapped by the Nixies

We ran into an interesting problem today. Our scout, a devoted, but rather odd creature named Nobbley, sent word that the king's men were close behind us again. Naturally, we immediately left our makeshift camp behind. Edric rode off on his horse, Endellion, and I flew away on Bellamy (Edric and Bellamy do not trust one another, so we find it best for Edric to stick to his horse, even though Bellamy is much faster). We stopped a few hours later, when we reached an area that seemed safe. It was a quiet glade in the midst of a very attractive, deep forest, with a little brook running through it. We thought it would be a perfect place to rest for a time.

Goodness, were we wrong! The glade turned out to be inhabited by nixies. Have you ever heard of nixies? They're little wingless faeries, about ten inches in height, with pointy heads, shiny faces, and extremely long, thin fingers. They have a rather unusual effect on people; they make you do whatever comes into your head, just by whistling in their strange little manner. And, owing to their odd senses of humor, nixies like to plant ridiculous ideas in people's minds. They're never malevolent; just silly and often a bit annoying. The only defense against them is plug your ears and cross your fingers, while concentrating on remaining serious.

So, much to my amusement, Edric was forced against his will to tap-dance in a crazy tight circle, waving a tree branch over his head. I laughed so hard that I completely forgot to defend myself against the nixies. The next thing I knew, I was turning back handsprings while singing loudly off-key. Edric started laughing at me, and pretty soon he was turning very graceful pirouettes through the air. Well, it went on in like fashion for over two hours. It was exhausting! If Bellamy hadn't sneezed and roasted half of the nixies, which scared off the other half, I don't know how Edric and I would have escaped!

Whew; I think we'll be sleeping well tonight!

Flight

I have obtained permission from the great and mighty god-king Abin-Thul to travel far and wide. I will travel to the north first, through the lands of the Saru. Such a strange people, I think that this journey will be most healthy after... ...after recent events. I must find my way free of this, and I think to do so that I must leave my people behind. I will return, eventually...but first I must...I...I must learn, learn of other peoples, other ways. I know that it was necessary, that it should not have been in the first. I know that it was my fault, I cannot blame Abin-Thul or the priests for their commands.

However I fear that I must come to terms with this away from the others, away from...all this...my home. Perhaps when I return my life will be clear, my purpose understood...perhaps when I return I will be whole.

But then what is wholeness? Can I truly be whole? What does it matter, these are not questions I wish to ask. I leave tomorrow, one of the priests in Guangai has met a hunter of the Saru who sometimes comes into the city to trade. He has promised to introduce me to this hunter, then I will begin my journeys among them. I think that I will do all I can to learn the tongue of the Saru from this hunter, I do not even yet know his name. I am sure that Shin Pin will inform me of it when I meet him. I leave in the morning to begin my wanderings...I wonder what will come of this.

Our Odd Little Scout

When Edric and I first fled, it was just us and Edric's horse. We had no allies, no assistance. Worse, no witnesses in case one of us killed the other (and believe me, that was always a possibility). After we'd been on the run for a few weeks, my dear Bellamy tracked us down. Of course, Edric wasn't overly thrilled about that, but I certainly was. Still, as comforting as Bellamy can be, dragons really don't make good scouts. We had no way of knowing how close the Royal Guard were, or whether there were other nearby dangers.

One morning, Edric happened across what he thought was a rather ugly little boy wandering through the woods. When he offered to help the youngster, he learned that it was actually a strangely beardless dwarf named Nobbley. As it turned out, he was ostracized from his hometown owing to his inability to grow a beard (for some reason, dwarfs consider this a very crucial matter). Nobbley tried to play it brave, but we figured out rather quickly that he was lonely.

Edric thought Nobbley might make a good scout, since dwarfs are skilled at tracking and at keeping others from tracking them in turn. Of course, Nobbley does have the unsettling belief that he is a miniature giant rather than a dwarf, but delusions aside, he's a marvelous scout. He seems to have remarkable instincts, even if his speech patterns are a bit bizarre, and he is fiercely loyal. I cannot tell you how grateful Edric and I are for Nobbley's assistance. I just wish that Bellamy liked him more (or perhaps less): he keeps trying to roast Nobbley.

How I Ended Up Here

If you'd asked me a couple of years ago if I envisioned myself raising my baby sister and living with my grandmother, I'd have thought you were crazy. But that was before the accident. I had ideas about what I was going to do with my life while our parents were still alive, but afterward, I ended up as a security contractor.

I’d been shooting, mostly handguns, since I was twelve. Grandpa had been a policeman, and he kept up his skills even after retirement, mostly for pleasure, and partly because it’s always a shame to lose a hard-earned skill. He took me to the range one day, and I loved it. I loved the perfect precision of the old .38 revolver, the concentration it took to send a projectile smaller than my thumb downrange to hit a target the size of my palm. I liked the fact that when I was shooting, that was all I could concentrate on. The sight picture, slowly breathing in, out, and taking up slack in the trigger until the round flew away to hit precisely where I was aiming. I was good at it. I kept practicing regularly after Grandpa died.

After the accident, I found some of my grandfather’s old cop friends, and they recommended me for work and provided me with references. At first, it was small jobs. Take a shift guarding a building under construction. Somebody’s sister is having trouble with her ex. Walk her home. Keep some troublemakers away from a bar. I could have signed up with a larger company, but I preferred working by myself. I think that way I could convince myself that this was just temporary- not a career. I was just moonlighting until I could go to school. And I got enough jobs. I was professional, polite, passed background checks and had a license to carry concealed. After a few years, I gave up waiting for the day when I’d have enough money to go to school full time, and I started taking online classes.

And then I met the Fae. But that's another story.

The Calm Before the Storm

You know, one of the weirdest things about Waverly Hall is that for all the crazy stuff that happens, there are days where absolutely nothing happens at all. Times like that mean that this place is actually not bad.

Take today for instance. I got up, I brushed my teeth, and did my school work with Mrs. Davidson. Since I’ve been here I’ve learned that one of the good things about being homeschooled is that you can get done faster and get on with life. I was done by about one so then I went outside. It’s beautiful out there on the lawns, especially now that the air is getting cooler here in the mountains. We’re far enough south that the leaves haven’t really changed yet, but we’ve finally lost some of the summer heat. Highs in the seventies, lows in the forties (Mr. Davidson has a weather station and he keeps me apprised on a daily basis).

There’s a waterfall outside my window that flows down out of the mountain and I like to go down there take my shoes off and wade in the creek. It was pretty cold today, so I won’t be able to do it much longer this year. I just walked down the stream bed and snuck under the wall into the garden. There’s a pool in there that’s too deep to walk into (yes, I found out the hard way), but if you go along the edge you can get to a spot at the very back corner of the garden. A tree grows in the middle of it and its obviously really old. Its trunk is all notted and gnarly, and the branches and over the water. Its leaves are so thick and hang so far down that they block the whole corner from the rest of the garden. I think that’s one of my favorite places. Since its in the shade and there’s so much water, it stays cool even in the summer.

I like just sitting in there, in my own little world, listening to the creek flow into the pool. There are so many little nooks and crannies even there that I don’t get tired of looking into each one of them from my perch against the trunk of the tree. I think one of these times I’m going to see a whole bunch of tiny people living in one of them.

Today Reep and me snuck in there and took a nice, long nap. It was just about warm enough, but not too cool. I had all kinds of dreams. Maybe I’ll write them down sometime. Anyway, after a few hours I woke up and went for a walk. I got back just in time for dinner, and afterward I read a good book from the library. This kind of stuff may get boring some time, but it isn’t yet.

And so now its dark and I’m sitting here in my room, typing. Nothing has disappeared. Nothing has tried to eat me. I haven’t heard any weird noises or seen anything unnatural. It was good day.

The bad thing is that you can predict what this place will do. Days like this make me suspicious. What is it setting me up for?

TTYL,
Meg

Half-Faerie Uncle Seeking Advice

So I finally arrived in the States and reached my sister’s house to be greeted by my charming, young niece, Danni.

Of course, her way of greeting me was to nearly break my knee. I suppose it was every so slightly my fault for getting there at an unusual hour of the night and setting off all the alarms, but I still feel as though I have been abused to an unnecessary degree.

It was not even my fault that I was late. I got a flight in to Dulles Airport that arrived at the timely hour of eight o’clock in the evening. That gave me just a forty minute drive to reach Amanda’s and Geoff’s house and be welcomed by my niece with open arms (or an efficiently executed round-kick. It really can go either way with her). Was I to blame that I received a call from a very distressed acquaintance of mine, begging me to help her hide a newly arrived friend from… out of town? Waaaay out of town?

I’m not here to facilitate refugees. That’s not my intent. I have rather larger issues to deal with. But I am also a bleeding heart for the suffering runaways of other worlds, apparently, because I said, Yes, and went on my merry way nearly an hour in the opposite direction from my niece’s house.

After helping Ms. X and her friend with the new IDs and a temporary bank account, passports, and tickets to an undisclosed location, I promptly turned around and headed back toward my original destination.

The darling girl forgot to turn of the blasted faerie alarms, so now I have a headache as well as jet lag and a sore knee. But I do have a sandwich, and what a sandwich it is…

I forgot. I was going to ask for advice. Well, here it is. My niece is a savvy child and she doesn’t let much get past her. If I am going to be involved in slightly less than legal dealings with a slightly other than natural clientele, how am I supposed to keep Danni from finding out? The girl is only sixteen, but she sees everything.

Teenagers are very inconvenient.

A New Complication

Well, Edric and I have an interesting new problem to contend with: we think that I may be with child. Considering our relationship, you may find this hard to believe. Really, it's all a matter of duty. In our country, the second royal, whether prince or princess, must marry at age twenty and then produce a secondary royal line, for the protection of the Glemarian throne. It's a custom/law that began centuries ago, and Edric and I are as bound to it as anyone. I'm certain we're not the first royal couple to dislike one another, and I anticipate that we will not be the last. Royal arranged marriages, though essential, are not always pleasant for all concerned.

So, now we have quite the quandary. We must continue to evade the king's Royal Guard, but we also must now take care because of the (possible) child. I suggested to Edric that we send a message to his mother, in the hope that his father will show us mercy for the sake of the secondary royal line, but Edric has little faith in the plan. He pointed out that his father is already trying to execute the beginnings of the secondary line (us), so an anticipated grandchild will likely affect little change. Nevertheless, we're going to send a message anyway.

Our scout, an odd but loyal creature named Nobbley, has bravely agreed to carry our written message all the way to Vasminia (the capitol, where the palace is located). In the meantime, we shall continue to stay hidden.

Why The Monkeys?

So I was wandering around in the Forest of Giant Hairy Ape-Men Who Eat Their Own Feces today because...well...because I was bored and the Ape-Men are actually pretty good conversationalists despite their breath. Anyway I was trying to find their camp so I could have someone to talk to other than Olef, he's been on this whole kick about magic actually being the manipulation of atoms and porons or morons...something like that. I have no idea what he's talking about and he won't talk about anything else so I just can't talk to him right now and I was getting a little bored talking to myself.

I was going to summon up Gilly...that's Gilderoy...for some news about the 600,000 hells, then I remembered that I bound him into my teapot. In retrospect that might have been a hasty decision on my part, Gilly is a pretty good source of infernal information, but hey...at least my tea's always hot.

So anyway, I was wondering around in the Forest of Giant Hairy Ape-Men Who Eat Their Own Feces and I wasn't getting anywhere. I mean, you wouldn't think a whole village of giant stinking Ape-Men would be that hard to find, even if they do move around a lot. Then I came across this clearing with two or three dead Ape-Men on the ground and hundreds of monkeys with their heads ripped off. It was the weirdest thing, seriously, hundreds of monkey all missing their heads...where'd the heads go?

Well, one of the Ape-Men wasn't quite as dead as I thought he was, actually he wasn't dead at all, just a little woozy with a nasty bump on his head. He told me that the chief of the Ape-Men had declared war on all the monkeys in the Forest of Giant Hairy Ape-Men Who Eat Their Own Feces. The Ape Men were currently on the warpath slaughtering clans of monkeys everywhere they could find them.

I asked him why they were killing all the monkeys and he said he didn't know, the chief just up and decided that all the monkeys had to die. Why the monkeys? I don't get it.

Mikaela Answers a Few Questions...

Why am I here? Why do I have to answer these questions? This is stupid. What? Some brilliant author posted them in a blog? Okay. Fine. Whatever. Bring on the questions. I’ll answer.

What is your full name?

Mikaela. Wait, do I have to give another name? There are people looking for me. Safe? Really? Here? Fine. It’s Wayre. Mikaela Wayre.

Describe your appearance.

I’m normal. I’m not that tall, not that short. People say I’m too skinny, but food requires, you know, money. Or hunting skills. I have neither. I have brown eyes and brown hair and brownish skin. Lots of sun. Is this really necessary?

Tell about your family.

They died of the plague. Thanks for bringing that up. I had a mother and father and a big brother. His name was Taro.

What is your favorite color?

Blue. No, green. Blue-green? I don’t know! How is this relevant?

What was/is your favorite subject in school?

I liked working with numbers. It was useful.

What is your occupation (or intended occupation)?

Evading capture/death/torture/stupid questions. Oh, you mean before I was run out of my village? I raised horses.

What are some of your hobbies?

See above.

What are some of your skills/talents/accomplishments?

I am, apparently, quite magical. I can talk to fire and horses. I can shape shift a little (by accident) and invade people’s dreams. What can I say? I’m multi-talented.

Who is/are your closest friend/s?

I don’t have friends. My village chased me out with pitchforks, thereby ruining any chance of mending relationships there. The people I travel with, Alec and Tevrin, are… well, they’re…. allies? people who kidnapped me? Fellow magic-users with hidden agendas? Not friends. I guess I could probably call the girl I met on the road, Ryli, a sort of friend. But I abandoned her, more or less, so she probably wouldn’t say the same.

What is your deepest wish?

To not be chased, tortured, killed, etc etc etc for the rest of my life.

What do you feel is your purpose in life?

Ha! That’s what that Fae girl asked me. What’s my purpose? Let me tell you. It’s not to become part of some big overthrow of the Holds. It’s not to use my powers for the good (or ill) of the world. It’s not to follow Alec around forever. That didn’t answer your question? Oh… Well… Huh…

What is your personal philosophy?

Pitchforks = Evil Incarnate

What attracts you to a member of the opposite sex?

Find me a decent one and ask me again.

What is your favorite food?

Anything less than three days old.

What do you dislike most of all?

Today? Alec.

What types of books do you like to read?

I don’t. Books cost a lot of money and reading takes a lot of time.

Describe your ideal place to live.

Somewhere clean, dry, warm, shiny, with wooden floors, solid walls, at least two windows, a fireplace, a pear tree outside, and not a single pitchfork within twenty miles.

List five things that make you feel happy.

Sunshine. Cake. Dry clothes. Venison sandwiches. Alec stubbing his toe, tripping over a branch, and falling into a nearby stream. That was a good day.

What is your biggest fear?

That I’ll have to choose a Hold. And I’ll regret my choice.

Tell me four completely random facts about yourself.

I can’t swim. I can’t dance. I used to think that noblemen had the ability to melt peasants with their eyes… and I’m still not convinced my brother was lying about that. I have trust issues.

Are we done? Because I have more running from people who want to kill me to do...

Exploding Mushrooms?

So...I ate a mushroom today.

Then the house across the field from me exploded and set the entire village on fire. I didn't do it this time I promise...at least I don't think I did. I mean the mushroom did give me kind of a weird feeling. Olef told me not to eat it, something about mushrooms being poisonous and only certain ones you should eat...I wasn't really listening.

Anyway, so the house exploded and, of course, the villagers blamed me. I didn't do anything, it just exploded, really. But I guess I kind of have a reputation or something. Anyway, they all blamed me, said that I cast a spell on it, which is NOT true, and the guy that lived there even said that I told him I was going to blow up his house if he didn't give me all his corn, which is completely not true. I don't even like corn.

The villagers were all up in arms, literally, swords and pitchforks galore. Even having Olef there didn't calm them down and a giant Ogre usually does that pretty well. They were all 'Kill the goblin' when they should have been 'Put out the fire!'...humans don't make any sense...whatever.

I had to set two of them on fire and turn a third into a goat before they decided to leave me alone. I think it was the goat that did it, turning someone into a furry animal really gets peoples attention.

Anyway, that was my adventure for the afternoon. I still have no idea why they blamed me for the house exploding because, as you can all see, I obviously had nothing to do with it. Olef says they had good reasons, something about mushrooms again, I don't know what his fixation with the stupid mushroom is, it was just a mushroom.

Something That Irritates Me

I see that Isaac has posted about how much he hates vampires over at the "Blog of Eeevil" or whatever they're calling it. It seems that evil has a lot of free time, if it can maintain a blog. I suppose that's a good thing.

So I thought that I'd take this opportunity to explain something that I hate- sorcerers like Isaac. Sorcerers, in this world anyway, are people who use magic for darker purposes than most wizards. They specialize in summoning demons, sacrificing to dark powers, and creating spells and potions using arcane equipment and hard-to-find ingredients. Anyone can become a sorcerer, even with very little natural ability. They gain most of their power from the dark rituals they perform, not through any inborn talent. Most sorcerers are driven by their need for power, combined with extreme amounts of arrogance. They all want to be the best, the strongest, the Ruler of the World, ect. (Isaac is an aberration. He seems to be motivated by the need for causing trouble.)

So, why isn't the world ruled by a sorcerer, if that is the ultimate goal of most of them? Because of the arrogance. Eventually, all of them make a mistake. They summon a demon too strong for them. They are taken over by one of the powers they sacrifice to. They make the tiniest error in a potion. They are murdered by a jealous rival. In thousands of years, (or so I've been told by the Fae), not one sorcerer has lived to take over even a continent. And their life expectancies are often very short.

Playing with Gangsters

I really miss Prohibition. I've said it once, and I'll say it again and again: Roosevelt spoiled my fun! Let's face it; the man is a complete killjoy. Prohibition was the best time of my life, and he ended it. What a sap!

I mean, it wasn't perfect of course. Admittedly, I did sorta keep getting into tight spots with Mal DaPone and his gang (mostly a bunch of humorless sidhe who snuck through the trans-Mavalarkkian portal when the guards were out to tea, but I suspect they've got a few other magical folk working for them as well). And Mal is not exactly a warm teddybear - he collects thumbs as a hobby, for one thing. Course, I always got away in the end, but there were a few near misses. I found the human gangsters out in Chicago to be much more fun.

You know that fella, what's-his-name, that guy with the fancy armored car and the sour mug; you know, the fella what celebrated Valentine's Day with a double-cross and a shoot-out? Al something-or-other (told you I was no good with names - I can remember magical folks pretty well, but those human names always trip me up). Anyhow, he was loads of fun to play with. Used to gum up his works all the time. I think I told you about the dingerlywhimsy fun I used to have changing the stuff in the bottles at speakeasies. Well sir, I had more fun than just that, let me tell you!

My favorite thing was to come up on gangsters about to mow one another down with their tommy guns. Just when they let 'em loose, I'd blink my eyes and twitch my nose, give a little tug at the ole adam's apple, and whisper a couple of words. Next thing you know, they're shooting each other with rat droppings. Hee hee hee, what a joke! Sometimes I'd use sheep manure instead. Took those thugs hours to scrub off that perfume, let me tell you. Sure did make them mad, too! Then off course I'd undo it before long, so they'd have real ammunition again. Used to make their bosses completely bamboozled; they'd yell and cuss about it, but never could figure out what had happened.

Boy, I really tormented that Al guy. Used to bewitch his alarm clock to sound like sirens or a firing squad or a female dragon in heat. You know, sorta give him a more effective wake up call. Well sir, he wasn't anywhere near as brave as folks give him credit for. Messed his pajama bottoms more than one morning, let me tell you! And screamed like Fay Wray (course, no one had heard her scream yet in those days, what with the talkies not being around yet)! I got him in trouble with the wife a few times, too - put a kissing spell on his razor so it'd leave blotches of lipstick on his face and neck when he shaved, hid a real flamboyant brassiere under her pillow twice (made sure it was bigger in a few respects than hers was, just to play with the old gal's confidence a bit), and even called up his vacation house a few times and talked with the wife in a real sultry female voice. Hee hee hee! Boy could she crown ole Al when she got her dander up!

Boy, I sure do miss Al. It was real sad when he got sloppy on the income tax and got himself pinched. I lost one of my favorite playthings that day.