Lucid Waking

Archive for the ‘Fantasy’ Category

Choice and Chance (Part 6)

        The two sat in silence for a little while.
        “You died in a coma,” the boatman said quietly. “I’m allowed to know that information because everyone wakes up differently depending on how they died. They told me you didn’t get enough oxygen to your brain so you might have been disoriented and have a headache when you woke up, so I had to be patient while you recovered a bit.”
        The pain in Ted’s head started to return again in a small wave. “That…explains a lot, actually. I think I’m going to be sick.”
        “Put your head down,” the boatman said. “But you won’t get sick. There shouldn’t be anything in your stomach and your body is dead so nothing can poison you.”
        Even in pain, Ted chuckled at the logic. He felt sick and no one could argue with that, but the pain was starting to subside, even if the nausea just hung at the back of his throat. Ted shook the last of the headache out and finished shuffling the cards, dealing them slowly.
        “I’m sorry,” the gondolier said quietly. “That’s got to be really hard to hear.”
        Ted didn’t answer. After pushing back the sinking feeling that arose while he studied his sorry hand, Ted looked up and found his opponent looking at him with embarrassed intensity, his cards still in a haphazard stack on the table.
        The boatman took a deep breath. “Let’s make a different deal,” he said. “I’ll take you to the city if you let me see your wife.”
        “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ted said, flipping the first card face-up.
        “There’s a way to do it. If we go quickly, no one will know you have died, I can take your place in your body just for a few minutes and…”
        “And, what? She probably knew the second I died. In modern hospitals, machines notify you the second someone stops breathing or their heart stops.”
        “I know that! But, some people die twice, I’ve seen it.”
        Ted sighed. “Why do you want to see her?”
        “Because she sounds like an angel and all I get to see down here are people at their worst. You think things change when you die, they don’t. This isn’t heaven, this isn’t hell or purgatory, it’s the world all over again but when everyone is immortal and I’m sure you’re learned enough to know that immortality is a curse.”
        “You fell in love with her from just hearing me talk? I can’t believe it.”
        “It’s not love,” he answered back, quickly. “I’m just…curious.”
        “Why torture yourself over something you can’t have? You get a few minutes and that’s it; then you get an eternity of memory.”
        “I don’t have any other memories. Please let me have one happy one.”
        Ted sighed. “No. Let’s just stick to our original deal.”
        “I let you win, you know,” the boatman said, playing his card.
        “What?”
        “I let you win those last two hands,” he said, taking a card from the deck and playing another.
        “Well they were close hands, but I’m getting the hang of it. I could probably—”
        “No you couldn’t.”
        Ted turned red and angrily put down his card. Almost immediately, it was followed by another play and the game continued in silence as the two sped through the deck of cards. All strategy was thrown out the window, Ted realized when he got to the second half of play, but he was so angry at being challenged, that he didn’t care.
        He lost, just as was predicted.
        “Please let me see her.”
        Ted leaned back in his chair and stared his small collection of cards. Who knew what lie ahead in the city, but it was probably better than drowning again at the hands of regretful spirits in the water. His opponent might have been young and naive in every respect except his card-playing, but Ted felt bad for his companion and the more he considered the less he could see the problem of the new bargain.
        “All right, but don’t do anything brash and unexpected and don’t say anything stupid, either. I don’t want her to suspect that it’s not me and I don’t want the last moments to be ones she’ll be scared about.”
        The boatman smiled and helped Ted back onto the boat. Just as soon as he was seated, the platform rapidly diminished and then faded into darkness. For the first time, Ted felt tired and trapped at his predicament. He wanted to see Michelle again, but it was probably just as well that he couldn’t. He knew no one had ever cheated death and the world he had to leave behind was probably worse than the monotony he was going to face in the afterlife. They reached the ledge where Ted had woken up, although there was now a ladder on the far wall across from the river. The gondolier got up and helped Ted out of the boat with a nervous warning not to follow and then quickly climbed up the ladder into the darkness that Ted had assumed was a ceiling.
        Ted stood for a bit, getting used to the feeling of solid ground, and listening to the sounds of water lapping against the stone ledge. Maybe he had made the wrong choice in letting the boatman up the ladder into his body. If he had cheated death thus far by avoiding swimming the river, maybe he could get away with just returning back to the surface. Besides, the men who had gone after him and nearly killed him might return for Michelle and the kids to pay the debt.
        But then again, they didn’t really kill him; they had just gotten really close. They might have been caught and punished and then Michelle had been safe. He had made far too many mistakes in his lifetime and maybe it was time for once to follow the rules. Besides, he had a chance to start over. It seemed like it might be a completely alien world but from what he had seen, it wasn’t so different from the last one. He was lucky for second chances.
        Soon the gondolier came back down the ladder and once his feet had reached the platform, the ladder disappeared.
        “Thank you,” he said, smiling. He put a cold hand on Ted’s shoulder in a warm, friendly gesture. “Really.”
        “Thank you,” Ted said. “For breaking the rules.”
        The boatman chuckled and led Ted back into the boat before pushing off the ledge and down the dark river until they reached the glittering stone pier of the City of the Dead. Thousands of people milled about the banks performing jobs that Ted couldn’t describe. For being some place in within the darkness, the city was brighter and more vibrant than a living counterpart. Ted took a deep breath and actually felt a bit of excitement.
        “Well, this is it,” the boatman said, cheerfully. “Come on, let’s get you the employment office and then a place to sleep.”
        “That sounds great.”

Author’s note on post 418: Finally, the concluding segment. I re-wrote the ending, which is why it took so long. I couldn’t figure out how I wanted to fix it, just that it needed fixing. So, I think this is the final I’m going with and I’m not going to keep you hanging any longer. I have a post for tomorrow, so tune in next time. I don’t have a ton of time to be writing (this weekend is just a fluke, honest), so I’m not sure when I’ll be able to post again. I might go back to doing 10-minute stories; we’ll see.

Choice and Chance (Part 5)

Why, hello there! Miss me? It took me a little while, but I’m back to writing and editing. To catch up with this portion of the story, click here.

        Without a word, the boatman dealt the cards and started the game. He remained quiet through most of it, but he seemed less focused on the cards. Ted tried to take full advantage of his opponent’s spaciness, but didn’t feel to confident about the outcome of the game.
        “What was her favorite flower?” the boatman asked.
        “Whose?” Ted asked absentmindedly.
        “Michelle. What was her favorite flower?”
        Ted stopped, his mind blank, even though it was his turn to play a card. It was odd hearing someone else say her name, and so innocently, that it threw Ted off guard. Luckily, his opponent was in no hurry and didn’t rush either the game or his answer. But no matter how much Ted tried to think about his wife, he had no idea what her favorite flower was. He vaguely remember her favorite color as yellow, but they seldom had any yellow flowers in the garden. Except marigolds.
        “Marigolds.”
        “Really?”
        “I don’t know, maybe.”
        Ted looked up in time to catch a glimmer of disappointment on his opponent’s face. Ted frowned slightly and played what he card he thought was best. They continued in silence with Ted gaining more and more cards. He felt more confident, but a fighting worry that he would get cocky and lose still gnawed at his conscience. Play it like your Poker games, he thought, and you’ll be fine.
        Memories of his last Poker game came back in a haze. Then came flashes of the beatings, the moldy basement, and the weight of the hand holding his head underwater while his lungs marked the milliseconds like an extremely precise bomb before exploding into darkness.
        “You won again,” the boatman said a little too cheerfully. Ted was breathing hard and fast, and he swallowed hard to try and calm himself down. He stood up and tried facing the water, but the dock swayed with his sudden movement and almost sent him into the darkness at his feet.
        “Careful,” a somewhat panicked voice called out from behind him. The jolt of shock at almost being dropped back into water caused Ted to sober up and he sat back down at the table and grabbed his cards.
        “I counted those already,” his opponent said, but Ted ignored him and counted them again. There were some high cards in the pile that he didn’t remember playing, but he took them anyway and then gathered the remaining cards to shuffle.
        “Are you all right?”
        The question seemed clear enough, but Ted wasn’t sure how to respond. “I—” he stopped and took a deep breath. His hands were shaking as he put down the deck. “I just had a flash back to how I died. Or how I think I died, I don’t know.”

Author’s comments on post 417: Another cliff hanger, but there will be answers next time…whenever that is…

Choice and Chance (Part 4)

        “What’s your name?” he asked his opponent as he dealt the thirteen cards for the game.
        “I can’t remember,” he said as if he was talking about a forecast of consistently sunny weather. “That’s the problem of being led down the Lethe. You forget things.”
        Ted surveyed his cards. “How many rivers are there?”
        “Five.”
        “And where do they go?”
        “The Underworld doesn’t really have a name, which is kind of weird, now that I think about it. And, well, only people who can afford it go, but it’s not a bad existence. You get assigned to a job and you do it. Once they find you a perfect job, you stay there. I haven’t gotten there, yet, though. We’re still trying to figure it out.”
        Ted nodded and they continued play in silence before the gondolier asked, rather quietly:
        “Do you remember?”
        “Remember what?”
        “Your name, how you died. Anything from when you were alive? Some people do, but I don’t talk to them much because they’re either crazy from shock or too snooty to bother talking to those of us who don’t.”
        “Um, well, I remember my name is Ted Ryner and I worked as a security guard and I played black market poker on Saturdays. You couldn’t have picked Poker, huh?”
        The gondolier smiled. “I’m not very good at it.”
        That’s a shame, Ted thought as he studied his cards. He was doing better than he thought he might.
        “What is black market poker?”
        “We would bet on illegal stuff that people would represent with vouchers. Don’t worry, I always got cash since I didn’t want anything too incriminating on me if the cops stopped the game. I had a wife and kids to worry about.”
        The game seemed to be taking a turn for the worse for Ted. Panic hit him again, but he managed to push it out of the way.
        “You had a wife?”
        “Listen, you’re better at this game than I am. Do you mind if we don’t talk so I can concentrate?”
        “Sorry,” the boatman said so quietly Ted almost didn’t catch it. At the end of the game (Ted ended up winning), the boatman shuffled the cards and repeated his question.
        “Yeah. Michelle was her name. We met in high school and weren’t really close, but she was the only person I knew in college, so we became friends. It took me a long time to realize she was the girl I wanted to marry.”
        “Was she pretty?”
        “Kid, she was beautiful.”
        “What was she like?”
        “She became a physicist in a small lab almost right out of school and she stayed working there. She was incredibly bright and a hard worker. And she loved to sing. She played piano or guitar to accompany herself when she thought I wasn’t home or the kids needed calming down. She used to sing to herself, too, when she thought she was alone. I don’t know if she loved singing more than physics, but she certainly did it a lot when she was lost in thought. She loved gardening too, which was fine by me. As long as she had a garden and plenty of yard, she was quite content.” Ted stopped talking, still stuck on his wife and the last time he saw her. The kids were out in the garden, it was sunny, and she was bent over some pink flower he had never heard of. And then, there was a knock on the door and…
        He snapped back to the game. “Are you ever going to finish shuffling?” he asked, not meaning to sound hostile but coming across that way all the same.

Author’s comments on post 416: Sorry for the ending, gang, but that’s how I’m going to have to end it for a little while. The whole thing thus far should be up on the page called "Choice and Chance" for your convenience.

Choice and Chance (Part 3)

        Ted stepped onto the boat and sat down instinctively to avoid the craft from tipping over, but it barely reacted to Ted’s step or the added weight. All at once, the boatman pushed the craft forward quickly down the river. It soon got dark in the tunnel, which brought to Ted’s attention that he hadn’t noticed a light source earlier, but he could definitely see the alcove and river as if there had been a dim flood light. Only the sound of sloshing water gave any indication that they were making progress until the boat turned sharply to the left and Ted could see an island ahead as if it was under a spotlight. Under different circumstances, he might have rolled his eyes at the overly dramatic setting, but the pain had returned to his head when panic hit his stomach like a bullet.
        When they had gotten closer, he could see that the island was a floating deck held to the riverbed by four chains. In the middle of the deck was a table and two chairs opposing each other. The gondolier stopped the boat and helped Ted onto the deck, which did give under his weight letting a little water lap at Ted’s shoes. He quickly walked to the center and sat down in a chair, then realizing that a chess board and scattered deck of cards were already waiting for them. The gondolier took his seat across from Ted and, after pushing the chess pieces aside, he gathered the cards, expertly shuffling them for what seemed like several minutes.
        “German Whist,” he said. “That’s what we’re going to play. Have you ever played before?”
        “No,” Ted said, trying to take an inconspicuous deep breath to calm himself down as panic mounted.
        “It’s pretty easy,” his opponent said and cheerfully went through the rules while Ted asked a few questions to try and wrap his head around the game. “I want to make this fair to you since you don’t know how to play, so should we say best out of three? No, best out of five, ok?”
        “Best out of five sounds fair.”
        The gondolier finished dealing the cards and placed the remainder of the deck on the table. The first hand started fairly slowly as Ted tried to figure out the best strategy; his opponent was patient while he fumbled and fussed with his cards. The first hand went by in silence with the gondolier winning. Ted wasn’t surprised, but he wasn’t comfortable with the fact, either. He shuffled the cards in heavy silence and tried to talk himself out of an increased feeling of doom.

Author’s comments on post 415: I’m almost on my way to Hong Kong and I’ve got a million things to do to prepare. So, I’m having trouble getting everything in order with this story before I go. There might have to be a small break after tomorrow for me to iron out the ending while I get frantically ready for the trip. My sincere apologies, but, that’s life.

Choice and Chance (Part 2)

        “Look, I’m sorry. But I really have to go. I hate to leave you like this, but…good luck.”
        “Wait,” Ted called back a little softer. “Is there any other way I could pay for passage?”
        “Well, I don’t…nobody told me…I can’t imagine…” the gondolier looked nervously downstream and then glanced up at the ceiling above the ledge.
        “What if we gamble for it?” Ted said quickly.
        “G-gamble?” The gondolier looked at Ted like a wounded deer cornered by hunters. Ted felt a little sympathy for the boy in the boat; he looked no older than Ted’s twelve-year-old son and as if he hadn’t slept for years. Of course, Ted thought, mentally kicking himself for his naïve reaction, he probably died long ago.
        “Sure!” Ted said more enthusiastically than he felt. “If you win I’ll swim to shore and if I win, you’ll take me there in your boat.”
        “No, no, I can’t…I can’t…”
        “What have you got to lose?” Ted said shrugging, although he knew the gondolier had more at stake than he did. He swallowed his worry for fear of breaking the illusion that he was in control of the situation.
        “A lot, actually. But…no, I haven’t played in a while and you shouldn’t get the advantage. But…” the gondolier bit his lip and looked downstream, “Fine, you’ve got yourself a deal only if I pick the game.”
        “Deal,” Ted said extending his hand.
        “But we can’t play here,” the gondolier said, ignoring Ted’s gesture. “Get in the boat and I’ll take you to a place we can.”

Author’s comment on post 414: More of the story.

Choice and Chance (Part 1)

        Ted Ryner noticed the pain in his head before he registered that he was awake. He rolled over to his side and a flood of nauseating pain filled his body. Groaning, he fell back, a little too hard, to the surface beneath him. He lay in the darkness, afraid to open his eyes and make the pain worse, slowly realizing that wherever he was, it was cold, flat, hard, and had plenty of salty, wet air. As the pain subsided, he registered the soft ebb of water against what might be a dock. He rolled over again, with more success this time, and managed to sit up and open his eyes.
        It looked like he was sitting in a stereotypical sewer as the wall opposite him was closer than he had expected and guided the flow of a dark river of water. He was sitting on a stone ledge in a brick alcove which had a set of stairs leading into the water. At the bottom of the stairs was a gondola manned by an incredibly pale gondolier with dark circles around his eyes wearing a quizzical expression. When he caught Ted’s gaze, he smiled.
        “Welcome to Styx! Or rather, the area upon which you will be traveling is called Styx—I mean, the river. We call the area around it…” the gondolier stoped suddenly and cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, I’ve got a lot of people to escort, so I’ll answer your questions on the way. Provided, of course, you have money to pay for your voyage. You do, don’t you?” Ted rubbed his temples and shakily stood up. Even in the haze of his headache, he remained upright as he fumbled through his pockets.
        “Sorry, I don’t,” he mumbled.
        “Oh, er, that’s a problem,” the gondolier said. “If you can’t pay for your passage, you’re going to have to swim. And no soul that swims in the water ever survives.”
        “What?”
        “I said, no soul that swims in the water ever survives. They get pulled under by the other ones and get absorbed. It’s a sad fate, but improves the shoreline much better than when they had souls wandering around here. Or, at least, that’s what I was told. I don’t know having just started this job and…” he stopped again and sighed. “Well, if you don’t have payment, I have to go.”
        “Wait!” Ted called after him, although the man had not gone very far away, “at least tell me where I am and what I’m doing here.”
        “I told you, you’re at Styx. And, um, I’ve never been very good at leading into the subject, so I’ll just jump right in: you’re dead.”
        Ted laughed. “No, really. What’s going on? What day is it? Did the boys put you up to this for my birthday?”
        The gondolier didn’t laugh. “I’m sorry to say you must have died because only the dead come here.”
        The smile melted off of Ted’s face. “You’re kidding…” his voice was quiet and diminished to a whisper as he stepped back towards the wall and slid down, his eyes focusing on a spot of space in front of him. Once again, the only sound was the water sloshing up against the stone ledge and even though the gondolier didn’t say anything, he bit his lip and kept turning down river as if expecting something to come barging from upstream.

Author’s comments on post 413: What’s this? Well, that should be fairly obvious, n’est-ce pas?

I wrote this in one sitting and it’s somewhat short, and since it’s meant to be taken as a whole thing, I had a bit of trouble chopping it up. So, there might be some odd spots where it just ends, but I will have another post up the next day, so you only have to wait a little bit for the next installment. Enjoy : )

Secrets of the Blue House (13)

If you need to refresh yourself on the story, please read the story thus far.

        The first thing to strike him was the vastness of the clearing. The space was large enough for a swimming pool, though the fountain in the center wasn’t that large. Around the circular space were benches facing towards the center and most were next to another entrance in the maze. The fountain in the center was smaller than the other ones he had seen and true to Gervais’ word depicted the Minotaur and Theseus locked in battle. Ariadne was nowhere to be found, but that was the least of Nick’s worries.
        Sitting in a bench across from him was a tall, lanky man that looked much like Gervais but younger, although equally as ageless. He was reading a book but looked up when Nick approached the clearing and smiled when his green eyes locked with Nick’s.
        “Good morning, Mr. Fuentes.”
        “Mr. Fontaine.”
        “You’re welcome to sit down, if you like. I often like to come here to think.”
        “No, thank you. I won’t disturb you anymore.”
        “You’re not disturbing me,” the younger Fontaine stood up and pulled a gun out of his jacket pocket, wasting no time in pointing it at Nick. “In fact, I would prefer the company.”
        Nick turned and ran, thankful that a turn in the maze was nearby. He sprinted through straight paths and flung himself around corners all the while being able to hear the younger Fontaine right behind him. Clouds rolled overhead blanketing the world in gray and making it harder to see, but Nick knew he was lost every turn that he took. Once, he heard the clicking of the safety being turned off, but that was the only clue as to how close his pursuer was. His lungs felt like they were going to burst and the end of the maze was nowhere in sight.
        All at once, a turn around a corner led to open lawn. Nick stopped and breathed, listening to any sound that might tell him how close danger was. Thunder rumbled making any sound invisible. Deciding that a zigzag dash across the lawn was safer than staying hidden in a straight path, Nick took a deep breath and sprinted across the lawn only reaching halfway before he fell, his legs pinned to the ground.
        The younger Fontaine scrambled up from behind him and stamped on Nick’s chest as he cocked the gun and paused. It would have been a magnificent sight in different circumstances; the silhouette of a dignified man against a glowing, churning sky. Nick tried to pull his attacker’s leg off his chest, but to no avail.
        “Sorry to do this,” Fontaine said, still breathing hard, “but money is money.”
        “Don’t you have any conscience?” Nick yelled into the growing wind.
        “Conscience? I lost that long ago with my sisters.”
        Suddenly, something whizzed through the air and made contact with Fontaine’s head. The young man dropped the gun and staggered before toppling backwards onto the ground. Nick heard a horse’s whinny as he scrambled to his feet and grabbed the gun that Fontaine had dropped. The knight from the fountain on the patio was standing in the middle of the yard, his horse restless as it stood over young Fontaine.
        “Are you all right?” the knight asked in a voice that sounded far away like it came from a telephone nowhere near anyone’s ear.
        “I—I…guess so.”
        The knight nodded and bent down to pick up young Fontaine by the collar. Without a word, the moving statue walked towards the fountain and with a single movement dropped Fontaine into the water face down.
        “Don’t dro—”
        All at once, however, the statue grabbed the Holy Grail from its belt and regained its former majestic position, Fontaine disappeared under the water, and it started to rain. Nick stared at the water, still holding the gun, and feeling guiltier than he felt he should have been. It wasn’t until he heard shouts coming from a doorway to the house that he remembered where he was and that he needed to get inside.
        The maids were more than willing to help him into drier clothes, but he was still a bit shaken and couldn’t explain why. Gervais came down to the parlor at this point, concerned that Nick had decided to leave. No one asked anything about young Fontaine, although Nick found out later that everyone assumed he has just gone home or on another extended vacation. In the end, Nick inherited the house, although the other items were given to another remote cousin living in France.
        It was some time after owning the house that Nick felt he could ask the fountain what happened to young Fontaine, but the satyr just laughed and the nymph said nothing substantial about the matter. She could tell it still bothered Nick so she added, “he’s not being tortured,” as if that made the entire situation better. Nick never pressed the issue anymore.
        Eventually Nick had a family of his own, grew old, and died in the Blue House. He was the last of his generation to talk to the building, but every so often, the next inhabitants would hear whispers within the walls. They marked it as either auditory hallucinations, ghosts or faeries, but it was just the house laughing to itself and reminiscing about all the secrets in contained within its walls.

Author’s comments on post 404: Well, it’s been quite a ride. This is just a draft that will probably be massively edited on a future date, but for now, it’s done. I’m very pleased with how well the title fits the story, which is always something a bit iffy with longer works. But, I’ll leave it to all of you to analyze.

Secrets of the Blue House (12)

You’ll want to reread the story up until this point and it can be found here.

        Breakfast the next day was hard to swallow, though not too hard to eat. Nick was nervous and he felt jittery, though he wasn’t completely convinced why and the fountain had no answers for him in the morning. Nick ate alone in the dining room; he had woken up earlier than most people in the house and felt like he needed to do something other than sit in his room. The cook was surprisingly obliging to his needs.
        “Do you need anything else, sir?” she asked, peeking in to the dining room from the kitchen.
        “Tell me,” Nick said, calmly. “What happened to Gervais’ daughters?”
        The cook grew stony. “No one knows for sure, Mr. Fuentes. Mr. Fontaine was never very overt about how his daughters died. The casket was closed at the funeral, too, and though I’ve heard rumors, I’ve never been one to spread them.”
        “But they did die.”
        “Unfortunately. The youngest was always so nice.”
        “Well…thank you. I don’t need anything else.”
        “Just holler if you need me.”
        Nick stood up and left the rest of his breakfast. The rest of the house was quiet and Nick wasn’t sure what else to do. He wandered around the first floor for a bit, fantasizing about what he was going to do when he was master of the house. It was too big of a building for him, though he could admit that it was a very nice house. He found himself outside on the stone patio and wandering around between chairs and neatly organized flowers. Dew still moistened the world and the sun was high enough to make the dew sparkle. The knight holding the grail stood majestic, but remained deathly still. Nick sighed and kept walking around the grounds. He reached the hedge maze and looked back at the house; it seemed asleep, but even if people were awake, they were probably just waking up.
        He started walking in and around. A very small part of him felt uneasy, but he continued through the maze, confident he would reach the center. His mind was occupied, anyway, on other things: the house, his job, taxes. He was lost in thought about the size party he could throw in the Blue House when he reached the center.

Author’s comments on post 403: What’s this? An actual post? You bet your train set it is! It’s nice to get back into things. This is the beginning of the end; there will be one more post. And happy new year!

Secrets of the Blue House (11)

        “Wait a minute,” Nick interjected and then added after catching a stern look from the nymph, “Excuse me. But I’m not even sure I want this house and yet, you seem to have decided for me.”
        “Well, think of it this way: wouldn’t you do anything you could to ensure your survival?”
        “All right, continue.”
        “Mr. Fontaine, Sr used to have three children: two daughters and a son. His son would inherit most of his fortune, but his daughters would still receive a good portion of the money. I’m sure its a typical story, but they both were killed in the hedge maze and we didn’t want…”
        “Wait, wait. Killed? What happened?”
        “We don’t have much time to discuss it, but Mr. Fontaine, Jr. and his eldest sister decided that in order to prevent their sister and her soon-to-be husband from receiving the money, they killed her, leaving her significant other no reason to stay. Then they killed the remaining sister’s husband before Mr. Fontaine, Jr. turned on her and killed her. With no one else to receive the money and the house, he thought he would inherit it all and then sell this land to building contractors to tear us down and put up smaller houses on this plot.”
        “This seems like a lot more serious than you are making it out to be.”
        “Believe me, we are concerned, but there was nothing we could have done. The blood line and magic energy here were too weak for us to speak to the girls and warn them before it was too late. More importantly, Mr. Fontaine, Jr. has come to visit his father, but we’re sure he somehow heard that Mr. Fontaine, Sr. was seriously considering giving you this house. We’re afraid that he is going to try to kill you so that you don’t inherit this area.”
        Nick took a deep breath. “But I’m quite happy in the city and I don’t need a house out here.”
        “Please reconsider,” the satyr said for the first time in the conversation, “I’m rather fond of the flowers in the garden and I would hate to lose connection to the house.”
        “You don’t have to live here,” the nymph continued, “You just have to keep me standing.”
        Nick took a deep breath and looked at the hall around him. “All right. But what am I going to do about Gervais’s son?”
        “Just be wary,” the nymph said, putting a cold hand on Nick’s shoulder. “I wish there was more you could do.”
        “If he attacks you and you can get outside, I’ll help you,” the satyr said. “But don’t go near the hedge maze. Stay near the house if you can.”
        Nick nodded. “Well…thanks.”
        The nymph and satyr smiled and both wished him good night. In a daze, Nick ascended the stairs to his guest room and after undressing for the second time that evening, he fell back asleep.

Author’s comments on post 399: Part two of the section I wrote on Tuesday. Tomorrow, a small diversion and I might publish more of this story just to keep the ball rolling. Otherwise, you will get more of this story on Saturday.

Secrets of the Blue House (10)

        The sight through the door made Nick froze. The tree in the fountain cast a silver glow stronger than moonlight, but with the same sentiment. The water no longer flowed and pooled in the basin at the tree’s roots. The boobrie was sitting among its branches while the satyr and nymph sat at the edge of the fountain with their feet resting in the water, both laughing quietly. The nymph was the first to notice him and her warm smile was inviting enough to get Nick to step forward and allow the door to shut behind him.
        “Come, join us,” she said, though her lips did not move. “Don’t worry, they can’t hear us,” she answered to Nick’s unspoken anxiety. Cautiously, but not wishing to be rude, he made his way to the fountain and then sat down on the edge, his feet still planted on the tile floor.
        “I’m sorry we had to wake you,” she continued, “but it was imperative that we talk.”
        “What do you mean, wake me?”
        “I sent our messenger to get you from upstairs.”
        As if on cue, the boobrie flew down from its perch and quickly landed into the pond, splashing a little water from its great wings onto Nick’s back. “That is my purpose; to retrieve those whom the castle wishes to speak to.”
        “The castle?” Nick wished he could sound more intelligent than he was, but nothing else seemed to form in his mind. The adrenaline of the dream had worn off enough that he was getting sleepier, but not enough for him to nod off entirely.
        The nymph smiled. “He means the house. The Blue House, of course, where you are currently a guest. I am the voice of the house, and my friend here,” she indicated the satyr, who waved, “is the voice of the grounds. We were just discussing what to tell you when you arrived.”
        “Look, I know this isn’t real and that I’m dreaming, but could you at least try to make sense?”
        The nymph smiled condescendingly. “Unfortunately, this is real. Magic is a lost art to humans, but it still resides in objects deeply connected to a bloodline. This house is just a copy of the Fontaine Château, but it is connected because of spirit—love to be exact—and thus, holds some of the same magical properties as the castle in France. But all of this is technical and has nothing to do with you, my dear boy.
        “We don’t have much time to talk, so I am going to try to be as brief as possible. I’m sure you are aware of your connection to the Fontaines in France, but there are a few old households in other places in Europe where pieces of the Great Water Spirit resided. Millions of years before humans, the gods lived on Earth and then the wizards. During the time of the wizards, the gods started losing their connection to this planet. When the humans—completely magic-less creatures who worships wizards and gods alike—finally came around, the Great Water Spirit decided to split herself and spread the pieces far and wide to random humans throughout the land. Eventually these humans built households and manors around these pieces and each family called themselves “The Fountains” because they were protectors of the water spirit.
        “Somehow the piece that remains in what is now Spain was lost, but the family line remained. You, as you can probably guess, are the product of a merge between two Fountain lines, which means that you have a greater connection to the magic of the house. It enables me to talk to you and it also enables you to use a bit of the magic from the house for yourself.
        “But I did not call you down here to give you a brief history lesson nor to teach you how to control magic, I wanted to warn you about your role in the story of this house. Mr. Fontaine, Sr. doesn’t know this, but anyone involved in the inheritance of this house is in danger. As one of the strongest links on the Fountain bloodline, we feel that you are the best one to own this house and will do all we can to aid in your welfare.”

Author’s comments on post 398: Part one of what I finished writing yesterday. This was a lot harder to write than I thought it would be, not because I didn’t know what was going to happen, but because I can’t seem to find enough motivation to sit down and finish it. The conversation will conclude tomorrow and then we’ll have a very interesting climax and "le fin." I started another story which I have a hunch will probably turn into a novel/novella, but I don’t really want to publish it until I have a good idea how long it might be. Also, I am working on something good to celebrate the 400th post on Friday. All in all, I’m super busy so I will go and finish what I need to do now and stop writing commentary