Tag Archives: fantasy fiction

The Holiday Must Go On

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The Holiday Must Go On

By Intricate Knot

“My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies;
Fairytales of yesterday will grow, but never die;
I can fly, my Friends.”.
~Queen

    Prologue

On their way to save or perhaps duel Crimson (last of the Winter Wizards) and definitely duel Diavix Clop (all-around-creepy-villain) Fiddler and Wilbur (esteemed members of the Great Holiday Making Tribe and our heroes) came to the aid of Vin Kaj (Autumn Pumpkin Wizard Extraordinaire). In truth, they had been seeking his aid, when it turned out their services were much needed by Vin Kaj who was having a most difficult (and strenuous) time putting Summer to rest. Well, he’d never had that much trouble killing off Summer before! That must have been the doing (or not doing) of Crimson, last of the Winter Wizards, yes?
Ah, have you not learned anything from these knotted tales, dear Reader? Nothing is ever, ever as straightforward, as we would like. Then again…things are often far simpler than we ever give them credit for…

Riding on Vin Kaj’s grand pumpkin back certainly made the journey to rescue Crimson much quicker! The strides he made on his long brawny, green vine legs were tremendous! Fiddler and Wilbur bounced and jostled atop the beautiful orange expanse of pumpkin, though it wasn’t terribly comfortable. The two dodged tree branches, while hanging onto Vin. The Forest became a blur of greens, golds, and browns as they whizzed past brush, bush, and tree.
Their thoughts picked at them all. None of them really knew what had become of Crimson. The speed, bouncing, and jostling were so great that conversation of any sort was quite impossible. Each kept their own counsel…

Sleek feline Fiddler nurtured a shimmering trust in his big kitty heart that his Magickal Mentor of by-gone-days continued to be as he has always known him to be: Of sound mind, body, and most importantly, Spirit.

Could the ill-famed Diavex Clop somehow have turned Crimson into a Waywardly Wicked Wizard? Wilbur’s logical and often cantankerous owly-raven brain asked. He worked and worked the question in his mind to nearly the point of exhaustion, wanting to make absolutely certain that he didn’t reject the notion simply for the sake of his good friend, Fiddler. And came up with the answer…a resounding “no,” Crimson has not been turned. This is irrefutably impossible.

And Vin Kaj? As a fellow wizard, he harbors not a whiff of doubt in his great pumpkin head or heart. His only thought was to get to Crimson as quickly as possible. Sooner even that…

Dear Reader, if we take our heroes hearts and minds into account (and how can we not?) it can only mean one thing…coercion. Is Diavex Clop somehow forcing Crimson to help him keep things hot, sticky, and humid in The Forest? Eeeeeeee yuck.

“Wait. Hold up, Vin Kaj,” Fiddler implored.

Once an Autumn Pumpkin Wizard Extraordinaire gets going, it is a herculean feat to get him to stop. Even for himself! Viney tendrils shot out from his toes, grasping passing trees, boulders, or brush, anything to slow them down. He swerved, swung, and skidded along pebbles, strewn leaves, and bits of twigs along the path nearly upending himself, along with Wilbur and Fiddler. Vin held onto Fiddler and Wilbur, Wilbur and Fiddler held onto each other, and everyone held on for dear life! Dear life? Yes, for straight in the middle of their path, the path they could not seem to stop themselves from hurtling along, stood a Grand Old Oak. Lovely, amazing, and awe-inspiring at any other time, mind you, but not when one is hurtling towards its sturdy trunk the width and height of a small mountain! If any of them were the sort to shriek in terror, this certainly would have been the time for it. Luckily, the time for shrieking-in-terror passed, as they finally came to a stop, a nose-breath’s distance from rough, brown bark of Grand Old Oak.

Copyright Twilight Faerie

Phew.

Fiddler and Wilbur tumbled off Vin Kaj’s back. They all heaved sighs of relief and worked on pulling themselves back together.

“So, what was that about, Fiddler?” Wilbur asked calmly.

“Um…I just wondered, where are we going?”

“To save Crimson, of course,” Vin interjected, though not quite as calmly as Wilbur.

“Yes, but where are we going?”

Wilbur opened his golden beak to speak, but then promptly closed it. Vin shook his head with a grin, then sat on a convenient boulder. A Thinking Boulder.

“Why don’t you tell us, Fiddler? I’m afraid that I really don’t know.”

“I don’t know, either,” and he leapt up onto the boulder, sitting next to Vin. They both looked expectantly at Wilbur.

“Mmm, I may have a theory.”

“Which is?” Boomed Vin.

“I believe we’re running in circles, which is just what Diavex would like us to be doing,” And with a flap of his black wings, he joined his companions and perched on top of the Thinking Boulder. He thought for a moment, then said with conviction “Well…this is the Most Magickal Time of the Year-”

“When goats are jingle belling-” Fiddler continued.

“And even salmon go caroling-”

“And most everyone is wishing you Good Cheer,” Vin finished.

“Everyone except Diavex Clop,” Wilbur said sourly.
Hmm…they were all thinking again. Not a bad thing, for these three had quite a handle on their powerful minds.

“Diavex tried to stop Halloween,” Vin Kaj offered.
“Yep. And now he is trying to stop us all from celebrating Yule,” stated Wilbur.
A look passed between the two friends, dear good friends who had been end-to-end of this Universe and beyond together.

Fiddler shook his head decidedly,

“That cannot happen. If he stops Yule, he stops the New Year.”

“And if he stops the New Year?” Vin asked.

“He will stop the Great Holiday Making Tribe-” Wilbur explained.

“There won’t be any holidays,” finished Fiddler. “And what a sad, Diavex Clop world this would be.”

“Worlds, actually,” Wilbur reminded.

“Yes, worlds,” Fiddler agreed.

“So, what do we do?” Again, Vin posed the question.

The question that made their bellies sink.

It broke their hearts, but they all knew what they must do. Well, actually, they didn’t “know” they only felt what was right. Feelings can sometimes be confusing. Are feelings always right? Hmm…that is a very good question, dear Reader. I will go out on the proverbial precariously lengthy limb of the proverbial sturdy tree (sturdy as the Grand Old Oak) and say that yes, feeling are always right, even when they hurt a bit (or a lot) and in fact are especially true when they hurt a bit (or a lot).

Vin and Wilbur held back, wanting to give Fiddler time. Being a cat, Fiddler possessed both grace and speed in abundance. Wordlessly, he leapt from the boulder and nodded at his companions.

Abandon the rescue of Crimson. Unthinkable, but the right thing to do. Back to the Heart of the Forest the trio went. Deep in the center of The Forest lay, the Golden Heart of It. The Magick of Holidays beat here, stretching Its’ beams of light and beauty for all to see, even if they should choose not to partake.
The three had a great deal more work ahead of them…happy work though they grieved for their friend Crimson. The Party-of-the-Century, the Holiday-to-Begin-and-End-All-Holidays needed to be planned and prepared for and celebrated…Yule rules the day. A Merry Yule is sure to rid the Forest of Diavex Clop once-and-for-all. Besides, regardless of circumstance, the Holiday Must Go On.

To be continued…quite soon!


Illustration “Grand Old Oak” by Angelique Duncan. Appearance of Wilbur and Vin Kaj with permission of Intricate Knot.

Intricate Knot is proprietor of Art For A Gloomy Day.Check out her artist page to find links to her shop and blog to read more of her writings. Visit again next season for more adventures of Fiddler the cat and his best pal Wilbur.

 

The Blue Feather

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The Blue Feather

By Intricate Knot

“The game is afoot.”~ Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

When last we left our heroes, the ever stylish, sleek, cat Fiddler and the forever cantankerous owly-raven Wilbur, they were in the midst of saving Easter. With all those spring time eggs that needed to be decorated, there was no time to contemplate the clues left behind by the kidnapper and thief: a single blue feather and a scrap of dirty, gold scarf. Who or what had caused the disappearance of every one of Aloysius’ bunny holiday helpers had to be placed on hold. Although their hands were kept busy decorating and packing eggs into baskets, they couldn’t stop their minds from wandering to the chilling fact that all of the helpers were missing and even more disturbing were the missing flowers. Not one spring time flower remained in the forest or the great field that surrounded it! And the flowers hadn’t been picked or plucked; trimmed or torn…it was as if there had never been any flowers at all. Not a sign of them! Thank goodness the faeries had this matter well in hand and were busily coaxing new flowers from out of the earth.

Once the last egg was packed into its tiny colorful straw basket and Aloysius hopped off, Fiddler and Wilbur turned their attention to the blue feather. Both of them knew that sometimes in order to understand the present, we have to make a trip back to the past. It’s not always pleasant, although it does depend on what’s back there. In this case? Definitely not pleasant for our heroes…

Hundreds upon hundreds, perhaps even thousands upon thousands of years ago there lived a beautiful and frightful creature named Glassy Croon. Beautiful because of her fantastic royal blue plumage and frightful because of her glittering scales, Glassy possessed the wings and headdress of a bird and the scaly, coiled, fluid body of snake and at the end of her tail a hypnotic rattle with a venomous tip. To add to this, Glassy had the most beautiful singing voice: a gift from one of King Neptune’s Sirens.

Once upon a time they had all been famous friends: Fiddler, Wilbur, and Glassy. The trio was inseparable. They did everything together, even eating breakfast, lunch, and supper together. Oh, and the adventures and fun mischief they would get up to! Fiddler was much then as he is now, but Wilbur had been a much lighter, less crabby soul in those days. He even fancied himself in love with Classy Glassy, as he called her then.

Her friendship had all been a sham, though. Glassy had devious plans, plans to disappear all the holidays and disband the Great Holiday Maker Tribe forever. It was only sheer luck that Fiddler and Wilbur discovered her plot, but that is a tale for another time. Suffice it to say our heroes saved the day (actually they saved many days!) and Glassy was banished. Although, they never discovered why she wanted to destroy holidays and the mystery has always haunted them both.

As punishment Glassy Croon had been banished to the far off Land of La, where they all believed she would never trouble anyone ever again. The portal between their world and La had been sealed, permanently. Of course in these situations the villain or villainess always manages to escape to cause grievous mischief another day though, yes? And our villainess is no exception. While in La she planned her revenge for a long, long, very long time and found a way to escape.

“We definitely know who that feather belongs to,” Fiddler began.

“Yes. Although how she escaped…escapes me at the moment,” Wilbur responded with a woeful expression in his big owly, black eyes.

“That is not our problem right now. First, we need to find her.”

“Then we are going to need help and a lot of it.”
Fiddler nodded, deep in thought,

“Yes, you’re right, of course.”

“And I’m thinking of-”

“Fizzy.”

“Yes.”
The two friends in accord, they sent Sassy the Pigeon to request her presence.

Fizzy Frazelli, a foxy fox with her beautiful amber coat, fluffy snowy-tipped tail, and Italian accent was eager to help out. To assist in saving the Great Holiday Making Tribe and the forest was a worthy and noble cause. Who could refuse? Though foxes don’t feature much in human holiday tales, being clever and pretty they certainly do have their place and all places are important. Wearing a periwinkle sun hat, Fizzy arrived at Loy’s bunny domain in record time, greeting Fiddler and Wilbur with a smile and a wink,

“You tell me what you need and I’ll get my boys started.”
Fiddler imparted the news,

“Fizzy, it’s Glassy. She’s back. Worse yet, we don’t know what else she may have planned.”

“Indeed, with the summer months upon us there is much to be put in order and set into motion. We daren’t have a setback,” Wilbur added.
To her credit, Ms. Frazelli’s dazzling smile never faltered,

“Well, I’ll just have to get a few of our neighbors involved. Don’t you worry, we caught up with her last time, and we’ll do it again.”

True to her word, Fizzy enlisted the help of her foxy boys, and asked the coyotes for help, too. All of them clever enough to scent out even the most subtle of creatures. Wilbur flew over field, glen, and forest, Fiddler prowled through burrow, cave, and hollow, and the foxes and coyotes sniffed at every valley, ravine, and crevice. All of them searched for anything that would lead them to Glassy’s whereabouts, but as the sun set that evening not one of them had found a sign. They decided to meet at Loy’s, this way they could stand guard over their bunny friend, while he slept after the long Easter day of deliveries and appearances. Who knew if Glassy planned something more for their bunny friend!

When they all met back at Loy’s that night, Fiddler, Wilbur and Fizzy discussed their next move over large mugs of frosty root beer and maple creams. With a decisive click of his mug on the rustic table Fiddler stated,

“Right, we’ll go back over everywhere again tomorrow.”

“Okay, but I think we need more help,” Wilbur suggested.

“Good idea. What do you think, Fizzy? Fizzy?”

“Hmm…I was only thinking.”

She had Wilbur and Fiddler at the edge of their seats and when a few more moments passed they said in unison,

“What?”

Well, how did Glassy escape the Land of La?”
Fiddler and Wilbur exchanged glances.

“I am wondering if she’s opened the portal to escape that perhaps-”

“She can open the portal and go back in,” Fiddler finished.

“Oh, that’s just fabulous. Anyone want a refill?”
Fiddler and Fizzy held out their mugs to Wilbur. He began pouring more root beer and suddenly stopped.

“I just thought of something worse.”
Fiddler felt the hair along his spin rise,

“What?”

“If she’s able to come and go as she pleases and has taken Loy’s helpers and the spring flowers to La, what if she can bring-”
Fizzy gasped,

“No!”

“I hope you’re wrong, Wilbur,” but even as he said it, Fiddler knew Wilbur wasn’t wrong. It explained that scrap of dirty gold scarf…

To be continued next month!


Illustration “Glassy Croon” by Intricate Knot.
Illustration “What to do?” by Angelique Duncan. Appearance of Wilbur with permission of Intricate Knot.

Intricate Knot is proprietor of Cards For A Gloomy Day.Check out her artist page to find links to her shop and blog to read more of her writings. Visit again next month for more adventures of Fiddler the cat.

 

Spring Once Again

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Spring Once Again
Written by Intricate Knot (exactly as was told to her)

By Intricate Knot

“It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.”

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

If the day had been less fine and clear, I may have missed it. If it had rained that day, I would have hurried myself home to sit by the fire and enjoy a cup of hot chocolate and a biscuit or two (perhaps even three). But though I could feel ice in the air the sun shone down prettily, it was a fine day and I didn’t miss a thing. There in my forest home, straight across the path to my house a lovely black-as-coal kitty and a precious white-as-whipped-cream bunny scampered together. Together, you say? I do, indeed. Together. The cat did not chase the rabbit. No. They skipped together, hand-in-hand across the path and through the woods.

I couldn’t let them go. I had to find out. What are they doing together? And where are they going in such a big hurry? And what are those colorful witches’s hats doing on their heads?? The cat wore a soft velvety purple with a chartreuse silky ribbon and the rabbit sported a rosy satin affair along with an eye-catching vest to match. Where did they acquire such fine fashions? I wondered.

Curiosity is something of which I always indulge and this day was no exception. Off the path and into the woods after them I ran.

I have to say, I was out of breath before too long. I’m mostly human, you see, and the human part of me tends to slow me down. My heart thundered in my chest so loudly, I was certain the two I barely kept in sight could hear it and at any moment they would turn and ask,

“What are you doing, clumsy human girl? You don’t really think you can keep up with the likes of us!” Then they’d laugh and run straight out of my view. That cannot happen, I told myself. And quite miraculously, it didn’t.

It was dark in this part of woods. The trees are amazingly tall and dignified. Beautiful, of course, but they do tend to block out the light. I’m not afraid. Of course not. However, I am a bit clumsy even in the best of light. Breathing hard now, I crossed my fingers that I wouldn’t trip. And quite miraculously, I didn’t.

At the clearing, they finally stopped those mischievous two (yes, true I did not know them all too well or even at all! But something sparked and crackled in the air around them. I knew this, because I ran straight through it). They sat as pretty as you like, on a smooth, large gray stone right next to the river.

I kept my distance. If they didn’t know I was there (though, I’m sure that they did), I did not wish to startle them. I too, sat on a large stone, but at the edge of the clearing under a great Noble Fir. I heard the two whispering and strained to hear what they said. I couldn’t make out their conversation, though. I don’t mind saying that disappointment began tapping on my shoulder just about then. What good had it been to follow them all this way, tear my stockings, rip my hem, and sit on this cold stone in the chill of the air, if I wasn’t going to find out anything about them? I was considering how to introduce myself, when something purely mystical-magickal happened!

Music began to play. I heard it play in the distance. It sounded like it was coming from the river and I could tell that it was getting closer. Now I sat quietly, smoothed back my hair and folded my hands firmly in my lap.

The cat, sleek and sweet, turned to his good friend (I could tell they were cherished friends, I felt it in the air along with the sparks and the crackles) and said with a smile,

“Aloysius, dear lad, I do believe it is time.”

“Right as always, Fiddler,” and with that the rabbit pulled out a wood flute.
‘Ah,’ I thought happily, ‘I’ve discovered their names!’ It was completely worth the flight through the woods just to know Aloysius Bunny and Fiddler-the-Cat. Marvelous. But more was in store!

Fiddler had brought out his namesake and the two began to play, adding their instrumental chorus to the oncoming music, which now grew closer still. That’s when I saw the small boats, made of pearly pink shells, filled with luminous petite faeries, each of whom sparkled with a different color: lavender, periwinkle, coral, lemon, and mint. And as sparkles go, these were very easy on the eyes.

As the tiny boats pulled up alongside Fiddler and Aloysius, I had a moment of panic. As delightful as faeries are, I am no stranger to their wily powers. Must I always be led by my (at times) regrettable curiosity? What had I possibly got myself into this time? As quietly as I could, I stood up and began to slowly back away. Perhaps if I reached the wood in time, the faeries might not notice me! But, that wasn’t the case. I knew that as soon as the most dazzling pink of the lot waved and then beckoned to me. Did I just swallow a bug? Or was that a lump of fear in my throat? Fear? Surely that was a bug. I silently apologized to the bug for eating it and gingerly made my way to group of magickal creatures.

After introductions were made between the Faerie Royalty and I (I’m sorry, but I was sworn to secrecy and I cannot reveal their names to you, if I did I’m sure I’d get into all sorts unfunny trouble), Fiddler told me,

“The faeries and us need assistance with Spring.”
Stunned that such beauteous creatures could want anything from me, I nodded eagerly,

“You’ve only to ask what you need and I’ll do my very best to comply.”
It was then Aloysius’ turn,

“It’s Spring, you see. It needs to be sprung.”
Huh. Who would have guessed that? Not I.

I’ve never helped spring Spring, before. This could be fun! And what an educational experience it could turn out to be. Not a bad item to list on your resume. Not that I’m looking for a job. Not that I need one. Sorceress-In-Training, First Class, at your service. I only hope they don’t think I know what I’m doing, because I certainly do not.

“Oh, it’s very simple just extremely complex,” grinned the cat.

“I’m afraid, yes, he’s correct,” Aloysius said and then gave a great sneeze.
Turning to see what the faeries made of all this, I noted that they appeared to be nodding in agreement. Though, I’d not a clue.

“If it were up, it would clearly be down,” began Fiddler.

“But if it were right, it would be equally as apparent to be left,” finished Aloysius.

“You’re confusing the poor girl. She is part human, you know,” and down swooped an Owly creature wearing a bright, swirly green and yellow witch’s hat.

“Hmm, I was wondering when you were going to turn up,” Fiddler said, still grinning, but now I could see a glint in his emerald eyes.

“Had to get the troops going, didn’t I? If someone doesn’t direct them, they’re bound to end up marching straight off a cliff.”

“Yes,” agreed the rabbit. “Wilbur’s quite right. No matter how many times we explain and no matter how many signs I post, they all seem to want to walk off cliffs. Bizarre behavior, even if they are lemmings.”
Somehow they all thought this was very funny. Everyone joined in on the laughter (even myself though I still hadn’t a clue what was what), everyone except Wilbur, who wore a dire expression on his Owly-Raven face. He addressed me,

“They’re lemmings, dear girl. That’s the joke.”

“Ah.” Though, I still felt a bit thick.

“As to Spring, we need your help calling out the Flora.”

“And the Fauna, don’t forget them,” Aloysius reminded, though it was apparent by the expression on Wilbur’s face a reminder was unnecessary.
Before another word could be exchanged between the two, Fiddler whisked Aloysius away to a new group of faeries that had just arrived and were gathering under a particularly striking pine,

“I do believe your attentions are required over here, Alo.”

“It’s a good deal Fiddler’s on the ball. We’re so very behind right now! If that one,” Wilbur rolled his eyes to the tall and elegant rabbit, “gets chocolate eggs to everyone on time this year without mixing them up with the jelly beans it really will be a miracle. And though our group excels at miracles, I still always have my doubts.”

“Yes, well, you never know.”
And then he gave me what I’m sure was a most rare occurrence, Wilbur smiled,

“Why yes. Exactly right.”
Feeling a bit like a star pupil in Miss Sally Sash’s Class, I smiled back.
Fiddler rejoined us,

“You can take care of the flowers, sweet lady.”
Please note: I’d rather my name didn’t get out, either (hence the “dear girl” and “sweet lady” etc etc). I still had no notion of what I would be doing I only hoped that they would eventually tell me. And tell me in a way that I would truly understand.

“It really is all very simple,” gruffed Wilbur with an eye roll to Fiddler.

“Yes, forgive me for teasing,” the cat said with a wink. “You only need to call the flowers. You know so many of them. It’s why we chose you for this task.”

“Call them?”

“Yes. You’ll come with us underground. Just picture each flower in your mind,” Wilbur stated.

“When we pass by their roots, they’ll know that it’s time,” Fiddler continued.
Huh. While I looked at the ground I thought that somehow it really didn’t sound “simple” to me. I was I going to fit in their tunnels? I’m a big, gawky part-human girl. Perhaps they forgot?

“Of course we haven’t forgotten,” Fiddler looped his silky, kitty appendage through my arm.

“And you’re not ‘gawky,’” Wilbur added firmly while grasping my other arm, his black feathers tickling, just slightly.

“Okay.”
We began walking together, alongside the river, strolling quite casually.

“The butterflies will be up soon and so will the bees. We’ll have to get going.” Fiddler said and with a nod Wilbur agreed. With that, no longer were we surrounded by blue sky and river and trees, nor even rocks and mushrooms and muck. We stood in a long, curvy cavern beneath all of that or at least this was my best guess. It was brown overhead, which I imagined was earth. Small tendrils, tender roots hung down here and there (mostly there). It was all rather weird, but in an odd way (which is always the best way), vaguely pretty, as well. ‘Ah,’ I thought, ‘so here are the roots we will talk to, while I picture them flowering.’
Under the ground, skipping through passages carved out in the dirt; through the remainder of that day and then through the night (though I really don’t know how long we took), all of us; Fiddler and Wilbur, Aloysius and the faeries and I worked very hard calling up plants and bees, butterflies, flowers, and brush. Letting them know it was time to get up.

“There are wondrous things to be seen and amazing adventures to be had! Wake up! Wake up!”
I like to sleep in, just as much as the next guy (or daisy), so I can’t say that I blamed those who gave the impression of being a bit reluctant to arise. But they did none-the-less.

Regardless that for a few sleepy bees and a couple of drowsy daisies it seemed like a chore, for most of the others it was truly a delight. Despite of or maybe because of their mood, even the sluggish ones all seemed to know it was time. The new and wondrous awaits and there are amazing adventures to be had, for it is Spring once again.

So…if ever you should be returning to your cottage in the forest and you happen to see a bunny, cat, or owl cross your path. Follow them into the woods. You won’t be disappointed.


Illustration “Calling Upon the Faeries” by Angelique Duncan.

Intricate Knot is proprietor of Cards For A Gloomy Day.Check out her artist page to find links to her shop and blog to read more of her writings. Visit again next month for more adventures of Fiddler the cat.