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ironwoman18 · 5 years ago

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We found love in a hopeless place part 9

Chapter 9: Our First Kiss

Early that day, while Spencer was with Emily. Max drove to pick up her younger sister, Eloise, because a pipe broke and the principal sent them home for the day.

When her sister got in the car and hugged her she asked "what's up with your car?"

"Oh Dad had to use it. His car is at the mechanical workshop so he dropped me at school and went to buy food and other things" Max nodded.

"Ok. Lucky I was out early today" she smiled at her "want to eat McDonald's?" Asked Max which made her sister smiled big and nodded. Max laughed and drove to the restaurant.

"So how are things with Spencer? The guy we met yesterday?"

"Well things are going good. He's the sweetest guy I ever met, a little awkward but it's cute" she smiled softly.

"You really like him, don't you?" Max nodded "what does he do?"

"He's a FBI agent"

"Really? That's awesome!" Said Eloise with a smile.

"Yeah but I feel like something just happened because he's out of job for a month. He hasn't talked about it and I don't want to make him uncomfortable"

"Why do you think so?"

"He said he had a nightmare last night and the fact that he's not working right now" she said as she parked the car close to the restaurant.

"Maybe he had a tough case. I heard that kind of jobs can cause PTSD"

"Of course I know it and I'm sure that was what brought him to the doctor where we met" Eloise nodded then they got out of the car and walked in the fast food restaurant.

They ordered two cheese burgers with fries and sodas. They sat down and started to eat then Max looked at her little sister "by the way... How did you know about the PTSD and the FBI?"

"Internet. I had to do an essay about the consequences of war in the army so I just made the connection with a FBI agent" she said matter-of-factly.

Max raised an eyebrow but smiled "of course, you always shock me with the information you discovered on internet"

"Internet is the best tool you could have" she laughed and ate a fry. Max also laughed and both ate and kept talking now and then about Max's work or Eloise's classes.

Their lunch was relaxed. Then Max drove to her dad's house and spent some time there.

When they arrived there was Michelle with her son, who hugged his aunts excited "aunt Max and aunt Ellie. I will go to the spelling competition!" He smiled big and both women smiled back and hugged him tight "The school's principal said I will go to a little competition a week after we start classes. It will be against other kids from the school"

"Congratulations buddy" said Max while ruffled his hair gentle.

"You will nail it Sammy" commented Eloise.

"Thank you aunts. I hope I don't lose my first competition"

"Nah you will do it great" Eloise and Max said at the same time.

"You own me an ice cream" said Eloise laughing and Max rolled her eyes but laughed too.

Then their father showed up with some coffee and some cake for his grandson.

They talked while the kid played with a tablet. Then Max got a message from Spencer asking if they could meet for coffee and she answered with a yes and excused herself with her family.

When she was gone the two sisters smirked "do you think this is the one for her?" Asked Michelle.

"I'm sure he is. She is crazy for him. Today she and I were talking and she quoted some of the things he told her. Even some random facts"

"Well, to be honest. I was getting worry after that idiot and her broke up. She hasn't had look luck with love"

"Yeah I will kill Mike if I see his face again" said Eloise with anger in her voice.

"Me too but back to Spencer" said the older sister "do you know about him?"

"Not much. Max kept some details about him to herself" they looked at Sam playing with some cars and making noises.

"He will come this Saturday maybe we can talk to him" suggested Michelle with a wicked smirk.

"I love your ideas!" Said the little sister excited and high-five her.

Meanwhile Max drove to the park Spencer told her to go. When she arrived she looked for him until she saw him sitting on a bench with a kid playing chess.

She smiled and walked to him "hey there" she said to him.

"Oh hey Max. These are Leonard and Patrick. I met them a few minutes ago and they wanted to play chess but didn't know the rules so while I was waiting. I taught them how to play"

"Really? And how old are you two?" Max asked softly looking at them.

"I'm 8 and my brother is 7" said Patrick then he looked at Spencer "is she your wife?"

They blushed and Spencer shook his head "No, we are dating but she's not even my girlfriend" he said looking at him.

"She's pretty. You should ask her. My mom always said that if you want something you should ask for it" he smiled innocently.

Max could see Spencer was uncomfortable, she bit her lower lip holding a laugh but his answer made her blush "I will think about it Pat" said Spencer smiling "ok kids. I have to go" they growled softly "but don't worry. If you want I can return tomorrow to teach you more" they smiled big "goodbye kids" he stood up and high-five them.

The couple walked in silence for a while then Max said "did they liked how you explained the game?"

"Kids understand easily the game. You just need to use the right words. An investigation said that teaching kids how to play chess will improve their social abilities, of course their math, language and logical thought" he told her "chest is easy to understand, the difficulties start when you have to learn strategies to win"

"My dad tried to teach me but I never understood" she blushed softly "I think my artistic brain couldn't handle to much math" she laughed.

"It's weird because I bet you can calculate pretty good" she raised her eyebrow "you know art is about proportions. You need to know the proper angle to draw a human being or know the right place to take a photo so the light show exactly what you want" she rubbed her chin thinking "it's all math"

"I think you are right" she looked up at him "but it's something we don't realize we are doing it"

"Exactly... I do calculations in my mind but I'm aware of that, you do it in automatic"

"Ok I understand" they arrived to a food truck that have coffee. They ordered and paid for it. When they had it they continued to walk "how was your meeting with your boss?"

"It wasn't a work meeting, she wanted to talk about me, ask me how I was and looked at me" he took a sip of his coffee "we met a long time and before she was my boss, we became friends and all the people at the BAU are like my family"

"Amazing, I feel the same about my job at the school. But sometimes I feel like I should be doing something different..."

"Like?"

"Like... Working in a museum because I know I won't be a great painter like Picasso or Van Gogh but I feel I could do more in a place where art is the main department"

"I used to think that. I wished to work in the cure of the schizophrenia or something like that but I ended up with the FBI" he looked at her "but then Emily showed me that I was helping people with my job there and I realized that I'm a better person because of this job"

She nodded and smiled at him "but it's stressful, right?"

"And sometimes dangerous" he said looking around.

"I can imagine" she looked at him. They stayed in silence for a few minutes. They finished their coffees and sat down "you aren't working because you developed a PTSD?" She asked.

He looked at her and sighed "yeah... I was having some symptoms"

"You don't have to tell me what happened"

"I want to but not today" he held her hand "you are becoming an important part of my life even though we just met a month ago" he looked at her "I'm not the kind of person who likes to express his feelings so when I do. It means a lot"

She looked at him "you too. And to show you I trust you, I will tell you why I had to go to the doctor..." She looked down.

"You don't have to Max..."

"But I want to Spencer" she looked around, the sky was getting darker and the park was getting emptier. She looked at him and smiled "it was two years ago... I met this guy... His name was Mike Davis. He was so sweet and kind, he was tall, he had brown hair and green eyes. A handsome man... We started to date and it was wonderful" she looked down "a few months later we moved together. After that he became something totally different. He treated me horrible, he never hurted me with his fists but he used terrible words to me... He made me feel like an idiot" Spencer felt the need to look for him and punched him.

"You had the mentality of an abused woman... No matter if he ever hit you or not"

"Yeah I defended him and he pulled me away from my family. We were always very close but he managed to break us" she had tears in her eyes. He rubbed her back waiting for her to continue "a few months ago I finally ended that after realizing what was happening. He left to New Jersey and then we met at the doctor"

"Did you talk to her? About this?" She nodded.

"Yes and I told her that I met a man who was helping me to move on and realized that not all men are like Mike" he smiled softly "I never talked about this with people outside my family and closed friends"

He held her hand "I promise that I will tell you what happened to me" he promised "maybe in a private place because it's something really bad" she nodded and held his hand tightly.

"Ok Spence" and without thinking she leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was slow and sweet, he rubbed her cheek gently in the kiss. They broke the kiss slowly but left their forehead together and eyes closed, they smiled.

OOooOOooOO

After next chapter I will start watching season 13 and use some events on the fic. In fact I want to add the guy from New Orleans.

#spencer reid #criminal mind #maxine brenner #maxcer #fanfiction

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genericdubstep · 7 years ago

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Ears

It was a cold day in the Sizzlethorn forest. The harsh wind between the asymmetrical trees rang like church bells. Most of animals were hiding in holes and bushes, waiting for warmer seasons to come. But amidst the seemingly endless layer of thick white snow that covered the forest, a single trail of footsteps could be found. They were left by a rabbit named Roger.

The rabbit had just turned eighteen. He had left home earlier that week to explore the world, determined to stop at nothing to learn how the forest worked. He wasn’t scared of the cold like all the other animals. He was fascinated by it. Mother Nature was a work of art to him. She gifted him with water he drank, the food he ate and the leaves he collected. He carried with him a pouch to transport said leaves, along with a small bag full of cheese and carrots.

The pouch was a gift from his mother, a white mouse named Gabriel. She had raised Roger along with his father, Sir Patrick, another white mouse. Sir Patrick was a strictly conservative mouse, carrying believes of great grandeur and pride. He had a rich family tree and enough acorns to buy all the cheese he could want, yet he refused to spend them. Roger never understood why Sir Patrick was so negative all the time. He had a loving wife and a successful life, yet he seemed so mad at the world, like it had wronged him in some way. One time, on a particularly stormy night, he told Roger to look him in the eyes and said;

“The forest is not a place for your kind. Soft rabbits are eaten first. That’s the food chain, that’s the way god intended it. You eat or you get eaten… You broke me, Roger. I’m going to get eaten because of you.”

Roger remembered it clearly. That night, he had a nightmare in which a pack of wild mice attacked, biting his stomach open and leaving his entrails scattered across the dirt floor, before stealing his collection of leaves. He woke up screaming, jumping aggressively around the burrow and crying loudly. Gabriel heard him from the other room and rushed inside to hold him tight and comfort him, assuring him that he was safe with her. After an hour, he finally calmed down and was able to control his thoughts again.

“You’re my son,” she said. “You’re my precious little carrot and I will always be there for you when you need me, just like Mother Nature.”

It was less than a week later that Sir Patrick decided to pack his acorns and leave the burrow. Roger was in bed that morning, but he remembered hearing every painful word of his parent’s argument, despite attempting to cover his ears with a pillow.

“I can’t take it anymore!” Sir Patrick yelled. “He always needs something. It’ll never be enough for him. You’re spoiling him!”

“It’s called responsibility!” Gabriel exclaimed in tears. “If you had taken responsibility for once in your god forsaken life, everything would be better!”

“Do not take the lord’s name in vain, you ungrateful hag! I realize now that I married a succubus who gave birth to a demon! Good luck with your income!”

Those were the last words Roger heard from his father. That day, it took Gabriel another three hours to help Roger calm down.

Gabriel had been unemployed up until that day, living off the wealth of Sir Patrick’s inheritance. But Sir Patrick had taken all his acorns with him when he left, so the two were forced to find a new burrow to live in. That’s when they moved to the south end corner of Sizzlethorn- a significantly less privileged part of the forest.

Here, the mouse and rabbit shared a single burrow with two beds and very little cheese on the table. Gabriel worked as a waitress in the local pub, serving syrup and grilled cheese to the scariest mice in the area. On Roger’s sixteenth birthday, she brought him a bottle of quality syrup per his own request, but Roger thought it tasted like burning muddied water. He tearfully apologized for making his mother waste money on a gift that he turned out to dislike, but Gabriel assured him that it was okay. She instead made him some cheese sandwiches that the two of them shared while Roger told her about his favorite plant- the Cycadophyta, which leaves looked like the green fireworks on New Year’s Eve. Roger loved New Year’s Eve, or “Mother Nature’s birthday” as he called it. Whenever green firework went off, he would jump in joy and tap his feet.

But Gabriel wasn’t happy. Working an 8-hour shift while simultaneously taking care of Roger proved to be more than the little white mouse had bargained for. She never blamed Roger for her problems, but he remembered Gabriel saying something about a complete lack of respect and financial support from the local municipality, despite her peculiar circumstances as a parent.

Gabriel’s stress and depression grew worse as the years passed. Roger never noticed, until one morning where he tried to wake her up so she wouldn’t be late for work, only to discover that his attempt was in vain, as his mother never opened her eyes again. She had passed away peacefully that night, dreaming of a picnic with Sir Patrick and Roger, where the three of them hugged and laughed as the dancing blackbirds around them sang a song of joy. Roger remembered holding her body tight as he cried and screamed for five hours, before crawling outside and falling asleep in a bush.

The following two years were hard for Roger. He had no more free time left. When he wasn’t studying in school, he was working behind the counter in a nearby pharmacy to earn acorns and pay the rent. Roger would often get home from work, only to jump around and cry alone until he finally fell asleep. But the difficulty of life was not going to stop him from his interest in Mother Nature- quite the opposite in fact, as Mother Nature was the only mother he had left.

On his eighteenth birthday, his employer gave him a small bonus. Roger put the acorns in his pouch along with his leaf collection, before leaving the burrow to travel back to the northwest end of Sizzlethorn where he was born. Roger had been accepted into the Northwest Sizzlethorn University of Higher Education, a quite prestigious school where he hoped to learn more about Mother Nature and her countless children that he so lovingly collected.

Roger knew he didn’t have enough money to live in the fancy burrows of northwest Sizzlethorn alone, but thankfully, an old tarantula named Mariyam allowed him to live with her in his childhood burrow for just a quarter of the rent. He had recently contacted the elderly tarantula to ask if he could move in with her, as he had seen her in the news earlier that month discussing the death of her husband. Roger thought the tarantula seemed so sad and shaken over her husband’s passing, which reminded him of the day his own mother died. Perhaps living with her was going to grant both of them some kind of comfort- and the decreased rent, that was just a nice bonus. When he called her and she said yes, Roger jumped in joy and tapped his feet, but he did it quietly so that Mariyam wouldn’t hear it and find him off-putting.

As Roger’s trip came to a close and he arrived back in front his childhood home, he felt sudden increase in his heartbeat and an urge to cry. This was the place where Sir Patrick left him and his mother. Memories of a disturbed childhood rushed over him and made the weather feel ten times colder, until the wind was stinging his skin like killer bees. But that wasn’t going to stop him. He had worked his entire life for a chance at higher education- and by god, he was going to succeed.

When he crawled down the old familiar burrow, he was welcomed with open arms by the tarantula. Eight open arms, in fact.

“Welcome home sweet child!” Mariyam exclaimed and hugged him, as if she had known him her whole life.

“T-thank you, ma’am. Would you kindly stop touching me?”

“Of course! My apologies, sweet child. Make yourself at home. I have moved my husband’s furniture out of his room, you can move in and decorate it as you please. Are you hungry, my sweet child?”

Roger was quite starved, as his trip had been lengthy and he had emptied his bag of cheese and carrots over five hours ago. Despite this, he respectfully declined the tarantula’s offer, as Roger only ate cheese and carrot related food. He was strictly a vegetarian, not for any moral or religious reasons, but because the consistency of meat made his stomach turn- especially flies, which he knew was eaten frequently by tarantulas back in Mariyam’s home country.

A week later, Roger had settled and was prepared for his first day in university. He felt full of determination. “Mother would be proud of me,” he thought to himself.

As he entered class, he was greeted with stares and whispers. All the other students were mice. Roger heard one of them whisper “Is he in the right class?” which hurt him to hear, but he said nothing, hoping that the mice would be more accepting after getting to know him.

The first four days, Roger didn’t speak to any of the other students. He felt too nervous to say anything. It wasn’t until the fifth day, where he gathered the courage to talk to one of them during the lunchbreak- a handsome brown mouse named William.

“Uhmm, is this seat taken? It’s alright if it’s taken. Or if you’d rather eat alone. T-that’s alright, too.”

“No, whatever man,” said William.

Struggling with small-talk, Roger didn’t say much, although he managed to ask a bit about the other students in their class. He always had difficulty remembering names and faces, so hearing William tell a bit about the other mice helped Roger differentiate them. He enjoyed hearing William talk. Roger thought he had a very soothing voice.

At the end of the lunchbreak, William told Roger that he was throwing a small party next week with four other mice from class. “You can join if you want, we got enough syrup for a sixth dude.”

“I don’t drink syrup, but I’d like to join- I mean, if that’s okay” Roger said, attempting to hide his intense mixture of excitement and nervousness.

“Sure, okay man”

Roger went to the bathroom and made sure nobody was around, just so he could jump and tap his feet in joy.

After getting back home to the burrow, Roger told Mariyam about the good news over dinner. The old tarantula smiled so wide that Roger could see all her ugly, rotting teeth. He thought about advising her to brush her teeth, but he decided against it and remained quiet, as Gabriel once told him that those kinds of comments can sound rude, even if they were intended to be helpful. Roger always did his best to be nice to other animals.

Mariyam and Roger were starting to develop quite a blossoming friendship. Mariyam taught Roger about her culture and religion, which he found very interesting, even if he wasn’t a part of it. He paid her back by teaching her about Mother Nature and showing her his rarest leaves. Christmas was right around the corner, and even though Mariyam didn’t celebrate Christmas, she assured Roger that she would buy him a Cycadophyta seed.

The following week passed quickly, and Roger took an extra-long shower to smell good before the party, even though showers always hurt his skin a bit.

William’s burrow was just as nice as Maryam’s. It was clear that his parents were upper-class mice much like Sir Patrick, but William’s parents were on a business trip all the way to Everspring Forest, so they had the burrow all for themselves.

The other mice were named Carl, June, Luke and Betty. They never really spoke to Roger during class. In fact, Roger recalled that Luke was the mouse who whispered “Is he in the right class?” two weeks ago. Roger just hoped that this day would make them like him.

They all stared a bit as he entered the burrow, but were too lost in small-talk to comment on it. William again offered him some syrup, but Roger respectfully declined.

As the day passed and turned to night, Roger started to feel more comfortable with the environment. He told William about the lovely Cycadophyta leaves, how each of the seasons were named by so-called humans according to the legend, and how he believed New Year’s Eve was a celebration of everything Mother Nature had gifted us. Roger thought William was very pretty, and even though he didn’t respond to many of the things Roger told him, the rabbit was just happy to tell such a handsome mouse about Mother Nature while the two shared a bag of cheese snacks.

“Hey, Roger!” Luke exclaimed. His voice was sloppy and slurred, it was clear that the syrup had kicked in.

“Yes?” Roger responded, cautiously.

“What are you parents like? Are they like you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean are they rabbits too?”

Roger went quiet for a second.

“No, my parents were mice.”

“Whaaat!” Luke yelled as he smiled. “I didn’t know two mice could give birth to a rabbit!”

“It’s certainly possible, but it’s quite rare. Rabbits only make up roughly one percent of the animal kingdom. Genetically speaking there is a much higher chance of a child being a rabbit if one of their parents is a rabbit too, but it can occur even for two mice.”

“That’s fucked up.”

Roger felt his heart skip by this remark as his skin turned cold.

“I don’t- I mean, why do you say that’s fucked up?”

“Well, I mean it’s obviously not easy to raise a rabbit. Your kind always jumps around and makes a mess. There was a rabbit in my kindergarten and he was the loudest, most intolerable little shit!”

“We’re not all like that…”

Luke ignored him and looked back at Betty to kiss her on the cheek, as if the entire exchange never happened. The rest of the mice completely ignored it. Roger felt sick after what he just heard, but he tried holding back the tears to appear mature in front of William.

Roger looked at William’s brown face. “I think I could use some syrup now”

“That’s the spirit!” said William and poured him a glass of syrup with ice.

Roger quickly downed the glass. Then another one. Then one more. He eventually felt the effect kick in, as he became lightheaded and dizzy for the first time. Before he knew it, he was dancing to the music along with June and Carl.

“Nice moves!” exclaimed William from the couch.

Roger felt so excited by the remark that he instinctively jumped and tapped his feet. June cracked up and began laughing.

“What the hell was that?” she asked with a contemptuous smirk on her little white mouse face.

“Sorry, it’s just a thing I do.”

“Stop doing that, it’s weird.”

Roger took a step back, only to bump into a shelf and knock down a little glass mouse figurine which shattered on impact.

“Dude!” yelled William.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, bunny?” said Luke mockingly.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

Roger felt the tears come, so he quickly rushed to the bathroom before anyone noticed. He was breathing heavily and a couple of tears hit the dirt floor, as he attempted to calm himself down by rocking his little bunny body back and forth and tapping his feet lightly. A few minutes passed, then he heard the mice talking from the other room.

“Why the hell did you invite a bunny to our party” said Luke.

“I dunno, I’m trying to be nice” said William.

“Stop being nice to rabbits. They’re a bunch of crazy, perverted fucks. Haven’t you heard about the rabbit in the news that ate a mouse last month? They’re a bunch of fucking predators, I tell you. We shouldn’t even allow them near forks.”

“Yeah,” said Betty and nodded at Luke. “I heard they can’t feel empathy for other animals. How can you ever trust someone like that?”

They were all quiet for a second, then William let out a deep sigh and responded. “You’re probably right.”

Roger didn’t want to hear it, but he did. He heard it all clearly. When he left the bathroom and walked back in the room, tears were running down his fluffy cheeks as he stood there and looked at all the mice. They just stared right back at him.

“I’m not a predator. I don’t eat mice. And I have empathy.”

William stared at him. “I think you should just leave,” he said calmly.

“Yeah, fuck off bunny!” yelled Luke, as he turned the volume of the music up so much that it hurt Roger’s ears.

Roger crawled out of the burrow and ran home as fast as he could, his tears hitting the snow as he fought his way through the freezing weather. Everything was suddenly so much louder for him. The wind no longer sounded like soothing church bells- it now sounded like thunder. It started raining, and the raindrops smacked against his head like hail.

Mariyam was naturally sleeping when he got home. Roger held his tears back so as not to wake her up, as he crawled into bed and softly cried himself to sleep. He didn’t go to school the next morning and pretended to sleep until Mariyam left for work. Roger spent the rest of the day jumping around and crying loudly, even stomping on one of his precious leaves by accident.

All of a sudden, the world felt completely overwhelming. Roger could hear everything around him. He had always been able to hear everything around him, but it was different now. In school the next day, he heard Luke use “bunny” as an insult, which hurt him deeply. When Roger later entered the local pharmacy to pick up his prescription, he had to rush out the store as there were too many mice inside talking loudly about this and that, which made him feel scared. He couldn’t sleep at night, because he constantly heard drunken mice yell outside his burrow as they passed by. It all gave Roger a headache.

Everything was painful now. It was like more and more of Roger’s optimism and dedication just leaked out with every passing day. He didn’t speak to William anymore, the awkward stares during class said enough. Roger didn’t speak to anyone for that matter. He even began asking Mariyam to pick up his groceries, so that he wouldn’t have to be surrounded by loud mice in the super market. He didn’t feel able to trust mice anymore. Roger assumed his paranoia would pass, but his hope dissolved as the weeks passed and he only felt more alone.

Christmas came and Mariyam completely forgot about the Cycadophyta seed that she had promised him. Not that Roger cared anymore. He laid restless in bed all Christmas Eve, thinking about his mother and father, about William and Luke, about god and why he cursed him with these long ears.

New Year’s Eve was especially painful. He just wanted Mother Nature and everyone around him to be quiet. The aggressive fireworks blew open his ear canals. Mariyam was visiting an old friend’s burrow that night, so Roger was all alone- which didn’t make a difference, as this was something he felt regardless of the animals around him.

He tried covering his ears with a pillow, but it didn’t block out the noise. He could still hear the fireworks. He could still hear the drunken mice. He could still hear his heartbeat. He could hear everything.

As the tears rolled and his mind became clouded, Roger grabbed a nearby pair of scissors from the table. Carefully but without hesitation, he clenched his paw and cut his right ear clean off. Then his left ear. He screamed out in pain as the blood spurted out and painted his white fur red. He could no longer hear anything, not even his own grotesque cries of anguish. He looked at his collection of blood stained leaves, as his vision became blurred and he fell asleep on the dirt floor.

The next morning, Roger was awakened by his mother Gabriel, who held him tightly in her arms and comforted him for three hours until he finally calmed down.

Suicide is the leading cause of death for autistic people. Ableism and bullying are a large contributing factor to this. Please consider donating to a charity such as ASAN to help improve the lives and rights of autistic people around the world.

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talesofealdancynedom · 4 years ago

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Tale 11: Artemis Craweleoth & The Griminthrope

Tale 11: Artemis Craweleoth & The Griminthrope (chapter 4 - Dazzeled and Dreaming 4/5) part 3. Stories of Fey

none

Artemis emerged from the cabin at daybreak, and into the gold light of dawn. Her outfit sparkled like cut diamonds, and lit up like stars in the sunlight. Matcha was breath taken under the plumage of his giant Raven form. Enchanted, he began to approach, and spread his wings to show the white opal secondaries under each wing, and the shimmering necklaces he adorned himself in. Artemis stood stunned in fear at the sight of Matcha’s display, which made his pitch-black plumage and terrifying white skull more obvious. Then, Artemis’s attention went to the trees behind him. She noticed the radiant display of ornaments upon the frosted trees; Each trinket caught the light of dawn perfectly, as to light them like a festive display. Matcha began to jump about in a dance to show Artemis his work; he was so excited, and she looked so perplexed. Artemis decided to slowly step forward, as her brother and Ouroboros watched from the cabin door. She pulled out a rotten apple she had found, and handed it to Matcha. He reached out his white gloved hands from the depths of the warm thick black plumage upon his breast. Matcha grabbed the pome, and slowly pulled it in. Noises of eating and grinding began to come from Matcha’s core, as he ate the peace offering under his macabre coat. It was possibly the most disturbing thing Artemis had ever seen, which was a genuine accomplishment.

Matcha was so focused on Artemis, that the world became blurred like a gauzed lens. Patrick slinked out of the cabin with their familiars, and began to gesture Artemis to follow him to the Dragon Gate’s peak. Artemis slowly began to follower her brother, and Matcha began to follow her. As they walked up the mountain, they formed an unusual procession; Patrick and Orion in the front, Ouroboros and Draco in the middle, Artemis and Aries near the train, And a griminthrope waddling with glee after them. Artemis began to shiver; wearing nothing but costume jewelry and a cocktail dress, made her exposed in the early winter air. Matcha, in concern, approached tentatively. He pulled back his skull and feathers with his hands, like a hooded cloak, turning into human form. Then, from behind while she was distracted by cold, Matcha wrapped Artemis in his warm feathers. She jumped into to Patrick, and summoned wind at Matcha, barely missing. Artemis stopped to stare, as she was now able to get a closer look at him. Matcha’s human form looked like the Raven King, with icy eyes, yet also like a adorable young man. He spoke to her in the voice of a boy not beast.

“You look cold… Something so small and bare could die of frost up here. I know what it’s like to be cold without a good coat. You may barrow my feathers, though I find it a shame to cover your finery. My name is Makatchthis, what is yours?” Matcha said. Giving Artemis his fey name without question. Ouroboros froze a few feet back observing at the scene; relieved the one griminthrope that came, was the only nice one, of which he had already y met. It was like a weight was lifted. Artemis however, was slow to answer. Normally such a comment on her femininity was enraging when she was sober. But he had an innocent charm to him, that made her politely respond.

“Thank you. My name is Artemis...” She said, pulling his soft feathers in closer. They smelled like the earth of a forest floor. Matcha was thrilled by her response, and they continued to converse. Matcha began to sing to Artemis, and then she joined him. He told her cheesy bad jokes, of which she was simultaneously amused and repulsed by. Artemis’s charms made him yearn deeper for her essence; The mage that could make him a crowned heir, was a charmer fit for the Raven Kingdom. Matcha began to get more frenzied, and jumped about her asking questions about where she was from, why they’d never met if she was from Tiberius Gate, and what she liked to do. His antics began to affect Artemis in a way; she started to become endeared as they had reached their destination. She returned his feathers, and adorning them, he became a skulled giant raven again. Ouroboros was fuming; he had failed to get a word in the entire hike, to tell Patrick and Artemis about Matcha. They had never met, because Artemis and Patrick were too young to remember when Makatchthis lived on Tiberius Gate with their father. But Ouroboros would not get a turn to say that royal fey didn’t need gates, or that he needed to ask Matcha why he ate the dog, and why he was in Grand Snow if the summoning charm failed. This time the wisdom of the elder would have to wait. Artemis was having a sweet moment with Matcha, that softened Ouroboros and reminded him of when he saw his friends dabble in the power of love magic.

“I don’t wish to separate from you; we just met. I know this is the Dragon Gate to the shadow veil; taking me here is useless as royal fey don’t need them. But I understand if you don’t want me around. Griminthropes are universally terrifying to humans. Except maybe your dad’s aunt; nothing scares Jupiter...Jupe scares you.” Matcha said solemnly.

“She is kind of scarry…” Artemis recalled. Ouroboros and Patrick nodded. Matcha however, was beginning to nuzzle Artemis. His smooth bone beak contrasted with his plush warm plumage about his neck.

“I don’t want to leave now; I think I may have fallen in love. I’m the only prince aloud to leave the death tree; I can stay in the day veil if my sister is there. I’m sorry about the dog… I feel so guilty for eating a pet. I thought was a stray, I had no idea, and I didn’t eat anyone; humans are friends. Are you sure you want me to go?” Matcha sobbed. Artemis winced. Doubt had set in. She felt like, she wanted him to stay too. In fact, the three mages felt a bit guilty for pushing away a friend who meant no harm, based on assumptions. There was no murder to solve, or fey to manage after all. Patrick was still upset about his dogs, but he was edging towards an understanding when he saw the expression on Artemis’s face; one he had never seen before. She looked genuinely guilty and sad.

“You are scaring the people, and ate my little brother’s dogs. Also, I don’t live in this magic forest. Could you please go? We might meet again…. You never know.” Artemis whispered. The pristine snow absorbed all other noises in the pause before Matcha’s response.

“Would it make you happy? Make you smile even?” Matcha inquired. Of course, it would do the opposite now that Artemis was starting to return his affections. Love magic was starting to seep into her very being. Artemis felt dumb feeling this way after knowing him for only a day. She knew love magic was sudden and powerful, but she didn’t expect it to affect her. Artemis took a breath and nodded yes. Then Matcha left, quietly in tears beneath his thick black wings.

Artemis returned to Tiberius Gate through the Dragon Gate, waving goodbye to Patrick as he returned to his post. Matcha was nowhere to be seen in the shadow veil. When Artemis got home, and hugged her parents, she found that every bird reminded her of Matcha. Every bird within the out walls of the gate was a fey; his little siblings. Makatchthis was the most terrifying fey Artemis had ever seen, yet under it all, such an innocent and bubbly prince. Matcha was the ideal gleaming idiot. He had such a sweet smile, that could stain into the mind, while simultaneously never learning that shinny things you find on the ground are not edible. Artemis wondered what Matcha was doing, and where in either of the veils he went. She wanted to search for him, but decided to return to her happy life in Peppridge among her family, familiar, and the fey of the forest. After all, Artemis had no clue where to even start looking.

After about a month, curiosity and unavoidable obsession drew Artemis to the Raven Door. It was a statue of the raven king at the West entrance of Tiberius Gate. It was a black stone statue, styled like the tower and walls of the gate; Tiberius’s fine art untouched by time. Artemis wasn’t alone however, her father Morgan had watched her leave, and followed her. He was suspicious, because Artemis had changed so much since she returned from Grand Snow. Her rowdy hot-tempered personality, had changed into that of someone quiet and distracted. While Morgan hid in the bush observing, Artemis took a moment to study the statue to the Raven King; she had looked at this door and gone through it before, but it seemed different now. Like it called her. Artemis decided to walk through the door, and into the grayscale silent magic veil; and she wandered toward the tree of death. Matcha was usually in magic forests in the day veil; he liked to be near people. However, all Artemis knew of griminthropes was that they dwelled in that tree; therefore, in her eyes, Matcha might be there. Even if she also knew Matcha didn’t belong there.

Artemis went down the distorted dreamlike trail through the raven kingdom, to the death tree. The soft trail diverged off into natural paths, and through the black and white forests. There was no sound of her step or wind in the trees as they blew; the odd and harsh light peering through the canopy, was straining her eyes. Artemis became eager to greet her prince at his perch. Meanwhile, Morgan, who fallowed at a distance, was approached by the Raven King. The Raven king swooped down and turned into a human form to walk by his human brother. He started to berate Morgan in his crackly energetic voice. The Raven King was upset about Matcha’s behavior and mood. His monologue was slowing Morgan’s pursuit. The Raven King is very distracting.

“I need your help again brother! Matcha won’t return to the day veil, where he is happy beside his older sister. He should be in a magic forest making friendship bracelets; yet he wanders around my kingdom like a ghost. He is still avoiding the death tree, and is mournfully approaching the platforms of the grates, to all the magic forests. Like he is looking for something important he lost, yet can’t quite do it. Can you help brother? He is not happy, and I don’t want him to die or grief.” The Raven King Cawed. Morgan covered the king’s mouth, and gestured to Artemis who was busy heading toward the sickly tall black tree. Morgan was currently dealing with a similar problem. It then dawned on them, that Matcha and Artemis may have been looking for each other.

The Raven King was glad to have named Airtimes, as Morgan’s daughter of fall; She was his favorite niece of sorts. Yet, he dare not imagine the horror of one of his princes, being crowned by true love with a human. The Raven King would rather it be one of his princesses. His royal daughters knew how to be polite when among humankind; They had a disposition, and freedom, that made it more likely one of them would find love. Though Matcha was different from his royal brothers, and the most human of his children, Matcha was still a griminthrope. A carcass consuming, hungering, strong, unsettling, giant fey. The Raven King and Morgan tensed with unease as they followed Artemis, through the winding eerie forests paths of the shadow veil.

“Have you ever had a princess fall in love? all the other Kings have heirs that have been crowned, by requited love from mages.” Morgan said, trying to ease the tension. The Raven King was actually disappointed he had never had a single crowned heir, in all the centuries he existed; even though, by comparison, he was one of the kings with the most royal children. This was the second time Morgan was unnerved in the presence of the Raven King, who for the first time since Matcha was brought to Morgan, was not smiling. A dark grimm expression was cast upon his face.

As Morgan and the Raven King crept closer, they found Artemis and Matcha embracing at the forests edge, along the bone strewn ground of the death tree. Artemis was safe from being considered a snack by the other griminthropes. Just as Morgan and the Raven King approached, they saw their children kiss in a reuniting embrace. What was only a month, felt like an eternity; as their minds and emotions became consumed by the thoughts of each other. Artemis and Makatchthis must both have been easily swooned by the spells of love, for their tender display of affection was the authentic kiss of true love. An action known to have grand magical importance and power, to any who have ever read a fairytale.

Morgan thought it wasn’t possible for a raven prince’s human form to be fancier than then it already was, yet Matcha’s royal robes became embroidered in silver thread, making him sparkle more like his father then his brothers. The Raven King went silent, and Morgan felt like he was intruding on a private moment. He was confused as to whether he should be proud of or disapproving of his daughters’ groom. Morgan knew Matcha; how old he was, what fey he was, how sweet he was, and what a complete dunce he could be. Both the fathers felt happy for their children’s joy, and disgruntled by the insinuations.

“So, I was right then?” Morgan whispered aside to the Raven King. The king said nothing, while feeling the exact same way as Morgan. He knew Artemis; how old she was, what kind of girl she was, and what a reckless animal she was. Flurried in emotions, the fathers failed to notice their children saw them. Matcha and Artemis were still embracing, but were looking directly at their fathers, who were doing a poor job hiding in a leafless shrubbery.

“Dad, I never want to leave…” Artemis said, as if timidly requesting his blessing, but in a way that would suggest he could not stop her. Everyone felt like they were melting inside. Morgan looked at the Raven King, as their children began to coo and cuddle like paired gannets. Birds had the most romantic, lifelong, adorable mirages. Perhaps they were perfect for each other. If they weren’t, permanent love magic now fixed that. Morgan spread the word to his other children, and friends, to keep an eye out for the couple. Matcha and Artemis decided to travel to all the forests to cement their relationship, and he wanted to be sure they were safe. They would be home again; all his and Emilia’s children came back with time. If only to visit for what feels like never long enough.

NEXT--->

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#tales of ealdan cynedom #story 11 #fantasy #short stories #artemis #matcha #patrick #ouroboros

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tanmath3-blog · 8 years ago

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I’m going to start this interview off a little differently by using an excerpt from his new book. Please welcome R. Patrick Gates to Roadie Notes…..

One fine day in the middle of the night,

Two dead boys got up to fight.

Back to back they faced each other,

Drew their swords and shot each other.

A deaf policeman heard the noise,

And came and killed the two dead boys.…

The empty airwaves of the mind…

Welcome to TunnelVision – the premium channel streaming from the imagination of R. Patrick Gates to you!

What happens when you lose sight of the forest for the trees?

TunnelVision!

Wilbur Clayton has a personal connection with Jesus – Murder! Abused for most of his life, Wilbur and Jesus are out to make amends and take revenge. With Grandma in his head and Jesus on the TunnelVision, Wilbur knows what must be done and who must be made to pay for the sins of the father…

The only thing standing in his way are a cop with a gift for details and deduction, and a young genius whose reenactments of his favorite books are about to become all too real.

TunnelVision – streaming seven days a week, 24 hours a day!

On the air and in your nightmares!

1. How old were you when you wrote your first story?

I was seven years old. Every Monday afternoon I had to go to catechism class after school. Leading up to Christmas that year, catechism had a story writing contest. The story had to be about Christmas and its true meaning. I wrote a story about a drug addict who’s addicted to LSD (shows how much I knew about drugs at seven years old) who takes acid and experiences the Nativity and sees God, basically. Afterwards, he finds out that the pusher who sold him the acid was really selling placebos – just sugar pills. I won first place, and the prize was, I think, my very own rosary.

2. How many books have you written?

At present count, I have written 10 adult horror novels (FEAR, GRIMM MEMORIALS, GRIMM REAPINGS, TUNNELVISION, DEATHWALKER,JUMPERS,THE PRISON, ‘VADERS, NOWHERETOHIDE, and SAVAGE), seven young adult horror/mystery novels, of which four (MYSTERY HILL, GUARDIANS, GHOSTLAND and CANDY STRIPES) have been published so far in the U.S.– all were originally published only in Germany and in the German language; the rest will be coming out this year and next in the U.S. In the works is a collection of my poetry and short stories (called DARK STREETS & FUNNY BONES) plus sequels to at least four of my novels. I’m also working on a very long fantasy novel, THE SECRET WAR, you know, the kind that appeals to children ages 8 to 80. I have also produced two children’s picture books. The first, ROLLERCOASTER WORLD, I wrote with my son when he was seven years old (he’s 27 now). We had gone to an amusement park and afterwards riding home he had mused aloud, “I wonder what it would be like if the whole world was made up of roller coasters.” It was just such a great idea I couldn’t forget it. We created the book and self-published it, and gave it as Christmas presents for several years to my son’s cousins. Then a couple of years ago, around Halloween, I was talking with my step-grandkids about how much they loved Halloween, and we came up with the idea of, HALLOWEEN WORLD, and created a book which we self-published and gave as gifts. We are now working on anotherWORLD book entitled, NINJA WORLD. All of my books, including the children’s picture books, are available as Kindle editions at Amazon. The original paperback editions of all my adult novels (except SAVAGE) are available from Amazon and most on-line bookstores, and everything else is exclusively on Amazon Kindle. Handmade editions of the children’s books are available, and can be ordered through my Facebook page by leaving me a post or a personal message at Facebook/R. Patrick Gates.

3. Is there anything you won’t write about?

No, I don’t think there is. I’ve written in just about every genre there is (I’ve been working on a romance novel for several years) and there is no subject that I would find taboo. Of course I would never glorify despicable behavior even while I try to make such a character sympathetic.

4.Tell me about you.

I have been a published author since 1989; and have been writing since I was a boy. Very early on I was labeled a ‘splatter-punk’ writer which is a style of horror generally credited to Clive Barker. I took great offense at that because I was writing what they called ‘splatter’ (graphic horror) long before Barker ever came along. If I’m not mistaken I was one the very first to push the limits of horror by injecting ultra-realistic gore, sex, and violence into my stories. Now, I am 62 years old. I was a middle school language arts teacher for 20 years, and a college Creative Writing Professor for 11 years. I presently work part-time as a Standardized Patient Examiner at UMASS Medical School, which entails teaching medical students how to communicate better with patients. I’m also a Bob Dylan tribute performer on guitar and harmonica. I’ve been in numerous musical groups since I was a teenager, and I’ve written close to one hundred songs that have never seen publication or recording, but hopefully that will change in the near future.

5. What’s your favorite book that you have written?

My favorite book is my most recent one, SAVAGE. It was the hardest book I ever wrote because it reflected a personal tragedy in my life, and was very cathartic for me. A very close second, however, are, GRIMM MEMORIALS, and its sequel, GRIMM REAPINGS, and my novel, THE PRISON.

6. Who or what inspired you to write?

So many people and books/writers. My mom, my sister, Mary; a teacher, Mrs. Risley, and just about every writer I’ve ever read, but most of all Edgar Allen Poe. My mom was probably my biggest inspiration, and the biggest reason I ended up writing horror. I grew up in a haunted house, my mother was psychic and discovered the place was haunted, like the second day after we moved in. She personally exorcised the house and got rid of the ghost, or at least got it to stop scaring her. I grew up hearing this story many, many times. I also had many experiences – ghostly experiences – in that house, as did my son. Also, when I was a boy I was an avid reader, and I was in the habit of acting out the books I read. When I was 12, I was very much into the books of Mark Twain, and after reading Tom Sawyer and then Huckleberry Finn, I convinced my little brother and his best friend to sneak out of the house at midnight to go dig for buried treasure in a cemetery. Then we were going to build a raft and sail it down the polluted Nashua River and have adventures. My mother caught us trying to sneak out (she thought I was the ghost come back) and when I told her what I was doing she suggested that instead of acting out my fantasies I write them down like the authors that I loved to read. I had been dabbling in writing before that (like with the short story for catechism class) but I’d never really considered writing something as substantial as a novel. That same year, the day after Christmas, I was in a terrible sledding accident and suffered a severe head injury/concussion. I had partial amnesia for three days, but the event changed me—made me more creative and, I think, smarter. It also gave me an extraordinary memory.Early on in my life my sister, Mary, inspired me by buying me my first book when I was, I believe, five years old. She was 10 years older than I was and when I was born she became like my second mother. She taught me to read when I was three years old. By the time I was starting school I was reading books at the fifth, sixth grade level. She bought me the collected works of Edgar Allen Poe, a large tome that I still have. I read that book voraciously. I remember now I hardly understood half of what I read, and had to have a dictionary nearby at all times, but it was the style and the tone and the mood that grabbed me. Then when I was in high school I had a teacher, Mrs. Risley, who inspired me further. Every Friday she would display a surrealistic or abstract painting at the front of the room, put on some weird electronic or Indian music, and tell us to write about what we saw in the painting. Man, I just ate that up! It was the greatest writing exercise I have ever had!

7. What do you like to do for fun?

My wife and I like to hike, play tennis, dance, ski, and hang out with our grandkids. I play the guitar and perform as a Dylan tribute artist, and also paint and sculpt. I love movies and going to the movies.

8. Any traditions you do when you finish a book?

No.

9. Where do you write?

I generally write in my home office, but I usually take a notebook with me, like to work, or if I’m going out and I think I might have free time on a long drive, say. I write in the notebook whenever I can. I’m a constant and prolific note writer, and I write all my stuff in longhand to start with, and then transcribe it into the computer. I like to have the tv on in the background—creates a white noise effect—and usually only listen to music when I’m painting.

10. Is there anything you would change about your writing?

Yes, I would make it more lucrative and popular! I’m rewriting nearly all of my novels as they are being republished – some more so than others. I find that with some of my earlier works, they need editing, so I’m glad that I have the chance to do that. Like with, TUNNELVISION, I did a lot of polishing and editing. Most of my novels were written before the advent of cell phones and smart phones and handheld devices so I’ve tried to update and work those things in to make them more current.

11. What is your dream? Famous writer?

I’ve never had a desire to be famous, though I have always wanted to be able to make enough money from my writing to support myself. My dream is to work with my son, who is a director trained at Cal Arts, to turn all of my novels into movies or TV miniseries. We are presently in the screenplay writing stage for a couple. All we need is financial backing.

12. Where do you live?

I live in Massachusetts.

13. Pets?

Two dogs, Polly and Sad-Eyed Sadie of the Low Lands.

14. What’s your favorite thing about writing?

My first love, and first choice for a career, was acting. Second was music, third was art, and fourth was writing. As I got older, in high school and college,I realized that if you really want to be successful as an actor, you have to live in either New York or Los Angeles – or at least a major city, not the sticks of north-central Massachusetts where I lived and still do. I didn’t have the confidence, or the courage I guess, to move and pursue acting. But then, I realized that a writer IS an actor because you have to become your characters in order to make them believable. I generally act out all of the scenes and dialogue in my books, even if only in my head. I think the best way to describe how I feel about writing is that I agree with what Dorothy Parker once said: “I hate writing, but I love having written.” I love the idea that someone I don’t know and have never met is reading a story that I created. I think that’s pretty cool.

15. What is coming next?

I presently have many irons in the fire. I’m rewriting the second book in the TUNNELVISION trilogy, DEATHWALKER, getting it ready for republication from Bloodshot Books, and writing the third, a new one,AND LITTLE LAMBS EAT IVY. I’m also working on the third book in my, GRIMM MEMROIALSsaga and working on readying all my other novels for reprint as I mentioned earlier. I’m working on a rewrite and sequel of my first novel,FEAR (to be renamed QUARRY), a sequel to my science fiction novel. ‘VADERS, and something new for me, a strictly fantasy novel entitled, THE SECRET WAR and a comedic romance called, HEY TEACH! I’ve also been working on a mainstream, slice of life novel entitled, GROWING OLD.

You can connect with R. Patrick Gates here:

website/pages, rpatrickgates.com,

Amazon/R. Patrick Gates,

Facebook/R. Patrick Gates.

Some of R. Patrick Gates books:

Getting personal with R. Patrick Gates I'm going to start this interview off a little differently by using an excerpt from his new book.

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