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From, “Keeper of the Sword,” book one.

A small fire crackled, danced and sent smoke swirling into the air above the sandy beach on the south side of Anderson’s Point. Good memories of picnics, of learning to swim, of water fights flooded Morgan’s mind as she approached Josh.

Anderson’s point stretched almost a quarter of a mile into the quiet ocean waters. About half way out into the Pacific, it curved to the north and formed a large bay. Only a few overgrown paths led through the thick tall trees to the bay.

Josh raised his eyebrows, “Wow, you really are expecting a ship to come for us.”

Morgan replied, “Not really, I’m going to run away.” She bent over, weeping.

“What?” Josh yelled, not wanting to believe her.

Morgan shouted, “You heard me, I’m going to run away.”

“Why?” Josh felt his whole world ending, “What about our birthday party?”

She growled, “Grow up Josh. Birthday parties are for kids. I’m not a kid anymore, and I didn’t think you were one either.”

Josh insisted, “You still didn’t tell me why.”

“I had another big fight with Mom. I wanted to go to Victoria and see Billy before he leaves. He and his brother are going to Vancouver and then to Toronto as soon as they get enough money.” Morgan sobbed.

Josh put his arm around her and patted her right shoulder. “You’re not planning on going with them, are you?”

Morgan replied through her tears, “I wasn’t at first. I just wanted to see him, but now I don’t have any choice, I can’t live with Mom anymore, and Dad doesn’t want me either.” She wailed, “I’m taking the early ferry. Billy is going to meet me.”

“Where are you going to spend the night?”

“Here,” Morgan blew her nose on a well-used piece of Kleenex.

“I have a better idea.” He pleaded, “Come and spend the night in my tree house. I already asked Mom if I could. It’ll be fun. I have my portable DVD player there and we can watch movies. Please? Who knows how long it will be before we see each other again, if we ever do. I am going to miss you,” he hugged her.

“That will be cool, real cool,” Morgan hugged him back.

“I’ll walk you to the ferry in the morning and cover for you as long as I can.”

She cried, “Oh Josh, I’m going to miss you, but I’ll keep in touch, I promise.”

Josh went to where the fire was and kicked sand onto it.

“Don’t do that Josh, not until we do the ritual that you’re gramps sent us. At least you’ll be here to tease him about it.”

“Oh alright,” Josh hesitated for a moment before he stopped kicking sand on to the blaze. He remembered the warning gramps had sent him.

Morgan joined Josh at the small fire. They marched around it twice to the left, changed directions and circled it three times to the right. Neither of them was surprised when a ship didn’t appear. Josh started to kick sand on the fire again.

Morgan begged, “Please Josh, put some more wood on the fire, I’d like to sit here for a while and think about all the good times we’ve had.”

Josh put a few more dry branches on the smoldering embers. The fingers of the flame grew larger and reached up towards the full moon that floated above them. He dragged a big log close to the warmth. The two of them sat close together and put their arms around each other.

Morgan rested her head on Josh’s shoulder and they sat in silence, overwhelmed by sadness.

The moon sank lower in the dark sky and Morgan broke the silence at last, “We should go Josh,”

Josh stood up and kicked sand onto the dying embers, making certain to extinguish the last tiny glow.

Morgan stood up, turned around, and screamed.

Josh whirled around, his mouth dropped open. Right behind them, and less than twenty feet away stood four oddly dressed men. Two of them were reaching for long black shafts in quivers hanging over their shoulders, and a third held a long gleaming sword. Josh screamed, his knees buckled and he fell to the beach.


The Day of Desolation is Upon us

There are no knights in shining armor
to chase the dragons from the sky.
No noble men to sit upon a throne.
All that’s ever been good and holy
has turned to black and bitter smoke
and been scattered by the westward blowing wind.

Candlelight can no longer pierce the darkness
like it was always meant to do
and guide the last weary soldier home.
It doesn’t really matter anyway
because all he’ll find when he returns,
are bloody fields, filled with the dead and dying.

The waking sun hides his face
among the clouds of war
and a dark rain that burns
is forever falling from the angry sky.
Red flowers blossom on the killing grounds
as bullets and bombs fall among us.

Don’t worry friend as you smoke one last cigarette
it’s only that the day of desolation is upon us.
To our shame we have only ourselves to blame,
because we always preferred the sabre and the sword
to the man that carried an olive branch in his hand.

We have honored the soldier and his wars
above those who would speak peaceful words.
We’ve planted the seed of aggression
among the peoples of this world.
Now the harvest is ready for the taking.

Blood and bones now grow
in the fields of shriveled corn
and dead fish pollute the lily ponds.
The night air is filled
with the perfume of rotting flesh.
and the buzzards have come for their feasting.

Well the day of desolation is upon us.
We’ve been well paid for our labor of greed.
As you lie on your death bed
feel free to dream of better days,
and turn all your thoughts far away
from this day of desolation that’s upon us.
Turn all your thoughts far away,
from the day of desolation that’s now upon us.

More about, “Fairy Dust,”

I am madly at work on, “Fairy Dust,” but I thought I would take a bit of time out to let you know how things are going, if you are interested, and even if you are not interested, I am going to let you know anyway.
“Fairy Dust,” is going to be a collection of poems and stories, mostly about Fairies, but I may bring in other things from time to time.

Here are some of the things I have so far. Now don’t expect me to put the whole book on my blog, because if you do you will be disappointed. But from time to time, I will let you have a peek into the book, and into my mind. Scary thought. I mean looking into my mind, not the book.

So without further preamble, here is a few choice bits from, “Fairy Dust,”
Please be kind and let me know what you think, and please share this with all of your contacts. And if you like you can friend me on FB.

Ode to a toad

The fairies gather on the river bank
to feast, to dance, and sing.
It never matters what the song is,
as long as it has a bright cheerful ring.

They eat and eat, and eat a great deal,
until their tummies can hold no more.
They eat, and eat, and eat a long while,
until their tummies get quite sore.

And once their feasting is all done,
and before they take time to rest,
the tune up all their music things,
so their songs will sound their very best.

The fiddler fiddles with fiddle strings,
and takes time to polish his bow.
The guitarist strums his old guitar.
until the band is quite ready to go.

They wash their throats out with garlic juice,
so they can carry the proper tune,
and when all these things are quite done,
they sing beneath the light of a bright moon.

“Old Mr. Toad, pulled a big load,
as he hoped along the long muddy road.
He sang as he hopped, and he hopped as he sang.
As he hopped down the long muddy road
did old tired Mr. Toad, who pulled a big load.
He sang, flydiddle, flydiddle, flydiddledee,
I am as happy as a bumble bee.
I am as happy as squirrel up in a tree.
I am as happy as any toad could ever be.

So I say, flydiddle, flydiddle, flydiddledee
It’s a toady life for me, a toady life for me.

As Mr. Toad hopped along, hopped along
birds and bears and frogs and trees,
all stopped being busy and listened to his song.
and one by one they started to sing,
So I say, flydiddle, flydiddle, flydiddledee,
I am as happy as a bumble bee.
I am as happy as squirrel up in a tree.
I am as happy as any toad could ever be.”

As the fairies played, they’d smile and grin
and chuck each other underneath the chin,
as the guitarist strummed his guitar,
and the violinist sawed away on his violin.

They played and they sang,
they sang and they played.
until the summer night turned into day,
then packed up everything they had
and scurried away, scurried away.
until a new night was born
and they could come back to sing and play,
“So I say, flydiddle, flydiddle, flydiddledee,
I am as happy as a bumble bee.
I am as happy as squirrel up in a tree.
I am as happy as any toad could ever be.”

A Fairy Godfather

Old Bhradain Stinkeyfeet threw a pine nut at the robin trying to steal the worms out of the bait bucket. He shouted, “You old feathered, friggle frackle, you leave them worms alone. Me and my great-great-great-grandson, Railbeart Bogjam Stinkeyfeet spent most of last night a catching them. And we didn’t go about getting as wet as a fish, just to feed you.”
Robin Red-Feathers cocked his head, winked twice at the old fairy, trilled a bright chuckle, and went back to his breakfast.

As I Look Out my Window

In reality I am not looking out my window, I am staring at a blank TV screen, and it is staring back at me. I wonder what it is thinking, if anything at all. Is it waiting to be turned on? What turns a TV on anyway? Is it new and exciting programs? It is splashing and flashing six million colors across black space, until the watcher becomes dizzy.

The six million colors reminded me of the six-million-dollar man. It’s a good thing it doesn’t cost a dollar a color, or only the very rich could afford one. I wonder if you would be able to buy half a color for fifty cents, or a quarter of a color for a quarter?

I have been thinking about doing a book on silly sayings. I started off with a bucket full, but every time I fish one out, there are two or more to take its place. My bucket started overflowing so badly that silly sayings were crawling all over my floor. I did put them in the bathtub, but now that is getting full. You should try to take a shower with a tub full of silly sayings. Its not easy, not easy in the least.

Here is one to prove my point. 4-888-999-0679=4234-7075 this is Genghis Khan’s number, but don’t bother trying to call him, because Genghis Can’t come to the phone right now, he is busy fighting with his wives about who’s turn it is churn the yak butter.

Fairy Time Ball

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  • Keeper of the Sword

    It is often a simple thing, the roll of the dice, the turn of a card, or a chance meeting that can change one’s life forever. For Josh Campbell, and Morgan Connelly it was a seemingly harmless chain of events, a fight after school and performing a ritual that neither one of them believed in.

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    Full of fear and excitement Keeper of the Sword (The Sword of Kings) Josh notched an arrow to the bow string, pulled it back to his ear, took careful aim and released the shaft of death, and before it reached its target, a second bolt sliced through the dark. (To find out more, just follow the link.)
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