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1000 results for “it_is_soup_time”
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I just finished The Legend of Zelda: Oracle of Seasons, and it was really good. My only complaint is that you had to constantly switch items because the Game Boy had a small amount of buttons. I’ve been told that the Link’s Awakening remake on Switch fixes that, but the Oracle games never got that treatment unfortunately.
I love a good 2D Zelda, so it’s a shame that the Breath of the Wild formula is the future of the series from here on out. I’m sure that BOTW and TOTK are good games, but they’re not the same as traditional Zelda.
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Every few months, I see a really well-made video on Super Smash Brothers Melee and think “it’s such a legendary game, I should get into it” and then I play one game on Slippi and immediately remember why I play P+ instead: it’s the lack of support for controller remapping. It’s a shame, because I really want to get into SSBM, but I wish it had the quality of life improvements that the later games brought.
#smashbros #ssbm #melee #fightinggames -
Every few months, I see a really well-made video on Super Smash Brothers Melee and think “it’s such a legendary game, I should get into it” and then I play one game on Slippi and immediately remember why I play P+ instead: it’s the lack of support for controller remapping. It’s a shame, because I really want to get into SSBM, but I wish it had the quality of life improvements that the later games brought.
#smashbros #ssbm #melee #fightinggames -
Every few months, I see a really well-made video on Super Smash Brothers Melee and think “it’s such a legendary game, I should get into it” and then I play one game on Slippi and immediately remember why I play P+ instead: it’s the lack of support for controller remapping. It’s a shame, because I really want to get into SSBM, but I wish it had the quality of life improvements that the later games brought.
#smashbros #ssbm #melee #fightinggames -
Good morning 🌄
I slept in & Mom made some #CanhChuaCá 😊
It is a #Vietnamese #SourFishSoup. Mom's been making this traditional comfort dish since her childhood years. In South #Vietnam she used mostly catfish because that's the main river fish that her brothers caught, back in her village life times.Mom used cod for this - we don't get much catfish here. We love adding lots of #okra & #beansprouts. There's celery & pineapple underneath the bean sprouts, not visible.
This #SourSoup dish originated from the #MekongDelta & is a popular entree across #SouthVietnam. Canh Chua literally translates to sour soup - this is the #fish version. We have a chicken version that we make too.
#AsianMastodon #Soup #CulturalFood #VietnameseFood #AsianFood #SoupLovers #SoupSeason #ComfortFood #TraditionalFood #EthnicEats #iLoveSoup #SouthEastAsianFood #Food #homemade #homecooked #HeartyMeals #SourFoods #CanhChua #AsianDiaspora #TootSEA
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Family’s top 3 favorite meals
What are your family’s top 3 favorite meals?
There’s so many…
It’s hard to think only 3. Especially since my mom is professional chef and then there is her grandmother’s Lyyli centuries old family recipes to choose. And my own recipes. So to find only three isn’t easy. But I decided to choose top one from all of us three recipes.
Top 3
- Karelian salmon soup That is my mom’s grandmother’s family recipe being in the family generations and generations. It is best eaten when weather is bad. Raining or snowing outside and have the hot soup with rye bread just butter on a top.
- Oven Salmon This on is my mom’s own secret recipe that she come up with. Especially what is in the filling is the secret. It is easy, simple and quick to make. And fills stomach so well that doesn’t need anything on the side. At least me and my mom don’t need more than that salmon and stomach is full.
- Honey-Chilli Chicken and all 16 ways to cook it So far… Because it is so versatile especially for a store bought chicken in marinade to make different ways. I’m still not bored to eat it. Probably because there is 16 ways to cook it. It is something I eat couple times a week at least.
There are so many super delicious foods but unfortunately this writing prompt is for 3 only. So that is the 3 that I choose today. Even though the Honey-Chilli Chicken is already little bit cheating since I said all 16 ways to cook it. But I could not choose only one way over the rest. I love them all. Lol It is just too good and versatile.
With love C.F. Grönroos
Creator of the Mysteries by Rose
#cFGronroos #dailyprompt #dailyprompt2129 #food #mysteriesByRose
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Family’s top 3 favorite meals
What are your family’s top 3 favorite meals?
There’s so many…
It’s hard to think only 3. Especially since my mom is professional chef and then there is her grandmother’s Lyyli centuries old family recipes to choose. And my own recipes. So to find only three isn’t easy. But I decided to choose top one from all of us three recipes.
Top 3
- Karelian salmon soup That is my mom’s grandmother’s family recipe being in the family generations and generations. It is best eaten when weather is bad. Raining or snowing outside and have the hot soup with rye bread just butter on a top.
- Oven Salmon This on is my mom’s own secret recipe that she come up with. Especially what is in the filling is the secret. It is easy, simple and quick to make. And fills stomach so well that doesn’t need anything on the side. At least me and my mom don’t need more than that salmon and stomach is full.
- Honey-Chilli Chicken and all 16 ways to cook it So far… Because it is so versatile especially for a store bought chicken in marinade to make different ways. I’m still not bored to eat it. Probably because there is 16 ways to cook it. It is something I eat couple times a week at least.
There are so many super delicious foods but unfortunately this writing prompt is for 3 only. So that is the 3 that I choose today. Even though the Honey-Chilli Chicken is already little bit cheating since I said all 16 ways to cook it. But I could not choose only one way over the rest. I love them all. Lol It is just too good and versatile.
With love C.F. Grönroos
Creator of the Mysteries by Rose
#cFGronroos #dailyprompt #dailyprompt2129 #food #mysteriesByRose
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Family’s top 3 favorite meals
What are your family’s top 3 favorite meals?
There’s so many…
It’s hard to think only 3. Especially since my mom is professional chef and then there is her grandmother’s Lyyli centuries old family recipes to choose. And my own recipes. So to find only three isn’t easy. But I decided to choose top one from all of us three recipes.
Top 3
- Karelian salmon soup That is my mom’s grandmother’s family recipe being in the family generations and generations. It is best eaten when weather is bad. Raining or snowing outside and have the hot soup with rye bread just butter on a top.
- Oven Salmon This on is my mom’s own secret recipe that she come up with. Especially what is in the filling is the secret. It is easy, simple and quick to make. And fills stomach so well that doesn’t need anything on the side. At least me and my mom don’t need more than that salmon and stomach is full.
- Honey-Chilli Chicken and all 16 ways to cook it So far… Because it is so versatile especially for a store bought chicken in marinade to make different ways. I’m still not bored to eat it. Probably because there is 16 ways to cook it. It is something I eat couple times a week at least.
There are so many super delicious foods but unfortunately this writing prompt is for 3 only. So that is the 3 that I choose today. Even though the Honey-Chilli Chicken is already little bit cheating since I said all 16 ways to cook it. But I could not choose only one way over the rest. I love them all. Lol It is just too good and versatile.
With love C.F. Grönroos
Creator of the Mysteries by Rose
#cFGronroos #dailyprompt #dailyprompt2129 #food #mysteriesByRose
-
Family’s top 3 favorite meals
What are your family’s top 3 favorite meals?
There’s so many…
It’s hard to think only 3. Especially since my mom is professional chef and then there is her grandmother’s Lyyli centuries old family recipes to choose. And my own recipes. So to find only three isn’t easy. But I decided to choose top one from all of us three recipes.
Top 3
- Karelian salmon soup That is my mom’s grandmother’s family recipe being in the family generations and generations. It is best eaten when weather is bad. Raining or snowing outside and have the hot soup with rye bread just butter on a top.
- Oven Salmon This on is my mom’s own secret recipe that she come up with. Especially what is in the filling is the secret. It is easy, simple and quick to make. And fills stomach so well that doesn’t need anything on the side. At least me and my mom don’t need more than that salmon and stomach is full.
- Honey-Chilli Chicken and all 16 ways to cook it So far… Because it is so versatile especially for a store bought chicken in marinade to make different ways. I’m still not bored to eat it. Probably because there is 16 ways to cook it. It is something I eat couple times a week at least.
There are so many super delicious foods but unfortunately this writing prompt is for 3 only. So that is the 3 that I choose today. Even though the Honey-Chilli Chicken is already little bit cheating since I said all 16 ways to cook it. But I could not choose only one way over the rest. I love them all. Lol It is just too good and versatile.
With love C.F. Grönroos
Creator of the Mysteries by Rose
#cFGronroos #dailyprompt #dailyprompt2129 #food #mysteriesByRose
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Family’s top 3 favorite meals
What are your family’s top 3 favorite meals?
There’s so many…
It’s hard to think only 3. Especially since my mom is professional chef and then there is her grandmother’s Lyyli centuries old family recipes to choose. And my own recipes. So to find only three isn’t easy. But I decided to choose top one from all of us three recipes.
Top 3
- Karelian salmon soup That is my mom’s grandmother’s family recipe being in the family generations and generations. It is best eaten when weather is bad. Raining or snowing outside and have the hot soup with rye bread just butter on a top.
- Oven Salmon This on is my mom’s own secret recipe that she come up with. Especially what is in the filling is the secret. It is easy, simple and quick to make. And fills stomach so well that doesn’t need anything on the side. At least me and my mom don’t need more than that salmon and stomach is full.
- Honey-Chilli Chicken and all 16 ways to cook it So far… Because it is so versatile especially for a store bought chicken in marinade to make different ways. I’m still not bored to eat it. Probably because there is 16 ways to cook it. It is something I eat couple times a week at least.
There are so many super delicious foods but unfortunately this writing prompt is for 3 only. So that is the 3 that I choose today. Even though the Honey-Chilli Chicken is already little bit cheating since I said all 16 ways to cook it. But I could not choose only one way over the rest. I love them all. Lol It is just too good and versatile.
With love C.F. Grönroos
Creator of the Mysteries by Rose
#cFGronroos #dailyprompt #dailyprompt2129 #food #mysteriesByRose
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Good morning 🌄
I slept in & Mom made some #CanhChuaCá 😊
It is a #Vietnamese #SourFishSoup. Mom's been making this traditional comfort dish since her childhood years. In South #Vietnam she used mostly catfish because that's the main river fish that her brothers caught, back in her village life times.Mom used cod for this - we don't get much catfish here. We love adding lots of #okra & #beansprouts. There's celery & pineapple underneath the bean sprouts, not visible.
This #SourSoup dish originated from the #MekongDelta & is a popular entree across #SouthVietnam. Canh Chua literally translates to sour soup - this is the #fish version. We have a chicken version that we make too.
#AsianMastodon #Soup #CulturalFood #VietnameseFood #AsianFood #SoupLovers #SoupSeason #ComfortFood #TraditionalFood #EthnicEats #iLoveSoup #SouthEastAsianFood #Food #homemade #homecooked #HeartyMeals #SourFoods #CanhChua #AsianDiaspora #TootSEA
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Good morning 🌄
I slept in & Mom made some #CanhChuaCá 😊
It is a #Vietnamese #SourFishSoup. Mom's been making this traditional comfort dish since her childhood years. In South #Vietnam she used mostly catfish because that's the main river fish that her brothers caught, back in her village life times.Mom used cod for this - we don't get much catfish here. We love adding lots of #okra & #beansprouts. There's celery & pineapple underneath the bean sprouts, not visible.
This #SourSoup dish originated from the #MekongDelta & is a popular entree across #SouthVietnam. Canh Chua literally translates to sour soup - this is the #fish version. We have a chicken version that we make too.
#AsianMastodon #Soup #CulturalFood #VietnameseFood #AsianFood #SoupLovers #SoupSeason #ComfortFood #TraditionalFood #EthnicEats #iLoveSoup #SouthEastAsianFood #Food #homemade #homecooked #HeartyMeals #SourFoods #CanhChua #AsianDiaspora #TootSEA
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Good morning 🌄
I slept in & Mom made some #CanhChuaCá 😊
It is a #Vietnamese #SourFishSoup. Mom's been making this traditional comfort dish since her childhood years. In South #Vietnam she used mostly catfish because that's the main river fish that her brothers caught, back in her village life times.Mom used cod for this - we don't get much catfish here. We love adding lots of #okra & #beansprouts. There's celery & pineapple underneath the bean sprouts, not visible.
This #SourSoup dish originated from the #MekongDelta & is a popular entree across #SouthVietnam. Canh Chua literally translates to sour soup - this is the #fish version. We have a chicken version that we make too.
#AsianMastodon #Soup #CulturalFood #VietnameseFood #AsianFood #SoupLovers #SoupSeason #ComfortFood #TraditionalFood #EthnicEats #iLoveSoup #SouthEastAsianFood #Food #homemade #homecooked #HeartyMeals #SourFoods #CanhChua #AsianDiaspora #TootSEA
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Good morning 🌄
I slept in & Mom made some #CanhChuaCá 😊
It is a #Vietnamese #SourFishSoup. Mom's been making this traditional comfort dish since her childhood years. In South #Vietnam she used mostly catfish because that's the main river fish that her brothers caught, back in her village life times.Mom used cod for this - we don't get much catfish here. We love adding lots of #okra & #beansprouts. There's celery & pineapple underneath the bean sprouts, not visible.
This #SourSoup dish originated from the #MekongDelta & is a popular entree across #SouthVietnam. Canh Chua literally translates to sour soup - this is the #fish version. We have a chicken version that we make too.
#AsianMastodon #Soup #CulturalFood #VietnameseFood #AsianFood #SoupLovers #SoupSeason #ComfortFood #TraditionalFood #EthnicEats #iLoveSoup #SouthEastAsianFood #Food #homemade #homecooked #HeartyMeals #SourFoods #CanhChua #AsianDiaspora #TootSEA
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Entirely serious pole time! I have a lot of work to do, so naturally my brain gets distracted with the questions that really matter.
Like is #coffee #tea or is it #soup? Time to ask the #fedivers for #fediadvice to solve this age old mystery!
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Entirely serious pole time! I have a lot of work to do, so naturally my brain gets distracted with the questions that really matter.
Like is #coffee #tea or is it #soup? Time to ask the #fedivers for #fediadvice to solve this age old mystery!
-
Entirely serious pole time! I have a lot of work to do, so naturally my brain gets distracted with the questions that really matter.
Like is #coffee #tea or is it #soup? Time to ask the #fedivers for #fediadvice to solve this age old mystery!
-
Entirely serious pole time! I have a lot of work to do, so naturally my brain gets distracted with the questions that really matter.
Like is #coffee #tea or is it #soup? Time to ask the #fedivers for #fediadvice to solve this age old mystery!
-
So, I'm mostly sharing this because reporting has been very spotty and if I didn't know better, I'd suggest a media class more afraid of people power than fascists are not particularly interested in sharing the news that millions (with an m) of Americans were out protesting the Trump Regime yesterday.
https://www.commondreams.org/news/hands-off-protests-april-5
Millions March Against Trump-Musk in Nationwide 'Hands Off' Protests
"Indivisible, one of the key organizing groups behind the day's protests, said millions participated in more than 1,300 individual rallies as they demanded "an end to Trump's authoritarian power grab" and condemning all those aiding and abetting it.
"We expected hundreds of thousands. But at virtually every single event, the crowds eclipsed our estimates," the group said in a statement Saturday evening.
"This is the largest day of protest since Trump retook office," the group added. "And in many small towns and cities, activists are reporting the biggest protests their communities have ever seen as everyday people send a clear, unmistakable message to Trump and Musk: Hands off our healthcare, hands off our civil rights, hands off our schools, our freedoms, and our democracy."
Look, are millions of people politely marching with witty protest signs going to topple the fascist Trump regime? No, probably not. Is it a problem that a lot of the people who marched yesterday are still wedded to capitalism and a free market fundamentalist worldview that's precisely how we ended up in a place where we're staring down a fascist dictatorship in progress? Yes, it probably is. Some of these people definitely aren't good at protesting, and don't have particularly good politics; some of them are even diehard Democratic Party partisans who intend to direct all this energy into elections in 2026 and 2028 that I've already said I don't think we have time to wait for, and I don't think are guaranteed to be real, unrigged elections anyway. It's not all gumdrops and lollipops; we're a very long way away from "shutting it down" or "becoming ungovernable" and I think realistically we're not going to see the end of fascism, let alone the capitalist order that's boiling our children like soup so rich nazis can keep extracting profit from our shared planet, until we see a lot more "be ungovernable" and "shut it down."
By that same measure however, putting millions of people in the streets to oppose the fascist regime and the billionaire white Afrikaner nazi who bought it, is certainly better than not doing that. Clearly some portions of the (upper class) media are spooked enough to minimize what happened here, and you know the regime is scared because their propagandists are already out here saying the (again, millions) of protestors were a paid psy-op and also working for Hamas, somehow. There is exploitable and extendable political capital here, and it would in my opinion be a bad idea for antifascists and anticapitalists to help the machine tamp down enthusiasm for taking the streets back from nazis. If this is just one day of protest, with the very narrow objectives of protecting social security and ending Musk's DOGE project to install what some call a "technofeudalist" order, then it's just a collection of nice memories. If however this is a beginning of something larger, just as the initial George Floyd protests against police violence were the beginning of something larger back in 2020, then there's a lot of work to be done here and an opportunity to help people getting ground up by the fuck barrel find solutions that actually work; both to remove the fascist regime, and change the fuck barrel world that birthed it. I can't predict the future of course, but I'd prefer to have the opportunity to see where this goes, than to sit quietly in my house waiting for the nazis to come and kill us one by one.
"It can't rain all the time, Eric...'
#Fascism #Trump #HandsOff #Protest #Antifascism #ElonMusk #GlobalProtests
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So, I'm mostly sharing this because reporting has been very spotty and if I didn't know better, I'd suggest a media class more afraid of people power than fascists are not particularly interested in sharing the news that millions (with an m) of Americans were out protesting the Trump Regime yesterday.
https://www.commondreams.org/news/hands-off-protests-april-5
Millions March Against Trump-Musk in Nationwide 'Hands Off' Protests
"Indivisible, one of the key organizing groups behind the day's protests, said millions participated in more than 1,300 individual rallies as they demanded "an end to Trump's authoritarian power grab" and condemning all those aiding and abetting it.
"We expected hundreds of thousands. But at virtually every single event, the crowds eclipsed our estimates," the group said in a statement Saturday evening.
"This is the largest day of protest since Trump retook office," the group added. "And in many small towns and cities, activists are reporting the biggest protests their communities have ever seen as everyday people send a clear, unmistakable message to Trump and Musk: Hands off our healthcare, hands off our civil rights, hands off our schools, our freedoms, and our democracy."
Look, are millions of people politely marching with witty protest signs going to topple the fascist Trump regime? No, probably not. Is it a problem that a lot of the people who marched yesterday are still wedded to capitalism and a free market fundamentalist worldview that's precisely how we ended up in a place where we're staring down a fascist dictatorship in progress? Yes, it probably is. Some of these people definitely aren't good at protesting, and don't have particularly good politics; some of them are even diehard Democratic Party partisans who intend to direct all this energy into elections in 2026 and 2028 that I've already said I don't think we have time to wait for, and I don't think are guaranteed to be real, unrigged elections anyway. It's not all gumdrops and lollipops; we're a very long way away from "shutting it down" or "becoming ungovernable" and I think realistically we're not going to see the end of fascism, let alone the capitalist order that's boiling our children like soup so rich nazis can keep extracting profit from our shared planet, until we see a lot more "be ungovernable" and "shut it down."
By that same measure however, putting millions of people in the streets to oppose the fascist regime and the billionaire white Afrikaner nazi who bought it, is certainly better than not doing that. Clearly some portions of the (upper class) media are spooked enough to minimize what happened here, and you know the regime is scared because their propagandists are already out here saying the (again, millions) of protestors were a paid psy-op and also working for Hamas, somehow. There is exploitable and extendable political capital here, and it would in my opinion be a bad idea for antifascists and anticapitalists to help the machine tamp down enthusiasm for taking the streets back from nazis. If this is just one day of protest, with the very narrow objectives of protecting social security and ending Musk's DOGE project to install what some call a "technofeudalist" order, then it's just a collection of nice memories. If however this is a beginning of something larger, just as the initial George Floyd protests against police violence were the beginning of something larger back in 2020, then there's a lot of work to be done here and an opportunity to help people getting ground up by the fuck barrel find solutions that actually work; both to remove the fascist regime, and change the fuck barrel world that birthed it. I can't predict the future of course, but I'd prefer to have the opportunity to see where this goes, than to sit quietly in my house waiting for the nazis to come and kill us one by one.
"It can't rain all the time, Eric...'
#Fascism #Trump #HandsOff #Protest #Antifascism #ElonMusk #GlobalProtests
-
So, I'm mostly sharing this because reporting has been very spotty and if I didn't know better, I'd suggest a media class more afraid of people power than fascists are not particularly interested in sharing the news that millions (with an m) of Americans were out protesting the Trump Regime yesterday.
https://www.commondreams.org/news/hands-off-protests-april-5
Millions March Against Trump-Musk in Nationwide 'Hands Off' Protests
"Indivisible, one of the key organizing groups behind the day's protests, said millions participated in more than 1,300 individual rallies as they demanded "an end to Trump's authoritarian power grab" and condemning all those aiding and abetting it.
"We expected hundreds of thousands. But at virtually every single event, the crowds eclipsed our estimates," the group said in a statement Saturday evening.
"This is the largest day of protest since Trump retook office," the group added. "And in many small towns and cities, activists are reporting the biggest protests their communities have ever seen as everyday people send a clear, unmistakable message to Trump and Musk: Hands off our healthcare, hands off our civil rights, hands off our schools, our freedoms, and our democracy."
Look, are millions of people politely marching with witty protest signs going to topple the fascist Trump regime? No, probably not. Is it a problem that a lot of the people who marched yesterday are still wedded to capitalism and a free market fundamentalist worldview that's precisely how we ended up in a place where we're staring down a fascist dictatorship in progress? Yes, it probably is. Some of these people definitely aren't good at protesting, and don't have particularly good politics; some of them are even diehard Democratic Party partisans who intend to direct all this energy into elections in 2026 and 2028 that I've already said I don't think we have time to wait for, and I don't think are guaranteed to be real, unrigged elections anyway. It's not all gumdrops and lollipops; we're a very long way away from "shutting it down" or "becoming ungovernable" and I think realistically we're not going to see the end of fascism, let alone the capitalist order that's boiling our children like soup so rich nazis can keep extracting profit from our shared planet, until we see a lot more "be ungovernable" and "shut it down."
By that same measure however, putting millions of people in the streets to oppose the fascist regime and the billionaire white Afrikaner nazi who bought it, is certainly better than not doing that. Clearly some portions of the (upper class) media are spooked enough to minimize what happened here, and you know the regime is scared because their propagandists are already out here saying the (again, millions) of protestors were a paid psy-op and also working for Hamas, somehow. There is exploitable and extendable political capital here, and it would in my opinion be a bad idea for antifascists and anticapitalists to help the machine tamp down enthusiasm for taking the streets back from nazis. If this is just one day of protest, with the very narrow objectives of protecting social security and ending Musk's DOGE project to install what some call a "technofeudalist" order, then it's just a collection of nice memories. If however this is a beginning of something larger, just as the initial George Floyd protests against police violence were the beginning of something larger back in 2020, then there's a lot of work to be done here and an opportunity to help people getting ground up by the fuck barrel find solutions that actually work; both to remove the fascist regime, and change the fuck barrel world that birthed it. I can't predict the future of course, but I'd prefer to have the opportunity to see where this goes, than to sit quietly in my house waiting for the nazis to come and kill us one by one.
"It can't rain all the time, Eric...'
#Fascism #Trump #HandsOff #Protest #Antifascism #ElonMusk #GlobalProtests
-
So, I'm mostly sharing this because reporting has been very spotty and if I didn't know better, I'd suggest a media class more afraid of people power than fascists are not particularly interested in sharing the news that millions (with an m) of Americans were out protesting the Trump Regime yesterday.
https://www.commondreams.org/news/hands-off-protests-april-5
Millions March Against Trump-Musk in Nationwide 'Hands Off' Protests
"Indivisible, one of the key organizing groups behind the day's protests, said millions participated in more than 1,300 individual rallies as they demanded "an end to Trump's authoritarian power grab" and condemning all those aiding and abetting it.
"We expected hundreds of thousands. But at virtually every single event, the crowds eclipsed our estimates," the group said in a statement Saturday evening.
"This is the largest day of protest since Trump retook office," the group added. "And in many small towns and cities, activists are reporting the biggest protests their communities have ever seen as everyday people send a clear, unmistakable message to Trump and Musk: Hands off our healthcare, hands off our civil rights, hands off our schools, our freedoms, and our democracy."
Look, are millions of people politely marching with witty protest signs going to topple the fascist Trump regime? No, probably not. Is it a problem that a lot of the people who marched yesterday are still wedded to capitalism and a free market fundamentalist worldview that's precisely how we ended up in a place where we're staring down a fascist dictatorship in progress? Yes, it probably is. Some of these people definitely aren't good at protesting, and don't have particularly good politics; some of them are even diehard Democratic Party partisans who intend to direct all this energy into elections in 2026 and 2028 that I've already said I don't think we have time to wait for, and I don't think are guaranteed to be real, unrigged elections anyway. It's not all gumdrops and lollipops; we're a very long way away from "shutting it down" or "becoming ungovernable" and I think realistically we're not going to see the end of fascism, let alone the capitalist order that's boiling our children like soup so rich nazis can keep extracting profit from our shared planet, until we see a lot more "be ungovernable" and "shut it down."
By that same measure however, putting millions of people in the streets to oppose the fascist regime and the billionaire white Afrikaner nazi who bought it, is certainly better than not doing that. Clearly some portions of the (upper class) media are spooked enough to minimize what happened here, and you know the regime is scared because their propagandists are already out here saying the (again, millions) of protestors were a paid psy-op and also working for Hamas, somehow. There is exploitable and extendable political capital here, and it would in my opinion be a bad idea for antifascists and anticapitalists to help the machine tamp down enthusiasm for taking the streets back from nazis. If this is just one day of protest, with the very narrow objectives of protecting social security and ending Musk's DOGE project to install what some call a "technofeudalist" order, then it's just a collection of nice memories. If however this is a beginning of something larger, just as the initial George Floyd protests against police violence were the beginning of something larger back in 2020, then there's a lot of work to be done here and an opportunity to help people getting ground up by the fuck barrel find solutions that actually work; both to remove the fascist regime, and change the fuck barrel world that birthed it. I can't predict the future of course, but I'd prefer to have the opportunity to see where this goes, than to sit quietly in my house waiting for the nazis to come and kill us one by one.
"It can't rain all the time, Eric...'
#Fascism #Trump #HandsOff #Protest #Antifascism #ElonMusk #GlobalProtests
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Just watched a goodly short by a content creator who struggled with long-COVID for about 2 years.
5 things healthy people take for granted
For anyone who wants to read the text, rather than the short, here's a transcript we generated quickly from the audio using Subtitle Edit. (It only needed one word change and a couple of minor apostrophe edits.)
I haven't done one of these videos in ages, but here are five things that healthy people take for granted.
Number one is being able to do everyday basic things. Getting out of bed, climbing the stairs, cooking, every single everyday thing. Healthy people can just do all of it without questioning any of it. Healthy people are just able to function normally in everyday life.
Number two is that most healthy people can just move their bodies whenever they want. Sorry, what do you mean that you can just go on a run or exercise or move? With all that excess energy they can just push their body to the extreme without any consequences. Unlike like a couple of days maybe recovery time.
Healthy people can just make plans and schedule in a coffee date for a few weeks' time without even like thinking about it. Because of course they're gonna be able to make it. They just plan and then they just do.
Okay, they never have to think of spoons. Only when like they're doing the dishwasher or eating soup. Healthy people do not need to track or ration their energy. So they don't need a language for it. There's no budgeting their energy for different tasks. Spoons are merely pieces of metal they find in their cutlery drawer.
Most of the time, healthy people do not need to advocate for their own health. Most might not even know what the term medical gaslighting is or they may have never experienced it. There's no anxiety around doctors' appointments. They're not fighting anyone for answers or support. It's such a privilege to be believed and receive empathy.
So yeah, if you're healthy and you might not even think about these things or perhaps take them for granted, just know that there are people who are chronically ill or perhaps have poor health that do not have these privileges.
#spoons #spoonie #SpoonTheory #health #PhysicalHealth #MentalHealth
Edit: If you saw the hilarious typo we made before we quickly edited it out, shhhhh 😅🤭🩷
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Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989) – Review
By the end of the 80s, Studio Ghibli was cooking, creatively speaking, but was still finding it tough to get the appropriate amount of traction at the box office. While disscussing something as crass as money when dealing with the type of creative alchemy that have given audiences back to back movies that casually enriched the soul, the simple fact of the matter is, Ghibli was still in its relative infancy and anime had yet to make that relentless, worldwide breakout that still wouldn’t occur for a few couple of years yet. However, with Kiki’s Delivery Service, the studio would finally enjoy financial success to go with the fact that in under a decade, they’d been doling out straight-up masterpieces while other animation houses (cough * Disney * cough) had noticably struggled during the decade.
Let’s not forget that Ghibli released both My Neighbour Totoro and Grave Of The Fireflies in the same year, a feat that showed the emotional dexterity of filmmakers who delivered polar opposite assaults on our emotional well-being. But what did it take to help the house of Totoro get flush? Nothing much, just a thirteen year-old witch and a flying broom.In a world where witches live alongside humans in harmony despite being relatively rare, we meet Kiki, a thirteen year-old girl who decides its time for her to attempt the tradition all witches her age must do – leave home and live an independent life for a year. While that seems a little much to ask any child, Kiki not only is kind and resourceful, but she has the ability to soar through the sky on her broom and has Jiji, her feline familiar, to keep her company. However, after leaving home she soon encounters a number of minor obstacles such as another, pretentious witch and a rain storm that causes her to first drift off course and then take refuge in a box car until the rain chooses to relent.
However, upon waking up, Kiki finds that she and Jiji have arrived in the city of Koriko and decides to stay and try to make a life for herself – but while she’s enamored of the view of the ocean that she has, her small town upbringing leaves her unprepared for how tough life and lonely can be in a bustling city. Still, the plucky child manages to find a place to live with a kindly woman and her husband who own a bakery and so figures out how to channel her paranormal talents into a form of self employment.
Using her talents of flying on her broomstick, Kiki starts up her own small scale delivery service as she can simply zip across the sky with a parcel and drop it off at it’s destination in no time at all. However, despite the kindness of a lot of her early customers and the constant attention of a local boy named Tombo, Kiki soon finds that forging a life in a big city can be fairly trying and as isolation and depression sets in, she finds that some of her witchy gifts are starting to leave her as the day to day pressures take their toll.The irony of Ghibli’s first financially successful film being about a thirteen year-old going out and starting her own business isn’t lost on me, but there was always a danger that anything that attempted to follow Isao Takahata’s emotion-flaying Grave Of The Fireflies was going to come across as unbelievably twee – after all, the lethally sad wartime drama had been repeatedly hailed as one of the greatest animated movies ever made and proved to be an unforgettable experience. However, the magic of Hayao Miyazaki is that he’s able to benevolently weaponise things that are ridiculously nice in ways that make even the most basic plots warm your heart. For example, on the surface, My Neighbour Totoro wasn’t really about anything really and just followed the lives of two young girls who were excited about moving house and casually had low-energy adventures with a burly, sleepy forest spirit. And yet, despite having no antagonist, no jokes and no action sequences to speak of, Miyazaki turned such unassuming touch points into genuine chicken soup for the soul.
Well, with Kiki’s Delivery Service pulls off the same trick by adapting Eiko Kadono’s novel into yet another beguiling fantasy that, technically speaking, doesn’t fall back on the majority of animated tropes popular at the time. Once again, Miyazaki shrewdly tells another tale that not only proves that he accurately can put himself (and the viewer) in the shoes of a prepubescent girl encountering the world for the first time, but he impressively doesn’t make it creepy either. On top of this, the movie scatters numerous instances about the film that sees a lot of good advice and protection offered to Kiki by an arry of vastly different, but all equally strong women. From Osono the baker generously giving our heroine a place to stay, to the kindly old women who call Kiki to deliver pies baked with pure love to ungrateful grandchildren on their birthdays, to her encounter with jean-short wearing artist, Ursula who lives in the nearby forest, the young witch is given countless life advice by strong mature women to counteract the rather cold and vapid reaction she gets from girls her own age.Once again, detailing how rich and glorious the animation is is now starting to feel somewhat redundant, but I’ll still say that no one in animation can animate grass blowing on a strong breeze quite like the hard working scribblers who work under the Ghibli umbrella – and if that looks good, imagine how good the flying stuff looks. Yep, Miyazaki’s documented weakness for all things that fly gets yet another outing, although its amusing that for all the high flying heroines that’s populated his films, Kiki has moments where her broom flying is actually quite ungainly due to external forces or the fact that has to improvise at one moment with a brush.
But for all the dazzling wonder and memorable characters (Jiji the sassy cat is effortlessly the movie’s MVP), once again it’s those deftly buried life lessons that hit the hardest and while Kiki finds that the confidence sapping effects of modern life is draining her powers as depression set in, it’s remarkable that Miyazaki’s simple message of being true to yourself is delivered so organically when other animation houses would probably base an entire six minute musical number about it. Most remarkable of all is the fact that I would argue that Kiki’s Delivery Service actually does low-key fantasy and growing pains even better than My Neighbour Totoro did and while that final rescue sequence seems a little tacked on compared to how organic Ghibli usually is, it makes the likes of Sabrina The Teenage Witch look like purest trash in comparison.Zipping out from under the emotional heft of Grave Of The Fireflies with yet another delightful flight of fancy, Kiki’s Delivery Service not only cemented Ghibli’s standing at the box office, but delivered yet another overwhelmingly warm cinematic endevor to boot. While the titular witch may not have too many spells of her own, her movie spins more than enough magic to compensate.
#1980s #1989 #Fantasy #Animation #Anime #Japan #FilmReview #StudioGhibli #HayaoMiyazaki #KikiSDeliveryService #MinamiTakayama #ReiSakuma #KappeiYamaguchi #KeikoToda
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 98: 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 gloss #TimeTravelAuthors 05/9. Saturday excerpt (optional word: hide/hidden)
Emily soon joined me in the courtyard. After the turbulent street filled with crowds, vendors, and beggars, the citrus-scented space was peaceful or should have been, if it hadn’t been for the cry of a young female voice, saying, “Oh… makaristos Agios Ilarionas… éna tháuma…”
I followed the sound and saw a girl of about ten wearing a white dress that matched the flowers dangling near her face. Her bright eyes and #glossy black hair were barely visible through the second-floor’s vines, where she #hid.
She continued, “Pappoú. “Pappoú. éna tháuma.”
“We’re in the soup now,” Emily said.
As we watched, a gray-haired man armed with a stout cudgel joined her. The girl spoke rapidly to him, gesticulating wildly.
After shooing her out of sight, he called down to us, “Pois eisai?”
I held my hands in the air and said in French, “We’re friends. We mean you no harm.”
The man’s face screwed up, puzzled, and then he shouted into the house. Another man appeared. I guessed he was a scholar from his somber black robes and lean countenance.
The two men spoke while Emily and I conferred. “What should we do?” I asked. “Time-trip to our meeting with the monk?” By “monk,” I meant our former guide.
“Wait,” she replied. “There’s a pattern of things going sideways when we do that.”
It was true. Twice now, tripping had put us in life-threatening positions. First, there’d been the meteor impact, and then there was the less-than-friendly reception we’d just experienced. It didn’t always happen, but it occurred enough to make one wary.
“Who are you?” the scholar called down in accented French.
“I am Bijou, a traveling pilgrim,” I said, bowing. “I mean you no harm. My only wish is to bless your house.”
Out of sight, I heard the girl say, “Pappoú. éna tháuma.”
“She says you performed a miracle, passing through a solid wall.” The man said, making a sign against the evil eye.
“It was God’s blessing upon a humble mendicant. I was seeking St. George’s shrine when outlaws tried to stop me. God is great, and many are his miracles.”
The two men conferred again, and while they did so, Emily addressed me. “Lying it on rather thick there aren’t you?”
“Better than being mistaken for a sorcerer,” I said, crossing myself as if uttering a prayer. “Besides, this is an age of wonders.”
Their conference over, the scholar called to me, “Holy one, would you bless our house by partaking a humble meal with us?”
“It would be my honor,” I said. Luck had finally smiled on me.
#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
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Linger: The Slow Food Café 🫕 [Sponsored Post]
Are you SICK TO DEATH of fast food culture and the urgency behind that junk?!? Then mosey on down to Slow Food Café, where all our waiters are lazy as all hell and the head chef has a gammy leg!
This ensures every meal delivered to you is slow, protracted, aggravating, and tedious. We’re the antithesis of fast food and we make sure you can sit awkwardly at your dining table, forced into polite chitchat with whomever is with you.
Oh yeah, and we serve beer. It’s £30 a pint and takes 10 minutes to get to you.
Slow Food, Slow Pints, Raging Indignation
“Efficiency is a violent disruption of your ingredients and their, respective, journeys. That is why we don’t do efficiency. We’re incompetent and that’s a GRATE thing. Pun intended.” Jeff McSloth, CEO of Slow Food Café
Think of this way—the longer we make you wait, the longer the food absorbs the very essence of the kitchen and dining area. This atmospheric inculcation imbues your foodstuffs with the likes of:
- Bacteria
- Dust
- The odd fly crawling all over it
- Errant sneezes
Flavour. Flavour! For good things come to those who are overweight. As the longer we make you wait, the more hungry and enraged you’ll get, but ultimately be more delighted when your food arrives.
Linger’s Slow Burner Menu Highlights
This is our menu. Don’t like it? Then don’t eat here then, you ungrateful swine:
- Sloth Salad
- Glacial Water
- Tardy Toast
- Unhurried Onions
- Sluggish Soup of the Day
- Creeping Ice Cream
- Snail-Paced Semolina
- Lagging Lamb Roast
- Dithering Dal
- Protracted Pub Grub
The list goes on. Basically, our menu is shaped by wordplay that’s influenced by foods we can cook in a really, really, really slow way. Toast takes several hours, for example, and the glacial glass of water can take up to a week (it’s delivered to your address long after you’ve left our premises).
The Joys of Artisanal Procrastination
Our waiting staff is trained to avoid eye contact, delay taking your order, and keeping themselves busy folding napkins for many hours (instead of doing real work).
Sticking your hand up, clicking you fingers, and barking “Waiter!” will do sod all here. You will be ignored and if you’ve got a problem with that we’ll just take EVEN LONGER with your order…
After your meal, the bill is also handed to you on hand-calligraphed parchment you’ll need an investigative team to decode. Additionally, the parchment must be allowed to dry for several hours before you see it and decode its mysteries.
Feedback From Our Angry Customers
“Came in for an appetiser and some lunch. Why am I still waiting for my appetiser and lunch!?!!?! Hello!? I’m sitting at the back table on the right I’ve been HERE FOR A MONTH! WTF?! I have a job. I have a family! Where is my goddamn toast started and soup of the day main!?” Andrew McBastard
“By the time the alleged ‘soup of the day’ arrived I’d been sitting so long my legs had seized up with cramps and I was hospitalised with deep vein thrombosis. Demanded my money back. 17 days later, they updated me they WON’T be refunding me. THAT SOUP COST ME FIVE POUNDS! BASTARDS!!!” Harriet McSonofabitch
“I’d been waiting four hours for the Soup of the Day. Eventually I asked the waiter where in the NAME OF GODDAMN HELL the soup was! He pointed at a sundial on the pavement outside the cafe and… and… and I lost my shit. I smashed a fist on the table and shouted ‘THIS IS AN OUTRAGE’ and then I was escorted from the premises.” Jane McBadall
#Business #Café #Capitalism #FastFood #Food #Healthy #Humor #JunkFood #Lifestyle #Restaurant #Satire #satirical #Silly“Stopped in for a black coffee with 17 sugars, 13 squirts of caramel, and 10 squirts of cream. After 12 hours, the order came back with 15 sugars, 11 squirts of caramel, and 11 squirts of cream. Sent it back to get my order fixed. 12 days later it came back with 16 sugars, 12 squirts of caramel, and 113 squirts of cream. The cream was overflowing from the beverage! I said to the waiter, ‘I can’t drink that! I asked for TEN squirts of cream, you stupid bastard!’ To make matters worse, I was fired from my job for absenteeism. LEARN TO GET CUSTOMER ORDERS RIGHT!” Beth McOcd
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Chapter Three: The Strange Old Man
#AlteaSCigarsHouse #art #Ashwaganda #bloganuary #CozyMystery #culture #curiosity #dailyprompt #dailyprompt1908 #dailyprompt1989 #dailyprompt2153 #DaysOfYourDreams #drinks #Evernote #everyday #Facebook #facts #food #HISTORY #IFTTT #Instagram #Ireland #Irish #kitchen #LAPAGINACHEFALEFUSA #language #learning #MoiraHopes #MURDERSWITHAPASSION #MYCOCKTAILWORLD #mystery #photography #pictures #Pinterest #RECIPES #social #SPERANZA #STRANGETHINGSINTHEWORLD #taverna #TheSoundOfSmile #THESPERANZASSISTERS #TOE #travel #writing
The days in Speranza became quiet again. The sun was warm. The sky was very blue. Moira was happy. Her tea shop was safe. The village people came back to drink tea and talk. They did not talk about the bad man who died. They wanted to forget.
Ashwaganda, the big orange cat, slept in the window all day. Toe, the black cat, sat on the high shelf. He watched everyone who came in the door.
One Tuesday, the bell on the door rang. A new man walked in. He was very old. He had white hair and a long black coat. He walked with a heavy wooden stick.
Moira stood behind her counter. “Hello,” she said. “Can I help you?”
The old man looked around the shop. His eyes were small and dark. He looked at the jars of tea. He looked at the old books on the shelves. He did not look friendly.
“I am looking for something,” the old man said. His voice was slow and dry. “I am looking for a very old book.”
Moira felt her heart jump. She thought about The Days of the Dreams. The blue book was safely hidden under the counter.
“I have many old books,” Moira said in a calm voice. “What kind of book do you want?”
“A magic book,” the man said. “It has a blue cover. It has a picture of a sleeping cat on it. Do you have this book?”
Moira looked right into his dark eyes. “No. I do not have a book like that. I only sell tea and normal books.”
The old man did not look happy. He hit his wooden stick on the floor. “You are lying. I know the book is in this village. I will find it.”
He turned around and walked out of the shop. He did not say goodbye.
Moira locked the door fast. She took the blue book from under the counter. She opened it. The silver letters shined on the page.
The dark bird looks for the nest. Hide the truth. Fire is coming.
Moira read the words. Fire is coming. This was very bad. The old man wanted to hurt her and take the book.
She called her friend Altea. “Altea, it is Moira. A strange old man is in the village. He wears a black coat. Please watch him. He is dangerous.”
“I saw him,” Altea said on the phone. “He went to the old hotel. I will watch him for you.”
That night, Moira did not sleep. She sat in the dark shop. She held a heavy iron pan in her hand. The cats stayed awake with her. Toe sat by the door. Ashwaganda sat by the window.
At two o’clock in the morning, Moira heard a sound. It was a very quiet sound outside the back window. Someone was trying to open it.
Moira stood up slowly. She walked to the back room. She saw a dark shadow outside the glass.
Suddenly, the glass broke. Crash!
A hand reached inside to open the lock. Moira did not wait. She hit the hand very hard with the iron pan.
A man yelled outside. It was a loud, angry yell. Then, she heard feet running away in the dark.
Moira turned on the lights. She looked at the broken window. On the floor, there was a small drop of blood. And next to the blood, there was a strange, old coin.
Moira picked up the coin carefully. It was made of black metal. It had a picture of a bird on it. A dark bird. Just like the book said.
The next morning, the sun came up, but Moira was not happy. She looked at the broken window. She looked at the black coin.
She walked to the police station. Ispettore Salomone was drinking coffee at his desk. He looked tired.
“Moira,” he said. “Why are you here so early?”
Moira put the black coin on his desk. “Someone broke my window last night. They tried to come inside. I hit them, and they ran away. They left this.”
Salomone picked up the coin. He looked at it closely. “This is very old. It is not normal money. Who wants to break into a tea shop?”
“An old man came to my shop yesterday,” Moira said. “He wore a black coat. He asked about old books. I think it was him.”
“Altea called me about him,” Salomone said. “He is staying at the old hotel. His name is Mr. Corvo. I will go talk to him now.”
“Be careful, Ispettore,” Moira said. “He is not a good man.”
Moira walked back to her shop. She needed to clean the broken glass. When she got there, Marisa was waiting by the door. Marisa wore her clean white coat. She had a box of fresh chocolate cookies.
“Moira, I heard about the window,” Marisa said. She looked worried. “Are you okay? I brought you some sweet things.”
“Thank you, Marisa. I am fine,” Moira said. They went inside. Moira made strong black tea. They ate the chocolate cookies.
“This village is changing,” Marisa said sadly. “First the poison, now this. What do they want?”
Moira could not tell Marisa about the magic book. It was a secret. “I don’t know, Marisa. But we have to be strong.”
After Marisa left, Moira opened the blue book again. She needed help.
The silver letters grew on the yellow paper.
The dark bird hides in the dead trees. Follow the water to the cave.
Moira knew the dead trees. They were in the deep woods behind the village. There was a small river there. The trees were old and had no leaves. It was a scary place. People did not go there.
“I have to go,” Moira told her cats. “You stay here and guard the shop.”
Moira put on her heavy boots and her thick coat. She put a small flashlight in her pocket. She walked out of the village and into the woods.
The woods were very quiet. There were no birds singing. The trees were tall and dark. Moira walked next to the small river. The water moved fast over the rocks.
She walked for an hour. Her legs were tired. Then, she saw the dead trees. They looked like big, gray skeletons.
Behind the dead trees, there was a large hill made of dark stone. In the middle of the hill, there was a hole. It was a cave.
Moira turned on her flashlight. She walked slowly to the cave. It smelled like wet dirt and old leaves. She went inside.
The cave was big and cold. The light from her flashlight shined on the walls. Moira gasped. There were pictures on the walls. Old pictures painted with red and black colors. They showed people, animals, and stars.
But there was something else in the cave.
In the center of the dark room, there was a small fire. Next to the fire was a sleeping bag. And next to the sleeping bag was Mr. Corvo’s long black coat.
He was living here. The hotel room was just a trick.
Moira looked around quickly. She saw a small wooden box near the fire. She walked to it and opened it. Inside, there were more black coins. And there were maps of the village. One map had a big red circle around Moira’s tea shop.
Suddenly, Moira heard a sound behind her.
“You should not be here,” a slow, dry voice said.
Moira turned around fast. Mr. Corvo stood at the door of the cave. He held his heavy wooden stick. He looked very angry.
Moira did not move. She kept her flashlight pointed at the old man’s face.
“You broke my window,” Moira said. Her voice was strong. She was scared, but she did not show it.
“You have the book,” Mr. Corvo said. He walked slowly into the cave. “The book of the sleeping cat. My family owned that book a long time ago. It was stolen from us. I want it back.”
“The book is not yours,” Moira said. “It belongs to the tea shop now. It belongs to Speranza.”
Mr. Corvo laughed. It was a cold, ugly sound. “Speranza is a village of fools. They do not know real magic. Give me the book, or I will burn your shop to the ground.”
Fire is coming. The book was right.
“You cannot have it,” Moira said. She looked around. She needed a way to escape. The old man was blocking the door.
Mr. Corvo lifted his heavy stick. “Then you will stay here forever.”
He ran at her. He was old, but he was very fast. Moira jumped to the side. The heavy stick hit the stone wall with a loud crack.
Moira ran toward the door of the cave. But Mr. Corvo grabbed her coat. He pulled her back.
Moira remembered the herbs in her pocket. She always carried small bags of strong herbs for emergencies. She had a bag of dried chili peppers and strong black pepper powder.
She reached into her pocket. She grabbed a handful of the hot powder. She threw it right into Mr. Corvo’s face.
The old man screamed. He dropped his stick. He put his hands over his eyes. The hot pepper burned his eyes and nose. He coughed and yelled.
Moira did not wait. She ran out of the cave. She ran through the dead trees. She ran next to the river. She ran as fast as she could.
She did not stop running until she saw the houses of the village. She ran straight to the police station.
She pushed the door open. She was breathing very hard.
“Salomone!” Moira yelled.
Ispettore Salomone jumped up from his desk. “Moira! What is wrong? You look terrible.”
“Mr. Corvo,” Moira said, trying to breathe. “He is not in the hotel. He is living in a cave in the deep woods. He tried to hurt me. He has a box of strange maps and coins.”
Salomone looked very serious. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Moira said. “I threw pepper in his face. He is still in the woods.”
“Stay here,” Salomone ordered. “Lock the door. I am taking my men to the woods right now.”
Salomone and three other policemen took their guns and ran to their cars. Moira sat in Salomone’s chair. She was shaking. She locked the heavy door of the police station.
She waited for two hours. The police station was very quiet. Finally, she heard cars outside.
She unlocked the door. Salomone walked in. He looked dirty and tired, but he was smiling.
“We got him,” Salomone said. “He was washing his eyes in the river. We found his cave. We found the box and the maps.”
Moira felt a huge wave of relief. “Thank you, Ispettore.”
“Why did he want to hurt you, Moira?” Salomone asked. “What did he want?”
Moira looked down. She had to lie again to protect the magic. “He was crazy, Ispettore. He thought I had some old gold hidden in my shop. He thought I was rich.”
Salomone shook his head. “Crazy people. Well, he is going to jail for a long time. You are safe now, Moira.”
Moira walked back to her shop. The sun was going down. The sky was orange and pink.
When she walked in, the cats ran to her. They purred loudly. They knew she was safe.
Moira sat in her velvet chair. She put the blue book on her lap. She touched the cracked leather.
“We won,” she whispered to the book.
The silver letters appeared one more time.
The dark bird is locked in a cage. But the wind still blows. Rest, and drink the sweet tea.
Moira smiled. She made a pot of sweet chamomile tea. She drank it slowly. The village of Speranza was quiet again. The bad people were gone.
For now, the magic book was safe. And Moira was ready for a long, peaceful sleep.
A month passed. The weather got colder. Winter was coming to the hills. The trees lost all their leaves. The wind was sharp and bit the skin.
Moira kept the fire burning in her tea shop all day. The shop was very warm. People came in just to sit by the fire and smell the hot tea.
One morning, the shop door opened fast. The cold wind blew inside. It was Anna, from the coffee shop. She looked very scared. Her face was red from the cold.
“Moira!” Anna cried. “Please, you must help me!”
Moira put down her cup. “Anna, what is wrong? Sit down.”
“It is my nephew, little Pietro,” Anna said. She was crying. “He is only seven years old. He went to play near the old stone wall two hours ago. Now we cannot find him. The police are looking, but the woods are so big. It is too cold outside for a little boy.”
Moira felt her stomach drop. A lost child in the winter was very dangerous.
“Did you look everywhere in the village?” Moira asked.
“Everywhere,” Anna sobbed. “We looked in all the shops. We looked in the church. He is gone.”
“I will help you look,” Moira said. She put on her thickest winter coat. She put on her gloves and hat. “Stay here where it is warm, Anna. I will go.”
Moira walked out into the freezing wind. Many people from the village were outside. They were shouting Pietro’s name.
“Pietro! Pietro!”
Moira walked to the old stone wall at the edge of the village. It was near the big hills. The grass was covered in white frost. It was very cold.
She looked at the ground. It was hard to see footprints because the ground was frozen.
Moira knew she needed special help. Normal eyes could not find him fast enough.
She ran back to her shop. She locked the door. She went to the blue book.
“Please,” Moira whispered. “A little boy is lost in the cold. Tell me where he is.”
She waited. The book stayed blank for a long time. Then, very slowly, a picture started to draw itself on the paper.
It was not words this time. It was a map. Drawn in silver ink. It showed the old stone wall. Then it showed a path going up the big, steep hill. At the top of the hill, it showed a picture of a large, fallen tree. Under the tree, there was a small silver star.
Moira closed the book. She knew exactly where the big fallen tree was. It was very far up the hill. It was a hard climb.
She grabbed a thermos and filled it with hot, sweet tea. She grabbed a warm wool blanket.
She ran out of the shop and past the old stone wall. She started to climb the hill.
The wind was much stronger on the hill. It pushed against her. The cold hurt her face. Her legs burned because the hill was so steep.
“Pietro!” she yelled. The wind carried her voice away.
She climbed for forty-five minutes. She was very tired. Then, she saw it. The huge fallen tree. It was covered in dead branches.
Moira ran to the tree. “Pietro!” she called again.
She heard a very tiny sound. Like a little mouse squeaking.
She fell to her knees and looked under the big branches. Deep inside a small hole under the tree roots, she saw a piece of a blue jacket.
“Pietro!” Moira said. She crawled into the dirt and pulled the branches away.
The little boy was curled into a tight ball. His lips were blue. He was shaking very fast. He was too cold to talk. He was crying quietly.
“It is okay, Pietro. I am here,” Moira said softly.
She pulled him out of the hole. She wrapped the big wool blanket around him tightly. She opened the thermos and poured a cup of the hot, sweet tea.
“Drink this, little one,” she said. She held the cup to his lips.
Pietro drank the hot tea slowly. His shaking started to slow down. He looked at Moira with big, scared eyes.
“I got lost,” he whispered. “I chased a white rabbit. Then I didn’t know how to go home.”
“You are safe now,” Moira said. She hugged him tight to share her body heat.
She picked the boy up. He was heavy, but Moira was strong. She carried him down the steep hill. It was hard work. She had to walk very carefully so she did not fall.
When she reached the bottom of the hill, she saw Ispettore Salomone and Anna running toward her.
Anna screamed and grabbed the boy. She hugged him and kissed his cold face. “Pietro! Oh, my sweet boy!”
Salomone looked at Moira. “You found him. Where was he?”
“Up the hill, under the big fallen tree,” Moira said. She was breathing very hard. She was exhausted.
“That is a very long way,” Salomone said. “How did you know to look up there?”
Moira gave a small, tired smile. “I just had a feeling, Ispettore. A very lucky feeling.”
Anna held Moira’s hand and cried. “Thank you. Thank you. You saved his life.”
“Go home, Anna. Get him in a hot bath,” Moira said.
Moira walked slowly back to her tea shop. She was freezing and very tired.
When she got inside, she took off her coat and boots. She sat in front of the fire. Ashwaganda climbed onto her lap and purred. The warm cat felt wonderful.
She looked at the blue book on the counter. The book had helped save a life today. It was not just for fighting bad people. It was for protecting the village.
She made herself a large bowl of hot soup. She ate it quietly. The village was safe again. No one was dead. No one was lost.
The magic in Speranza was strong. And Moira was proud to be the keeper of the secrets.
A week later, a strange thing happened in the village square.
There was a very large, very old clock on the wall of the church. It was made of stone and iron. It had been there for three hundred years. It always told the perfect time.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Everyone in Speranza used the church clock. They woke up by the clock. They closed their shops by the clock.
But on Thursday morning, the clock stopped.
It stopped at exactly 8:15 AM.
The village people stood in the square and looked up at the broken clock. They were confused.
“It never stops,” Altea said. She was smoking a cigar. “My grandfather said it never stopped even during the big war.”
“It is bad luck,” Marisa said. She was rubbing her arms. “A stopped clock means time is broken.”
Moira looked at the clock. The big iron hands were perfectly still. She felt a strange feeling in the air. The village felt too quiet without the tick-tock.
She went back to her shop. She opened the blue book.
When time stands still, the shadows wake up. Find the missing tooth in the big wheel.
Moira read the words. The missing tooth in the big wheel. The book was talking about the inside of the clock. A piece of the clock was missing.
She went back to the square. Ispettore Salomone was talking to the village priest, Father Tomaso.
“We need a clockmaker from the city,” Salomone said. “It will take weeks to fix.”
“Father Tomaso,” Moira said. “Can I look inside the clock room?”
The priest looked surprised. “You, Moira? You make tea. You do not fix clocks.”
“I just want to look,” Moira said nicely. “Maybe it is a simple problem.”
Father Tomaso gave her a large, heavy iron key. “Be careful. It is very dusty up there.”
Moira unlocked the small door at the bottom of the church tower. She climbed the long, dark stairs. The stairs went round and round. It was very dirty.
At the top, there was a small room. Inside the room were the giant gears and wheels of the old clock. They were made of dark metal. They were very big.
Moira looked closely at the biggest wheel. It had many metal “teeth” around the edge.
She remembered the book’s words. Find the missing tooth.
She checked every tooth on the big wheel. She walked slowly around it. Finally, she saw it. One of the metal teeth was broken off. It was gone.
But wait. It was not just broken. It looked like someone had cut it off with a saw. The metal was shiny and clean where it was cut.
Someone had broken the clock on purpose.
Moira looked around the dusty room. She saw footprints in the thick dust. Someone had been here recently.
Then, she saw something shining on the floor.
She picked it up. It was a very small, gold ring. It was a man’s ring. It had a tiny red stone in it.
Moira knew this ring. She had seen it before.
She climbed down the stairs. She gave the key back to Father Tomaso.
“You were right, Father,” Moira said. “It is a big problem. A piece of the wheel is gone.”
She walked quickly to the Cigar House. Altea was inside, reading a newspaper.
“Altea,” Moira said. “Do you remember the man who came here yesterday to buy your most expensive cigars?”
Altea nodded. “Yes. The rich man from Milan. Mr. Rossi’s brother. He said he came to pay his respects to his dead brother.”
“Did you notice his hands?” Moira asked.
Altea thought for a moment. “Yes. He wore a fancy gold ring with a red stone on his pinky finger.”
Moira put the small gold ring on the wooden counter. “Like this one?”
Altea’s eyes got wide. “Yes! Exactly like that. Where did you find it?”
“In the church tower,” Moira said. “He broke the clock.”
“Why would a rich man from the city break our clock?” Altea asked. She looked very confused.
“I don’t know yet,” Moira said. “But he wants to stop time in Speranza. He wants to cause trouble. I need to find him.”
“He said he was leaving today,” Altea said. “He is driving a big black car.”
Moira left the shop. She ran to the edge of the village. The road leading out of Speranza was empty. She was too late. The man with the black car was gone.
Why did he cut a piece of the clock?
Moira walked back to her shop slowly. Her head hurt. So many mysteries.
She opened the blue book. She placed the gold ring on the page.
The brother seeks revenge. He takes the iron tooth to open the iron gate. The old prison below the water.
Moira read the words three times. The iron gate. The old prison below the water.
There was an old story in the village. A very old legend. Hundreds of years ago, there was a small prison built under the lake near the village. It was called the Water Dungeon. People said there was a secret treasure hidden there, locked behind a giant iron gate.
The piece of the clock… the metal tooth. It was not just a piece of a clock. It was exactly the right shape to be the key for the iron gate.
Mr. Rossi’s brother did not care about the clock. He wanted the key to the treasure. He knew the old secret.
“He is not going back to the city,” Moira said to her cats. “He is going to the lake.”
Moira had to stop him. If he opened the Water Dungeon, the old magic and old bad things might come out.
She packed her bag. She put in strong rope, a heavy flashlight, and her strongest tea.
She got in her small truck. She drove toward the big lake outside the village. The sky was turning gray. It looked like snow was coming.
She drove to the edge of the water. The lake was dark and very calm. There was an old stone building near the water. It was ruined and broken. This was the entrance to the old tunnels that led under the lake.
She parked her truck. She saw tire tracks in the mud. A big car had been here. The brother was already inside.
Moira took a deep breath. She turned on her flashlight. She walked into the dark, ruined building.
Inside, there were wet stone stairs going down into the dark. It smelled like fish and old water. It was freezing cold.
Moira climbed down the stairs carefully. The walls were wet and slippery.
At the bottom of the stairs, there was a long stone tunnel. She heard the sound of water dripping. Drip. Drip. Drip.
She walked quietly down the tunnel. She heard a noise ahead. It was the sound of metal hitting metal. Clang!
She turned a corner. She saw a large, round room. At the end of the room was a massive iron gate. It was black and rusted.
Standing in front of the gate was the man in the fancy suit. He was holding the piece of the clock wheel. He was trying to push it into a large hole in the stone wall next to the gate.
“It will not work,” Moira said loudly. Her voice echoed in the stone room.
The man jumped. He dropped the metal piece. He turned around to look at her.
“Who are you?” he shouted. “How did you follow me?”
“I am the keeper of this village,” Moira said. “You cannot open that gate. The things inside must stay asleep.”
The man laughed. It sounded crazy. “You are just a stupid woman from a stupid village! There is gold behind this gate. Roman gold! My brother died trying to find the map. I found it. It is mine!”
He picked up the metal piece again. He pushed it hard into the hole.
There was a loud grinding sound. The ground started to shake. The heavy iron gate slowly began to open.
“No!” Moira yelled.
But the gate did not open to show gold.
As the gate opened, a huge wall of dark, freezing water rushed out of the tunnel behind it. The prison was completely flooded.
The man screamed as the water hit him. The force of the water knocked him down.
Moira ran back toward the stairs. The water was rising fast. It grabbed her boots. It was so cold it burned her skin.
She climbed the stairs as fast as she could. The water followed her, rising higher and higher in the tunnel.
She reached the top of the stairs and ran out of the ruined building. She fell onto the muddy grass, breathing hard.
She looked back. The dark water was spilling out of the doorway. The man did not come out. He was trapped in the cold, dark water with his broken dream of gold.
Moira sat in the mud for a long time. The snow started to fall. Little white flakes covered the dark ground.
She stood up slowly. She was wet and freezing. She got into her truck and turned the heater on high.
She drove back to Speranza. The village was quiet. The snow was falling softly on the roofs.
She went into her warm tea shop. She locked the door. She took off her wet clothes and put on a warm, dry sweater.
She sat in her chair and looked at the blue book. It was closed on the counter.
The village had secrets. Old, dangerous secrets. Men came from the city because they were greedy. They wanted money and power. They brought death.
But Speranza had Moira. And Moira had the magic, the cats, and her brave heart.
The clock in the square was broken. It did not tell time anymore. But Moira knew the real time. It was time for peace. It was time to drink tea and let the snow cover the bad memories.
She closed her eyes and listened to the purring of Ashwaganda and Toe. The tea sanctuary was safe. And tomorrow, she would make a special warm tea for the whole village. -
Chapter Three: The Strange Old Man
#AlteaSCigarsHouse #art #Ashwaganda #bloganuary #CozyMystery #culture #curiosity #dailyprompt #dailyprompt1908 #dailyprompt1989 #dailyprompt2153 #DaysOfYourDreams #drinks #Evernote #everyday #Facebook #facts #food #HISTORY #IFTTT #Instagram #Ireland #Irish #kitchen #LAPAGINACHEFALEFUSA #language #learning #MoiraHopes #MURDERSWITHAPASSION #MYCOCKTAILWORLD #mystery #photography #pictures #Pinterest #RECIPES #social #SPERANZA #STRANGETHINGSINTHEWORLD #taverna #TheSoundOfSmile #THESPERANZASSISTERS #TOE #travel #writing
The days in Speranza became quiet again. The sun was warm. The sky was very blue. Moira was happy. Her tea shop was safe. The village people came back to drink tea and talk. They did not talk about the bad man who died. They wanted to forget.
Ashwaganda, the big orange cat, slept in the window all day. Toe, the black cat, sat on the high shelf. He watched everyone who came in the door.
One Tuesday, the bell on the door rang. A new man walked in. He was very old. He had white hair and a long black coat. He walked with a heavy wooden stick.
Moira stood behind her counter. “Hello,” she said. “Can I help you?”
The old man looked around the shop. His eyes were small and dark. He looked at the jars of tea. He looked at the old books on the shelves. He did not look friendly.
“I am looking for something,” the old man said. His voice was slow and dry. “I am looking for a very old book.”
Moira felt her heart jump. She thought about The Days of the Dreams. The blue book was safely hidden under the counter.
“I have many old books,” Moira said in a calm voice. “What kind of book do you want?”
“A magic book,” the man said. “It has a blue cover. It has a picture of a sleeping cat on it. Do you have this book?”
Moira looked right into his dark eyes. “No. I do not have a book like that. I only sell tea and normal books.”
The old man did not look happy. He hit his wooden stick on the floor. “You are lying. I know the book is in this village. I will find it.”
He turned around and walked out of the shop. He did not say goodbye.
Moira locked the door fast. She took the blue book from under the counter. She opened it. The silver letters shined on the page.
The dark bird looks for the nest. Hide the truth. Fire is coming.
Moira read the words. Fire is coming. This was very bad. The old man wanted to hurt her and take the book.
She called her friend Altea. “Altea, it is Moira. A strange old man is in the village. He wears a black coat. Please watch him. He is dangerous.”
“I saw him,” Altea said on the phone. “He went to the old hotel. I will watch him for you.”
That night, Moira did not sleep. She sat in the dark shop. She held a heavy iron pan in her hand. The cats stayed awake with her. Toe sat by the door. Ashwaganda sat by the window.
At two o’clock in the morning, Moira heard a sound. It was a very quiet sound outside the back window. Someone was trying to open it.
Moira stood up slowly. She walked to the back room. She saw a dark shadow outside the glass.
Suddenly, the glass broke. Crash!
A hand reached inside to open the lock. Moira did not wait. She hit the hand very hard with the iron pan.
A man yelled outside. It was a loud, angry yell. Then, she heard feet running away in the dark.
Moira turned on the lights. She looked at the broken window. On the floor, there was a small drop of blood. And next to the blood, there was a strange, old coin.
Moira picked up the coin carefully. It was made of black metal. It had a picture of a bird on it. A dark bird. Just like the book said.
The next morning, the sun came up, but Moira was not happy. She looked at the broken window. She looked at the black coin.
She walked to the police station. Ispettore Salomone was drinking coffee at his desk. He looked tired.
“Moira,” he said. “Why are you here so early?”
Moira put the black coin on his desk. “Someone broke my window last night. They tried to come inside. I hit them, and they ran away. They left this.”
Salomone picked up the coin. He looked at it closely. “This is very old. It is not normal money. Who wants to break into a tea shop?”
“An old man came to my shop yesterday,” Moira said. “He wore a black coat. He asked about old books. I think it was him.”
“Altea called me about him,” Salomone said. “He is staying at the old hotel. His name is Mr. Corvo. I will go talk to him now.”
“Be careful, Ispettore,” Moira said. “He is not a good man.”
Moira walked back to her shop. She needed to clean the broken glass. When she got there, Marisa was waiting by the door. Marisa wore her clean white coat. She had a box of fresh chocolate cookies.
“Moira, I heard about the window,” Marisa said. She looked worried. “Are you okay? I brought you some sweet things.”
“Thank you, Marisa. I am fine,” Moira said. They went inside. Moira made strong black tea. They ate the chocolate cookies.
“This village is changing,” Marisa said sadly. “First the poison, now this. What do they want?”
Moira could not tell Marisa about the magic book. It was a secret. “I don’t know, Marisa. But we have to be strong.”
After Marisa left, Moira opened the blue book again. She needed help.
The silver letters grew on the yellow paper.
The dark bird hides in the dead trees. Follow the water to the cave.
Moira knew the dead trees. They were in the deep woods behind the village. There was a small river there. The trees were old and had no leaves. It was a scary place. People did not go there.
“I have to go,” Moira told her cats. “You stay here and guard the shop.”
Moira put on her heavy boots and her thick coat. She put a small flashlight in her pocket. She walked out of the village and into the woods.
The woods were very quiet. There were no birds singing. The trees were tall and dark. Moira walked next to the small river. The water moved fast over the rocks.
She walked for an hour. Her legs were tired. Then, she saw the dead trees. They looked like big, gray skeletons.
Behind the dead trees, there was a large hill made of dark stone. In the middle of the hill, there was a hole. It was a cave.
Moira turned on her flashlight. She walked slowly to the cave. It smelled like wet dirt and old leaves. She went inside.
The cave was big and cold. The light from her flashlight shined on the walls. Moira gasped. There were pictures on the walls. Old pictures painted with red and black colors. They showed people, animals, and stars.
But there was something else in the cave.
In the center of the dark room, there was a small fire. Next to the fire was a sleeping bag. And next to the sleeping bag was Mr. Corvo’s long black coat.
He was living here. The hotel room was just a trick.
Moira looked around quickly. She saw a small wooden box near the fire. She walked to it and opened it. Inside, there were more black coins. And there were maps of the village. One map had a big red circle around Moira’s tea shop.
Suddenly, Moira heard a sound behind her.
“You should not be here,” a slow, dry voice said.
Moira turned around fast. Mr. Corvo stood at the door of the cave. He held his heavy wooden stick. He looked very angry.
Moira did not move. She kept her flashlight pointed at the old man’s face.
“You broke my window,” Moira said. Her voice was strong. She was scared, but she did not show it.
“You have the book,” Mr. Corvo said. He walked slowly into the cave. “The book of the sleeping cat. My family owned that book a long time ago. It was stolen from us. I want it back.”
“The book is not yours,” Moira said. “It belongs to the tea shop now. It belongs to Speranza.”
Mr. Corvo laughed. It was a cold, ugly sound. “Speranza is a village of fools. They do not know real magic. Give me the book, or I will burn your shop to the ground.”
Fire is coming. The book was right.
“You cannot have it,” Moira said. She looked around. She needed a way to escape. The old man was blocking the door.
Mr. Corvo lifted his heavy stick. “Then you will stay here forever.”
He ran at her. He was old, but he was very fast. Moira jumped to the side. The heavy stick hit the stone wall with a loud crack.
Moira ran toward the door of the cave. But Mr. Corvo grabbed her coat. He pulled her back.
Moira remembered the herbs in her pocket. She always carried small bags of strong herbs for emergencies. She had a bag of dried chili peppers and strong black pepper powder.
She reached into her pocket. She grabbed a handful of the hot powder. She threw it right into Mr. Corvo’s face.
The old man screamed. He dropped his stick. He put his hands over his eyes. The hot pepper burned his eyes and nose. He coughed and yelled.
Moira did not wait. She ran out of the cave. She ran through the dead trees. She ran next to the river. She ran as fast as she could.
She did not stop running until she saw the houses of the village. She ran straight to the police station.
She pushed the door open. She was breathing very hard.
“Salomone!” Moira yelled.
Ispettore Salomone jumped up from his desk. “Moira! What is wrong? You look terrible.”
“Mr. Corvo,” Moira said, trying to breathe. “He is not in the hotel. He is living in a cave in the deep woods. He tried to hurt me. He has a box of strange maps and coins.”
Salomone looked very serious. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Moira said. “I threw pepper in his face. He is still in the woods.”
“Stay here,” Salomone ordered. “Lock the door. I am taking my men to the woods right now.”
Salomone and three other policemen took their guns and ran to their cars. Moira sat in Salomone’s chair. She was shaking. She locked the heavy door of the police station.
She waited for two hours. The police station was very quiet. Finally, she heard cars outside.
She unlocked the door. Salomone walked in. He looked dirty and tired, but he was smiling.
“We got him,” Salomone said. “He was washing his eyes in the river. We found his cave. We found the box and the maps.”
Moira felt a huge wave of relief. “Thank you, Ispettore.”
“Why did he want to hurt you, Moira?” Salomone asked. “What did he want?”
Moira looked down. She had to lie again to protect the magic. “He was crazy, Ispettore. He thought I had some old gold hidden in my shop. He thought I was rich.”
Salomone shook his head. “Crazy people. Well, he is going to jail for a long time. You are safe now, Moira.”
Moira walked back to her shop. The sun was going down. The sky was orange and pink.
When she walked in, the cats ran to her. They purred loudly. They knew she was safe.
Moira sat in her velvet chair. She put the blue book on her lap. She touched the cracked leather.
“We won,” she whispered to the book.
The silver letters appeared one more time.
The dark bird is locked in a cage. But the wind still blows. Rest, and drink the sweet tea.
Moira smiled. She made a pot of sweet chamomile tea. She drank it slowly. The village of Speranza was quiet again. The bad people were gone.
For now, the magic book was safe. And Moira was ready for a long, peaceful sleep.
A month passed. The weather got colder. Winter was coming to the hills. The trees lost all their leaves. The wind was sharp and bit the skin.
Moira kept the fire burning in her tea shop all day. The shop was very warm. People came in just to sit by the fire and smell the hot tea.
One morning, the shop door opened fast. The cold wind blew inside. It was Anna, from the coffee shop. She looked very scared. Her face was red from the cold.
“Moira!” Anna cried. “Please, you must help me!”
Moira put down her cup. “Anna, what is wrong? Sit down.”
“It is my nephew, little Pietro,” Anna said. She was crying. “He is only seven years old. He went to play near the old stone wall two hours ago. Now we cannot find him. The police are looking, but the woods are so big. It is too cold outside for a little boy.”
Moira felt her stomach drop. A lost child in the winter was very dangerous.
“Did you look everywhere in the village?” Moira asked.
“Everywhere,” Anna sobbed. “We looked in all the shops. We looked in the church. He is gone.”
“I will help you look,” Moira said. She put on her thickest winter coat. She put on her gloves and hat. “Stay here where it is warm, Anna. I will go.”
Moira walked out into the freezing wind. Many people from the village were outside. They were shouting Pietro’s name.
“Pietro! Pietro!”
Moira walked to the old stone wall at the edge of the village. It was near the big hills. The grass was covered in white frost. It was very cold.
She looked at the ground. It was hard to see footprints because the ground was frozen.
Moira knew she needed special help. Normal eyes could not find him fast enough.
She ran back to her shop. She locked the door. She went to the blue book.
“Please,” Moira whispered. “A little boy is lost in the cold. Tell me where he is.”
She waited. The book stayed blank for a long time. Then, very slowly, a picture started to draw itself on the paper.
It was not words this time. It was a map. Drawn in silver ink. It showed the old stone wall. Then it showed a path going up the big, steep hill. At the top of the hill, it showed a picture of a large, fallen tree. Under the tree, there was a small silver star.
Moira closed the book. She knew exactly where the big fallen tree was. It was very far up the hill. It was a hard climb.
She grabbed a thermos and filled it with hot, sweet tea. She grabbed a warm wool blanket.
She ran out of the shop and past the old stone wall. She started to climb the hill.
The wind was much stronger on the hill. It pushed against her. The cold hurt her face. Her legs burned because the hill was so steep.
“Pietro!” she yelled. The wind carried her voice away.
She climbed for forty-five minutes. She was very tired. Then, she saw it. The huge fallen tree. It was covered in dead branches.
Moira ran to the tree. “Pietro!” she called again.
She heard a very tiny sound. Like a little mouse squeaking.
She fell to her knees and looked under the big branches. Deep inside a small hole under the tree roots, she saw a piece of a blue jacket.
“Pietro!” Moira said. She crawled into the dirt and pulled the branches away.
The little boy was curled into a tight ball. His lips were blue. He was shaking very fast. He was too cold to talk. He was crying quietly.
“It is okay, Pietro. I am here,” Moira said softly.
She pulled him out of the hole. She wrapped the big wool blanket around him tightly. She opened the thermos and poured a cup of the hot, sweet tea.
“Drink this, little one,” she said. She held the cup to his lips.
Pietro drank the hot tea slowly. His shaking started to slow down. He looked at Moira with big, scared eyes.
“I got lost,” he whispered. “I chased a white rabbit. Then I didn’t know how to go home.”
“You are safe now,” Moira said. She hugged him tight to share her body heat.
She picked the boy up. He was heavy, but Moira was strong. She carried him down the steep hill. It was hard work. She had to walk very carefully so she did not fall.
When she reached the bottom of the hill, she saw Ispettore Salomone and Anna running toward her.
Anna screamed and grabbed the boy. She hugged him and kissed his cold face. “Pietro! Oh, my sweet boy!”
Salomone looked at Moira. “You found him. Where was he?”
“Up the hill, under the big fallen tree,” Moira said. She was breathing very hard. She was exhausted.
“That is a very long way,” Salomone said. “How did you know to look up there?”
Moira gave a small, tired smile. “I just had a feeling, Ispettore. A very lucky feeling.”
Anna held Moira’s hand and cried. “Thank you. Thank you. You saved his life.”
“Go home, Anna. Get him in a hot bath,” Moira said.
Moira walked slowly back to her tea shop. She was freezing and very tired.
When she got inside, she took off her coat and boots. She sat in front of the fire. Ashwaganda climbed onto her lap and purred. The warm cat felt wonderful.
She looked at the blue book on the counter. The book had helped save a life today. It was not just for fighting bad people. It was for protecting the village.
She made herself a large bowl of hot soup. She ate it quietly. The village was safe again. No one was dead. No one was lost.
The magic in Speranza was strong. And Moira was proud to be the keeper of the secrets.
A week later, a strange thing happened in the village square.
There was a very large, very old clock on the wall of the church. It was made of stone and iron. It had been there for three hundred years. It always told the perfect time.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Everyone in Speranza used the church clock. They woke up by the clock. They closed their shops by the clock.
But on Thursday morning, the clock stopped.
It stopped at exactly 8:15 AM.
The village people stood in the square and looked up at the broken clock. They were confused.
“It never stops,” Altea said. She was smoking a cigar. “My grandfather said it never stopped even during the big war.”
“It is bad luck,” Marisa said. She was rubbing her arms. “A stopped clock means time is broken.”
Moira looked at the clock. The big iron hands were perfectly still. She felt a strange feeling in the air. The village felt too quiet without the tick-tock.
She went back to her shop. She opened the blue book.
When time stands still, the shadows wake up. Find the missing tooth in the big wheel.
Moira read the words. The missing tooth in the big wheel. The book was talking about the inside of the clock. A piece of the clock was missing.
She went back to the square. Ispettore Salomone was talking to the village priest, Father Tomaso.
“We need a clockmaker from the city,” Salomone said. “It will take weeks to fix.”
“Father Tomaso,” Moira said. “Can I look inside the clock room?”
The priest looked surprised. “You, Moira? You make tea. You do not fix clocks.”
“I just want to look,” Moira said nicely. “Maybe it is a simple problem.”
Father Tomaso gave her a large, heavy iron key. “Be careful. It is very dusty up there.”
Moira unlocked the small door at the bottom of the church tower. She climbed the long, dark stairs. The stairs went round and round. It was very dirty.
At the top, there was a small room. Inside the room were the giant gears and wheels of the old clock. They were made of dark metal. They were very big.
Moira looked closely at the biggest wheel. It had many metal “teeth” around the edge.
She remembered the book’s words. Find the missing tooth.
She checked every tooth on the big wheel. She walked slowly around it. Finally, she saw it. One of the metal teeth was broken off. It was gone.
But wait. It was not just broken. It looked like someone had cut it off with a saw. The metal was shiny and clean where it was cut.
Someone had broken the clock on purpose.
Moira looked around the dusty room. She saw footprints in the thick dust. Someone had been here recently.
Then, she saw something shining on the floor.
She picked it up. It was a very small, gold ring. It was a man’s ring. It had a tiny red stone in it.
Moira knew this ring. She had seen it before.
She climbed down the stairs. She gave the key back to Father Tomaso.
“You were right, Father,” Moira said. “It is a big problem. A piece of the wheel is gone.”
She walked quickly to the Cigar House. Altea was inside, reading a newspaper.
“Altea,” Moira said. “Do you remember the man who came here yesterday to buy your most expensive cigars?”
Altea nodded. “Yes. The rich man from Milan. Mr. Rossi’s brother. He said he came to pay his respects to his dead brother.”
“Did you notice his hands?” Moira asked.
Altea thought for a moment. “Yes. He wore a fancy gold ring with a red stone on his pinky finger.”
Moira put the small gold ring on the wooden counter. “Like this one?”
Altea’s eyes got wide. “Yes! Exactly like that. Where did you find it?”
“In the church tower,” Moira said. “He broke the clock.”
“Why would a rich man from the city break our clock?” Altea asked. She looked very confused.
“I don’t know yet,” Moira said. “But he wants to stop time in Speranza. He wants to cause trouble. I need to find him.”
“He said he was leaving today,” Altea said. “He is driving a big black car.”
Moira left the shop. She ran to the edge of the village. The road leading out of Speranza was empty. She was too late. The man with the black car was gone.
Why did he cut a piece of the clock?
Moira walked back to her shop slowly. Her head hurt. So many mysteries.
She opened the blue book. She placed the gold ring on the page.
The brother seeks revenge. He takes the iron tooth to open the iron gate. The old prison below the water.
Moira read the words three times. The iron gate. The old prison below the water.
There was an old story in the village. A very old legend. Hundreds of years ago, there was a small prison built under the lake near the village. It was called the Water Dungeon. People said there was a secret treasure hidden there, locked behind a giant iron gate.
The piece of the clock… the metal tooth. It was not just a piece of a clock. It was exactly the right shape to be the key for the iron gate.
Mr. Rossi’s brother did not care about the clock. He wanted the key to the treasure. He knew the old secret.
“He is not going back to the city,” Moira said to her cats. “He is going to the lake.”
Moira had to stop him. If he opened the Water Dungeon, the old magic and old bad things might come out.
She packed her bag. She put in strong rope, a heavy flashlight, and her strongest tea.
She got in her small truck. She drove toward the big lake outside the village. The sky was turning gray. It looked like snow was coming.
She drove to the edge of the water. The lake was dark and very calm. There was an old stone building near the water. It was ruined and broken. This was the entrance to the old tunnels that led under the lake.
She parked her truck. She saw tire tracks in the mud. A big car had been here. The brother was already inside.
Moira took a deep breath. She turned on her flashlight. She walked into the dark, ruined building.
Inside, there were wet stone stairs going down into the dark. It smelled like fish and old water. It was freezing cold.
Moira climbed down the stairs carefully. The walls were wet and slippery.
At the bottom of the stairs, there was a long stone tunnel. She heard the sound of water dripping. Drip. Drip. Drip.
She walked quietly down the tunnel. She heard a noise ahead. It was the sound of metal hitting metal. Clang!
She turned a corner. She saw a large, round room. At the end of the room was a massive iron gate. It was black and rusted.
Standing in front of the gate was the man in the fancy suit. He was holding the piece of the clock wheel. He was trying to push it into a large hole in the stone wall next to the gate.
“It will not work,” Moira said loudly. Her voice echoed in the stone room.
The man jumped. He dropped the metal piece. He turned around to look at her.
“Who are you?” he shouted. “How did you follow me?”
“I am the keeper of this village,” Moira said. “You cannot open that gate. The things inside must stay asleep.”
The man laughed. It sounded crazy. “You are just a stupid woman from a stupid village! There is gold behind this gate. Roman gold! My brother died trying to find the map. I found it. It is mine!”
He picked up the metal piece again. He pushed it hard into the hole.
There was a loud grinding sound. The ground started to shake. The heavy iron gate slowly began to open.
“No!” Moira yelled.
But the gate did not open to show gold.
As the gate opened, a huge wall of dark, freezing water rushed out of the tunnel behind it. The prison was completely flooded.
The man screamed as the water hit him. The force of the water knocked him down.
Moira ran back toward the stairs. The water was rising fast. It grabbed her boots. It was so cold it burned her skin.
She climbed the stairs as fast as she could. The water followed her, rising higher and higher in the tunnel.
She reached the top of the stairs and ran out of the ruined building. She fell onto the muddy grass, breathing hard.
She looked back. The dark water was spilling out of the doorway. The man did not come out. He was trapped in the cold, dark water with his broken dream of gold.
Moira sat in the mud for a long time. The snow started to fall. Little white flakes covered the dark ground.
She stood up slowly. She was wet and freezing. She got into her truck and turned the heater on high.
She drove back to Speranza. The village was quiet. The snow was falling softly on the roofs.
She went into her warm tea shop. She locked the door. She took off her wet clothes and put on a warm, dry sweater.
She sat in her chair and looked at the blue book. It was closed on the counter.
The village had secrets. Old, dangerous secrets. Men came from the city because they were greedy. They wanted money and power. They brought death.
But Speranza had Moira. And Moira had the magic, the cats, and her brave heart.
The clock in the square was broken. It did not tell time anymore. But Moira knew the real time. It was time for peace. It was time to drink tea and let the snow cover the bad memories.
She closed her eyes and listened to the purring of Ashwaganda and Toe. The tea sanctuary was safe. And tomorrow, she would make a special warm tea for the whole village. -
Chapter Three: The Strange Old Man
#AlteaSCigarsHouse #art #Ashwaganda #bloganuary #CozyMystery #culture #curiosity #dailyprompt #dailyprompt1908 #dailyprompt1989 #dailyprompt2153 #DaysOfYourDreams #drinks #Evernote #everyday #Facebook #facts #food #HISTORY #IFTTT #Instagram #Ireland #Irish #kitchen #LAPAGINACHEFALEFUSA #language #learning #MoiraHopes #MURDERSWITHAPASSION #MYCOCKTAILWORLD #mystery #photography #pictures #Pinterest #RECIPES #social #SPERANZA #STRANGETHINGSINTHEWORLD #taverna #TheSoundOfSmile #THESPERANZASSISTERS #TOE #travel #writing
The days in Speranza became quiet again. The sun was warm. The sky was very blue. Moira was happy. Her tea shop was safe. The village people came back to drink tea and talk. They did not talk about the bad man who died. They wanted to forget.
Ashwaganda, the big orange cat, slept in the window all day. Toe, the black cat, sat on the high shelf. He watched everyone who came in the door.
One Tuesday, the bell on the door rang. A new man walked in. He was very old. He had white hair and a long black coat. He walked with a heavy wooden stick.
Moira stood behind her counter. “Hello,” she said. “Can I help you?”
The old man looked around the shop. His eyes were small and dark. He looked at the jars of tea. He looked at the old books on the shelves. He did not look friendly.
“I am looking for something,” the old man said. His voice was slow and dry. “I am looking for a very old book.”
Moira felt her heart jump. She thought about The Days of the Dreams. The blue book was safely hidden under the counter.
“I have many old books,” Moira said in a calm voice. “What kind of book do you want?”
“A magic book,” the man said. “It has a blue cover. It has a picture of a sleeping cat on it. Do you have this book?”
Moira looked right into his dark eyes. “No. I do not have a book like that. I only sell tea and normal books.”
The old man did not look happy. He hit his wooden stick on the floor. “You are lying. I know the book is in this village. I will find it.”
He turned around and walked out of the shop. He did not say goodbye.
Moira locked the door fast. She took the blue book from under the counter. She opened it. The silver letters shined on the page.
The dark bird looks for the nest. Hide the truth. Fire is coming.
Moira read the words. Fire is coming. This was very bad. The old man wanted to hurt her and take the book.
She called her friend Altea. “Altea, it is Moira. A strange old man is in the village. He wears a black coat. Please watch him. He is dangerous.”
“I saw him,” Altea said on the phone. “He went to the old hotel. I will watch him for you.”
That night, Moira did not sleep. She sat in the dark shop. She held a heavy iron pan in her hand. The cats stayed awake with her. Toe sat by the door. Ashwaganda sat by the window.
At two o’clock in the morning, Moira heard a sound. It was a very quiet sound outside the back window. Someone was trying to open it.
Moira stood up slowly. She walked to the back room. She saw a dark shadow outside the glass.
Suddenly, the glass broke. Crash!
A hand reached inside to open the lock. Moira did not wait. She hit the hand very hard with the iron pan.
A man yelled outside. It was a loud, angry yell. Then, she heard feet running away in the dark.
Moira turned on the lights. She looked at the broken window. On the floor, there was a small drop of blood. And next to the blood, there was a strange, old coin.
Moira picked up the coin carefully. It was made of black metal. It had a picture of a bird on it. A dark bird. Just like the book said.
The next morning, the sun came up, but Moira was not happy. She looked at the broken window. She looked at the black coin.
She walked to the police station. Ispettore Salomone was drinking coffee at his desk. He looked tired.
“Moira,” he said. “Why are you here so early?”
Moira put the black coin on his desk. “Someone broke my window last night. They tried to come inside. I hit them, and they ran away. They left this.”
Salomone picked up the coin. He looked at it closely. “This is very old. It is not normal money. Who wants to break into a tea shop?”
“An old man came to my shop yesterday,” Moira said. “He wore a black coat. He asked about old books. I think it was him.”
“Altea called me about him,” Salomone said. “He is staying at the old hotel. His name is Mr. Corvo. I will go talk to him now.”
“Be careful, Ispettore,” Moira said. “He is not a good man.”
Moira walked back to her shop. She needed to clean the broken glass. When she got there, Marisa was waiting by the door. Marisa wore her clean white coat. She had a box of fresh chocolate cookies.
“Moira, I heard about the window,” Marisa said. She looked worried. “Are you okay? I brought you some sweet things.”
“Thank you, Marisa. I am fine,” Moira said. They went inside. Moira made strong black tea. They ate the chocolate cookies.
“This village is changing,” Marisa said sadly. “First the poison, now this. What do they want?”
Moira could not tell Marisa about the magic book. It was a secret. “I don’t know, Marisa. But we have to be strong.”
After Marisa left, Moira opened the blue book again. She needed help.
The silver letters grew on the yellow paper.
The dark bird hides in the dead trees. Follow the water to the cave.
Moira knew the dead trees. They were in the deep woods behind the village. There was a small river there. The trees were old and had no leaves. It was a scary place. People did not go there.
“I have to go,” Moira told her cats. “You stay here and guard the shop.”
Moira put on her heavy boots and her thick coat. She put a small flashlight in her pocket. She walked out of the village and into the woods.
The woods were very quiet. There were no birds singing. The trees were tall and dark. Moira walked next to the small river. The water moved fast over the rocks.
She walked for an hour. Her legs were tired. Then, she saw the dead trees. They looked like big, gray skeletons.
Behind the dead trees, there was a large hill made of dark stone. In the middle of the hill, there was a hole. It was a cave.
Moira turned on her flashlight. She walked slowly to the cave. It smelled like wet dirt and old leaves. She went inside.
The cave was big and cold. The light from her flashlight shined on the walls. Moira gasped. There were pictures on the walls. Old pictures painted with red and black colors. They showed people, animals, and stars.
But there was something else in the cave.
In the center of the dark room, there was a small fire. Next to the fire was a sleeping bag. And next to the sleeping bag was Mr. Corvo’s long black coat.
He was living here. The hotel room was just a trick.
Moira looked around quickly. She saw a small wooden box near the fire. She walked to it and opened it. Inside, there were more black coins. And there were maps of the village. One map had a big red circle around Moira’s tea shop.
Suddenly, Moira heard a sound behind her.
“You should not be here,” a slow, dry voice said.
Moira turned around fast. Mr. Corvo stood at the door of the cave. He held his heavy wooden stick. He looked very angry.
Moira did not move. She kept her flashlight pointed at the old man’s face.
“You broke my window,” Moira said. Her voice was strong. She was scared, but she did not show it.
“You have the book,” Mr. Corvo said. He walked slowly into the cave. “The book of the sleeping cat. My family owned that book a long time ago. It was stolen from us. I want it back.”
“The book is not yours,” Moira said. “It belongs to the tea shop now. It belongs to Speranza.”
Mr. Corvo laughed. It was a cold, ugly sound. “Speranza is a village of fools. They do not know real magic. Give me the book, or I will burn your shop to the ground.”
Fire is coming. The book was right.
“You cannot have it,” Moira said. She looked around. She needed a way to escape. The old man was blocking the door.
Mr. Corvo lifted his heavy stick. “Then you will stay here forever.”
He ran at her. He was old, but he was very fast. Moira jumped to the side. The heavy stick hit the stone wall with a loud crack.
Moira ran toward the door of the cave. But Mr. Corvo grabbed her coat. He pulled her back.
Moira remembered the herbs in her pocket. She always carried small bags of strong herbs for emergencies. She had a bag of dried chili peppers and strong black pepper powder.
She reached into her pocket. She grabbed a handful of the hot powder. She threw it right into Mr. Corvo’s face.
The old man screamed. He dropped his stick. He put his hands over his eyes. The hot pepper burned his eyes and nose. He coughed and yelled.
Moira did not wait. She ran out of the cave. She ran through the dead trees. She ran next to the river. She ran as fast as she could.
She did not stop running until she saw the houses of the village. She ran straight to the police station.
She pushed the door open. She was breathing very hard.
“Salomone!” Moira yelled.
Ispettore Salomone jumped up from his desk. “Moira! What is wrong? You look terrible.”
“Mr. Corvo,” Moira said, trying to breathe. “He is not in the hotel. He is living in a cave in the deep woods. He tried to hurt me. He has a box of strange maps and coins.”
Salomone looked very serious. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Moira said. “I threw pepper in his face. He is still in the woods.”
“Stay here,” Salomone ordered. “Lock the door. I am taking my men to the woods right now.”
Salomone and three other policemen took their guns and ran to their cars. Moira sat in Salomone’s chair. She was shaking. She locked the heavy door of the police station.
She waited for two hours. The police station was very quiet. Finally, she heard cars outside.
She unlocked the door. Salomone walked in. He looked dirty and tired, but he was smiling.
“We got him,” Salomone said. “He was washing his eyes in the river. We found his cave. We found the box and the maps.”
Moira felt a huge wave of relief. “Thank you, Ispettore.”
“Why did he want to hurt you, Moira?” Salomone asked. “What did he want?”
Moira looked down. She had to lie again to protect the magic. “He was crazy, Ispettore. He thought I had some old gold hidden in my shop. He thought I was rich.”
Salomone shook his head. “Crazy people. Well, he is going to jail for a long time. You are safe now, Moira.”
Moira walked back to her shop. The sun was going down. The sky was orange and pink.
When she walked in, the cats ran to her. They purred loudly. They knew she was safe.
Moira sat in her velvet chair. She put the blue book on her lap. She touched the cracked leather.
“We won,” she whispered to the book.
The silver letters appeared one more time.
The dark bird is locked in a cage. But the wind still blows. Rest, and drink the sweet tea.
Moira smiled. She made a pot of sweet chamomile tea. She drank it slowly. The village of Speranza was quiet again. The bad people were gone.
For now, the magic book was safe. And Moira was ready for a long, peaceful sleep.
A month passed. The weather got colder. Winter was coming to the hills. The trees lost all their leaves. The wind was sharp and bit the skin.
Moira kept the fire burning in her tea shop all day. The shop was very warm. People came in just to sit by the fire and smell the hot tea.
One morning, the shop door opened fast. The cold wind blew inside. It was Anna, from the coffee shop. She looked very scared. Her face was red from the cold.
“Moira!” Anna cried. “Please, you must help me!”
Moira put down her cup. “Anna, what is wrong? Sit down.”
“It is my nephew, little Pietro,” Anna said. She was crying. “He is only seven years old. He went to play near the old stone wall two hours ago. Now we cannot find him. The police are looking, but the woods are so big. It is too cold outside for a little boy.”
Moira felt her stomach drop. A lost child in the winter was very dangerous.
“Did you look everywhere in the village?” Moira asked.
“Everywhere,” Anna sobbed. “We looked in all the shops. We looked in the church. He is gone.”
“I will help you look,” Moira said. She put on her thickest winter coat. She put on her gloves and hat. “Stay here where it is warm, Anna. I will go.”
Moira walked out into the freezing wind. Many people from the village were outside. They were shouting Pietro’s name.
“Pietro! Pietro!”
Moira walked to the old stone wall at the edge of the village. It was near the big hills. The grass was covered in white frost. It was very cold.
She looked at the ground. It was hard to see footprints because the ground was frozen.
Moira knew she needed special help. Normal eyes could not find him fast enough.
She ran back to her shop. She locked the door. She went to the blue book.
“Please,” Moira whispered. “A little boy is lost in the cold. Tell me where he is.”
She waited. The book stayed blank for a long time. Then, very slowly, a picture started to draw itself on the paper.
It was not words this time. It was a map. Drawn in silver ink. It showed the old stone wall. Then it showed a path going up the big, steep hill. At the top of the hill, it showed a picture of a large, fallen tree. Under the tree, there was a small silver star.
Moira closed the book. She knew exactly where the big fallen tree was. It was very far up the hill. It was a hard climb.
She grabbed a thermos and filled it with hot, sweet tea. She grabbed a warm wool blanket.
She ran out of the shop and past the old stone wall. She started to climb the hill.
The wind was much stronger on the hill. It pushed against her. The cold hurt her face. Her legs burned because the hill was so steep.
“Pietro!” she yelled. The wind carried her voice away.
She climbed for forty-five minutes. She was very tired. Then, she saw it. The huge fallen tree. It was covered in dead branches.
Moira ran to the tree. “Pietro!” she called again.
She heard a very tiny sound. Like a little mouse squeaking.
She fell to her knees and looked under the big branches. Deep inside a small hole under the tree roots, she saw a piece of a blue jacket.
“Pietro!” Moira said. She crawled into the dirt and pulled the branches away.
The little boy was curled into a tight ball. His lips were blue. He was shaking very fast. He was too cold to talk. He was crying quietly.
“It is okay, Pietro. I am here,” Moira said softly.
She pulled him out of the hole. She wrapped the big wool blanket around him tightly. She opened the thermos and poured a cup of the hot, sweet tea.
“Drink this, little one,” she said. She held the cup to his lips.
Pietro drank the hot tea slowly. His shaking started to slow down. He looked at Moira with big, scared eyes.
“I got lost,” he whispered. “I chased a white rabbit. Then I didn’t know how to go home.”
“You are safe now,” Moira said. She hugged him tight to share her body heat.
She picked the boy up. He was heavy, but Moira was strong. She carried him down the steep hill. It was hard work. She had to walk very carefully so she did not fall.
When she reached the bottom of the hill, she saw Ispettore Salomone and Anna running toward her.
Anna screamed and grabbed the boy. She hugged him and kissed his cold face. “Pietro! Oh, my sweet boy!”
Salomone looked at Moira. “You found him. Where was he?”
“Up the hill, under the big fallen tree,” Moira said. She was breathing very hard. She was exhausted.
“That is a very long way,” Salomone said. “How did you know to look up there?”
Moira gave a small, tired smile. “I just had a feeling, Ispettore. A very lucky feeling.”
Anna held Moira’s hand and cried. “Thank you. Thank you. You saved his life.”
“Go home, Anna. Get him in a hot bath,” Moira said.
Moira walked slowly back to her tea shop. She was freezing and very tired.
When she got inside, she took off her coat and boots. She sat in front of the fire. Ashwaganda climbed onto her lap and purred. The warm cat felt wonderful.
She looked at the blue book on the counter. The book had helped save a life today. It was not just for fighting bad people. It was for protecting the village.
She made herself a large bowl of hot soup. She ate it quietly. The village was safe again. No one was dead. No one was lost.
The magic in Speranza was strong. And Moira was proud to be the keeper of the secrets.
A week later, a strange thing happened in the village square.
There was a very large, very old clock on the wall of the church. It was made of stone and iron. It had been there for three hundred years. It always told the perfect time.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Everyone in Speranza used the church clock. They woke up by the clock. They closed their shops by the clock.
But on Thursday morning, the clock stopped.
It stopped at exactly 8:15 AM.
The village people stood in the square and looked up at the broken clock. They were confused.
“It never stops,” Altea said. She was smoking a cigar. “My grandfather said it never stopped even during the big war.”
“It is bad luck,” Marisa said. She was rubbing her arms. “A stopped clock means time is broken.”
Moira looked at the clock. The big iron hands were perfectly still. She felt a strange feeling in the air. The village felt too quiet without the tick-tock.
She went back to her shop. She opened the blue book.
When time stands still, the shadows wake up. Find the missing tooth in the big wheel.
Moira read the words. The missing tooth in the big wheel. The book was talking about the inside of the clock. A piece of the clock was missing.
She went back to the square. Ispettore Salomone was talking to the village priest, Father Tomaso.
“We need a clockmaker from the city,” Salomone said. “It will take weeks to fix.”
“Father Tomaso,” Moira said. “Can I look inside the clock room?”
The priest looked surprised. “You, Moira? You make tea. You do not fix clocks.”
“I just want to look,” Moira said nicely. “Maybe it is a simple problem.”
Father Tomaso gave her a large, heavy iron key. “Be careful. It is very dusty up there.”
Moira unlocked the small door at the bottom of the church tower. She climbed the long, dark stairs. The stairs went round and round. It was very dirty.
At the top, there was a small room. Inside the room were the giant gears and wheels of the old clock. They were made of dark metal. They were very big.
Moira looked closely at the biggest wheel. It had many metal “teeth” around the edge.
She remembered the book’s words. Find the missing tooth.
She checked every tooth on the big wheel. She walked slowly around it. Finally, she saw it. One of the metal teeth was broken off. It was gone.
But wait. It was not just broken. It looked like someone had cut it off with a saw. The metal was shiny and clean where it was cut.
Someone had broken the clock on purpose.
Moira looked around the dusty room. She saw footprints in the thick dust. Someone had been here recently.
Then, she saw something shining on the floor.
She picked it up. It was a very small, gold ring. It was a man’s ring. It had a tiny red stone in it.
Moira knew this ring. She had seen it before.
She climbed down the stairs. She gave the key back to Father Tomaso.
“You were right, Father,” Moira said. “It is a big problem. A piece of the wheel is gone.”
She walked quickly to the Cigar House. Altea was inside, reading a newspaper.
“Altea,” Moira said. “Do you remember the man who came here yesterday to buy your most expensive cigars?”
Altea nodded. “Yes. The rich man from Milan. Mr. Rossi’s brother. He said he came to pay his respects to his dead brother.”
“Did you notice his hands?” Moira asked.
Altea thought for a moment. “Yes. He wore a fancy gold ring with a red stone on his pinky finger.”
Moira put the small gold ring on the wooden counter. “Like this one?”
Altea’s eyes got wide. “Yes! Exactly like that. Where did you find it?”
“In the church tower,” Moira said. “He broke the clock.”
“Why would a rich man from the city break our clock?” Altea asked. She looked very confused.
“I don’t know yet,” Moira said. “But he wants to stop time in Speranza. He wants to cause trouble. I need to find him.”
“He said he was leaving today,” Altea said. “He is driving a big black car.”
Moira left the shop. She ran to the edge of the village. The road leading out of Speranza was empty. She was too late. The man with the black car was gone.
Why did he cut a piece of the clock?
Moira walked back to her shop slowly. Her head hurt. So many mysteries.
She opened the blue book. She placed the gold ring on the page.
The brother seeks revenge. He takes the iron tooth to open the iron gate. The old prison below the water.
Moira read the words three times. The iron gate. The old prison below the water.
There was an old story in the village. A very old legend. Hundreds of years ago, there was a small prison built under the lake near the village. It was called the Water Dungeon. People said there was a secret treasure hidden there, locked behind a giant iron gate.
The piece of the clock… the metal tooth. It was not just a piece of a clock. It was exactly the right shape to be the key for the iron gate.
Mr. Rossi’s brother did not care about the clock. He wanted the key to the treasure. He knew the old secret.
“He is not going back to the city,” Moira said to her cats. “He is going to the lake.”
Moira had to stop him. If he opened the Water Dungeon, the old magic and old bad things might come out.
She packed her bag. She put in strong rope, a heavy flashlight, and her strongest tea.
She got in her small truck. She drove toward the big lake outside the village. The sky was turning gray. It looked like snow was coming.
She drove to the edge of the water. The lake was dark and very calm. There was an old stone building near the water. It was ruined and broken. This was the entrance to the old tunnels that led under the lake.
She parked her truck. She saw tire tracks in the mud. A big car had been here. The brother was already inside.
Moira took a deep breath. She turned on her flashlight. She walked into the dark, ruined building.
Inside, there were wet stone stairs going down into the dark. It smelled like fish and old water. It was freezing cold.
Moira climbed down the stairs carefully. The walls were wet and slippery.
At the bottom of the stairs, there was a long stone tunnel. She heard the sound of water dripping. Drip. Drip. Drip.
She walked quietly down the tunnel. She heard a noise ahead. It was the sound of metal hitting metal. Clang!
She turned a corner. She saw a large, round room. At the end of the room was a massive iron gate. It was black and rusted.
Standing in front of the gate was the man in the fancy suit. He was holding the piece of the clock wheel. He was trying to push it into a large hole in the stone wall next to the gate.
“It will not work,” Moira said loudly. Her voice echoed in the stone room.
The man jumped. He dropped the metal piece. He turned around to look at her.
“Who are you?” he shouted. “How did you follow me?”
“I am the keeper of this village,” Moira said. “You cannot open that gate. The things inside must stay asleep.”
The man laughed. It sounded crazy. “You are just a stupid woman from a stupid village! There is gold behind this gate. Roman gold! My brother died trying to find the map. I found it. It is mine!”
He picked up the metal piece again. He pushed it hard into the hole.
There was a loud grinding sound. The ground started to shake. The heavy iron gate slowly began to open.
“No!” Moira yelled.
But the gate did not open to show gold.
As the gate opened, a huge wall of dark, freezing water rushed out of the tunnel behind it. The prison was completely flooded.
The man screamed as the water hit him. The force of the water knocked him down.
Moira ran back toward the stairs. The water was rising fast. It grabbed her boots. It was so cold it burned her skin.
She climbed the stairs as fast as she could. The water followed her, rising higher and higher in the tunnel.
She reached the top of the stairs and ran out of the ruined building. She fell onto the muddy grass, breathing hard.
She looked back. The dark water was spilling out of the doorway. The man did not come out. He was trapped in the cold, dark water with his broken dream of gold.
Moira sat in the mud for a long time. The snow started to fall. Little white flakes covered the dark ground.
She stood up slowly. She was wet and freezing. She got into her truck and turned the heater on high.
She drove back to Speranza. The village was quiet. The snow was falling softly on the roofs.
She went into her warm tea shop. She locked the door. She took off her wet clothes and put on a warm, dry sweater.
She sat in her chair and looked at the blue book. It was closed on the counter.
The village had secrets. Old, dangerous secrets. Men came from the city because they were greedy. They wanted money and power. They brought death.
But Speranza had Moira. And Moira had the magic, the cats, and her brave heart.
The clock in the square was broken. It did not tell time anymore. But Moira knew the real time. It was time for peace. It was time to drink tea and let the snow cover the bad memories.
She closed her eyes and listened to the purring of Ashwaganda and Toe. The tea sanctuary was safe. And tomorrow, she would make a special warm tea for the whole village. -
Chapter Three: The Strange Old Man
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The days in Speranza became quiet again. The sun was warm. The sky was very blue. Moira was happy. Her tea shop was safe. The village people came back to drink tea and talk. They did not talk about the bad man who died. They wanted to forget.
Ashwaganda, the big orange cat, slept in the window all day. Toe, the black cat, sat on the high shelf. He watched everyone who came in the door.
One Tuesday, the bell on the door rang. A new man walked in. He was very old. He had white hair and a long black coat. He walked with a heavy wooden stick.
Moira stood behind her counter. “Hello,” she said. “Can I help you?”
The old man looked around the shop. His eyes were small and dark. He looked at the jars of tea. He looked at the old books on the shelves. He did not look friendly.
“I am looking for something,” the old man said. His voice was slow and dry. “I am looking for a very old book.”
Moira felt her heart jump. She thought about The Days of the Dreams. The blue book was safely hidden under the counter.
“I have many old books,” Moira said in a calm voice. “What kind of book do you want?”
“A magic book,” the man said. “It has a blue cover. It has a picture of a sleeping cat on it. Do you have this book?”
Moira looked right into his dark eyes. “No. I do not have a book like that. I only sell tea and normal books.”
The old man did not look happy. He hit his wooden stick on the floor. “You are lying. I know the book is in this village. I will find it.”
He turned around and walked out of the shop. He did not say goodbye.
Moira locked the door fast. She took the blue book from under the counter. She opened it. The silver letters shined on the page.
The dark bird looks for the nest. Hide the truth. Fire is coming.
Moira read the words. Fire is coming. This was very bad. The old man wanted to hurt her and take the book.
She called her friend Altea. “Altea, it is Moira. A strange old man is in the village. He wears a black coat. Please watch him. He is dangerous.”
“I saw him,” Altea said on the phone. “He went to the old hotel. I will watch him for you.”
That night, Moira did not sleep. She sat in the dark shop. She held a heavy iron pan in her hand. The cats stayed awake with her. Toe sat by the door. Ashwaganda sat by the window.
At two o’clock in the morning, Moira heard a sound. It was a very quiet sound outside the back window. Someone was trying to open it.
Moira stood up slowly. She walked to the back room. She saw a dark shadow outside the glass.
Suddenly, the glass broke. Crash!
A hand reached inside to open the lock. Moira did not wait. She hit the hand very hard with the iron pan.
A man yelled outside. It was a loud, angry yell. Then, she heard feet running away in the dark.
Moira turned on the lights. She looked at the broken window. On the floor, there was a small drop of blood. And next to the blood, there was a strange, old coin.
Moira picked up the coin carefully. It was made of black metal. It had a picture of a bird on it. A dark bird. Just like the book said.
The next morning, the sun came up, but Moira was not happy. She looked at the broken window. She looked at the black coin.
She walked to the police station. Ispettore Salomone was drinking coffee at his desk. He looked tired.
“Moira,” he said. “Why are you here so early?”
Moira put the black coin on his desk. “Someone broke my window last night. They tried to come inside. I hit them, and they ran away. They left this.”
Salomone picked up the coin. He looked at it closely. “This is very old. It is not normal money. Who wants to break into a tea shop?”
“An old man came to my shop yesterday,” Moira said. “He wore a black coat. He asked about old books. I think it was him.”
“Altea called me about him,” Salomone said. “He is staying at the old hotel. His name is Mr. Corvo. I will go talk to him now.”
“Be careful, Ispettore,” Moira said. “He is not a good man.”
Moira walked back to her shop. She needed to clean the broken glass. When she got there, Marisa was waiting by the door. Marisa wore her clean white coat. She had a box of fresh chocolate cookies.
“Moira, I heard about the window,” Marisa said. She looked worried. “Are you okay? I brought you some sweet things.”
“Thank you, Marisa. I am fine,” Moira said. They went inside. Moira made strong black tea. They ate the chocolate cookies.
“This village is changing,” Marisa said sadly. “First the poison, now this. What do they want?”
Moira could not tell Marisa about the magic book. It was a secret. “I don’t know, Marisa. But we have to be strong.”
After Marisa left, Moira opened the blue book again. She needed help.
The silver letters grew on the yellow paper.
The dark bird hides in the dead trees. Follow the water to the cave.
Moira knew the dead trees. They were in the deep woods behind the village. There was a small river there. The trees were old and had no leaves. It was a scary place. People did not go there.
“I have to go,” Moira told her cats. “You stay here and guard the shop.”
Moira put on her heavy boots and her thick coat. She put a small flashlight in her pocket. She walked out of the village and into the woods.
The woods were very quiet. There were no birds singing. The trees were tall and dark. Moira walked next to the small river. The water moved fast over the rocks.
She walked for an hour. Her legs were tired. Then, she saw the dead trees. They looked like big, gray skeletons.
Behind the dead trees, there was a large hill made of dark stone. In the middle of the hill, there was a hole. It was a cave.
Moira turned on her flashlight. She walked slowly to the cave. It smelled like wet dirt and old leaves. She went inside.
The cave was big and cold. The light from her flashlight shined on the walls. Moira gasped. There were pictures on the walls. Old pictures painted with red and black colors. They showed people, animals, and stars.
But there was something else in the cave.
In the center of the dark room, there was a small fire. Next to the fire was a sleeping bag. And next to the sleeping bag was Mr. Corvo’s long black coat.
He was living here. The hotel room was just a trick.
Moira looked around quickly. She saw a small wooden box near the fire. She walked to it and opened it. Inside, there were more black coins. And there were maps of the village. One map had a big red circle around Moira’s tea shop.
Suddenly, Moira heard a sound behind her.
“You should not be here,” a slow, dry voice said.
Moira turned around fast. Mr. Corvo stood at the door of the cave. He held his heavy wooden stick. He looked very angry.
Moira did not move. She kept her flashlight pointed at the old man’s face.
“You broke my window,” Moira said. Her voice was strong. She was scared, but she did not show it.
“You have the book,” Mr. Corvo said. He walked slowly into the cave. “The book of the sleeping cat. My family owned that book a long time ago. It was stolen from us. I want it back.”
“The book is not yours,” Moira said. “It belongs to the tea shop now. It belongs to Speranza.”
Mr. Corvo laughed. It was a cold, ugly sound. “Speranza is a village of fools. They do not know real magic. Give me the book, or I will burn your shop to the ground.”
Fire is coming. The book was right.
“You cannot have it,” Moira said. She looked around. She needed a way to escape. The old man was blocking the door.
Mr. Corvo lifted his heavy stick. “Then you will stay here forever.”
He ran at her. He was old, but he was very fast. Moira jumped to the side. The heavy stick hit the stone wall with a loud crack.
Moira ran toward the door of the cave. But Mr. Corvo grabbed her coat. He pulled her back.
Moira remembered the herbs in her pocket. She always carried small bags of strong herbs for emergencies. She had a bag of dried chili peppers and strong black pepper powder.
She reached into her pocket. She grabbed a handful of the hot powder. She threw it right into Mr. Corvo’s face.
The old man screamed. He dropped his stick. He put his hands over his eyes. The hot pepper burned his eyes and nose. He coughed and yelled.
Moira did not wait. She ran out of the cave. She ran through the dead trees. She ran next to the river. She ran as fast as she could.
She did not stop running until she saw the houses of the village. She ran straight to the police station.
She pushed the door open. She was breathing very hard.
“Salomone!” Moira yelled.
Ispettore Salomone jumped up from his desk. “Moira! What is wrong? You look terrible.”
“Mr. Corvo,” Moira said, trying to breathe. “He is not in the hotel. He is living in a cave in the deep woods. He tried to hurt me. He has a box of strange maps and coins.”
Salomone looked very serious. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Moira said. “I threw pepper in his face. He is still in the woods.”
“Stay here,” Salomone ordered. “Lock the door. I am taking my men to the woods right now.”
Salomone and three other policemen took their guns and ran to their cars. Moira sat in Salomone’s chair. She was shaking. She locked the heavy door of the police station.
She waited for two hours. The police station was very quiet. Finally, she heard cars outside.
She unlocked the door. Salomone walked in. He looked dirty and tired, but he was smiling.
“We got him,” Salomone said. “He was washing his eyes in the river. We found his cave. We found the box and the maps.”
Moira felt a huge wave of relief. “Thank you, Ispettore.”
“Why did he want to hurt you, Moira?” Salomone asked. “What did he want?”
Moira looked down. She had to lie again to protect the magic. “He was crazy, Ispettore. He thought I had some old gold hidden in my shop. He thought I was rich.”
Salomone shook his head. “Crazy people. Well, he is going to jail for a long time. You are safe now, Moira.”
Moira walked back to her shop. The sun was going down. The sky was orange and pink.
When she walked in, the cats ran to her. They purred loudly. They knew she was safe.
Moira sat in her velvet chair. She put the blue book on her lap. She touched the cracked leather.
“We won,” she whispered to the book.
The silver letters appeared one more time.
The dark bird is locked in a cage. But the wind still blows. Rest, and drink the sweet tea.
Moira smiled. She made a pot of sweet chamomile tea. She drank it slowly. The village of Speranza was quiet again. The bad people were gone.
For now, the magic book was safe. And Moira was ready for a long, peaceful sleep.
A month passed. The weather got colder. Winter was coming to the hills. The trees lost all their leaves. The wind was sharp and bit the skin.
Moira kept the fire burning in her tea shop all day. The shop was very warm. People came in just to sit by the fire and smell the hot tea.
One morning, the shop door opened fast. The cold wind blew inside. It was Anna, from the coffee shop. She looked very scared. Her face was red from the cold.
“Moira!” Anna cried. “Please, you must help me!”
Moira put down her cup. “Anna, what is wrong? Sit down.”
“It is my nephew, little Pietro,” Anna said. She was crying. “He is only seven years old. He went to play near the old stone wall two hours ago. Now we cannot find him. The police are looking, but the woods are so big. It is too cold outside for a little boy.”
Moira felt her stomach drop. A lost child in the winter was very dangerous.
“Did you look everywhere in the village?” Moira asked.
“Everywhere,” Anna sobbed. “We looked in all the shops. We looked in the church. He is gone.”
“I will help you look,” Moira said. She put on her thickest winter coat. She put on her gloves and hat. “Stay here where it is warm, Anna. I will go.”
Moira walked out into the freezing wind. Many people from the village were outside. They were shouting Pietro’s name.
“Pietro! Pietro!”
Moira walked to the old stone wall at the edge of the village. It was near the big hills. The grass was covered in white frost. It was very cold.
She looked at the ground. It was hard to see footprints because the ground was frozen.
Moira knew she needed special help. Normal eyes could not find him fast enough.
She ran back to her shop. She locked the door. She went to the blue book.
“Please,” Moira whispered. “A little boy is lost in the cold. Tell me where he is.”
She waited. The book stayed blank for a long time. Then, very slowly, a picture started to draw itself on the paper.
It was not words this time. It was a map. Drawn in silver ink. It showed the old stone wall. Then it showed a path going up the big, steep hill. At the top of the hill, it showed a picture of a large, fallen tree. Under the tree, there was a small silver star.
Moira closed the book. She knew exactly where the big fallen tree was. It was very far up the hill. It was a hard climb.
She grabbed a thermos and filled it with hot, sweet tea. She grabbed a warm wool blanket.
She ran out of the shop and past the old stone wall. She started to climb the hill.
The wind was much stronger on the hill. It pushed against her. The cold hurt her face. Her legs burned because the hill was so steep.
“Pietro!” she yelled. The wind carried her voice away.
She climbed for forty-five minutes. She was very tired. Then, she saw it. The huge fallen tree. It was covered in dead branches.
Moira ran to the tree. “Pietro!” she called again.
She heard a very tiny sound. Like a little mouse squeaking.
She fell to her knees and looked under the big branches. Deep inside a small hole under the tree roots, she saw a piece of a blue jacket.
“Pietro!” Moira said. She crawled into the dirt and pulled the branches away.
The little boy was curled into a tight ball. His lips were blue. He was shaking very fast. He was too cold to talk. He was crying quietly.
“It is okay, Pietro. I am here,” Moira said softly.
She pulled him out of the hole. She wrapped the big wool blanket around him tightly. She opened the thermos and poured a cup of the hot, sweet tea.
“Drink this, little one,” she said. She held the cup to his lips.
Pietro drank the hot tea slowly. His shaking started to slow down. He looked at Moira with big, scared eyes.
“I got lost,” he whispered. “I chased a white rabbit. Then I didn’t know how to go home.”
“You are safe now,” Moira said. She hugged him tight to share her body heat.
She picked the boy up. He was heavy, but Moira was strong. She carried him down the steep hill. It was hard work. She had to walk very carefully so she did not fall.
When she reached the bottom of the hill, she saw Ispettore Salomone and Anna running toward her.
Anna screamed and grabbed the boy. She hugged him and kissed his cold face. “Pietro! Oh, my sweet boy!”
Salomone looked at Moira. “You found him. Where was he?”
“Up the hill, under the big fallen tree,” Moira said. She was breathing very hard. She was exhausted.
“That is a very long way,” Salomone said. “How did you know to look up there?”
Moira gave a small, tired smile. “I just had a feeling, Ispettore. A very lucky feeling.”
Anna held Moira’s hand and cried. “Thank you. Thank you. You saved his life.”
“Go home, Anna. Get him in a hot bath,” Moira said.
Moira walked slowly back to her tea shop. She was freezing and very tired.
When she got inside, she took off her coat and boots. She sat in front of the fire. Ashwaganda climbed onto her lap and purred. The warm cat felt wonderful.
She looked at the blue book on the counter. The book had helped save a life today. It was not just for fighting bad people. It was for protecting the village.
She made herself a large bowl of hot soup. She ate it quietly. The village was safe again. No one was dead. No one was lost.
The magic in Speranza was strong. And Moira was proud to be the keeper of the secrets.
A week later, a strange thing happened in the village square.
There was a very large, very old clock on the wall of the church. It was made of stone and iron. It had been there for three hundred years. It always told the perfect time.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Everyone in Speranza used the church clock. They woke up by the clock. They closed their shops by the clock.
But on Thursday morning, the clock stopped.
It stopped at exactly 8:15 AM.
The village people stood in the square and looked up at the broken clock. They were confused.
“It never stops,” Altea said. She was smoking a cigar. “My grandfather said it never stopped even during the big war.”
“It is bad luck,” Marisa said. She was rubbing her arms. “A stopped clock means time is broken.”
Moira looked at the clock. The big iron hands were perfectly still. She felt a strange feeling in the air. The village felt too quiet without the tick-tock.
She went back to her shop. She opened the blue book.
When time stands still, the shadows wake up. Find the missing tooth in the big wheel.
Moira read the words. The missing tooth in the big wheel. The book was talking about the inside of the clock. A piece of the clock was missing.
She went back to the square. Ispettore Salomone was talking to the village priest, Father Tomaso.
“We need a clockmaker from the city,” Salomone said. “It will take weeks to fix.”
“Father Tomaso,” Moira said. “Can I look inside the clock room?”
The priest looked surprised. “You, Moira? You make tea. You do not fix clocks.”
“I just want to look,” Moira said nicely. “Maybe it is a simple problem.”
Father Tomaso gave her a large, heavy iron key. “Be careful. It is very dusty up there.”
Moira unlocked the small door at the bottom of the church tower. She climbed the long, dark stairs. The stairs went round and round. It was very dirty.
At the top, there was a small room. Inside the room were the giant gears and wheels of the old clock. They were made of dark metal. They were very big.
Moira looked closely at the biggest wheel. It had many metal “teeth” around the edge.
She remembered the book’s words. Find the missing tooth.
She checked every tooth on the big wheel. She walked slowly around it. Finally, she saw it. One of the metal teeth was broken off. It was gone.
But wait. It was not just broken. It looked like someone had cut it off with a saw. The metal was shiny and clean where it was cut.
Someone had broken the clock on purpose.
Moira looked around the dusty room. She saw footprints in the thick dust. Someone had been here recently.
Then, she saw something shining on the floor.
She picked it up. It was a very small, gold ring. It was a man’s ring. It had a tiny red stone in it.
Moira knew this ring. She had seen it before.
She climbed down the stairs. She gave the key back to Father Tomaso.
“You were right, Father,” Moira said. “It is a big problem. A piece of the wheel is gone.”
She walked quickly to the Cigar House. Altea was inside, reading a newspaper.
“Altea,” Moira said. “Do you remember the man who came here yesterday to buy your most expensive cigars?”
Altea nodded. “Yes. The rich man from Milan. Mr. Rossi’s brother. He said he came to pay his respects to his dead brother.”
“Did you notice his hands?” Moira asked.
Altea thought for a moment. “Yes. He wore a fancy gold ring with a red stone on his pinky finger.”
Moira put the small gold ring on the wooden counter. “Like this one?”
Altea’s eyes got wide. “Yes! Exactly like that. Where did you find it?”
“In the church tower,” Moira said. “He broke the clock.”
“Why would a rich man from the city break our clock?” Altea asked. She looked very confused.
“I don’t know yet,” Moira said. “But he wants to stop time in Speranza. He wants to cause trouble. I need to find him.”
“He said he was leaving today,” Altea said. “He is driving a big black car.”
Moira left the shop. She ran to the edge of the village. The road leading out of Speranza was empty. She was too late. The man with the black car was gone.
Why did he cut a piece of the clock?
Moira walked back to her shop slowly. Her head hurt. So many mysteries.
She opened the blue book. She placed the gold ring on the page.
The brother seeks revenge. He takes the iron tooth to open the iron gate. The old prison below the water.
Moira read the words three times. The iron gate. The old prison below the water.
There was an old story in the village. A very old legend. Hundreds of years ago, there was a small prison built under the lake near the village. It was called the Water Dungeon. People said there was a secret treasure hidden there, locked behind a giant iron gate.
The piece of the clock… the metal tooth. It was not just a piece of a clock. It was exactly the right shape to be the key for the iron gate.
Mr. Rossi’s brother did not care about the clock. He wanted the key to the treasure. He knew the old secret.
“He is not going back to the city,” Moira said to her cats. “He is going to the lake.”
Moira had to stop him. If he opened the Water Dungeon, the old magic and old bad things might come out.
She packed her bag. She put in strong rope, a heavy flashlight, and her strongest tea.
She got in her small truck. She drove toward the big lake outside the village. The sky was turning gray. It looked like snow was coming.
She drove to the edge of the water. The lake was dark and very calm. There was an old stone building near the water. It was ruined and broken. This was the entrance to the old tunnels that led under the lake.
She parked her truck. She saw tire tracks in the mud. A big car had been here. The brother was already inside.
Moira took a deep breath. She turned on her flashlight. She walked into the dark, ruined building.
Inside, there were wet stone stairs going down into the dark. It smelled like fish and old water. It was freezing cold.
Moira climbed down the stairs carefully. The walls were wet and slippery.
At the bottom of the stairs, there was a long stone tunnel. She heard the sound of water dripping. Drip. Drip. Drip.
She walked quietly down the tunnel. She heard a noise ahead. It was the sound of metal hitting metal. Clang!
She turned a corner. She saw a large, round room. At the end of the room was a massive iron gate. It was black and rusted.
Standing in front of the gate was the man in the fancy suit. He was holding the piece of the clock wheel. He was trying to push it into a large hole in the stone wall next to the gate.
“It will not work,” Moira said loudly. Her voice echoed in the stone room.
The man jumped. He dropped the metal piece. He turned around to look at her.
“Who are you?” he shouted. “How did you follow me?”
“I am the keeper of this village,” Moira said. “You cannot open that gate. The things inside must stay asleep.”
The man laughed. It sounded crazy. “You are just a stupid woman from a stupid village! There is gold behind this gate. Roman gold! My brother died trying to find the map. I found it. It is mine!”
He picked up the metal piece again. He pushed it hard into the hole.
There was a loud grinding sound. The ground started to shake. The heavy iron gate slowly began to open.
“No!” Moira yelled.
But the gate did not open to show gold.
As the gate opened, a huge wall of dark, freezing water rushed out of the tunnel behind it. The prison was completely flooded.
The man screamed as the water hit him. The force of the water knocked him down.
Moira ran back toward the stairs. The water was rising fast. It grabbed her boots. It was so cold it burned her skin.
She climbed the stairs as fast as she could. The water followed her, rising higher and higher in the tunnel.
She reached the top of the stairs and ran out of the ruined building. She fell onto the muddy grass, breathing hard.
She looked back. The dark water was spilling out of the doorway. The man did not come out. He was trapped in the cold, dark water with his broken dream of gold.
Moira sat in the mud for a long time. The snow started to fall. Little white flakes covered the dark ground.
She stood up slowly. She was wet and freezing. She got into her truck and turned the heater on high.
She drove back to Speranza. The village was quiet. The snow was falling softly on the roofs.
She went into her warm tea shop. She locked the door. She took off her wet clothes and put on a warm, dry sweater.
She sat in her chair and looked at the blue book. It was closed on the counter.
The village had secrets. Old, dangerous secrets. Men came from the city because they were greedy. They wanted money and power. They brought death.
But Speranza had Moira. And Moira had the magic, the cats, and her brave heart.
The clock in the square was broken. It did not tell time anymore. But Moira knew the real time. It was time for peace. It was time to drink tea and let the snow cover the bad memories.
She closed her eyes and listened to the purring of Ashwaganda and Toe. The tea sanctuary was safe. And tomorrow, she would make a special warm tea for the whole village.