#mythpunk — Public Fediverse posts

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 133, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 exodus #TimeTravelAuthors 9/11. Has your MC ever been in a fight?

The trip up to the mezzanine was tricky. In many places, the steps trembled under my weight, and in other spots they were missing. My heart was in my mouth when I had to jump over the gaps. Weena struggled even more, so I carried her over the holes. Each time, she buried her face in my chest, her eyes tightly shut.

At each stage, the fairies below laughed and clapped. A few of them tried following us, but turned back at the first obstacle.

In the end, we failed to reach the top. We stopped on a landing instead. Dust blanketed the floor, undisturbed for years. It wasn’t a pleasant place to camp, but at least it was safe.

Slumber evaded me when we lay down. It was almost as if I didn’t need it. I stared into the dark thinking for a long time, with Weena curled up around me. Finally, her warmth and the soft lullaby of her breathing, joined by the rustle of fairies below, lulled me to sleep.

I awoke to a rending scream. Next to me, Weena was trembling. “Mourloks,” she whimpered.

When I peered out into the room, it was too dark to see anything. “I wish I had a lantern,” I thought.

“Eye-yeeee!” I shrieked as a flaming branch appeared in my hand.

This was the second instance that something I wished for appeared. The last time it had happened behind my back. Since I hadn’t witnessed the clothes appear at the sphinx, I’d written it off as a mystery. This time there was no mistake; I had conjured a light from thin air. What was going on?

Feral howls brought me back to the present, and I looked over the railing. Below, I could make out pallid, mushroom-gray creatures holding unresisting fairies. Pandemonium broke out. The wee folk screamed in terror while the Morlocks howled in pain and averted their eyes from the light.

This was possibly the first time I’d ever fought, but I wouldn’t let monsters carry off any of the fae, no matter how pathetic they seemed. I hurled the burning brand among the loathsome creatures and wished for another torch, which I also threw. By the time I summoned the third flaming branch, the Morlocks had fled in a mad #exodus.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 132, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Cain #TimeTravelAuthors 9/10. Whatever

“Coom,” my strange little companion said, pulling me toward the tables. We sat down cross-legged. If Emily had been there, I would have called it “criss-cross applesauce” to mess with her.

There it was again! That name! Who was Emily? She must be important.

The brilliant indigo eyes of a woman surfaced in my mind. She was sipping soup with her face hidden behind ivy on the…

Then it was gone again.

“Hurburth?” Weena said, poking me in the ribs.

I smiled at her and looked around. We were sitting near the edge of the room. Their clothes were either drabber or brighter than those at the further tables. Some wore wrinkled or stained items. Still others displayed faces painted with berry dye or colored mud. One had a bandaged hand, and a strawberry birthmark marred another’s cheek. From the way the fairies avoided him, you’d have thought he bore the mark of Cain. And then there was Weena, with her fire-scarred face.

“Misfits and outcasts,” I said.

Emily… I mean, Weena.

She piled fruit in front of me, and I ate it absentmindedly as I studied my environment.

The little people’s manners were atrocious. When they finished something, they tossed the remains on the floor. They grabbed at the food and threw it at each other.

My companion carefully watched me eat and imitated me. Unlike the others, who laughed and talked like unattended kindergartners, she chewed silently and only spoke when her mouth was empty.

Eventually, she stopped, her brows knit, and touched one of my breasts. “Not Hurburth?”

“No, not Hurburth.” I pointed to myself. “Henrietta.”

“Henreetaa?”

“Henny.”

“Henny,” she repeated, getting it correct.

I nodded.

“Henny, luke Weena?”

“Luke?” I thought. “Luke? Oh, ‘like!’”

“Like,” I said, pointing first at myself and then at her. “Henny, like Weena.” I spread my hands wide.

When we finished eating, it was growing dark inside the building.

“Come,” I said and led her to the stairs leading to the platform.

They were in poor shape, with broken treads and gaps. I wondered if it would be safer to face the Morlocks than to climb.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 132, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Cain #TimeTravelAuthors 9/10. Whatever

“Coom,” my strange little companion said, pulling me toward the tables. We sat down cross-legged. If Emily had been there, I would have called it “criss-cross applesauce” to mess with her.

There it was again! That name! Who was Emily? She must be important.

The brilliant indigo eyes of a woman surfaced in my mind. She was sipping soup with her face hidden behind ivy on the…

Then it was gone again.

“Hurburth?” Weena said, poking me in the ribs.

I smiled at her and looked around. We were sitting near the edge of the room. Their clothes were either drabber or brighter than those at the further tables. Some wore wrinkled or stained items. Still others displayed faces painted with berry dye or colored mud. One had a bandaged hand, and a strawberry birthmark marred another’s cheek. From the way the fairies avoided him, you’d have thought he bore the mark of Cain. And then there was Weena, with her fire-scarred face.

“Misfits and outcasts,” I said.

Emily… I mean, Weena.

She piled fruit in front of me, and I ate it absentmindedly as I studied my environment.

The little people’s manners were atrocious. When they finished something, they tossed the remains on the floor. They grabbed at the food and threw it at each other.

My companion carefully watched me eat and imitated me. Unlike the others, who laughed and talked like unattended kindergartners, she chewed silently and only spoke when her mouth was empty.

Eventually, she stopped, her brows knit, and touched one of my breasts. “Not Hurburth?”

“No, not Hurburth.” I pointed to myself. “Henrietta.”

“Henreetaa?”

“Henny.”

“Henny,” she repeated, getting it correct.

I nodded.

“Henny, luke Weena?”

“Luke?” I thought. “Luke? Oh, ‘like!’”

“Like,” I said, pointing first at myself and then at her. “Henny, like Weena.” I spread my hands wide.

When we finished eating, it was growing dark inside the building.

“Come,” I said and led her to the stairs leading to the platform.

They were in poor shape, with broken treads and gaps. I wondered if it would be safer to face the Morlocks than to climb.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 132, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Cain #TimeTravelAuthors 9/10. Whatever

“Coom,” my strange little companion said, pulling me toward the tables. We sat down cross-legged. If Emily had been there, I would have called it “criss-cross applesauce” to mess with her.

There it was again! That name! Who was Emily? She must be important.

The brilliant indigo eyes of a woman surfaced in my mind. She was sipping soup with her face hidden behind ivy on the…

Then it was gone again.

“Hurburth?” Weena said, poking me in the ribs.

I smiled at her and looked around. We were sitting near the edge of the room. Their clothes were either drabber or brighter than those at the further tables. Some wore wrinkled or stained items. Still others displayed faces painted with berry dye or colored mud. One had a bandaged hand, and a strawberry birthmark marred another’s cheek. From the way the fairies avoided him, you’d have thought he bore the mark of Cain. And then there was Weena, with her fire-scarred face.

“Misfits and outcasts,” I said.

Emily… I mean, Weena.

She piled fruit in front of me, and I ate it absentmindedly as I studied my environment.

The little people’s manners were atrocious. When they finished something, they tossed the remains on the floor. They grabbed at the food and threw it at each other.

My companion carefully watched me eat and imitated me. Unlike the others, who laughed and talked like unattended kindergartners, she chewed silently and only spoke when her mouth was empty.

Eventually, she stopped, her brows knit, and touched one of my breasts. “Not Hurburth?”

“No, not Hurburth.” I pointed to myself. “Henrietta.”

“Henreetaa?”

“Henny.”

“Henny,” she repeated, getting it correct.

I nodded.

“Henny, luke Weena?”

“Luke?” I thought. “Luke? Oh, ‘like!’”

“Like,” I said, pointing first at myself and then at her. “Henny, like Weena.” I spread my hands wide.

When we finished eating, it was growing dark inside the building.

“Come,” I said and led her to the stairs leading to the platform.

They were in poor shape, with broken treads and gaps. I wondered if it would be safer to face the Morlocks than to climb.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 132, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Cain #TimeTravelAuthors 9/10. Whatever

“Coom,” my strange little companion said, pulling me toward the tables. We sat down cross-legged. If Emily had been there, I would have called it “criss-cross applesauce” to mess with her.

There it was again! That name! Who was Emily? She must be important.

The brilliant indigo eyes of a woman surfaced in my mind. She was sipping soup with her face hidden behind ivy on the…

Then it was gone again.

“Hurburth?” Weena said, poking me in the ribs.

I smiled at her and looked around. We were sitting near the edge of the room. Their clothes were either drabber or brighter than those at the further tables. Some wore wrinkled or stained items. Still others displayed faces painted with berry dye or colored mud. One had a bandaged hand, and a strawberry birthmark marred another’s cheek. From the way the fairies avoided him, you’d have thought he bore the mark of #Cain. And then there was Weena, with her fire-scarred face.

“Misfits and outcasts,” I said.

Emily… I mean, Weena.

She piled fruit in front of me, and I ate it absentmindedly as I studied my environment.

The little people’s manners were atrocious. When they finished something, they tossed the remains on the floor. They grabbed at the food and threw it at each other.

My companion carefully watched me eat and imitated me. Unlike the others, who laughed and talked like unattended kindergartners, she chewed silently and only spoke when her mouth was empty.

Eventually, she stopped, her brows knit, and touched one of my breasts. “Not Hurburth?”

“No, not Hurburth.” I pointed to myself. “Henrietta.”

“Henreetaa?”

“Henny.”

“Henny,” she repeated, getting it correct.

I nodded.

“Henny, luke Weena?”

“Luke?” I thought. “Luke? Oh, ‘like!’”

“Like,” I said, pointing first at myself and then at her. “Henny, like Weena.” I spread my hands wide.

When we finished eating, it was growing dark inside the building.

“Come,” I said and led her to the stairs leading to the platform.

They were in poor shape, with broken treads and gaps. I wondered if it would be safer to face the Morlocks than to climb.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

Charlotte’s Web Part 2

#Fanfic #WanderingWitch #CharlottesWeb #AnimalFarm
#Wss366 lodge #ScribesAndMakers π11 It all started when…

I stopped and looked around. The only creature visible was the pig, so I asked, “Did you speak, Mr. Pig?”

“I did. I am Napoleon, president of the great farm. And you, young lady, were about to destroy the fine work of my Minister of Education, Miss Charlotte.”

“I don’t see Miss Charlotte’s work, Comrade Napoleon.” I figured from what I had seen that the title would endear me to the swine.

“It’s ‘Your Excellency.’ Some animals are created more equal than others, and I am one such. And if you just look beyond your nose, you will see the fine tapestry, woven by Minister Charlotte.”

Now that I looked, there was a spider’s web that I had been about to brush aside. “That is indeed a fine web, Your Excellency. It even has writing in it: ‘Alternate Facts are True Facts.’ That is an interesting statement.”

“Indeed, and yesterday it read, ‘Rage is Freedom.’ That was something I said in a speech.”

I nodded. I didn’t understand how that worked, but I wouldn’t openly disagree. Instead, I brought up my reason for visiting. “The sign says I can get food and lodging here. Is that true?”

“Are you an ambassador from one of the local farms?”

“No, I’m just a wanderer.”

“Then we can #lodge you in the North Pasture and provide a bucket of raw oats and hay.”

“Oats and hay?” I asked incredulously.

“All animals are created equal, and if oats and hay are good enough for the donkey, they are good enough for you.”

“Perhaps you might find something better. Maybe bread? I am not used to oats and hay.”

“I see the minister has woven you an answer.”

When I looked, the web had changed. An enormous spider sat in its middle; around it was spelled out: “Half the oats at half the quality is good economics.”

What kind of warped reasoning was that, I wondered?

“I will have the dogs show you the way,” Napoleon said. He waved, and a pack of dogs came from a nearby thicket.

“Oh, dear!” I exclaimed. “I forgot I’m expected down the road a way this evening. I’m so sorry to have bothered you, Your Excellency.” The dogs looked fierce and were giving me the evil eye. Besides, who had ever heard of feeding guests raw oats and bedding them in a pasture?

There was a swine-like grunt, which I took for a farewell, and I hastily retired. After all, “Retreat is the highest form of bravery.”

[FINIS]

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Mythpunk #NMFic

Charlotte’s Web Part 1

#Fanfic #WanderingWitch #CharlottesWeb #AnimalFarm
#Wss366 Sty #ScribesAndMakers π11 It all started when...

It all started when the witch got lost. The country she was going to wasn’t supposed to be far, yet the sun was nearing the horizon, and the only signs of civilization were neat country farms. Hunger gripped her belly, and she descended from the sky to view the signs posted outside the farmhouses.

Brushing her long, ashen hair away from her amethyst eyes, she read a small sign next to a farm gate: “Eggs.”

Eggs would be fine if she could cook them, but that seemed unlikely at the moment. What she wanted was bread and a place to sleep. A hay loft would do, but a proper bed would be better. Her pointy hat, long black robe, and the witch’s star brooch often impressed country folk, and she could trade fortunetelling for a meal and bed. The announcement that they would have a two-headed chicken in the spring or that their ewe would twin usually clinched the deal.

Who, you might ask, is this clever lady? It is, of course, I, Elaina the Ashen Witch.

There was no help for it; eggs were out, so I continued on my way.

The next farm had a sign next to a stile. Beyond was a #sty with an enormous, fat pig that examined me closely. Still further away, I saw a collapsed windmill and a barn with the words “All Animals are Equal” written on the side. An odd slogan for a farm, I thought.

What interested me most was the sign, though, and after a bit of puzzling over the poor spelling and odd writing, I made out what it said: “Fod and Ladging fer all COMERADES.” I was unsure if I were a comerade or even a comrade, but given the late hour, it was worth a try. I could definitely use “fod” and “ladging.”

“Hold there, comrade,” came a voice as I mounted the stile, “can’t you see the marquee?”

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Mythpunk #NMFic

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 110 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 perch #TimeTravelAuthors 06/17. glimmer/shine)

Everyone at the table fell silent as Georgina continued in French, “The others here are aware of what is needful for them to know. They only require your answer to our request. From time immemorial, the Illuminated Ones have held conclaves with the earthly forces of the Tempter. With a net of lies, they draw them in, seeking the downfall of mankind and the spread of their unholy domination.”

“Tomorrow, the vultures will leave their #perch to meet with the Frankish devils to form a compact. I would seek knowledge of their council, but the Evil One guards them too well. As light repels dark, so darkness negates the light. But you, a follower of the holy man of India, dwell not in the dark, even though you have not embraced the light of the true faith. You who are neither mortal nor divine, are a torch by which we may illuminate their den of iniquity. The Lord has answered my prayers and sent you.”

“Then you don’t know their goals?” I asked.

“Nay. Just that they seek the downfall of the Race of Adam and a return of a great evil: the people of the Ancient Serpent.”

“How are we supposed to get in if she can’t?” Emily asked me. “We’d be mugs if we tried time-traveling in?”

While it was possible to do that, as Emily indicated, the risk of discovery was extreme. So far, I had arrived in places with a passable identity, but no one had been trying to detect intruders. This time, however, we’d be arriving among fellow time-trippers: hostile ones, at that. Even if they didn’t discover us outright, our ignorance of the situation would surely trip us up.

I repeated my partner’s question in French.

“We will supply you with robes and a passkey.” With these words, Georgina removed a packet from her sash. Greek writing and sacred Christian symbols adorned the wrapping. Without touching the contents, she unwrapped it, revealing a gold signet ring. Just as the Lance of Longinus back at the British Museum had given a holy radiance, so did the ring, only it #glimmered with malevolence.

The priest grimaced, shielding his face as he leaned away, but the guards failed to react. Clearly, not everyone was “privileged” to know its nature.

Georgina held it out to me and said, “This contains a fragment of salt from Lot’s wife. It is unusable by me. It was taken from a young chaplain who perished in Palestine. With this, you may gain entry into their council.”

She paused and asked, “Will you take it and aid us, daughter of the Indian Sage?”

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 7 Post 81: 12 May 1999: London

#Wss366 Sock #MastoPrompt Humble #TimeTravelAuthors 03/15. Does anyone have fun (or want to have fun) with time travel?

When Nostradamus spoke next, he had adopted the clipped accent of a Londoner. “I know you won’t take this advice, but you'd be better off enjoying your travels than meddling in divine affairs.”

“1900s Paris is lovely. You would enjoy it. The World's Fair was fabulous. Or how about settling into a #humble croft in Cornwall? You could enjoy the peace and quiet, not to mention the fresh country air. Or maybe somewhere more idyllic, like Tahiti before Captain Wallis arrived? I will say nothing of your visit here if you say nothing of what I have told you.”

I wanted to #sock his smug face. His advice amounted to, “Ignore the evil around you and have fun.”

Emily and I had discussed this several times, and enjoyed the pleasures of wherever we ended up. However, we wouldn’t let evil fester without at least trying to do something about it. After all, we were the “chosen ones.” In my words: “Fair may be foul and foul may be fair, but something stinks in Denmark.”

Rather than say that, I equivocated. “You might be right. We've discussed getting a villa in Versailles.”

“Prudent. While you're there, invest in some Monet or Tissot paintings before they become wildly famous. Though I warn you, 1789 is a terrible year.”

From the enslaved populace songs, chants and demands,
While princes and lords are held captive in prisons.
These will in the future by headless idiots
Be received as divine prayers.

          [Nostradamus, Les Prophéties, Quatrain I.14]

“Now, if you will excuse me, I have a consultation with the president of Sole Fruit,” the prophet said, waving toward the door.

Nostradamus:

#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #Serial