The First Story

by C Bradley Owens

  “Be sure to get your supplies,” he instructed as he watched the students grab a candle and a piece of charcoal. “Someone take the diagram.” He pointed to the parchment just as one of his prize students picked it up. He smiled at the students’ nearly installed knowledge.

  The students got to work. They each looked at the drawing, they each took their charcoal in hand, and they each pretty closely approximated the rune on the floor. The headmaster walked behind, giving advice where needed. “That line should be a little higher, that one a little longer. That needs to be redrawn. Make the lines connect…”

  Soon, the rune was complete, at least workably so. The students stood in a circle. This spell required six adherents, so the headmaster joined them. The newly formed circle of six began to chant. The magic responded instantly. Fresh tendrils of energy sparked along the circle, rose into the air, and shot out into the room. The chanting grew louder, more intent. The energy pooled and slipped into an oval.

  “Concentrate!” the headmaster shouted. “Fix the image in your mind! Don’t force it; allow it to be!”

  The students responded, and the energy smoothed. A sphere, nearly perfect, floated near the center of the circle. The electric tendrils returned, caressing each person in turn. The headmaster relished this new influx of soothing power. The repeated ceremony had a cumulative effect. He was filled to overflowing with magical power. The class ended, the last of the day.

  Alone in the cleared classroom, the headmaster began to dispel his excess power. He sat cross-legged on the marble tiles, which were clean of charcoal residue, and he concentrated. A blue aura pulsed out of his body, pushed itself to shape a perfect circle around his body, then was sucked back into the Headmaster’s form.

  “What do you wish?” the entity asked, a vague impression of its monstrous figure floating just to the side of the headmaster’s periphery.

  The headmaster whispered a low, forceful, sinister word. “More.”

  Chapter 94

  The Sisters of Creation

  “What was that?” Erde stepped from the corridor leading to the classrooms of the refurbished castle. She padded over the marble tiles, leaving smears of green wherever she placed a foot.

  Baba Vedma rose from her seated position and stood to greet the visitor. “Erde.” She bowed low but kept her eyes affixed to the green woman.

  “That story.” Erde whooshed around the room, touching walls, bookcases, and desks, leaving smudges everywhere. “What did it mean?”

  “Why be ye here?”

  Erde shifted suddenly and was face to face with Baba Vedma. Her peaty breath fell heavily on the old woman’s chin, neck, and chest. “Answer the question.” The words were not angry, not exactly, but they betrayed an angry intent.

  “Take a care, Sister.” Baba Vedma placed a wrinkled hand to Erde’s shoulder and pushed. A distance opened up between the two.

  “You dare touch me!” Anger turned green words to red.

  “Settle down,” Baba Vedma instructed, waving her hand.

  A chair floated to push behind Erde’s knees. She sat without meaning to, a puff of pollen released itself.

  “You answer first. What be ye doing here?”

  Erde watched, a red tinge painting her cheeks as Baba Vedma summoned her own chair and sat across from her. “You are more liberal with your powers these days, I see.”

  “Why not?” Baba Vedma shrugged.

  “You used to be embarrassed by your capacity. No more?”

  “No more.” Baba Vedma shook her head. “Creativity be changing. Me characters change with it.”

  “In that story, you were a man.”

  “Yes, don’t it be fantastic!”

  “It is abominable.” Erde’s words were nothing but darkness, an endless, emotionless black.

  Baba Vedma’s demeanor shifted. She slumped in her chair, a frown etched across her face, filling her visage. “It doesn’t matter what ye think. The changes are in place, and they be good, Sister. Truly good. Just give them a chance. Look at all the new stories, the new—”

  “Abominations.” Erde rose, and the air pushed against Baba Vedma.

  “Don’t do this.” Baba Vedma pushed back.

  The room tensed. The air froze. The marble bucked. The stones wept. The women stepped forward.

  Fire, lightning, storm winds, thunder… Baba Vedma exhaled. The noise of a thousand universes colliding crashed into the room. Erde stumbled backward, eyes wide, teeth clenched; she screamed, drowning out the deluge of force; then she was gone.

  Baba Vedma slumped forward; her knees slammed to the bent marble of the floor. Her hands slapped hard, and she retched. Heaving and convulsing until she could breathe once more, she rested on all fours for a long moment. She lifted herself, and sitting on her haunches, she growled.

  The room was wounded but still intact. Baba Vedma sighed, “This is going to be difficult.” She looked at the concave marble. Such power, she thought. A stone fell from the wall, a dust cloud accompanying it, and smashed against the floor.

  Baba Vedma stood, sighed once more, and gathering her strength, she inhaled a long cleansing breath, and the room was suddenly empty.

  Chapter 95

  Little Girl Detective

  The clues were adding up nicely. It hadn’t always been so easy to solve the mysteries, but she was getting better and better as time went on. At the age of eleven, she was the best detective in the little town of Hadensville. Of course, she was the only detective in Hadensville, but that did not mean she wasn’t an excellent detective.

  The final clue, the one she needed to really prove her case, was at her feet. A muddy footstep on the antique Persian rug in the dining room. It wasn’t just any mud. It was obviously the imported red clay that the lady of the house, Mrs. Haden, used in her beauty regimen. The supply of clay was kept in the gardener’s shed because it had to be mixed with water to create the facial mask that supposedly kept skin young and vibrant. Little Girl Detective couldn’t see that it had worked on Mrs. Haden. She looked every bit her natural age.

  She had gathered all of the suspects in the library. It was the perfect place to reveal the culprit, the person who had stolen the priceless necklace from an upstairs bedroom. And now, Little Girl Detective was ready to solve the case.

  She walked into the library with her ever-present notebook in her excited hands. She walked slowly in front of all the people seated on the sofa, the armchairs, and the dining room chairs brought in for the occasion. She really did have a big job with this case. There were so many suspects. There was Jim, the gardener. He was an obvious first choice after finding the clay footprint, but the shoe size put him out of the running. There was Gary, the butler. It was always the butler, but not this time. This time, the footprint in the dining room pointed to someone else, and that someone else was…

  “Baba Vedma?” Little Girl Detective exclaimed as the old woman walked into the library.

  “We need to talk,” Baba Vedma said and motioned for Little Girl Detective to follow her.

  “I’m just about to solve—”

  “Erde be awake.” Baba Vedma disappeared back through the door, which Little Girl Detective knew did not lead back to the dining room.

  “It was the upstairs maid, Lucy.” Little Girl Detective pointed at the guilty woman. “Her husband amassed gambling debts that they hoped to pay off with the jewels. Sorry, gotta go now.”

  The door led to the Inn at the Edge of the Woods, and Little Girl Detective emerged in the Inn as her true form—the Sister of Monsters. “You had better not be kidding. That was one of my favorite new storylines. If you caused the creative spark to dim, I will—”

  “No time for threats.” Baba Vedma held up a trembling hand and lifted a mug of beer with the other. “She be awake, and she be angry.” She drained her mug and motioned for another.

  The Sister of Monsters sat at the table. “How angry?”

  “The Castle School be going to need a whole lot of masonry
repair.”

  “She attacked you?” The Sister of Monsters slumped in her chair.

  “Well, we attacked each other.”

  “Baba Vedma!” The Sister of Monster wrestled her voice back under control. “She could have unmade you.”

  “Yeah, was thinking that the whole time.” Baba Vedma wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her coat. “Thing is, she didn’t. Maybe couldn’t.”

  “Explain.”

  “We fought.” Baba Vedma rubbed her aching hands. “She gave me her all. I could feel it. No holding back, but I’m still here. Barely, but still here.”

  The Sister of Monsters leaned forward, her hands clasped together near her mouth, her elbows nearly hovering over the table. “She was trying to unmake you?”

  “Sure felt like it.”

  “And you resisted?”

  “Aye, that I did.”

  “What does that mean?” The Sister of Monsters sat very still so as not to interrupt any idea that might float into the room. Several ideas did flutter around her conscience, but none landed.

  “We should contact the rest of the Council.” Baba Vedma rose and headed for the door. The Sister of Monsters paused one moment more, hoping that some idea, any idea, would manifest. Finally, she rose and followed Baba Vedma.

  Chapter 96

  Magnus Woolgather and the Wish for the Day

  Magnus Woolgather stood in the center of his bookstore and surveyed the shelves. Hundreds of books, each one of them more special than the next, were insufficient for the task at hand. He made a quick decision and hurried behind the counter, returning with a large canvas bag, obviously filled with books due to its jagged appearance. Magnus reached into his satchel and pulled out a book, a very different one from the ones on the shelves. It was purple with gold lettering that read The Moon Princess.

  “This one,” Magnus announced. “This is the one, definitely.”

  “You said that the last time.” Billy was as snarky as any little boy had ever been. “And the one before that. And the one—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Magnus shoved the book at Billy, thumping it against his chest. “You want the wish or not?”

  “Yes, I want it.” Billy immediately opened the book. A golden light bathed him; the world grew misty, unformed, unreal.

  “Sorry to interrupt.” The Sister of Monster’s voice caused the world to solidify. The Toy Peddler stood beside the satchel of books, and the Puppeteer slammed the book closed.

  “What’s the deal?” The Puppeteer threw the book back to the Toy Peddler. “I was about to go to the moon and rescue a princess. Do you know how rare it is for me to be included in a storyline where I’m not a…”

  “Creepy doll man, a creation gone mad, a sadistic little experiment that runs amok?” Baba Vedma stepped into view as if she had been hiding in the corner the entire time.

  “I wouldn’t put it exactly like that, but…yeah.” The Puppeteer was emphatic with his agreement.

  “We need to have an emergency Council meeting.” The Sister of Monsters held open the door to the bookstore. “Now!”

  The four Aspects filed through the door and into the back corner of the Inn; each sat around the table and waited. The Innkeeper, like always, had drinks ready for them. The Innkeeper’s Daughter was busy sewing a sweet little bonnet from pink and yellow fabrics. She waved at the Puppeteer as they came in. The Puppeteer ignored her, grabbed his wooden hat, and held on tightly.

  “There’s a problem?” The Sister of Monsters asked.

  “Shouldn’t we wait for Frau Iver?” The Toy Peddler looked around and held up a hand to test the air’s temperature.

  “She’s right there.” The Puppeteer pointed to a shadowy back corner as he poured his beer onto his wooden lower jaw.

  Frau Iver stepped into the candlelight, her misty visage alternating between vague and startlingly vivid. Her voice, still new but becoming comfortable, was steady. “We have a problem!”

  The others watched as she floated to her seat. The Sister of Monsters nodded, her brow furrowed in confusion. “We know. We were just about to talk about it. How do you know?”

  “Because that crazy witch appeared right in the middle of one of my, uh, romantic stories.” Frau Iver’s face, misty and white, appeared to glow with a timid pink hue.

  “Bwhahaha!” The Puppeteer spat his beer in every direction. “Right in the middle of it, huh?”

  “I’ve had a difficult day.” Frau Iver’s face changed from slightly pink to dark, cloudy, frightening. “I will freeze you for the next hundred years.”

  “Sorry, sorry.” The Puppeteer weakly tried to suppress his laughter. “I’m just picturing it… Oh man, that’s priceless.” He wiped a tear from his eye.

  “Now, where does a tear come from?” The Toy Peddler leaned in and stared at the puppet’s painted-on eye.

  “Get off!” The Puppeteer pushed the Toy Peddler away. He was no longer laughing. “It comes from the same place the beer goes, stupid.”

  “Enough!” The Sister of Monsters slapped her hand on the table. “We have a serious problem we need to discuss.”

  “Who cares if Baba Vedma interrupts Frau Iver’s sexy time?” The Puppeteer resumed pouring beer onto his jaw.

  “Not that witch!” Frau Iver pointed to Baba Vedma; then she quickly jabbed a finger toward a scroll hanging on the wall. “That witch!”

  The Puppeteer and the Toy Peddler turned; then they just as quickly turned back.

  “That’s just a sketch of Erde,” the Toy Peddler remarked, waving his hand dismissively.

  The Puppeteer began to clack his jaw nervously. Baba Vedma and the Sister of Monsters exchanged tense looks. Frau Iver cocked her head and pursed her lips.

  “You’re kidding, right?” The Toy Peddler nearly knocked his glass off the table as he turned around to look at the sketch again. “How? Why?”

  “The how be fairly simple,” Baba Vedma sighed wearily. “There be nothing keeping her asleep other than an agreement.”

  “Which she says we have now broken.” Frau Iver sipped on her wine.

  “She said that?” the Sister of Monsters asked.

  “She said that.” Frau Iver turned her glass up and drained every drop of wine.

  “What’s the big deal?” The Puppeteer chimed in, his jaw still clacking. “She’s just a spooky old story used to scare us, keep us in line. She’s not really all-powerful, right?”

  The Inn grew silent, tense, and dark. The Innkeeper stopped wiping the counter; the Innkeeper’s Daughter paused in her sewing; the patrons all turned to stare at the Aspects. The Sister of Monster opened her mouth to utter reassurances, but she found it too daunting. Baba Vedma absentmindedly bit her lower lip. The Toy Peddler slumped, his head nearly resting on the tabletop. The Puppeteer put his mug down, still half-full of beer.

  Chapter 97

  A Meeting of Elders

  The Growl in the Night slinked from the shadows toward the burrow where the Chittering Underground lived. Thousands of spindly legs slinked and clinked in every conceivable direction. The Growl in the Night stepped gingerly around them. A misstep would mean a nasty confrontation with his sister, and there was no time for that.

  “Brother.” The Chittering Underground emerged, long tree-like legs first, then the eyes, glowing brightly in the dark underground. She stood in the half-light of the Gloaming and shook off the dust of her home.

  “Brother? You haven’t called me that since the early days.” The Growl in the Night crept closer.

  “These are frightening times, times for family. You are my brother. That much has always been true.”

  “We were created at the same time by the same mother. That hardly makes us family.” The Growl in the Night bared his fangs. They glinted brightly.

  “I fear we have made a grave error, not trying to put mother back to rest.” The Chittering Underground turned all of her eyes upward. The moon shimmered in its usual place, a lonely patch of sky devoid of stars. The mother of spiders s
aid a silent prayer to the moon. “She is angry; can you feel it?”

  “‘Tis good she is angry.” The Slashing Hero entered the grove, nearly stepping on a small spider, causing the Chittering Underground to hiss. “We need her anger if we are to return to the old ways.”

  “Return?” The Chittering Underground turned several of her eyes to the Growl in the Night. “That is not possible. The changes are too much, too widespread. There is no going back to the original storylines.”

  “Isn’t there?” The Growl in the Night stood taller and fiercer than he had in centuries. “We are the oldest stories in Creativity. We should reign, always.”

  “But the newer Aspects, it is their turn. That has always been the way.” The Chittering Underground saw her brother, perhaps for the first time, as he truly was. He had always been fierce but benign, just a threat, not a destructive force. But now… She should have seen it earlier: his attack on the Toy Peddler, his anger, his…machinations. “It wasn’t the tumult that released mother. It was you.”

  “Of course it was us.” The Slashing Hero drew his sword and held it high in the air. “We are taking back Creativity. We should never have allowed these progressive ideas. They are—”

  “Abominations?” The Chittering Underground used the word her mother had uttered so many times over the centuries whenever anything, an Element, an Aspects, a Symbol, did not adhere to her strict code of morality. She herself had been called an abomination at one point, near the time when the Duality dawned new visages, and that episode had chased her into the shadows where she had stayed.

  “Mother was right about all of that.” The Growl in the Night was no longer in the shadows. His fur, not darkened by the absence of direct light, became the color of freshly turned earth, rich, and fertile. “There needs to come a cleansing of Creativity.”