Wish me luck, little Princess

You don’t know my name. I’m the foreign bard, the red-haired, who killed your black pet goat Dreamfyre two months ago. Or rather.. my horse killed it. It was an accident. Don’t worry, the horse already got punished for its crime. The dragon picked it up as a snack two days ago.

I wonder if it is a male or a female dragon.

When my horse trampled your goat, you were angry. It did not scare me. You looked adorable. Twisting your gaze into me like a knife. An adorable knife. It nearly made me smile, would have been inappropriate, to smile and so I didn’t.

But then you saw the tiny dead body. And when sadness took over, the sunlight was fading. Everything went dark. The gods were crying. I wondered why it didn’t start to rain and I had to blink the tears away. It would have been inappropriate, to cry. Am I not acting like a man?

Two weeks ago I overheard townsfolk in a tavern, planning to offer you to the dragon, to stop him. No idea what they are thinking. The dragon would not stop. It would eat you and then it would eat someone else. You’d be just one course in the dragon’s meal. I decided, that it was time to do something. Kill the dragon, so nobody gets strange ideas.

I went into the woods. The dragon attacked us. I fell. The beast carried my horse away. I walked the rest of the way. Armour is quite heavy. Not very practical. I finally entered the dragon’s lair.

I wish here was an intelligent bat, that could deliver this letter to you. Run, little Princess! For.. I might not make it. Go to the Picts. I heard they put paint on their faces. Sounds funny. Or go to Iceland. They got hot springs there. One can bath in some of them. Sounds interesting. Just don’t stay and wait until the people sacrifice you.

It was dark in the cave. I had a torch. I found out, that one can not carry a torch, a shield and a weapon at the same time. The dragon was sleeping on a pile of foul and putrid smelling corpses. There was no gold, no jewels, glitter or riches. I sneaked up to the beast and pierced its shoulder. It opened two eyes that looked like bonfires and it screamed. The scream was embedded in fire, that hit my face. I can hardly see anymore and it hurts. Defeat hurts more though. The dragon broke some of my ribs on the right side with a swing of its tail and I ran into a narrow corner. I found a place where a bit of light falls in from the outer world. I’m waiting here. Until the dragon sleeps again. Maybe it will forget me. I bet my armour is like fishbone or scales for the beast.

Last Sunday I saw you in the church. You were singing. We all were singing. This is a nice memory.

I had to write you this letter. If I don’t write myself, I never existed.

I can hear the dragon snoring now. I will go. Wish me luck, little Princess.

Katherine Pyle. Dragon rearing up to reach medieval knight on ledge, 1932 Published in Charlemagne & His Knights. Oil on board


That long

I return the flag to you.
I admit, I wore it once
in a cold night
like a toga
and there might be some stains.
Fare thee well!
Boarding my raft, pushing off
floating back to the legendary country of Myself.

Abduction of Europa. From De mulieribus claris (Famous women) of Giovanni Boccaccio 1403. Licence:public domain

The Zombiecalypse

That’s a wrong title actually. It would be Zombiecalypse for people of my age. For Rose it is another kind of the end of the world. Not global Fukushima or any other natural catastrophe. It is the financial end of the world. This year it’s the Wall Street Crash of 2013. Last year it was the Wall Street Crash of 2012.

She bought 16 hectares of land around a castle in the Alsace in France. Mainly because it was cheap and because it was a rural area. The place where one of my generation would want to go in case of Zombiecalypse. No big cities in the vicinity.

There were already several buildings on the property. Rose hired workers to put solar panels on all the buildings. She tried to make the workers stay, but only three or four of them were willing to stay. Rose is not paying good. She thinks she does. Or she doesn’t care, because after all she is superior, isn’t she? She knows the world will end. This year. Or maybe next. She can save all those people. Why the heck don’t they want to stay? They aren’t worth the effort! They are boring, stupid and the wrong kind of crazy. Time to go on.

Rose bought 75 kg of rice and shipped it over from the US. Because it’s cheaper there. That will last a while. Can’t trust that food in France. It could be all poisoned, poisoned, yes, that’s it, it could be all poisoned. Why does nobody want to live with her? Not even the people who stayed, wanted to make a vegetable garden for Rose. They prefered to go to the groceries and buy food. Why don’t they understand?

She got herself fourteen dogs to guard the property. Then she left and went to other places. The guardians in Alsace had to take care of the dogs. They had to feed them, bring them to the vet and train them. Bye-bye salary. Imagine the world would end while Rose was away to meet famous people or to buy rice. Imagine she couldn’t come back in time. That’s probably what everybody was hoping.

makes you wonder, if the miser will win

“Death and the miser” by Jan Provoost (1462/5 – 1529), public domain. “Take this borrower’s note. I assure you, I’m like a bank, you can always come back and ask for your money.”

If the Zombiecalypse or the eternal Wall Street Crash happens one day, Ulysses, Rose’s husband has to close the gates to keep the marauding villagers out. The property will be like an isle in the sea of chaos. At least that’s the plan.

Ulysses will finally be allowed to use his guns. He has a big collection of historical and contemporary guns and rifles. He was always waiting for this day. Difficult decision for him, should it be a Walther PPK like Bond, Ulysses Bond, or the Smith & Wesson Model 29 like Dirty Ulysses? If there is still a spark of reason in him after all those years of shampooing to his brain, he won’t shoot the trespassers. He’ll shoot Rose. And the rest of the tribe will live happily ever after and dance to Calypso music.

Don't stand idly by, Ulysses, clean the cave!

Arnold Böcklin (1827-1901), Ulysses and Calypso, public domain. “Don’t stand idly by, Ulysses, clean the cave!”

The Ladder

“There’s a dark spot on the wall.” says an elderly lady with hair like the mane of an appaloosa and points at the wall. Her name is Rose Smith and we’ll get to know her much better soon. Her husband turns the page of the newspaper as loud as he can and hides behind it. Duck and cover. Frustrated by a lack of external attention, Rose grabs the handle of a handbell, that stands on a fake marble table, and starts to shake the bell furiously. Terrible noise. Tom, her husband, asks if she heard the thunder. She ignores him, and he continues to read.

Then the maid comes knocking at the door. “Come in!” yells Rose and puts the bell back on the table with a clang. “There’s a dark spot on the wall.” said Rose again. The maid wondered what she was supposed to do about the spot and said questioningly: “Yes?”

When a maid comes knocking at your heart, sung by Olive Kline, 1913, music by Rudolf Friml, lyrics by Otto Harbach.

Meanwhile the author took a nap. The events in the manor followed in quick succession. The maid explained the cause for the spot. There’s a hole in the roof. Since years. The husband, Tom, was hiding behind the newspaper and staring on the big boobs of the maid. The maid tried to ignore it, but made a mental note, that she would make him suffer one day. He’s the kind of guy who would probably like to suffer. After all there are some strange collars and whips lying around in the mansion. Historical dog collars, sure..

“If you don’t believe me, you can go up the ladder and look on the attic yourself.” said the maid. Rose grabbed Tom’s newspaper and pulled it down. “You! Go up and check!” “I’m sorry, I can’t.” muttered Tom and lifted his right arm. It was visibly thinner than the left arm. “The arm is still kind of useless.” Tom had fallen through the roof of a barn two months ago. The healing process was kind of slow, after all Tom was 76 years old.

Finally the maid went up the ladder and opened the hatch. Tom stared under her skirt, and this time Rose saw it. She made a mental note to punish Tom later on, called the maid down and went up the ladder herself.

Why oh why, when I looked in your eyes, I felt my heart start to cry.

“The Sign of Four” illustrated by F.H. Townsend (1868-1920) . Public domain.

Rose went up the ladder and left the two other protagonists downstairs. Her head appeared on the attic like a melon on a field. Tom wondered if he would be strong enough to tip the ladder over. Rose turned around and saw a blue plastic bucket, that had been standing under the hole in the roof. It had fallen to the side. Would be easy to send Tom up and tell him to place the bucket correctly. His arm.. that’s just a lame excuse. Then Rose heard a buzzing sound and saw a wasp. Rose screamed and slapped at the wasp. The little black and yellow insect didn’t understand what was wrong. After all it had its nest here on the attic and that stupid melon who popped out of the hatch was an obviously evil intruder. The wasp stung. Rose was allergic to wasp stings. She was screaming a bit more, lost her footing and fell off the ladder.

Anger rising

I’m angry. I’m angry since I was a teenager. And the anger is still growing. I don’t hurt anyone physically. I don’t insult anyone. I try not to harm anyone. But anger shines through me as if I was a basket with a light bulb in it.

And I carry the anger around. Eugène Devéria (1805- 1865): “Costume des Eaux-Bonnes” 1844, public domain.