Myths of our Solar System (19): Euranos changes the world again

He is always there, wherever on the spectrum he is sitting that day, and he always backs
the winner. He attacked Britain many times before choosing to defend and then he built
up her Empire and took it away again, he was with the people in France and the USA
during the final quarter of the 18th Century, he was Red in 1917 Russia, returning when the
tide began to turn, he was left leaning after the First World War in Germany before leaning
as far right as he could barely fifteen years later, he marched with Mao through China, was
in the Bay of Pigs with Castro, he travelled with Che (leaving him abandoned in Bolivia)
and he was been here, there and everywhere in the Middle East throughout time.

The turner of tides, the maker of history, the despot, the revolutionary, the bringer of
democracy and fascism alike, Euranos rides again into whatever battle he can concoct.

In a darkened room he whispers into an ear and sets wheels in motion. Together they
build networks of followers, create plans, build an army and take on their world in order to
change it for what they perceive to be the better. Euranos doesn’t care about the ins and
outs. He sees only winners, looks ahead and backs those winners in whatever revolution
he’s brewing that week, “Victory, never death,” is his motto and, in conjunction with Mars,
his war machine is always better than the opposition’s in one way or another. Even if
that means, like in the Budapest and the Prague Spring, brewing up the trouble before
changing sides.

And then he walks away. He deals not in consequences. Only action. Blood and sweat,
not tears. And he turns his back, showing his coat tails without a word of advice on how to
continue for his knowledge is spent.

Euranos never grew up, you see. He always knew how to push over blocks but never
how to build them up. Now he does the same to people.

Myths of our Solar System (18): Uranus, the first chronicler

Uranus was very different to his brother, Mercury. In their teens his brother was the
athletic go-getter- always preparing himself in case the war didn’t end, whereas Saturn
wanted to hear about the First World and discover This World for himself, which he did by
walking out into it and studying the flowers, trees and animals for himself. Sometimes he
was even allowed to assist in the work of the wizards.

When the brothers came of age and the war still raged, Mercury went quickly to the fore
while Uranus remained at home afraid of what awaited him at the front. He knew swords
and shields were not for him, that for him to be in the line would be to give it a weak point.

But he didn’t want to do nothing. Like half the population of the world he wanted the side
that fought against the devil who sought to rule all to stop him from doing so. Following a
talk with an injured soldier and a call from his brother, Uranus knew what to do.

Uranus could see the importance of the war’s outcome and the events within it. And, as
such, Uranus began to chronicle all that occurred while working as his brother’s assistant
(Mercury having become more than a mere foot soldier).

From his vantage point Uranus was able to write first hand accounts of his brother’s
exploits in battle and of the effect of all Mars’s weapons, from the first fireworks to that
final, decisive weapon. Plus he was able to speak to those who had seen the war before
he or his brother were involved and thus work backwards to make his work complete.

After the war ended Saturn devoted his life to building the first of the chronicles covering
The Great Change and the world it created as well as collecting and collating the Tales of
the First World.

Attempts to Capture and Tame a Unicorn: (14) Mud, Glorious Mud, Part Two

The worms swam up, wrapping around the unicorn's torso like ropes and beginning to pull her down further into the mud.  How I'd forgotten these bastards I'll never know.  Helpless, she screamed and cried for help.  Feeling both wretched and angry I sprang into action - grabbing the leash and tossing it out to her.  The unicorn held onto it with her mouth, clamping her teeth about the rope and I pulled, trying to reel her out but the rope soon slipped out of her vegetarian teeth's grip.  Though she had come far enough to fend off the worms for a moment.

A Plan B was quickly organised and put into action as I converted the leash into a lasso and wrapped it around her horn, pulling it tight as the worms re-surfaced in greater numbers around her neck and her middle.  The lasso began to slip a little almost immediately.  I held my breath and my stomach lurched with nerves but the unicorn has other ideas.  Her horn had mainly been covered in thin, watery mud which was wiped away easily by the rope’s slipping.  The aura that normally surrounded her returned to this little section of clean horn and in a moment the horn and the rope fused together and I knew this plan could work.

I heaved and ho-ed against the pull of the worms, the unicorn's head going under a couple of times but the rope kept firm, the magic done it could not be undone.  Before long I was winning, the unicorn slowly coming free of the mud until she was able to climb up the bank at the edge leaving those ropey worms behind and we collapsed, relieved and exhausted at the edge of the clearing, breathing heavily, she caked in brown mud, me sodden with sweat. 

The unicorn recovered first, stood, the rope slipping to the ground, and she walked over to where I lay and spat in my face before retreating into the safety of the forest and, no doubt, a cool stream or pool to wash down in.  I cursed and went home alone as I always did.

Attempts to Capture and Tame a Unicorn: (13) Mud, Glourious Mud, Part One

I didn’t want any of the effort I had made the week before to go to waste.  My thinking cap was therefore donned to come up with a solution.  There may have been various possibilities but the moment I came up with mud I knew it was the one for me.  I would create a great big quagmire as the perfect trap.

It was an overladen van I drove out there in that week - pipes, a pump and a tank of water pressing down on the axles, threatening to snap them all the way.  The plucky cuboid of metal and motor made it, though, bless it‘s oily heart, and I got to work laying the pipes from my parking spot to the pitted floor of the clearing, trekking back to fire up the pump. 

By the time I returned to the clearing it was well on the way to what I wanted.  The exposed ground was boggy and on the way to saturation of the level I required: a stinking quagmire of hope, a B&B for hippos would be perfect for my purpose.

I waited, low down in the bushes, as the last of the water came through, waterlogging further and creating depth – I don’t know how much because, I lost my depth stick altogether as it slid neatly all the way into the mud under the surface puddle.  Leash prepared for the unicorn's arrival, I was convinced the mud would tarnish that white gleam enough to stop any funny business from occurring. 

Her reaction to my mud puddle seemed to confirm this as she paused at its edge, wary, a little scared, trembling.  She looked about for me, unsure whether to stay or go, waiting for something bad to happen.

Which it did.  Full of some sort of zealous glee, I rushed from my bush and collided with her with all my strength and sent her flying into the gloop below.  It was only later that I realised tears were rolling down her cheeks as I made contact.

She hit the shit head first with something between a splash and a smack, becoming visibly distressed in an instant as the shimmer that normally seemed to surround her disappeared under a cover of mud.  She moved her limbs about in a vain attempt to gain control and climb out, only managing to dig herself deeper. 

To begin with I was glad in a sadistic way, gaining my revenge for all the stress she'd caused me and glad because a plan was finally really working; I was happy to wait a little before fishing her out and taking her home.  But then the worms surfaced.

250 Words: The day Mrs Owen received news of her son’s death

Church bells rang across the land signaling the end of more than four years of war.
They had not rung since the war’s start and the relief felt in the beauty of their sound
was reason alone to rejoice.

The breaking of the silence was a new start. They told young women their
sweethearts were coming home, and mothers and fathers that their sons would be
with them once more; and permanently this time.

These returners would be able to wake up in a dry, warm bed again and get on the
train to go to work. Not wake anymore in a muddy trench wreaking of death with
flying bullets the only prospect ahead of them. Now every one would become a hero
and get medals for his chest. War could become but a memory. At long last blown
out by itself.

For Mrs Owen, in her bubble of a house, the bells appear as if in another land. Like
so many, war has kidnapped a son and will send a dead man’s penny and a note
from the King as thanks. In her ears the bells are flat and tinny, tuneless and dull.
The end for her not just too late but bitterly close. Wilfred left behind lifeless, with
friends and foes alike, mixed with the earth by death’s great scythe.

She feels the old lie’s sting as tears roll down her cheeks. Nothing sweet nor fitting
could be seen in her boy’s death. Only emptiness, decay and loss.

Myths of our Solar System (17): Old Father Time (Ideas 1 and 2)

Old Father Time enjoyed his job, as dull and monotonous as it was at heart. He often
likened it to people working in factories who do the same thing again and again throughout
a shift but are able to chat throughout it all.

As he continually turned the handle that moved the cogs of time, Cronos was able to
watch all of existence at work and play. Like the ultimate television fan he happily sat
forever watching and loving every second of what he saw throughout space.

*

Cronos was concerned. He had lived forever, always knowing that he was not immortal,
that he would only last as long as the earth did. The Nuclear Missile Crisis had been quite
a nasty scare, leaving him nervous for the rest of the Cold War.

Even before it had ended the talk had been about the environment- first CFCs, O Zone
and Global Warming; now it had flared up again under the banners of Oil Shortage, Gulf
Stream Stoppage and Climate Change.

His life was in the hands of humans and that bugged the ancient being. No matter how
long he went on giving them time to live in, they could (at any minute) destroy everything,
obliterating time itself: him.

Myths of our Solar System (16): Saturn, starter of time

Few knew the secrets of the Old World. Over time the people of that world had come to
take their immortality for granted and forgotten the early period when they had been mere
mortals. Saturn knew those secrets. Indeed, he had brought immortality to the peoples
of the Old World. The others had forgotten this but Saturn remembered. He had had to
remember because Saturn was a seer and, even back then he had known what else would
have to be done. For he knew of the cataclysm to come, of the Old World’s end and his
role in it.

Saturn knew that someone would have to take control when the Old World collapsed,
that life would need to start anew. Often he would weep when he saw Mother and Moon
together so happy and be full of hatred when he saw the man who would betray them.
Saturn knew a lot about the future, maybe too much, knowing much of what was to be but
not the full picture, certainly not the conclusion of the events to come, just as he did not
know when or how he would die.

When the end came Saturn knew what to do, how to stop the Old World’s end from
becoming the end of all things. Because the Old World, an ageing tower built upon a plain
of rock, had never been built to last and, unlike its population, was not frozen or immortal
but old, crumbling and fragile. Under the guidance of Merlin, the wizards were holding
it together superbly but could do nothing once Mother and Moon separated, for it was
through their love the wizards had found the power to keep the tower together.

By rights, the Old World should have fallen in on itself and killed all within it. And bits of
it did indeed do this, killing those the wizards were unable to protect. But before it got
worse Saturn whispered to the Tree of Life and it lived once more. And it bore fruit in an
instant and, with Merlin in its branches to forever be its guardian, the Tree of Life shot into
the air, its great roots following and ripping through the walls of the great tower causing it
to splinter apart and fly in all directions rather than falling straight down and crushing its
inhabitants.

That is some of the people were able to survive The Chaos to form This World among the
building blocks that had been spread far and wide. And they did so as mortals, time once
again controlling their lives.

250 Words: Eyes on stalks, or A reception to celebrate the Dark Warrior's victory at the Battle of Priest's Field in his land of shadow

Amongst the buffet was a plate of eyes on thin sticks. The wide-pupilled globes
moved in circles attempting to locate their unfortunate owners. They cast glances
throughout the room, near and far. In their panic they never even thought to look
down at the platters surrounding them.

Five yards away, on the start line, stood the guests returning the stare of the eyes
and salivating heavily while their fat fingers twitched at their hips like buffet assassins
of the highest order: an old time version of pen pushers living for the evenings when
the fruits of their suppression and occupation were spread out for them to pick at like
the vulgar vultures they were.

"Ahh, how I adore eyes on stalks. How lovely a little dark magic makes a spread on
these most opulent occasions. Representing marvellously the scared and confused
people we rule."

"Shut the fuck up you romantic knob. All that matters is the way they burst in your
mouth. Fucking love that feeling."

Throughout, the far past doomed eyes moved round, ever more panic stricken.
Looking for the empty sockets in skulls already skinned, stripped of flesh and pates
removed. The eyes on stalks, a delicacy in this part of the occupied lands, see the
skulls but do not recognise them spread out at equal distances along the tables, the
fire within them lighting that part of the room. And all the other parts that were once
connected and laid out ready to be reduced much further.

Attempts to Capture and Tame a Unicorn: (12) My “Pit”

Another classic of TV and film as well as another Danny rip-off - although it was the baddies who used it.... A nice and simple idea, making use of gravity and people’s minds and eyes tricking them, taking things for granted. 

A pit, then, I would dig and cover with twigs, soil and grass so it would look like it wasn't there.  It wouldn't need to be too big I didn't think.  It might be better if she couldn't move very much.  How would I get her out?  Line the hole with a box, I thought, a great metal one, reinforced with more metal, with chains and locks and shit.

I got there early and started to dig, quickly coming across a lot of roots.  Not a problem, I thought, I'll chop them out.  So I got my axe.  It bounced off them like it was rubber.  My saw rattled and snapped on them.  I tried to dig around to find a bit without these giant drinking straws.  It was hard going but I got there to find rocks which I tried to pick out only to find they were boulders too big and heavy for a team of strongmen, let alone just little old me.  Next to these, the earth was filled with worms as thick as sausages and as long as foot-long rulers that could jump.  And they did, mouths open, attaching themselves to my clothes for no discernible reason other than to just hang there.  More and more of them until my shirt was covered with the blighters

By now it was mid-afternoon and the unicorn arrived.  She walked to the edge of my own clearing - a shallow mess looking like an archaeologist's bad day or a child gone mad in a flower bed - most of the top soil in the clearing had been up-turned and put roughly into piles all over the shop.  And there was me, doing some sort of crazed jig, shaking my arms and legs to try and rid myself of these terrible worms.

Out the corner of my eye I saw her look at me with such disdain, so unimpressed at this pathetic attempt, shaking her head, turning and walking away.  At this point the worms lost interest and dropped back to earth, quickly disappearing into it and I trekked back to the van cursing under my breath all the way home.

Attempts to Capture and Tame a Unicorn: (11) The Jump Start

I'm afraid Cowboy School comes out again here.. or maybe it's more of a Western film thing.  I don't know - I do know that I get stuck in creative grooves that I end up lying in until the song is up and it starts again - sometimes on the next track, sometimes another disc.

Anyway, there was one tree in the clearing that had one long, thick branch that grew over the clearing as if it were trying to reach the other side - as a challenge or to reach another I do not know.  But it did come out far enough to climb along and be able to easily aim at something below.  I noticed this when waiting for the unicorn back at the start and after pissing me off so much the week before, I was psyched up enough to give it a go even though she was tiny and I was likely to break my legs or crush her.  I was sure she was too hardy for the latter so I resolved to give it a go.

I oatted the ground below to ensure the target would be in place and climbed the tree like an eager schoolboy wanting a peek at the girl next door or to drop down into a garden surrounded by high walls so as to explore its secrets.  Once satisfied, I, silently as possible, dropped onto her back.

And, for once, nothing funny.  She reared up to try and throw me but I wrapped my legs under her, dug in, wound her mane around my hands.  She tossed and turned, moving as sharply as she could, tried to pitch me over her head, turned in circles to try and get me off the side but she couldn't catch me off guard.

After a few minutes she began to tire and I knew I was getting somewhere.  Especially when she stopped, her head sagging.  I yelped with triumph, even let out a little high-pitched "eee."  I gave her mane a gentle pull to try and get her to move, to ride her home: I got nothing but a sinking feeling.  I looked down to find her hooves were under the earth and my feet weren't far from the surface.  I tried to pull her back up - pulling at her head before dismounting and grabbing her middle but to no avail. And then, back aboard, trying to kick start her, my feet began to sink, and the whole process became much faster, my legs, half way to my knees were under.  Panic set in - I threw myself aside, crawling along the ground until I was all above it again.  Once I was, I turned around to see the unicorn already stepping simply and gracefully from her entrapment.

250 Words: And then I woke up

I went to bed on Friday evening and, in the warmest embrace, I woke up. It knocked
the sleep from my eyes and brought me round to life. Like I had been dreaming
some dream of life up to that ecstatic moment and now I am free, fully awake.

Life, it seems to me now, is a series of doors you walk through until, finally, you walk
through the black-framed one without a room on the other side. Last Friday I walked
into a room filled with wonder, but also a certain awkwardness. The decor didn't
quite work together despite the matching colours. But beyond that room I can see a
long line of rooms full and excitement; that decor slowly starting to work better and
better.

There are probably millions of ways to word this feeling. Being born or coming up
from water, maybe even falling- physically or magically. All I know is I have woken
to a new world order where nothing can be the same again. I cannot go back and
neither do I want to. That door shut behind me and locked (I left the key on the other
side with a smile).

Come Saturday lunchtime I was cock of the walk and ten feet tall. Even if my life
was ultimately no different, I had changed forever with new blood flowing through
my veins and bright new eyes seeing all new wonders, having been stirred from a
slumber and awoken by love. Awake and unbound.

Myths of our Solar System (15): The changing fortunes of Indra

When Indra first took over from Varuna, when he had destroyed the old order and
separated the earth from the sky and created the world, it had felt eternal. He really felt
that nothing would ever move him. He filled all creation, for heaven’s sake, what or who
could possibly topple him?

Onwards and upwards he had charged into the battles of men and on his own against
demons and serpents. He brought rain to crops and lit up the day. He even had a hand in
fertility- quite a wondrous part of his role. In fact, he was on a roll, he was cock of the walk
and king of the world!

Maybe it was the soma that did it, his belly growing big and his mind complacent.
Whatever the reason, his befuddled brain watched his importance decline along with his
heroic acts. “You really have to keep things up in this world,” he noted one day.

And now he picks up a thunderbolt from his store on Mount Meru. An earthly king now,
his work revolving around storms. He finds it enjoyable enough but Indra couldn’t help but
think of his past deeds and status when he had ruled all and not just one kingdom. In a
flash of anger he throws the bolt down from his eyrie and starts another storm that rages
with his bitterness.

Myths of our Solar System (14): Jupiter, first ruler of This World

Jupiter grew up a tall, gangly and awkward youth. The boy, the teen and the young man
were quiet and reserved, someone who seemed to hide from life. His flatulence problem
and his sensitivity to the red birthmark on his face only exacerbated this behaviour.

Yet Jupiter seemed to have a certain gravity about him that made people flock around
him, expecting something to happen, but instead only serving to freak the poor lad out and
make him run. Unlike Helios, who had that same hold, Jupiter could not take the lead, shy
and backward as he was.

Despite this behaviour, he who seeks all power saw Jupiter as a rival should Mother and
Moon ever lose their grip on power: that is if Jupiter could ever take advantage of that
magnetism he seemed to have in him. Something the evil one had lacked once but was
building in himself over time, taking more and more people under his wing as he waited for
the time to topple the First World’s leaders.

Saturn had also seen this attraction in Jupiter. And he knew that one day the First World
was going to fall and a new leader would be needed. He didn’t know who it would be, his
mind wouldn’t let him see that, eager as it was not to let Saturn become a puppet, but he
did knew who it shouldn’t be.

As such, Saturn knew he had to do something about Jupiter’s character so he took the
young man aside and placed him with the wizards for tutoring- not in magic, but in subjects
more specific to a possible future leader. Over time the wizards built up the young man’s
confidence slowly changing him into someone capable of leading the people through a
crisis.

And Saturn kept Jupiter there with the wizards, away from all others for the time being; and
for the boy’s own safety. Saturn was deeply worried what he who desired power might do
if he saw this newly confident heir to Mother and Moon. He even feared for the detrimental
effect it might have on Mother and Moon who themselves had become a little anxious of
the man Saturn had been creating, growing slowly more suspicious of his motives. For in
his studies Jupiter was often encouraged by Saturn who looked in on the boy from time to
time, sometimes sitting with him and helping him along. Much to the chagrin of Jupiter’s
main tutor, Merlin, who had been originally appointed by Saturn.

He who would destroy it all heard through Moon what was occurring to Jupiter but was not
concerned because no one really knew who Jupiter was. He had been with the wizards
so long that, as with his siblings who were hidden away as freaks, he had been forgotten.
When he who planned in advance brought the First World down the people would turn to
him. Of this he was most sure, even after Saturn had warned him that his plans would not
work out. He would make sure succession to power through his manipulation of Moon.

*

Shortly before the end of the First World, Mother visited Jupiter in distress. With her and
Moon’s relationship falling apart she had become fearful of the future and was now keen
this new Jupiter would become her successor. She therefore dispensed advice to her son
on how to continue her and Moon’s leadership, hopeful that Jupiter would become the new
leader if she was unable to continue before too long.

Finally, as the stones fell down and the wizards fled from their domain, saving all they
could with conjured force fields, Saturn appeared once more and took Jupiter to a safe
place he had built for the purpose long before Jupiter had been born.

As Jupiter emerged, alongside Saturn, blinking into the light of This World, he found
crowds of bewildered individuals, all of whom were completely lost as to what they might
do now in their new and bewildering home. Before them stood the son of their old leaders,
now deceased.

Everyone knew Mother and Moon had had children, but their whereabouts had been
something of a mystery, so no one knew for sure who Jupiter was until Saturn announced
the fact and pushed Jupiter to step forward and speak.

Jupiter’s first speech was all it needed to be. He spoke of the past, praising the leadership
of his parents, and how that world was now gone. That it was First, merely the first world
now. And he pointed to the new world around them, and how they would learn to live
within it, though it was strange and daunting now. That they would adapt and survive
because there was no other choice and because they were survivors. They had come
through The Chaos and could not be defeated by anything.

He spoke of how they would remember and honour the past but not seek to return to a
place they could never go. They would leave the First World and its ways behind and
move ever forwards into “This World, This World right here. That is the only direction we
can take an it’s the direction we shall take. Together. Here in This World we shall survive.
And we shall thrive.”

And with that speech he galvanised the people around him, quickly becoming the
successor to his parents- a move that seemed natural to all those who heard him speak.
Which didn’t include he who would become head of the Underearth. He had been waylaid
by his wife, Venus, and arrived too late to gain the position that would otherwise have
been his.

As for Jupiter, he only grew further in confidence, leading the First People into their
surroundings and building up the First Settlement with the help and advice of The Six.
And it all went very well until his sister, Eris, began to tell their uncle too much and it all
began to change.

250 Words: Shanghai 1937

The truck makes its way along narrow streets loaded with doll-sized coffins currently
empty. The old driver’s face wears the same fixed expression every night as he tries
to distance himself from what he has to do. His grim task is to fill the boxes with the
bodies of those who have lived only shortly. Exposed to death's gaze while still wet
from the womb.

He stops outside a house whose occupants have left something for him to
collect. The old man gets out and stoops to pick up the baby girl, showing her the
tenderness her parents were unable to. He lowers her into the toy box coffin gently,
nails its lid down and places it in an empty spot, the first of tonight's 'done' pile. He
then returns to the cab to continue his grisly round.

Unseen pink fairies follow the truck like a river of light flowing, twisting and turning
in mid-air. At each stop a few drops come away to where the baby lay and whistle.
Whistle to distract the spirits that would otherwise follow the unfortunate child for
all times. They know she has suffered too much already, or perhaps not enough.
Certainly nothing to warrant any more disturbance.

Every night they gather and fly along the truck's path to ease the passage of the still
stirring spirits. Crying at the eternal horror of all they see. At the senselessness of
this practice. Especially when, outside the city, millions are killed by bayonet and
gun.

Attempts to Capture and Tame a Unicorn: (10) The Lasso

I grew up loving the Wild West.  I adored the movies and read books, ran around the garden with a cap gun, dreamed of being a pioneer - a proper old fashioned one - none of that cold vacuum of space crap - branching out through the unknown wastes bound for the green lands and coast on the other side whilst being careful to dodge the Indians along the way.  I was in love with it all until I learned how real it had all been.  Great bloody battles, buffalo extinction, theatres hung with scalps, cuddling up with influenza and the ghettos that gave birth to America.

Yet underneath in my veins still ran ideas of the peaceful cowboy, the shepherd of horses.  And when all this unicorn madness began, I took “cowboy lessons,” learned how to tie and toss a lasso, throwing it about the necks of horses and reeling them in, returning them to paddock.

At cowboy school at had been easy, peaceful, relaxing.  In the clearing it had already become a battle of wills.

At first the unicorn entered and grazed.  Then I entered , ready and equipped.  She looked up, startled and I let loose.  I am still sure to this day that the loop went over her head but rather than settle around her neck, it fell to the ground.  I reeled the rope back in quickly and she stepped back as it whipped past her forelegs.  I tried again with the same effect.  As I wound up the rope a second time the unicorn started to walk away.  I failed again, the rope seeming to fall through the unicorn’s mane and throat.  Again I brought the lasso back to me, confused, my ‘shooting’ had always been much better than this.

Soon the unicorn was running around the edge of the clearing as I tried to loop the damn rope around her neck.  Again and again I threw, getting more and more angry, my face reddening, my palms sweating, my chest tightening with anxiety as the rope kept on doing the impossible.  I got more frustrated at my complete inability to do something I had done so many times before.  Agitation finally getting the better of me, I threw the whole lasso at that bitching, glorified horse - the loop flew around the unicorn’s neck, she reared up, cheering in victory, and ran into the woods, the rope trailing behind her.

Attempts to Capture and Tame a Unicorn: (9) Like Last Week But with a Rope Net

As seen in Return of the Jedi - if Ewoks could pull it off, surely I could at least have a decent shot.

Throughout the period of searching the forest I had been making the net with the vast amount of rope I had bought.  It had been a long and rewarding process calling for all the practical skills I had in me - which have always been lacking, as school reports duly testify.  Creating a grid of squares to form one large net., a rope was then fastened to each corner and these became one rope so that, when pulled upward, the net would envelope and trap the unicorn.  Even if its horn pierced one rope it wouldn’t matter too much.  I just had to tighten it all enough so that its horn wouldn’t reach any more.

Again I arrived early to set up, hiding the ropes as best I could and sprinkling the oats liberally.  I waited and relaxed in my shelter with a Thermos full of coffee (I had considered a weak lemon drink before remembering I have always hated lemon squash).

She appeared mid-afternoon as if hopeful for oats - her nose close to the ground, sniffing tentatively, moving forward carefully.  Quite soon she found what she was after, but her feet also found ropes before her goal and she stepped back.  I watched, scared and intrigued, as a battle seemed to rage in the unicorn’s head.  “Should I step forward and eat, risk it; or should I stay away.”  After an agonising couple of minutes she finally gave in, strode forward purposefully and began to lap up the oats.

I pulled, again surprised by her weight.  Her head, complete with horn, and all four legs slipped easily through the squares.  Pleased with myself, I tied my rope to another tree and stood back to admire my handy work.  The unicorn sat nice and easy in the air, making no attempt to struggle or get free so I took the opportunity to study it for a second or two before making moves to cut her down and get her to the van.

It was at this point that I noticed the smoke.  Just light wisps at first but definitely there and coming from the ropes underneath the unicorn’s belly.  And it got thicker - slowly at first - then rapidly, thicker and thicker - great plumes of it snaking around her midriff and escaping onto the wind until suddenly the ropes of the net gave way and she dropped delicately once more to the ground and walked away leaving me agog with a charred mess dangling above.

250 Words: The spectre of you/Asleep beside me

The spectre of you haunts me day by day and dream by dream. Wearing a fake
blonde wig it stalks the landscapes of my mind and haunts me from the corners of
my imagination; standing, staring. Always on the periphery. Always just in sight.
Always with its long fingers imbedded in my brain and conjuring up false idols of you.

I often lie on my bed and imagine you are asleep beside me. You always look so
perfect, sweet and angelic. I want to hold you in my arms but fear I will wake you.
So instead I lay still, listening to you breathe and thinking about what you might be
dreaming as a slight smile plays upon your lips. I stare at your closed eyes and wait
for them to open and let me witness their beauty, their blue expanse covered over
then coming into bloom before the iris recedes having got used to the new day’s
light.

We lay together for hours in the silent summer morning, our breathing the only sound
until

I remember this is a daydream. And then your spectre laughs its callous laugh,
mocking my mind for creating these seemingly real constructions. And Lord how
real they seem. I am always sure I can feel the presence of another person on the
mattress, can feel your body’s warmth… the spectre’s laugh fades and leaves me for
now. Leaves me to wonder why I never tried my key in the lock. Never even tried
once.

Myths of our Solar System (13): Mars corrupted

Mars sat in a field, bored. Earlier that day he had overseen the planting of seeds for the
year. He had gone through the motions again because it was his job but it was not what
he desired anymore.

No, he wanted a life more exciting, of fast moving action, of life and death- not this slow,
seemingly eternal wait for growth and harvest. Once it had excited him but not for a long
time now.

Not since he had first smelled blood in the air and heard the distant clash of swords and
shield. Later he had found the remains left from the battle strewn across a field almost
ready for harvest. Rather than grow angry, Mars had begun to re-think his life.

And so Mars sat in a field, bored, and thinking back on that scene, he wondered about all
he had seen that day when an eagle landed close by.

“Greetings, Mars,” said the eagle, spreading its wings out and looking most regal.

“And greetings to you, sir eagle,” Mars replied impressed at the sight of these great bird,
its wings outspread.

“You yearn, do you not, for another life? One of glory and action?”

“I do. I’m so bored with this bollocks.”

“Even if it this activity is for it’s own sake and serves no purpose?”

“Oh, I don’t mind, escaping reason as well as duty sounds good to me.”

“Then it shall be so,” declared the eagle and it darted straight at Mars, attacking him, its
beak pecking and its claws magically clawing through his skull, leaving no trace upon
his head, but instead within it as the bird re-arranged his brain, changing his character
entirely, corrupting the farmer and turning him into something far different.

And from that day Mars was a warrior who sought the fight wherever he went. A
mercenary for the Empire, looking to extend it wherever and whenever. And he would
even caused rebellion afterward for an excuse to go back for more blood. It never
bothered him why or how the fight came about- he just wanted to be in the killing fields
every day, sunrise to sunset, and beyond if necessary.

Myths of our Solar System (12): Mars, the warring wizard

Few wizards took part in the First War, the war that determined the make-up of This World
and divided the population between the Underearth and the Overearth. Most more or less
ignored it completely and continued with their studies, trying to make sense of the world
they had been presented with for study. And not wanting to throw away their immortality
and die.

Not for Mars, though, that life of contemplation and self-preservation. He saw the war as
The Chaos at work once more and knew that he could use his discoveries and magic to
help wrestle it to (and, as it turned out, under) the ground.

In the Old World, Mars had always been known for the fun his research and magic
created. In the great gardens around the Tree of Life he conjured firework displays to
entertain the population. Little adjustment was needed to turn these into weapons that
would explode and scatter the enemy.

Before long he found that he could use the explosions to fire rocks at the enemy. And
then he discovered and learned new ways to treat the explosives, such as creating small
handheld charges with fuses that could be lit and thrown and firing bombs that explode on
impact.

Along the way, though, Mars lost his taste for this bloodshed. In his role as weapons
inventor, he had always kept his distance from the fighting, seeing his weapons in action
from a distance.

Then one day he bumped into a fellow wizard called Panacea, who was covered in blood
and visibly shaken. Mars asked her what had happened and she told him that she had
lost many that day, that the enemies weapons, like his, were getting better and it was
getting harder for her to cope. Her healing magic was still in its infancy, you see. Cuts,
even quite deep ones, were easy (as every wizard knew) but insides were another matter
entirely and Panacea was struggling on her own.

Mars went with Panacea to her field hospital and saw the carnage. He stayed on to
help as best he could. And, as he did, Mars got to thinking about the opposition, what
his weapons must be doing to them who did not have wizards. And soon he pledged to
discover a way to bring about an end to this war and ensure there that would never be
another.

This he did, of course, and so successful was he that he went the same way as Mercury
and was used to aid the Underearth’s first return.

250 Words: Episodes in the life of Edwinski (2)

Edwinski first decided he wanted to become a spy during a childhood visit to the
airport. Air travel was very new to his part of the world then and people would come
from miles around to watch the planes taxi around, take-off and land. The boys
would be thrilled to see the huge metal aircraft suddenly speed up prior to leaving
the ground while the girls would marvel at the well-appointed clothes of the people
who could afford to fly away from their little town.

On one of these trips, when Edwinski was eleven years old, he was one of many
witnesses to the rumbling of a foreign spy who was in place to take photos of a
general in plain clothes arriving in the area for talks of a secretive nature.

The spy with the camera was approached by a member of the organisation Edwinski
would join some ten years later and a fight quickly broke out on the observation jetty.
It lasted mere seconds, the foreign spy throwing the first punch, Edwinski’s future
teacher the second and last.

Until that moment Edwinski had admiration only for cowboys. He had read an
occasional, illicit, western book and dreamed of living in Monument Valley and
becoming a wandering stranger with a helping fist. Suddenly, Edwinski realised it
would be possible to do such things closer to home and with more style.

That, along with the loss of his only love, is how Edwinski came to want to become a
spy.

Attempts to Capture and Tame a Unicorn: (8) The Loopy Ropey Trappy Thingy

A classic of film and television.  A staple of adventure and danger.  As seen in Time Bandits.

So simple, so delightful,  there was but one problem.  I couldn’t quite work out how to do it.  In the films it all just happens.  It’s set up - it does its job of work - men, women or animals are caught.  All automatically.

I arrived in the clearing early, about 7 o’clock in the morning.  Within ten minutes I was swearing and throwing things around in short bursts before remembering the need for quiet and calm. 

By ten I had something ready. A loop with a slippy style knot going on that would tighten around the unicorn and laid under a tree at the edge of the clearing.  I filled the space with oats to entice, hiding the rope itself in the mass of flowers.  Excess rope I trailed close to the trunk of the tree I was using before running it over a good thick branch.  If the unicorn got to the right place I would pull the rope and trap it, suspended in the air. 

I sat in the shadows all morning, ate lunch and waited longer.  About mid-afternoon I heard her approach from behind me.  She then circled around and appeared on the opposite side of the clearing instantly searching out the oats, finding them quickly and wolfing them down.

Now, I had made the loop pretty darn large - but not too large, cunningly pouring the oats so she would eat them half-in, half-out so that when I hauled on the rope it would slip around her arse and tighten around her middle. 

She was lighter than I thought she would be and I easily lifted her into the air, slowly rotating to face me.  She seemed unfussed by it all - just confused, I think, into silence, and simply stared at me. 

Once up, I began to tie the rope to a nearby tree so as to keep the unicorn suspended in midair.  As I tightened the knot, the unicorn seemed to come round.  Taking her eyes from me she jerked her head back until the horn stabbed the rope clean through, splitting it so that it quickly frayed, weakened, and broke, dropping the unicorn to the floor.  She landed lightly with a bend of the knee before turning and trotting away as I stood staring in disbelief.  

I hadn’t seen that coming.

Attempts to Capture and Tame a Unicorn: (7) Poaching No 3

It was all turning out harder than I thought it would be.  Having exhausted other ideas from Danny the Champion of the World, I tried to go it alone.  It was my only hope really, given that I didn't think tickling would work as well as it had for the Doctor with the trout.  So I tried my own simple but effective ways to poach the unicorn.

First I went back a step by trying to tempt the unicorn toward me with oats on my hand before leashing her.  My alien looks were not attractive to her, though, and she would not come near.  She did not run, though, which was a step forward.

The trail of oats leading to a box it would have to be then.  A box carpeted in the softest and warmest hay, well-hidden in foliage at the clearing’s edge and positioned on a cart with a ramp leading up to the door, also covered in soft, reassuring hay, naturally. 

And to my surprise, she went for it.  She almost stopped when her first foot met the ramp but she was enjoying the oats too much to really notice; just wandering purposefully on up, immersed in oaty goodness.  The strangeness and darkness of the box did nothing to deter, either.  She simply munched through the bowl of oats I had left her.

Once in, I dropped the front on her and carted the box to my van, being careful all the way to go slowly and not tip the cart up on the unsteady ground.  Once back, I loaded the box carefully into the back, closed the doors and turned around, a job well done.

I cursed loudly and she ran.  A heavier hand was clearly needed.  As was film technology.  And rope.

Myths of our Solar System (11): The Lycanthropic Rites

He didn’t see it as a curse. No, to him it was, or had once been, the Holy Grail. For years
he had sought out this life, searching one to turn him so that when the sun went down he
could let his bloodlust run rampage.

He was perfectly respectable during the day, working a perfectly respectable job with
a perfectly respectable firm, living a perfectly respectable life, keeping within all the
boundaries set up by the state. His night time lawlessness, however, knew no bounds. As
his flesh turned and he gained his animal muscles and will he fled his safe spot looking for
raw meat to feast upon.

All day he would sit in his office staring at the sky and the clock tapping his fingers,
his human heart beating steadily faster as he got his work done, sweat building on his
forehead, his mouth dry, his skin itching, his hair on end. Until the time came to go to
that spot, remove his clothes and wait for the change that should have hurt every time but
never did because of his excitement for the crimes he would be able to commit and never
be committed for.

Tearing through gardens, splintering doors, ripping flesh clean from bones, tasting blood.
And nothing could touch him in that form, he was virtually invincible- blades broke, bullets
deflected.

The rites performed nightly for himself and for his God of pure evil. His debt being paid off
in blood and never the very human feeling of remorse.

Myths of our Solar System (10): Moon, the changeable and repentant former man

As The Chaos that existed in between the First World and This World whirled about him,
Moon, wracked with guilt at what he done and not understanding at all why or how it had
happened, soon began to go mad.

And then, after he had seen Mother turn to earth and scatter herself, Moon knew his place
was not in this new world. So as The Chaos continued, Moon, just as Mother had, saw
what must do. His final act in This World was to help bring balance to it by becoming one
with the a nearby mountain and withdrawing from it forever.

Now Moon sits staring at his sweet love and he moves the sea water to try and gently
caress her extremities twice a day as he once did to her whole body with his own fingers.
But, knowing little about her new form, he barely touches Mother Earth: only doing so
along the banks of tidal rivers, an action Mother takes for the unwanted attentions of her
cousin, the Sea Hydros, anyway.

Shrouded both in light and darkness Moon still flits between moods that help alter the
course of events taking place on the front of his former lover. When his rage is at its fullest
and most blind he brings werewolves to stalk and curse his children. When his love is at
the same peak he transfers it to the ground in the form of Cupid’s arrows.

But mostly he hides on his dark side and looks back at the mistakes he made in the Old
World while still in his old form. Ignorant of the poisons he took, Moon ruminates as to
how, fermenting his regret like the madmen who stare at him and the dogs who howl at
him. And Moon curls into a ball deep inside himself to try and forget the woman he lost
and who he watches at night as she stares back, each blind to the other’s attentions.

And he plays in his head those final scenes in the First World, when the last angry words
were spoken, those words of awful power that came before the final separation from
Mother.

And he hopes for the day when he and Mother might be joined anew, destroying the world
of their children so that they can start again.