Glad you could join us for the next philosophical episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning tothe beginning, and reading really fast…
They fairly ran through the Bowls of Death meadow, but even if they had flown through it, Elliot couldn’t have shut out visions of the terror Cassandra endured there at the rebel Spike’s bidding. So why did his thoughts take an unbidden fork in the road?
My love is alive today because Arturo killed Spike. I believe with all my heart that he deserved to die — but was it justice?
Might it have been better to incarcerate him for the rest of his life? Maybe they could have put him to work repairing all the damage he’d done. Maybe it would have brought the families whose lives he’d ruined a sense of satisfaction to see him serving their needs.
Entering the Freelands, Elliot witnessed rebuilding everywhere he looked.
It wouldn’t have undone the deaths he caused, but is it really better that he isn’t here to help set things right? Families mourn, and then they have to repair Spike’s devastation.
What might Cassandra think?
But right now, he needed to speak with someone else.
Glad you could join us for the next carnivorous episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning tothe beginning, and reading really fast…
Vernon took a step back. “I’m sorry, but why I should trust you? For all I know, you’ve been confined because you’re a raving lunatic or a bloodthirsty murderer or—”
“—an honest fool who celebrated his best mate’s weddin’ with a wee bit too much nectar. I tell ya, me boyo, it’s humiliatin’ enough ta hafta admit to a total stranger that I got meself stuck in this embarrassin’ predicament — can ya even begin imaginin’ the grief me wife’s gonna bless me with when I git home? I’m dead sober now. When I git home, I’m just gonna be dead.”
Glad you could join us for the next chirpy episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning tothe beginning, and reading really fast…
“And Vernon?”you ask.
Weakening with each wingbeat, Vernon struggled back across the meadow, determined to take Spike down even if it meant his own death.
Sunset gilded the grass tips as he landed on the flower Cassandra had been clinging to. Peering into its bowl, he saw nothing but shadows. “I know this is the right spot. Where is everybody? What happened here?”
“Sure an’ I saw what happened, laddie,” a chirpy voice rose from the grass. “If ya can be gittin’ me out o’ here, I’d be more than happy ta tell ya ahl about it.”
Vernon dropped to the ground and stumbled in pain and surprise. Bowls of Death weren’t the only traps in this field.
Glad you could join us for the next precarious episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning tothe beginning, and reading really fast…
“Well if it isn’t Vernon the Valet-ison,” Spike sneered, reclining on a curved leaf, attended by an impossibly handsome young wasp. “I hafta admit, I didn’t expect her to send you. Arturo, bring our guest something to eat; he’s looking a little peak-ed. Or is it ‘piqued’?”
He looked Vernon up and down as the blushing Arturo, eyes downcast, sped off in the direction of the battered butterfly. “Sit,” Spike instructed, “let’s catch up.”
“I don’t have time to indulge you, Spike. Show me the Princess so I can report back to the Queen before she wonders what happened to me.”
Glad you could join us for the next cringe-worthy episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning tothe beginning, and reading really fast…
Maroon, green, yellow — they stood like soldiers in the grass, waiting so long for a command that never came, they had taken root. Now they thrummed with their thirst for blood, each with its own voice in its own low tone, waiting with the patience of the earth itself. The smell of honey and decay thickened the air.
Elliot’s throat shriveled to a dusty sponge. “I should have asked Marcel for water before I left.”
As he passed the first of the blooms, it shivered with a sloshing sound. “Water. They have water inside. Of course,” he told himself, “they catch the rain. If I can tip one over, I should be able to pour it out.”
At the mouth of the shortest, Elliot stopped dead. “Maybe not.” He swallowed dry air and hurried on.
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