Breakfast Is Not Served

Glad you could join us for the next unjustified episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning to the beginning, and reading really fast…

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Photo credit: Mad Max

“Hey! Watch it, up there! Prisoner down below!” The indignant cry exploded from the Hole as Elliot clung to its edge, grabbing for anything secure to keep from slipping into the abyss.

Time stopped.

“Cassandra?” he ventured.

“Elliot…? Is it really you?”

“You there!” yelled the guard zipping back to his post from a brief trip to the bushes. “Step away from the Hole. Who are you and what is your business here?”

Drawing up to his full height and dignity, Elliot countered, “I might ask you the same thing.”

Cassandra’s advice drifted up from the depths. “I wouldn’t, Elliot.”

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Elliot’s 20/20 Vision

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Photo credit: wall.alphacoders.com

Following a golden line threading its way through leafy trees and brambled bushes wasn’t as easy in his altered state as Elliot had anticipated. Sometimes the light seemed alive and beckoning. Then it might taunt him by vanishing down a burrowed tunnel to shoot into the sky several yards away as the barely visible trail of a manic firefly, only to fall into a puddle or pool like a disillusioned star. (It was impossible for him to tell which it was, pool or puddle, or even if there really was a body of water there at all.)

The minutes stretched to hours, the hours to days, and the days to years that lasted only seconds. I’ve been here forever, he thought. Why hasn’t the sun come up?

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A Slippery Slope

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Photo credit: Nathan Ng

“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.”

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Welcome to the D’Arc Side

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Photo credit: L. Tarnow

Mr. D’Arc met Vernon at the western edge of Fen as the sun began to slide down the sky.

“Nice to see you again, Brudder. We’ve missed you.”

“Just take me to Spike,” Vernon said. His gasp as they passed a violent attack on a hatching chrysalis caught Mr. D’Arc’s attention.

“Oh,” he sniggered, “de refreshments. Yes, indeed, we do make good use of mahnarcs. I told you dere would be hospitality.”

To be continued…

Previously, on Elliot’s Adventures ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Next time . . .

Mister D’Arc

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Photo credit: June Aubrey Young

“Well, Mr. D’Arc,” Queen Lilian began, “what is your master offering?”

“Ahfering? I tink you hahve misunderstood de situation. De Commahnder issues a wahrnin’.”

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Spike’s Messenger

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Photo credit: Rundstedt B. Rovillos

With that image fresh in his mind, Elliot easily resisted the Bols de Mort. He pushed headlong through the malodorous meadow to arrive at the Hive at the tail end of twilight.

Vernon, Liaison to Queen Lilian the Undisputed Monarch of Fen, notified the Queen the instant Elliot returned. She met him in the bower moments later.

“Your Magnificence, one of Spike’s rebels has taken Cassandra. He knows she’s King Arnie’s daughter. I’m afraid I’ve put her in grave danger.” Continue reading “Spike’s Messenger”

A Case of Mistaken Identity

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Photo credit: Craig Barrow

“Stand down, soldier,” the King laughed. “You’re alarming our ally.”

Confused but obedient, young Scout Philbin scanned the Knights’ faces before stammering, “Uh… King Arnie, I’ve located the… um, Marauders.” He threw a quick glance at Sirehta. “They’re less than five minutes ahead, raiding the winter stores of the tree dwellers.”

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