Jessica and The Moon

Tell me the legend of Jessica and the moon again?  
Well, it all happened long, long ago …


Jessica lived with her Momma and Poppa in a little cabin at the edge of the forest.  During the night, the moon kept watch over the earth, providing light for the nocturnal creatures and those walking home late or making trips to the outhouse.  Jessica would lie in bed watching the moon through the window.  “I wish I could go play with the moon” she would whisper longingly. “But the moon is very high” spoke Hooters. “Much too high for a little girl to reach”.  Hooters was a giant, wise old owl. He was also Jessica’s friend and he spent many nights perched on the limb of the old elm that crossed her window. He would tell her tales of the far-away places he had visited and the people and exotic creatures of those lands, until Jessica fell asleep.

One night, Farmer Brown inadvertently left a gate open and Daisy – his Friesian cow – wandered into the field where the happy-grass doth grow, courtesy of some trespassing louts. It tasted mighty fine, she thought, chowing down.  Now, there is a certain inevitability inherent in particular conditions: call it fatalism, or even chaos-theory, if you will.  The bottom-line is, Cow gets stoned – Shit happens! In her delightful delirium Daisy could see the farmer’s cat playing the fiddle right there in the meadow whilst the dog ran around barking and laughing madly at such sport. High as a kite, Daisy took it into her head to attempt a jump clear over the moon.  But she wasn’t high enough … And crashed head-first into the helpless moon.  AUE! Cried the moon in shock, and his light went out, plunging the earth into darkness.

“Jessica- Wake Up!” Screeched Hooters. “Huh, wha.. What’s wrong? Why is it so dark?” Jessica managed, not sure if she was dreaming. “The moon is hurt Jessica, we must tend to it”
“But no-one can reach the moon, it’s too high, you told me that” said Jessica.
“Too high for girls, but not for mad-cows and owls. Jump on my back.”  So Jessica crawled out her window and climbed onto Hooter’s back, and off they went. It was the first time Jessica had flown and it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. “I can see my house from here.” whooped Jessica as Hooters circled, but it soon vanished in the dim as they flew upwards. Higher and higher they climbed into the darkness, Hooters navigating by the stars in the heavens.

“Moon straight ahead.” Announced Hooters as a round black shape emerged to blot out even the stars.  The moon was almost completely black with his lights out and Jessica could see he was crying.  Her heart was filled with compassion and she knew instinctively what had to be done. “So long Hooters” said Jessica, climbing gently onto the moon. “You can go and tell my folks not to worry. I will stay here and nurse the moon.”.  “Hoot-hoot, good luck” called Hooters and he dropped out of sight into the seemingly-endless dark. “You poor old moon”, Jessica said, kissing the moon on the cheek and massaging the area where Daisy had struck. “You just get some rest and I will do your job tonight.” And as the moon dozed off, Jessica dropped her pyjama-pants, bent over and mooned the earth.

The legend of Jessica lives on to this day. After the moon recovered, he and Jessica were married. Hooters would visit regularly and tell stories of far-away lands, despite Jessica being able to see it all from her vantage-point. Daisy soon got over her bruises and Farmer Brown never forgot to lock the gate again. Some say that on a full-moon if you look carefully, you can still see Jessica’s bottom as she helps the moon light the earth.


(C) Grumpy Axolotl
Featured Image: Pixabay

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High Fantasy in Low Places

When it comes to fantasy, I don’t know Jack (unless I can count that kid who traded his cow for beans). I have read much of Pratchett and some of Eddings, but that’s about it.

Enough about me already … I recently read a fantasy story that kept me up reading past my bedtime a few nights because I just couldn’t put it down. The story is Captain Rob Fights by Blaine Arcade. Although the title didn’t exactly grab my attention, I follow Blaine’s blog so when it appeared in my reader I had a look … and didn’t come back for a while. What did pique my interest was … In Blaine’s own words (copied verbatim-ish) :

<excerpt>

I Wrote a Fantasy Novel Set Entirely in a Public Restroom

AUGUST 28, 2016 ~ BLAINE ARCADE

Shut up, yes I did. This is not a joke. Well, it is a joke… but it’s a two hundred page joke that takes itself very seriously. It’s called Captain Rob Fights. One day I had a thought: What if I set a high fantasy in the lowest of places? It was originally going to be a short story, but then I had another thought: What if I stretched this one ply concept beyond all reason? Yeah, I’ll do that. So I did. 

 It has all the fixtures you’d expect of the genre from strange creatures and ancient magic to powerful relics and jaw-dropping battles. It also has all the fixtures of a bathroom… from sinks to hand dryers

<end of excerpt>

He has even drawn a map. So what are you waiting for? Go check it out! Captain Rob Fights


Disclaimer: Although Blaine has written a couple of short-stories for me, we do not know each other personally and I am not implying that we are associated in any way. Blaine has not asked me to promote this story (or to do anything). I am sharing it because I thoroughly enjoyed it and I hope you will too.

My First Little Apocalypse

Prompt: Worst Case Scenario

In defiance of orders to maintain a strictly professional manner, the nurses frantically rode the few remaining patients. Outside, hideous dogs with bulging eyes ran crazed circles on the scorched lawn, howling in terror at the remnants of stars still swirling in the purple night-sky.

Sheltered under a bridge that crossed the swollen river, Larry wrung his shaking hands in a mixture of fear and anger. What had come to pass so far was diabolical enough. The looting and rioting that would surely follow was not going to improve matters.

The rising water was already lapping at his boots.  He had to move. “Pull yourself together man, you’re a knight”, Larry reminded himself. “A disgraced knight, but a knight still. It’s time to redeem yourself”. Larry crawled out from his cover and instinctively scanned the surrounds quickly, checking for any danger before standing upright. The naked body of a headless woman floating past was a vivid declaration that law-and-order had already ceased. “Sir” Larry was on his own.

It was an hour before dawn and things would only get worse come daylight. Reaching the crest of the enbankment, Larry stopped for a moment at the sight of the burning city, his few tears hidden by the wind and rain. “Sir Larry” he reminded himself. He drew his sword, and marched towards whatever fate was in store.


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Photo: Flickr.com public-domain licence

The Pipes Produce

This short-story was written for me by blainearcade in return for providing a writing prompt. Please join me in rewarding their effort by heading over to their blog and reading The Pipes Produce.

Excerpt: The mayor, one Herman Lefawn, of Wheatlow, a small town that farmed golden grains for the governing bodies of the Grand Chivalrous Alliance, had endured much in recent weeks. He’d endured his gardeners accidentally opening a hole to a cavern older than sin directly beneath his impressive homestead (all he’d wanted was a simple spot for his chestnut trees), he’d endured the hideous arcane creatures that had slithered out from it, and he was now enduring the worst music he’d ever heard. It will all be over soon, he thought. Better screeching pipes than dragon roars. Smile and nod. Can I even manage both at once through this din? Continue reading →