#268
Seven? Really? Count Again
There are individuals on the planet Earth, and other
planets, and just blank spots in space, who are powerful parts of the natural
order of things. Some of them come about naturally or naturally unnatural, some
are connected to the very essences of the universe, of reality, and then others
are connected to mysterious still unsolved.
These individuals all have their own agendas and own ways of
stirring the pot of the course of history.
Normally whenever anyone of these types meet, even on a one
on one basis it doesn’t usually signal good things. A large group of them
gathered means the shits hitting the fan.
So here we have the world’s great mystical individuals
gathered in the ruins of a once great castle. One thing is for sure, there will
be a lot of overblown speeches, strangely dressed pompousness, and egos that
will probably flare up into anger.
These gathered are beyond descriptions of good or evil but
in world with the old Gods gone they are the embodiments of both and all that
lies in between.
The Seven Arches Of Hartle.
Pretentious much?
And there are those among them who agree with my view.
‘The Seven Arches Of Hartle, what nonsense,’ Spoke The Black
Friar, from Nottinghamshire. A shortish man dressed like a poor Goth boy in
black cowboy boots, black cargo pants, and a black hoodie.
The Black Friar pulled down his hoodie to reveal an early
thirties face with an attempt at a beard and no eyebrows. When he opened his
mouth to talk you could see a mouthful of broken black teeth, ‘We should all
get drunk and see if we can come up with something as stupid as The Seven
Arches Of Hartle.’
He was talking to The Red Headed Bansidhe from Ireland and
The Unnatural Daughter from Wales. Both have always had a love hate
relationship with the Friar.
A voice jumped them out of their love hate verbal dance,
‘Hartle is the writer who wrote The Book Of He.’
They all turned to find The Dead Cat from the Tower Of
London had joined them. If you have ever pictured a zombie cat in your mind
that isn’t what The Dead Cat looks like.
The Red Headed Bansidhe went over to strike the cat, they
have a history going back a very long way, but the Black Friar stepped between
them and did what he did best, he continued to run his mouth.
‘More like Hartle rewrote the book so he could hide the location
of the Orchid Secret bible,’ Black Friar
Black Friar smiled at The Red Headed Bansidhe as The
Unnatural Daughter pulled her away from the potential confrontation.
‘We should join the others in the courtyard,’ The Dead Cat
said after a little wink towards the Bansidhe.
They walked through the castle ruins and joined them on the
way, the they were The Hag from Vancouver (covered in a sack from head to toe),
The Hand from Scotland (hopping on its knuckles), and The Headless Horsemen
from Harlan Kentucky.
The Black Friar looked up to The Headless Horsemen, ‘Moving
up to the big leagues now?’
They’ve met before and didn’t part on good terms. Seems to
be a theme with The Black Friar.
The Horsemen pulled a head from one of the many bags hanging
from his horse. He held the head down towards The Black Friar, it’s eyes opened
and so did its mouth, ‘Among beings that smell of lies and decay you Friar are
reek.’
The Black Friar stopped as everyone else continued on. Then
he burst out into a little laugh, ‘I reek, really? I must have buried his
ability to insult with that head of his.’
Everyone was gathered already in the courtyard. Also there
were emissaries from The Dead Of Nechiansmere (they also don’t like the Friar)
and The Aerial Echoes Of Edgehill.
Guarding the ruins for the gathering, making sure no
ordinary people, or unwanted snoopers or enemies got in, were The Restless
Gunners Of Hollandia and The Ghost Warriors Of Cadbury Hill. Both are no good
for conversation anyways so they are the perfect ones to be doing the guard
work.
Even the very powerful have to watch their backs when all
gathered up in one spot. Never know when a stray God might try and rub you all
out.
The Phantom Soldier Of Gallipoli was in a corner feeling out
of place as Japans Harbingers took a place of providence. Among their group
were The Slain Peasant, The Maid Of The Well, The Faceless Wife, The Three
Lovers, and The Sorceress Princess.
Using “The”’s will come and go in usage on writer’s whim
because they are sort of a pain in the ass.
‘We are here to discuss a set point in history that is
approaching and if we should try to interfere,’ The Slain Peasant
‘And how are we supposed to do that if it’s a set point?’
Black Friar
Everyone chattered to themselves a bit knowing The Black
Friar is already trying to get the needle in.
‘We can do it by changing the road and not the destination,’
The Sorceress Princess
‘I say we shouldn’t even be gathered. We all have our own
natures, that’s our actions,’ The Hag
If there had been any ordinary humans around the voice of
The Hag would have made him sick to their stomach. Don’t ask what happens when
she sings. Chills.
‘We have jointly acted in the past,’ stated The Slain
Peasant
‘That was when the last of the old Gods left. We had to
reestablish Order and Chaos,’ Emissary from The Dead Of Nechiansmere.
‘Not all of the bastards left,’ Black Friar
‘The Eternal Cycle are protecting only their lands Friar...’
The Slain Peasant
‘Black Friar.’
The Slain Peasant gave away a hint of anger, ‘They are no
longer Gods of every land but secluded and tamed.’
‘Bet you wouldn’t say that to Shiva’s face,’ Black Friar
‘Friar, do you have anything constructive to say?’ The Red
Headed Bansidhe asked in anger.
‘Yea, two things. One, you can always call me Friar, and
two, sod off all of you,’ And with that he walked away from the gathering into
the shadows.
‘Enough!’ The Slain Peasant, ‘Let him go. We need to vote.’
‘Is this a possible end of the universe point?’ spoke an
innocent haunted voice.
Everyone turned to see it was The Phantom Soldier who had
spoken.
‘No but…’ The Slain Peasant
‘Then we don’t act together,’ The Phantom Soldier
With that, with words from the one who never…well, almost
never speaks, the gathering broke up.
After everyone else had disappeared back to their own dark
edges The Black Friar walked back into the courtyard.
The Dead Cat of The Tower jumped down on some rubble that
was piled up behind him.
‘You stirred that pot,’ The Dead Cat
‘When powerful shits like that get bored they begin to think
a piss of tea is a piss of blood,’ Black Friar
‘So torturing any nuns tonight?’ The Dead Cat
‘If it turns into a good night I will be,’ Black Friar
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spray out anyways. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be
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to you who have books like this in your collection? Now that I put my hand down
we can continue with the credits and copyright and legal and stuff that people
just don’t ever pay attention to unless it is pumping their own horn.
An Original Publication of System* Publishing,
a Tin Universe book published by System*Publishing, a
division of System*Productions, Melbourne, Florida. This book is a
work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events
or locales or persons, living or dead or living dead, is entirely and very much
so in the coincidental.
Smashwords Edition Copyright © 2015, Brian
C. Williams, System*Productions. Tin Universe Daily, and
all related titles, characters, and elements are trademarks of System*Productions.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions
thereof in any form whatsoever. While unauthorized reproduction is sometimes
needed, please remember us writers types are for the most part a poor lot just
in search of a ways to tell our stories and enough money to add to our Doctor
Who collections….well, at least that fits me. For more information on Tin Universe Daily, the artists who
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Written by Brian C. Williams
Edited by Brian C. Williams
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