An Alice in Wonderland Christmas story – for free
Category Archives: fantasy story
Marilyn Manson- You’re So Vain ft. Johnny Depp
As I sat uneasily atop my hound-horse, a large and fast animal as much greyhound as horse, I slipped my left hand into my jacket pocket and felt the cold steel of my trusty old lighter. Grasping tightly securing it in my sweating palm I carefully removed it from my suit pocket exposing the shiny metal to the bright rays of sunlight. My eyes, looking down onto my now open hand, squinted as the reflected rays tore away in several distinct directions, and my fingers clutched its familiar presence ever tighter. It was only a common and ever so ordinary cigarette lighter, but I felt an affinity with it; like that of an old friend. I ran my fingers along it, like petting an dog, then suddenly an almighty crack of thunder exploding directly overhead, in a tempestuous fury, brought my attention back to the task in hand the outcome of which promised life or death to each and everyone of us. So, without further ado, I cleared my mind and began speaking. I began reciting words, words which had only seconds earlier entered my tired brain, I said…”
“I hold this item in this my hand
To act as a bridge in these our plans
We need a distraction, a disturbance right now
To help Kakuri and the HU BA HOU.”
“No sooner had I finished speaking, and the last word left my lips, the sky began to darken. The dark clouds, appearing from nowhere, grew larger and larger and blacker and blacker until they had joined together in one congealed mass of undiluted anger. In a few short minutes the sky had changed from a deep summer blue to a black so dark day had turned into night.
Some of the assembled hound-horses sidestepped nervously, their handlers struggling to calm them. The wind began to blow, soft at first, but increasingly stronger. Then the heavens, opening in a deluge of rain, spewed thunder and lightning the likes of which I had never before seen; a storm, a full-blown storm was upon us.”
“And a storm was exactly what Kakuri needed. Through the driving rain, speaking directly to the HU BA HOU, she said, ‘Now my friend, it’s up to you – do your best.’ And with those words still lingering in its cavernous ears the huge animal took off at full-gallop heading straight for the Timeless Gates guarding the walled city of Onisha. The animal, sensing this was the final offensive, kept its large heavyset and armour-plated head well down. The storm now so intense Kakuri had, after only a few seconds, lost all sense of direction. She had no way of knowing if she was still on course, all she could do was trust the HU BA HOU, and hold on for dear life.”
“As if that were not enough for me to be worried about Kiliki had, meanwhile, given the order to the impatient, assembled Onishians to attack. And who could blame their impatience? It was their land, and they wanted revenge! The entire rag-tag collection of Onishians and their assorted animals plus the Orlu (a separate race of small ever obliging speedy people) were now hot on Kakuri’s heels with no intention of being left behind in the middle of nowhere, and in such a terrible storm. Soaked to the skin they all rushed headlong into the unknown. Some shouted, others roared and still others screamed with the delight they felt rising up against the man who had promised so much, who had given so little and who taken everything.”
“I could see the huge beast’s armour-plated defences, which had, only hours earlier, been carefully crafted by the ingenious Orlu, sparkling brilliantly in the reflected lightning flashes. The plates, of every conceivable shape and size, colliding with one another clanged loudly in a surreal musical tempo, and if there was anybody, within the walled city, still capable of seeing through the blinding, driving rain they would have been filled with the fear of God.
Suddenly, just short of the still-defiant gates, the HU BA HOU stopped. We all stopped dead in our tracks, wondering just what could be the problem. Then the tank, the ugly humpy-tank of an animal, clawing at the ground (like a bull), rising on its hind legs (like a horse) while roaring its own unique ear-shattering cry lifted its large, ugly head one last time before hurling itself forward with the gates set firmly in its sights, nothing could stop it now…”
“Watching, from the relative safety of a short distance behind, my mind wandered trying to remember how this had all come about. Why, only a few days earlier I had been all set for Christmas. I remembered sitting comfortably in front on the TV, looking forward to a well-earned rest. And now, here I was in an alien land about to follow a fair maiden atop an abomination of a creature called a HU BA HOU in an assault on a walled city, searching for a man called Miafra – for a man who would be a god. Searching for a man who had stopped time, stolen the chi (the free will) of the people and drained the powers of the most revered Mystic in the entire land. My thoughts, racing, drifted back to Christmas Eve those few short days ago…”
Fantastic Beasts and where to find them,
That’s the aim and conundrum,
For they are keen and magical too,
And if not careful they will get you.
So when you set off with wand in hand,
Make sure it’s primed with magical rhymes,
For as sure as night follows each day,
You will need that magic to get your way.
And if you do, if you kill those beasts,
And make the world safe from gruesome deeds,
Don’t you forget how many there are,
Waiting, just waiting to strike from afar.
There once was a slug called Reilly,
Who was incredibly slimy,
He thought he was smart,
Going out in the dark,
Until he fell down in a hole, did Reilly.
While stuck in that dark place,
Reilly thought about his life and his fate,
About the jerk he had been,
To everyone he had seen,
So he promised to be good, did Reilly.
Suddenly, a stick falling into the hole,
Presented a way to escape from it all,
Freed from that space,
Reilly forgot his promise, though great.
And returned to his bad ways, did Reilly.
One day when Reilly was alone,
He forgot to cover up his dank home,
It was an incredibly hot day,
The sun shone brightly away,
Drying him up, that slug, old Reilly,
The moral of my story is this,
Treat everyone you meet with a wish,
That their life is just fine,
Untroubled by lying and slime,
Don’t end up like silly old Reilly.
Aliens landed in Ballykilduff,
Aliens landed; that is a fact,
In the dark of the night it happened, it did,
At the end of my garden they landed, then hid.
Breda, dear Breda, wake up, will you please?
Something is happening; I am all in a tizz!
Leave me alone, she answered, I’m beat,
With those words on her lips she fell fast asleep.
Donning my gown and slippers I left,
Her sleeping soundly as into the kitchen I crept,
Taking hold of light; the torch, my best friend,
Into the garden I stealthily went.
Along the path, man and light progressed,
Over the fence, into the field with its guests,
Pointing my torch at some little green men,
I saw aliens a plenty around a spaceship broken.
What are they doing? I said far too loud,
Signalling my place, my location – and how,
Pointing their guns, the aliens zapped me with rays,
Blue, yellow and green, orange and grey.
Thinking my time was finished, all gone,
I fell to the ground, awaiting the anon,
Sorry about that, one of them said, helping me up
We thought you were a cow, wanting to eat us all up
What are you doing? I asked, with curious eyes,
Seeing them cutting the grass, taking it inside,
We are refuelling our spaceship, he told me quite proud,
We get one light year per armful, he said out aloud.
That’s amazing, I said, can I go see inside?
Sorry, he answered, it’s too small for your like,
Laughing, I asked if there was anything they need,
Yes, he told me forthrightly, can we have some tea?
Tea? I asked, you drink tea way up there,
In outer space, with its atmosphere rare?
No, silly, he replied, it’s to pour down our boots,
We never travel with them empty, forsooth.
You pour tea down your boots? I laughed out loud,
What does it do, make you fly like a bird?
It does, he told me, how did you know that?
Was your mother or father an alien, or even the cat?
Just then I heard something, someone calling to me,
Gerrard, wake up, its morning; here is your tea,
Opening my eyes, I saw Breda my wife,
Offering the cup of plenty, tea of my life.
Where are my boots? I asked, still half sleep,
I want them, I need them; oh where are they please?
They are under the bed, here, she said, offering them to me,
Why do you want them before drinking your tea?
Accepting my boots, I poured in the tea,
What on earth are you doing? she asked warily,
I don’t go anywhere, I told her, without filling them first,
Can I have another cup, I asked, because I sure have a thirst.
The moral of my story is this:
Don’t go anyway to Ballykilduff, give it a miss,
Things are happening in spaceships; it’s true,
Aliens aplenty are waiting for YOU.
Part One – The Fabled Crest
Sunday Morning Coming Down
My name is Slimy and, like my best friend Sluggy, I am a slug. Sluggy is older than I am by three full days. Moreover, he is famous. Everyone in the garden, including the lowly snails, knows Sluggy, and everyone one of us aspires to be just like him when we grow up.
With his twenty-first birthday fast approaching (twenty-one days, that is), Sluggy wanted a party, a big party. Because we like him so much, it was no problem, no problem at all to honour his wish. We set about organising it, the party of the week, the party to beat all others, the celebrity slug party that soon had the whole garden buzzing with excitement…
My story begins one sunny summer’s afternoon, with Croaky the fog sitting on his favourite lily pad, enjoying the sun while lying in wait for a dainty morsel to catch. Watching the flies buzzing to and fro across the pond, hoping that one of them landed nearby, or at least slowed down enough, to allow him an opportunity to secure his next meal, Croaky sat perfectly still. But there were so many flies flitting around, Croaky didn’t know which of them to watch let alone catch. Then he heard a sound, a low droning buzz, quite different to the usual insect sounds that he had become accustomed to hearing. This new one was an altogether more courser sound. Tilting his head over to one side, Croaky tried to hear it clearer. It was a fly, he was quite certain of that, but so different from any that he had up until then heard. The sound grew louder and louder, so loud Croaky imagined it must be the mother of all flies coming his way. His stomach growled in anticipation of the wonderful meal heading towards him…