Tag Archives: Magic

Mystic Cola

Mystic Cola, powerful might,

Thunderous magic, hidden from sight,

Disguised by a treat, sugary and sweet,

A shortcut to enlightenment,

The Cryptic Agenda decree.

Alice in Wonderland stories

If this has you thinking,

You would like some of that,

Visit their temple and study their track,

But watch out for that bottle once it’s uncorked,

Lest you are drawn to its magic and inside it are caught!

free eBooks for everyone

Free eBooks for everyone

courtesy of the Crazymad Writer – ARRRGH.


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Harry Rotter

Harry Rotter

Chapter One


Harry Rotter Chapter One

Mr and Mrs Privet, of number five Dorsley Drive, were anything but normal. They had been normal only a few weeks earlier, but they were now as crazy as those incarcerated in the local loony bin.
On the outside, Mr Privet, a tall, bald and incredibly thin man, appeared quite normal, but just beneath the surface, barely hidden, he was a seething mass of nervous ticks, idiosyncratic behaviour, peptic ulcers and, above all, just plain looniness. As well as suffering from the same mad ways as her loopy husband, the extraordinarily fat Mrs Privet was also suffering from the dreadful infliction of hearing voices in her head. She might hear them at any time of the day or night, and would oftentimes jump up in her bed, screaming in a most alarming way, giving her husband such a fright he would begin shaking uncontrollably. It was a most dreadful state of affairs altogether. Despite suffering from these awful conditions, Mr and Mrs Privet tried to continue living as normal a life as was possible, but hardly a day went by without one of them experiencing a mad interlude that would make most normal people simply roll over and die.
Before I continue with my story, I must also tell you about their son Box, Box Privet. This child (the veritable apple of their eyes) was, like his father, of a tall and incredibly thin physique. At times, this trait would cause him to be the butt of jokes and jibes by his classmates and acquaintances. However, he paid little or no attention to them, because his mind was always set firmly on the love, the passion of his life – electronics. Upstairs, in his small bedroom, Box would work for hours on end with his soldering iron, long nose pliers and tweezers, creating, crafting bringing his new ideas to life. It was a lonely existence, but he loved it.
I have already told you how Mr and Mrs Privet had been quite normal only a few weeks earlier. In all truthfulness, the Privet’s had been one of the happiest families in their entire estate of mock Elizabethan detached houses. But
now they were mad, living in fear for their lives, the happy and contented existence they had so enjoyed, in tatters, a shambles, a mere shadow of what it had once been.
You see, the Privet’s had been hiding a secret, a big secret. And while it had been contained and suppressed, as they felt is should still be, they had been enjoying that happy and contented life, but from the moment, the very instant this secret, this terrible secret had escaped from its place of incarceration, a private boarding school going by the name of Hagswords, their happy and carefree life had come to an abrupt end.
This secret, this big dark secret was in reality a young girl, an orphan, the Privet’s only niece, going by the of Harry Rotter. She had actually been baptised Harriet, but from an early age had insisted that everyone call her Harry.
Let me tell you about Harriet – Harry… She was the boldest, cruellest, nastiest child you could ever be unfortunate enough to meet. To look as her, with her flowing locks of golden hair and a face that appeared so innocent, so angelic, one might easily be fooled into believing that butter could last forever in her mouth without melting. But she wasn’t an angel, no, the unfortunate truth, the terrible truth was she was an out and out scoundrel, a bully who had no respect for anyone but herself. Bullies can and so very often do make the lives of those living around them as miserable as hell – Harry proved to be no exception to this rule.
While Harriet – Harry – had been safely ensconced in her school everything had been just fine, and the Privet’s had been able to forgot about their troublesome niece, but from the moment she broke out, escaped from that high security ‘special’ boarding school, and found her way to the home of her only living relations, the Privets, their lives changed forever.
“Excuse me, please,” said Harry, ever so mannerly when Mrs Privet opened the front door, “I am your only niece. Will you please put me up for a few days?”
“Its young Harriet, isn’t it?” said Mrs Privet, patting her nervously upon the head. “Are you on a school break?”
Ignoring the question while resisting the urge to kick the condescending woman in the shins, Harry smiled, and said, “I prefer to be called Harry, if it all right with you?”
“Yes, yes, that’s fine,” said Mrs Privet as she ushered Harry through the doorway, looking up and down the road, to see if anyone had been following her. The road, however, was deserted. “Please go into the front room,” said Mrs Privet. The cat made a mad dash past Harry, through the open doorway.
Harry entered the room. It reminded her of Hagswords – far too much stained glass and wood panelling for her liking. “Sit down, sit down, Harry, and make yourself comfortable,” said Mrs Privet. “I will go fetch you some lemonade, you must be so thirsty after your travelling. Then I will go tell your uncle the good news.”
Leaving Harry alone in the room, Mrs Privet returned to the hallway where she opened the small door under the stairs that led down to the cellar, a den of sorts. Calling her husband, she said, “Dear…. we have a visitor…”
“Who is it?” a voice called up from below.
“It’s your niece.”
BANG. There was a sound like a baldhead striking a beam in the low slung ceiling, and then there was silence.
“Did you hear me, darling?”
Mumbles from below.
Mr Privet began speaking, and in a hushed voice, he asked, “Are you sure it’s our niece – THAT niece?”
“Yes, dear, it’s young Harriet – I mean Harry, Harry Rotter.”
“Harriet or Harry – you should know what sex they are.”
“He, she’s a girl, she just likes the name Harry – shortened, you know.”
“I don’t know if I know anything anymore,” Mr Privet grumbled as he made his way up the narrow staircase, “having to deal with your ‘unusual’ relations. Puffing and panting, Mr Privet emerged from the cellar. “Where is she, then?” he barked, looking up and down the hallway.
“I put her in the front room.”
“Our best china’s in there!” he hollered, storming down the hallway and then bursting into the room like an elephant was chasing after him. Inside, he found Harry carefully inspecting a piece of their hand-painted fine bone china.
“That’s an heirloom – but it’s not worth anything,” he muttered, eying Harry’s canvas shoulder bag with suspicion, while also trying, but unsuccessfully, to close the battered door.
“Not worth anything?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No, not a penny…”
“Can I have it, then, as a keepsake?”
Almost choking on his words, Mr Privet fumbled to find others, words that might save his prized china.
“Mr Privet?”
“I… we…we can’t give it away… we promised your Granny, on her death bed, that we would always treasure it…”
Studying his face, particularly the sweat beading upon it, Harry searched for signs of deceit. “Okay,” she said, “it was just a thought.” Then scanning the room, she added, “There must be loads of things amongst all this rubbish that you don’t want.”
“No, no, everything’s spoken for,” Mr Privet squeaked in reply. Then changing the subject from their prized possessions, he asked Harry the reason for her visit.
“Oh, I have already told your wife,” she said, “I will be staying with you for a few days…”
This time Mr Privet almost choked on Harry’s words.
Mrs Privet, carrying a tray with a tall glass of lemonade upon it, entered the room, “Everything all right?” she asked, smiling innocently at them.



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Wot, Nott, Kakuri and the HU BA HOU: Part One – The Fabled Crest.

Wot, Nott, Kakuri and the HU BA HOU

Part One – The Fabled Crest.

eBooks for children; fantasy stories.


We were not boy wizards, vampire’s assistants or even living skeletons, we were normal everyday people living normal everyday lives, with no inkling of the tremendous events that were about to unfold.
Our adventure began with the arrival of a peculiarly small Christmas card, which sent us hurtling to the mystical land of Onisha, where Umahia, the Grand Mystic, asked for our help. He told us that he needed our help to fight, stop and ultimately defeat ‘Miafra, the evil,’ the mystic who had stolen his powers, the seasons, free will and all time. Umahia told us that we had powers, powers that up until then we had no inkling we possessed, which might, just might help us to defeat the evil man…
We had no idea, no inkling whatsoever, that we were going to be attacked by Protectors atop Hound-Horses, fight a statue hell-bent on killing us, be betrayed in our sleep, and be forced to fight a dangerous beast called a Dragonsaur. No, we had no idea at all. If we had, we might have chosen not to heed Umahia’s call, leaving the land of Onisha – and the Earth – exposed to untold dangers…



Rioghbhardan and Fikri

Hello, my name is Nott and my best friend is Wot. We have been friends as far back as we can remember; we live on the same street, went to the same school and shared most all our childhood experiences together, we are and always have been the very best of friends. As adults, we spend most of our free time together, and could never envisage it being any other way.
My name, my real name is actually Fikri, and Wot’s is Rioghbhardan. Neither of us ever liked these, given, names, and from an early age, we would play happily for hours on end, trying to choose new ones. Despite spending so much time in this preoccupation, we found it difficult to choose alternatives, names we felt more suited to. Begrudgingly, we accepted them, until one sunny summer’s afternoon when we got a bit giddy, playing, thinking about possible new ones. Acting ‘the cod,’ singing in unison, we said, “What’s in a name? I do not know! It’s not our aim to go on so, trying to find what’s best or not – what must be resolved, or not.” With those words still ringing in our ears, we suddenly stopped singing.
“That’s it!” Rioghbhardan cried out. “From now on we shall be called What and Not!”
I immediately agreed, though I changed the spelling slightly, proclaiming, “From now on we are WOT and NOTT, and that’s that.” Little did we realise these names were to remain with us throughout our childhood and well into our adult lives.
As we grew older, we did not drift apart as so many childhood friends tend to do, if anything we actually grew closer. This does not mean we always got on well. Quite often, we would appear, to those watching us, more akin to enemies than friends. The reason for this is that we are entirely different people. Wot is a laid-back type of individual who will not be rushed into a quicker rate of knots than he is comfortable with – he gets the job done, but on his terms. This trait can sometimes drive me bonkers, because I have a quick mind with an uncanny ability (or so I am told) to work things out. I want to get things done as soon as is humanly possible and cannot understand why anyone would have any other way of behaving. This difference in personalities has always ensured that life is far from dull for the two of us.
Physically speaking, Wot is a larger than life individual, whose favourite colours are earthy browns and greens; his clothes definitely reflect this taste. He always wears flared, cord trousers, whether they are in fashion or not, and a casual, polo neck shirt. Despite prematurely greying, Wot’s short-cropped hair compliments rather than takes from his appearance, but a series of loose wrinkles running horizontally across the back of his head, quite unique to him, have to be seen up close and personal, to appreciate their uniqueness.
I am just over half Wot’s height, of a thin build, with black hair and moustache. My preferred items of apparel are a crisp blue suit, white shirt, black tie and my old trilby hat that I would never be seen anywhere without.
…We were two friends living normal everyday lives with no inkling of the tremendous events that were about to unfold…


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Posted by on September 29, 2014 in fantasy, Uncategorized


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Do you want to be certified as a true practitioner of Mysticology and Magic? If so, simply right click on the certificate, below, and save it to your computer. Then print it out, filling in your name in the space provided. You will then be an honorary member of the Onishian Brotherhood of Mystics.

Certificate in mysticology and magic


Stories for children and young at heart adults

by The Crazymad Writer – ARRRGH.


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Mystical Cola

Mystical Cola, powerful might,

Thunderous magic, hidden from sight,

Disguised by a treat,

Sugary and sweet,

A shortcut to enlightenment,

The Cryptic Agenda decree.


If this has you thinking,

I would like to try that,

Go visit their temple,

And study their track,

But watch out for that bottle once it’s uncorked,

Lest you are drawn to its magic and inside it are caught.


sparkClick HERE to visit my online book shop,

where you can purchase my eBooks




I am the Crazymad writer – ARRRGH.


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Wot, Nott, Kakuri and the HU BA HOU

Wot, Nott, Kakuri and the HU BA HOU:

Part One – The Fabled Crest

eBooks for children; fantasy stories.

Click HERE to purchase this eBook

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Posted by on November 5, 2013 in Stories for children


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The Witches are Coming

Click HERE to be transferred to my online book shop, where you can purchase my eBooks, or click on the links to the left of this page, to read more about my exciting new stories.

The Witches are Coming

The witches are coming,

It’s that time of the year,

When ghosts, monsters and goblins,

Walk abroad, creating fear.

A time of dark nights and much darker deeds,

When kids call on neighbours,

Saying, trick or treat if you please.

When you deposit some treats in the bags by their sides,

You will see magic so wondrous in those kids’ eyes,

The same magic you possessed a long time ago,

Before worldly concerns dimmed its bright glow.

To reawaken that spell,

Just open your eyes,

To the marvel and the wonder,

In this big world of ours.


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Posted by on October 12, 2013 in Halloween


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