Alt Mythos Archives

March 16, 2007

Stacy: "This is a New Version!"

“A fine strong girl, ma’am.”

She turned her face away.

“Ain’t no such thing.”

The doctor regarded her impassively. He cut the umbilical cord and gently wrapped the baby in a blanket. He wordlessly handed the infant off to the nurse who would deliver it to the orphanage.

A tall man entered the room and looked at the woman in the bed. Sweat-soaked and disheveled, she’d never been more precious to him. But to give up their child…

“Jane… are you sure about this?”

She knew her own limitations, though.

“Shut the fuck up and get me a whiskey, Bill.”

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June 25, 2007

Stacy: Magic Shoppe, Closing Time

She locked the door behind the day’s last idiot tourist, grumbling to herself. Never wanted to pay a thing’s value, them. Always looking to get out with something truly magical for mere pennies. Well, true magic had cost, dammit, and she wasn’t running a charity here.

She settled down to her workbench and picked up the red shoes. Aye, magic had cost, often paid in blood back in the day...

With a pair of silver tweezers she carefully placed inch long thorns down in the toes of the shoes. The next idle shopper would learn about cost, aye, they would.

From Jim's At the Magic Shoppe

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August 31, 2007

Stacy: Rebuttal

Bitch? Upon my honor, I never raised her to have such a cruel tongue. I had to lock her in the tower! She wouldn’t, to put it delicately, keep her skirts down, if you take my meaning. A girl without virtue is a girl without a husband, in this day and age. And I only enspelled her after she escaped for the fifth time...

Wicked? ME? I tried to warn him, I did, but he was so full of himself. Young men are impossible to reason with, especially penniless third sons.

I do so love visiting with the grandchildren, though.

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September 6, 2007

Stacy: The End

Dear Doctor,

Did you not know that to create me would be to curse me? Never again to know the warmth of human kindness, the delicate touch of another. We need that, Doctor, lest we shrivel and die inside.

These long years have taken their toll. I tire, and long for surcease, whatever the consequences to be faced in my afterlife. Yes, despite the horror of both of my lives, I do still believe in God. What remains to be discovered, is whether He believes in me.

I left my heart where no man will ever venture.

Fare thee well.

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January 31, 2008

Stacy: De-Illuminated

The Sun did shyne for a Cardinal of days, whilst the people made Merrie. And the world was Warm and Bryte.

Fyrst, the Fields didst begin to Drye and Cracke, the Harvest turned to Dust. The Kine didst fall and dyed where they lay. The River fled to under the Erth.

We entreated the King to sayve us. The King gifted the Wyze Men with more Gold and Sylver, and they Travelled again to the West. We wayted many more days, whilst the Sun did burn our Towne.

At last the Sun did not burn, and the Twylyght Time returned.

Sequel to Illuminated.

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February 4, 2008

Stacy: Downtown Hilton Conference Room, 4:27PM

“Order!” shouted Wodin, glass eye popping out in his excitement. Munin hopped to retrieve it, and he patted the bird affectionately.

“The 94,276th meeting of the International Society of Myths, Legends and Fables will come to order...”

“A stupid name,” snorted the spider.

“That’s only the 94,275th time we’ve heard that,” sighed Artemis.

“Bite me, dog girl,” snarled Loki.

“With pleasure,” she replied, calmly nocking an arrow, her hounds staring fixedly at the pale trickster.

The banging of the gavel went unnoticed in the ensuing conflict.

Wodin watched and felt an epic headache coming on. Another meeting shot to shit.

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April 21, 2009

Stacy: That Is The Question

“Brother.”

I turned at the voice, blood dripping from my sword. The house around me was finally silent.

“Raphael,” I said, voice rusty with disuse.

His face wore an odd look, as if he had never before beheld me. A strange sound came from my throat. I realized it was a laugh.

“I am as I ever was, brother,” I said.

Raphael looked round, at the dead and dying, some quite young this time. All guilty. All.

“Peace, Michael. Lay down your sword and come home.”

I laughed again. It seemed it got easier with practice.

“I have no home.”

(Sequel to Warrior)

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