Before the frost

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Shadows through the ages

Once upon a time, a handful of little ducks got lost. When the elder ducks found them, they punished them. Later, the Quack Council, behind close doors, for three days with their three nights, pondered. On the fourth day, The Duck spoke.
"Bearing in mind all the aspects of the situation and what happened, this Council has decided to appoint a guardian. One of all of you will be from now responsible in all senses for the rest of you. The case has been given careful consideration as the situation requires. Being Duck nº1 and Duck nº2 the oldest of you, this Council decided one of them would be chosen. After humble and quiet deliberation, it is the will of this Council that Duck nº1 is your sergeant. At his command, duck!"
"Duck!!" quacked all of them in agreement.
With a few more quacks, Duck nº1 had all the little ones formed and ready. Duck nº2 was slightly apart, watching the new order be established. Duck nº1, fully conscieous of its new stripes, didn't make eye contact while the wee ones closing ranks and started to walk to the pond. One little duck at the bottom of the line looked at the silent Duck nº2, whispered something to the others in some kind of argument until another one turned to Duck nº1 to ask about the route. Duck nº2, closer and knowing the answer, stayed silent.
It was almost at the pond when a wee one asked Duck nº2 something.
Duck nº2 considerered its options.
Duck nº2 cracked a joke.
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Lost with the rain

One morning Lucy went for a walk. She put on her wellies, took the butterfly net and walked the tiny road to the woods.
Little by little, the fog was getting thicker and soon the trees were just like shadows behind a grey cloak.
She was lost. Alone, wet and hungry. And lost. She couldn't call Rupert, she was beyond help. She knew she should have take precautions, either mark the path or stay on it. But she had been careless. She was careless. The glory of the sun and the chase of the butterflies a temptation too great for her. Easy, natural pleasures that she craved, but were her own highway to the hell outside F. Land.
"Listen to me, lads" shouted a bold man on the pier hardly two days beforehand. "The days of justice and reward are coming. Prepare yourselves for the punishment!"
Lucy didn't cry. She cursed and swore but didn't cry. What for? The damage was already done.
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Love & Tea

In the days of wonder Lucy walked with a swing and Rupert sang cheerfully. They drank tea, he beat her at chess, she sunbathed. In the land of wonder the moans carried their wantoness through the green.
The imminent October would bring the Square of Pegasus bright in the sky. Sadalbari would meet The Chained Lady. Mercury pumping through their veins. Like liquid silver melting under their brightness. They loved, they anguished. Their tears fell down and cinnabar appeared in the earth.
A million light years away, Rupert and Lucy enjoyed a quiet evening staring at the sky holding hot cups of tea. The bright stars blessed them.
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Lucy in the sky

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Blue moon

Rupert doesn't know anything about F. Land because he was born there. Green is overrated. Rain is overrated. What Rupert does know is about happy places. He left almost twenty years ago, going in and out of style, always with a big smile. The happiness of those who leave. Selfish, bold happiness.
He doesn't know and he doesn't care. He has a ukelele, a back garden and a girl. A boisterous, flamboyant girl who makes his life brighter. And a lot more complicated.
Rupert was walking a slippery slope. Swinging between girls like a butterfly between two tempting, scrumptious flowers. Would he fall? And, more important, where?
Sometimes Lucy hinted a secret, little smile. Rupert fell in Bubble Land. With her.
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Pilgrimage

The Church of the Holy Foreskin was little and pretty, hidden in a dark alley. Pilgrims from everywhere came to make their prayers. The hopeless added their votives offerings to the ones already filling the entrance. The side chapels had shelves from floor to roof crammed with what looked like the leftovers of a porn horror film, breasts, cocks, quims...
Jasper the cat, a runaway from the Peak District, watched them all, miaowing its disdain for the human race. Another kind of miaow prompted an answer from the fence of the church. Jasper the cat went there with its tail right in the air, a slow purr in its throat.
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Hard times

Life in F. Land is getting harder. Lucy feels that if she doesn't try harder, she will float away. Not expelled from F. Land but swept. Pity. Because she wants to be in F. Land. Oh dear, how much she wants it! Her life is a bubble in the green of F. Land, a bubble of bubble-happiness in her bubble-garden with her bubble-mate. Lots of pink and golden bubbles. But now she is afraid.
Fear is a bad thing. Fear keeps Lucy away from her fancy life. Nothing like fear to revert human nature to its internal beast. All sort of bubbles explode under fear.
Lucy had a bet. She lost. Years later she's still recovering.
Though she feels that, perhaps, she's ready to bet again.
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Drifting away

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Dear Jane

Dear Jane,
I don't know quite how to tell you this, but our hororscopes clash.
I think I first knew it when your sheepdog went berserk at the Hare Krishna prom, and I saw you punch out my spinach souffle. I'm sure you're gutless enough to see that "The Gong Show" stinks.
I'm returning your Darth Vader poster, but I'm holding on to my sanity as a keepsake. I want you to know that I'll tell my priest about your eggplant fetish.
With great relief,
Rupert
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The Church of the Sparkling Flowerhood

The lavender season reached its peak, the days were long and hot and the summer beat down.
Her Splendiferousness lay on the grass making a green angel. Rupert, sitting on the deck chair, lazily played the ukelele. The languidness of the day made them smile. The crickets chorused Rupert when they sang.
Her Sparkling Luminescence stayed all day outside, devouring the sun. Rupert stared at Her. The humblest minion or the treacherous, underhand Grand Vizier? Whichever reason, Lucy enjoyed being indulged.
Rupert revelled in his private pleasures.
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My House, My Kingdom

Lots of things were illegal in F. Land. Damn, lots of things were illegal everywhere! The things Lucy did at home were beyond punishment. The sins danced happily in her garden. She set up a party every afternoon for the pleasures and the joy and the Powers That Be (If They Really Are). Even the sun was invited, though it seldom came. Didn't matter. Champagne bubbles lit F. Land under the stars. Lucy had a castle, a kingdom. There were few rules inside. Less than few. Only one. She was the law.
On the wall in the living room was her scimitar. She used it capriciously.
The bright side of being a capricious girl is that capriciousness defies routine. But the paths of the pleasures are full of sacrifices. Being a true devotee of pleasure is a hard call.
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