I was sitting on that headland when I thought I heard my name being called. I paid no attention, however, because I was feeling low of spirit. I’d been left, you see, my ship had sailed away without me after the monster had swamped my canoe on the rocks. since I had no other way of reaching the ship, I watched the sails as the vessel distanced itself from the shore. Then, I heard my name again and looked down and there, below the cliff and rocking in the surf, was a longboat.

“C’mon, m’hearty,” the man called. “We gotta hurry if’n we want to catch the ship where they’re awaiting you.”

I scrambled down the rocky path, which wasn’t a path at all. “But I don’t have my sea bag,” I yelled at the swashbuckler type who by now, with his crew was having trouble holding the long boat steady.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that, they’ll have britches fer ya, tunics, too, but ya gotta hurry—I can’t hold this boat fer much longer.”

I scrambled, slipped, and slid into the water where strong arms gripped me and pulled me into the boat where, I might add, I landed on my butt on the hard planks in the bottom. Like a rocket in the surf, the long boat shot away from the beach, the oarsmen barely able to hold it against the current, and from crashing on the same rocks that had swamped my canoe earlier. Another moment and I would have again lost the opportunity to catch the ship and the berth that awaited me.

It seemed no time at all before I was nervously climbing a swaying robe ladder and over the side onto the ship. If I live through this experience, I thought, it will be some kind of a miracle, and an adventure to talk to my grandchildren about. What grandchildren? Someone else’s perhaps, seeing that I am no one’s grandma.

by Vi Jones

“Do you know,” I said, preparing for the journey in the long boat to meet the Bog Queen, “possibly you read too much. Some things just need doing, after all.”
Belenus was making sure his load was on straight and the chest, that we saved from the
old haunted Victorian house, actually the Dead Man’s Chest, would stay safe with us. We had found out in the walled garden that it had no key, and there formed a kind of superstitiousness
about it, that it best not be forced open. There was a time for mysteries and a time for revelations, we agreed. But now we argued. Belenus was uncertain about going to the island, the Cave of the Ancients, where the bog people had lived. “From my readings it’s possible we may not return in one piece, preserving the dangers of falling foul to pride and too much sacrifice!”

“But you are reading only one account of the story, where there might be many,” I said to him,
doing up my long sturdy boots for the trek to the cave. Belenus said he would carry me to the entrance, but would stay outside. He feared the hungry appetites of the one-eyed beings there, struck with a healthy awe of them from his classical readings. “But we cannot be sure,” he warned, “and this journey might prove to be perilous!”

Being on the ship had made us both lean toward the pirate ways, and even Belenus was wearing a kerchief of red and white around his neck. The stories and the lore we had learned on board had made an impression on us.
“I have no desire to believe everything I read, especially now, and we shall go. You and I both. I will wager it won’t be as bad as you think,” I told him, and he finally shrugged.
“We can always take flight,” he reminded himself, and recalled he hadn’t been at all frightened at the old Victorian house.
“And we have other things besides to help us,” I said, “Courage is at hand.”

Belenus said nothing and we waited, prepared, for the long boat to take us with the other travellers to the island where the Cave of the Ancients was.

by Imogen Crest

Ariel awakened me from my reverie about Willow. “Time to go” he said and marched out of the clearing the way we had come. “We will not get to the blind spring tonight so we must find somewhere for you to shelter for the night He picked his way carefully through the rocks until he came to an overhang, camouflaging the mouth to a cave. “You will be warm and dry in there” he said, nosing me forwards. I went in slowly allowing my eyes to accustom themselves to the dimness. A pile of heather on the floor covered by an animal skin would make a comfortable bed. On a ledge at the back of the cave I found a jug of spring water, a cheese wrapped in sweet chestnut leaves and some apples - a feast indeed, which I promptly shared with Ariel.

Hanging on the wall at the entrance was a bunch of dried grass through which someone had threaded some of the purple flowers I had seen growing near the cave entrance. Obviously this cave was used by travellers on a regular basis and someone took care of it, for the floor was spotless and the food fresh. Ariel left me to settle myself down for the night and he went to find a resting place outside. I made myself comfortable on the pile of heather and wrapped my cloak around me. After all the excitement of the day I soon drifted off into a deep and dreamless sleep.

I awoke early and stretched my stiff limbs. Walking to the cave entrance I could see the sun was just about to rise and I stood watching it as the sky gradually changed colour from a pearly grey suffused with pink. The sun, a glowing dark red, slowly rose over the trees and all around me hidden birds struck up a chorus of greeting. I found that the unseen guardian had replenished my food and water stocks. This time there was a small round loaf of brown bread and a dripping slice of honeycomb. Ariel told me to take my time eating breakfast and then we would be off on another day of adventure.

I had thought that Ariel was quietly eating his breakfast not far away when he suddenly came rushing up to the cave mouth. “Come on, we’ve got to go”, he shouted as he came closer. “If we don’t hurry up we’ll miss the boat”. “Whatever are you talking about, Ariel?” I asked. “Take the wings out of the bag le Enchanteur gave you and put them on, we’ve no time to lose”. I am getting to used to all these sudden changes of direction and did as I was told, knowing that Ariel would fill me in on the details as we went. I fumbled around in the little bag for what seemed like ages before finding the little wings and attaching them to my shoulders - I couldn’t reach round to my back and hoped that that would do instead. I climbed on to Ariel’s back and we rose into the air almost immediately.

We flew over woods and fields, profusions of flowers everywhere until at last we came in sight of the coast. As we came closer we could see that there was a ship showing pirates’ colours at anchor off a small rocky cove. “Is that where we are headed?” I asked Ariel. “It is indeed, but they are just casting off the anchor. I think I will have to fly with you on to the ship”. So we flew out over the cliff edge. However are we going to land safely on the ship’s deck, I wondered to myself. Again Ariel had picked up my thoughts. “Easy”, he said. “Take out the little anchor that is in your bag and drop it down to the ship. Our mates on board will be able to hold it steady so that we can land safely”. “Ahoy there, travellers flying in”, he called. To my astonishment people started pouring on to the deck and straining their eyes to see us. I let drop the little anchor and watched the tiny golden thing disappear down below us towards the outstretched hands. Somebody caught hold of it and held it fast and we slowly descended towards the deck and landed safely. From the glances cast in our direction it was obvious some of the crew members thought there was some weird magic afoot and even more obvious that some of them were even more surprised to see a flying donkey.

And that my friends, is how Ariel found himself on board the Calabar Felonway with me…… I’m not at all sure how the donkey secretary will take to the news of one of her donkeys on a ship!

by Traveller

A couple of young crewmen, swarthy, fit, and no doubt hand-selected by Captain Wilder for their ability to handle all manner of shipboard tasks, helped me on board and directed me to my private cabin. After stowing my gear, I found my way to the galley. The cook fixed me up with a steaming bowl of salmagundi and some hardtack and then directed me to the captain’s dining room. Apprehension overtook me– I had heard about Captain Ebony Wilder– she was also known as the Wild Wench of the West Winds– sometimes she blew soft and fair and other times with gale-force fury.

I tapped lightly on the door. “Don’t just stand there like a little mouse! Come in! We don’t stand on pretensions around here!”

I opened the door, carefully balancing my bowl of stew and hardtack, and entered.

“Ah, it’s YOU! I’ve heard about you! Sit down.”

“Yes, maam.”

“Captain, if you will, I’m too young to be a maam.”

“Yes, maam, er– captain.”

“How do you like the Salmagundi? The goat meat is a little gamey but the anchovies are fresh.”

I swallowed hard. “Good– real good– I love gamey Salmagundi.” I took another spoonful and forced a smile.

“So”, said the Captain as she leaned back in her chair, booted feet propped on the table, “Matilda tells me that you’ve pinched a few of her tail feathers.” I felt my stomach ball up in a knot.

“And that horse of yours left her to pay quite a bit of a bar tab.”

As nervous as I felt, I still had trouble stiffling a chuckle–Albert!

“Well, Captain, if you would like me to pay… how much does he owe?”

“Four-hundred and fifty-seven Lemurian shekels.”

I gulped. “Um, there may be a bit of a problem with that–I’m having a slight cash-flow problem…..”

“Tosh! I won’t hear anything of the sort.” Captain Wilder leaned forward and winked her unpatched eye at me, “I love it when someone pulls one over on that old bird. She deserves it most of the time.”

In the distance, a squawk sounded and a voice said “I heard that!”

“Shut-up, y’old seed-spitter!” the Captain roared. Then she turned back to me, “Now, I hear-tell that you are on your way to the Abbey and the Cave of the Ancestors.”

“Yes, that’s true. I’m told you are headed that way.”

“Indeed. Did you also hear about the Bog People?”

“Ah, a little something. Can you tell me more?”

“Vile people. They live in the bogs along shores of this inlet and on an island in the midst of it. Very difficult to get around them. We’re going to have to fight our way through. You up for a little excitement, darlin’?” The Captain chuckled again.

“I can hold my own,” I said, lifting my head with more confidence than I actually felt.

“Good, because if they take you captive, you will regret it.”

“Why? What do they do to captives?”

“Feed then alive to the Taraka?”

My eyes widened.

The Captain laughed again. “I love to tell people that to see the reaction. It’s not true.”

I relaxed a bit.

“The bog people strangle you first, then feed you to the Taraka. Ha!” The Captain nearly fell off her chair. When she had pulled herself together, she said, “Not to worry, dear. I’ve sailed this inlet a hundred times. They haven’t gotten me yet….. crewmen– that’s another story, though!…..Darlin’ have a glass of wine, you don’t look so good.”

by Lori Gloyd (c) 2006

Belenus and I just read the note from Enchanteur with

dread. Trawling across the sand with our bags, we

paid our respects to Captain Wilder and her crew. We were

uneasy. The other travellers were boarding, and we caught

up on our adventures. Then, Belenus retired to a corner

of the cabin to read about “The Mountains of Lemuria”, and some

people the Enchanteur had warned us about…

copyright Monika Roleff 2006.

I bid my horse, Albert, a sad goodbye at the landing in the Pirate’s Cove. As much as I wanted him to come with me, he assured me that a horse at sea was not a good situation for all parties concerned. Also, he seemed to suggest that there had been a parting of the ways between he and Matilda, the captain’s parrot,  and it was best that he not be on board– something about owing money– I didn’t pry further. Albert promised that he would find a way to the Abbey and would meet me there.

I kissed him on the forehead and scratched him behind the ears, then I boarded my small skiff and headed out towards the Calabar Felonway, anchored in the cove.

As I rowed onward, I noticed something glimmering in the morning sun light. It was cobalt blue, bobbing in the water, and as I got closer, I could see it was a wine bottle. I grabbed the gaff in the bottom of the skiff and reached for the bottle. When I finally got hold of it, I held it up to the light. Inside was a small scroll.

I pulled out the cork and removed the scroll. It was parchment, old and stained, and the writing was somewhat hard to read. In dark brown script, which looked like dried blood, were the scrawled words: “Beware of the Bog People……”

Before I could finish reading, a voice from the Calabar hailed me: “Avast ye scurvey wench, what’s takin’ ye so long.” I shoved the scroll into my knap sack and quickly rowed on.

by Lori Gloyd © 2006

With a roar that was beyond hearing and would have put Niagara and Iguasu to shame, the sea horses of Neptune came riding through the night. Our fair Calabar Felonway rocked and pitched as if caught in a gale. Pirates and passengers clung for dear life to whatever was anchored down, too afraid to be sick and terrified the ship would splinter apart. Some surely must have believed they would die.

“It’s you, he’s come for!” Captain Wilder shouted as I sped past her up the passageway to head topside.

I stopped for the briefest moment to face her–”You hear it, too?”

“Aye, he’s calling yer name! Go, hurry, he waits for no one. I’ll be right behind, ya, this I’ve got to see!”

Up on deck, a full moon gleamed down on our ship, which still rocked violently. Stars seemed to explode in a Van Gogh sky and I saw a sight which will remain
with me until the day I die. A team of giant horses in shades of aquamarine and cobalt blue snorted and pawed the foam crested waves churned up by their arrival. At the center, a bigger than life bearded man, trident raised high, reigned in his steeds and boomed in a voice like thunder.

“Believer! Come, greet your King. Loyal Shellback, Traveler of my realm, Sailor of the good ships, Santa Maria and Magdalena, Brasil and Argentina, you have been missed! Welcome back!”

I slipped and slid my way to the rail fully prepared to leap overboard, only to see an iridescent wave of sea foam emanating from Neptune’s outstretched arms and heading straight towards me. It lifted me up and deposited me on the king’s lap as gently and lovingly as a grandfather swings around his favorite grandchild. Seated in front of the great king, my fingers entwined in the horses mane I thrilled at the power of the team as they surged up and over the sails of the Calabar Felonway.

“Bon voyage!” I heard Captain Wilder cheer above the roar of horses and waves as we galloped into the night.

by Barabara Banta

I leaped at the chance to ride with Neptune and jumped aboard wearing my special glasses and clutching my tiny anchor in my hand. The moonlight shimmered on the ocean’s surface as Neptune’s steed dove through the white light into the depths. I expected darkness and found brillance.

Seahorses danced and star fish floated through the water while multicolored fish swam among them waving their tails. I watched enthralled with the ballet on this stage. Dipping deeper, the brillance muted to soft moonlight and the fantastical creatures emerged from the gloom. Winged shapes and nebulous blobs drifted by. Amorphous forms rearranged themselves as I clung to Neptune’s steed awed by the sights.

Deeper I went, the light fading as I was taken through a shadowy entry and emerged in a cone with sparkling luminescent colors radiating from the walls. The colors moved, fading or intensifying, a continuous movie of shades and tones. This fantastical world enchanted me, clutching me, drawing me toward the narrowing end. What would I find as I funneled inward? What danger lurked?

Fear gripped me. I shut my eyes and ripped off my glasses. When I dared to look, I had returned to the ocean surface. I returned to the ship feeling I had narrowly escaped an unseen menace.

by Prairie Muse

“I don’t like the look of this,” I said to Belenus, coming to land on the shores of the
lake. The body of water had looked inviting from the air, but the moment we
touched down on the sodden banks, I was starting to feel uneasy about this
adventure. “Calm down,” said Belenus, putting his glasses on
to read something he had tucked behind his ear. “Is that a map?” I said. “No,”
he said, “Put your glasses on. Wasn’t it you who told me we had to see things
differently?” Belenus gave me an annoyed donkey glance, and I found my
glasses in a hurry. “Well, then, what are you reading and how are we going to
find the Dead Man’s Chest? That’s been missing for a long time, you know.”
“It’s a cheat sheet,” said Belenus. My eyes opened wide, horrified. “Trust me,”
he added, smiling a donkey smile that showed his donkey teeth.

“Come on”, said Belenus, swishing his tail. I hurried after him, until we reached a
lamp post that was vaguely familiar. “Feels like another time, another place,”
I said. He winked back at me and said, “You are! Victorian times, to be exact.”
The lamp post shed a dim light as I passed, with the help of my glasses, but the
house loomed ahead, strange purple, and unforgiving.

“Did you hear that?” I said, fumbling in the bag Enchanteur had given me, and

getting out the anchor. “To keep me steady…” I mumbled and followed Belenus

onto the old creaky verandah, through the front door, laced with cobwebs.

The noise grew louder. Sounded like singing, or wailing. “What

is it?” I asked, above the din. “A broken heart. They’re like the sirens. Women

with broken hearts. Ever hear that saying, “hell hath no fury like a woman

scorned”? Now we are faced with the Molloys…” said Belenus, his voice trailing off.

He looked at his cheat sheet again with his glasses on and

started to make strange noises himself. “Don’t forget what you know,” said a

voice, deep and resonating in the high, dark ceilings. I shivered, but resolved not

to forget what I knew. There was a picture, like a negative photograph I somehow

knew, on the dusty floor. The wailing went on and on, until we saw them, three

ladies, forever mourning, draped in black Victoriana, and wicked, by a window. I

picked up the picture and hid it in my coat.

Belenus showed no fear. He put his cheat sheet away behind his ear, and

he started singing himself, in less a donkey’s voice than a man’s. The

sound was like a sailor’s song, a swashbuckling tune,

round and round in circles it went. With that the wailing slowed and

the ladies disappeared into the shadows, but only for a

moment. Belenus rushed ahead, still crooning his sea song, and snatched a

small chest, carved of oak, and slung it across his back. “Quick!” he said, “Let’s

fly!” I stashed the anchor away and jammed on the red shoes, got on his back,

and we flew out of the house, that stayed calm, but only until Belenus’ crooning

was out of range. But then we were far above in the sky again, away from the

Victorian house, away from the past, with just what we had been missing. I

had a thousand questions, but they would have to wait until we reached safety…

copyright Monika Roleff 2006.

Several days have passed since my adventure with the Bog Queen. I had learned much about myself from that experience. I sat in a comfortable Adirondack chair at the stern of the Calabar, relaxing, sipping raspberry tea, and reading a scroll of Anita Marie’s tales of the macabre.

Some crewmen were swabbing the deck, cleaning up after a sudden and violent storm the night before. I overheard one muttering something about “Neptune’s wrath”. Others spoke of strange sea creatures they had seen the night before.

The Captain had gone with L’Enchanteur and some other passengers to search for a golden key and another traveler was seen departing with the Phoenix who had dropped in to visit Matilda. I was content to sit out the rest of the voyage and read.

Thewomp! A large grayish brown mass swept in front of me and landed on the stern’s railing. After a flurry of flapping wings, a large pelican settled herself in front of me. She turned her long graceful neck around and peered at me with striking yellow eyes.

“Uh, hello!” I stammered. I had not expected a bird that large to suddenly appear. The pelican only stared at me. I was a bit taken aback. I had expected all the creatures of Lemuria to be sentient and articulate.

“Did L’Enchanteur send you?” I asked. The bird continued to eye me without expression.

“She’s probably wondering why I haven’t gone on any more adventures. Well, I’m pretty worn out from the last one. That really knocked me out.”

The pelican cocked its head and looked at the scroll I was holding.

“I bet you think I’m wasting too much time reading instead of writing. Hey, we’re supposed to be supportive of each other here and I’m just doing my part. It takes time to read everything. And who are you to comment otherwise?”

The bird arched her neck and began preening the feathers on her back.

“You know, I get this same stuff back in the Real World. ‘Lori, how come you’re watching so much TV. Lori, how’s that book coming? What? You haven’t finished it YET? Well, you have so much time in the evenings.’”

The pelican stopped preening.  She squated and made a messy deposit on the deck.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “And I bet you think I’m all upset about THEM!”  I was thinking of some in my circle of relationships who did not support my creative endeavors.

“Well, I’m not. I don’t need them to affirm my work. And you….. you just don’t know anything!”

The pelican finally turned around and glared at me. I scowled back at her, my arms and legs crossed, my foot tapping the deck in anger.

Several long, awkward moments of silence passed.  I could hear the ship’s rigging banging and clanging.

“FINE!” I shouted. “I’ll show you! You want me to go on an adventure? Fine, I’ll go on an adventure!”

I jumped up from my chair and pitched my hat to one side. I struggled with the buckle on my belt.  One of the crewman hanging from the mast shouted: “Take it off, honey!”

I pulled off my shirt and flung it away.  A chorus of crewman erupted from the deck: “Owwww!” “Woo-hoo!” “Way to go!” and a deafening refrain of wolf whistles followed after me as I ripped off the last bit of my outer clothing. I stood at the stern of the ship in my red lacy underwear, my head held high amidst the din.

I clambered up onto the railing and turned to the pelican, still sitting there. I had regained my composure somewhat and was a little ashamed at having hollered at L’Enchateur’s emissary.  I said softly, “Thanks. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Then, with a great leap, I dove into the azure blue sea.

Lori Gloyd © 2006