The Writers' Circle

I HOPE YOU GIVE IT A READ AND LEAVE SOME FEEDBACK, AND THAT YOU LIKE IT ALSO. CHEERS. (Word Count:10.837)

A Really Bad Dream


"Mornin'"

A vast mist hovered just inches above the surface of the earth. Huge clouds constantly gathering, packed tight into the man-made valley. The mist skipped upon the surface, climbing over massive metal hills and through flooded caverns of cardboard boxes and broken bottles.
Well, that's what it looked like from where I was lying. I'm sure it had nothing to do with the eight pints and six double vodka's I'd had earlier. Though being thrown against the wall by two of the biggest and most defiantly ugliest bouncers I had ever seen, might have been a contributing factor to the lack of stability in my surroundings.
All in all, apart from my immediate state, it did look pretty nice. Even though everything was starting to go a bit red.
Ahh crap, now it's gone all black.

Several hours later.

The first thing to come into focus was that grey stoned mass we all recognize as a floor. Not just any old floor, but a special surface connected to the side door of yet another pub I would be undoubtedly barred from for life. As well as the decorative assortments of tin cans, mouldy food, and various other rank and putrid objects. Which of course attracted rats and city mice, some of which I was sure had been nibbling at me just moments earlier.
I stumbled to my feet, tripping over a stack of boxes and bashing my head against the wall again before gaining my balance. The sky was bright as it always was on hangover day, making my head spin as I looked up at it. For a moment I lost my balance, reaching out for anything to grab onto. Head down and eyes closed, I waited impatiently for the spinning to stop.
"Why do I do this to myself? Why not become a decent person with friends and buddies" I said aloud, as if asking some invisible creature that sat upon my shoulder. "Oh yeah, I remember. Nobody likes me."
That wasn't entirely true of course. The rat hanging around my feet seemed to like me well enough. Even though it was sniffing some sort of broken bottle, if that's what it was.
I bent down to get a closer look. It wasn't a bottle of any kind, but some sort of glass and metal combination. I reached out my hand for it and received an unwelcome hiss from the nearby rat.
"Yeah right," I said, kicking the rat down the alley. "Not today mate."
Bending back down, I picked the object up and examined it more closely. It was a sort of glass or crystal half-sphere encased in a barred metal basket. Apart from the top of the crystal which was flat and exposed. The bars covered all the rounded parts, curving outward and upwards when they meet the edge. It was beautiful, even though it was scratched and covered in dirt. The crystal seemed to move, as if churning from within. I couldn't explain it, but I could hear it, feel it, like I knew it. I brought it closer, inspecting it in more detail. I could almost see something inside, past the stirring haze. I brought it even nearer, so close it felt as if the mist surrounded me. And then, without warning, a flash.
"Bastard!"
I let go, unable to keep a hold of the object and my whereabouts. Disorientated for a split moment until I recognized the alley walls around me.
"What the hell was that!?" I shouted. As if a voice would pierce through the invisible barriers into weirdness and answer my cry.
This day was starting out to be strange. Very damn strange indeed.
For a second, when I looked into the crystal, I had seen an image. A quick flash of scenery. A dark place, with red skies and black ruined streets. It was a mess, reduced to rubble by decades or centuries of neglect. In the distance a lone figure, glowing bright white but too far to make out. Then the vision had gone, making me feel like a spinning pile of crap when I snapped out of it. Damn hangovers.
The object, which I had let go of just moments ago, had just this second hit the floor. Not rolling away or tumbling down the alleyway, but landing dead on the ground. I dared to pick it up again, but not to bring it so close as to invoke another vision, if that's what it was.
By examining it from a safe distance, it seemed no more damaged then it was earlier. That led me to believe the scrapes and scratches had been inflicted through many years of abuse and neglect.
No matter, there was a rubbish bin right in front of me. All I had to do was throw it in and that would be the end of it. No more standing in an alley and a lot more drinking. So I did, hearing a somewhat dissatisfying clank as it hit the bottom of the empty bin.
At first I thought it was just the sound that annoyed me, being that my head felt like a cow had just sat on it. Then I realized it was chucking the oddly irritating object that bothered me. So against all common sense and alcohol-induced logic, I retrieved the half-ball of irritation and left the alley, starting the short but painful journey home.


The many shops of horrors

I'd spent most of the night pondering on the object, helped along by several tins of my favourite brew. It was now morning and time to venture forth in search of some solid information on my little half-crystal globe of fun filled visions. Armed with my whiskey flask and a newly made list of local antique shops, I left the house in its usual organized mess and began my journey.
Upon reaching the outskirts of town I re-familiarized myself with the list of shops, and the feeling of cheap whiskey burning all the way down. For such a small town the list was quite long, almost entering the double figures. I took another quick swig from my flask and continued down a wide alley towards the first shop.
Mary and Mildred's Antiques it was called, a small building you could easily miss if you didn't know what you were looking for. As I did, I walked towards the shop, opened the door with a welcome ding of a 'customer coming' bell and ventured inside.
The décor was dark and the space was cramped, making it ideal for such a shop. As soon as I'd taken my first step through the door the two old women were on me like flies to a freshly strained turd.
"Yeeeeeess?" asked the ugly one.
"May weee help youu, dearr?" asked the uglier other.
"Errah!" I yelled, searching through my pockets for the object I hoped I'd remembered to put there. "Err, ah! Yes, here it is." I said pulling it out my pocket and showing the two old crones.
"Ohhh, thaat's nice dearr," said the ugly one moving closer to me, even though I was retreating as fast as I could. "How much youu waant for it, dearr?"
"Err. no, I'm not here to sell it," I replied.
"Then why arrre youu here, dearr?" said the even uglier woman.thing, as she appeared at my side.
The creator of all life must have been having a really bad day when they created these two creatures. The ugly one really did look like the back end of a slapped camel, as the other looked like a back end of a slapped camel, with rabies. Well, it looked like she was foaming at the mouth, but as she pushed her face closer to mine I found it to be white hair, above, below, and generally all around her mouth. A lovely sight I would not easily forget.
"I just wanted to know if you'd seen it before"
"Nooo, why? Should weee have dearr?" said camel one.
"Err."
"Arrre youu sure youu don't want to selll it, dearr?" asked camel two with foaming hair.
"No, thank you," and I quickly escaped, hoping the next place would be more useful.
I went to several other shops before reaching the centre of town. They were not as crazy as the first, but not anymore helpful either.
When last night's beer guzzling google search turned up with a huge mass of nothing, I should have known then to give it up. I just felt strangely compelled to continue my pointless quest and find any or as much as possible about my new crystal paperweight.
The list was nearly at an end, and after meeting a woman who would never shut up, a man who never spoke, and a not quite sure what, all in antique shops named after themselves. I really was getting tired of it all. Two more to go, and after this if I didn't find out what this damn thing was, I would either sell it or throw it in the canal. After all, I was missing valuable drinking time.


Franks unimaginatively titled antiques shop

The shop was just around the corner, standing there on its lonesome in all its decaying splendour. Browns and greys filled most of the shop's exterior, helped along by an oversized sign reading "Frank's Antique Shop", which loomed above the dwarfed door.
Once again I dared to explore the innards of another typically named antique shop, from the outside. The inside didn't look as bad as the others though, considering it was full of ancient junk. I walked further inside, releasing the door behind me. Another ding welcomed me as the door slowly closed, followed by a gruesome flashback of what came after the first bell. I braced myself, ready for the onslaught. It never came. Instead being replaced by a short skinny man with no hair and a small pair of spectacles that hung off the tip of his nose.
"Can I be of assistance, Sir?" he asked in a weak but precise voice.
I fiddled around in my pockets then stretched out my hand to show it to him. I didn't need to ask if he'd seen it before. The slight movement of his facial lines told me he had. He moved closer, lowering his head and peering at the half-crystal through the top of his glasses.
The urge to recoil was overwhelming. I wasn't sure if that was because he might take it, or that he was simply too close for my liking. I was just able to fight off the impulse and stand still, quietly watching the old man hum and gurgle his interest. I could not, however, prevent the heavy build-up of sweat that had rapidly gathered upon my brow.
He looked up at me when he'd seemed satisfied with his examination. "I see you have grown quite attached to it," he said before turning and shuffling off towards a set of old antique chairs. "It has been known to do that, so I have heard."
He obviously knew more about the object then anyone else I'd seen so far. Whether he would be willing to share any of that information would, I think, depend on my approach. I decided therefore to trust the man, offering out my hand and the object within.
"No, I will not touch it." He said, pulling out one of the antique chairs and slowly sitting beside a high single-legged table. He made himself comfortable before turning his attention back to me. "Place it on the table."
I did, triggering the man into a blur of activity. He reached for his glasses and attempting to clean them with a dirty handkerchief. After that had been done, he sat quietly for a long while examining the object as best he could in the dimly lit room, without touching it.
"Mmm. you have been through quite a bit, have you not?"
"Well, since you ask, I suppose I have," I answered. "I've been walking around town for hours looking for someone who might know what that thing is, and I've got the meanest hang-over, not to mention the two ugliest women I have ever."
He stared right at me, mute and noisy as hell. I forced a smile and he continued his examination.
This was the first time I'd stopped walking since before leaving the house several hours ago. I could barely believe I'd lasted all this time without a drink, and then I remembered. I searched through my pockets and grasped the small metal container. In one fluid movement, unscrewed the cap while lifting it to my mouth. The feeling of total dread twisted through my stomach as I realized the flask was empty.
"Ahh crap!" I cried.
I tried to push the sense of helplessness to the back of my mind, with no success. The reality of having no alcohol in reach made me sweat uncontrollably. Dark clouds formed around the outside of my eyes, vision dulled and blackened. All was becoming a haze, spinning slowly at first then wildly as I grabbed out for something to steady me. The build-up of saliva saturated my mouth and dehydrated me at the same time, engulfing me with the need to vomit.
"Excuse me?" I said wearily.
He did not answer, just continued turning his head and stretching his neck around the object.
"Hellooo?"
Still no reply.
Being ignored only seemed to increase the hazing of corners and edges. I tried to relax, but was irritated further by the now extremely unpleasant dryness of my mouth. A feeling I'm sure could only be rivalled by the hibernation of a large furry rodent lodged between the inner sides of both cheeks.
I grabbed out again and found an old stained and splintered coat hanger. It was the only thing that kept me from collapsing like a pile of thirsty bones upon the un-kept carpet. With my head hung, I breathed deeply through my nose and mouth. I hadn't the energy to do much else.
After a moment, my spinning eyes slowed and most of the surroundings came back into focus. Even a doorway I had previously missed, standing off to the left of the main door, came into view. Inside I could see part of a toilet and most of a sink, which would just have to do.
Reluctant to wander too far with my find in the hands, or eyes of a stranger. I found the increasing need for liquid of almost any kind a more, enticing pursuit. Besides, it's not as if he's going to do a runner with the object in his own shop.
I lurched towards the doorless doorway and was faced with a holy monstrous sight. The toilet, which I was not the least bit interested in caught my eye, only because of its shear grotesque appearance. And the sink, itself not being much of an improvement from the toilet, stood partly broken and housed a putrid brownie green fungal substance, which resembled that of a massive amount of snot and excrement, but worse.
I was thirsty to the point of murder, but decided at that very instant not to even attempt to drink any liquid that would ooze from a tap in this room. The smell alone was enough to make you gag. And it did as I turned as quickly as my dehydrated body would let me. I made it just out the room and could go no further. I planted both palms on my knees and bent forward while coughing all the air out of my lungs.
When I finished spluttering, I stood up, inhaled as much as I could without exploding, and staggered over to where the shop owner was examining the nameless object. He had moved his chair to the other side of the table, but still had not touched the crystal, though his nose was as close as it could be. I grabbed it and promptly punched it into my pocket.
"Sorry mate," I slurred. "I godda go."
He looked on as I staggered feebly to the front door, helped along by any shop item strong enough to take my weight.
"I'll be back soon. I don't feel too good," I shouted back to him while opening the door.
"Sir?" He called after me.
I turned, leaned against the frame and poked my head through the gap. "Yeah?"
"It is called a Dan'Dryal," announced the man.
I responded with a nod. I cared what the crystal object was called, but had not energy for any meaningful retort.
I closed the door quietly behind me and tottered down the road. Dan'Dryal? Sounded like a washing powder, and probably less useful.
"Come on Dan', let's find a pub."


"Mornin'" (the 512th time)

Once again I was faced with the familiar sight of pavement and puddles, with the added pleasure of smelling my own vomit.
These mornings waking up outside on the floor, in an alley, or in this case a park pavement, were getting a bit ridiculous. "Anyone would fink I wus a piss'edd, hu-hahaa."
I struggled to my feet, being careful to avoid the yellowy orange pond of puke I'd projected the night before. I staggered to the nearest bench, falling atop of it so hard and heavily, it creaked and cracked upon impact. A loud thwack followed, then the realization that I'd still got the Dan'Dryal in my coat pocket.
"Crap!"
Retrieving it quickly, I hoped it hadn't been damaged anymore then it already was, though I did not know why I cared so much. Bringing it closer to my face, I carefully examined the crystal and the metal edges. Then it happened again, a vision of torn skies and ruined landscapes. A cry for help, screams of sheer torment that could haunt your soul forever. This time though the cries were different, longer, but the woman's voice seemed to be coming from inside my head, rather than from a distance. A weak voice that told you the owner was enduring much pain or sorrow, or both.
"I godda stop doin' that."
I placed crystal Dan' back into my pocket and started to make my way home, if I could find out where I was.


A more than average typical day

After a day and a half's sleep I actually didn't feel that bad. Not hung-over anyway. There were occasions when this happened. The right amount of drinking stints and sleeping stints, which matched up once in a blue moon at the perfect time to make me feel not half bad. These occasions were never planned, always being totally accidental. They were useful for stocking up on those much needed essentials before I found another pub to be barred from. This, however, could also be an ideal opportunity to find out more about the Dan'Dryal, without spinning rooms and flying vomit chunks.
So, battling the instinctive urge to find a bottle of any liquid with a percentage marker at the bottom, I made my way back to Frank's antique shop.

Over two hours later.

Frank was his usual chirpy self when I entered the shop, choosing to stand there and just stare as I strolled toward him. He'd been re-arranging the shop by the looks of it, as there was furniture and other various antiques/junk scattered about the place.
"I did say I'd be back," I said, negotiating the sprawled furnishings. "You makin' the place look nice for me?"
The vast amount of witty words that flowed seamlessly from Frank's mouth in answer, both shocked and astounded me.
"No," replied Frank.
"You're a real people person, aren't you?"
"No," replied Frank again.
I couldn't help but snigger, making (of which I'm sure), the minute lines that covered Frank's face move the smallest fraction to reveal what could only be described as, a disagreeable sneer. There was no possible way of proving this of course, so I chose to ignore it, moving on to a more immediate subject.
"This Dan'Dryal," I said, placing it on the same high table as before. "Can you tell me anymore about it?"
Frank finished dusting off the work surface of an old desk before walking over to take a second look. He peered into it as he had before with an expression of expectation, as if he were waiting for something to happen. Nothing did as far as I could tell. He stood straight backed, staring right at me.
"Does it speak to you?" asked Frank.
I was taken aback by the question, but knew exactly what he meant. "Yes. Yes, it does," I replied.
The Dan'Dryal lay still on the table. I found myself gazing softly into it, but at a safe distance so as not to incur anymore potent visions.
"What does it say?"
I pulled my eyes away from the Dan'Dryal, fighting an intense compulsion to look back, as if the strange crystal's inner mist was trying to gain some power over me. I snapped a look back at Frank, trying to act casual and not give away another new feeling I seemed to have acquired while in the presence of the busy ornament.
"Nothing really, it's more like what something or someone.well, screams. And of course, what it shows me."
"Shows you?" asked Frank, tilting his head curiously.
I described the two visions I'd had so far: That of the screaming woman in white, trapped in a world of decayed buildings and blooded skies, surrounded in all directions by a vast collection of black roots and vines that covered all, as far as the eye could see. He seemed slightly amused but not shocked, which gave me the impression he definitely knew more then he would be willing to tell in passing.
"Now it's your turn."
Frank sat down on the same chair he'd used the other day and stared into the Dan'Dryal.
"I do not know much," he said. "But what I know, so will you."
Frank pulled a small metal tin box from his breast pocket and opened it carefully. From within he produced a match, which he used to light a small dark brown cigar. Inhaling deeply, he then blew out the excess smoke and began to tell what he knew of the Dan'Dryal.
"You know, as I do, that the Dan'Dryal is an enchanted magical item of some power," said Frank, leaning into his chair. "But what you do not know is what it means, and why it exists."
"The story goes, or at least the parts I have heard go like this. A millennia ago in a dark and savage land there lived a great and powerful Wizard, who desired above all the secret to immortality. This magical being had not only practiced and mastered the dark arts, but had also learned how to prolong his life, extensively. But with all his powers and abilities, he could not find any spell or potion in his arsenal to cheat death." Frank took another drag of his cigar, adding more smoke to the hovering cloud that clung to the shop ceiling.
"He did not give up. He searched all the lands for a means to his dreams. The fountain of life, the talisman of Il'racna, all dead ends. And then, after decades of looking, he came across a manuscript from unrecorded times that spoke of a tool with the ability to grant its master immortality, of a sort. This.object of desire would turn the Wizard into a sentient being. An entity of pure energy, capable of crossing the cosmos in an instant and allowing him to take anything he wishes, unchallenged. This was perfect for the Wizard, as not only would he live forever, but also rule the universe for an eternity."
"Wahoo! Wahoo! Wait a damn minute! Are you takin' the pisski's" I shouted in disbelief. "You expect me to believe that there was once an 'all powerful Wizard', who not only could perform real magic and make real potions, but also seeked immortality through ascension? Are you out of your obviously crazy mind?!"
Frank said nothing at first, just puffed quietly on his cigar.
"You walked into my shop, did you not?" he finally asked.
"Yeah."
"You asked me about the Dan'Dryal, did you not?"
"Well. Yes of course, but."
"Then shut up and let me tell the story."
I took this moment to reflect on the reasons why I chose today of all days to venture into the ever maddening world, without first consuming at least a litre's worth of Vodka.


He continued.

"The now extremely old and dying Wizard was very close to finding what he desired, but not quite ready for what he would find."
"Which was.?" I found myself asking, to the displeasure of Frank.
"Not a tool or object as such, but a woman. More precise, a very beautiful woman, with the ability to ascend anyone she thought worthy of ascension. Of course, she did not think the Wizard worthy. So he set to work convincing her, by killing everyone in her village, and was about to start on a nearby town when she reluctantly agreed to his demand."
I'd been so engrossed in the story at this point, I hadn't noticed the small cat creeping up on me until it brushed lightly against the outside of my right leg, making me jump so far back I nearly smashed through the front door.
"Jesus Christ Frank, I nearly shat meself!" I yelled, leaning heavily against an old mahogany shelf unit.
"I did not know you knew my cat's name?"
I wondered what he meant at first, and then it hit me. "Your cat's named Jesus Christ? Bit of a weird name isn't it?"
"It would be, if Frank was named Jesus Christ," he turned his attention to the cat. "Would it not be Frank, very silly indeed?"
"So the cats named Frank?"
"Yes."
"And you named him after yourself?"
"No, my names George."
"George?"
"George."
"Then who's Frank?"
"The cat!"
"No, I mean the shop," I explained. "You named the shop after the cat?"
"No!"
"Then who's Frank?!"
"THE CAT!!"
I really did choose the wrong day not to get pissed. "I need a drink."
George sniggered as he picked up Frank and place him on his lap. "Frank was my partner. He had this shop before we got together, and after he died I kept the name the same."
"And the cat.?"
George dropped his gaze to look at his cat. He stroked it softly, seeming to think of past times. "I named the cat Frank to remind me of the original Frank every time I called his name."
".ahh"
George smiled, seeming to change his personality right before my eyes, like he was becoming a different person along with his name. He sensed me watching and returned back to his original stone faced expression, then returned Frank to the floor and continued the story.
"The ritual of ascension had begun, or so the Wizard believed, for he was never seen again. And neither was the woman."
I looked on as George struggled out of his chair and walked towards the counter, wondering where the rest of the story had gone. Frank followed, disappearing into the back as George fiddled behind the counter. Pulling out a notepad and pen he wrote something down before turning back to me, a torn off piece of paper in his hand.
"That was a bit rushed, wasn't it?" I asked.
"Not if that is all you know," he said, stretching out his hand and offering the paper to me. "If you really want to know more, go to this address."
I took the addressed paper from George, feeling I had outstayed my welcome and was being hinted to leave. I turned and walked the few steps towards the shops exit as George looked quietly on. But his sudden change in mood bothered me, and I had to ask.
"I don't get you Frankie George," I snapped, quickly turning to face him. "One minute you're reluctant to talk and the next you're shouting and giggling, and now you don't want to talk at all. What's that all about?"
George looked down at the ground. Obviously seeing something else rather than the many cracked tiles of an un-swept floor. A past memory, or an arrangement of words to make an understandable explanation into why his mood had changed so abruptly, maybe. Whatever it was, he was taking his time about it.
He finally looked up. "You be careful if you go there. The old woman is a bit of a crack pot."
After George finished saying everything he was obviously going to say, he turned and followed Frank into the back room. He did not return and I took this as my cue to leave. I still wondering what had prompted George's many mood swings. I suppose I would have to keep on wondering, as it was unlikely I would ever see George, or Frank again.


Another weird old git

I found myself standing for at least five minutes in the pouring rain while I considered my next move. The most obvious choice would have been the pub without any hesitation. But today was different, it felt different, and therefore I would behave differently. Looking over the piece of paper George had given me, I noticed the address wasn't that far away.
"I may as well get it over and done with," I said to myself, walking towards the written location.
When I arrived at the address I expected to find another shop of some kind, instead I was faced with a solitary house. Where I was standing the road was split by a narrow alleyway opposite a small road island. On the other side rested the lone building some distance from the path. I walked closer to a small metal gate at the front of the garden. It was heavily rusted and looked as if it hadn't been opened in years, though it did easily enough. I made my way towards the house, using as best I could the winding pathway of scattered moss covered rocks, stones, and broken slabs. The thick grass stood tall on either side. Beyond that age old Alder trees lined the borders of the garden and kept out most of the sunlight, as well as prying eyes.
The front door stood before me and I was suddenly overwhelmed with uncertainty. Did I really want to disturb the said crazy old woman who dwelled within, just to find out the rest of the story to the Dan'Dryal?
"It's just going to be an old lady you pussy," I said through clenched teeth. "Just knock the god-damn door."
So I did, quickly, and it opened slowly without any delay and any aid. When it had fully opened I saw no-one on the other side, just an empty hall covered in darkness.
Now I'd realized, funnily enough, that if this was some crappy horror or thriller film, the scared character would usually say 'hello' in a weak and frightened voice. Well I'm not weak or frightened, so I'd use my own approach.
"Yo!" I shouted, taking a few steps inside the hall. "Anybody heeerrr.?"
"Yes, of course you fool," replied a voice from behind the open door.
"O'shit, you scared the crap out of me!"
"Did I?" said the old lady as she appeared from behind the door. "And you thought you weren't the frightened type."
She walked past me, and halfway down the hallway before I realized what she'd just said. "Wait a bit, how'd you know that? I didn't say it, did I?"
"Come, come, no time for chit chat," she said, scurrying into a room at the end of the corridor.
I followed as quickly as I could, closing the front door behind me.
The first thing I noticed was the repugnant aroma that seemed to burn the rear side of my eyeballs. It was overpowering and I felt a strong urge to gag. I fought to push the feeling aside and continued into the room. It was dark and it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. When the walls came into view I couldn't help but think that this was maybe what an alchemists study would look like. There were shelves on every wall, stacked to toppling point with books of every size. Bottles filled the gaps in-between, some containing odd coloured liquids but most empty, just holding up more books. Parts of the floor that weren't occupied by furniture were used as a new home for even more books and bottles, with the occasional weird looking stuffed creature.
There were three tables in the room, workbenches holding the chosen tools of a hermit or someone who has way too much time on their hands. The strange woman, who had positioned herself behind one of the lesser clutter covered tables, gestured for me to sit. Removing a stack of books from the only chair available, I carefully sat and received a disagreeable groan from the wood.
The old woman was now rummaging through a pile of what looked like junk, murmuring to herself as she pushed unrecognizable items to the side. She looked up, stealing a quick glance before returning to her search.
"Get it out then," she said bluntly.
"Say wha.?"
The crazy crone tossed several items into the air before finding what she was looking for. With a toothless smile she held up what looked like a magnifying glass without a handle. After a pleasing smile her face turned back to its old wrinkled self, looking once again in my direction with an expecting glare.
"Mmm. Come on come on, no time to waste. Let's see it, see it. The Dan'Dryal, lets see it." she twittered.
"How'd you kn.?" It was obvious she'd never tell me, or even hear me, so I didn't bother, "never mind."
I placed it on the table. As soon as I did it began to scream, screeching in a deafening high pitch tone that by far was the loudest noise I'd ever heard. I pushed so hard on the sides of my head that it felt like I was squashing my ears into my brain. I expected the old woman to act as if she had been enveloped in a similar chaos, but that was not the case. She sat still with her hands out of sight, a neutral expression on her aged face.
I shouted to her, wondering if she was actually deaf by her lack of involvement. "You're not covering your ears! Doesn't it hurt!?"
She shook her head, a certain look of bewilderment now apparent in her expression. Her tiny colourless grey lips moved but I barely heard a word.
"D..t.t."
"WHAT!?"
My head could take it no longer. I grabbed the Dan'Dryal, intending to throw it against the nearest wall. As soon as my hand touched the cold surface the noise abruptly stopped. My head still rang and rattled inside, but the pain was gone. I slowly opened my eyes not realizing I'd closed them in the first place. And then I noticed something very different about my surroundings. There weren't any.



Just for me

The feeling was quite strange at first, like a sense of total weightlessness. My arms and legs hung like a puppet without its strings. I could move, but only very slowly. A sensation I presumed astronauts knew all too well.
A few moments passed before I found my buoyancy, just in time to witness a glowing white light appear and surround me. In the distance, directly in front, a lone figure floated softly towards me. It was also white, and formed the shape of a woman in a dress. She came closer, and as the light faded her face came into view. I recognised her as the woman from my visions. More so when she spoke in the frightened voice that had become all too familiar to me.
"Help me, please.please."
I didn't know what to say. She was obviously terrified, but even in her current state I couldn't help but be in awe of her. She was both beautiful and marvellous. I could understand why someone or something would want to keep her for themselves. Though she did not look helpless, and emitted a sort of power.
"I.err. How, erm.can I? I don't know.oh.shit, I mean." I took a few deep breathes and composed myself as the woman in white looked on.
I started again. "Who are you?"
	She hung her head, as if ashamed of herself. "I am nobody."
"That's not true!" I said quickly. ".I'm nobody. You're.wait a sec. You're the woman aren't you, the one who the Wizard was looking for?"
"Yes." She looked up, a saddened realization in her surprised expression. "My name is.I think, Lilwa. I cannot remember.it has been such a long time."
I tried to think of something to say, but before I could speak Lilwa started to weep. Tears streamed down her face. She looked so lost and alone.
"I have been here for so long," she said in a shaky voice. "He trapped me here. He thought I was ascending him and after I had finished he trapped me. But not before I tricked him."
"Tricked him? I don't understand."
Lilwa had stopped crying and had a slight look of satisfaction on her face. "I tricked him. I did not perform a ritual of ascension, rather a spell of reflection."
"Reflection?" I was becoming very confused.
"I knew he intended to trap me, so I came up with a plan. Instead of him trapping me, I would conjure a spell of reflection and turn his own sorcery against him. I did not, however, expect him to be so powerful as he seemed to trap us both."
"What, he's here, in the Dan'Dryal!?"
"Yes, he is here. He controls this place and has made it my own personal hell. That is why I have been calling you. You are the only one."
"The only one what?"
"The one who can save me and kill the Wizard."
"Ay.?"
Lilwa hovered closer and placed her small delicate hand on my shoulder. "You could save me from this prison. Rescue me from enduring more torturous years in this hell."
The realization of what she was asking hit, and hit hard. My chest tightened and I could barely breathe. Like in Frankie George's antique shop, my head span and sweat covered my whole body in seconds. I almost blacked out when suddenly I felt a calming breeze all around me and the gentle touch of Lilwa's hand upon my face.
"Calm yourself," her soft voice whispered.
After several deep breaths' and the healing hypnotic eyes of Lilwa fixed onto mine, all came back into focus. Though that did not change the fact of a request I could not possibly fulfil. She needed help, but why from me. Surely there were a lot more people suited for the position.
"I'd like to help, I really would, but I'm nobody. What could I possibly do?"
"You are the first person I have seen in over a hundred years," she said. True sorrow in her voice. "The Wizard did not only imprison me here, he also cursed me. Not only have I needed to find someone who could successfully rescue me, but someone who was as lonely as I, as lost as I. When I saw you in that alley in the emotional state you were in, I knew you were the one."
I grabbed her arm at the wrist, removing it from my face. "You don't know me! You may think you do, but you don't."
Lilwa's hand came to my face again, lifting my gaze to meet hers. "You believe you're not wanted, that you cannot contribute anything to your world. You are wrong. Your sorrow dwells deep within but I see it, I know it, I feel it everyday."
She came closer still, so close I could fell her warming breath upon my face. "Don't give up on yourself yet, you are not alone, you are wanted. Not just by me, but by the people all around you. People you have already met and those you have yet to meet."
I was surrounded by her voice, enveloped in her beauty. Her eyes so deep I could lose myself forever. But this was no trick, I had my senses. I could tell her to go find someone else if I wanted to. I felt that freedom within but I did not want to use it, because she was right. I was lost, and so was she.
"Now I am here. Now we have met, and I need your help. I need you. Please, he." She stopped suddenly, spinning around as if something dangerous had caught her attention.
"He knows.He is coming," she whispered.
I looked behind her but saw nothing. "Where? I don't see."
"You must go, now!"
She flew back as if a great force was pulling her. I reached out, missing completely. And then, she was gone.



Back to normality, "kinda"

When the black subsided I was greeted by the familiar site of junk filled shelves and crud covered floors. The old woman, who had seemingly not moved from behind her workbench, stared directly at me. A look of disgust on her face, like I'd just curled one off in the corner. I quickly realized it was because I was sitting cross legged on the floor. My arm stretched out, Dan'Dryal in hand. I got up as quick as possible, re-situating myself upon the same chair as before. Placing the Dan'Dryal back on the table I watched it for a while, hoping the unbearable screeching would not start again.
"I see it speaks to you," the woman suddenly said.
"What?"
The woman stood and shuffled around the table towards me, still holding the magnifying glass minus the handle.
"It needs a sympathetic heart to hear it, one filled with sorrow," she explained, offering me the weird looking glass. "Does your heart hear it?"
"Lil. I don't know about my heart, but she has spoken to me."
"Ahh, so she has revealed herself to you, strange that she would do this so soon."
I took the glass circle from her, but was too intrigued by what she had said to examine it closer. "What do'ya mean, strange?"
She did not answer, just sat back into her chair and started rummaging through more of her scattered junk. I was about to push the question, but before I could speak she found what she had apparently been looking for.
"This is what's left of the last Dan'Dryal."
She threw it on the table in front of me. All it was was a small piece of twisted metal and melted glass, infused into a black and bronze ball. It seemed as if parts of the metal casing had caved into the once crystal half-sphere. Heavily burnt and expanded in parts, it looked as if it had exploded from within.
"But I thought the Wizard only made one?" I enquired.
"You know about the Wizard also I see, how fortunate for me," she said standing up once more. "The Wizard made many prisons, all slightly different in a way, specially made for its intended.guest. It just so happens that your Dan'Dryal was the last he made, mainly beca."
"Ahh yes," I interrupted with excitement. "Because Lilwa tricked him with a spell of reflection, trappin' the Wizard also."
The woman, who had been examining a book on one of the many shelves, turned quickly in surprise. "It would seem you know even more, her name also."
"Not really. I spoke to Lilwa yes, she said she needed help, help from me."
"Then that is what you must do."
"No! I can't." I stood up and started to leave the room. "All I wanna do is go' the pub."
"You're scared?"
"Ya damn right I'm scared! Go in there to get my arse kicked by a frickin' Wizard. Not happenin', no way!"
"You have to; you're all she's got." She explained. "Lilwa chose you for a reason."
At this point I was pacing the room knowing I should just walk out and not look back. Something kept me here, I'm not sure what but it definitely wasn't the old wench. "Chose me for a reason, yeah right. And what would that reason be, because I'm lonely?"
"I don't know you silly idiot. Maybe she thinks you've got something no other has. Maybe you were the best choice of a bad selection." She dropped her gaze, obviously deep in thought. "Ahh! Maybe, even though she sees sorrow in your heart, you still carry hope. And hope can destroy any evil."
I couldn't help but be sceptical, and sarcastic. "Oh yeah, that's the best weapon I could ever ask for when fighting a Wizard. So you've obviously got a sword of hope? Or some hope grenades, or possibly a twenty megatonne bomb full of baddie obliterating hope? No, fan-bloody-tastic!"
She had gone silent, choosing to just stare at me as I continued to pace the room. I looked away, trying to make some sense of what she was asking me to do. What they were both asking me to do. I glanced back to see her still giving me that look all women can do. Making me feel wrong and guilty at the same time, even though I shouldn't.
"What?!" I asked annoyingly.
She didn't answer at first, maybe on purpose to keep me waiting. Eventually there was movement, then speech to follow. "She needs you, and I think you need her."
I stopped pacing and sat at the table facing her. "I need her? And how do ya work that one out then?"
"Easy. As she needs to believe someone can rescue her, for someone to be her champion. You need to believe that champion could be you. That your life is not meaningless, that you can actually do something.worthy of a hero."
The words took me aback as I was not expecting them. Especially from a woman who looked like she did and lived in such a place. Or maybe it was true that looks could be and usually are deceiving. As I've been noticing a lot the last few days.
At this point, when the realization of all that was happening had come to a middle, I'd noticed I was still holding the strange looking magnifying glass. On closer examination, the handle less magnifying glass theory was not entirely sound as they don't tend to have bizarre markings on the topside of the metal rim. The central glass however did seem to focus to some extent, and I had the weirdest feeling I'd seen it somewhere before.
"You have."
"What? Oh, that again. Will you stop doin' that," I demanded. "How do you do that anyway? Is it some sort of witchcraft?"
"Witchcraft! Hahaha!" She cackled loudly, finally coming to an end in a splutter of coughs. "No my dear idiotic man, just simple observation. And you have an endless range of facial and bodily expressions, making you very easy to read."
"Oh."
With a smile still on her face she pointed to the glass ring I was holding. "You've seen the design before because it's part of the Dan'Dryal. Or should I say it was made to access the Dan'Dryal, any Dan'Dryal."
That was why it looked familiar. The metal and the glass were of the same material. Though I hadn't seen any markings on the Dan'Dryal. Not like these. They circled the entire circumference of the ring and looked like unrecognisable letters of an alphabet. Runes from an ancient time.
Whatever they were, I'd never seen their like before and couldn't possibly read it:

(THERE IS MEANT TO BE SOME SYMBOLS HERE, BUT THE WEB SITE DOESN'T RECOGNISE MY MADE UP LETTERS. OBVIOUSLY)

"They're a language," she answered to my unasked question.
It was still somewhat irritating, her second guessing and missing out entire sentences. But it did save some time so I just went with the flow. "Yeah, but what does it say?"
The old woman closed her eyes, as if searching in some distant memory. "It's from a far away land a millennia ago, where magic was freely used by those who knew how to wield it. This is the Wizards tongue, used to record magika and access magical objects. It reads. Eye into glass, confinement will see. An unadorned glimpse to grant you pass. Guardians to clash, triumph to free."
"Oh great, let me guess if I understood that little poem correctly. I have to look into this glass while atop the Dan'Dryal. Then it will grant me access and pull me into the world within. Where I'll have to fight the guardian, in this case the Wizard who created the damn thing, to set the woman free. Does that sound about right?"
"Precisely," she answered haughtily. "You're not as dumb as you look after all."
"Cheers, I'll put you on my Christmas card list," I snapped angrily.
There was a long pause as we both sat in silence. I wanted to think all this through thoroughly, but I knew the old annoying woman wouldn't let me. It didn't matter much anyway, I had little to lose and a fair bit to gain. If I succeeded at this overwhelming task it would prove that I was worth something, and not just some useless drunk.
"So, how do I do this then?" I asked.
"Just the way you said. Place the looking glass on top of the Dan'Dryal, and then look closely into it. But make sure you're ready."
"Are you takin' the piss?! I could prepare for ten years and never be ready for this."
The Dan'Dryal, that had been sitting quietly on the table since my last vision, was now humming warmly. As if the woman inside was telling me of her happiness at my decision to help her. Or the Wizard was enraged and ready for a fight. Either way I was about to find out.
I picked up the Dan'Dryal and slowly positioned the looking glass on top, which neatly slotted into place. I cradled it within both hands and brought it closer to my face, my gaze fixed upon its splendour. Then apprehension.
"Wait a minute, can't I take any weapo.arrhhh crraaa."
The room distorted all around me, forming into a spinning tunnel of vibrant colours. And in I went.



The centre of roots

"..aaapp!"
I hit the floor with a crunching thud and rolled into a slime covered broken wall, bashing my funny bone on impact.
"Oh ha frickin' ha, I'm really laughing!" I snapped loudly. "It should be called 'a bloody painfully numb when ya whack it' bone. Git!"
Standing up I was reminded of the first vision I had from the Dan'Dryal. Red skies with the occasional dash of lightning from time to time. The few clouds that hovered far above were a dark deep violet, transformed by the fullness of the surrounding sky. Buildings and streets, or what was left of them, seemed alien. Not just by the gunk and filth that covered them, but also the colours that reflected from above. 
Unrecognisable leaves grew oddly from black intertwining roots that stretched out everywhere. The dilapidated buildings, walls, lamp posts, and road signs were covered in them. Even the paths and roads were victims, cracked and split and bulging from the black roots growing underneath.
A solitary tree stood at the corner of the road I was on. It was clearly not the creator of the roots as it had long since been dead. Itself falling prey to the never-ending spirals of blackness which engulfed it and pierced its bark. I walked towards its elevated position, hoping to get a better look at my surroundings.
As far as the eye could see was not much different than where I could walk in ten steps. I would have to go somewhere, but where? Everything looked the same, accept from a white speck in the far distance. I thought maybe it was some metallic object reflecting the light, and then quickly remembered there was no light, anywhere. It was the only guidance I had. So with a last look around I began my journey through the darkened derelict streets of this open prison.
"Aarrgh man, what'a crap hole."
What seemed like well over an hour had past walking as fast as I'd dare down the same street I started on. My destination, now out of sight due to the constant incline of the road, must surely be near. Whether I was still going in the right direction, would shortly be determined when I reached the top.
At this time I came to the sudden awareness that I had not guzzled on a lick of liquor for ages. At first I thought this would bother me. That I would abruptly become grumpy and withdrawn through lack of alcohol. However, I found myself to be more awake and fresh. Even though my current situation was at best, grim. I charged on with renewed vigour, hoping to reach something substantial soon. And by the increasing density of black vines, it would be soon.
The street finally came to an end, blocked at the top of a hill by a huge collection of rubble. Why the Wizard felt he had to make a prison look like a severely bombed city was beyond me. I could understand the need for the place to look unwelcoming, but why streets and buildings. There must be other scarier places like dungeons, dark woods, or even a touch of hell. Come to think of it, why are the buildings made of brick and the lampposts metal. Surely these materials weren't around when he was walking free upon the earth all those years ago. There was something wrong, something I didn't know, or weren't told. The more I thought about it, the more things didn't tally. Not only was the scenery all wrong from what you'd expect from an ancient Wizard. But from what the old woman told me, the Wizard also made the Dan'Dryal. So why is he trapped. Why can't he get out of something he designed. None of it felt right, and I guessed very shortly I was about to find out.
After I'd negotiated the first pile of rubble there was another to take its place, then another, and more still. It seemed as if they'd been gathered intentionally to form a huge barrier. Beyond the alleged barriers stood a solitary building, mostly intact with black roots and vines seeping out or in every opening that brick did not cover. From within the building emanated a bright white light, shimmering in its blackened surroundings.
"Oh well, I suppose this is it. Now where's the god damn door?"
Eventually I found a way though at the far end of the structure. Inside the building the roots looked thicker, and if possible blacker than outside. I ventured deeper into the building were roots and vines had started to meet, making them bigger and taller until they finally came to a middle. What had formed was not one of nature's creations. A twisted mass that could only be described as a heavily mutated tree, stood as tall as the building that sheltered it.
From the centre the overwhelming rays of white light, blinding to look directly into. Knowing that I had to, for inside lay trapped and helpless the woman from my visions. The woman, who had called to me, spoke to me, begged for my help. Lilwa, who was waiting for me to rescue her, and yet I had no idea how.
It suddenly dawned on me that the roots and vines were not going in but out from the building, reaching out across the landscape. The light itself was not part of the tree but emanating from Lilwa. But what were its purpose, and the purpose of the tree and roots? And then it came to me, so obvious in its simplicity.
"Yeah. The prison is not the world, it's the tree! The roots must spread out to draw power from this world, to keep Lilwa inside. To keep the white surrounded in black. To keep the light engulfed in the darkness. Now I get it, I think."
My resolution was abruptly interrupted by the sound of clapping from behind. I turned quick, fists clenched and ready for anything.
"Bravo, bravo, you've cracked the secret of the Dan'Dryal. Congratulations."
But this, I was not ready for. "George?!"



God damn George!

I couldn't believe it. It was George, god damn George. What was he doing here? What the hell was he doing here?! I was numb with confusion, which was quickly replaced by anger.
"Bloody hell George, what'da frick are you doin' here?" I asked annoyingly.
George carefully strolled up to Lilwa, grinning sinisterly. He wore a kind of robe, black with long sleeves and huge collars. He looked stupid, like something out of a nineteen seventies glitter rock band.
"Why are you dressed like tha.?" I paused; feeling like several tonnes of realization had just fallen atop my tiny brain. "You've gotta be kiddin', you can't be him."
George laughed out loud. Not a sinister laugh, but a normal 'that joke was pretty funny' laugh.
"Ha, ha, ha, you like it? Frank made it for me years ago." He said, looking down at the cheesy designs. "I especially like the metallic sequences around the sleeves. They catch people's eyes when I move my arms around like this."
George continued to show me what he meant, by swirling his arms around in circles and crossing them over each other.
"You look like you're auditionin' for a job as a kid's party magician. You gonna to show me some tricks." I asked sarcastically.
George's smirk disappeared, replaced by a sneer. "Yes," he said confidently. "I'll show you a trick!"
Before I could react, flashes of fire burst up from the ground around me. I jumped trying to escape the flames, but was surrounded in a waist high ring of fire.
George was laughing out loud once more. "Ha, ha, ha, ha, haa, how's that then?!"
"Ha, ha, very bloody funny."
"I think so," said George walking slowly closer.
"Come on George. What have I ever done to you?"
He stopped as close as he could to the flames without taking his eyes from mine. "You came here didn't you? That's proof enough you were intending to do something."
"No, no, not really," I said unconvincingly.
"Now, now, we both know you came here to try and kill me and rescue the witches' daughter."
"What?" I asked, bemused. "Witches' daughter?"
For a split second George looked as if he knew he'd slipped up. Regaining his composure as quick as he could, he turned his back to me and silently walked off. As he did the bottom of his ridiculous robe clearly brushed through the flames, without catching fire or even disturbing the flow of the flames. I swiftly looked up a George. He still had his back to me and began to talk as if he was addressing a village council.
"I was once the ruler of a great city. All who resided within loved and obeyed me. There was a time."
As George drivelled on, I took the opportunity to test the flames myself. There was no time for a careful examination. So with a grit of the teeth I stretched out my arm and plunged my hand into the surrounding inferno. To my surprise and satisfaction, there was no pain. I quickly retreated my hand as George turned back to face me, continuing his speech.
".and for that, they rallied together and drove me out. Drove me out! Me!"
"That's such a shame Georgey."
"Don't mock me! I'll create an inferno in your stomach!" bellowed George.
"Only after a Vindaloo George," I said, stepping unharmed though the flames and straight towards George.
In total shock, George screamed his protest. "No! Wait!" While trying to retreat, stepping backwards and nearly tripping over his oversized dressing gown.
I quickly grabbed at one of his enormous collars, seeing the instant fear in his eyes as I raised my fist and punched him square in the face, hearing the crunch of a now freshly broken nose. Blood squirted all over him, improving his general appearance ten fold. At that very instant everything disappeared, leaving only the three of us remaining.
George was lying on his back holding his nose and moaning in pain. "You broke my nose!"
I ignored him as the beautiful woman in white walked over to me smiling and gently kissed me, of all places, on the nose. She stepped back, now with a huge and somewhat devious grin on her face.
"Bydy bye," she said waving her little pinkie, and then vanished.
I looked at myself and then back up again, expecting to be back at the old woman's house. A few moments passed as I stared out at nothing.
"You idiot, you let her go!" screeched George sitting up but still on the floor, two fingers shoved up his nose.
"Me? What the hell just happened?"
"Well I suppose it doesn't matter now, you may as well know," said George.
"Know what?!"
"It was meant to be an exchange. You for the girl," explained George. "When you came here I was meant to trap you, release the Witches daughter, and in turn the Witch would release me from the Dan'Dryal."
"God damn it George! Say something I understand or I'm gonna smack you in the face again!"
"Ok, ok. Calm down," he pleaded, holding up his free hand. "The Witch made the Dan'Dryal and imprisoned me here years ago for reasons that are unimportant anymore. Before she trapped me I managed to capture her daughter and pull her in with me. My plan was to make them believe I was exchanging you for the woman, while really you were swapping places with me. Of course this didn't work, as they thought I was a powerful Wizard. Until you noticed I was just an illusionist and ruined the whole thing."
"Hey! Don't even go there!"
"Yeah well," sighed George deeply. "I contacted the old Witch some time ago with the proposition of an exchange. She bought it and the ball started rolling. That's where you came in when you heard my calls and seen my visions from the Dan'Dryal."
"That was all you?" I asked, totally perplexed. "But the woman, she's.the woman?"
"Illusion," he answered. "And it would of all worked if you hadn't discovered the illusion."
"Piss off," I swore in protest. "For all you know she could of expected your rouse."
"Maybe, but doubtful," he mumbled. "It doesn't matter much anyway. Now we're both trapped, with no way out."
"But you were out there, in my world. Can't we get out through your shop?" I asked desperately.
George was still checking his nose, which had stopped bleeding only by the vast accumulation of dried blood in and around his nostrils. He looked up at me, face all red and eyes all bloodshot. "Illusion."
My stupidity at not recognising the now obvious signs overwhelmed me. Everything seemed so clear now; I didn't know how I missed them before. George for a start. How different his personality was through all of this. Then the story I was told about the Wizard making the Dan'Dryal, how gullible can you get. Surely if the Wizard made the prison, he could get out of it. Not to forget the look of the prison, with bricks and metal that shouldn't have been around in the Wizards time, according to the bullshit story. Damn I feel like such an idiot, should be use to it by now.
I sat down by George and surveyed our picture-less surroundings. "So it was all an illusion."
"Apart from the Dan'Dryal itself.yeah"
"What'a mess."
"Mmm"
"Hey?" I asked. "You got any beer?"
George didn't bother turning his head. He just dropped his chin to his chest and sighed. "Illusion."
"Bugga."


In another place

There came a bright flash, and the recently emptied chair was filled by a woman dressed all in white. The old Witch smiled, looking casually at the underside of the Dan'Dryal's looking glass she held in her hand.
More carvings were etched into the metal:

(THERE IS MEANT TO BE SOME SYMBOLS HERE, BUT THE WEB SITE DOESN'T RECOGNISE MY MADE UP LETTERS. OBVIOUSLY, AGAIN.)

"To unbound enslaved, souls in exchange. One is free, other dwell in chains." Said the old woman, placing the metal ring on the table with a smile stretched across her face. She looked at her daughter. "So the plan worked then?"
"Like a dream."