Twitfic Challenge #2 — “And The Sun Went Down”

Here are the entries for our Anniversary #twitfic challenge. The challenge was hosted on twitter, to celebrate 1 year of Twitter Fiction Events, and had to be written entirely in tweets! Much brevity is required to write within the confinement of 140 characters, even with up to 20 tweets to play with.  Everyone did amazingly well, you can read all the stories on this page and gawp and gasp and “ooh” and “ahh” to your hearts content at their amazing fiction-fu.

Here are the rules.

* Each tweet must be self-contained (no continuing the sentence from one tweet to another)

* Maximum 20 tweets per story

*Abbreviations are allowed so long as they’re understandable

* Entries must be in before the end of Monday 1st February 2010

* Twitpic and other media allowed so long as the story can still stand alone without them.

* Participants may enter more than once, but must differentiate between one story and another by posting a “THE END” tweet after each one.

* All tweets must contain the #twitfic hashtag.

The title of the challenge was “And the sun went down” to be in with the chance to win a prize, all entries had to include that phrase somewhere in their story.

Here are the finalists:

Official voting is now closed.

Here’s how they did:

Bliss

A #twitfic entry by Canageek:

Warm arms, a large bed and chocolate. What more could I want? I wrap my arms around @dorfird. Time passed and the sun went down

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Why The Moon Wanders

by ZAmmi:

The following is my first attempt at a #twitfic for the @MassTwitFic challenge — a sort of Just So story..

Arrayed in splendor,she danced across the endless night;against a backdrop of stars glitterin&gigglin at her passing”Cant catch me!”

Callin her by name,they enticed her on..&she sped after;at a speed that left the world breathless;hopin someday to reach the centre

That shimmerin swirl of light where all the galaxy danced together in brilliant,complex steps.Planet&star,cloud&void.&livin things?

Maybe.

She could hope.

Even as she chased,she was pursued.T clouds raced to meet her,reachin w their curling,billowy tops to touch the fringe of her skirt

Flowers turned their heads to gaze upon her as she passd.Men covered their eyes,dazzled by her beauty.Skies beamed blue&blushed red

All loved her. All? Yes.All. No,not all. As she crossed a deep ocean she saw it turn to answer to a different summons. Astonishment

The way it turned its back on her, rolling away, spurning her with its cold,blue shoulder made her shudder.Its indifference smarted

She called;it did not answer.She blazed anew;it wasnt moved.She sang;yet it continued on its weary way,unaffected by her siren song

“I will go &speak with it if I can,”she said. And the sun went down, to kiss the blue horizon,&exchange winsome words with the deep

It swelled&surged at her coming, revelling in its own might&power.”Why do u turn from me ocean?Do I not shine bright enough for u?”

Its voice returned; all cymballent, like a thousand sailors all shouting at once, and the hiss of the watersnake merged into one.

“Your light cannot reach my depths.”"I’ll shine brighter!”"You would scorch the Earth”"I have failed you then”she sighed. “Perhaps”

Hot tears dripped from her eyes & boiled with volcanic fire as they touched the waves.”Do you not love me?”"Another moves me more.”

“Who?” “The Moon.” it said with a sigh. “It reaches to the very abyss.” She turned her gaze upward. “Moon, is your light brighter?”

“Never!” cried the Moon. “You move the ocean!” “It moves me.The Earth too.” “Then,do you not love me either?” the Sun began to weep

“Sweet darling mine! I chase you across the sky,I linger when I should set,to see u rise.I rise early to see u set the world aglow”

“If I could but catch you, you’d be mine forever. You are my sun, my star.All who love me love you.” Luna bent to caress her hand.

Sol’s eyes sparkled, her sadness forgotten. She spun, her garment fanning out in rays & sped away. “Catch me then, if you can.”

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…For The Last Time.

presenting an original work of twitter fiction, by konewt:

He, Bored and without any Light, Created the Sun.It rose in the Dawn, lingered at Noon, wavered until Dusk, and the Sun went down.

Recharged and Seeing the Good,He Created it All,each Day.The Sun,a Favorite,It reveals All,but It needs rest,and the Sun went down.

It was a perfect Harmony,the rhythm of His making,the ever Forever Cycle,the seesaw of Life,the Sun came up, and the Sun went down.

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Nightmare.

by Metruis:

I’m answering the #Twitfic challenge. Which, btw, was HARD. Got away with no abreviations, though! 20 tweets follow,

Five in the start, but now there were three. Three hopeless, tattered, haggard humans caught in the glare of a roseate sunset.

Fogard didn’t know where the other two were. Probably dead. These ones wouldn’t last much longer. He could smell their fear.

He sat under the shadow of a wildly branching tree and let it obscure his stygian face as the three humans stumbled down the hill.

They must have given up hope, he reasoned. That would give the three reason to expose themselves. They wanted to give up and die.

He didn’t expect the call. “Nightmare!” the oldest screamed with a cracked and ever so strained voice. “We seek a trade.”

Fogard frowned and rose… and rose… and rose. Soon his shadow swallowed that of his tree. The three drew back in fear and shock.

“A trade, is it?” His voice was a low whisper but it thundered deep into the earth. “And what would you trade?”

“Sien was taken…” the eldest stammered, running his fingers through his blond hair to avoid making eye contact with the entity.

“And what would you give in return for your friend’s soul?” Fogard snarled. The human found the will to make eye contact again.

“What do you want?” the human replied boldly. Fogard smiled and the sun went down.

Silence fell. Not even the humans’ breathing could be heard. This was Nightmare’s domain:nothing but a hum amidst velvet starlight.

The hum exploded outward with a cry of “What do you want?” Fogard smiled to himself. The human was strong. “Anything you want!”

“I want to live again,” the Nightmare whispered into the human’s ear. “Bring your friend before sunrise and I will restore her.”

“In return,” continued the breath of dreams, “I will prey on your minds eternally. Do we have a deal?” The human exhaled sharply.

“Yes.” Light exploded outwards and the night was as normal: preying shadows, feathery monsters, and taunting nocturnal cries.

They dragged the body under the tree just before dawn, when the dark was deepest. Her body was little more than a shell.

She sat up with night’s deep blue in her eyes when Fogard touched her forehead.They had tears and joy to share, even as he watched.

“Remember,” Fogard warned, “the fear of the night is now yours.I have given you hope, now you will give me back what is mine.”

“What is yours?” Sien asked shakily. But Fogard didn’t answer, vanishing deep into the shadows of the dawn. They were now his.

He gave them back hope,and they would give him fear.For what were dreams made of if not the tiniest bit of both hope and fear.[fin]

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The Lady

by CrescentDreams:

My #twitfic entry, it’s a moment in a lady’s life. Let’s hope it fits the 140 char and 20 or less constraints!

She sat, the embroidery hoop in her lap. The scene stitched in threads of green, blue + lavender. Much like t heather out her wndw.

A few strands of coppery hair slipped from the silver net encased bun at the nape of her neck, laying on the emerald of her robe.

Her tiny feet were tucked under the heavy velvet skirts, the soft leather shoes hidden. On the floor, her basket held silk threads,

needles+other tools. Her slim hands were wrapped around the hoop, + her face turned toward the window, chin tilted to the breeze.

Scents of autumn:the bonfires, the warm baked apples+roasted pig. The rustling of the rusting leaves, the sounds fm the villagers.

She took it all in. The silence in her room, the clattering of the kitchen below. The scent of dried flowers.All soothing+stifling.

She’d been Lady of the Manor since she was 12.Half her life spent caring for the people of this town. She loved them+resented them.

She married for them – to give them a strong Lord. He helped care for the herds + the farmers raise crops + the huntsmen find game.

She bore a child for them-a girl. Her Lord had not minded. He adored their little one. He taught her numbers,letters+manor skills.

She closed pale blue eyes for a moment,reflecting.She was proud of that child.She regretted none of what she’d done for her people.

And yet, she still felt apart. Other. Her eyes opened and she gazed out across the expanse of land that was left open, for now.

Now w/so much accomplished,she wished to do things for herself.But as Lady of the Manor,even fun was a task–like as her embroidery.

Taking the hoop+gathering her skirts, she stood + walked to the wooden stand that already held 3 other such embroidered landscapes.

Watercolors also graced easels at that side of the rooms.

All of them:the silken threads,the paints,all showed scenes fm the wdw.Many in afternoon light.All in blues+lavenders. Few had red.

She stood there, her own golden-red tresses a warm halo abt her head.Catching glimpse of herself in the polished shield on th wall,

she realized she was like t long-stem roses her Lord grew w their daughter in t gardens below.They’d named it after her,which had

bemused her.A frown crossed her face+she shook her head, going to the window to inhale deeply. There was the scent she loved;

the nightblooming jasmine. Now, she smiled. Jasmine. Her child. Her flower. Her favorite scent. That only came out at night.

For just a moment, she felt at peace. And the sun went down, and the light of the harvest moon fell over her in silver.

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The Returning

by ExplodingDragon:

Okay, here it is. My entry for the #twitfic contest!

I kick the door open and step inside. There can be no hesitation. They’re up and facing me before I enter striking range.

One tries to close the distance first, but jumps back hurredly from the light coming through the open door. They look worried.

They know there’s no escape for them, I have them trapped in their lair. They must face my blade or perish in the light outside.

“Who are you?” one hisses. A delaying tactic, but I indulge them. “My name is Bakuretsu Ryuu, I hunt your kind. Shall we begin?”

They charge with unnatural quickness, trying to bite or claw me. But my blade is quicker, and they are soon in pieces on the floor.

I gather up the pieces in a sheet and drag them out to the back garden. Uncovering them they set alight, as is their curse.

Watching them burn I consider my own curse. As a slave not to the sun, but satelites in orbit, that connect to nanites in my brain.

I have to pay off the debt of blowing up my employers former base, even if it did wipe out a horde of zombies.

I do this by hunting, or my head explodes. And I like breathing, thank you very much.

Time passes. Back in the car I hit the beacon to confirm I survived. It beeps and gives me a location.

No thanks, no congratualtions, not even cake, just another target. *sigh*

And the sun went down before I could start the car. I can’t even drive into the sunset.

There’s that feeling there should be crappy poetry again. “I am grace, I am death, blah blah blah”

My name is Baku, I hunt demons and associated undead. Because I’m good at it. Because someone has to. What else is there to say?

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Beautiful Machinations

by Weirdside:

My entry for the @masstwitfic contest

Nana, tell me about how we came to this place.

The legend’s even older than I, child, but for you, I’ll do my best.

A thousand generations ago, we lived on a world far away from here.

We lived on land, where the beautiful machinations of our yellow goddess gave us life. We called her Sun.

Then one day, our goddess turned red with anger, and ballooned with rage.

The ancients built a vessel and named it Her Majesty Sun’s Merciful Return to sail the black seas between the goddesses.

They, their children, their grandchildren, and so on searched for a gentler goddess to wait out their goddess’ fury.

The people were angry to be stuck in a vessel for their entire lifetime. They wanted to return to their goddess.

The people thought about what had angered their goddess. An educated man among them put forth an answer.

“The goddess is mad for we have stolen her special fire,“ he said.

“We have used it for our greedy purposes to power this vessel not to a new home, but search the black seas for riches.”

“But tell me, can we survive on treasure? Can we eat gold bars? Can we sleep on a bed of gold leaf? No, we cannot.”

“We must turn this vessel around and give our goddess’ fire back. It is the only way.” Fighting broke out.

One of the dissenters did a terrible, terrible thing. He invented a device to extinguish our goddess’ fire.

The vessel then quit swimming through the blackness and simply floated, waiting to bump into something, anything.

But our goddess’ fury slackened, and she graced us with a solution: a new home.

Nana took a breath then, and wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, the dampness of the cave penetrating to her old bones.

But Nana, the child said, what happened then! Then, child? Is it not obvious to you? Pardon Nana, but I like the way you tell it.

The full name of our ship had been lost in 100 generations, but it mattered not. We thanked our goddess, and The Sun went down.

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Angst Observed

by JimGleeson:

Jasper clicked off the TV, rose from the couch and brushed off potato chip detritus from his sweat shirt. His eyes, dry and craggy.

He couldn’t hear the sound of giggling from the other room. It was late though, even for a Friday night. Still his senses probed.

Silence. He felt a wash of voyeuristic guilt. Still though he felt that other familiar feeling as well. The tendrils of yearning.

He went to the second door on the left and wheeled into his room, the door was cracked open, thin lcd illumination leaked through.

His bare foot hit the left corner wheel of the bedframe, his toe shocked by cold steel. He grimaced/cried out. Time staggered.

Losing balance, he stumbled onto the bed, all knees and elbows. A form on the bed cried out. A faint smell of lavender.

Jasper’s eyed widened. One word registered “Kim” Sprawled over her, he felt her arms slapping his back/his side/other body parts

Instant replay. His mind reversed to see if he had made a wrong turn somewhere. But the surroundings were familiar/they were his.

“What-” was all he managed to say. She screamed, pushed him aside and rose from the bed. He rolled over watching, grasping..

She made for the door, rubbing her shoulders from where part of him collided with her. “Wait.” he said. She hesitated.

But his mind was like bike pedals that had lost its chain. No traction. His opportunity hermetically sealed in failure.

In his mind, he heard/saw “and the sun went down” fading to credits. The end. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.

Objects in motion tends to stay in motion. <-thought seemed to laugh at him as she was in mid stream of achieving escape velocity.

His mind was a crashing hard drive seeking anything: fragments of song lyrics, movie lines, in store buy one get one free coupons.

“Jas,” she said to stop any forthcoming deliberation. As if she could see these thoughts like a hacker perusing his facebook page.

Then like an application opening a file he was able to speak “You lost?” She turned around. Was he also smiling?

“I can smell this place from a mile away.” She wrinkled her nose, but her feet were planted. Fight or flight was not in play.

What was in play?

He positioned his feet on the floor and stood facing her. Kim. Inside he trembled. Inside was fire. But he would not waver.

Her mouth mirrored his, eyes locking, and they found themselves in tandem. Hearts interlocking like legos in the night.

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The Monday After.

by dorfird:

My highly autobiographical entry for #twitfic follows.

I woke this morning in the pale pre-dawn light, @Canageek sprawled beside me. It was the first time I’d seen him since the zombies.

He forgot to pack his pajamas so I loaned him my green flannel nightgown so he wouldn’t be cold in the night. He loooks damned cute

Then it was time to hustle so he could get to work and I to the bus station. We aren’t good at hustling when it involves parting!

Then we got off the city bus several stops early (or took one the wrong way?) and ended up on the wrong subway line.

Fortunately, between a helpful francophone transit employee and the subway map, we learned where to go. Also my bus left 5 min late

So I wasn’t stuck in Montreal for an extra half-day. After I went through customs, I napped in the Greyhound’s seat.

I blame this for my subsequent migraine, which was pretty annoying by the time my family got me at the bus station.

We went swimming and I tried to use the water to relax my neck. But I was still nauseous as I drove us home, and the sun went down.

Now I’m lying in the dark, reflecting on my day. They can find a cure for zombies, but I still feel like crap.

Still, the visit with @Canageek was TOTALLY worth it. I hope one of these years it will work to live together.

I know it’s far too soon to plan for that, but it’s such a pleasant thought I can’t resist running some scenarios.

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The Ack

by Scolefiction:

Everyone was worried about The Ack. The summer months had thawed the fear in the town and the thing in the woods.

So far, since the trees bartered back their greenery for the beast, two one teenage boy & a small girl had been claimed by The Ack.

Men from town had found the undesired anatomy remaining from the two scattered throughout the woods .

A kid in my gym class said his brother saw it last summer, when I was preparing to start high school & falling in love with Tony.

“Something like a boy, but a porcupine. Its eyes were yellow or black either with no pupil or all pupils, I don’t remember.

“It was dark and wet, smelled like mold. Its teeth didn’t fit in its mouth.

“And it drug tree branched along the ground. Though, it could just be that his claws reached the dirt.”

I had my own problems to worry about with summer approaching. The Ack, frightening as it sounded was no match for first love.

Tony and I had been high school sweethearts all that year, but as the weather warmed, I noticed his wandering eye.

Beth was the name of the girl I was worried over. Tony had several classes with her and seemed to bring her name up too frequently.

The invite to Beth’s end of school party came as no surprise to me. Tony looked forward to it with extra anticipation.

The Ack was no match for Beth.

The last day of school came with a particularly sinister heat wave. It lingered in the air as Tony & I drove through the woods.

And the sun went down behind the silhouettes of trees as we reached the party. My classmates, beer-spirited and silly.

I tried to drink my own apathy as Tony quickly abandoned me for lovelier creatures. I smoked with subtle tears on the cabin steps.

The ominous heat and darkness permeating from the woods around us eventually made me seek in innards of the cabin for comfort.

I realized,even in my lubricated state,fear is a stupid emotion. No matter if you fear or not, if something is to happen, it will.

Tony and Beth were in deep embrace when I reached the living room. I noticed the looks from those around who understood

My heart left me then. & my fear. Do I stay here & watch this display, or run home in tears, through the woods, The Ack somewhere?

I chose to leave. The thing in the woods could take me if it wanted that porcupine thing. I left the cabin door open on my way out.

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One Night A Year.

by wildfeather:

“In t bleak midwinter,frosty winds may moan.Earth stood hard as iron,water like a stone..”"Leave it out Roger,miserable enuf as tis”

“I’ll say. Water like a stone? My feet ‘ave frozen into my bloody boots!” “I’m pretty sure my toes are rotten…”

“Mine’d need a brillo pad to get the caked-in mud off” “Quit yer moanin you lot, it’s blinkin Christmas!” “Yes sarge.”"Sorry sarge”

“What’s that?”

“Stille nacht, heilige nacht, alles schläft einsam wacht…” “Ere, Jerry’s singin’!” “I know that one, Silent Night, int it?”

“It puts tears in your eyes boyo..” “Bet you could sing better, Welshy!” “Hey, let’s give em what for!” “Best Sunday voices lads.”

“..round yon virgin mother and child..” “They’re cheerin!” “OI, JERRY,ANYONE GOT ANY KIERSCH?” “Was? Was ist?”"What you doin Ed?!?”

“GIVE US A FAG WOULD YA?”"Shhh!That’s the bleedin enemy you idio–”"I can have fußball engländer?Wir has bier!”"Now u’ve done it”

“INCOMING!!!” *duck*

“It’s a bottle! It’s…a beer bottle!”"Dont! it’s probably poi–soned, too late”"Ohhh Thats good that is”"Yeah?”"Yeh,hits the spot”

“Give us some!” *clink* “Haben Sie ein fußball Tommy? Eh?” “Sarge?” “Hmmm..” “Oh go on sarge.” “Alright, seein as its Christmas.”

“Hoorah!!!” “Last one over the trench is a.. uh, nevermind.” “They aint gonna shoot us are they?” “Only one way to find out…”

*shrug* “We’ll probably be dead by Boxing Day anyhow” “Orlright Jerry, WE’RE COMIN OUT!” “Guten Tag! Guten Tag! Merry..”"Christmas”

“Christmas!Ja!Ja!” “Blimey Jerry,you look as cold as we are!” “Ich, ich kann nicht verstehen..” “Nevermind, let’s have a kickabout”

“I’m in goal!”"Your pointy helmets make great goal posts gents”"Watch the barbed wire”"Now then,now then,anyone want some whiskey?”

“3 cheers for sarge!” “Hip Hip…” … /Dear Bessie, ta very much for the socks.Just what I need.It’s so cold here,you’ve no idea./

/Today we played rugger with the Germans.Yes,really.Roger fell into a crater head 1st,I laughed til I cried.&The German beer, oof!/

/They’re no different than us really, same trenchfoot,same woes,same photos of families in their breast pockets,same homesickness/

/Met this guy Mael-got a girl looks just like u.&a tot like our Freddie.Only,all chubby.Was like meetin ur double.Made me kinda sad/

/At four we toasted the Christkind, the birds sang and the sun went down. It was *inkblot* We’ll be shootin them again tomorrow./

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The Mummy

an original work of fiction by mousewords

Ok, here we go! The next 20 tweets are my entry for @MassTwitFic‘s #twitfic challenge.

“And the sun went down at 6:30-” “It’s light til like 7″ “No, I took out the trash durin Lost” “You were watchin on Hulu!” “At 6-”

“8:07″ Jeff Barrister interrupted, phone in hand. “Wasn’t that dark til astronomical twilight at 9:51.” The witness shifted feet.

“Maybe I was watchin Castle. Anyway that’s when I saw the mummy.” Deputy Patterson rubbed his temple. “Thank you. Next please.”

The GenY couple left morosely. Patterson said: “What next, zombies? June’s too early 4 Halloween.” Jeff looked up. “Here? It’s 365″

Pale stone pillars framed the entry of a 3story mansion, sharply lit against dark pines. Windows glowed gold, silhouetting deputies

“Looks like a crypt.” “Tomb,” said Jeff. “Replica from ‘Death He Awoke.’” “Why can’t you have normal clients?” “I bore easily.”

2nd testimony matched the 1st. “Alarm went off at Ms.Chrystal’s after dark. Came out, some guy dressed like a mummy ran off.”

A red-haired guy in t-shirt & jeans sauntered up. “Any leads on TP dude?” “No. You got a point of entry for me?” “Nope.”

“I got a point of exit. Ms.C chucked King Tut’s head thru a window. Set off the alarm.” “Doors secure?” Jeff asked his partner.

Rusty shrugged. “Locked for 3 days.” Patterson checked notes. “Since the niece came.” “Yeah. 1 thing–antique case wasn’t forced.

“Whoever took 200k in Pharaoh bling knew the code.” “Podcam footage clears the niece” said Patterson. He played a YouTube video.

“MsC’s drama reading” said Jeff. “I usually try to catch it, since she’s our 1st client.” Rusty waved his hands, mouthing _I don’t_

Onscreen, a frail white-haired woman in flamboyant Egyptian dress read Poe in a quavery voice. “Kinda dry, but you see the case.

“Her manager got this Sunday” Patterson added. “Hate to say it, but Ms. Chrystal’s the only one who could have emptied that case.”

They entered the sepulchral halls of the house, crammed with artifacts like a museum of natural history. Ms.C rested in her room.

Perfectly manicured fingertips clutched her jeweled chest; silky gold hair & blue velvet turban framed her pale, contorted face.

Jeff bent over her. “Ms.C, did you do your video yesterday?” She stiffened. “I never disappoint my fans!” J ignored Rusty’s elbow.

“Live, Ms.C?” “Of course I record it live. Sometimes 2 or 3 at a time, to keep for Sundays when I don’t feel strong.” Jeff nodded.

“And when did your niece give you a beauty treatment?” She brightened. “Friday! We had a loovely time.” Patterson jolted. Jeff rose

“My bet’s Mummy’s at the niece’s place. Like his bling. Give us a call when you get off duty, Pat. We’ll catch Castle on Hulu.”

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Pelzard the Pelgrane Trainer

by ZorkFox:

Hupplebaust the pelgrane woke and found himself in dire straits—by some means he had become tethered by the neck to a rickety cage.

The old sun drenched Earth with red rays, exposing the full depth of his predicament: the cage presided over a tiny village square.

Nearby a man hurriedly erected a pavilion. This Hupplebaust knew to be Pelzard, who fancied himself a trainer of exotic creatures.

The pelgrane tried to stretch his bat-like wings but the cage allowed them no scope. He noticed a tag clipped through one membrane.

Hupplebaust exerted himself to mangle the cage by toppling it; his globular body slumped; neck suspended by the collar, he choked.

Apprehending the ruckus Pelzard hauled on ropes to right the cage. “Be still!” he commanded, “or no breakfast will be forthcoming.”

The man leapt to finish his chores. “Pelzard,” rasped the pelgrane, “release me and we will discuss your notions of the afterlife.”

“By no means!” crowed Pelzard. “My entire professional career has been carefully plotted to arrive at this pinnacle of showmanship!

“Do you think I chose my name heedlessly?” With preparations complete Pelzard regarded his charge. “Now you will play for royalty.”

“Never have I consumed royalty,” Hupplebaust admitted, fitting his beak of black horn through the bars. “They may provide dessert.”

Pelzard chortled. “Your capabilities do not extend so far. Hold your bellicose tendencies in abeyance or I blast you with magic.”

To Duke Orbal’s Grand Exposition did Pelzard bring his captive pelgrane. Many experts agreed his display would win the grand prize.

Flush wish success and hope, Pelzard indulged in ancient vintages and became fabulously sozzled. That night he neglected the cage.

In the afternoon, crowds gathered and Duke Orbal abandoned his high seat to pass among the showpieces. He neared the wicker cage.

Pelzard stood unsteadily beside Hupplebaust. The pelgrane murmured, “I see my dream of a bone-pipe organ comes closer to reality.”

The pelgrane’s beady black gaze found the bloodshot eyes of the pelgrane trainer…and Hupplebaust burst from the cage with a shriek.

Pelzard fell aside, battered by Hupplebaust’s wing. The pelgrane shrugged away the tattered cage and made to excise Pelzard’s head.

The duke’s men, wide-eyed with fear, nevertheless bore forward to abate the menace and Hupplebaust, thwarted, was made to retreat.

He carried Pelzard off into the dark sky. “Release me!” screamed Pelzard; he kicked in panic. “Not so fast,” the pelgrane demurred.

A flurry of arrows inhibited Hupplebaust’s imagination. He lost his grip on Pelzard and the sun went down on his vengeful ambition.