Tabitha’s Wards

Urban fantasy is a subgenre of fantasy in which the narrative has an urban setting.[1][2] Works of urban fantasy are set primarily in the real world and contain aspects of fantasy, such as the discovery of earthbound mythological creatures, coexistence or conflict between humans and paranormal beings, and other changes to city life. The two share 90% of their genre DNA. However, the main differences are this: Urban fantasy focuses on an issue outside of a romantic relationship between two characters. Paranormal romance focuses on a romantic relationship between two characters and how outside forces affect that relationship. Trying to get out of the mindset of what has been done and examples can be difficult until I look at my son’s plant.


Our neighborhood in Magnolia Creek is every iconic family-friendly neighborhood street everyone paints. There is beautiful blooming trees and flowers during the spring and holiday decorations into the winter. There is a toy store that creates beautiful displays but has a special ‘display reveal’ just for Christmas. There’s the Ice Cream Parlor on the corner that serves remarkably creamy ice-cream-scoop cones and a Pizza Restaurant right next to it. The scent of marinara sauce and garlic will draw you right in the front door. There is the coffee shop/used bookstore next to an art supply store that has items from paint to photography. The pharmacy and grocery are not on the block but across the intersection tucked neatly behind large old oak trees as if it’s been there for centuries. Truth is, this small town has been around for centuries and the creatures within.

As you’re driving away from getting groceries, stopping for your favorite pizza, your going to drive towards the town’s nursery. This end of the main road leads into the town’s small plantation-inspired home neighborhoods complete with wrap around porches and iron gates. Past these homes, the road leads to farming lands and houses that are by themselves picture perfect on rolling hills. Before the neighborhood is my family’s Magnolia Creek Nursery, which is caddy-corner from the largest plantation style home which has been passed down through the family. The home came with the business or vice versa. Either way, I was born into this world, both worlds with a requirement of the name ‘Tabitha’ to always be in the family. I’m Tabitha but so is my mom and was my grandmother and her mother.

Our nursery grows and sells trees, shrubs, bushes, flowers, vegetable, fruit bushes, and herbs. We also have a beautiful assortment of stones and bricks. During Halloween, we sell some of the largest pumpkins in the tri-county area and bails of hay. At Christmas, we decorate the nursery, have snowman competitions, sell hot chocolate that features some of our greenhouse grown mint, and have the most magical looking trees for people to buy and decorate with their family’s ornaments. We even have a separate greenhouse for herbs. This was my specialty but not for reasons you would think. I do have a green thumb and can grow just about anything or help just about any dying plant. It’s my specialty because I can fill a certain order for certain customers due to my bilingual tongue. I was born with a rare gift that allowed me to speak to pixies. Our Nursery was home to the entire world’s population of these creatures. They do leave the safety of the nursery but it’s to help areas where there were wildfires or forestation that almost kill the wildlife.

A quick bit of information. THere are small towns all over the world that cater to the preservation of mythical creatures both small and large, winged and finned, dark and light. After the war on mythical creatures witches both good and bad have made a vow to protect what creatures are left. Have you ever drove through a picture-perfect town or the creepiest village as if you walked into a ghost story? If the town is too good to be true or to eerie that you wished wasn’t true, then it’s a foster town. Because both dark and light witches have vowed to take care of our world’s mythical creature there is an unspoken truce between us. There will be certain arguments from time to time but nothing that endangered our wards. Tabitha is a name that Pixies trust and is why the name must be passed down. In order to have a girl named Tabitha, I have 7 older brothers. They don’t have the gift of pixie speech which is Sylvan but they do have special jobs at the nursery to help take care of our wards from heavy lifting, being playful, to the protector.

The only danger to our mythical wards is each other. Some creatures are sworn enemies of others and some have an appetite that are like potato chips to them, you can’t eat just one. So our picture perfect or not so perfect towns are placed strategically around the world to keep mingling from occurring. It was a sunny morning when I went to the greenhouse to bid hello to the Pixies, bring them freshly baked bread and get ready for the day of filling herb orders for other witches when I noticed that the Pixies weren’t eating. I asked them what was wrong in their native tongue but all they did was prepare but for what I didn’t know. I went and asked my mom if there were any secret messages sent through flames but there was nothing. I tried to fill herbal orders but our herbs were luscious and green as usual.

We were all sitting down for dinner when my mother noticed that my brother Gunner was missing. My family went to look for my brother and I went to look after the pixies. When I got to the greenhouse they all swarmed over to me and hid under my apron, in my pockets, in my red curly tendrils, anywhere they could fit they were there. I could hear my brother hollering from the back of the nursery. The Pixies wouldn’t allow me to leave the greenhouse but I could see through the window that gunner was full of dirt and he was rubbing his wrists. My mother comes into the greenhouse,
‘Tabitha, I need you to do something that you would never do. I have prepared your room with all sorts of plants, potted trees and bushes, herbs, and some flowers. Essentially, I have turned your room into a greenhouse. Magnolia Creek is under attack.’ My mouth dropped open. I’m too young for a battle to protect the pixies. Who am I kidding, anyone is too young for this kind of battle. That’s when I realized this is because of an older witch. Before I could speak,
‘Tabitha listen to me. I need you to take the pixies to your room. You will have to make the walk alone. I need to stay behind and enchant the greenhouse and our nursery.’

I made sure all of my wards were with me and I didn’t walk. I ran and didn’t stop until I was in my room. The Pixies started to relax a little but the younger ones were still crying and upset. Usually, there is singing, playing, games, and helping plants grow but this time the younger ones stay close to my bed where my mother placed a large peace lily. I started to cast protection spells and incantations and the little ones worked on the peace lily. Gunnar was ok but he was the guard at my door. He’s one of the last lines of defense and I’m the last. My job is to keep these creatures safe because they have a job to do for future generations. I turned on the radio and learned that the entire town was started to turn dark and the greenery started to die. It was like the town was dying and without the pixies being able to go into the community to help ward off whatever this was attacking the town, it looked like every other town.

I could hear my mother yelling for Gunnar to stay put but to stay alert. THen I heard Gunnar outside my door, ‘Bram! What the hell are you…’ his question was stifled by what I wasn’t sure. Next thing I knew my door was pushed down by mud and the ugliest Goblin rode the mudslide into my room and after him, Bram entered. He was the warlock sworn to protect the goblin race from across the sea. The goblins do the opposite of what pixies do. Instead of helping things grow and live, they slowly torture and murder living things. Pixies and goblins will fight to the death if no one is there to intervene. More and more goblins came storming into my room and the Pixies were by my side in a matter of seconds. There was a flash and I thought I failed at my job. There were smoke and the scent of sulfur. When the air cleared I saw Bram on the floor with my mother and Gunnar standing over him with wands fashioned from herbs and apple branches. The goblins did seem to be affected any by Bram being unconscious and out of nowhere, I started speaking in a language that I didn’t even know. I looked at my mom as the Goblins started cowering and backing out of my room.

My mother stood beside me and said, ‘You are speaking Ghukliak. It’s the language of the Goblins. This means that you are both dark and light. This means you are the balance that is needed to maintain peace between all the mythical creature. THere is a lot to do!’ Her eyes were bright and her excitement was almost frightening. ‘Tabitha, first we are going to contact Bram’s family to work out a trade for the treacherous son. Then you will command these goblins to head home. Then we need to talk to the Mother Goddess and make arrangements for your future. The Pixies were back safely in their greenhouse feasting on honey wheat grain bread and Bram is the center of the arranged trade which came with him relinquishing his goblin wards over to me. I now have two mythical creature wards. I had spent some time with the goblins and they aren’t as bad as I thought. They just bring balance to life and view things differently.

The Mother Goddess was accepting of my dual abilities but informed me that I’m much more than I realize. My family and I were direct descendants of Brigid. It has taken many generations for both the light and dark to reside within one human form. It means that I have the heart that is needed to keep balance. I was then blessed with immortality. Whenever there is a threat of battles or an extinction of a creature I am there to keep balance.


Jo/© thecreativeptsdgal.wordpress.com

Pixie Language
Pixies
Goblins

 

Nessie’s Demon

Occult fiction is described for works dealing with witchcraft, spiritualism, psychic phenomena, voodooism, etc., and for works dealing with the mysterious or secret knowledge and power supposedly attainable only through these and other magical or supernatural means. I wanted to use a story that I wrote over a year ago but it’s not on any of my USBs or my computer. A little heartbroken that I can’t find it but I’m going to do the best I can from memory. Who knows I may like this version better than the one I started. This is a long story but I edited a LOT out to shorten the length.


I karate chopped the alarm clock. I’m second guessing the loud and obnoxious tone I chose but whatever gets me out of bed. I rolled over and felt the warmth of Shamrock’s body. I had a wonderful pitbull that was loyal and kind but could also come to work with me. Her appearance of breed alone kept idiots from acting out. Owning a bar is fun and all and I do work at least once a week but there is one night a year that it’s mandatory for me to work. Mardi Gras has its origins, secret societies, and history but there is another realm that only a few know about and even less have experienced.

My feet hit the wood floor of my plantation home that was passed down through the family. It was a bed and breakfast for a decade until my family came to own the bar that is now our source of income. It was 2pm which gave me plenty of time to shower, dress, eat, and get to work to set up. You would think that I need to set up the bar but no that’s why I have employees to do the work. I have to set up for the demonic entity that comes every 75 years to win back the gate that he lost during a bet.

My great great grandmother ran the bed and breakfast. She decided to go to town with my great great grandfather to enjoy the festivities, food, and grab a drink. We weren’t a religious family and that was acceptable in New Orleans. They walked into the bar when a demon and the bar owner were in the middle of settling terms to a bet. My grandmother was the winning part of the bet on the bar owner’s behalf. Everyone else saw a beautiful, young, dark-haired man when my grandmother saw the demon for who it was. The demon had bet the bar owner that if no one comes in and can see his true demonic form that it would win the bar back and would be able to trap souls again. If a person was able to come in and see it for what the demon was he couldn’t come back to the bar for 75 years. My grandmother walked in, seen him, and saved the night.

Over the next 10 years, the bar owner explained what needed to happen to keep the bar patrons and New Orleans safe. When the bar owner got sick in old age the owner asked my grandmother to take over. Over the years through Mardi Gras, my grandmother made the necessary preparations to keep the demon at bay and passed the cursed story through generations to come. So here I am, getting ready for the 75th year reunion. I wasn’t nervous because I have the same sight as my grandmother. I got dressed, had my black coffee and over easy eggs with toast, grabbed the apples and candles then headed to work. I only had one other bartender working with me, my brother. He was already there making sure the corner of the bar was reserved for our special guest.

‘Hey Nessie, got your rest?’ I smiled at J.T. as Shamrock went prancing ahead of me to greet her human uncle. ‘Hey Shammy, you keeping mommy on schedule? It’s a major night tonight. Y’all ready?’
I tossed the apples on the bar, ‘Afternoon J.T., did you remember grandfather’s engraved bar stool? And the iron shavings?’ I asked getting the masks set up by the door.
‘All set, the demon’s spot is set up at the end of the bar. The barstool has a circle of iron shavings around it and the bottle of absinthe is ready with the silver lined shot glass.’

The masks were to hide the identity of whoever may see the demonic form. We wish to keep the bar in the family as we now don’t want to burden anyone else with this responsibility. The barstool is for demonic being and is engraved with a binding spell to keep him from renigging on his end and confined to the stool which is why there will be a circle of iron shavings to work as a boundary. The apples represent knowledge and they are cut to reveal the star shape created by the seeds. This is to envoke a new seer. The silver lined shot glass and absinthe is to bind the demon’s tongue from cursing anyone. The silver makes the alcohol look more appealing no matter what it is.

J.T., Shamrock, and I were behind the bar serving customers and making sure that all of our patrons are adhering to the, ‘no mask, no service,’ rule. The music was great and so far no bar fights or arguments. When the clock struck twelve the door flew open. Everyone saw a beautiful young woman walk in when J.T. and I saw the demon. Shamrock warned us by sounding her low deep growl. It strolled over to it’s designated barstool thanks to the shiny shot glass. Once it seated it howled but everyone else heard laughter.
‘Hello, Nessie. I’ve been waiting to meet you. I see your family has prepared you well,’ the entity said as it downed the liquid revealing a realizing what it had done. An evil eye landed on Nessie and her brother.
‘Realizing  I don’t have to go into details about the bet, the only thing that will stand in the way of me coming back into ownership and opening the gate to let more demons through to this world. So, it goes without saying, let an innocent see me for what I am I go back to hell for 75 years if no one sees me then the bar and gate are mines.’ I smiled realizing the bet was already won. I always prided myself on how clever I was with bets and all. There is a reason I never married and had kids. A reason why I wasn’t considered spoiled.

The evening was successful. The demonic was hit on by several young men but everyone had on masks so they were safe. Bar time came and everyone left. J.T. smiled as he cleaned up the mess and starting stocking the back bar.
‘I won! I won! I knew this day would come. Nessie, give me the key and I’ll let you leave without any harm being done to your family and mutt,’ the demon said with a sneer revealing several rows of sharp teeth. I patted Shamrock on the head as she stayed by my side.
‘You didn’t win the bet or your bar back. The bet is, that an innocent needs to come in and see you for what you really are. Well, sorry to disappoint you but this isn’t your bar. You lost the minute you came in.’ The smile started to fade slowly.
‘An innocent was already in the bar and already seen your true identity through the floozy facade. Me, I’m still a virgin so it’s mine and my families for the next 75 years.’ His grin reappeared.
‘I can bide my time for another 75 years. The cleverness backfired on you. You’re getting too old to have your own children and with your families line ending with you, the only hope that you have is that an innocent walks into the bar.’ He said while he started to vaporized from his hoofs slowly moving up.’
I smiled, ‘Oh demon. You aren’t clever at all, just evil. I expected more from you as an adversary. Have you met my brother J.T.? No, I guess you haven’t since you’ve been dealing with me the entire night.’ The demon shot an evil look over at my brother who just waved.’
‘You see, I may not have any children of my own but I make a wonderful aunt to 6 beautiful boys and girls. All of which have the sight and are being raised with a family bedtime story. When they are old enough they will learn the truth. So, good luck ever getting this place back. ‘Sometimes a person’s sacrifice isn’t really one at all, just a different path in life for the greater good.’ Those were the last words I said as the demon finished vanishing to the underworld.


Jo/© thecreativeptsdgal.wordpress.com

I have to do this now for reasons I’m not going into. 

Glights

Here is the installment for ‘F’ in the A to Z challenge. A fairy tale/folklore, wonder tale, magic tale, or Märchen is folklore genre that takes the form of a short story that typically features entities such as dwarfs, dragons, elves, fairies, giants, gnomes, goblins, griffins, mermaids, talking animals, trolls, unicorns, or witches, and usually magic or enchantments. How often have we been lost in our imaginations of these fairy tale creatures? I don’t know about you but my creature always had magical powers that could fix anything or they were so magnificent in size that it shadowed everything that was boring. I took this opportunity to create my own creature. One that could possibly be overlooked and had nothing special. One that could lurk in both darkness and light, making you wonder if you really saw something move in the corner of your eye. Was it a mouse?


Long ago, before there was technology to remind us of every little thing, there was a world of the in-between. This world was everywhere. In-between doorways, in-between minutes, in-between the small space of the night and light before one emerges to relieve the other. Everywhere you look there are in-betweens. Now ask yourself, have you ever felt something, a breeze on your ankle but not be outside where there was wind? Ever thought you saw something out of the corner of your eye but you were alone in the room? What about when you think you forgot something but when you returned it was already taken care of? Who do you think turns off the stove or waters the plants when you forget? Or who closes your closet door to keep the monsters in while you sleep?

These little creatures do all the in-between work that lives in the in-between world and lives by the in-between time are Glights. They turn to shadows when lights are on and light up when the dark surfaces. They are our little guardians from our in-between moments that we often take for granted. They quietly remind us to be mindful of what is there in both darknesses and in the light.

From the quick glances bits and pieces of their description has been formed. They are no bigger than dust bunnies and seem to be just as fuzzy. They have small horns which we can only assume that helps them open things. They have antennas with lights at the end to illuminate in the darkness. They can both walk and fly without the need of feathers.

So, before you leave the house, open a window, or do anything that can’t be completed by technology remember the Glights. Give them purpose.

Swallow Hope

Legend has it that swallows were a sailor’s land omen, or at least that’s how my grandmother’s story went. I would ask my grandmother, ‘Tell me how you and pawpaw met again,’ and she would tuck me in and sit in the rocker beside my bed. ‘Swallows let sailors know if they are close to land. They are the messages they look for when they need to find land or carry messages of hope.’

She continued, ‘I was just a young girl when I became interested in the boats that came in from the sea bringing foods, goods, father, and husbands. I would help my dad unload the fish and my mom set up at the market. My father had hired a young boy that he found orphaned on the streets. My dad would invite him to stay with us sometimes but he would barely speak a word. He would quietly eat dinner, get cleaned up, and sleep in the stables. Even when he did that he was out there tending to the horses. I always thought it was to show gratitude.

The more he spent time with our family the more he would open up. I learned that he couldn’t read or write and I was now the proud teacher to my only student. In return, he taught me folklore of the sea. I was fascinated by mermaids, sirens, large man-eating sharks and the effects of the moon. He taught me about the constellations and I taught him, French. A bond and loved formed between us. I loved that man so much then and more now. As the years passed your grandpa saved enough for his own fishing boat. He asked my father for my hand in marriage. Your great-grandfather agreed on the condition that he provides a house and a lifestyle better than he could give his only daughter.

Because of this, your grandfather was rarely home. He was always fishing and saving his money. I would receive love letters mailed from different ports from around the world. Until one month they just stopped. July, August, and September passed without a word. I would sit at the docks in the mornings watching the swallows in the distance praying for one of them to carry on their wings a wish of hope that my love would soon return. It was now November and we were sitting down for a meal when there was a faint tapping at the door. There your grandfather was, on one knee. He asked me to marry him but without a ring. Instead in the golden box was a key embossed with swallows.

I gasped, said yes and embraced him before my dad could react. My father invited him in for dinner like when he was a little boy. I sat a place next to my plate and sat down next to my future husband. ‘Son, where have you been? You stopped all communication with my daughter. Why should I believe you won’t abandon her again after you’re married?’ My fiance looked down at his plate and said, ‘Sir, I was out fishing. I have seen beautiful mornings and starry nights. I earned enough money to purchase the mansion on the hill. I also purchased four other charter boats so I can stay home with your daughter more and earn a living off my newly built company.’

‘The reason why it took so long for me to get home is that I got lost.’ My father rolled his eyes but the young man continued, ‘I have never seen such giant waves or heard roaring winds. I got turned around several times and almost capsized twice. I held tight and the crew doubted every decision I made but obeyed. I was even doubting myself trying to make it home. The next morning’s sunrise was like looking at angels. I realized I was lost and had no idea where we were. Then a lone swallow landed on the rail and hopped from side to side and take off. As if the bird was trying to tell me something. I know they don’t fly far from land and headed in the direction of the swallow. I planned on sending word to your daughter but seen it was our home port. I purchased the house, set up credit so she can purchase whatever she likes for the home, and purchased foods and goods. So with your permission and with the help of your wife, can I marry your daughter and help us plan a wedding fit for a princess?’

Speechless my mother gripped my sleeve and looked towards my father with hope in her eyes. He grinned, ‘Martin, you may marry my daughter. Let’s eat and see the fine life you will give my baby bird.’ My grandmother finished the story with a mist in her eye and a smile on her face, ‘And that’s how you were given the name Terney, my sea swallow. Sleep well baby bird.’


Ok, writing love stories isn’t my forte so this gives me a starting point to build from. But Discover’s Daily Prompt gave me a push. I happen to have two swallows tattooed on my shoulder. I also learned from a little research before naming characters is that Martin is a bank swallow and Tern (the granddaughter’s name is Terney) is a sea swallow.

Wisconsin’s Werewolf

I’m kinda in the mood to write tonight and with it being so close to Halloween I thought it only fitting to fine tune my research skills and get spooky all at the same time.

Werewolf or Lycanthrope

Possibly made popular by recent movies such as Underworld and Twilight (guilty of watching both) and Harry Potter but was introduced to the big screen in 1941’s the ‘The Wolf Man’. The Werewolf is a mainstay with lore enthusiasts and sightings of these mythical (or could possibly be actual) creatures. We all have heard the campfire story about the full moon brings out the Werewolf allowing them to shed their human skin and transform into their hidden furry, fanged self. There are different versions as to what the werewolves do during the full moon but it’s only spectacted. It could be anywhere to finding a mate, creating more wolves, or even do a witches evil bidding but whatever the reason may be the legends of these creatures remain across all regions.

Beast of Bray Road

I have never heard of this but apparently Wisconsin has their very own werewolf and even some sightings. According to some internet research, the first sighting was in 1936. Then more sightings were reported in the 80’s and 90’s and even into our neighboring state of Michigan. A reporter was dispatched to interview witnesses that later turned into a book The Beast of Bray Road: Tailing Wisconsin’s Werewolf by Linda Godfrey. I searched for where did this beast come from and nothing surfaced on the creation but the native tribes in the area have stories of such a beast. From what I gathered the beasts or beasts are hunters and are sighted but not any interaction (such as attacks)

Do I believe that the beast is real. Well, I believe that there is something about but not so much a werewolf more of a large dog/wolf breed yet to be documented or researched.

Your Local Legends

Have you ever really researched any local legends near you? Or have you ever experienced a legend for yourself? Look into it, research it, and make it a part of your story. There are quite a few other legends near me and I’ll research and post more of what I find. Right now–I got to get burgers on the grill.

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