Carnival Town

Round and round carousel
He’s got you under its spell
Moving so fast going no where

Up and down Ferris wheel
Tell me how does it feel
To be so high
Looking down here

Is it lonely, lonely, lonely

Did the clown make you smile
He was only your fool for a while
But now he’s come back home
And left you wandering there

Is it lonely

 lonely

lonely

That lucky old sun

At this point
It's so hard to believe the summer is nearly over and college classes return. It really drives home the fact that the term 'summer' refers more to the three months of school-free vacation than to the warm weather.

Stupid Back-to-School commercials.

I won't get to post here as often as I have.
August was the month that all my thoughts exploded out in one big...
...splurt into a nice mess of creative writing.
I wish I could have more explosions like that, say... for papers and such...

Up in the mornin'
Out on the job
Work like the devil for my pay
But that lucky old sun got nothin' to do
But roll around heaven all day.

Sun seeking: Step four

Sun seeking: Step three and a half

Sun seeking: Step three

Summer's ending...

Day by Day

Once I had a secret love
That lived within the heart of me
All too soon my secret love
Became impatient to be free

So I told a friendly star
The way that dreamers often do
Just how wonderful you are
And why I am so in love with you

Now I shout it from the highest hills
Even told the golden daffodils

At last my heart's an open door
And my secret love's no secret anymore

Doris Day

Words

Albir Elderberry of Farwood

Lord! The incessant boredom!
I am surprised I survived.
My life... my waking life... has become one continuous strand of tasteless, unextraordinary, monotonous events.

I suppose explanations are in order.
The good doctor pronounced me cured of all ill health. He requested a private interview with me yesterday afternoon. He began by making me promise never to reveal the truth to my father, but confessed that he found no proof of mental instability in my "symptoms". He ruled that the symptoms my father had witnessed were no more than the behavior common in young men my age that had been erroneously blown out of proportion. He admitted that I'd been bed-ridden for the past two weeks merely because he feared for his job and position. Perhaps, he concluded, I might be grateful for a good long rest away from Father.
And on my part, I had to admit the two-week peace had been beneficial to my health... or at least, to my sanity.

All the same, I cursed that apothecary as I stood and exchanged empty conversations with nobility that I would never remember. Father had his hawks eye on me nearly the entire evening.
I owe my short escape to the General's daughter Ariella. I must admit I like the girl. She is quite clever, friendly and boisterous. Very amiable, even if she does possess a trail of freckles across her nose. I'm still laughing over her admittance to me that she'd spent the entire evening stealing feathers from the dames' and damsels' headdresses.

I awaited the late hour when the general population would retire for the night, and the wonderfully expansive Hall would be empty. I dismissed the staff so that I might have the small pleasure of extinguishing each candle myself. My steps echoed through the hall. Each waxing candle shimmered dimly in the reflection from the Hall windows.
I was surprised when each candle sconce had been snuffed, but still a small light burned dimly somewhere. I noticed it reflected off the glass.
It came from high above, that lone light, and I followed it up a hidden stair to a balcony I had never noticed before.
There she was.
Asleep. Lying across the balcony floor in a white nightgown, a tiny, dying candle at her elbow.
Her skin glowed with the candlelight that I immediately snuffed.
I tripped halfway down the steps and ran away, forcing my mind to believe I had imagined it.

Words

Elsapatience of the Great House

Today is my birthday.
Funny to think that I barely noticed it coming. And now I am one year older. What have I to show for it?

Duke Elderberry has the entire staff of the Great House on their toes with preparations for a Grand Reception given on behalf of Prince Albir and his returning health. It is also, so I hear, a show of splendor to welcome (and impress) the General and his daughter.
Tonight I shall watch the crowd congregate in the Grand Hall.

My favorite thing, as I sit atop the balcony stairs of the attic, high above the milling and mingling assembly, is to watch the elegant people through their reflections in the Grand Hall windows. The blurred images represented in the glass create a scene of delicate delusory figures rather than the over-dressed pompous peacocks they all appear in stark reality. Though these lords and ladies do have a very creative taste in color and decoration, I must admit. I wonder what species of bird produced the feathers in some of the most interesting ladies' headdresses.

I do enjoy watching Ariella. She has a sense of humor which I find, despite myself, I admire. She dances with great skill, one can see plainly, but I have caught her once or twice purposely treading upon an undeserving partner's foot. Once she misplaced her elbow.
I suppose one must make one's own fun when one is forced into dull settings.

I confess I have noticed the Prince amongst the confusion of the crowd. I cannot tell whether he is pleased or not. He looks quite stiff. He greets each new comer with a smile and a short conversation.
And as the night wears on, and the candles burn lower and the Hall dims and empties, the Prince stands out more and more in my mind.

I fell asleep on the balcony. I do hope no one missed me.

Words

Elsapatience

I've seen General Lauphinstok and his daughter Ariella, who arrived at the Great House yesterday afternoon. The General is surprisingly very short. He must be an inch shorter than myself and I am not tall. Ariella is very thin and very pale, with enormous brown eyes. One would think just by looking at her that she would have a quiet, timid character. And one would think wrong. She is quite loud, in fact. She speaks to my fellow servants and I as though we were deaf. Though she is rather friendly, which speaks well in my book. I wonder what Prince Albir will think of her when they meet, for Great House gossip whispers that she is here on the hopes that they will make a good match. I cannot even guess.
In any case, Duke Elderberry spent a good half hour apologizing to the General and his daughter on his sickly son's behalf.
Cook tells me the Prince's mental health is improving; his prospects are quite good.
We shan't see another episode like that of the night I shall never forget. At least, so I hope.

Dream

I dreamt that during my last few weeks of summer break I had randomly decided in a moment of desperation to work the nightshift. I've no idea what the company was, or what we really did. It was, however, on a train. We worked and slept on the train, and it seemed like it was always nightime and the moon was always full. There was a guy and a girl my age who I remember working with.
The train went all over the world. I remember thinking to myself how it traveled across the ocean, because obviously we visited places in Europe. Once, I stepped off the train. It was like being inside a painting. Amazing. I walked through a forest with the guy I worked with, who then asked me to marry him. I don't remember what I said to him.

it's my dancing dress.

ghost dreams

You can't have my marbles. Get your own.

My Mom's brother died when he was fifteen. He had been riding his bicycle when he was hit by a car. But Mom has kept a lot of his things. She still has his ancient toy cars. And all of his marbles, too. My brothers and sisters and I used to love looking at all of those marbles.
For some reason, one day I was looking for her jar of marbles. Mom wasn't home, so I asked Dad, who was fixing himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen.
"Hey, Dad, where did Mom put her marbles?"
Dad stopped. He paused... he grinned...
... and then I realized what I'd just said.
It was the silliest thing, but all the same, I couldn't stop laughing.

The Secret Life of Keys

"Well, my good man. If you're so clever at finding things, then how do you manage to lose them in the first place?"

By Jove.
I've lost it.
Not sure what 'it' is.

Perhaps my sanity.

remove the plank in your own

You know what's fun?

Hearing people tell you all the things that are wrong with you.

Words

Albir Elderberry of Farwood

Apparently and unbeknownst to me, I am- or else I have become- mentally unsound. Those were the words of Uncle's own private apothecary. His diagnosis is due to my apparent lack of sleep and appetite, erratic behavior and inability to concentrate.
Father is in a rage, though he has finally stopped shouting. Uncle's patience grows thin.
I can tell the news has spread to the gossiping House servants. Whenever I encounter a maid or manservant, they stare. The maiden who brought me my tea and medicine stepped right up to my bed and stared down at me, squinting, as though she were examining me. As she finally left, I watched her take a furtive look round the room. Hmph. At least I still possess some dignity. And when one thinks on it, mental instability is rather dramatic and adventurous. Almost dashing and romantical. Many a novel's hero has struggled under the suggestion of insanity before accomplishing some daring, life-saving deed.
I think.

Trapped beneath my sheets for days now, I am striving to be optimistic.

My ghost has not come back.

Words

Elsapatience of the Great House

From Thera I learned Duke Elderberry has sent for an apothecary for Prince Albir.

From Cook I learned that the apothecary diagnosed the prince to be delusional and very ill. He recommended a two week seclusion. I am afraid this did not bode well with Elderberry. He demanded a second opinion and then a third opinion. Apparently, this two week seclusion interferes with the arrival of General Lauphinstok (and his daughter.)
King Gerald finally intervened, or so it would seem.
The good doctor has made certain things clear to me. Prince Albir's strange behavior of the other night was not due to a case of sleep walking, nor of an odd change of character and sensibilities; it was a minor case of psychosis. I can't say whether this news distresses me or not. I can't tell whether it concerns or even interests me. For once in my small experience, I am completely and erratically uncertain.

I do know that the mentally unsound prince still possesses my blue ribbon and my letter. And I still plan to retrieve them.

Sun seeking: Step two

Sending my clouds home

Sun seeking: Step one

Words

Elsapatience of the Great House

Oh, heaven and earth.
The strangest and most ethereal of nights.

I awoke in the night with a terrible pain in my chest and stomach. It drove me from my bed, from my room, from the servant's quarters.
The pain seemed to lessen and grow in turn, and in the latter moments, I was nearly doubled over in pain. I scrambled blindly up and down the stairs, through the hall, clenching my teeth to keep from sobbing.
Finally, I sat down where I was, clenching my stomach. It was a long time since last I was ill like this. I'd no idea what I could do, I just kept praying and hoping it would cease.
I didn't realize where I was until I heard a creak that made my heart jump.
There in the dim hallway, stood Prince Albir. He leaned a little against the wall as if he were drunk, or sleep walking. He looked half-asleep, I say, but his eyes were clear and awake, as though he hadn't ever slept.
I bit my lip to keep from whimpering. Half my mind was fixed on the horrible hurt in my stomach, and the other half worried about what the prince was going to do, finding me there outside his door, dressed only in a nightgown.
To my utter and complete astonishment, he bent over and slipped his arms beneath me. He picked me up in one sweeping motion, as though he expected I weighed no more than a small cat. My surprise gave way to the terrifying idea that he might, indeed, be sleep walking, and thus as likely as not to drop me at any moment. I could do nothing but remain perfectly still and silent.
As my mind was wholly fixed on this thought, I didn't notice where he was carrying me. But he laid me down on a sofa in a room somewhere down a long hallway. And then he just knelt there, as though he expected something. He had an unearthly look in his eyes, like the kind of look one has when one has suddenly seen a bright light or perhaps a ghost.
And he just knelt there, for hours. He didn't even speak.
Close to morning (for the light that began to stream across the hallway) I realized my chest pain had gone. The poor prince's head had sunk down across his arm, where he remained kneeling by the couch. Terrified of the circumstances I might find myself in if I stayed on, I crept out of the room. Eventually I regained my room and my bed, upon which I promptly collapsed.

And now I must avoid him in order to avoid trouble.

I must confess, shamefacedly, that I have been a complete git.

Words

Albir Elderberry of Farwood

Father reminded me three times today that General Lauphinstok and his daughter Ariella are arriving at the end of the week. I received an hour and a half lecture on how I was to behave.

Last night I dreamt of my ghost.
I could hear her footsteps traveling back and forth past my bedchamber door. They were light steps, but I could instinctively tell they were agitated. Without even thinking, I got up out of bed and crossed the room.
There she sat, down the hall, hunched over. Her dark hair spilled over her knees, and she was hugging her stomach. She appeared as if she were in terrible pain.
For what purpose, I'd no idea, but I knew she needed help. I quietly crept closer to her, and she looked up quickly, a terrified expression on her pale face. Her large, wide-set eyes were glossy with tears. I could tell her jaw was clenched tight against the pain.
Quite carefully and comparatively easily, I lifted her up in my arms and carried her down the hall. She lay completely still. It occurred to me to be surprised that she was, in fact, substantial; that I could indeed lift and carry her just as I could a human girl. It didn't directly puzzle me, and I didn't really bother to wonder about it until later.
To a small room with a large couch I carried my ghost girl, though I hardly seemed to pay any attention to which direction I turned, which corner, which hallway. Perhaps I was only drawn by any light that succeeded to guide my footsteps. It really was strange; so dreamlike, and yet, I remember everything so clearly and so detailed.
Without protest, she permitted herself to be lain on the couch. She no longer clutched at her stomach. She looked relatively calm and easy. She simply lay on the couch, gazing up at me. I don't know if I even wondered what I was to do next. The look in this ghost's face seemed to impart to me that I had done all that was needed. So I knelt down and remained where I was, now and again reaching out to stroke her hair and allowing her to gaze at me as she did.
Then that strange dream was broken, and I seemed to awaken from a stupor. I had been sitting beside an empty couch, my arm propped up, and my head resting heavily against my arm. Hazy, pale morning light filled the room.
When I finally awoke, exhausted and bewildered, I was in my own bed. And I was cold.

I was chastised for falling into a dead sleep during an ongoing lecture from Uncle on parliament history. I am afraid Uncle does not hold out much hope for me. He seems to grow increasingly wearier every day. Hmph. My failure to digest the knowledge daily bestowed on me only makes Father angrier.

And so I wonder now if my duties are done. It seems such a simple thing. Nothing, really. I had expected a burdensome task from this ghost girl, something that deserved the term unfinished business. And it was all done in a dream.
It does not feel like it is over.

Sweet David

"You've got a very interesting face. Would you mind if I painted it?"
"What color do you want to paint my face?"

"I'm Sophie, by the way. What's your name?"
"David."
"Oh, that's too perfect. Well, Michaelangelo had his David. So you've got to let me have mine."

"That doesn't mean you can't move your mouth. Talking won't ruin the painting. I'm not that bad."
"I don't really have anything to say."
"Oh, then you don't have to say anything at all. There are an awful lot of people in this world who have nothing to say but seem to spend all the time talking. You're right to conserve your words. It means you'll be a man of great power."
"I don't want to be a man of great power."
"Then you don't have to be. Just be happy that you're the kind of person who could be if he wanted to."

Clever, Creative and Evilly Mischievous? Me? Never.

Someone has it out for you.

Words

Elsapatience

He's stolen my blue ribbon! That rat-faced weasel. Horrid little mouse turd.
Now he has my letter and my ribbon. What does he think he is, that he can just take what doesn't belong to him? And carry it round like a trophy. Augh I hate him.

Albir Elderberry of Farwood

Perhaps the book is a load of rubbish. Haven't seen or made any contact with the ghost, and it has been nearly a week.
I did, however, find that my new leather boots have been in the slop bucket since yesterday morning. I can't quite get the stink out of them. And there was grit in my tea this afternoon. And a maid tripped me with a broom as I went to join Father and Uncle in the drawing room.
Bad luck, perhaps? An onslaught from the impatient ghost?

Forgetting and Remembering

"I doed it again!"
She hops up and down on the sofa cushions. She looks so funny, only one side, the curly side of her hair bouncing as she hops. The other side, straight and stubborn, remains limpish. She mis-steps and lands on her bottom on the floor. Immediately, she gets up, struggles back onto the couch and begins hopping again.
"Again. I doed it again."
She keeps hopping until her sister plucks her off the sofa and carriers her down the hall. She kisses her sister on the shoulder (missed her cheek). And her sister says goodnight.

Words

Albir Elderberry of Farwood

I decided something must be done.
Visited the library after Uncle retired to bed early. He looked rather ill.
I searched the endless shelves for books on ghosts and poltergeists.
There was only one.
It was thick and heavy and ancient, smelling of mold and thick with dust along the top. Its pages were terribly yellowed.
I read through the interesting parts. Am not quite sure whether the advice it gives is sound or not. But I've decided it's worth a try. In any case, the book explains that ghosts only haunt in order to request help. Unfinished matters and all that. The sooner one discovers what the ghost wants, the sooner one can finish it's unfinished business, and the sooner it will cease haunting. Therefore, the book suggests the victim of the haunting should carry around any article the ghost has left behind, in order to draw its attention and command its presence as often as possible, and thus discover what it needs done.
And so I've taken to wearing the bright blue ribbon tied beneath my belt, where it is slightly exposed.
What fascinating business this all is! It has almost succeeded in helping me pay attention to uncle's lectures. Mayhaps I'll not have to visit the garden so often to escape.

Music in my sleep. But it was different this time. Familiar, almost.

Uncle informs me that General Lauphinstok is arriving (with his daughter) in a fortnight.
Lord I hope she isn't cross-eyed. Or wears rouge. Or snorts when she laughs.

Words

Elsapatience

I can't find my blue ribbon. It distresses me so much, I can hardly concentrate on Cook's instructions for lemon tarts.

Bloody hell. I caught Prince Albir in my garden. On my swing! I wanted to hurl something at his head when I saw he'd discovered part of my letter. The wind didn't take it far enough.
It was rather amusing to watch him climb that great oak, though. He took off his boots (is not that improper? How scandalous) and stockings. He looked as though he were trying to walk up the tree. He would have done better to keep his boots on. It would have made for better grip, but I suppose he was weary of spoiling the things. He does not know much about climbing, that is certain.
When he reached a good thick branch, he swung himself upside-down. It was a ridiculous sight. His loose tunic of a shirt constantly fell down over his face, exposing most of his chest. When he'd finally retrieved all the parchment pieces, he made to swing down again, but lost his balance and fell. He landed hard on his back side. For a moment I was afraid, since I thought he might have hurt himself, but then he got up and rubbed it. Heavens, how I wanted to laugh! But I managed to stifle it.
If only everyone in the Great House were as amusing as Prince Albir.

Dream

I hate nightmares.
Especially when I wake early in the morning and it's still dark. And everyone else is alseep.
And then I can't remember what was so frightening.

Words

Albir Elderberry of Farwood

I escaped.
Father suggested I accompany Evangeline on her afternoon ride, but I could tell she wanted nothing but to be alone. She's still rather sulky. And I am not much for sympathy. Everyone must make sacrifices for king and country and I know not why she should be an exception.
This sounds rather ungraciously proud, I suppose. But honestly, it is only what I must constantly tell myself when I am trapped beneath uncle's thumb. And I don't mean it disrespectfully either, to be sure. But lord how I wish I could escape. For good.

Father and Mother took me to the seaside once. I was eight years old, but I still remember. It was the most glorious day, cool and bright. And there were the most amazing clouds in the sky. Phillip and I collected shells and flew kites all afternoon.
I want to go back.

I walked to the grove again and found the oak and the swing. Sat down on the swing. I noticed something on the ground by the tree. A white slip of something, caught in the grass. It was a small torn piece of parchment with the words, "music in my sleep" written in a loose, spiky hand. I almost dropped it, remembering quite clearly the girl on the swing and the music I'd heard at night. I looked up, and there, above me, tangled in the branches of the oak, were similar white slips. They stood out quite bright with the sunlight behind them. My breath caught in my throat.
I took off my stockings and boots and resolutely started to climb the tree.
Funny, I remembered climbing trees to be a much simpler task. I had to scramble up the trunk and hang upside-down across a thick branch in order to reach the pieces that clung amongst the leaves.
My leg cramped whilst I was snatching the slips and I fell. I landed on my backside, thank goodness. Though it still smarts.
I read, "remember you", "dark rose", "the swing, the wooden one", "to the seaside", and "dreamt." There were two other slips I couldn't make out, for the words had been torn in half.

I think I'm being haunted.

I found a bright blue ribbon in the gardens.
I'm certain I'm being haunted.

How much I love sunlight

kaleidoscope

Words

Elsapatience

Something seems worth mentioning.
But I shall not disclose it to Cook, who would dearly love to hear it, even with the promise not to tell a soul. It seems a very delicate matter to me.
Today I was given the odd duty of preparing the Family's mid-afternoon tea. It was a beautiful afternoon, and especially difficult today to concentrate on one's duties. But it suddenly sparked my concentration, when I realized only Princess Evangeline and her father were present for tea. They were arguing very heatedly. Well, Evangeline looked extremely upset. Her father remained calm and collected, as he always does. She was saying in an agitated, high-pitched hiss that he couldn't possibly force on her the type of men he chose as her suitors. One young man, in particular, she vehemently protested against. She accused her father of constantly hinting an upcoming union between herself and this horrid man. She refused, with quite loud emphasis (she abruptly struck her fist on the table, nearly making her father flinch) that she would never marry him. She would run away first. King Gerald serenely asked her to calm herself enough to think rationally on the matter. The marriage, he argued, would be beneficial to both parties considered. Tears began to well in the princess' eyes at these words, and she removed from the room, wailing that he would marry his only daughter to a horrible man she hated just to keep the Family well-connected.
I stood by the kitchen door contemplating on the argument I'd just overheard. I looked up quickly as I noticed Prince Albir step into the sitting room. By the look on his face, he had undoubtedly heard the whole of the conversation. And he saw me standing by the door. He caught my eye and positively glowered at me. I hastily removed myself from his most esteemed presence.

I began to feel quite sorry for the princess. Forced to marry a man she hated just to keep her family content? How horrid. I could just imagine such a union and I shuddered to think of it. Here I'd thought the princess, born to such a high status, was also born to a superior freedom. I had been jealous of her for the generous freedom she's been given. But though I'm only a common maid in the Great House, I have been given the awful knowledge of what an arranged marriage may be like. King Gerald can't realize how near he is to putting shackles on his own daughter, by forcing her into marriage.

Albir Elderberry of Farwood

Uncle and Evangeline are at it again. Apparently she is refusing the union Uncle has prepared for her. She positively threw a fit. I caught a cheeky young maid eaves-dropping on their conversation. This House is so full of gossipers.

Words

Elsapatience of the Great House

I dreamt of Mother again last night. I haven't dreamt of her in nearly five years. When I awoke this morning, I was terrified. Mother's face had become so cloudy... so vague. Was I forgetting her? I had always had such a sharp memory.

I wrote Mother a letter. It isn't a letter really. I put my thoughts down on paper, I wrote down my memories. It is to help me remember her, but also an exercise to resharpen my memory. I can't forget. I won't. Memories of Mother before she died are the only beautiful things left for happy dreams. I had enough haunting nightmares after my mother died to last the rest of my life.
I took Mother's letter to my garden at dusk. I had to sneak because I knew I might be more inclined to be missed. I sat with my back to the swing and closed my eyes. Slowly, striving to remember every tiny detail of her face, of her eyes and her smile, I ripped the parchment into pieces and let the wind take each word from my open hands. I prayed the wind would take them up to her and that she might bless my dreams.

Albir Elderberry of Farwood

Father told me late last night after dinner with the Family that General Lauphinstok is coming up to the Great House. Apparently this is Uncle's way of instructing me further on matters of war, in preparation for... er, kingship. Oh boundless joy.
Father also mentioned, in passing, that the General's daughter Ariella will be accompanying him. I swear, the people in this House have absolutely no sense of subtlety. For heaven's sake. I suppose she has freckles and squints, too. Joy of joys.

Long Forgotten Sails

One small sigh

Friends are the best.

Words

Albir Elderberry of Farwood

Another four hours stuck with Father, uncle and uncle counselors, and it isn't even noon yet. Lord! It takes all my energy just to keep from dozing. Which means, of course, despite all my will power, I've barely taken in an hour's worth of what uncle has had to instruct. It isn't uncle that disgruntles and bores me; it's Father. Every word uncle says Father must stress and lecture upon. Heavens, he drones on! Sometimes I wish uncle would just tell him to shut up, instead of the exasperated looks he gives Father behind his back.
It's been nearly two weeks at the Great House now. I saw cousin Evangeline off on her morning ride. It sounds horridly pathetic, but I am jealous of her. She has no trying duties or obligations to struggle with. Nearly nothing is demanded of her. I long for that freedom. It's ironic how one takes such freedom for granted until it is slowly taken away, piece by unrelenting piece.