*

The Fantastical Realm of Fantasme lies far beyond the edges of the Human World;

beyond the echoes of the everyday, through the mists of time itself.

It is a wondrous land of ancient myths and living creatures

that most believe exist only within the realm of imagination….

But as Chronicler and Teller of Tales, both fantastical and true

I’m here to tell you

that no imagination compares to the sights I have seen;

Sibylline curtains of diaphanous mist shroud valleys lost to mankind…

although once… long long ago in a time not imagined, there did exist

a portal between the two world;

Sadly, I was the last to pass through the portal

before it was sealed forever by the Great Wizard Mentorian

sealed by protection spells and all manner of Guardian Gates.

I have walked this land for many long years and my longevity is itself a spell

placed on me by the beautiful Inspiron, Queen of the Fantasme Fay

for I was entrusted with the role of Storyteller

and the only hope that the two words may exist side by side once again

lies in my success in convincing All that Fantasme is real…

… and while mankind dwells in darkness and continues to doubt Fantasme’s existence

the majikal realm will remain hidden and lost to all.

*

Let me begin by retelling how I first came to find The Fantastical Realm of Fantasme

some may think it was quite by accident… if one believes in such things as accidents…

but I learnt that all things happen for a reason… and are mere stepping stones

to ones destined destination;

And mine was Fantasme, oh yes indeed it was.

I spent idyllic childhood years living in a tumbledown cottage

at the end of Little Lane;

my grans cottage it was, nestled snug in the foothills of Titania Mountain…

ahhh… those heavenly ethereal slopes I know so well… vaporous mist drifted

in delicate streamers, clinging to the gentle swells of Titania Mountain;

changing seasons saw me scampering and climbing and investigating

that much loved mound… but in all those years I never made it to the top.

I grew up and moved away, as children do and my visits home never gave me time

to do more than hold grans aging hand and talk of old times;

Many were the times I tried to convince my gran to move to the city and live with me

but she would not budge from the mist shrouded foothills of Titania Mountain…

… and I could never blame her, for in truth, it was where I longed to be as well.

My last visit to the cottage was to lay my dear gran in the family plot

alongside both my grandpa and my ma.

That night as I sat alone with only the owls and echoes of the past for company

I looked up at the mountain I knew so well, when I was gripped by a strange fierce

compulsion to climb to the very top of Titania Mountain …

a feat, I had been told, never before achieved

but something deep within me urged me to pack a rucksack and go up the mountain…

a journey to the mysterious cloud- cloaked pinnacle

would surely take several days …

*

How idyllic it was to retrace childhood steps… to linger along well-known paths

and quench my thirst by crystal cascades I could never forget;

but by the fourth day I entered unfamiliar territory

that looked and felt like none I had ever seen before…

the narrow path I followed became rough; overgrown with unusual plants

and over-shadowed by age-old trees with secret names.

Dense luminescent moss hugged rotten log and scattered rock

dangling vines as thick as my arm hung like hangman's rope

from trees I did not recognize.

Timid scurrying and scampering whispered in the dense vegetation

but I never laid eyes on a single creature, ‘cept for an old grey owl who seemed

intent on following my upward progress;

The fourth day found me footsore and fatigued, resting by a high waterfall …

I fell fast asleep in the dappled shade, dreaming of flowers that turned into faerie folk

and a gnarled old tree that sang in my gran’s voice…

Listen… listen to the wisdom of Forest… you must head their words… listen… listen

… listen to the wise ones… the trees… you must listennn….

I woke with a start, shivering and cold, though beads of sweat glistened on my brow;

the shadows seemed thicker now… little sunlight shone through

and…. were the trees gathered closer ‘round me, then when I fell asleep?

My bewilderment deepened further when I noticed, or thought I noticed

one tree leaning in close to me… a tree that appeared to have eyes!

So….. You are the new Chronicler and Teller of Tales….

the tree appeared to ponder the thought, while scrutinizing me closely

Not what I was expecting, never had willow-wisp-woman as storyteller before

… but Her Majesty is never wrong…

to have even made it this far is proof enough;

You speak, I whispered, as if fearful my human voice would break this spell

or truly arouse me from this dream… for surely I still slept

surely I still dreamed?

This is no dream little storyteller, the tree chuckled, his leaves quivering and rattling

this is your destiny… you have a role to fill.

Her Majesty awaits you.

Her Majesty? I queried, I don’t understand.

You will little storyteller, you will. Welcome to Fantasme.

*

Ah… I weary now…the moon wanes into first blush of dawn… I must rest, but mayhap

I will continue my tale another night.

*

So… Tales are told by word of mouth among the common folk,

and retold with embellishments and told again,

Travelers give their interpretation at inns and taverns,

bards recite in great halls and grand-sires spin tales

in the comforting warmth of the family hearth,

Some are legends so old that little truth remains,

others are chronicles of events from yesteryear,

some of happenings experienced in more recent times

The stories I tell you now are all in truth

for I have witnessed these first hand

and live to be the storyteller,

for many who were both friend and foe have not been so favored;

That I live to recount these legends

when others were not so lucky is not of my doing

and due to no lack of courage on my part,

but rather it is my curse to outlive all those I loved and cherished and respected…

but that is a tale in itself and mayhap I will tell that tale too before I am done.

I am the Storyteller of Fantasme and I know,

although my eyes have now dimmed and do not see as clearly as they once did,

I know you doubt my words already

Be that as it may, I speak the truth

because that is all I am permitted to speak

and words of falsehood may not pass these lips

I know that you have been taught that Fantasme is but a myth,

a fabrication of fables, but this is not so

for I am the one who climbed the mystic mountain

higher than it had every been climbed…

I am the one who found the secret passage

That leads to Fantasme;

If you do not have a head for figures

or for the reckoning of years let me tell you

that makes me all of four hundred years and I am weary to my soul…

so weary that I must recount all I know

for I feel, not fear, that my curse is about to be broken

and finally may I know the oblivion of the long sleep.

But before I pass into that blessed void

there is much I need to tell for whether you believe it

or not many of you are descendants of the Ancient Ones

whose majik is pure and strong

and you should know the truth of your lineage;

I have been known by many names and titles in my long lifetime,

I have been called Innocent, Healer and Seer,

Witch, Enchantress and Manslayer;

I have been called Warrior and Saviour,but you may know me as The Storyteller

and if you listen well and fill my bowl from time to time

I will tell you tales of truth beyond your wildest dreams;

So gather ‘round good people

sit yourselves by the glowing hearth

fill my mug, keep the fire lit and I shall tell of Fantasme -

- land of our birth…

Nay none of that! I will not hear it, on deaf ears your nay-saying falls

keep your doubts until stories close, a foolish man speaks before time….

in silence sit until the end… and then my friends, and then

you can have your say with me, for now, silence as you fill my wine…

indulge a woman as old as I, whose story must be told

I promise to entertain you, on a night this dark and cold…

*

Forgotten Oracles

There are forgotten oracles… wisdom turned to legend

Majik now only whispered of or kept alive by scant few…

But I have not forgotten these seers and prophets

The storyteller muttered…

I have not forgotten their prophecies;

An orphic mist swirls in the mountains to the east, where few dare live

… arcane rustlings of brumous whispers ripple

in echoes of neglected wisdom … ahhh, too few hear as the aeons age…

too few listen to the spiritual sapience of graying sage…

too few heed the profundities of the blind prophet, who sees….

…for too many the Goddess is merely a whisper on the breeze

- for too few see…

Deep in the mist… waist deep in fog

a dew-kissed nymph prayed to goddess & god

she prayed on bent and muddied knees

to Healers and Seers and elemental deities…

Please, her whispers were devoured by the mist

please… hear my plea… I am but a humble wood-maid

but there are others just like me… we yearn for an awakening

for the blindfold to be lifted from humanity

for too long have they journeyed sightless

please let the people see!

Healer to the gods, can you not heal the ignorant-

safe, unsuspecting, malleable in their bubble of lies…

can you not lift the blindness from their eyes

and bid their ears hear… only truth….?

Is it not past time for the gathering

the uniting of all souls

one hearth fire burning

as the multitude becomes whole?

Please, I beg you hear me… in the heavens and beyond

every day my spirit kneels here, I offer up soul & song

to see the blindness lifted from the eyes of humankind

a new awareness blossom in all hearts and minds.

*

An orphic mist eddied-

- arcane whispers of ancient truth

undulated in echoes of unknown oracles…

… too few hear… as the aeons age…

too few listen to the spiritual guidance of grizzled sage…

too few heed the insights of the blind prophet, who sees….

…for too many the Goddess is merely a whisper on the breeze

- for too few see…

And the nymph prayed to goddess & god

she prayed on bent and muddied knees

to Healers and Seers and elemental deities…

help the people see.

*