Castle Prose
Chapter one: The Quest
The gray hues of dusk were already casting shadows on hewn stone of the Prose medieval fortress. The old man in a black frock stumbled along the cobblestone street,— his pace slow and methodical hiding the urgency of his mission. The witching-hour was fast approaching and the deadline loomed like an angry bar-wench demanding coin from a pauper for services rendered.
At first glance one might think: aged monk, — in desperate need of a shave; with each step,— staff positioning for balance,— blending with his large sleeved garment — walking with purpose. Yet others would deem the pure white feathered companion on his shoulder depicted the occupation: falconer——still needing the shave. But on closer inspection: the small barn owl perched high and proud pictured more the parrot of a pirate, mocking its owner’s shuffling gait,— endangering both on the treacherous paved road,… shave?
“At this pace we’ll both be dead before….”
“Shh, shh, shh, OwlLite, I’m moving as fast as these tired bones will allow.”
“Perhaps an oxen cart would be faster?” Remarked a shadowy figure licking its paws on the seat of a horse-less carriage: as in, no horse harnessed; I said medieval, remember?
The old man stopped and stared at the tiger cub.
“Oh that would never due,” OwlLite chirped in. “Oxen move far to fast for peace-of-mind.”
The cat burst out laughing. “What’s the big hurry anyway?”
The old man cleared his throat, “We are on an important errand Tigerista. No time to talk, no time at all.”
The tiger stood and jumped off the carriage. “I guess we’ll have to talk on-the-way.”
Disgruntled, the old man continued his journey.
“Where are we headed?” The cat asked as she darted ahead in a quick leap.
“OnyxCity,” OwlLite beamed. “It’s life and death.”
“Yes, life and death,” agreed the old man.
“Isn’t that, that tavern next to the Black Tower?”
“Yes, yes,” the old man replied when a young woman ran out from behind a stone wall fence and collided with the old man,—— knocking him down as a stack of papers went airborne. OwlLite took to flight with feathers ruffled; but Tigerista simply paused, sitting down on her hunches and began cleaning a paw.
“Ohhhh,” the old man moaned. “…Are you on a mission to kill the old farts?” he grunted while carefully adjusting to his knees.
“Yes,— kill the old fart?” OwlLite corrected, perturbed: Tigerista really wants that paw clean.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there,” the young woman replied, hurrying to gather up her lost work. “I’m really glad I took the time to number these.”
The old man picked up one of the sheets, barely discerning the scrolled quillwork detailed fully across the page — in the limiting light. “You’re a chronicler; aren‘t you my dear?”
“Well,—— I like to write.”
“This is fate,” OwlLite offered in confidence.
The young woman reared back clutching her gathered papers to her chest, somewhat excited, “Your bird talks?”
The cat stopped licking, “That’s not all she does.”
“Holy shit! The cat too?” The woman winced almost fearful.
“Who might you be?” the old man asked.
“That’s SelfTitled,” OwlLite answered.
“How did you know my name? We’ve never met,—— at least I don’t…”
“She’s a soothsayer my dear,” The old man replied, handing the gathered sheets back to his new acquaintance. “She dreams, dreams — that speak of life and love, of heartbreak and glory.”
“How is it your animals talk?”
“Well,——nobody owns these girls. But to answer your question, all things are possible when our eyes are opened to imagination.”
“And, who are you?” The young woman asked.
The old man paused looking down, “I am nothing.”
“But he aspires!” The owl chimed in.
“Wasting time,—— to quote a phrase,” the cat growled.
“She is coming with,” declared OwlLite.
“Where are you headed, my dear?”
“I need to get my chronicles into OnyxCity before the deadline.”
“Then it seems our paths have crossed, my dear.”
“Tick, tick, tick…” The large cub reminded,— standing and cocking her head in the direction of the Black Tower.
“Yes, yes, Tigerista, let’s be on our way.”
The old man posted his staff and struggled to stand as SelfTitled took hold of his arm to help him up. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I’m more spry than I look, my dear.” Tigerista could be heard snickering.
The four musketeers continued onward,— the Black Tower’s silhouette forged within the silvery glow of the full moon like a beacon of doom looming over the quest ahead.
From the left they could hear voices beckoning, “Come hither and see. Just come, you must see.”
“What’s that all about?” SelfTitled pause as if to answer the call.
The old man pointed to the sign above the saloon. “The Simon & Schuster’s Wishing Well:—— Patrons there often vie for company and tips.”
“I would like to see!” SelfTitled exclaimed as she turned toward the door.
Tigerista broke her trance. “I thought you had a deadline?”
“Oh yeah,” the young woman frowned looking to the papers clutched to her chest.
As they neared, the sound of music marked the trail’s end with large red double-doors and lanterns on either side beckoning: the weary soul refreshment and pleasure amid song and drink. Walking through the heavy paneled doors, the small party moved to the side, scanning their surroundings for the goddess and owner of the establishment. Scantily dress dancers staged over the audience seductively graced their patrons with beauty and elegance.
“Who are they?” SelfTitled asked, mesmerized.
“Those are sirens my dear: Winterreign, SamanthaFowler, Scooby, Soulhearts.… Their songs chronicle life. Some choose not to listen to their words, but these sirens are respectful of others, singing within the realms they call home.—— To each their own, I say.”
“I think they’re beautiful,” SelfTitled said in awe.
Just then the front doors burst open, swinging like batwing-doors announcing the new arrival of a pard’ in full Western Gear of the 1880’s replete with colt not lashed.—— Silence fell over the crowd as all stared.
“Who is that?” whispered SelfTitled.
“TheTallOne,” OwlLite meowed with a gleam in her lovely green eyes and then purred.
“WHAT? that’s my line,” Tigerista roared.
OwlLite gave the superiority head tilt, ignoring the feline.
“Hey Dumb-Ass, — wrong portal,” came a nearby catcall.
So fast,—— no-one even saw the pistol drawn as TheTallOne leveled his piece at the rude customer. “Shit for brains, we’re all about to find out what’s between those ears.”
Dustygrein stood cautiously with both hands motioning calm. “Woe, woe, — dude,—— he was just sayin’,—— Westerns are on deck three.”
OwlLite chirped in, “Don’t mess with a real man.”
“And just how am I to get beamed there?” TheTallOne re-holstered his weapon.
“Harry_Situation’s in charge of the elevator,” Dusty… replied.
TheTallOne’s left hand still resting on the butt of his sidearm, “And you’re going to find him for me,—Right?” tapping his finger lightly on the leather, ready to draw again.
“Consider it done.” And Dusty… disappeared into the crowd.
TheTallOne’s voice boomed;—— “In the MEAN-time, I was summoned here by a voice in my ear.”
The old man looked to the bird perched on his shoulder.
…Lite shrugged, “What can I say,——I’m a sucker for authentic men.” If it weren’t for the beak, you’d swear she was smiling.
“Was it an annoying owl… who,— who—spoke? Tiger… questioned, sarcastically.
“Who you calling annoying, bitch?”
“Now, now girls,— no cat fights over the dark stranger,” The voice of reason beckoned from the old man.
OwlLite repositioned her perch to face the sleek cub at the old man’s side. Her large eyes narrowed. “He’s all mine, Sister! Keep those clawed paws off.”
“Oh,—please,” Tiger… snarled.
“He is kind-of cute.” SelfTitled pitched in.
“Who invited you?” OwlLite almost growled.
SelfTitled looked dumbfounded, “You did.”
The little owl’s head did a full 180. “Who?”
The old man nodded, yes.
“Damn!” Ruffling her feathers, the little owl‘s eyes narrowed. She was pissed.
“What’s all this then?” TheTallOne said turning to the old man with a fierce, no shit stare down. “I need answers,—— and fast.”
****
Chapter 2:
https://theprose.com/post/168268/castle-prose-prose-universe-challenge-by-salingertwain-continuation
Chapter 3:
https://theprose.com/post/169506/castle-prose-prose-universe-challenge-by-salingertwain-continuation