#BringBackTheTravelers #SaveTheTravelers, Please!

So I get that Katy is busy with school and all, and I get that almost no one gets on here anymore. I also get that sometimes you just aren't inspired to write stories, so you don't for a long time, and then after a while they just never get finished (what do you think happens to everything I start writing, oh that's right they just sit on my computer where no one can find them, because they never get finished!).
But I also feel like if you post part of a story on your blog for the world to read and fall in love in with the characters that you should not just leave said loved characters in terrible circumstances never to be saved. All fictional characters deserve an end, whether good, bad, or just down right terrible. And all readers that are in love in with said fictional characters deserve to get to read said ending, whether it be good, bad or just down right terrible. I also feel that "Her torch revealed a long, straight tunnel on the other side." is not an ending, if it was it'd be worse then down right terrible. I mean, what's on the other side of the tunnel? Do the people that they're trying to escape from find the tunnel and follow them?
So anyways all this to say that I understand that a couple months ago Katy said she was in a rut with writing the Travelers, but I also feel that after almost two years it's time the Travelers returned and got an ending. I alsooooo happen to know that someone is on break till the end of January and surely that's enough time get out of a rut and at least start towards an ending. 
In the mean time……. to help you get past writers block to help you get out of your rut to help you write more, to help be sure your fans don't get mad and stop talking to you, and to be sure that Taylor, Frank, Falcon, Rita, and Thoren and get the ending they deserve here's a video all about how to get over writers block! ;)

P.S. What I really want for Christmas is for you to bring back the Travelers. I know you can't really wrap that up with a bow on top, but all the same…if you did finish it you could, cause you could print it off and then wrap it up with a bow on top. Also I realize that you probably won't be able to finish it by the end of break but even just a short part 16 would be am amazing! Also in case you forget what happened last, here's a hint. ;)

"The Cowboy from the Past"

Today, we're going to go to 2010, when I wrote this three part story, "The Cowboy from the Past." You're the first to see all three parts at once without having to wait! Congratulations.

                                                           The Cowboy from the Past

Melanie's time machine looked finished.  Little lights of red, yellow, blue, green, and orange blinked here and there.  The metal walls gave out little hollow-sounding noises as Melanie did a final check on the inside.
"Melanie!  What are you doing in there?"
Melanie's older brother, Pete, was pounding at the locked bedroom door.
"Working on my time machine!" Melanie called back.
Pete snickered.
"Whatever you say, Melon," he said, using the nickname his younger sister hated.
Melanie took a deep breath.
"Fine, Squash!" she called back, using the nickname Pete hated.
Melanie took one more look at the time machine's circuit board, and then put the metal panel back on.
"All set," Melanie murmured, taking her tool box and getting out of the machine.
Melanie looked over her time machine with great satisfaction.  The metal door hung open invitingly.
"Well," she said, getting back into the machine, "what am I waiting for?  Time for the real test!"
Melanie pulled the door shut, and fastened it tightly.
Once inside, Melanie pressed the power button.  Instantly, a mechanical noise started up, and roared around her, and the bright green light on the ceiling began flashing with a slight throbbing noise.  The time machine was working.
"Let's see," Melanie said, thinking aloud, "if the time machine works correctly, I should be able to approximate a time in history, and when the sequence is over I'll have a visitor from the past."
Now that it came to this, Melanie hardly knew what time to choose.  She finally decided that it might be interesting to bring back a hippie from the 1960's, but she accidentally pushed the button a few too many times.  It was too late, however--Melanie didn't notice her miscalculation, and pulled the Initiation Lever.  The time machine roared even louder.  Louder, louder, louder--and then the green light, which had been flashing faster and faster, suddenly clicked off.  The smaller lights on the walls, buttons, and levers also went off, and Melanie found herself surrounded by complete darkness.
It didn't take Melanie long to remember, however, that she had programmed the lights to go off when the sequence was almost completed--that way, the visitor didn't have to go through the shock of waking up in a little metal box--at first, they would just see darkness.  Melanie figured that the whole process of bringing someone out of the past depended on how far out of the past the person was coming from.  She guessed that bringing someone out of the 1960's would take something around fifteen minutes, so she was surprised when it seemed as if the sequence was taking longer than this.  Melanie was beginning to be afraid that the time machine didn't work, when suddenly she heard a lot of grumbling on the other side of the machine.
"I reckon' I musta hit my head on somethin'," the voice said.
It sounded like a man.  Melanie kept completely still and quiet so she wouldn't frighten the visitor.  He sure didn't sound like a hippie.  He sounded more like a...a...
"Where has that gosh-darn pistol gotten to?" the voice said.
Cowboy?
Of course! Melanie realized.  She must have pressed the button a few too many times, and brought someone further out of the past than the 1960's--and it seemed as if she'd ended up bringing up a cowboy back with her.  Oh well, Melanie thought.  A cowboy should be interesting.
"Where in tarnation am I?" said the voice.  "And what's that gosh-darned noise?  Sounds like a mochine."
The voice kept making comments as the lights came back on, dim at first, but getting brighter and brighter until...
"Holy smokes!  Where am I?" said the cowboy, for a cowboy he was.
The cowboy looked around, and then spotted Melanie, sitting with her back against the wall of the time machine, her arms wrapped around her knees.  Melanie stared back at him.  An awkward silence followed.
Finally, the cowboy said, "Howdy."
"Um, howdy," Melanie said.
The cowboy pointed at the wall of the time machine.
"What in tarnation is this thing?" he asked.
Melanie found herself in a tight spot.  The cowboy would never believe her if she told him it was a time machine, but what else was there to say?
"It's a time machine." she said.
The cowboy stared at her.  The time machine suddenly made a huge BUMP!.  Then, the roar in the machine slowly became quieter until suddenly, the noise just shut off.  Melanie got up, and, unfastening the latches on the door, let it swing open into her bedroom.
"Welcome to the 21st Century," she said.


                                                                                 ***
Melanie stepped out into her bedroom, followed by the very confused cowboy. 
"What do yer mean, 21st Century?" he asked, looking around the bedroom.
"This is the year 2010," Melanie explained, pointing to her calendar.
The cowboy froze.  Melanie hoped she hadn't given him a heart attack.
"What do yer mean, 2010?" he asked.
"I mean 2010," Melanie said, "you know, in the 21st Century?"
The cowboy was looking more confused by the second.
"Do yer mean that we've gone forward in time?" the cowboy asked.
"Well, sort of," Melanie said.  "Actually, for me, this is present day.  But we have come to the future from your time."
The cowboy sank down onto Melanie's bed.
"That just plain dun't make any sense," he said.  "How could I have come into this here, what you call, 'future'?"
"Well," Melanie said, "I made a time machine."
The cowboy looked dejectedly up at her.  His big black moustache seemed to droop.
"Well, that dun't explain it," he said.
Melanie sighed, and picked up a binder from her desk.
"See, look, these are the plans for my time machine." she said, opening up the binder and showing him.
"Ya know," the cowboy said, "ya keep on sayin' time mochine, but it don't make sense to me.  What's a time mochine?"
Melanie smiled.
"It's a machine that allows you to travel to a different time," she explained.
The cowboy was completely lost.
"You mean like it's high noon when I ride into town, but by the time I get to the saloon it's after high noon?" the cowboy asked.
"No," Melanie said, "it's...well, I don't think I can explain it to you...I don't think you'd understand."
"Well then, lemme see if I can git you straight," he said.  "Yer sayin' that this here time mochine transported me from my own time."
"Yes," Melanie said, nodding.
The cowboy shook his head.
"That's real crazy," he said.
Conversation dwindled for a few minutes.  Melanie looked at her feet, trying to think of something to say, and the cowboy took his pistol out of its holster and inspected it.  Finally, he slipped the pistol back into its holster, and looked up at her.
"What's your name, Ma'am?" he asked her.
"My name's Melanie," Melanie said.
"Melanie," the cowboy said slowly and contemplatively.  "Real purtty."
"Thanks," Melanie said.  "What's your name?"
"Weeeell, lemme see now." the cowboy said.  "I reckon you can just call me Ted."
"Oh, OK," Melanie said.  "Are you hungry, Ted?"
"I reckon so," Ted replied.  "Haven't had nothin' to eat since...well, I dun't even remember."
"Then let's go get something to eat," Melanie said.  "I'm hungry, too."
Melanie led the way out of her bedroom and down the hall, towards the staircase.
"You got a real nice house, Melanie," Ted said.  "Rather peculiar though, if you don't mind my sayin' so."
Melanie laughed.
"I'm sure it does seem peculiar to  you," she said.
Melanie led the way into the kitchen.  She made a couple of sandwiches.
"I hope you like peanut butter and jelly," she said to Ted.
"I reckon it'll be fine," Ted replied.  "Never heard of puttin' peanuts and butter between bread, though."
"Oh," Melanie said, "no, it's peanut butter.  The peanuts are ground up."
"And I guess mixed into butter," Ted said, looking at his sandwich.
Melanie sighed and gave up trying to explain.
"This is a mighty good...what do ya call it?" Ted asked.
"A sandwich," Melanie said.
Ted laughed.
"You put sand in there, too, eh?"
"No..." Melanie said, "there's no--"
But Ted wasn't listening anymore.  He was staring out of the kitchen window.
"Who is that there young fella out there, on that nag?" he asked.
Melanie looked where Ted was pointing.
"That's my brother, Pete.  Looks like he's riding his horse."
"Ridin'?" Ted said disgustedly.  "More like sittin' and hangin' on!  I've gotta go and set him to rights."
Ted ran towards the back door.  Melanie leaped up after him.
"No, wait, Ted!" she cried.  "Wait!"
Pete was in the pasture, cantering his horse, a big bay gelding named Loophole.  Melanie didn't know for sure how much her parents had paid for Loophole, but she knew it had been a lot--Loophole was no nag, that was for sure. 
Ted ran up to the fence and leaped over it.  Pete saw the cowboy running towards him and his eyes widened.  Then he saw Melanie, running at top-speed, after the cowboy.
"Melanie, what the heck is going on?" Pete yelled.
He slowed Loophole to a trot, and Ted ran up and grabbed the horse's bridle.
"You git down, you young rascal," Ted commanded.
Pete frowned down at Ted.  "Who are you?" he asked.
"I'm Ted." the cowboy said.  "I've just come to the...what do you folks call it?  The 'future'."
Pete looked at Melanie, who had just run up.  Melanie gasped for breath.
"My time machine, Pete!" she said finally, grinning up at her brother.
"Yep, I came here in a time mochine.  Real crazy." Ted said.
The three of them looked at each other.  Ted was still gripping Loophole's bridle.
"So," Ted said finally, "ya gonna git down or am I gonna halfta pull ya off?"
"What do you mean?" Pete said.
"I'm gonna show ya a thing er two about ridin'." Ted said, glaring at Pete.  "You gotta get straightened out about a few things."
Pete looked to Melanie for support.  Melanie just shrugged.
"Git down," Ted said.
Pete sighed and dismounted Loophole.  Ted threw his cowboy boot into the stirrup, and swung himself onto Loophole's back with incredible ease.  However, as soon as he was seated, Ted looked confused.
"What are these strange things ya use on yer hoss?" he asked. 
Pete gave Melanie a sideways glance.
"Um...a saddle and bridle," he said.
Ted laughed.
"Ya gotta be kiddin' me," he said.  "These pitiful things here can't be no saddle and bridle."
Pete threw up his hands.
"Well, never mind," Ted said, "I reckon these'll do...for now."
Ted nudged his spurs into Loophole's sides and yelled, "Git goin' now, hoss!"
Loophole was frightened and confused.  He shot forward like a bullet.
"Would you mind telling me where in the world that crazy guy came from?" Pete asked Melanie.
"Out West." Melanie said.
                                                                        ***
"Ted," Melanie said, gently but firmly, "you really frightened Loophole.  What were you trying to do?"
It had taken a lot of convincing on Melanie's part to talk Ted into getting off of Pete's horse.  Now, as Ted stood in front of her, adjusting his cowboy hat and grinning broadly, Melanie realized with some sadness that she should probably get Ted back to his own time as soon as possible.
"I were jus' showing that young scoundrel how to ride his hoss," Ted explained.  "I hope ya don't mind my sayin' so, Miss Melanie, but yer brother is real bad at ridin'."
Melanie couldn't help smiling at this.  Pete liked to talk about how his riding was always improving, and it was a nice change to hear a different opinion for once, whether Ted was right or not.  Melanie really didn't know, as she had never paid much attention to her brother's hobby, and didn't know much about riding.  She was more interested in inventing.
"Ted, let's go inside," Melanie said.  "I think we'd better--"
"What's that there thang, there?" Ted ask, elbowing Melanie and pointing.
What now?, Melanie thought, but followed Ted's finger. 
"Oh," Melanie said, "that's my dad's truck."
"Truck?" Ted said, slowly, scratching his head.
"Yeah, it's a car...oh, wait a minute." Melanie thought for a moment.  "You know," she said finally, "how in your time, most people use horses to get around?"
"Some of them use them pufferbellies, too," Ted said, nodding.
"What?" Melanie asked.
"Don't ya have pufferbellies in yer time?" Ted asked.  "You know, them long metal thangs pulled by iron horses."
"Iron...oh, trains?" Melanie asked.
"I reckon'," Ted said.
"Well," Melanie said, "...wait, what were we talking about?...Oh yeah.  In our time, we use a lot of cars, like my dad's truck over there."
"Is it anythang like a train?" Ted asked.  "It sure looks kinda like one."
"I guess you could say it's kind of like a train," Melanie said.  "Come on, I'll show it to you."
Ted eyed the truck rather suspiciously as they neared it. 
"It's not goin' to move, is it?" he asked Melanie, walking very cautiously towards the truck.
"Don't worry, it's not on," Melanie said.
Melanie opened the driver's door and got into the truck.  She moved over to the passenger's seat. 
"Come on," she said, "get in."
Ted very carefully climbed into the truck.
"What are these thangs?" he asked, pointing to the keys dangling from the ignition.
"Those are my dad's keys," Melanie explained.  "The one in the slot, there, turns on the truck, if you turn it."
Ted shook his head.  "Real crazy."
They sat silent for a few moments.
"Well," Melanie said, "should we get out?  I think it's about time we--"
Ted turned the key.  The engine roared to life.
"Holy smokes!  Sounds a bit like your time mochine, eh?" Ted hollered.
He grinned at Melanie.
"Uh, yeah," Melanie said nervously, "but, Ted, speaking of my time machine--"
"How does this thang move?" Ted asked.
"Ted," Melanie yelled over the harsh grind of the engine, "turn off the truck!"
"How do I do that?" Ted yelled back.
"Turn the key back towards you!" Melanie screamed.
There was nothing more frightening than being in a running truck with a cowboy behind the wheel.
Ted obediently turned the key.
The engine went off.
Melanie sighed with relief.
"I think it's about time we get you back home, Ted," she said.
"Home?" Ted said.  "Ya mean, back to lil' Silver Corner?"
"Yes," Melanie said.
Ted thought for a moment.
"Well," he said, "it's been a real pleasure visitin' your time here in the 21st Century, but I reckon' you're right.  It's time to go home."
Melanie nodded.  She hesitated for a second, and then grabbed Ted's hand.  They made their way up to the house and back into Melanie's bedroom.
Melanie opened the time machine door, and Ted climbed in.  She climbed in after him, and fastened the door shut, as she had before.
"It's been a real pleasure gettin' to know ya, Melanie," Ted said, nodding politely at Melanie, and shaking her hand.
"You too, Ted," Melanie replied.
Melanie pressed the power button.  The time machine came to life in an instant.  Melanie pulled a lever.  Louder and louder the time machine roared, and faster and faster blinked the green light.  Then, suddenly, all went dark.

The Sort of Old Archives: "How and Where Did the Dragon Get Its Name?"

Since I'm on winter break right now, I've been trying to post more on my blog for all of you. I thought you might enjoy some old writing of mine. Here is another addition to The Sort of Old Archives (see labels at the bottom of the post for more writing under this heading).
Here is a story from 2009, "How and Where Did the Dragon Get its Name?"

ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a king.  A king with a very large castle.  A king with a beautiful crown.  A king who had power over all the lands his eyes could reach.  He wasn't a bad king, however.  This king was kind.  He was a king with great power, but a king with unlimited goodness.  His name was Good King Sebastion.  Good King Sebastion, or, King Sebastion, as I will be calling him, because it's much less awkward when one has to write it so many times, (although other people in the story will be calling him by his full title), was kind to people and animals alike.  He was kind to plants and trees.  All of his people loved him. 

Now, one day, King Sebastion recieved news that a man had just come into one of the villages near the castle, and was speaking badly of him. 
"Go get this man," King Sebastion ordered his messenger gently. 
"Yes, Sire," the messenger said, and went off to fetch the man who had been speaking so rudely of the kind king. 
A little while later the messenger came back; two guards followed the messenger, holding onto the man they had brought in. 
"Untie the man's hands," King Sebastion said to his guards.
"Yes, your Majesty, Good King Sebastion," one of them said, and the other nodded.
The guards quickly did as they were told, and left the throne room. 
"Now then," King Sebastion said, as the door closed behind the two guards, "what is your name, Good Sir?"
The messenger looked surprised.  King Sebastion didn't notice; he was watching the man closely.
The man spoke up bravely, for a brave man he was.
"Richard," he answered.
"Now then, Richard," King Sebastion said, "I have heard that you were speaking badly of me in one of my villages."
"Yes, Your Majesty, I was," Richard confessed, without any hesitation.
"I am wondering why."  King Sebastion said.  "I am kind to people, and animals, and plants, and trees, and I am wondering what it was that I did to you to deserve this.  Please tell me, so that I can set all to rights."
Richard was surprised.  He hadn't expected the king to be as good and kind as people had said he was.
"Well, Sire, may I have permission to speak freely?"  Richard asked.
King Sebastion nodded.
"Permission granted."  He agreed.
"Thank you, King Sebastion, Sire."  Richard said.  "Many years ago, I lived in that village where I was just now."
King Sebastion nodded again.
"Then one day, the other people of the village decided I was guilty of a crime I hadn't commited.  They wouldn't listen to an innocent man's pleas...they banished me from the village."
"How terrible."  King Sebastion said.
Richard nodded in agreement.
"I wandered around and lived in different places for a while, and then finally came back to my home village where I was greeted with scorn.  The people still remember me and they still think I commited the crime.  Well, I couldn't stand being accused any longer, and I began to speak rashly of you to get back at them."
"Aaaah, I see."  King Sebastion said.
"My greatest apologies to you, King Sebastion.  I can see that you are really as great and good and kind a king as your villagers said you are."
"My sincerest thanks.  I forgive you, Richard.  I do not believe in harsh punishment, but I would like you to solve a puzzle for me."
"Yes Sire, whatever it is, I will find the answer."  Richard promised.
"If you are able to solve it within a week's time, I will clear your name, and you may live once more in the village you love."
"Oh, my sincerest thanks to you, Good King Sebastion!"  Richard cried joyously, "but what is this puzzle?"
"Come back tomorrow at this time, and I will tell you."  King Sebastion promised.  "In the meantime, I will have one of my servants show you to a spare room.  I will make sure you get meals, and please feel free to wander around the public areas of the castle."
"Thank you, King Sebastion," Richard said, and he bowed, and then left with King Sebastion's servant. 

King Sebastion got out of his throne and stepped over to his favorite window of the throne room.  He sat in the wooden chair he had had put there long ago, at the start of his reign, and gazed out of the window, deep in thought.  He looked out over his lands.  Hours passed.  Soon it was time for supper, and King Sebastion still sat, thinking hard.  Finally, as the sun began to sink, he came up with the puzzle he would have Richard solve.  Out of the window, down below, he saw a strange creature.  It was sitting at the edge of the wood.  The creature was big.  It was bigger than three small village houses put together.  It was of a bright green hue: the color of healthy, lush grass.  As King Sebastion stared at it, he thought he saw that the creature had wings: great green wings of a strange shape.  The scaley creature's mean gaze, the spikes down its back and tail, and its non-retractable claws all looked terrifying.  King Sebastion, however, was not scared: he was completely captivated.  He had never seen the likes of this strange animal before. 
"Guards!"  He called.
The two guards who had been stationed just outside the throne room came hurrying in.
"Yes, Sire?"  One of them asked.
"Look at that strange creature out the window," King Sebastion commanded. 
The guards peered cautiously out.
"Sire, what a terrifying creature, Sire!"  One of them cried.
"Yes, Sire, yes!"  Agreed the other.
"Calm down, Good Sirs, calm down."  King Sebastion said gently.  "I want that creature to be caught right away."
"Then you want it to be killed?"  Asked one of the guards.
"Oh, goodness no, no, no," King Sebastion cried.  "I want it to be brought into the castle."
"That is pure madness!"  One of King Sebastion's guards burst out.
"Yes, Sire, pure madness!"  Agreed the other guard.  "Have you gone purely mad, Sire?"
King Sebastion laughed.
"No, no," he told them.  "I need that creature for something."
The guards looked at one another.
"Very well, Your Majesty."  One of the guards finally said.
"We will do as you wish, Good King Sebastion," agreed the other.
"Thank you.  Make sure that it is kept under control inside the castle, and that it has its own guard--and don't chain it up!  I believe in being kind to animals."
The guards promised to do all King Sebastion had commanded, and left, muttering softly to each other.
"Pure madness, pure madness..."  Said one.
"I agree, pure madness...pure madness...absolute pure madness."  Said the other.
King Sebastion didn't hear any of this.  He got up from his chair and went to have supper.

The next afternoon, Richard came into the throne room to meet with the King.
"Oh good, you've come, Richard."  King Sebastion said, smiling at him.
"Yes, King Sebastion, I have."  Richard said.  "I would like to know the puzzle I am to solve.  By the way, Sire, I noticed you have a dragon out there in the courtyard."
"A what?"  King Sebastion asked.
"Why, a dragon," Richard said. 
"Did you come up with that?"  King Sebastion asked.  "For I have never seen anything like that creature out there."
"Neither have I," Richard said.
"Then how--?"  King Sebastion said, greatly confused.
"Well, as I was coming over to the throne room, I see the creature wandering around in the circle of armed guards, and I say to myself, 'well,' I said, 'look at that; I've never seen the likes of it, but look how it drags its tail on,' and I thought, 'ah hah!  That's what I shall think of this creature as: a drag-on."
"You have solved the puzzle," King Sebastion said in amazement.
"I have?"  Richard said, "but, your Majesty, I don't even know what it is yet, and it hasn't been a week."
"Neither of those matter anymore, Richard," King Sebastion said hurriedly, "because the puzzle was to think up a name for that creature out there."
Richard stood there, dumb-struck, for a few seconds.
"You mean...I've solved the puzzle?"  He asked.
"Yes, indeed, Richard, my friend!"  King Sebastion cried happily.
I'm sure this was only the beginning of King Sebastion's adventures with a new creature known as a 'dragon'.
THE END




Tomorrow, look for a three part story, "The Cowboy from the Past."

The Travelers, part 15

Everyone else seemed to be tongue-tied; Taylor looked at everyone in frustration and said, "So what are we supposed to do? Sit in here and die? Wouldn't it make more sense to just use the krecken and take our chances? At least we'll know we tried. I feel like a loser sitting here when we could be trying to do something."
Rita, Falcon, and Frank continued looking glum. Thoren turned and looked at her, a sudden glimmer in his bright green eyes.
"She's right," He said. "I'd rather risk getting caught or injured trying to break out of here, then sit in here and rot. Anyway, there's no one in the other room right now. Maybe no one will hear the explosion..." He looked around at his companions' doubtful faces. "Okay, that's a long shot. They might here it...but they might just think it's the miners collecting krecken. I just remembered. If my memory serves me correctly, there should be a mining operation going on roughly three hundred meters that way." He turned and pointed into the darkness, towards the far wall. "They sometimes use other types of explosives to remove the krecken from the cave wall."
As if in answer, a muffled boom sounded from the direction in which Thoren had pointed. He grinned at them. "See?"
Rita smiled back. "Well, shall we?"
Falcon suddenly looked hopeful, even relieved. "I suppose. What do you humans say?"
Frank and Taylor looked at each other, and then at their companions. "Let's try it." Taylor said.
Frank shrugged. "I think it's certainly worth a try."
"Okay," Thoren agreed. "Falcon, Rita, do either of you have some flint and steel?  I had some before, but it seems to have gotten lost. I must have dropped it."
Rita pulled some out of her pocket and handed it to Thoren.
Taylor and Frank sat and watched helplessly as Thoren, Rita, and Falcon worked together silently and seemingly effortlessly. It struck Taylor how smoothly they moved, almost as if they were walking on air and not on uneven ground from which numerous boulders protruded.
After a few minutes, Thoren straightened up. "If we rub this flint and steel against the grain of the krecken, it will heat up. As the heat expands throughout the rock and becomes more intense, a crack will hopefully form across the rock and, in a matter of moments, explode."
"A matter of moments?" Frank said. "How long will that be?"
Falcon shrugged. "Usually about three and a half minutes."
Rita chuckled. "You and your math."
Thoren picked up the knife, flint, and the large piece of krecken they had managed to remove from the rock wall; the krecken was surprisingly soft. The bottom of it, where it had been attached to a larger piece of krecken, glittered with flecks of garnets. Thoren set the krecken down, and the garnets disappeared, and Taylor could just make out Thoren and the piece of rock, resting on a natural shelf towards the back of the cave.
"How'd you decide where to put the explosive?" Taylor asked.
"There's a little known access tunnel behind the rock back there. We're just guessing where exactly the tunnel is, but hopefully we're right."
She walked briskly over to the back wall and leaned down by it, knocking her knuckles against the rock about a half foot off the ground. As she knocked, she listened closely. "Should be right...I can hear the echoes beyond."
"Everyone, stay behind that big boulder." Thoren said.
"I think I'd better do this part," Rita said, "I have more experience with krecken than you do."
Thoren looked doubtful. "I know...but..."
"No arguing," Rita said, "get behind that boulder. I'll be fine."
Thoren nodded, and handed the flint and steel to her. "Stay safe."
"I will." Rita said.
From behind the large boulder, Taylor saw Rita begin to rub the flint and steel together and against the broken side of rock. She saw a spark and smelled an earthy, metallic, and vaguely sulfurous smell.
Thoren squeezed her hand. "Here it comes."
Frank leaned closer to Taylor and Falcon watched calmly. Rita's movements became faster. Then, suddenly, all sounds of the rubbing ceased, and Taylor saw a small curl of smoke. Rita bounded across the mostly dark cave and squatted next to Falcon. First, there was nothing but the smoke and the ever intensifying smell of the krecken and the smoke. They waited, breathlessly. Taylor found Frank's hand and squeezed it tightly. The minutes ticked by and Taylor's shoulders had relaxed when there was a sudden flash of brightness and then, a second later, a huge THUM! as the krecken exploded into a million tiny, sharp fragments. For a moment, all Taylor could see was the bright orange flames and all she could hear was her own coughing from all the smoke and debris in the air. Then, as the smoke cleared, she saw Rita had crept up to the back of the cave and was inspecting the hole that had appeared. Her torch revealed a long, straight tunnel on the other side.
The Travelers, Copyright 2012-2013, by Katy Allie. All rights reserved.

The Travelers, part 14

Hello, everyone! As you can see, The Travelers have returned, and their journey continues. I'm sorry I left you hanging for so long. Thank you to my friend Preciosa for her continuing support with this story; her unfailing fondness for this story and her suggestions have been instrumental.
By the time Taylor and Falcon arrived by Rita's side, Thoren and Frank were already there, looking confusedly at what Rita was holding.
"It looks like crumbled rock." Frank said, raising his eyebrow at Rita's hand.
Thoren looked closer. "Is that..." Recognition suddenly flickered on his face. "Is that krecken?"
Rita nodded, and one corner of her mouth went up in a smirk. Falcon began to laugh in relief.
Taylor looked at Frank, who shrugged at her as if to say, you'd know better than me. Taylor shook her head.
"What do you mean?" She asked them.
Thoren looked over at her. "It's a type of rock, found only in the deepest parts of the ground," he explained. When combined with charcoal, flint and steel, it creates an explosion."
Frank still looked confused. "But, if it's explosive, why haven't we heard of it before? We've had so many wars in the history of our country, but I've never heard of krecken."
Thoren smiled. "It's what you might call a best-kept secret," he explained. "Sort of like--what do you call it? Area 51 in your state of Nevada. In other words, your government knows exactly what krecken is and what it can do, but considers it too important and too dangerous for everyone to know about." Thoren turned grim now. "That's one of the things the Emperor, Headmaster and the other traitors are trying to take advantage of. They know your government has not told your kind about krecken. It is only found in your country; no other country knows about it. Once it comes out that what might be thought of a common rock can be used as an explosive, your people, and the people of other countries, will rebel against their governments, and descend upon this country, and begin mining. It's the ideal situation for the Emperor to take over your world. Turning this world's people against each other will weaken the strength of all governments. Also, Faeldor exhausted its supply of explosive material, one that is similar to krecken. The Emperor is ready to fight against your people for control over not only the world but of your supply of krecken."
"But," Rita said, smiling wryly at Thoren, "the short version is that we can also use the krecken to get ourselves out of here, and hopefully, stop the rebels from gaining control of your world."
"The sooner, the better," Falcon said, "I want to go back to Faeldor and my shoe shop."
Taylor closed her mouth tightly to keep from gaping at Falcon. He was a shoemaker? It was hard to believe, looking at this grimy, stooped over, wishy-washy soldier, that Falcon had ever had such a humble job. But neither she nor Frank said anything about it, glad that finally, they all seemed to be on the same side.

Rita told the others to sit and be quiet while she gathered up the materials she needed and reminded herself of the correct combination needed to create an explosion. Then Thoren went to help her, and the two muttered to each other about what size explosion they would need. Taylor sat down next to Frank and leaned her head on his shoulder, suddenly feeling very tired. Falcon paced until Rita told him sharply to sit down; he did so, but sat looking, unblinking and distrusting, at Taylor and Frank. Taylor wanted to try to talk to Frank about what had happened after the crash, but before she could come up with what to say, she drifted of into an uneasy sleep. She dreamed, but she still heard the noises of Rita and Thoren muttering, Falcon's uneasy foot tapping, tapping on the floor of the cave, and Frank's steady breathing beside her. She felt his hair against the side of her head as he leaned his head onto hers, and her dreams became a little more pleasant, and she began to feel as if her dream was reality and she was actually dreaming of the situation she was in, but then, she was troubled by urgent muttering in the cave, now not just that of Thoren and Rita, but of Frank and Falcon as well. Then she realized she no longer felt Frank's head next to hers, and his breathing was sped up. She forced her eyes to open and blinked in the light of a match which Rita had lit. Her four companions were obviously not angry at one another; they were staring at each other in a similar, nervous manner. Taylor touched Frank's arm.
"What's the matter?" she asked rather groggily.
"The explosive is ready," Rita said grimly.
"Then what's the problem?" Taylor said, looking from one face to another.
"Your friend pointed out something important," Falcon said, "we can use this explosive to get out of this room, but we risk being found out."
Taylor groaned. Of course! Why hadn't they thought of that sooner?
"But do we have any other choice?" Taylor asked.
Rita shook her head. "We either take our chances with the explosive, chip away at the rock door, or stay in here until your world has fallen."
The Travelers, Copyright 2012-2013, by Katy Allie. All rights reserved.

from "The Sort of Old Archives": "Under The Eye of The Watchful Dragon"

When I think back to 2008, one of the main things I remember is how that year, I went totally crazy over The Lord of the Rings and The Chronicles of Narnia. More notably, I got in touch again with my friend Rene, whom I had not been writing to for a while...and then I suddenly got an email from her. That was one of the best things that has happened to me, because we have been very good friends ever since. One strange thing about 2008, which was 4 years ago but in some ways seems more than that, is that I didn't know Rene's cousin, Preciosa, yet. I didn't meet her until 2009, which is all thanks to Rene for getting us to chat one night on gmail!! :) Anyway, BEFORE some of the notable things about '08 happened, I wrote an allegorical story entitled, Under the Eye of The Watchful Dragon. If you think some of the names are really odd, just think about it for a moment and look at the names in a different way. If you can't figure it out, I understand and will be happy to tell you. Hope you enjoy this old story of mine!

8/19/08
 Under The Eye of The Watchful Dragon
by Katy Allie
My sword was in its sheath, but I felt that right about then I should have been holding it.  The dragon was still coming towards me, no matter how still I tried to be.  I saw his huge claws, sharp and white, slicing through the dirt as he walked slowly, coming closer and closer.  I pulled my sword from its sheath and swung it towards the creature.  The dragon snapped, and nearly bit the metal in half.  The dragon opened his mouth, and put his head on my level.  Fearing for my own life, I continued holding the sword in front of me. 
"Put away your sword--he who lives by the sword, dies by it," the dragon said, greatly startling me.
"Explain yourself, Creature," I commanded as I noticed burn marks from the dragon’s hot breath on my sword.
"I am Susej."
"My name is Midnight," I told Susej, still unsure of the talking creature.
"Princess Midnight of Yravlac Castle?"
"Yes, but why do you want to know?  Furthermore, why did you stalk me?"  I asked the huge green dragon.
Susej turned and pulled an object from behind a tree.  It was a small piece of paper, sealed with my father's mark.
Inside it merely stated,
Dear Midnight,
Come back to Yravlac.
Love, Father
"Why do I have to go back to Yravlac?"
"You are needed.  Your father sent me.  We will be traveling back to Yravlac, and you will be under the eye of the Watchful Dragon."

For two hours Susej led me through the woods, and then we stopped and rested.
"Susej, why am I needed back at the castle?"  I asked, leaning back on the rock I was sitting on.
"You will find out."  Susej said.
Suddenly two more dragons came lumbering out of the woods.
"Retep, Samoht...I found Princess Midnight," Susej told the two other dragons, which were smaller than him.
Ten more dragons, all the size of Retep and Samoht, followed the first two. 
"Under the eye of the Watchful Dragon," I thought, but even this was a small comfort when surrounded by thirteen enormous dragons.  Twelve of them were smaller, but they weren't small.
Retep laid down some large fish on a fire that Susej had made.
"Are these your friends, Susej?"  I asked.
"These are my srewollof," he explained.
I remembered that srewollof meant 'those who follow' in our language, Ssorc.
As we ate the cooked fish, Susej began to explain our journey.
"Midnight, when we arrive at Yravlac, you will be faced with the hardest battle of your life.  That's all I'm going to say."
Susej stopped talking, and picked up the last fish.  Breaking it in half, he said,
"This is my wing, broken for all srewollof.  Take and eat, and remember you are always under the eye of the Watchful Dragon."
"There's that phrase again," I thought.
Picking up a small wooden cup with his large teeth, Susej continued,
"This is my fire, shed for all srewollof.  Drink of it, all of you, and once again remember that you are always under the eye of the Watchful Dragon."
We did as Susej said, and then we all slept.

Susej had all the other dragons and I up early in the morning. 
"We must reach Yravlac just before sunset tonight," he told all of us.
After a breakfast of more fish, we set off.  The woods became darker as we came nearer to Yravlac, and it was the first time that had ever happened, as far as I knew.  Susej became more and more sad as we continued.
"What's wrong with Susej?"  I asked Samoht quietly.
Nhoj heard the question.
"I'll ask him," said Nhoj as Samoht said,
"I don't know."
"What is wrong, Master?"  Nhoj asked Susej.
"You are my srewollof now, but all of you except for Midnight will fall away on the account of me," said Susej, who had stopped walking and was facing all of us.
"Except for Midnight?"  I thought.
"I will never fall away on your account, Master Susej," Samoht insisted.
Susej had pools of tears in his beautiful eyes as he said,
"Before the king blows his horn at the first light of day, you will deny that you ever knew me."
With this startling conversation finished, Susej told all of us we had better continue.

The drawbridge of Yravlac was down when we arrived there.  The sun was about to set when the thirteen dragons and I walked into Yravlac's courtyard.  My father walked forward, along with my mother, and they both hugged me.
"How good to have you back, Princess Midnight," my father said.
As my father greeted and thanked Susej and his srewollof, a crowd of people began to crowd around.  However, instead of greeting me and my new dragon friends, they began to throw eggs at Susej.
"Get that dragon out of here!" and "Kill him!" filled the castle.
My father, startled, looked at his once peaceful people, and asked,
"Should I crucify your Master?!?"
The people all starting shouting 'yes'.
"Father!  Don't kill my friend.  Why are the people so angry?"  I said anxiously.
"Kill the dragon!  He always says he is the son of the Watchful Dragon!” the whole crowd began to shout.
My father yelled,
"I will not have this dragon die by my hands.  If you want him dead, you will have to do it on your own."
My father, having finished his speech, put his face in his hands and sobbed.

The crowd bound the feet of Susej together, and there wasn't anything even a princess could do to make them stop.  They whipped the dragon, and the rest of the dragons and I watched the whole thing silently, only comforting Susej when the crowd was distracted for whatever reason.  My father and mother walked to their throne room, not being able to bear what was happening.  Late evening came, and the crowd was done with Susej, having rigged him so that he was hanging from the two back turrets.  The ropes were around his scaly belly, hanging him securely to the back of the castle.  The twelve other dragons had fallen asleep in the courtyard, but I walked up to Susej.  I pulled a cart over and climbed up on it so that I could see Susej eye to eye as the dragon died in pain.
"Susej, the srewollof have all fallen asleep."
Susej managed a small smile.
"Your comforting words helped me earlier this evening, Beloved Midnight."
"Susej?"
The dragon's eyes were shutting.
"Yes?"
"You are under the eye of the Watchful Dragon."
Susej managed one last little smile.
"He is also with you."

The next morning when I woke up, I found I was lying on the cart below Susej.  He was dead.  The rest of the dragons were just waking up. 
"Susej is dead.”  I told them.
Samoht looked at me.
"Who?"
The other dragons also gave me a quizzical look.
"Who?"
Just then my father blew the morning horn.  Sadly, I went to join my parents for breakfast.
"Susej is dead."  I told my parents.
My father and mother were a sad as I was, but my father had a question for me.
"Susej told you that when you got here, you would face the hardest battle in your life, right Midnight?"
"Yes."
"Do you know why?"
"It's the battle between good and evil.  It's a test for my faith, as well as for all those who believe in the Watchful Dragon, like you, and Mother," I said decidedly.
"Yes, Midnight," said my father.
Suddenly we heard a noise.  It sounded like the roar of fire.  The three of us ran out onto the balcony which ran all the way around the castle and which looked down onto Yravlac's courtyard.  There was Susej, free of ropes and alive.
All at the same time my parents, myself and the twelve srewollof shouted,
"Susej!"
The three of us ran down to the courtyard and greeted Susej once again.
"Midnight, you are strong because of your faith in God.  Let it be known, that all of you, even my crucifiers and betrayers, are under the eye of the Watchful Dragon!"
Under The Eye of The Watchful Dragon, Copyright 2012, by Katy Allie. All rights reserved.

The Travelers, part 13

Falcon's hoarse voice cut through the gloom.
"We will?"
"Yes," Rita snapped.  "Think about it, Falcon.  The Headmaster promised us great rewards if we went over to his side, but I haven't seen any rewards yet.  We were nothing but the Headmaster's puppets.  We were always being ordered around and yelled at, and I never got any thanks, and I don't think you did, either.  And now we've been thrown in here like traitors.  I'm through with the Headmaster. I'm through with the Emperor's cause.  Aren't you?"
Falcon stared at the ground.  All the hard lines on his face suddenly relaxed, and he looked tired and sad.  Thoren patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. 
"I know you can do this, Falcon," Thoren said.  "You're braver than you think.  Will you help us?"
Falcon looked around at all of them. 
"Yes." He said finally, very quietly.
"Good." Thoren said.  "Now, did you two ever find out where the weapons are hidden while you were working for the Headmaster?"
Rita nodded.  "I've been in there.  There's a hidden entrance.  But you have to go through the Headmaster's Chamber first.  The Eastern Door leads to a passage, and the hidden door is in the passage.  But the Chamber is heavily guarded, and we're locked in here."
"The Headmaster leaves the Chamber every night," Frank said, suddenly.
They all turned to him.
"I know because I hear him calling to his bodyguards.  He tells them to bring their torches and they go out of the Chamber. I hear the door shut behind them every night."
"So there aren't any guards in the Chamber when he leaves?" Thoren asked.
"There are only the three bodyguards," Falcon said.  "I've seen them in the Chamber."
"When does the Headmaster come back?" Thoren asked Frank.
"By my guess only a few hours later," Frank said.  "But that would be enough time for us to get through the Chamber."
"If we knew how to get out of here." Rita said.
Falcon had been quiet ever since his remark about the bodyguards.  He seemed to be thinking very deeply.
Now, he said, "There should be a way to unlock the door from the inside.  I've seen some of the designs for the self-locking doors.  They're made so that there is a way of unlocking them even from the inside.  It's a safety feature in case of treason--the Headmaster and those closest to him, who also know how to unlock the doors--will be able to escape if there's a rebellion and they get locked up."
"So, how do you unlock the door?  A password...or a secret control panel or something?" Taylor asked. 
"That's what I don't know." Falcon said, "I never got to a very high ranking, in the Headmaster's mind, so I was never told the secret about how to unlock the doors."
"Well," Thoren said, his voice full of doubt, "I suppose we can search around and see if we can find anything.  We have a couple of hours before the Headmaster leaves anyway."
They spread out, and Thoren began to inspect the front of the cave, while Rita went to the back, and Falcon headed over to the right hand wall.  Taylor and Frank went to the left hand wall.  They felt around the wall and floor, and they squinted through the darkness, wondering if there were any visible markings that might lead them to a clue.
"What happened after you disappeared?" Taylor whispered.
Frank sighed.  "After they captured me, I tried to yell.  They told me to be quiet or they would kill me.  While we were running I tripped in a hole and twisted my ankle.  After that they half-dragged me.  It seemed like such a long time I was dragged.  Then, really early the next morning, I think, they pulled me into a hole in the ground and we were in all these winding passageways.  Once we got to the Headmaster's chamber they left me there, and the Headmaster asked me all of these questions."
"What kind of questions?" Taylor asked.
"Just...questions about my family, and stuff.  He asked me about you.  Then he started asking all of these things about the earth, and the animals and plants, and he asked about us."
"Us?" Taylor asked, confused.
"Us.  You know.  Humans."
"Oh.  Yeah.  Right."
"I guess now I know why." Frank said, shuddering.
They were silent for a few moments.
"Frank--" Taylor began, wanting to apologize for their fight, but she was interrupted by a sharp cry from Rita.
"Thoren, everyone," she muttered, "get over here.  I think I may know how to get us out of here."
The Travelers, Copyright 2012, by Katy Allie. All rights reserved.

The Travelers, part 12

Taylor's head began to spin again. "Why would he choose Earth?"
"Why does the Emperor do anything?" Rita said bitterly.
"He's power-hungry," Thoren said, "if he controlled Earth, it would mean he dominated not one, but two Class M planets. Earth is envied for its resources and large population. You control Earth, you have domination over a huge amount food, energy and slaves. The truth is, there's not actually any need to abandon Faeldor. Besides, Earth is not an ideal place for the Ankleideigh Faeldorians to live. There's the problem with the oxygen, for one thing."
"The Earth's resources are dwindling, anyway," a weak voice came from deeper within the cave.
Taylor, Thoren, Rita, and Falcon jumped, greatly startled. Falcon drew a short sword from his belt.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
They heard a great deal of coughing and then the voice continued, "It's just me...Frank."
He emerged out of the darkness. His face was dusty and scratched. His hair was messy, and his clothes were dirty and rather torn.
"Frank!" Taylor cried.
She realized that all her anger at him had drained, leaving her feeling extremely relieved and happy to see him. She got up and ran to him, giving him a big hug. She never would have dared to hug him before. It would have been too awkward. But now pure fear had taken away any awkwardness between them, and Frank hugged her back.
"Are you okay?" Taylor asked.
It was a silly question; Frank was limping slightly, and he looked like someone who had been taking part in relentless hand-to-hand combat. But Frank smiled shakily.
"I'll be fine. How are you?"
He squinted through the dimness at her. Taylor sighed.
"I'm fine. But only thanks to Thoren."
Frank gazed at Thoren. They were about the same height, but Thoren looked a little older, somehow. Taylor wondered if perhaps they were the same age, but of course Thoren would look older; he had been through more trying circumstances than Frank.
"So you're Frank." Thoren said, breaking the silence.
Frank nodded. "I take it you're Thoren."
"I am," Thoren replied.
"I guess my thanks are in order...?" Frank said. "For taking in Taylor after I was captured. Thank you."
"It was my pleasure," Thoren said, sending a glare in the direction of the heavy door that separated them from the Chamber of the Headmaster. "I don't approve of what the Emperor is doing....is making the Ankleideigh do. I will do everything I can keep to my people from carrying out the Emperor's plot."
Rita sneered at him. "You're only traitor, Thoren. No one else is stupid enough to speak out against the Emperor."
Falcon laughed nervously. Thoren gave him and Rita a hard stare.
"I'm the only one brave enough at the moment to become a traitor against the Emperor. It doesn't need to stay that way," he said carefully.
"What are you saying?" Rita said.
Falcon and Frank turned and looked at Thoren.
"We'll help," Taylor said, suddenly.
"What...why?" Thoren said, "you and Frank are the victims of all of this. You should hate all of us."
"I don't hate you at all, Thoren," Taylor said. "You've helped me this whole time. Anyway, is there really any chance of me and Frank being turned free?"
Thoren sighed. "Not really."
"That's what I thought," Taylor said, "so what is there for us to do but join your cause?"
"Taylor's right," Frank said, "otherwise, we'll just be locked up in here, not able to do anything, and not free to go home. There's nothing else we can do. Taylor and I volunteer to become traitors of the Emperor, but only if you lead us, Thoren. If Taylor trusts you, then so do I."
Thoren looked conflicted, but then sighed and nodded. "I hate to see you two being put in danger, but it's probably not any more dangerous than leaving you in the Headmaster's hands. My thanks are due to both of you. We're not fighting only for my people, anymore. We're fighting for yours."
Thoren turned to Rita and Falcon. They looked nervous and undecided.
"You two, what will it be? Will you stay under the grip of the Emperor, and tell the Headmaster about our cause, or will you turn from the Emperor's cause and join ours?"
There was a long silence. Drops of water could be heard, and muffled voices in the Chamber of the Headmaster. Thoren, Taylor, and Frank stood together, facin Rita and Falcon. Finally, Rita spoke.
"We'll join with you."
The Travelers, Copyright 2012, by Katy Allie. All rights reserved.

The Travelers, part 11

Rita leveled her gaze at Thoren.
"Don't tell her anything," she snapped. "Don't you realize what could happen if she knew? What happens when she goes back out into the Commoners?"
"Simple," Falcon said, "we don't let her go back."
"Both of you, be quiet," Thoren said. "Taylor deserves to know. I've pulled her into this. We've pulled her into this by capturing her friend."
"That was necessary," Rita said.
"I told you to be quiet," Thoren said.
Rita lowered her eyes and stared sullenly at the floor. Taylor crossed her arms tightly to herself. It was very cold in the inner chamber. Thoren saw her shivering and turned to Falcon.
"Can I borrow your cloak?" Thoren said.
Falcon eyed him suspiciously, then sighed, and reached into the large pouch slung across his shoulders. He pulled out a long piece of fabric and handed it to Thoren.
"Thank you," Thoren said.
He took it over to Taylor and helped her wrap up in it. It was very scratchy, and smelled strongly of sheep's wool, but it immediately helped Taylor feel warmer, and she looked gratefully to Falcon.
"Thank you," she said to him.
He shrugged and went back to pacing the floor. Thoren sat down next to her.
"Well, where should I start?" he said.
"How about, who are all of you, really?" Taylor said, "I thought you were human, but I'm starting to think you're not."
"I knew you would really get suspicious once we got to the Chamber of the Headmaster." Thoren said. "All right...well...we're a race of Ankleideigh.*"
"What does that mean?" Taylor asked.
"It means we don't come from Earth, Taylor," Thoren said gently. "We're not humans, even if we look like humans."
"So what are you, superhumans, or what?" Taylor asked, her head spinning.
She put up her hands and pressed her brow, hoping to coax her eyes to see more clearly again. Everything seemed fuzzy.
"Lack of air," Thoren said, "the Ankleideigh are not able to breath oxygen in the way humans are. We have to have less of it. There are--"
"No," Taylor said, holding up her hand, "don't even try to explain that to me right now. How about you just explain what your people are doing here?"
"Thoren," Rita warned. "Don't."
Thoren ignored her. "Our home world, Faeldor**, recently got a new emperor. He didn't come by the position honestly, though. Normally a group of senators and other leaders decide who would be the best Emperor for our world. Several years ago, we were trying to recover from a war, a war which we had lost, and one of our own people took advantage of the chaos, and rose to the position of Emperor. Because Faeldor was so ravaged by the war, he has this idea that the people of Faeldor, the Ankleideigh Faeldorians, are in need of a new home world. He chose Earth."
Pronunciation guide for part 11:
*Pronounced Aunk-leigh-ih-deigh
**Pronounced Fae-el-door
The Travelers, Copyright 2012, by Katy Allie. All rights reserved.

From "The Sort of Old Archives": The Alternate Origin of the Term "Bah Humbug"

My family has always been very supportive of my writing. They're willing to read it, proof-read it, critique it, and enjoy it even if it's not the best. They've also had their favorites of my writing, and, in my fiction, they've had their favorite characters. Probably their favorite of all (and probably mine too) is my character, Zack Hiller. I wrote one story about a man who lived in a unique house with his kitten, and it turned into many stories about him and his adventures and mishaps. However, let's not get ahead of ourselves. The first was entitled, The Alternate Origin of the Term "Bah humbug", and here it is, straight out of "The Sort of Old Archives": which, in this case, is 2009.

The Alternate Origin of the Term "Bah humbug"

a sort of fairy tale by Katy Allie

Most everyone knows that the term "Bah humbug" was first used in Charles Dickens' The Christmas Carol; it was a grouchy expression used by the book's main character, Scrooge. Here I have an alternate origin for this strange term.
Once upon a time, there lived a man named Zack Hiller; people said his last name was Hiller because he lived on a sort of a hill--but it was more like a very small mountain, for the hill was small, but very pointed on the top, which was why Zack's house had to be built elsewhere on the hill--which brings me to why everyone thought Zack was a little off his rocker. For Zack's house was partway down--or part way up--whichever you prefer--the hill, and because it was, after all, a hill, the house was on a slant, and so it was built at an angle. When you opened up Zack's door on your way out, you would find yourself maybe a bit closer to the ground than was normal. If you were to open Zack's front door to go into the house, you would come in, and, as you looked towards the back of the house, you would see that very gradually the house's floor sloped upwards. Such was Zack's house.
"Zack's house is at an angle; that's why his brain is at an angle," people would say to each other, and laugh, or shake their heads in pity for the man.
It never occured to any of these people that perhaps it was the other way around--that perhaps Zack had built his house at an angle, because his brain was already at an angle. Whichever way it was, Zack was a bit eccentric, and people didn't visit him much because of this, which couldn't help his strangeness. He was also very bitter most of the time--"That Zack Hiller, he is such a grouch," people would say, and they wouldn't visit him for months, years even, in some cases--and so more and more bitter Zack became; his only joy was his little kitten, Minstrel.
"Come along, Minstrel," Zack would say to his kitten, although he didn't need to--the kitten followed him wherever he went.
Into town the two walked, and through the fields. Over known roads and barely-known roads they would walk slowly, enjoying the outdoors and especially one another's company. Minstrel would get tired if they walked for too long, and Zack would pick him up and put the kitten gently into his jacket pocket.
Well, one day the two came home from a trip into town, worn out and ready for a drink of water. Zack set Minstrel on his kitchen counter, and set a heavy box behind the kitten, so that Minstrel wouldn't slide backwards, down the sloped surface. Looking around, Zack realized that he had to go outside to get Minstrel's water bowl.
"I'll be right back, Minstrel," Zack promised his kitten, patting him on the head.
The kitten purred loudly and watched Zack leave the house, rumbling the whole time. Zack went to the side of his house, spotted the water bowl just where he thought it would be, and picked it up. Going back around to the front of his house, he went up the front steps, and then heard a strange sound which made him hesitate.
"Hmmmmmmmm-bzzzzzzzzzzz..."
Then he realized what it was. It was an insect caught between the screen door and the wooden door. Now, Zack didn't know that, (1) insects and bugs are not the same thing, and, (2) he didn't know what the difference was, either.
"Bah...humbug!" he said angrily, annoyed at the insistent humming and buzzing, but prepared to just ignore the insect.
"Hmmmmmmmm-bzzzzzzzzzzz..."
Zack opened the screen door and tried to shoo the insect (it was a beetle, in case you're curious) out from between the doors.
"Out you go, you stupid humbug," Zack said, not realizing he had just invented a new name.
"Hmmmmmmmm-bzzzzzzzzzzz...." the humbug insisted.
"Out! Out! Out, you stupid humbug, out!" Zack cried angrily.
Inside the house he heard Minstrel crying loudly.
"I'll be right in, Minstrel!" he called.
The mewing stopped.
"Hmmmmmmmm-bzzzzzzzzzzz..." the humbug started in again.
It was still caught in between the doors.
"Mr. Hiller?"
Zack turned to see Mr. James standing there, watching him with an exceedingly amused expression. Mr. James, one of Zack's neighbors, was trying to keep from laughing.
"Ha ha..." Zack said, faking a laugh.
"Humbug?" Mr. James said, nearly bursting into laughter.
"Yes, I guess so..." Zack said, looking at the ground, and realizing the full extent of what he had done.
"Ha, ha, haw, haw, ha, ha, ha!" Mr. James began to laugh hysterically. "You're a riot, Zack! You're really something else!"
Mr. James continued to laugh as he turned and went down the hill.
"Hmmmmmmmmm-bzzzzzzzzzzzz..." the humbug said.
"Don't you start up again!" Zack yelled.
The humbug flew out from between the doors and went away, leaving a very disgruntled and embarrassed Zack Hiller behind on his doorstep.
Mr. James, the old gossip that he was, spread the word that Zack had created a new term--"Bah humbug"--to use when one was being annoyed by a bug or an insect, that continuously made humming noises. Poor Zack listened as his term began to be used, first as a joke and a way to poke fun at Zack, and then, to everyone's surprise, but especially Zack's, it caught on and was used in all seriousness by folks who heard the insistent humming and buzzing of a 'humbug'. As for the name, 'humbug', it was used for any bug or insect that was being annoying in any way.
If one heard,
"Hmmmmmmmmm-buzzzzzzzzzzzz...",
they would immediately say, "Bah, humbug!"

THE END

The Alternate Origin of the Term "Bah Humbug". Copyright 2012, by Katy Allie. All rights reserved.

The Travelers, part 10

Taylor could hear, but she couldn't see. The light was so bright that she was forced to close her eyes, and still the rays penetrated her eyelids, making her head pound.
"I see you have caught the traitor," a hoarse, deep, voice said, "and who is this?"
"Sir," Rita said, "this is the friend of the boy we captured."
"Ah, is she?"
"Yes," Falcon said, snickering, "we found her and Thoren together."
"Silence," the deep voice commanded. "Why were you with this girl, Thoren? Were you helping her? Do you not realize the punishment for helping a Commoner?"
Thoren cleared his throat.
"I--," he began, but the voice cut him off.
"Wait. Rita, why are their hands not tied? It is too much of a danger to allow this traitor, and this girl--this enemy--to be any other way."
"Well, I, well," Rita said helplessly.
Thoren laughed. "I made a deal with her. She told us to be quiet. I told her no, unless she would untie our hands."
Taylor tried to open her eyes, but the light was too blinding. She wondered where it was coming from, and how the others could stand it.
"My friend is bleeding," Thoren said, "the ropes cut too far into her skin. Might we have a bandage?"
The voice laughed harshly. "Do you hear the boy? A bandage! His own skin, his very life is at this moment at risk, and he is wanting to tie up an enemy's wounds. Quiet, Thoren, if you value your life, and hers. Harmen, Forald, take these four and put them in the inner chamber."
Taylor felt her arm grabbed. She found herself being pushed forward.
"Why us, too?" Rita shrieked.
"Please, Sir, we've done all you've asked, and more," Falcon pleaded.
"Be quiet," the voice said, "of late, I am not altogether sure I can trust you."
"You're right not to," Thoren said.
"Be quiet," Rita snapped.
Taylor hoped that wherever this inner chamber was, and whatever it was, there would not be the blinding light. She kept her eyes closed as she was pushed across the floor, expecting that the person who was holding on to her could see where they were going. She felt strange trusting someone whom she could not see, and who was harshly gripping her arm. Indeed, Taylor thought, by all rights this person is my enemy, and yet I'm having to trust them to not let me trip and fall.
Several minutes later Taylor, Thoren, Rita, and Falcon were shoved into a room, and the door was slammed behind them, echoing and re-echoing off the cave walls. Taylor realized as soon as she entered the room that there was no more bright light. She opened her eyes, and found that she could barely see anything. She panicked, thinking that the light had blinded her. But then, she could make out dim shapes: Thoren, tall and slim with messy, spiky hair, standing next to her. Rita, her shoulders hunched and her long, slender hands hanging over her knees, as she leaned against the wall. Falcon, pacing back and forth, running a hand nervously over the back of his head and muttering. Then, Taylor thought perhaps she could make out another shape, in a far corner.
"Taylor, are you okay?" Thoren put a hand on her arm.
Taylor's head was still pounding, but dully now. "Yeah. Are you?"
"Yes," Thoren replied, "and I'm sorry about the light."
"Where was it coming from?" she asked.
"A lantern in the middle of the room," he replied. "That was the Chamber of the Headmaster. It has to be well-lit. The Headmaster commands it."
"But still," Taylor began, "I have never seen a light so bright. It seemed as bright as the sun. How are you able to stand it?"
"My people are not like yours, Taylor," Thoren said.
"Your people?" Taylor asked. "I thought..."
"You think we are humans, like you," Thoren said.
He gently took her arm, and led her over to a boulder at one side of the chamber.
"Come," he said, "I think it is time you know more about what's going on."
The Travelers, Copyright 2012, by Katy Allie. All rights reserved.

The Travelers, part 9

As Rita and Falcon escorted them down the passageway, they whispered to one another, and eyed Thoren and Taylor suspiciously. Thoren nudged Taylor.
"Just stay calm," He whispered. "Rita and Falcon may have us trapped now, but they're not as smart as they might seem, and they're very fickle."
"Meaning?..." Taylor replied, wincing as the rope around her wrists chaffed her skin.
"Meaning, I might be able to convince them to help us." Thoren said.
"But if they're that fickle, how do we know to trust them?"
"I think their real sympathy lies with me. They think that the Squad will reward them for betraying me, but they won't get rewarded. All we have to do is wait. I believe soon the time will come that Falcon and Rita will find out that they've been tricked."
"You two, be quiet!" Rita snapped.
"Only if you untie our wrists," Thoren replied.
"You're trying to make a deal with me?" Rita said.
"If that's the way you want to think of it," Thoren said, "Look, Rita, you've known me for a long time. So have you, Falcon. Do you really think I'd run away from you?"
"What about her?" Falcon asked suspiciously.
"Taylor won't run away." Thoren said. "I trust her."
"All right, fine." Rita said. "But make any false moves, and you'll both be dead."
She and Falcon untied their wrists, and Falcon stuffed the rope in his coat pocket.
"Now, move." Rita commanded.
Taylor rubbed her wrists. When she took away her hand from her left wrist, which had been more tightly bound, there was blood on her hand. Remembering that no talking was the deal they had made in order to have their wrists untied, she kept quiet about it and pressed her wrist to her side.

As they descended even further towards the center of the caves, there were increasingly more and more torches on the walls. They gleamed off the wet rock. Twice Taylor slipped and nearly fell on the damp cave floor, but both times Thoren was there to steady her. Finally they stopped, and Rita tapped three times on the wall, and to Taylor's surprise a heavy stone door swung open. Taylor found herself being pushed forward into the opening, and into a blinding light.
The Travelers, Copyright 2012, by Katy Allie. All rights reserved.

The Travelers, part 8

As Taylor kept close to Thoren, watching as the torch light gleamed off a small earring in his left ear (she hadn't noticed this before), she thought about all that had happened to her in the last day. The party...the car accident. Her fight with Frank. And then that terrifying moment when she realized that Frank was gone, and then the walk into the dense woods, and Thoren startling her half to death. Since then she'd been following Thoren's every order: turn here, wait here, be quiet, get in the tunnel. Taylor had to admit, walking quietly along the passage wall, that she was still a little nervous that Thoren was tricking her, and he was actually out to capture her. But then, he turned slightly and smiled at her, and she suddenly felt sure that she could trust him. Her shoulders relaxed. They went on for another few minutes. Then, suddenly, a cascade of small bits of rock came loose behind Taylor, making her jump.
"Since you can track them without seeing them..." Taylor whispered, "...doesn't that mean they can track us?"
Thoren shook his head. "They make too much noise. All that running and shouting and talking. If they stopped and listened they could hear us. So we'd best not talk...not even whisper. In a few minutes we'll..."
"Ssssh!" Taylor said. "I think we're being followed!..."
Thoren half-turned as a figure came into the torch light. He was a thin, tall man, with a scheming eye and unshaven face.
"Thoren," he said sarcastically, his voice husky and yet a bit whiny, "how nice it is to see you. We didn't think you'd come back."
"Falcon," Thoren said, with an edge to his voice, "we meet again. How nice it is to see you. Been sneaking around again, I see. Betraying me, again, I gather?"
Falcon scratched the back of his head. "Rita..."
"Never mind," Thoren snapped at him. "Just choose a side and stick with it. Are you on my side, or theirs?"
Falcon sneered. "Figure it out!"
He grabbed Taylor by the arm. "Meanwhile, I'll just take your friend, here, into custody."
"Who is he?" Taylor asked, struggling to get out of Falcon's grasp.
Thoren sent an glare in Falcon's direction. He met Falcon's eyes, and Falcon lowered his head. Taylor felt his hand shaking as it gripped her arm.
"Apparently, not who I thought he was. He's not Falcon anymore. He's nothing more than Henchman Number Thirty-Five." Thoren said, icily.
"Don't call me that!" Falcon cried, trembling more now than before.
"What am I supposed to do?" Thoren said, "When you betray me. You've betrayed yourself, too. I don't treat you like a puppet. That's all you are in the eyes of the Squad. But I guess that's just who you are. A lying, cheating, little wretch, not worthy of any name other than Henchman Number Thirty-Five! Just what do you want me to do? Let go of her, you snake."
"I'll tell you what to do," a voice said came of the darkness, "Turn around and put your hands behind your back, Thoren. Calling Falcon a lying, cheating betrayer is pretty funny, coming from you. You're helping the enemy."
"Rita, show yourself." Thoren commanded. "And all of you, keep quiet. We're going to raise suspicion if we keep up all this arguing."
A woman about Taylor's height came into the torch light. Her long, curly blond hair was pulled into a messy ponytail. Like Thoren and Falcon, she wore old, worn-out clothes that looked like they were from another era. She had a long, curved dagger attached to her belt, which her left hand rested on.
"After you so rudely left us," Rita said, "I realized that we could do better if we turned you in, and worked for the Squad. Falcon readily agreed at the time."
Falcon looked sheepish.
"Now," Rita said, "put your hands behind your back, Thoren. You've betrayed all of us. You will suffer for this. And you," She said, turning to Taylor, "You're about to be reunited with your friend. Falcon, tie their hands."
The Travelers, Copyright 2012, by Katy Allie. All rights reserved.

The Travelers, part 7

After this, Thoren refused to say anything more, telling her only, time and time again, that he'd already said too much, and that it was safer for them both if he kept quiet about it.
"How will keeping quiet help Frank? I mean, how am I supposed to know what I'm doing if I don't know what's going on?" Taylor asked.
"You ask a lot of questions," Thoren said, frowning slightly as he made his way down the steep path. "It's dangerous to be too inquisitive."
Taylor was about to reply when Thoren suddenly held out his hand, motioning her to stop walking. Taylor listened but could only hear hers and Thoren's breathing, and her own heartbeat. Bum, bum. Bum, bum.
And then, splash.
"What's the--" Taylor whispered, frozen in place.
"Ssh!" Thoren ordered. "It's them. They're about fifty yards ahead. There's a stream up there, that they're crossing. They probably came in through another entrance and only recently came onto this path."
He whispered so quietly, Taylor had to lean in towards him.
"By them, do you mean--?" She began.
Thoren pursed his lips and nodded. He motioned for her to start walking again, but this time they made their way cautiously, trying not to make any sound. They came, finally, to the bottom of the steep path, and it curved, suddenly and tightly, around to the right. They crept along the now-level path, close to the wall. As they rounded the curve, a breath-taking sight met Taylor's eyes and she stopped in her tracks.
"Taylor!" Thoren whispered, urgently.
To the right was still the rocky cave wall, but, to the left, a chasm had opened up. It was hard to tell how wide the chasm was because of the darkness. But when she peered cautiously over the edge of the chasm, it dropped straight down, and she thought below she could make out dim, flickering lights, as if there were torches burning below.
"Taylor--!" Thoren said, again.
He came back and grabbed her arm. "We have to keep moving. No time for any more questions now."
Taylor began walking again, close behind Thoren, and (as he insisted) always keeping a hand on his shoulder.
"Now comes the time when it's very easy to get lost in here," he told her.
Taylor said, half-jokingly, that maybe they should hold hands (but all this talk about getting lost was making her nervous). But Thoren said he needed both of his hands: one to carry the torch, and one, he said, on his dagger. Taylor shivered. Then Thoren passed something back to her, and, upon unrolling the cloth surrounding the object, she found a curved, rather large dagger inside. When they stopped for a moment, so Thoren could better hear the Squad's movements, Taylor took the cloth, twisted it, and tied it to one of her belt loops. She then took the dagger, which had a leather sheath (much like Thoren's, only not with a belt clip), and hung the dagger from the cloth loop. She just hoped she didn't have to use it, but she had a sickening feeling that the time would come.
When they came to the stream, the Squad was gone, but their footprints were all around, and one precarious rock, protruding from the stream, still shifted the tiniest bit from having been used as a bridge. Thoren took out a water pouch, filled it, and handed it to Taylor.
"Thanks," she said.
She took a long drink and passed it back. Thoren drank, refilled the pouch again, and refastened it to his belt. He sat then sat down on a rock by the side of the path, and leaned back against the cave wall.
"You want to know about the chasm, and the lights you saw," He guessed.
Taylor shrugged. Thoren smiled.
"Come on, I know that look by now," he said, half-teasing, "you want information, but you don't think I'll give it to you. Well, this infomation I can tell you, because, well, you've come this far. The chasm you saw, that was the center of the passageways, the center of the cave. We are, right now, in the passage below the highest passage, the one we started out in. What you saw, down below, are the Halls of Light. It is so dark in the deepest passages, that torches are kept burning there, all the time. It is where they are taking Frank. Down in the Halls of Light is where the Squad operates from."
"So it's like some kind of secret, underground headquarters?" Taylor asked, dubiously.
She pulled her knees up to her chin, watching the stream pass by her. It gurgled cheerfully.
Thoren laughed. "Sort of, for lack of a better name. Well, they have names for it, but they're--well, sort of unpleasant sounding."
"Like what?" Taylor asked.
Thoren cleared his throat, sounding uncomfortable. "The Reckoning. The Hall of Terror. The Confession. Other...names like that."
Taylor's throat felt tight, and her stomach turned slightly.
Thoren had been staring at the stream as he talked to her. He now turned to face Taylor, his eyes sad. "The Squad is...well, they're an organization that works against your people. The Squad is trying to create a world where they are the leaders--a world that they can fit to their liking. In order to do that, they have to gather up information, and subdue those who get in their way. They see all. And, more and more, they know all."
Thoren turned his head slightly, towards the passage on the other side of the stream. "They're going down to the Halls of Light. We should get moving."
The Travelers, Copyright 2012, by Katy Allie. All rights reserved.

The Travelers, part 6

"The passageways?" Taylor asked.
"Quick," Thoren said, "No time to explain."
He grabbed her hand and began to run. Then, he turned quickly to the right. Taylor nearly stumbled over her own feet as she was pulled along, over the unsteady ground. After about five minutes, Taylor's legs began to wobble and she was breathing so hard that she couldn't speak. Thoren stopped short next to a large, flat rock.
"Sit here for a moment; catch your breath," He said.
Taylor nodded and sank onto the dew-drenched ground. She pulled her arms around herself. The sun was just beginning to appear in the sky. A flock of geese flew in front of it, their silhouettes casting dark shadows onto the orange and yellow backdrop. Then Taylor was being pulled to her feet again. When she looked at where the flat rock had been, she saw it had been pulled aside, revealing a dark, roughly circular entryway.
"Is that...?" Taylor breathed.
Thoren nodded. "The passageways. This is one of the entrances. Come on."
He helped her up and the two of them climbed carefully down into the hole. Thoren went first. As Taylor made her way down the entrance, using the flat rocks that had been placed there for foot- and hand-holds, she smelled the earthy dampness of the tunnel. The air became colder as she descended.
"Careful when you get down," Thoren called. His voice echoed off the damp stone. "The last step is about one foot from the ground."
Taylor climbed for about ten minutes before she found the gap Thoren had mentioned, and stepped off. She nearly fell backwards as she hit the ground, but Thoren grabbed her arm.
"Thanks," Taylor said.
Thoren lit a match. The light bounced off the cave walls. Thoren stepped forward, taking a torch from a ledge on the opposite wall. Once he had lit the torch, the passageway was illuminated enough to see that there were three different passages ahead of them. One took off in a straight line, but after a few feet, Taylor could tell, it dipped suddenly and steeply. One went off, at a slight angle, to the left of the first passage, and then went around a tight curve, even further to the left. The last passage, at the right of the first, went off at right angle to it and was sloped steeply upwards. Thoren nodded toward the first passage.
"That's the one we need to follow."
He lit another torch and handed it to her. "Stay close behind me."
Taylor nodded and they began to make their way down the first passage. After only a few seconds, the passage sloped downwards, and the moving was very slow-going. It was so steep that they had to be extremely cautious in climbing down. Something fluttered close by Taylor's ear. She jumped slightly, nearly hitting her head on the low ceiling.
"What was that? A bat?" Taylor asked.
"Most likely," Thoren replied.
The two were quite for a long time, concentrating only on keeping together, and trying to keep their feet from slipping out from under them. Finally, Thoren spoke.
"They probably won't hurt your friend."
Tyalor felt a rush of relief. "Really?"
Thoren shook his head. "Not unless he says something that incriminates him."
"What do you mean?" Taylor said.
"I've already said too much," Thoren replied, "but, there is a chance Frank is the person they're looking for. If so, he is in great danger."
'The Travelers', Copyright 2012, by Katy Allie. All rights reserved.

how have you been enjoying 'The Travelers'?

I have just last week posted the fifth part of 'The Travelers'. Soon I will be posting the next part! I am wondering what you think about it, so far. What has been your favorite part up to this point? Who is your favorite character?

Tell me below in the comments!

The Travelers, part 5

The crow meat was tough and tasted horrible, but after eating, Taylor had to admit that she felt a bit better. She hadn't realized just how hungry she'd been. Thoren glanced up at her and smiled slightly.
"Better?" he asked.
"I guess," Taylor said, "You?"
Thoren shrugged. "We'd better get on now."
He gave his dagger one last swipe with some dry leaves, polished it with his shirt, and put it back in the leather sheath, which he then clipped onto his belt. Thoren climbed up onto a large boulder. He cocked his head to one side, then the other.
"They're headed southwest," he said, finally. "They're going quickly. Probably running. One of them is limping, or stumbling. Maybe it's your friend, or someone carrying or dragging him."
Taylor was taken aback. She hadn't put much stock in Thoren's claim earlier--that he could hear Squad Number 5--because, well, she had been tired and hungry, and anyway, it sounded ridiculous. But she was having trouble denying the total seriousness in Thoren's face; his utterly grave and concentrated expression kept her from saying anything sarcastic to him. Thoren jumped off the rock and hit the ground surprisingly lightly. While Taylor was still marveling at this, Thoren looked back at her and cleared his throat.
"Coming or not?" He asked impatiently.
"I'm coming," Taylor called back.
As she walked carefully around trees and over rocks, she peered up at the sky, which had become a bit lighter. The moon was still shining brightly, but it had dimmed some with the coming dawn.
"Once the sun comes up, we'll have to take to the passages," Thoren said, cutting into Taylor's thoughts.
"What? Why?...What?" Taylor asked.
Thoren didn't answer.
"Don't tell me, top secret information." Taylor said.
"You catch on quickly," Thoren replied, "Normally, I need to avoid being seen at all costs by.. normal people. You and your friend are a rare exception."
"Frank saw you, too?" Taylor asked.
Thoren nodded. "As Squad Number 5 was dragging him away, I heard him trying to shout something about a friend of his, some girl. He said she was 'just up the road'. After they were out of sight, I started walking back to the road. I wanted to make sure you were alright."
"Thanks." Taylor muttered, embarrassed.
Thoren shrugged. "No problem."
"Is it dangerous for you to have me along?" Taylor asked, jumping slightly as a snake slithered in front of her.
"No more than usual." Thoren said. "Anyway, I couldn't just leave you there in the dark, all by yourself."
"Again, thank you." Taylor said, "I--"
Suddenly, Thoren stopped short. "Shh!"
Taylor stopped mid-step. She couldn't hear anything but the trickle of a stream, somewhere off to her right, and the hoot of a far-off owl, above her in the trees. Nothing unusual. Thoren turned his head slightly. His face paled; his dark green eyes flashed in the starlight.
"They've taken to the passageways."
'The Travelers', Copyright 2012, by Katy Allie. All rights reserved.

The Travelers, part 4

Taylor found it difficult to keep up with Thoren's quick, long strides. For a long time, neither said anything. Their breathing came out in short gasps, souding horribly loud in the vast, silent forest. Every so often Thoren would glance back; Taylor guessed he was checking to see if she was still behind him. Very suddenly, Thoren stopped and looked around. He held up his hand, motioning for her to to keep quiet. Then he lurched to the right, and Taylor heard a shrill squawking, and the beat of a bird's wings. Then all was silent again. Thoren reappeared, holding a crow by its legs.
"You--" Taylor began, but she felt a bit queasy.
"What?" Thoren said. "I'm hungry. Aren't you?"
Taylor shrugged. "I guess."
Thoren set the bird down on a flat rock and began gathering up some wood. "Hand me some of that bark, will you?"
She knelt down, and gathered up as much dead bark as she could carry, and brought it to Thoren.
"Thank you."
He drew something out of his pocket; Taylor realized it was flint and steel. Her father brought this whenever her family went camping. If only she could be back at home with her family, right now. There was nothing she could do about it now. She could only hope that soon, she could find Frank, and they would be able to go home.
"So," Thoren said, as he fed the small flame he had ignited, "you haven't told me who you are."
Taylor squinted at him across the fire. "I'm Taylor."
"Nice to meet you," Thoren said, "Although I'm sorry about the circumstances."
"What do you mean by that?" Taylor asked in frustration. "You've hardly told me anything about this, what are they called? Squad Number 5. Actually, you've hardly said anything at all."
"I can't track them while talking," Thoren said.
Taylor eyed him dubiously. Thoren sighed, shrugging.
"I can hear them walking; I know in what direction they lie, in what direction they're heading, and how far they are from us. But when I'm talking, I can't hear them."
He sat down, picked up the crow, and began to pluck its feathers. Taylor didn't like the look of this process; she turned her head away.
"Squad Number 5 is probably taking your friend to Passage Erhardt," Thoren said. "That, of course, is also a code name."
"Of course," Taylor said, sarcastically.
"You think you're being tricked?" Thoren said to her, angrily, "You think your friend set this up for some reason, to scare you or something? If he did, then I can say for certain that he's no good friend. None of this is a joke. Squad Number 5 is powerful. They can do whatever they want, whenever they want to."
"So you've said!" Taylor responded, "But I want to know why. And why did they take Frank? He's just a kid, like me."
Thoren shook his head. "There are some things I just can't tell you."
"Can you tell me why you're helping me?" Taylor said, "I mean, you must be part of Squad Number 5."
"Am I?" Thoren said, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Well, I thought..." She began.
"You thought, you thought!" Thoren cried. "Isn't that what got you into this whole mess? You thought it would be fun to go to that party; you thought those directions you got online would work. You thought that going through Trenton Valley would be a shortcut."
Taylor stared at him, dumbfounded.
"How do you know all that?" She said, quietly.
"My knife is sitting in that sheath by the fire," Thoren said, his eyes attentive to the bird in his hands. "Can you hand it to me?"
Taylor sighed and reached for the leather sheath. She pulled the knife out--a seven-inch blade with a polished wooden handle--and handed it to Thoren.
"Feed the fire, will you?" Thoren asked, still not taking his eyes off the crow.
Taylor grabbed some dry wood and began to drop it into the flames. Apparently, their conversation was over.
'The Travelers', Copyright 2012, by Katy Allie. All rights reserved.

The Travelers, part 3

Taylor's eyes were so accustomed to the darkness that she would have had no trouble finding her way through the forest, had it not been for the thick fog. The other problem was, there was no trace that someone had abducted Frank, even though they had presumably been half-dragging, half-carrying him through the trees. There were no visible footprints in the dry pine needles covering the forest floor.
"Frank!" Taylor called again.
Her voice sounded hoarse and thin. It sounded small. Despair rose in Taylor's chest; she stopped short and tried to get her bearings. She thought she had been running in a fairly straight line, but she wasn't sure about anything anymore. Why on earth had she suggested taking that shortcut through Trenton Valley? Why had she been so sure those directions were telling the truth? She didn't even know the person who had posted the directions on their blog. He was just some guy at her school.
"Stupid party," Taylor muttered.
So much time had passed since Frank had picked her up at her house. So much time had passed since they had begun to drive to Nathan and Holly's party. How much time had passed since Frank had disappeared? Taylor wondered. An hour? Maybe two hours? She rubbed a hand across her throbbing forehead.
Finally, she slowly began to make her way through the forest again, looking carefully at the ground for any signs of footsteps, or of another struggle. She had just stepped over a log when she heard the crack of a twig, and the dull thud of feet on pine needles. Suddenly, before she had a chance to look around her, she was grabbed from behind. A rough hand clapped over her mouth, and she was pulled to the ground.
"Your friend was taken by members of an elite, underground force." A deep, husky voice said.
Taylor could hear the pounding of her captor's heart, as if he wasn't entirely comfortable with what he was doing. She tried to turn and look at him. Then, she felt his grip loosening, and he let her rest against a tree. Taylor gasped for fresh air. Her captor stepped in front of her, and peered down at her. He looked about her age, maybe a bit older. He wore ragged, stained jeans, work boots that had seen better days, and an old gray shirt with a baggy corduroy vest over it. His face was hard to see in the darkness, but Taylor could see that he wore a slightly bemused expression, one eyebrow raised as he looked at her.
"What were you saying about my friend?" Taylor asked cautiously, drawing her knees up to her chin.
He laughed hoarsely. "That's it? You don't want to yell at me for sneaking up on you? You don't want to know who I am? I want to know who you are."
"Who are you?" Taylor asked. "And where's my friend?"
He sighed. "I can't tell you my real name. Thoren will do. As for your friend, he was taken by a group of people whose name I also, unfortunately, cannot tell you. They will be known as Squad Number 5 to you."
"Why did they take him?" Taylor asked, feeling as if she was having a trick played on her.
It was all a trick, a horrible nightmare.
Thoren squinted at her. "Squad Number 5 takes whoever they like, whenever they like. They don't have to answer to anyone but themselves."
Thoren turned and began walking away. "Coming?"
"Coming where?" Taylor asked.
Thoren laughed. "Don't you want to get your friend back?"
"Well, yes!" Taylor yelled, scrambling to her feet. "But why should I trust you?"
Thoren stopped and turned to look back at her. He shrugged. "Trusting me is the only way you can ever hope to see your friend again. It's your choice."
Taylor sighed. Everything within her screamed not to go with Thoren, but she hated the thought of abandoning Frank, of not seeing him ever again. She took a deep breath, and plunged into the fog again, always keeping a close eye on Thoren, who trudged ahead of her. They weaved on, through the trees, their feet thumping dully over the pine needles. Finally, the moon began to shine through the thinning fog.
'The Travelers', Copyright 2012, by Katy Allie. All rights reserved.