Tag Archives: LitFest

LitFest Tours Part 4: Tales from Egregore

Over the next few days, we will be publishing stories and poems that were written in response to the different Fairelands and shared with us as a result. But we would still like to add your tales to our collection. So if you wrote a Tale of one of the Fairelands, and would like to add it to our collection, send it to fantasyfaireshortstory@gmail.com before May 31st and we will add it to the relevant pages on the website. And we’ll be selecting some of the Tales for broadcast on Fantasy Faire Radio too!

Egregore, photographed by Wildstar Beaumont
Egregore, photographed by Wildstar Beaumont

“The Giant of Egregore”
by Talia Sunsong

I am a god,
Declared the giant
We are playthings of the gods
The toys cried
The toys escaped
Hiding under the land
In anger
The giant smashed his piano
The keys scattered
As they ran
The toy’s feet
Play a revealing tune
The giant will find them
Yet there is still hope

The angel plays her lyre
Come dance with us
Call the unicorns
They churned the leaves
Over the scroll
The secret
Penned by the giant
He commanded the unicorns
Destroy it

The unicorns sing
We dance and churn the leaves
The secret lies beneath
Come find it toys
Read the magic spell
Escape the giant

So the toys raced
to look beneath
the unicorn’s hooves
to piece together
the spell
The words waved
beneath the Unicorns

The giant stomped closer
The toys read faster
The giant reached
The spell recited
A portal opened
The toys jumped

Made it through
The door closed
Giant blocked
Now the Toys
Live Free

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Egregore, photographed by Wildstar Beaumont
Egregore, photographed by Wildstar Beaumont

Sarah’s Gone
( A Memory Poem Triggered by Egregore)
by Zander Green

You break open my house.

You split the walls, strange light pours in, I cannot see your face.

But I know it is you.

Summer, red wine and that song you loved, the cat whose name I can’t remember, vanilla and traffic by the park –

All come pouring in –

Strange light –

So I know it is you.

You see,

Alex said, “Sarah’s gone.” But that isn’t what happened first.

First was opening your door and knowing before seeing what you had done.
Then came the smell. And I knew it was you. I knew you would be lying there.
Your legs at odd angles. Did you make the cuts while standing up? Did you fall?

I am eighteen and I love you and you have spilled your life on the floor of this room.
I am eighteen and you are the sun and perfect as nothing has ever been.

And I am eighteen.

Time beyond measure passes (days?) and you lie in the earth and Alex says,

“Sarah’s gone.”

A moment passes.

And I am fifty.
Still scrubbing at the stain.

I am fifty and you crawl from the Earth –
Break open my house.
Strange light pours in
And I know it is you.

I am fifty and
I build worlds now
Where you might have been happy
And been my sun
And perfect
As everything is.

Egregore, photographed by Wildstar Beaumont
Egregore, photographed by Wildstar Beaumont

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“To Write, Perchance to Play”
by FidgetsWidget
All photographs in this section by the author

The first thing Fidget did on arriving in Egregore was to land smack-dab with her nose on a white key.

And it made a noise.

Never give a Dinkie keyboard keys that make noise to run up and down on.


Or that is what you will hear for the next 10 minutes.

Then, of course, there was the apple.


Fidget had to play with that 20 times before she was done with it.


Eat, Get Poisoned, Die!

Well, then Fidget had to play the Harp, wouldn’t you?


And the Unicorn ride.


Some days when you adventure, it’s all about playing.

The writing for today is:

“Go Play!”

Join us for LitFest Tour No.10: The Rose

Water is ever flowing in this city
Water is ever flowing in this city

We will be visiting The Rose
Saturday, April 29th @ 5pm & 8pm SLT
Sunday, April 30th @ Noon SLT

The Rose (Alia Baroque)
In the Garden of senses silent footsteps echo through rich vaults of opulence and decadence, searching for the perfect spot where a stolen kiss can be unseen and languid murderous thoughts hidden behind a mask. This Rose blossoms in April through your gaze that tells her how beautiful she is.
https://fantasyfairesl.wordpress.com/the-rose/

Continue reading Join us for LitFest Tour No.10: The Rose

Join us for LitFest Tour No.9: The Spirit Pool

The Goddess who watches over all who travel here
The Goddess who watches over all who travel here

We will be visiting The Spirit Pool
Friday, April 28th @ 5pm & 8pm SLT
Saturday, April 29th @ Noon SLT

The Spirit Pool (Kayle Matzerath)
Since the beginning of time, The Spirit Pool has served as a resting place for weary adventurers and lingering souls that are not quite yet ready to cut their ties to the physical realm. Mermaids and other seafolk use the pool for gatherings and a constant flow of visitors keep it a popular place for trading.
https://fantasyfairesl.wordpress.com/the-spirit-pool/

The many corridors lit by this Lady of the Lamp
The many corridors lit by this Lady of the Lamp

Please note: you do not need to use any of these ideas; feel free to write about anything in this region.

Do souls really linger here, or is it a myth to cull the gullible?

What creatures roam these endless halls?

What feeds the yellow vines?

What lives in the mysterious cavern?

A mysterious cavern underwater
A mysterious cavern underwater

Participants are invited to submit pieces written as part of LitFest Tours, or inspired by the Faire Lands, to be included in “Tales from the Fairelands” on the Fantasy Faire website and possibly to be read on Fantasy Faire Radio by yourself or one of our volunteers.

Work may be submitted at any time during the Faire, and we recommend that it be submitted by 11pm the day after each destination cycle has been completed in order to be considered for inclusion in “Tales of the Faire Lands” posts while the Faire is open. Individual writers retain creative ownership of works submitted.

Is the current shrine built on the remnants of an earlier city that housed the Spirit Pool?
Is the current shrine built on the remnants of an earlier city that housed the Spirit Pool?

Compositions of poetry or prose can be submitted in one of two ways:
1. Email to fantasyfaireshortstory@gmail.com
2. Drop a notecard into the LitFest Tours Submissions mailbox at Fantasy Faire LitFest home base on Kakushi Pasu

LitFest Tours Part 2: Tales from Raven’s Perch

Raven's Perch, photographed by Alisaundra Andel
Raven’s Perch, photographed by Alisaundra Andel

Over the last week, Fairelanders have been joining tours of individual lands and telling stories about them. These we will be preserving on this website – and some will be made into special tales to be recorded for Fantasy Faire radio. We’re also going to share some of these stories here, and here are stories from Raven’s Perch.

Continue reading LitFest Tours Part 2: Tales from Raven’s Perch

LitFest Tour Special – to Opal Flight!

Opal Flight. photographed by Alisaundra Andel
Opal Flight, photographed by Alisaundra Andel

Join us for a special LitFest Tour at 2pm SLT today to Opal Flight.

The beautiful Arts and Entertainment region, created by Haveit Neox and Lilia Artis, has a rich and complex story behind it – and many hidden secrets, which could inspire new stories for you to tell!

Opal Flight. photographed by Alisaundra Andel
Opal Flight, photographed by Alisaundra Andel

Above the waves all is white and bleached and sparse. But the waves hide a rich profusion of life and colour, and we will magically be able to explore beneath the waves.

Join us at the landing point in Opal Flight as we start our journey of exploration!

Opal Flight. photographed by Alisaundra Andel
Opal Flight, photographed by Alisaundra Andel

There will be centaurs.

Join us for LitFest Tour No.8: Chaddul Ro

A pleasant day to be impaled on a stake perhaps? Certainly an imposing entrance.
A pleasant day to be impaled on a stake perhaps? Certainly an imposing entrance.

We will be visiting Chaddul Ro
Thursday, April 27th @ 5pm & 8pm SLT
Friday, April 28th @ Noon SLT

Chaddul Ro (Searlait Nitschke)
An outpost of the Orcs of Chal Khizzur, Chaddul Ro stands on the edge of their territory. In the center of the outpost there is a beacon, rising above upon a tower guarded day and night by the orcs. It stands for strength; it stands against anyone who would douse it, a symbol to be seen to guide those from outside the protective barriers and walls back home. For the survivors that seek refuge from battle. It is believed that as long as the fires of the outposts are kept lit that there is always hope, sanctuary to be found and that the tribe remains strong.
https://fantasyfairesl.wordpress.com/chaddul-ro/

Please note: you do not need to use any of these ideas; feel free to write about anything in this region.

Sit by a stream and watch the bodies float by …
Sit by a stream and watch the bodies float by …

What did they kill to get those giant tusks? Monster Orcs?

Where did all the Orcs go to? And … will they return?

Is everyone Orcish here, or are a few miserable prisoners lurking?

Imagine the smell of hot, sweaty Orcs!

Even the skulls and bones get recycled
Even the skulls and bones get recycled

Participants are invited to submit pieces written as part of LitFest Tours, or inspired by the Faire Lands, to be included in “Tales from the Fairelands” on the Fantasy Faire website and possibly to be read on Fantasy Faire Radio by yourself or one of our volunteers.

Work may be submitted at any time during the Faire, and we recommend that it be submitted by 11pm the day after each destination cycle has been completed in order to be considered for inclusion in “Tales of the Faire Lands” posts while the Faire is open. Individual writers retain creative ownership of works submitted.

Enter anytime, but never leave!
Enter anytime, but never leave!

Compositions of poetry or prose can be submitted in one of two ways:
1. Email to fantasyfaireshortstory@gmail.com
2. Drop a notecard into the LitFest Tours Submissions mailbox at Fantasy Faire LitFest home base on Kakushi Pasu

LitFest Tours Part 1: Tales from Mudrana

Over the last week, Fairelanders have been joining tours of individual lands and telling stories about them. These we will be preserving on this website – and some will be made into special tales to be recorded for Fantasy Faire radio. We’re also going to share some of these stories here, starting with Tales from Mudrana.

 

Mudrana – picture by Justen Tyme.

A Story from Mudrana
by FidgetsWidgets

It was a big frog to be sure …

Well, that was an understatement. It was HUGE! And Fidget was having third and fourth thoughts about her plan.

Still, if she wanted to ride the dragonflies, she had to get to them. And to get to them, well a particular kind of Dinkie bravery was required.

Taking a deep breath; whiskers a-quiver, she put one paw in front of the other and began the climb.

A steady drone of noise from the frogs and the flying things played in her ears … helping to steady her focus on the green slimey moss that was growing on the surface of the godfrog statue.

Wafting up from the purple-centered blooms was a delicate fruity scent, while the yellow-centered blooms on the other side had a kind of mineral quality to their sniff.

She was fortunate in that — because if either one of them had smelled of chocolate or bacon … well! Climbing would have been an impossibility.

So up, and up, and up, and up, and up she went …

And at just that moment, the lands began to quake, the HUGE godfrog began swaying … was it a katastrophy for our brave Dinkie?

Some blame it on a monster they call Lag. Others blame it on something called Knew Servers.

And if you want to hear the rest? My deary … you’ll have to ask her yourself! I suggest you lay down a trail of gummi worms to draw her attention.

Picture by FidgetsWidgets

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Perils of Youth: a Tale of Mudrana
by Lyr Lobo, aka Cynthia Calongne
Fantasy Faire 2017

“Come back here!” Esme said, her roar sounding fierce.

Mynx knew better than to stop. She knew Esme would follow, but at a snail’s pace. Instead, her gaze drifted to the lilies where the light twinkled, a strange haze that drew her deeper.

She danced across the lilypods, feeling them shift in the water as her feet dashed over them. The leaves swayed, displaying wee frogs that stared as she danced past. They croaked a song unfamiliar to her.

Picture by Lyr Lobo.

The lilypods rose to form a graceful trail, lining the hill. A distant light flashed above them, beckoning her to draw near. Mesmerized, she took a few steps, only to snap out of her reverie as Esme called to her.

“Do not go up that hill without me. Mynx! I’m warning you. I’m going home if you don’t slow down this instant!”

Unwilling to go alone, Mynx turned to wait for her. Exasperation fueled her next words.

“Getting too fat to catch me, Esme?” she said, glancing back to see if it worked. She knew how to goad her. They were childhood friends, approaching the edge of womanhood, which took a lot longer than they would admit. Feminine and at the brink of their power, the two girls couldn’t be more different.

Mynx was tall, athletic and strong. She looked good, but her tomboy ways kept interested parties at bay. In contrast, Esme was luscious, a ripening peach that turned many a head. It was only her hesitant manner, fed by a lack of confidence that made would be suitors pass her by.

Mynx stamped her foot as she watched Esme tiptoe from one lilypod to the next. Her gait resembled an old woman, cautious as she stepped onto one and tapped the next with her toe, testing to see if it would hold her weight. This was going to take all day!

“Come on, already. They’re safe. I ran over them, fast as I could! You can do it!” Mynx said, growling.

Esme frowned as she inspected the next pod, tapping it with one foot on it before shifting her weight to test it.

“Oh my sweet beehive, at this rate, it will take forever!” said Mynx, growling. “I’m not going to wait much longer.”

As Esme stepped on the next lilypod, a frog jumped, landing next to her. “Ribbit,” said the frog, his eyes bulging. He wore a fancy vest and a top hat, but Mynx saw that his lower half was bare.

Mynx’s eyes narrowed, not due to the roguish frog. She saw her friend fall on her backside, landing hard on the leaf as it rolled beneath her. The side she sat on dipped low into the water. Esme clung to it as her foot kicked against the water.

“Dashed plucky frogs,” Mynx snarled under her breath before hollering, “Come on already. Quit fooling around and get up here!”

It must have worked. Esme prodded the frog with her toe, nudging at his belly, but her foot slipped from its target and landed in his crotch.

“Ribbit!” said the frog, roaring in pain as he retreated to the next pad.

Esme knelt on one knee, preparing to stand. She cried out as she slipped, the water splashed around her, making the leaf slippery. She lost her grip and slid toward the water.

The frog’s tongue whipped out and snapped around her ankle. He yanked her back onto the lilypod as she shrieked and kicked at him.

“Ow!” said the Frog as he tugged with his tongue, dragging Esme flat on her face. Alarmed, Esme cried out as she rolled over and kicked at him.

“Get off of me,” she hollered.

Mynx, fearing for her friend, broke her disguise and snapped open her wings. She flew fast, swooping at the maligned frog, who yanked back his sticky tongue, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. Any other time, she would have enjoyed the sight, but Esme let out another cry.

Her placid friend lost her grip on the slippery lilypod and slipped from into the water.

Mynx flew fast, grabbing her by the ankle as Esme’s head dipped under the water. She strained she flew, her wings beating fast. Her friend was no dainty miss dry, she thought as she struggled to carry her wet friend.

They flew up to the summit of the rise, where Mynx dropped Esme onto the grassy hill.

“Ow!” said Esme, turning to glare at her.

Mynx fluttered to the ground, coiling her wings back into their hiding place. She sat down next to her friend and let her toes wiggle in the soft, strange grass that twitched as she settled onto it. The scene played across her mind, and a laugh escaped her.

Esme friend gaped at her. “How can you laugh?” Esme looked so bedraggled that Mynx let out a roar of laughter. The once beautiful curls were dripping wet, and a wet leaf stuck to Esme’s eyebrow.

“It’s not funny,” said Esme, shaking the wet curls out of her face.

“Oh, but it is. Your frog prince came to your rescue. What did you do? You kicked him. And not in a good way.”
“Did not!”

“You sure did. Whatever hope he had for a family is now a thing of the past.” Mynx laughed so hard that tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

They sat back, dazed by the mishap. After a few moments, Esme grinned.

Behind her, Mynx noticed the hapless frog hopping up the path. Her giggles grew as she caught sight of his soggy top hat.

He announced to no one in particular.

“Fine. This is the thanks I get — a swift kick in the unmentionables followed by whiplash of the tongue. Females! You’ll be the death of me,” said the frog, gesturing at them with his cane.

A deep rumble shook the ground beneath them. The hill pitched and rolled as it drew back. Mynx grabbed Esme with her right hand and buried the frog under the crook of her arm, ignoring their protests. She took to the air, her wings straining to elude the new threat.

The ground rolled back as two eyes, one green and one blue, stared at them. The frog in her arms squirmed, his little feet kicking at her arm as he tried to jump.

Picture by Lyr Lobo.

“I am alive,” said the Frog King, his voice reverberating as he wiggled a sticky tongue at them.