Thistledown Hiatus 2, #NaNoWriMo

Friday, October 27, 2017

Welcome everyone.  The faery serial, Thistledown – Midsummer Bedlam is on hiatus until December.  However, I’m reblogging past episodes for new readers and for those who want to review or catch-up on missed chapters.

First a little business. With November 1st, National Novel Writing Month* (NaNoWriMo) begins.  I promised updates and last week I left you a teaser about my novel-to-be’s title.  Throughout October I’ve been happily doing planning of various types.

Those of you who have been following Teagan’s Books for a long time will remember a “steampunky” serial I did, Copper, the Alchemist, and the Woman in Trousers.  One of the main characters was my fictionalized version of real life inventor, Cornelis Drebbel*, another was a young girl named Copper.  For my NaNoWriMo novel I’m bringing them back.  However, this time Cornelis ends up in a parallel world and Copper is a young woman there.  Here’s the cover I made for (drum roll…)

The Skull of the Alchemist 

Skull of the Alchemist Cover 1

If you’re here for a dose of faery foolery, here’s episode 2 of Thistledown – Midsummer Bedlam.

Teagan's Books

Welcome back to Thistledown, everyone!  If you are joining this serial for the first time, or if you need to refresh your memory click here for the premier episode.  I also have a category button on the right side-bar of the screen for “Thistledown — Midsummer Bedlam.”  However, these days I can’t make promises about WordPress behaving as it should. (For several days I found myself unable to comment on any blogs — including my own! WP just told me to email somebody else… Finally and laboriously got it fixed myself.)

Thistledown GirlAlex Iby, Unsplash

Writing Process

As a writer, I tend to reject rules. (Often things are presented as rules, but feel more like “formulas” than anything else.  I don’t care for formulas either.)  Although, when writing in a genre, (to a degree) I do try to follow some general expectations, for the comfort and understanding of readers.  

So before anyone…

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Thistledown – Midsummer Bedlam 13: Afoul of a Fowl

Mod Squad 1070s tv cover

Friday, October 13, 2017

When I was a kid, each summer all the network TV shows would go on “hiatus.”  We were left with nothing but reruns (and we didn’t have cable or VCRs).  Or even worse, favorite shows were completely omitted for “summer replacement series,” which almost always fell far short of the mark. 

What’s the connection to writing serials?  It’s a lot of work, but it’s also a labor of love.  Authoring serials can also be stressful, love it or not.  After this episode, Thistledown will be on hiatus until December.  If you need your faery fix, I’m going to reblog the prior episodes.nanowrimo-Bernstein

Why?  I’ve decided to do National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).  It’s not easy to write the draft of a novel in just the month of November.  So, other things will have to slide for a while.  I really need the “rah-rah!” that I get from that event.  

My midweek posts for Jazz Age Wednesday will continue.  I have a few of those already prepared. 

Now finally, to Thistledown…


Midsummer Bedlam 13


Ida Rentoul Outhwaite, 1916


Afoul of a Fowl

The familiar, comfortable sounds of the forest surrounded us as River Mindshadow and I walked, led by the periwinkle colored muskox hair.  The long strand stood out straight, a silken divining rod.  Blue-lavender sparks from that hair glittered the air.

I had no idea why the muskox hair behaved as it did.  Uncle had tried to teach me to divine with any number of objects from sticks to pendulums, but I never had a knack for it.  Then Bob the hummingbird brought me the unusually colored hair.  He had been frightened away before I could figure out why he brought it.  However, when the hair started to point with insistent pops of static energy, River and I decided to see where it led.

“Ouch!” I cried as a particularly stinging static charge hit me.

“Do you want me to take it for a while?” River asked, but I could tell she wasn’t especially eager.

“No… I’m afraid it will stop working if I let go,” I answered resignedly.

“Maybe Tinder Willowtree would let us use that finder* thing,” River suggested.

“No, it wouldn’t work,” I replied after a moment’s thought.  “She told me that whoever she’s looking for has to wear a medallion that’s been attuned to the finder — otherwise it’s not much more than an ordinary scrying mirror.

Chicken face Red jairo-alzate-188815

Jairo Alzate, Unsplash

Low bushes rustled and a chicken with bright multicolored feathers strutted out onto our path.  To my astonishment the periwinkle hair dipped down toward the chicken.  With a purple pop, it shocked the bird’s bottom.  Feathers flew and the chicken cackled loudly as it ran back in the direction from which it came.

While we let the muskox hair lead the way, I hadn’t really paid attention to my surroundings.  The muffled sounds of women’s voices reached my ears.  With a look around, I exclaimed.

“Oh!  I think Willow Rainbow* lives just over there,” I commented, pointing after the chicken.  

“Rhymer once told me that her aunt has a ton of spell books,” River suggested with an eager flutter of her wings.  “It would make things a lot easier if we had a spell to help us understand where the hair is trying to lead, or why the hummingbird brought it to you.”

We both turned toward the sound of the chicken cackling when a familiar voice was added to its squawks.

“Whatever is the matter?  You’re making such a clatter!  You’re upset all together.  It looks like you lost some feathers!”

River and I turned toward one another and remarked in unison, “Rhymer Rainbow!”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out!” Rhymer said playfully as she came onto the path still holding the chicken.  “Bedlam and River, why didn’t you give me a shout?  I’m visiting my aunt, she lives just over there.  Come on ― there are cookies to share.”

Buffaloberry bush

Buffaloberry bush

The chicken clucked, tucked under Rhymer’s arm.  She pushed aside bushes with waxy leaves and clusters of white and bright red buffaloberries.  The berries were bitter, but they still made a nice pie.  Rhymer commented that the chicken had a fondness for buffaloberries and sometimes wandered away looking for them.

On the other side of the shrubs was a yellow farmhouse with a thatched roof.  A small duplicate stood to one side of the house.  It was an elaborate chicken coop.  Rhymer sat the complaining fowl down.  It looked at its behind, which showed a few missing feathers from the zap of the periwinkle muskox hair.  The chicken turned to me with a parting glare, and trotted to the coop.

Rhymer’s aunt, Willow Rainbow, greeted us warmly, “Come inside girls.  It’s lovely to have so much company.  What brings you to my cottage in the woods?”

River told Willow how the long silken hair suddenly became a divining rod, leading us and then abruptly stopping.

“We thought perhaps a finding spell might get it going again,” River explained.

“How remarkable!” Willow exclaimed.  “Bedlam, your grand-uncle once asked me if I would be interested in giving you lessons about spells, although I honestly didn’t feel qualified,” Rhymer’s aunt said humbly.  “So, I’m sure some research would be fine with him.  But I’ll have to leave you on your own.  My crochet circle is meeting, or I’d be glad to delve into the books with you.  You girls take some cookies and help yourselves to the books.  Rhymer will you show them to the library?”

Chickens at cottage vintage

Each of us grabbed a double handful of cookies as we were about to leave the kitchen.  Willow turned abruptly and we hesitated.

“Oh, just one thing.  Use any of the books you please,” Willow Rainbow told us.  “But not the Etheraris Spiregris.  It’s far too dangerous.  I really should get rid of it, but it seems so wrong to do away with any book!”

River and I exchanged a significant look.

The End


This time we revealed only one new person among the mystery folk,  Willow Rainbow was named by Christine Robinson. Be sure to click over and say hello.

On Wednesdays I’ll try to give you some NaNoWriMo updates.  I think you’ll like the book-cover I made to inspire myself.  As for Thistledown, see you in December. 

Hugs on the wing! 


This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. 

Copyright © 2017 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.


Thistledown — Midsummer Bedlam 12: Hear-See-Speak No

Marketing Graphic for Thisledown

Friday, October 6, 2017 

Hello, everyone. I’m happy to see you here in Thistledown after my semi-break last weekend. Before we fly off to Thistledown, let’s take a stroll on the dark side…

Only at Teri Polen’s Books & Such

It’s already October — how did that happen?  My favorite holiday is Halloween.  Leading up to that fun day, author Teri Polen hosts Bad Moon Rising.  It’s her yearly celebration of suspense and horror.  Each year more than 30 horror/thriller indie authors are featured throughout the month of October on her blog, Books & Such

atonement-video-cover-copyEven though many could argue that my “Atonement” books are not thrillers (and they are certainly not horror), they are suspenseful and there is a graveyard…  But Teri thought they qualified.  So I’m participating for my second Bad Moon Rising on October 10th.

In honor of Bad Moon Rising, through October, I’ve priced the Kindle version of my debut novel Atonement, Tennessee at just $1.00. 

Now to the faery world of Thistledown…

In today’s episode, keep an eye out for the character Teri Polen named. 

About This Episode

While gazing through a special moonstone, the Thistledown healer, Lavender Cozy, predicted Bedlam’s friend, River Mindshadow, would be able to follow the shadows of the mind.  I can think of a few directions that gift might take the young faery.  You’ll have to look closely to see them, but figuratively speaking, this episode of my pantser serial has wispy shadows, foreshadowing, hints of the unknown (even to me) directions this tale will take.


Midsummer Bedlam 5

Glitter person blue h-heyerlein-199082

H. Heyerlein, Unsplash

Hear No-See No-Speak No

My fingers ran along silken strands of blue hair left by the muskoxen.  I braided it absently.  There was no entertainment for me except my school books.  The hummingbird carried a single long blue hair to me.  I thanked it graciously. 

“You really outshine me with your iridescent orange feathers,” I commented to the hummingbird.

Why not have a playful conversation with the hummingbird?  What self-respecting faery wouldn’t?  It clearly liked the attention.  The hummer’s elongated streamer-tail made a whirring sound as it hovered at eye-level.  The tiny bird gave several twittering chirps as if it understood my words.  Then it gave a light tug at the loose sleeve of my yellow dress.

“Oh no,” I replied.  “I’m glad you like it, but I look positively rumpled.  Nothing to compare with you.”

The tiny bird flew in amazing antics.  I couldn’t help giggling.  With the long orange tail streaming behind him, I was astonished to realize he flew in a spiral pattern.  I looked at the hummer curiously.  Looking at the spiral gave me goosebumps. 

“Strange,” I murmured to myself, but the bird began to twitter and chirp.  “Have you a name, little one?”

The hummingbird twittered excitedly.  Facing me, it flew up and down in a bobbing motion.  My brain ran through likely names for hummingbirds.

“Zippy?  I see, that’s not it.  Erm… how about Firespinner?” I asked, pleased with the idea.

However, the hummer made a disgruntled sounding tweet.  His tiny face looked impatient as he repeated the odd bobbing flight pattern.

“Bob?  Your name is Bob?” I exclaimed in epiphany.  “What an unusual name.”

With that, Bob the hummingbird zipped away.

Ruby-topaz_hummingbird_flying in Tobago

Ruby-topaz hummingbird in Tobago

Maybe that wasn’t his name after all, I thought.  I hope I didn’t offend him.

A moment later Bob reappeared, carrying a long strand of muskox hair.  However, it wasn’t from the blue muskoxen of Blossom Stargazer’s team.  This hair was purplish blue, a periwinkle color.

“Wherever did you find this?” I murmured.

Bob darted about ten feet away, but then turned to hover facing me.  He gave an impatient chirp, clearly meaning for me to go with him.

The light capelet of my yellow dress was pushed aside as I tentatively I unfurled my wings.  I examined the tear cautiously.  It was beginning to knit but even a short flight would reopen the tear.

I looked at Bob sadly and told him, “I’m sorry little one.  I can’t keep up.”

Bob zipped back to me and let go of the long periwinkle hair.  I caught it, and fidgeting I rolled it between my thumb and middle finger.

“Ouch!” I muttered as a static discharge from the hair shocked my hand.

Darting forward again, Bob turned to wait for me.  He was remarkably single-minded for a hummingbird.  Most of them were easily distracted, and given to literal flights of fancy that they might follow anywhere, distracted a dozen times before they found their way back home.

Another pop of static from the strand of muskox hair shocked my hand.  However, I hardly noticed because at the same moment a commotion began in the bushes.  A small carriage broke through the shrubbery.  Startled, Bob zipped away.

Sparkler hands be the spark


I’d know that carriage anywhere.  Scores of chipmunks happily running in large exercise wheels powered the carriage.  Although sometimes the chipmunks could get off course.  They appeared to have taken it upon themselves to take a shortcut.

A head full of sparkling lavender curls popped out of the window.  Glitter Shimmerling smiled and waved before jumping down from her carriageFleur Thistle followed her.

I hadn’t seen Fleur Thistle since I was suspended from school.  I always felt embarrassed whenever I saw someone I had not spoken to since that episode.  I fidgeted, trying to think of what to say.  However, my friend who also got expelled that day, River Mindshadow exited the vehicle behind Fleur, so I felt more relaxed.

“Thanks for the lift, Glitter.  Fleur, I appreciate your help at the Trumpet.  Be sure to tell Peaches and Pucker I said hello,” River told the others before turning to me.  “They were on their way to the orchard and offered to give me a ride.”

Fleur Thistle was one of the reporters for The Thistledown Trumpet newspaper.  I remembered how worried I had been that Calico Rainbowforrest, the managing editor would say something about my terrible vision in the newspaper.  However, my fears had been for nothing.  Calico was incredibly kind to me.  Because of that, I was not as tense in Fleur’s presence as I might have been otherwise.

But what could River have been doing at the Trumpet?

“Hi Bedlam,” Fleur and Glitter said in unison.

“I’d better see to the carriage before we go though,” Glitter stated as she inspected her vehicle.

Fleur pointed at chipmunks trying to count them, and then started over.  Twice.

“Bedlam,” Fleur began with a smile, but shook her head as she bent toward the carriage wheels.  “Could you help count the chipmunks?  They won’t be still.  Someone needs to check my counting.”

“Yes, we must have picked up some extras.  I’m sorry to crash through the bushes like this,” Glitter began.  “Chipmunks love the carriage wheels so much.  To them they are fun exercise wheels.  Sometimes random chipmunks jump aboard while I’m traveling and it gets the carriage off balance, making it a little hard to control.”

However, there was no counting, as the chipmunks collectively seemed to choose that moment for a play break.  They scurried all around the area where the bonfire had been the night before.  A quartet of them ran across Fleur’s feet and she fluttered off the ground reflexively.

My eyes followed the playful chipmunks.  Uncle seemed to think any kind of fun was outside the scope of the “rest” I was supposed to get.  Everyone knew I was grounded.

River seemed to follow my thoughts.  She nudged Fleur and Glitter, and then she covered her eyes.

“I know you’re still grounded, Bedlam ― in more ways than one.  But we don’t see or hear a thing,” River promised with a grin.

“That’s right!” Fleur added, covering her mouth.  “I won’t tell a soul.”

“What?  Did somebody say something?” Glitter joked, covering her ears.

Hear See Speak No Evil Robbie C

Photo by Robbie Cheadle

(Robbie’s post


When the chipmunk powered carriage pulled away, River turned to me with a gleam in her eyes. 

“We need to dig something up – literally,” she told me.  “There’s a very old vine of the Trumpet not far from here.  Remember that while news stories come out on curled leaves from the vine, there are archives of articles stored in the roots.”

I remembered Calico Rainbowforest saying as much.  However, I wasn’t following River’s thought pattern.

“But why?” I wanted to know.

“Bedlam, you never mention anything from when you were little.  I don’t think you remember that part of your life.  Haven’t you ever wondered why you don’t remember anything from when you were very small?” 

“Not really.  A lot of people don’t remember when they were little children,” I told River.

River Mindshadow gazed at me doubtfully.  I remembered Lavender Cozy, the healer, saying that my friend would be able to “follow the shadows within the mind.”  I wondered aloud what River was thinking.

“I’m not sure myself,” River admitted and she fluttered from side to side, the equivalent of pacing. “I know everyone thought it was part of the show when that woman rode out of your grand-uncle’s bonfire.  But I figured she was from the place you went to, where no one wears colors.  You said there was a girl like me, and like Meadow Songbird* and Luminous Twinkle* as well.  So, there should be someone in Thistledown who looks like Fallow Blackmoon, don’t you think?  Fleur let me look through the images at the Trumpet office, but I didn’t find anything that looked like her.  I want to know if people have ever disappeared from Thistledown.”

Her words made me more nervous than they should have. Just thinking of the stunning appearance and disappearance of Fallow Blackmoon, was enough to make me uneasy. 

“I’ve never heard of anyone disappearing from Thistledown.  People just don’t do that,” I told her.  “Why would you think of that in the first place?”

“The things you’ve said about that other faery-verse,” River began.  “Everybody seems to have a counterpart, a double.  However, you didn’t have a doppelganger when you went there.  You’re a seer.  Then Fallow Blackmoon came here, and told you that she was a seer.  And she has no double here!”

With a gasp I told my friend, “Field Yewwasp said she looked familiar!  Do you think Fallow Blackmoon actually came from Thistledown, yet somehow became part of the colorless faery-verse?”

In a restless gesture, River flicked her wings.  Then she shrugged.

“You said faeries there didn’t seem to have wings.  What if the other faery-verse doesn’t have seers either?  At least not without them going there from somewhere else… like here,” River tried to explain her thoughts.

With unexpected anxiety, I fiddled with the long strand of periwinkle colored muskox hair that Bob the hummingbird brought me.  It emitted a bigger discharge of static electricity than before.  I cried out as is shocked me.

River gasped.  The strand of purplish hair extended straight out, as if pulled forward.  It was almost like something that had been magnetized by a hematite stone.  It sizzled with static and pointed like a divining rod.

Purple sparkles billy-huynh-278252

Billy Huynh, Unsplash

“It looks like you two should go where that electrified hair leads.”

We both turned, startled.  It was Fleur Thistle.  A chipmunk perched on each of her shoulders and several more danced around her feet.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.  Some of the chipmunks got lost so Glitter and I came back to look for them.  She went in the opposite direction as me,” Fleur explained and then nodded at the periwinkle colored hair.  “That’s too magical of a message to be ignored.  Besides, a hummingbird brought it to you!  You have to listen to it.  I’ll dig up the Trumpet archives.  Sorry ― I couldn’t help overhearing.”

“But Fleur, you could lose your job for doing that!” River objected.

“I doubt anyone will care.  Besides, I’m expected to do some ‘research’ every week,” Fleur added just as the hair gave me another stinging pop of static.  “It seems impatient.  You should probably get going.  I’ll let you know if I learn anything about missing folks.”

The periwinkle muskox hair popped and sizzled. 


The End

Please note: I’m compelled to state this because this has happened every time I bring my hamsters into the story.

 Every creature and thing in this serial (and in all my writing) is strictly the product of my imagination, and has nothing to do with any other writer or blog. As with the sheep, hummingbirds, muskoxen and every other creature hamsters portrayed here are the product of my imagination.  The carriage driving rodents in Thistledown are hamsters — not dudes or “hamstas,” or any other name used in the work of any other writer. None of the characters in this serial are affiliated with any other blog, including the rodents.  To avoid any additional confusion, hamsters of any kind will make no further appearances in this serial.

We were happy to see many old friends this time.  However, only one new person among the mystery folk was revealed in this episode:

You have met the “scary faery” counterparts of two more mystery folk, but not the Thistledown characters:

Maybe you can visit all of them.  I look forward to seeing you next weekend, here in Thistledown. 

Until then, hugs on the wing!


This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. 

Copyright © 2017 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved. 

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

Every creature and thing in this serial (and in all my writing) is strictly the product of my imagination, and has nothing to do with any other writer or blog. As with the sheep, hummingbirds, muskoxen and every other creature hamsters portrayed here are the product of my imagination.  The carriage driving rodents in Thistledown are hamsters — not dudes or “hamstas,” or any other name used in the work of any other writer. None of the characters in this serial are affiliated with any other blog, including the rodents.  To avoid any additional confusion, hamsters of any kind will make no further appearances in this serial.


Thistledown — Midsummer Bedlam 11

Magical Town Crickadoon

The Magical Town of Crickadoon, Janet Weight Reed

Friday, September 22, 2017

Today I’m excited (oh, let’s be honest — I’m positively giddy) to collaborate with and feature one of my blogging she-roes.  Please welcome artist Janet Weight Reed.  Her love of color and sense of whimsy equals my own.  Janet’s talent and imagination leaves mine sitting in the dust. There are surely faeries in her magical town of Crickadoon.

Some of her magical hummingbirds have made their way to Thistledown for this episode.  (This post shows a beautiful collection of Janet’s hummingbirds click here.  If you want some of your very own, click here for her Zazzle store.)

Writing Process

Fallow Blackmoon, a faery from the colorless world (or the scary faery-verse), made an entrance that was hard to follow.  My pantser pants were not flying me anywhere — by the seat or otherwise.  Then a hummingbird with fiery orange plumage flew into my imagination, inspiring this spontaneous collaboration with Janet.  I have to thank her right now for being so quick to get images to me, with no planning or notice.

Janet was away on a break when I began this serial, and so didn’t get to name a character.  But that didn’t keep the orange hummer away.  In fact the little bird refused to leave.  So, I made a character name inspired by the artist.

About This Episode

This chapter picks up where Episode 10 left off, with the abrupt departure of Fallow Blackmoon.  I still don’t know where we are flying with this serial, but we are fluttering along with some beautiful images this time.

And now, the eleventh installment of my serial. 


Midsummer Bedlam 11

Ashes and Hummingbirds

Sparks from the bonfire sizzled heavenward.  Red, blue, and purple flames crackled in exotic shapes, thanks to the enchantments cast by my grand-uncle and Field Yewwasp.  The faeries who were gathered around the fire seemed to think the machine that roared out of the bonfire was one of the magical effects.  As I stood in bewilderment at the abrupt disappearance of Fallow Blackmoon, loud applause rose from the audience as they looked up at us in the branches of the primeval evergreen.

“For now, we should probably play along,” Field suggested in a rumbling whisper.

The huge furry faery doffed his green top hat and bowed grandly.  I tried to follow his example and nearly fell headfirst down the stairs.  Field caught my elbow to steady me.

Sparks burst high into the sky, drawing everyone’s attention back to the bonfire.  Shimmering flames in yellow, purple, and blue stretched to wing-like shapes.  I saw a woman hovering just above the ground, her orange wings vibrating with intensity.  She held a small wand made of fire opal and waved her arms, conducting the movement of the flames.  The brightly colored flames coalesced and then surged into a starburst of iridescent hummingbirds.  Only Valley Hummer could create such a spectacle.

Amid the oohs and applause, many faeries were inspired to dance.  I saw Moon Shadow put a flute to her lips.  Her long, flowing purple hair swung as she played, and a lively reel began.  A circle formed and wings of every color fluttered, carrying the dancers into the sky.  Moon’s opalescent wings carried her up amid the dancers where she continued to play.  The hummingbirds flew all around the dancers, darting in and out of their circle, moving in time to the music.


The next day I was given permission to leave my bed — but not go more than a stone’s throw beyond the branches of the huge evergreen.

So why not let me go down to the bonfire the night before?  It wasn’t as if I was any better or worse a few hours later.

With a dejected sigh I walked down to the blackened remains of the party.  In counterpoint to the ashes, echoes of the merrymaking filled my mind.  As I looked at the burned wood, my thoughts flashed on the recent, truly horrific vision.  Thousands of people were destroyed, wiped from existence.  All that remained were their shadows — shadows that were blasted and burned into the rubble of walls.  I stomped on the frightening thought, hastily pushing down.

I felt a tickle at my head.  A hummingbird with iridescent feathers in the orange hues of a sunset hovered beside me.  It picked a strand of my hair.  When it opened its tiny beak to let go of my hair, I heard the voice of Valley Hummer.

“The other magical hummingbirds went home with me.  However this little one thought he should stay with you, at least for a while,” Valley’s voice told me and then went silent, giving the hummingbird’s natural voice back to him.

Fluttering at eye-level, the hummingbird made twittering chirps at me.  His elongated streamer-tail produced a “whirring sound” during his flight as he made series of darting movements around the circle of stones that had been dragged into place by the blue muskoxen.

I sat down on one of the stones and the humming bird flew to a nearby bush of butterfly weed to drink its nectar.  There were several clumps of long, silken blue hair amid the large flat rocks where the revelers sat the night before.

“One of Blossom’s muskoxen was late to his molt,”I commented to the hummingbird, but he continued drinking nectar.

I picked up several clumps of the blue hair, untangled it and began braiding.  I had no purpose in mind for it.  It was just something to do with my hands while my brain worked on a thought that resisted bubbling to the surface.  Finally, I realized what had been bothering me ― Fallow Blackmoon.

When my visions took me to that strange colorless world, no one was able to tell that I had left Thistledown.  However, Fallow Balckmoon was obviously present in her physical form.  That had troubled me.  Abruptly I remembered that when I went to the place where I met Rotten Soulfire, Satellite Frostbite, and Desert Firesong, I had physical presence there.  Or at least it had seemed that way.  Rotten had touched the joint where my wings depended from my back.  I remembered her amazed reaction that my wings were real.

“I’m Fallow Blackmoon.  It’s good to meet another seer,” the snakeskin clad faery had said before she vanished.

It must have worked that way for her as well.  I shook her hand.  She was actually there.  Yet she must have also been, probably in some unconscious state, in her own world.  Half an attempt to work out how that could be possible quickly gave me a headache.

Headache or not, my brain wasn’t ready to let go of the ideas.  I played with the long blue braid as I thought.  Then I remembered something else that was said during that strange moment.  Field Yewwasp said something I barely heard.  I was so distracted by Fallow Blackmoon’s sudden disappearance that I had forgotten how odd Field’s words were.

“She looks familiar,” he murmured so quietly that I barely heard.  “Could it be?”

It seemed like many of the residents of Thistledown had a counterpart in the colorless world.  Did the big furry faery know the double of the seer from that other place?

I rubbed my temples, trying to make the headache go away and the memories flow.  Did she look like anyone I knew?  It was hard to remember her face.  There had been so many distractions, the flames, her strange clothes, and the loudly roaring machine she rode.  Try as I might, I couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone like Fallow.

Field’s words rang in my mind, “Could it be?”


The End

As you saw, this we were revisited by a number of mystery folk from previous episodes.  They would appreciate it if you click over and say hello. 

Please also visit the new ones.  The new mystery folk revealed in this episode were:

I like to have a couple of chapters written in advance.  However, I’m no longer ahead on writing these episodes.  So, I have no clues to offer about the next installment.  Have a wonder-filled weekend.

Hugs on the wing!

Sunday update… I love your comments! But I might be slow to answer today. Somehow I’ve managed to get a stomach virus that has me on a very short leash to the bathroom…


This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. 

Copyright © 2017 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.



Thistledown – Midsummer Bedlam 10

Friday, September 15, 2017

Marketing Graphic for Thisledown

Welcome back to the faery world of Thistledown!

Writing Process

The writing of this episode was frequently interrupted.  That can make it even harder for creativity to flow, to fly by the seat of my pantser pants.  Then I reminded myself that there were still faery characters waiting in the wings, marking time until their parts in the story are found by my flying pants.  Actually, that didn’t make it any easier.  However, I finally finished the chapter.

About This Episode

It’s been fun to imagine slightly off-kilter versions of the characters in this serial, what I called the “scary faeries,” from the colorless world of Bedlam Thunder’s visions.  You’ll meet another of those today.  Without further ado, let’s fly off to Thistledown.


Midsummer Bedlam 10

Tall Bonfire neonbrand-266212

Neon Brand, Unsplash

Fire and Furry

Beautiful birdsong made music throughout the branches of the primeval evergreen tree.  My grand-uncle’s house was nestled in the boughs of the great tree.  Trilling, lilting, happy chirps filled my attic bedroom.

I threw a shoe out the window in attempt to silence the blasted cheery sounds.

Uncle had been none too pleased when I went with Rhymer Rainbow all the way to the orchard to visit Peaches Dragonfly.  Not that the orchard was far, it’s more that I wasn’t supposed to go anywhere at all.  I wasn’t even supposed to leave my bed until the healer said it was okay.  No one cared that I had gotten a bluebird message from Peaches and feared something was wrong.  In return for me being a conscientious friend, Uncle forbade me to go to any of the pre-solstice gatherings.  Adding insult to injury, Uncle decided to have a bonfire right there at our home!

Of all the nerve!  My grand-uncle would host a party right under my nose and I wasn’t allowed to attend.

At the sound of another chirp I threw the other shoe, venting my anger at the injustice of it all.

“Hey – watch out!”

L0059071 Turn pin spectacles, steel wire, eye preservers, double fold

Whimsical blue spectacles were the first thing I saw when I turned in surprise toward the window.  Calico Ranibowforest hovered at the opening, her blue spectacles uncharacteristically askew.

My cheeks heated in embarrassment.  I invited Calico to come in at the door, and hurried to the corner of my room to open it.

“I came to get details about your uncle’s pre-solstice bonfire party so I could announce it in the Trumpet,” Calico began.  “But I wanted to see how you were doing first.  Based on the shoes you threw out the window, it looks like there’s still plenty of lift in your wings, as they used to say.”

I blushed redder at the reference to my temper, but Calico waived away my apologies.  She uncurled a trumpet vine leaf to show me the draft of the announcement.  As she unrolled it, I thought of the voice that came from the vine, exclaiming “Extra!  Extra!” and then the perky chirp of “Take a leaflet.”

“Just don’t tell the grumpy old geezer that I got out of bed to let you in,” I said, making it something between a complaint and a plea.  “I’m not allowed to go anywhere or do anything.  And now he’s having a party right under my nose and I can’t even go to it!” I added on a wail.

Wire glasses blond flowers ryan-winterbotham-227426

Ryan-Winterbotham, Unsplash

Calico took my elbow and pulled me to the window.  She pointed to the clearing that was well away from the branches of the massive evergreen.

“I think maybe he’s doing it for your sake, Bedlam.  Although I doubt he’d admit it.  I realize your grand-uncle is set in his ways.  But the bonfire is going to be in that clearing — and your window has a perfect view.  I think it’s his way of letting you be at the party without having to go back on his word in grounding you.”

That idea shocked me.  It was hard to imagine Uncle doing anything for my sake.  Any solstice was a big event in Thistledown.  Celebrations could go on for weeks before and after the actual date.  However, Uncle rarely hosted anything.  I was undecided as to whether it would be better or worse if I could watch the party from my window.  Maybe my friends would at least fly up to say hello.  If they weren’t so busy having fun that they forgot about me. 


Muskoxen blue

Feeling utterly dejected, I watched the preparations for the pre-solstice bonfire.  Uncle oversaw the dead wood being brought in and arranged.

I spotted Blossom Stargazer gently guiding a team of muskoxen with a staff.  Blossom was Belle Stargazer’s younger sister.  While Belle had a gift for hospitality, Blossom’s talent was training any species of “working” animal.

It was amazing to see the group of huge and strong muskoxen.  They stood at shoulder height.  The animals had coats in various shades of blue.  Their silken hair cascaded almost to the ground.  Curved horns were on either side of a patch of short curly white hair at their foreheads.  I remembered being taught that their wool was highly prized for its softness, length, and insulation value.

As I watched, the muskoxen moved ponderously but steadily.  With whispered encouragement from Blossom, they pulled the heavy stones into place around the perimeter of the bonfire.  The stones would serve as seats for the visitors.

The well-dressed furry faery was unmistakable.  He stood head and shoulders above even the tallest fae in Thistledown.  I watched as Uncle and Field Yewwasp worked an enchantment around the dead wood that would become the bonfire.  The spell would keep the fire from spreading or otherwise doing any harm.


Fires Bi-Colored jacob-kiesow-349451

Jacob Kiesow, Unsplash

The bonfire was lit.  Uncle grudgingly permitted me to sit on the steps outside my attic bedroom high in the branches of the towering evergreen.  However, I was emphatically not allowed to go down to the party.  He wouldn’t let me descend even a single level down the stairs. 

The fire crackled and sparked.  I wondered if the ancient tree that held our home felt anxious about the popping flames.  However, just as I had watched Uncle and Field Yewwasp work the protective spell around the dead wood, doubtless the tree was looking on as well.

I sat quietly on my step, watching while everyone else enjoy conversations and communion as they congregated around the big bonfire.  Belle Stargazer circulated amid the crowd with refreshments and snacks she brought.  The little Opal siblings fluttered up to my perch carrying a tray for me.  I tried to smile as I thanked them.  At that moment, I didn’t realize that they would be the only people with whom I had a chance to interact.  As the evening went on, I got the impression that just as I was not allowed to go down to the gathering, no one was permitted to come up to me.

Abruptly the branches of the primeval tree trembled.  My eyes searched the crowd below, to see if anyone else appeared to have felt anything.  However, the gathering carried on as before.  I shivered and the pit of my stomach went cold.  The hairs on my arms rose as my skin prickled.

The bonfire did not diminish, but the redness of the flames dulled and then brightened several times.  No one else seemed to notice.  I felt a vibration that seemed to come from the core of the massive evergreen.

A round hole parted the center of the bonfire.  A loud roaring thing burst from the opening.  It looked like a doubled version of Uncle’s unicycle with a seat connecting the two wheels.  The rumbling sound came from the machine.  A woman sat astride the fierce seeming thing as it was propelled from the bonfire.  It sailed over the people standing at that end of the fire, and then skidded in a circle.


As the thing paused, the rider looked up at me.  A bright pink streak was in her hair.  She wore a closely fitted jacket and trousers that had a gray snake skin pattern.  She gave a feral grin when she made eye contact with me.  The machine she rode bounded up the stairs toward me.

I never noticed him move or even saw from whence he came, but just as the two-wheeled thing roared up to me, I caught a glimpse of a well-made green jacket, a top hat with a poppy in the band, and rose-colored spectacles.  That glance showed me the huge furry form of Field Yewwasp was at my back.  His russet-colored wings had not yet settled.

The rider didn’t seem intimidated by the big furry faery.  She looked at me as if she evaluated and calculated everything about me.  I felt Field move a protective step closer.  His huge hand rested lightly on my shoulder.  I knew he was ready to zip me away with his extraordinary speed.

“You are even more powerful than Rotten said,” she commented with a smirk, and then thrust out her hand in greeting.  “I’m Fallow Blackmoon.  It’s good to meet another seer.”

I felt Field Yewwasp shift his stance behind me.  The slight movement made me think he was startled or uneasy.

“She looks familiar,” he murmured so quietly that I barely heard.  “Could it be?

Fallow Blackmoon’s half smile and manner reminded me of the others I had met in that colorless world.  I was sure that was where she was from.  I took Fallow’s outstretched hand, but I was too shocked to speak.

While I had visited that strange place in my visions, no one was able to tell that I had left Thistledown.  However, this woman was obviously present in her physical form.  Field clearly saw her.  Was he the only one besides me who could see her?  I tried to look down at the partygoers but my gaze didn’t make it that far.  My eyes were drawn immediately back to the strange fae.

With a grin and a nod, Fallow Blackmoon abruptly disappeared.


The End

I hope you checked out the mystery folks who were revealed in this episode.  Be sure to click over and say hello to them.

  • Fallow Blackmoon the “scary faery” name for the character from Andrea Stephenson — Thistledown faery name Luna Moonglow.
  • Blossom Stargazer, the character name from Eloise De Sousa.

As some of you have seen, beginning Wednesday just past (for a while anyway) I’m going to do Jazz Age Wednesday posts in celebration of  Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I and The Three Things Serial Story.  Those of you who like short stories or the Roaring Twenties are welcome to drop in. Those midweek posts will be vignettes from the “Pip-verse” as I call it. Of course this serial will be back again next Friday. 

Thanks so much for visiting Thistledown today.  See you next week. 

Hugs on the wing!



This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. 

Copyright © 2017 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise. 


Thistledown – Midsummer Bedlam 8

Thistledown Girl

Welcome back to the faery world of Thistledown!  It’s a magical place, most often sunny and whimsical, but a darker side rises to the surface from time to time.  

Special Note:  Maybe you’ve seen similar statements so much that it’s expected, familiar, even annoying.  But here at Teagan’s Books, I continue to send good thoughts and prayers to everyone impacted by Hurricane Harvey. 

Writing Process

In every episode I try to reveal at least one new person of the “Mystery Folk” —  the 36 readers who provided character names when I began this serial. If it’s taking a while for me to get to you… well, I’m doing my best.

I began this serial with an adult (or perhaps elderly) Bedlam Thunder being caught up in a vision of the past — the time when she had her first truly terrifying vision.  In that scene older Bedlam is afraid her current world will experience the dangers of that old vision.

As a writer, I prefer to use flashbacks very sparingly.  However, I felt it was time to remind everyone of that aspect of the story — that the tale older Bedlam relates as the narrator of these episodes also involves much later events.  So Episode-8 includes a brief flashback.

About This Episode 

Another thing I like to do each week, is try to give you something new regarding faery magic or fantastical creatures.  That whimsy often comes to me when I look at those character names, which were left by the readers during my initial call to “come out and play.”

That said, Bedlam Thunder is a seer, even if she hasn’t fully come into her gift.  Her visions have a physical effect on her.  Somehow thinking about that made me wonder… What would it be like to have an examination by a faery doctor?  Read on and you’ll see.


Midsummer Bedlam 8

Christy's_Fur_Devon_Bowler wiki

Shadows of Body and Mind

“Mind if I come along?” Poison Ivy Razorleaf unexpectedly said from behind me.

I was so shocked when the huge scrying stone shattered that I forgot he was there.  A general sense of befuddlement settled on me, from all the strangeness, and the spiritual recoil of the exploding gem.

In the distance I saw Carver Eastdoor holding the huge copper battleax.  Poppy Songbird, with the leashed powderpuff sheep was next to him.  They were surrounded by piles of colorful candies that had exploded harmlessly from the whimsical, magical door that Carver hit with the fae battle ax.

Had Carver’s door somehow connected to the vast gem in Razorleaf’s scrying chamber?  I supposed it must have.

Trying to reorient myself, I mentally retraced my steps.  I had gone through one of three glowing doors when I parted company with Royal Chimera.  Beyond that door I met Poison Ivy Razorleaf and the massive yellowish gray obsidian scrying stone.  It showed me what Carver and Poppy had been doing.

Though I wasn’t sure if they were connected, and had no idea how it could have worked, when Carver destroyed the door he had created, the scrying stone where I was watching them — shattered.

Black Umbrella thomas-charters-299913

Thomas Charters, Unsplash

There was a blast of refracting, shimmering light when the massive gem burst apart.  Sharp as knives, shards and shimmering bits of the obsidian rained down on Razorleaf and me.  He quickly opened a heavy leather umbrella to protect us.  Even so, both of us had several cuts from the glassy shards.  Fortunately our wounds were minor.

I was able to walk back into my own world.

It looked like Poppy and Carver were occupied with the still falling candy.  They hadn’t noticed me in the distance.  Another man, apparently having heard the commotion came from Carver’s house.  He looked first at them, then he seemed to see Razorleaf and me where we stood on the hillside.  He stopped in his tracks.

“Who is that handsome devil?” Razorleaf asked in a flippant yet puzzled voice.  “Is that—”

“It’s hard to tell from here.  Plus I haven’t seen him since we were small children, but I think that’s Ivy Twinkle.  He and Carver were always good friends, and kept in touch even when Ivy’s family moved to the other side of Thistledown.  He must be visiting for the solstice,” I told Razorleaf.  “Um… he looks like you, doesn’t he?”

“Bedlam,” Razorleaf began.  “I was eager to visit your world, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it might be dangerous.”

“Thistledown is a peaceful, safe place,” I assured him.  “You wouldn’t be in danger here.”

“I don’t mean that kind of danger.  I’ve never researched it myself, but some people speculate that if doubles met one another it could be catastrophic,” Razorleaf replied.  “I have a strong hinky feeling.  It’s too big of a risk to take.  Besides, if I start quickly, I might be able to heal the scrying stone.  There is no other as powerful.  I really should try.”

With that, Poison Ivy Razorleaf doffed his bowler hat and bowed grandly.  The sharp edges of the long leaves whooshed against the air as he waved the hat.  With a worried face, he took a final speculative look at Ivy Twinkle.  Then hurried back to the strange rock chamber.

I turned to watch him leave.  The obsidian shards started to rise up in the air, reforming.  Within seconds I could see nothing but the hillside.  It was as if the way through which we entered Thistledown had never existed.

Abruptly I was assailed by another vision.  This one was far worse than any before.


Hand Blue fishes toa-heftiba-270814

Toa Heftiba, Unsplash

The memory of that vision jolted me back to my present.  Looking up, I saw the stars that would soon be in alignment for the solstice.  Seeing my hand and its obvious age, I knew I had been carried away by the powerful revelation from my youth.  I trailed my fingers in the calm water of the pool.

When I had that vision, I had not simply viewed that horror.  I had empathically experienced the spewing emotions of hatred, self-importance, and fear.  I felt vibrations that were caught inside my skull.  I heard a loud whistle that came closer and louder.  Though from far away, the singe of intense heat reached me.

Then I saw the shadows.  Impossible numbers of people were destroyed, wiped from existence.  All that remained were their shadows — shadows that were blasted and burned into the rubble of walls.

I sat beside the scrying pool and wept at the memory of that vision.  I had always felt that those devastating events had really taken place, somewhere.  Perhaps it had been in some other world.  Maybe that was why no one seemed able to relate to it.

So many decades had passed since I had that horrific vision. It wasn’t something I could ever forget.  Why was it brought to me again so strongly? 

Perhaps my words would be heeded now, I thought. 

However, I had never known the respect as a seer that my grand-uncle was given.  I was young no longer.  I didn’t feel physically able to take up a cause.  Yet I couldn’t escape the feeling that those things had truly happened somewhere — and that they could happen again.  Worse, I worried that it could come to my own world, Thistledown.  I was powerless to stop it.

My tears fell into the pool, making ripples.  I was again pulled into the memories of those long ago days.

Black Gray Swirls david-werbrouck-247332

David Werbrouck


Was it like this for Uncle? I wondered.  How could a novice seer be expected to cope?  Not in any of the times he had given me guidance about being a seer, had he mentioned anything like the physical reactions I experienced.

Finally the phantasms released me.  I felt disoriented, queasy, and my head ached from the base of my skull.  A migraine was forming.  I squinted at the light of day.  Vaguely I noted that River Mindshadow and Lavender Cozy were there, but I couldn’t understand why.

“Shadows,” I murmured, trembling.  “Burned into the walls.  So many shadows.”

I sprang from a bed and darted to an open window.  I hung my head outside and vomited.

Weak, shaking, and sweating profusely, I finally became aware of my surroundings.  River took my arm and pointed me back to the bed.  I needed no encouragement to plop back down on the mattress.

The healer, Lavender Cozy, had a large firefly in her hand.  She whispered to the insect and its tail glowed brightly.  Taking my chin in her hand she shined the light in my eyes and looked at them closely.  She did the same at my ears.  Then Lavender took a large seashell.  She placed the wider end of the shell on my chest and put the narrow end to her own ear and listened.1925 Review Ad; butterfly kiss

Lavender went to the window and whistled.  It was a quick series of undulating notes.  A strange looking butterfly fluttered into the room.  It alighted on her outstretched hand.  I saw that it carried a drop of nectar on its tongue.

The healer transferred the butterfly to my neck.  I felt the sticky droplet of nectar.  In a moment a tingling sensation spread throughout my body.  I looked at Lavender Cozy curiously.

“It will be restorative to your system,” she answered my unspoken question. 

I commented about the tingling.  River looked from me to the butterfly and exclaimed that it had only been a tiny drop of nectar.

“It’s from a very powerful plant, a relative of the agave from far away.  A drop is sufficient.  Too much and it’s toxic.  Too often and it’s addictive,” Lavender explained as the butterfly hovered near her head.

The healer made another odd whistle and the butterfly fluttered out the window.  We watched as it moved gracefully into the sky.

“Hey Lavender!” a voice called from outside.  “Are you home?”

I stretched to see out the window.  It was Crescent Glimmer, a distant relation of Catseye.  A sunbeam glinted on a large necklace she wore.

Crescent waved when she saw the three of us looking from the window.  Lavender smiled and murmured something about serendipity.

“I wondered if you had any more of that hairball paste,” Crescent said in a hopeful tone.

“Has Bean been over grooming again?” Lavender asked.  “Come on in and I’ll whip some up in a jiffy.  I see you have your moonstone with you,” the healer commented.  “Do you mind bringing it up here?”

Crescent was quickly in the room.  Concerned pleasantries were exchanged.  She removed the big moonstone from a cord around her neck.  She handed the gem to the healer.

“Was Bedlam injured?” Crescent wanted to know.

“Not physically.  Although her aura indicates otherwise,” Lavender commented as she looked at me through the luminous moonstone.

Glitter face h-heyerlein-199092

Heyerlein, Unsplash

“That vision!” River stated.  “It’s hurt her, hasn’t it?  It was so powerful and so awful that it physically harmed her.  I’ve said from the beginning that Bedlam is having more than a simple vision.”

Lavender nodded and answered in a matter-of-fact voice.  She managed to include everyone with a glance.

“Bedlam, you are easily as powerful a seer as your grand-uncle.  However, your talent is much greater than your control over it.  Anyone who underestimates your ability should think again,” Lavender Cozy said as she continued to look at me through the moonstone.

Then to my surprise, and apparently everyone else’s as well, she turned the moonstone to River.

“River Mindshadow, you are progressing true to your name.  I’ve waited to see if this talent would manifest in you,” Lavender said, and River looked uneasy — as if she already knew what would be said next and she she was resistant to the idea.  “You can follow the shadows within the mind.  You just haven’t figured out the knack of it yet.  Not to worry.  All things in their time,” Lavender added in such a way that no one questioned the curious statement.

“You’re in shock, Bedlam,” the healer told me gently.  “And your aura needs the healing that can only come through rest.  I’d better not see you leave this bed until I say so,” she added quite firmly.


The End

In this episode we had the pleasure of seeing several old friends again.  One new person among the mystery folk was revealed:  Annette Rochelle Aben.  Be sure to visit Annette at her blog.  I hope you’ll say hello to as many of the other mystery folk as you can.  Until next time—

Hugs on the wing!


This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. 

Copyright © 2017 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.



Thistledown – Midsummer Bedlam 7

Cathedral of Learning Dan Antion

Cathedral of Learning; Photo by Dan Antion

For a few episodes, I have thought this unplanned tale would take me to a feature of fellow blogger, Dan Antion.  His blog has a number of fun features throughout the week, notably Thursday Doors.  Now and then he also does posts about trains or trolleys. Many times I see a story in one of the pictures.  Dan graciously gave me permission to use some of the door and trolley photos from his posts. 

Writing Process

The pantser story kept causing me to mention the character Dan named, leading up to who knew what.  Now I’m finally featuring him.  It carries over to the following episode as well.  However, even then, I’m not sure if I’ve finished with the doors thing.  (Dan can tell you that “Doors” can come to have a strong effect on people.) If you think the uncertainty of where I’m going is enough to drive me nuts…  Let’s just say that it was a short trip.

Need to Catch-up? Last weekend I interrupted this serial to announce my latest novel, Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I.  My heartfelt thanks again to everyone who so generously participated in the book launch!  ❤   Anyhow, I realize you might need to refresh your memory so here are some links.  

Episode 6  and Links to all past episodes.

About This Episode

This time Bedlam Thunder meets a new character from the other faery-verse.  She’s not quite sure what to make of him, but I have a hunch that he might have another part to play in this serial.  I’m just not sure precisely what, or when.  

When we left Bedlam last time, the counterpart of Catseye Glimmer — Royal Chimera, warned her to leave right away.  Then three glowing doors appeared.  When she entered one, I wasn’t so sure how well that was working out for her.  So let’s get on with Episode-7 right now.


Midsummer Bedlam 7

Märchendom Saalfelder Feengrotten


Doors and Doors



It was neither hot nor cold, but in a state near panic I began to sweat.  Was it reality or a horrible dream of being blind and deaf?

“Leave this place before it’s too late!”

Royal Chimera’s warning was strongly in my mind.  How did he expect me to leave when I didn’t know how I had gotten there?  I didn’t know, except that I followed the sandhill cranes. 

Then three doors, glowing with blue light had appeared. 

Had I left that place at all?  The darkness in which I found myself seemed like it should be part of that bleak world. 

One thing seemed sure, I had somehow left Thistledown. 

I exhaled a trembling breath.  Tiny sounds of my clothes rustling told me I was not deaf.  Although my ears had the unpleasant, stopped-up sensation of being underwater.  I shook my head and stretched my jaw, trying to make the feeling go away.

My eyes became adjusted to the dark, and I found that things were more gray than black.  I spotted a dim light and cautiously moved toward it.

I reached the source of the un-dark.  That’s how I thought of it, since it wasn’t exactly light.  It reminded me of the reflection pool, but it stood upright.  I extended a hand and touched a cool gemstone surface.  On closer inspection I thought it must be obsidian.  Yet rather than any color I knew the gem to be, it was pale grayish yellow.  It gave off a diffused glow.

Black Gray Swirls david-werbrouck-247332

David Werbrouck, Unsplash

As I gazed at it, my eye muscles twitched, as if they tried to cross.  I blinked and an image formed.  It was of the tall stone wall where I last saw Poppy Songbird minding the powderpuff sheep.

Wind gusted, just as it had when I left to deliver that message for Poppy.  A twinge of guilt came to me.  I hadn’t delivered the message yet.

The view went upward, over the wall.  Poppy was there coaxing the sheep toward the enclosure.  One animal lagged behind.  Suddenly the wind touched it just right, and the sheep lifted into the air.  The gust took the sheep so quickly that I gasped.

Poppy darted into the sky after the sheep.  Soon she sat astride the accidentally wayward animal.  It bleated in a way that suggested relief, though they were still airborne.  By appearances, Poppy rode a flying sheep.  However, the powderpuffs had no control over their flight.  It was Poppy who controlled the flying. 

Her flower-shaped spectacles were askew, but Poppy held the sheep tightly as her wings fluttered furiously.  Eventually, Poppy and the extra fluffy sheep touched down, but they had traveled some distance.

Purple wings shimmered in the sunlight.  Lavender Cozy fluttered down beside Poppy and the sheep.  She looked worried.  Since Lavender was a gifted healer, her concerned expression made me fearful.

“Poppy, are you okay?” Lavender asked, already checking my friend’s eyes and heart rate.  “I saw that wild flight.  I got here as fast as I could.”

“Fit as a fiddle, Doc!  You must have really been zooming to get here so quick.  But then, you always were one of the fastest things on wings,” Poppy said with a grin.  “Although, I would appreciate it if you could take a look at this powderpuff.  They’re pretty unflappable, but I’d feel better to have your opinion.”

“He’s just fine,” the healer commented, after examining the sheep.  “I’m sorry to rush, but I was on the way to a patient.  So as long as you weren’t traumatized, I’d best leave,” Lavender told her with a wink.

Everyone knew Poppy was not easily rattled, so they both grinned and had a quick hug.  Then Lavender darted into the sky.

As I watched the scene via what was apparently a gigantic scrying stone, I saw Carver Eastdoor hurry toward Poppy.

“Wow, Poppy!  That was some show,” Carver greeted her.  “If they make sheep wrangling a sport you’ll be a champion.”

“Did Bedlam give you the message from my cousin Holly?” Poppy asked him, but her brows knitted in a worried expression as if she already knew the answer.

“Bedlam?  No, I haven’t seen her in ages.  Do you mean she was on her way to see me?  I can tell you are afraid something is wrong,” Carver said.  “There’s a shortcut Bedlam might have used, a deer trail that parallels the pond at the Dragonfly orchard.  I’ll go that way and make sure nothing has happened to her.”

In a jiffy Poppy tied a harness and leash around the powderpuff sheep.  The animal’s hooves frequently lifted from the ground.

“You need a trim so you won’t be so buoyant,” she told the sheep, who made a plaintive bleat in return.  “I’m coming with you!” she called as she hurried to catch up with Carver.

1 Butterfly wing

I whirled away from the scrying stone.  I hadn’t heard anything, but I had the strong sense that someone else was there.  Out of the shadows walked a man wearing a bowler hat.  At first I thought the hat was decorated by three feathers standing from the band.  As he came closer I realized they were not feathers but long, sharp-edged leaves.

Nervously I took a step backward.  I stopped when I saw his disarming smile, but I didn’t relax.  He swept off the bowler had and bowed with a flourish.

Poison Ivy Razorleaf,” he proclaimed himself.  “At your service m’lady.  I see you’ve already found and brought light to the scrying mirror.  You must have quite the talent, Bedlam Thunder.”

My mouth moved noiselessly.  I didn’t know what to say or whether it was safe to be with the strange fae.  The edges of the leaves in his hatband looked sharp enough to cut like a knife.  They glinted even in the dim light as he returned the hat to his head.

“How do you know my name?” I demanded.

Or rather I tried to demand.  It came out as a whisper.

“As the keeper of the mirror, I pick up a lot of information.  Selling it actually makes for a decent livelihood.  I’m not that much of a seer, so I have to supplement my income.  Oh, don’t look like that.  I don’t blackmail anyone or do anything too unscrupulous,” he told me with a twinkle in his eyes and a saucy grin.

The huge scrying stone dimmed for a moment before showing Poppy and Carver again.  They were at Carver’s home.  I watched as he and Poppy spoke briefly with his wife and little daughter.  Then they hurried around to the back where Carver had made a huge sheltered work area.

“That’s quite a setup,” Poison Ivy Razorleaf commented as he stood beside me watching.

I jumped a little.  I didn’t realize the fae had stepped that close to me.  However, his attention was fixed on the image in the obsidian.

“Ah!” Poison Ivy exclaimed in a knowing voice.  “I had wondered how I could get you home, but maybe I don’t need to.”

His comment surprised me.  What did he mean by that?  My eyes involuntarily sought a way out of the strange shadowy chamber.

“Most intriguing,” he murmured, still looking at the image of Carver and Poppy.

“I was making this for your cousin Holly and her band to make a grand entrance at the solstice party Peaches is giving,” I heard Carver say.  “But I think we better use it now.”

Carver disappeared from my view.  I saw Poppy waiting before an elaborately designed door.  The colors decorating the door stood out brightly in the dull chamber.  Surrounding the door was a cloud-like border made of every imaginable candy.  Although he was out of view, I heard Carver say the sweets would fly out into the party crowd in a harmless, happy explosion when Holly Songbird came through it.

Saks Fifth Avenue Christmas Dan Antion

Saks Fifth Avenue at Christmas, photo by Dan Antion

Then he and Poppy had an intense conversation.  I couldn’t make out their words, but Poppy looked really worried.  Beside me, Poison Ivy Razorleaf rocked back on his heels and grinned in what seemed like anticipation.

Finally Carver reappeared.  He held a huge copper ax.

“Where did you get that relic?” Poppy asked him.  “It looks like it was made for chopping more than wood,” she added with a cringe.

“It belonged to my great-great-great grandfather,” Carver answered.  “And you’re right.  It was a battleax.  He had a storied life.  Thankfully there has never been a battle in Thistledown.”

I couldn’t explain why, but Carver’s words made me shiver.  Razorleaf looked at me and chuckled.

Then Carver braced himself and swung the massive ax at the beautiful door he had created.

“It was nice to meet you, Bedlam Thunder,” Razorleaf said in a sardonic voice.

The enormous scrying stone went blank.  A sound like the entire world shattering filled my ears.

The End


Now, how could Carver Eastdoor think destroying that delicious door could help?  However, he knows his faery magic much better than anyone else.  Come back next time to learn what happened.  

New mystery folk revealed in this episode were Hugh Roberts, and Victo Dolore.  Please take a look at their wonderful blogs.  

Until next time, hugs on the wing!


This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. 

Copyright © 2017 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

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