Apart from being fantasy the pic has nothing to do with the story - must get around to doing one for it someday - hope you enjoy - but any comment is good The violence is purely comical Out of the Ashes ‘Tam had seen the heinous creatures emerge from their ash mounds before but the sight of it still clawed at her gut and liquefied her leg muscles so that it was nearly impossible to stand. First came the plumed serpent of a neck, the hard beak atop it screeching raucously. Then the shoulders shook free of the fine grey dust. When the bulk of the body had risen sufficiently, black oily wings sprang out on either side and beat heavily on the air, exploding dust in all directions. Beneath this shroud of dust the creature kicked free its taloned feet and then hopped greedily towards the wall at the perimeter of the mound. Here it began to use both talon and beak to tear great strips of bloodied gore off the human carcasses that were the wall’s bricks and mortar.’ ‘Wait a minute!’ ‘Not quite finished! She turned slowly and crawled behind a nearby tree, where after retching violently a number or times without effect, she finally, mercifully blacked out. You were saying?’ ‘This is meant to be a children’s story isn’t it, not some gothic horror movie?’ ‘The Goths never had movies. They went straight from illuminated manuscripts to DVDs via electronic slide presentations. The horror was, understandably, in the slide presentations.’ ‘You know what I mean. What about this Tam character? How come she’s a girl? And where did you dig up the name Tam? It sounds like half a chocolate biscuit!’ ‘If you must know I got the name from the first part of a number plate I followed to work this morning. I thought it sounded Chinesey. Is that a word? Oriental anyway. And quite a lot of shes are girls, or haven’t you noticed? Surely you’re not saying that you have a problem with the main character being female? I’m sorry I just can’t work with stereotypes. My typist is one of those butch hairy feminists. He gives me hell all the time about not presenting enough positive role models for alternative lifestylers in my writing.’ ‘Why not just fire him and get someone else to do your typing?’ ‘I would have, years ago, but I’m married to his father. It‘s the third time around for both of us. Everyone’s brought a lot of baggage to the relationship. He’s one of my hubby’s larger suitcases.’ ‘Okay! The point is, this is still not a children’s story is it?’ ‘I think you’re wrong there! Kids these days love all the over the top horror stuff. If I include some booger and the contents of your average toilet bowl we’ll have a bestseller on our hands.’ ‘No! I’m sorry. You’ll have to rework it. This is a paid commission and I know the guy who’s footing the bill. You’ll have to tone it down or he’ll throw it in the WPB and toss a lighted match in afterwards. I’ve seen him do it. Nothing ever gets resurrected from that ashtray.’ ‘Tim had seen the funny birds coming up out of their holes in the dirt before and had laughed so much he’d almost wet himself. This time it was just the same. The mouth and wiggly worm neck came first with a loud honk. Then came the rainbow coloured body and the sunny yellow wings that popped out like a clown’s umbrella going up. It steadied itself on wobbly legs and waddled over to the wall where it began tearing the hot, screaming throat out of the human sacrifice chained to the…’ ‘Hey!’ ‘Sorry! …waddled over to the wall, hopped up, perched itself on top and began cooing softly. Tim was still full of cake and ice cream from the party and feeling just a little sleepy, so he waved bye-bye to the funny bird, and went looking for his pillow and blanket. It was time for a nap.’ ‘Much better! Although I’m not sure about the wetting himself bit. How about? – He laughed so much his tummy hurt. Or maybe – felt like it might get sore if he laughed much longer?’ ‘Whatever.’ ‘You don’t sound too enthusiastic?’ I’m a writer. Writers are prone to fits of depression. Gives the craft some depth. You know, highest high, lowest low? More room for the muse to play freely in between?’ ‘Moose? I’m afraid you’ve lost me.’ ‘I’m afraid you’re the least of what I’ve lost.’ ‘Sorry, what was that?’ ‘Never mind. Must be time for morning tea? I’d die for one of those chocky bikkies you bite both ends off of and suck your coffee through. Can’t for the life of me remember what they’re called though, can you?’ ‘This is a complete and utter load of crap Jordan! I thought you had Le Caffrey writing it, not some Playskool reject.’ ‘She is! Writing it I mean! Why? Are their still adjustments that need to be made?’ ‘Tell me Jordan. Are you in the habit of creating made to measure suits from your own faecal material?’ ‘I don’t quite get your drift sir?’ ‘I’ll put it simply then. I don’t want adjustments made Jordan! Flush this shit and start again! And while you’re at it, wipe your goddamn nose? There’s a dried booger the size of a toenail hanging from it!’ ‘Yes sir, thankyou sir!’ Tam awoke feeling totally refreshed. The pain and anguish of the previous day had all but disappeared. She could sense that Anne was writing again, this time without the interference of that moron Jordan, and this encouraged her even more. She slung the bow and sheath of arrows over her right shoulder and the bag with her food and drink over the left, kicked dust into the hollow where she had lain during the night and headed east through the trees and towards the sunrise. There was no time to lose. The Black Pearl would not stay hidden from the Emperor for long. Shung Lao had already broken the Seventh Seal and here in the strongholds of the west, as Tam had seen with her own eyes, the Phoenix were rising. The infant in her belly rolled and kicked once, just under her ribs, as she wound her way along the deep forest paths. ‘This is going to be difficult, she thought, but at least it will be real.’ Tim never awoke from his nap. Even Jordan finally admitted that this was probably for the best!