Serializations of the Hitherby Dragons novels

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Posted by on Sep 21, 2012 in Stomping the World Round: Chapter 0 (Prologue) | 0 comments

And he lifts down the meat scissors from the upper shelf, to cut up the pancake enemy; and he takes up a fork and he turns it around and he offers it to Jane; and with a third hand — for telekinetic hands are not of such limited supply as real ones — he offers her the sour cream.

“But you’re hungry,” he says, and her stomach rumbles.

“Oh, Johnny,” whispers Jane.

Posted by on Sep 21, 2012 in Stomping the World Round: Chapter 0 (Prologue) | 0 comments

– 6 –

Posted by on Sep 23, 2012 in Stomping the World Round: Chapter 0 (Prologue) | 0 comments

It wasn’t because he was her enemy! It wasn’t even because he was “climbing up to the omega plateau” and was going to destroy the world or anything like that. Whatever!

She was just hungry!

That was all.

Posted by on Sep 23, 2012 in Stomping the World Round, Stomping the World Round: Chapter 0 (Prologue) | 0 comments

Rock

. . .

Posted by on Sep 24, 2012 in Stomping the World Round: Chapter 1 | 0 comments

Chapter 1: Gold from a Wolf

Posted by on Sep 25, 2012 in Stomping the World Round, Stomping the World Round: Chapter 1 | 0 comments

[Wolf Image]Fenris Wolf, by Anthony Damiani

Fenris Wolf (~2022, Brentwood) [Enemies Endure]

Posted by on Sep 25, 2012 in Pictures | 0 comments

– 1 –

Posted by on Sep 26, 2012 in Stomping the World Round: Chapter 1 | 0 comments

Deep under the world is Hans, who first made sense of things. Hans, who built the world from chaos. Hans the smith; Hans the farmer; Hans the dwarf.

Sene-Goat/Pike-Goat (~2022, Reston) [Enemies Endure]

Posted by on Sep 26, 2012 in Pictures | 0 comments

. . .

Posted by on Sep 26, 2012 in Stomping the World Round: Chapter 1 | 0 comments

Sometimes people do bad things.

. . .

Posted by on Sep 26, 2012 in Stomping the World Round: Chapter 1 | 0 comments

Hans loves the world. He doesn’t live in it.

He keeps his farm in the cavernous darkness, under the surfaces of things, instead.

His farm is beneath the centipede that writhes inside the world. It is past, and under, the Great Gate. It is past and beyond the bridge where march the soldiers of the dead. It is not all that far from Hell.

. . .

Posted by on Sep 26, 2012 in Stomping the World Round: Chapter 1 | 0 comments

If you were to go to visit him you would have to find your way past all those things, and past the Weave-wid too, and many other dangers; but when those trials were behind you, you would find yourself in a realm of gentle, rolling hills and growing things and among the houses of the svart-alfar, where certain fairy-tale things survived.

You would walk then their roads and taste possibly of their grapes and marvel at their wonders and the triumphs; and there you would find Hans’ farm, too, with its stone in many colors, its caves and its grottos, its fields and its artificial sky.

Each morning there a sun-bird rises.

It bursts from Hans’ sun-bird eggs. It tears free of its enclosure. It plummets upwards. It strikes its head against the stalactites of the caverns, cracks its head open, bursts into flames, and gives over the roof to glow.

This fades eventually into night.

. . .

Posted by on Sep 26, 2012 in Stomping the World Round: Chapter 1 | 0 comments

The night, near Hans’ farm, holds only shining echoes and memories of the morning’s madness. Crystal veins throb with subtle luminance. Butterflies flutter, flicker, glow. The slime of the moon-beast’s fur has taken in the sunlight; it reflects it, slowly; it doles out that reflection, in gleams and glitters and pale shimmers, through all the hours of the dark.

It is a beautiful farm but it is a doleful farm for the things Hans does are bad.

. . .

Posted by on Sep 27, 2012 in Stomping the World Round: Chapter 1 | 0 comments

It is bad to write blank checks to a wallaby.

Oh, Hans, it is bad.

It distracts the wallaby from the things of its life. It makes the wallaby perplexed. It has no place in its mind to hold the checks, and one too many options in its flesh. It is not ready to be rich, not that wallaby; Hans has ruined it; and if one day it should fill out and cash those checks a terrible accounting is sure to come.

Emu (~1995, the Underworld) [Enemies Endure]

Posted by on Sep 27, 2012 in Pictures | 0 comments