The More Things Change

Submission to:

FORUM

Magic Words Contest   (13+) A fantasy short story contest. Fantastic Prizes. Closed #1871010 by A E Willcox

Word count: 3613 including glossary
Word list 1 & 2 --bound, ephemeral, flap, robust, zest, & blunder, cadaverous, rabble, tropical, zeal.







The More Things Change


Anwylyd stared at the parchment she held in her shaking, bony fingers. Her mind whirled with the implications of the scroll she'd found on her front stoop. She had been on her way out to greet the dawn, as she did every morn, and almost stepped on the rolled vellum in the dim predawn lightening. Bending her cadaverous body to pick up the missive, one hand supporting herself on her ever-present gnarled Blackwood oaken staff, she felt a strange tingling, a vibe that felt this was from away. As usual, her feelings were perceptive and it was, indeed, from away. Far, far away and awhen. Squinting her aged eyes, and shifting it closer to the wavering flame of her candle, she read the tightly scribbled letter again.

Carlad Anwylyd,

I greet you across the miles twisted by time and fate. For, I inscribe these words from eight hundred years in your future, my past in the year two-thousand and twenty-one. I have little faith (at this moment) that this will reach you intact, for it may well crumble in the sending. I have no concept if the passages of time will hinder its timely arrival or not. But that dilemma should be answered shortly. One way or another. We are kin, after a fashion, for I am descended from your sister although the scale of generations is enough to make my headache most fiercely.

I write from what you might call the Kingdom of Michigan, a place far across the western ocean, beyond the edges of what you may think possible, beyond, as it were, where the dragon sleeps. It is a pleasant sort of place of many small lakes and bound on three sides by great inland seas of freshwater that one cannot see across from even the highest oak. My kingdom is in the shape of a mitten; it is said that God or the Goddess (depending upon which one believes in) put her left hand down upon the land, marking it as her own. It is, usually, a fair place indeed.

Duw annwyl, what a conundrum we are facing. It is enough to make the plague seem like a bit of a cold, this sickness that has infected the peoples of this land. It is a two-headed monster. In my time, it stretches out its fangs across the world, reaching to your lands and beyond to the east. Part of it is a sickness of the body. This, they seem to be making progress on, although they fight even that amongst themselves. Perhaps, at times, the other is even more insidious. It is a sickness of the mind.

The people here are educated and smart. They have the means to work and grow. With enough energy and determination, anyone here can be richer than even the high lords of your time. They are a robust and well-traveled people. They are strong. But their great weakness is that they have much fear. They fear what they do not understand, and yet, are equally afeared of learning what they need to know to comprehend. Instead, they blunder about, trying this, trying that. They are quick to jump and slow to step back, let alone admit they might have made a mistake.

You know the various caste systems. You are familiar with the differences between the high lords and those that work the soil or tend the pigs for an overlord. Here, the overlords are different. There is one head with many bodies. It rules the land. Under this great lord, there are the people who are free and yet do not see each other in this way. They look with old eyes, think with old blames and the result is a great division. They seem incapable of seeing that beneath their outer shells, they are all the same.

Might you know of some lost magic that might yn diffodd the twpsyn afore they erupt into a fiery hoard set to destroy one another? If so, I pray you puzzle out a way to impart these means to me. The situation here is desperate. My mind is all a flap and a bother. I do not know what else to try.

Your servant across the miles and the eons, Newid

Anwylyd sat down heavily in her intricately carved rocker. Swiping a hand through her long, steel-grey hair, she chewed her bottom lip as she contemplated her dilemma. Should she go forward? Did she want to go forward? Could she help him even if she did? Common folk were known to be fractious in the best of times. She shook her head. This was a whole hive of bees that was just begging to go on a sting.


She knew what she should do. And she knew what she would do. Gathering the various items she would bring with her, she carefully added them to a leather bag. Staves of wheat, foxglove, moonfull water, her last two dragon claws after the one she'd need for her outward journey, a vial of devirgined blood, her athame, four white candles, and several gold coins.

Carefully, she drew a circle in the sandy floor of her cott, set the candles at the four compass points and slowly waved her hand over each candle, watching as each caught and the four flames flickered to life.

Earth, fire, water air
I call on you, my spell be fair.
Send me whence my missive came
Send me safe by candle's flame.

The earth rumbled and dust shook, falling from the rafters of her ancient hovel. A sound of roaring wind filled her ears, her sight teared, but she could see time flashing by even as she felt herself thin and as if naught more than ephemeral smoke, be blown far, far away and awhen to the west. Three times she saw the ball of the burning sun chase her on her journey.

Then she landed hard in shallow water at the edge of a water she could not see across. Dragging her hand across her faces, wiping splashed water from her lips, she tasted no salt. A lake then, she mused. She was at the edge of a large village of homes the size of fortresses. She stood there staring, not quite sure where to look next. Looking up, she saw white streamers crawling across the sky. In front of her, between the houses, she saw strange wagons moving down a road but there were no horses to pull them along.

"Anwylyd. Is it really you? I never thought that you might journey forward. Come, I am sure you have been fatigued by your journey. Come into my home."

She looked around at the large dwelling near the edge of the water. "This building is your home? It looks big enough to house half a village."

He smiled. "Yes, everything is bigger these days. Sit. Let me brew you some tea."

She watched as the young man, thin, with fine features and dark brown hair limped into what must be his hearth, yet she saw no sign of a fireplace. She wandered around his space. She shook her head at the idea of separate rooms for different functions. Seemed a waste of steps.

He brought in the teapot, cups, and a strong-smelling brew of tea. "I have much to show you."

He picked up a small black stunted wand and pushed on it. A black box erupted light and sound, startling her. A man was pictured there, talking and waving his hands at yet another picture behind him.

"And today, here in Miami, riots broke out again after yet another shooting..."

She held up her hand and he muted the TV. "What is that thing? How does it ... "

"It's called a television. It lets me see things elsewhere. Not everything, just what they show us."

"Who is 'they?"

"The people who run the show on that channel. There are hundreds of channels. Each will say different things--or their impression of things. Not always truth. Hard to sort it all out at times."

Her eyes were glazed over, and he could see her thoughts whizzing around in her head like angry gnats.
"Where are they? I see no trees like that here."

"They are in Florida. It's like a different kingdom way south of here where it is hot all the time. It's a palm tree and it only grows where it's hot or tropical."

Anwylyd held out her hand and looked at her palm. "Alright, I guess I can see why it is called a palm. Your kingdom, you said it was like a handprint. Do they name everything around body parts here?"

Newid laughed. "No, no they don't. So, what the man on TV was talking about is that there are all these different camps of people. White, black, yellow, brown, red. They all are under the impression that some of the others have it out for them, or they blame ones a different color for all their problems. Or they think some get treated better than the others. The result is very little trust and many of them simply don't like people of a different race. So they fight and blame and fight some more."

She looked at him in disbelief. "In other words, nothing has changed much in a thousand years. There have always been the haves and the have nots, the ones with power and the ones without. Those that are on top of the heap and those who clamor to be at the top. Apparently, they still have not learned to get along, to realize that under the skin, they are all the same. You would think by now they would all be color-blind and just get along."

He sighed. "No, not yet. Then you add in who believes in which God and whose god is more important or the right god and that just adds to it. Here, in this country, the Europeans came and took the country from the people who were already living here. The conquered ones weren't assimilated into the population and stayed to themselves. Then the people in Africa sold some of their people to the Europeans who brought them here as slaves. Slavery was outlawed years ago, but it still bothers some of the people. After the slaves were freed, they, too, had trouble being accepted into the general throng.

"Hundreds of years later, you have lots of people believing different things and they just don't always want to work or play well together. It's a mess and getting worse every day."

"And you think I can fix this? Oh, my boy, would that I could. But I cannot wave my wand and have people all choose to get along. It simply does not work that way. It never has and it never will. It is a fairy tale. People rarely change. Little bits possibly, but then someone else comes in, sees the general rabble-rousting going on and takes over. And so it just continues. It is the way of the world, child. Someone insisting everyone just stop thinking what they've thought for generations and now begin to think something else, isn't realistic.

"If I might change the subject. Where is your necessary?"

"You're going to love this!" He took her hand and showed her the way to his bathroom. Pointing at the toilet, he said, "You sit there, wipe yourself with the paper on that roll, drop it in the bowl and then push this lever."

Her eyes were wide. "And that?" she said pointing at the glass-walled shower.

"It replaced the tubs you know. No more hauling water. It comes through pipes in the walls and rains down on you. Soap comes in packages now," he said, pointing to a greenish-blue bar of Zest soap in a niche in the wall. Backing out, he closed the door, leaving the old crone to marvel in private.

When she came out of the bathroom, she found him sitting at the desk and tapping his fingers on a board with letters on it. "What is that?" she asked.

"I'm just sending a friend an Email. It's like writing scrolls or letters, only faster. It goes through the air to where they are and then, they can read my words. We can talk on small machines that let us converse back and forth too."
"You have very powerful magic here in your time."

"Funny thing is, no one thinks of it as magic. It's called technology now."

"In other words, they do not appreciate what they have."

He nodded. "They pretty much take it for granted." He paused. "You can't help them, can you?"

"I am not sure they really want to be helped. If they all agreed to for a new order, then they might. But people have always squabbled and if it was not over the things you told me, it would be over something else. Obviously, people really do not change. For all the miracles of your age, all the magic they have, or their tech-knowledgies: they truly know little. It is a sad state of affairs, but there you have it."

Newid sat in a chair and elbows on his knees, put his head in his hands. "I don't know what to do."

"Why must you do anything?"

"I am afraid for them. In the past, we could guide them, they looked to us. In this time, in this place, no one can tell anyone what to do. Tell anyone to do a specific thing, they will almost go out of their way to do the opposite. They break laws because they can and will blame others for the reason they broke it in the first place.

"I think back to the days of King Arthur, Camelot and the Round Table. He had the right idea but even then, his table was cracked right down the middle. And it all fell apart. Now, they have these things called gun that they kill each other with. They have long distant bombs - like catapults that can destroy an entire city. If they set too many of them off ..."

"They will blow themselves right back to my time, except it will still be the now and they will have to start over. Again." she finished.

Newid's large green eyes filled with tears. "I feel so helpless."

"You are, I am afraid. There is no mere magic to fix this muddle. The greatest wizard in all the land could no more fix this than he could walk on the moon."

He laughed at the irony. "They did, you know."

"Did what?"

"Walk on the moon. They sent spaceships to fly there and landed. Men have, indeed, walked on the moon."

"That moon? The one up there?" she questioned, pointing towards the sky. "My word. Why are they wasting time worrying about going to another world when they cannot run this one right? They have mighty magic here, but I prefer my world. You know where you stand, at least. You might not like the lot in life you were born into, but you know the rules.

"I suppose anyone here thinks they can grow up and become the king?"

"Pretty much."

"Anyone? Even if they don't know how? It is not an easy job."

He looked at her and shrugged.

"Would you want to give all this up and come back with me? I have not the strength in these old bones to get you back here should you change your mind."

"Can I think about it overnight? It would give you some time to see what life is like on this side of the veil."

"I've seen more than enough, thank you very much. Seems to me that much of your world is all flash and mirrors. Instead of living a life with the zeal to accomplish the missions that the gods gave them, they waste their energies talking big games, playing, and squabbling like young children. They need a nap!" She stopped, suddenly, as if contemplating.

"What? Do you have an idea?"

"Short of putting everyone here to sleep for a hundred years? No, but it is a nice thought though," she smiled ruefully. "No, you cannot help those who do not want to be helped. You cannot make people think differently because one faction or another says it is the right thing to do, even if it might be. They just are not patterned that way. You could give them the same thousand years they have had back in my neck of the world, and maybe, just maybe, they might be further ahead than now, but I doubt it. And they certainly cannot change the world overnight or in a few years.

"That takes acceptance, giving in what they've always believed, and giving up what they think is the status quo so that someone else can have the reins. No one gives up the tower when they have taken it. I've seen it time and time again. Towers may topple, but they are built right back up again. One time it is one kingdom. The next it is another until the first one comes and takes it back. The back and forths are the scales the world balances on."

"I suppose you are right, but still... "

"It is not a matter of being right. It just is. They will war with each other until one or the other is beaten down. And, my young friend, make no mistake, it is a war. And no war, regardless of who wins, ever has a truly happy ending because there is always someone who is not happy with the way it ended.

"I grow weary. I want to go back to my home. I want to go back where I belong. Are you going to come with me?"

"I don't know." He looked around at the TV, his computer, thought of refrigerators and showers. Thought of driving his car to the store to buy whatever he needed and his ability to go to a doctor when he needed healing.

Magic was all fine and well as far as it went, and it was certainly easier to cloak his activities in the now. He didn't have to worry about witch hunts. But.

But then, he could stay, helpless to effect any change, useless when friends were killed because of the color of their skin regardless of the color, for he'd seen those scenarios go in all directions. One voice, one hundred voices, yea, ten hundred thousand could insist on change, and it might indeed happen, until the next time people wanted to change the order of the world again.

"Mortals only live a hundred years or so. Longer than in the past, but still, seems to be a more or less set timeframe. They don't live long enough to see what happens down the road. They don't live long enough to see if a change was for the better or not or merely a middle road where all is still not perfect. They always think what they do will make a better world. But sometimes, I have learned, they are wrong.

"Maybe they have the better of it. They don't have the long sight and they certainly have short memories, for they rarely learn from what came before. Or they seem to change the memories to something else, erase what was, and in so doing, erase any lesson to be learned. You are right. They don't seem to change at all, really. They have more advantages now than in the past two thousand years, But they refuse to take advantage of those advantages! Again, maybe that is because they don't live as long as we do. The gods, in their wisdom, probably have the right of it all, but it's hard. So hard."

Anwylyd looked him straight in his eyes, steel blue meeting sea green. I offer you a rare gift, my son. Perhaps, it is meant that you can bring back with you what you have seen and learned. No things, but a great deal of knowledge. What you've learned along the way couldn't help you in the learning, but the knowing may help as you retrace your journey or forge a new path. Perhaps, in the past there will be steps you could take that will affect the recent past, the last several hundred years or the now, and perhaps, change it for the better."

""You think?" He stood, mind made up. "Then I shall go back with you. It will be worth it. At least, I need to hope it shall."


"Remember, you can bring nothing from the now back with you aside from the clothes you are now wearing. I will give you garments when we are back in the then."

He nodded as she cast a circle on the shore of the lake. A flash of light and then nothing. Nothing at all.






Three hours later, a man walking his dog of dubious parentage sat down on a rock at the edge of the water. It had been a long walk from town, and he was tired. His dog eagerly splashed around in the water before bounding back and forth along the beach. He looked down, and there, on the ground was a twenty-dollar bill and twenty-one cents in change.









wc 3613


Glossary of Welsh words and majical phrases


Anwylyd- Name, means darling or beloved
carlad - dearest one
Duw annwyl - a phrase, almost swearing, meaning dear God! or the like
Newid - change
twpsyn - stupid
Yn diffodd - switch off