Well I have been looking through my writing work today and have been trying to decide if I should send some of it into magazines  so that it can be printed as short stories or tea time teaser breaks.

Opinions would be much appreciated

The one  that triggered this thought was the one below – which is currently unnamed but I may go with the name of the butterfly and the cane

It is an urban fantasy ideal and can work as a short I think or as part of a longer prose and it may be one of those that I will develop at a later date.

Any way your feedback and ideas would be much appreciated on this matter, so sit back read and enjoy.  Please note that this is still a WIP and I appreciate some work on grammar and structure is still needed

The Butterfly and the Cane

The alley was dark and unobtrusive to the naked eye.  Nothing would have caught the ordinary person’s eye unless you were particularly looking for it.  Under one of the stone archways was a twinkling, of lights and stars like dust caught in a sunbeam, or that imagery within a cartoon, where a character has been knocked out.  From the top of the alleyway, walked a man in a long evening cape and tall top hat more suited to that of Victorian England than modern day 2012.  However his notice and appearance went unnoticed by the passersby on the street above.  His cane echoed hollowly off the walls around the alleyway and provided a third step to his gaiety walk.  He wandered down to the covered part of the archway where the lights were twinkling

“Ah there you are” He said

“Come down, we need to talk”

The lights twinkled and danced and formed a colourless yellow formation of a girl in front of him.  The girl had long hair and was of slender built and was wearing a long dress, more commonly associated with the images of medieval England.

“What is this I hear you have been up to?”

“What father?”

“How about this then, why are you hiding?”

“It is not intentional, but you know how the modern world scares me.  I fear for our safety and how much resonance we still have in the world as it stands today”

The man sighed.  He put his hand inside of his cape and pulled out what looked like a flat piece of cloth, gave it a quick shake and it folded itself out into a pouf.  He lent himself against his cane and rested himself against it.  “My dear, come here”

“The world will always evolve and there will be times when we appear far from its mind and times when we are close at hand.  But you know there are always friends of ours, who see and know of us, whether they are aware or not.  It is through these people that we will continue to live and reside and be strong”

“I know this, but I don’t know why it scares me so.  It feels so different this time, as if there is darkness out there, a darkness which is covering their minds, their ability to see or hear anything which is not of their world or of immediate access to themselves”

The man sighed. The problem was he knew his daughter spoke of a long forgotten truth, a truth which only a handful of our kind could see or speak of.  Her words were chilling to hear but the truth they must be.  It was part of the reason she choose hidden dark recess’ to hide, for it were not only the world which scared her but the truth which she feared that would come.

They just sat there for some time in silence, letting the world pass them by before her father spoke again.  “I can’t change what you see, or what you feel, but hiding from it never changes anything, if anything it normally escalates the situation” No sooner had the words left his mouth than a hollow and cold cackle wound itself around the streets and down the alleyway, to any number of the streets, outside of the alley it would appear as a cold rush of wind forcing them to pull their coats tighter about themselves.  A golden shard of light fell from his daughters face as she faded and was pulled by an unseen source from her father’s hand.  “I love you and have faith in you” he said

“And I you she responded” as all that were left were wisps of mists were she once stood and sat.  The man sat up folded up his stool and placed it back inside his cape and continued on his walk down the alleyway to a little known cafe where he could sit relax and be accepted for what he was.

Some five minutes later he was sat outside the cafe with a cup of what appeared to be watery honey in front of him with warm steam rising from the mug.  He asked to see a copy of the local papers and flicked through them ideally for the meetings and events section.  There it was, just as he had expected it to be.  The flutter of a butterfly come and sat beside him as he read the article in depth, and re-reading it until he could memorise every word of that which had passed.  He knew he was never to see his daughter again but at least now she was safe. He thanked the cafe owner in the usual manner with a smile and a tip of his hat, and under the paper he left his usual payment by way of a favour and a need for the owner, with the short note of Thank you and God bless.  As he walked away his persona changed, his clothes become shabby like that of a street urchin, his shoes become worn and thin, and his hair thinned and became scraggly and his demeanour became slouched and decrepit.  He continued his walk until he reached the river.  Somewhere behind him were shouts, but he ignored them and continued to walk.  He walked straight through the metal barriers and out into the sea.  People ran to the end to try and see if they could see him, but nothing was to be found but a single butterfly wing resting on a black cane.

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