ThornyEnglishRose

Pictures in the mind Diminish, drawn or written, Or pursued in life.

It was Tansy's idea to leave the little warren at the edge of the farmland, but she could not have done anything about it without Willow's help. She it was who had recruited most of their followers, and who thought of crossing the fields to the iron road. 'Banks,' she said, by way of explanation. 'Sooner or later, those things all end up in a valley.' 'But they're so fast!' said Tansy. 'Any rabbit stepping in front of one wouldn't stand a chance.' Willow was dismissive. 'Let's hope none of them are stupid enough to step in front of one, then. If you leave them alone, they don't take any notice; they just go whizzing past you. They're like hrududil, in that respect.' She was right, as usual, and it didn't take long for the rabbits to get used to the tremendous noise and stop going tharn, although that had been better than bolting for non-existent holes. At least none of them was stupid enough or unlucky enough to bolt in front of a train. The question was where along the

Cottontail had gone to live halfway up Bull Banks Hill, near the wood at the top and Mr Tod's house. A knocking at Cottontail's door, She's heard it before. Tap tappit! Tap tappit! The sunshine warm and slanting on the hill pastures, Cottontail was sitting with half-grown little rabbits, four or five, playing about her. The tracks of Tommy Brock and Mr Tod (two disagreeable people) were plainly to be seen. Tap tappit! Tap tappit! She peeps out... there's nobody there, But a present of carrots Put down on the stair. Four or five half-grown little rabbits. One black. All the rest brown. Tap tap tappit! Tap tappit! Why–I really believe it's a little black rabbit! The neighbours could not bear him. Asked whether her husband was at home, Cottontail replied that the sunshine was still warm. They lived too near the rocks to quarrel with their neighbours. 'He was at home. I saw his black ears peeping out of the hole,' and their whiskers bristled. Tap tap tappit! Tap tappit! A

I must have been very young indeed when I noticed it, because I'd only just learnt to count to twenty (and I was, though I say so myself, an intelligent child). 'Mummy,' I said, as we stood four doors down from our own house. 'There's no number thirteen!' 'Some roads don't have a number thirteen,' she said, as if this were perfectly acceptable. I was outraged. 'Why not?' 'Because it's an unlucky number.' The older one gets, the less sense the world seems to make. What on earth was an 'unlucky number' supposed to be? Further investigation made a nonsense of what my mother had said. In every residential road I visited, I looked for numbers twelve and fourteen, and then for number thirteen. It was always there, either between those two or on the other side. Why was our road the only one with no number thirteen? There had to be a real reason; I was sure of it. Then, after I was put on 'free reading' at school, I began to think there might be a real, supernatural reason. The

So they've been found, after all these years. Very well then, I'll tell you. You won't believe me, but I'll tell you. This house used to be an unmarried mothers' home; that's what Mrs Locke called it. I was one of those mothers, little more than a girl at the time. My parents made me come here. It isn't always the parents' decision – I just want to make that clear. It wasn't all cruelty and oppression. Not all of it. Some of my cellmates wanted their babies to go to wealthy homes, and the people back home not to know they had ever existed. Generally, but not always, they were the ones hating the fathers and cursing their names, while the others were loving them and crying for them and, in some cases, wishing they'd married them before they were killed in the war. One day, when I was sitting on my bed with my arm around a girl who was weeping for that very reason, I said, 'Couldn't you just say you married him?' She shook her head, sucking the snot back up her nose to stop

Come hither, come hie, O sailor-men! Toward this beacon, shining bright, And steer thy vessel safely, then. Proud Mother sings to little Gwen While Father goes to light the light. Come hither, come hie, O sailor-men! Says weary Mother, 'Play, my hen, 'Here's wood, here's string – now, out of sight! 'And steer thy vessel safely, then.' Young Gwen returns with thoughts of when The sirens taught her songs of blight: Come hither, come hie, O sailor-men! This lonely daughter has a yen. 'Come Father, Mother! Hug me tight, 'And steer thy vessel safely, then.' Now, self-made orphan girl of ten Sings from the rocks each unlit night, Come hither, come hie, O sailor-men! And steer thy vessel safely, then.

The Chipmunks and Chipettes were walking home from school together when they saw Dave at the front gate, waving and beckoning to them. Theodore waved back enthusiastically and quickened his pace to get to Dave first; the two greeted each other warmly, but when the other five chipmunks joined them, Dave dispensed with the pleasantries and said, 'I've just had a phone call about the six of you, from a TV production company in England. They want you all to appear in a special charity episode of one of their shows.' 'What kind of show?' asked Alvin. 'What charity?' added Theodore. 'It's a children's charity,' said Dave, 'and it's a game show.' 'You mean like a quiz?' Jeanette asked hopefully. 'No, not a quiz,' said Dave. 'It's sort of a... well, it's hard to explain, but they're sending us a video tape of a few episodes so you can get the idea. They're going to get it here as fast as they can – they really want an answer as soon as possible.' 'Maybe you'd better call them back

It was Tansy's idea to leave the little warren at the edge of the farmland, but she could not have done anything about it without Willow's help. She it was who had recruited most of their followers, and who thought of crossing the fields to the iron road. 'Banks,' she said, by way of explanation. 'Sooner or later, those things all end up in a valley.' 'But they're so fast!' said Tansy. 'Any rabbit stepping in front of one wouldn't stand a chance.' Willow was dismissive. 'Let's hope none of them are stupid enough to step in front of one, then. If you leave them alone, they don't take any notice; they just go whizzing past you. They're like hrududil, in that respect.' She was right, as usual, and it didn't take long for the rabbits to get used to the tremendous noise and stop going tharn, although that had been better than bolting for non-existent holes. At least none of them was stupid enough or unlucky enough to bolt in front of a train. The question was where along the

I must have been very young indeed when I noticed it, because I'd only just learnt to count to twenty (and I was, though I say so myself, an intelligent child). 'Mummy,' I said, as we stood four doors down from our own house. 'There's no number thirteen!' 'Some roads don't have a number thirteen,' she said, as if this were perfectly acceptable. I was outraged. 'Why not?' 'Because it's an unlucky number.' The older one gets, the less sense the world seems to make. What on earth was an 'unlucky number' supposed to be? Further investigation made a nonsense of what my mother had said. In every residential road I visited, I looked for numbers twelve and fourteen, and then for number thirteen. It was always there, either between those two or on the other side. Why was our road the only one with no number thirteen? There had to be a real reason; I was sure of it. Then, after I was put on 'free reading' at school, I began to think there might be a real, supernatural reason. The

Aeolus stumbled through the snowy forest, head bent, broken horn dull in the moonlight. Unicorn bones dotted the land between him and the Moon Gate. His heart was bloodless, his magic lost. He was undead and alone. Broken horned unicorns and the dead couldn't pass through the gate. One last time, he touched the stump of his horn to runes, praying for true death. Oh but then, they glowed. Aeolus the Swift and Senna the Wise, the last of the unicorns, thundered through the amber leaves. The invaders carried cursed steel, their horses shod with the same elven metal, too fast even for them. Caridin's laughter carried over what had been their sanctuary. Aeolus turned, rearing back. There was only one chance. This couldn't be the end. Not for them. Never for them. They fought. Oh, they fought. “Run with me,” Senna said. When she laughed, Aeolus felt as though his heart would burst. “No, chase me,” he said. He veered to