I have presented seven of my forty stories

I didn't want to die without showing those around me that they were wrong, that I'm not worthless, lazy, useless freak. I broke out of the role of victim and became a hero. This was the most important mission I did. All I cared about was to survive as a misunderstood child, to show my strength, to reach the top by my own laws, fulfilling the ideal I had raised myself. Through my heroes, I crown myself empress of life and death in the last dream of my life, just before the total annihilation of the worthless, weak and falible human being that I was. An excellent plan, which I am implementing. It is too late to hope for anything, the real experiences of my life have already killed my hope and faith. I have two feet on the ground, the mushrooms have me leaning very close to reality. I have been able to observe the laws of nature at work, and because I was born with good eyes, I have been able to see through human masks. All the misery that I was exposed to only further murdered my heart, and if it weren't for my imagination, my heroes, my embodiments of strength, I would be long dead.
It has been very instructive to see how the life-death pairing of my youth has changed as I have moved into the declining stages of human life. My playful, creative imagination has always been represented by the figure of the mage. At the age of twenty-four, he appeared as Rabbit-hearted Merwil  and gifted me with a humorous space adventure novel. Much later, at the age of forty-three, he came out as Gloom and delivered a story full of a deep understanding of the human condition that is no longer humorous, even if it does contain a touch of black humour. Importantly, death is in Star City Roulette, but as a remote possibility, in the form of a dark threat that my beloved blonde hero can avert. Meanwhile, Merwil is very close to this dark menace, but I'd rather not write about his strange kinship, I won't shoot down the punchlines of his story. In the case of the imperial mage, there are no more hidden hints or subtleties, the whole story deals with the consequences of a fatal sin and someone's botched plan for their own immortality. Yes, such a plan causes an awful lot of suffering for others, and the female protagonist, representing life, is given a mission to stop the inevitable happening. The key figure in the plan is the imperial mage, who is merely a tool of the plan-master against his will. This dark fantasy drama is truly a mature work, and brutal.
Even as a young woman, I had a tendency to kick the social beliefs that served a hierarchical system of oppression and to dream myself into a Christ-like figure who was at once vibrant, mischievous and wise.
"Merwil had a olive in his palm.
'What are you doing with the seed?' - he asked me.
I didn't even hear his question because I was admiring his beauty and trying NOT to imagine him without the bathrobe.
He continued to talk.
'So if you deign to really listen to me.' (Like I didn't do that. A mischievous giggle on my part.) 'I give it to you to plant in the ground and it bear fruit."
Being a 24-year-old young woman and not a nun at all, it was quite clear that when we ran into each other at the galactic nightclub called Star City, I wasn't really into deep philosophical counseling, and he was just trying to make sense of the chaos he'd fallen into. Nobody understands mages, that's true for them too, but they are decent and hardworking guys. So it's a bit of fun for him and for me. As for him, he told me that I was one of his figures existing in the inner curvature of space-time and that it was impossible for us to hide together based on cosmic laws. We were mutually shocked and separated to process the shock of our unexpected mutual admiration. Mutual dismay has turned to acceptance over the years, and I'm rooting for my beloved blonde hero. Merwil, the hero of the Milky Way, and his love (former holostar, but by the end of the story, she's elected president of humanity) Barbara Rubedolla.
While I was writing the imaginary scene, I didn't feel the anxiety that was killing me inside, but as soon as I looked out at the reality that from next week I have to be on the bloody battlefield again to keep myself alive, well, I don't feel happiness. I look at the usual well wishers in cyberspace with a bitter face because I know what reality is and we are all liars. I put together the usual survival plan, but for a couple of years now I haven't been able to add a sincere smile to it. At the beginning of 2019, I still believed that hard work would pay off. (Sorry Merwil, the soil was not suitable for the seed, after a couple of years the tree dried up, it was hopeless to hope for anything.) So I sucked it, no matter what, it just will a pitiful wrangling, a fool replacement act, but since I had also acquired a routine over the years, hiding my bitterness will be my biggest challenge. Ironic laughter accompanied by some tears. Oh, how fucking happy 2023 was too! I managed this without a permanent fixed income. So don't make fun of me about happiness and don't lie to me, because even though my self-control is strong, I already know very well what kind of creature a human is, what I am, so we don't play with each other. I will be fair to death, honest and devoted in my work, but when I close the door behind me, do not come after me, because in my inner circle there is only one goddess, myself and I have no tolerance for evil. And I don't hope for anything. I know exactly how my life will end. Everything is going according to plan, as I have dreamed for many, many years. And that is precisely why I know that my externally inspired hope of becoming an internationally recognized writer is completely false. However, even with an old head, I admit that my youthful self was a striving, innocent being. She is the only one I feel deep regret for, she is the only one I mourn. So I'm not going to make false wishes, 2024 won't be happy, it'll be just as hard-fought year as the previous ones.

P.S.: My stories in chronological order:

Star City Roulette, 2002
Heart of Pegasus, 2003
DIY Black Magic, 2005
Imperial Mage, 2021
Laurel Grove, 2022
Twisted Red, 2023
Icy fierce, 2023

Laurel Grove, the struggle between human and nature

A major part of the backstory of the novel, and the story begins where Eadunel is found by Anaire, see the last paragraph of this post.
I dreamed up 'Laurel Grove' in December 2022.

"The elven matriarch found him. The leader of the tiny forest being took up the fur-covered body. She could smell it from far away. It was familiar. A cub, but what kind? Bigger than an elf child and heavier. She couldn't even hold it. She sat down next to baby and called her tribe. The elves flocked at his word, and to study the strange creature with excitement.
The unexpected and careless noise of the elves attracted the attention of a young dragon owl, which, due to its young predator's inexperience, was hungry for easier prey. Aware of success it burst through the foliage and landed on the forest floor. The elves fled wherever they could see, leaving only the matriarch with the cub, and instead of fear, she felt anger. She screamed in a much louder voice than anyone would have thought. The young dragon owl was surprised too, and then crumpled to the ground as the forest shifted and vines, branches and patches of moss moved to weave together into a humanoid shape that towered far above the predator and beside it, as if the elven matriarcha were a mouse. At one small sign of her will, the dragon owl took flight, returning to the foliage.

On the day of the matriarch's initiation, she saw the forest mother only once.
The driad queen's avatar knelt down beside the old elf, stroked her head, and took the baby with her other hand. By the time the elves arrived back, the queen had already left.

Wherever she went, life moved, renewed. She healed and tended her forest. At any other time she would have delighted in her work, but now she turned her attention to the baby, and with her root fingers she opened it. In the blink of an eye, she had tucked the little thing into a spring. She pulled off its fur and threw it to the ground, to be digested in moments by the inhabitants of the forest floor. The little boy sputtered and cried. The shrill sound surprised the queen, as if it were the death cry of some animal. She wanted to soothe the boy. She acted instinctively and, as if the little one were a dryad sapling, laid him on her body. The queen can feed any living creature, and her body immediately assembled what the human cub needed. It was the work of a moment, as she saw the chance in the little one, and the motherly love rose in her heart. She went with him to his true throne, the laurel grove that was her crown. She took him deep into the forest to raise him as her mother and entrust her dream to him.
'Eadunel' she said the word, meaning treasure."
Eadunel was an abandoned child, certain death awaited her in the forest, but the maternal instinct, first in an elven matriarcha and then in the mother of the forest herself, saved her life, and there was something else, the driad queen wanted to make peace with the humans and give them a gift that could faithfully interpret the good will of the driad. Eadunel received all good things from the queen, being cared for on a par with her own seedlings. He was allowed to play with the driads, the caretakers of the forest, who remain children for ever, and he was also allowed to enter the circle of the much rarer princes, who were taller him and were about to embark on a long journey to find themselves a queen. Eadunel wanted to grow as tall as the driad princes, but the queen kindly and patiently explained to him that they were two separate species, and that men did not grow as tall as trees. Eadunel took comfort in the elves, who, as a small humanoid being of the forest, were the closest to human nature, living in tribes, with a 'chattering' language and a lively social life, and even gossip, knowing everything that happened in the forest and beyond its borders. They loved to spy on people passing through the forest and steal things from them. The mother of the forest was a rare exception of the driadic race, patient and merciful with humans. She learned their language, and when Eadunel emerged from human childhood and began to grow into adolescence, she introduced him to the humans and asked the king's envoys to teach her foster son human ways. It was the first time that Eadunel felt that he existed on the border between two worlds and belonged to both. Yes, his heart immediately leapt as he stepped for the first time into the midst of human men who could not conceal their astonishment at seeing him. In their eyes, he was a giant of the forest, more nimble of foot than a deer and, despite his stature, as gentle as a deer calf. Eadunel imitated the driads rather than the elves, whom he found amusing but too noisy. Eadunel had complete trust in the mother of the forest, and when his foster mother sent him on a mission to the world of human, he said goodbye to the forest and set out on his journey. The king's envoys taught him their own language and sought to invite him to the royal court, but Eadunel spoke with his own gentleness of the importance of his own journey, for his heart burned with the desire to fulfil his mother's dream that the driad and human might make peace and that men might no longer threaten the driad forests with fire and axe. His mother did not want to kill humans, even though she had all the power, three powerful guardian spirits and incredible strength herself.
The day of farewell came and Eadunel stepped boldly out of the forest as a young man. The forest mother had given him all his belongings and equipment thanks to peaceful negotiations with the humans. And she gave him something else, but long before, on the first day, when she took him into the laurel grove where his head was, and opened his real eyes to see the treasure she had found. It was at that moment when the child and the giant heart beat at the same time, when the man-child recognized his mother and the driad queen recognized her son. The mother of the forest worked magic, sharing the source of life with the boy. Eadunel was the only man who knew what it meant to give life. The queen gave him much wise advice, that it was a power to use in secret, because people must learn first. On the queen's advice, Eadunel started small and went to the people along the river, who eventually accepted him. Eadunel loved the driad queen, but once again the Mother of the Forest was right that it was among humans that he would truly know love. Zaara his wife and their daughter Daphne gave him a different, stronger feeling.
For ten years, Eadunel lived in peace with the people of the river and the little tribe called him their king.

Eadunel finished recalling his happy memories and listened for minutes to the desert wind, which was getting stronger, another sandstorm about to hit the deserted oasis where he had taken shelter after decades of running away. The wind picked up and seemed to murmur words.
Eadunel shuddered, because the voice was familiar. Many months of stillness were broken as he realised that the wind was really speaking to him, and the sound of its howl was embodied before him. He stared at one of the queen's guardians. Anaire, the celestial salamander, the spirit of starlight, the commander of the winds, flied to him. The moment of wonder was instantly shattered, for Anaire roared in the voice of the wind: 'The mother of the forest calls you, she is dying, she has been poisoned."

P.S.: The soundtrack includes a specific scene from the novel, when Eadunel rises from what seems to be total despair and takes on the task of protecting the survivors. I will say no more, because that scene, and the whole novel for that matter, is epic, the conclusion of the war between man and driad. Eadunel's foster mother was very wise and before she died she made a very clever plan, and although she really loved Eadunel, she cleverly manipulated and used him and set a trap for the humans in the person of her son, that expresses well the logic of life that wants to live at any cost. I will not betray this ingenious trick.

Heart of Pegasus, the liberation of those who were branded as freaks

"The princess, in her anger mutilated and locked him in the tower of the castle. And she said 'if you want to leave me, you jump out of the window.' Aurin thought Charlotte was good and understood him, that he promised to return to Una. He had never seen such cruelty in the eyes of a human as in the offended princess'."

If you thought that I don't know hell on earth and that it doesn't appear in my stories, you have read the reviews of my previous stories quite superficially, even though the cruelty of human existence is hidden in all of them.
I know very well what a person is capable of, even if he doesn't really want to do harm, he just amuses himself and others at the expense of a third party. When I was six years old, I listened with my jaw dropped as my parents shared with me, we was to my grandparents were during family lunch that my grandfather found me so ugly (I was born prematurely) that he declared that the baby was not his blood and that it should be taken back to the hospital. I was a small child who depended on those around me for everything. And then I was taught that I could not trust them at all. Well, I was very grateful for the valuable lesson. It was a trauma that first hit me. The other kind of "funny thing" about me was that my grandmother thought of me, since I only started talking at the age of three, that I was stupid and should be taken to a doctor. My parents shared this with me in such a good mood, because luckily I became a very talkative little girl. I probably understood perfectly well that my grandmother hurt me, and I ended up talking to my family, who turned out to be not very trustworthy. It is a powerful trauma for a small child when she realizes that she is in a completely confused situation and cannot trust anyone, because she cannot know why the hurt comes from those she relies on.
Then my uncertain mental state made me an ideal subject for more easy bullying at school. Oh, my happy childhood years. I think if I add up the number of hours spent crying, I have cried for a whole year in my life.
How did I stay alive and keep my sanity when my peace of mind was lost forever?

A little interlude, I must have saved a human's life when I was a teenager. I was with her all night, I followed her, I spoke, and my speak was about my stories, the hope that I would be recognized as a writer. It is keeps me alive and that's why I don't kill myself. Yes, my contemporary was preparing to commit suicide, which I perceived as a traumatized youth and did not leave her alone. (Not incidentally, she was raped by a relative.)
One learns very quickly that the home is the first small battlefield of life. There is no love, we shamelessly use each other. This is such a painful experience that I prefer to avoid it and not hurt out with anyone. If I do offend someone, I try to apologize and clarify the situation. I've seen so much shit that I don't want to increase the filth.
By the way, we can beautify with gracious lies what is actually dirtier than a two-week-old water corpse and smile fondly at each other, while in our heads approx. we are committing genocide. I know the laws of nature well, man is no kinder, living things eat living things, people eat people in the urban jungle. Of course, our teeth ache not for each other's flesh, but for our resources. Great infernal gorging masked by a good-natured play. Haha, amazing. And they also believed that a child could not see through it all very quickly. It's unfortunate that it takes time for a person to acquire their battle armor and weapons.
If you can't follow, it doesn't bother me.
I choose my people carefully.
Let it be a little story, if that calms you down.

"In the evening Una crawled out of the hut and knelt in the dust. From her tattered clothes she pulled her only memory of the miracle. A single feather remained after the boy who promised her they would be friends forever.
'You still alive, Aurin' she said to the feather.
The blue feather shook and shine up.
Her heart was jumped. Four years had passed and Aurin is alive! For a few seconds, she was gazing at the light of hope. Alarmed, she tucked it back into her rags. No one must see it, not even by chance!  She was the only one who had faith that the boy would return and fulfil the promise of the pegasus, lift the curse the humans had brought upon themselves by slaying the sacred creature.
'Come back to me', she whispered to the feather hidden on her chest.

Four years earlier, when they were both nine years old, the villagers had had enough of the futile agony of waiting for a miracle. The boy did nothing but run around naked, flapping his little wings and bringing them herbs, climbing impossible places on sunny hillsides where no one else could reach.
'He's a cute little mutt' the bitter people murmured behind his back. And one day, hatred fuelled by frustration erupted.
Una ran pale out of the village to warn the boy, who was looking for herbs and eggs on the hillside. For all his strangeness, Aurin was trying to please the villagers and be useful to them. But the people wanted more, they wanted the promise to be fulfilled, the mountains to be opened and the to be free! Let the curse that had locked them in the dying valley where the last pegasus was slain be lifted. Because that's why the holy beast touched Eve, that's why he gave life.
'The child is ours! The promise! We are hungry! Let us eat him! He is healthy! Just like Eve and Una, his mother and the little girl he is always with. Of course he helps them!'
They didn't know, they didn't understand that Aurin was trying to help them with his weak strength, but his healing power couldn't penetrate their hatred.
Una, terrified, begged the boy to run away, the villagers went mad.
Aurin heard and saw the people approaching, and in their hands were knives with stone blades and many stones.
'Mum,' he whispered in alarm. 'They listen to Mum.'
Una shook her head.
'They want to kill you!' She couldn't say out what else she had overheard. She cried. She hugged him.
'Call the lord of valley. Save yourself!'
'What about you and Mum?'
'They won't hurt us. I'll be safe.'
'You are lying', Aurin said quietly.
A stone flew towards them.
Aurin hugged Una to him. And opened his wings. He flapped with all his might. He tried the impossible, as he couldn't even lift his own body weight into the sky with his evolving wings!
Una cried.
'No, you fool, You can't. I know. Call 
the lord of the valley! He will save you. You are the son of the pegasus. He will listen to you.'
More stones flew towards them, clattering closer and closer in the dust.
Aurin hugged Una even tighter and cried out.
The lord of the valley, let me fulfil the promise!'
And over the mountains the grey clouds moved, the wind rose and brought the smell of rain. The semigod heard the plea and fulfilled him part of the miracle. The wind surrounded the boy, but the girl, she was heavy.
Una pinched Aurin's arm, and he released her. As the girl flopped to the ground, the wind caught him like a flake and lifted him into the sky, far, far away, beyond the mountains.
Aurin cried out in vain, his voice drowned out by the whistling of the wind, and he wept in vain."

Note: This track with its lyrics absolutely hit me, because that's exactly what happened to me, only I don't make demons, I make heroes. Although there is a demon in one of my stories as a symbolic element.

Disappointment, pain, sorrow, and I could list the heavy feelings that I carry inside me under my armor. Over the decades, I went from something soft and defenseless to something else. I learned many valuable lessons, not only bad ones, but also some good ones, because I kept doing my things. And in the process, my mind made heroes out of my traumas. 'Heart of Pegasus' can also be analyzed so beautifully.

"At the call of the virgin Eve, the holy beast, the lord of the valley, appeared. The maiden searched for words to address the demigod creature, the ethereal relative of the slain pegasuses.
The lord of the valley has spoken.
'You have come to beg for the lives of your people and to offer your own for the blood that has been spilled. For what they have done, I have not the forgiveness. But you are innocent. I give you life, that they gain liberation through it. There will be no other escape from the valley. Here your people will die if they do not understand the meaning of my gift.'
And with his horn he touched her, and then melted into the blue of the sky, on which grey clouds were pouring. The mountains in the distance were rumbling and drawing closer together, while the earth was shaking.
The shouts of men and the screams of women and the cries of children could be heard in the distance.
Eve placed both hands on her belly. She received a blessing from the holy beast, and in the midst of the chaos she wept with the joy."

"It's not an olive, it's an lpuk and not just any lpuk"

"Merwil never thought that the Ipuk chief engineer (they look like grapes) would disguised as an olive. 'And if I had eaten you?!' 'It's okay, I always wanted to get to know you better.' 'Well, that would have made our relationship intimate right away.' And he thought of a very similar case from the recent past.
It happened at the presidential party when he was searching for a drink. A fan of punch, he discovered it in a crystal bowl on a table filled with earthly delights. However, he was surprised to find tiny grey-green berries floating in the pink drink. Initially, he thought he was hallucinating from exhaustion and decided to dip a glass into the drink. That's when he realized the berries were literally swimming! He understood he was see living beings and, being well-versed in space biology, immediately recognized them as a proven intelligent species.
'Excuse me!'
The berries ceased their water ballet and they got out of the drink. They were lpuks. Renowned for designing and manufacturing miniaturized machines species' had eight prominent engineers on the table. The Ipuks extended their silvery, hair-thin limbs, barely visible to the eyes.
'Look who our sensors have detected! Merwil, the engineer! We would be honored if you joined us for a drink. Yes, have a drink with us.'
Merwil saw the President looking directly at him.
He quickly took the glass from the punch and muttered with trembling hands.
'This is a madhouse, what are you doing here?' said quetly.
The eight Ipuks bounced back into the drink, and he clinking his glass against the bowl.
'We came to help. We have studied the plans of the Earth Protection System and we believe it is explosive.'
'A slightly imprecise formulation of the problem.' he said, pale.
'We listen with interest so that we can help. It is in the interest of human and lpuk to ensure the safety of mankind. That's how close to the Earth's orbit a structure like this is. Very dangerous. It could be trouble.'
Merwil saw the President coming straight towards him.
'Keep pretending to be a berry,' he said quietly and began to sweat. He played poker face pretty badly, or not at all."

It was an excerpt from the dream novel of my youth, 'Star City Roulette', a sci-fi-adventure-romantic comedy. 

It was perfectly normal to dream at 24 years old of a delightfully intelligent and charming young blonde man running or flying or falling from one crazy situation to another. My laughter was that woke me up, because I just couldn't keep following him. This laughter burst out of my heart even now, because Merwil's adventures combined the atmosphere of the 80s and 90s, the movies, the music, the feeling of life, which gradually turned into a kind of technocratic nightmare. Merwil is an aerospace engineer. Oh, those clever associations!
It's even crazier than you think, because while the stakes are high, the president of humanity is a massive xenophobe, but he covers it up by associating with a pokdav diplomat. What's a pokdav like? Imagine the lovechild of a bird spider and a crocodile, only with two heads, a much larger stature and a recently shed predatory and belligerent nature, but with a mind more ingenious than man's. I love the dialogues between Elvir and Supa-Suruat. The pokdav is a sophisticated double talker and of course a "beastly" lover. Of course, there is no overt sexuality in the novel, but the hints alone, as Merwil tries to interpret tantric space sex, or closer inter-species relations, make him realise that the reason why being with most demonstrably intelligent beings is dangerous is because humans are "soft". I unashamedly ridicule hypocritical prudery.

Okay, Merwil is really good looking, absolutely the type that makes me melt, but I never see him as a sexual surrogate fantasy, because he is an ideal, a combination of good things and a hero. When I see something true and good, it's not the animal instincts that awaken in me, but the protectors. Rabbit-hearted Merwil is the hero who first came to me and made me laugh, and he's still doing it.
Oh, Merwil, I would go with you to the other side of the Milky Way to find a great party where we could finally make sense of this madness we call human existence.
I seem to be a hopeless idealist and I will mourn the death of innocence until the day I die.
Just listen to the music and surrender to the feeling of life, which I will give you in a cocktail. Yes, the name of the cocktail is 'Star City Roulette.'

P.S.: And I drop the atom in the end, when the reality was surprisingly faithful to the overwrought atmosphere of my youthful novel.
"Merwil and Barbara Rubedolla, the beautiful holostar, have decided to embark on the most important mission of their lives, to win the  talent contest on
Grenadine human terra."

True bromance

"Twenty years ago I predicted the end of the world, that after a thousand years the demon lord would return and set the world on fire again. The prophecy came true in a very different way. The demon lord sought love on Earth. We both found it. And I became king. Peace and love, and a lot of terrible poems! Balladeer is an irredeemably bad poet. Though that should always be the biggest problem with the impossibly peaceful demon lord. A captivating figure, with an aura so dark that half the world wanted to hunt us down, warlock and demon. How many life-threatening situations he's pulled me out of, and of course, gotten me into. And he never failed to apologize. It's absurd how gentle he is.
How did it end up on Earth?
Perhaps it was a very bad idea to study the secret books in the monastery from which I was expelled for my dubious practices. I learned the language of the demons and some spells from the dark folios, I thought they were some kind of riddles. I never believed in superstitions. All that changed in a matter of hours when the new ruler of the demons crashed to Earth through space. He was on fire as he flew through the sky. Had everything happened as I had predicted or conjured? I find it hard to believe that I somehow conjured it, but it almost crashed into my hut, but luckily landed in a haystack. The prophecy says that the dark omen came to Earth to bring the end of the world. In the meantime, it prevented doom! As a result, I became king. As he so kindly put it, we are now equals. He exaggerate, Balladeer is weaker than a god, but stronger than any being on Earth. Full of fire and magic that can consume the world.
Balladeer never did any harm, never planned to. Which is shocking for a demon lord. According to ancient legends, these cruel creatures have brought misery to Earth many times, but a thousand years after their last visit, a very different kind of monster has arrived. Or rather, it fled its world because the demons wanted to kill it. Despite his dark aura and fearsome patron, Crownsword, he has a gentle nature that would make a squirrel more bloodthirsty than he. Yet the sword chose him to king. Even the ancient blade was surprised, but here on Earth it turned out that Balladeer was indeed a great lord, more chivalrous even than the holy knights.
After seeing that the beast was afraid of my cat and that the cat was kind to him, I was even more shocked than when I saw the new lord of the demons lying before me, who was both majestic and ridiculous. The demon asked what kind of creature was sitting him? And who I was. I look like his kind, but somehow different. And where am it?
For the first time, it was good idea to learn the language of the demons from the dark folios, because I understood every word and could answer his questions. I was talking to the omen of doom! But he was nothing like the prophecy had described. He also introduced himself, Balladeer, and added that he was an ultra-pacifist (I had no idea of the meaning of the word at the time) and a poet. His greatest desire is to profess love to a noble lady. This is the part where I decided to swoon. No, I simply couldn't comprehend that the demon lord was a virgin like me. I heard him begging me to take the white monster off of him because he had no idea what it was or what to do with it. Instead I lay down and rested for a few hours. Blessed darkness! I woke up to my cat purring loudly by my ear, and the demon leaning over me, worried that he was very sorry if he had harmed me, and sad because our friendship was short.
Here I really remembered that I had gone mad with the dark science and the prophecy had come to life in my head, but my cat was very real, as was the strange fellow above me! And here I had to act, for the demon was crying and his flaming tears threatened to set me on fire. It is important to be patient, calm and cordial when encountering an oversensitive demon. It's like I managed to keep my cool.
Luckily for both of us and the world, my cat was with me and had his own guardian, the ancient and grumpy Crownsword. Or what am I writing? His patron declared that he had fled his lord to the earth to train him here, for he is indeed the god-killing dark blade that splits the planes at his lord's command. It was then I realised that what I thought was the demon's wing was part of the sword! And the blade was on its back. Balladeer was even more frightened than I was by the sword's adjectives, and declared that he had no plans for such programs now or in the future. The sword replied that if he did not train him, the demons would kill their king for the first time in the history of their race. Which he, as the blade of the ruler, could not allow, even if the elected lord was a feeble-minded idiot more fit to be a fool than a king. Balladeer's fiery tears rained down. Fortunately, it began to rain, and he hissed that something stung his skin. Then I remembered the different material composition of demon and man. The five elements of water, fire, earth or rock, air and magic have different proportions in the beings of each plane. In demons, there is hardly any water, and they don't really wear it. They don't die from it, but they suffer from it. The blade spread its wings and the demon crouched down and fled towards the hut it had entered.
And I will continue from here later, because I hear my children begging Balladeer to tell them about our adventures together. He is able and quite different in telling our story, giving me all the credit, even though without him I would not be here today, my children would not be alive, because the end of the world would have swept away our peaceful world. Balladeer, the impossibly friendly demon lord, saved us, as I saved him."

If you take a look at the blog now, my latest writings are not about mushrooms, but about imagination and creation, because I feel that time is running out and before I die I want to send my heroes on their way. I dreamt up my hero in the picture in 2005. His story is a great mix of humour, wisdom, fallibility and heroism. He is Balladeer (Hungarian name Balladár), the new ruler of the demons, but through some magical mix-up, the lowest of the low has risen to the pinnacle of power, to the utter dismay of the ancient blade that chose the ruler, and of course the demons would have slain the poetical loser who constantly brings shame to their glorious and evil race. To prevent the demons from killing the new ruler prematurely, the sword has fled with new lord to the world of men, where he can be safe and prepare to show his prowess in battle by killing those who defy him. Balladeer was completely freaked out by the plan when they fell into the vortex of teleportation magic together. He will kill no demon, for the pen is mightier than the sword, and would rather persuade his fellows with his love poetry. The sword was then finally convinced that a fatal mistake had been made, that the new demon lord was irredeemably foolish. It was wrong. It later turned out that it had completely misjudged Balladeer, perhaps the bravest, truest being of all.

Well, in 2005, I dreamt that Balladeer finds the long-lost sword and the complications begin. And of course, I soon realised I was watching a delightfully positive adventure story. As now I thought about it, my heart warmed and I teared up with joy. It's sublime to experience something real, a story of friendship, perseverance and love in 'DIY black magic' that is true bromance. How can something feel so fantastically good?

P.S.: Undoubtedly, when I die, I will not see my own life, but that of my heroes. I will see again all that I would have lived for if I had not been born into a collapsing civilisation.

Making the imagination visible

In January 2002, at the age of 24, my fantasy was ignited by the appearance of my beloved blonde hero in a hilarious, adventurous, crazy dream, from which I awoke to my own laughter. He is clearly my shining heart, the embodiment of my passion for life within my personality. Recalling Merwill, I quickly start to chuckle because he perfectly combines all our human foibles and greatness in one person, while a rather mixed company helps him on his increasingly "dangerous" adventures. For example, the engineering team of lpuk (a proven intelligent life form), which resemble grape, or olive berries according to others, always bail him out, or rather get him into more trouble, as soon as my beloved hero makes a move. (I'm laughing in silence for a minute or two while the scene plays out.) How can I say, I have the best "pleasure drug", my own mind. Which, of course, can push me into the depths of hell if I dwell too much on the depressing reality and the spreading ignorance. I don't owe the strength of my mind to luck! It's a conscious effort to combine quickly and access a lot of data, even in middle age. I have kept my imagination because it helps me to stay alive, to endure the horrors of life, to accept the limitations. My mind is only limited by the natural biological limitations of my brain, which is a living part of me and I can tired it.
I haven't even said a word about the opening image I chose for this post. I dreamt them in November 2021 and they marked the beginning of my second flowering as a creator. These two are the symbolic embodiment of my death and my life, and at the same time the central characters of a fictional story. The female figure is the protagonist, while the male figure is the title character. Mistletoe appeared first, I saw her sin, what she had committed that had torn her life apart and made it impossible for her to return to her own people. Then she was faced with the consequence of a much greater sin that she can no longer escape. It was then that the title character emerged and I saw through the eyes of the protagonist and was shocked by many things. Then the whole story came and I just watched it like in the cinema. 'Imperial Mage' is a dark-toned psychological fantasy with death as its central motif, coupled with the madness of power, guilt, coming to terms with the past and the faint possibility of a new beginning, but all dominated by destiny. The antagonist is one of my most self-serving and therefore one of my most evil characters. He commits a sin that when seen...
As dark and depressing as the story is, it is such a dense extract of human feelings, intentions and the self-sacrifice that finally sparkles out of them, of true human greatness, that I feel an instant catharsis. A human story in capital letters, one of my most mature works. This may sound strange, but as Mistletoe, I cry when she confesses all her pain in three sentences, while as a person, as the author, I applaud with joy that it is simply wonderful! When Mistletoe, despite her terror and the certainty of death, sees the real age of the title character and it awakens pity and fear in her, I stand and stare in the same way. Mistletoe gives the horror a name, naming it Gloom, and in this gesture alone she signals that he is much more than a monster to her. Oh, but how much more! She could not have a child because of the spell cast upon her as a consequence of her sin, her punishment, but realizing the true form of the horror, what it was in the first place, she takes it upon herself to do the impossible despite her terror. Gloom's backstory is tragedy.

"Mistletoe had a dream in which she was the light, the life, all the life of the world, and the imperial mage held her in his arms as death. In her motherly love, Mistletoe was ready with all life of the world to restart his heart, but she heard, as if in reality, Gloom saying gently. 'I want you to live.'
And Mistletoe woke up and was in the arms of the mage, just as she had fallen asleep in the evening, because she, unlike the mage, needed sleep as a living being. She heard Gloom repeat the only sentence he could utter of his own free will, 'I want you to live'. She understood its meaning."

Because I play everyone, or more precisely, every character is created by me, I play with my own emotions and I immerse in myself. And so I am shocked to be confronted with the universal, common human tragedy of all that makes us human.
No, thanks, I don't want a drink, I raise my glass full of my bitter tears and laugh.

P.S.: Since 'Imperial Mage' is a tragedy with a capital "A", I mentioned the hero of my first comedy of my youth as a counterpoint.
It's worth browsing my Twitter account, your jaw will drop at what heroes I have become as a result of my traumas.
Life is not a fairy tale, it's a terrible struggle.

A művészettörténet tantárgy védelmében

Munkácsy Mihály a szülővárosom emblematikus híressége, róla nevezték el a múzeumunkat és a kulturális negyedünket is, amit évek óta fejleszt a városvezetés. A bejegyzéshez beillesztett fotóm az egyik festményéről, a Zongoraleckéről készült pont a múzeumban, a festő munkáit és relikviáit bemutató teremben.
Művészi érzékkel megáldva számomra mindig is fontos volt a művészettörténet. Örömömet találom a saját és mások alkotásaiban is. Lenyűgöz a kreativitás sokfélesége, hogy mennyiféle módon vagyunk képesek kifejezni közös emberi tapasztalatainkat. Teljes abszurditás megfosztani a fiatalokat az emberiség egyetemes kincseinek ismeretétől!
Kinek a gonosz elméjéből pattant ki az ötlet, hogy szűnjön meg a művészettörténet tantárgy?!?

Christmas story

"Once upon a time, in a world that never was, a water miller had a son who was named Branco Miller after his father. The little boy fell ill at the age of ten and turned grey overnight. The village wise man told the frightened father that it was not a disease, but fate. The simple man was even more frightened because he noticed that, despite the summer weather, ice flowers were crawling up the inside of the room window."

And so begins the world-changing journey of Icestrom, the ice mage (nickname Snowflake) his adventures with Amberfang the fire dragon.
I made the couple of them up on Sunday, simply poking fun at a dragon's Christmas clumsiness in setting fire to the main square tree in the town of Dragonlance that celebrates the winter solstice.
The red dragon has long been a popular symbol and figure for me, I could vary it a lot and put it into all kinds of stories.
In "Twisted Red" his presence is more symbolic, he represents the sin of the father, but there is also something mystical in my psychological knight novel. See my previous post.

Let me go back to the beginning of the story, to the main character's backstory. When little Branco got better, his father, on the advice of the village wise man, immediately took him to the town of Dragonlance and put him and all his few belongings at the mage guild building. After the child had easily completed the task of freezing a candle flame, he was immediately admitted, and the miller bid a tearful farewell to his son, who wept snowflakes of sorrow that his life had changed overnight. Hence the nickname Snowflake. But very soon he earned the phrase: "hell also freezes from him", a term used by his contemporaries and teachers to express his enormous magical potential. He was so powerful that mages could not place it on a their rating scale and so it was classified as a magical beast.
He completed the mage training easily and quickly, as the aim of the training was to strengthen the magical potential of each student and to master its use. Branco was born strong, and learning spells was no problem for him. Everyone else, however, was faced with the fact that here was a mage, an ice mage at that, akin to the world-shaping demigods of ancient times, but the world no longer really needed such creatures. He was sent on a mission that he was not supposed to survive, to hunt down a marauding, pesky fire dragon that had settled too close to the city. The plan was a good one, Amberfang would have been able to finish off the young and totally untrained in dragon slaying Branco, but fire and ice would have extinguished each other, both would have died in their fight. Contrary to popular belief, dragons are not mindless beasts, some possessing intelligence comparable to humans, and Amberfang's smaller stature for his species was compensated for by the merciful heavens with greater intelligence.
Amberfang offered the mage an alliance, he will be his magical beast, so they would both survive. Branco knew his classification was final because the Citadel council had also rejected his appeal of the decision. When he recognized the term in the dragon's telepathic message, he knew he shared a common destiny with the dragon and proposed a relationship of equals.
Branco returned to town with the very much alive fire dragon and requested his registration as a non-traditional adventurer. Branco signed up as an adventurer with Amberfang together after failing the mage's exam by leaving the dragon alive. Not that he was particularly interested in that anymore. He found a lifelong companion when he thought no one would ever join him because of his power, but the very dragon he was sent to slay, the beast recognized him as a companion. It gave him a realisation that boosted his confidence and encouraged him to find his own way.
Of course, the world was not at all prepared for the alliance of a powerful ice mage and a small but clever fire dragon.

Should there be a sequel?

But first I'm going to write Twisted Red, because I've already got a lot of things worked out for that. 

I want something really useful for Christmas

"Gabriel, the madness prince was in hiding, asking for a blessing, but his father's sin had been on him since birth. He had to face himself, the red demon to save the kingdom."

One of this year's big projects, which will extend into 2024, is writing a novel. Since June I've been working on a psychological, dark fantasy, chivalry novel with the working title 'Twisted Red'.
Unfortunately, my real life and my inner reality are not in sync. My passion can't find a way out of my mind, spinning locked up like a giant dustfog, moved by a hiding star that already has a planetary system and worlds with heroes living on them. One of them should simply be called 'Chivalry'. Here are three kingdoms, two of whose royal houses have been at war with each other for twenty years. King Maximus killed King Leopold the Elder in a jousting duel. Leopold the Younger swore revenge. The cruelty of King Maximus in condemning his defeated opponent to death when he should have shown mercy caused confusion and had a ripple effect. After the victory, he fathered his fourth son, and his child bears the burden of his sin. Prince Gabriel is the King's disgrace, the madman, the speechless beast, who also behaves like an animal, whose light-sensitive red eyes make him move at night, squinting blindly in the sunlight and retreating into the shadows. From under the bushes, it growls and barks at anything it perceives as threatening.
As he grows, he becomes stronger, but also more gentle, as the queen and her sister, the only princess of the royal family, fill his head with the heroic story of the virtuous knight who faithfully serves the noble ladies. Gabriel does not know, for he is not intelligent enough to know, that he cannot be in love with his sister, cannot be his lover. The Queen was aware of this, but she wanted to save her youngest son's life, and the knight's tale liked for him. It was not Gabriel's fault, but the sin of his royal father, the murder of the other king, his cruelty, that made him the man he became. At the beginning of his story, his only wish was to be with his sister and serve her as a virtuous knight. Sophia, however, is afraid of him and prefers not to rebel against their father's decision to marry Edmund, the young ruler of the Third Kingdom. Gabriel cannot follow his sister on a sunny summer day. His sister walks out from the trees of the old park to the square where King Edmund and his wedding party are waiting. In vain he pleads with his sister in sweet birdsong. His pleading whistle fails to impress his sister, and his last desperate howl finally convinces her that she has made the right decision, she cannot care for such a beast.
Gabriel is left alone. The Queen had died years earlier. His faithful assistant, the doctor, was dismissed by the King. But he follows his mother's and the doctor's teachings and, together with a few servants he knew as a child, spends his days in relative peace in the palace's locked wing and among the ancient trees of the ornamental park. Margaret, the daughter of a former lady-in-waiting to the Queen, becomes a lady-in-waiting at the Royal Court at the age of 16, under the guidance of her mother. Margaret embarks on a dangerous plan. This is part of the backstory, I'm presenting everything from Gabriel's point of view. His senses affect his behavior, as do his memories, as he tries to act according to what he has learned, but his beastly nature regularly tests him and those who stand against him. Gabriel enjoys practising his chivalry with Margaret, whom he regards as his substitute noblewoman. He even gives her the precious jewel his sister gave him. This jewel is to be Margaret's undoing, for the jewel belongs to the first lady of the kingdom according to tradition. The girl is murdered by someone (I know who) and Gabriel becomes the suspect.
And here is the first low point in the story, when Gabriel is far from his goal of serving the noble lady as a knight. The King has him imprisoned in the dungeons for the murder of the maid Margaret. But the king's first-born child returns to the royal estate and he proves that Gabriel could not have killed the girl. When Gabriel kills, he doesn't simply strangle, he breaks the neck of his prey with a single stroke. He refers to a famous incident where Gabriel saved his life from an attacking wild boar. With superhuman strength, he broke the animal's neck, grabbing its fangs. She was simply strangled, and the diamond lily for the first lady of the kingdom is nowhere to be found. This is where the story starts, as Alexander takes Gabriel out of the dungeon, takes him with him and heads back together to the kingdom's other, smaller central city, where he runs his own order of knightly mercy.

What I have described is just a small part of the story, the beginning.

It was incredibly enjoy to describe all the things that never happened in reality, but only happen when I think of Gabriel, when I take on his role. It's nice to be able to transform into others in my imagination and go on rampages and adventures at will. As strong as my imagination is, I am weak in reality, and that makes my life miserable. Never mind, when I die, I'll have the most colorful last dream that my heroes will come to me and we'll go on a final adventure together. There are dozens of them and they are surprisingly different, yet they all have the same heart beating in their chests, mine! This is a significant extension of life! What a crazy and dazzling feeling it is when I expand my life and become the worlds I build, processing myself, and my heart beating in the chest of others.
About the title of this post. As a middle-aged human, I certainly don't expect any presents, and I myself don't give anything at Christmas, since my year-long work of disseminating knowledge is my gift. Anyway, I prefer gifts of useful assistance to, say, a publisher's interest in my work.

A wasted life is a painful feeling, and I don't have one, but dozens.

"Isabella knew that somehow she had to make it easier for her son to understand and communicate his intentions to the others. Painting gave her the idea to paint not only pictures of her children and the life of the palace, but an illustrated book that contains all the things that are important to her youngest son and that he understands and can use to show for others. Gabriel kept the original book, painted by his mother, with fear, and rarely took it out. He preferred to show the copy version, that Sophia had painted for him. He modeled for Mom many times, because until then he didn't hunt birds, and Sophia did the same for his safety. And he, in return, patiently admired his noble ladies, most of all embarrassing his sister with his gaze, which had the curiosity of a young man for her budding beauty."
And now I am emotionally divided: I feel Isabella, the queen, the mother's fear and deep love for her son, Sophia's sister's fear and confusion that the first man to notice her as a woman is her strange brother, and Gabriel's admiration for both of them.
This is really awesome.

As a child of the atomic age, I am talking about nature

The prompt was a thought: "I'm thinking that technological civilization is unsustainable if we wipe out the living world in the process. As living beings we need living things, not more and more digital toys and waste."
Obviously, we believed we could live without nature, because our technological development has reached an amazing level. Just think of the ever more sophisticated medical diagnostic tools, but the smartphone has also proved to be an epoch-making invention. I first entered cyberspace in the library's internet club in February 1997. In the club I was almost the only girl among the many boys. I was always interested in technology because of the communication. In 2000 I bought my first radio phone, a very basic basic model. I bought my first smartphone second hand in 2005, it was still a pda mobile hybrid, but it already had all the features that made the more modern version a hit. Born in 1978, I have been following the development of technology and the decline of the natural environment all my life. As a city dweller, I am fully aware of my vulnerability to technology, and also that a return to traditional farming is simply not possible due to severe natural damage and overpopulation. We are all in a very scary trap. Luckily for me, I am smart enough to think of solutions and make decisions.
A word of advice, keep your wits about you, develop your mind, learn practical skills, because you will need your own human values. Our technology will not save us when the biosphere collapses because of our overuse.