by Angela Timms
We weren’t born on the planet but we returned in our early years so that we could completely grow up and get to know our adopted family. Our life took a different path from the peaceful one of hearth and home as you may already have guessed. Even visiting our home planet and being given such a wonderful welcome didn’t make it our real home I suppose. That was what the time at home is intended to find out. All Frixians must be returned by law and once back on the planet we can decide what we want to do. Anyone found with a captured Frixian or anyone responsible for keeping a Frixian from his or her home will feel the wrath of our people and that isn’t something anyone would fine pleasurable. That is to make sure that we understand who we are, what we are and where we belong. Then we can make our decisions. As I have already written, we weren’t even born there as we were hatched miles from home and our lives have always been a touch on the wild side. Of course once a Frixian has made their decision and if they choose the new life or to come and go, that is what they do.
To start with we were prisoners though we didn’t know that. We thought we were like any other Frixian, hatched on a ship and we worked with the Android Pixie Band to keep the ship working. Then our captors put us back in the cryogenic unit and somehow in our sleep we realized what had happened. That was probably something to do with the ship and her ability to communicate with people in cryo. Seasons turned and turned again, years flew by as the calendar rolled and time marched on in your timeline.
While we slept, the barn was rebuilt around us by the son of the owner, called Bryn, all those years ago. He had put our home together again although he never knew we were there. We slept through it all. Stone was placed upon stone. Windows were fitted and doors were made. One part of the floor was high as a place where the chaff cutter was. The other end was low, a stable for the ponies who used to bring down the peat. Years passed by and we slept through the comings and goings of the ponies and the whir of the machinery that cut up the animal feed, chaff and beet. Generations grew up and the son became a grandfather but still we remained asleep. Sadly the father, who had lived in the house while the work was done, died. Later the mother moved away to Aberystwyth were it was easier for her. The house was sold and new owners came and went. But the building had been built strong and true. The door that had been handmade stood against the elements and the stonework kept the wind and rain on the outside. It had many uses. It was used for storage and then animals but then one day everything changed.
We are luckier than most. Then most of our kind, or should I say pretty much all of our kind, are gone from your dimension now. There are a few who have stayed here though. Many do not move anymore but they are still watching, hiding as puppets and old toys touched by the magic of The Toymaker, there to protect you when you need us most. That is something I didn’t realise. I thought we were all gone, no, not at all. There are some of us who are trapped in unmoving bodies because the children who own us don’t believe in us. Trapped but still watching over our charges and hoping that the Goblians who are the monsters under the bed and in the wardrobe don’t get them.
The magic of The Toymaker is very specific. When a toy is given at Christmas by the magic of Santa or on a birthday or for some other reason The Toymaker gives it his blessing. It is then able to be inhabited by one of our kind. When the toy is given, the magic of the gift makes it able to be touched by The Toymaker. The Toymaker used to have a part in making all the toys. As to what will happen now, I do not know. He is long gone, his spirit was broken by the sadness of children not wanting soft toys anymore. The Goblians were able to destroy him which kept new Frixians from coming to this world. Toys decayed and were thrown away. Some were put in museums, others rotted in attics and cupboards until they ended up in landfill sites. That was when their Frixians gave up and returned to our home planet. They hoped that one day the love of soft toys would return, then they would return as well. You see you can’t just own a toy and expect it to protect you. If you want it to be linked to a Frixian you have to love it. You have to cuddle it and you have to believe it will protect you from the darkness in your room at night.
So when you cuddle your bear or doll you never know, it could be a Frixian. That cuddle could be the thank you for the sleepless nights your Frixian spends protecting you from the Goblian under your bed or in the wardrobe.
Of course if anyone comes in we can just stop moving and appear as puppets and toys so nobody needs to know. But we know, and our people know and that is enough. Until now.
Now there are too many Goblians around and children are turning away from their toys in preference for electronic boxes. We cannot use them. We cannot protect the children and one by one our people have left this dimension. That has left the Goblians free to multiply. That is horrible as they are nasty things. We might joke about eating children sometimes and play with our people about it but we would never harm a child. But, Goblians would. So that is how it is.
They are different to us. They are created by all the bad thoughts in the world and are made of all the wasted rubbish that is thrown away. The Goblian King takes the rubbish and makes it into a puppet very like us but nasty.
Grannies are no longer knitting toys with love that The Toymaker can turn into a Frixian. Children are no longer keeping that favourite toy that they can cuddle when they are afraid. When the toy is no longer loved it loses its magic and the Frixian must leave. So perhaps there is more of a need to be afraid of the dark now as we are getting less and less and toys will soon be just that, toys.
Of course we are not unique. Although only two of us live here for now and are sentient there may be more just sleeping or who have lost touch with home. We have our friend Quirky who lives with Saffy and Creed and protects them. There will be others too if we can open the gateway to let the spirits though and find the spirit of The Toymaker to link the spirits to the toys. Perhaps Angel will make some toys for us to inhabit. I must talk to her about that. She made me a lovely goat a while back, that would make an ideal home for one of our friends when they arrive.
The Weaver of Dreams sent me a dream last night. It was an amazing dream that we can bring more Frixians to this world to bring back magic. That is of course a side effect too. I have felt it before and believe it is possible but it really isn’t that easy. We have to find out how to do that. It was easy for Frixians to leave as that is just a move from the mundane to the unmundane. The other way around, that needs a gateway.
I can’t help but think that there must be one close by. There must be a reason why the TAVERN was brought here as a safe place. Or perhaps we need to take the TAVERN to a place where there is one and link it up. That would be easy except that our beloved ship is grounded. It wasn’t for a while as Kevin, who visits sometimes and who is Frixian Friend did fix it. But now we are stuck again. Since the control box was stolen.
Dreams are becoming mundane and if you don’t mind me saying, money orientated. As the Weaver says to us often, where are the great dreams of magical castles, winged horses, fantastic dragons and being a real hero or heroine?
There was a time where images had to be created in the imagination. Now these images are all delivered on screen. There is no need to see it in the mind’s eye, the images are all there on demand. Years of work dismissed in a moment as it flickers by on screen, digested by experience-hungry minds. Swifter than a book and there is little concentration required. It is Prepackaged and delivered to be watched with little concentration or a lot. It is there to be criticized or enjoyed, the choice is the watcher’s. Someone’s life long work becomes moving wallpaper or something to be watched and loved. It is the sign of the times, fast and furious, voracious consumption and discarding the waste on the scrapheap of the unwanted. But the images on screen can also spark the imagination in those with a lively mind. So all is not lost and it gives a whole new place where those who are creative can create. A well written story on screen can inspire those who watch it to think beyond the mundane. That is a kind of magic.
/> Stories are essential for those who are starting out in your world. If they can keep the magic then perhaps they can keep a grip on the qualities which are so wonderful in your race. The authors today can be inspired by the magic they see on screen. That is why there is still hope. The little bit of magic gleaned from a fanciful story may be the only magic one of your kind ever touches and feels but it is better than no magic at all.
We have something like it. On our home world the wizards who aren’t naturally magical and who have to learn their craft can create visual magic. They tell the stories and as the words are spoken the images play out in front of the audience. But, only the ancient ones can do that, the really experienced wizards who are truly at one with their magic.
Frixian magic is different. Our magic is natural, we are born with it so we just have to think about it. So we can’t do that. I do have a wand as I need it to store magic and to use when the need arises. It isn’t the generator or controller of the magic, it is a battery.
The wizards have wands, like any non-magical creature. They have amazing wands. They have to make them by themselves and usually make them when they are small children who are first stepping out on their magical journey. It is part of their test to become a wizard. Firstly they have to find their piece of wood which cries out to them. They then have to smooth it using magic and then they have to enchant it. If they can do all that without the wand then they are capable of great magic when they have it.
The wizards usually live in huge towers which are also schools as they can never stop learning. All they do is learn their craft and those who are able and have achieved great accolades also teach.
I don’t know who teaches the High Magus. He knows the most and he has lived almost as long as I have. And I’m over two thousand of your years old. There are rumours that he is taught by the Great Gold Dragon herself.
There was a time when everyone had a type of magic. They did on your world as well. That was when you all had more belief and faith. That was a magical time when you still believed in the magical creatures which inhabit your world. It is odd how you don’t believe anymore. It must make them very sad. Then looking at a lot of your world it is probably best that they are forgotten and can live in peace.
If you believe something without any possible doubt then that is a big step on the way to making it happen. And if it didn’t, then one of the fairy kin would hear the primal sound of the magical scream and would come and help. Or an angel or whatever you like to call those who help you.
10 CHAPTER NAME
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lxxv
11 When I woke up this morning I smelt something. There was magic in the air, Goblian magic. All I can think is that they had attacked in the night and their target was our secret magic garden as their magic trace was around the boundary there when I reached out with my mind to check the strength of our defenses.
Now that got me thinking. They can’t get in of course. We have
the place protected by our Frixian magic. But there must be something in the garden that they wanted.
Now I’m going to have to go and have a look. I have to confess, I am a bit scared as the Goblians are very scary. If they want something there then I want to know what that something is.
So here I go on another little adventure. A bit scared of course but that is life. If you step outside the mundane then you have to expect a little scare or two. So I have my shoes on, my coat and my hood which covers my ears in case anyone is looking. If they see the clothes they don’t see me so I won’t end up as a floppy puppet in a puddle somewhere. I just hope I don’t end up as a ripped up one with my spirit dismembered from the puppet. Nasty Goblians!
I can just about reach the key to the door in the guest room as I know where it is hidden. I can easily reach the lock, put the key in and turn it. It isn’t raining but the bushes are wet from the rain the night before. Outside the door the elderly fuchsia bush towers nearly ten foot above me. It may be over two hundred years old. Well the original part of the bush is. The new growth is new from a pruning last year. It is still old for a bush. It is more like a tree now. Its leaves and flowers are now gone with the summer. It raises empty sticks to the sky, skeletal and resting. The other plants that keep their leaves are still green though, green and wet.
The leaf cover of summer is gone. So I have to be careful now that one of the neighbours doesn’t drive by and spot me. Not that they would notice me as thankfully the horsebox is good to hide behind. So after a careful listen and waiting for the neighbour to go to work in his big white van and waiting for the school bus taking Dylan to school to go past it is safe.
