The Confabulator Cafe

Tag: retelling

  • The Sleeping Strategy

    “Well, the sign confirms it,” Bolero said, walking back over to where Nerek was standing. “It’s the old puzzle where one door is certain death, and one door is the treasure. One guard only lies, and one guard only tells the truth. You only get one question.”

    Nerek let out a deep sigh. When he’d accepted the quest to save the fair maiden from eternal slumber, he hadn’t expected it to be so complicated. Find the highest tower, kiss her, and go home. No one mentioned how ruddy difficult it would be to find the place, however. And instead of the plant barrier he’d been promised, he’d been forced to smash open several locked doors like a common thug, slay a fierce dragon without proper equipment… and now this. “Ugh. You’re a bard. Do you remember how this one goes?”

    “You hired me to record your adventures for posterity,” Bolero said, shaking his head. “I can’t get involved. Besides, I don’t remember quite how it goes. Something about asking one what the other would say?”

    “Yeah, that’s all I remember, too,” Nerek admitted, placing his hand on his chin. The two guards stared intently at him, making him feel ill at ease. “You know, it was bad enough that a full-sized adult dragon was able to live here for countless years… how in the heck are these two still alive? What do they eat? When do they sleep?”

    Bolero shrugged. “It’s magic.”

    (more…)

  • Skinwalker

    Joyce crept forward while Ian, her Creation, lay in wait. They were too close to the human settlement, but she didn’t have a choice; the prey will go where it wants and they must follow. Though their heightened sense of hearing, smell, and sound made the hunt easier, they had to bring the beast down with a knife alone.

    She kept her eyes on the deer as she moved silently through the undergrowth. A slight brush of wind stirred her pelt and Joyce froze as the elegant beast’s nostrils flared. She held her breath and waited until the deer lowered her head again.

    That was far too close, Joyce thought as she slowly let out her held breath. After several dozen heartbeats Joyce continued on her path until she was directly across from Ian.

    This hunt would determine his future. If he could fell this deer, the honour and privileges of becoming a Clan Protector would be bestowed upon him. In his human life, Ian had been a police officer, and all he had wanted since his turning was to inhabit a similar role as an Architect of Lore. (more…)

  • The Blind Poet’s Dog

    Everyone who is anyone knows Homer and loves Homer and invites Homer to perform at their Royal drunken feasts. But I know that Homer is a pain in the ass.

    Homer is my master, but we cannot simply have a congenial, professional servant/master relationship, oh no. Because Homer says that he is a ‘people person’ and he apparently wants ‘even his manservant’ to feel ‘involved’ in his ‘art.’

    So I must listen to him practice his epic poems over and over again. And I must provide an opinion on the practice because Homer always says, “Your opinion is important to me, Argos!”

    And I always reply, “I have no opinion, Sir.”

    And he most often says, “You know what they say about opinions, Argos.”

    And if he says that, I always reply, “Yes I do, Sir.”

    But he will always go ahead and say, “Opinions, like a certain something else, are something which everyone has!” And then he will laugh. (more…)