Cartoon Wisdom

 

"Kren" Part 20: A Change of Perspective

 

“Come, child, we must see your mother.”

My mother? Kren wondered helplessly as he was propelled forward by the steady claw of the elder. Then they were through the door, and he suddenly realized where he was.

It was the back room of the Guesthouse, dimly lit and furnished with one shaggy pallet of hay. He knew it intimately, having repaired it several times over the years; to his workman’s eye there was no mistaking it. But it was nowhere near as cavernous as it appeared. Suddenly his perspective swirled, and he saw how things really were. The room seemed to shrink and the giant Morgs became of normal size. It was he who was smaller.

That realization happened in a split second. Then his entire attention focused on the figure lying on the straw.

For years Kren would have sworn that he had no memory of his mother. But his heart gave a shattering cry of recognition as he looked at the tossing, groaning Morgess writhing under the patched blanket that barely covered her body. He ran eagerly to her side, but stopped just short in fear.

'The Region of the Summer Stars'

 

THE REGION OF THE SUMMER STARS

 

The Moon was sinking in the West;

Her face was pinched and drawn.

The Sun was rising in the East;

His face was pale and wan.

Between was seen, as from afar,

The Region of the Summer Star.

 

An Elf came walking from the wood:

His face was glad and fair.

The sheen of elven-light was seen

Glimmering in his hair,

And in his arms he bore along

A harp, on which he played a song:

 

"Far over the roaring ocean,

Far from this shore, there lies

The distant land of Elvenhome

Beneath the northern skies.

Fair Elvenhome! A guiding star

To those who wander here afar!

 

"White ships may cross the foaming waves

But I will tarry here

Amid the dales and hidden caves

Close by the misty mere.

I'll dwell upon the water's side

And near the shady woods abide,

 

"Until the pools are sheathed in ice

And brown leaves are falling;

When I hear, in the winter's night,

The white owl's deep calling.

Then I will turn my gaze afar

Toward the Region of the Star."

[I wrote this poem and drew the picture I think in my senior year of high school or soon thereafter. I hadn't read the Charles Williams book, but I'd heard the phrase.]

"Kren" Part 19: Forgetteries

“Look,” Kren began, starting to stand up, but a wave of dizziness suddenly took his head, and he dropped back heavily into his chair. He blinked. The room seemed to him to be expanding, or that he himself was growing smaller. The surroundings blurred and oozed, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the reeling discoordination. He clutched his head.

“What did you do! What’s going on?” he barked, and out of the darkness beyond his pressed eyelids he heard an utterly unfamiliar voice.

“She’s dying.”

His eyes flew open.

Kren was no longer surrounded by the low darkened walls of the familiar workshop, but instead looked on a lofty, wooden chamber. It was brilliantly lit on all sides by several lamps, familiar in design but unusually large. But what really astounded him were the other Morgs.

Kren had always imagined that any Morg would look like more or less like himself except perhaps for his discoloring stain. Nothing could be more different than the pair that loomed before him now. One was old, thin as a fencepost, with a mahogany face that looked like a mask set in the wilderness of his white hair and beard. The other was muscular but fat, but the bags of skin hanging from his arms argued that he had once been fatter still. His beard was a foxy red that almost blended away into the scarlet stain that was already blooming on his face.

But the most shocking thing was that they looked to be about eight feet tall.

“We’re all dying,” rumbled the fat one. “Some just faster than the others. The townsmen are already digging a hole for Rist and Trell.”

“Avert!” The old one sketched a hasty sign in the air. “You never know the Will of Morlakar! Don’t go buying trouble, Ferrit.”

“And yet you say that she’s dying,” the other pointed out.

“The last signs are on her.” The old Morg stroked his white beard sorrowfully. “It takes no prophet to judge her future. Come. We must do what is necessary.” He turned and crooked a finger. “You. Child. Come with me! You shall bear Witness.”

Without any remembrance of rising, Kren found himself on his feet and stumbling wide-eyed and mute towards the towering pair. He felt as if he had no choice.

“Do you really think he’s old enough, Pon?” the red one asked.

The old Morg shrugged.

“What choice is there?” There was watery pity in his eyes. “Besides, it may be his last chance …” He didn’t finish the thought, but instead took Kren’s shoulder with a firm hand and began guiding him to the door that suddenly loomed behind them.

“Come, child, we must see your mother.”

Thanksgiving Aftermath

 

There is an old poem that states that "Christmas comes but once a year, and when it does it brings good cheer." The lesser known cap to the verse also states "But when it's gone, it's never near." Well, here it is a couple of days after Thanksgiving and the same can be said about it: it's gone until next year, despite the leftovers still haunting the fridge. "Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat" off the extended Black Friday sales. But I thought I'd post an old poem here in tribute to the Ghosts of Thanksgivings Past.

 Thanksgiving: November 23, 1989

 

The grass was green, the winter grass,

as green as spring was new.

The road was empty, swept and clean,

except for me and you.

The light was clear, the golden light,

and long the sunbeams lay

As you and I went walking

on that far November day.

 

We had our canes, our India canes,

that we bought as a pair;

We tramped the highway tapping them

with hardly any care.

We talked of things, of future things,

and things of futures past

And the day was decked in joy

and the day went by too fast.

 

The times we had, times long ago,

now long ago are gone

And memories fade as colors fade

and fading are undone;

But I shall find, and finding know,

and knowing shall remember

This poem I wrote, wrote of us two,

and a day in November.

New Toys That I've Wanted 10: Odd Ones Out and Entire Lines

 

I think Skips is the only figure worth it in the Regular Show line; that big collection is Invader Zim; and I'm sure there are even more Peanuts figures in that format now. I had the Draven figure once but cannot for the life of me locate him.

New Toys That I've Wanted 9: Famous Monsters and Prehistoric Beasts

New Toys That I've Wanted 8: The Kids Are Alright

New Toys That I've Wanted 7: Kingdom Hearts and Venture Brothers

 

New Toys That I've Wanted 6: Dark Crystal, Old and New

For the record, I have a Mystic from the movie, an Aughra from the series, and a Chamberlain from the NECA toy company. I don't have any in the Funko ReAction line, which is where the Garthim is from.