The large empty halls echoed with the sound of hooves as Carabella walked through the entrance of the Hall of Heroes. Ko’Gin clung to her saddlebags like a giant, horned sloth, then dropped down and blew flour across the floor. The two pretended to jump and dodge past lasers; Ko’Gin cracked a super-secret invisible vault door, and they reached the greeter’s desk, where the Underscribe Sloop snored. Ko’Gin quietly slunk up to the desk and, as if disarming a bomb, carefully scribed a thin mustache across the fat man’s beet-red face. “Pst… Cara. Eyebrows?”
The Centaur goddess nodded, and the little gremlin goddess drew Kungfu master eyebrows across the man’s brow and into open air, letting the ink lines float with divine providence. The two hurried down the stairs, giggling, to the endless shelves of books, scrolls, and slabs, with massive dehumidifier towers keeping the air dry. They passed through the empty Hall of Heroes, as at least once a week Cara’s niece Zeihalsium forced the scribes to all take a good night’s sleep, minus Sloop, who ultimately got plenty.
The two goddesses snuck up the stairs to the raised dais where the Master of the Hall and the two High Scribes sat, finding their way to Lionguard the Editor’s desk. “Alright, we’re in!” Cara said proudly. “Lionguard never checks his outbox.”
“Perfect. I mean, does anyone check it?”
“Nope. He doesn’t like people checking his checking.”
“Cool!”
“Alright, um… what should we call our, um, blog? Who gets to be first?”
“Hmmm Ko and Cara… Cara and Ko… The Kobara… The Caragin… hmmm…. Cara and Ko sounds the best, I think.”
“Yay. I am the point rider.” Cara happily bounced side to side, her hooves thumping on the rug-covered stone. “Okay… we need to get to business before someone catches us.”
“Ya, what’s our first topic?”
“Um… I hear a lot of people want to know about where writers get their ideas from.”
“Oh, right, that sounds like a good place to start.”
“Alright.” Cara looked about shiftily. “We have to be careful; some writers don’t like to share this information.”
“Ya. They want to keep all the ideas for themselves.”
“Okay, so first… you must pet a horse.”
“Where are people in a city going to find a horse?”
“Good point… first start with meditation. Take a deep breath. Visualize the most pretty horsey. If you see a Frisian, chase it off; now visualize a beautiful snowflake Appaloosa with wings and a unicorn horn, and, um, and oh, golden horseshoes, and um, visualize her really well. Now pet the horsey and take deep breaths. Tell her she’s a very good girl and, um, the best horsey and, um… hmmm, and now imagine a nice shiny red apple. Give the horsey the apple.”
“Cara…”
“Oh, um, now once you’re done with the very important meditation, we continue to the idea building. You need to go to a magical land called Maine and find a fairy circle. Do not enter the circle, or you will be abducted by the fair folk and hunted like an animal.”
“Or turned into a doggy and used for hunting.”
“Right, well, what I mean is you won’t become married to the fairy queen; you are not that lucky. Anyways, now dance around the circle while evading the ever-watchful gaze of the King of the Rocs. He rules over the magical font of Fairy Circle ideas in Maine. His name is Steve.”
“Now, once you’ve danced around the fairy circle, you must burn this special blend of herbs and spices available at Cara and Ko’s Store of Definitely Needed Wonders for the low, low price of five silver coins. Burn the whole serving of spices. Then sacrifice a lamb plushie. You should now be blessed by the Muses with an idea. If you haven’t, you should unplug and plug back in reality and try it again at double speed… on one foot?”
“Ya, one foot. While balancing a pie.”
“Which you give to a horse.”
“Cara…”
“A good horse.”
“Cara!”
“The Best Horse!”
“What’s next?”
“Why don’t you tell them how you get ideas?”
“Oh well… I feel like that should be obvious.”
“You steal them?”
“I source them ethically with sustainable practices from other artists.”
“Pretty sure that’s still stealing, Ko.”
“Nope, art is all about taking the old and making it new. And making people we hate characters to torment.”
“I never thought of doing that; it’s very hard to write with my hoofies.”
“Cara, you have hands; I also get a lot of ideas traveling to commit awesome heists and observing the art I’m stealing. Very profound pieces.”
“We do not condone stealing stuff unless it’s to help the horsies in your area.”
“Or yourself.”
“Ginny, you’re going to get us sued.”
“Lawyers are one of my domains, so… we should be fine.”
A clacking sound filled the air as the two conversed. “What is that noise?”
“Um, Cara?”
“Yes?”
“Isn’t that Zei.” Ko’Gin pointed behind them.
Cara turned, finding the small red elf tapping her foot. “Yes. That is Zei. Quick, run away!” Cara leaped off the dais, Ko’Gin clinging to her tail as they made a break for the door.
“Auntie Carabella Pettinghorse and Ko’Gin, you get back here right now.”
“You’ll never take us alive!” The two Goddesses escaped, galloping up the stairs, and as Cara reached supersonic speeds, bowled the desk and Sloop over with the sonic boom.
Taped on is a copy of a haiku from Fineth for a Vigint haiku contest.
Violet petals.
Drift like snow on Vigint land.
Where the Ashike rule.
Brothers bound in blood.
Blessed steel drawn against vile foe.
Peace made through conquests.
Once divided lands.
Honored ancestors made whole.
Pieces bound in gold.
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