The Tale of James Jameson & Protopov the Gypsy

James Jameson was used to being average height and of average weight. He enjoyed what he believed to be an average life and an average home. In fact it would be fair to say that James Jameson was average in every way and content to be so. Tonight however, James Jameson's life was about to become very un-average, indeed, not average at all.

A cool breeze carried bright red autumn leaves across the dark, muddy road James was traveling on. The branches of the surrounding trees, distorted in the silvery moon light, looked to James like hands reaching out to grab him. A heavy rain storm had just subsided and had managed to soak through James' thick riding coat nevertheless. Even Hamish, James' horse, was still dripping from every hair.

In the distance he could see orange smoke rising from a small camp fire. James whispered to Hamish, "Whoa, boy." and they came to a stop. In the glow of the fire James could make out the figure of a man and a bright colored wagon he believed gypsy's called Vardos. James had never dealt with gypsies in the past and wasn't too sure he wanted to now but his curiosity lead him to move cautiously ahead.

Stoker's Stigma

Life, once red-eyed and wild as fire, is now as cold and void of color as the white, drifted snow outside my window. Wasted and pitiful has this body become. A distorted version of the champion that once aroused a terrible fear in men. Disgraced, belittled, romanticized and falsified they know not who I am. What I am. Or, that is to say, who and what I once was.

Man's greatest sin was to besmirch me. And is death through sin? Then may death spread amongst all men and may I be the one to bring it to them.

Inside, Out

It was a cold day. The sky was white with clouds and snow as I played with Mr. Brunkles our scottish deerhound in the windswept streets of our town. Mr. Brunkles would chase me and tackle me softly in the drifted snow against the walls of the shops and restaurants on the main street. As I regained my footing after being tackled for the twentieth time Mr. Brunkles noticed a small mouse down an alley across the street. He bolted for the mouse and barked wildly as I chased after him calling his name.

We ran down the alley for nearly five or six blocks before Mr. Brunkles smashed open a door through which the little rodent had snuck under. As I approached the door it had already swung closed and seemed to be locked. I pressed my hands against the glass to peer inside the dark shop in hopes that I would see Mr. Brunkles but I couldn't see anything in the blackness of the shop. I pressed my ear to the glass to listen for him but I could not hear him. I knocked on the door hoping someone would come and bring Mr. Brunkles outside. There was no answer.

I stepped back from the shop aways to yell for Mr. Brunkles. Still no response. I stared at the curious little shop wondering what to do when through the giant storefront window I saw a glimmer of light. I ran to the window and looked in I could see hundreds of dolls. I was fascinated by the detail of the dolls and wondered who could have made them. I looked inside for what felt like hours and nearly forgetting about Mr. Brunkles as I was amazed by the dolls.

I went to the door to try and open it as if it would somehow magically be unlocked but no such luck. I knocked and banged on the door and still no one came. I turned away angry and frustrated and began to walk away when I heard a slight creek and saw the door had opened. No one was there yet the door had opened. So I peeked my head in tentatively and looked around. I called out questioningly, "Mr. Brunkles?" No reply.

I looked around at the magnificent dolls once again. Dolls were everywhere. They were on the floor, on wooden shelves in glass cases and resting in baskets which hung from the ceiling. There were dolls of every kind. Boys and girls and animals. There were cowboys and indians, astronauts and soldiers there were even sailors in a ship escaping from a giant squid. As I looked to the corner that I first saw the glimmer of light through the window I noticed two dolls standing next to each other one a scottish deerhound and the other a little girl. The dog looked surprisingly like Mr. Brunkles and the little girl looked just like me. It was even wearing the same clothes I was wearing now!

I walked slowly to the corner shelf upon which the dolls were standing. As I walked toward the two little dolls I thought I saw the doll that looked like Mr. Brunkles blink. I reached out for the little dog and smiled as I picked it up. Once again I thought I saw it blink and it's tail even seemed to wag ever so slightly. I set the little dog back down thinking to myself it was just my imagination. Then I looked at the doll that looked like me. I examined the hair and the clothes again noticing it looked just like me. I reached out to pick her up and...

I should have known better. I should have realized but now I'm on the inside looking out.