SciFi and Fantasy Stories: Literary Limbo Lounge

Tenacity always drew a hard line. Things were done a certain way and they were always done. A half-finished job was a job ignored and shirking responsibility was a cardinal sin. Though his stances and demands were as firm as bedrock, he was a fair man who would offer anything up to and including himself just to help another.

In accordance with his principles, days started very early at his establishment and that meant he and his family rose long before the sun; even if they hadn’t been to bed until the small hours of the morning.

One particular morning, as the bitter climate gnawed and wailed outside the frosted windows, the great mountain of a man swung himself out of bed. He yawned as his wife stirred slightly behind him. She lifted her head to look at the timepiece before dropping into the pillow again.

“I swear, Tenacity,” she mumbled through the feathers. “You’re incorrigible. It’s four on a Sunday. No one will be coming this morning.”

He laughed at her as he pulled his cold trousers up. His jaw clenched as he fought the chills and the urge to yelp.

Shaking the feeling, he strode to the small fireplace and prodded the reluctant coals still glowing from last night’s fire. He waited for the tiny tongues of flames to gain the strength to lick up over the smoldering embers before he carefully placed fresh wood over them.

His over-shirt was up and over his head quickly as he walked to the bed again. Tenacity sat down next to his wife and carefully pulled some of the flaming hair away from her face. Even now after many, many years together she was lovely. A timeless beauty had long ago etched itself over her features. She was getting older, that was obvious, but even aging she performed with grace, refinement, and dignity.

She groaned slightly pinching her eyes tighter. “Come back to bed.”

“I’ll send Cree when I need you. Go back to sleep.”

She smiled slightly and released her breath, falling obligingly back to dreaming. If Tenacity said so, who was she to argue?

Tenacity made his way swiftly down the large, open staircase and to the front of the huge common room. If he was up, the establishment was fully operational and needed to show such. He reached behind a long, fully-stocked bookshelf searching for the lead to the sign. He found it quickly and twisted the end as he spoke the small incantation. Instantly, the sign lit over the door outside, filling the surroundings with a soft, cheery, blue glow. The snow swirled but couldn’t look menacing in the gentle, welcoming light.

Tenacity grasped the door handle as he did every morning. It didn’t matter what the weather was like, every morning he went out to check and make sure the sign read exactly as it was supposed to. He’d once had some very mischievous guests who’d changed it in the night and he didn’t want that to happen again. He smiled reading the words to himself.

Literary Limbo Lounge

Enter and find rest all those scathed by critic;

Immortalized by the written word.

“G’morning, Tenacity!” a shrill, youthful voice rang through the early morning air as the door shut tightly against winter’s chill. “You’re up early! Where’s Inspiration?”

“Are you trying to wake the guests?” Tenacity asked calmly trying to get the shorter youth to lower his voice.

He snorted in response and tossed some unruly brown hair out of his bright, black eyes. “Of course not,” he answered waving his hand dismissively. The long arm of his shirt flopped over the small, hidden hand. “Why would I try and wake those who have no purpose but to dream?” His black eyes shined brightly as he smiled at Tenacity.

Tenacity wanted very much to be cross with his fellow Caretaker but no matter how many times he tried, he simply couldn’t. Imagination was who he was and Tenacity loved him as his brother; even when he was slightly louder than he should be at four in the morning. He placated himself with the fact Imagination had never woken any of the guests before… or at least they’d never complained of it.

“Clothes looking a little large this morning,” Tenacity commented as he turned to stride to the kitchen stores. Behind him, he heard a gleeful laughter.

“You noticed!” he called after Tenacity. “I thought I might get away with it this morning… But there’s no fooling you.” His warm laughter again rang through the large room but this time it contained a different quality; it was more solid and it was deeper.

Tenacity looked over the large shelves and frowned. He looked again before opening his mouth to speak. “Did you order the tadpole extract like I asked?” he called into the common room where a now slightly taller Imagination was already pulling the chairs and stools off the tables and placing them around.

Imagination popped his head through the door and smiled brilliantly, his piercing, blue eyes shining. “That’s an interesting question.”

Tenacity had long since ceased being surprised at Imagination’s sudden shifts in physical appearances. “How about an interesting answer then?”

“I thought some pollywog serum might do better,” Imagination answered as a grin danced quickly across his face. He strode to the supply cabinet and pulled a small jar off the top shelf, higher than Tenacity could reach without straining.

Tenacity frowned as he pulled the jar of blue liquid out of his brother-in-law’s hands. He looked slightly up into the well-defined faced and pressed his lips together. He hadn’t wanted pollywog serum… he’d asked for tadpole extract.

“You do realize that Wormwood’s due in this afternoon.”

Heratio Wormwood had often expressed he liked nothing except tadpole extract. Tenacity appreciated his guest to be flexible but why push them without good reason?

“Of course,” Imagination answered grinning. Even his red hair seemed to shimmer with mischief beaming in his eyes. “Old Sludgy could use a little bit of a stretch.

“Don’t worry, Tenacity, I’ll make it my personal responsibility to sell him on it.” Imagination’s grin widened. “And if by some horrible twist in fate, I can’t…” He reached behind his back and pulled out the extract.

Tenacity fought to keep the frown on his face but gave up in the face of Imagination’s surety. “Don’t provoke him,” he warned remembering last year’s ordeal with Wormwood.

“Me?”

“You.”

Imagination laughed heartily as he set both the jars down on the shelf before turning back to the common room to finish his morning task.

“Creativity!” a young voice squealed excitedly.

Tenacity heard a low thud and knew both had just hit the floor.

“Uncle ‘Nation!” she screeched laughingly.

Imagination had no doubt taken to tickling her as he always did. Her laughter rang through the air shortly before Imagination’s echoed. She was tickling back. Tenacity shook his head and waited a moment before stalking out to set them to work.

“Alright, you two,” he spoke sternly to the two children wrestling on the floor. “To work.”

The child wearing cloths large enough for a full-grown man jumped up and ran a circle before returning to his job of setting the common room to rights. His childish song about frogs and logs and shooting-stars filled the early morning air as he worked.

Creativity stood gracefully. Tenacity smiled and couldn’t help but notice that when she wasn’t acting like a child (and therefore looking like one) she was very much like her mother.

“Health to you, papa,” she spoke softly her silvery voice like a fresh wind over a hot plane.

“And you, Cree,” he returned planting a kiss on the top of her soft brown head. “You’ll wake your mother when you’ve finished here?”

It was late morning by the time Tenacity finished his morning rounds. He always made sure he visited every part of his establishment every morning… to make sure everything was just exactly the way it was supposed to be. He personally checked the temperatures in the lava rooms, the humidity in the swamp spas, the light levels in the caverns, and the arrangements of the sport hall. He checked every private parlor and checked on those guests who couldn’t easily fit through the hallways to the common room where he or the other Caretakers could be found. He especially enjoyed his visits with the dragons. He almost always had at least one dragon taking rest at the Lounge. That was quite an accomplishment. Most dragons were exceedingly picky about who they allowed to serve them.

Now though, he was done and returned to the common room. Hopefully Wormwood hadn’t arrived yet. Imagination always meant well… but somehow he didn’t want to chance Wormwood’s patience.

Tenacity looked out over the common room. The high vaulted ceilings were lit with lamps he thankfully didn’t have to light by hand any more. A fire-fae had long ago bound himself to Tenacity’s establishment and made sure the lamps and fireplaces burned brightly. Two huge fireplaces standing on opposite walls contained roaring fires which sent their light and their warmth throughout the great room.

He smiled. The hall was much fuller now that morning had come and gone. Many of their guests sat among the many chairs, couches, and tables … some even reclined chattering in the rafters. There was a special place in his heart for each and every one of his guests. He had been present when almost every one of them came into existence. More than that, it was partly because of him any of them made it past the first dangerous threshold into an established life.

He watched his wife flow around the large room as she greeted the guests. She would offer them some sort of sweet along with a soft smile. She would ask if there was anything they needed, listen, and respond. She’d been present at most of their Formations but she rarely did much after that. Now, she was there to make sure their stays were comfortable. The guests loved her; even the most difficult guest would calm and behave reasonably and rationally when she entered the situation.

Imagination laughed with some of the guest as he brought the food they’d asked for… well close enough anyway. Only those with a taste for adventure, or those who didn’t know better, allowed Imagination to take their meal orders instead of waiting for one of the others. He was notorious for “experiments” and “adjustments.”

Imagination’s wife, Excitement, listened with rapt attention as a short troll described his latest trials. The guests loved her as well. She was such an excellent listener and was always interested in even the most uninteresting things.

Enthusiasm, Imagination and Excitement’s son, darted around the room making sure everyone in the dining area had everything they needed. He apologized with a flourishing smile to those who didn’t know about his father’s creations and offered to bring them something else… closer to what they’d asked for.

Creativity was busy at her task of balancing the ledgers, inventory, and guest lists. She had a good head for numbers and stocks so Tenacity hadn’t objected when she’d asked to take the job on.

Tenacity joined her behind the counter and rested his hand on her shoulder. “How goes it?”

She glanced over her shoulder smiling. “Well, Papa.” She turned back to her work pointing with her feather quill. “Stephan Detempnor sent word he and his siblings would like to come for a rest if we could manage to squeeze them in next week.”

Tenacity grinned slightly. The mighty king of a powerful and colossal nation asking a simple inn-keeper if he could be “squeezed in;” it was laughable.

“Of course, I sent word immediately we would be delighted to accommodate them.”

Tenacity smiled at his daughter and patted her back. She knew what she was doing. He started to inquire further into the subject when a soft, shimmering sound interrupted him. The small bell above the door had just announced the entrance of a new guest. The door shut silently again causing the bell to call out again. The stranger wearing a dark maroon cloak turned from the door slowly and began to walk towards the counter.

“Welcome, to the Literary Limbo Lounge,” Tenacity said warmly as he turned towards the stranger. “What can I do for you Mr…?”

The hooded man approached the long counter silently. He didn’t carry bags or luggage but he pulled a small purse from beneath his clothing folds and placed it on the counter. The distinct clink of coinage rattled as he turned his head to the left. Tenacity couldn’t help but notice that the color of the slender hand had shifted slightly to a much darker hue.

“I-I would like a room please,” a timid voice rose from the darkness beyond the hood. The sound of the voice contrasted surprisingly with the man’s nearly sinister appearance. “One that’s out of the way… where most people don’t go.”

Tenacity raised his eyebrow. He wasn’t familiar with this man… and those who wanted to not be seen made Tenacity want to… need to… know why.

“I will be pleased to provide lodging for you. I will need your name and author however, Mr…?” he pressed again.

The man shifted uncomfortably. He sat down on one of the large stools attached to the side of the long counter.

“I’m sorry,” he said barely above a whisper. “I don’t know my name.”

“Ahhh,” Tenacity said beginning to understand. He smiled gently. “I think I see.”

This man was only very newly Formed… not even fully complete yet. That’s why Tenacity didn’t know who he was. Perhaps one of the other Caretakers would but he didn’t yet.

“That’s not a problem, is it?” the frantic voice rose suddenly as he sank father into the cloak. “I-I don’t know what else to do. Please don’t send me away.”

“It’s fine, young man,” Tenacity answered gently. “Everyone’s been through what you’re going through. You don’t have to be ashamed.

“Do you know your author?”

“P.F. Harrington,” he answered softly soundly slightly relieved. The shadows seemed to almost retreat from beneath his cloak.

Tenacity smiled as he nodded his head and reached for the register his daughter leaned on.

The way Creativity leaned forward she was obviously very interested in this new guest. “I’ll file your Writ for you,” she said standing.

The man looked up at her and then down at her extended hand. “Excuse me?” he asked instantly nervous again.

“Your Writ,” Creativity repeated patiently. “That’s the literature that brought you into existence… the text that changes and therefore changes you.”

“I-I’d rather hang… hang on to it,” he answered instinctively placing his hand over the inner pocket where it lay.

“That’s fine if you really want… but we house most Writs so our patrons can relax. We take good care of them.” Creativity pointed across the room to the series of large bookshelves where all their guest’s Writs were safely stored.

The hood turned to allow him to see in the direction her slender finger pointed. “Well alright then.” He again reached deep into the now forest-green cloak and produced a few scraps of paper and one or two full sheets. “It’s not bound.” There was a redness in his voice that wouldn’t be any more obvious even if they could fully see his face.

“It will be,” Tenacity assured him noting with a raised eyebrow at his daughter as she returned. He didn’t exactly like her resting her arm and hand over this stranger’s shoulder but she was almost an adult now. “It takes time.”

“You can lower your hood, sir. No one will bite you,” Creativity sang sweetly.

Tenacity could almost feel this character blushing but he reached up to do as she suggested. Tenacity began writing in the log while glancing up curiously. He was a young man, with short, unruly, blonde hair that blazed like the sun. His eyes were a deep green and his face was a fine chiseled square. Tenacity noticed pointed ears sticking through the tuffs of hair.

The man sighed as he glanced about the room. He looked as if he were afraid others were staring at him.

“I’ll register you as Harrington, okay?”

The man nodded. Tenacity grinned slightly as the man’s appearance began to shift slowly. First his hair lengthened and straightened while darkening to a deep, forest green. A moment later, his skin tone deepened to almost a greenish-brown as his face became longer and younger looking. His eyes shifted to black and he lowered his head ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he answered reaching for his hood again.

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” a smooth voice to the left spoke.

Harrington’s head jerked in the direction the voice spoke as he jumped nervously. “We’ve all been through it. You should have seen my shifts.”

The tall, vibrant man shook his head as a slight smile danced on his face revealing extremely sharp canine teeth. His hair was shoulder-length and red. His eyes were piercing brown and his smile was absolutely infections. “I started as a wolf.” His laughter filled the air. He hopped on the stool next to Harrington. “The name’s Paul Devonshire.”

Harrington shook the outstretched hand carefully before the man continued talking.

“Gabriel over there started out as a skinny elf with black wings. Amber began as a very young, sickly child,” he let out a whistle. “Look at the foxy lady now. That group over there started as some sort of vigilante orphan group. When Justin started out, he was a normal human… those red scales had to come at some point. When they started, they were all animals who flew fighter-planes. Then there’s a really nice dragoness… she went through so many changes it’s not even funny; started as a human.”

“A-are you a vampire?” Harrington asked slightly nervous unable to take his eyes of Paul’s glinting white teeth.

“Sure,” Paul answered nonchalantly. “Does that make you uneasy?”

“Well…” Harrington started as his ears lengthened humiliatingly, “a little.”

Paul laughed slightly. “She doesn’t write ‘em any other way!” he laughed again.

“What?”

“P.F.’s my writer too,” Paul laughed. “Her characters… unless evil… are all honest. Can’t lie if my life depends on it. That can be tricky sometimes.”

Harrington couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Are you finished with him, Master Tenacity?”

Tenacity smiled and nodded his head. He had all the information he needed. He was grateful Paul had come to help out. Characters who hadn’t gone all the way through the formation process were often uncomfortable and nervous, if not downright frightened. Meeting another written by the same author almost always helped them relax… and Paul was a natural.

“I’ll ready your room and bring the key shortly,” Tenacity said nodding to Harrington. “Welcome again to the Lounge.”

Harrington smiled as he stood.

“You know when she finally decided on vampire she even gave me a stupid accent. ‘I vant to suck you blvood.’ It was honestly quite stupid of her since I was supposed to be from New York. She’s gotten a lot better since then.”

Harrington allowed Paul to steer him around the room, introducing the newbie to werewolves, vampires, fairies, other elves, humans, trolls, and some of the really old characters. Harrington seemed particularly frightened of the ancient vampire and seemed strangely drawn to the young river rat in the straw hat and faded overalls. Tenacity smiled. The boy would be a good comrade to the young elf (or maybe was he a nymph now?) if they could strike a solid friendship.

“Do you know that elf?” Tenacity asked as Imagination slid up to the counter. Tenacity was slightly taken aback that Imagination was appearing his actual age… he almost never did that.

Imagination craned his hoary head as Harrington again shifted appearances slightly. The elf was taller now and pale as snow with piercing ice-blue eyes. Imagination grinned, deepening the few wrinkles defining his laugh. “Yeah,” he answered his emerald eyes shining brightly. “He’s gonna be a good one… took Enthusiasm to help me. That boy’ll be good too.”

“I don’t think it’s very nice of P.F. to send him out on his own like this. He wasn’t prepared,” Tenacity commented shaking his head.

“She doesn’t understand… Besides, this is the safest place for him now.” Imagination defended the writer, still struggling to find her way along the twisting path of authorship. “I’m sure she’d appreciate a visit from you a little later.”

Tenacity laughed slightly as he shook his head. He finished filling out the form and looked up.

“I think he’d appreciate it more.”

Imagination laughed also and shrugged his shoulders as they heard Harrington gasp in embarrassment. He’s just grown a tail.

“It’s good for them… they learn compassion for others’ differences this way.”

“Did Wormwood arrive, yet?” Tenacity asked changing the subject. It was strange the swamp-creature was late. He didn’t want to think about what would happen to him in this sort of weather.

“Wormwood…” Imagination repeated as if trying to remember something. “A tall fellow? Green and sorta looks like a mushy blob with gills? Big watery eyes?”

Tenacity glanced at his fellow Caretaker. He frowned and Imagination got the message.

He dropped his hands from where they imitated the swamp monster’s eyes “Yes, he came. Inspiration immediately led the green ice-cube to the swamp spa so he could warm up. He said he’d be back at supper time.”

“Good…good…”

The main entrance was suddenly thrown open. It wasn’t like a thrown door of someone rushing to get out of the cold. The announcement bell jerked hard, spinning over to stop, hanging at an odd angle… like a broken arm. Everything about the way the door bounced back from the wall screamed that this was someone who wanted to announce his presence.

Tenacity scowled as a tall figure stepped through his door followed by a shorter feminine figure. He quickly came out from behind the counter and crossed his arms as the bitter cold rolled across the floor like fog.

“Shut the door,” he spoke sternly.

The smooth, handsome face smiled with neither joy nor mirth. His hand reached out and the door slammed hard back into its frame causing the window to shudder and the wall to groan. “Hello there, Tenacity.” His voice was smooth as honey but there was a sub-tone to it that bit the ear and set the teeth to grind.

The smaller woman next to him smirked stupidly. Past experience said her shining face and lifeless eyes held only two expressions: brainless and really brainless.

“What do you want?” Tenacity growled, squeezing his own arms painfully in an attempt to control himself.

Imagination joined him, casting off his true appearance of the old man and appearing once more as a strong, young man. He crossed his arms and scowled at the pair just as his brother and partner did.

“What a pitiful welcome for your only brother,” the man sneered, malice seeping from his eyes.

“You are not my brother,” Tenacity scowled. The man pulled his coat off with a flourish and dropped it on a large coat rack. “Neither are you welcome here.”

“Hmmmm, still see you’re catering to some strange ones,” he said motioning to the coat covered with fur and mud next to his own.

“Only when I cater to you,” he growled in return. “Which won’t be much longer, I swear to it.”

“Stop your posturing,” the man sneered. “You can’t throw me out until I break one of your precious rules.”

“When you do, I’ll be right there to toss you out on your thick head.”

“Who says he’s going to?” the woman spat as she removed her own coat. She handed it off to allow her companion to hang it for her.

“Keep you tongue behind your teeth, Rebuke.” Imagination snapped as his eyes spat blue flames. “You could have nothing of value to say.”

“Ooooo, grown a spine since our last visit, hallucination boy?” she sneered as she walked past him to the counter. She glowered at Creativity who returned the hateful look.

“Visions to inspire are not hallucinations,” he spat at her. Nothing was more offensive to Imagination than to call his gifts hallucinations. He was neither Oblivion nor Insanity; he never caused people to hallucinate.

Tenacity, however, had bigger issues than whether or not the stupid woman thought Imagination’s gifts were hallucinations. He glowered angrily at the unwelcome man who still stood near the entrance. “You will not insult, bother, annoy, taunt, or harass any of my real guests.”

“You must be joking. Them?”

“They come here to escape the malicious likes of you. They come here because they need a break from the nay-saying wretches who condemn them and their authors. I will not have you bringing that sort of environment into my establishment. Consider this you first and final warning.”

“Don’t worry,” he answered nonchalantly waving his hand as he began to slowly walk about the room. He approached the nearly sacred bookshelf where Creativity had only lately housed their most recent Writ.

He pulled down a small book and quickly flipped through the dusty pages of the very old Writ. He looked over the cover and smirked condescendingly. “This one should be good. A real winner… the public will love it. Obviously there’s already been wide acclaim.”

He rustled through the pages which had come down when he’d pulled the book. He searched the room still smirking. Harrington’s face paled and showed his fright as the man wrinkled the papers in his grasp… Only a few guests knew exactly what happened when a Writ was destroyed but they all knew it was bad.

“Your name is Treesong?” he laughed out loud as he sneered incredulously.

“I-I-I-I guess so,” Harrington, whose name was apparently then Treesong, stuttered nervously. All he wanted was for the man to put his papers down.

“Stupid to boot, too!”

Inspiration glided over swiftly and snatched both Writs out of the unwelcome guest’s hand. Inspiration reached up to place the book back in its spot and filed the papers safely away.

The minute the book was out of this monster’s hand, the characters whose lives were bound to it breathed a sigh of relief. Treesong hung his head in a mix of relief and humiliation.

“Cruelty,” she spoke sternly stopping his hand mid-reach. “If you touch me, you will loose your abject hand. If you touch another Writ you will loose your life. Don’t test me. I am not in the mood for games.”

Cruelty scowled as he turned to walk away from the shelf. Enthusiasm joined his aunt near the shelf and stood just as menacingly. Cruelty had tried to destroy some of the literature before. It had taken a month to piece back the shredded book and restore the mermaid to her right senses.

The whole room watched him with angry, unwelcoming eyes.

He laughed slightly. “Rebuke my dear,” he purred. “Methinks we are not well-like here.”

She turned to him a blank expression written across her face. “So?”

He smiled sickly as his eyes rolled at her impatiently. He seemed to be trying to prod her into something.

“Oh!” she exclaimed as if she suddenly remembered. She stood and cleared her throat. Rebuke opened her mouth and began to sing… or rather screech and cluck and shrill painfully.

Tenacity’d had more than enough. He grabbed both Cruelty and Rebuke by the back of the neck and shoved them roughly through the door. Their fine, undeserved coats landed in the snow near them with a flurry of white ice.

“You can’t do that!” Cruelty screamed in anger fighting for his footing. In his eyes, he hadn’t broken any rules yet. Rebuke hadn’t even gotten to the part of the song that called up the moths and book-beetles. They hadn’t done anything harm the precious Writs yet.

“Rule number one; don’t harass my guests. They look harassed. Stay away from my establishment if you know what’s good for you.”

Tenacity slammed the door hard and turned to look over the common room. He was glad her song had ended in time. He’d recognized it and he was glad he’d been able to. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to deal with a swarm of paper-eating insects. That would not have been good tonight especially with how full the Lounge was.

“My apologies, friends,” he said warmly. “There should be no further disturbances.”

The guest smiled at him, grateful he knew how to handle the likes of those two… and any others who’d come to destroy.

“No one holds it against you that he’s your brother,” Imagination said light-heartedly.

“That monster is not my brother,” Tenacity growled insisting on what was only a wish. He sighed and shook his head feeling slightly depressed.

Imagination grinned shrugging his shoulders. “You know that writer, Elizabeth Oak?” he asked after he’d darted to the counter. The child sat on the countertop, his chin planted playfully in his hand as his black eyes gleamed brightly. Tenacity couldn’t help but laugh at the child sitting on the counter in cloths ten sizes to large.

“I’m familiar with Liz,” he answered.

“I think she’s going to need your brand of encouragement soon,” Imagination said still grinning.

“Why’s that?” Tenacity mused raising an eyebrow.

“She’s trying to write a piece about a resort where people, given life by and through literature, go to relax and meet with others like themselves.”

“I wonder where she got that idea,” Tenacity said smiling slightly at the imp still sitting on the counter.

“One may never know,” Imagination grinned, mischief dancing in his child-eyes. “Perhaps it was a homework assignment run wild.”

Tenacity looked around the common room. A vampire and a slayer sat in the corner playing chess and discussing the ethics of exploiting readers’ emotions. Treesong, who hadn’t shifted in some time, was listening with rapt attention as a few others related what their particular tale’s included. In the rafters the fairies darted around playing with an owl and a cat while the old, red-winged man looked on smiling.

It didn’t really matter how she’d got the idea. If she was going to give life and purpose to more like those he saw before him… who was he to argue? He owed it to her, and to them, to help in anyway he could. What did it matter if people in the “real” world knew a little about him and his world? Perhaps it would help remove the power of some of those like Cruelty and Rebuke.