(New) Catch Me If You Can "A Young King Arthur Story" By John Pirillo in which magic and magicians are shown in a new light.

Catch Me If You Can

"A Young King Arthur Story"

By John Pirillo

It was neither dawn nor dusk, but a twilight of a heavy sort where the clouds veil the skies in somber hues of gold and red, daring you to try to sleep or awaken beneath them. It was an auspicious time and a dark time, a time of light and life, and a time when dark forebodings rose like mists from the heaves of the earth below.

Merlin sat with Arthur beneath that shroud of mystery, himself a mystery, as his thoughts flew where only one such as he could travel.

"Were I a magician, I would make the clouds go away so the sun could shine and make all the bright and pretty things shine and grow beneath it." Arthur ranted, the hint of amusement touching his lips as he watched his master.

Merlin continued his restful pose, both legs intertwined in that strange position he had learned in the Far East from the dark skinned men there who worshipped a thousand different gods, but obeyed only one. His skin was bronzed just like the skies at that moment. Merlin spent many an hour outside tending to the needs of the wild life that was sheltered neared his Crystal Cave, and the needs of the people who came to him for healing and health.

"Were you a magician." Merlin finally said, with a light smirk on his lips. "I would be out of a job."

Arthur unraveled himself from his position on his elbows, and sat up, startled by the statement. "If I were a magician? Are you saying I could be one?"

Merlin opened his eyes and Arthur could see a vast depth of gold light emitting from within them, as if someone else were watching him through Merlin's eyes, and not Merlin himself. 

"Could I really become a magician?"

Merlin loosened his legs from each other, and propped his head on his knees watching Arthur go through all the motions of trying to figure out what he meant. The young lad was a very bright soul, but had a tendency at times to get lost in the intellectual side of things. Something that Merlin hoped in time to wear away at until the pure pristine hope of Britain shone with the Light that had been promised by his birth.

"I would think even the least of God's creatures could be a magician, Arthur."

"How is that possible?"

Merlin spread his palms and a beautiful butterfly fluttered from above and lit upon his right palm. It had triangular shaped blazons on its wings that seemed to pop out in gold and red. Its eyes were a gold color and its antenna a soft brown. It began to wash its face, as it that was the normal thing for it to do on a stranger's hand.

"For instance this tiny being. Just look at how much magic it offers in its gentle touch, its beautiful colors, and its dainty, carefree leap through the airs."

Merlin lifted his palm and the butterfly spiraled upwards, trailing a soft dust from its wings behind it, like a fairy taking flight.

"It is beautiful. But I'd hardly call that magic." Arthur finally ventured. "Wouldn't it have to be able to transform one thing into another?"

"Arthur, were you but to see your eyes when it landed on my right palm and began to wash its elegant face, you would no longer doubt magic in such a creature."

A cry in the skies drew Arthur's attention. It was a small white dragon, leading a larger golden one that seemed to be alert to all about it as the baby flew. When the baby flew too close to the ground, the mother dragon soared beneath it to urge it back into the air, and when it flew too high, she flew above it to help it back down before its wings lost their grip on the tenuous skies.

"It's a baby dragon."

"Not just any baby, Arthur. It's a King of Dragons."

"Really?"

"Yes. Only the purest of colors can find such a dragon. This dragon one day will carry a great leader into battle to fight the forces of darkness, and shall carry him like a chariot to the very gates of heaven itself."

When Merlin spoke those words, his eyes were on Arthur, as Arthur's eyes were on the baby white dragon. He smiled at Arthur's look. "No magic?"

Arthur looked at him and smiled. "The mother's love? She never lets him venture too close to the earth, nor too high in the heavens."

"And what else, Arthur?"

Arthur thought about it.

"It makes my heart dance."

Merlin clapped his hands.

"And isn't a dancing heart...magic?"

Arthur giggled, then grabbed Merlin's magic staff, leaped to his feet and ran away. "And so is your staff!"

"Arthur you come back with that staff!"

"Catch me if you can, old man!"

Merlin laughed and leaped to his feet.

Arthur led him past the Crystal Cave and along a narrow path about the mountainside it was embedded upon. Arthur, for his part, knew the path quite well as he used it daily to return home to his home with his Uncle, and to serve the Dark Queen Morgana, a task that fraught his nerves with fear and doubt, but that he did with a sense of urgency because he wished to serve his people, and could not do so, if he were ignorant of what they needed...and feared.

Arthur leaped across a fallen tree, and then scampered up a steep slope, using the staff to dig into the loose soil so he could make better headway. He looked back and Merlin was no longer behind him. He grinned. "Gotcha, old man!"

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands gripped him and pulled him up into the air and Merlin was whirling him around like a small child.

Arthur cried out with laughter and shouts to let him down, but Merlin was relentless. The more Arthur cried for release, the more he turned him, until he was so dizzy he thought he might throw up, then Merlin set him down on a large boulder, depositing him on the cliff of a great overhang that overlooked the Golden Forests below and the distant towers of the castle where Lord High King Uther Pendragon and the Dark Queen Morgana lived.

Merlin sat beside Arthur, and gently prized the staff from between his fingers, then set it between them. "I may be older. But I'm not that old!"

Arthur laughed, and then almost gagged as his stomach heaved for a moment.

Merlin reached onto his belt and loosened a flash attached there. He opened it and handed it over. 

Arthur took a long drag, and then his pale face brightened. "Honey water."

"And more."

"Thank you."

Merlin and Arthur sat there upon the wide boulder, dangling their feet over the edge of the drop, watching as the clouds finally drifted apart to reveal a setting sun, which kissed the distant black towers of the Dark Ones, and softened its dismal appearance.

"Some day I will build a new city here, Merlin."

"I pray that day comes soon, the world needs order, but..." He looked at Arthur. "It needs love even more. Never forget that, Arthur. Law is only a part of the structure of life. Without love, law is cold and spineless, like that which the Dark King and Queen wield, but with love, it becomes like a radiant sun supplying life and vigor to all it shines upon."

Arthur nodded. "I'm not sure such a day will ever come to these lands. The Dark Ones have such a powerful hold on it, and the wealthy, Merlin, they have forgotten the laws of charity. They take from the common man, more and more, and give back lashes and abuse, with little to eat and sustain the souls and bodies of the peoples."

Merlin put an arm about Arthur's shoulders. "Maybe someday you can change all of that. You think?"

"I don' know what to think."

Arthur's face hardened. "But if I could do it right now, I would. I'd have the heads of those Dark Ones..."

Merlin put a finger to Arthur's lips. 

Arthur gave him a surprised look.

"Arthur, all is part of God's Creation and part of his body. We must never forget that in God's eyes we are all each other's brothers and sisters."

Arthur sighed and put his head in his hands. "It's so hard to remember that sometimes, especially when I see Morgana's guards whipping a young girl because she kept a loaf of bread for her ailing father, instead of tithing it to the Dark Queen."

"Patience, Arthur. Just like a tree plummets the earth with its stout roots, some day you shall also do that, and your roots will sustain you when you need to shelter and succor those of need."

Arthur looked up and brightened. 

"You think so?"

Merlin gave Arthur a knowing look. "I know so."

"Can't catch me, old man!" Arthur cried out, snatching up the staff again and sprinting back down the mountainside.

Merlin watched Arthur run and smiled. "A child must be a child before he becomes a man."

So having said, he took himself back down the mountain, already knowing exactly where to surprise Arthur and recapture his staff. Some magic requires magic, but some only requires patience and maturity.

Buck Rogers and the Space Vampires, a Gil Gerad Buckie TV show. Fun and lighthearted sci-fy.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle died to this world, to be born in another, much larger and richer world. Read about it now in "The Death of Conan!"

Conan is the key to all the elements of the Baker Street Universe, as his writing sprung from an imagination that was strongly tied to the interdimensional doorway that leads us to the various adventurers who reside at the Baker Street 221B flat there.

The quote, "Sometimes you have to die to one world, to be born to another." could never be more true than it is for Conan, who on his deathbed, finds himself resurrected in a world that his imagination helped to create.

"The Death of Conan." Available now at Amazon for 99cents.

And after you've discovered and explored that adventure, journey on with the sequel, "Hyde," which delves into the mystery of Hyde, a monster created by Doctor Jekyll, who lives on the energies of living beings, destroying them in the process, while taking over their identities. A modern Victorian take on Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

"Hyde." Available now at Amazon for 99cents.

An Interview with Sherlock Holmes, Harry Houdini and Doctor John Watson. Part Five by John Pirillo

An Interview with Sherlock Holmes, Harry Houdini and Doctor John Watson. Part Five

I'm as excited as you are to find out what happens next in this interview. These brave and noble men usually leave my mind twirling all over the place with their constant interruptions, banter and intellectual, as well as emotional outbursts.

While I am a great fan of Sherlock's intellect I have to admit that I fancy Harry's vivant spirit. His colorfulness is something that reminds me of the Sixties and the very outspoken and colorful hippies. So I suppose if I were to call him a Victorian Hippie I wouldn't be too far off the mark.

And yes, I do let them read my words as they are put on paper. It's only fair to give them a chance to edit their remarks, clarify or eliminate clues that might be harmful to their work.

But so far they have been quite generous in both their help and their praise of this work. My goal is quite simply to clarify a lot of the rumors about their lives, as well as to show you how much more complicated they are as individual as well.

So today we continue with the Duel, which it turns out was more important than anyone could have guessed at the time.

The Author and Interviewer

John Pirillo

Illustration of Doctor John Watson and Sherlock Holmes as drawn by Sydney Paget

Now to the interview:

As I'm sure most of you know a very powerful influence was to come into Sherlock's life later on in his sleuthing career and one that almost cost him his life, and in one world did. Professor Moriarity. Now how does that enter into this conversation? Pay close attention to the clues in the Duel.

As I consider the above words I'm going to put onto paper Watson explains more about the Duel, which in retrospect to both him and his partner, Holmes, was a day of infamy they are not quite likely to forget.

"You see, old chap." Watson explained. "Holmes and I were concluding a very exhaustive investigation into the mysterious death of a man from Wales. His head had been cut off so neatly that even one of my own scalpels could not have been the weapon of choice. His tongue had been cut out and diced, his throat opened and a tube inserted. He was missing the tips of all his fingers and a needle and thread had been applied to sew on pieces of corn to the tips."

"A most curious thing indeed." Sherlock added. "It took some thought to conclude how he could perform such a delicate operation using a kernel of corn, until we realized the corn had been sewn on after it had been cooked."

"This explained the slightly singed tips of the fingers I noted." Watson concluded.

Harry nodded. "I used my divining powers to pick up a trail, for the night before a great and powerful storm had moved into the region and destroyed all tracks and visible clues other than the dead body."

"His name was Aramin Shame. A most peculiar name." Watson remembered.

"And later on we discovered he had much to be...ashamed of." Sherlock added in his usual aloof manner. "His daughter, whom we found bound hand and foot in her bedroom after a week's searching of records for his dwelling, was barely alive. The poor thing still is wounded severely from that tragedy and a ward of the Queen now in one of her splendid care homes for the weak and poor."

Harry jumped in next. "We found a very unusual trail."

"Quite remarkable indeed." Watson agreed. "It was a psychic trail, left by the murderer. And in retrospect it had to have been deliberately made."

"I agree." Sherlock said. "Often times the perpetrators of such grisly crimes feel a degree of remorse and leave trails so they will eventually be found. Much of my cleverness as recorded by your authors, and even yourself at times, has more to do with their wanting to be caught, than my own so-called superhuman intellect." He smirked then. "Of course, I wouldn't denigrate that intellect any by saying that I am always grateful for help, even if unneeded."

Harry laughed. "Ever the Holmes."

Sherlock bent forward and smiled. "Ever the Harry."

I smiled as well, went back to the frigerator and pulled out some Doctor Zero Root Beer. It was sugarless and used Stevia as a sweetener, so it was sweet and tasty, as well as good for you. "I've been saving these for just such a moment."

I passed them around and they looked at the caps, as if offended and then I realized they didn't understand how they worked. My error. I write about them so much I forget their period of time while being a steam punk kind of alternate reality...in their case Tesla driven...that they didn't have all our conveniences.

"My bad." I told them, and then showed them how to flick the cap off.

Harry did so fast, and clapped his hands before he thought about it, causing half his bottle to fly up into the air. Recovering swiftly, he waved his other hand and froze the liquid midair. He got up and drank it all down, then sat back in his chair. "I love the fizzy stuff in it. What do you call this?"

"Root beer."

He eyed the label. "Oh right. On the bottle. I could make a lot of money from a thing like this back home."

Sherlock cleared his throat. Harry eyed him, and then nodded. "Right, we don't interfere in timelines or alternate realities." He laughed. "Most of the time."

Sherlock almost nibbled at his soda, making tiny quivers of his mouth as he drank it. I suspect both the flavor and the bite of the carbonation were testing his powers of deduction quite a bit. Watson, however was more direct. He guzzled the entire bottle in one gulp, and then looked to me.

I jumped up, fetched another round of drinks from the two six packs I had in the frig and passed them around. After we had all satisfied our thirsts and for them, their curiosity, we continued.

"Anyway." Watson went on. "As we followed the trail it eventually led us to this remote part of Wales."

"There we found that the trail quite literally vanished." Sherlock said with a frown.

Harry spoke up. "But I found it again."

"Had it been buried?" I asked in ignorance.

Sherlock smirked. "Hardly."

Harry laughed. "Don't mind Sherlock, he's been without sleep now for seventy six hours and becoming a bit on the biscuit side of things."

"Biscuit?" Sherlock quarreled. "Is hardly a term for being snappy, irritated and tired."

"The trail ended in Cardiff." Watson came in again, sensing the two other men were about to continue their quarrel. "In a humble fisherman's home. We found the murderer was a fisherman's wife. She had used a titanium fish hook to do the murder."

"This explained the more ragged edges of the cuts on his fingers, if not his throat, which I soon realized had been done by angling the hook for the slice." Sherlock pointed out.

"Her name was Betsy Sliderman." She was an immigrant from the Asias. Her father had renamed her to a more suitable European appellation."

"And also taught her some dark magic." Sherlock noted with much distaste in his words.

"But you don't want to know about all of that." Watson went on.

"No, actually I do. I'm quite fascinated with the lives you lead when I'm not writing adventures for you."

"Hear, hear." Harry teased.

Watson grinned at him, all enmity between the two gone.

"The duel brought into our picture, the investigation, an element we had not known about before. You see, dear Mister Pirillo, our timeline, our world is an alternate to the original one that our dear Conan wrote. In his stories Professor Moriarity came into the picture later on, but in our world he came into the picture quite early." Watson explained.

"It was, in fact, his very machinations that brought us into the duel which very nearly ended our lives if not for Harry and his wonderful surprises."

"Surprise, not magic?"

Harry grinned. "I'm not all about magic, you know. Sometimes I use a trick or two I've learned over the years."

Sherlock gave him an amused look. "Fortunately, you keep most of those to yourself."

"Touché!" Harry said.

"Well, to make a long matter short." Watson continued. "When we discovered the poor girl, it turns out she was a plant by Mister Moriarity."

"But, if as you say, he came early into your world, but you had no other dealings with him, then why would he seek to harm you?"

"Oh, but you are wrong, dear Mister Pirillo." Sherlock interrupted. "You see in our world, he was, since he is not longer alive, my bastard son."

The room grew absolutely still with a silence you could cut a knife through at that moment. Both Harry and Watson were looking at Sherlock as if he had just murdered someone in front of them.

He gave them apologetic looks. "It's a part of my history I'd prefer not to elucidate upon."

They both nodded, and then looked to me.

I recovered from my own shock, and then asked the obvious question. "But you're so young, how could that be true?"

"Looks can be deceiving. As you know I come from a different alternative reality than the one Watson and Harry both live within. I came there by a different route and means, which again, I'd prefer not to go into at this time."

"In the future maybe?" I asked, determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.

"Perhaps." 

And I knew at that moment it would be never, if at all.

Harry jumped up suddenly, his pocket watch in hand. "Oh bloody hell!"

"What's wrong?" I asked, startled by his outburst.

He gave me a sad look. "We must leave immediately, or we'll be stuck here...sorry for that word...in your dimension."

I rose too, but left my cell phone recording.

"I am sorry to see this end so soon."

Sherlock took my hand and shook it. "I rather think you have enough material to fill several novels at this point." He gave me a very uncharacteristic wink and followed Harry out the door.

Watson shook my hand too. "Don't mind Harry, he's just a little boy at times. I'm sure he would've shaken your hand if his mind wasn't all over the place."

He gave me a warm shake and smiled. "For your scones and your wonderful thoughts, we remain indebted to you."

I blushed with embarrassment. "I should be thinking you. Your work is stunning."

He smiled, and then exited the room.

I went back to the kitchen, turned off my cell, then reached into the frig for another Doctor Zero Root Beer. I had a lot of typing to do and I was glad I had the rest of the week to finish all of it. Or at least a lot of it.

And that dear readers is the end of this interview. I later on received a message through an unusual channel, it appeared in my mirror and said we would all be seeing each other again soon, and then vanished.

So I am one to believe they keep their word and once they have, I assure you I will do my best to document it as thoroughly as possible. If you would like to send me any questions to ask them when I do meet with them again, please feel free to contact me.

Most Sincerely,

The Author and Interviewer, John Pirillo

(New) Series of cooool Fractal Flames dripping with fantasy!

Planet Outlaws...Buck Rogers Serial condensed into a movie, which stars Buster Crabbe

Buck Rogers and his pal Buddy are released from suspended animation after 500 years. They discover that the world is under the thumb of modernistic mobster Killer Kane, and are enlisted in the fight against Kane by Wilma Deering and Dr. Huer.

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Directed by Ford Beebe and Saul A. Goodkind, produced by Barney A. Sarecky, written by Norman S. Hall, Ray Trampe and Dick Calkins, starring Buster Crabbe as Buck Rogers, Constance Moore as Wilma Deering,, Jackie Moran as George "Buddy" Wade, Anthony Warde as "Killer" Kane, C. Montague Shaw as Doctor Huer, Jack Mulhall as Captain Rankin, Guy Usher as Aldar, William Gould as Air Marshal Kragg, Philson Ahn as Prince Tallen and Henry Brandon as Captain Laska.

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Source: "Buck Rogers (serial)" Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc.. 6 May 2013. Web. 28 July 2013. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buck_Rog...)