Quest for the Cup

Quest for the Cup

By Julia E. Moser

Juliet was uncomfortable.  The sash on her velvet scarlet gown was suffocating her, but, as a knight, she had to dress appropriately.  She sighed.  The feasts in Camelot were delicious, but how could you swallow in these horribly tight dresses?  Juliet walked into the banquet hall, her long golden hair billowing behind her, and sank into a seat next to Sir Gawain.  “My lady,” he greeted her graciously.  She acknowledged it with a curt nod, and became extremely interested in her goblet.  Some knights were impossible to talk to.  The feast began as King Arthur settled in his silk covered chair, and waiters carried trays of luscious food and tubs of sweet drinks.  Juliet loaded her plate with turkey, mashed potatoes, fruit salad, all her favorites, and dug in in a most un-ladylike fashion.

         When everyone had finished, King Arthur rose from his seat.  There was a grave expression on his face, one that Juliet knew all too well.  He had a quest for one of his knights.  She immediately tried to look as brave and eager as she could, though she knew she had an extremely tiny chance at being picked.  The king, who had only reluctantly knighted a female, would never give her a quest if he could help it.  “Attention, please,” he boomed, and the hall fell silent.  “A theft has been committed.  Merlin-”- at the name, the room was, if possible, even stiller-“has reported his magical goblet missing.  We have found evidence that the cup is in possession of-” he paused, as if afraid to say it-“Morgan le Fay.” Whispers ran through the room.  Arthur looked uncomfortably at Juliet.  “I have asked all of my knights but one if they will go, but none can.  Therefore,” he looked away.  “Lady Juliet shall take up he quest.” 

         I cannot describe the excitement Juliet felt the next morning as she was hustled into clunky silver armor and seen off by the Arthurian court as she and Swiftmane, her horse, trotted off into the distance.  For the first few days, nothing much happened.  A few deer galloped across her path, but nothing very dangerous happened until Juliet rode into the high mountains.  She stopped to rest in a cave and fell into a deep sleep, only to be awakened by wisps of smoke above her.  She opened her eyes-to find herself staring at a huge, scaly dragon!  Juliet stifled a cry, and drew a long, silver sword.  There was barely room for a swing, but Juliet managed a quick blow.  The dragon roared in rage, stepping back, and giving her room to stand up and finish the job.  Juliet quickly rode away, wiping her hands on her breastplate.

 From there, Juliet’s luck took a turn for the worse.  She had several nasty encounters with an ogre, a basilisk, and a werewolf, and was extremely tired.  At last, the welcome sight of a castle loomed ahead, and she urged Swiftmane to the front door.  She knocked with the huge brass knocker, and a pretty woman opened the door.  “Err, excuse me...” Juliet began.  “Oh, my dear, do come in!” the lady cut in.  “You look exhausted.”  Juliet, against her training, followed her into a beautiful palace, with red velvet carpets and polished marble walls.  The lady led her to a comfortable, luxuriously decorated room with a canopied bed.  “Rest now,” she told Juliet, “We are glad to offer hospitality to adventurers.”  She closed the door softly behind her, leaving Juliet on the bed.

 The girl looked around the room, taking in her surroundings.  Then she saw it.  A jewel-studded, shimmering cup was sitting on the dresser.  Thoughts raced through Juliet’s mind.  Why would the cup be in such an obvious place?  Was the strange lady Morgan le Fay?  She reached for the goblet-but the moment her fingers closed on the handle a screeching sound rang through the room, and a dozen spears were pointed at her.  There was no room to draw her sword; they’d spear her before she could even pull it out, so, craftily, she shifted the goblet to her left hand and punched the first knight in his helmeted face.  The rest backed off, warily.  “That’s right,” she yelled at them, “No more Miss Nice Girl.”  In a few moments, she was dashing out the red-painted doors and mounting Swiftmane, with the shouts of the castle’s inhabitants.  This time she covered ground 3 times faster than she had before, and in a few days, was welcomed back to Camelot with a delicious feast.

                The End

    

Dinner with a Princess

         Dinner With A Princess

Danielle stared hard at the princess, wondering if she was hallucinating.  Henry noticed and asked, “Dan, is there anything wrong?”  “Oh- no.” she stammered, wondering what her older brother would say if he knew the truth.  “It’s just, uh, it’s just, I invited that girl over to spend the night but I’d forgotten- Hey, Helena!”  The elegantly dressed girl turned to Danielle.  “Shall you help me get back to my palace?!”  There was an uncomfortable silence.  “Err- Helena, let’s go.” Danielle said, trying to change the subject.  They walked the rest of the way back in silence.  Danielle’s parents, being used one (if not both) of their children bringing home a friend or two for dinner, weren’t surprised when they saw Helena walking home with Danielle and Henry, but during dinner Henry kept giving her strange looks, and when, in the middle of dinner, Helena got up and announced that she would now retire to her private quarters and would somebody please show her the way, her parents looked rather worried.

            That night, nobody slept well.  The princess kept getting up and complaining to Danielle’s parents that the sleeping bag they’d pulled out for her wasn’t warm enough, the night-light she’d insisted she desperately needed wasn’t bright enough, and literally something about everything in the room until about 1 in the morning when she finally fell asleep.  Danielle lay in bed awake, staring at the ceiling, and listening to the snores of the sleeping beauty on the floor beside her.  She wondered how they were going to get Helena back in time, when she was the only one who really knew where she was from.  When she had gone back in time, there had been a sorceress to help, but nowadays people didn’t believe in witchcraft and sorcery, and no one would believe her tale.  Danielle sighed, rolled over, and fell asleep. 

            In the morning, Danielle tried to sneak out of the house to the library to check out new books and renew Once Upon A Fairy Tale without being seen, but Helena, of course, followed.  “Where dost thou goeth?” she asked, attracting several strange looks from passers by.  “To the library,” Danielle responded, walking up to the bright yellow door and opening it.  “You can get books here.”  “Labery,” Helena repeated.  Danielle practically flew to the fiction section.  She knew that in regular time she’d been gone just a day, but she’d spent a week in a book with no libraries, and that, to a book loving girl like Danielle, was forever.  Helena followed her.  “Danielle, when may I travel back unto my home?”  She didn’t sound bossy or arrogant, just lonely.  Danielle felt a bit sorry for her.  “I’m sorry, Helena, I don’t know how to get you back to your castle.  But there are pictures of it in this book.”  She handed the princess Once Upon A Fairy Tale, and her library card.  “Maybe it’ll make you feel better.”  Danielle walked over to the next shelf and was just picking up a book, when she heard a whoosh, and a pop, and the sound of a book falling to the floor.  She put down the book and raced back to the place where Helena had stood just a moment before.  There was nobody there.  Once Upon A Fairy Tale lay facedown on the floor.  Danielle picked it up, looked at the illustration - and grinned.  In a picture of the throne room of a palace, standing before a rather stunned looking king and queen, was a delighted looking princess, holding a New York City Public Library library card.  

 Once Upon A Spooky Night

            One dark, chilly, Halloween night, Lucy and her friend Rosa were trick-or-treating.  Their bags were almost full of delicious, sweet candy, but they decided to go to one more house.  They walked past the big, abandoned old house, and Rosa stopped. 

“I dare you to go into the haunted mansion!”

“Oh, uh-” Lucy stammered.  She didn’t want it to show, but that old house spooked her. 

“Fine, but just for a peek,” she finally agreed, “and you have to come, too.”  They walked up the narrow, rocky path and in the creaky front door–which slammed shut with a loud clang!  Lucy jumped.

“Just the wind, I’m sure,” Rosa said, and tried to open the door.  It was locked, tight. 

“Well, uh, in that case, let’s just keep going.”  Rosa started for the stairs, and Lucy, rather reluctantly, followed. 

            At that moment, they heard a high-pitched shriek, and a cackle of laughter.  They rushed to the door at the end of the hall to listen.  Lucy peered under the metal door- and wished she hadn’t.  Three old women with grayish hair and a bluish-green tinge to their wrinkled skin were dancing around a pitch-black cauldron of simmering, purple glop.  A tiny drop of the disgusting potion fell onto a tiny black spider scuttling hurriedly across the floor.  The spider started vibrating violently, and growing until it was the size of a sofa.  Lucy jerked her head up.

            “Run!”  The huge spider burst through the door, and Rosa didn’t need to be told twice.  Lucy was pretty sure the spider wasn’t poisonous (it was just a regular old black one), but if those pincers got a hold on her, she knew she’d be doomed. 

            “Look out!” Rosa shrieked.  Lucy looked ahead—and screamed.  About five feet in front of her, there was a gaping hole in the floor.  Lucy tried to stop, but when you’re being chased by a six foot spider, that’s pretty much impossible. 

            “AHHHH!” Lucy screamed, closing her eyes. 

            Suddenly, something jerked her up.  Lucy opened her eyes.  She stopped screaming.  Rosa gasped.  Lucy was floating in mid-air!  The spider snapped at her, but something gently lifted Lucy up through a large jagged hole in the ceiling and set her back on her feet.  The spider set its eight beady black eyes back on Rosa, but she, too, was lifted up through the hole. 

            Lucy looked around for their savior—and her eyes fell on an ornate mirror, covered in dust, in a corner of the room.  Lucy walked over, carefully picking it up.  The face she saw in it was not hers, but it was as white as a ghost, and scaly.  She held it closer.  The creature’s eyes glowed red.

            “You are mine,” it hissed, and Lucy stiffened.  Her mind went blank.  Her only thought was to serve her master, to do his bidding…

            “Lucy!” Rosa shouted.  Lucy froze.  She dropped the mirror, and it shattered.  Her thoughts rushed back.  She was holding a dagger at Rosa’s throat, and her knuckles were chalk white.  Both girls felt shaky.

            “W-what?”  Rosa asked.

“That mirror—the monster—let’s get out of here,” Lucy whispered, and they hurried out.

The next room seemed normal enough, but when Lucy and Rosa collapsed onto a musty couch, the cushions fell off, revealing a rusty coffin.  They didn’t stick around.  A deep voice moaned, “Ooow,” and a cloud-like, headless ghost charged at them!  They ran as fast as they could and rounded a corner at top speed. 

Lucy looked down the hall—and gasped.  The door at the end of the hall led to her own living room!  She ran forward.  “Hey, that’s my house,” Rosa yelled, and Lucy almost stopped.  But the warm, friendly glow of the familiar place was too inviting.  She and Rosa stepped into the room—and plunged into darkness.  “AHHHHH—“ 

“HELP!”  Lucy yelled, sitting bolt upright in bed.  Her mom ran in.  “Honey, you okay?”  Lucy looked around and rubbed her eyes.  Her brother was snoring on the bottom of their bunk bed, and she was wearing her fleecy nightgown.  “It’s Halloween, Lucy.  Come on, I’m sure it was just a bad dream.”

Lucy unfolded her clenched hands.  She was holding a dusty mirror fragment.  “I’m not quite so sure.”

The End

Once Upon a Summer Day

Once Upon a Summer Day

One sunny day in New York City, a girl named Danielle sat on a bench outside the library, reading a book.  Danielle was 10 years old.  She had short, curly, light brown hair, beautiful jade-green eyes, an older brother named Henry, and a book obsession.  She was rarely seen out of the company of one of her favorite stories, and her favorite place was the library.  Today she was reading Once Upon a Fairy Tale, a collection of stories from different time periods and places.  Henry, 3 years older, walked up.  “Danielle, it’s 5:30 and we’ve gotta get home for dinner.”  She ignored him.  “C’mon, drop the book and get up.”  Reluctantly, Danielle took one last look at the picture of the medieval princess in the illustration, wished she could just slip into the story, closed the book, tucked it under her arm, and followed Henry home.  That night she fell asleep reading, and dreamed she was there, at the medieval town, helping defend it from the enemy warriors fast approaching...

            Danielle opened her eyes.  Her first thought was that she was still dreaming, so she tried opening and closing her eyes.  No, her surroundings were just as strange.  She was lying on a strange bed in a stone cottage, surrounded by strange flowers and herbs, and a man and girl were fussing over her.  “Where- where am I?”  The girl stopped dabbing strange-smelling paste onto her bruised leg- Bruised? Danielle wondered- and placed the jar on a table.  ‘Father, she awakens!”  Awakens?  Things were getting very strange here, and Danielle felt like she’d seen the girl somewhere before...  The man rushed over.  “Are you quite alright?  I am Arthur Wishell, and this is my daughter, Genevieve.  You had quite a tumble.”  Danielle looked questioningly at him.  “Tumble?”  Genevieve looked surprised.  “You were found unconscious at the bottom of Rocky Hill.  Wouldn’t you call that quite a fall?!”

            Danielle had a vague idea of what had happened.  It had happened once in a book she’d read, though she’d never thought it could really happen.  Danielle thought, however ridiculous it might sound, that she might have somehow been transported into the book, and she was determined to get back.  In the meantime, however, Genevieve had suggested that they go down to the marketplace to sell the day’s harvest, and Danielle, who had never seen a medieval market before, would never have dreamed of saying no.  On the way, she saw children with their parents, gathering eggs or hanging out the laundry, and she missed her family more than ever, but then a merchant called “Fresh fruit!” and waved a particularly juicy peach in the girls’ faces, and Danielle was distracted.  The marketplace was a whirl of color and sound, with merchant selling things like beautiful, rich cloth, expensive-looking jewelry, and bustling, noisy livestock. Genevieve traded some eggs for a bushel of corn, a plump chicken for a bag of wheat, and a pretty bit of weaving for a bushel of blackberries. Danielle was delighted, rushed over to the nearest merchant, and tried to trade her watch for a pretty silk handkerchief. Unfortunately, the man had no idea what the watch was, and was unwilling to make the exchange until Danielle produced a charm bracelet from her sleeve as her final offer.  

            The next morning, Danielle was trying to figure of how to get out of the book and back into the 21^st century when Genevieve came in.  “Excuse me, but my father thinks he might know how to help you get back to- to- wherever you came from.”  Danielle stopped shaking the book and drops it on her foot.  “Ow.  Really?”  “Yes,” replied Genevieve.  “He believes that the sorceress may be able to help you.”  “The sorceress?” Danielle asked, taken aback, but Genevieve was already in the kitchen, starting on breakfast. 

They walked down to the market, this time going past all the cheery bright shops and bustling noise, into a gloomier, dismal place.  There were fewer houses and much less noise, and Danielle wasn’t pleased when they walked up to the door of a spooky old shack and knocked on the door.  A voice said, “Come in,” and they entered, and for once Danielle was pretty sure she was not the only one who felt uncomfortable.  “Greetings,” said the voice again, “what may I do to help you?”  Danielle, who had been envisioning the sorceress as a grouchy old witch, perhaps stirring a cauldron of ominous-looking green slop, was surprised to see a young woman with raven-black curls and piercing green eyes looking back at her.  A teenage girl Danielle thought she could recognize as Princess Helena from the story-the story she was hopefully about to leave, thought Danielle.  Mr. Wishell took the young woman into the attic to explain what they needed done, leaving the girls alone with the princess, who was looking curiously at Danielle.  “Who is this strange maiden?” the princess asked Genevieve.  “I have never seen the likes of her before.”  Danielle shifted uncomfortably as Genevieve tried to explain her situation politely without revealing too much.  She was beginning to rather dislike the Princess Helena, who had seemed an appealing enough character in the book, but was now more bossy and talkative.  “Back at the palace we would never have had to wait this long for a simple beauty potion-and as it’s not really needed I probably should have simply stayed behind...” it went on and on and on, until Danielle was sure Mr. Wishell and the sorceress would never be back...  “Danielle!  Please come up!”  Mr. Wishell called, and she wasted no time obeying.    

The sorceress handed Danielle a cup of something that tasted like extra-sweet apple juice, and said, “When you have finished the glass, close your eyes and picture where and when you want to be. Be sure not to think of any thing else, or there could be unintended side effects.”  Danielle finished the cup in a few long gulps, and was picturing Woodlawn Rd., on a bench outside the library at 5:30 on a Sunday afternoon, when Helena’s voice drifted into the back of her mind, complaining, irritable, and she felt a whirling spinning sensation- and the next moment she was sitting on a bench in front of the library, and Henry was saying ‘Danielle, it’s 5:30 and we’ve gotta get home for dinner.”  She followed him quietly for a bit, but then a strange sight caught her eye.  A young teenage girl in a red velvet gown and her brown hair done up in a bun, was standing next to the library shouting at the poor librarian who was trying to go home.  “Take me back to the palace immediately, or I shall have you executed!  I am a princess, you know!”  “Oh, no,” Danielle groaned.  It was Helena.  

Quest for the Cup

Quest for the Cup

Julia E.  Moser

Juliet was uncomfortable.  The sash on her velvet scarlet gown was suffocating her, but, as a knight, she had to dress appropriately.  She sighed.  The feasts in Camelot were delicious, but how could you swallow in these horribly tight dresses?  Juliet walked into the banquet hall, her long golden hair billowing behind her, and sank into a seat next to Sir Gawain.  “My lady,” he greeted her graciously.  She acknowledged it with a curt nod, and became extremely interested in her goblet.  Some knights were impossible to talk to.  The feast began as King Arthur settled in his silk covered chair, and waiters carried trays of luscious food and tubs of sweet drinks.  Juliet loaded her plate with turkey, mashed potatoes, fruit salad, all her favorites, and dug in in a most un-ladylike fashion.

         When everyone had finished, King Arthur rose from his seat.  There was a grave expression on his face, one that Juliet knew all too well.  He had a quest for one of his knights.  She immediately tried to look as brave and eager as she could, though she knew she had an extremely tiny chance at being picked.  The king, who had only reluctantly knighted a female, would never give her a quest if he could help it.  “Attention, please,” he boomed, and the hall fell silent.  “A theft has been committed.  Merlin-”- at the name, the room was, if possible, even stiller-“has reported his magical goblet missing.  We have found evidence that the cup is in possession of-” he paused, as if afraid to say it-“Morgan le Fay.” Whispers ran through the room.  Arthur looked uncomfortably at Juliet.  “I have asked all of my knights but one if they will go, but none can.  Therefore,” he looked away.  “Lady Juliet shall take up he quest.” 

         I cannot describe the excitement Juliet felt the next morning as she was hustled into clunky silver armor and seen off by the Arthurian court as she and Swiftmane, her horse, trotted off into the distance.  For the first few days, nothing much happened.  A few deer galloped across her path, but nothing very dangerous happened until Juliet rode into the high mountains.  She stopped to rest in a cave and fell into a deep sleep, only to be awakened by wisps of smoke above her.  She opened her eyes-to find herself staring at a huge, scaly dragon!  Juliet stifled a cry, and drew a long, silver sword.  There was barely room for a swing, but Juliet managed a quick blow.  The dragon roared in rage, stepping back, and giving her room to stand up and finish the job.  Juliet quickly rode away, wiping her hands on her breastplate.

 From there, Juliet’s luck took a turn for the worse.  She had several nasty encounters with an ogre, a basilisk, and a werewolf, and was extremely tired.  At last, the welcome sight of a castle loomed ahead, and she urged Swiftmane to the front door.  She knocked with the huge brass knocker, and a pretty woman opened the door.  “Err, excuse me...” Juliet began.  “Oh, my dear, do come in!” the lady cut in.  “You look exhausted.”  Juliet, against her training, followed her into a beautiful palace, with red velvet carpets and polished marble walls.  The lady led her to a comfortable, luxuriously decorated room with a canopied bed.  “Rest now,” she told Juliet, “We are glad to offer hospitality to adventurers.”  She closed the door softly behind her, leaving Juliet on the bed.

 The girl looked around the room, taking in her surroundings.  Then she saw it.  A jewel-studded, shimmering cup was sitting on the dresser.  Thoughts raced through Juliet’s mind.  Why would the cup be in such an oblivious place?  Was the strange lady Moran le Fay?  She reached for the goblet-but the moment her fingers closed on the handle a screeching sound rang through the room, and a dozen spears were pointed at her.  There was no room to draw her sword; they’d spear her before she could even pull it out, so, craftily, she shifted the goblet to her left hand and punched the first knight in his helmeted face.  The rest backed off, warily.  “That’s right,” she yelled at them, “No more Miss Nice Girl.”  In a few moments, she was dashing out the red-painted doors and mounting Swiftmane, with the shouts of the castle’s inhabitants.  This time she covered ground 3 times faster than she had before, and in a few days, was welcomed back to Camelot with a delicious feast.