{"id":3644,"date":"2011-05-15T06:04:25","date_gmt":"2011-05-15T10:04:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/themagicalbuffet.com\/blog1\/2010\/12\/16\/"},"modified":"2011-05-15T06:04:25","modified_gmt":"2011-05-15T10:04:25","slug":"immortal-blues-part-nine","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/themagicalbuffet.com\/blog1\/?p=3644","title":{"rendered":"Immortal Blues: Part Nine"},"content":{"rendered":"

By Greg Bullard
\n
\nWelcome to the ninth and final installment in the fiction series \u201cImmortal Blues\u201d by Greg Bullard. If you need to catch up, here is Part One<\/a>, Part Two<\/a>, Part Three<\/a>, Part Four<\/a>, Part Five<\/a>, Part Six<\/a>, Part Seven<\/a>, and Part Eight<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cTaliesin, First of the Bards,\u201d I said it slowly, menacingly. I said it slowly because I was trying to think up something witty to say along with it. I had nothing. Damn.<\/p>\n

He sat his guitar aside, wiped his hands off on his trousers \u2013 needlessly I might add, the jackass \u2013 and looked up at me and said, \u201cThis is easy, Ciaran, just give up.\u201d <\/p>\n

I raised an eyebrow, \u201cGive up?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d he nodded, \u201cgive up. The bridge will open in an hour, just take it. Go home.\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cWho sent you, Taliesin? Why are you here?\u201d<\/p>\n

He shrugged, \u201cDoes it matter if someone sent me? Couldn\u2019t I have my own agenda? She\u2019s gorgeous. We all love her. I love her. I have sat in that court for hundreds of years, and I have played. I have poured myself into my songs, my poems and my words and I have played. Do you know how hard it is to give everything of yourself every day for so long?\u201d<\/p>\n

It was my turn to shrug.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll answer for you, you don\u2019t. If you had ever half-tried you could have been a god. Perhaps you are even, God of the Dilettantes maybe?\u201d he laughed at his own little joke.<\/p>\n

Continuing, he said, \u201cThe point is, I do know what it is like. So many years, so much of myself, do you think I gave it all for them? Do you think I tried so hard for her father, the King? For all of the first-born, the Elder Sidhe? I gave it all for her. I sang every song, for her. She\u2019s my muse. My brilliant inspiration. Every day for 1500 years I\u2019ve given her my heart, completely in song.\u201d<\/p>\n

I shrugged, \u201cAnd tell me Bard, has she noticed? All those years, all those songs, did she ever see who was playing, or were you just another detail in the background?\u201d<\/p>\n

He seemed to genuinely ponder my question before shaking his head and saying, \u201cI would give anything to know, Ciaran.\u201d <\/p>\n

I waved him off dismissively, \u201cI don\u2019t use that name any longer.\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cNo one was certain what name you used now, it was the best I could do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood,\u201d I said, \u201cso, who sent you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBetter question would be, who didn\u2019t send me? No one wants you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not really a choice for any of you,\u201d I frowned. \u201cLet\u2019s get on to more important matters though \u2013 you\u2019ve tried to kill me twice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wasn\u2019t very serious about it though; think of it as a deterrent,\u201d he smiled \u2013 smug, charming bastard.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf it\u2019s alright with you,\u201d I replied, \u201cI\u2019m going to go ahead and think of it as, you\u2019ve tried to kill me twice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess it\u2019s lucky for him that you aren\u2019t in any condition to take your revenge.\u201d I didn\u2019t recognize the voice, but I knew her anyway. Turning, I saw her standing in the open doorway to my bedroom. I had not known she was there. Aine Marina could hop in and out of human forms with relative ease. She had chosen well this time, young, red hair, all the right curves, luscious. <\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t bother trying to mask the anger in my voice, \u201cAine Marina, you\u2019ve crossed a line. Fix it while I\u2019m feeling forgiving.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI would,\u201d she shrugged, \u201cif I had done anything wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you had done anything wrong? What the hell do you mean? I kiss you once, unintentionally, and suddenly, this,\u201d I gestured up and down at my form.<\/p>\n

\u201cConsider how much older you are than her,\u201d Taliesin said, \u201cdo you think it\u2019s really fair to blame her for your looks?\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cOh, he\u2019s blaming me for the loss of his vitality, speed, strength and more, and he has a point, I stripped him of them.\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cThen you admit it!\u201d I accused.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course I do, that was never in contention. Right now, we\u2019re discussing whether or not I did anything wrong. I did not, this was mandated \u2013 at the highest level.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean? Mandated?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you really think that spending 200 years on Earth, for one such as yourself, was any real trial or challenge? You\u2019ve spent centuries here, willingly. You even seem to prefer it sometimes. No, no,\u201d she shook her finger at me. \u201cYou want redemption? It won\u2019t come so easily as a stroll along the streets of New York City for a length of time that will disappear in the blink of an eye for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stood in stunned silence, considering the ramifications.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour next 198 years on Earth won\u2019t go so easily as the thousands before them. You\u2019ll feel every day of it,\u201d she continued with malicious glee, her voice building in rage and tempo, \u201cyou\u2019ll ache and hurt, you\u2019ll hunger, you\u2019ll need to support yourself,\u201d she gestured around her and spoke more softly, \u201cabsent these fine accommodations, you\u2019ll need a job\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

She continued on, but I only listened half-heartedly, until something she was saying caught my attention, \u201cWait, repeat that.\u201d<\/p>\n

She smirked and said, \u201cOn the solstices and equinoxes, when our worlds are closest, you will be yourself entirely. On those days, and only on those days, you can back out. All you need do is cross the bridge, and this will all be over. This morning, when the bridge fades, if you haven\u2019t crossed, ending this, then you are stuck here until at least the summer solstice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou said this came from the highest level, who?\u201d<\/p>\n

In reply, she crossed the distance between us and held out her hand. I frowned and wordlessly extended my right hand, palm up, to receive whatever it is she held. Her look was pure evil as she deposited something in my palm.
\n\u201cA token,\u201d she said, \u201ccherish it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Almost an hour later, near to dawn, Aine and Taliesin had both let themselves out as I still sat, staring at my palm and the lock of fiery red hair, tied with a simple linen ribbon. <\/p>\n

With a start, I saw my hands fade to transparency. The stars outside my window extended a bridge to massive curved stairs reaching at once to both the light and the darkness. All I had to do was take a few steps and I would be on that bridge, my choice made, my way clear to the welcoming safety of the shadows that had sustained me for so long.<\/p>\n

The pain in my side would fade, as I healed almost instantly. The fatigue in my muscles would disappear as vitality filled me. My drooping eye lids would revive with a rush of energy. <\/p>\n

I was still staring when the sun broke over Central Park and the stairway was shattered into a thousand twinkling shards that disappeared in the dawn light.<\/p>\n

Another day in New York City. I turned and checked my lunar calendar; April 30, 1961, it was less than two months until the Summer Solstice. <\/p>\n

With a start, I snapped out of it. I don\u2019t know how long I had stood, staring at the calendar as a torrent of memories came flooding back to me. Fifty years since that day, how they did not go by in a blink. I sat down at my desk, turning on my computer.<\/p>\n

It was Monday, April 30, 2011, the office of Noble Investigations, Est. 1961, was once again, open to welcome a brand new day.<\/p>\n

$\"\"$ <\/a>About Greg Bullard:<\/strong>
\nGreg currently resides in Austin, TX, trying to do his part to Keep Austin Weird<\/a>. While his wife, Julia, and daughter, Emily, both work hard to keep him on his toes, it is Julia\u2019s red editing pen that does the most work. When he is not muddling his way through some fiction, he usually writes about What Greg Eats<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Welcome to the ninth and final installment in the fiction series “Immortal Blues” by Greg Bullard.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[11],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/themagicalbuffet.com\/blog1\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3644"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/themagicalbuffet.com\/blog1\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/themagicalbuffet.com\/blog1\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/themagicalbuffet.com\/blog1\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/themagicalbuffet.com\/blog1\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3644"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/themagicalbuffet.com\/blog1\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3644\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/themagicalbuffet.com\/blog1\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3644"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/themagicalbuffet.com\/blog1\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3644"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/themagicalbuffet.com\/blog1\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3644"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}