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Tom lives in Jacksonville, Florida. PLEASE TAKE A PEEK BELOW!!

SACRABEUS THE SORCERER

Very early one morning, when the city of Paris was still dark and silent, nine-year-old Sophie awoke earlier than usual. As she tried to clear her mind of sleep, she noticed that her bedroom window was open. That was odd.

Propped on her elbow, she looked around the room. Was there someone at the foot of her bed?

"Mama? Is that you?"

The figure turned to her and she saw its blazing red eyes. Sophie tried to scream, but with a wave of his hand, the dark figure silenced her. Before she could think, she was in his clutches and out the window, where the night lay waiting.

"No dear, I'm not your mother," was all that he said as they merged with the darkness.

SACRABEUS AND IMMORTALITY

Sacrabeus deposited his new guest into the care of his dungeon keeper. Then he climbed eighty-nine cold stone steps, up a dimly lit stairwell to the castle's top floor. From there, it was only a short ladder to the drafty attic, the bare summit of his castle.

Over the centuries, the roof had suffered from the pounding of time and nature. Currents of wind and streams of light squeezed through the cracks and holes.

Sacrabeus climbed up into the network of beams which supported the deteriorating roof. He nimbly crossed one of the horizontal rafters and sat down on a dark stretch of the beam. With a few contortions of his body, he maneuvered himself until he was hanging from the rafter, upside down, like a bat. His black cloak wrapped around him, he fell asleep instantly. For the next several hours, he swayed in the currents of air, a seemingly lifeless thing, an unearthly cocoon.

When he awoke, he re-established himself, rightside up, his feet back on the beam and his cranium on top. He left the attic and headed straight to his laboratory.

For the past few weeks, Sacrabeus had been consumed by a project that required an exhaustive amount of time, thought, experimentation...and children. This experiment meant more to him than all of his previous conjuring, spells, hexes and potions combined. It was no less important to him than his own survival. It's not that he was dying. Well, that wasn't quite true.

Sacrabeus spotted a plump mouse in a dark corner of his laboratory. With the speed of a mongoose he snatched up the rodent and stuck it in his mouth. He bit down hard and blood streamed down both sides of his chin. Although the small creature was dead, its long pink tail continued to wiggle between the sorcerer's lips. He slurped it in and swallowed that too.

Standing in front of his gigantic workbench, he poured the chemicals from glass tubes into a beaker, mixing and stirring. He held the concoction over a quivering blue flame until it smoked and then came to a hard boil. He added a sprinkle of black hellebore, a pinch of mandragora and a dash of henbane. He ground up several fish eyes, lizard tongues and the brains of a hummingbird which had hummed its way into the attic.

Using his thumbnail, he scraped the sticky mixture into the glass beaker. He corked the beaker and shook it hard.

Off to the side, one of his prisoners was bound to a chair. The child was visibly trembling as he watched the sorcerer dip a spoon into the beaker.

Sacrabeus wasn't collecting children for the fun of it. No, he wanted something from them. He had everything that he desired except one thing: more time. He was mortal and one day he would die. But the children offered him hope. What Sacrabeus wanted from them was THEIR time, the remaining years of their lives. The life of one child would add many years to his. But the lives of many children? When added together, THAT would be something. But could it be done? Maybe. Children would be wasted. But they were everywhere, like fruit on a tree. Could he squeeze the life out of them? That was the question.

The sorcerer's voice rang out,"Open wide. It's time for your medicine!"

THE QUEEN'S DEEP THINKERS

At the Royal Palace of Versailles, the Queen sat upon her throne and looked into the jewel-encrusted mirror in her hand. Her expression was grim. Under the circumstances, it was to be expected. Sacrabeus the sorcerer had kidnapped another child. He might at any moment strike again. Yet, there she sat. "Think!" she commanded herself.

For an instant her mind changed directions. Her throne was too snug. She decided it must be widened.

The Queen's whiskered advisors and deep thinkers filed into the chamber, like strutting peacocks. Their shirts were ruffled and frilled, their breeches were billowed, their shoes had fancy buckles and each wore a curled wig on his noodle.

The Queen had learned not to expect much from these ministers. Their heads were neither filled with brains nor their hearts with honesty. Dressed in velvet and gold buttons, they were the kind of men who would steal candles from a church.Their job was to handle questions of property and inheritance in the kingdom. Bribes were expected. They constantly argued and got tangled up with petty revenges.

Although they showered the Queen with endless flattery, if it had been within their power, they'd have plucked her clean. Each one tried to distinguish himself from the rest, always trying to catch her eye. Usually, she looked away just in time.

The ministers sat on high-backed chairs, arrayed in a semicircle around the throne."Get on with it. You know why we're here. How can we stop that devil?" she got straight to the point. She reached for a large glass bowl of purple grapes on the pedestal beside her. She was a nibbler. She picked up a bunch and bit them off one grape at a time. She liked ordinary food - nothing too fancy. She spat the seeds into one hand and collected them there.

The Minister of Defence rose and bowed elegantly. He gave her a wide sugary smile, one that he must have rehearsed in front of a mirror. The morning sun sun shone through the window that it struck every one of his gleaming teeth and reflected in her eyes.
With no explanation she said, "Move over."

Looking a little confused, the minister took two steps sideways."More... okay, there!"

The minister shook off her intriguing demand for his relocation. He unfolded a sheet of paper and puffed out his chest with the confidence of a man who possessed the wisdom of Socrates.

With a pompous toss of his head, he began, "Most esteemed Royal Highness..." His Adam's apple jumped up and down. "As sure as I am an honest man, we have never experienced anything like this before... that is to say, bad... and if I may say so, I think that I understand better than anyone, uhh..." and then he tittered nervously. "er, hahaha. Of course, I am a mere nobody compared to you, Your Highness... and always eager to serve you... and may heaven, in its goodness, shower you with the infinite blessings that you so richly deserve..."

He rambled on. Like a crooked wheel, he went nowhere. The Queen's jaw tightened and the vein in her temple began to throb.

"...I, for one, will not rest until this menace is behind bars. Let us put aside all other matters. It is our solemn responsibility to protect our citizens... um, but what if we've only seen the tip of the iceberg? What if this lunatic is even more powerful than we imagine? I only mention this as a possibility... it does seem that he can do whatever he wants. Suppose he can wield the powers of Satan himself? What then, I ask?!" He paused for effect. "As for me, I shall never forget them... the citizens I mean!"He slammed the door of this last sentence and waited for applause.. and waited.

Slightly less sure of himself, he wrapped things up by quickly muttering, "If anyone suggests that I have ever said the opposite, they twist my words grossly and maliciously.

"That's it?! That's your plan to stop the sorcerer?!" the Queen cried out.

The minister shriveled up, hid behind his notes and admitted sheepishly, "That is essentially my opinion."

"May I be so bold as to ask if you have a suggestion regarding the sorcerer?" The other ministers craned their necks up like turtles to see what would happen next.

The minister nervously adjusted his curly periwig before confessing, "At this particular time, no... but I might think of one at any moment." Then he peeked out to see if she was satisfied. She was in agony. "You exhaust me."

With her elbows resting on her knees and her face supported in the cups of her hands, she listened to one after another. She became so frustrated with the Minister of the Interior that if she'd had a stick she would have hit him with it.He had gotten so tangled in his words that he just stopped, as if his brain were stuck. He registered a meek smile as she stared at him without mercy. His face turned red, like he was being cooked in a pot. He glanced at the door, possibly considering a run for it.

Finally she disgustedly cried out, "Good gracious man, have the embalmers gotten to you?! Are you post-mortem? Or are you in a coma?"She pulled out a handkerchief, strangled her nose and blew it vigorously. "What a lot you are. I should have called for the performing monkey and puppets. They might have been good for a chuckle.""Sadly, I can only describe each of you as being in a state of utter stupidity!"

She shook her head in disgust. "Go ahead and rummage through your brains. If, in the event of a miracle, you should find something that resembles an idea, let me know."

Just then the cuckoo clock on the wall struck the hour and a little wooden bird shot out, "Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" The Queen took off a shoe and flung it at the bird. She jerked herself out of her throne, picked up her shoe and blew out of the room like a lopsided tornado.

It had been days since the terrified citizens had heard anything from the Palace or their Monarch. What could she tell them? Soon they would begin to suspect that she was hiding from them. She couldn't honestly say that she wasn't.

The Queen wielded the power to build cities. She could take or spare a life and she had the power to declare war against a foreign country. Yet she had not the power to stop the sorcerer. She knew it. And he knew it. She was scared to death of him, just like everyone else. There was no point in denying it.

THE QUEEN"S MEDITATORS AND MYSTICS

"NOW WHAT!?" she asked herself. For a moment she sat on a fancy bench in the hallway and put on her shoe. Normally, being Queen wasn't all that difficult. Oh sure, she had to issue decrees and edicts. Once in awhile, circumstances even called for a fiery proclamation. Big deal.

Even though she wasn't a big fan of hocus pocus, she headed for the "Room Of Meditators And Mystics". She was desperate.

Servants were hurrying to and fro, laden with cleaning materials, bed linens, tea trays, bundles of firewood, bunches of flowers and baskets of coal.

As the Queen passed the Hall of Battles, she saw a directional sign and realized that she was on the wrong floor."Darn it!!" she yelled, huffing and puffing. This was one of the discomforts of living in such a big house. She would never do this again - go for a walk, that is. Her heart was beating rapidly and she had a sharp pain on her right side, like she was being stabbed by a swordfish. Clearly, walking was bad for one's health.

Well, she had to go up a flight of stairs. Last year, that would have been a challenge, a strain, a feat, a snowballs chance in etc. Not this year. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bell and rang it once. One ring meant, "Up". Two rings meant, "Down". Climbing the stairs herself was out of the question; it would take too long and might be fatal. No, she signaled for the "apparatus".

Several servants came running from various directions and began to set it up.The contraption was quite an elaborate rig, a marvel of engineering, really. She didn't know the ins and outs of it, she just knew that it worked and that someone deserved a medal or at least a small trophy. The pulley hung from the top of the stairwell and a bunch of hooks, ropes and a medium-sized farm animal did the rest.

The Queen nestled her big rear end onto the seat of the swing and simply said, "Up", which meant, "Up".

As the harnessed donkey or Shetland pony pulled, the ropes tightened. Up the stairwell to the ceiling of the five-story palace the pulley quivered and hung on for dear life. This was one of the comforts of being rich. In less serious times, she rode up and down, up and down, up and down all afternoon.

She got off at the next floor and found the room she wanted. The smell of incense was pervasive. Oil-lamps were strewn across the marble floor and the room seemed to be glowing. There was a feeling of tranquility, even a sense of profound wisdom in this sanctuary. Although the Queen was skeptical, she couldn't help but get her hopes up a little. Maybe she had misjudged these men after all.

She peered through the hazy, thin veil of smoke. Row after row of meditators and mystics were lined up, each seated on a high stool.All eyes were closed and there was a low hum, a throaty vibration which was projected past each tonsil, through each mouth and into the great room. On each head there rested a pointed hat. The hats had four sides and looked like strange pyramids The tallest pyramid belonged to a mystic seated at the front, facing everyone else. It must have been ten feet tall and had a white star on it.

No one seemed to notice the Queen's entrance and she was immediately impressed with their high level of concentration. For a moment she felt a touch of admiration for these stoics. She couldn't begin to guess what deep thoughts might be coursing through their brains.Then she heard a very loud and abrupt SNORT.

As the meaning of that sound began to sink in by degrees, she listened in disbelief. The low vibrating hum was not a collective chanting of mantras. It was a collective, harmonizing snore. They were asleep!

The Queen violently clapped her hands and shouted with the force of a gale wind, "WAKE UP! WAKE UP YOU BUNCH OF PHONIES!" Several of them fell off their stools. "Is this what I pay you fools for?! You! Up front! With the star on your hat! What's your name!?"

"My name?" he asked, waiting for his brain to show up."YES! YOUR NAME, YOU IMBECILE! YOU DO OWN ONE, DO YOU NOT?!"

"Linus, Your Highness," he spurted out, hoping to sound alert. He sounded like someone who'd been asleep and was trying to sound alert. He looked like someone who was thinking, "What the heck are you doing here?" The rest of the group just yawned, stretched and rubbed their eyes.

"Well, Linus-Your-Highness, take that stupid looking hat off and get down here!"

He climbed down and began lying immediately, "Your Highness, I'm afraid there's been a horrid misunderstanding. If I gave you the impression that I was sleeping, it's because I was contemplating the meaning of life and my level of consciousness was beyond..."

"Save your breath, you fraud," she interrupted him with a glance so sharp that he almost cried, "Ouch".

She addressed the group. "Sacrabeus has kidnapped another child. I have one question: Can he be stopped?"

They stroked their chins and wrinkled their brows. This dilemma would require some deep thought - maybe some research, a slide rule and a protractor. Of course, necessary adjustments would have to be made. And it goes without saying, that due precautions...

"Well?! Yes or no?! the Queen yelled out.

With that, a lot of shoulders began to shrug. "Beats me," said one. "Heck if I know," said another. A third one, who was still hovering in that drowsy region of the mind between wakefulness and sleep, suddenly sat bolt upright and asked, "Is it time for lunch?"

These pathetic, half-hearted and village idiotic responses did not go over well. "If you can't help me stop the sorcerer, you'll be finished, washed-up. I'll have no more use for your brains and I'll find something for your muscles to do," she warned.

Then she smiled, kind of an evil smile. "And I know just the thing." They stirred in their seats, not entirely liking the sound of this.

"I'll give you numbskulls one week to come up with a solution. If you fail to do so, be ready to empty hundreds of chamber pots every morning." It was the lowest position on the Palace's payroll and prestige-wise you couldn't get any lower.

"And if you work hard, I'll promote you a position in which you'll get to see the world. But as a rower in one of my ships, you'll see it from the belly of a boat."

On her way out, she mumbled, "You're of no use to me otherwise. I already know how to sleep." She sneezed, "Yaaaahk-thoooo!!" Then she slammed the door behind her.

She reopened the door, stuck her head back inside and said, "Excuse me." And then, "For crying out loud, snuff out the lamps, open the drapes and let in some light. Oil costs money! Do you think whales grow on trees?!"She reslammed the door.

Linus-Your-Highness quickly ran to the door and bolted it. There would be no more sneak attacks from the Queen. In fact, he decided that he would never open the door again, unless of course someone needed to go to the bathroom.

The mystics climbed back on their stools, closed their eyes and it wasn't long before they were "meditating" again.

Tom lives in Jacksonville, Florida. PLEASE TAKE A PEEK BELOW!! SACRABEUS THE SORCERER Very early one morning, when the city of Paris was still dark and silent, nine-year-old Sophie awoke earlier than usual. As she tried to clear her mind of sleep, she noticed that her bedroom window was open. That was odd. Propped on her elbow, she looked around the room. Was there someone at the foot of her... More