In the darkened rooms of the chateau lay the Knight Owl in crimson gowns, recumbent upon a chaise long, the shutters closed against life.
Very theatrical I’m sure, said Constance upon the entrance threshold, are you to waste away with the sad?
Where is my Apple, spoke the Knight Owl, it is the only reason.
I am the Apple, said Constance, there are many reasons, do not despair.
Despair is my thing right now, the Sphinx may write it true, but I cannot raise the cloud.
Think of an apple and how crisp and sweet it may be. Began Constance. Its not working said the Owl. Its skin is colored most careful in green and blend into blush of red to show its readiment. I see it. The stalk still carries a single small leaf that shows the place of the season, its greenyness evidence of a healthy apple tree come out a glorious orchard wherein some ancient and some new trees vie for the sunlight and all is beneficence. Nice, whispered the Knight Owl. Now you must close your eyes and use your teeth to break in upon the apple, white with a hint of pink nearing the centre. Sweet, she said. Sweet indeed, the cut, the crunch, the juice, the taste, the texture to the swallow and breath, open your eyes, it is all yours.
I am now in sadness for the apple, why must it destroy to save me. Rather destroy this black dog with a laser to cut through the darkness of it. Find me a handle that holds a weapon that wields a power to make the world right again, to crush the tyrants and bring succour to the vulnerable. Find me a shield that can withstand the onslaught of crazy destruct and push it back in the face of terror, said the Knight Owl.
I’ll see what I can find, said Constance and went out to search the armoury, leaving the Sphinx alone with the Owl.
Now tell then all that you. The Sphinx Spoke, Well I am old beyond repair, my eyes have seen the glory of the coming of it and the dust in its wake. What is this It? Fate, destiny, inevitability and chance, the making and the taking away, the pain and the indignity. I have been the observer of the ascent of so-called civilizations and witnessed their demise and I can tell you here and now that, although each and every is capable of unspeakable, all of the days, all the people of it begin the day with the intent to be a good one and make a better. Only then the universe must come by with its tyrants and petty politicians, its trip up and hunger, to make muddy of good intentions and sprinkle sharp thing in the path of progress.
So now I am even more sorrow, I want solutions not descriptions of the obvious. Constance came back bearing a Burning Spear. Wow, where did you find that? In a cupboard under the stairs. It says in the instructions that if you throw this spear, it will seek out all the being that are predominantly evil in the locality. There is a dial on the side with which to control the radius of the killing zone, and it is then programmed to return to sender. That’s great, is there also a control to measure the level of evil that it will destroy? Yes, it has a twist grip affair at the end, calibrated from evil murdering despot all the way down to borrowing clothes without asking.
Well, that seems to solve all my requisites, hand me that spear and I shall return unto the light. The Knight Owl raised herself from the chaise long, and, her crimson gowns swishing dramatically, she drew open the curtains to allow the ingress of many shafts of hope. The shutters were pulled back and the Knight Owl flung the spear with mighty might into the void.
Just then the bells rang out and it was snow. Ah Christmas! Cried the Knight Owl turning, I had forgot, now we shall have some fun.
The Guardians of the Cave 