The brains were eaten by an Osedax Mucofloris.

As two processions were coming to the churches, the archbishops led the queen , me , whereto I walked in royal robes bearing two glasses of champagne rossé on the rocks. It's purpose other than to ease the pain of the parting young soul shall come to simbolize in the final ceremony the blood that was spilt needlessly for I then, reflected upon a time had him not crashed upon the wall, his life would have been well spared.

A choir of ever passing sweet music, wondrous music as all made signs of joy, all my knights were... great valiant men, leading the march. They came to pay a special homage to HP and, they could not help but dress also as him.

They had to put on dark cloaks with their name in golden letters, triping fake eyeglasses and oak brooms which some of them had even groomed and waxed for this occasion.

The music and script- reading ceremony is still the best way to remember a literary character. But as we recited the account of ALL his deeds, all the mourners present had such a great fatigue, they slept on top of each other shoulders. It was for some time at least difficult to interpret the narrator which has for some time too in flauwed legs began to mumble undistiguished words.

Anon came the tired gravediggers with their tools and began their ardorous job. In our island, we have a customary funeral in which chants are sung till midnight. But not all of the gravediggers were relieved to find what later I discovered amidst the rubble.

Between all the riff-raff's cloaks and devoured bones of the cadaver, shirts, sneakoscopes,wigs and dirty wangs an "Osedax mucofloris" I found. A worm that was not supposed to be found in the Island of Apples hence Avalon.

Not many had the opportunity to see in advance what the craneal structure originally contained so I was swift enough to prise it from the gravedigger's arms. But with the confussion it rolled around and fell again to the floor. Once I chased it down the steep meadow I reprised it again and examined it with trepidation. It's gray mass showed an inclination for a twisted nature, a dark failed experiment from another island (my friend, Dr. Moreaux's ).

But hearing the tumults and cries and realizing I could not share my observationns and because the words may carry the sick effect of feverish nightmares that could set an stampede of more sickness I therefore remained silent. But I'll make a detailed account thereof.

Smooth as the silk that covered its tomb.

And so it befell my counsellors doth tell me that the inscription should be set on the tomb of the young knight but make it covered up with folliage and enchantments 'til an ordinary man, heterosexual in nature, achieve the task of guessing its riddle. Thus, as I prepared the final steps for a well deserved honor I sew a veil of silk in order to enchant the letters.

But as I rode back and well into the forest of Broceliande,on the fifth day of journey, I heard the voice of my own gut telling me this matter was not over. I should have thought this through. If I identify his body now I run into the risk of people asking me if I have reached my goal in life. (One of my quests has been for some time at least, to find the gay blood boy and make war upon him. ) Sometimes my own gut groans from time to time through the midst of an oak tree to remind me of my great fondness of vanilla ice cream but this time its purpose has become a serious matter).

As I watched the tomb many thoughts cometh and goeth but I decideth to stay my hand from identifying the kid as "Harry Potter" and ultimately decideth to rename its body "John Bore" in death. The inscription thus, shall read from now on:

"Here lies 'John Bore'. Never shall a pilgrim pass this way who will recognize his true sexual identity. But whereat in great amazement I besought him to come forth on the ocassion he did to his sad demise. Harry Potter is dead too but never shall folk fully see where his body has been hidden.r"

For some time afterwards, I felt in my gut again all the sageness and wiseness of the world resting upon me. Well, for some hours at least.... Ok, eighty two minutes to be precise and as of yet, I really know not to what service.

O misery what a life !!!

I wept bitterly for what followed shall be a depart of the soul of Harry Potter. I first came hither (to Corstopitum) to see if there was a possibility of seeing any of my knights alive but how could I have imagined there was one of them slain? Plus, I would find the gay-blood boy dead. OHHHHH. All the wide world saw never greater grief!

Still weeping, I thought of his true service and legacy. Thus, anything in his honor should be done rightly and richly and in the noblest manner possible: I'll sew a new white vest and garment for the funeral. I shall adorn myself for this merry occasion. I practiced my best stand-comedy jokes of the hour. We did send for a priestess of Cybele to make it official.

As great commotion caused the hurried arrangement of his last resting place, someone suggested me to make him wear his wig and his own clothes for the eternal banquet with gods...

So I did. Finnally the crypt read: 'Here lies Harry Potter. Never shall a pilgrim pass this way who will recognize his true sexual identity." (I think if he were still alive he would have thanked me a great deal as many of these celebrities in reality doth like to be recognized, admired and sexually speculated about. )

By enchantment and according to an ancient custom, his sword (along with an elongated hung- charm) was set in a mighty black stone which by magic, floated to and fro the ocean surf that encircles Avalon.

Many years from now, his tomb will endure the test of time and shall be discovered to fool the mighty archaeologists driving them to conclude that no matter what his real talents were, if he didn't want to be discovered he better should have chosen another profession.

Let me take thou down cause I am going through.

Today, I visited a popular site: Hadrian's Wall.
One of my knights was seen very near the frontier land or so have I heard, and I expected to at least find one of them there.

Hadrian's Wall has been long feared by many as it lies between two armies. Battles are common there, jokes are rude and occasionaly soldiers on either side cross that same line.

The roman's guards have it well observed whereas some of my men defy them by delving into frays of some sort designed to make a diversion and the opponent weary of this type of incursions.

The knight in question was of tender age and full young was dressed he in shield with a spear in his hand and rode he then straight to a fountain that was nearby and crashed. An unclaimed pale horse was standing next to this fountain, well saddled and bridled. He discovered the mangled and bloody body between the bushes. The name of the victim was obvious :
Harry Potter.

Harry Potter... the one who LOST his parents, LOST a journal, LOST a wand, LOST the Iron Knight Competition, LOST a godfather, LOST a best friend, LOST one of his members... (Do not ask me how I know this. I am psychic, ahem! )

I decided to attend Corstopitum village by enchantment and inspect the premises. His name although a mystery at first was well obvious by the time we saw what he carried: a wig , some jewelery, a load of his dirty shirts, capes and cloaks with his full name spelled. The same enigmatic character. The one we should have NEVER addressed.

There must be someone that asks the right questions, I thought . And then, fortunately a witness appeared out of thin air almost as soon as I closed my lips.

"Tell me, fair Thomas Griflin, what happened here???" I said because I actually know everyone in my queendom.

The horse explained to us his discovery: .........."As I was peacefully savouring wild fodder, rushed came he through our Corstopitum village towards me in full haste dressed with his shield and skinny armour. I sway to the side. Then he raised the spear in his hand and rode forward charging towards the fountain wall. He yelled he needed to take a "train" and it leaves in five minutes. He crashed."

As I grasped the gravity of this situation, I asked the horse as only I could do so no one would understand our conversation. Said I: "Fair Thomas Griflet, why would he crash towards a fountain? Doesn't he know Knights and Fountains are both just as fatal if provoked?"****

-"Because," said T. Griflet "he is young and but lately a knight and his strength is small compared to the hardness of this superior fountain wall. Otherwise, he is just of queer thinking, my queen"...

"T. Griflet the one who travels alone and disguises yourself as a work horse... for thy loyal account I shall keep thee as my counsellor from now on. There shall be an example made of thee, to honor thee."

"Thanks, my Queen!"

As I left the retreat, I sat for a brief moment with an emptyness in my heart. Mission accompli. Gay boy dead. One less gay-blood the world shall not miss.



****= "Fountains" and knights" in this entry may also mean the respected, barbaric and feared Fountains clans and Knight clans of Hispania . ****

Let me shake thou strongly...

I have taken a suggestion to hart. I have purged evil from its root. I shall forget the ever skating tournament and will concentrate in my day...

In our island of apples there is an old custom in which the Queen likes to shake an old apple tree to force down the early fall of its crimson fruit. Then, with what she should have gathered, her maidens make delighting recipes: Amorous Oberon Toppings for Titania's Sherbet, Friar Lawrence-Apple Dates Shake, Cesar's Banana and Apple Puddings... the list goes on and on. Fortunately,these were the remainder of our food competition which haven't spoiled thanks to our cold and tempestuous climate.

I wonder how my knights are doing against such vile and disordered weather.

Oh hell! It won't work. The knights have disappeared!!! Someone send the support squad to see what has happened!!! . Lords of imbecility, please take note of the tragedy! Corrupted Damned Land.

Anon they skated toward Janus knows where.

Some moons past (On NOv. 1,the day of the dead) we had a "Flight of the Bumble B" carriera in our domain. I would have given my lands straightaway to any who would assure me they'll finish the competition in 6 hours. But there is still no sight of any of the competidors at this point.
Every morning I practice the same routine: "Thou are right to welcome here, and thou shalt have all the help this land can give thee to finish thy quest, rejoice our Champion for you have won!!!"

But it is the 13th night of november and there is still no pretentious king at the finish line. Poor knights of Avalon, probably assailed while on the road! Damn our poor educated thiefs- peasants! If our contestants asked them for directions, they surely ended up at sea. God Janus should have kept them all locked at the starting point so that none of them shall interfere ever with our agenda. I even wrote them maps. Oh well, I did everything I could.

LIfe has turned placidly boring...,....while waiting.

Not like the kings of old....

I had proclaimed a Tournament before my castle in search for a new Sacred King to ensure abundance of blessings whereof the prize shall be myself. The knight who proveth best shall serve in my country for one year and therefore end his days as a sacrificial offering to the gods Janus and Cybele. These are the old traditions of our people.

But our tournament has been a slow dissapointment and I shall express my opinion here: our Iron Knight Cuisine Competition has given me some food but no winner. Goddess Hecate and her assistance had not served for much. All the cooking spits loaned from her sequitum and kingdom have not been used in a dignified manner. In fact, I have no idea where all of them are so probably I lost them and shall have to resort to a creative excuse. But now is not the time for complains.

For many a night have we resisted the temptation to run to the next seer and ask to foretell who the winning champion of the competitions will be, but that opportunity had never arrived. Many a night have I hoped to include a good "carrhiera" in the competition. Fortunately, this is another matter.

The Flight of the Bumble B's is a skating competition that will connect eleven towns in our kingdom and could last from 6 hours to 16. The contestants must begin in a corner of the island and end up in front of our palace where the great multitude will acclaim the winner.

Last one I was much younger then, it finished with King Ban coming forth upon the field-ice with more fury, more resound, most slaughterness and prowess than any other while quaking from frolic. At his sight, the other contestants went to the sidelines of the iced-rock lake and stood there paralyzed as they watched King Ban break the finish line.

He had opened his mouth on the spot as wide as an alligator and crushed the french steel chain with such tour de force that I have not yet been able to forget that moment as the excitement filled my face with tears.

He had also a weird mad laugh as I good recall...

But I may not blame him by my faith, for he did as brave men ought to do and is among the best fighting knights of most swiftness that I ever saw or heard tell of.

Which reminds me that we are nearly on the Eve of Samhein and our time grows short. I fear the spirit of my last husband and friend Sir Urience may wake up from his stupor and may try to challenge any knight he sees unable to recognize his form. And as for the wailing of our valonian banshee, I have not yet a counteract for it.

A banshee forsees a person's own demise warning with cries that defy comprehension. It is an imposible act to recounter for many as soon as they hear the fatal wailing, fall dead in a matter of seconds. They usually just die of terror. So, this day is special in that there are many worrying torments ahead and none of them are desirable.

These two are some of the worst-case scenarios for this time of year . But... non abete paura, my subjects and loyal friends!

At best in the event of dead bodies or crazy bats half-breeds prancing around, some of our folk use aromatic gums and golden garlics to rid themselves off their curse and presence. All garlics should bear the Morgana Anakina 's brand of course.

*Trí báis ata ferr bethaid: bás iach bás muicce méithe, bás foglada.

***Three deaths better than life:salmon's death,pork's death,wrong-doer's death.***

Remaining contestants tried to opn giant ostrich eggs but they did not open... Forceful incantations were as follows :

"Avaunt, thou imp, now open ! (Trying to open the damned giant ostrich eggs.)
or
"Let the work be done within a minute from now or I will surely spare no force against your wings after you are born!
or
"Tá tú ar mhuin na muice, báis thu!". (You are on the pork's top, top of the world, you die!)

To those words Sir Fagdanfiend face grew white as ashes, rising in confusion and disorder as the false sycophant of Prick Dan Le Noir screamed at the little winged creatures. Sir Fagdanfiend loved eveything winged.

Many are working the recipe they have brought from their wild countries...and Sir Fagdanfiend is a master vision in the kitchen or so they say. On his first try, he turned the stove on high and ten minutes later he prepared an indian cassava with plantains casserole. He brought a hammer, a pressing book and lavender flowers too.

I realized he meant to do some origami as seen he had also with him a bunch of thin colored paper and flower petals to garnish the entree's. But then I thought paper and flower petals are not meant to be mixed. They are not delicious before a meal. Luckilly, he will mean to do another thing.

He tossed the petals into the gooey insides of the eggs. He created a colorful violet paste. He did beautiful origami paper swans and cranes that rested peacefully in a lavender colored sea.

In the end judges Lady Mina and Lady Muñeca tasted the goods. The indian cassava was not hailed upon, nor was the plantains. I vetoed the decision but it was too late. The work of art merely rose the lowest-standard marks. He was disqualified.


At that point Sir Fagdanfiend gave the judges a bad look and grabbed menacingly the hammer. There is nothing worser than a "fagdanfiend" scorned, he exclaimed at loud voice. In a sudden silence at the barracks my hands conjured and turned out quick.

Using my strenghths in magic, I transformed into a nut and stayed like that until my guards took matters into their own hands. Then, I transformed back. What I found made me much happier.

Sir Fagdanfiend had been vaporized into a violet mist and collected into a cristal bottle. There is still some figuring out to do. Some of my counsellor's say they used an old anti-stress curse on him but in turn it consumed his body. Neverthless, he may be a beautiful decoration on my kitchen uppershelf. From there I have no doubt he will have a mastery view of the kitchen.

A'working and a'singing:

¯Yes, to smell pork,

and fare thee well!
Lo there Lorenzo, bring us a violet garlic oil in a bottle
¯Our house is hell, and thou a merry devil¯
¯Yes, soon at supper shalt thou see ¯
There are a many ducat for thee.
Lorenzo keep thy promise, I shall end this strife.
¯Become a hetero in maidens like...¯

Mustard, preserves and soups ....

Aaaaaaallez Cuisine!!!!! ......

As some of the competidors are presented before the public I noticed the ones I have not noticed before: the mysterious skinny boy called Arry Totter entertains my eye till eyestrain. His whole cooking stand was propped up with a ... ... ... ... broomstick!
That is a magnificent trick.

As I watch, he is working frantically amidst his bubbling retorts and test tubes. He works against time. He works madly...

Now I heard him say his whole work was done!

HIS MIXTURE IS NOW READY!!!!

O no, wait, he just worked in a dry martini cocktail and downing it at one gulp he is now ready.

I heard wrong, my excuses.

Now he is turning to a huge vat he brought from a Tomwarts's school, that contains a lifetime of research (his story gets weirder each time).

His project: a boiling and bubbling recipe he'd been given by some old cajun witch woman in the vasts plains of Accadia. A mixture that had in its entrails crocodiles warts, chopped up zombie hearts, sticky bat eyes, live shrimps creole and stuttering parrot tongues. He has very good taste. NO man alive can create what he mean to on that vat.

As some time elapsed, the scent of many polecats drifted from the mixture.
Unfortunately, it got to our judges podium atacking our valonian pure air.

(Feh!)

In a flash, the lifetime research was spilled out onto the floor by his whining creator. It laid there combined with our valonian mud.

It created soon such a festering mish-mash:
(snap,crackle,pop,koo-koo,kii-kee,caw-caw,tttoo hooot,ttttttoo hooot,whymeee, whymmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!...) These were the strange cries shattering the sleeping calm of our beloved old Tri-Sacred King Tournament.

Beyond the sounds, a whizzing cry I distinguished called out the secret ingredient:

The secret ingredient is... Giant Ostrich Eggs! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallez Cuisine!

Arry Totter eyed many others with disdain. He was not prepared,his mixture he lost. The other contestants watched perplexed the table with giant eggs and heavy mannerisms coming from the referee.
(There is reason to send him to jail).

Poor Arry Totter has to begin anew like everyone else. He must have felt awful.

The Iron-knight Cuisine Competition

The square is prepared with all the counters and the coal bags needed for the cooking event that will mark a precedent.
Sir Invisible has a big barbecue and frankfurter stand similar to all the knights competing (aparently only I see him at it). The challengers own their stand but will cook only for own satisfaction. The commentator announced the honoured judges: Lady Mina, Miss Muñeca, the most difficult to please judge in a food contest and me the Queen.

There is Sir Dolorous Stroke collecting all his live-beetles for his famous chocolate-fudge covered bugs; Sir Gaunt emptying a bag of delicious powdered resin, perfect for exquisite gummi-hybernated polar bear (it is very good to keep you thin and svelte.) Sir Bagdemagus always had big resources for this type of event, he managed to bring a stack car with many marinates, several preserves, and assorted mustards. Sir Abellious brought the best sheep he had at his animal farm and we think he'll make a lamb stew (we do not know yet!). Sir Cinder was discualified from the game as seen he could not help the stale smell of his english meat. Sir Turkine wanted to have the best counter of our square, but to my best recollection he did not paid the price needed for such luxury; he will stay in the back as many of all those peasants in that one near island we all know. Sir Brewnor without Pity bought with him many types of internationally renowned plants called somewhat Agave. We hadn't seen this plant before.

Between all his paraphernalia he also had a closed tight bowl with little husky worms, some lemons and a stack of salt. Sir Damas chose to bring lady fingers and made the day of the commentator who exploded in many praises for his fine taste.

As the battle in the Iron knight cuisine begins, the secret ingredient will be announced. The other knights were difficult to see mainly because I had tasted some of the mustards Bagdemagus brought. It made my mouth sour and my eyes temporarily blind.

Divination of the riddle.

The laws of the game permited the referee commit truly to the game. Many applauded his eloquence and determination:

¯¯As raging rocks,

and shivering shocks,
shall break the locks:
it has no name,
no word,of prison gays
will shine more from far,
and make and mar
the fatal foolish fates ¯

This riddle was thus.

Sir Brewnor without Pity opened the mouth to speak as he may well try to unfold heaven and earth with his tongue in an effort to say coherent sounds, but they came out cross. He had his usual kind of brew for breakfast that morning...

Lots of sighs later there the group lay, our patience extinguished for seven leagues. The referee raised his arm to smack a head with an iron bat. As he was laying down his arm to hit with violence the head of the first knight within his grasp a muffled sound became evident out of Sir Brew. The bat stopped in midair. Here is the transcript of what happened next:

Referee: What was that, knight? A mumble instead of thy word?

Sir Brew: O, by faith, let me not offend thou but I thought of answering the riddle with another rime. All in one. Here it goes...

Referee: Thou may not play it in a mask but speak as small as it is allowed thou shall.

Sir Brew: Aye, aye I may well speak in a monstruous little voice, agreed.

Referee: Well, all of thee proceed.

Sir Fagdanfiend: hmmm, I did not fancy the part of the prison gays though...

Sir Gauntidan:A shivering shock... that is a....

Sir Damas: The three maidens or three fates?

Sir Abellious: No, it has to be something with no name at all;

Sir Turquine: Are we talking a real word here?

Sir Prickdan le Noir: Death!!!

Sir Blablaberis: What thou doth thou mean, death?

Sir Prickdan le Noir; Death death death death death death!

Sir Berihideous: Where? (contoursening very fast)

Sir Dolorous Stroke: On your guard,then !!!

Sir Blablaberis: I think he means the word death. (Talking to Dolorous Stoke) The answer is not death although if thou spot the death coming by faith let me know.

Sir Without Pity: (at top of the lungs) HELP! HELP!

Referee: This game is over! Winner!

Comentator: Oh, very well, Bravo, Bravo, Sir Brew without Pity; thou have won now for thou guessed the word we were looking for was HELP!... until the next time! See you folks at home...!

Loud applause from the audience who with enthusiasm cheered when that word was screamed by knight Sir Brewnor. He gave a bewildered little smile after he turned to see the referee to confirm the news. He sighed with relief.

**********

Event II: The Iron-Knight Cuisine Competition:

Contestants have to cook a folk meal from respective areas of expertise to convince the judges. The points are given by taste, appearance and texture. There will be a secret ingredient announced about the time to start. The judges will select the one with more points.\

Prior to begin all hands must to be properly cleaned and no excrement or body fluids allowed.

A travesty of a contestant in our midst.

With the hope that springs anew, many longed to see a bare chest, manliness courage, unsurpassing physical strength, muscles galore, competing including me. But it looked extremely boring for the 1st event today; the score remained 0-0-0 after 307 hours or so. There were no surprises, no manliness courage, no blood. Yes, the Tri-sacred King has begun with multiple features. When our messenger died and the perpetrator of the murder was sentenced to serve as commentator, we thought to add one more spot for the first interested knight being willing to the challenge.

Suddenly, a skinny looking boy stepped from the crowd. He had a glass eye and weakly voice, dark uncombed hair that resisted any effort to keep straight. He claimed he wanted to compete to win the hand of Penislope and that he was called mysteriously Arry Totter (I think he thought Penis. was a man). Well, only I got hold of the new contestant in wonderment. I forgave the attraction for Penis. He will compete and allright. The new kid seems to be the gay-blood boy but probably is just my imagination. We did not find him, he came to us.

Our messenger is dead, the murderer was convicted and now we have a new host of the show.
Our 5 players and the challengers are supposed to go in a circle. There I see the contestant Sir Invisible for he doth makes a tini reflection of light;contestant Sir Dolorous Stroke;contestant Sir Bla-blaberis; and contestant Dana Lan and anonimous participant nicknamed only Arry Totter.

The challengers prior mission is to deliver hell to the game thus enhancing the difficulty: Sir Abellious,Sir Damas,Sir Cinder: which is incidentally also called the Foul Knight; Sir Bagdemagus (he was always interested in me...), Sir Rhosisontheliver also called the Sick knight, Sir Turquine (or just Blue), Sir Gaunt a.k.a "the captive", Sir Brewnor-Without Pity, SirBerihideous, Sir Prickdan le Noir, Sir Fagdanfiend who also at first refused to fight when he spotted Sir Dolorous Stroke.


Event I: Divination

One player chosen at random has to guess first a word set by the riddle of a
referee. The referee has not the word still (he is working on it )so many of these knights are in a difficult game to play. If someone guesses this riddle the player will have the power to choose the way in which the referee will get tormented. If on the other hand he cannot guess the player will have to receive a smack about the head with a mortal iron bat. Many people loved that game in my kingdom and that's why words are so important for the valonish people.

We must do it together

Last ad hoc justice council deliberations were extremely successful; as indeed was the subsequent actions taken by our courts held in our main palace and at home.
The accused was penalized. The following list will enumerate all his sentences:*public service as co-host at the games of at least 50 hours (non pro-bono),* 5 deserts -a-day including Fortecue's raspberry and chocolate ice creams, catalan creams, parfaits, crepes and creme-brulés, * One "good-cheering" a day by our local pro,*Solemn oath of renounce with confidentiality agreement on the basis of any gay-blood conduct from henceforth,*On- call volunteer for a very intimate personal service. ejem. (The accused was cute and wanted to begin anew).

The satellite transmission of the ceremony is bringing it to many in my kingdom and beyond. Indeed, it is on the people's behalf that we are engaged into this kind of magic and can be viewed in every household through a magical device called a tv. There will be great screens as well for the live witnesses at the game fields.

I feel sanguine, and want most of all the light divertimento of a well set dark-fair tournament that appeals to my inner yearnings. We have now all the ingredients for successful games. Me, as this wise and experienced guidance, the presence of some other political and military leaders of the neighboring islands, the logistics studies necessary to good public flow, the concrete resolutions that gay-bloods must go or get extinct, and not the least, a general awareness that time is not on the side of the lazy.

Me dressed in many duty-hues.

Many moons have passed since my last entry in this journal. The Tournament have reached a stop on the investigative efforts made by my government. The case in the death of our messenger turned out to be one filled with lies and difficulty. By the courts of our island of apples hence Avalon and the prima facie evidence against this fellow man that seduced and adulterated our messenger before driving him to his demise, I hereby certify that justice shall be done.

Within our jurisdiction two weeks have elapsed since the discovery of the body. The accused filed a petition before this court asking us to set aside the decision for review and reconsideration. We denied it though we were impressed.The accused argument was that it was not given any opportunity. But his argument I reviewed in detail. Pray thee that I and my counsellors may meet the end of deliberations and reach a satisfactory decision. I too would be honest...