Conservative Conversation + Podcasts

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| December 4, 2019

11 COMMENTS

Nessa woke with a start. She’d been having the strangest dream …

She glanced around the hut she was in. Outside, night had fallen, or near enough, and there was a cool breeze wafting in through barred bamboo windows. That, and her hands and ankles had been tied together by the islanders who’d taken her prisoner, bound tightly around with some sort of jungle creeper (which had so far withstood all attempts to gnaw, wriggle out of, or cut through it). Her head felt muzzy as she blinked more awake and tried to remember.

Once Upon a Spinning-Wheel (Part 5): The Limey and the Coconut

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| December 1, 2019

11 COMMENTS

I lay back in the firelight and tried not to be sick. Which wasn’t easy. Nessa had conspired to get me to a “medicine woman” – which seemed to be a polite way of saying “witch doctress”. When I’d tried to point this out, Nessa had shushed me with a well-placed elbow to the stomach. It doesn’t pay to offend the only person with a knowledge of magic and potions for miles around.

The medicine woman wore a carved painted mask with red curving lips and big stylised uptilted eyes. It looked disturbingly feminine. And the way she looked at me through the slitted eyeholes was plain disconcerting. Hungry, almost … She swayed about the place like someone who was used to not hobbling around in baggy robes and stirring potions over smoky indoor fires, and I couldn’t work out why that was bothering me.

A Valhallan Interlude, Part 3: Smokey Bourbon Blues

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| November 26, 2019

7 COMMENTS

The horse’s ears flattened down on instinct. He knew that voice. He knew that silhouette … Not here. Not now. He leaned down to the girl in brass next to him, and said out of the corner of his, admittedly, long-muzzled mouth, ‘When I give the word, run. This is no time for heroics. We need to get out of here … Hey, are you listening?’

‘Naughty-naughty, horsey!’ said the figure in the doorway, stepping in out of the storm. Heavy raindrops ran down her biker’s leathers and dripped onto the floor as she walked. Behind her, more figures, also in bikers’ leathers, stepped through. (Just knew this was a bad idea, the horse was thinking.) The woman in the lead pulled off her helmet and shook her hair out with, it seemed to the horse, a gratuitous amount of flourish. It didn’t seem quite so gratuitous to some of the people standing around in the bar. In fact, some of them were now standing with their mouths open. Swan maidens tended to have that kind of effect on people. And particularly, swan maidens who’d, so to speak … gone to the bad. This was not good.

Once Upon a Spinning-Wheel (Part 4): A Date with Death

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| November 25, 2019

12 COMMENTS

Life is full of surprises. Here today, gone tomorrow – one moment you’re stepping in front of a magic trident meant for someone else, the next you’re lying passed out waiting for the tide to wash you away … At least, that’s how I found myself when I woke up, darkness drawing in and the sea lapping at my toes – and only then did I realise: someone had stolen my shoes. D’y’ever have one of those days? At least I had my positive attitude, there was that. And pins and needles – aaagh!

Manfully, I staggered on up the beach by the light of the setting sun, looking disconsolately down at my bare footprints in the sand and shivering to blazes with the cold sea winds chafing at my still-damp clothes. Everything hurt, my head, my heart – here I was with nothing – no life, anything, feeling like it was never going to work out for me. I was concussed, half-drowned, half-dead, bone-weary, ensorcelled, and up the creek without a paddle. But I still had my positive attitude! I had a curse to beat (my hand was still throbbing from that spindle cut), a band of vengeful sirens to avoid, a snake-tongued sorceress not to be killed by, and a growing list of to-dos that made it look like each passing moment I kept walking around was a minor miracle. (“Ya see, son, that’s that positive attitude right there! You’re not listenin’, son, I say, you’re not listenin’. Nice kid, but a little stuck in his ways, you know what I’m sayin’?”)

Hokey Croaky

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| November 15, 2019

25 COMMENTS

Ripples spread out across the surface of the lagoon, sparkling in the starlight, as the girl surfaced from under the water. Trailing behind her, there bobbed up a coloured glass lantern, sealed around the edges with a grey, clayey substance. Well, this dress has probably seen its last dance, she thought as she swam for the shore. The lantern came floating along with her.

In the distance, coloured lights glowed and strange music played out across the night. The dance goes on, as they say. Carefully, she lifted the lantern out of the water and hauled herself up onto the rocks. There was a kind of dull tap on the glass. A frog peered out at her. It was a bit hard to see through the coloured glass, but something about its eyes and the way it looked at her was somehow … human. She scraped away some of the clay with her nails and twisted. ‘Alright, buddy,’ she said, her voice coming out as a hoarse whisper, ‘you want to explain what’s going on?’

Lightbulb Moment

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| September 30, 2019

12 COMMENTS

We were sitting on wooden crates. They must have been sculling around in this old cargo hold for decades. Longer. It was an elephants’ graveyard of discarded technology, goods that had long since ceased being traded (at least in this corner of the universe). We pried open the lid on one, carefully. Inside, packed among musty, but still-dry, straw and shredded newspaper was a lamp. ‘Hey, this is solid brass,’ said Maya.

There were even some smaller crates inside. I opened one up. Inside were disintegrating pasteboard boxes.

Once Upon a Spinning-Wheel (Part 3): The Mermaid’s Tears

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| August 20, 2019

8 COMMENTS

Someone had been dancing the cancan on my chest, or that’s what it felt like when I woke up. I could smell the sea somewhere nearby. That, and I was pretty sure there was sand in my shoes — always a giveaway. I opened my eyes — and found out two things: one, no one was immediately trying to kill me (always a plus), and two, mermaids have really pretty smiles.

Admittedly, my sample size was limited, but just at that moment, I was prepared to take the risk of being wrong. Incidentally, that thing about the clam-shell bikini is hogwash. My mermaid (I was making wedding plans already, apparently, although I wasn’t quite sure why exactly) was sensibly dressed in a shirt, sea-breeches, and honking great sea-boots, and had the most glorious head of golden-green hair I have ever seen. How did I know she was a mermaid then, absent the long finny tail? Ah, you learn to notice these things, after you’ve been around for a while. You develop a fine-tuned sense of judgement and expertise. Plus, about seven of her sisters were sitting round in the shallows with tridents and fish tails, and stormy expressions on their faces — as if to say, look what the tide washed in. Gulp. Out of the frying pan, into the deep fat fryer …

A Memory

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| August 15, 2019

19 COMMENTS

You didn’t meet many girls with glowing eyes. Not “eyes that sparkled” or “eyes that shone”, but eyes that literally glowed. Of course, not many girls also magically transformed so that their legs were replaced with a snake’s tail, so maybe it balanced out. ‘What’ss the matter?’ she said, with a slight trailing, lisping hiss, advancing towards him in the torchlight. He found himself backing nervously against the stone wall, trying to cover his own eyes with his hand. ‘Cassandra, it’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just …’ There was something … hypnotic about that green glow … the way the patterns swirled round and around …

‘That’s better, little hero …’ said the lamia softly, her eyelights drawing him in, so that he barely noticed the fangs or the forked tongue past over-madeup lips. ‘Just look into my eyes … Don’t worry about anything else …’ It seemed to him there was something he was forgetting. Something important. A face kept rising to the front of his mind, and a feeling in his chest. A friendly face … with eyes that actually did shine and sparkle. Eyes he’d seen tears in, a face he’d seen smiling and never seen anything so beautiful … Suddenly, the swirling spirals seemed to fade, and there was just a very puzzled and slightly-hurt-looking girl, tapping the floor with a disconcerting scaly sound.

True Stories

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| August 13, 2019

10 COMMENTS

Why does everything in the world today have to be, so to speak, a federal case? Why is everything suddenly an outrage, a pathology – a “life-ending” mistake? Used to be you could say or do something stupid, or even not-so-stupid, and it wouldn’t make you an outcast or even a bad person.

But then, it used to be that we told happy stories, true stories, once upon a time . . . Stories that weren’t just abstract or hothouse notions in the heads of their creators, perpetuated when people who don’t know any better take them seriously and think they’re representations of real life.

Sun-Struck

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| August 12, 2019

27 COMMENTS

He woke to the sound of distant music, a gentle sea breeze washing over him from somewhere. He heard the creak of timbers around him. Where am I this time, he found himself thinking. He seemed to be in a low wooden room, decorated with carvings, but otherwise empty. The carvings were . . . strange: Mermaids singing, maps like something out of an old storybook, and smiling young ladies with . . . banjos? He shook his head, walking out onto the main deck. As his eyes got used to the bright sunlight, he saw that he wasn’t alone.

There was a man — weathered and dressed in rags, his long white beard trailing down over the deck — tied to the mast and fast asleep. The ship around him apparently wasn’t in great shape. There were areas of broken woodwork, as if some huge monster had smashed through them. Through one of these he could see the ship’s wheel, lashed into position. Off to one side, there was an island on the horizon. He was no sailor, but as best he could tell, the ship was going round in circles. ‘Well?’ said a voice as old as the sea. ‘Don’t just stand there — untie me, confound it! I want to see what that music’s all about!’

Time Enough

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| July 24, 2019

25 COMMENTS

The air shimmered and a young woman stumbled forward out of what a moment before had been thin air. As she got back up, dusting red dirt off her jeans, the setting sun glinted off the scythe-shaped silver pin on her lapel. She looked around, running a hand through her hair. Floating by the crossroads, looking up at a warped old signpost, was the figure of a man, glowing semi-translucent and slightly blue. She looked around again. No body. That was odd for a start.

He turned at the sound of her walking towards him. She saw the confusion and the pain – felt them flash through her, as if they were her own – saw the glistening of tears. She kept going, taking in details as she went. Young. About her age. Features? Hard to tell when people were like this. And pain. Worlds and worlds of pain. ‘Hey there, honey,’ she said, as gently as possible, extending a hand to him. ‘My name’s Clancy. You … look a little lost …’ She paused a moment. ‘I know this place down the road a ways – they do these great chocolate malts. You look like you could use one … My treat?’

Lifesaver

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| July 13, 2019

48 COMMENTS

The wind blustered through the trees, swirling fallen leaves as it went, till it reached the old cottage door, lying blown back on its hinges. Maybe she had put just a trifle more oomph into that lock-picking spell than she had meant to, she conceded, looking down at the little electric-blue spark still crackling on the end of her finger. ‘Um, hello?’ she said, stepping tentatively inside, ‘I knocked, but I couldn’t seem to get an answer …’

Strictly speaking, she shouldn’t be doing this, she thought, looking over the neat clay-tiled kitchen, but it wasn’t as if she had much choice. ‘I’m sorry about the door,’ she continued. ‘It’s just … I’m in trouble, and I need your help …’ And, in a whisper, ‘I kind of need a hero …’

Bell Ringer

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| July 1, 2019

15 COMMENTS

They had such strange flowers here, ‘Arthur-lies-sleeping’, what sort of name was that for a flower? And ‘Cadbury bells’ and, he sneezed past his streaming eyes, something in the hedgerows that was giving him hay fever. He never got hay fever … That must have been what made him miss the rock: He stumbled, rolling down, down into the gully into a surprisingly deep, almost little valley, hitting his head on something as he landed. Hey, who turned out the lights?

By the time he woke up, it was getting dark. He was miles from anywhere; though for some reason, he couldn’t actually remember where or even who he was, which was just stupid. Ahead of him, was a rough doorway in the side of the hill. Which was even sillier, you didn’t get doorways in the sides of hills. There was a light coming from somewhere inside this one, though, and a subtle ringing note that seemed to echo inside his head. Or maybe that was just his skull. Here went nothing …

Member Post

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| June 23, 2019

9 COMMENTS

It looked harmless enough, just lying there on an armchair, an old book with a cheerfully illustrated cover. Ageless, yet somehow old beyond description, it suggested somehow that here was a story you could get happily lost in: There was a girl, and a man twirling his moustache, and a true-hearted hero, and a speeding […]

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Midnight Hours

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| June 21, 2019

12 COMMENTS

‘Nurse! … Nurse!’ Footsteps ran towards the sound of the screaming. A door was flung open, the light from the hallway falling on the man in the bed. ‘Where’s the rest of me!’

The nurse sighed and, businesslike, stepped forward, flinging the covers back. ‘Right where I left it the last four times,’ she said. ‘I told you, the anesthetic takes a while to wear off.’

A Valhallan Interlude, Part 2: A Need for Mead

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| June 10, 2019

9 COMMENTS

[Previous –> A Valhallan Interlude, Part 1]

The horse touched down lightly in the dust near the parking lot. ‘I still don’t think this is a good idea,’ he said. Not many horses talk; then again, not many horses fly, so they probably broke even there. He looked up apprehensively at the storm clouds racing rapidly towards them across the night sky.

A Valhallan Interlude

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| June 9, 2019

20 COMMENTS

‘Hoy-at-a-ho! … Hoy-a-ta-ho! …’ The voice echoed across the rooftops. The horse galloping its way across the night sky was clearly not of this world. Nor was the brass-clad young lady riding along on its back. However … well, it’s all very well singing in the moonlight like that, and she had a good voice for it, but she’d just never been able to get the proper … operatic feel for things.

‘That wasn’t bad,’ said the horse.

Once Upon a Spinning-Wheel (Part II): A Hiss in the Dark

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| June 1, 2019

11 COMMENTS

I could count the number of times that I’d fallen to my death on the fingers of one hand (which was still bleeding after cutting it open on that blasted spinning-wheel) — but the number of times something like this had happened to me … well, I was running out of fingers … Although at least they were all still attached to me, there was that. Always look on the bright side of life, that’s me — nameless hero, courageously fighting against the odds, grappling with beautiful yet oddly creepy snake-women sorceresses (all right, one sorceress, and she threw me off a tower, but still), bravely eluding capture by guards that should have been thrown out of knight school or, preferably, out that tower window instead of me, and not to mention — erm, well, this is kind of embarrassing, but I think I may have been at least slightly dead for a moment there. Sure, all the cool kids end up “mostly dead,” before storming back to whatever glorious future awaits them — me, slightly dead. And maybe all dead, if I didn’t figure a way out of it. It was like this:

… I remember falling … and then blackness, endless blackness mixed with ripples of green light cascading over my vision. That enchantress must have laid a heck of a curse on me as I was going down. Super strength and sorcery? Something was afoot, and no mistake. Plus, I didn’t like the way she kept smiling at me when she was torturing and half killing me to death. I’m funny that way. Anyway, there I was, floating in blackness and slow-motion green strobe lighting when … I suddenly wasn’t there at all. And I kept thinking back to that kiss. Who blows a kiss to someone as they’re throwing them off a tower? Especially after making with the voodoo mojo and magic spells and whatnot. I shuddered in the nothingness that I was struggling for existence in and —

Once Upon a Spinning-Wheel (Part I): The Serpent’s Kiss

By Andrew Miller

Website: https://www.awlmiller.com/.

| May 28, 2019

27 COMMENTS

‘Won’t hurt a bit,’ she says, ‘just a little prick.’ Sure. Because that’s always been true. Except this time it’s a magical spinning-wheel, and no lollipops for good boys and girls. Evil fairies running amok, and I was just about ready to pass out after cutting my finger on that confounded spindle. My name’s— well that’s not important right now — welcome to my life — this kind of thing happens to me all the time. Except everyone was trying to kill me — long story, they thought I was responsible for— Anyway, no time now, guards are coming. Why hadn’t they fallen asleep, and the kingdom with them, you ask? Well, funny thing, when I get hit by an evil enchantment I tend to grab the nearest heavy object and smash the evil magic spinning-wheel to pieces. But that’s just me. So the enchantment was short-circuited — and short-circuiting — and I wasn’t feeling at all well. No matter, no matter, think … think. Got to be something else I can do, something else I need to do. Well, aside from hiding behind this tapestry … with a secret passage behind it. Interesting … Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, and in case it’s not clear, I’m not a princess (maybe that’s why the spinning-wheel hadn’t sent me to sleep for a hundred years that instant), I’m a guy — and the girl I’m in love with is probably going to marry someone else whether or not I can break this enchant— There was an echoing clang, as of a mop bucket which some idiot has kicked, rolling down the stairs.

So, the secret passage turns out to be a janitor’s closet, or something, and that clang was going to attract some attention — or would do if everyone wasn’t making too much noise looking for me as it was. Small mercies. But do janitors’ closets usually have a spiral stone staircase leading down from them? I would say not, but I haven’t been in all that many. Look, I went to knight school, all right? Graduated knight school, anyway — but that’s not important right now. Look, it’s not as if I even started life in this fairy tale, okay? I know it sounds unlikely, but I just sort of … woke up here. I don’t know what happened. One minute everyone was normal, next minute it’s this weird sugar-spun world where nothing makes any sense anymore. I thought things made sense again, a little, for a while … Hey, do you mind looking the other way a moment — intruding on private grief here! Thank you! Anyway, where were we again? It sure was dark down this staircase. I hope I didn’t fall and kick the bucket — again.