When I last closed my drowsy eyes it was to the accompaniment of an apt, from my biased point of view, cryptic song. The song was new to me, yet notwithstanding my poor state of being, I fell in love with it at once. Its title? ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ sung originally, I was advised, by one most talented artist named Kaye Ballard, whomsoever she was.

Nurse Kristina, a dear girl and my day to day carer, had kindly purloined a new-fangled record player from ‘wherever’ and carried it all the way from her home in Paris’s 18th arrondissement, along with the vinyl recording, to my dilapidated, charity financed apartment in the Quartier des Invalides. I think the year was 1974 but cannot be sure, I’d been drifting in and out of consciousness for days on end. The presumption of le médecin was that I had lost my mind, my brain no longer signalling my body to swallow food and drink, nor my heart to beat beyond a fragile whisper. While I knew that that was not strictly so I stayed schtum, I had, after all, lost the will to live. Self-prompted starvation my new best friend. My sudden illogical aging from a desirable mademoiselle to wizened old bag and with it my loss of promised immortality proved to be simply too much to take.

Kristina, although never making mention of it, I could tell knew well my compulsion to end it all…indeed, the reference in the words of the song to ‘The Moon’ gave me an inkling that she had chosen this piece as a requiem in remembrance not of my soon to be rotting carcass, more my final, forlorn au revoir. How could she know that on my travels through time and space The Moon had been my last port of call outside of Planet Earth?  Coincidence? I think not. Was she savvy to the fact that she, in a different particle of her own time long, long gone was the murdered deceased, former beau of my own sadly absent lover, sweet Eliza?

For the benefit of any sceptics as well as those thinking my musings little more than irrational gobbledygook, ‘yes’ you heard me correctly when I spoke of my once immortal status, time-travels, the alive and well ghost that was Kristina and my journeying to The Moon, all gifts afforded to me curtesy of time herself in the human form of one Lady Freya Hella, a remarkable woman born of infinity who, for reasons unknown, either lost me somewhere within the irreversible succession from the past, through the present, into the future, that is time herself however impossible as that might sound.  Time was out of kilter, and me with it. Were I able to cleanse the time-line all would likely be well. Regrettably, such a thing was far beyond both my practical and academic capabilities. Besides, it mattered not, I was about to cast aside this passé mortal coil. I had been lost in the abiding moment far too long and senescence was never my dream of choice. Where oh where were Freya and Eliza? If only I could grasp to my breast the substance of that intense feeling of deep affection we shared one last time.

Should it be to your interest I, on a personal level, can advise that I’d lost track with the passing centuries yet can confirm I have lived in fragments of time covering several millennia. In my heyday they called me, ‘The Blue-Eyed Cat’ a name that complemented my solitary feline disposition and matched my glistening sapphire eyes. My real name is Zhanxwzch…which stands for ‘white princess’…I have always been known to one and all as Lily after the six-petaled White Lily flower that matched my crystalline pure white skin. Originally, I heralded from a land known as Circassia, a region situated in the North Caucasus and along the northeast shore of The Black Sea, north of the Caucasus Mountains. Once upon a time, prior to being granted immortality, I can boast…perhaps not the best description…that my body and I made the highest ever bid The Otterman hierarchy had proffered for a girl up for sale in the much celebrated slave market of Constantinople, yet now, all that was left of me was a bedraggled husk of former self.

That said, both Kristina and I knew for certain that my eyes, once resting behind wrinkled eyelids, would never open again. My time had come.


How…thankfully in hindsight, at least…wrong I was. When I unexpectedly returned to the macrocosm of the living, wide awake and fancy free, I found myself in a preserve like no other. A wispy, unlit yet visible to the naked eye, unearthly domain where gravity lent itself to leaden ceiling over misty carpet, a multi-shade cloudy entity high above the blue planet, I would learn was called ‘The Palace of Clouds’, a venue out of sight from below but, as I came to understand it to be, not that far away, and me, back to my former vivacious glory, only this time around with the surreal addition of astonishing fluffy milk-white feather ginormous wings. I so wanted a mirror. In short, I had somehow become the consummate feral angel. Whatever which way, Lily was back in town!

But how does one explore a land with no floor? Silly me, I had wings to fly and curiosity to appease. Initially I’d concluded I was alone, later I found that not to be so. Oh yes, I should add, save for the modified forelimbs that bore large feathers that were, thinking about it, now a permanent part of me I was, as per usual, naked as a jaybird, not that that mattered for as far as I could tell I was presently entirely alone. As such I found a paradoxical privacy inside The Palace of Clouds. Indeed, I recall thinking surely I cannot be domiciled within an impossible heaven, nor for that matter an equivalent hell. Mercifully, I would discover it was neither of those…


The Old Fool’s note: Bored within a sickly planet riddled in nasty things and lusting for something to do that might take my mind off humanities malaise I thought, why not bring Lily…also known as The Blue-Eyed Cat from my previous book of the same name…back to life? After all she had been left in something of a quandary upon the conclusion of ‘book one’, hence this first skeletal stab.

Should the original ‘The Blue-Eyed Cat’ take your fancy, or indeed my latest tome ‘The Snow White Tigress’, both can be found at Amazon in paperback & Kindle. Herewith the UK link, yet should the fancy take I understand both are available from Amazon globally.

Video curtesy of blogger ZOOLON



  1. Ah… Fly me to the Moon… I was asked to play it at my friend’s son’s wedding and the bride did indeed fly shortly afterwards…with someone else… But it is a great song. And this is a great post. How nice to see Lily…

    1. I’ve never been that keen on weddings, Ms S. The scope for disaster is too much, its reason for being illogical in many respects save for legality ensuring protective rights to both ‘combatants’. Also, so much money spent upon an event that, in so many cases, seems…to me, I stress…to be little more than a never to be mentioned out loud egotist, pretty charade. At least my two weddings were without any risks of bankruptcy. That the latter of the pair still thinks me a romantic, the budget bonus, although the former might disagree. Life is a strange thing.

      1. I feel the same re weddings. My friend and her husband who both sadly died within days of each other before Christmas, forked out a fortune from his police retiral money for the weddings of both these boys and within a year of each one both were separated. One could not refrain from thinking that the writing was on the wall with the older boy when the wife insisted they get married in Florida where she had gotten hitched to her first hubby… But nobly I bit my tongue. We gave each of our girls a set sum and told them straight fork out the rest yourselves. And I have to say while both were class weddings in every way they were careful largely cos they kept the word wedding under wraps when it came to flowers and all. It is an industry gone crazy. One of the older girl’s pals forked out 30 grand. (Mind you that family were aye like that, flashy) ^ months later it was kaput.

      2. It is indeed an industry gone crazy, Ms S. The temptation of wanting to have a wedding just like a film star is in their faces across all media implying a big wedding is the only way to ensure that ‘special day’. However, they overlook that ‘special’ does not have to mean spending a shedload of cash…cash that in some cases could be the deposit on a mortgage and such like. To me ‘special’ is the person I fell for and upon the day to seal the bond there are a million, inexpensive, ways to tie the knot. I think I’ve mentioned before Shirl and I decided champagne drunk from the bottle, a few chums, best togs and a stroll around a zoo. That, to me, was and remains ‘special’ and it hardly cost a thing.

    1. My thanks, young Lesley. This is the shortened version. The big version is, I tend to think, quite the weirdest thing I’ve ever written. Time will tell. Regards, The Old Fool

    1. Lovely to hear from you, Inese. I may come over ‘vague’ of late. I’m attempting to give up smoking. I’m winning the fight but losing sanity! Such fun. Best wishes, Mike

      1. Your sanity will be restored, Mike. For now, try to focus on your enemy – no compromises, no excuses. Your body will be grateful. I quit smoking in 1999. Never looked back.

      2. Fine advice Inese. ‘Tis the withdrawal symtoms that are the curse. Many years back I’d given up smoking for well over a year. I loathed every minute of it…indeed, the once sporty ‘me’ then working far too hard ate and ate to compensate until I’d reached a weight of 19 stone+. Then the diabetes kicked in. To lose weight…I managed 8 1/2 stone in just 7 months…I returned to smoking. I still recall my doctor making due note that I was likely his first patient to ‘get better’ via the smoking route! I’ve been out of the diabetic zone for many years now, yet my nicotine curse remains.

      3. I don’t know if it helps Mike, but there is another cruel route to keep a healthy weight… When I was first diagnosed, I was advised to drop a kilo a week = 3 pounds. For that I had to consume 600 calories a day. In 6 weeks I lost a stone. I was not a happy person during that time, but my blood sugar went back to norm. Now I just maintain the weight without big sacrifices. Wouldn’t smoke to save my life 🙂

      4. I agree and would add your positivity is commendable. You must be proud of yourself…a good thing. For the last twenty years I’ve been taking to the gym…we have a small one at the rear of the house…and take aerobic work out every day of my life..,Christmas, birthdays and even with odd illnesses included. hence I’ve maintain my body weight at 11 stone 7 pounds, at 6 feet tall it’s an okay weight thankfully. My only regret is taking that first ‘cig’ all those years back. However, onward and upward. Have a splendid weekend. Regards, Mike

  2. Having read The Blue-Eyed Cat, (which I thoroughly enjoyed) I appreciate this aftermath.
    I await the Tigress!!!!!
    Thank you, TOF!

    1. Hath said Tigress not be delivered up atop thy doorstep? Hell’s bells, young Resa, it must have been two weeks ago I sent it. I shall speak outside of the post office to their fierce staff through a handy foghorn thus avoiding entering the building. I shall get to the bottom of this. I understand the few copies sent to The States haven’t ‘touched base’ as yet also…I’m not keen on the use of ‘touched base’ for reasons I cannot explain. Regards, TOF

      1. TOF!
        Our post office is days/ weeks behind on deliveries. They blame Covid.
        Don’t worry, it will get here….. eventually!
        OMG..Don’t touch that base!!!! there could be viral sputum on it!

  3. Hello Mike, thought I’d introduce myself in recognition of all the likes I gain for my little whimsies, but frankly as my friend Noel used to say, “to make a comment is such a frightful bore,” chin chin, old stick and fanks for evryfin.

    1. Cheers, Sir. How sad the quote is that of Noel’s when the world would be a much better place were it Trump saying, “To make a comment is such a frightful bore.”

  4. Hullooooooooooooooooo! It has been so very long, Master Steeden, and for that you have my deepest apologies. Gah, this crazy summer schooling and now fall schooling at home! You’ve intrigued me with Lily’s new feathered abilities–I imagined fairy-like wings for a moment, but ah, the feathers, of course–something soft and sweet in texture fits her. We could all use some wings these days, and fly out to our beloved past ports of call while the present sorts itself out. Hope you and yours are well, Friend! xxxxxx

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