I do not own Power Rangers: Jungle Fury

Dom and Fran are adorbs.

Places in Books

Castle Tours


Dear Lily,

Guten Tag from Germany!

Dom and I have been working our way around the castles here. I never knew there were so many!

One day we rented a car and drove for hours and hours through the mountains to Neuschwanstein Castle!

And that had been great.

"Where is this place again?"

Weaving through the Bavarian Alps.

"Couple of miles up, I think. What does the map say?"

In a little grey Volkswagen Golf.

"Uhhh . . ."

So great.

But that wasn't all.

They had splurged on a river cruise for a day.

Floating languidly past well-maintained majestic castles with manicured topiary-ed grounds.

As well as the crumbling rubble of abandoned, discarded structures that may have once been considered manors back in their heyday.

And now left to ruin and decay.

"Dom, this is so beautiful!"

"Yeah. It's pretty awesome."

Fran, face tilted up, hand screening her eyes from the high sun.

And so, so very . . .

I wonder which one would be Belle's.

Silly.

That's in France.

Oooh, France.

. . . enchanted.

They had hiked.

"You ready?"

Alone together in the wilderness of the old worlde.

"Yep. Mmm-hmm."

Across green flowing fields.

"Have you ever hiked before?"

Through ancient standing forests.

"Other than to the bus stop? No."

Traversing plunging gorges.

"We'll take it slow and easy then."

Reposing near crashing waterfalls.

"If you want or need to stop, just say. I don't mind."

Pausing at picturesque overlooks.

"Keep going, Dom!"

Skimming stones across lakes, the quiet watery depths of which surely harbored slippery serpents and beasts of mythology and legend.

"You sure?"

Legs burning up the sides of wandering mountains shrouded in creeping mists.

"Yeah! This is great!"

And finally, finally, finally . . .

"Fran, look."

. . . finally . . .

"Do you see it?"

. . . reaching their . . .

"Where? Oh. Wow."

I did it. I actually did it.

Well, we.

. . . destination.

Smallish in nature, only the slightest bit crumbling and overlooked by the more touristy of the sightseeing population.

Quiet and still.

And closer and closer.

Which is good because . . .

"Uh, Dom? I think it's starting to rain."

. . . the sky is darkening . . .

"Yeah."

. . . rapidly.

"It's coming up fast."

And it is coming up fast, thunderheads billowing darkly, lightning and thunder flashing and rumbling the sky.

"Dom?"

"Come on, we're almost there!"

They make urgent way for the discolored lower stone walls, just along the algae-choked moat, rain pattering more and more rapidly upon the leaves, the ground, their heads.

She would stop and dig her rain poncho out of her pack but the castle is so close, all heavy massive stone base sunk deep into the slightly overgrown grass, she is so close-

"There's a door here."

-and apparently Dom is thinking the same thing and there is a door, surely a servant's entrance type thing, hidden in the ivy-

"Wait, Dom,-"

-and Dom jerks it open with a grunt-

"-what if there are people living here?"

-and they're-

"I don't think so. It looks abandoned."

-in-

"And anyway if there are people, I'm sure we can just talk to them."

-and, boy, is it dark-

"Okay. I mean, if you think so."

-until Dominic Hargan-

"Don't worry, it'll be okay, Fran."

-turns on-

Oh my.

- the light.


Flashlight that is.

A glowing bulb throwing a beam of light upon the dusty stone floor.

And Fran turns and-

AHH!

-nearly screams her fool head off at the shadowy figure of a large grinning gargoyle.

Don't let it eat me!

With curved stone teeth and a big lolling tongue.

I'm still on vacation!

And she only just manages to squelch down her crystal-shattering scream into a strangled squawk.

And I haven't even been to Paris yet!

And clutch her clenched hands to her modest chest.

And Italy has the pizza!

And try to calm her racing heart.

"Hey, you okay?"

It's Dom, she thinks, beside her.

"Yeah. Sorry. He . . . startled me."

And she can practically feel his mildly amused smile.

"Yeah. They can do. Especially coming right out of the dark like that."

And she wishes, just once, that she could have an iota of chill, of cool, of . . .

"You know, gargoyles were originally created to be protectors."

. . . not freaked-out-ness.

"Protectors?"

But she is herself.

"Yeah. They were created to keep away evil spirits away."

And that's all she's got.

"Ma-aybe they were, like, the first Power Rangers or something."

And Dom seems . . .

"You never know. Maybe."

. . . okay with her.

She's calming down, vision adapting to the meager light.

The storm is clashing and crashing outside.

And Fran realizes . . .

"Wow."

. . . she's very glad to be inside.

Stony, scary protective gargoyle . . .

I thought they were only supposed to be on the outsides of buildings.

. . . and all.


They're in a vast chamber, cleared of furniture and any and all sundries of human existence.

Save for the structure itself.

The walls are thick stone, carved centuries ago by workers who knew the value of shelter from the elements of nature.

There's a chill in the damp air but the space itself is dry.

And Fran realizes that she is dripping water onto the stone floor.

And . . .

"You okay, Fran?"

. . . freezing.

"Yeah. I'm just cold."

In the movies, her voluptuous peasant blouse would be dramatically hanging off one bare shoulder.

Her hair, glistening beautifully with diamonds of raindrop, only enough to make her appear attractively vulnerable to the muscular, mane-haired man accompanying her.

He would boldly strike up a roaring fire and she would repose before it, upon a sensuous bear-skin rug, supple skin flickering in the firelight.

He would offer her a drought of wine and a plate of bread and cheese upon which to rustically dine.

Instead, drowned rat Frances Faye Fulgeman shrugs off her bag, unzips it and procures for herself, a towel.

She commences to drying her hair as Dom, shaking short shorn head just enough to send water droplets flying away from his person, walks a few steps ahead of her . . .

"Whoa, check this place out, Fran."

. . . into the barely lit gloom.


"Whoa. Good thing Dai Shi didn't have one of these."

It's dark, it's grim.

"I don't even want to think about that."

They've wandered the open chambers, bedrooms, ballrooms, sculleries.

Servant's quarters, the most basic of lavatories . . .

Indoor plumbing, I will never not be grateful for you.

. . . and even a tiny solar.

All completely and absolutely and eerily . . .

I mean, this used to be somebody's house.

Somebody's home.

They lived here.

I wonder if they're buried in the backyard.

Eww.

As the storm has blown on without, within they have found themselves sinking deeper and deeper into the bowels of the rough-hewn structure.

Dimly glowing flashlight beam. . .

I don't believe in ghosts, I don't believe in ghosts-

. . . bobbing ahead of their echoing footsteps.

Until they have now happened upon . . .

"Whoa. What is this?"

. . . the cells, the dungeons.

And the . . .

"Dom?"

"It's okay, Fran. It's just us."

. . . the windowless torture chamber.

Which apparently no one wanted to touch enough to clear as the rest of the castle has been.

Or they left it for later use and never came back.

Shiver.

The air is closer here, reeks of mildew and long left damp walls.

Closer.

"What is that?"

And chillier.

"A rack. They used to tied a person up and stretch them until they confessed their secrets."

"And that?"

"A head crusher. It was used to-"

"Never mind. I can guess."

And she doesn't want to ask.

She really doesn't.

"What's that?"

But she just can't help herself.

"A Judas Cradle."

And Dom seems to know so much about things she's never even considered wondering about.

"What's it do?"

And Dom shakes his head.

"Trust me. You don't want to know."

And she . . .

"Dom? Can we go up now? I'm getting kind of freaked out."

. . . trusts him.

"Sure, Fran. Let's get some air."


And the air, the sweet, sweet petrichor-ed air . . .

"Better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

. . . is absolutely wonderful.


German castles rock.

On a totally, non-Power Rangers note, if you like gargoyles, check out "God Bless the Gargoyles". It's a beautifully illustrated children's story I'd recommend to children of any age. You will not be disappointed.

And that's it for my Reading Rainbow ad spot. ;)

Couldn't figure a way to organically put the Power Ranger history in here, what with Power Rangers being American/New Zealand/Japan-based. Hope it's still alright tho. :)

But gargoyles were created to be protectors.

And torture chambers are really freaky. (And interesting.)

Thanks to Seth A. Mincberg and DinahRay for previously reviewing!