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Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts

Friday, 22 February 2019

NYC Midnight short story challenge 2019 round 1 Heat 18 - Action/Adventure / An eclipse / A fugitive


 Eclipsed

“If I make it out of here Mike, our friendship is over!”
Winny gritted her teeth and pulled herself further up the hill.
She reached for the next sapling, sandals slipping on the dried grass pulling her back down and tearing off another glittering fingernail. She cradled her hand under her body for a few minutes while the pain receded and pressed her face into the grass. The scent of dust and rotting plant tickled at her nose and throat. She listened a little longer to the insects chirring around her.
“Ew, ants!” She sat up abruptly and brushed away the offending bugs. “Did I mention I hate you Mike. I told you and told you. I. Don’t. Do. Nature.”
Winny reached for another sturdier sapling. “But Oh no, you wouldn’t listen. Dress for the outdoors Win. Sure outdoors by the pool, outdoors at a party on a nice grassy lawn.” She pressed her back to the upper side of a tree trunk and tried her phone again. “Not even emergency calls? Really? How can there be no signal on the side of a mountain?” she clicked a selfie. “No one will believe it’s me in a forest”
The terrain levelled out for a few meters before the next incline. Winny pressed her hands to her knees and caught her breath. The bird calls and insects quieted as the heat rose. Sweat wreaked havoc on her carefully applied makeup. Another nail broke off and she stuck it in the bark. Tears sent dark runnels down her cheeks. “Maybe I can use the nails as signposts to find my way back?” she wiped the back of her wrist across her face and stared at the dark streak. “I should have worn my super dry mascara, didn’t know I would need it, did I? Damn you Mike.” Her voice turned to a sneer, “I know this great place to see the eclipse, I know the way, I don’t need directions, the GPS doesn’t work out this far – and look where it got us Mr. Control freak. Ow!” sucking on yet another nail she bent to pick up the glittering painfully ripped off expensive acrylic and wedged it in the tree back. “Here’s me climbing a mountain in my catwalk shoes and designer silks, and you unconscious in the care of a mad man at the bottom of the hill. The limp seemed real but he moved awfully fast for a wounded man. Shit!” The designer sandal strap snapped. Winny squatted neatly in her pencil skirt to inspect the damage. “The other will go too.” She sat elegantly on a log and rolled down her pantyhose. Ripping with her teeth to start a tear she slid her sandals back on and tied the nylon around and around ending in neat bows on both. “Rustic but elegant” she smiled and patted the bows. She began to swing her legs over yet another log, holding her skirt against her bottom and rolling into a standing position. “Oh this is ridiculous, I will never make it back by sunset.” She began to tug at the seam of her skirt but it held firm, as a well-made garment should. “Sorry Nan, only you and I know the truth. A shop bought one would tear easier.” Clenching her jaw she gave a mighty tug and the seam gave way, allowing her legs to move freely. “That’s better. I don’t know why I ever decided to date you Mike.” She stepped around a huge tree, avoided some nasty brambles and grabbed the trunk of a smaller tree to haul herself up the next bit of hill, “We were good as just friends, sort of, but we’ve both changed since we were kids.” The next fallen tree was easier to leap over. “You owe me a new skirt.”
The climb grew steeper; the sun rode relentlessly to its peak, the moon hovering close in the clear blue sky. “This sun is giving me freckles, I can feel them forming. I should’ve put on my SPF50+ foundation. Damn it!.”
Winny’s breathing grew laboured and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. “I need a breath mint, or water. Water would be good.” Her monologue slid between cracked lips. She held her phone up to the hot blue sky like a benediction. “Or a couple of bars, so I can call for help? No? Water then, that’d be good.” A sound she had been hearing but not listening to, tugged at her awareness. “A water feature out here?” Changing direction brought her to a trickle squeezing out of a crack in an enormous rock and dripping into a tiny pool before soaking back into the earth. She ignored the floating bits and scooped up a palm full of chilly refreshing water. “There are no bugs, there are no bugs, just close my eyes and drink.” She washed her face and reluctantly wet her hair then took a deep breath.
“Just keep moving, just keep moving, Mike is counting on me and the old man seemed desperate for his pet. I can do this.” She waved her phone around like a baton to emphasise her points, “He could’ve just asked, I would’ve gone to get his pet if he just asked but he had to go and hurt Mike and then make that threat.” She slapped her phone into the palm of her hand, “Stop it Win, no use crying about it. What was that?” Standing still she listened for the sound again, “Did I actually hear some –“ her heart rate ratcheted up as a snake slithered through a sandy patch close to her feet. A tiny moan full of fear and tears escaped her. Adrenaline flooded her muscles but she forced herself to back slowly away from the serpent before stumble running further up the hill as fast as her legs would carry her.
The line where the trees ended and the cliffs began finally came in sight. Winny spotted the cabin where the old man had said it would be. A rough path of shale and rocks made walking difficult in her damaged sandals but she stuck her arms out to the sides and managed to stay upright. “Well those dance lessons were good for something.”
Winny smoothed her skirt, brushed a few twigs from her hair and lifted her hand to open the door but froze at voices coming from inside.
“When the bastard comes back, I’ll take him out for this. He’s wounded so he can’t be far.” The voice squeezing through a nasal blockage had an edge of revenge in it.
“Our orders are to bring him back in one piece.” This was not a voice to argue with.
Winny stepped back and bumped into something immovable.
“You lost Miss?”
Winny looked up over her shoulder and up again into the face of the uniformed bulk behind her. He held a gun almost as big. He dropped the end of his cigarette and crushed it slowly into the dirt.
“Easy to get lost in these parts; can’t be too careful out here.”
She squeaked as the bulk reached around her to open the door.
“Visitor boys.” An enormous hand guided her into the shaded room.
Another man in uniform also carrying a gun leaned close enough for her to smell cloves. His was the inarguable voice.
“You’ve lost a caterpillar honey.” He pointed a gnarled finger at her face and Winny frantically explored her cheeks and forehead.”
“Nooooo.” she patted her clothing and futilely searched the floor. “Nooooo, I just had them done. A week they said. One day is not a week. I am going to demand my money back...”
“Who sent you?”
A dagger of fear danced down Winny’s spine. Gasping like a goldfish on a bench, Winny tried to fill her lungs with a calming breath. Trembling ran along all her limbs and her extremities held no warmth in spite of the sunburn inducing heat of the day.
“Speak up or I’ll find a nice little cliff to drop you over.” The flat nose of the nasal voice hung on a too small head above an over muscled body. Same uniform, more guns.
She waved her phone around, noticing the number of weapons adorning the three very large men in uniforms, and one other door.
Winny gripped her phone and felt crazy calm slip over her.
“No reception up here either? This is sooo unacceptable.”
Winny lifted the corners of her mouth into her most engaging smile. She knew it was engaging because all the feedback was positive, well most was but who cares about haters and trolls right? She directed the smile at the man with the voice of authority.
“I am so lost and it would be just great if you could point out where the car park is. You are rangers, right? You look like park rangers. Can you help me?”
The man looked her up and down in the slow way the other man had crushed his cigarette.
“The fluttering eye thing probably works better when you have two caterpillars sweet heart.” The bulky man pointed out.
Winny blushed and cupped her remaining eyelash in her hand.
The man chuckled, it sounded like rocks rattling in a sack.
Winny took a selfie and squealed. “Oh no! I’m a mess, can I use your bathroom?”
She ducked through the other door without waiting for a reply and locked it behind her. She turned on the rusty tap over a cracked yellow hand basin and watched brown sludge gurgle and slop down the drain.
“What am I going to do? I’m so scared and those guys look seriously dangerous. I am never going to speak to you again Mike. Maybe I won’t get the chance? I’ll never laugh at you waving your arms around like your Nonna when you get mad, never get to argue with you over which movie we watch, never…oh get a grip Win, what if’s won’t get me out of this place.”
“Out here girl, we want to ask you a few things.”
Win noticed a basket in the corner. A hum came from inside it.
“The pet?” She squatted, reaching to open the basket but pulled back at sudden pounding on the door.
“Get out here now or we’ll break down the door and drag you out.”
Winny grabbed the basket and climbed onto the hand basin, squeezing her hips through the tiny window, dropped the basket then lowered herself to the ground. Grabbing the basket handle she sprinted for the trees, slipped on a rock, slid down the embankment, hit a tree, levered herself around it, tumbled into a prickly shrub, tore her last nail off, and ran. The nylon unravelled and she lost her sandals. Heart pounding, mouth dry, breath rasping from her lungs, feet full of thorns she barely felt as she ran with the eerily soft tread of three large deadly pursuers close behind.
“Give us that basket!”
The bellow pushed her. A nail shaped glint in the bark of a tree guided her adrenaline fuelled brain which way to go.
“Stop, girl. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
She pivoted around a sapling, narrowly avoided a grasping hand. A leap over a fallen tree gave her a tiny advantage .
Something weird was happening to the light but she barely noticed it in her headlong flight, with pain in her sides, fire in her thighs, slipping and skidding downhill.
“Stop!” the inarguable voice threw a command at her. She ignored it.
Another gleam of a nail in the grass led her on; a trail guiding her.
The basket thumped heavily against her hip. No further noise had issued from it.
The easier going of a track gave her an energy boost. She sprinted.
The wounded man stepped into her path.
He lifted a large and very solid branch and swung it. She ducked under his arm.
Thwack! The sound of timber hitting flesh and the heavy thud of a body landing sounded behind her.
Her long legs found a stride and she pumped them for distance.
“Win?”
She almost missed the sound.
“Win!”
Skidding to a halt, she dropped the basket, gripping her knees to stop herself falling. Her stomach made nasty threats. Her lungs protested. Sweat sluiced her camisole. The trembling returned to her legs and arms. Head hanging low behind a leaf festooned curtain of sweat clumped hair, she squinted into the gloomy light.
“Down here.”
He was under a shelter of woven bushes with a bandaged head and a makeshift pillow of leaves and grass. Winny dropped.
“I don’t think I can ever get up again.”
Limping footsteps approached.
“Oh God will he hurt us now?”
She managed a defensive crouch in front of Mike.
“I don’t know what good I can do, but I’ll try.”
“That’s the scrapper I remember.” Mike’s voice cracked.
“Don’t start Mike; I’m not that girl anymore.”
Wounded man held up his free hand.
“I won’t hurt you girl, I’ve risked everything and I need your help, again.”
Winny managed to stand.
“Why should I help you again? You put us in danger.”
“You were never in any real danger but I will be when those three wake up. I need you to keep this. ”
He nudged the basket gently.
“The car park is about ten minutes’ walk that way.”
He pointed in a direction about 45 degrees south of where they had been heading.
“If you go now, you can watch that eclipse you were so set on.”
He looked up at the sky and back at Winny.
“I’m going away for a long time because of that.” He indicated the basket with a jut of his chin then smiled, “and it needs someone gutsy to look after it. You’ll be perfect; you’ve a good heart and courage. You’ll need both.”
He nudged the basket almost tenderly, then turned back in the direction he had come from.
Winny helped Mike stand up. He gripped his head. She began to walk away, her arm firm around his ribs. She looked back at the basket.
“Did that just move?”
“Just leave it Win. It’s not out problem.”
“It moved. I can’t let a thing just die in a basket in the forest.”
She ran back to the basket. Something was definitely moving. She grabbed the handle.
The light slipped away as they reached the car.
Winny glanced in the mirror at the basket secured in the back seat then carefully peeled off her remaining eyelash.
“Do you think they will come looking for me?”
“Win, I think you should take whatever that thing is to a zoo.”
“I’ll drop you at Emergency.”
Mike slammed the door harder than necessary. She didn’t look back.
A line of sunlight rushed toward the car, rolling back the almost night.
“The eclipse really was pretty.”




Sunday, 29 November 2015

writing prompt 16. Constrained writing - Haiku


 Image result for haiku

Another constrained writing prompt, this time with haiku.
     [CW] Tell a dystopian story in haiku form. by JimBobBoBubba in WritingPrompts

Trudge the dusty road
All hope we left behind us
Paradise is lost
.
Weary we must toil
Force and pain our daily bread
Heavy hearts don’t sleep
.
Tiny blade of grass
Brave between cracks of rubble
Renew dreams of hope



                                               Image result for haiku

Saturday, 28 November 2015

Writing prompt 15

                                            
 http://tripleddizzy420.deviantart.com/art/Yasou-Summoning-Jutsu-56269018


[WP] “If you don’t stop trying to summon demons in my living room I’m going to smack you.” by Gravitiaxis in WritingPrompts

“Max, if you don’t stop trying to summon demons in my living room I’m going to smack you.”
“And I will dob on you to Dad! You aren’t allowed to hit people and ‘sides that, it is our living room not your living room.”
“Well I’ll tell Mum and we both know Dad is scared of her so you better stop doing your stupid carpet and candle burning in the living room before either of our parents get home or you are so gonna regret it.”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“They left me in charge; that makes me the boss.”
“I can summon demons and you can’t stop me. I’ll tell them to – to – make you go on a date with Fendwick Thwaits and he will kiss you.”
“Ew! You are so gross you little rat. That’s it, you are in big trouble for sure. Give me those candles right now.”
“No, no they are my candles, give them back.”
“I am taking these to the laundry and locking them in the cupboard.”
“Have them then, see if I care. I can summon demons without them. Stupid sister! You are in for it now!”
“Oh really? I am shaking in my shoes – not. So go ahead, summon a demon and then what? Will we have to hide it in the shed with the rest of your menagerie? You know you are not allowed any more pets until you learn to be responsible for them. I am so sick of cleaning up your messes. Go right ahead and summon a demon, go on, nothing you can conjure up will bother me one little bit.”
“I’ll show you. You’ll regret bullying me around. Mumble magic wibfle scradgic blipple fibulastic rading.”
“What is it?”
“My demon.”
“Oh it’s so cute, aww let me hold it. Please let me hold it. It is crying, it needs me, let me hold it, oh please Max it is calling me. That is the cutest little thing I have ever seen, what is it?”
“It is a demon. Once you imprint you can never let it go. Are you sure you want it big sis?”
“Yes, yes, give it to me, give it to me now. Please Max, it needs me.”
“Okay but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Here you go, one handheld digital demon pet.”



                                      

Tuesday, 24 November 2015

Writing prompt 10

Now this was an interesting prompt considering the supposed sport of two women beating each other to a pulp here in Melbourne in the last week.



 
[WP] In the arena, two incredibly powerful (and badly written) Mary Sues must fight to the death. by LadySelene in WritingPrompts

“In the eastern corner, wearing skin tight leopard print spandex, weighing in at a perfect 110 pounds and with the perfectly proportioned body assets of a voluptuous chest, tiny waist and hips that make a man wish, Phd student and volunteer at an animal shelter. Best student in her knife throwing class and light sword brigade. Give it up for Mary Sue.” The crowd screamed and banged anything that could be banged on the floor of the arena. The ref held up his hands for silence and the crowd settled. “And in the western corner, wearing brass decorated leather and weighing in at an equally perfect 109 pounds, with legs that go all the way up and get cheeky, a chest that dreams are made of and butt cheeks tight enough to crack walnuts, also a Phd student and volunteer in an orphanage. Award winning archer and amazing with a sling. Show your approval for Susie Marie!” The crowd screamed and pounded as loud as before. The ref signalled for the ladies to approach him. Mary Sue flicked her gleaming golden locks and blew kisses to the audience before sauntering across in a hip swinging walk on teetering heels to the centre of the ring. Susie Marie twirled one russet plait around her finger and batted her long dark lashes over her sea green eyes and pouted her cupid bow lips, bending forward to blow her own kisses out before sashaying across the ring to the ref. The noise of the audience reached roar level. “Now ladies, this is a no holds barred event, the floor will roll back as soon as you return to your corners and you will fight in jelly. This is a fight to the death. The victor gains a reimbursement of her tuition fees and a scholarship plus a hefty donation to the charity of her choice. As a bonus she will also receive not one but two pair of shoes from the most exclusive shoe store in the land and six free steak knives.” The girls opened their eyes as round as saucers and the crowd jumped to its collective feet to pump the air and scream their enthusiasm. “But wait, there is more.” The referee held up both his hands and the girls circled the inside of the ring in opposite directions before returning to him. “Which ever of you wins this spectacular event, gets a date with… The Prince.” “No!” screamed Susie Marie and pretended to stick her fingers down her throat. “No!” screeched Mary Sue and firmly gripped her hips while lifted her chin defiantly. “She can have him!” They both yelled and pointed at each other. “You cannot forfeit the match. To do so will land you in a dungeon and all your worldly goods will be given to the richest teenagers in the land to destroy as they see fit.” The girls looked at each other and in an unspoken communication they came to an agreement. They stepped back to back and prepared to fight all comers until the floor dropped out beneath them and they sank thigh deep in jelly.

 https://mlpforums.com/topic/33663-definition-of-mary-sue/


 In fan fiction, a Mary Sue or, in case of a male character, Gary Stu or Marty Stu is an idealized character, a young or low-rank person who saves the day through extraordinary abilities. Often but not necessarily this character is recognized as an author insert and/or wish-fulfillment.

Mary Sue - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Sue

Monday, 23 November 2015

Writing prompt 9


 Image result for ground hog in a bed

This was a little ground hog day -ish.


[WP] No matter where you fall asleep when you wake up you are home in bed. by fisch09 in WritingPrompts
 

I sat up and looked around at the familiar surroundings. My shoulders slumped. “This is getting ridiculous.” I swung my legs out of bed and slid on my old slippers. The new ones were with the rest of my luggage half way around the world. My second best dressing gown felt a little loose since last I wore it so I tugged the belt tighter. In the kitchen I look for milk and bread but I am not supposed to be here for another week so I don’t even know why I look. I make do with the non-perishables in the pantry. A bowl of porridge with some coconut blossom sugar and a dab of butter, not exactly the haute cuisine I had been enjoying only yesterday. Four hours later I am on another plane to Europe with a cheap replacement phone and my second best suit with temporary cards, a priority replacement passport and a huge hole in my savings. I actively avoid falling asleep on the long flight. I watch back to back movies and hum to myself, snack on foods and drink copious amounts of water from little plastic cups. We land at last and I take the taxi to my hotel. The concierge greets me and a porter assists me with my smaller suitcase. In my room I change to my best suit and head out to the conference with a stomach full of caffeine and stimulants. I have all of my important documents in my pockets this time, along with both phones switched to silent and both wallets. I push exquisite food around my plate, take a few sips of a delightful foreign wine and force my eyelids to stay open. My table companions gaze with rapt attention toward the speaker but my mind begins to wander and I feel my head tilting toward my plate. I open my eyes and groan. The wrinkles in my best suit will cost me at the dry cleaners. I pat down the pockets and pull out all my papers. I call the hotel and have them send my belongings home with the earliest international courier. I call work and tell them I am home early, they sound as puzzled as I feel. I wander around the house in my second best dressing gown and call all the services to let them know I am back. I hook up the old PC to go online and it is as ancient and slow as I remember, I order groceries and hope my laptop survives the return trip. I rummage in the cupboards for a can of soup and bemoan the fate of the delicacies I left on my plate. I was really looking forward to the food over there. I was looking forward to exploring the world. Someday I may figure this out but for now I know I can never go anywhere overnight. Just like my parents always insisted. My horizons shrink.

Writing prompts 8


 Image result for no rhyme

 I did not know there were so many words in the English language that had no perfect rhyme. This was a particularly fun challenge attempting to fit in around 70 of them to this little story.


[WP] The police employ a Seer whose prophecies are in rhyming couplets. As a master criminal, you have to devise crimes that centre around things that do not rhyme. by ArcticTern4theWorse in WritingPrompts
 
They sat around the table eating pizza. Angel the pedant, felt angry and anxious but made the comment for the hundredth time that her bulbous nose husband knew the secret of the seer’s foibles and could discombobulate the dangerous powers of the justice system. By utilising a pint of liquid nitrogen in the belly of an empty purple polka dot penguin which he would place strategically in the shadow by the chimney in the foyer of the Walrus hotel they would misdirect the iron eye of the law. Wearing nothing but olive reptile prints while carrying a piece of orange luggage containing a neutron engine and moving in a zigzag line past the office of the concierge, he could bypass the sandwich bar and create a monster explosion which would disguise him stealing the silver and diamonds, and at the ninth hour hide them in the rhythm section of this month’s orchestra. Angel sanctioned the plan after considering the problem of her husband and his dodgy elbow perhaps prematurely setting off the bulb that will sit inside the penguin. At the twelfth hour the plan is to transfer the silver and diamond’s into condoms in the vacuum in the laundry, while the string quartet plays a fugue. Angel gulped an asprin with some citrus juice and nibbled some chocolate to calm her nerves. She promised her husband he would be a bachelor if this plan fell to chaos. He rolled some cannabis and sat back to watch a SF film about wolf men and circus denizens of a distant galaxy. Relax my almond eyed love, he said and puffed some smoke in her direction, it is obvious we will succeed. As a couple we won’t let a single rhyme mulct us of our treasure



https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_English_words_without_rhymes


mulct
verb
  1. 1.
    extract money from (someone) by fine or taxation.

    "no government dared propose to mulct the taxpayer for such a purpose"
    • take money or possessions from (someone) by fraudulent means.

      "a rapacious old woman who would never miss the few dollars mulcted of her"
noun
noun: mulct; plural noun: mulcts
  1. 1.
    a fine or compulsory payment.

Monday, 16 November 2015

Writing prompt 1

I joined Reddit last week, after some gentle persuasion from number two son and found the writing prompt section. I used a pseudonym for the week and have thoroughly enjoyed some of the prompts. I will close down the account with the false name and open one with my own name but here is the first response to a prompt.

 [WP] You are the President of the United States, and NASA has just informed you that the leader of an alien civilization wishes to speak with you via video. When you establish a connection, Abraham Lincoln is on the other end. by Mojo884ever in WritingPrompts
   
 


There he was in all his former glory, right down to the sepia shading on every screen in the room. Untrimmed eyebrows, deeply lined face, scruffy salt and pepper beard framing his jaw, big ears and that incredible hat adding an excess of height to his tall thin frame. He stared intensely at me and I shuffled my feel like a school child facing the principal. I tugged my suit sleeve straight and stiffened my spine. The image remained and when the eyebrows lifted in a question my own brow furrowed. I was not expecting Abraham Lincoln as the first face of our first official contact with an Alien species.
“What is going on here?” I turned to address the nearest NASA tech. His hands shook a little over the keyboard and I smiled to reassure him. A pat on the shoulder often helps but I refrained from making contact.
“Sir, this is the signal we are receiving. The channel is open for you to speak. Sir.”
I stared back at the image of that earlier president and studied it closely until my aide quietly cleared her throat and others around me signaled for me to begin.
“On behalf of the United States of America and all the peoples of the world, I would like to take this opportunity to welcome you to this communication. It is an auspicious day for both of our, er, people’s to be able to make contact and further our understanding of each othe…”
Abe looked away from his screen and frowned. Garbled sound filtered through the bank of speakers. “…ancient tech…image inconsistent with…myth…what?...got it…”
Abe turned back to the screen and his lip lifted into a slight smile on the left side of his face. His eyes seemed to twinkle and I felt unexpectedly calm. I noticed other postures relaxing around the room and smiles lifting in response.
Is it good or bad that we are all buying into the Lincoln mythology here?
“Mr President, we are experiencing difficulties synchronising our technology with yours. We have not encountered such ancient- what?” again Abe turned away from his screen and the sounds broke into small chunks that made little sense. “inconsist…colour…keep the hat…they use what?...” Abe returned his smiling face to the screen. The sepia melted under an onslaught of intense colours that muted, after our flinches and blinking, into a calmer full colour version of Abe as he must have looked in real life, blemishes and all. “We have updated our data. Shall we begin again?”
“er yes, Welcome to our first official communications. The people of Earth bid you a welcome and…”
The stern face of Abraham Lincoln is etched into the psych of every school child in the land, completely recognisable from the green of every monetary exchange, staring out from giant statues and portraits in every official building but none of it can compare to the reality of a living breathing angry Abraham with a thunderous expression on his face as he turned again to his companions off screen.
“This is the face they trust…what do you mean we are a century and a half out of sync…well who did the research…no I won’t give up the hat…no, let me keep the hat…” Abe snatched at his hat as something unseen attempted to lift it off his head.
More than one mouth gaped open in the room around me, including mine. I popped my mouth closed as he straightened up in the screen. He tipped the brim of his hat and chuckled.
“Well young fellow, we are certainly off to fine beginnings. Where were we? Oh yes that’s right. We are a flagstaff ship on a voyage of discovery of low technology planets and yours is especially intriguing. Our scientists wish to study you and we assure you we will be unobtrusive and discrete. We come in peace. We mean you no harm. We wish to offer gifts and an exchange of technology and to learn about your primitive cultures. Have I left anything out? Oh yes, it says here you like blankets and clay artefacts for personal decoration?” Abe kept smiling and looking around the room.
None of us moved or spoke.

Thursday, 29 May 2014

Thursday Thinking

Today was less weepy than yesterday which is a good thing but it was also a thinking day. A fairly busy day. I took Lucky Luke to an appointment and entered the lair of the age challenged youth workers, visited two government departments, dropped the darling daughter off at her band practice, saxophone practice and an appointment. I was bitterly disappointed to have ti confirmed that the housing people are going to remove the perfectly healthy trees in my front yard because they MAY drop limbs at some stage and the neighbour doesn't own a tin foil hat to protect him from twigs. I am going to lose the shade, the sound of the wind in the leaves, the birds and the bats and saddest of all, the cicadas hibernating beneath the bark of both trees.

I also managed to do paint another piece of art for the 52 week challenge (Eyes)

There must be some weird stuff going on inside my head. I like the art of Guilliamo del Toro and the costumes of the cirque de soliel and of course I am a SF fan from way back so I expect they all had an influence on where this piece came from but I don't know exactly why it evolved today. I painted it with water colour and touched it up with gel pens and a little bit of copic marker.

It was a very beautiful day here in Warrnambool. Mostly sunny and a lovely temperature. The neighbour wants to put some sheep in my back yard to eat the grass. I told him he was welcome to do so as my lawn mowers wont be coming for three weeks. I am off to Kyabram for a funeral on Saturday and that has had me in a very thoughtful mood for several days and of course weepy yesterday. Leaves me thinking about how many times we don't say things we should until it is too late.

I wrote a small piece for the mid week blues buster and completed another chapter on my novel. I managed to burn the sausages for dinner though. I should never cook and create at the same time really.

here is my MWBB 2:11 which means it is the prompt for the second year it has been running and the 11th week. The prompt music is
Gary Numan - Here In The Black




302
Absence of light.

In the beginning the absence of light seems the most cruel of punishments.
Some die quickly, some cry out to earless Gods and some more hardy souls survive. For a while. They are unmade and all their hopes are lost, they fade, here in the black.
Up at the top of this city world the verdant foliage of the lungs of the world decorate the skyline and act as the alveoli of the planet, pumping oxygen into the stratosphere, glistening wet in the warmth of the sun, messing with the equilibrium but down here in the foetid bowels deep beneath the lowest layers of infrastructure there is only the black bleak darkness.
Down here is where the human detritus is sent to die. Down here other things lie, in wait.
A blind man would have more time to contemplate his crime and perhaps avoid the bleak future that awaits the fools and criminals sent below but no blindness now exists in the gleaming world above and those who end up here live out their short span of days or hours in perfect fear as what their eyes cannot perceive presses hard against the ear.
Breathe soft lest the things below hear your breath and come for you.
Here in the black.
What is out there who knows but it comes for me.
I hear the whispers, the slithers and groans.
I feel the chill seep into my bones. I want to hide but where could I go?
Here in the black there is nowhere.
I stumble
I kneel
For one stupid moment I pray to the earless heedless gods
Something brushes against my will, against my skin and stillness fills my very being seeping into every pore. The blackness oozes inside me, outside me and it comes and I am no more.