Small islands fell like dominoes. Their populations rapidly evacuated. From the outset the mist that shrouded these alien outposts showed obvious signs of intelligent purpose. Denser inland than along coastlines, coagulating as if congregations were convening. Gozo was chosen as ground zero for first contact. The UN sequestered a ferry to cross from Malta. The delegation kitted in hazmat suits. On arrival swathes of mist congealed to create a wraith which might pass as a ghostly humanoid. “Take me to your leader,” said the chief diplomat, wondering if this gaseous life form could even grasp such a concept.
Ooo very intrigued by this world. I'd read a novel about this! Loved the line 'Denser inland than along coastlines, coagulating as if congregations were convening.'
Misty-eyed and melancholy, Crystal boarded the ferry for the last time. She waved to imaginary friends as the whistle blew, her meager belongings at her feet.
David watched from a lower deck, transfixed. His checkered but uneventful past weighty, but he screwed up his nerve and found the stairs.
They shared a hotdog and a larger order of cheese curds. David showed her his second penis and Crystal thought of the possibilities. When David learned of Crystal’s third breast, he swooned.
By the time they reached Ludington, fate took over and they walked off, arm in arm.
I sympathize with your frustration, Jim. The very same problem forced me to quit the forum. I hope you manage to find a solution...if so, please let me know. I'd love to return.
Patricia: I'm about out of possible solutions, but - trooper that I am - I shall continue to search for one. If this gets posted, I'll have to ask why it did while my entries do not.
Have you tried clearing your browser cookies etc? Maybe it has something to do with your login. I had a similar issue a while back, and I think it was fixed after I was able to do an entirely fresh login.
Gray leads us through a mist-filled alley, the scent of burning spices bringing tears to my eyes. “There, by the ferry,” she says over her shoulder. “Seeking passage to the Underrealm, no doubt.”
I see the shadowed canal where a barge silently passes by.
Ignoring the dock, Gray halts by a building, laughter and discordant music spilling out from screened windows.
“Ah. Tough luck.”
“What? Why?” Rach looms over my shoulder.
“That’s Akheron’s. The Bloodletter? We can’t go in there.”
“Why not?”
Gray laughs. “You like your blood, don’t you? Hmm. I have an idea that’ll also earn you coin.”
I’m worn out, proper tired so I am and all I can see is them over there, still waiting to be ferried across, if there’s room, of course. Some ferries ain’t big enough and then, like it or not, I have to pass right by the pile, which will grow taller while I’m gone. I need some help, I mean, look, coming out of the mist, look, would you, how many more are coming – and me not had a night off in – how many years? I’ve lost track. I’ve forgotten who I was, - oh just call me Charon.
There is so much happening in the political world at the moment. I saw the culprits with their phones, eavesdropped and know who was lying about breaking/not breaking lockdown rules. The Queen’s speech committed them to righting wrongs but will they? The war is increasing in its disregard for life, the clouds are not mist; just clear indications of more buildings and people dying. If they could but ferry the refugees out of danger and into the safe world… but still the damning memories are there, destroying peace of mind and tranquillity.
The Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 190
With Dolas and Callow leading the platoon, they headed into the pass running parallel to the Archive-Burrows.
Nigel set a couple of burly looking guards, mid convoy, in charge of nagging and ferrying the uneasy, misty-eyed, gerbils, then tramping to the rear with Armi and Tosca, he listened to Atlas quietly share Sarg and Pink-Fairy’s tunnelling plans.
Atlas tactfully made no mention of Armi’s relationship with Pink-Fairy.
‘Well who’d ‘a thunk the pink- scaled little,’ Nigel paused and coughed, ‘“inn-keeper “is such a wily-whiskered plotter as well as a sly-pawed scribe.’
I'm hoping my entry stuck this time.
ReplyDeleteIt didn't... woe is me!
ReplyDeletePreaching to the choir...!!!
DeleteDrat, I miss your talented pen, Jim.
Deleteme too!
DeleteThe Diplomatic Mission
ReplyDeleteSmall islands fell like dominoes. Their populations rapidly evacuated.
From the outset the mist that shrouded these alien outposts showed obvious signs of intelligent purpose. Denser inland than along coastlines, coagulating as if congregations were convening.
Gozo was chosen as ground zero for first contact. The UN sequestered a ferry to cross from Malta. The delegation kitted in hazmat suits.
On arrival swathes of mist congealed to create a wraith which might pass as a ghostly humanoid.
“Take me to your leader,” said the chief diplomat, wondering if this gaseous life form could even grasp such a concept.
Ooo very intrigued by this world. I'd read a novel about this! Loved the line 'Denser inland than along coastlines, coagulating as if congregations were convening.'
DeleteThe same sentence Holly mentioned caught my eye too (and ears) but I remember Gozo on a hot and sunny day ... maybe things have changed ...
Deletevery moody, very inventive, as usual, David, you excel.
DeleteSpare Parts
ReplyDeleteMisty-eyed and melancholy, Crystal boarded the ferry for the last time. She waved to imaginary friends as the whistle blew, her meager belongings at her feet.
David watched from a lower deck, transfixed. His checkered but uneventful past weighty, but he screwed up his nerve and found the stairs.
They shared a hotdog and a larger order of cheese curds. David showed her his second penis and Crystal thought of the possibilities. When David learned of Crystal’s third breast, he swooned.
By the time they reached Ludington, fate took over and they walked off, arm in arm.
Sounds like they found similarities that drew them closer! :) Loved the title.
DeleteI had some fun imagining the bios posted for some dating site. Thanks John.
Deleteoh that is so strange and yet capable of being part of an innovative tale.
DeleteAnonymous, above, is I... Jim.
ReplyDeleteWell, folks, my Anonymous entry didn't stick. I'm at my wits end trying to figure out why.
ReplyDeleteI sympathize with your frustration, Jim. The very same problem forced me to quit the forum. I hope you manage to find a solution...if so, please let me know. I'd love to return.
DeleteMy fingers and toes are crossed in hope of success)
DeletePatricia: I'm about out of possible solutions, but - trooper that I am - I shall continue to search for one. If this gets posted, I'll have to ask why it did while my entries do not.
ReplyDeleteHave you tried clearing your browser cookies etc? Maybe it has something to do with your login. I had a similar issue a while back, and I think it was fixed after I was able to do an entirely fresh login.
DeleteI Googled the problem - but found nothing in the way of a solution.
ReplyDeleteTough Luck [16]
ReplyDeleteGray leads us through a mist-filled alley, the scent of burning spices bringing tears to my eyes. “There, by the ferry,” she says over her shoulder. “Seeking passage to the Underrealm, no doubt.”
I see the shadowed canal where a barge silently passes by.
Ignoring the dock, Gray halts by a building, laughter and discordant music spilling out from screened windows.
“Ah. Tough luck.”
“What? Why?” Rach looms over my shoulder.
“That’s Akheron’s. The Bloodletter? We can’t go in there.”
“Why not?”
Gray laughs. “You like your blood, don’t you? Hmm. I have an idea that’ll also earn you coin.”
Not sure I like the sound of this.
Deletedefinitely a place to avoid ... beautifully detailed so we can't mistake it...
DeleteHmm... Did my entry post this time?
ReplyDeleteI’m worn out, proper tired so I am and all I can see is them over there, still waiting to be ferried across, if there’s room, of course. Some ferries ain’t big enough and then, like it or not, I have to pass right by the pile, which will grow taller while I’m gone. I need some help, I mean, look, coming out of the mist, look, would you, how many more are coming – and me not had a night off in – how many years? I’ve lost track. I’ve forgotten who I was, - oh just call me Charon.
ReplyDeleteVery atmospheric and I sympathize with the feeling of exhaustion!
DeleteClever indeed, Antonia.
DeleteThe Mad Italian
ReplyDeleteThere is so much happening in the political world at the moment. I saw the culprits with their phones, eavesdropped and know who was lying about breaking/not breaking lockdown rules. The Queen’s speech committed them to righting wrongs but will they? The war is increasing in its disregard for life, the clouds are not mist; just clear indications of more buildings and people dying. If they could but ferry the refugees out of danger and into the safe world… but still the damning memories are there, destroying peace of mind and tranquillity.
I don't understand why they're not allowing or honoring evacuations. Horrible.
DeleteI wonder if a safe world exists anywhere, Antonia.
DeleteThe Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 190
ReplyDeleteWith Dolas and Callow leading the platoon, they headed into the pass running parallel to the Archive-Burrows.
Nigel set a couple of burly looking guards, mid convoy, in charge of nagging and ferrying the uneasy, misty-eyed, gerbils, then tramping to the rear with Armi and Tosca, he listened to Atlas quietly share Sarg and Pink-Fairy’s tunnelling plans.
Atlas tactfully made no mention of Armi’s relationship with Pink-Fairy.
‘Well who’d ‘a thunk the pink- scaled little,’ Nigel paused and coughed, ‘“inn-keeper “is such a wily-whiskered plotter as well as a sly-pawed scribe.’
Atlas winked subtly at Armi and Armi grinned.
everyone's gonna say it but I need to say it, that rant from Nigel is superb!!!
ReplyDelete