Interference
Destroyer of Words
(in seven letters or more)
Setting the scene game, Mark II
- Thread starter Talysia
- Start date
(in seven letters or more)
limubai2000
Active Member
I'll take a shot Interference...
A security officer and a homeless person together after closing time in a nightclub with a leaking roof during a thunderstorm.
"Thanks for letting stay man."
"Sure." The thunder cracked overhead as he spoke. "Make sure yuz stay away from the bar. You're all wet for Pete's sake. Walk on the carpet."
"Ok man. Whatever you say."
The homeless bum staggered forward with his bagged bottle towards the seats at the stage of the strip club. The main lights were off and only the glow from the emergency lights lit the interior. The bum plopped himself down at a table with a small lamp on it near the stage.
Drip.... drip... drip. A steady leak near the pole formed a pool of moldy smelling rain water.
The security guard pulled out a chair and sat down facing the bum. "What ya got there? Anythin good? Vodka? Jack Daniels?"
"No man. Just some cheap malt from down the street. Here try some."
The guard took a drink and making a strained face as he swallowed. "Hooo eee! That's nasty." He handed it back as thunder cracked again. "Ain't seen a night like this in a long while."
The bum stared at the leak on the stage.
"Say, do ya know Wandering Winnie?"
"No. Can't say that I do."
"She used ta hang around here. She was such a sweet thing, I wished I got me some of that before she got herself done in." His eyes sparkled as he talked about the deceased hooker. Heavy rain pounded on the roof.
The bum finished the malt and held the bagged bottle upside down showing it was empty.
"No problem. Let me grab some of the club's stuff. The owner never misses it, it's my fringe benefit!"
The guard returned a moment later with a bottle of vodka and two glasses as thunder cracked again.
They drank and swapped stories about the street people they knew. It turned out that they had common acquaintances and most of them were in fact dead. The leak had turned into a stream and the stage was now a small pond.
"Hey, I'm hungry. Whatss about you?"
"Yeah, I'm famished."
"Well, ssssay I can't leave the club, but what ya sssssay I give ya ten dollars to go grab us ssssome cheesssseburgers?"
The bum eyes perked up. "Sure."
"Letsss me take a pisssss first." He got up and staggered towards the bathroom.
The thunder boomed several times shaking the windows and rain continued to pound on the roof.
The bum smiled and showed his two fangs. "Just like Winnie..."
Next
At sea
A security officer and a homeless person together after closing time in a nightclub with a leaking roof during a thunderstorm.
"Thanks for letting stay man."
"Sure." The thunder cracked overhead as he spoke. "Make sure yuz stay away from the bar. You're all wet for Pete's sake. Walk on the carpet."
"Ok man. Whatever you say."
The homeless bum staggered forward with his bagged bottle towards the seats at the stage of the strip club. The main lights were off and only the glow from the emergency lights lit the interior. The bum plopped himself down at a table with a small lamp on it near the stage.
Drip.... drip... drip. A steady leak near the pole formed a pool of moldy smelling rain water.
The security guard pulled out a chair and sat down facing the bum. "What ya got there? Anythin good? Vodka? Jack Daniels?"
"No man. Just some cheap malt from down the street. Here try some."
The guard took a drink and making a strained face as he swallowed. "Hooo eee! That's nasty." He handed it back as thunder cracked again. "Ain't seen a night like this in a long while."
The bum stared at the leak on the stage.
"Say, do ya know Wandering Winnie?"
"No. Can't say that I do."
"She used ta hang around here. She was such a sweet thing, I wished I got me some of that before she got herself done in." His eyes sparkled as he talked about the deceased hooker. Heavy rain pounded on the roof.
The bum finished the malt and held the bagged bottle upside down showing it was empty.
"No problem. Let me grab some of the club's stuff. The owner never misses it, it's my fringe benefit!"
The guard returned a moment later with a bottle of vodka and two glasses as thunder cracked again.
They drank and swapped stories about the street people they knew. It turned out that they had common acquaintances and most of them were in fact dead. The leak had turned into a stream and the stage was now a small pond.
"Hey, I'm hungry. Whatss about you?"
"Yeah, I'm famished."
"Well, ssssay I can't leave the club, but what ya sssssay I give ya ten dollars to go grab us ssssome cheesssseburgers?"
The bum eyes perked up. "Sure."
"Letsss me take a pisssss first." He got up and staggered towards the bathroom.
The thunder boomed several times shaking the windows and rain continued to pound on the roof.
The bum smiled and showed his two fangs. "Just like Winnie..."
Next
At sea
Interference
Destroyer of Words
(happy, now)
Encephylops
Easily Misplaced
At Sea
The wind was high and mighty, blowing sprays and bouquets of the salinous fluid across the somber ship. The canopy of endless sky was glowing a loud ultramarine in every direction but east, where the towering orange cumulonimbus cut a wide path across the sunrise. The moods of the five huddled on the promenade deck were dour, they had each of them been seventeen days without food or water, with the exception of Reca; she had been fool enough to drink a sizeable amount of the ocean contents after awaking delusional one week ago. They had made her a bed of the rope they'd found on deck, padding it with the flotation safety jackets. She was in a bad way, shivering and muttering to herself in fevered tones, waking to vomit useless dry stench. Often she could be heard at night whispering angrily stupid, stupid, stupid. So damned stupid; gah, so stupid...
Two days later she expired, and the withered survivors - her lover of 9 years and his three best chums - offered her body to the sea.
The following morning, they found the keys to the boat.
Next:
The cataclysmic end of the world, in a convenience store.
The wind was high and mighty, blowing sprays and bouquets of the salinous fluid across the somber ship. The canopy of endless sky was glowing a loud ultramarine in every direction but east, where the towering orange cumulonimbus cut a wide path across the sunrise. The moods of the five huddled on the promenade deck were dour, they had each of them been seventeen days without food or water, with the exception of Reca; she had been fool enough to drink a sizeable amount of the ocean contents after awaking delusional one week ago. They had made her a bed of the rope they'd found on deck, padding it with the flotation safety jackets. She was in a bad way, shivering and muttering to herself in fevered tones, waking to vomit useless dry stench. Often she could be heard at night whispering angrily stupid, stupid, stupid. So damned stupid; gah, so stupid...
Two days later she expired, and the withered survivors - her lover of 9 years and his three best chums - offered her body to the sea.
The following morning, they found the keys to the boat.
Next:
The cataclysmic end of the world, in a convenience store.
Zoe_W
Secretly Evil
The cataclysmic end of the world, in a convenience store.
I was just tossing together a chili dog for lunch when the mob hit the front door. I'd seen similar crowds coming in to cash their checks at the Check-Rite booth at the back of our Kwik-E Mart, but I knew this wasn't the same kind of crowd. These people were terrified, so scared that many of them stumbled over the rolling drink display case in the middle of the floor. It was like they didn't see it.
Plus, it was Tuesday, and the panicked mobs running in to cash their checks arrived on Friday. They never tripped over the drink case on their way in, either. They were panicked, sure, but this crowd was in a blind panic.
Through the wide plate-glass windows, between the ads for cigarettes and Slim Jims, I saw the sky, and my mouth fell open. Gone was the familiar azure blue, and in its place was a sickly technicolor swirl. It was like a screen degaussing, or perhaps some borealis vomited across the sky in colors that were impossibly bright.
They became brighter still, washing out the sunlight. Soon the aisles of my beloved Kwik-E Mart were awash in reds, purples, greens, and yellows. The candy aisle to my right looked like an exotic disco hall, but the people in the aisle were shaking instead of dancing, and the music on the ceiling mounted speakers was Celine Dion. Nobody can dance to her crap-fest music.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman trying to climb into the now empty drink cooler. The plastic, barrel-shaped container was just big enough to accommodate her, but I wondered what she'd hoped to accomplish. Perhaps when the radiation in the sky melted the plastic container, her body might be better preserved?
My attention was drawn outside again, past the gas pumps. A loud runble filled the air, and down the street, I saw chunks of pavement beaking up so fast, black dust was rising in plumes into the air.
The ground was breaking up in a ripple, and one wall of the expanding ring was moving with deadly inevitability toward the underground gas tanks. I wondered what would kill us first; would it be the explosion from the gas, or the implosion of the sky?
Next scene: A smoke filled Jazz club in the 1950's
I was just tossing together a chili dog for lunch when the mob hit the front door. I'd seen similar crowds coming in to cash their checks at the Check-Rite booth at the back of our Kwik-E Mart, but I knew this wasn't the same kind of crowd. These people were terrified, so scared that many of them stumbled over the rolling drink display case in the middle of the floor. It was like they didn't see it.
Plus, it was Tuesday, and the panicked mobs running in to cash their checks arrived on Friday. They never tripped over the drink case on their way in, either. They were panicked, sure, but this crowd was in a blind panic.
Through the wide plate-glass windows, between the ads for cigarettes and Slim Jims, I saw the sky, and my mouth fell open. Gone was the familiar azure blue, and in its place was a sickly technicolor swirl. It was like a screen degaussing, or perhaps some borealis vomited across the sky in colors that were impossibly bright.
They became brighter still, washing out the sunlight. Soon the aisles of my beloved Kwik-E Mart were awash in reds, purples, greens, and yellows. The candy aisle to my right looked like an exotic disco hall, but the people in the aisle were shaking instead of dancing, and the music on the ceiling mounted speakers was Celine Dion. Nobody can dance to her crap-fest music.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman trying to climb into the now empty drink cooler. The plastic, barrel-shaped container was just big enough to accommodate her, but I wondered what she'd hoped to accomplish. Perhaps when the radiation in the sky melted the plastic container, her body might be better preserved?
My attention was drawn outside again, past the gas pumps. A loud runble filled the air, and down the street, I saw chunks of pavement beaking up so fast, black dust was rising in plumes into the air.
The ground was breaking up in a ripple, and one wall of the expanding ring was moving with deadly inevitability toward the underground gas tanks. I wondered what would kill us first; would it be the explosion from the gas, or the implosion of the sky?
Next scene: A smoke filled Jazz club in the 1950's
Interference
Destroyer of Words
It was a diminished ninth, that was as clear as sky to anyone with half an ear, even so Snail's Pace and the Coat were still arguing about it. Pace grabbed up his guitar and strummed the chord again with a told-you-so stroke of his right hand and Coat sneered.
"They'll still be arguing come sunrise," Nevermind Nash said. "And when they're done, nobody'll still care, least of all them."
It was the argument they enjoyed, not the resolution. The Coat was the shyest man you'd ever hope to meet on a rainy Sunday and Snail's Pace had an ego the size of his talent. They both knew more about the music than any two people I ever met.
Hank coughed as he swept the stage of butts and broken glass, catching the detritus in a cardboard box. Nash finished counting the night's takings and shoved some bills in an envelope, pocketed a fin and went over and opened the safe with her key.
"What's the difference between a diminished ninth and a suspended thirteenth, anyway?" Pace was yelling. No one had even an iota of doubt he already knew the answer, least of all Coat who, nevertheless, tried to answer in his steady, patient manner.
"You drop the fourth," he said.
"Come on, girls," Nash said, "Kiss and make up, I gotta husband wants to see me fer at least ten minutes every night."
"You got no soul," said Pace and he snapped the lid of his guitar case closed.
Coat said nothing. He was bad with strangers, okay with stangers he sorta knew, but woeful with women of any description.
"Hey," said Hank, picking something off the floor we couldn't see. "One o' you guys drop this?" and he held it up, but it just looked like nothing to me.
"What is it?" said Pace, falling for it.
"Looks like someone dropped a fourth," Hank said and the musos in the room laughed.
I finished my coffee, paid the tab and went back on patrol.
An Assignation in the Supply Room of a Hair Dressing Salon
"They'll still be arguing come sunrise," Nevermind Nash said. "And when they're done, nobody'll still care, least of all them."
It was the argument they enjoyed, not the resolution. The Coat was the shyest man you'd ever hope to meet on a rainy Sunday and Snail's Pace had an ego the size of his talent. They both knew more about the music than any two people I ever met.
Hank coughed as he swept the stage of butts and broken glass, catching the detritus in a cardboard box. Nash finished counting the night's takings and shoved some bills in an envelope, pocketed a fin and went over and opened the safe with her key.
"What's the difference between a diminished ninth and a suspended thirteenth, anyway?" Pace was yelling. No one had even an iota of doubt he already knew the answer, least of all Coat who, nevertheless, tried to answer in his steady, patient manner.
"You drop the fourth," he said.
"Come on, girls," Nash said, "Kiss and make up, I gotta husband wants to see me fer at least ten minutes every night."
"You got no soul," said Pace and he snapped the lid of his guitar case closed.
Coat said nothing. He was bad with strangers, okay with stangers he sorta knew, but woeful with women of any description.
"Hey," said Hank, picking something off the floor we couldn't see. "One o' you guys drop this?" and he held it up, but it just looked like nothing to me.
"What is it?" said Pace, falling for it.
"Looks like someone dropped a fourth," Hank said and the musos in the room laughed.
I finished my coffee, paid the tab and went back on patrol.
An Assignation in the Supply Room of a Hair Dressing Salon
An Assignation in the Supply Room of a Hair Dressing Salon
Harold sat on a stack of boxes, the stiff cardboard had begun to buckle beneath him. He usually had a minute or two in the cupboard alone before Rhonda joined him, in these moments he would arouse himself with thoughts of passion and uncompromising sex. Inevitably the sex would never equal the fantasies, but the cramped quarters and the smell of the hair products usually blended elements of the fantasy in with the reality. Rhonda was talking to someone just outside the door, this was the difficult moment. Harold would slip in thruogh the back window and Rhonda would go to the stock cupboard for something and take roughly between five and ten minutes to get it. Sometimes as she was entering the cupboard other people would ask for some product of some sort and thier rendezvous would be compromised. Harold sat waiting as he heard Rhonda's lame attmept at an excuses to her boss, after a minute of futile arguement Rhonda let go of the cupbaord door handle and returned to her customer; Mr Bacon needed a new blue rinse. Harold waited in increased anticipation, Rhonda wasn't going to make it, that meant....
The door began to open.
Sat on a rock out at sea (something like old Harold which is a rock off the south coast, near swansea)
Harold sat on a stack of boxes, the stiff cardboard had begun to buckle beneath him. He usually had a minute or two in the cupboard alone before Rhonda joined him, in these moments he would arouse himself with thoughts of passion and uncompromising sex. Inevitably the sex would never equal the fantasies, but the cramped quarters and the smell of the hair products usually blended elements of the fantasy in with the reality. Rhonda was talking to someone just outside the door, this was the difficult moment. Harold would slip in thruogh the back window and Rhonda would go to the stock cupboard for something and take roughly between five and ten minutes to get it. Sometimes as she was entering the cupboard other people would ask for some product of some sort and thier rendezvous would be compromised. Harold sat waiting as he heard Rhonda's lame attmept at an excuses to her boss, after a minute of futile arguement Rhonda let go of the cupbaord door handle and returned to her customer; Mr Bacon needed a new blue rinse. Harold waited in increased anticipation, Rhonda wasn't going to make it, that meant....
The door began to open.
Sat on a rock out at sea (something like old Harold which is a rock off the south coast, near swansea)
Interference
Destroyer of Words
Sat on a rock out at sea
Can't get that tune out of my head.
Seagulls - cormorants? What the Hell are cormorants? I think that's what she called them. Whatever they are, there are plenty of them. Swooping, catching updrafts, hanging there, just hanging on the wind, like kites without strings, like sweet wrappers when you let them go when you're walking on the beach, like you did before she ...
Feet getting wet. You wouldn't think it, it's like the air is just damp all around you. Like you could swim through the air if you thought about it. Or maybe it's thinking about it that makes it impossible. Everyone should try something impossible at least once a day. If my shoes are wet, what's it doing to my clothes? She'd care if she hadn't ...
Feet cold, water licking me up to my ankles, hands cold. It's the rock, the stone at my back, the grip I'm keeping like my life depended on it, making me feel cold. It isn't bothering me. I just notice it. Can't even call it annoying. It just is.
Maybe the next wave will do it. They say the seventh is the big one. Maybe the next is the seventh.
'Cause I've had nothing to live for, and look like nothin's gonna come my way. So I'm just gonna sit on the dock of the bay, watching the tide roll away ....
A Marx Brothers Fancy Dress Party
Can't get that tune out of my head.
Seagulls - cormorants? What the Hell are cormorants? I think that's what she called them. Whatever they are, there are plenty of them. Swooping, catching updrafts, hanging there, just hanging on the wind, like kites without strings, like sweet wrappers when you let them go when you're walking on the beach, like you did before she ...
Feet getting wet. You wouldn't think it, it's like the air is just damp all around you. Like you could swim through the air if you thought about it. Or maybe it's thinking about it that makes it impossible. Everyone should try something impossible at least once a day. If my shoes are wet, what's it doing to my clothes? She'd care if she hadn't ...
Feet cold, water licking me up to my ankles, hands cold. It's the rock, the stone at my back, the grip I'm keeping like my life depended on it, making me feel cold. It isn't bothering me. I just notice it. Can't even call it annoying. It just is.
Maybe the next wave will do it. They say the seventh is the big one. Maybe the next is the seventh.
'Cause I've had nothing to live for, and look like nothin's gonna come my way. So I'm just gonna sit on the dock of the bay, watching the tide roll away ....
A Marx Brothers Fancy Dress Party
A Marx Brothers Fancy Dress Party
Harriet hadn't expected this at all, she was under the impression that everyone at the party would be discussing the finer points of socialism and communism, not dressing up in fake moustaches and going around insulting everyone. The fifth 'groucho' that approached her was always going to be the last.
Betty always liked wearing trousers and getting away with wearing a wig and a moustache was just too good an opportunity to miss. She had drifted round the room joining in with the mass impressions, the cigar wag was getting old but it was the only good part of Betty's impersonaton. She decided to mingle, when she saw Harriet on her own her initial thought was pity, then a little bit of sadness, so she decided to go an cheer her friend up.
Betty; dressed as groucho, sauntered up to Harriet with a decidedly silly walk, the large lady didn't even break a smile. Betty hoped the cliched cigar wag might not have been over used on this side of the room, but it had. As Harriet's disdainful eyes bore into Betty's it was apparant to Betty that Harriet wasn't going to laugh at her feeble groucho impersonation, she sighed quite heavily.
'I recognise you, have we met before' asked Harriet with a curiousity that didn't become her. Betty knew Harriet well and was pleased that she hadn't seen passed the moustache, she was just trying to act like groucho, and now she saw the perfect opportunity.
'I never forget a face, but in your case I'll be glad to make an exception.'
I think if Harriet had known it was Betty she wouldn't have hit her so hard and the cigar might have come out in one piece.
Frozen beneath the icy surface of Enceladus (a cryovolcanic moon of Saturn)
Harriet hadn't expected this at all, she was under the impression that everyone at the party would be discussing the finer points of socialism and communism, not dressing up in fake moustaches and going around insulting everyone. The fifth 'groucho' that approached her was always going to be the last.
Betty always liked wearing trousers and getting away with wearing a wig and a moustache was just too good an opportunity to miss. She had drifted round the room joining in with the mass impressions, the cigar wag was getting old but it was the only good part of Betty's impersonaton. She decided to mingle, when she saw Harriet on her own her initial thought was pity, then a little bit of sadness, so she decided to go an cheer her friend up.
Betty; dressed as groucho, sauntered up to Harriet with a decidedly silly walk, the large lady didn't even break a smile. Betty hoped the cliched cigar wag might not have been over used on this side of the room, but it had. As Harriet's disdainful eyes bore into Betty's it was apparant to Betty that Harriet wasn't going to laugh at her feeble groucho impersonation, she sighed quite heavily.
'I recognise you, have we met before' asked Harriet with a curiousity that didn't become her. Betty knew Harriet well and was pleased that she hadn't seen passed the moustache, she was just trying to act like groucho, and now she saw the perfect opportunity.
'I never forget a face, but in your case I'll be glad to make an exception.'
I think if Harriet had known it was Betty she wouldn't have hit her so hard and the cigar might have come out in one piece.
Frozen beneath the icy surface of Enceladus (a cryovolcanic moon of Saturn)
Encephylops
Easily Misplaced
Frozen beneath the icy surface of Enceladus
His helmet was fogging up again, and no amount of running his poly-gloved fingers over the canopy lens would remove the shroud from before his eyes. His companions were suffering from the same blinding fog, but they still retained full use of their VSN systems, allowing them to navigate the frozen catacombs and passageways of the tiny moon's largest ice volcano system.
His Virtual Schematics and Navigations core had been damaged earlier that week, during the excavation of an archaic mining craft that had sunk into one of the patches of near-liquid H²0 between the icy crust and the boiling ammoniac slush further below. The team had found no human or jovian life in the unmarked vehicle, and Earth control had ordered a further search of the unexplored tunnels that crisscrossed the diminuitive mass of Enceladus. Trenner was waxing claustrophobic without any visual aid to guide his movements, and his team members became more and more weary of his snivelling.
A male voice crackled to life on the intercom.
"The thermal readouts are showing some more movement towards magnetic south. We'll take the next route right and take another shapshot of the surrounding area." Trenner saw the condensation-enshrouded group lead gestured ahead at an opening in the ice wall on their right.
"Is it possible for you to take another look at comrade Calc's VSN unit while we move, Gabbi?"
One of the blurred figures, the electronics and systems technician as far as Trenner could guess, broke file and fell back into pace with him. He raised a hand as a half-hearted greeting to the form.
"It's still clicking, and the mothercore is starting to overheat. It's fogging up the inside of my helmet, and I'm starting to get really-"
Gabbi cut him off.
"You know, Trenner, if I had my way you'd be back up crust-side sitting on a block of ice so fast you'd swear you made a telejump."
She had her comm set to proximity, allowing them to talk "heart-to-heart", as the group called such friendly chats. She began fidding with the unit on his right thigh.
"You
His helmet was fogging up again, and no amount of running his poly-gloved fingers over the canopy lens would remove the shroud from before his eyes. His companions were suffering from the same blinding fog, but they still retained full use of their VSN systems, allowing them to navigate the frozen catacombs and passageways of the tiny moon's largest ice volcano system.
His Virtual Schematics and Navigations core had been damaged earlier that week, during the excavation of an archaic mining craft that had sunk into one of the patches of near-liquid H²0 between the icy crust and the boiling ammoniac slush further below. The team had found no human or jovian life in the unmarked vehicle, and Earth control had ordered a further search of the unexplored tunnels that crisscrossed the diminuitive mass of Enceladus. Trenner was waxing claustrophobic without any visual aid to guide his movements, and his team members became more and more weary of his snivelling.
A male voice crackled to life on the intercom.
"The thermal readouts are showing some more movement towards magnetic south. We'll take the next route right and take another shapshot of the surrounding area." Trenner saw the condensation-enshrouded group lead gestured ahead at an opening in the ice wall on their right.
"Is it possible for you to take another look at comrade Calc's VSN unit while we move, Gabbi?"
One of the blurred figures, the electronics and systems technician as far as Trenner could guess, broke file and fell back into pace with him. He raised a hand as a half-hearted greeting to the form.
"It's still clicking, and the mothercore is starting to overheat. It's fogging up the inside of my helmet, and I'm starting to get really-"
Gabbi cut him off.
"You know, Trenner, if I had my way you'd be back up crust-side sitting on a block of ice so fast you'd swear you made a telejump."
She had her comm set to proximity, allowing them to talk "heart-to-heart", as the group called such friendly chats. She began fidding with the unit on his right thigh.
"You
Encephylops
Easily Misplaced
(saddeningly glitchy, the posting on this board, I lost the end of the story, somehow Sorry about the double. Here's the next scene.)
Locked in an empty room with a psychic vampire.
Sorry about the double. Here's the next scene.)Locked in an empty room with a psychic vampire.
Interference
Destroyer of Words
But HOW DOES IT ENNND???
Encephylops
Easily Misplaced
Gabbi kicks his VSN module in frustration, it turns on and Trenner gets the 3d visual layout of the tunnel just in time to see the commodore fall into an ammonium slurry pit and melt into little bits. It was only one paragraph I lost. Should have remembered to save a copy. Sorry if I left you hanging ;D Where were we?
Locked in an empty room with a psychic vampire.
Locked in an empty room with a psychic vampire.
Locked in an empty room with a psychic vampire.
Herman was feeble and anxious at the best of times; he could barely stand to be sat next to an attractive woman on a busy train, let alone stuck in a small room with a large frightfully odd man. The man was at least seven feet tall, but well proportioned, he wasn’t fat or thin, he wore an ancient looking suit, but it was clean and classy, maybe a bit too frilly for today’s standards, but a nice suit never the less. The long black cloak that the man wore suggested it was definitely a costume of some kind, no one wore cloaks anymore. Herman smiled sheepishly, shrugged at the large man.
‘I guess we’re stuck for a while’ he ventured.
‘hmmm, it would seem so.’ The man calmly replied
‘I’m Herman, Herman Hardman.’
‘Of course you are my dear fellow.’ The large man smiled as if he already knew Herman’s name. Herman just looked at him for a moment before the man’s dark eyes made him look away. Herman now felt totally stupid, of course the man didn’t want to know his name, he probably thought Herman was an idiot. Herman started to sweat, oh this was just great, now the man would smell his odour and regret getting stuck in this cramped little room even more. I wish he would just tell me his name, Herman thought to himself, then maybe I wouldn’t feel so nervous. As if the man had read his mind he spoke,
‘I do apologise, I didn’t introduce myself, how rude of me, I am Hog the Enslaver.’
‘Hog the Enslaver? Is that your real name?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Really your real name, like the name you were born with?’
The man’s eyes didn’t move but seemed to be looking somewhere else, remembering a time long ago, or a place far away.
‘My birth name was Jean Du Hunte’
‘Aha, there we go, that’s a real name, so you’re French?’
‘I was French, and my real name is now Hog the Enslaver.’
‘Hog? What kind of name is Hog?’
‘It is a name that conjures fear into the hearts of men, one you will come to fear yourself’
‘I don’t know, I don’t normally get scared by names, people scare me but not names.’
‘Do I scare you?’
Herman gulped as he looked up into the dark lifeless eyes of Hog the Enslaver.
‘Do you have to ask?’
Hog laughed. A rumbling belly laugh, shaking dust from his frilly cuffs and bringing a fire flickering in his eyes.
‘You are right Herman Hardman. I did not need to ask. I do not even need to read your mind to tell you are scared. I can smell it.’
‘Yes I’m sorry about that, I sweat when I get nervous. If you want I can stand over here nearer the air conditioning, maybe minimise the smell.’
‘That is not a problem Herman Hardman, I am enjoying the smell.’
‘Enjoying it, ha, you’re about the only one, even I don’t like my smell.’
‘Well I do like it Herman Hardman. I like it a lot.’
‘What are you some kind of freaking weirdo?’
‘Some have called me that, others called me worse names, most just call me a vampire.’
‘So not many actually call you Hog then?’
‘Don’t test me Herman, I have allowed you to live so far, if this lock down continues much longer I may be forced to eat you.’
‘Eat me? Are you mad?’
‘No I’m a vampire.’
‘Don’t vampires just suck blood, not actually eat me, wouldn’t that make you a cannibal.’
‘You don’t believe me do you Herman Hardman. Well maybe this will help convince you.’
As Herman watched in tentative displeasure Hog The Enslaver’s face changed from one of perfect calm and serenity into an evil throat wrenching mask of rage, his teeth grew into fangs, his eyes sunk deeper and burned red, his ears grew in length and hairiness. For a brief second Herman thought this man was his Grandfather but the hairy ears soon over took even Harry Hardman’s magnificent specimens. Herman cowered against the far wall, not wanting to believe his eyes; he buried his head in his hands and screamed for the man to stop.
When Herman looked up Hog was looking normal again, well normal for him.
‘Now do you believe me Herman Hardman. I see that you do’
Herman’s mind was racing, he was considering all the possible alternatives, it was all part of a dream, it was make up, special effects some kind of light show, anything but the truth. Anything but that. Herman didn’t want to die, his life might have been as pointless as a broken pencil but he didn’t want to die just yet. He began to consider killing Hog, what could he use as a stake?
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you Herman Hardman, I don’t want to have to kill you. Up until now you have been polite, but thoughts like that will upset me. You wouldn’t want to upset me would you?’
‘No, no of course not Mr Enslaver sir, Lord Hog, sir.’
‘Ok, so stop thinking about it.’
Herman stopped thinking about driving a stake through the seven foot vampire’s heart, and began to realise that Hog could read his thoughts. This worried him, how could he combat someone that could read his thoughts? Someone that knew what he was going to do almost as soon as he knew it himself. Think Herman what would Batman do? I know! thought Herman.
Ner ner ner ner. Ner ner ner nerrr, ner ner ner ner ner ner nerrrrr. This would work, as long as he kept thinking of a repetitive tune in his head Hog wouldn’t be able to discern any cogent thoughts. Ner ner ner ner. Ner ner ner nerrr, ner ner ner ner ner ner nerrrrr.
Just as Herman thought it was working Hog the Enslaver broke into song. In a perfect pitch that had taken decades of practice Hog sang the theme tune to Danger Mouse at the top of his voice.
‘He’s amazing, he’s fantastic, wherever there is danger he’ll be there.’
Herman looked up in surprise and saw the hypnotic eyes of Hog approaching him followed by the dark cloak, he couldn’t look away, he couldn’t run, he just stared in awe, hypnotised by the darkness in those eyes and the soft yet powerful voice that rang round the small room they were trapped in. Hog approached with a grin, his face began to change again.
‘He’s the greatest secret agent in the world. Danger Mouse. Dedeler dedeler dedeler Danger Mouse Dedeler dedeler dedeler Danger Moooouuuuuussssseeeeeee.
Approaching Perihellion in an Ancient Space Ark
Herman was feeble and anxious at the best of times; he could barely stand to be sat next to an attractive woman on a busy train, let alone stuck in a small room with a large frightfully odd man. The man was at least seven feet tall, but well proportioned, he wasn’t fat or thin, he wore an ancient looking suit, but it was clean and classy, maybe a bit too frilly for today’s standards, but a nice suit never the less. The long black cloak that the man wore suggested it was definitely a costume of some kind, no one wore cloaks anymore. Herman smiled sheepishly, shrugged at the large man.
‘I guess we’re stuck for a while’ he ventured.
‘hmmm, it would seem so.’ The man calmly replied
‘I’m Herman, Herman Hardman.’
‘Of course you are my dear fellow.’ The large man smiled as if he already knew Herman’s name. Herman just looked at him for a moment before the man’s dark eyes made him look away. Herman now felt totally stupid, of course the man didn’t want to know his name, he probably thought Herman was an idiot. Herman started to sweat, oh this was just great, now the man would smell his odour and regret getting stuck in this cramped little room even more. I wish he would just tell me his name, Herman thought to himself, then maybe I wouldn’t feel so nervous. As if the man had read his mind he spoke,
‘I do apologise, I didn’t introduce myself, how rude of me, I am Hog the Enslaver.’
‘Hog the Enslaver? Is that your real name?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Really your real name, like the name you were born with?’
The man’s eyes didn’t move but seemed to be looking somewhere else, remembering a time long ago, or a place far away.
‘My birth name was Jean Du Hunte’
‘Aha, there we go, that’s a real name, so you’re French?’
‘I was French, and my real name is now Hog the Enslaver.’
‘Hog? What kind of name is Hog?’
‘It is a name that conjures fear into the hearts of men, one you will come to fear yourself’
‘I don’t know, I don’t normally get scared by names, people scare me but not names.’
‘Do I scare you?’
Herman gulped as he looked up into the dark lifeless eyes of Hog the Enslaver.
‘Do you have to ask?’
Hog laughed. A rumbling belly laugh, shaking dust from his frilly cuffs and bringing a fire flickering in his eyes.
‘You are right Herman Hardman. I did not need to ask. I do not even need to read your mind to tell you are scared. I can smell it.’
‘Yes I’m sorry about that, I sweat when I get nervous. If you want I can stand over here nearer the air conditioning, maybe minimise the smell.’
‘That is not a problem Herman Hardman, I am enjoying the smell.’
‘Enjoying it, ha, you’re about the only one, even I don’t like my smell.’
‘Well I do like it Herman Hardman. I like it a lot.’
‘What are you some kind of freaking weirdo?’
‘Some have called me that, others called me worse names, most just call me a vampire.’
‘So not many actually call you Hog then?’
‘Don’t test me Herman, I have allowed you to live so far, if this lock down continues much longer I may be forced to eat you.’
‘Eat me? Are you mad?’
‘No I’m a vampire.’
‘Don’t vampires just suck blood, not actually eat me, wouldn’t that make you a cannibal.’
‘You don’t believe me do you Herman Hardman. Well maybe this will help convince you.’
As Herman watched in tentative displeasure Hog The Enslaver’s face changed from one of perfect calm and serenity into an evil throat wrenching mask of rage, his teeth grew into fangs, his eyes sunk deeper and burned red, his ears grew in length and hairiness. For a brief second Herman thought this man was his Grandfather but the hairy ears soon over took even Harry Hardman’s magnificent specimens. Herman cowered against the far wall, not wanting to believe his eyes; he buried his head in his hands and screamed for the man to stop.
When Herman looked up Hog was looking normal again, well normal for him.
‘Now do you believe me Herman Hardman. I see that you do’
Herman’s mind was racing, he was considering all the possible alternatives, it was all part of a dream, it was make up, special effects some kind of light show, anything but the truth. Anything but that. Herman didn’t want to die, his life might have been as pointless as a broken pencil but he didn’t want to die just yet. He began to consider killing Hog, what could he use as a stake?
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you Herman Hardman, I don’t want to have to kill you. Up until now you have been polite, but thoughts like that will upset me. You wouldn’t want to upset me would you?’
‘No, no of course not Mr Enslaver sir, Lord Hog, sir.’
‘Ok, so stop thinking about it.’
Herman stopped thinking about driving a stake through the seven foot vampire’s heart, and began to realise that Hog could read his thoughts. This worried him, how could he combat someone that could read his thoughts? Someone that knew what he was going to do almost as soon as he knew it himself. Think Herman what would Batman do? I know! thought Herman.
Ner ner ner ner. Ner ner ner nerrr, ner ner ner ner ner ner nerrrrr. This would work, as long as he kept thinking of a repetitive tune in his head Hog wouldn’t be able to discern any cogent thoughts. Ner ner ner ner. Ner ner ner nerrr, ner ner ner ner ner ner nerrrrr.
Just as Herman thought it was working Hog the Enslaver broke into song. In a perfect pitch that had taken decades of practice Hog sang the theme tune to Danger Mouse at the top of his voice.
‘He’s amazing, he’s fantastic, wherever there is danger he’ll be there.’
Herman looked up in surprise and saw the hypnotic eyes of Hog approaching him followed by the dark cloak, he couldn’t look away, he couldn’t run, he just stared in awe, hypnotised by the darkness in those eyes and the soft yet powerful voice that rang round the small room they were trapped in. Hog approached with a grin, his face began to change again.
‘He’s the greatest secret agent in the world. Danger Mouse. Dedeler dedeler dedeler Danger Mouse Dedeler dedeler dedeler Danger Moooouuuuuussssseeeeeee.
Approaching Perihellion in an Ancient Space Ark
Interference
Destroyer of Words
Two of us left. One of us had to make the decision. Tim wasn't going to. Who was left?
My fingers tightened into a fist, thumb pressing against forefinger. Tim's vacant gaze suddenly awakened and looked at my hand.
"Have you thought it through?" he said. "From all the angles?"
I had to laugh. It had all been about the angles. Those and vectors and velocities and trajectories ...
"Yeah," I said. "We both have."
I think he nodded. His eyes closed and his head moved, I think it was a nod.
"We only have enough fuel to do this once," he said.
I watched the egg-timer ticking us down to perihelion. We had about five seconds. Six if necessary, seven would be pushing it. After eight seconds, the Hope Springs would be pulling away from the sun again and the engines would have to fight against our own inertia. After nine, we'd be too far along, no amount of fuel would be able to bring us back, to drive us into the gaseous mass that would kill us and everything aboard.
Every thing.
When earth gasped its last breath and the last human being fell, we were all that was left. After we'd destroyed the last zombie and hounded the demons back to their own worlds, we had nothing left to feed on. After the last hybrid was born we knew we were going to need to find a new hunting ground. The vampires were the smartest of us. Immortals, you see. Some of them had near-normal lives before the end. Some of them even worked as NASA scientists. Hope Springs was their idea, their construction, their answer.
And we weren't smart enough to realise that in space, with no moon, we couldn't become werewolves anymore. For a time, we allowed ourselves to believe that we were the answer, that we would be the new human race. At the time, we didn't realise that we were only brought along to be the on-board snacks.
Now we had most of the vamps locked in the solarium with the shields open, but there were still a few roaming the ship. Against them, even as werewolves, we didn't have a hope. As two males, we weren't going to revive humankind, anyway.
So this would have to be the final solution.
One minute. One minute more and with the burn of the last of our fuel, we'd break orbit and dive into the sun.
A fitting end for the vamps.
Ten seconds more. My hand hovered over the ignition.
Behind me, I heard a scream. I heard a body fall, I heard a snarl of hatred, fear and grotesque despair.
I hadn't heard the vampires break in.
Sunrise over a Newly Colonised Planet
My fingers tightened into a fist, thumb pressing against forefinger. Tim's vacant gaze suddenly awakened and looked at my hand.
"Have you thought it through?" he said. "From all the angles?"
I had to laugh. It had all been about the angles. Those and vectors and velocities and trajectories ...
"Yeah," I said. "We both have."
I think he nodded. His eyes closed and his head moved, I think it was a nod.
"We only have enough fuel to do this once," he said.
I watched the egg-timer ticking us down to perihelion. We had about five seconds. Six if necessary, seven would be pushing it. After eight seconds, the Hope Springs would be pulling away from the sun again and the engines would have to fight against our own inertia. After nine, we'd be too far along, no amount of fuel would be able to bring us back, to drive us into the gaseous mass that would kill us and everything aboard.
Every thing.
When earth gasped its last breath and the last human being fell, we were all that was left. After we'd destroyed the last zombie and hounded the demons back to their own worlds, we had nothing left to feed on. After the last hybrid was born we knew we were going to need to find a new hunting ground. The vampires were the smartest of us. Immortals, you see. Some of them had near-normal lives before the end. Some of them even worked as NASA scientists. Hope Springs was their idea, their construction, their answer.
And we weren't smart enough to realise that in space, with no moon, we couldn't become werewolves anymore. For a time, we allowed ourselves to believe that we were the answer, that we would be the new human race. At the time, we didn't realise that we were only brought along to be the on-board snacks.
Now we had most of the vamps locked in the solarium with the shields open, but there were still a few roaming the ship. Against them, even as werewolves, we didn't have a hope. As two males, we weren't going to revive humankind, anyway.
So this would have to be the final solution.
One minute. One minute more and with the burn of the last of our fuel, we'd break orbit and dive into the sun.
A fitting end for the vamps.
Ten seconds more. My hand hovered over the ignition.
Behind me, I heard a scream. I heard a body fall, I heard a snarl of hatred, fear and grotesque despair.
I hadn't heard the vampires break in.
Sunrise over a Newly Colonised Planet
Sunrise over a Newly Colonised Planet
We had come out to the coast the night before, Angus and I. Planning to spend the night camping on the cliff top, hoping to be the first of the new settlers to view the rising sun come morning. Mr Splough had warned us that there maybe more nocturnal activity than had been reported by the probes, he had asked us not to go, but without sufficient authority to order us to stay we are always bound to leave.
Angus was naive, he only brought the tent and some foodstuffs, I was more cautious, I brought a rifle. And I am glad I did.
It all started well enough, we were sitting on the cliff top, slightly protected from the wind rushing out to sea by a number of rocks. We had sat there and eaten our supper, heated soup and re-hydrated bread, it wasn't different but it was satisfying. We watched the light dissappear from the sky. The sun set in the North here, why we didn't name the spin direction West I will never know. So we were facing South to see the sun rise. As light drained from the Southern sky this could have been our home planet, not that we had seen it. It could have been Earth. But it wasn't.
Night fell sharply and the temperature dropped a degree or two. It was still warm enough for us to sit outside our tents around a small fire. We were drinking heavily and singing old Earth songs when it happened. There was a sudden shriek from the direction of the cliffs. We both stopped laughing and looked out to sea. Angus said it must have been a bird, I wasn't so sure. I dived into my tent and retrieved the rifle, as I did so the shrieking noise was back , but this time it was a choir. There was more than one.
Angus saw the rifle and relaxed slightly, he was laughing at me. He said I hadn't ever moved that quickly unless it was to get food, we joked about the chances of me shooting and eating some hefty bird that we could feast on until morning. Angus was facing me when the bird-thing rose up above the cliff level and dived into him. I raised my rifle as Angus ducked but it wasn't quick enough, the long talons of the bird-thing tore into his back, my shot missed by metres (which considering I was only a few foot from Angus meant I must have aimed away from the bird.)
Angus was screaming as well now, but the choir of shrieking bird-things had become a cacophony, I could hardly here the report of the rifle over the noise. I was shooting almost constantly, but for every bird I hit two more took its place, soon I couldn't even see Angus. I was beaten back by the giant wings of the bird-things all crowding round my craft-mate. After a minute or two Angus' screams stopped. The bird's shrieks continued.
Whilst they were feasting on Angus' body I crept away to hide in a hole beneath a rock, it was an hour before they found me, the excited shrieks of one of them attracted the rest. I had chosen my rock/hole well, there was a small gap to crawl in and then the rest was covered. I faced out to the birds and fired the last few rounds of my rifle, a few of them fell but were quickly replaced.
I didn't get much sleep that night, two hundred birds all pecking at the rock you're trying to hide under is enough to keep anyone awake. Eventually the flock thinned until a few hungry stragglers were left. When they had gone I knew dawn was approaching. I pulled myself out of the rock/hole and looked for a sign of Angus.
As the sun rose, I was holding the tattered remains of Angus' coat in my hands, it was still drenched in blood. I looked out to see to see the first sliver of sun breaking above the waves, it was hard to forget the ferocity of last night, the tranquility of the morning sun seemed to wash some of it away.
I packed up my stuff, or rather collected the rubbish that was left and headed back to camp. Mr Splough was right, I hate it when he's right!
Sunset on a recently deserted World
We had come out to the coast the night before, Angus and I. Planning to spend the night camping on the cliff top, hoping to be the first of the new settlers to view the rising sun come morning. Mr Splough had warned us that there maybe more nocturnal activity than had been reported by the probes, he had asked us not to go, but without sufficient authority to order us to stay we are always bound to leave.
Angus was naive, he only brought the tent and some foodstuffs, I was more cautious, I brought a rifle. And I am glad I did.
It all started well enough, we were sitting on the cliff top, slightly protected from the wind rushing out to sea by a number of rocks. We had sat there and eaten our supper, heated soup and re-hydrated bread, it wasn't different but it was satisfying. We watched the light dissappear from the sky. The sun set in the North here, why we didn't name the spin direction West I will never know. So we were facing South to see the sun rise. As light drained from the Southern sky this could have been our home planet, not that we had seen it. It could have been Earth. But it wasn't.
Night fell sharply and the temperature dropped a degree or two. It was still warm enough for us to sit outside our tents around a small fire. We were drinking heavily and singing old Earth songs when it happened. There was a sudden shriek from the direction of the cliffs. We both stopped laughing and looked out to sea. Angus said it must have been a bird, I wasn't so sure. I dived into my tent and retrieved the rifle, as I did so the shrieking noise was back , but this time it was a choir. There was more than one.
Angus saw the rifle and relaxed slightly, he was laughing at me. He said I hadn't ever moved that quickly unless it was to get food, we joked about the chances of me shooting and eating some hefty bird that we could feast on until morning. Angus was facing me when the bird-thing rose up above the cliff level and dived into him. I raised my rifle as Angus ducked but it wasn't quick enough, the long talons of the bird-thing tore into his back, my shot missed by metres (which considering I was only a few foot from Angus meant I must have aimed away from the bird.)
Angus was screaming as well now, but the choir of shrieking bird-things had become a cacophony, I could hardly here the report of the rifle over the noise. I was shooting almost constantly, but for every bird I hit two more took its place, soon I couldn't even see Angus. I was beaten back by the giant wings of the bird-things all crowding round my craft-mate. After a minute or two Angus' screams stopped. The bird's shrieks continued.
Whilst they were feasting on Angus' body I crept away to hide in a hole beneath a rock, it was an hour before they found me, the excited shrieks of one of them attracted the rest. I had chosen my rock/hole well, there was a small gap to crawl in and then the rest was covered. I faced out to the birds and fired the last few rounds of my rifle, a few of them fell but were quickly replaced.
I didn't get much sleep that night, two hundred birds all pecking at the rock you're trying to hide under is enough to keep anyone awake. Eventually the flock thinned until a few hungry stragglers were left. When they had gone I knew dawn was approaching. I pulled myself out of the rock/hole and looked for a sign of Angus.
As the sun rose, I was holding the tattered remains of Angus' coat in my hands, it was still drenched in blood. I looked out to see to see the first sliver of sun breaking above the waves, it was hard to forget the ferocity of last night, the tranquility of the morning sun seemed to wash some of it away.
I packed up my stuff, or rather collected the rubbish that was left and headed back to camp. Mr Splough was right, I hate it when he's right!
Sunset on a recently deserted World
Interference
Destroyer of Words
"I have put my faith in God," said the man to my left. "You should do the same, Sarah."
"I should blow your feckin' head off," I replied. "Why tha feck didn't you wake me?"
"You looked like you needed the rest, my dear," he said and I just knew I hadn't unzipped my blouse by myself while I was sleeping. I wondered if he'd had a feckin' grope while he was at it. Maybe that's what woke me. It wasn't the near-silent engines of the departing convoy, that was for sure.
As I zipped up, we watched the vapour trail dwindle and vanish. That was the last rocket. We were stuck now, him and me; stuck and alone. God help me if he'd chosen tonight as the night to give up his vow of celebacy.
"Where's tha feckin' radio?" I enquired.
A few minutes later, I was talking to the comms man aboard The Lamb Of God, the lead vessel.
"You know the rules, Bo-Peep," he reminded me, using the feckin' stupid code-name that meant all was lost. "The ship can't wait, won't wait and don't wait. If I was you, I'd settle back for a nice, long, peaceful life with the reverend. Always thought you two would make a lovely couple."
The preacher smirked and I nearly feckin' shot him then and there.
"You can send a feckin' raft back for me, can't you?" I wondered.
Comms just laughed and said, in what I assume was meant to be a lighthearted manner, "Just think, Sarah. For you, ze vars are ofer," then he closed contact. Which was a shame, as I'd just thought of a really funny answer to that. Now I'd never get a chance to use it.
Night started its inexorable approach and I shivered at the prospect of what was to come.
"What a glorious, wondrous sunset."
The missionary started waffling about God again.
"You look cold, my dear," said the holy terror. "Shall we light a fire? Or just take our positions?"
I'd never seen an eye glint before. Its meaning was unmistakable.
I mean, I've fought and murdered heathen aliens on twenty-five different worlds since I joined the Mission, sharing The Way, The Truth and The Light with the ones that were left, without even once ever needing justification from even a feckin' decimal fragment of my moral convictions. It was always my dream to go down in the glory of the cause, like a Christan Soldier should.
So why the feck did I have to end my days on a planet alone with a horny priest?
A Waterfall ... At Noon
PS
I loved that bit
"I should blow your feckin' head off," I replied. "Why tha feck didn't you wake me?"
"You looked like you needed the rest, my dear," he said and I just knew I hadn't unzipped my blouse by myself while I was sleeping. I wondered if he'd had a feckin' grope while he was at it. Maybe that's what woke me. It wasn't the near-silent engines of the departing convoy, that was for sure.
As I zipped up, we watched the vapour trail dwindle and vanish. That was the last rocket. We were stuck now, him and me; stuck and alone. God help me if he'd chosen tonight as the night to give up his vow of celebacy.
"Where's tha feckin' radio?" I enquired.
A few minutes later, I was talking to the comms man aboard The Lamb Of God, the lead vessel.
"You know the rules, Bo-Peep," he reminded me, using the feckin' stupid code-name that meant all was lost. "The ship can't wait, won't wait and don't wait. If I was you, I'd settle back for a nice, long, peaceful life with the reverend. Always thought you two would make a lovely couple."
The preacher smirked and I nearly feckin' shot him then and there.
"You can send a feckin' raft back for me, can't you?" I wondered.
Comms just laughed and said, in what I assume was meant to be a lighthearted manner, "Just think, Sarah. For you, ze vars are ofer," then he closed contact. Which was a shame, as I'd just thought of a really funny answer to that. Now I'd never get a chance to use it.
Night started its inexorable approach and I shivered at the prospect of what was to come.
"What a glorious, wondrous sunset."
The missionary started waffling about God again.
"You look cold, my dear," said the holy terror. "Shall we light a fire? Or just take our positions?"
I'd never seen an eye glint before. Its meaning was unmistakable.
I mean, I've fought and murdered heathen aliens on twenty-five different worlds since I joined the Mission, sharing The Way, The Truth and The Light with the ones that were left, without even once ever needing justification from even a feckin' decimal fragment of my moral convictions. It was always my dream to go down in the glory of the cause, like a Christan Soldier should.
So why the feck did I have to end my days on a planet alone with a horny priest?
A Waterfall ... At Noon
PS
I loved that bit
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Right, after permission from Chris I am ready to attempt this!
A Waterfall ... At Noon
Noon is an odd time when your planet is this close to the sun. It’s a heavy time, something about the alignment of bodies and gravitational fields or somefing, I don't understand, I'm still young. That's why I come to the waterfall. We still call it a waterfall even though its not water, because it falls like water. It falls from such a great height, my teacher says it begins as ice, but not ice, but we call it ice, because it falls like water. The air is a bit sticky round here, at the waterfall. I come to down to sit beneath the trees, but they're not trees, they just act like trees. They're made of something that isn't wood. But they grow like trees, something like an extra-terrestrial-flora, Space trees my brother calls them, but I says we're not in space we're on a planet. So he punches me, not hard enough for me to tell or nofin, just hard enough to hurt. Anyway, the waterfall is the tallest on our planet, or that of it we've seen. It's amazing to hear the roar of all that water, it isn't water, but it roars like water. I once swam in the pool, but it was scary even with the lifesuit. I don't think I'll tell you about the secret bit. I was down here once with Dad and Dom, he told us all the real names of the water and the trees, he even told me the names of the birds. He really liked the birds, but they wasn’t birds, cos they didn’t have feathers or lay eggs or stuff, but they flew like birds, well not like birds, dad says like insects, like buttery flies or something. The birds are here today, I can’t remember what Dad called them but I call them blue ones and green ones, well not because they’re blue, or green, but the colors look close to blue or green. The best animals here are the….I haven’t decided what to call them yet, they are like bats, in that they live in the cave, on the roof, but they are like insects in that they have six legs and an abdomen and everything, but then they have fur, and they don’t lay eggs or nofin. So I’m at a loss, it looks a bit like a monkey from the side, but a bat from below and some kind of bear from in front. They have a head and that, but they have too many eyes, and a mouth with teeth on the end of stringy tongues. I don’t go in the cave anymore.
Phew, got through it, that was hard, but incredibly fun. Did you notice I had to become a child to handle it!
On a tourbus to Hell. (quite literally, the devil has heard this band rocks and wants to hear them play!!!)
I am ready to attempt this!A Waterfall ... At Noon
Noon is an odd time when your planet is this close to the sun. It’s a heavy time, something about the alignment of bodies and gravitational fields or somefing, I don't understand, I'm still young. That's why I come to the waterfall. We still call it a waterfall even though its not water, because it falls like water. It falls from such a great height, my teacher says it begins as ice, but not ice, but we call it ice, because it falls like water. The air is a bit sticky round here, at the waterfall. I come to down to sit beneath the trees, but they're not trees, they just act like trees. They're made of something that isn't wood. But they grow like trees, something like an extra-terrestrial-flora, Space trees my brother calls them, but I says we're not in space we're on a planet. So he punches me, not hard enough for me to tell or nofin, just hard enough to hurt. Anyway, the waterfall is the tallest on our planet, or that of it we've seen. It's amazing to hear the roar of all that water, it isn't water, but it roars like water. I once swam in the pool, but it was scary even with the lifesuit. I don't think I'll tell you about the secret bit. I was down here once with Dad and Dom, he told us all the real names of the water and the trees, he even told me the names of the birds. He really liked the birds, but they wasn’t birds, cos they didn’t have feathers or lay eggs or stuff, but they flew like birds, well not like birds, dad says like insects, like buttery flies or something. The birds are here today, I can’t remember what Dad called them but I call them blue ones and green ones, well not because they’re blue, or green, but the colors look close to blue or green. The best animals here are the….I haven’t decided what to call them yet, they are like bats, in that they live in the cave, on the roof, but they are like insects in that they have six legs and an abdomen and everything, but then they have fur, and they don’t lay eggs or nofin. So I’m at a loss, it looks a bit like a monkey from the side, but a bat from below and some kind of bear from in front. They have a head and that, but they have too many eyes, and a mouth with teeth on the end of stringy tongues. I don’t go in the cave anymore.
Phew, got through it, that was hard, but incredibly fun. Did you notice I had to become a child to handle it!
On a tourbus to Hell. (quite literally, the devil has heard this band rocks and wants to hear them play!!!)
They must have been short of good intentions when they paved this; it's worse than the old road to Berlin, before the wall came down. We'd been watching some DVDs on the portable, but it was jolting so much that it kept skipping, and no-one had the concentration for cards. So we hung on tight, and watched purgatory going past outside.
It could have been somewhere in eastern Europe; the main difference being you couldn't die of the punishments here, because you already were.
Or at least those outside were; sex, drugs and rock and roll notwithstanding, the occupants of the bus and their instruments were all worldly. The truck with the amps and drums was, too, and we were trusting his infernal majesty to come up with the 220 volts for them. Our little generator could handle club gigs at the back end of nowhere, but wouldn't even try with the PA we'd packed.
Orpheus deal; if we played well enough, we got out alive, with the biggest payoff any band's ever got for a one nighter. Hell, any band'd take it; we were the ones who got the offer, so here we were with our bones being shaken apart and the Marshalls in the air ride. And a couple of TV cameras; CNN would pay top dollar for this footage. If we got out, of course.
But what band didn't know they were good enough for the biggest gig ever? Every damned soul, everybody worth having in an audience in eternity, and an airtight contract.
We were going to kill them, dead as they might already be.
At the customs post coming back from Elfheim underhill.
It could have been somewhere in eastern Europe; the main difference being you couldn't die of the punishments here, because you already were.
Or at least those outside were; sex, drugs and rock and roll notwithstanding, the occupants of the bus and their instruments were all worldly. The truck with the amps and drums was, too, and we were trusting his infernal majesty to come up with the 220 volts for them. Our little generator could handle club gigs at the back end of nowhere, but wouldn't even try with the PA we'd packed.
Orpheus deal; if we played well enough, we got out alive, with the biggest payoff any band's ever got for a one nighter. Hell, any band'd take it; we were the ones who got the offer, so here we were with our bones being shaken apart and the Marshalls in the air ride. And a couple of TV cameras; CNN would pay top dollar for this footage. If we got out, of course.
But what band didn't know they were good enough for the biggest gig ever? Every damned soul, everybody worth having in an audience in eternity, and an airtight contract.
We were going to kill them, dead as they might already be.
At the customs post coming back from Elfheim underhill.
Encephylops
Easily Misplaced
At the customs post coming back from Elfheim underhill.
"That's right, up against the wall, you!"
The Hill clearance guard pushed Emuil firmly against the rough hewn stone, kicking his legs wide and patting him down. The long line of dwarvish, human and demigod travelers behind the two hapless adventurers wore various wearisome looks of disgust, contempt and impatience. Behind the checkpoint the buzz of the great derigible station droned on.
"You got papers? Coming in from Æsir realms, eh? Had a good lark, eh?" He grunted with exertion as he removed the satchel and toolbelt from Emuil's person. "What's this then? Off to storm some crumbling keep? Got warlocks and their undead hordes to dismember I suppose." Another officer - equally pudgy and bemoustached - chortled heartily at this, holding fast Emuil's companion, Troy, who whined pitifully at his captor. They had already taken from him his staff and carryall, which were being tagged and searched by a swarm of lesser security personell.
"We ain't done nuffin'. It's just his sword and fings, what we done? C'mon now, aw, c'mon!" The guard booted him swiftly into quiet whimpering. The captain finished disarming Emuil and passed him off to an underling, grumbling to himself.
"Just another day's work."
At a space cafe in the debris rings of a derelict planet
"That's right, up against the wall, you!"
The Hill clearance guard pushed Emuil firmly against the rough hewn stone, kicking his legs wide and patting him down. The long line of dwarvish, human and demigod travelers behind the two hapless adventurers wore various wearisome looks of disgust, contempt and impatience. Behind the checkpoint the buzz of the great derigible station droned on.
"You got papers? Coming in from Æsir realms, eh? Had a good lark, eh?" He grunted with exertion as he removed the satchel and toolbelt from Emuil's person. "What's this then? Off to storm some crumbling keep? Got warlocks and their undead hordes to dismember I suppose." Another officer - equally pudgy and bemoustached - chortled heartily at this, holding fast Emuil's companion, Troy, who whined pitifully at his captor. They had already taken from him his staff and carryall, which were being tagged and searched by a swarm of lesser security personell.
"We ain't done nuffin'. It's just his sword and fings, what we done? C'mon now, aw, c'mon!" The guard booted him swiftly into quiet whimpering. The captain finished disarming Emuil and passed him off to an underling, grumbling to himself.
"Just another day's work."
At a space cafe in the debris rings of a derelict planet
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