August / September 100 Word Anonymous Challenge

[elvet]

The Adventures of Thoseus and Oriodne

The adventurers approached the labyrinth's entrance.

"Tie this yarn to that tree," said Thoseus.

"Why?" asked Oriodne.

"It'll help us find our way out."

"As you wish."

* * *​

After many twists and turns, ups and downs, the duo reached the labyrinth's deep centre to behold the fabled Golden Statue of Ruatomin.

Taking the statue, Thoseus smiled. "At last it's mine. Let us return."

"I hope you can remember the way."

"No need, we simply follow the yarn back to the entran... Erm, where's the yarn?"

"You told me to tie it to a tree."

And they were never heard of again.

 

[elvet]

Conor Bottletop is like whatever

Bllionaire industrialist Zob Bottletop was beginning to regret appointing his son as head of mapping command.
'Tell me that again Conor'
'It's like this, we left Triangula I was like you guys don't like me, and navigation was like, you know ...all arsey, and I was like whatever, and they were all we need co-ordinates, and I was like ye should know them, and they were all we need them now, and I was like just do your jobs and then there was this binary star system, or something -I guess, and they were all, we're completely lost ...and stuff'.

 

[elvet]

Was It Kismet?

Walking the labyrinth always burdened Brother Yvrith with headaches. The ritual was supposed to elevate his awareness, make it into a receptor for divine revelations. But besides dizziness nothing ever revealed itself.
It made Yvrith depressed and the target of his mocking brethren.
On his seventh traverse of the labyrinth on his seventy-seventh birthday the headache became unbearable. Gasping he reached the center and sat down heavily, gripping his head. Was there a voice, syncing with waves of nauseousness?
“The time is nigh. Pre-pare!”
“Wha, wha…? It hurts!”
“PRE-PARE!”
Sadly, on his finest hour, Brother Yvrith suffered a fatal stroke.

 

[elvet]

Convention signing​

Utterly lost, puppylike, he dragged Liah's hand behind him, snthusiastically sniffing and scanning exhibit after stand, recognising none, but knowing it was close. Illustrations, pamphlets, souvenirs, marvels, costumes, refreshment stands - even the Portaloos jewelled dreams.

And there it was now, where it had to be, shining copper and heat, tethered to prevent it floating away. His undiluted determination carved him a path through the crowd, generating some complaints but mainly tolerant smiles. They'd all been there once, though the author might have been different, the colourful cover was signature virgin.

A beardless Moses observes his promised land.

 

[elvet]

The Challenge is now closed.
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