Category Archives: Fantasy

Programs and Poems [fiction 538]

After his wife abandoned him for someone younger and more exciting, Henry accepted the task of restoring the old writings from the Merriweather estate. Soon his office was crowded with damp boxes of yellowed parchment, the spidery old scribbles now nearly illegible.

Henry had developed a scanning program that could read old documents however. It was different from the other software currently on the market and still in a trial stage. He was eager to practice on the estate files and rejoiced as his blank screen filled with code.

Meticulously, Henry spent long days refining his program and decoding the messy papers into a semblance of order. They appeared to be a mix of boring estate inventories along with poetry. He found himself strangely interested in the verse, though he never had been previously.

Snippets haunted him as he tried to sleep. “I adore you, lady fair… lace at your wrists… rose in your hair…” It sounded like a man describing a beautiful woman. Henry tried to picture her, and one night she appeared, semi-formed, in the slight light near his window.

He gasped in terror. “Who? What?” Henry was incoherent with shock.

“I am Sarah,” she whispered, her voice like necklaces sliding together. “Those poems were written for me, read to me in secret on nights such as this when the moon was full.”

“Yes, yes of course.” Henry tried to reassure her. “I’m being very respectful of them.”

“Respectful?” She laughed. “I was the butler’s daughter. James Merriweather wooed me with pretty words and seduced me. When he found out I was with child, he murdered me!”

“Murdered!” Henry slid out of bed, feeling at a disadvantage. He approached Sarah, but she was so insubstantial he could still see the outline of the window through her.

With tears streaming down her fading face, Sarah cried, “I loathe all of them and their descendants! Help me, Henry. Help me find justice after all these years!”

Henry returned to the documents with a renewed sense of purpose, determined to put together the pieces of the puzzle and expose James as the evil man he was. He kept Sarah’s distraught face in his mind as he worked, his radar homing in on any oddities. Finally, he had enough evidence to present to his boss.

“Great work, Henry,” Belinda said. “But of course we’re not going to the police or the media with this. The Merriweathers are too important to our firm. Besides, James is long gone. Just forget you ever saw it, and a bonus will be headed your way. Take the rest of the week off.”

When Henry returned to his office on Monday, every box had disappeared and his computer had been wiped of all the Merriweather files.

But in his personal locked drawer, one scrap of paper remained with a printout he’d decoded.

“I adore you, lady fair;
With soft lace at your wrists,
A pink rose in your hair.
Please step out of my dreams,
And meet me tonight
When the stars are a-shimmer
And the moon full and bright.”

Maybe Henry would see Sarah again in his dreams. He hoped so. In fact, he decided to begin his own poem for her…

~*~

Opposites Attract: Challenge 16

Opposites Attract: Challenge 17

Genre Challenge 17: Paranormal Romance

The Night Out [multiverse]

Barbara has tagged me to participate in a group poetry game, in which she was tagged by Sadje, who was tagged by Rory, the initiator.

Welcome to ….

Not Just My Verse, Your Two Two Too!

A new ‘Tag You’ game in trial!
I will choose a topic, write four lines of Rhyming Verse then l will tag one of my readers who will in turn add four lines of Rhyming Verse to my mine and Tag one of their own readers, and then it is a case of wash rinse repeat and let’s see how far our topic goes in so far as a Rhyme?

Once the poem [Verse] leaves my (Rory’s) blog, the next blogger along can take it where ever they want with regards their own four line verse but always staying on topic.

Got it?

Topic

The Night Out!

Rory’s bit:

Quite excited l am, seriously,
Not often that my friends and l go out,
For a night on the town so mysteriously,
To have a laugh and a fool about!

Sadje’s bit

Though we have plans to go to town
But it is pouring down by buckets
We may go to see the circus and the clown
Let’s start the evening by first buying the tickets

Barbara’s bit

Oh what a shame, they’re all sold out
Whatever will we do now,
I know, we’ll all go down the pub,
Have a pint and some decent chow…………..

My bit

But I hear an unearthly sound
Along with fiendish laughter and howls;
I would prefer to turn back around–
It’s two for one monsters’ night out!

Over to Tao-Talk!

Once Upon A Blog Crime ~ Game 4

A Guy Called Bloke aka Chief Rory alerted me to some nefarious shenanigans happening in our otherwise peaceful neighborhood. It is my sworn and solemn duty as Inspector Light (my secret identity) to investigate any such disruptions to our smooth and graceful waves of daily (and nightly) postings.

Chief R informed me that unfortunately we only had the skimpiest bits of clues at this time, but I must needs make haste to find out why things were awry, askew, crooked, and cattywampus. Naturally, in order to discover why things were cattywampus, I had to bring my partner, Mr. Gatsby. 😾

My report to Chief R:

Our first stop is at Ribana of Popsicle Society, and Mr. G commences examining the popsicle sticks on the living room table. I discover with my amazing powers of investigation (aka reading the “about” section) that Ribana is from Romania, and therefore already suspect as a vampire. I immediately search for a coffin, which I do find in the bedroom, but Ribana is not in it. Who is?

It’s Jay-lin! But wait. Everything here is not what it seems, my sharpened instincts from years on dating sites tell me. Swiftly, I whip out a mirror and hold it up to Jay-lin’s pretty face. Aha! No reflection. Ribana must have turned her into a vampire too.

I check my reflection in the compact and put on some lipstick because you never know when you might “cute meet” your dream man, and as I’m doing this Mr. G meows from the kitchen. I rush in there to find Sadje making a nice healthy lunch. Or she was making lunch, but now Sadje is collapsed on the floor with lettuce and tomatoes and mushrooms all over her. Mr. G is swatting the mushrooms under the refrigerator.

“Stop that!” I scold him. “Those are evidence.”

He doesn’t listen though; he never does. I try to move the refrigerator to collect the mushrooms for my evidence bag, but it’s too heavy, which makes me suspicious. I open the refrigerator door, and there, there in the refrigerator, is the cold corpse of none other than our very own…

Lisa of All About Life! (But sadly, not now.)

Well, Chief, I know a dead body when I see one, especially with a set of bite wounds in her neck, and Lisa is definitely dead. It occurs to me at that point to check if Sadje is dead too, thank my stellar reflexes again, since she’s just about to stab me with a steak knife. Quickly, I overpower her and secure her wrists behind her back with the zip ties in my purse.

“Why were you on the floor?” I ask.

“Low blood sugar,” she says. “Fainted.”

Now I remember that Richa of iScriblr is a ghost writer, and I run up the narrow staircase to the attic to find Richa indeed writing Ribana’s vampire life story as Ribana dictates it while Richa floats around in the air with her laptop. Jay-lin is awake and with them now too, hissing at me when she sees me in the doorway.

So, Chief, we now have all the questions properly answered:

Who is the victim? Lisa

Who is the murderer? Jay-lin

Who is the location? Ribana

Who is the murder weapon? Sadje

Who is the motive? Richa

Jay-lin, a vampire agent, reps vampires to publishers who sell first-person vampire stories. Jay-lin discovered that Ribana is a vampire and got her a big advance. She hired Richa, an actual ghost writer, to write the story that Ribana dictated. Sadje stayed downstairs as a housekeeper. When Lisa, another writer, came over looking for Richa because she wanted to hire her for a project, she asked too many questions and Sadje became upset. Lisa wouldn’t leave, so Sadje hit her over the head with a cutting board. Jay-lin arose from her coffin and finished the job with a bite to the neck, which also was dinner, conveniently. 😺

~*~

I hope everyone had fun with my story and no one took offense. 💖

Promptapalooza

No, PROMPTS. 🙄

Gawd.

Questions from Melanie/Sparks:

1) Do You Have Any Guilty Pleasures?

So many! My first one today is boldly copypasting this post in its entirety from Kristian so I could also knock out a pile of prompts at once. I’m sure there will be more. It’s still early.

2) What Is The Worst Pick Up Line You Ever Heard?  

“Hey.”

3) What Slang Or Trend Makes You Feel Old?

When Ariana said dipped ~ I had to look that up. Also dropped, as in an artist dropping a song, which means putting out a song. But dropped still means what it used to mean too ~ dumped, fired, etc. So, I always do a double take when I see drop.

4) What Do You Consider The Most Over-rated Song?

I don’t listen to much current music, so my pick is something like “I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston. 🤮

5) You Find A Book And Begin To Read Only To Discover That It Is Your Life. You Get To The Point That You Are At Now, Do You Turn The Page Knowing That You Will Not Be Able To Change The Events To Come?

Is It Going To Be Written In All Initial Caps Like This? Cuz then I hope my death comes swiftly. Hehe.

Questions from Rory

7 and Three Quarters Nutty Questions

A cowboy rode into town on Friday. He stayed in town for three days and rode out on Friday. How is that possible?

Either the horse was named Friday, or the days are lot longer there.

A rooster laid an egg on top of the barn roof. Which way did it roll?

Roosters don’t lay eggs, silly!

A truck driver is going down a one way street the wrong way, and passes at least ten cops. Why is he not caught?

Because he’s walking. And he has bagels to share. Cops love bagels ~ just ask Stan!

A farmer had 752 sheep and took one shot that got them all. How did he do it?

It was a shot of whiskey and it put him right to sleep 💤 … no more sheep to count.

What word is spelled incorrectly in every single dictionary?

Incorrectly. Also wrong is wrong.

What starts with “e” and ends with “e” but only has one letter in it?

Eve, eye, ere, eke, ewe.

What two keys can’t open any door?

Key Largo and Key West.

A man went outside in the pouring rain with no protection, but not a single hair on his head got wet. How come?

He was bald.

Would you rather be trapped in an elevator full of men with BO, three soaked dogs, a basket filled with week-old smelly socks or a box filled with used nappies?

Socks. 😳

Would you rather look like an octopus, act like an octopus or be an octopus?

It would be neat to be an octopus. I highly recommend The Soul of an Octopus. Excellent book! 🐙

If you had the world’s attention for 30 seconds, what would you say?

Buy my books!

Would you rather be able to copy and paste in real life, or undo in real life?

Undo. Or even better “restore to original settings.”

Hope someone got a laugh out of this. 😂

 

A New You — Finish the Story Challenge

This challenge was started by Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith and then passed to Rory, A Guy Called Bloke. Rory passed the challenge on to Kristian, who passed it to me. [Note: I edited this paragraph to apply to me after Rory reblogged my post and noted that I’d kept Kristian’s wording.]

Here is Rory’s post:

Finish The Story 2019 – #8

and here is Teresa’s original post:

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2019/03/13/finish-the-story-2019-8/

store-984393_1920

Finish The Story 2019 – #8

Tailoring A New You

The small shop sat on the corner of Houston and Parker for more than a century. Any piece of clothing a person ever needed could be found there. They even sold hand stitched underwear. The Frederickson family owned the shop from the day it opened, and everyone loved the family.
It wasn’t just the customer service, low prices, and great quality that brought customers back for generations – it was the other things the Fredericksons offered. They say a new pair of clothes can change a person, and at A New You, they meant it. One had to be careful when requesting a custom suit – you didn’t want to get your specifications wrong. Why, even one misplaced check mark could have dire consequences on a person’s future.
Take Emilio for example, he …
***
Part 2 – Rory from A Guy Called Bloke

Take Emilio for example, he … had listened to his Father Fausto for years, since indeed when he had been kneehigh to a grasshopper crediting and hailing the Fredericksons or as his Father pronounced it the Frederickshons for their exquisitery and finery in being able to produce something absolutely remarkable from sometimes the most staidest of cloth and if not that then there was this magical element to the garments, you didn’t just wear the suit, the suit wore you!
Fausto, had been a young man when he had first ventured into the German tailors at the bequest of his own Father Gregorio, Emilio’s Grandfather only armed with the words – ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover Fausto, this family are from a long line of magickal tailors. They enthuse the garments with not just love and beauty, nor experience and wisdom but if l didn’t know better, l would say with their very souls and blood, indeed it is almost like wearing another person’s skin, but in suit form. For the best suit anywhere in this world, this is the only place to be”
“The moment you slip inside the fabric, it’s almost like you are a different person. My last bit of advice is you must know what you and who you want and where you want to be in life? Then the master tailor Gunther he will make you a masterpiece of craftsmanship. There will never be anything like it ever again, it will be your one and only suit from the time you start your professional life to the day you stop working, then you MUST take off that suit and return it to the family of the Frederickshons, so that they can destroy it, do you understand what l am saying to Fausto?”
“I think so Father, yes.” Fausto answered rather confusedly.
When Fausto had gone to the family tailors he had been made a suit so fine, so fitting that he never needed another suit ever again in his life, he had wanted to be rich and successful and within a very short time Fausto had become one of the cities most sought out grocers. No one had fruits or vegetables of the quality that Fausto had. No one could ever outsell him, outbid him, outsmart or outfool him. After 50 years he had built up an empire of grocery stalls that was the best in all of the Americas! Fausto had wanted his favourite and only Son Emilio to take on the family business, but Emilio needed his own power suit, his own successful three-piece so he could follow in his Father’s footsteps ………
.….except Fausto hadn’t actually asked his Son what and if he wanted to follow in his Father’s shadow, or if he wanted to lead his own life?
Of course the truth had he been asked was indeed different – Emilio wanted his Sister Alessandra to take on her Father’s business. His Sister had always been keenly astute on that side of the business, she was very taken with fruits and vegetables and herbs, she was a fabulous cook, who knew all the right ingredients to make each dish spectacular – she was in her own rights their families best chef! You see Emilio, well he had other interests, and they didn’t involve cucumbers, broccoli or marrows – he used to play with bananas and pretend they were guns …. and even more recently he had made friends with Alphonse who had even bigger dreams. Alphonse had at one time been a Five Points Gang member and was shrewd, he was also closely associated with the notorious Johnny Torrio. Alphonse himself was a right ‘snorky’, and also used the Frederickshons for his own suits, but he had many made and needed more than one, for his many shades of personality and success. Snorky was the terms for ‘sharp dresser’ and Emilio wanted to be like Alphonse too!
The year was 1923, the location was Chicago and Emilio and Alphonse walked into the Frederickshons Tailors where Gunther upon seeing them, greeting them both, “Emilio, your Papa Fausto said you would be stopping by with your new friend, but l never knew, this was the type of suit you wanted!” Turning to Alphonse, “Mr Capone it is so good to see you again, a new suit is it?”
” Gunther, not at all, l want you to outfit my new boy here, Emilio, tell the man what you want?”
Emilio, smiled a big proud toothy grin and said …..

Part 3 – Kristian’s Addition

“I want to look drop dead gorgeous” Emilio said. He liked the ladies, but so far in his life, they seemed to realise he was a low life scumbag who liked gangs and violence and so stayed well away.

Unfortunately the Magical Tailor, Gunther, was become a trifle deaf. He was coming up to two hundred years old and was way past retirement age. Being slightly deaf, he failed to hear Emilio’s last word. You would have thought that it would have occurred to him that Emilio’s request was rather strange and therefore he must have misheard, but senility was creeping in, so he crafted the suit according to the very request he had heard.

Within a week of wearing it, Emilio had dropped dead.

The consequences of Gunther’s auditory and mental deterioration were even more drastically displayed when poor Tristram Van De Gould went in for a fitting.

He asked for a waistcoat that would make him appear slimmer, what he ended up with was a straightjacket that prevented him from eating at all. He died of an emptystomach.

If you thought things couldn’t get any worse, you were wrong because next……..

 

Part 4 ~ Paula’s Part

The taxicab stopped in front of the shop and a disparate group of Americans piled out. “Hey!” yelled the driver. “Someone needs to pay me!”

“Someone pay the poor guy, for Pete’s sake,” Bernie said. “What’s the matter with you people?” And he walked into the shop, bumping his head on the door. “Owww.”

“I’d love to pay him,” Kamala said, “but I gave all my money to that sweet little girl at the airport who said she was homeless.” She went into the shop too. Amy and Beto and Liz ran after her. “Wait for us!” they shouted.

Joe rolled his eyes. “Geez, I’ll pay him. I always get stuck with the check when I go out with those guys,” he said to the cabbie. “It’s just the weirdest thing!”

“I sympathize, buddy,” the cabbie said. “My in-laws are exactly the same. Have fun shopping.”

Trailing after the others into the shop, Joe found them already arguing with the suit maker, who was nearly deaf, apparently. Everyone was yelling. “CALM DOWN!” Joe shouted.

“I was here first,” Bernie insisted. “I should get to order my suit first.”

“Fine.” Amy plopped down in a chair. “I’ll just sit here and have some of their free juice. Can I drink it out of one of these shoes, Gunther?”

The ancient tailor heard his name and turned in her direction. “Ehh, no one here named Sue, honey. We have a Lucy, but she’s off today.”

“‘Scuse me!” Beto said. “But we don’t call women honey anymore. I got in trouble for making some jokes earlier, so now I intend to be an annoying sourpuss wherever I go. I think my suit should reflect my new personality of a serious man who has meditated deeply upon–”

Bernie waggled a finger in his face. “MY TURN MY TURN MY TURN!”

“Ahem,” Kamala said. “This is a perfect example of why we need a woman in charge. Men just feel so entitled to everything. It’s definitely time for women to show how things can be done in a more orderly and peaceful manner.”

“You hussy!” Liz cried. “You winked at my husband at the rally last month.”

“What are you talking about?” Kamala said. “Have you gone off the reservation again?”

“LOL!” Amy laughed, coughing on her shoe juice.

Beto tried so hard not to laugh he waved his arms around madly and knocked over a rack of ties. Joe picked them all up.

Liz showed Kamala a video on her phone. “See? There you are winking at my sweetie.”

“I was crying,” Kamala told her. “I have hay fever. I had to take a Benadryl.”

Gunther hobbled over and said, “Alrighty then, dearies. Who’s next? I’ve measured the men.”

Kamala went next. Liz said to Amy, “I don’t even know why we’re here. It seems so silly, but I didn’t want to be at a disadvantage when you all said you were getting these special suits made.”

“I know, right?” Amy shrugged. “They’re supposed to be magical, or something.”

“Hillary had a suit made here,” Joe said. “But then she didn’t wear it. I’m not sure why. I’d ask her, but she won’t talk to me anymore. Who can even understand women, am I right?”

They just glared at him. “Oopsy,” Beto said. “Uncle Joe needs to go for retraining. Perhaps some yoga.”

“What?” Joe looked around, bewildered. “What did I do?”

“This shop needs to unionize,” Bernie announced. “Who’s with me on that?”

Liz frowned. “I don’t see any employees, Bern. Plus, it’s another country. They don’t need your help.”

“Everyone needs my help!” Bernie waggled his finger at her.

Gunther finished up with Liz and Kamala, and now all six Americans had been measured and fitted for their custom suits. They had told Gunther exactly what their hopes were for the coming year and he would take that into account when designing their apparel. He tallied up the final bill and brought it back out to the front.

“All the suits should be ready in three weeks,” he said to the group. “I can have them air mailed for an additional fee, since I know everyone has to zip back across the pond to his and her busy lives. Now did you want separate cheques?”

Everyone looked at Joe. He sighed and took out his Amex. “No, I’ll put it on my card for the travel points. We’ll settle up later.”

“Thanks, Joe!” everyone said. “You’re the best! We’ll PayPal you!”

The suits did arrive three weeks later, as promised. But…

 

And here I pass the story on to….

Fandango, of course!

Rules–
Copy the story below as it appears when you receive it (and the rules please)
Add somehow to the story in which ever style and length you choose
Tag only 1 person
If you choose to not participate or finish the story, please comment/tag this post so that I know.

Lit Chick [fiction 536]

I didn’t recognize Krista at the café, and she spotted me first. “Emily!” shrieked a gorgeous blonde.

My gawd. It was her! We hugged like we hadn’t seen each other in two years, which, duh, we hadn’t. “Krista, you look amazing! I didn’t even know it was you. You’re so skinny! And blonde!”

She smiled and flipped her hair. “I know, right? Meet the new me. No more dowdy, chubby, pizza-gobbling struggling writer. Now, this girl is a gluten-free, fitness-crazed published author with a movie deal.”

I sat down, overloaded with data. “Holy cow! Congratulations!”

Krista ordered a bottle of champagne. “We need to celebrate my success! What have you been up to?”

“Uhhh, gobbling pizza and struggling, more or less.” I didn’t want to lie to my college bestie. “Assistant to the assistant VP in a giant corporation, hoping to get noticed and promoted. But enough about me. Tell me about your book. A romance novel, I presume?”

The waiter served the champagne, and as Krista lifted her glass of bubbly to clink with mine, an enormous engagement ring glittered on her left hand. Geez, that too?

“This is chick lit,” Krista said. “The new hot thing.”

“Aren’t they the same?” I sipped my bubbly, first I’d had in ages. Then again, what did I have to celebrate? Gaining five pounds? My mother’s endless nagging about how I needed to hurry up and find a husband? My failure to achieve anything at work?

Krista flipped her hair. “Totes different. A romance novel is about the relationship between the protags, and it’s written in third person usually. It describes both the hero and heroine as characters with flaws that they overcome to find happily ever after true love. They’re generally incredibly good-looking too, and the hero is usually a duke or a CEO or a military type guy or a vampire.”

“I like vampires,” I confessed with a giggle as the waiter topped off my glass. He was rather cute actually.

“Chick lit can have vampires too,” Krista said, “but the point is, is it’s much more realistic. The heroine narrates the story in her own true voice without any pesky interruptions from other characters.”

I twirled my glass, watching the pretty bubbles sparkle in the sun. “Pesky. I hate pesky interruptions.”

“Exactly!” Krista covered my hand with her own. “Emily, I could use a loyal, smart friend to help me on the set. I had a bit of an ulterior motive in meeting you today.”

“Um what?”

She laughed. “I’m offering you a job, silly! Come be my assistant and I’ll double your salary, whatever it is. We’ll get you a good stylist and nutritionist, and in a month you’ll be a new person. Hair, makeup, clothes, everything!”

I blinked at her blonde confidence. “A new person? But you’re hiring the old Emily.”

“The new Emily will be even better, trust me.” She tossed a credit card on the table. “Let’s get started today, shall we?”

Just then the waiter winked at me, which I took to be sarcastic. Sure, pity the frumpy friend. Just wait until my makeover!

“Why not?” I said to Krista. “What do I have to lose?”

~*~

Genre Challenge 13: Chick Lit

Little Bit of Soul

Soul mates are the stuff of poetry and romance novels, and who doesn’t love a good fairy tale? It’s hard to believe in a soul mate if you don’t believe in souls though; and souls come packaged up with all that other mystical glitter I can’t quite wrap my brain around. Despite my creative forays, my heart is made of math. One of my favorite lines from a romance novel was “she had his number, and it was 666.” I would credit the book and the author if I could remember either, but I can’t. I don’t think I ever dated the devil, just your ordinary liars and narcissists, but that guy wasn’t the devil of course. They never are, in romance novels. No matter what kind of terrible choice the romance novel heroine appears to be making with her wild and crazy attraction, it’s always exactly the right choice. But that’s because we’re writing her story. I have written my own stories, with my own heroes. Perhaps that’s why I’m solo.

The Pledge [flash 170]

Icefire the dragon heard the soft clop of the horseshoes through the snow and knew a knight approached his bridge. His sensitive nose sniffed out that this was a rider from the East, one of the King’s men. Under normal circumstances, Icefire would come out from under the bridge and burn up the knight, which would indeed be a pleasure. But these were extraordinary times.

Last summer, Icefire had met a princess in the forest. Not just any princess, but the fairest maiden ever born. Instead of being afraid of him, the little princess had given him a bouquet of flowers. Icefire had fallen in love! He’d given her his pledge of honor. Anything in the world that she wanted, he would do for her.

She’d asked only one thing: please don’t kill her father’s knights when they crossed the bridge.

Hmph. It certainly went against a dragon’s nature not to set fire to a knight, but Icefire had his bouquet of dried flowers to remind him of his promise.

~*~

What Do You See?

Opposites Attract: Challenge 8

The House on the Lake [finish the story]

This story is part of the Finish the Story Challenge that Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith hosts. Teresa tagged the lovely Sadje of Keep it Alive, who tagged Kristian of Tales from the Mind of Kristian, who tagged Tao-Talk, who then then tagged me.

The House on the Lake 

Part One from The Haunted Wordsmith

A house sat perched precariously on the edge of Clearwater Lake. It was a house that should not have stood, yet stand it did. It had been there for centuries and locals swore the same couple lived there the whole time. Locals never knew how right they were until the day the rains started.

“It’s just a little rain,” Susan said, watching the couple pile water and canned fruit into their shopping cart.

The couple looked at the checker and smiled politely. “The rain will not stop,” they said, “we’ve seen this before.”

No sooner had the couple left, Susan but dropped her smirk as locals poured into the shop chaotically looking for food. The once spring storm skies has turned …

Part Two – Sadje – Keep It Alive

……..dark grey, the rain increasing in intensity. The deluge continued for that day and night. By next morning the people were getting very concerned and the shopping for groceries and bottled water increased to the extent that the selves were barren of most edible goods.

Some of the locals were thinking of getting in touch with the couple in the hut to get some information about these rains, because some of them had overheard their comment about the rains not stopping and that they had seen it before.

So a group of the local elders went to speak to the couple, at their house at the edge of the lake. But when they got there they were surprised to see that…….

Part Three – Kristian from Tales from the Mind of Kristian

the couple were missing.

As they searched the house by the lake, the rain continued to fall, splashing into the lake. The wind caused the water to spray against the glass window panes.

Two skeletons were found lying in an upstairs bedroom. The hands were clasped as if they had died holding hands. Next to the body was a leather-bound book.

One of the Elders, Mrs Marianne Penniment, picked up the book and opened it.

The writing inside was elaborate and regal, not like the writing you see now, but like something out of a bygone age, where people wrote with pen and ink rather than biros.

The last entry in the book was telling. It read

“The flood waters are getting higher and we have little food left. There is nothing that can be done now except warn those who come after.”

It was dated April 1869, exactly 150 years before.

The other Elders gathered around as Elder Marianne continued to read from the diary,

it said……..

Part Four – Tao-Talk

“When the day of Water Reckoning arrives, Waterfall Giants will come from the sea and go upon the land. The house at the edge of Clearwater Lake is the beacon that will draw them. When Haggis and Harriet are gone from the flesh, the beacon calls.”

In an eerie bit of synchronicity, the moment Elder Marianne said “calls”, an unholy roaring could be heard outside. Running to the window the Elders were stunned to see a wall of 200 feet tall rocks moving towards the house from the sea, spewing out water like waterfalls. They understood they were in a battle for their lives and needed to leave the house before they were washed away.

Elder Penniment grabbed the book. They all ran downstairs and out the door on the opposite side of the living rocks. The water was up around their knees as they exited the house, which made running difficult, especially being elders wearing long robes. They clawed at the fronts of their robes to open them, freeing their bodies to escape. Thanking The Gods the land was at an incline, all of them were able to get to the road and the van. Elder Gaga gunned the van and they sped off towards town to warn the others.

The Waterfall Giants surrounded the house, pouring forth water and roaring the sounds that would soon engulf the dry land with their life blood. There was only one thing that could stop them, and only Haggis and Harriet knew what it was….

Part Five – me

… and the Elders frantically searched for any speck of a clue in the diary as Gaga drove like a madwoman away from the raging rocks.

“Just a bunch of new age nonsense to greet the sun every morning and not to eat too much before bedtime,” Joan grumbled.

“What about cocoa?” Marianne asked. “If you just have that without any cookies?”

“No one cares!” Gaga yelled. “We’re about to be crushed by mad boulders!”

“Or drown,” Joan reminded them. “Oh, here’s something interesting. And as it shall be for all time that the blade cuts the paper; the paper shall cover the rock; and the rock shall break the blade.

Marianne tsked. “How does that help? Are we supposed to throw paper at the rocks?”

“Well, I don’t have any better ideas.” Gaga stopped at the office of the Clearwater Lake Gazette, which was closed, but these were desperate times, so the Elders broke a window. They could hear the giant rocks rumbling closer now.

Quickly, they each loaded up a cart with newspapers and took the elevator to the roof. When the rocks were upon them, they began to cover one with paper, causing it to crumble into pieces.

“Good lord, it’s actually working!” Joan said as she grabbed the sports section to fling at another boulder.

“And the water’s receding too,” Marianne observed.

“Team work makes the dream work!” Gaga shouted. “Good job, Elders!”

~*~

Linking back to Teresa!

So the rules of the challenge are:

1. Copy the story as you receive it.

2. Add to the story in some fashion.

3. Tag another person to contribute to or finish the story.

4. Please use FTS as a tag so I can find it or link back to part 1.

5. Have Fun!

 

Monday Night Share

Heyyy! It’s me! With my nighttime post.

QUESTIONS from Melanie:

If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?  If you don’t think Heaven nor God exists, you might want answer by saying something outrageous, just for fun!

“MEOW”

 What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

The fact that Game of Thrones will soon be over and gone forever.

 What do you think about when you’re alone in your car?

 That I should do my will and health directive thingie.

How would you rate your memory? 

Vastly variable. Sometimes I can remember trivia from ages ago; other times I can’t remember something important from last week. At work, I write everything down, which helps immensely, but otherwise it’s just like whatever. Have I mentioned I make a zillion lists? This is why. In general, if I don’t care about something, I’m not too likely to remember it.

And lastly:

What’s one song that always cheers you up, no matter how blue you’re feeling?

Sorry, can’t choose only one!