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In reply to: Coma Cameleon
Tibu preferred selling second hand books to selling watches, for he could read them while waiting for customers instead of watching the minutes and hours tick by. Maybe that’s why they called them “watches”, he thought, because if you have one, you watch it. Too much, it would seem.
He was reading “The Perilous Treks of Lord Gustard Willoughby Fergusson” while sheltering from the pounding rain, huddled in the corner of an office building porch with a few dozen books piled onto an old blue blanket. He rarely sold any books, but passing strangers kindly brought him a coffee in a take away cup from time to time, or a sandwich or burger. The more thoughtful ones dropped some money into the upturned bowler hat that he’d found in the bin, so that he could choose tea, which he preferred, or some fruit, which he preferred to burgers. One of the regular office girls, a fresh faced young looking redhead, brought him a brand new lighter one day, after noticing him asking for a light the day before. She was a good listener, and often stood beside him silently listening to him read aloud from one of his books.
In reply to: Pop﹡in People Tribulations
Ailill cringed as a whirlwind of rotting mulch landed in the laundry basket that was piled high with freshly washed and folded white linens. “Not like that!” he whispered to Granola, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be so critical,” she snapped back. “I haven’t got the hang of it yet.”
Caspar the dog whined from his basket under the table. “She’ll blame me for that,” he said to himself. “Should I pretend to be asleep, or slink out now before she comes in?”
In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
“What does it say, Sanso?”
The four travelers had arrived on the island in patchy swirling fog in a field full of cucumber plants and sundials. The sundial nearest to Sanso had a letter tied to the handle with blue ribbon.
“If that’s not for me, I don’t know what is,” he snorted, untying the letter as Lisa looked at him in amazement.
“Really, Sanso, that seems so implausible,” she said.
“What does it say?”bq(Quote).“And we start to hope that if we keep on digging,” Sanso read, “All the way to the core, if we don’t stop, if we perforate the land like a honeycomb, if we make it as flimsy as silk, maybe it will suddenly collapse in on itself. And then, like a tray piled with cups of coffee and cookies that crashes to the floor in a mess of crumbs and glass, it will all mix together.
The upper part and the lower part will blend. And the rules will change. And we’ll be able to say with a sigh of relief: Here is a piece of sky mixed with a cracked piece of sea; here is Shujaiyeh mixed with Sderot; here is Zeitoun mixed with the Mount of Olives; here is compassion mixed with relief; here is one human being mixed with another. above, and with them build a new land.”
“Oh my,” said Fanella, “Are you sure we’ve come to the right place?”
“And an entire people will rise to the surface of the earth,” Sanso continued, “ Pale and faded, blinded by the sun that beats down on the land. And we will stand in silence, waiting for our eyes to adjust to the light. And as we stand there in silence, the fear and anxiety will gradually creep into our heart, that while we were finding refuge in subterranean Gaza, the land above took its own life, was left behind and emptied out.”
“Gorden Bennet,” said Lisa.
In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
Katarina knotted the scarf under her chin and grinned at her reflection in the mirror. The disguise was comfortable, colourful and effective. The carpet shop was located on a coordination point in an alley off Fountain Square, easy enough to find with a CP nav ap. There were several ordinary carpets hanging in the window and piled up near the door, in case any unsuspecting normal tourist chanced on the CP, but the new stock of old flying carpets was ready in the back room, awaiting approval from the Surge Team representatives, ready for the flight to Moscow.
In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
Sanso rubbed his sore head.
“Oh well, just one of the hazards of the job, I suppose.” he said philosophically.
“Okay, coast is clear,” he whispered into the portal.
One by one, Arona, Vincentius and Yikesy piled into the small bathroom.
“Don’t forget me!” hissed Mandrake.
“You know,” Mandrake continued, snootily, “there are some who will say we should not be here. There will be some who will be tsk tsking for all they are worth.”
“Positive energy, please Mandrake.” smiled Arona. Mandrake rolled his eyes.
“It will be fine, just remember: nobody must know who we are or why we are here, and positive intentions at all times.” Sanso was tremendously excited. It was a long time since he had had such an exciting mission.
“Why are we here, again?” asked Vincentius, in his deep melodious voice.
In reply to: The Eights’ Shift, Stories
Fwick’s bladder was boiling, and pressing him for a release. That was that little minute of inattention that cost him the equally little spider, and nearly his life.
While he was blaming and swearing at the bitter butter, he had not noticed that the amount of butter he’d prepared wouldn’t nearly have been enough to bread the spider, since the spider had already ingested the mighty yeast —as much by an insane curiosity as by bouts of bloody hunger— and as it happens, the yeast was starting to take effect.
As the weather was still a tad on the cold side in Peasland, there was a sane amount of logs piled up against the stove, which was roaring in delight well-fed as it was. It was giving the little spider ideas, as well as a newfound strength and breadth (and some beard too, but it didn’t really matter… yet, at least).
So while Fwick was moaning of delight at emptying said bladder into the loo, a bloody blunder was looming more than he could see.
The little spider started to outgrow the little matchbox, which ceded without much resistance, nor any noise.
The middle-sized spider then started to outgrow the table, which in turn ceded in a mild crack.
Finally, the big-sized spider now dying for a breakfast the size of a cow jumped by the window which jarred at the impact and finally, as all objects learn in good time when dealing with the spider, ceded to release the hungry bearded nine-eyed now-not-so-little deadly spider with a squeaking mwahahing voice.That was the voice of the spider by the way, not that of the window, which didn’t have a voice to start with, even in Peasland.
