Could I have them wander around some more? Eat a last meal in Paradise-on-Mars? Yes, but as my regular readers know, I am all about dialog and personal interaction, no matter what the person is. So, having set the scene, as it were (“this place is perfect!”), I can now get to the problem: while Ed is having fun, he does miss his new wife. Fussy, it appears, is ready to walk away from it all until provoked by her two sons. Notice how Kalí stays quiet? This is not her fight so she stays out of it.
And then it comes out that there is a discrepancy in time. And no, what I know of the little klutz, I cannot imagine Livia not waiting for her husband. After all, her mother waited years… dang; I still need to wrap that part of the story up. Maybe in the summer.
About 1100 words because if this world is that corruptive to demi-humans, I don’t want any of my readers lost in some dream state; I value y’all too much.
Enjoy my content? Buy me a beer!
Continue reading “Book 17. Part Two. 11” →
Wrote myself out of Medicine Hat and past Sgt. Sergei Konev’s first contact with Cartaphilus. It seems that what’s left of Saskatoon is much worse than I imagined. Yes, about 50% of the population fled south against the ice and snow of the Maunder Minimum. The other half looked to the sky, the sun and stars, and went “native.” Did I mention the Change and mysticism?
But a few families lingered in the area of the old city. That’s the mistake of never making a hard, clear-cut decision; you pay for your mistakes. Cartaphilus harvested them.
In other odd news, the 77th Imperial Russian Brigade will meet a battlegroup of the Canadian Army head-on around Winnipeg. In the midst of that, Sgt. Sergei Konev will encounter another oddity in the basement of a riverside museum. When I run this through Grammarly it will once again freak out over my “write it as you hear it” style of accents.
[breathless voice, whispers] “Imagine… imagine if something, someone, like some old scifi story, actually came to life *coughs**wipes a bit of blood from mouth* but… but they weren’t made for it… not bred, not… even… thought of, Sergeant Konev,” Schreber said to the Russian, in his dark office of the blackened museum on the banks of the Red River in Winnipeg. “What… what if that person, excuse me, what if… that person is… what everyone needs but… absolutely no one wants? What… *coughs**retches* what then, Sergeant?”
“All sides would hate him,” Konev said in a quiet voice.
“Welcome to my personal Hell, Mister Konev.” Schreber pitched forward out of his chair, barking more blood. The sergeant yelled for his medic.
Easter Sunday. My Lenten writing exercise, with a small break, is concluded. Personally, I’m happy with this re-edited version of my one and only allegory. I wonder what comes next?
On a personal note, I saw my eldest daughter back off to uni late this morning. My youngest is off to support the GAE on Thursday. I do not know when I shall see them again. Yes, it is Easter and Christ is risen… but I’m in a little hell right now.
Continue reading “Pirate Twins 14, again “Endgame”” →
Things seem to calm down. Until Europa seems to be suggesting something she’s not
Continue reading “Pirate Twins 12, again “A modest proposal”” →
Betrayal? Loss? Blood-letting? Reconciliation?
That’s enough for Good Friday. See everyone tomorrow.
Continue reading “Pirate Twins 11, again “Duped”” →
There are times when allegory breaks down in the face of love.
And then once again, everything goes to hell.
Continue reading “Pirate Twins 10, again “Reunion”” →
This reads a little like a geography lesson of northern Europe.
I’m reminded of the quote: “it’s all a question of bridges,” but then, Logres cannot perceive those.
We discover Europa’s nature. Maybe.
Continue reading “Pirate Twins 9, again “Revelation”” →
Even in an allegory you should wear something.
And, yes, it is 0515 here.
Continue reading “Pirate Twins 8, again “Modesty”” →
And there goes the neighborhood…
“They are over-paid, over-sexed, and over here!”
Continue reading “Pirate Twins 7, again “Cousins”” →