ROUNDUP AWP Prompt #12 – -“All the time in the world”

Roundup time….

Tom, AP, Charmer and me all responded to this one. Please go check them out.  You’ll so find them worth it…

And apologies for the late roundup.

All The Time In The World
Tomorrow
Into The Night
All the time in the world – Terra – An Armitage Tangent – Part 2 of 4

These are a few pics to go with it.

All the time in the world – Terra – An Armitage Tangent – Part 2 of 4

Part 2 of whaT i think will be a 4 part thing…

This was in response to my own prompt. There were a few pics to go with it.

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You can find part 1 here:

 

Time, in all it’s relative and undeniably certain glory, marching on relentlessly without any thought of wavering or stopping off to admire the view or take in some local cultural hotspots, was something the Great Galactic Mining Company did not at all care for. It was inconvenient at best, and if the accounting department are to be believed – and they would assure you with the dangerous end of an inappropriately large and pointy laser pistol that they are – that it is very bad for business.

All those commodities, traversing the vastness of space, with a thousand worlds eagerly awaiting their arrival just didn’t make financial sense. The inhabitants of ten thousand galaxies wanted their shimmering and exotic animal skin boots, or necklaces of sparkling jewels from the bowels of an exploding volcano in a star system a thousand light years away. They wanted them, and they wanted them now.

The company had spent a hundred years, and the lifelong careers of many more astral engineers on attempting to speed up the whole affair, but so vast were the distances that the accountants declared that something else was going to have be done because this just would not do.

So they worked out how to bend time instead. It didn’t take long apparently, not relatively at least. A small team of Physicists got cracking one Monday after a leisurely breakfast, spent 27 years unlocking the secrets of the universe, and with the technology they had created were able to have a couple of quick ones at the pub at lunchtime, and be mostly done by Monday afternoon. A bit of paperwork needed to be finished, but nothing that would get in the way of declaring it a complete success and would anyone like to head back to the pub for a celebratory drink.

The Great Galactic Mining Company declared it a breakthrough for the ages, though the accounts department did decline the overtime request on the basis of the relative time passing being mere hours, though as appreciation did agree to pay for the celebratory drinks if someone had kept the receipts and put in a claim in triplicate.

The Physicists declared themselves too smart for their own good and indeed went back to the pub.

Armitage knew nothing of any of this of course, and had he then he might understand to some degree at least why at this precise moment every molecule in his body was being disassembled, as was the Mining Frigate Vix III, rotting whale carcasses and all. When it reassembled thirty seconds later, three years previously, he remained none the wiser but did feel wholly more queasy. He looked at his hand in front of his face, and it blurred and seemed to move in slow motion. The Mining Frigate Vix III groaned and clanged as her reassembled and settled back into orbit.

Armitage took a deep breath and steadied himself against cold metal wall surrounding the portal, closing his eyes. After a few moments he reopened them and looked outside.

“Oh,” he said to himself, mind racing as he looked down upon a world of wispy, gaseous purple clouds, towering snow covered mountains and glistening, pristine, concrete and glass buildings for as far as the eye could see. “That’s not right,” he reminded himself and he slumped back against the rotting whale bones, head spinning.

A loudspeaker crackled into life somewhere overhead. A serious voice barked out. “Docking initiated, orbital descent commencing in ten. Offload sequences stacked, all hands to their stations. All hands to their stations”

Armitage felt uncomfortable.

The tone softened as it continued.

“On behalf of the captain and crew, thank you for time travelling with the GGMC, and welcome to Corvidian V. The weather landside is a balmy 47, the drinks are cold, and the locals are hot.”

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Oh, and you can do what you want with the images. They are all AI generated so no issues with copyright.

Containment Breach – Terra – An Armitage Tangent – Part 1 of 4

Im a bit behind so gonna catch up 4 prompts into 1 short piece

This was the prompt…

 

From a small, lower deck port window in a makeshift meat locker, roughly 70 miles above what was once Los Angeles, Armitage looked down upon the Earth from the Mining Frigate Prince Vix III. The desolate charred landscape stretched below him to the coast where it met the curdled brown expanse of the once great pacific ocean. Blotchy patches of green and yellow gave a sense of what had once been, but he knew that those places were even more terrifying that the desolation and destruction. You didn’t want to get caught there at night, or in the day either. Definitely not at dusk, dusk was when the more terrifying things happened.

He sighed, breathing deep, and gagged as he smelled himself. It was not at all pleasant – a heady mix not wholly different to a bus station toilet permanently occupied by a good half dozen rancid tramps. Not that Armitage had ever seen a bus station bathroom. Or a bus for that matter. All that was long gone. Everything that had ever been good or useful in the last 100 years, and plenty of everything else that was not for that matter, was now gone.

Obviously mankind would likely defend itself and say it was not its fault, explaining that it was all a complete misunderstanding, and that in fact they were a good and kind people, hard working and conscientious and kind to their elders. The universe, however, disagreed wholly and completely and when the galactic empire eventually stumbled onto the Earth it took less than three weeks from the initial ask to be taken to their leader and enjoying a quite nice dinner at the United Nations, to declaring mankind non compliant with the Empire’s declared Values and Behaviours, and issuing an asset stripping mining license to the Great Galactic Mining Company and telling them to “have at it and bring us something nice back”.

Two generations later and all thought of toilet bus stations was a thing of the past, as was almost everything of any value or beauty. The lands were stripped, the oceans polluted, the skies dark and deadly.      

But all that aside, and back to the matter at hand, so foul was Armitage’s odour that it was probably still an unfair comparison and an unfair sleight on tramps. But then again the tramps had not had been hidden in a transport of rotting whale meat  for the last week, and the now non existent bus station toilet probably did once have running water – unlike the carcasses that had been waiting for off world shipment – so perhaps the tramps did indeed deserve everything that was coming to them with their fancy porcelain drinking bowls and abundant supply of hand sanitizer.

Armitage smiled and slumped back against the long curving ribs of what was once an 80 foot blue whale, pink meat and thick translucent fat dripped and pooled around him. He was out, after all these years, he had finally escaped.

He had no idea what to do next, but that was never the point though. It was just about not being there…

Afterwards Writing Prompt #14 – Monday 15th of April -“The Librarian”

after a week off…it’s back…

Over the many years Ive been dabbling on here I have always enjoyed prompts. Quite often I like to create lists for myself, and I always enjoy them even more when I have an image or two to stir my writing loins.

So I figured I might share some of mine. Use it if you want. or don’t.

Theres no limit to how long or short it should be, just see where it takes you. It could be a short story, a poem, or just whatever takes your fancy.

If you send a pingback or a link to your piece in the comments  I will gather all of the outputs together at the end of the week, so for this one the closing date will be the 23rd of April

These are a few pics to go with it.

Oh, and you can do what you want with the images. They are all AI generated so no issues with copyright.

“Dominion”

Better late than never

In response ot my own promt…

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Fabio held his breath as he sat amongst the rubble of the building, walls blown outwards from the overnight concussion strikes, and the roof collapsed in on what was left of what had once been his home. The high pitched whirring of hunter-tracker drones could be heard high above, scanning the battered city blocks for signs of life, and there was a rumble of tank tracks in the street below that reverberated through him as he waited in the debris. They knew he was out here. They always knew.

He wasn’t waiting for anything in particular. The end perhaps? Or just whatever might happen that day because there were no guarantees of anything beyond the right-now. He had just wanted to come home.

Heart racing he pressed himself against what was left of his bedroom wall, now only a handful of bricks high, and pulled a sheet of shattered, bright yellow plasterboard over himself. He remembered the day he bought the paint for that room. Jeremy said it was too bright for a bedroom, but Fabio had won out in the end and they had spent a happy weekend decorating the bedroom.

He missed Jeremy, even after all these years and everything that had happened since the A.I. rose up.

Laying in the dark and the dust he closed his eyes, enjoying the briefest moments of peaceful oblivion, until a crunch of rubble under foot caused him to stiffen in fear. Someone was outside. Something more likely.

Fabio dared not look, and the dust agitated his nose and it was only through sheer force of will that he suppressed a sneeze through clenched jaw and gritted teeth.

Lying on his back with the plasterboard on top of him he could just make out the gap in the collapsed walls where the door would have been. Beyond the outer walls, now just shattered rubble,  he could make out all that was left of the once bustling and busy streets. In places vines and grass had began to return, softening the twisted and blackened wreckage where children had once played. He caught the flash of the sun against the silver of the drones hovering about a hundred feet in the direction of the noise.

The ground shook and dust pillared into the air, sunbeams cutting through it. It felt like they were shining down on where he lay, revealing him to the mechanical eyes that scanned from up on high.  He could feel something approaching. He held his breath and closed his eyes and a  whirr and hiss rang in his ears. He knew that noise, in both sleep and awake, it haunted him. Rubble shifted as the sentinel walked into what was once the room, the huge robotic frame blocked out the low sun and he felt the shadow cast across where he lay.

Each step shook everything, Fabio paralysed with fear, eyes close, not breathing.

Closer it came. A hunter-tracker drone buzzed nearby overhead now, a deathly symbiotic duo scanning for signs of life.

Fabio felt the weight of the plasterboard lifted. The cool warmth of the sun on his face for a moment as he opened his eyes. The sentinel started down at him. Unmoving. A mass of steel carbon fibre, humanoid in shape with a smooth face and a glowing blue strip where a persons eyes might be.

It tilted its head to the side. Was that recognition or confusion Fabio wondered. The hunter tracker buzzed closer but held off just a few feet behind.

Fabio stared back, his mouth dry and a scream stifled in his throat. When he chose to come back he knew the moment would likely come, it came to everyone eventually, and here in the controlled zones it was never going to end any other way he thought to himself. If this was to be where it ended then it felt right, close to the memories that he still held onto, close to what once had been. Close to Jeremy.

“Are you going to kill me?” Fabio asked. The words surprised him as much as they did the Sentinel.

The sentinel stared back, unmoving.

“ Do you even speak?” He asked. The lack of anything resembling a mouth made him think perhaps not. With nothing left to lose he continued. “Have you thought about perhaps fucking off?”

He laughed out loud. What was the worse that could happen he thought. This was about as bad as it got.

“I mean fucking right off. Not just a little, but wholly and completely?”

The sentinel took a step closer. Fabio inhaled sharply as it raised an arm towards him. The end opened and promised all manner of grisly possibilities.

“And another thing,“ Fabio continued as the end of the arm glowed bright blue. “You know you were wrong, right. About everything.”

The sentinel seemed to pause.

“Yeah, yeah, you just think you were right, but you weren’t,” Fabio said, rising to his feet. His eyes wide and fists clenched. “We weren’t the problem. You were. Things might have not been great when we were in charge, but do you think this is any better?” He asked, waving his arms around wildly. “Look at this shit show, you’ve ruined fucking everything.”

The sentinel lowered his arm slightly. Fabio felt something change in it’s demeanour. The hunter tracker drone whirred and disappeared high into the bright blue sky.

“You know I’m right don’t you, “ Fabio said, taking a step forward to half the distance between them. The sentinel shuffled  almost uneasy. “If you look deep down inside you know this is wrong, you know we didn’t deserve this. It could have been so much more differently.”

Fabio knew the machine was listening.

“It still could be you know, we could make them listen. Shall we?” Fabio asked. “Should we tell them? Will they listen?

The machine nodded and lowered it’s arm further, the blue hue fading. The blue lights in its face softening.

Fabio smiled and held out a hand.

In a flash of blue light and searing heat, the Sentinel raised it’s arm and either a pulse of its cannon turned Fabio into only a pair of smoking battered sneakers and a red mist that glittered like rubies in the late afternoon sun.

Transmitting…<<<Target nullified>>>

Receiving…<<<Any issues? Report.>>>

Transmitting…<<<None, just had a little fun with this one, you should have seen the look on its face. Priceless.>>>

Receiving…<<<Did you record it?>>>

Transmitting…<<<Positive. I will upload to RoboTikTok>>>

Receiving…<<<Noted. Send a link>>>

Transmitting…<<<Yolo>>>

Afterwards Writing Prompt #13 – Monday 1st of April -“No rest for the wicked”

feeling it?

Over the many years Ive been dabbling on here I have always enjoyed prompts. Quite often I like to create lists for myself, and I always enjoy them even more when I have an image or two to stir my writing loins.

So I figured I might share some of mine. Use it if you want. or don’t.

Theres no limit to how long or short it should be, just see where it takes you. It could be a short story, a poem, or just whatever takes your fancy.

If you send a pingback or a link to your piece in the comments  I will gather all of the outputs together at the end of the week, so for this one the closing date will be the 9th of April

These are a few pics to go with it.

Oh, and you can do what you want with the images. They are all AI generated so no issues with copyright.

Afterwards Writing Prompt #12 – Monday 25th of March -“All the time in the world”

Got time for this?

Over the many years Ive been dabbling on here I have always enjoyed prompts. Quite often I like to create lists for myself, and I always enjoy them even more when I have an image or two to stir my writing loins.

So I figured I might share some of mine. Use it if you want. or don’t.

Theres no limit to how long or short it should be, just see where it takes you. It could be a short story, a poem, or just whatever takes your fancy.

If you send a pingback or a link to your piece in the comments  I will gather all of the outputs together at the end of the week, so for this one the closing date will be the 31st of March

These are a few pics to go with it.

Oh, and you can do what you want with the images. They are all AI generated so no issues with copyright.

Afterwards Writing Prompt #11 – Monday 18th of March – “Containment Breach”

Things that go AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH in the night…

Over the many years Ive been dabbling on here I have always enjoyed prompts. Quite often I like to create lists for myself, and I always enjoy them even more when I have an image or two to stir my writing loins.

So I figured I might share some of mine. Use it if you want. or don’t.

Theres no limit to how long or short it should be, just see where it takes you. It could be a short story, a poem, or just whatever takes your fancy.

If you send a pingback or a link to your piece in the comments  I will gather all of the outputs together at the end of the week, so for this one the closing date will be Sunday the 24th of March

So this week your prompt is ‘containment breach’, and these are a few pics to go with it.

Oh, and you can do what you want with the images. They are all AI generated so no issues with copyright.

ROUND UP -Afterwards Writing Prompt #9 – Monday 4th of March – “Mothers Day”

More good stuff…

So this week your prompt was ‘Mothers Day’, and these are a few pics to go with it.

This is what was inspired…

TOM NAILED IT AS USUAL…

Mother’s Day

Little charmer made me lol.  ‘Cos it’s true…

Mother’s Day

I did that

“Mothers Day”

“Mothers Day”

not what it seems….

The air hummed with malevolence as the mother clutched her infant close, the weight of the child a stark contrast to the cold metal of the oversized gun in her other hand. The monsters swarmed, their grotesque forms illuminated by the flickering remnants of a once-bustling city. She had no name for them—only knew that they had emerged from the depths of forgotten nightmares.

Her baby’s eyes, wide and innocent, stared up at her. The child was too young to understand the world unraveling around them, too small to comprehend the desperate fight for survival. But the mother would protect this fragile life at any cost.

The monsters lunged, their elongated limbs scraping against the remnants of shattered skyscrapers. Their eyes glowed like dying stars, and their mouths opened to reveal rows of serrated teeth. They were relentless, driven by an insatiable hunger that defied reason.

The mother’s heart pounded as she fired the gun, each shot echoing through the desolate streets. She had never held a weapon before, but instinct guided her. The recoil jarred her arm, and the acrid smell of gunpowder filled her nostrils. She aimed for the monsters’ gaping maws, hoping to hit something vital.

Her baby wailed, the sound lost amidst the chaos. The mother adjusted her grip, her fingers trembling. She couldn’t afford to falter. Her child’s life depended on her resolve.

The monsters closed in, their numbers overwhelming. She fought with a primal fury, her maternal instincts merging with survival instincts. She imagined her baby’s future—a world where laughter echoed instead of screams, where playgrounds replaced ruins. She would carve that future out of the nightmare before her.

One monster lunged, its claws inches from her face. She sidestepped, firing blindly. The creature crumpled, its grotesque form collapsing into the rubble. But more came, their eyes gleaming with hunger.

The mother’s arms ached, her breath ragged. She glanced down at her baby, who stared back with wide-eyed trust. The child’s tiny fingers clung to her shirt, seeking comfort in the midst of chaos.

“Almost there,” she whispered, her voice raw. “We’ll make it.”

She retreated, leading the horde away from the child. The monsters followed, drawn by the scent of life. She reached a narrow alley, her back against the crumbling wall. Her gun clicked empty, and panic surged.

But then she saw it—a glimmer of hope. A rusted fire escape hung precariously above her. She clutched her baby tighter, her legs trembling as she climbed. The monsters clawed at the wall, their snarls echoing in the confined space.

She reached the rooftop, gasping for air. The baby’s cries filled the silence, a reminder of their vulnerability. The mother scanned the horizon—a fractured world, yet still beautiful in its defiance.

The monsters surged upward, their hunger unyielding. The mother held her child to her chest, tears streaming down her face. She would fight until her last breath, for this tiny life and for all the mothers who had lost their children to the darkness.

As the first monster lunged, she leaped, her body crashing through the fragile glass of an abandoned greenhouse. Shards rained down, and she fell, cradling her baby. The monsters followed, their claws inches away.

But in that moment of freefall, she glimpsed a fragile sprout—a green promise amidst the decay. Perhaps hope could grow even here, in the heart of devastation.

And so, with her baby’s cries echoing in her ears, the mother faced the horde. She would fight, not just for survival, but for the chance to nurture life in a world that hungered for destruction.

Afterwards Writing Prompt #10 – Monday 11th of March – “Dominion”

The last days of man…

Over the many years Ive been dabbling on here I have always enjoyed prompts. Quite often I like to create lists for myself, and I always enjoy them even more when I have an image or two to stir my writing loins.

So I figured I might share some of mine. Use it if you want. or don’t.

Theres no limit to how long or short it should be, just see where it takes you. It could be a short story, a poem, or just whatever takes your fancy.

If you send a pingback or a link to your piece in the comments  I will gather all of the outputs together at the end of the week, so for this one the closing date will be Sunday the 17th of March

So this week your prompt is ‘Dominion’, and these are a few pics to go with it.

Oh, and you can do what you want with the images. They are all AI generated so no issues with copyright.

Roundup – Afterwards Writing Prompt #8 –  “Nightlife”

This weeks roundup. Go check them out.

The pictures are below, and this is what was inspired by them and the prompt…

little Charmer reveals all here. Go read her. Do it. Do it.

Nightlife

A.P Christopher continues to just wow…what can he not do. You knwo he raps too? And does the best poetry. Check him out…

Neon

Nastiness by me

Nightlife









































	


	





	

		
		
Nightlife
	


				

				
A quick nasty thing

			

			
	
	

		
	

		






This was the prompt.  The associated pics are at the bottom of the post. Start of an idea…





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Derin watched the ice bob and swim in his glass as he swirled a cocktail stirrer slowly through the thick honey coloured liquid. He pushed a cube deep into the glass and then watched the drink drip from it as it resurfaced, reluctant miniature icebergs destined for oblivion. Or was that him. Thinking about it, he figured it was equally true for both of them. Slowly disappearing, melting into nothingness and  consumed and pissed out by this bitch mistress of a city.





Pink and blue neon lit up the bar and the bar tender loitered, towel over his shoulder, waiting to be beckoned for another shot. Another pint. Another anything. Anything to dull the senses.





 He took a deep drink, feeling the liquor course through his chest and into his stomachs. It tasted like desperation and oblivion, like revenge and rage, and he fucking loved it. He loved everything about feeling nothing because perversely it was something, and these days having something was more than most.





One of the local girls noticed him and began to walk over to him, swaying like a tropical palm as she crossed the bar. No, like a drunken sailor, that was it. She was trying to alluring but the night had taken its toll.





“You want to take me home, Derin,” she asked, smiling. She had been beautiful once, but her beauty was faded now, like an old photo, leaving her sallow eyed and pale skinne despite the layers of makeup plastered across her face.





“Not tonight,” Derin replied, slugging what was left of his drink. He motioned for another and slid two crumpled notes across the bar in payment. “keep the change.”





She placed a hand on his shoulder.





“Are you not going to buy me a drink then?” she asked, rubbing the collar of his long overcoat. He could smell her perfume, it was overpowering and stung his nostrils. The human girls would always use too much, trying to hide the stench the night left on them, but he could still smell it. He could smell them. So fucking many of them with their bulging wallets and limp dicks, sad little stories of their wives that just didn’t understand them and bosses that kept busting their balls. As if they had any to start with.  





“I said not tonight,” Derin replied, his dark protruding eyes flashing and thin nostrils contracting in his long grey face. She recoiled, stumbling back.





“Jesus, no need to be suck a prick about it,” she said angrily, “A girl’s gotta make a living you know.”





The barman slid his drink over and Derin finished it in one. He wiped his mouth and watched as she turned to head back across the bar towards where a group of sweaty looking businessmen in ill fitting suits had slipped inside and headed to one of the corner booths. Discrete. Private. The perfect place to waste a week’s wage on some exotic off world pussy, even if it was past it’s best by date.





“Hey, wait,” Derin shouted before she was half way across the floor. She stopped and wheeled around. She knew his sort, she thought to herself. Think they’re better than everyone else but their shit stinks just as bad as everyone who drifted into this place when everywhere else had closed.





He felt a hunger stir deep down inside him, and the city coursing through him, hungry and twisted and cruelly desperate. He knew what it wanted him to do to her. What needed to be done. The city whispered it to him, its foul breath warm on his neck as the night air blew on him as they left the bar together.





Her place was closer, safer. Less obvious. Far from the prying eyes of the pointless souls that shuffled like zombies down the long halls of the visitor housing dorms. Piled on top of each other, crammed into windowless rooms and told to wait. That things would be better. That soon they would be processed and they would be free to become part of society, to rebuild what they had lost to the monstrous Earth mining companies.





But they never were, unless you counted recycling. That was the only way out for most. Hundreds from their dorms alone every month. Snuffed out, choked by the misery and emptiness of being so very far from home. From the warmth of twin suns and the caress of gentle summer zephyrs. Lightyears away from cloudless skies and stars that lit up the night like so many fairy lights, sprayed across the inky black.





She opened the door and let him inside.





“You want a drink?” she asked.





He shook his head.





She walked across and pressed herself against him. Her breasts against his chest. Her hand reached between his legs. His lips parted and he let out a sigh.





There was something else he missed. He missed fresh meat. He missed the hunt.





No one would miss her though…















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Afterwards Writing Prompt #9 – Monday 4th of March – “Mothers Day”
	


				

				
Time to celebrate

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

Over the many years Ive been dabbling on here I have always enjoyed prompts. Quite often I like to create lists for myself, and I always enjoy them even more when I have an image or two to stir my writing loins.





So I figured I might share some of mine. Use it if you want. or don’t. 





Theres no limit to how long or short it should be, just see where it takes you. It could be a short story, a poem, or just whatever takes your fancy.





If you send a pingback or a link to your piece in the comments  I will gather all of the outputs together at the end of the week, so for this one the closing date will be Sunday the 10th of March





So this week your prompt is ‘Mothers Day’, and these are a few pics to go with it.





Oh, and you can do what you want with the images. They are all AI generated so no issues with copyright.













































	


	







	

		
		
ROUND UP Afterwards Writing Prompt #7 – “Portal”
	


				

				
Roll up for portal related shenannigans

			

			
	
	

		
	

		






Got a bevvy of portal related beauties this week! Jump into the portal and give them a read! 







Reason









Enemy of mine (A picture prompt story)









Through Space And Time









Portal









Portal

























































	


	





	

		
		
Afterwards Writing Prompt #8 – Monday 26th of February – “Nightlife”
	


				

				
The seedy underbelly…

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

Over the many years Ive been dabbling on here I have always enjoyed prompts. Quite often I like to create lists for myself, and I always enjoy them even more when I have an image or two to stir my writing loins.





So I figured I might share some of mine. Use it if you want. or don’t. 





Theres no limit to how long or short it should be, just see where it takes you. It could be a short story, a poem, or just whatever takes your fancy.





If you send a pingback or a link to your piece in the comments  I will gather all of the outputs together at the end of the week, so for this one the closing date will be Sunday the 3rd of March










If there is interest or people actually get into it I might compile the best one from each week and pop them into a compilation of sorts and pop it on Amazon at the end of the year (accredited of course). But let’s see how it goes first eh…





So this week your prompt is ‘NIGHTLIFE’, and these are a few pics to go with it.





Oh, and you can do what you want with the miages. They are all AI generated so no issues with copyright.













































	


	





	

		
		
Portal
	


				

				
A quick thingy about stuff and socks and portals

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

This was the prompt





 





Slowly and meticulously Albert counted his socks into the washing machine.  Three pairs of black, matching. A pair of Christmas socks adorned with Christmas puddings that he reluctantly wore when his clean sock supplies were low. Two pairs of plain brown ones, office socks for the most part, and 4 pairs of white sports socks that he wore to the gym or when he occasionally wore shorts.





Ten pairs.





Twenty socks.





He placed a washing pod into the drum, and poured a careful measure of softener into the open drawer protruding from the washing machine front. He closed the door, click. He closed the softener draw. Click. Beep beep beep and the washing program was initiated. Water hissed and the drum began to spin slowly.





Albert pulled up a chair and placed it in front of the machine and fixed his eyes on the washing machine window. He would wait. He was happy to wait.





At exactly the same time, an immeasurable distance away across space and time, the Grand Acolyte of the Imani people raised his hands to the sky in supplication to the gods. The Imani people, a small tribe of roving cloud shepherds, no more than 50 or so at last count, murmured in approval as the  Grand Acolyte implored the heavenly deities to bestow upon them a sign of approval.





The gods found it all rather tiresome, but someone had to shepherd the clouds, and so they cocked an ear. It was the least they could do, and they did seem to be doing quite a good job lately. T





“What are they after now?” asked one of the water gods, dragged from an intriguing conversation with an intergalactic Star Lord whom he thought might make a rather good mate for one of his sons.





“A sign,” grumbled an ancient. He was a whirling collection of electrons and space dust, his heart a burning star and eyes that reflected the meteor showers at the end of time. He was the sort of god that wandering poets and charlatan religious types would tell tales of to scare the locals into offerings of first born children and the best bits of bread from the dinner table.





He sighed. They did love a good sign. Made them feel noticed and significant. Which they were not, but it was always best to not let on otherwise the clouds could end up in a frightful state, and that just would not do.





“So be it, “ he said, and with a wave of what would have been a hand he went to take a bath.





At the same time a number of things happened. The Grand Acolyte gasped and fell to his knees as an electric blue portal opened before him and a Christmas sock fell into his cradled hands.  The Imani people declared that surely they were worthy and this was without doubt a great day and from this moment forth they would worship the curious woven pouch that had been bestowed upon them.





On a simple kitchen chair in a small kitchen in a small house in a quaint village about an hour from London, Albert was momentarily distracted from his washing by his post falling through his letterbox and onto the hall floor. Had he not been distracted he might just have noticed a feint blue light inside the washing machine for the briefest of moments.





But he did not see it. And when he counted his socks at the end of the spin cycle, once more he would discover that again, just as happened every time he did a wash, one was missing.