aliens – Page 2 – Afterwards

Gettysberg – Room 101

The smell of blood and gunpowder mixed with the crack and fizz of musket balls filled Abel’s senses

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. Originally they were 101 words only. I’m less strict about that now. They dont always finish, I just like to try and evoke a certain feeling or scene.

The smell of blood and gunpowder mixed with the crack and fizz of musket balls filled Abel’s senses. Cold steel met soft flesh and a young lad, no more than 18 years old, collapsed lifeless next to him – dark blood seeping into his grey uniform. His heart thundered like the endless roar of cannons trained on their position from the ridge and he took a drink from his canteen.

Looking over to where General Lee stood he reached for his revolver. It was time to end this war.

He raised his revolver but before he had chance to squeeze the trigger there was a flash of light and he found himself back on the table in the departure centre.

“Change of plans Abel” came a voice over the comms, “were going to let the war continue a bit longer.”

Echoes of Mars – Room 101

“You see that girl” he said looking over at a canary is a small cage on a dresser next to the window. “you see those vapour trails? That was me once.”

Amos sat in the old rocker looking out across the open fields in front of the farm house. He watched wisps of clouds dancing across the sky and jet trails slowly dissolving into the blue and remembered a time, long ago now, when he was more than the frail old man now living out the last of his days watching the seasons pass from his window. Snippets of another life he was no longer sure were even his.

“You see that girl” he said looking over at a canary is a small cage on a dresser next to the window. “you see those vapour trails? That was me once.”

The small yellow bird cheeped almost as if in response.

His eyes weren’t what they once were but he could still make out the feint outline of the city in the distance and he watched as shuttles, from this distance mere specks, took off and headed upwards towards the east pacific low orbit station.

There was a flash of silver as the sun caught the side of a large long haul transporter rising slowly upwards and he remembered, not at all fondly, the early days long before anti-grav when they had to strap you to a rocket just to get you into orbit.

He didn’t miss the take offs but he each landing was fresh in his mind as the day he had made them

“Good times” he mumbled to himself rolling a small red rock no larger than a thumbnail between his fingers, a memento of his last trip to Mars smuggled home and his most prized possession. He rocked slowly and pulled a blanket over his knees. He looked at it and his eyes lit up and a smile spread across his face. He had kept it locked away for decades but today, today he wanted to hold it. It was softer to the touch than he remembered, perhaps from being kept in the old cigarette tin in the dresser.

“I went there you know” he told his canary. He had told her uncountable times but he didn’t know that, not anymore. His once sharp mind was now a lottery when it came to the things he remembered and the things he did not. “I saw sunrise over the Martian planes, before we stopped going there and trust me, it was a sight to behold. Miles of red, like a sea of blood stretched out before us.”

The canary cheeped and cleaned her feathers, then hopped down to the bottom of the cage.

“Oh yes” he continued proudly, fragments of past glories now darting about his mind. “I was a real American hero indeed.”

The canary chirped again, and then for a second time as Amos suddenly stiffened, a look of pain etched across his face. His right arm reached for his chest and the small rock fell from his hand. Amos gasped as the bird continued to chirp loudly, now in full cardiac arrest. Hands clenched into fists the life ebbed slowly from his body as his eyes glazed over and with a final gasp Amos McCartney drifted into nothing.

And with that final, his body now relaxed the chair rocked forward crushing the small rock fragment, red dust smeared on the carpet beneath the runner of the old rocking chair. The canary chirped wildly, hopping up to the small wooden perch and then back to the cage floor but there was nobody to hear it or heed it’s warnings.

Slowly, spreading out from the spot under the chair a red stain began to creep. It first engulfed the chair and Amos, turning them a dark ochre red and, moments later, the wood and flesh and plaid blanket on his knees suddenly collapsed into dust. The canary chirped wildly, flying around the small cage panicked.

Outwards it then began to spread and in a moment the chirps of the canary were silenced…

Departmental Duties 2 – Room 101

PART 2

Jeremiah stepped out into the night pulling his coat collar around his ears as the rain continued to fall, iridescent pools forming across the open paved area in front of the building that lead to the cross town zip. The Immigration centre was in the heart of the market district, a leftover from decades before when this was part of a vibrant business area hosting head offices of banks and financial institutions from across the planet. Now it was very much a sea of stalls, food vendors and a pulsating night live that catered for the most basic tastes and cravings for creatures from across all four systems. High rises had been converted for accommodation and the suits were mostly long gone.

The main road through the area was a sea of neon painted against the wall of converted hab-blocks towering high into the grey skies above. Across from the immigration building, illuminated only by the crack and fizz of the day glow signs, he could make out the silhouettes of a tall Carillion and a small group of Thracians.

“What a joke” he mumbled to himself. Earth had welcomed them, gave them refuge and saved them from the ravages of their own worlds, but now they had taken over huge swathes of the city and people like him – humans, born of Earth – were an endangered species in some parts.

“Hey handsome” came a voice from the shadows as he crossed towards the Zip station. “You been working late? You looking for something special?”

Jeremiah turned towards the source of the voice. It was a Carillion. Humanoid in basic form but standing 8 foot tall with bright blue scaled skin they were quite something. Her voice rolled with an enticing melody. It was almost a song and Jeremiah paused for a moment.

“No, no I don’t.” He answered sharply. “I have a wife.”

She sensed reservation in his voice. She know his type. Hated them and their kind but couldn’t resist the lure of something exotic. “You sure baby” she answered smiling. She motioned towards a door lit by a single white light. “My home is your home.”

Jeremiah walked slowly over. There was a reason the Carillions were so popular, he’d heard the men in the office talking about them. “Show me” he said, a snarl on his face

She placed a hand on the side of his head. “Close your eyes baby”.

Jeremiah obeyed and in a moment he felt her inside his head, images of writhing flesh and darkest desires flooding his senses. He could taste her on his tongue. He could feel her long slender fingers on his skin.

“Stop” he shouted opening his eyes grabbing her arm.

She smiled at him and lowered her arm. “It’s okay baby I understand, I’ve seen your thoughts. I know how you feel about us. It’s okay”

He released her arm and stood staring up at her. He wanted it. He wanted her. He had a thousand reasons to head home but right now all he could think of was the thoughts she’d put in his head.

“How much?” he asked.

She reached for his hand and opened the door. “A hundred and fifty Credits for everything.”

He reached into his pocket and checked his wallet.

“I have one request” he said putting it back into his pocket.

“Yes baby of course, whatever you desire” she answered leading him through the door and up a small flight of stairs.

His mouth dry and pulse racing he followed her into a small room. There were threadbare carpets on the floor and a bed along one wall. On the opposite side of the room was a screen draped with a silk gown. The walls were bare save for a long mirror and a crucifix above the sink in the corner.

Jeremiah reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet and paid her. He then took out his phone and sent a message to his wife telling her he would be home late and put it back away.

He looked up at her as she caressed his face.

“So what was that request you had then“ she asked, her voice filling his head.

He paused. He hated himself. “I want you to hurt me…”

Departmental Duties 1 – Room 101

“Carillions are awful at paperwork” he said to himself opening the file on the clan connections. That was it. That’s what felt wrong, this application just looked too good. “What are you hiding buddy?”

Jeremiah pushed his chair back, puffed out his cheeks and put his hands behind his head. Just this case to finish and then he would head out for something to eat and then go home. He sighed and looked out across the ofice and noticed he was alone, the three long rows of pods long emptied for the day. As usual he was first in and last out.

“No wonder the detention centres are full” he mumbled to himself.

He scanned the data on the holo-screen before him. Everything looked okay on the surface but something about the case made him uneasy. There were no outstanding warrants or red flags from across any of the four known systems, he had clan already settled on the east coast and his paperwork was faultless. He hadn’t even had any run ins in the centre which was rare for his type.

He chewed on a pen as he went through every page of the settlement application, but he couldn’t find anything solid.

Like so many Carillions he had found his way to earth after fleeing his home to escape the persecution of the Tardaron Federation, and whilst the central Earth Government wanted to help they’d been swamped in the three years following first contact so had brought in tight regulations to ensure the other systems weren’t just shipping their problems to Earth.

Now didn’t care for either race particularly but the Carillions had provided the earth government with some pretty serious military tech so for now they were the good guys.

Jeremiah sighed. As much as he wanted to reject the case he couldn’t find anything. He tossed the pen across he desk, pressed the ‘Authorise’ button and shut it down.

“Alexa, what time is it” he asked rubbing his eyes.

“The time is Eight thirty five” came the response.

Jeremiah got up from his chair, pushed it back under his desk and headed for the door. There would be more to process tomorrow, he’d meet his rejection quota then.

T is for Tea

Drink up before it gets cold.

I have written on the matter of Tea on a number of occasions though it was rather a long time ago and very few people have actually read them. So I am going to rehash these two posts because, as I recall, they were fun and the first also touches on tea-bagging which you dont get to read about every day. The other is about Aliens, and everyone loves aliens right.

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/29/more-tea-vicar/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/27/the-intergalactic-language-of-tea-daily-prompt/

Admit it, you thought it would be about Trump right 😉

Carrot Ranch Rodeo Challenge 5

In Challenge 5 of the Carrot Ranch Rodeo, writers were tasked with writing a complete 99-word story using Twitter.

In Challenge 5 of the Carrot Ranch Rodeo, writers were tasked with writing a complete 99-word story using Twitter. Of course, they couldn’t make it that simple. Every #Twitterflash story also had to be 11 sentences with exactly 9 words each. This was my effort which was singled out by one of the judges which I was dead chuffed about.

Is anyone else seeing what I’m seeing out there?

If this is how things end I’m getting drunk!

Apparently they come in peace, but my mate Jed’s disappeared!

How drunk am I because I think Im #insideaspaceship

I’ve managed to evade them, is anyone reading this?

Ive found Jed, watching him from an air vent.

Sweet Jesus, they seem to be probing him now!

How the dickens did they fit that in there!?!?.

I think the bloody things are laughing you know.

Oh bloody hell they’ve spotted me, PLEASE SEND HELP!

The visitors are our friends and come in peace.

C. Jai Ferry (@CJaiFerry) commented:

“#PickALineAnyLine! If I had seen any of these lines on Twitter, I would have immediately clicked to read more. Each line is a story in itself, and I had to read faster and faster to see how it all worked out.”

Dripping with Drudgery

‘Tis the season to be jolly, tralalalalalalalala

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we.

Slumped against the cold brick of the station wall Darryl pulled the ragged hood of his coat over his head and twisted open the lid of the bottle of white lightning cider gripped between his legs. It fizzed invitingly as escaped snowflakes danced on the biting breeze and he took a deep drink watching the masses pass by.

“Funny lot aren’t they” he said passing the bottle to a dirty faced, fair haired man sat next to him.

He took a drink and passed the bottle back, yellow fingers taking a cigarette from a crumpled packet. He pulled from his pocket. “Fun to watch though” he said struggling to light it, eventually resorting to pulling his jacket over his head to provide protection from the wind. “So many of them yet all so very alone.”

“Do you think they’ll ever be ready” Darryl asked the fair haired man as the snow started to fall more heavily.

“My Friend” he replied, a fat bottomed girl in a red coat dropping pennies into the cup at his feet. “Merry Christmas” he shouted as she scurried on her way.

“There are days when I think they are going to get it right but sadly each time they fall so very short.” He ran a sleeve under his nose and sniffed. It really was rather cold, next time he would have to ensure he had a warmer placement.

“I think they could be quite great you know” Darryl said taking another drink. He coughed as he felt it trickle down inside him.

The fair haired man laughed. “You really do like them don’t you” he said drawing deep on the cigarette.

“Yes I do” Darryl replied. “They’re fun, creative, passionate, excitable, caring and…”

“And they’re violent and careless and selfish” the fair haired man interrupted.

Darryl sighed.

“I know I know“ he said picking up the cup and tipping out the coppers into his hand.

“How much did we make then” the fair haired man asked finishing the cigarette.

“One pound twenty” Darryl said, sadness etched across his face.

“And there you see my point exactly” the fair haired man said getting to his feet and dusting himself down. “All we need is a tenner, just a tenner and they’re in” he said sharply. “But they don’t care mate, not enough.”

Darryl put the change back in the cup and took another drink of the cider.

“I’m going to give it another ten minutes” he said rubbing his hands together against the cold. “I’m still on the clock and you never know, this could be the day.”

“Good luck” the fair haired man replied, “I will see you back in orbit, I really need a nice cup of tea.”

Fluid

A 6 sentence story.

“Now remember” said Jefferson as the ramp in the belly of the Calista retracted, “you are to follow protocol at all times – understood?”

“Copy that” Helliwell responded smiling, “you worry too much boss, prelim reports that this place is completely lifeless – something wiped out everything sometime in the last 5000 years.”

“There” said Helliwell pointing excitedly to a small shimmering pool in the dusty planet surface, “that’s got to be what command have sent us up here for – water!”

Taking a small bottle from his belt Jefferson bent down to take a sample, and as he made contact with the substance he collapsed instantly, falling into Helliwell and causing him to crash to the surface.

Hours passed, and both men lay motionless in the ochre dust, twin suns passing overhead as dust devils danced across the desolation.

As darkness fell both men suddenly began to move and stood slowly, their eyes now completely black : “Fitssssss like a glove” Jefferson hissed as Helliwell turned to look at him pointing to the Calista and smiling, “It’ssssssss Time to go find a new planet to devour”

Charlie’s Journey – OWPC Challenge

A Donald inspired tale of madness

A Pinch of Happiness

https://unchartedblogdotorg.wordpress.com/2017/10/01/its-the-six-sentence-stories-cue-of-the-week-5/

Armitage – Part 1

… I had suggested, and I thought quite wittily, that she fetch me a sandwich and a nice cup of tea …

I am just reposting this so I don’t lose it. It was my first ever post less than 3 months ago but I really want to use that post as my blog intro and for the life of me I cannot work out how to do that so I am rehousing this one. Sorry to clog up your feed with it.

Michael

I have never enjoyed Tuesdays. Looking back at the significant moments in my life I am pretty certain that were they plotted on a chart of some description – perhaps a rather nice exploded pie chart – not one of those milestones would appear after a Monday but before a Wednesday.

I recall quite clearly my first kiss and it was on a Friday afternoon in late summer, as far from Tuesday as one might hope to get. My children were most definitely not Tuesday babies, preferring instead to squeeze their way into the work on a Wednesdays and Friday respectively and I married for the first time on a glorious Saturday in July and the second time it was a rather bleak Friday afternoon in March. I could attempt to find a milestone moment on a Tuesday but I shall not because there simply aren’t any. Of that I am certain. I do not, therefore, hold out a great deal of hope as I put pen to paper, commencing with it as I am on a Tuesday evening in early July.

Negative it may well seem, and perhaps I would agree that It is hardly the attitude with which to embark on any new endeavour, but such is my outlook as I sit here in the darkness typing. “So why type?” I hear you ask. Well the answer to that is rather quite simple. My wife suggested it might help me unburden myself and provide me an outlet for things inside that would well be far better out and perhaps prove a route to obtaining a positivity which I apparently quite often lack. I had suggested, and I thought quite wittily, that she fetch me a sandwich and a nice cup of tea which I was also lacking at that precise moment in time – but I received only one of her special withering looks and spent a rather uncomfortable evening in the spare bedroom – sandwichless and parched.

Whilst I make no assertions that this is in fact anything other than late night ramblings, were I to consider this something more poetic and meaningful then as creative journeys go this is simply a first step. Perhaps the journey has not yet begun and this is actually only the packing of a small overnight bag. If this is the only thing I ever write then it could actually be the metaphorical equivalent of picking up an exotically illustrated brochure from the travel agents which I ended up leaving on the bus home and then deciding that actually I won’t go abroad this year and will instead potter around the house and maybe build a small wall in the garden.

Not that we have a travel agents. That closed down when the rift opened. As did most things around here. If there is one thing that I am certain of it is the fact that unless the univers decides to undo that which it has done then at no time soon will I be packing a bag – whether overnight or otherwise – to go anywhere because there simply is no longer anywhere to go to.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/tea/

The end of times

J pulled his bedding up around his ears and refused to get out of bed. “No” he insisted, only his eyes showing above the blanket “tell dad that I’m unwell or something but I just can’t face it today.”

Mo scratched his head and laughed “Bro, he will kill you you can’t miss this” he said “it’s the end of days – it’s a big deal.” He tugged at the edge of the blanket, “come on, seriously, he will go mad.”

J resisted but knew it was pointless, dad always got his way. “What am I even supposed to wear?” he snapped, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes. “Has he said what he wants me to wear?”

Mo smiled and threw him a robe. “Same as usual J, you know that now stop being such a baby. Anyway, it might be fun, he has all sorts of crazy stuff planned.”

“Probably better than giving cancer to babies I suppose” he snapped, “that gets a bit old after a while? ”

“Come on, we’re going to be late” Mo said pulling back the blankets from the bed.

“Fine, fine” J said getting out of bed and pulling on his robe. He ran his fingers through his long dark hair and took a drink from a small cup next to his bed. “So is he sticking to the stuff they’re expecting or does he have something else planned?”

“Mostly the same” Mo replied, “But he has managed to rope Lucifer and some of his mates in for some sort of big finale.”

“Oh super” J replied, “they’re a right bunch of arses, why are they involved?”

“Dad reckons that he needs to shake things up a bit and get them back in line” Mo said “apparently they’re getting a bit too unruly and there are way too many of them they’re really screwing things up.”

J adjusted his robes and pulled his belt tight. “What has he got planned for you?” he asked.

“Same as usual mate” he said “mostly whole sale irrational panic and paranoia and he wants me to be in charge of plagues.”

“Plagues, no way man I always get plagues why has he given you those?”

Mo headed towards the door. “Apparently he wants you on apparitions” he said, he knew how much J loved plagues.

“i tell you what” J said, visibly angry “i bloody hate apparitions and visitations – all those good looking women and all I get to do is terrify them. Have you seen me?” he asked holding out his hands, “I have awesome hair you have to admit. I should be getting so many of them but no, dad reckons we shouldn’t mix”.

“Hey, I hate this as much as you do you know that” Mo said calmly, “we both know this whole thing was a huge mistake that got out of hand but we had to control them somehow.”

J sighed, he knew it was their job but sometimes he wished it was just a bit more interesting. “I just can’t wait until it’s all over and we can get rid of them and just bring the family down.”

Mo placed a hand on J’s shoulder. “Not long now mate” he said reassuringly, “and until then let’s just try enjoy it eh – apparently he has something lined up with that Donald chap and the pudgy faced lad, said it will be a right laugh”

For more of this sort of thing you can take a look here

Footprints – An AFA Challenge

Fences – FFfAW Challenge – 11th of July

I don’t have a dog called Caper – Daily prompt

Photo courtesy of intographics @ pixabay

Headline News – #Sunday Photo Fiction

“What you got in the box?” Thomas asked quizzically as Wednesday stepped from the car.

“What you got in the box?” Thomas asked quizzically as Wednesday stepped from the car. He was dressed head to toe in black, which seemed wholly inappropriate for the desert.

“A head” replied Wednesday very much as if that’s exactly what he didn’t have. “I cut it off of one Alphonso White!”

“Whoa! That’s big money you got in there amigo!” said Thomas excitedly, taking the box and opening it to take a look inside.

“It is indeed my friend” Wednesday replied proudly. “Biggest mobster on the Eastern Seaboard – huge bounty – and I have his pudgy wee head in a box!”

“How’d you bag him” Thomas asked looking somewhat panicked. These were not the sort of people whose head you snatched willy nilly. “His people know you took him?”

“No they don’t, it was a complete fluke” Wednesday grinned, “I was following him to get an idea of his security and the daft arses ended up in a big old pile up, everyone dead. I managed to nip in and lop off his noggin!”

Thomas closed the box and handed it back, and pointed to a convoy of black SUV’s hurtling towards them.

“I think we may have a problem…”

200 words

photo © A Mixed Bag 2009

https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/15441533/posts/1542925449

For more on Thomas and Wednesday take a look here

Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Challenge # 44 – #Haiku: HUNT & FIND

I’m going to give this Tanka lark a go, never done one of those before. I might even do a few. Think Haiku with a couple more 7 syllable lines tossed in for good measure.

I’m going to give this Tanka lark a go, never done one of those before. I might even do a few. Think Haiku with a couple more 7 syllable lines tossed in for good measure…

We hunt the dark skies

searching for a sign of life

but what if we find?

watching people lose their minds

religion out the window

Lurking somewhere safe

I hunt but I cannot find

somewhere forgotten

Has anyone seen my keys?

I’m already late for work!

Summer holiday

kids want to go in the pool

hunt for the factor 50

man boobs jiggling in the sun

cannot find my self esteem

Hmmm…not sure I’m cut out for serious endeavours such as this…you can read about my previous encounter with the traditional haiku here.

Look can you see mike

hunt everywhere for a wife

he finds a girlfriend

dates her and took her doggy

out to the park for a walk

Ohhhh…First 3 lines are meant to set the scene, last 2 express how It makes me feel. Let’s try again.

Watch children growing

find their own path in this life

from boys to young men

Tidy your bloody bedroom

and take a shower you stink!

difficult to find

I hunt for my inner voice

must write a Tanka

maybe this isn’t for me

think I’ll just go have breakfast

Picture courtesy of tombud @ pixabay.

https://colleenchesebro.com/2017/08/01/colleens-weekly-poetry-challenge-44-haiku-haibun-or-tanka-hunt-find/

31 days of Daily prompts – Done!

After a month of completing each and every daily prompt I am going to give myself, for the post of the final day of July, something of a reprieve.

I shall certainly be writing about aliens ferreting inside the bottoms of stranger, I will avoid poetry of a most dubious nature and I will most definitely avoid any writings on the matter of chubby people rutting like beasts in space.

Instead I shall allow myself a most substandard (see what I did there?) effort and just rehash things from the previous month.

Having only started writing this month I have found the daily prompts a brilliant way to focus my ideas and to gain exposure for my thoughts. If you don’t already, I would certainly advocate using them.

It wasn’t all tomfoolery and deviant imagery this month though, I tried my hand at some serious stuff too and dabbled with the ideas of dementia, child slavery and death.

Admittedly I preferred to write about things more ludicrous but they were still great fun.

So what will August bring? Not a clue really. But then that is all part of the fun.

Thanks for reading!

Michael

P.S. – Before you ask, yes – that is indeed my body in the picture. Or at least the body I would have had were it not for my love of eating jam with a spoon stood in front of the fridge in my underpants in the middle of the night.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/substandard/

Photo courtesy of comfreak @ pixabay

The continuing exploration of my fascination with alien probing

Malan eased the sleek silver craft to the ground, ion drives humming quietly and three silver legs sliding out slowly to cushion the ships gradual descent.

“This looks as good a place as any” said Malan as the craft settled snugly into a clearing in the middle of a large wooded expanse. His voice was full of excitement as a green light on the panel lit up to indicate that recharging had commenced and a second blinked to indicate that there were no locals within a 1 quillet radius.

“We’re here dear” he grinned “shall I put the kettle on and we can get straight to it?”

His clan mate ran a clawed hand through thick blue fur and grunted approvingly.

“make sure the system’s are running on low power” she bristled, her thick tail swishing impatiently “we need to keep usage low until we’ve recharged enough to make the next leg.”

Their unplanned detour to this awful blue and green galactic backwater was made only slightly more pleasant by the promise of the opportunity to do some probing, something she took great delight in.

“How many did you pick up for me?” Zarb asked curtly.

“Just the one” Malan said eagerly, “there seem to be rather a lot of them so he won’t be missed for a few hours I’m sure. ”

“They all looked like pests to me!” she snapped. “Hardly worth our time I’d imagine”

He was lucky to have her he reminded himself – the benefits of a wealthy family – and she was a quite magnificent specimen when she was vexed. Standing tall she was half again as large as he, her glossy fur thick and blue and a quite magnificent tail that made him want to do nothing more than please her.

Zarb punched away at a small hand held console. “According to this there are already a number of recorded instances of probing across a number of the species on the planet” she said curtly “I guess we won’t be getting any ‘first finder’ recognition! Records seem to indicate a mostly primitive society.”

Malan brought her over a steaming cup of tea, the writhing thrubar tentacles curling around the lip of the mug made her purr with delight as she slurped them into her sharply toothed mouth. “Right, let’s meet our visitors shall we” she said almost smiling.

Malan coughed nervously.

“What?” she snapped.

“He does seem rather annoying”

“Annoying? What do you mean annoying?”

“Well, just a little backwards and he really will not shut up”

“What do you expect” Zarb snarled, “an unpleasant rock such as this is hardly going to be the most intriguing of places is it. I’d be surprised if we were able to learn a single thing of interest from him.”

“I suppose” Malan replied, suddenly feeling deflated. “I just wanted it to be fun you know – special – it’s been a while since we’ve done this together.” Despite her frightful temper he really did admire her and as clan mate’s went she was the envy of many of his colleagues and friends.

“Perhaps just turn your translator off” Malan suggested, “we can still have fun without listening.”

“Hush will you!” she snapped. “Let’s just see what we have shall we.” Zarb put aside her tea and pushed past him and headed to the medical bay.

The first thing she noticed about the earthling was just how small he was. Small and pink. He seemed to have a light covering of fur in a few places but mostly he displayed a rather repulsive amount of flesh. “How revolting!” she said scornfully as Malan followed closely behind her.

Upon hearing her voice the creature turned his head towards her and started shouting something, his eyes wide. Zarb had no idea what he was saying but she thought she would at least entertain it for a while, he might actually turn out to be interesting.

She walked across to a small panel and with a curled claw punched a sequence into a keypad. With a crackle she began to hear the previously unintelligible ramblings translated as he spoke them.

“…You will be purged ..something something…” the translator was struggling a little.

“Animated fellow isn’t he” Zarb remarked, picking up a large probe from the array of tools at the end of the silver bench to which he was strapped.

“…and fire and death will descend upon you…” he continued, his eyes bulging wide as she walked towards him smiling.

“Fire and death eh” Zarb smiled menacingly “I think I may keep him awake for this you know Malan.”

Malan congratulated himself on bringing such pleasure to his clan mate as the creature continued to rage and thrash.

“…and you will be destroyed and you will submit to the… something …will of the most something…Alan Akbar!”

“Alan Akbar” Zarb remarked, “you ever heard of an Alan Akbar, Malan” she asked, now most definitely grinning.

“Alan Akbar? No dear” Malan replied playfully “never heard of the chap.”

“Well my little pink friend” She continued menacingly, running a claw slowly down the creatures stomach, “unless this Alan Akbar is about to burst through the door an rescue you you’re going to feel this descend on you most imminently!”

She held up the probe and something in the creatures response told her that it knew exactly what would happen next.

“Malan, be a dear turn the translator off will you” she asked smiling, “I think we will do this the old fashioned way…”

Whilst this piece can be read on its own there are other pieces which give it some greater context which you can find here and then here.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/pest/

Fly me to the moon – Sunday photo fiction

When Yako spent his food-creds on the lottery he knew it was their last chance of escaping the bleak existence of Earth.

The Series 3 transporter hurtled through the inky darkness, ion propulsion drive humming as it devoured the empty miles.

“Dad, dad, look!” Tovi shouted. pointing out of the port side windows as the earth disappeared, the moon racing towards them..

When Yako spent his food-creds on the lottery he knew it was their last chance of escaping the bleak existence of Earth. “This is going to be a new life for us!” he said gently, “Not many poor folk like us get a second chance of a real life on the moon you know!”

“Will we be happy dad?” Tovi asked, still uncertain.

“It’s going to be wonderful” he grinned, “We’ll have an apartment, food, you’ll go to a real school and I’ll have a job at last!”

Tovi’s face lit up in delight. As the transporter doors Tovi pushed through the crowd desperate to get a glimpse of their new home.

“CHILDREN LEFT, ADULTS RIGHT” boomed the tonoi.

The last time Tovi remembered seeing his father was as he turned and momentarily caught sight of him looking panicked and calling his name.

He wasn’t sure how long ago that was though, time escapes you in the mines of the moon…

https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2017/07/23/sunday-photo-fiction-july-23rd-2017/

Photo courtesy of © A Mixed Bag 2009

The intergalactic language of tea – Daily Prompt

Zarb turned on her clan mate, his blue fur ruffling as she roared her disapproval at again being lost in some awful backwater.

“I swear by the many moons of Tarlex” she bellowed, “If we run out of fuel and end up marooned here waiting for a repair service I will rip out your throat and leave your carcass in this god forsaken place!”

“Now now dear” said Malen, attempting to calm her. She was half his size again and had such a frightful temper, “I know exactly where we are” he paused for a moment before adding “…more or less.”

She scowled at him, her claws twitching and her tail swishing impatiently. “My mother told me that you were an inferior mate” she snarled, “but no, I let you woo me with your throbbing brabnar and your eloquent songs of dal-bur”. She pushed him aside, reaching for the Navigation console.

“Zarb, my sweetness” Malen pleaded, “trust me, we are only a mere 4 quintels astray and we will soon be back on …”

Malan never got to finish explaining how they would soon be back on course following a diversion to avoid a rather nasty solar flare, because he was quite rudely interrupted by a loud alarm and a series of flashing lights emanating from the bridge.

“Malan you useless spawn of a fargon!” She cried, clubbing him across the side of the face and squeezing her ample rump into the not quite large enough chair in front of the console. Furiously she stabbed away at the illuminated buttons with her long fingers.

He looked over her furry blue shoulder as she plotted a new set of navigation coordinates.

“You’ve taken us too far out of range of that sun!” she growled, we’re going to need to spend a couple of cycles on the nearest planet to recharge the cells!”

Malan knew it was best to say as little as possible at this point. “How about I make us a nice cup of tea?” he offered apologetically as she continued to mumble insults about his mother’s cooking and the unimpressive girth of his father’s jarbul.

Now as it turns out, across the collective 11256 recognised civilisations registered at the Central Galactic Office for Sentience more than two thirds have something culturally equivalent to a nice cup of tea. The people of Karpisal V have a beverage almost identical to a refreshing Earl Grey taken each morning as a cleansing tonic whilst the amassed hordes of Qualik have something more akin to a soup of battery acid and pig trotters which is apparently quite invigorating on a summer’s day.

The idea seemed to calm her somewhat and she grunted approvingly.

“I’ll tell you what else we can do when we get there “ Malan said with a hint of excitement in his voice.

“What’s that?” She asked, her interest piqued.

“Probing!” he exclaimed.

“Ooh ooh yes please” Zarb cried “It’s been far too long.

To find out a little more about our furry blue friends take a look here

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/14/probing-a-cautionary-tale/

Or you could see if you like any of this

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/24/screw-you-haiku/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/03/first-blog-post/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/14/we-unlikely-few/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/tea/

Footprints – An AFA Challenge

“Hey Boss, have you seen what Mary’s been writing?”

“That footprints in the sand woman?”

“Yeah her”. Jonah scratched his head and laughed. “Did you have anything to do with it? I know what you’re like, whispering in their ears like you care”

“Look, I never asked to get stuck on this planet ok, I never asked to be immortal and I certainly never asked to be anyone’s lord and saviour. He continued, quite vexed, “2500 years I’ve been here. I get bored. Not once have those upstairs even bothered to so much as pop in and say ‘Good Job’ or read one of my reports. I’m sorry”

“What did you do?”

“Ok I did pop into her dream and I gave it all that ‘I was carrying you ‘ business. I also gave her cancer.”

“Boss, you’re such a dick.”

Inpired by A Frank Angle at

Footprints in the sand

https://afrankangle.wordpress.com/2017/07/10/on-footprints-in-the-sand/

Fences – FFfAW Challenge – 11th of July

“You’re not really thinking of going down there are you”?

“Why the hell not, it won’t matter soon! I just want to say hello to her. Please. We arent that different. She wont realise.”

They so obviously were though. In just about every way imaginable.

“It’s not right Joshua. Why can’t I?” His voice was tinged with sadness. He scratched his head ruefully and ran his hand through his long dark hair. “Are we really so different? All I want is to say hello. Just once.”

“This isn’t our world Abel, you know that. You know the mission. We observe and take notes and we never get involved with the humans.”

“Always the sensible one aren’t you!” Abel snapped.

Joshua smiled. “Come on my friend, let’s go file our report. For what it matters. This time next week the asteroid the governments arent telling them about will hit the earth and she will be gone. They all will.”

https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2017/07/10/fffaw-challenge-week-of-july-11-2017/

Picture courtesy of Grand-Sud

Moxie – An Armitage tangent.

“I do not for one minute” ranted Jones, his face quite beetroot in complexion ” believe that all people are created Equal”. A large vein throbbed above his right temple. “And I will tell you another thing while I’m at it” he continued, jutting out a sausage like finger and spitting as he spoke “there is no way we are taking in any more of those confounded Illegals!”

He seemed rather convinced of his point. Out of breath he plopped his portly frame back into his chair and folded his arms defiantly. As usual though, he failed to acknowledge that these were not solely his decisions to make.

“Now come on Arthur, you know full well this is a decision for the council and not for you alone” Alastair Brown reminded him. Alastair was the local milkman and had known Arthur for as long as he could remember and was quite adept at calming him down. He was in most aspects larger than life and with a will that was seldom swayed.

Arthur let out what sounded like ‘harumph’ and attempted to fold his arms even tighter in defiance, but this simply served to push up his chest until it looked like he had a rather full pair of breasts.

Alastair surveyed the room, and all the other council members eyes were fixed firmly upon him. Anderson, Smith, Wesley and Carpenter were going to let him deal with this one. They backed him, but they weren’t going to let Jones know that.

“All I’m saying Arthur, is that we can take more. We have room. We have resources.”

Arthur didn’t respond.

“The world has changed Arthur, we cannot keep resisting. They need our help, we need to show compassion” Alastair pleaded.

Arthur unwrapped his arms and stood slowly, heaving his considerable frame out of the chair. He had always been a bully, from very young, and being bigger than the other children he learnt from an early age how to use his size to his advantage.

“I will not, and cannot, tolerate one more of those ‘things’ in our village!” He drew himself to his full height and puffed out his chest. He continued, now ignoring Jones and addressing the room “the world may have changed but we are not for changing gentleman. We belong to this village and this village belongs to us!”

Alastair tried to speak but Arthur was not for listening.

“When the rifts opened and those things came through, feasting and destroying and ruining our flower beds they didn’t show us any compassion. They didn’t show us any kindness!”

“Now come on Arthur”, Alastair exclaimed, “That was nearly 20 years ago. They need us, they have nowhere to go.”

“That is not true, they can go home!”

“Their home is dying, you know that. That’s why they’re here”.

Carpenter was about to speak, and noticing Arthur immediately pointed a finger at him “Giles, you surely don’t expect us to take in anymore given what happened to your Mary.”

Giles fell silent. No one spoke until Alastair broke the silence.

“That was low Arthur. You really didn’t need to bring that up.”

Alastair felt he was losing the battle. They had all suffered when the rift opened, they had all lost someone and they had all fought so hard to rebuild their village. The others were too afraid of Arthur to stand up to him, and he felt rather isolated.

Arthur didn’t care how Giles felt. He didn’t care how anyone felt. “So that’s decided then, we don’t take in any more of those confounded blue furred creatures. Let them rot I say!”

The other said nothing.

Arthur sat slowly, savouring the moment. He took a slow drink of water from the glass in front of him. “Moving on to point 2 on the Agenda then, Donations for the summer fete raffle…Giles, I believe that was one for you.”

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/moxie/

Probing – a cautionary tale – Daily prompt

I woke one day only to find

Aliens probing my behind

Imagine if you will my shock

Lying undressed bar just one sock.

Now I’m not the type of chap to moan

but I’d only just set off for home

from work when there to my surprise

An alien vessel fills the sky.

And after that it’s quite a blur

I recall a creature with blue fur

and a cold insertion twixt my thighs

and tears streaming from my eyes.

Then nothing until I awoke

On a metal slab with another bloke

who struggled wildly to get free

and looked just as surprised as me.

And there we lay for quite a while

imprisoned by these creatures vile

until they entered fur and claw

with tails that dragged across the floor.

I blurted out “I must protest

I need to get this off my chest!”

They simply blinked big eyes and peeked

inside my new friends bottom cheeks.

“Now please forgive my attitude

I do not mean to be so rude

but bloody hell this is not fun

please do not rummage in his bum!”

No response, they weren’t aware

it was as if I was not there

they seemed intent on exploration

to my compatriots consternation.

“Now come on really must you poke

inside the bottom of that bloke?

What is it you hope to find

secreted inside his behind?”

I felt an anger from way down

that they’d picked me when leaving town.

Who would believe a humble tailor

with tales of an alien Impaler.

“I’ve hear you lot are so obsessed

with getting people quite undressed

then delving into their hind quarter

is that what your mother taught ya?”

I’m riled, enraged, my dander rising

“Please just stop my butt cheeks prising

and let me go back to my wife

I’m late, not called, and in real strife!”

I know not if it was my words

but my request it seems was heard

and soon they would to my pleas yield

and drop me off in a corn field.

I know not why they chose to take

folk such as us and prisoners make.

Folk laugh when I of my tale speak

how I cold not sit for a week.

One day perhaps I’ll understand

why people all across the land

are probed by these fowl creatures blue

today was me, tomorrow you?

Take heed in case one day you find

an alien in your behind

your wife doubting just where you’ve been

accusing you of deeds obscene

with strangers you picked up in town

finger pointing face a frown

“Think of the kids, please don’t get drunk

and let folk fiddle in your trunk”.

Https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/Tailor/

Armitage – Part 5

Koala Jackson was consumed by exactly none of the fear or trepidation that filled Armitage whenever he considered what lie before him. In fact, she possessed mostly none of the attributes which made Armitage the opposite of whatever would likely pass as perfect for this mission. Not to say he did not have admirable qualities, he did, but the ability to work with spreadsheets, support charities or put up a small shelf in the kitchen were highly unlikely to be required at any point in the near future.

With Close to two dozen rift missions under her belt, Koala was as close to a veteran of these things as you were going to find. At 6 ft 2 she posed a striking figure, especially for a woman – which she quite obviously was. Throw in piercing blue eyes, broad shoulders and a rather intimidating yet situationally perfect crew cut she was not to be trifled with. Drop her into military fatigues and pop a couple of weapons in her surprisingly elegant hands and trifling was the furthest thing from Armitage’s mind. This was most certainly a non trifling situation.

“Shanks!” she shouted over as Armitage stepped from the car, “Front and centre. You too Goodwin!”

Goodwin scurried over, pulling on Armitage’s sleeve to hurry him along. He’d seen enough television to know what she meant by ‘front and centre’ he just never quite imagined he’d need to be either front or centre and the confusion showed on his face as she barked again.

“Move it Shanks, we don’t have all day!”

“I really do think there has been a terrible misunderstanding ” he said gingerly, his feet shifting uncomfortably as he spoke.

“Did the receptionist send you?” she asked

Armitage confirmed with a nod and mumbled unintelligibly about clerical errors and voices in his head.

“Then there is no mistake. The receptionist does not make mistakes!”

It was at this point, looking about, that he realised that a couple of slices of marmalade on toast and a cup of tea were not going to get him through the day. He knew where he was, but it was very much changed from the last time he was here. The Local football team ground had been commandeered by the Rift Police and the large car park to the front of the ground, where he now found himself, was now home to row upon row of military green tents. Large stacks of crates were dotted about here and there and the place swarmed with gnarled looking , heavily armed, military types.

“Don’t look so worried shanks!” barked Jackson loudly, “What’s the worst that can happen eh?”

Armitage was pretty sure that she was making a joke, but the stony look on her face quite the opposite and he wondered for a moment whether this was a question. Armitage had a good imagination, and right now he could picture plenty of things that would be considerably worse than that which he would have imagined were he asked the same question less than 24 hours earlier.

Jackson continued, addressing both Armitage and Goodwin jointly. “Now I imagine you want to know why you’re here”. She did not wait for him to respond. “You have been been chosen by the receptionist to accompany me and my team into the rift at 18 hundred hours. ”

Armitage felt suddenly rather unwell. His brain insisted, quite elegantly and persuasively, that it was simply a ludicrous idea to even consider such a thing, and who the devil did the council think it was to be asking perfectly unassuming members of the public to undertake what was quite obviously a military mission. It was not on and he would like to speak to whomever was in charge because this simply would not do.

Unfortunately, all of this came out as a rather unconvincing “Mnneeegghh”.

“Excellent” she said, “well now that that is all squared away Goodwin will show you to your tent and get you settled” and with that she strode off purposely towards the tents and disappeared.

Armitage stood for a while then looked across at Goodwin. “This way then Armitage” he said, almost cheerily, and set off in the same general direction as Jackson.

Entering the large green tent it was everything he had ever seen on television, back when there was any television to speak of. Two rows of four beds lined each side of the tent and to the right of the head of each bed there was a small metal cupboard and at the foot of the bed a large green metal trunk. Piled neatly on the end of the bed was a sheet, blanket, pillow and pillow case.

“Pick any one ” instructed Goodwin, waving a hand towards the beds “might be worth making up the bed too in case you want to grab some sleep before things get a bit crazy.”

“Why am I here?” Armitage asked emptily.

Goodwin chuckled and sat on the edge of one of the beds, his hands folded in his lap. It was always the same routine. The Receptionist picks them out, lands him with them and he has to explain why some poor regular run of the mill nobody is about to pop into a rift in time and space.

“Pretty simple really ” he answered, “Turns out you’re most probably genetically predisposed to rift travel.”

Goodwin paused for dramatic effect, his slightly too apart eyes not blinking to heighten the tension. This was his favourite part. “I say probably because it did go wrong once and …” He paused again. “Well lets just say that should this not go well your wife will receive a rather nice bouquet of flowers and a card expressing the council’s sincerest condolences. ”

Armitage thought he was going to be sick again. He seemed to be feeling this way a lot today and he was pretty sure that it was nothing to do with the marmalade.

“There are things to see and places to go in this universe Armitage, well beyond that which you could ever comprehend” he continued, “and we need your unique genetic code unlock the rift to allow Jackson and her team to pass through.”

“Oh this is bloody stupid” he replied, the combination of nausea and confusion overwhelming him somewhat. That was all he could muster other than “I really don’t feel well at all”.

“Lie down a while” replied Goodwin still smiling “It will be fine.” He paused again. “Probably”.

Image :https://www.bing.com/images/search?view=detailV2&ccid=e48dXtHN&id=A5ABBE65EF8506F45F1B27322227D48F9A7408A2&thid=OIP.e48dXtHNxGyT3KHbFDIFngEkEs&q=another+dimension&simid=608012592998056987&selectedIndex=77&ajaxhist=0

Playground – Daily prompt

Caleb looked up from the floor, head spinning and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He breathed in deeply, wiping his bleeding lip against the back of his hand. Ben towered over him menacingly, almost willing him to stand up. He was a foot taller and more than that wider and he had a short fuse and a mean right hook

“Get up Caleb!” he roared. “Not got such a big mouth now have you!”

The gathered crowd chanted Ben’s name loudly, cries of “hit him again” and “Kick him” could be heard above the general hubbub. It wasn’t that they particularly disliked him or liked Ben, kids are just like that. No explaining, they just side with the bigger kid sometimes – perhaps out of fear – and on this occasion Ben was definitely the bigger kid.

“Ben please” stammered Caleb, his fists clenched and his heart pounding wildly in his chest “I didn’t mean anything by it honest”.

A tall boy in Blue jeans a black tee shirt leant in and whispered something in Ben’s ear. Ben smiled and took a step closer to Caleb. Caleb stayed down, his eyes fixed intently on his adversary expecting another blow any moment.

“Come on” he said, reaching out a hand to help Caleb up, “get up its fine I won’t hit you again”.

Caleb breathed a sigh of relief, he couldn’t take another shot like that. His mouth hurt like hell and he was already welling up and on the verge of tears. He wanted to go home to his mum and to forget this day had ever happened.

“Thanks Ben” he muttered, taking Ben’s hand and letting him pull him to his feet. “I really didn’t mean to…”

Ben hit him another almighty blow this time square to the nose, his head snapping back and his knees buckling as he fell to the ground. He started to cry, blood now running from his nose as well as his lip.

The Children were silent for a moment as he fell into a crumpled heap, holding his face and sobbing until they suddenly erupted into a cacophony of howls and cheers. Some patted him on the back, others acting out the punch they had just witnessed.

Ben stood over him again, a vicious smile on his face and nostrils flared. Caleb didn’t look up.

“See you at school tomorrow Mummy’s little cry baby!” he snarled.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/savage/

Armitage – Part 4

It’s all good and well gallivanting to heavens knows where wearing only a thin summer jacket” she shouted, “but what if it’s cold. What then?

“Because the council receptionist said so” was apparently in no way an acceptable explanation for Mrs Shanks as to why her husband would be setting off to his almost certain doom shortly after a hearty breakfast. She though of herself as rather tolerant of her husband short comings, and not especially demanding but this was wholly unacceptable.

***You may notice a change from 1st person. Ill go back and change the other three parts tomorrow – proving a bit messy and restrictive to do it that way***

Hysterical as she may have become she was also a practical woman. He didn’t even have a decent pair of walking boots, never mind whatever else one requires to enter a space time fracture! What about the children? What was she supposed to tell them?

“It’s all good and well gallivanting to heavens knows where wearing only a thin summer jacket” she shouted, “but what if it’s cold. What then?”

Armitage wrapped his arms around her pulling her close. 17 years they had been together and despite all the reasons they both had to dislike one another they still made each other happy enough to still be together and were for the most part a rather good match.

“Kate, we both Know how things work” he said. “Since when does anything make sense anymore.”

Armitage put his hands on her shoulders. She looked tired, her eyes red and her face pale and drawn.

“I’m doing this for you and the boys, they’ve assured me you’ll be looked after while I’m away”.

Armitage had some vague recollection of the receptionist making a promise along those lines. He also recalls more clearly her offering to cast him into the rift with his family if he preferred, which of course he did not.

They’d been up all night going through the same things over and over, and getting precisely nowhere. They had decided that they would not be telling the children, but beyond that none of this made sense. There were endless rumours and speculation about what had come through the rift, and what they were, but none of it ever made what passed for news these days.

“I’ve a mind to go down there and give her a piece of my mind” she said, though Armitage knew full well that she wouldn’t. He shuddered at the thought of her confronting the receptionist. It was pretty obvious to him that there was something very unnatural about her and he made it quite clear to his wife that in no way was she to go to the council offices.

“Lets just have breakfast before the boys wake up” he said, taking her hand and heading to the kitchen. “I could do with a cup of team and some toast. Do we have any marmalade?”

A nice cup of tea and a few slices of toast and lime marmelade later he kissed his wife, reminding her of how much he loved them all, popped on his light summer jacket and headed out the door. He didn’t look back but he knew she was watching from the window, tears streamlining down her face.

He reached the end of the street and was about to turn down towards the bus stop when a battered old VW beetle pulled up next to him. The driver rolled down the window and called him over.

“Mr Shanks” the man said, a long thin finger beckoning him over “Please, get in”.

He was a middle aged man with blonde hair and a head that seemed to be too large for the body it sat atop. His piercing blue eyes were also more widely positioned on his head than you would expect, so much so that the combination of the two gave him the look of a startled gold fish.

Little did Armitage know, but that was precisely what his driver was. Or had been. Many things had come through the rift and even more things had gone into the rifts that were scattered around the globe. Mr Goodwin was the result of one of the earliest experiments. He went in a fairground gold fish and came out the creature that was now revving the mustard coloured Beetle impatiently.

Armitage climbed in the passenger seat pulling the door closed, the seat belt clicking reassuredly.

“Call me Goodwin” the fish headed gentleman said, putting the car into gear and pulling out into the road. He was wearing a black suit, white shirt and black tie. He smelled a little damp, like a towel that hasn’t been hung up properly after being used. “You really must have upset somebody to get this gig”

Armitage – Part 3

If I were to believe in the biblical fire and brimstone version of hell (which I do not) then I am quite certain that in it, perhaps somewhere near the back where the sulphur is particularly thick and the gnashing of teeth especially loud, there would be a special corner reserved for council office officials. I am also of the mind that in that particularly hot and fiery corner there would most definitely be an area of exceptional unpleasantness reserved for the receptionists which greet you as you enter most government premises.

A letter received earlier in the week had asked that I appear in person at the council Department for Local Amenities to confirm that I was still alive, and that I should bring identification and proof of residence. Given all we had been through you would be forgiven for thinking that the local officials might be understanding over such things as a misplaced drivers license or lack of a recent bank statement. They are not. A global apocalyptic event may have been enough to bring down some governments but the trusted English council had prevailed throughout and if I wanted to continue to receive the family rations then I had best turn up, and I most certainly had best ensure I had the correct paperwork.

Having clambered onto the number 548 bus which, with the exception of a rather bland looking gentleman wearing mostly beige and carrying a small brown brief case, was completely empty I had held high hopes for an uneventful trip into town. Like most of us, the bus had seen better days and would under normal circumstances have been scrapped long ago, but it remained in service and its damaged body work, faded red paint and torn and battered interior still ran it’s route three times a day. As it spluttered and lurched along the winding road towards town we passed through areas of complete desolation, buildings ramshackle and burned out and then through others which were untouched by what had happened- pretty stone dwellings with pristine gardens and rose covered arches soaking up the late summer sun. The juxtaposition of the two a stark reminder of just how quickly things can change.

The only thing of real note e- route was the American diner which hovered about 3 foot from the ground on the final bend before entering the town centre. It hung there in just the way that a diner should not. A neon “Belle’s” sign buzzed and crackled in the window and a smaller “Open” one fizzed away happily just below it. The diner had simply appeared one day, fortuitously appearing just where nothing else was and was then immediately declared an out of bounds ‘Rift Event’ and cordoned off by the local constabulary. Despite that, day and night People can be seen inside eating whatever it is people eat in diners and by all accounts having a jolly good time.

We left the diner behind us and I was soon off the bus, taking the long way round to pick up a newspaper and heading over to the council office. They were mostly what you would expect from a council office. A cold stone façade housed a series of perfectly acceptable but wholly unremarkable windows behind which could be found an array of equally unremarkable and wholly officious individuals. Paper was shuffled, files were filed and tea was enjoyed at exactly 10.30 am and 3 pm every day. Biscuits would be enjoyed once a week by rota and dunking was frowned upon but not expressly forbidden.

Ahead of me in the queue was the beige chap from the bus who was hurriedly stuffing a pile of papers back into his briefcase. He hastily tucked it under his arm and head down scurried past me, dark rings around dark eyes set into a gaunt face, accentuated by the paleness of his skin. Stood waiting, somewhat nervously I will admit, I was summonsed to step forward.

The woman behind the high counter possessed an uncanny ability to make the word “NEXT!” sound like a challenge to a knife fight after a rather pleasant and leisurely few pints down at the local pub after work. You’d swear there had been an innocuous misunderstanding over who’s pint was who’s, and she was now ready to show me who was boss out in the car park. I’d had dealings with bureaucratic and immovable individuals before but her summons was a wholly jarring and difficult experience from anything I had encountered.

Not that she wasn’t pleasant to look at, she was. So much so that her appearance threw me in the same way that the ghastly thought of a good stabbing had. Classically beautiful, with striking green eyes, sharp cheek bones and long straight blonde hair. She stretched out a hand to take the paperwork I pushed towards her. Something about her very presence filled me with foreboding and the knot in my stomach urged me to make a hasty exit. Something felt wrong.

She said nothing, staring intently at me for somewhat longer than I was comfortable with and as I averted my gaze my name was called.

“Mr Armitage Shanks, how very nice to meet you”. She seemed to boom loudly, like a pompous headmaster might bellow at an unruly pupil, yet there was a chilling coldness to her voice which I felt in my bones.

A small diamante piercing in her upper lip caught the light as she pushed the paper work back at me. My first thoughts were that a piercing in such a prominent position was surely not compliant with council dress code. That was followed by one which wondered why she had not actually looked at my documents to know my name. A third followed soon after, puzzling why at no point had she actually opened her mouth to speak the words I had heard. Thinking back I couldn’t recall her speaking even when she had called me over. I’m pretty certain that I had heard her, but what I had heard was in my head.

“We have a job for you Mr Shanks” she spoke. I say spoke but obviously I’ve made it quite clear that I am hearing her in my head at this point. I don’t wish to labour it but it was rather off putting

Confused, I mumbled something about needing to be getting home it was pie night and not wanting to miss it”

She boomed in my head again, pain shooting between my ears. I thought I was going to vomit.

“It was not a request Mr Shanks, it is an order and I was simply being polite. If you wish to continue feeding your family and availing yourself of the wonderful facilities the council so generously provides then you will do as I ask”

From that point on things get a little hazy. The pain was excruciating – that I recall, and I must have agreed to her request at some point as the pain did eventually stop. I remember the bus and the trip home vaguely too.

The one thing I am certain about though is that tomorrow I’m apparently going to The Rift. So that could be the end of this.

Abandoned – Daily prompt

The eternal glow and flicker of neon flashed across the wet streets as it did every day and night. Not that the two were discernible. Time stops mattering when the skies are forever black and incessant rain falls onto a once vibrant world washing away all hope and joy. Cloaked figures scurry from one place of refuge to another, dodging puddles with hoods pulled close over sallow faces. A world drowning – floundering and gasping for breath drifting through the blackness of space waiting to die. In the shadows the damned whisper tales of a different time, a time when the palette of life with its grey and brown was vibrant and alive but those days are lost now to all but a few. So they wait, clinging onto hope that the exploration ships will return to take them away, that they will be rescued from the planet that has rejected them and that they will be part of a new future for humanity. But it has been so long – beyond memory now – since the ships left.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/pluck/