Write something about: the miracle of the blue sky.
That's what I'm calling it anyway.
This was taken August 18th, around 5pm, on probably the worst day for smoke around here:
This was taken around the same spot (next to our house, facing east), August 25th, about 6pm:
Also yesterday (in the garden, facing west):
Honestly can't remember the last time I saw blue sky here.
5 comments:
I think I prefer your first picture... just kidding :) While I do like the first picture as a contrast to the second (it shows how bad the smoke is that you can't really see the hills at all) the second one looks like somewhere I'd be happy to spend time, while the first one looks more like... some of the places I write about here :)
I hope the skies stay blue for you. And my apologies, this has spilled over the character limit... who would have thought that spell-casting took so many words to write?
The miracle of the blue sky
The tent flaps on all three tents moved after the announcement and slowly people emerged from the tent. It's hard to crawl out of a tent with dignity, and harder still when your beard is tattered and matted, your clothes are grey with dirt and age, and you're old enough for your great-grand-children to be discussing their inheritance behind your back, so for the soldiers the scene was not unlike poking a woodpile and watching woodlice[1] crawl out. The ancient men straightened slowly with sighing and soughing as they tried not to protest their aches and pains.
"Does magical power come with age?" whispered one soldier to another, behind the back of their leader.
"With age comes expendability," said one of the old men, who clearly had sharp hearing. "We are not here because we are particularly puissasnt, but because we will not be missed."
"What is the news?" asked another old man. His eye sockets were empty; wrinkled skin sinking inside his skull as though someone had pushed them deep down where they couldn't be fetched back out again.
"The King's Investigator was sent to Carcosa and returned early," said the leader of the three soldiers. "The babushka says that he went back again though, and is still there."
"How long ago?"
The soldier, instead of answering, drew the heavy bronze compass from his pocket and offered it to the old man. He took it, though the weight of it dragged his stick-thin arm down so fast that he nearly dropped it. He turned it over, then over again, and everyone experienced a sensation of tiny feet walking across their skin, as though they were tied down in honey and ants had arrived. One of the soldiers dared to look round, and his head snapped back to looking at the old men as he realised that the circle of stones had all turned their heads to look at them too.
The compass sparkled and a voice seemed to come from it.
"Two hours have passed and no return. The time differential is 4 to 1 and the environment is hostile."
"Eight hours," said the old man. "Not long enough by far."
"That is what we are here for, though," said one of the other old men. He stretched, slowly, incrementally, painfully. "It will be a blessing, I feel. Sometimes I wonder if we haven't already lived long enough."
The old man handed the compass back to the soldiers.
"Stand over there." He pointed back the way they'd come. "This spell is known as the Miracle of the Blue Sky. When the sky is blue, return home."
"You're going to turn the sky blue?" The leader of soldiers glared at the man who'd spoken, and one hand balled into a fist.
"Yes. Because it opens a passage between two pocket-realms, and while the sky stays blue here, no-one can enter or leave Carcosa."
The spell involved chanting and moving, though the soldiers noted that the old men never got too close to the standing stones. Even at the distance they were stood the power invoked affected them: the hairs stood up on the backs of their arms, they heard whispers in their ears from long-dead friends and lovers, offering fulfillment of hidden desires in return for a moment's embrace, and for fifteen horrible seconds the ravaged earth around them turned semi-liquid and they sank slowly to their waists. When they were spat out and the ground solidified enough for them to land hard on it they heard a brassy sound like the clash of giant cymbals.
Above them, the sky turned blue.
Away from them, all but two of the old men turned blue in the face and choked to death.
The circle of standing stones took several steps back, expanding its diameter, and the watchers all looked up into the sky, finding something of deep interest that the soldiers could not see.
[1] I think these might be better known as pillbugs in North America, though I've no idea why.
There is hope for us! Maybe our blue skies will return soon as well. We have sometimes been having blue way up high but not anywhere else. Yesterday the wind came, and then in the night the rain came, so maybe blue skies aren't far behind.
We have blue sky, too! It rained off and on all day yesterday, and today we have real sunshine and blue skies! No more horrible orange-gray murk for now. There are still fires in the area, and the horizon is hazy, but this is a tremendous improvement!
Unknown Greg - yes, well, you're always welcome to come visit :)
Hmm, trapped in Carcosa doesn't seem like the best news for Derby. Fun to read about though for us!
Morganna - hurray! I hope the blue has stuck around for you as well :)
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