The exercise:
Write about something that is: antiquated.
I realize we've reached a new month once again, but the yearlong prompt might have to wait until next week since my writing schedule has been (and continues to be) a little off kilter.
Kat left last Thursday afternoon to attend a friend's wedding in Calgary, returning yesterday afternoon. I just worked the morning on Thursday, then the boys spent the day with Kat's parents on Friday. Max slept over but I brought Miles home, then me and the boys were back together again for bedtime Saturday night.
Tomorrow I'm taking the day off to volunteer at Max's learning centre, which I haven't been able to do in quite a while due to work. Thanks to getting paid vacation, that's something I can manage to do now and again.
Anyway, no promises, but I will try for Thursday this week. Failing that, expect some more Hindsight next week.
3 comments:
I suspected that you'd been especially busy when the post was late on Saturday, but you've been very occupied by the sounds of things! I hope the volunteering goes well and you have fun :) And I shall look forward to Hindsight whenever it turns up!
Also, from your recent comments: I shall think some more on the subtropical Ilmatu for you, as per your request, and I shall think about taking you up on your dare to have the Sunday poem lose its central character to death only three months into the year.
Antiquated
Heretics of Oxcross started off rather dry and dull, describing a quaint market town in the North of England with all the enthusiasm of Thomas Hardy after writing Jude the Obscure. Collins yawned, even though the population of the town sounded implausible to him, and the hints about the amount of traffic were, frankly, unrealistic as well. The idea of streets so full of cars and buses that they could actually come to a standstill, a traffic jam, was just unthinkable.
He brightened up a little as the tale seemed to begin in earnest, three short chapters in, with the description of a growing cult of people that appeared to be the Radiants. As the book described their beliefs and their ceremonies, and he started to imagine what this would have been like in his hometown he grew more and more involved in the book, hunching over slightly to bring the words closer to his eyes. His breathing grew more shallow and he tensed as more and more things from his childhood were brought to light and shown from a different angle: the Radiant church on the corner of Park Street, the angular phone towers that were moved to be aligned with ley lines, the antiquated enamelled crests that appeared on public buildings, and the way the schools did attendance checks.
“Collins!”
He started so hard that he knocked his chair backwards. It jerked on the floor, friction dragging at its feet, and then tilted and before he could recover balance it toppled and he sprawled into a heap with the chair half on top of his. A rough tongue licked his nose and then found his ear and started licking that enthusiastically.
“Pick yourself up, we have work to do.” Adams was glaring down at him, paperwork in her hands. Collins put his hand up to stop Timothy from cleaning his ears any further, and kicked the chair off himself, getting to his feet. The Inspectral came back into the room and clearly noticed the fallen chair.
“The Psychic Forensic Examiner has confirmed that there is intent centred around Tanham. Timothy has whatever scents are available, and the paperwork for his requisition has been submitted. We won’t be waiting for approval on this though. The Chief Superintendant has also been informed—” Collins sneaked a peek at his watch, wondering how long he had been engrossed in the book for. He was startled to see that two hours had passed, and he felt a familiar sense of dread that the Inspectral was going to tell him off for not paying attention. “--e will be going to Tanham as soon as Ethel gets here.”
“The Ritual Examiner?” Adams was putting the paperwork folders back in the filing cabinet. She slammed the drawer shut, and Collins wondered what had annoyed her this time. “Why?” Collins started putting the book away to hide the smile on his face; he quite liked Ethel and his enthusiasm for everything.
“Because,” said the Inspectral, and for all that his voice was sorrowful and enervating he managed to put the weariness of a mother answering her child’s eighth question of the moment. “I expect Ethel will be exactly on time, because he likes to do that kind of thing. You have fourteen minutes to be ready. Collins?”
Collins looked expectantly at the Inspectral, wondering if now was when he got reprimanded.
“You will be our dog-handler today. Timothy seems to like you. Go down to the front desk and get his tin of treats from the desk sergeant.”
As Collins started off, both relieved and nervous that the worst was still to come, the Inspectral added, “And...”
Collins stopped, his breath catching in his throat.
“...you seem to be good at finding people. Bring Ethel back with you.”
Greg - thanks, it was fun.
Also: har har har, you're so funny.
Hmm, I think I would like to hear more from that book. But I do appreciate that the *actual* story does need to move forward still.
Looking forward to the field trip!
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