In a desert? I feel like you're dropping hints ;-)
Desert Snake was on the threshold of the doorway when the Inversion hit the shack and instead of being moved inwards or outwards he was stretched impossibly thinly and became part of the boundary around the shack. It was like hitting a trampoline face-down with your full body: there was an impact but it was soft and spread-out, and his vision was suddenly a 360-degree inward-looking thing and he couldn't tell where he started or finished, or what his hands, arms, toes and feet were. He didn't dare try moving anything, but he could see all of the shack quite clearly: the things nailed to the walls, the strange black-and-white oasis, a barbell lying against a wall and an empty, torn gym-bag on the floor. There were the boxes that were powering things, the cable that seemed to snake outside but into himself as well, and there was a dull droning noise that put in mind of sermons he'd sat through at church as a child. Then he somehow pulled back together and he had a sense of loss as though he was somehow much, much smaller than he had been. He struggled to think for several seconds; it seemed like his thoughts were piled up on top of each other into a teetering tower that was trying to fall over and there was no room anywhere for any more. Then things calmed and became clearer, and he felt like he was thinking again. He stepped swiftly into the back room of the shack and pulled the cables from the machines, assuming that they were somehow responsible. For a moment nothing happened and he wondered if they were powered from somewhere else as well, and then the lights went out. The second box flickered as though it was about to come to life, but he'd pulled all the cables, and it stayed quiescent. There was a scream from somewhere above him, and he remembered the things nailed to the walls. Had they been held in place by the machines? Then sand started to blow in through the door, as though the desert was trying to reclaim the shack.
Sberychev watched the Inversion end and the man in the trenchcoat be thrown back out of the shack. He struck the side of the pick-up truck and a flake of rust the size of his chest sloughed off from the underside. The gym-bag fell from his hands, and something inside it reached out through a tear in the fabric. Then the entire shack twinkled and its intrusion into the abstract realm collapsed. "Oh crap," said Sberychev with feeling. "I should have told Snake not to cut the power." He turned around, though it wasn't strictly necessary to do so inside the Tesseract: he could just have walked forward in the right direction. The oasis was drifting across the desert towards the shack -- towards the black-and-white polar inversion of itself, and Sberychev knew without needing to ask that they were being drawn together.
The creative oasis in the desert of my mind has deserted me, too, for I can’t think of a single thing that’s inspirational about a desert. Wait, I think, it is D.E.S.E.R.T and not D.E.S.S.E.R.T, isn’t it? I double-check the title prompt. Yes, it’s the first one, correct. I’d hate to wax lyrical about a gorgeous chocolate mousse with double cream, sprinkled with shavings of 80% dark chocolate and served with a randomly applied trail of raspberry jus, now, would I? That’d be just plain dumb, that would, but you’d be surprised just how often they get the two mixed up on social media, (now - what was that about “dumb”?) Hm, where were we? Desert. Hm, rats, I’m hungry, now. Where is that mousse? Oh yeah, I’d actually have to get up off the couch and go and buy it, now, wouldn’t I? Stupid suggestive prompt getting all in my head with the wrong spelling, argh! Right, okay, desert... um, “...the dunes lay before me, wave after wave after endless, heat-seared wave of sand stretching from here to infinity, beckoning me on, despite my misgivings and the impending heat-stroke... promising the just rewards of an oasis of date palms and music and dancing women and the coolness of nightfall under a star-studded sky...” um, I don’t know, maybe that’s a bit tacky. How about “... and they round the next dune, climbed to the top and tumbled over the cliff face - the highest dune in the Paris-Dakar rally this year!” I write, trying out my best “journalist” voice, but it’s not convincing. All I can think of, now, is a bowl of dates with some sparkling Evian beside it. I really must get something to eat. My inspiration has deserted me. I can’t think with these stomach rumbles.
I was thinking it was more of a demand, actually...
Well, I'm glad Snake is okay. For now. There's still so much happening and I still want to know what comes next. So... expect a suitable prompt on Sunday :P
Morganna - desiccated and enervating... both fit into a tight acrostic? Impressive!
Dragonfly - gonna be honest here. Was thinking about that chocolate mousse the whole way through. Still am. I might be hungry too...
4 comments:
In a desert? I feel like you're dropping hints ;-)
Desert
Snake was on the threshold of the doorway when the Inversion hit the shack and instead of being moved inwards or outwards he was stretched impossibly thinly and became part of the boundary around the shack. It was like hitting a trampoline face-down with your full body: there was an impact but it was soft and spread-out, and his vision was suddenly a 360-degree inward-looking thing and he couldn't tell where he started or finished, or what his hands, arms, toes and feet were. He didn't dare try moving anything, but he could see all of the shack quite clearly: the things nailed to the walls, the strange black-and-white oasis, a barbell lying against a wall and an empty, torn gym-bag on the floor. There were the boxes that were powering things, the cable that seemed to snake outside but into himself as well, and there was a dull droning noise that put in mind of sermons he'd sat through at church as a child.
Then he somehow pulled back together and he had a sense of loss as though he was somehow much, much smaller than he had been. He struggled to think for several seconds; it seemed like his thoughts were piled up on top of each other into a teetering tower that was trying to fall over and there was no room anywhere for any more. Then things calmed and became clearer, and he felt like he was thinking again.
He stepped swiftly into the back room of the shack and pulled the cables from the machines, assuming that they were somehow responsible. For a moment nothing happened and he wondered if they were powered from somewhere else as well, and then the lights went out. The second box flickered as though it was about to come to life, but he'd pulled all the cables, and it stayed quiescent.
There was a scream from somewhere above him, and he remembered the things nailed to the walls. Had they been held in place by the machines?
Then sand started to blow in through the door, as though the desert was trying to reclaim the shack.
Sberychev watched the Inversion end and the man in the trenchcoat be thrown back out of the shack. He struck the side of the pick-up truck and a flake of rust the size of his chest sloughed off from the underside. The gym-bag fell from his hands, and something inside it reached out through a tear in the fabric.
Then the entire shack twinkled and its intrusion into the abstract realm collapsed.
"Oh crap," said Sberychev with feeling. "I should have told Snake not to cut the power."
He turned around, though it wasn't strictly necessary to do so inside the Tesseract: he could just have walked forward in the right direction. The oasis was drifting across the desert towards the shack -- towards the black-and-white polar inversion of itself, and Sberychev knew without needing to ask that they were being drawn together.
Dry and desiccated
Enervating
So very
Exhausting, hiking across the
Rainless dunes, never
Time to stop.
Desert
The creative oasis in the desert of my mind has deserted me, too, for I can’t think of a single thing that’s inspirational about a desert.
Wait, I think, it is D.E.S.E.R.T and not D.E.S.S.E.R.T, isn’t it? I double-check the title prompt.
Yes, it’s the first one, correct. I’d hate to wax lyrical about a gorgeous chocolate mousse with double cream, sprinkled with shavings of 80% dark chocolate and served with a randomly applied trail of raspberry jus, now, would I? That’d be just plain dumb, that would, but you’d be surprised just how often they get the two mixed up on social media, (now - what was that about “dumb”?)
Hm, where were we? Desert. Hm, rats, I’m hungry, now. Where is that mousse? Oh yeah, I’d actually have to get up off the couch and go and buy it, now, wouldn’t I? Stupid suggestive prompt getting all in my head with the wrong spelling, argh!
Right, okay, desert... um, “...the dunes lay before me, wave after wave after endless, heat-seared wave of sand stretching from here to infinity, beckoning me on, despite my misgivings and the impending heat-stroke... promising the just rewards of an oasis of date palms and music and dancing women and the coolness of nightfall under a star-studded sky...” um, I don’t know, maybe that’s a bit tacky.
How about “... and they round the next dune, climbed to the top and tumbled over the cliff face - the highest dune in the Paris-Dakar rally this year!” I write, trying out my best “journalist” voice, but it’s not convincing. All I can think of, now, is a bowl of dates with some sparkling Evian beside it. I really must get something to eat. My inspiration has deserted me. I can’t think with these stomach rumbles.
Greg - dropping hints? Moi? Never.
I was thinking it was more of a demand, actually...
Well, I'm glad Snake is okay. For now. There's still so much happening and I still want to know what comes next. So... expect a suitable prompt on Sunday :P
Morganna - desiccated and enervating... both fit into a tight acrostic? Impressive!
Dragonfly - gonna be honest here. Was thinking about that chocolate mousse the whole way through. Still am. I might be hungry too...
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