These are good prompts, and they keep sending my mind off in different directions; ok Inspectral restarts next week, I promise. Well, finishes really, but you know what I mean.
Getting your hands dirty "Honest labour, lad. Sometimes there's nothing quite like getting your hands dirty." Giuseppe leaned for a moment on his shovel, and wiped his forehead clear of sweat and left a muddy smear there in its place. Then he leaned further on his shovel, pushing the steel blade into the dry, friable earth, and heaved another lump of soil out and over the edge. "We're digging up a grave," said Andrew. He had turned sixteen just days ago and was still skinny and tall, not quite grown into his body yet. His eyes, slightly too large for his head, were deep-set and he looked like he hadn't slept properly in a couple of days. He was sweating all over and had given up trying to wipe it off. "Don't protest, dig," said Giuseppe, cutting another block of soil out and heaving it up. "The sooner we get this checked out, the sooner we can put it all back and go home." "Can't we just say we checked it out?" "Hard work, lad, is just that and it's best appreciated when it's over. Like childbirth. And no, we can't go ignoring reports of a strega because when it's too late it's really too late." Andrew shivered; a young woman in a ragged dress who smelled like she'd not bathed in a year had come knocking on Giuseppe's door before dawn two days ago and reported the strega. The moon hadn't yet set and in its etiolating light the woman had looked practically fey herself, but Giuseppe had listened to her stuttering, stammering tale of finding a wolf carcass in the woods and seeing someone bent over it, tearing at its flesh with their teeth and long, claw-like fingers and taken her seriously. They'd gone looking and found the wolf-corpse. Around it were long blond hairs that looked too human for comfort; there were tatters of white shroud caught on branches and thorns nearby and, most damning of all, two good footprints of a bare human foot. "Stregas aren't real, are they? They're like vampires, just legends." "They're real alright," said Giuseppe. "They're more like rats though: a pest an a nuisance and need to be driven out when you find them, in case they breed and bring in more." "Stregas can breed?" Andrew's shovel struck something solid, and Giuseppe didn't answer, instead moving over and clearing soil rapidly. "Coffin lid," he said. "Good strike, lad. Get the crowb-- ah." Ah the soil moved so did the lid, which should have been nailed down all around to ensure the sanctity of the body while it rotted, and revealed an empty coffin. Giuseppe tugged the lid free of the earth and turned it over: the wood that formed the inside lid was scratched and splintered. "Where's the body?" Andrew stared at the lid; it was unbroken, so how had the strega got out? Giuseppe sucked air through his teeth in a low, melodious whistle, and leaned down to look into the coffin. "Oh this is bad, lad," he said. "Look; the strega got out through the end of the coffin and there's a tunnel there. This was planned."
Greg - man, I was trying to give you useful Inspectral prompts this week! Well, I'll see what I can come up with for next week, as I haven't scheduled anything yet.
Having just watched episode 3 of The Witcher on Netflix the other day, this is very timely. I don't know if you've watched it, but that particular episode featured a striga. I haven't watched episode 4 yet, but I might be doing that after this...
Anyway, this is fantastically written. So many great details. I'd say I'd be happy to see this continued, but I think you've got enough things that I've said that about already :P
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These are good prompts, and they keep sending my mind off in different directions; ok Inspectral restarts next week, I promise. Well, finishes really, but you know what I mean.
Getting your hands dirty
"Honest labour, lad. Sometimes there's nothing quite like getting your hands dirty." Giuseppe leaned for a moment on his shovel, and wiped his forehead clear of sweat and left a muddy smear there in its place. Then he leaned further on his shovel, pushing the steel blade into the dry, friable earth, and heaved another lump of soil out and over the edge.
"We're digging up a grave," said Andrew. He had turned sixteen just days ago and was still skinny and tall, not quite grown into his body yet. His eyes, slightly too large for his head, were deep-set and he looked like he hadn't slept properly in a couple of days. He was sweating all over and had given up trying to wipe it off.
"Don't protest, dig," said Giuseppe, cutting another block of soil out and heaving it up. "The sooner we get this checked out, the sooner we can put it all back and go home."
"Can't we just say we checked it out?"
"Hard work, lad, is just that and it's best appreciated when it's over. Like childbirth. And no, we can't go ignoring reports of a strega because when it's too late it's really too late."
Andrew shivered; a young woman in a ragged dress who smelled like she'd not bathed in a year had come knocking on Giuseppe's door before dawn two days ago and reported the strega. The moon hadn't yet set and in its etiolating light the woman had looked practically fey herself, but Giuseppe had listened to her stuttering, stammering tale of finding a wolf carcass in the woods and seeing someone bent over it, tearing at its flesh with their teeth and long, claw-like fingers and taken her seriously. They'd gone looking and found the wolf-corpse. Around it were long blond hairs that looked too human for comfort; there were tatters of white shroud caught on branches and thorns nearby and, most damning of all, two good footprints of a bare human foot.
"Stregas aren't real, are they? They're like vampires, just legends."
"They're real alright," said Giuseppe. "They're more like rats though: a pest an a nuisance and need to be driven out when you find them, in case they breed and bring in more."
"Stregas can breed?"
Andrew's shovel struck something solid, and Giuseppe didn't answer, instead moving over and clearing soil rapidly.
"Coffin lid," he said. "Good strike, lad. Get the crowb-- ah."
Ah the soil moved so did the lid, which should have been nailed down all around to ensure the sanctity of the body while it rotted, and revealed an empty coffin. Giuseppe tugged the lid free of the earth and turned it over: the wood that formed the inside lid was scratched and splintered.
"Where's the body?" Andrew stared at the lid; it was unbroken, so how had the strega got out? Giuseppe sucked air through his teeth in a low, melodious whistle, and leaned down to look into the coffin.
"Oh this is bad, lad," he said. "Look; the strega got out through the end of the coffin and there's a tunnel there. This was planned."
Greg - man, I was trying to give you useful Inspectral prompts this week! Well, I'll see what I can come up with for next week, as I haven't scheduled anything yet.
Having just watched episode 3 of The Witcher on Netflix the other day, this is very timely. I don't know if you've watched it, but that particular episode featured a striga. I haven't watched episode 4 yet, but I might be doing that after this...
Anyway, this is fantastically written. So many great details. I'd say I'd be happy to see this continued, but I think you've got enough things that I've said that about already :P
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