Another slightly unexpected prompt; I guess Ms. Slithery could be a wildling? Certainly she would fit nicely into the prompt label of Wilderness though :)
Wildling I gathered up the papers and Kraulik looked at me like I was a thief. "I don't think Chuckles is likely to recover," I said, pointing to where the unconscious man was lying on the bed. If he was still breathing it was too shallow to see, and he was the colour of milk that's been left out somewhere warm for a few days. "He can have them back if he does, of course, but I am interested enough in this to not leave them here for whoever finds him and claims his stuff." "What little there is of it," said Kraulik, looking around the cramped cabin. Even with just the two of us in here it felt claustrophobic. "Take the book as well then." "I can't read it," I said. "Does that matter? He says he was translating it, maybe there's enough on those pages to translate more of it." "Why would I want to?" Kraulik shrugged. "Something made him write down that we're all fools," he said. "I think he might have been thinking along the same lines that we were, and he was translating that book. Maybe they're not connected, but if they are and the book gets burned...?" "Fine," I said, picking the book up. "I'm not looting though. I'm just... protecting things. For Chuckles." "Sure," said Kraulik. "Want to check his pockets and see if there's anything in them that needs protecting too?" I hit him with the book and stalked out of the cabin.
Back in my own cabin I poured myself a very small glass of sloe gin -- the only bottle of gin I'd been able to find in the closest bar -- and turned the lights on. I sat on my own bunk, neatly made up and ready for sleeping in, and read the translation. Or tried to; it was hard going. Chuckles had written each line he was translating out first, then English underneath, and there was a spider's web of lines and arrows connecting words. As I stared at it slowly deciphered; he was connecting words he was sure of, and guesses were marked in a different ink colour. Now and then he clearly reached a word that caused him to re-evaluate what he'd written so far, so things were crossed out, or circled with arrows indicating where they should now go. A clean copy would have been a blessing by the time I was half way down the page. Adding to the confusion was what the subject matter of the book was. It seemed to jump into the middle of an explanation; I opened the book and checked and the first lines of what wasn't obviously a title page or author details did match what Chuckles had copied out. There was something to do with water, lots of it, and magnetic lines of force. Then there was something astronomical talking about the location of stars and solar winds that were projected from them. Shortly after that there was a block of tiny text in the margin that seemed to be commentary from Chuckles, and underneath it a date. What caught my eye though was that the date was a week away. The last couple of paragraphs were even harder to read and I set them aside for another time. Maybe they'd make more sense when I'd understand the first page and a half better. I intended only to glance at the other papers and then go to bed, but as I turned the pages over the deck-plan of the ship caught my eye and I lifted it closer to my face and squinted. Chuckles had written, in minute letters, words in some of the cabins, and while this was far from the whole ship, I realised that I knew who occupied those cabins. The words did not match names though: there was Wildling, Proteus, Trident, Heracles and Diana. I frowned, wondering why he'd picked these. My frown deepened to the point of being painful when I realised that Wilding was written on the cabin on the plan that had to be mine.
Greg - I may have forgotten about your tale when I chose this prompt. Or, maybe, I thought you'd be forced to take a break and write about something else?
Either way. Nothing to do with stupid snakes.
Intriguing inclusion of the prompt. Very curious to see who matches which names, but more importantly... why.
2 comments:
Another slightly unexpected prompt; I guess Ms. Slithery could be a wildling? Certainly she would fit nicely into the prompt label of Wilderness though :)
Wildling
I gathered up the papers and Kraulik looked at me like I was a thief.
"I don't think Chuckles is likely to recover," I said, pointing to where the unconscious man was lying on the bed. If he was still breathing it was too shallow to see, and he was the colour of milk that's been left out somewhere warm for a few days. "He can have them back if he does, of course, but I am interested enough in this to not leave them here for whoever finds him and claims his stuff."
"What little there is of it," said Kraulik, looking around the cramped cabin. Even with just the two of us in here it felt claustrophobic. "Take the book as well then."
"I can't read it," I said.
"Does that matter? He says he was translating it, maybe there's enough on those pages to translate more of it."
"Why would I want to?"
Kraulik shrugged. "Something made him write down that we're all fools," he said. "I think he might have been thinking along the same lines that we were, and he was translating that book. Maybe they're not connected, but if they are and the book gets burned...?"
"Fine," I said, picking the book up. "I'm not looting though. I'm just... protecting things. For Chuckles."
"Sure," said Kraulik. "Want to check his pockets and see if there's anything in them that needs protecting too?"
I hit him with the book and stalked out of the cabin.
Back in my own cabin I poured myself a very small glass of sloe gin -- the only bottle of gin I'd been able to find in the closest bar -- and turned the lights on. I sat on my own bunk, neatly made up and ready for sleeping in, and read the translation. Or tried to; it was hard going. Chuckles had written each line he was translating out first, then English underneath, and there was a spider's web of lines and arrows connecting words. As I stared at it slowly deciphered; he was connecting words he was sure of, and guesses were marked in a different ink colour. Now and then he clearly reached a word that caused him to re-evaluate what he'd written so far, so things were crossed out, or circled with arrows indicating where they should now go. A clean copy would have been a blessing by the time I was half way down the page.
Adding to the confusion was what the subject matter of the book was. It seemed to jump into the middle of an explanation; I opened the book and checked and the first lines of what wasn't obviously a title page or author details did match what Chuckles had copied out. There was something to do with water, lots of it, and magnetic lines of force. Then there was something astronomical talking about the location of stars and solar winds that were projected from them. Shortly after that there was a block of tiny text in the margin that seemed to be commentary from Chuckles, and underneath it a date. What caught my eye though was that the date was a week away.
The last couple of paragraphs were even harder to read and I set them aside for another time. Maybe they'd make more sense when I'd understand the first page and a half better. I intended only to glance at the other papers and then go to bed, but as I turned the pages over the deck-plan of the ship caught my eye and I lifted it closer to my face and squinted. Chuckles had written, in minute letters, words in some of the cabins, and while this was far from the whole ship, I realised that I knew who occupied those cabins. The words did not match names though: there was Wildling, Proteus, Trident, Heracles and Diana. I frowned, wondering why he'd picked these. My frown deepened to the point of being painful when I realised that Wilding was written on the cabin on the plan that had to be mine.
Greg - I may have forgotten about your tale when I chose this prompt. Or, maybe, I thought you'd be forced to take a break and write about something else?
Either way. Nothing to do with stupid snakes.
Intriguing inclusion of the prompt. Very curious to see who matches which names, but more importantly... why.
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