The exercise:
Woo, caught up on comments again.
Let's celebrate with our second revisitation of Vancouver Irrealis.
Showing posts with label Vancouver Irrealis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vancouver Irrealis. Show all posts
Wednesday February 6th, 2019
The exercise:
It's time for February's Yearlong Revisitation.
So let's head back to: Vancouver Irrealis.
It's time for February's Yearlong Revisitation.
So let's head back to: Vancouver Irrealis.
Monday December 1st, 2014
The exercise:
December? Already? What?
The final installment of 2014's yearlong prompt, Vancouver Irrealis? Today? What is going on around here?
Enough with the questions. Let us seek an answer or two. Let me bring you to the beginning... of the end.
Mine:
After the dust finally settled and he had cleared enough filth from his eyes to be able to mostly see where he was going, Tristam began limping his way back to Rewand's apartment. He didn't know what to expect to be waiting for him there, if anything, but he had nowhere else to go.
Nkare, on the other hand, was a different story.
Turn left here, she whispered at the first intersection they came to. Tristam paused, turned his head to look in the indicated direction, then continued on his original route.
Debris littered the streets and sidewalks where the buildings had struggled to accept the intrusion of their counterparts. People lay crumpled on the ground every few feet. Some of them moaned. Most were silent.
Go to your own apartment, Nkare suggested. You know it's safe there.
"What do you have stored in my home?" Tristam countered, hobbling around the splintered remains of a Japanese maple tree. Silence was his only response.
With many lengthy breaks, most of them his idea, Tristam took over an hour to retrace his steps to Rewand's front door. He stood there for a long while. Maybe it would be too soon to see each other again. Maybe she would need more time to adjust to this new reality. Maybe...
She's dead.
"Shut up."
Go home. The codes are all there.
"No, you... what codes?"
Together we can rule this place. Go now, before they find you. The government will consider you a threat. A threat that needs to be eliminated.
"You're insane." Tristam raised his fist, ready to pound on the door. But he couldn't make it move.
I can help you avoid them. Keep us alive. You don't need her. Or the old man.
Still he couldn't close the distance between the oak and his hand. Muddy sweat began streaming down his face.
Even if she's alive she won't be the woman you knew. She'll be the other, I'm sure of it. She was too weak to win her battle.
"That's where I know you're wrong," Tristam muttered. "One final mistake to seal your fate, bitch."
He knocked.
December? Already? What?
The final installment of 2014's yearlong prompt, Vancouver Irrealis? Today? What is going on around here?
Enough with the questions. Let us seek an answer or two. Let me bring you to the beginning... of the end.
Mine:
After the dust finally settled and he had cleared enough filth from his eyes to be able to mostly see where he was going, Tristam began limping his way back to Rewand's apartment. He didn't know what to expect to be waiting for him there, if anything, but he had nowhere else to go.
Nkare, on the other hand, was a different story.
Turn left here, she whispered at the first intersection they came to. Tristam paused, turned his head to look in the indicated direction, then continued on his original route.
Debris littered the streets and sidewalks where the buildings had struggled to accept the intrusion of their counterparts. People lay crumpled on the ground every few feet. Some of them moaned. Most were silent.
Go to your own apartment, Nkare suggested. You know it's safe there.
"What do you have stored in my home?" Tristam countered, hobbling around the splintered remains of a Japanese maple tree. Silence was his only response.
With many lengthy breaks, most of them his idea, Tristam took over an hour to retrace his steps to Rewand's front door. He stood there for a long while. Maybe it would be too soon to see each other again. Maybe she would need more time to adjust to this new reality. Maybe...
She's dead.
"Shut up."
Go home. The codes are all there.
"No, you... what codes?"
Together we can rule this place. Go now, before they find you. The government will consider you a threat. A threat that needs to be eliminated.
"You're insane." Tristam raised his fist, ready to pound on the door. But he couldn't make it move.
I can help you avoid them. Keep us alive. You don't need her. Or the old man.
Still he couldn't close the distance between the oak and his hand. Muddy sweat began streaming down his face.
Even if she's alive she won't be the woman you knew. She'll be the other, I'm sure of it. She was too weak to win her battle.
"That's where I know you're wrong," Tristam muttered. "One final mistake to seal your fate, bitch."
He knocked.
Wednesday November 12th, 2014
The exercise:
It is time for our second to last visit to Vancouver Irrealis.
Okay, I've got last month's adventures open in one tab, an email from Greg in another, and a vague idea of how I'm going to proceed. Let's see how it goes.
Edit: long, that's how it goes. Sorry, there was a lot of ground to cover with only one more entry remaining to me.
The horses arrived this afternoon. Max was pretty excited to see them again (he saw them on our last visit to Dawson Creek) and the two horses appeared to approve of their new home. I suppose that's to be expected, seeing as they were getting overnight lows of -30 before they left.
Kinda makes it hard for me to complain about it reaching -11 here tonight.
Mine:
There had been an argument after Tristam's offer to do what needed to be done. Of course there was. Rewand's objections had been feeble, nearly drowned out by Anne-Marie's outrage. But before things managed to get fully out of control Ertrob had stepped between them, wearing a mixture of concern and fear on his face.
"We have to go back," he said as he held out his hands to the trio. "Now."
"Why?" Tristam had asked, glancing at the screens. "What's happening?"
"The worlds are coming together again," Ertrob said, grabbing a fistful of Rewand's sweater. "You cannot remain here during an overlap... unless you wish to never return."
"Let's go then," Tristam said, taking hold of the boy's free hand with his right hand and reaching for Anne-Marie's hand with his other. She shook her head and began to speak but the instant their fingers touched the room went black and they found themselves tumbling back to the secret room in Rewand's apartment building.
The impact of their return was even more jarring than their departure had been, but Ertrob had no time for apologies.
"That was much sooner than it should have been. This one feels... different. Like it could be the last of the overlaps. You will have to hurry if you wish to... just hurry! You know the building you must find, Tristam."
And with a crack like a miniature thunderclap he was gone again.
Now, as he raced through predawn streets filled with people and buildings flickering like ghosts suffering from dissociative identity disorder, Tristam began to wonder if they might have been better off staying... wherever it was that Ertrob had taken them.
"Where are we going?" Anne-Marie yelled from a few steps behind him. She had insisted on coming and there had been no time to convince her otherwise. Rewand had returned to his apartment, his body too old for this adventure. His disappointment had been unquestionable.
"The only place Ertrob could have been talking about," Tristam called over his shoulder. "The only place that would make sense. The o-"
He skidded to a stop as a woman stumbled out of an alley entrance and teetered to a standstill in front of them. One moment her face was clearly Asian, a long black ponytail hanging down her back. The next she appeared to be a pale blonde with fashionable glasses. A wordless scream united them as she clutched both sides of her head before collapsing to the pavement.
"Come on, come on!" Anne-Marie dragged Tristam forward and out of his stunned horror. "You have to lead the way! Where are we going?"
"The... there's just one possibility," Tristam said, forcing himself to not look back. "The office building that I worked in back home."
It is time for our second to last visit to Vancouver Irrealis.
Okay, I've got last month's adventures open in one tab, an email from Greg in another, and a vague idea of how I'm going to proceed. Let's see how it goes.
Edit: long, that's how it goes. Sorry, there was a lot of ground to cover with only one more entry remaining to me.
The horses arrived this afternoon. Max was pretty excited to see them again (he saw them on our last visit to Dawson Creek) and the two horses appeared to approve of their new home. I suppose that's to be expected, seeing as they were getting overnight lows of -30 before they left.
Kinda makes it hard for me to complain about it reaching -11 here tonight.
Mine:
There had been an argument after Tristam's offer to do what needed to be done. Of course there was. Rewand's objections had been feeble, nearly drowned out by Anne-Marie's outrage. But before things managed to get fully out of control Ertrob had stepped between them, wearing a mixture of concern and fear on his face.
"We have to go back," he said as he held out his hands to the trio. "Now."
"Why?" Tristam had asked, glancing at the screens. "What's happening?"
"The worlds are coming together again," Ertrob said, grabbing a fistful of Rewand's sweater. "You cannot remain here during an overlap... unless you wish to never return."
"Let's go then," Tristam said, taking hold of the boy's free hand with his right hand and reaching for Anne-Marie's hand with his other. She shook her head and began to speak but the instant their fingers touched the room went black and they found themselves tumbling back to the secret room in Rewand's apartment building.
The impact of their return was even more jarring than their departure had been, but Ertrob had no time for apologies.
"That was much sooner than it should have been. This one feels... different. Like it could be the last of the overlaps. You will have to hurry if you wish to... just hurry! You know the building you must find, Tristam."
And with a crack like a miniature thunderclap he was gone again.
Now, as he raced through predawn streets filled with people and buildings flickering like ghosts suffering from dissociative identity disorder, Tristam began to wonder if they might have been better off staying... wherever it was that Ertrob had taken them.
"Where are we going?" Anne-Marie yelled from a few steps behind him. She had insisted on coming and there had been no time to convince her otherwise. Rewand had returned to his apartment, his body too old for this adventure. His disappointment had been unquestionable.
"The only place Ertrob could have been talking about," Tristam called over his shoulder. "The only place that would make sense. The o-"
He skidded to a stop as a woman stumbled out of an alley entrance and teetered to a standstill in front of them. One moment her face was clearly Asian, a long black ponytail hanging down her back. The next she appeared to be a pale blonde with fashionable glasses. A wordless scream united them as she clutched both sides of her head before collapsing to the pavement.
"Come on, come on!" Anne-Marie dragged Tristam forward and out of his stunned horror. "You have to lead the way! Where are we going?"
"The... there's just one possibility," Tristam said, forcing himself to not look back. "The office building that I worked in back home."
Wednesday October 8th, 2014
The exercise:
Quick, before the month moves on without it, a return to our yearlong monthly prompt of Vancouver Irrealis.
If you haven't joined in on this one already, feel free to snag any old prompt from the archives that you haven't written on yet. Don't worry, I'll see it.
And one day, perhaps, reply to it.
I'm going to have another go at catching up on the comments eventually. Hopefully soon.
The NHL returned to action this evening and the Vancouver Canucks opened their season with a 4-2 victory over Calgary. This team looks quite different from last year's, so hopefully that equals different results.
Mine:
The tea this time was comfortingly familiar to Tristam - peppermint with just the right amount of honey stirred into his cup. Anne-Marie and Rewand, however, set their drinks down after one sip and proceeded to forget that they existed.
"Am I... back home?" Tristam asked, keeping his eyes on the tea rather than run the risk of seeing pity or sympathy in the woman's eyes before an answer could be verbalized.
"In a manner of speaking," she replied.
"What the hell does that mean?" Tristam was tired of half answers. He was tired of the never ending barrage of weirdness. He was, most clearly of all, simply tired. Exhausted, really.
"An explanation - a proper one, one that might actually satisfy you - would take hours," she said, her words floating through the steam rising from her cup. "We don't have time for that."
"Well, we do," Ertrob said with a laugh like bells chiming. "But you don't."
"What is happening?" Anne-Marie cut in before Tristam could start yelling. "You said that you could tell us."
"These worlds are overlapping at an increasing rate," the woman told them after the briefest of pauses. "Crossovers are happening on a daily basis. And not just humans, as you obviously know, but entire buildings as well."
"How is that possible?" Anne-Marie asked.
"How could that go unnoticed?" Tristam added a heartbeat later.
"That is beyond our current knowledge," the woman told Anne-Marie before turning to Tristam. "Only abandoned buildings have gone over and remained so far. It is difficult to say why. Perhaps there is less resistance when only wood and stone and brick are involved, no flesh and bone. Or perhaps..."
"Someone or something is controlling what overcrosses," Rewand said.
"That is a possibility that must be considered," the woman admitted. "But there is one thing that we can say with some certainty, as grim as these tidings may be for you to hear."
"Get it over with already," Tristam said, the end of his patience having been left far behind.
"The two worlds are becoming one," the woman told him, then returned her attention to Rewand and Anne-Marie. "And when that final overlap occurs and becomes permanent, your government is dead set on being the ones who are in control."
Quick, before the month moves on without it, a return to our yearlong monthly prompt of Vancouver Irrealis.
If you haven't joined in on this one already, feel free to snag any old prompt from the archives that you haven't written on yet. Don't worry, I'll see it.
And one day, perhaps, reply to it.
I'm going to have another go at catching up on the comments eventually. Hopefully soon.
The NHL returned to action this evening and the Vancouver Canucks opened their season with a 4-2 victory over Calgary. This team looks quite different from last year's, so hopefully that equals different results.
Mine:
The tea this time was comfortingly familiar to Tristam - peppermint with just the right amount of honey stirred into his cup. Anne-Marie and Rewand, however, set their drinks down after one sip and proceeded to forget that they existed.
"Am I... back home?" Tristam asked, keeping his eyes on the tea rather than run the risk of seeing pity or sympathy in the woman's eyes before an answer could be verbalized.
"In a manner of speaking," she replied.
"What the hell does that mean?" Tristam was tired of half answers. He was tired of the never ending barrage of weirdness. He was, most clearly of all, simply tired. Exhausted, really.
"An explanation - a proper one, one that might actually satisfy you - would take hours," she said, her words floating through the steam rising from her cup. "We don't have time for that."
"Well, we do," Ertrob said with a laugh like bells chiming. "But you don't."
"What is happening?" Anne-Marie cut in before Tristam could start yelling. "You said that you could tell us."
"These worlds are overlapping at an increasing rate," the woman told them after the briefest of pauses. "Crossovers are happening on a daily basis. And not just humans, as you obviously know, but entire buildings as well."
"How is that possible?" Anne-Marie asked.
"How could that go unnoticed?" Tristam added a heartbeat later.
"That is beyond our current knowledge," the woman told Anne-Marie before turning to Tristam. "Only abandoned buildings have gone over and remained so far. It is difficult to say why. Perhaps there is less resistance when only wood and stone and brick are involved, no flesh and bone. Or perhaps..."
"Someone or something is controlling what overcrosses," Rewand said.
"That is a possibility that must be considered," the woman admitted. "But there is one thing that we can say with some certainty, as grim as these tidings may be for you to hear."
"Get it over with already," Tristam said, the end of his patience having been left far behind.
"The two worlds are becoming one," the woman told him, then returned her attention to Rewand and Anne-Marie. "And when that final overlap occurs and becomes permanent, your government is dead set on being the ones who are in control."
Sunday September 7th, 2014
The exercise:
The 7th already? That means two things. One: Max is now two months away from turning two years old.
And two: it's time to get back to Vancouver Irrealis.
Had a pleasant day off. Went for that hike we'd hoped to do last weekend, did a few errands, and had a couple families over for dinner on the deck this evening. Max had a blast running around and playing with the other three kids.
One of whom was also named Max.
And was born two days after our Max.
It's a strange, small world some times.
Mine:
"Well that was... unexpected." Rewand offered a weak smile and ran his fingers through his thin hair.
"Where did you go?" Tristam asked as Anne-Marie rushed to her grandfather's side. "Do you remember anything?"
"Oh yes, I remember everything. I'm fine dear." He tried to shoo Anne-Marie away but his hands were shaking too badly for the effort to be taken seriously. "As for where I was, I'd say it could best be described as... inbetween."
"What, like limbo?"
"I seemed to be... hovering between this world and yours. I could see your visitor... but I could also see an empty room that looked much like this one. The Icepol are crawling all over this building in our... reality, but in the other almost everyone was asleep in their beds."
"Are they getting close?" Anne-Marie asked, giving the ceiling and walls nervous looks.
"No, no. Terpe is doing a fine job of getting them to inspect the most harmless areas of this structure. I believe we will be safe here until morning, at which point we will need to begin tracking down Nkare... before it is too late."
"Too late?" Tristam swallowed hard. "What else did you see?"
"In your world there is an important gathering of some sort two nights from now. A conference perhaps? I saw newspaper headlines with varying takes on the same theme above the picture of a man. I didn't recognize him... which is no surprise... but an influential international figure it seemed... I believe he is Nkare's target."
"Tristam?" Anne-Marie saw the blood drain from his face and seemed unsure as to whose side she should be at - her grandfather or Tristam's. "Who is he?"
"His death would throw the city... the country... the entire continent into chaos." Tristam felt a tightness in his chest and a clawing at his belly. "A perfect cover for an overtake."
"Who is he?"
"Geoffrey K. Wilkerson." Tristam swallowed again with great difficulty. "The President of the United States."
The 7th already? That means two things. One: Max is now two months away from turning two years old.
And two: it's time to get back to Vancouver Irrealis.
Had a pleasant day off. Went for that hike we'd hoped to do last weekend, did a few errands, and had a couple families over for dinner on the deck this evening. Max had a blast running around and playing with the other three kids.
One of whom was also named Max.
And was born two days after our Max.
It's a strange, small world some times.
Mine:
"Well that was... unexpected." Rewand offered a weak smile and ran his fingers through his thin hair.
"Where did you go?" Tristam asked as Anne-Marie rushed to her grandfather's side. "Do you remember anything?"
"Oh yes, I remember everything. I'm fine dear." He tried to shoo Anne-Marie away but his hands were shaking too badly for the effort to be taken seriously. "As for where I was, I'd say it could best be described as... inbetween."
"What, like limbo?"
"I seemed to be... hovering between this world and yours. I could see your visitor... but I could also see an empty room that looked much like this one. The Icepol are crawling all over this building in our... reality, but in the other almost everyone was asleep in their beds."
"Are they getting close?" Anne-Marie asked, giving the ceiling and walls nervous looks.
"No, no. Terpe is doing a fine job of getting them to inspect the most harmless areas of this structure. I believe we will be safe here until morning, at which point we will need to begin tracking down Nkare... before it is too late."
"Too late?" Tristam swallowed hard. "What else did you see?"
"In your world there is an important gathering of some sort two nights from now. A conference perhaps? I saw newspaper headlines with varying takes on the same theme above the picture of a man. I didn't recognize him... which is no surprise... but an influential international figure it seemed... I believe he is Nkare's target."
"Tristam?" Anne-Marie saw the blood drain from his face and seemed unsure as to whose side she should be at - her grandfather or Tristam's. "Who is he?"
"His death would throw the city... the country... the entire continent into chaos." Tristam felt a tightness in his chest and a clawing at his belly. "A perfect cover for an overtake."
"Who is he?"
"Geoffrey K. Wilkerson." Tristam swallowed again with great difficulty. "The President of the United States."
Sunday August 10th, 2014
The exercise:
The 10th of the month already? Quick, let us return to Vancouver Irrealis then, before it's too late!
Oh, and for those of you who would like to write today but are finding myself, Greg, and Morganna are too far along our tale for you to join in... how about this prompt instead? It's the most recent one that has yet to be bestowed with a comment. Well, the last post that actually has a writing prompt.
Either way, that took me way too long to find, so please feel welcome to give it some love.
Day off went well, other than the migraine in the middle. Morning and evening featured beach and family time, with a pancake breakfast and our usual Sunday night BBQ at the beach bookending things nicely.
Mine:
Within minutes cushions, pillows, and blankets had been distributed among the three hideaways and a reasonable level of comfort had been achieved. With fatigue trying to squeeze his eyelids together, Tristam decided to voice his question once more. At worst, he figured, the answer would be so boring it would lull him to sleep.
"There are two ways for an overcross to go home," Rewand replied as he settled into his cushion fortress. "The first is simply time. Eventually the two cities lapover again and take back their own. The second... as I said before... is more complicated."
"Try me." Tristam had to repeat himself, as a jaw-cracking yawn garbled his first attempt beyond comprehension.
"A device is required." Rewand paused, considering how in-depth his explanation needed to be. A glance at Tristam's face let him know a perfunctory version would do for the moment. "It's used when a specific exchange is needed."
"As in a particular person on our side wants to replace a particular person on yours," Anne-Marie said.
"Right. But in order for that to happen, the two persons need to be in the same location at the same time when a lapover occurs." Rewand frowned, and Tristam realized it pained the old man to leave the lesser details out of his answer. "Within arm's reach of each other, really."
"So... it's like a kidnapping?" Tristam asked.
"I suppose that's as close a comparison as you can get. But you can imagine the difficulty involved. These are not small cities. They spread, they are filled with more streets and houses and open spaces than any of us can really grasp."
"Some sort of knowledge of the target's schedule would be required," Anne-Marie said, thinking aloud. "The agent would have to mirror the target's moves, just waiting for a lapover to happen and then..."
"Boom. Bag over the head." Tristam rubbed his palms against his legs, trying to control his emotions. "And then suddenly everything is... changed."
"It must be very hard," Anne-Marie said. "I can only imagine."
"There is one aspect of the exchange that gives me hope," Rewand said. "The device cannot possibly be brought over. Nkare had to leave hers behind when she took you."
"What are you saying?" Tristam was suddenly wide awake. "That if we can find it I could use it on her?"
"If?" Rewand asked with a laugh. "I think it's about time you had a look inside that bag of yours... or hers... or... oh, just open it up already."
The 10th of the month already? Quick, let us return to Vancouver Irrealis then, before it's too late!
Oh, and for those of you who would like to write today but are finding myself, Greg, and Morganna are too far along our tale for you to join in... how about this prompt instead? It's the most recent one that has yet to be bestowed with a comment. Well, the last post that actually has a writing prompt.
Either way, that took me way too long to find, so please feel welcome to give it some love.
Day off went well, other than the migraine in the middle. Morning and evening featured beach and family time, with a pancake breakfast and our usual Sunday night BBQ at the beach bookending things nicely.
Mine:
Within minutes cushions, pillows, and blankets had been distributed among the three hideaways and a reasonable level of comfort had been achieved. With fatigue trying to squeeze his eyelids together, Tristam decided to voice his question once more. At worst, he figured, the answer would be so boring it would lull him to sleep.
"There are two ways for an overcross to go home," Rewand replied as he settled into his cushion fortress. "The first is simply time. Eventually the two cities lapover again and take back their own. The second... as I said before... is more complicated."
"Try me." Tristam had to repeat himself, as a jaw-cracking yawn garbled his first attempt beyond comprehension.
"A device is required." Rewand paused, considering how in-depth his explanation needed to be. A glance at Tristam's face let him know a perfunctory version would do for the moment. "It's used when a specific exchange is needed."
"As in a particular person on our side wants to replace a particular person on yours," Anne-Marie said.
"Right. But in order for that to happen, the two persons need to be in the same location at the same time when a lapover occurs." Rewand frowned, and Tristam realized it pained the old man to leave the lesser details out of his answer. "Within arm's reach of each other, really."
"So... it's like a kidnapping?" Tristam asked.
"I suppose that's as close a comparison as you can get. But you can imagine the difficulty involved. These are not small cities. They spread, they are filled with more streets and houses and open spaces than any of us can really grasp."
"Some sort of knowledge of the target's schedule would be required," Anne-Marie said, thinking aloud. "The agent would have to mirror the target's moves, just waiting for a lapover to happen and then..."
"Boom. Bag over the head." Tristam rubbed his palms against his legs, trying to control his emotions. "And then suddenly everything is... changed."
"It must be very hard," Anne-Marie said. "I can only imagine."
"There is one aspect of the exchange that gives me hope," Rewand said. "The device cannot possibly be brought over. Nkare had to leave hers behind when she took you."
"What are you saying?" Tristam was suddenly wide awake. "That if we can find it I could use it on her?"
"If?" Rewand asked with a laugh. "I think it's about time you had a look inside that bag of yours... or hers... or... oh, just open it up already."
Sunday July 6th, 2014
The exercise:
It's time for our seventh visit to the world of Vancouver Irrealis.
Took the time this morning to once again shave the ridiculous growth on my face that has been masquerading as a beard. After that I went to the beach with Kat and Max, which was nice. We got him in the water very briefly and then he just wanted to stand on the beach and throw rocks into the lake.
This afternoon I finally fixed the hand towel rack in the bathroom - it wasn't put in properly to begin with and it had been slowly getting more and more loose. Last week (or was it the week before?) it came all the way out, leaving behind two big holes. So I screwed a block of wood over the holes and attached the rack to that instead.
I also weeded around the tents in our backyard, since Becky will be arriving tomorrow afternoon and I'd like her to be able to find hers without needing a guide or a machete.
Mine:
"Do you know who took my place back there when I came here?" Tristam had to run that through his head a couple of times to make sure it made sense.
"Puy." Terpe sipped from his cup and looked as though that was all he was going to say. But then Rewand gave him a suggestive cough and Anne-Marie shot him a threatening look and he continued after a quiet laugh. "Her name is N-"
"Her?" Tristam was certain that he'd misheard.
"Puy. That's how it goes... huh, sometimes. Why, does that make you... huh, uncomfortable? You must be wondering what she's doing with your b-"
"Just get on with it," Anne-Marie said before Tristam could reply.
"Fine by me." Another sip. "Her name is Nkare Sonsimp. Been in and out of jail since she was old enough to hold a knife. Her crimes grew steadily more serious, and then more gruesome. Never stayed locked up for long though. Always found that... huh, interesting."
"Never ceases to surprise me," Rewand murmured, "what friends in high places can do for a person."
"Puy. So she's playing over in your world," a thick finger leveled at Tristam, "and somebody doesn't want her coming back until she's finished doing... huh, whatever it is they want her to do. That's why the search for you has been so... huh, intense."
"If I understand how this all works," Tristam said slowly, massaging his temples with his forefingers, "she comes back here as soon as I return there. Right?" Three sets of solemnly nodding heads. "Okay. So how do I get back home?"
"It's... complicated," Rewand replied with a grimace. Just as Tristam was about to demand a better answer a sound in the street below the apartment snapped all heads in the room in its direction. An eternal second of silence passed before Terpe spoke.
"Gunshot."
It's time for our seventh visit to the world of Vancouver Irrealis.
Took the time this morning to once again shave the ridiculous growth on my face that has been masquerading as a beard. After that I went to the beach with Kat and Max, which was nice. We got him in the water very briefly and then he just wanted to stand on the beach and throw rocks into the lake.
This afternoon I finally fixed the hand towel rack in the bathroom - it wasn't put in properly to begin with and it had been slowly getting more and more loose. Last week (or was it the week before?) it came all the way out, leaving behind two big holes. So I screwed a block of wood over the holes and attached the rack to that instead.
I also weeded around the tents in our backyard, since Becky will be arriving tomorrow afternoon and I'd like her to be able to find hers without needing a guide or a machete.
Mine:
"Do you know who took my place back there when I came here?" Tristam had to run that through his head a couple of times to make sure it made sense.
"Puy." Terpe sipped from his cup and looked as though that was all he was going to say. But then Rewand gave him a suggestive cough and Anne-Marie shot him a threatening look and he continued after a quiet laugh. "Her name is N-"
"Her?" Tristam was certain that he'd misheard.
"Puy. That's how it goes... huh, sometimes. Why, does that make you... huh, uncomfortable? You must be wondering what she's doing with your b-"
"Just get on with it," Anne-Marie said before Tristam could reply.
"Fine by me." Another sip. "Her name is Nkare Sonsimp. Been in and out of jail since she was old enough to hold a knife. Her crimes grew steadily more serious, and then more gruesome. Never stayed locked up for long though. Always found that... huh, interesting."
"Never ceases to surprise me," Rewand murmured, "what friends in high places can do for a person."
"Puy. So she's playing over in your world," a thick finger leveled at Tristam, "and somebody doesn't want her coming back until she's finished doing... huh, whatever it is they want her to do. That's why the search for you has been so... huh, intense."
"If I understand how this all works," Tristam said slowly, massaging his temples with his forefingers, "she comes back here as soon as I return there. Right?" Three sets of solemnly nodding heads. "Okay. So how do I get back home?"
"It's... complicated," Rewand replied with a grimace. Just as Tristam was about to demand a better answer a sound in the street below the apartment snapped all heads in the room in its direction. An eternal second of silence passed before Terpe spoke.
"Gunshot."
Sunday June 8th, 2014
The exercise:
Before we get too far into the month I figured we'd better make a return trip to Vancouver Irrealis.
Enjoyed a slow and restful day off. Went to the park with Max this morning, napped in the afternoon, and had a picnic dinner at the beach this evening with my family and Maja (Genevieve was out with an aunt who lives in town).
Back at it tomorrow.
Mine:
Tristam rose instinctively, his eyes searching for an exit or at least a half decent hiding spot. Finding nothing suitable, he began to sweat and had to force himself to breathe normally. Then his gaze landed on Rewand, who was regarding him with a poorly disguised smile and, by all appearances, absolutely no panic, and he forced himself to sit back down.
Voices, speaking in hurried whispers, preceded Anne-Marie and the late night visitor's entrance to the room. To Tristam's desperately untrained ear they sounded nearly indistinguishable from each other, though he was fairly certain the new arrival was male.
Seconds later his hunch proved to be correct.
"Terpe, this is Tristam," Anne-Marie said as she extended an arm in Tristam's direction. "He is a guest from the other side, and not of his choosing."
Terpe was an inch or two taller than Anne-Marie and carried twenty or thirty pounds more weight, all of it muscle. He wore a long black coat, the tails of which brushed the tops of his equally black combat boots. Dark eyes beneath closely cropped red hair studied Tristam with great interest.
"Oh Marie, how did you get yourself tangled up in yet another mess?" Terpe gave her a hard clap on the back before making his way over to where Tristam was sitting. For a reason he couldn't quite explain, Tristam took an immediate disliking to the man. "Hello there, Trouble."
"It's Tristam, actually." Ignoring the gloved hand waiting in the air between them, he didn't remember to be annoyed by the new version of his name. "To what do I owe this... pleasure?"
"Have a seat, Terpe." Rewand's words cut through a suddenly frosty silence. "We have much to discuss." Turning to Tristam he added, "Terpe is on our side, for all that he wears the uniform of the Icepol. He has been an incredibly useful source of information that I would otherwise have no possible way to access."
"And you trust him because...?" Tristam gave the newcomer his most skeptical look. It was received with a dismissive sneer.
"We trust him," Anne-Marie replied, "because he is my brother."
Before we get too far into the month I figured we'd better make a return trip to Vancouver Irrealis.
Enjoyed a slow and restful day off. Went to the park with Max this morning, napped in the afternoon, and had a picnic dinner at the beach this evening with my family and Maja (Genevieve was out with an aunt who lives in town).
Back at it tomorrow.
Mine:
Tristam rose instinctively, his eyes searching for an exit or at least a half decent hiding spot. Finding nothing suitable, he began to sweat and had to force himself to breathe normally. Then his gaze landed on Rewand, who was regarding him with a poorly disguised smile and, by all appearances, absolutely no panic, and he forced himself to sit back down.
Voices, speaking in hurried whispers, preceded Anne-Marie and the late night visitor's entrance to the room. To Tristam's desperately untrained ear they sounded nearly indistinguishable from each other, though he was fairly certain the new arrival was male.
Seconds later his hunch proved to be correct.
"Terpe, this is Tristam," Anne-Marie said as she extended an arm in Tristam's direction. "He is a guest from the other side, and not of his choosing."
Terpe was an inch or two taller than Anne-Marie and carried twenty or thirty pounds more weight, all of it muscle. He wore a long black coat, the tails of which brushed the tops of his equally black combat boots. Dark eyes beneath closely cropped red hair studied Tristam with great interest.
"Oh Marie, how did you get yourself tangled up in yet another mess?" Terpe gave her a hard clap on the back before making his way over to where Tristam was sitting. For a reason he couldn't quite explain, Tristam took an immediate disliking to the man. "Hello there, Trouble."
"It's Tristam, actually." Ignoring the gloved hand waiting in the air between them, he didn't remember to be annoyed by the new version of his name. "To what do I owe this... pleasure?"
"Have a seat, Terpe." Rewand's words cut through a suddenly frosty silence. "We have much to discuss." Turning to Tristam he added, "Terpe is on our side, for all that he wears the uniform of the Icepol. He has been an incredibly useful source of information that I would otherwise have no possible way to access."
"And you trust him because...?" Tristam gave the newcomer his most skeptical look. It was received with a dismissive sneer.
"We trust him," Anne-Marie replied, "because he is my brother."
Sunday May 4th, 2014
The exercise:
Managed to dig up some inspiration in the last 24 hours, so we're going back to Vancouver Irrealis tonight.
The local owl rehabilitation center had their once-per-year open house today, so Kat and I dropped by with Max on our way back from a shopping trip in Penticton. I think going in I was the most excited to see some owls up close and personal, but by the end it was closer to a tie with Max.
I snagged a few pictures while we were there, and wanted to share this one of Pilot the burrowing owl:
I'd loved to have spent more time there, getting pictures and hanging out with the owls, but it was quite crowded and we needed to get home for lunch.
Mine:
"I don't mean to be rude," Tristam said as he followed the man into a cramped room that somehow managed to hold three chairs, a couch, and a small coffee table, "but who are you?"
"My name is Rewand," the man said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. The gesture seemed almost apologetic to Tristam.
"Right, Rewand," Tristam's mouth said as his brain thought Right, Andrew. With a deflating sigh he gave up and flopped down into the nearest chair as his host exited the room.
"We don't sit on those!" Anne-Marie told him, one hand covering her mouth as her eyes went wide with shock.
"Oh!" Tristam sprung back to his feet and looked down for signs of damage. "I'm sorry, I just... it's that... I didn't..."
"Just kidding," Anne-Marie said with a grin and a wave of a long-fingered hand. "Take a load off, you've had a long day."
"I wouldn't expect your night to be any shorter," Rewand said as he reappeared from an adjoining room carrying a platter weighed down by a teapot and four teacups. "And, to finish answering your first of what no doubt will turn out to be very, very many questions, I am Anne-Marie's fathergrand."
"I had nowhere else to turn," Anne-Marie said as she accepted a steaming cup from her grandfather. "Sorry, Pa. There were people in my apartment and I -"
"I know," Rewand said, passing Tristam the second cup while taking the third for himself. "You chose wisely, dear. I fear I would not have seen or heard from you again had you entered that building. I have your sharp eyes and quick mind to thank for you being here now, sound and safe."
"I'm pretty sure I don't want to know the answer," Tristam said, sniffing tentatively at his tea. It smelled of ginger and lemon and... something else. Familiar yet out of place. "But you promised to tell us anyway, so... what in the world is going on?"
Managed to dig up some inspiration in the last 24 hours, so we're going back to Vancouver Irrealis tonight.
The local owl rehabilitation center had their once-per-year open house today, so Kat and I dropped by with Max on our way back from a shopping trip in Penticton. I think going in I was the most excited to see some owls up close and personal, but by the end it was closer to a tie with Max.
I snagged a few pictures while we were there, and wanted to share this one of Pilot the burrowing owl:
I'd loved to have spent more time there, getting pictures and hanging out with the owls, but it was quite crowded and we needed to get home for lunch.
Mine:
"I don't mean to be rude," Tristam said as he followed the man into a cramped room that somehow managed to hold three chairs, a couch, and a small coffee table, "but who are you?"
"My name is Rewand," the man said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. The gesture seemed almost apologetic to Tristam.
"Right, Rewand," Tristam's mouth said as his brain thought Right, Andrew. With a deflating sigh he gave up and flopped down into the nearest chair as his host exited the room.
"We don't sit on those!" Anne-Marie told him, one hand covering her mouth as her eyes went wide with shock.
"Oh!" Tristam sprung back to his feet and looked down for signs of damage. "I'm sorry, I just... it's that... I didn't..."
"Just kidding," Anne-Marie said with a grin and a wave of a long-fingered hand. "Take a load off, you've had a long day."
"I wouldn't expect your night to be any shorter," Rewand said as he reappeared from an adjoining room carrying a platter weighed down by a teapot and four teacups. "And, to finish answering your first of what no doubt will turn out to be very, very many questions, I am Anne-Marie's fathergrand."
"I had nowhere else to turn," Anne-Marie said as she accepted a steaming cup from her grandfather. "Sorry, Pa. There were people in my apartment and I -"
"I know," Rewand said, passing Tristam the second cup while taking the third for himself. "You chose wisely, dear. I fear I would not have seen or heard from you again had you entered that building. I have your sharp eyes and quick mind to thank for you being here now, sound and safe."
"I'm pretty sure I don't want to know the answer," Tristam said, sniffing tentatively at his tea. It smelled of ginger and lemon and... something else. Familiar yet out of place. "But you promised to tell us anyway, so... what in the world is going on?"
Sunday April 6th, 2014
The exercise:
Vancouver Irrealis.
Let's go.
Mine:
"You're still alive!" Anne-Marie observed as she came to stand beside Tristam. He couldn't help thinking that she sounded more than a little surprised.
"So far, so good." He started to get to his feet but Anne-Marie sat down beside him, so he tried to turn it into a shifting of his weight instead, a mere repositioning of his backside. He almost fell over. "How's everything out there?"
"Oh, I got yelled at by my boss a little bit when I got back but that's not unusual," she said with a quick laugh. "The streets are just crawling with Icepol though. They seem pretty determined to find whoever they're looking for - they even stopped me to inspect my documents!"
"Right, whoever." Tristam's entire body wilted. He kept his eyes on his boots to avoid looking at his companion, feeling utterly wretched about dragging her into this mess. A voice in the back of his head wondered how many toes lurked inside those boots, but it also triggered another question. "Hey, do you remember when I came into your restaurant?"
"No, Yakth does all the seating."
"Sure, of course. But, you remember taking my order, right?"
"I... well, no. But it was very busy." Anne-Marie seemed a little flustered by this admission. "It's not that you weren't memorable or anything like -"
"No, no, it's fine." Tristam glanced at her, flashing a smile before returning to his footwear study. "It's just that I wasn't... there until the end of the meal, if you know what I'm saying. I guess I was just wondering if I, like, took someone's place when I showed up."
"And whether or not someone took yours?" Seeing Tristam's face transform from hopeless to shocked horror caused her to bolt upright. "Oh! No, you weren't thinking that at all! I'm so sorry!"
"I have no idea how this... stuff... works," Tristam said with a low moan, allowing his head to fall into his hands.
"Well, we can't stay here all night. It wouldn't do either of us any good for the Icepol to come crashing through those trees right now."
"I'm so, so sorry to do this to you. I didn't -"
"You had no choice in the matter, right?" She waited until Tristam shook his head no before continuing on. "Then you have nothing to apologize for. Now get up, we have to get moving."
"Where are we going?" he asked as stood up and collected his bag. He looked at it properly for the first time since he'd arrived in that other place and wondered what had replaced his reports and financial statements. He wasn't at all sure that he wanted to know.
"My apartment, it's not far." Seeing his reluctance, her tone turned no-nonsense. "I've already come this far and there's nowhere else I know that's guaranteed to be safe, for tonight at least. So let's go... wait, what's your name?"
"Oh God," Tristam groaned as he moved to follow his only hope of escape and survival through the trees, "please don't ask me that."
Vancouver Irrealis.
Let's go.
Mine:
"You're still alive!" Anne-Marie observed as she came to stand beside Tristam. He couldn't help thinking that she sounded more than a little surprised.
"So far, so good." He started to get to his feet but Anne-Marie sat down beside him, so he tried to turn it into a shifting of his weight instead, a mere repositioning of his backside. He almost fell over. "How's everything out there?"
"Oh, I got yelled at by my boss a little bit when I got back but that's not unusual," she said with a quick laugh. "The streets are just crawling with Icepol though. They seem pretty determined to find whoever they're looking for - they even stopped me to inspect my documents!"
"Right, whoever." Tristam's entire body wilted. He kept his eyes on his boots to avoid looking at his companion, feeling utterly wretched about dragging her into this mess. A voice in the back of his head wondered how many toes lurked inside those boots, but it also triggered another question. "Hey, do you remember when I came into your restaurant?"
"No, Yakth does all the seating."
"Sure, of course. But, you remember taking my order, right?"
"I... well, no. But it was very busy." Anne-Marie seemed a little flustered by this admission. "It's not that you weren't memorable or anything like -"
"No, no, it's fine." Tristam glanced at her, flashing a smile before returning to his footwear study. "It's just that I wasn't... there until the end of the meal, if you know what I'm saying. I guess I was just wondering if I, like, took someone's place when I showed up."
"And whether or not someone took yours?" Seeing Tristam's face transform from hopeless to shocked horror caused her to bolt upright. "Oh! No, you weren't thinking that at all! I'm so sorry!"
"I have no idea how this... stuff... works," Tristam said with a low moan, allowing his head to fall into his hands.
"Well, we can't stay here all night. It wouldn't do either of us any good for the Icepol to come crashing through those trees right now."
"I'm so, so sorry to do this to you. I didn't -"
"You had no choice in the matter, right?" She waited until Tristam shook his head no before continuing on. "Then you have nothing to apologize for. Now get up, we have to get moving."
"Where are we going?" he asked as stood up and collected his bag. He looked at it properly for the first time since he'd arrived in that other place and wondered what had replaced his reports and financial statements. He wasn't at all sure that he wanted to know.
"My apartment, it's not far." Seeing his reluctance, her tone turned no-nonsense. "I've already come this far and there's nowhere else I know that's guaranteed to be safe, for tonight at least. So let's go... wait, what's your name?"
"Oh God," Tristam groaned as he moved to follow his only hope of escape and survival through the trees, "please don't ask me that."
Thursday March 6th, 2014
The exercise:
Let us make our third visit to Vancouver Irrealis.
Don't want to say too much up top, as my entries into the yearlong prompts always go long. So I shall just share a picture I took of Max this morning:
He was playing peek-a-boo with the kitchen curtains. He can be heart-achingly cute sometimes.
Mine:
Though the approaching sounds made him want to run or at least hide, Tristam forced himself to hold his ground. One of the few things he knew for certain was that he was safe in that grassy clearing by the pond, and that was more than what could be said about anywhere he might end up if he allowed panic to take over.
It's hard to say what he was expecting to emerge from the treeline. If he was feeling optimistic, perhaps someone to show him the way back home. Pessimistic, armed law enforcement officers. If he was wise, anything at all.
As it turned out, it was a boy.
"Oh, hello there," the child said as he drew to a halt, one strangely-fingered hand resting against a glowing tree trunk. It was a wary greeting but still a relatively friendly one.
"Hello." Tristam opened his mouth to say more before snapping it shut again. When you were utterly out of your depth it's rarely a bad idea to let someone else take the lead. He'd learned that the hard way at his last job.
"My name is Ertrob," the boy offered, rising up on his toes before settling down again. He couldn't be more than eight or nine years old, Tristam realized.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Mattris." A puzzled look appeared on Tristam's face and he tried again. "No, I meant to say Mattris."
"It's okay," Ertrob said. "You'll get used to that, Mattris."
"That... that's not my name!"
"Maybe not where we came from, but it is here."
"You're... you don't belong here either?" Tristam asked, a wave of relief flooding over him. He had found someone like him. Or rather, someone like him had found him. Whichever.
It didn't matter. He was not alone.
"Belong? Maybe, maybe not." The boy's face, lit by the blue of the trees on either side of him, looked thoughtful. "I'm beginning to think that maybe I didn't belong back there. The longer I stay in this place, the more it feels like home."
"No thanks. I want to go back, right now." Tristam looked around the grove and was unable to suppress a shudder. A question occurred to him then but he found himself reluctant to ask it. "Wait... just how long have you been here anyway?"
Let us make our third visit to Vancouver Irrealis.
Don't want to say too much up top, as my entries into the yearlong prompts always go long. So I shall just share a picture I took of Max this morning:
He was playing peek-a-boo with the kitchen curtains. He can be heart-achingly cute sometimes.
Mine:
Though the approaching sounds made him want to run or at least hide, Tristam forced himself to hold his ground. One of the few things he knew for certain was that he was safe in that grassy clearing by the pond, and that was more than what could be said about anywhere he might end up if he allowed panic to take over.
It's hard to say what he was expecting to emerge from the treeline. If he was feeling optimistic, perhaps someone to show him the way back home. Pessimistic, armed law enforcement officers. If he was wise, anything at all.
As it turned out, it was a boy.
"Oh, hello there," the child said as he drew to a halt, one strangely-fingered hand resting against a glowing tree trunk. It was a wary greeting but still a relatively friendly one.
"Hello." Tristam opened his mouth to say more before snapping it shut again. When you were utterly out of your depth it's rarely a bad idea to let someone else take the lead. He'd learned that the hard way at his last job.
"My name is Ertrob," the boy offered, rising up on his toes before settling down again. He couldn't be more than eight or nine years old, Tristam realized.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Mattris." A puzzled look appeared on Tristam's face and he tried again. "No, I meant to say Mattris."
"It's okay," Ertrob said. "You'll get used to that, Mattris."
"That... that's not my name!"
"Maybe not where we came from, but it is here."
"You're... you don't belong here either?" Tristam asked, a wave of relief flooding over him. He had found someone like him. Or rather, someone like him had found him. Whichever.
It didn't matter. He was not alone.
"Belong? Maybe, maybe not." The boy's face, lit by the blue of the trees on either side of him, looked thoughtful. "I'm beginning to think that maybe I didn't belong back there. The longer I stay in this place, the more it feels like home."
"No thanks. I want to go back, right now." Tristam looked around the grove and was unable to suppress a shudder. A question occurred to him then but he found himself reluctant to ask it. "Wait... just how long have you been here anyway?"
Sunday February 2nd, 2014
The exercise:
It is time for our second monthly installment of Vancouver Irrealis.
I know that it's only the second day of February and I've given no warning that this was coming today. But I haven't had much mental space to come up with a writing prompt today and I've also been wanting to write this since about five seconds after reading Morganna's January entry.
Kat was back assisting the online course today, so Max and I went to our favorite coffee shop this morning. I think he got a little too wound up (hmm, that sounds like he was drinking coffee...) as he didn't go down for his nap until 2 o'clock. Usually it's around noon. So that made for a pretty long stretch.
Tomorrow we head up to Penticton for our visit with the dentist. Wish us luck.
Well, wish Max luck. Although, if you have a bit extra to go around, I wouldn't mind a bit for myself.
Mine:
"He really does look the part, doesn't he?" Tristam's waitress said thoughtfully, taking a half step back to take him in from head to toe. "Not like that guy we had show up last week, hey Yakth? Remember those short, stubby fingers he had?"
"Oh goodness, I just about fainted I was laughing so hard!" While his waitress and her friend carried on, Tristam looked down at his hands again, wiggled his fingers experimentally. "Wait a half-second, Anne-Marie." Tristam looked up again at this. He was certain her name tag had read Maryann when he got there. Which, to be fair, was no longer there. As it were. "Do you think he's one of... those?"
"One of which?" Tristam asked, as much to remind them he was still an active member of the conversation as anything else.
"People from your side have begun showing up on our side looking like one of us," Anne-Marie said, her expression still friendly but now tinged with concern. "Seems harmless to me, really. The Icepol though... it's ridiculous, honestly."
"The Icepol... you mean the police?" Tristam felt like he was starting to get the hang of things, just a little bit. "What do they think?"
"It's an invasion," Yakth said with a shake of her head. "They say folks like yourself are the first wave, spies or some such."
"How do they even know when someone like me shows up?" Tristam looked around the restaurant, suddenly feeling nervous. A few of the other patrons, all of whom seemed vaguely familiar, were speaking into devices that must have been their equivalent of cell phones. One in particular looked away quickly when she saw him looking in her direction. "People report them."
"Those that are caught before returning to the other... your side are arrested, dragged away for questioning." Anne-Marie said in a whisper heavy with promises of secret horrors. Tristam didn't bother asking what sort of methods were employed in the interrogations. "You should probably get out of here."
"I wouldn't know where to go!" Tristam checked the sidewalks and streets but saw no sign of approaching law enforcement. Not that he'd know what uniforms they'd be wearing, if any. He tried to swallow and found that he could not.
"Come on, then," Anne-Marie said after exchanging a long look with her coworker. "Grab your bag and follow me."
Tristam stood and gathered the duffel bag at his feet, the grip of terror forcing questions to become actions. As he followed his waitress's hurried steps through the restaurant he almost forgot that the bag he was clutching to his chest had been a briefcase when he'd first sat down to eat.
It is time for our second monthly installment of Vancouver Irrealis.
I know that it's only the second day of February and I've given no warning that this was coming today. But I haven't had much mental space to come up with a writing prompt today and I've also been wanting to write this since about five seconds after reading Morganna's January entry.
Kat was back assisting the online course today, so Max and I went to our favorite coffee shop this morning. I think he got a little too wound up (hmm, that sounds like he was drinking coffee...) as he didn't go down for his nap until 2 o'clock. Usually it's around noon. So that made for a pretty long stretch.
Tomorrow we head up to Penticton for our visit with the dentist. Wish us luck.
Well, wish Max luck. Although, if you have a bit extra to go around, I wouldn't mind a bit for myself.
Mine:
"He really does look the part, doesn't he?" Tristam's waitress said thoughtfully, taking a half step back to take him in from head to toe. "Not like that guy we had show up last week, hey Yakth? Remember those short, stubby fingers he had?"
"Oh goodness, I just about fainted I was laughing so hard!" While his waitress and her friend carried on, Tristam looked down at his hands again, wiggled his fingers experimentally. "Wait a half-second, Anne-Marie." Tristam looked up again at this. He was certain her name tag had read Maryann when he got there. Which, to be fair, was no longer there. As it were. "Do you think he's one of... those?"
"One of which?" Tristam asked, as much to remind them he was still an active member of the conversation as anything else.
"People from your side have begun showing up on our side looking like one of us," Anne-Marie said, her expression still friendly but now tinged with concern. "Seems harmless to me, really. The Icepol though... it's ridiculous, honestly."
"The Icepol... you mean the police?" Tristam felt like he was starting to get the hang of things, just a little bit. "What do they think?"
"It's an invasion," Yakth said with a shake of her head. "They say folks like yourself are the first wave, spies or some such."
"How do they even know when someone like me shows up?" Tristam looked around the restaurant, suddenly feeling nervous. A few of the other patrons, all of whom seemed vaguely familiar, were speaking into devices that must have been their equivalent of cell phones. One in particular looked away quickly when she saw him looking in her direction. "People report them."
"Those that are caught before returning to the other... your side are arrested, dragged away for questioning." Anne-Marie said in a whisper heavy with promises of secret horrors. Tristam didn't bother asking what sort of methods were employed in the interrogations. "You should probably get out of here."
"I wouldn't know where to go!" Tristam checked the sidewalks and streets but saw no sign of approaching law enforcement. Not that he'd know what uniforms they'd be wearing, if any. He tried to swallow and found that he could not.
"Come on, then," Anne-Marie said after exchanging a long look with her coworker. "Grab your bag and follow me."
Tristam stood and gathered the duffel bag at his feet, the grip of terror forcing questions to become actions. As he followed his waitress's hurried steps through the restaurant he almost forgot that the bag he was clutching to his chest had been a briefcase when he'd first sat down to eat.
Sunday January 5th, 2014
The exercise:
After our monthly adventures in Mejaran last year, I could hardly not do another yearlong prompt in 2014. But I wanted to give someone else a chance to create the world we all will have the opportunity to play in this time around.
Which means, for the very first time, the writing below is not mine. And that my initial contribution will be in the comments, which... feels very strange, to be honest. Not bad, just different.
Anyway, without further ado, let me allow Greg to introduce you to: Vancouver Irrealis.
Greg's:
It was a moment's inattentiveness from some cosmic observer. In the blink of a quantum eye the entirety of Vancouver slipped somehow sideways a fraction of an inch, and everything changed. It was a slow and subtle change; at first it was nothing more than an odd haze like a heat haze at the edges of the city and out on the water, but the hazes grew more regular and it became harder to discern things past them.
Then the streets and houses of Vancouver itself became affected; sometimes it would seem like they weren't there, or that they'd grown thinner or wider, or suddenly had trees on them that had never been there before. People talked about it as they stood at crosswalks or queued at the coffee shop. But it was only odd, it wasn't disturbing.
Then the first gossamer building slipped into existence in a scintillation of coloured lights, replacing the Vancouver Art Gallery for entirely ten minutes before fading away again. People clustered on the other side of the street, their shopping forgotten while they stared at it, and one or two of the braver ones waved at the people they could see inside. Some of the people inside waved back.
Soon it was established, five times a day on a schedule that slipped steadily back an hour every week, the other Vancouver started showing through, and people could pass from one into another if they timed it right, or if they'd developed a knack for it. Reports came back of a Vancouver very similar to the real one, but different in ways that got to you after a while. Vancouver irrealis pressed in on the real world, and the pressure was bound to have consequences.
The other people were just like the city, almost identically human, but the differences, when you started to see them, nagged at you day and night. Like the faint patterns on their skin, just a tiny bit like lizard skin. Like the extra teeth they had in a mouth almost the same size. Like the fact that their edgemost fingers were the longest instead of the shortest.
Tristam was sat on an outside bench at the Yaletown Brewing Company, a decent pub cum restaurant downtown, enjoying the crispness of early autumn, when Vancouver irrealis manifested itself right there, and pulled him through into the other Vancouver.
After our monthly adventures in Mejaran last year, I could hardly not do another yearlong prompt in 2014. But I wanted to give someone else a chance to create the world we all will have the opportunity to play in this time around.
Which means, for the very first time, the writing below is not mine. And that my initial contribution will be in the comments, which... feels very strange, to be honest. Not bad, just different.
Anyway, without further ado, let me allow Greg to introduce you to: Vancouver Irrealis.
Greg's:
It was a moment's inattentiveness from some cosmic observer. In the blink of a quantum eye the entirety of Vancouver slipped somehow sideways a fraction of an inch, and everything changed. It was a slow and subtle change; at first it was nothing more than an odd haze like a heat haze at the edges of the city and out on the water, but the hazes grew more regular and it became harder to discern things past them.
Then the streets and houses of Vancouver itself became affected; sometimes it would seem like they weren't there, or that they'd grown thinner or wider, or suddenly had trees on them that had never been there before. People talked about it as they stood at crosswalks or queued at the coffee shop. But it was only odd, it wasn't disturbing.
Then the first gossamer building slipped into existence in a scintillation of coloured lights, replacing the Vancouver Art Gallery for entirely ten minutes before fading away again. People clustered on the other side of the street, their shopping forgotten while they stared at it, and one or two of the braver ones waved at the people they could see inside. Some of the people inside waved back.
Soon it was established, five times a day on a schedule that slipped steadily back an hour every week, the other Vancouver started showing through, and people could pass from one into another if they timed it right, or if they'd developed a knack for it. Reports came back of a Vancouver very similar to the real one, but different in ways that got to you after a while. Vancouver irrealis pressed in on the real world, and the pressure was bound to have consequences.
The other people were just like the city, almost identically human, but the differences, when you started to see them, nagged at you day and night. Like the faint patterns on their skin, just a tiny bit like lizard skin. Like the extra teeth they had in a mouth almost the same size. Like the fact that their edgemost fingers were the longest instead of the shortest.
Tristam was sat on an outside bench at the Yaletown Brewing Company, a decent pub cum restaurant downtown, enjoying the crispness of early autumn, when Vancouver irrealis manifested itself right there, and pulled him through into the other Vancouver.
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