Communal Short Story

[Sancho Panza]

What better idea for a game on a forum about literature than for everybody to contribute to a communal short story, one line at a time. Apologies if this has already been done, but there's always room for a fresh start. Well here goes, two sentences to start the ball rolling:

Richard always considered himself to be an average kind of person with an average kind of life. But that all changed on the day he found the book.

[Delta40]

The cover was so dusty, he couldn't make out the title embossed in the leather.

[Paulclem]

The book was very old, and so he carefully cleaned all the ingrained dust and muck from the title. He was so focused upon making every nook and cranny gleam that it was only when he sat back to view his work that he noticed his own embossed name.

[Delta40]

None of it made sense at first. The book was dated 1824 and it was creepy to see his full baptismal name on the cover.

[Sancho Panza]

He eased open the antediluvian cover, which groaned as if in agony and there, on the first page was a black and white photograph that could only have been of him, Richard Morgan Prenderghast III. But he looked again and saw that there was something wrong.

[YesNo]

Beneath the photo, clearly printed, was a year of birth as well as death.

[BookBeauty]

''Richard, what on earth are you doing, digging around in the attic?'' The crackly voice was as familiar to him as the years written beneath the photo.

[Sancho Panza]

He spun round in surprise, sending the book crashing to the floor. There, coming up the ladder behind him was Margaret, his loyal wife for the past 30 years.

[BookBeauty]

She smiled fondly to him, but as her eyes lit upon the item in his hands, the colour fled from her cheeks.

[Sancho Panza]

"Where did you find that?" she demanded, holding out her hands as if ordering him to hand it over.

[Pendragon]

"It was in that old chest..." He stopped. The chest was actually new, and free from dust.

[BookBeauty]

''Well, why don't you come downstairs and have a cup of tea, hmm?'' She was back to her old self, smiling. ''I've made cookies.'' She added, still eyeing the photograph in his hand.

[cacian]

Richard hesitated for a second then as he slipped the photograph in his jacket pocket he replied:' sure I would like that very much'! and walked towards the lounge where everything looked as if the 50s were back in swing.

[BookBeauty]

And then, a blinding flash of light overwhelmed his senses!

[neilgee]

Why did a blinding flash of light overwhelm his senses, you ask? He wasn't sure himself at first.

[cafolini]

Perhaps he had entered a trance without realizing. Perhaps he was dreaming, even dreaming he was dreaming.

[Calidore]

And then he came to and slowly realized that his wife had clubbed him over the head as he walked ahead of her.

[BookBeauty]

He found himself strapped to a cold, metallic table. Lights blared into his eyes from above. The ceiling seemed to be spinning.

[tonywalt]

And looking through the mist of his confusion he could faintly see the outline of a figure hovering over him speaking a language that seemed not of this earth. A smile came to his lips.

[BookBeauty]

Recognition hit him like a stack full of bricks whipped by a giant Amazonian dinosaur. He suddenly knew the language. There was another flash of light.

''Your help is needed.'' The voice that gushed out from above him was soothing and melodic.

[Calidore]

"Ow. Was this necessary?" he asked groggily.

[Sancho]

“Silence!” and then to someone behind the screen, “Hienrich, bring in the goat.”

[BookBeauty]

A bell, presumably from a goat, jangled from behind the screen.

''Humans-Enjoy-Goat-Cheese-For-Nutritional-Purposes!'' A machine bleeped out loudly beside Richard's head, who tried to withdraw from the noise.

One of the figures above him, wrapped in some kind of protective plastic-like clothing, seemed to notice his distress.

[Sancho]

So the goat and Heinrich walked into the room and over to Richard and that was when the goat, a huge billy, said, “Hi Richard, I’m Laurence, Larry for short.”

Richard said, “Holy Cow! I can speak goat!" but not to be rude, Richard said, “Hi Larry, I’m Richard, Dick for short.”

[tonywalt]

And then in an instant he awoke from this dream feeling strangely calm. He looked through his bedroom window at the vast Caribbean ocean as it's inky blue water rolled towards the rocky ironshore.

He had to be in the office at 9:00am for a meeting concerning the planning and development of a new hotel on the Island and his mind raced with ideas on the matter.

[Paulclem]

...that would be discovered in the Haledron-Collider during that very meeting. He knew that the discovery of sentient particles would not be a one way street, but that the discovery woud herald our discovery by them!

[BookBeauty]

He rushed out the door, barely remembering to grab the protein shake that he had prepared the night before. A few tablespoons of instant coffee here, a dash of ground beef there, and before you know it, he was home to spend hours searching every last news article about the new Collider's efforts. Perhaps they would finally find the Higgs Boson! His search, however, was suddenly cut short by a loud, wailing sound, coming from the bathroom downstairs.

[BookBeauty]

He ran downstairs to check. In the bathroom on the toilet seat, bundled in toilet paper, was a baby that couldn't have been more than two years old.

[Sancho]

He cradled the baby in his arms then carefully unwrapped the paper from the child's face.

"Good Lord!" He exclaimed, "What a goat-faced baby I have found! What am I to do?"

[cacian]

He stood there for a few minutes contemplating his life, a life about to change forever.
He never thought he would be holding a two year old baby in his arms and in this way..
''I know let's ring anty and see what she says''!!

[Sancho]

So he whipped out his cell phone and speed-dialed his Auntie Lula, a woman with whom he shared less than 25% of his DNA.

“Hello.”

“Auntie Lula, this is Dick, you’re not going to believe this. I’ve found a baby. I don’t believe it myself. I found a baby in the Loo.”

“Slow down, Richard. You say you found a baby?”

“Yeah, somebody abandoned it. Seems healthy. It was all wrapped up in T.P. But he…Uhh, wait a minute, I mean she has got to be the ugliest baby I’ve ever seen.”

“Richard Head! Shut your mouth. All babies are beautiful. Okay, okay, here’s what we have to do.”

[BookBeauty]

Lula was usually a quick-thinker, which was why Richie often went to her with his problems. This particular dilemma confused him, however. He had been instructed to meet her outside Gee-Mart, a local supermarket, with the baby, and to expect anything. As he turned the corner with his SUV, and into the supermarket's parking lot(the baby bouncing on his knee) he could hardly believe his eyes.

[Sancho]

There was Lula, standing in front of the Gee-Mart, with all of her recent purchases from the store arrayed around her on the sidewalk. She had a case of Pablum, a huge bag of disposable nappies, a stack of baby clothes, and she appeared to be holding loofa.

Richie pulled up to the curb and leaned out the window of his SUV, “Auntie Lula, you work fast.”

“That’s right Richard, I figured you’ll be needing somebody in your corner who’s pretty good with a sponge.”

“I don’t know what that means, Lula.”

“Me neither, Richie, Me neither.” And just then Lula locked eyes with the baby.

[BookBeauty]

The baby made a strange, goat-like bleat, which Richard could only assume meant that she--or was it him? It? He wasn't sure--was hungry.

''Not to worry, I've got organic-formula-baby-drink 'round here somewhere!'' Lula proclaimed, snatching the baby out of his hands and digging through the enormous pile of oddities.

[Sancho]

As Lula stood on the sidewalk rocking the baby in her arms, feeding her the Organic Baby Formula, Richie loaded the supplies into his early-model Chevy Suburban, a vehicle he’d modified by dropping in a Chevy 409 Big-Block V-8, with hydraulic lifters, over-sized cam, dual-4-barrel carb’s, a high-rise intake manifold, and a cowl-mounted air induction system. It was probably street legal.

On one of his trips to the curb, he noticed something strange taking place with Lula and the baby. The two of them were positively glowing, but not in a supernatural or radioactive way; rather they were glowing with a natural radiance usually associated with a mother and her child. Richie wasn’t the only one who noticed this. Shoppers from the Gee-Mart all seemed to be smiling at the two of them as they strolled by on the sidewalk. And then the shoppers seemed to pass on their smiles to pedestrians approaching them from the opposite direction. For a moment, Richie thought Lula looked absolutely gorgeous, even though he’d always thought of her as a woman of unfortunate appearance. And then there was the goat-faced baby – Richie couldn’t believe his eyes – the baby was just as fat and happy as a baby could be. She could’ve modeled for the baby pictures on the jars of Pablum, which were now in the backseat of his Suburban.

Richie looked at Lula and queried, “Well, where to now, Nana?”

[neilgee]

"Oh, I think we should go somewhere nice and secluded where we can bring this baby up in a natural setting with lots of fields and sheep and goats, where I...I mean we, won't be disturbed and I can raise this baby as a child of nature, uncontaminated by humankind's modern ways " said Lula.

[Delta40]

'Well that's fine,' replied Richie but before they could take off there was a knock on the drivers window. A fat familiar face was pressed against it. Georgie Potts, an old high school friend was smiling like a gross clown just like he always did back in the day. Richie wound the window down wondering how he was going to escape the man who used to love nothing better than light up his own farts.
'Well lookie here. If it ain't old Dickie Head! Where you been buddy?
The goat baby started to bleat while Richie processed a million excuses per second in his brain. Thankfully his ugly Aunt Lula came to the rescue.
'Honey, can't you see the kid's sick? We gotta get him to a hospital asap!'
Richie mumbled to Georgie, 'Another time' and sped out of the parking lot like his pants were on fire. Actually, they were. That dumb fat prick George had dropped his cigarette between Richie's legs when he drove off!

[Sancho]

Richie smoothly grabbed the half-full bottle of Italian mineral water from the cup holder in his Suburban and dumped its contents onto his lap. As the smoke wafted up, the water gently fizzed giving Richie a not all that unpleasant sensation. Lula handed him the loofa and Richie began to blot the water from his pants.

“I knew that sponge was going to come in handy, Richie.”

“Yeah. Weird, huh?”

“Yeah, who was that guy anyway?”

“That was Georgie, sort of an old friend.”

“What a tool.”

“Yep, he’s a power tool, but you know what, Lula? He just inherited his grandfather’s old farm out by the Indian Bluffs, and he hates being out in the country.”

Lula’s eyes lit up. “Well get that gumbah back over here, will ya?”

Richie leaned out of the window, “Yo, Georgie! Georgie! C’mere, I’ve got a proposition.”

[Delta40]

Georgie Potts jogged over to the suburban, his bouncing fat punching his own face all the way. Puffing and sweating, he said to Richie, 'I knew you was just joking when you took off like that Dickie. You always liked to pull stunts on me.'

Richie thought about the time him and some other highschool buddies after pulling an all nighter, tied Georgie up in bed sheets and watched him roll like a mummy down Fellowes Hill onto the main road. Poor guy was lucky he didn't get squashed by a truck but even then Georgie didn't get the message and he still came back for more.

'That's right buddy. Good times hey? Listen, me and the family need some away time for a while and I hear you got a farm out by the Bluffs. If I give you some cash, can we crash there?'

The goat baby started bleating again, it's hoof-like hands and feet struggling to free from the tight swaddling.

Georgie's face lit up. 'You know what? I'm flush for cash. Since 'Ol Pappy kicked the bucket, I've been living it up to here!' He slapped his third chin. 'I'll tell you what. I was getting bored hanging round here anyways, so looks like running into you was a miracle!'

Before Richie could say anything, Georgie squeezed his fat body into the back of the Suburban. 'Well whaddaya waiting for? Let's get our sweet asses to the farm right now old buddy. You and the missus can stay there for free and we'll all have ourselves a wonderful time!'

Richie and Lula looked at each other. Georgie clapped his hands like an excited five year old. 'Something tells me Dickie, this is gonna be one helluva trip to remember!'

[Sancho]

Richie looked at Lula. Lula looked at Georgie. And Georgie, leaning forward towards the front seat, looked at the baby – and grinned.

“Good-looking baby.” Georgie said. “What’s his name?”

Lula held her eyes on Georgie. “She doesn’t have a name yet. We just got her.”

“What’d’ya, adopt her?”

“Nope. Richie found her in the men’s room at a filling station. Somebody abandoned her.”

Then, as though it was the sort of thing that happened every day, Georgie said, “Oh, alright then. Hey, I know! Georgette’s a good name.”

Richie and Lula said together, “No Way!” Then Lula alone, “We’ll think of a name, something special.”

Sulking slightly, Georgie slouched back into his seat, where his man-boobs wiggle-jiggled in double-time with the vibration of the Suburban’s idling engine, like two of Granny’s huge Jello molds on a card table at the Church Potluck. He said, “You know, that baby shouldn’t be riding up front. You should pass her back here to me.”

Lula pulled the child closer, but then seemed to consider Georgie’s statement. So she clutched the baby to her chest and climbed into the backseat with Georgie.

Georgie brightened with the arrival of the woman and child, and said to Richie, “Dick-ster. Head north along the Coastal Highway. Farm’s about fifty miles.” Then he directed his attention to Lula, “So, Mrs. Head, how long yous two been married?”

But before Lula could answer, Richie, with the mechanical help of his posi-trac differential and the materiel help of some good Canadian rubber from the Michelin plant in Montreal, laid nearly 50 feet of parallel tire marks on the pavement pointed in a northerly direction and out of the Gee-Mart Parking Lot. The road trip had begun.

[BookBeauty]

The cityscape was a dreary, grey mess that stretched as far as they could see. It had been an unusual April. Unusual, because though spring had seemed to arrive, a freak cold-snap had gripped the small city, and it had been snowing on and off for weeks on end.

Finding the baby had been the most exciting, and least-terrible thing to happen to Richard since before he could remember. That little, strange, goat-like baby, seemed like a beam of hope.

As the windshield wipers feebly worked against the snowy-sleet that pandered wildly against the dusty glass, Lula gazed thoughtfully at Richard, as if she had something to say.

[Sancho]

Richie noticed this. “Lula, what’s on your mind?”

Lula gazed out the window and said, “I was just thinking about the weather. Look at this stuff, will ya? We might as well be on the Scandinavian Peninsula.”

Richie redirected his attention from Lula to the road and made a right onto the ramp that led to the Coastal Highway. He was happy to leave the city traffic behind. He noticed the sleet had turned to snow and surmised that the overtaking cold front must have managed to push aside the warmer upper-level air. Big, heavy flakes were falling at first, but as the temperature continued to dive, the snow started coming down in blowing ribbons of powder. And yet the Suburban’s big-block engine pumped copious amounts of warm air into the Chevy’s interior – so much so that Georgie needed to remove his scarf, which he then used to play a game of peek-a-boo with the baby. The baby squealed with laughter every time Georgie’s face reappeared, and then the baby would cover her own face with her hands, attempting to make herself disappear.

Their progress was fast once on the highway, but the farther north they traveled the slower Richie needed to drive, the snow on the road piling up quickly. With the exception of a few snow plows, it seemed to Richie they were only ones out and about in the storm. He noticed the Sitka Spruce and Mountain Hemlock that lined the road were now bearing a heavy load of snow, giving him the illusion that they were giant gnomes, standing there, watching everything.

Just then they rounded a bend and off to the right, at the back of a small gravel parking lot, was a log-cabin style roadhouse with a sign out front proclaiming it to be “Loki’s Café.”

Georgie snapped alert at the sight of Loki’s and said, “Hey, Loki’s! She makes good rhubarb pie. Let’s go a viking.”

And with that, Richie steered the Suburban into the roadhouse parking lot and the four travelers happily piled into Loki’s Café, three of them stomping their feet on the welcome mat and shaking out their coats.

[Delta40]

It was alot warmer inside the cafe, which looked like it had been there since the fifties. An old jukebox stood at one end, its glass casing yellowed with time. 'Hey guys watch this!' Georgie stood by its side, turned up an imaginary collar, swivelled his hips then gave the jukebox a single punch. Amazingly, it lit up and started playing 'Peggy Sue.' Richie laughed in spite of himself at Georgie's Fonzie act while Lula ordered burgers and coke for them all.

The old man behind the counter wasn't too talkative and at first nobody really took any notice of him. The weather outside was crap, the goat baby was restless and Georgie was bubbling away about Happy Days. He was the Fonz, Richie was, well Richie and Lula could be Marion Cunningham looking after Joanie's illegitmate child to Ralph. After a while, Richie realised there was no sizzling of burgers or fries, no activity, no smell of food and his stomach was rumbling real bad.

Peggy Sue finished when Richie noticed the old man behind the counter for the first time. He was still standing there, just looking at them like grim death in his loose denim overalls, tapping a skillett in slow time against the counter. Richie wondered what his beef was...

[Sancho]

Georgie jitter-bugged his way over to the grill, snatched the plastic comb from his hip pocket, began to slick his hair back into ducktail, and said to the old man, “Hey, Daddy-O, where’s Loki and Otis? I saw their Volvo parked outside, so where ya keeping ‘em?”

The man spun around, slapped the counter with a spatula, stared directly at Georgie with his one good eye (the other was badly clouded with a cataract), and said, “Not here.” Just then a huge Tomcat with no tail leapt from someplace unknown and landed on the counter, where he proceeded to stick his rear leg skyward and lick himself where the sun does not shine.

Georgie commented, “Now that right there just ain’t right.”

[tonywalt]

It wasn't but moments later that the old man lept onto Georgie with the anger of a wet rooster. His words came spitting out.."gambling"..."debt"..."you owe me money you fat bastard". Ya see, Georgie was a complicated person and had a weakness for hedonism in it's most extreme. Gambling and women were the least of his problems..

[Sancho]

Georgie took the situation as an opportunity to switch 70s sitcoms. He stuck out his lower lip and came back with, “What you talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?”

Meanwhile, Lula’s motherly instincts were kicking in, so she tucked the baby under her coat and bolted for the door. She said, “C’mon, boys, let’s get outa here.”

But when she got to the entryway and tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge. She frantically looked for the latch, but couldn’t find one. She tried to wrench the door open with her special Crazy-Lula power, but no luck. Then she wildly looked around for something substantial to toss through the window, and zeroed in on a heavy fireplace tool that was leaning against the rock fireplace, which housed a pleasantly crackling fire. She grabbed the tool by the handle, took a mighty swing at the window, but the tool bounced back harmlessly, the window being of Plexiglas construction. Lula then spun around and went into a Ninja fighting crouch. She had hate in her eyes, fear in heart, and was brandishing the log poker out in front of her like a Hanzo Sword.

She said, “Don’t move, old man.” Then she added, “Boys, we’ve been hornswoggled. We’ve been bamboozled. We’ve been dippsy-doodled. We’ve been trick-fu…, err I mean, we’ve been tricked.” (PG-13 rated website)

The old man redirected his one good eye from Georgie to Lula and said, “What’s your name, little missy?”

For emphasis, Lula jabbed at the air a couple of times with her Hanzo Log Poker. She replied, “Puddin’ Tane. What’s yours?”

[tonywalt]

The old man smiled and shook his head in disbelief "Puddin, from High School, it's been a helluva lot of years"

She blushed, swayed over to where he was standing and they passionately embraced. The embrace escalated to kissing within minutes.

[Delta40]

Both Richie and Georgie were gobsmacked at the scene unfolding before their eyes. 'We'll Meet Again' was playing on the jukebox and then Georgie started blubbering. 'Ain't that just boo-boo bayootiful!' Richie was left holding the goat kid who was growing by the minute as two old folk swapped dentures in a roadhouse cafe. He looked down at the squirming thing and wondered 'How the hell did I get here?' Georgie started frying those burgers they orginally ordered as Lula and the old man took a booth in the far corner, their eyes lost in each other.

'You want mustard on your book?' Richie turned round at the voice.
'What did you just say to me' Georgie flipped the books on the hot plate and continued as if everything was normal. 'I said do you want mustard on your book buddy. It'll taste alot better when I dish it up to ya.'
It was then that Richie saw the book dated 1824 with his name Richard Morgan Prendergast embossed on the leather cover, slowly turning brown on the hotplate. Georgie slipped the spatula under it and flipped it high up into the air so that it landed face down.
'What the f**k to you think you're doing?' screamed Richie as he dumped the goat kid on a table and hurried over to grab the book.
'You know exactly what I'm doing. Don't play stupid with me. See? I got one too and I'm having egg with mine!' With that said, Georgie cracked an egg on his cover, the white spilling in all directions while he shook his head. 'Who woulda thought it would end this way hey?'
Richie had no idea what was going on but he knew the book was the start of all is troubles. He snatched his book from the hotplate, burning his fingers and dropping it to the floor before picking it up with a towel.

Lula was a lost cause. So was Georgie and the goat kid. He'd been lead on some crazy goose chase. Now he had to get home and read the godammn book. Hell, he didn't even know if he was dreaming...

[Sancho]

Then the door burst open. Actually it was torn from its hinges by a tremendous ramming force from the outside. It fell forward and hit the floor with a mighty THWOCK. At which point a huge, Mr. T-looking fellow stomped in, stood on the flattened door, looked at each person in the café one-by-one, and said to no one in particular, “I pity the fool!”

The man looked like the Mr. T character from the 70s TV show The A Team, except that he had a light complexion, and a thick shock of orange-red hair that stood a good 10 inches straight up on his head. He had a bushy forked beard, also orange-ish in color. Despite the cold, he was wearing a lumberjack shirt with sleeves ripped out; steam was rising from his thick, hairy arms. The man had biceps that said he was no stranger to lifting draft horses, wrestling Kodiak Bears, and such. Come to think of it, he didn’t look much like Mr. T at all.

Richie said, “What the…”

Lula said, “Holy crap!”

The old man said, “I was just leaving.”

And Georgie said, “Otis, my man, where’s Loki?”

The man said, “Loki’s in the Suburban. We should join her. And call me Odin. That old one-eyed bastard ain’t right. Probably he’s a sorcerer, or a junkie, or something. He’s got yous under his spell. We need to split the scene before it’s too late.” He looked at Lula, “Women and children first. Move it, move it, move it, go, go, go! Bring your books - we'll need them where we're going”

Georgie knocked over three chairs and the gumball machine on his way out the door.

[Sancho]

http://i971.photobucket.com/albums/ae197/mollyandbruno/baby-goat.jpg

[BookBeauty]

As they rushed outside in what seemed to be quite the frenzied panic, they all watched as the red-headed Otis ushered them all towards his 'vehicle'.

It was almost comical. In fact, the baby bleated with what sounded something like laughter, but to be fair, he might have been spitting up on Aunt Lula.

They looked down upon a rather rich, large and luxurious purple Turkish carpet that had been left in the wet, cold ground. The rich material appeared to be matted and soaked.

''We gon' fly.'' Otis declared.

Georgie shook his head sadly, ''One too many kick-flips done him in for good, this time.''

[Sancho]

And as the small troupe of misfits stood around the carpet, all but one doubting its airworthiness, a woman in the Suburban cranked down her window, leaned out, and said, “Otis! That thing’ll never fly. What is ya’? Ignorant? Her grammar belied her appearance: she was stunning. She had long, raven-black hair that was pulled into a ponytail and kept in place by some sort of jewel-encrusted hair apparatus. A blood-red begonia that she had tucked behind her ear matched the color of her lips and her eyes matched the color of her hair. She had a symmetry enjoyed by few people. Her skin had a rich, olive sheen unique to those who hail from Arabian sands and there were no fewer than 20 golden bracelets jangling on her wrist as she pointed a scarlet-speared index finger towards the carpet.

Richie was mesmerized. He noticed she had rings on every finger, and then he got a song lyric stuck in his head: …and bells on her shoes.

Otis said, “Sure it will, Loki. My pal, Thor, has one just like it. We’ll just put that goat-faced baby up front. It’ll work – and call me Odin, will ya?”

Georgie, feeling self-conscious about his mad dash towards the door earlier, said: “Good thing you got me outta there when you did, Otis. I was about to rip that one-eyed dude’s lungs out.”

Otis cracked his knuckles and said, “Excellent! Blood Eagle, eh? And call me ODIN.”

Richie said, “Ya know, Otis, we could bungee-cord that rug of yours to my roof rack.”

Auntie Lula, inspecting the baby puke on her shoulder, said: “Hey, this stuff smells like Roquefort.”

Loki added, “Let’s roll, you goons, before that Polyphemus-looking Cat in there figures out you’re not Odin, Otis.”

And so…

[Sancho]

http://i971.photobucket.com/albums/ae197/mollyandbruno/keepontruckin.jpg

[Sancho Panza]

Everybody piled into the car which groaned and sank beneath their weight. But it was a fighter and was able to pull away and gradually pick up speed. The baby was seated on Aunt Lula's lap in the other front seat, but she was too busy reprimanding Richard for ogling their beautiful female driver to pay her any attention. Thus she did not notice when she reached her miniature hands towards the glovebox until it snapped open.

"Bad baby," she was about to shout, but then she saw what was inside. She pulled it out the make sure it was the thing she feared, but Richard's gasp was all the proof she needed.

It was the old, dusty, mysterious book which had so recently been seen frying and covered in eggs, the book that was to change his life beyond even the fantastical things that had happened so far.

For a while there was silence except for the whine of the engine, but finally their driver opened her perfectly formed lips and spoke:

[tonywalt]

Auntie Lula spoke softly, powerfully, moistly "I'm moving back to the Zanzibar, to the place of my birth - and no one can change my mind"

It was exactly a month to the day of such a surreal turn that she found herself on the shores of sleepy and storied Zanzibar Island. She had left when she was only 2, but her gait slowed, switched as if my memory alone, to the slow warm tempo of the Island.

She met a younger and very handsome local chieftan who lavished her with a thousand Arabic pleasures. There were, as always, distant murmouring of those with only utility and toil plodding the terrain with slumped shoulders wearied eyes.

It was on a pitch night that a distance hoof was heard from her window. She awoke slowly, her senses almost dreamlike, and walked slow thighed to the window.

[Sancho]

Loki’s mouth hung open for a few seconds, and then she closed it and listened patiently as Lula had her moment. Despite the tension and drama in the front seat, Georgie was ebullient in the back.

Georgie said, “ZanziBAR! Okay, okay, okay, you guys: Two men, a woman, and a goat-faced baby walk into a bar…”

Lula pays him no heed and directs a question to Richie, “Nephew of mine, what do you think?”

Georgie: “An ugly old one-eyed bartender sez…”

Richie: “I’m not sure, Lula.” Then he quickly directs his gaze back to the driver. “What’s that in the glovebox, Loki?”

Georgie: “…we don’t serve your kind in here.”

Loki: “That, my friends, is a very old book.”

Georgie: “Just then a Tom-Cat leapt on the bar and commenced licking himself. The woman said, ‘Ewe!’”

Richie moved closer to Loki, “What kind of book, my love, ah-hem, I mean, Loki.”

Georgie: “Bartender said, ‘No, not an ewe, that little one there.’”

Loki: “It’s an ancient book from Persia, or maybe from the Aegean, possibly from the Northland.”

Georgie: “Then the woman said, ‘What! You don’t allow no minors in here?’”

Loki: “I’m not exactly sure where it’s from, but I’m starting to think the Iberian Peninsula is involved, and, you know, it has a map.”

Georgie: “Bartender sez, ‘Dats right. We don’t serve no kids in here.”

And sure enough just then a folded map slid out from between the pages of the book and landed in Lula’s lap.

Georgie: “Get it? Get it? A Kid! Bah-hahahaha! I’m on a roll tonight.”

[tonywalt]

As she reached the window, gazing at the ocean, she thought of the car trip when her mind screamed direction that she could scarcely imagine. The murdered corpses of Loki, Georgie and Richie had never been found, but were ever present in her mind. Their demise paved the path to her childhood home of sugary dreams.

This was no dream, she had found peace in Zanzibar, and there was no return. She traded chinese trinklets in the Arab market by day and drank sweet wine in the evenings with her husband. Lula loved Kenya, and bought a well appointed house in Karen, Naorobi. The leafy suburbs suited her and her servants even more. She surveyed her land in the mornings with just the company of her welsh corgi, a handsome and stout lad- his lineage travelled back to the days of the Happy Valley set. The nights of sex and opium attracted many to the rocks of colonial East Africa.

[Calidore]

Tony, this is the second time you've essentially erased the story so far and rebooted it. What's the point of participating in a communal story if you only want to write your own?

[tonywalt]

Calidore, my story line was rebooted. It seems that's how the story has unfolded. I'm not crazy about the idea.

[Sancho]

Ah well, I notice we (me especially) were hugely exceeding the one-sentence rule laid out by my cousin, Sancho Panza, in the opening post of this thread. I found it was like Lula’s opium habit – I just kept wanting to do more and more.

Anyhow, anybody care to start over?

Here goes:

It was a dark and stormy night.

[tonywalt]

The wind blew through the castle, dithering this way and that, settling in Maria's room where she lay in bed listening to the endless assaults of the sea.

[Calidore]

Ah well, I notice we (me especially) were hugely exceeding the one-sentence rule laid out by my cousin, Sancho Panza, in the opening post of this thread. I found it was like Lula’s opium habit – I just kept wanting to do more and more.


Would it help if we agreed on some guidelines in advance in the interest of communality? I have a couple of thoughts:

1) Panza's rule was actually one line; he started with two sentences. He also hasn't posted in this thread since mid-February. I personally liked it when people started taking a few lines to introduce or play with an idea. In some cases, like someone with a gift for dialogue, allowing just one line doesn't let them flex their muscles.

2) I think it would be a good idea for reboots to be proposed and voted on, to avoid disillusioning those who may like the way it's going.

Opinions?

[Sancho]

Good point, Calidore. I've played along on several of these story-line threads on this web-site. They're always fun and sometimes challenging because you never know what direction the story is going take off in. I have to admit, though, this is the first time all but one of the main characters got nuked.

[Sancho Panza]

Would it help if we agreed on some guidelines in advance in the interest of communality? I have a couple of thoughts:

1) Panza's rule was actually one line; he started with two sentences. He also hasn't posted in this thread since mid-February. I personally liked it when people started taking a few lines to introduce or play with an idea. In some cases, like someone with a gift for dialogue, allowing just one line doesn't let them flex their muscles.

2) I think it would be a good idea for reboots to be proposed and voted on, to avoid disillusioning those who may like the way it's going.

Opinions?

For the record, my last post was on the 24th May (#54), though I did indeed take a few months off before returning to find the story had exploded in length and had somehow introduced a therianthropic baby.

Anyway, I agree with your point that greater flexibility does allow greater scope for creativity. I for one am happy for the story to be "rebooted" and will let someone else begin.

[tonywalt]

The beginning:

The wind blew through the castle, dithering this way and that, settling in Maria's room where she lay in bed listening to the endless assaults of the sea.

[Calidore]

For the record, my last post was on the 24th May (#54), though I did indeed take a few months off before returning to find the story had exploded in length and had somehow introduced a therianthropic baby.

Anyway, I agree with your point that greater flexibility does allow greater scope for creativity. I for one am happy for the story to be "rebooted" and will let someone else begin.

Well, totally missed that post; my apologies. You being the thread starter, I'm glad you chimed in. And now I have a new word to boot.

[Calidore]

The beginning:

The wind blew through the castle, dithering this way and that, settling in Maria's room where she lay in bed listening to the endless assaults of the sea.

Everyone's up, it seemed to say while dancing circles around her. No slackers.

[tonywalt]

She awakened and walked slow thighed to the window, where she looked and saw something in the distance that brought to her an unease.

[Sancho]

As the big-legged woman looked out upon the emerald fields and azure sea beyond, one thought dominated her mind: Would you look at all of those goats!

[Sorry, Tony, I couldn’t help myself. Just press on without me on this one.]

[tonywalt]

Whaddaya mean - couldn't help yourself?

[Sancho]

Whaddaya mean - couldn't help yourself?

I was getting the sense that everybody (you and me included) was getting a little sick of the goat motif. So I just couldn’t resist throwing one last goat reference in there.

So disregard my last post. I’ll go again:

And so the beautiful woman looked out the castle window upon the emerald fields and azure sea beyond. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. Could it be?

[Sancho Panza]

It had been many years since her son had sailed away on that very sea, seeking an island that had existed only in rumour and myth. She had feared him dead, but now there was a ghostly figure that bore his features outside the castle walls.

[tonywalt]

His years in the Sugar Islands had been taxing, but he had acheived profits and the titles that accompany such coin. All of this would spawn tragedies for many generations not yet born.