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Showing posts from March, 2013

Art Pact 260 - Plane in the Ice

We carefully retreated across the ice and viewed the scene from a distance. The "plane" was stuck at a forty-five degree angle, its tail about twenty feet in the air. It looked like a whale that had breached the surface and then become stuck somehow. "I don't think it's a plane," said the older of the two women. "Of course it's a plane," I told them. "It was flying." "It was flying alright, but that doesn't make it a plane. Birds fly." "Superman flies," said the younger woman, giggling. "Well it's no bird, and it's no superman. So that only leaves a plane." "No, boy," said the older woman harshly. "There's all sorts of other things. Especially up here in the north." "But it's a plane," I said. "Just look at it! It's made of metal and everything." "Funny looking plane, though." She was right. It was funny-looking.

Art Pact 259 - Tunnels

"I hate tunnels," she said, her body rippling with disgust. I pushed past her, peering into the darkness. There were tiny points of light inside, tiny points that I could just about see if I was not looking directly at them. I tried to catch them sidelong, but they really were just indivisible atoms of light, impossible to place as distant or near. I moved aside, sat on the ledge and scratched at my tail nervously. "I'm not fond of them myself," I told her. "Although I am a little surprised about you. Aren't you - I mean, don't you live in a tunnel or something?" She rolled her head slightly so that more of her eyes were facing me - an unusually Tillian expression, one that I hadn't thought to see from a Polypede. "I live in a warren," she said coldly. "A barbarian lives in a tunnel." "What's the difference?" "You might as well ask what the difference is between a house and a cave." &

Art Pact 258 - In The Heat of the Day

"Oh, this is intolerable!" the major blustered. He waved at the cloud of flies that attended him like a halo, succeeding only in dispersing them for a few moments before they regrouped again into their holding pattern. Frobisher could see that one of the insects had made a daring landing on the very tip of the major's ear, and was dabbing cautiously at the skin there with its proboscis. It was a brave creature - there had been many a larger animal that had wanted a piece of the old soldier, and Frobisher had seen an array of them strung up on the man's wall at the hunting lodge. One, in particular, came to mind at that moment - a rather surprised looking elephant whose head took up the greater part of the north wall between the two windows that overlooked the gardens. It seemed to have been killed in a manner entirely unexpected to it, judging by the look on its face, as though it had stumbled in upon its wife in the middle of a sordid affair with a kangaroo, and hav