“Look. There’s a spaceship up there.” “How exciting!” “Will it come down?” “I do hope so. We have been here for too long.” They stood completely still while the smaller hoomans moved around and then they moved on.
Then several tiny Martian guys join them. “Will they see us?” “We can only hope.” “Do you think they will wait for us?” “Do they even know that we are here?”
“Okay, back to the top, I say.” And so they did. And it did go dark. And the tiny spacecraft appeared again… and then hovered.
“Yay, we’re going to go home…”
~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Sci-fi Word Count: 100
“It’s all very well,” muttered the red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse), as she continued to stare at the wonderful vista for a while, then turned to little Moxie, and said, “it’s not real, is it… there’s no ocean by the roof top garden, it can’t be that.”
“Aha, you’re right,” as Moxie began to do a couple of pirouettes, then said: “I’ll show you another place instead; we’ll go back to the usual dumbwaiter, I just need to find a particular vestibule, and then we’ll walk to a larger room, it’s called The Blue Room.”
So, la Raconteuse did as she was told, although she was almost desperate to get her big bag back, since she needed to write all these strange things down.
“Here we are, we’ve made it,” grinned Moxie, “you’re going to like this immensely… come on, you can look at all these excellent objects and even people and animals; and I’m going to run a quick victory lap to show how happy I am.”
It was alluring and also weird – there were three fat ladies who would dance with a moment’s notice, lifting up their thunder thighs and doing their can-can several times; then further over la Raconteuse saw a huge snake, and said, “wow, that looks dangerous?” – “nah, that’s Daisy,” grinned Moxie, “she’s a pussy cat, and not venomous, by the way.”
“All very interesting,” said la Raconteuse to Moxie, “but I really want to go back to Room 215, and kind of now.”
It was very quiet, she thought, there was hardly anyone around, and it was almost lunch-time. Most odd, she felt. She had been pottering around as usual, in the tiny town. She loved this place, and she had been there several times, since she saved up her money for two whole weeks, and now she was on holiday.
She took her small sketch book with some pencils. That’s what she does for pleasure. Noticing a nice café, she sat down.
But where is everyone?
The waiter appeared and grinned. “You don’t know what happened a couple of hours ago?”
so she shook her head football? she looked all around that lot England won!
~~~
Image credit:Waldemar Brandt @ Unsplash
This is a scene from Kokkari, Samos, Greece. In the morning hours, you can walk alone through the empty streets. Kokkari is a small and nice village without big hotel resorts. This image shows an empty street, lined with small shops and a cafe/ restaurant.
“I’ll race you,” grinned one of the boys. “That will be fun,” said the other. So off they went on their bikes along the scrubby lane. It was almost neck and neck when they both stopped, and rather suddenly.
“Such a small straight track.” “Let’s go that way.” So the two of them made their way across the field. They had only a tiny squabble as they decided who would go first. And off they went.
A bit later they both stopped. “Gosh, it was further than we thought.” “Still this small forest seems excellent.” “I wonder what we’ll find?” “The highest part is over there.” “It will be dense and quite dark too.” “And that’s what we like.”
So off they went. And they had a great time. They hoped that they would find a couple of unicorns, and it could have been. A small sighting, they both thought.
“I don’t know what those things are called, do I? I’m not a gardener. No, definitely not. I mean it looks okay, although some veg is more productive, as long as it’s something I like. You know, like toms, they are nice. I’m not keen on the green stuff though.”
“Are you talking to yourself?” “What, me?” “Yes, you!”
“Well, I suppose so… and what’s wrong with that?” “Nothing, I guess.”
(silence)
“Are you a little lonely, perhaps?” “No.” “Really?” “No.”
(silence)
“Look, I’m busy. Okay?
“You don’t want to tell me what you’re doing?”
(muttering)
“Alright, I’ll tell you…”
~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Memoir Word Count: 100
“So who’s overseeing this place now, eh?” muttered the red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) since it was now rather busy in the Room 215, as she looked across to the tall, thin man, then to that small strange four-foot bellhop, all so known as a dumbwaiter, and then to the sweet sprite; plustwo made-up people who had just arrived from the closet and now were sitting at two rather nice wingback armchairs.
“Aha, Frank, how lovely to see you,” grinned la Raconteuse, “it’s definitely a crowd now; but, sorry, it seems that I need to follow that little sprite, and I must remember she’s called Moxie, not Honeybun, it seems that she has a plan for me.”
“Come on, be quick,” said Moxie to la Raconteuse, as she pointed to that wonderful clockwork machine, “see, the time… the six bells by the owls will chime very noisily.”
Moxie jumped across several shelves, then scampered down to the floor, while la Raconteuse watched her, then both of them looked at each other, grinned, then stepped across to the closet, since it was free at that time.
La Raconteuse pouted and said: “I have to get into that contraption… really?” – “you can definitely do this,” said Moxie, as she jumped up; “I’m pulling it down again, and all you need to do is sit in it, since it’s a dumbwaiter, and the usual kind.”
So both went up, “what a vista,’ grinned la Raconteuse, “I can see the ocean from here!”
“Stop all the clocks…” Ah yes, that’s right, I seem to remember that poem. But who wrote that?
“Stop all the clocks…” Such a good and pleasing poem, I do remember reading it out loud. And now it’s on the tip of my tongue.
“Stop all the clocks…” Aha, I’ve got it, although it’s often sad, it’s also known as ‘Funeral Blues’ and it’s by W.H. Auden.
~~~
Image credit:Doruq Pasha @ Pexels
This image showsa wall clock hanging on a wall. There is a ray of light/ sunlight illuminating the clock partially. The clock hands are pointing at 8:16!
“We’d love to go with you,” said the two boys. “Okay, pop in,” grinned Uncle Bill. “My Land Rover is ancient but still fine,” as he lurched off onto the road.
“Where are we going,” asked one of the boys. “Aha,” said he, “you’re going to like this, it’s right by the Fens. I’m going to drop you off for a while.”
Then one of the boys said: “We’re getting pretty close to that wonderful windmill, is it this?” “It is,” as Uncle Bill pulled up. “You can poke around there, although it’s a shame you can’t go in. I’ll be about an hour,” and off he went.
The two of them had some fun, and even better, an old guy happened to be there, letting them in, and very interesting it was. Then Uncle Bill was back with some pies and ice creams, and not necessarily in that order!
“You mean clouds …again?” “Yes. Look out there.” “I’m looking outside, I’m driving, aren’t I. And all the way to New Mexico too.” “But I’m convinced that there is a UFO up there by the clouds… just there. Moving very oddly.” “I can’t look all around while I’m driving.” “We could take a break though?” “Let’s do that.” “Yep, there’s room there.”
“Grab some drinks. Let’s go up there.” “Quite a walk, but it’ll be worth it.”
“Okay, we’ll stop there… and look over there. On the right, and up a bit more.”
“That’s it!” “Gosh, I think you’re right…”
~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Sci-fi Word Count: 100
luna's on line 