#nmtta — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #nmtta, aggregated by home.social.
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#TimeTravelAuthors Message
True confession time.
The messages of my novels are quite simple. The message for this one is:
"#PulpFiction can be fun."
The secondary message is that fascism is bad, which includes MAGA is bad.
Nothing deep. It wouldn't be pulp with a deep message.
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#TimeTravelAuthors 04/19. Any authorities in your story
Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost: The three authorities on time travel mentioned are Professor Henrietta Dubois, #Faust, and #NumaPompilius, 2nd king of Rome (reigned 715–672 BCE). It is unclear just how much they know, since none are very communicative.
Nothing is known about the authorities within the #KnightsTemplar, the #Illuminati, or the Lapin Cabal, but they must clearly have some. (To be revealed.)
#Airisu: The Crow and the Witch: Airisu has degrees in mysticism and Japanese mythology. This makes her handy when the characters slip into the Japanese Edo period.
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#TimeTravelAuthors 04/19. Any authorities in your story
Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost: The three authorities on time travel mentioned are Professor Henrietta Dubois, #Faust, and #NumaPompilius, 2nd king of Rome (reigned 715–672 BCE). It is unclear just how much they know, since none are very communicative.
Nothing is known about the authorities within the #KnightsTemplar, the #Illuminati, or the Lapin Cabal, but they must clearly have some. (To be revealed.)
#Airisu: The Crow and the Witch: Airisu has degrees in mysticism and Japanese mythology. This makes her handy when the characters slip into the Japanese Edo period.
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#TimeTravelAuthors 04/19. Any authorities in your story
Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost: The three authorities on time travel mentioned are Professor Henrietta Dubois, #Faust, and #NumaPompilius, 2nd king of Rome (reigned 715–672 BCE). It is unclear just how much they know, since none are very communicative.
Nothing is known about the authorities within the #KnightsTemplar, the #Illuminati, or the Lapin Cabal, but they must clearly have some. (To be revealed.)
#Airisu: The Crow and the Witch: Airisu has degrees in mysticism and Japanese mythology. This makes her handy when the characters slip into the Japanese Edo period.
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#TimeTravelAuthors 02/19. How honest are your characters?
Which ones? I imagine #Bijou and Emily are honest. The rabbits, not at all.
#Airisu, the crow: Honesty is not something I would expect from a crow. I watch them steal from each other all the time. As for the witch, I haven’t decided.
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 5 Part 63: Jurassic Era
1/21/26 #TimeTravelAuthors #count #Wss366 #Roger #Mastoprompt
“Chosen ones?” Emily repeated. “Could you explain?”
"It's a literary trope where someone, usually unsuitable, is 'chosen' to save the world while fighting against impossible odds."
“Trope? Pray tell, what does that mean?”
“A literary cliché.”
“So, you think we’ve been chosen to stop the Illuminati?”
“Not really. It’s more likely that we're Lovecraftian characters who will be polished off or driven insane by implacable dark forces.”
“We could just travel to a pleasant time and place and live out our ghostly lives.”
“When you were alive, you could have just written a nice ‘women’s column,’ and ignored the threat in Europe. But you didn’t.”
Emily smiled, kicked a piece of coral, and then said, “No more than you can turn your back on this. There are things more significant than our puny lives and happiness.”
“#Roger that! Bogart couldn’t have said it better.”
“You know I can’t #count the number of times you make references I don’t understand.”
“Actor, 1940s. He starred in big films, including ‘Casablanca,’ where he says, ‘It doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.’”
“It’s a good line even if your imitation smells like yesterday’s fish.”
Casablanca (1942), starring Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, & Paul Henreid:
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 5 Part 60: Jurassic Era
1/15/26 #TimeTravelAuthors The cost of time travel #Wss366 pyramid #MastoPrompt aromatic
I kicked the detritus near the edge of the cave, then sat down with my legs dangling over the edge. An #aromatic breeze, reminiscent of ferns and conifers, rose from below, masking the odor of guano.
"If we want to learn what the rabbits are up to, we're going to have to go out there," I said, pointing to the surreal #pyramids.
“Can you fly that far? You'd be easy pickings out there on the water.”
“Yeah, I can’t see myself building a raft and paddling across open water. I don’t suppose we could just time-travel over there? We don’t seem limited spacially when doing it. And it doesn’t seem as taxing as dematerialisation.”
“All we can do is try.”
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 5 Part 59: Jurassic Era
#TimeTravelAuthors 1/7/26 Name #Wss366 Dash
Bijou continued to look at the pyramids. “I wonder if Tolkien had visions of that?”
At Emily’s questioning look, she said, “He’s a famous writer from the 1950s. His villain, Sauron, was depicted as a giant eye that peered out over the world from his tower. ‘One ring to rule them all and in the darkness to bind them.’”
“That sounds grim.”
“I suppose it’s better than Lovecraft and beings that Should Not Be #Named.”
“I don’t suppose either of those offers any clues on what we might face?” Emily asked.
“Let’s hope not. They’re both way out of our league.”
“#Dash it! I was hoping for some help here.”
“I think Nazi Rabbits are more our speed. Let’s not wish for eldritch gods.”
“Well then, here is to Nazi Rabbits.”
Bijou finished the cheer: “And the Illuminati.”
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 5 Part 59: Jurassic Era
#TimeTravelAuthors 1/7/26 Name #Wss366 Dash
Bijou continued to look at the pyramids. “I wonder if Tolkien had visions of that?”
At Emily’s questioning look, she said, “He’s a famous writer from the 1950s. His villain, Sauron, was depicted as a giant eye that peered out over the world from his tower. ‘One ring to rule them all and in the darkness to bind them.’”
“That sounds grim.”
“I suppose it’s better than Lovecraft and beings that Should Not Be #Named.”
“I don’t suppose either of those offers any clues on what we might face?” Emily asked.
“Let’s hope not. They’re both way out of our league.”
“#Dash it! I was hoping for some help here.”
“I think Nazi Rabbits are more our speed. Let’s not wish for eldritch gods.”
“Well then, here is to Nazi Rabbits.”
Bijou finished the cheer: “And the Illuminati.”
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 5 Part 59: Jurassic Era
#TimeTravelAuthors 1/7/26 Name #Wss366 Dash
Bijou continued to look at the pyramids. “I wonder if Tolkien had visions of that?”
At Emily’s questioning look, she said, “He’s a famous writer from the 1950s. His villain, Sauron, was depicted as a giant eye that peered out over the world from his tower. ‘One ring to rule them all and in the darkness to bind them.’”
“That sounds grim.”
“I suppose it’s better than Lovecraft and beings that Should Not Be #Named.”
“I don’t suppose either of those offers any clues on what we might face?” Emily asked.
“Let’s hope not. They’re both way out of our league.”
“#Dash it! I was hoping for some help here.”
“I think Nazi Rabbits are more our speed. Let’s not wish for eldritch gods.”
“Well then, here is to Nazi Rabbits.”
Bijou finished the cheer: “And the Illuminati.”
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 5 Part 59: Jurassic Era
#TimeTravelAuthors 1/7/26 Name #Wss366 Dash
Bijou continued to look at the pyramids. “I wonder if Tolkien had visions of that?”
At Emily’s questioning look, she said, “He’s a famous writer from the 1950s. His villain, Sauron, was depicted as a giant eye that peered out over the world from his tower. ‘One ring to rule them all and in the darkness to bind them.’”
“That sounds grim.”
“I suppose it’s better than Lovecraft and beings that Should Not Be #Named.”
“I don’t suppose either of those offers any clues on what we might face?” Emily asked.
“Let’s hope not. They’re both way out of our league.”
“#Dash it! I was hoping for some help here.”
“I think Nazi Rabbits are more our speed. Let’s not wish for eldritch gods.”
“Well then, here is to Nazi Rabbits.”
Bijou finished the cheer: “And the Illuminati.”
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 5 Part 59: Jurassic Era
#TimeTravelAuthors 1/7/26 Name #Wss366 Dash
Bijou continued to look at the pyramids. “I wonder if Tolkien had visions of that?”
At Emily’s questioning look, she said, “He’s a famous writer from the 1950s. His villain, Sauron, was depicted as a giant eye that peered out over the world from his tower. ‘One ring to rule them all and in the darkness to bind them.’”
“That sounds grim.”
“I suppose it’s better than Lovecraft and beings that Should Not Be #Named.”
“I don’t suppose either of those offers any clues on what we might face?” Emily asked.
“Let’s hope not. They’re both way out of our league.”
“#Dash it! I was hoping for some help here.”
“I think Nazi Rabbits are more our speed. Let’s not wish for eldritch gods.”
“Well then, here is to Nazi Rabbits.”
Bijou finished the cheer: “And the Illuminati.”
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#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: This One is Just Right
-> #Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt #TimeTravelAuthors 25. Midnight?Above me towered the bronze statue of Peter the Great, snow clinging to his horse’s back. In the background, the voices of a choir rose, drowning out the sound of machine gunfire.
I stuck around St. Petersburg
When I saw it was time for a change
I killed the Czar and his ministers
Anastasia screamed in vainThe cacophony was so loud that I almost missed the voice saying, “Папа, папа.” If it hadn’t been for the tone, I would’ve missed it. Claire was calling me.
I tried to turn toward her but realized that I couldn’t move. It was like sleep paralysis, where everything was frozen except my eyes. When I squinted to the side, I looked out over a sparkling white field, like a #park or city plaza. It was a flat expanse cut in half by a glass plane that curved overhead. Through it towered the distorted shape of a can of red bean soup. Beyond that, I could see the inside of the cabin facing the bedroom. Floating above it all was Claire’s distorted, terrified face.
Somewhere, a clock tolled the hour. Claire turned and walked toward the bedroom. The choir fell #silent, and the gunfire faded and vanished. Each booming chime broke the silence, stirring the snow. Large flakes drifted down, dislodged from the statue above.
In the bedroom, three shadows danced in the air like smoke from a plague pyre.
“This noose is too big.”
“No!” I silently screamed, struggling to move.
“This noose is too sloppy.”
Peter the Great grinned down at me, his once solemn face now leering. It was a twisted smile that all but laughed.
The clock struck midnight.
“But this noose is just right.”
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#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: And This One is Too Cold
#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt 12/14 #TimeTravelAuthors 12/13 #WordWeavers 12/14: injuries“We need to get out of here!” I yelled as soon as I had recovered from seeing my wife burned at the stake.
“We can’t leave her,” Claire sobbed. But I knew my duty and what Rebecca would have wanted. That was to get our daughter to safety. I could return here with a priest or a medium or someone else—anyone—to see if we could recall Rebecca.
I grabbed Claire and dragged her to the door. She kicked and screamed. Her nails tore at my hands, but I held on. Finally, she broke free when I tried to open the cabin door.
For a second, I was paralyzed, torn between opening the door and catching her again. Then, there was a #popping noise, and I felt a sharp pain run down my back. Only after I’d hit the floor did I realize what had happened. I had thrown out my back while trying to do both.
It was an old injury, but when it went out, I couldn’t move for weeks.
Paralyzed, I watched Claire run to the bedroom, screaming her mother’s name. “Rebecca! Mommy!
Then silence fell.
“Claire, honey. Help me.” I called. “We need to get out of here so we can bring someone back to rescue Mom.” I wasn’t #optimistic, though. Laying her soul to rest was probably the best we could do.
I waited, #hoping I’d convinced Claire.
“Okay,” she replied, coming out of the bedroom. Sparkling white gems dangled from the torn fabric of her white dress. The words “Anastasia screamed in vain” came to me from somewhere.
I shivered when she spoke again, in a #faraway, forlorn voice: “They came for them. Мама, папа.”
Slowly, her eyes focused.
“I’ll help you, папа,” she continued, her voice still dreamy.
She re-entered the bedroom, where I could see her next to a chest of drawers. When she pulled out the first drawer, she dumped it out. Clothes, a length of rope, and other odds clattered to the floor.
“This one is too messy,” she chanted. I heard the next drawer and chant, “And this one is too empty.”
Finally, she opened the bottom drawer and took something out.
“And this one is so cute. The Santa looks just like you, папа.”
She held a snow globe depicting Santa in a town square. In the background, a palace stood amid snowdrifts. When she shook it, snow flew—dazzling, blinding, a sheet that obscured the room.
She repeated, “Just like you.”
The snow brushed my face. In the background, I heard a horse scream and a gunshot.
3/4
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#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: And This One is Too Cold
#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt 12/14 #TimeTravelAuthors 12/13 #WordWeavers 12/14: injuries“We need to get out of here!” I yelled as soon as I had recovered from seeing my wife burned at the stake.
“We can’t leave her,” Claire sobbed. But I knew my duty and what Rebecca would have wanted. That was to get our daughter to safety. I could return here with a priest or a medium or someone else—anyone—to see if we could recall Rebecca.
I grabbed Claire and dragged her to the door. She kicked and screamed. Her nails tore at my hands, but I held on. Finally, she broke free when I tried to open the cabin door.
For a second, I was paralyzed, torn between opening the door and catching her again. Then, there was a #popping noise, and I felt a sharp pain run down my back. Only after I’d hit the floor did I realize what had happened. I had thrown out my back while trying to do both.
It was an old injury, but when it went out, I couldn’t move for weeks.
Paralyzed, I watched Claire run to the bedroom, screaming her mother’s name. “Rebecca! Mommy!
Then silence fell.
“Claire, honey. Help me.” I called. “We need to get out of here so we can bring someone back to rescue Mom.” I wasn’t #optimistic, though. Laying her soul to rest was probably the best we could do.
I waited, #hoping I’d convinced Claire.
“Okay,” she replied, coming out of the bedroom. Sparkling white gems dangled from the torn fabric of her white dress. The words “Anastasia screamed in vain” came to me from somewhere.
I shivered when she spoke again, in a #faraway, forlorn voice: “They came for them. Мама, папа.”
Slowly, her eyes focused.
“I’ll help you, папа,” she continued, her voice still dreamy.
She re-entered the bedroom, where I could see her next to a chest of drawers. When she pulled out the first drawer, she dumped it out. Clothes, a length of rope, and other odds clattered to the floor.
“This one is too messy,” she chanted. I heard the next drawer and chant, “And this one is too empty.”
Finally, she opened the bottom drawer and took something out.
“And this one is so cute. The Santa looks just like you, папа.”
She held a snow globe depicting Santa in a town square. In the background, a palace stood amid snowdrifts. When she shook it, snow flew—dazzling, blinding, a sheet that obscured the room.
She repeated, “Just like you.”
The snow brushed my face. In the background, I heard a horse scream and a gunshot.
3/4
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#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: And This One is Too Cold
#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt 12/14 #TimeTravelAuthors 12/13 #WordWeavers 12/14: injuries“We need to get out of here!” I yelled as soon as I had recovered from seeing my wife burned at the stake.
“We can’t leave her,” Claire sobbed. But I knew my duty and what Rebecca would have wanted. That was to get our daughter to safety. I could return here with a priest or a medium or someone else—anyone—to see if we could recall Rebecca.
I grabbed Claire and dragged her to the door. She kicked and screamed. Her nails tore at my hands, but I held on. Finally, she broke free when I tried to open the cabin door.
For a second, I was paralyzed, torn between opening the door and catching her again. Then, there was a #popping noise, and I felt a sharp pain run down my back. Only after I’d hit the floor did I realize what had happened. I had thrown out my back while trying to do both.
It was an old injury, but when it went out, I couldn’t move for weeks.
Paralyzed, I watched Claire run to the bedroom, screaming her mother’s name. “Rebecca! Mommy!
Then silence fell.
“Claire, honey. Help me.” I called. “We need to get out of here so we can bring someone back to rescue Mom.” I wasn’t #optimistic, though. Laying her soul to rest was probably the best we could do.
I waited, #hoping I’d convinced Claire.
“Okay,” she replied, coming out of the bedroom. Sparkling white gems dangled from the torn fabric of her white dress. The words “Anastasia screamed in vain” came to me from somewhere.
I shivered when she spoke again, in a #faraway, forlorn voice: “They came for them. Мама, папа.”
Slowly, her eyes focused.
“I’ll help you, папа,” she continued, her voice still dreamy.
She re-entered the bedroom, where I could see her next to a chest of drawers. When she pulled out the first drawer, she dumped it out. Clothes, a length of rope, and other odds clattered to the floor.
“This one is too messy,” she chanted. I heard the next drawer and chant, “And this one is too empty.”
Finally, she opened the bottom drawer and took something out.
“And this one is so cute. The Santa looks just like you, папа.”
She held a snow globe depicting Santa in a town square. In the background, a palace stood amid snowdrifts. When she shook it, snow flew—dazzling, blinding, a sheet that obscured the room.
She repeated, “Just like you.”
The snow brushed my face. In the background, I heard a horse scream and a gunshot.
3/4
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#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: And This One is Too Cold
#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt 12/14 #TimeTravelAuthors 12/13“We need to get out of here!” I yelled as soon as I had recovered from seeing my wife burned at the stake.
“We can’t leave her,” Claire sobbed. But I knew my duty and what Rebecca would have wanted. That was to get our daughter to safety. I could return here with a priest or a medium or someone else—anyone—to see if we could recall Rebecca.
I grabbed Claire and dragged her to the door. She kicked and screamed. Her nails tore at my hands, but I held on. Finally, she broke free when I tried to open the cabin door.
For a second, I was paralyzed, torn between opening the door and catching her again. Then, there was a #popping noise, and I felt a sharp pain run down my back. Only after I’d hit the floor did I realize what had happened. I had thrown out my back while trying to do both.
It was an old injury, but when it went out, I couldn’t move for weeks.
Paralyzed, I watched Claire run to the bedroom, screaming her mother’s name. “Rebecca! Mommy!
Then silence fell.
“Claire, honey. Help me.” I called. “We need to get out of here so we can bring someone back to rescue Mom.” I wasn’t #optimistic, though. Laying her soul to rest was probably the best we could do.
I waited, #hoping I’d convinced Claire.
“Okay,” she replied, coming out of the bedroom. Sparkling white gems dangled from the torn fabric of her white dress. The words “Anastasia screamed in vain” came to me from somewhere.
I shivered when she spoke again, in a #faraway, forlorn voice: “They came for them. Мама, папа.”
Slowly, her eyes focused.
“I’ll help you, папа,” she continued, her voice still dreamy.
She re-entered the bedroom, where I could see her next to a chest of drawers. When she pulled out the first drawer, she dumped it out. Clothes, a length of rope, and other odds clattered to the floor.
“This one is too messy,” she chanted. I heard the next drawer and chant, “And this one is too empty.”
Finally, she opened the bottom drawer and took something out.
“And this one is so cute. The Santa looks just like you, папа.”
She held a snow globe depicting Santa in a town square. In the background, a palace stood amid snowdrifts. When she shook it, snow flew—dazzling, blinding, a sheet that obscured the room.
She repeated, “Just like you.”
The snow brushed my face. In the background, I heard a horse scream and a gunshot.
3/4
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 56: EP 5: Jurassic Era — Rabbits
**#TimeTravelAuthors #Wss366 #Mastoprompt 12/13
As the gentle #fluid #folds of the conifer forested hills ended, the ridge rose steeply in front of us. Although climbing it would be difficult, the incline was a good thing. I doubted the big dinosaurs could climb it. Still, I needed to watch out for smaller ones. Airborne reptiles didn't seem like a problem. The only ones we had seen were small pterodactyls. The largest had a wingspan of about one meter and was no more threatening than a fish eagle.
I zigzagged up the grueling slope, stopping frequently to catch my breath and to ask Emily, "How #far?" until she snapped, "How old are you? Three?"
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 55: EP 5: Jurassic Era — Rabbits
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 12/9
The rumbling of the behemoths diminished and then vanished. I opened my eyes. Emily was seated nearby on a mossy log with her mouth set in a concerned line.
“You okay?” she asked, biting her lip.
I felt heavy, and my legs were numb, but I could sit up. “Yeah, but I need to rest. I panicked a bit there.”
A smile touched her lips, easing the pinched look on her face. “I’ll say. Anyone would with those things coming at them.”
“How much more of this is there?”
“The good news is we can cut over to the ridge about a quarter mile out. The bad news is the slope’s wide open, so we’ll be plain as day. And believe me, there are some mean customers out there. Those boys weren’t stampeding for the sheer fun of it.”
My smile felt stiff. I could picture “mean customers” with lots of sharp teeth.
“Buck up; it’s the toll for being able to enjoy food and drink. Besides, you’re pretty spry. You have turning ectoplasmic down pat. If you didn’t—Ghost flapjacks.”
I laughed, “Ghost flapjacks,” that was a wonderful turn of phrase.
“Well, we’d better get moving. It looks like the no-man’s-land after the Jerries gave it a good shellacking.”
I groaned and got up, but was pleased to find my knee was better. There were lots of advantages of being a ghost.
My pleasure didn’t last long. As Emily had indicated, the trail became a quagmire of churned mud, torn vegetation, and a #soapy froth. It was a hellacious quarter mile.
Despite the “doughboy” slog to the ridge, there was only one incident. We had reached an open conifer forest running at the foot of the ridge when a stegosaurus burst from behind a grove of trees where it had hidden.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a carnivore. The only damage I sustained was a near heart attack when the immense beast lumbered past. It was almost comical, with its plates rattling, the thud of feet, and its tail striking against trees. There was a #chipped plate midway down its back. It was only funny because I was far enough away for the tail to pose no threat.
A minute later, Emily landed and apologized for not spotting it.
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 55: EP 5: Jurassic Era — Rabbits
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 12/9
The rumbling of the behemoths diminished and then vanished. I opened my eyes. Emily was seated nearby on a mossy log with her mouth set in a concerned line.
“You okay?” she asked, biting her lip.
I felt heavy, and my legs were numb, but I could sit up. “Yeah, but I need to rest. I panicked a bit there.”
A smile touched her lips, easing the pinched look on her face. “I’ll say. Anyone would with those things coming at them.”
“How much more of this is there?”
“The good news is we can cut over to the ridge about a quarter mile out. The bad news is the slope’s wide open, so we’ll be plain as day. And believe me, there are some mean customers out there. Those boys weren’t stampeding for the sheer fun of it.”
My smile felt stiff. I could picture “mean customers” with lots of sharp teeth.
“Buck up; it’s the toll for being able to enjoy food and drink. Besides, you’re pretty spry. You have turning ectoplasmic down pat. If you didn’t—Ghost flapjacks.”
I laughed, “Ghost flapjacks,” that was a wonderful turn of phrase.
“Well, we’d better get moving. It looks like the no-man’s-land after the Jerries gave it a good shellacking.”
I groaned and got up, but was pleased to find my knee was better. There were lots of advantages of being a ghost.
My pleasure didn’t last long. As Emily had indicated, the trail became a quagmire of churned mud, torn vegetation, and a #soapy froth. It was a hellacious quarter mile.
Despite the “doughboy” slog to the ridge, there was only one incident. We had reached an open conifer forest running at the foot of the ridge when a stegosaurus burst from behind a grove of trees where it had hidden.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a carnivore. The only damage I sustained was a near heart attack when the immense beast lumbered past. It was almost comical, with its plates rattling, the thud of feet, and its tail striking against trees. There was a #chipped plate midway down its back. It was only funny because I was far enough away for the tail to pose no threat.
A minute later, Emily landed and apologized for not spotting it.
-
#TimeTravelingGhost Part 55: EP 5: Jurassic Era — Rabbits
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 12/9
The rumbling of the behemoths diminished and then vanished. I opened my eyes. Emily was seated nearby on a mossy log with her mouth set in a concerned line.
“You okay?” she asked, biting her lip.
I felt heavy, and my legs were numb, but I could sit up. “Yeah, but I need to rest. I panicked a bit there.”
A smile touched her lips, easing the pinched look on her face. “I’ll say. Anyone would with those things coming at them.”
“How much more of this is there?”
“The good news is we can cut over to the ridge about a quarter mile out. The bad news is the slope’s wide open, so we’ll be plain as day. And believe me, there are some mean customers out there. Those boys weren’t stampeding for the sheer fun of it.”
My smile felt stiff. I could picture “mean customers” with lots of sharp teeth.
“Buck up; it’s the toll for being able to enjoy food and drink. Besides, you’re pretty spry. You have turning ectoplasmic down pat. If you didn’t—Ghost flapjacks.”
I laughed, “Ghost flapjacks,” that was a wonderful turn of phrase.
“Well, we’d better get moving. It looks like the no-man’s-land after the Jerries gave it a good shellacking.”
I groaned and got up, but was pleased to find my knee was better. There were lots of advantages of being a ghost.
My pleasure didn’t last long. As Emily had indicated, the trail became a quagmire of churned mud, torn vegetation, and a #soapy froth. It was a hellacious quarter mile.
Despite the “doughboy” slog to the ridge, there was only one incident. We had reached an open conifer forest running at the foot of the ridge when a stegosaurus burst from behind a grove of trees where it had hidden.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a carnivore. The only damage I sustained was a near heart attack when the immense beast lumbered past. It was almost comical, with its plates rattling, the thud of feet, and its tail striking against trees. There was a #chipped plate midway down its back. It was only funny because I was far enough away for the tail to pose no threat.
A minute later, Emily landed and apologized for not spotting it.
-
#TimeTravelingGhost Part 55: EP 5: Jurassic Era — Rabbits
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 12/9
The rumbling of the behemoths diminished and then vanished. I opened my eyes. Emily was seated nearby on a mossy log with her mouth set in a concerned line.
“You okay?” she asked, biting her lip.
I felt heavy, and my legs were numb, but I could sit up. “Yeah, but I need to rest. I panicked a bit there.”
A smile touched her lips, easing the pinched look on her face. “I’ll say. Anyone would with those things coming at them.”
“How much more of this is there?”
“The good news is we can cut over to the ridge about a quarter mile out. The bad news is the slope’s wide open, so we’ll be plain as day. And believe me, there are some mean customers out there. Those boys weren’t stampeding for the sheer fun of it.”
My smile felt stiff. I could picture “mean customers” with lots of sharp teeth.
“Buck up; it’s the toll for being able to enjoy food and drink. Besides, you’re pretty spry. You have turning ectoplasmic down pat. If you didn’t—Ghost flapjacks.”
I laughed, “Ghost flapjacks,” that was a wonderful turn of phrase.
“Well, we’d better get moving. It looks like the no-man’s-land after the Jerries gave it a good shellacking.”
I groaned and got up, but was pleased to find my knee was better. There were lots of advantages of being a ghost.
My pleasure didn’t last long. As Emily had indicated, the trail became a quagmire of churned mud, torn vegetation, and a #soapy froth. It was a hellacious quarter mile.
Despite the “doughboy” slog to the ridge, there was only one incident. We had reached an open conifer forest running at the foot of the ridge when a stegosaurus burst from behind a grove of trees where it had hidden.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a carnivore. The only damage I sustained was a near heart attack when the immense beast lumbered past. It was almost comical, with its plates rattling, the thud of feet, and its tail striking against trees. There was a #chipped plate midway down its back. It was only funny because I was far enough away for the tail to pose no threat.
A minute later, Emily landed and apologized for not spotting it.
-
#TimeTravelingGhost Part 55: EP 5: Jurassic Era — Rabbits
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 12/9
The rumbling of the behemoths diminished and then vanished. I opened my eyes. Emily was seated nearby on a mossy log with her mouth set in a concerned line.
“You okay?” she asked, biting her lip.
I felt heavy, and my legs were numb, but I could sit up. “Yeah, but I need to rest. I panicked a bit there.”
A smile touched her lips, easing the pinched look on her face. “I’ll say. Anyone would with those things coming at them.”
“How much more of this is there?”
“The good news is we can cut over to the ridge about a quarter mile out. The bad news is the slope’s wide open, so we’ll be plain as day. And believe me, there are some mean customers out there. Those boys weren’t stampeding for the sheer fun of it.”
My smile felt stiff. I could picture “mean customers” with lots of sharp teeth.
“Buck up; it’s the toll for being able to enjoy food and drink. Besides, you’re pretty spry. You have turning ectoplasmic down pat. If you didn’t—Ghost flapjacks.”
I laughed, “Ghost flapjacks,” that was a wonderful turn of phrase.
“Well, we’d better get moving. It looks like the no-man’s-land after the Jerries gave it a good shellacking.”
I groaned and got up, but was pleased to find my knee was better. There were lots of advantages of being a ghost.
My pleasure didn’t last long. As Emily had indicated, the trail became a quagmire of churned mud, torn vegetation, and a #soapy froth. It was a hellacious quarter mile.
Despite the “doughboy” slog to the ridge, there was only one incident. We had reached an open conifer forest running at the foot of the ridge when a stegosaurus burst from behind a grove of trees where it had hidden.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a carnivore. The only damage I sustained was a near heart attack when the immense beast lumbered past. It was almost comical, with its plates rattling, the thud of feet, and its tail striking against trees. There was a #chipped plate midway down its back. It was only funny because I was far enough away for the tail to pose no threat.
A minute later, Emily landed and apologized for not spotting it.
-
#TimeTravelingGhost Part 54: EP 5: Jurassic Era — Rabbits
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 12/3
I was about to test whether an elephant gun would manifest, as it was a more appropriate weapon for the Jurassic era, when Emily shouted, “Off the trail! We have company!”
The edge of the path was about thirty meters away, with a tangle of crushed fern-trees and cattails blocking my way. The ground shook. At first, I frantically tried to scramble toward the edge, pulling at the ferns and clambering over logs. Ferns slapped my face leaving it stinging, and thorns tore at my clothes.
“Ahrrr.” My knee buckled as my leg plunged into a footprint the size of a drainage pipe and as deep as a #post-hole.
I tried to pull my leg out, mud dragging at it. I pulled harder, and my foot pulled out of my boot. Pain shot up my leg. It felt like my knee had become dislocated. Brown streaks and stars blurred my vision.
“I was a ghost,” I thought. “This shouldn't be happening.”
But it was.
I had to do something. Not only was the ground shaking, but I could also hear crashing trees and thunderous footsteps, like a stampede of elephants.
Time was running out.
“Breathe, breathe,” I whispered to myself. “Calm down. You can #cope. Breath. Fade away.”
The pain ebbed, and I floated up and then through the wreckage blocking my way until I was deep inside the forest. Once there, I materialized and collapsed. At least I hadn’t passed out as I did at the aerodrome.
My relief was brief. Overhead, the trees thrashed as if in a hurricane, and beneath me, the ground rolled in waves. The air was full of the sound of splintering timber. Deep booming grunts, like those of a giant hippo, drowned my scream as the head of a brontosaurus-like creature appeared. Vegetation dangled from its mouth like insane Christmas #decorations.
My instincts kicked in, and I tried to scramble deeper into the brush, but I couldn't move. I couldn’t feel my legs and when I tried to lift my arms, my hands only flopped. All I could do was close my eyes and pray.
-
#TimeTravelingGhost Part 47: EP 4: 1937 Amelia Earhart.
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 10/7. Something odd/weird you've experienced
We didn’t have to walk far before Amelia came into view again. She stood where the inlet met the sea. Creamy currents ran past her as the lagoon emptied. A signal fire danced in front of her. Its ghostly blue flames #curled and flickered. The exposed white coral behind her blended into her ethereal form. She appeared to be the spirit of the island itself: white coral edging a deep indigo ocean. It wasn’t the weirdest thing I had ever seen, but it was close.
Emily grabbed my arm, and we stopped. Turning to face her, I waited for her to speak.
“How are we going to convince her she’s a ghost?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She nodded. “We might not be able to do things like stop the Great War, but we can do little things, like freeing her.”
“We can do that, but there might be more we can do. Next, let’s find out more about the rabbits. I think they’re up to no good.”
She nodded in agreement.
#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #TimeTravel #NMTTA #NMV366 #Spooktober
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 46: EP 4: 1937 Amelia Earhart.
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 9/27 Saturday excerpt (optional word: pleasant)
The ocean mist that was drifting in was #pleasant after the night's muggy warmth. The beach had been fairly straight until this point, but with the limited visibility, we almost fell into what I guessed was an inlet to a lagoon. Soggy, burnt wood was mixed with the sand, and its faint odor perfumed the air. We still hadn’t seen Amelia, and I was more convinced than ever that I knew where we were. It was the #worst option, the one place I’d prayed we wouldn’t find ourselves.
“I think I hear something,” Emily said, pointing inland.
When I listened, I thought I heard crying, but it could have been the wind. “That way is as good as any,” I said.
The sound faded as we walked along the beach. No matter how hard I listened, all I could hear was the wind, the surf, and the scuttling of crabs, some of which were as big as a cat or small dog.
The memory of a pretty papillon named "Rindy" floated up into my consciousness, and I wondered if he had been mine.
“There it is again,” Emily said.
This time, I could plainly hear a woman weeping. The sound came from in front of us, off to the right.
“Amelia, Amelia Earhart!” I yelled, and the weeping stopped.
“There’s a path,” Emily said, pointing to a rough trail leading inland through the trees.
“I’m here! Thank God at last,” came a shout from the direction the path led.
We followed the voice and soon found a clearing. In the center were the ashes of a fire, scattered coconut, and crab shells. The scent of the jungle and sea mingled with the sour-sweet stench of death. On the far side of the fire lay a rotting corpse. Crabs that had nearly picked the skeleton clean scurried away from our light. The word “#gross” almost escaped my lips.
Just beyond stood a woman dressed in aviator clothes. We had found Amelia Earhart.
#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #TimeTravel #NMPrompts #NMTTA #NMV366 #NMMP #historicalfiction
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Imber Befogged (Part 1)
#Wss366 9/25 #MastoPrompt 7-9/25
#Fog obscured the Wandering-Worlds. [Note 1] Though rare, it was not an unknown occurrence. Imbers [Note 2] who had found themselves befogged, reported finding their way back only by luck. Sometimes, Blades [Note 3] came for them later. It was best to keep quiet about what one saw in that #mist-shrouded landscape.
[Note 1] Wandering-Worlds: A liminal space affected by the imagination of wanderers. It serves as a shortcut between the floating continents.
[Note 2] Imbers: Individuals born with the power to walk the “Wandering-Worlds.”
[Note 3] Blades: Individuals tasked with hunting down and executing Imbers who break the law. They can suppress an Imber’s ability to walk the Wandering-Worlds.
“The Imber” only knew these things through rumors and stories told late at night. That was also forbidden, but when it was dark and no one could see the teller, stories would pass from speaker to listener. It was difficult to tell how distorted the stories had become as they passed from one Imber to another. “The Imber” doubted the stories of silver cities and feral undead monsters. But the fog was a thread that wound through all of them.
Now, “The Imber” knew that the fog was real because she was lost in it. The road she followed dipped downward rather than ascending. No matter how hard she tried to envision the road differently, it soon slipped back into its descent.
The road took a sharp turn, and she stood before a stone arch. Engraved words adorned its smooth white surface. The writing used an archaic form of the Shaw alphabet. “The Imber” studied the arabesque runes. Most of them were indecipherable. But scattered among the #sprays of flowers, she made out the words “History,” “Clay,” and a few common words.
Rather than enter the arch, she turned, looking to see if she could return the way she had come. However, the fog #snaked in heavy coils through the tumbled blocks that had once paved the road. Stories of undead monstrosities returned to her.
To be Continued
[Note 4] #FanFiction for a yet-to-be-published book, “Soul Fire” by Jesse Sprague.
#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #Fantasy #NMPrompts #NMTTA #NMV366 #NMMP
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 43: EP 4: 1937 Amelia Earhart. 2 of 3
#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 9/21. Characters’ sincerity?
In front of us rose a dense wall of low, tangled scrub, and beyond that, the jagged silhouette of tall trees loomed against the night sky. I could identify palm trees among them. A cool breeze blew off the ocean, along with the steady drum of the surf. Out of the wind, the night was warm and humid. The air smelled of salt, leaf mold, and something faintly acrid.
“Heinr… Henrietta—Bijou?” She faltered and then asked, “What should I call you? That professor called you Henrietta something-or-other, but that’s not the name you gave me.”
“Mademoiselle Henrietta Dubois is dead, and I don’t even remember what her life was like. But Henrietta is easier than Luminelle. So, Henrietta Bijou will do.”
“Should I call you Hetty or Retta? What would you like?”
“Bijou. It’s easy, and what you’ve been calling me.”
“Okay, Bijou… Do you think there are timeparticles where there was no Great War and another war with Germany fizzles out?”
“It’s possible. If there are other time-travelers, it’s something they might want to do. Then again, maybe not. I’m guessing there’re forces working against that. Someone or something ransacked my office and murdered me.”
“Rabbits?”
“That seems like a good guess.”
“It never stops, does it, Bijou? We just keep doing it over and over.”
I changed the subject. Not to be a #jerk, but the conversation stirred up the shadows of uncomfortable memories and feelings. “I think I know where we are. Not the name, but the historical event. Let’s go find Amelia.”
I turned and walked down the beach. I found myself singing.
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time passing.
…
Gone for soldiers, every one.
…
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn? [Note 2]Note 2: Where have all the flowers gone -The Kingston Trio
Part 3 continues in the next post.
#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #TimeTravel #NMPrompts #NMTTA #NMV366 #NMMP
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 42f: EP 3: 2025 Miskatonic University
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 9/19. Any references to other time travel works in your story? — No
Still puzzled, Skully opened the drawer and pulled out a local newspaper. The front cover announced, “The Pendulum Murder,” and underneath, “Another Spooky U Mystery.”
He rapidly closed the drawer. “From the day after you were discovered. Nothing futuristic about it.”
“About time-travel?” I nudged.
“Right, let’s see. You said, ‘Most people picture time as a single immutable line. My theory—and by that I mean your theory—is that time is closer to a high-pressure stream of water. All of time exists at once, and time-pressure keeps each contemporary timeparticle identical.’”
He took a breath, and I thought, “He has an excellent memory.”
He continued quoting me verbatim. “A small deviation in a timeline is easily corrected. For example, the rat I brought you. When I put it back into its cage, our timeline will be virtually identical to one where the rat wasn’t sent back in time. Even major changes may be smoothed over. If a large change remains uncorrected, that timeparticle flies out of the timestream, like a water droplet or minor spray.”
“Frankly,” he finished. “I thought all your drinking had #fried your brains.”
Emily called from the door, “Someone is coming.”
“Thank you, Professor Skully,” I said. “I suggest you forget this conversation, or you may wind up dead. There appear to be other time-travelers, and they don’t want to share their secret. Oh, and also, I was just a confused student and have left.”
“Wait,” he began, but I had already taken Emily’s hand.
“Best if I’m not seen here.” I didn’t add, “Especially if they’re #enamored with our rabbits.”
Judging by the loud voices down the hall, we would soon have visitors. We had to go now, and Amelia Earhart was who I thought of first.
#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #TimeTravel #NMPrompts #NMTTA #NMV366 #NMMP
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 38b: EP 3: 2025 Miskatonic University”
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 9/11. How do you keep up urgency in your story?
I hustled Professor Skully into his office. Emily stood outside the door, keeping watch. The prevalence of fascistic rabbits, supernatural creatures, and disasters was enough to #instill a sense of urgency in my life.
“What’s going on, Professor Dubois?” Skully sputtered. It was a wonder I’d gotten him away from the rabbit without his going off. “If this is a game, the university will be most displeased. Body parts scattered in various cemeteries, your lab vandalized, and now you waltz in at the middle of the night. If I weren’t #monitoring the courtyard, who knows what you might have gotten up to.”
“I assure you, this is no game. Before I explain, I need you to answer one question: Are you in league with the rabbits?”
“Rabbits?” Skully’s eyes bulged. “What are on about? I warned you not to experiment on yourself!”
Either he was an excellent actor, or he knew nothing about our invisible rabbits.
“Well, never mind them. I just had to check.”
I held up my hands to stop him from speaking. “What I am going to tell you will sound fantastic. But I assure you it is the truth. Please, I need you to accept it and then answer some questions.”
“I’ll take your comments under advisement, but make no promises.”
“I’m a…”
My statement remained unfinished because of Emily’s warning from outside the door. “It’s coming.”
#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #TimeTravel #NMPrompts #NMTTA #NMV366 #NMMP
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 36: EP 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part V
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 9/3
I woke up to #soft sunlight filtering through the branches of a pine tree. At first, I didn’t know where I was, so I rolled over to sleep off my hangover. It wasn’t the first time I had awoken in an odd spot. At least this was better than a park bench covered with newspapers.
“Thank goodness. I was afraid I’d lost you.”
The voice was familiar.
I sat up, feeling the pine needles #snap under me, and looked into the face of Miss Emily Pang, the ghost.
“How long was I out? Our mission?” my reply #stilted by remnants of sleep.
“An hour, maybe half. We still have time if we hurry. Make yourself look like you barely escaped.”
When we emerged from the trees, we could see the Hindenburg. It lay in a tangled, smoking heap. The ship’s braces were twisted or broken. I gasped. The pictures I had seen didn’t capture the true devastation and tragedy of the accident.
“If only we could have prevented it,” I said, hurrying to catch up with Emily.
#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #TimeTravel #NMPrompts #NMTTA #NMV366 #NMMP #Hindenberg
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 35: EP 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part U
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 31
When the fateful day arrived, Emily and I stayed glued to the observation posts. Passengers came to admire the New Jersey countryside below, and then left to pack.
Miss Pang took a seat in the lounge near us and ordered a Champagne cocktail. She glanced my way but no more.
Next to me, Emily said, “I’m watching you. If we don’t crash, I want to catch you before you slip away.”
Her use of "I" confused me, but I followed her gaze to Miss Pang. I nodded. “I wouldn’t expect less of you. If we don’t crash, I’ll be happy to hand her the film and apologize.”
The landing mast came into view, a tall, spindly structure. Below was a mixture of pine forests and sandy fields. The aerodrome building loomed large, and I could see the people clearly. “Which one will I be giving the film to?” I asked.
“He’s next to the terminal. I’ll lead you to him.”
“There’s a crowd down there. Are they all needed to land this thing?” I asked, looking at the lines of men in uniforms. What I mainly noticed a field of bobbing white hats.
“First time, bud,” the man next to me said. “Don’t worry. They’ve got it down to a science. We’ll be on the ground in a jiffy.”
I nodded thanks, wondering if he would remember those words later.
The tableware in the room rattled, and the ship groaned.
I felt sick to my stomach. Things were going to get very bad soon. Some people around me might die. I hoped the steward survived. He’d treated me well. It #frustrated me that there was nothing I could do to help these people.
A stray thought popped into my head: “What will they think when they can’t find my body? Mlle Bijou was on the #manifest, or will my name disappear?”
I glanced at where Miss Pang had been sitting, but she’d disappeared. The cocktail was untouched—a mocking symbol of an unfinished life.
I wondered about her absence, but there wasn’t time to think about it.
“Passengers, please prepare for landing,” the captain announced over the intercom, repeating the message in German.
I took Emily’s hand. “Ready.” My voice sounded unsteady. She nodded, and I focused on dematerializing. A process that always seemed to take forever, though in truth it was only thirty seconds. The man next to us gaped as he stared at me. The next few minutes would scar him for life. My disappearing act was only the beginning.
I tugged on Emily’s hand and stepped through the wall. It was like walking into a gale. The wall was thin, and I was outside the ship in an instant. The ground looked very far away.
My head spun, and my stomach lurched. What if I fell? I had no idea what would happen if I ran out of energy and materialized again. Emily had carefully pointed out that I only thought I couldn’t die. Even if I were right, I suspected a fall from this height would hurt.
“My God, I’m going to fall!”
#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #TimeTravel #NMPrompts #NMTTA #NMV366 #NMMP
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 32: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part R
#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 15. Injustice
After dinner, I returned to my cabin and updated Emily. She listened attentively. At first, her brow creased, and I imagined her thinking me a dunce for not sticking to our plan. But as I continued, they smoothed, and she nodded. I finished: “So I have an appointment with Miss Pang to discuss mind-reading tomorrow.”
“That was well played. And you’re right; Miss Pang will suspect you of being from counterintelligence.”
Then her brow furrowed again, and she changed the subject. “I’ve been wondering why you’re so eager to help me, when you could travel to wonderful, exotic places rather than spend time on a doomed ship.”
“I’ll give you three reasons. First, the Hindenburg a world class experience, with good food and pleasant company. Second, while I’m no social justice warrior, the Nazis are a blot on human history. You can’t imagine the depth of their crimes. The injustices laid at their door would boggle your mind. Third, I came here looking for a travel companion and found you—reason enough for me.”
“You have a colorful vocabulary: ‘social justice warrior,’ ‘laid at their door,’ ‘boggle your mind.’ I get what you’re saying, but watch it when talking to Miss Pang.”
That led to another lesson on 1930s idioms. After that, I had great success experimenting with sleep.
In the morning, breakfast went without a hitch, and I got to sample clotted cream with my fruit—not bad—and was careful to tip discreetly.
By early afternoon, I’d settled into the lounge. Miss Pang came in later, but I held off talking to her until she had a few drinks.
I’d switched back to Champagné cocktails on Emily’s advice. She had also suggested the Kir Royale or LZ-129. She said they were more ladylike than whiskey sours. The #latter had some appeal, but it was late in the day for orange juice. So, I selected what I had ordered the day before, Champagné cocktails. I needed to drink something alcoholic. A sudden interest in sobriety would raise suspicions.
As Miss Pang finished her second drink, Emily took a place at the door, watching for SS rabbits. Taking a last swig of my Champagne, I set off across the room, and I had almost reached Miss Pang when a German-sounding fellow stopped me. “You’re the magician, aren’t you? Your trick impressed me yesterday. Such precision; it really looked like someone had picked up the glass, and there were no visible wires. Wunderbar!”
I nodded politely, hoping he wouldn’t ask me to join him for a drink. That was when Emily signaled, and three rabbits entered. At first, I thought the German fellow was a blessing in disguise, since I was talking to him, not Miss Pang.
But only at first, because the three of them marched over and surrounded us. The cold, hard glint in their eyes was as terrifying as the death's head insignia and swastika of their uniforms.
-
#TimeTravelingGhost Part 32: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part R
#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 15. Injustice
After dinner, I returned to my cabin and updated Emily. She listened attentively. At first, her brow creased, and I imagined her thinking me a dunce for not sticking to our plan. But as I continued, they smoothed, and she nodded. I finished: “So I have an appointment with Miss Pang to discuss mind-reading tomorrow.”
“That was well played. And you’re right; Miss Pang will suspect you of being from counterintelligence.”
Then her brow furrowed again, and she changed the subject. “I’ve been wondering why you’re so eager to help me, when you could travel to wonderful, exotic places rather than spend time on a doomed ship.”
“I’ll give you three reasons. First, the Hindenburg a world class experience, with good food and pleasant company. Second, while I’m no social justice warrior, the Nazis are a blot on human history. You can’t imagine the depth of their crimes. The injustices laid at their door would boggle your mind. Third, I came here looking for a travel companion and found you—reason enough for me.”
“You have a colorful vocabulary: ‘social justice warrior,’ ‘laid at their door,’ ‘boggle your mind.’ I get what you’re saying, but watch it when talking to Miss Pang.”
That led to another lesson on 1930s idioms. After that, I had great success experimenting with sleep.
In the morning, breakfast went without a hitch, and I got to sample clotted cream with my fruit—not bad—and was careful to tip discreetly.
By early afternoon, I’d settled into the lounge. Miss Pang came in later, but I held off talking to her until she had a few drinks.
I’d switched back to Champagné cocktails on Emily’s advice. She had also suggested the Kir Royale or LZ-129. She said they were more ladylike than whiskey sours. The #latter had some appeal, but it was late in the day for orange juice. So, I selected what I had ordered the day before, Champagné cocktails. I needed to drink something alcoholic. A sudden interest in sobriety would raise suspicions.
As Miss Pang finished her second drink, Emily took a place at the door, watching for SS rabbits. Taking a last swig of my Champagne, I set off across the room, and I had almost reached Miss Pang when a German-sounding fellow stopped me. “You’re the magician, aren’t you? Your trick impressed me yesterday. Such precision; it really looked like someone had picked up the glass, and there were no visible wires. Wunderbar!”
I nodded politely, hoping he wouldn’t ask me to join him for a drink. That was when Emily signaled, and three rabbits entered. At first, I thought the German fellow was a blessing in disguise, since I was talking to him, not Miss Pang.
But only at first, because the three of them marched over and surrounded us. The cold, hard glint in their eyes was as terrifying as the death's head insignia and swastika of their uniforms.
-
#TimeTravelingGhost Part 32: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part R
#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 15. Injustice
After dinner, I returned to my cabin and updated Emily. She listened attentively. At first, her brow creased, and I imagined her thinking me a dunce for not sticking to our plan. But as I continued, they smoothed, and she nodded. I finished: “So I have an appointment with Miss Pang to discuss mind-reading tomorrow.”
“That was well played. And you’re right; Miss Pang will suspect you of being from counterintelligence.”
Then her brow furrowed again, and she changed the subject. “I’ve been wondering why you’re so eager to help me, when you could travel to wonderful, exotic places rather than spend time on a doomed ship.”
“I’ll give you three reasons. First, the Hindenburg a world class experience, with good food and pleasant company. Second, while I’m no social justice warrior, the Nazis are a blot on human history. You can’t imagine the depth of their crimes. The injustices laid at their door would boggle your mind. Third, I came here looking for a travel companion and found you—reason enough for me.”
“You have a colorful vocabulary: ‘social justice warrior,’ ‘laid at their door,’ ‘boggle your mind.’ I get what you’re saying, but watch it when talking to Miss Pang.”
That led to another lesson on 1930s idioms. After that, I had great success experimenting with sleep.
In the morning, breakfast went without a hitch, and I got to sample clotted cream with my fruit—not bad—and was careful to tip discreetly.
By early afternoon, I’d settled into the lounge. Miss Pang came in later, but I held off talking to her until she had a few drinks.
I’d switched back to Champagné cocktails on Emily’s advice. She had also suggested the Kir Royale or LZ-129. She said they were more ladylike than whiskey sours. The #latter had some appeal, but it was late in the day for orange juice. So, I selected what I had ordered the day before, Champagné cocktails. I needed to drink something alcoholic. A sudden interest in sobriety would raise suspicions.
As Miss Pang finished her second drink, Emily took a place at the door, watching for SS rabbits. Taking a last swig of my Champagne, I set off across the room, and I had almost reached Miss Pang when a German-sounding fellow stopped me. “You’re the magician, aren’t you? Your trick impressed me yesterday. Such precision; it really looked like someone had picked up the glass, and there were no visible wires. Wunderbar!”
I nodded politely, hoping he wouldn’t ask me to join him for a drink. That was when Emily signaled, and three rabbits entered. At first, I thought the German fellow was a blessing in disguise, since I was talking to him, not Miss Pang.
But only at first, because the three of them marched over and surrounded us. The cold, hard glint in their eyes was as terrifying as the death's head insignia and swastika of their uniforms.
-
#TimeTravelingGhost Part 32: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part R
#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 15. Injustice
After dinner, I returned to my cabin and updated Emily. She listened attentively. At first, her brow creased, and I imagined her thinking me a dunce for not sticking to our plan. But as I continued, they smoothed, and she nodded. I finished: “So I have an appointment with Miss Pang to discuss mind-reading tomorrow.”
“That was well played. And you’re right; Miss Pang will suspect you of being from counterintelligence.”
Then her brow furrowed again, and she changed the subject. “I’ve been wondering why you’re so eager to help me, when you could travel to wonderful, exotic places rather than spend time on a doomed ship.”
“I’ll give you three reasons. First, the Hindenburg a world class experience, with good food and pleasant company. Second, while I’m no social justice warrior, the Nazis are a blot on human history. You can’t imagine the depth of their crimes. The injustices laid at their door would boggle your mind. Third, I came here looking for a travel companion and found you—reason enough for me.”
“You have a colorful vocabulary: ‘social justice warrior,’ ‘laid at their door,’ ‘boggle your mind.’ I get what you’re saying, but watch it when talking to Miss Pang.”
That led to another lesson on 1930s idioms. After that, I had great success experimenting with sleep.
In the morning, breakfast went without a hitch, and I got to sample clotted cream with my fruit—not bad—and was careful to tip discreetly.
By early afternoon, I’d settled into the lounge. Miss Pang came in later, but I held off talking to her until she had a few drinks.
I’d switched back to Champagné cocktails on Emily’s advice. She had also suggested the Kir Royale or LZ-129. She said they were more ladylike than whiskey sours. The #latter had some appeal, but it was late in the day for orange juice. So, I selected what I had ordered the day before, Champagné cocktails. I needed to drink something alcoholic. A sudden interest in sobriety would raise suspicions.
As Miss Pang finished her second drink, Emily took a place at the door, watching for SS rabbits. Taking a last swig of my Champagne, I set off across the room, and I had almost reached Miss Pang when a German-sounding fellow stopped me. “You’re the magician, aren’t you? Your trick impressed me yesterday. Such precision; it really looked like someone had picked up the glass, and there were no visible wires. Wunderbar!”
I nodded politely, hoping he wouldn’t ask me to join him for a drink. That was when Emily signaled, and three rabbits entered. At first, I thought the German fellow was a blessing in disguise, since I was talking to him, not Miss Pang.
But only at first, because the three of them marched over and surrounded us. The cold, hard glint in their eyes was as terrifying as the death's head insignia and swastika of their uniforms.
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 32: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part R
#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 15. Injustice
After dinner, I returned to my cabin and updated Emily. She listened attentively. At first, her brow creased, and I imagined her thinking me a dunce for not sticking to our plan. But as I continued, they smoothed, and she nodded. I finished: “So I have an appointment with Miss Pang to discuss mind-reading tomorrow.”
“That was well played. And you’re right; Miss Pang will suspect you of being from counterintelligence.”
Then her brow furrowed again, and she changed the subject. “I’ve been wondering why you’re so eager to help me, when you could travel to wonderful, exotic places rather than spend time on a doomed ship.”
“I’ll give you three reasons. First, the Hindenburg a world class experience, with good food and pleasant company. Second, while I’m no social justice warrior, the Nazis are a blot on human history. You can’t imagine the depth of their crimes. The injustices laid at their door would boggle your mind. Third, I came here looking for a travel companion and found you—reason enough for me.”
“You have a colorful vocabulary: ‘social justice warrior,’ ‘laid at their door,’ ‘boggle your mind.’ I get what you’re saying, but watch it when talking to Miss Pang.”
That led to another lesson on 1930s idioms. After that, I had great success experimenting with sleep.
In the morning, breakfast went without a hitch, and I got to sample clotted cream with my fruit—not bad—and was careful to tip discreetly.
By early afternoon, I’d settled into the lounge. Miss Pang came in later, but I held off talking to her until she had a few drinks.
I’d switched back to Champagné cocktails on Emily’s advice. She had also suggested the Kir Royale or LZ-129. She said they were more ladylike than whiskey sours. The #latter had some appeal, but it was late in the day for orange juice. So, I selected what I had ordered the day before, Champagné cocktails. I needed to drink something alcoholic. A sudden interest in sobriety would raise suspicions.
As Miss Pang finished her second drink, Emily took a place at the door, watching for SS rabbits. Taking a last swig of my Champagne, I set off across the room, and I had almost reached Miss Pang when a German-sounding fellow stopped me. “You’re the magician, aren’t you? Your trick impressed me yesterday. Such precision; it really looked like someone had picked up the glass, and there were no visible wires. Wunderbar!”
I nodded politely, hoping he wouldn’t ask me to join him for a drink. That was when Emily signaled, and three rabbits entered. At first, I thought the German fellow was a blessing in disguise, since I was talking to him, not Miss Pang.
But only at first, because the three of them marched over and surrounded us. The cold, hard glint in their eyes was as terrifying as the death's head insignia and swastika of their uniforms.
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 25: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part K
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 31. Author’s choice.
A long moment followed my blunt retort: “You wore the mask of a journalist, but as a spy, you knew the risks.”
While awaiting Emily’s angry response, I observed subtle details of my environment: the floor tilting under us, enough to notice; a passerby muttering, “Turbulence;” someone swearing in German; the steward artfully handing someone their drinks.
When the passerby was gone, Emily nodded. “I knew the risks.” It was a wry statement of acceptance.
I breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn’t been my most diplomatic moment, but we’d survived. With that over, I continued. “That said, the important thing is to see that those papers get into the right hands. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Just imagine the Nazi Party with mind-reading.”
“The good news is, there is no evidence they used mind-reading during the war. I think they would have won if they had known our leader’s plans.”
“So we fought a war with them? Appeasement didn’t work? Of course it didn’t. The idiots.” Emily didn’t sound surprised, only bitter.
“But we won?” She was staring intently at me, seeking confirmation.
“Yeah, it was a bloody, nasty war. Germany occupied France and the Netherlands, and for a time, it was touch and go for England.”
“Serve the cowards right. Appeasement, what fools!”
“Be that as it may, our job is to see the papers survive and reach the right hands. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“So the first thing is to get the papers. I have a couple of plans for what to do after that.”
Emily nodded.
“First, do you know where the papers are? The easiest thing would be to steal them.”
“They’re on film, and I have… Ms. Pang has them on her person. Always!”
“Well, that leaves out stealing them. Gah, and they will melt if we hide them on the ship. That’s a couple of plans out the window.”
“Next plan?” she asked. The anger had faded, replaced by resignation, as cold as #worn #stone.
“I’ll have to talk her out of them. How about I pretend to be your contact and use your passcodes to get them?”
“She’ll think someone compromised our cell.”
“That leaves the direct approach. I’ll convince her I know the future, and she needs to accept our help to prevent the film’s destruction.”
“And how will ‘you’ do that?”
I didn’t appreciate her sarcasm. She was the one who approached me to talk to Ms. Pang. All in all, this supposed companion could be exasperating.
#TootFic #Serial #PulpFiction #TimeTravel #NMPrompts #NMTTA #NMV366 #NMMP
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 23: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part I
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 7/25. Jewelry and fashion in your story.
“I didn’t see any rabbits when I was alive,” Emily began. “There was no warning of a problem, just suddenly there were flames. My last wish before I blacked out was to go back and warn myself. When I came to, I was no longer on the Hindenburg; instead, I was in Frankfurt on the day I’d left.”
The first thing I tried was speaking to her in her hotel room. I remember standing in front of the door, frustrated that I didn’t have the key. I gave the door an angry shove, and to my surprise, my hand went through it. That’s when it really hit me: “I’m a ghost.”
“It’s tricky going through things, but I managed to enter the room.
“There I was, putting on a long blue…” Emily began, and I waved my hands for her to get on with it. Clothing wasn’t what I was interested in. I wanted to know about Nazi rabbits and mind-reading studies.
“Anyway, I tried talking to her, but she couldn’t hear me. I was #nagging and yelling at her by the time we reached the lobby, and that’s when I saw them. There were two rabbits dressed—the way you saw—in those awful black SS uniforms, talking to the ‘kind’ officer who had ‘volunteered’ to drive me to the aerodrome.”
“I didn’t know if they could detect me, so I made myself inconspicuous. I wasn’t getting through to her anyway.”
“All I could do was drift along above the car, following them to the Hindenburg. It felt like floating through a movie scene, #severed from reality.”
“Wow, Emily is one adaptive person.” I hadn’t tried any of those things: passing through walls, floating, flying, and God knows what else.
Emily continued her story. “When we got to the aerodrome, there were two more rabbits. I don’t know if they were the same ones. They had the same black uniforms and death-head insignia. They watched me—her—board the Hindenburg. My driver nodded to a rabbit, a major, and they also boarded. I don’t know how many are on the ship, but at least three.”
“That’s the story. You saw me trying to talk to… myself. Oh, and I tried possessing myself with no luck.”
I thought I understood, despite the tangle of “I”s and “me”s. But for the future, I said, “It will be easier for both of us if you refer to your living self as ‘her’ or ‘Ms. Pang.’ And you”—I pointed at her—“as ‘I’ or ‘Emily.’ Is it all right if I call you Emily?”
She nodded.
#TootFic #Serial #PulpFiction #TimeTravel #NMPrompts #NMTTA #NMV366 #NMMP
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Snoopy Writes Manga
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt #TimeTravelAuthors
[Start word bubble]
Peppermint Patty #rushed into the lab and opened the time-gate. Then, waited impatiently for the #squall of potential futures to subside. She jumped through as the time-stream became diamond hard.
[End word bubble]Snoopy looked at the page and nodded in approval.
#NMV366 #NMMP #NMTTA #NMPrompts #MicroFiction #TootFic #Nonsense #Peanuts #Manga #Comics #Writing #WritingCommunity #TimeTravel
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 21: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part G
#TimeTravelAuthors 19 Saturday excerpt (optional word: line)
Emily’s mistake was forgetting that if you say to someone “don’t look,” they, of course, will.
I slowly turned my head, as if finding a waiter to order another drink. In the lounge doorway stood a rabbit. I think of rabbits as cute, but this one was anything but cute. It was roughly the size of a twelve-year-old and wore a Nazi SS uniform. The unfastened holster revealed the grip of a Luger. After discovering I could time travel and meet a probable vampire, a Nazi rabbit shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did.
I turned back to Emily and mouthed, “Oh.”
She said, “I’ll tell you later. Watch me… The other me.”
Ms. Pang, the living one, was cheerfully talking to her friend. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the rabbit make a bee-line for her. It stopped next to her and appeared to be listening. After a minute, it turned around and left the lounge.
Once it was gone, Emily spoke again. “I don’t know what they are, but they’ve been following her ever since she got on the Hindenburg. That’s another reason we need to warn her. I was carrying some important papers that burned in the crash.”
The pronoun switch threw me briefly. It must be strange talking about yourself that way. But was easier to understand if she spoke about her live self as like another person.
“Do you want to tell me more, or is it a secret?”
“It’s a secret, but I guess I can tell you. It’s notes on the German’s research into mind-reading.”
I sighed, mind-reading. What next, alien abductions?
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#TimeManager Part 26
#wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 07/17Light broke through the cloud cover and rain as they left the croft. Poe was the first to react. “Gorgeous. The colors are like Evangeline’s smile.”
TM spoke next, “Tis a bonny sight.”
Looking out over the moor, they saw a thrice-arched rainbow, its colors crisp as a midwinter frost. And as if coming through a divine gate, a flock of polled sheep walked under its arch, attended by shepherds in sunshine yellow mackintoshes and dancing dogs.
“Amazing. Truly remarkable,” Holmes said.
“Of all God’s creations, the rainbow is among the most wondrous,” said Watson, “but I never expected to hear you marvel at one.”
“The refraction of light through water droplets is scientifically interesting,” Holmes replied, “and while rare triple arches are not unheard of. But that’s not what I meant. Look there, note the shepherd in the well-worn light-green slouch hat. Oxford man. Theology, if I’m not mistaken. Dropped out in his third year to marry a local girl he met on holiday. A truly unexpected sight on Dartmoor.”
"Creeky cracck caw crickty crack... light my britches on fire... creky crak caw…
#Tootfic #NMPrompts #NMV366 #NMTTA #SherlockHolmes #Fanfiction #Pastiche #Corvids #Raven #TimeTravelAuthors #Mystery
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#TimeManager Part 25
#wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 07/15“We’re done here,” Holmes said to Watson.
Watson looked pointedly at us. “What about them?”
“Yeah, what about us?” Raven said.
“Totally irrelevant. They’re innocent bystanders.”
“Bystanders, but hardly innocent. Crackky Crak cacacacaw,” Raven cackled at its own joke.
“I’d like to tag along,” Poe said, speaking up.
“Just don’t get in the way,” Sherlock said, turning and leaving the croft.
“If you’re after the #bounty, it goes to the widow,” Watson added.
“Come, Watson. Time is wasting. They’re time travelers and have no use for English pounds.”
“Time wasting. Time wasting. TM arrest them for time wasting. Crawky cawcacaw.”
#MicroFiction #NMPrompts #NMV366 #NMTTA #SherlockHolmes #Fanfiction #Pastiche #Drabble #Corvids #Raven #TimeTravelAuthors #Mystery
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#TimeManager Part 24: Blacking
#wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 07/05
“That’s Sherlock Holmes,” Raven said in a stage whisper.
“Do tell,” muttered Poe, dryly.
Raven stretched, smoothing her feathers. “Autograph, please, Mr. Holmes?”
Watson blinked, his eyes as round as TM’s. Holmes regarded her, faintly amused. “Remarkable. A talking raven. American, by the timbre. Bright, yet prone to absurdity.”
“The criminal,” Watson prompted, redirecting anxiously.
“Disguised as a gentleman, officer, constable, or valet; yet unmistakably of inferior stock.”
“How #can you be sure?”
“The blacking tin. Smears on the chair betray a clumsy hand. One polishes with precision or not at all. The details, Watson; details always betray the breeding.”
Note 1: A tin is a can .
Note 2: As you watch Basil Rathbone on the screen canned ** music is playing #around you.#MicroFiction #NMPrompts #NMV366 #NMTTA #SherlockHolmes #Fanfiction #Pastiche #Drabble #Corvids #Raven #TimeTravelAuthors #Mystery
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 17: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part B
#Mastoprompt #TimeTravelAuthors 7/5.
My first impression was one of Spartan elegance. It was jarring after the roar and excess of 1920s Paris. Instead of the riotous laughter of the Folies, I heard the murmur of people talking and the occasional clink of a glass all #around me. The room was a lounge lined with aluminum tables and chairs, all lightweight and purposeful. Soft-colored fabrics upholstered the seats: beige, lavender, and gentle pinks. Murals adorned the cloth walls in dreamy pastels: parrots, palms, and Rio’s own Sugarloaf Mountain. It was utilitarian and efficient, a tasteful example of modernism.
From the murals, my eyes were drawn to windows showing the countryside drifting below. A sparkling river was so close that the people on the barges were visible. #Beyond, quaint villages nestled in the morning mist.
Finally, a couple arguing caught my attention. On second glance, the argument seemed one-sided. A woman in a white linen dress addressed her twin sister, seated at one of the tables, in a shrill, New York-accented voice. “You need to listen to me. Please, it’s important. You’re going to die.”
Her sister paid no attention and instead calmly talked to the man across from her. She took languid sips of a red cocktail. Despite her sister’s vehement words, she was as unruffled as the liquid in her glass.
Then it hit me. No one was paying attention to the woman. Normally, if a person makes a scene, people peer at them. Instead, everyone continued their conversations, reading their papers, or watching the scenery go by without blinking.
The woman at the table looked past her sister in my direction, said something to her companion, and laughed. Whatever she said caused the woman in white to turn around. Our eyes met, and shock spread across her face.
She stared. “Madam. You can see me?”
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#WritersCoffeeClub 2 July. Where did your last idea come? Part 2.
The rabbit got cut.
But
<snip #WIP #RoughDraft>Finally, a couple arguing caught my attention. On second glance, the argument seemed one-sided. A woman in a white linen dress addressed her twin sister, seated at one of the tables. In a shrill, New York-accented voice, she was saying, “You need to listen to me. Please, it’s important. You’re going to die.”
<End snip> -
#wss366 6/23 #TimeTravelAuthors Alternate History aspects [Note 1]
#FanFiction #TearmoonEmpire**** The Norns ****
*** Chapter 4: The Book of Fate ***“Mmm...” Mai murmured, savoring the rabbit stew the Norns had offered. “So warm, so rich. The wild sage is a pleasant touch,” she enthused over the stew, not noticing the three women hadn’t gotten a bowl for themselves.
The mushrooms were bitter, but they had soaked up the broth and were palatable. Spoonful after spoonful of stew daintily entered Mai’s mouth. “Mum, so yummy,” Mai said around one of those spoonfuls.
Pieces of rabbit and mushroom swam around the bowl, inviting her to dig in. Her spoon took a longggg dive toward the food. It was such an odd spoon. The handle must have been a foot longggg with a ssmiling face.
“Better to reach the fooood,” Mai thought. “Why are you dddoddggging,” Mai thought as the pieces swam away from her sssspoooon. “At last,” she thought, only to have a piece of rabbitttt jjjjump offff her spppooooon.
She looked up at the women to see if they had noticed. Their faces shifted in the firelight. Wwwaving like llllillies in a field. Swwweeeet lllilliees, blessessed by the sunnn.
“Ddddoes itttt ttttast gooood,” Ver… The mature one said? The voice came from very far away.
“I woveeee the Mushhhhrrrrrooom threaaad innto your weeeave… your weeeave… weeeave… eve.”
Like the #pound of surf in a tide worn cave.
Mai didn’t feel good. Her stomach twisted into a knot. Rabbits danced in big, heaping jumps. Mushrooms danced in her head.
The three mushrooooommmm ladies in gray hoooooddddds, smiled. Their lips twisted like the knots in her stomachhhhh…
“Lady Mai. My lady,” it was Anne’s voice issuing from the forest.
“Anneeeee, Anne,” she cried back. “Come, try the steeewww.”
“My lady, Belle is here to see you.” Anne’s voice held a touch of command and cut through Mai’s visions.
Mai opened her eyes. In her lap was the book of fate. She had been reading it because she couldn’t go out for a ride today. The page was open to show a picture of mushrooms with white freckles on their red caps dancing in a circle.
Mai was glad she had read the book. She had learned one important lesson. Never trust women in gray hoods, even if they make the tastiest rabbit stew.
She closed the book and moved on to plan her day. One of her first tasks would be asking the cook if they had any of those red mushrooms.
<Part4 of 4 - #Serial Conclution>
[Note 1] For this one, yes. As a result of reading the book, Mai will avoid eating that batch of poisonous mushrooms. The Norns also referred to several other time-altering events, not that I wrote those.–For my silly ones, not so far.
#microfiction #NMPrompts #NMV366 #NMTTA
#Anime #Manga #LightNovel #Fantasy #Mushrooms #psychedelic
#ティアムーン帝国 #JNovelClub -
#TimeTravelAuthors 06/07 Saturday excerpt #Focus
#TimeTravelingGhost Part 10The ghost and the boy walked through the waking streets of London, threading their way through the bustle of people getting ready for the day. Periodically, they heard shouts of Merry Christmas and other holiday salutations.
Ghost led the way through poor back-alley streets, past mean penny-a-day inns and crowded tenements. But she never hesitated. As long as she focused, he knew where the Cratchits lived. Arriving at a run-down house, the Ghost stopped.
“What’s your name, boy?” Ghost asked. It seemed silly to keep calling him “boy.”
“David, sir, if it pleases you, sir. David Copperfield.”
Ghost nodded, not being well-read. He didn’t recognize the name. She knew enough ghost lore to know the story “A Christmas Carol,” but there were no ghosts in “David Copperfield.”
“This is what you do, David. Knock on the door and say you have a message from Mr. Scrooge. Say he has had a change of heart, and a generous present will soon arrive. Lastly, say that Mr. Scrooge could not pay you to deliver the message, but he was sure the Cratchits would share a meal with you. You can add that line, ‘I’m so hungry,’ if you like. You do it very well. It would melt a heart of stone.”
“And you, sir. Surely you won’t run off now. I shall sorely miss you if you do.” David grabbed at Ghost’s hands, but it was like trying to catch the morning mist.
“I must; I have someone to find,” Ghost said and closed her eyes, imagining a new place and time. A woman’s name popped into her head. “I will visit her.”
Q: Who did Ghost think of, i.e., where shall we go next?
#MicroFiction #NMPrompts #NMTTA #CharlesDickens #pastiche #AChristmasCarol #DavidCopperfield #Poll
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#TimeTravelAuthors 06/01 Dreams in your stories – Now I have.
#TimeTravelingGhost Part 9The boy looked at Ghost. “I had a dream, sir. If it ain’t too silly to say so.”
“There was a man in black, like one of those mimes in Piccadilly, only black, not white. I even know his name, bless me. It was on his chest, proud as a toff with his misses. ‘Quasi Temporal,’ it said. I remember quite distinctly.”
“He handed me a box, square, warm… Oh, but the smell, like all the food vendors had piled their food in your lap, so fine it made my mouth hurt. When I opened it, there was a great round of bread inside, all covered with cheese. Cheese all melty and shining, like the sun on a morning like this.”
The boy stopped and pointed at the sun, which had just peeked through the buildings across the street.
“Sir, the taste. It was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I was quite the pig. I ate the whole thing, every crumb, sir. A mouse couldn’t have found a bit to eat. I know I shouldn’t have, not all at once, but I couldn’t help myself.”
“And then, I said, very soft-like, not wanting to be rude, ‘Please, sir, may I have more?’”
The boy’s eyes got wide with wonder and excitement. “And he gave me more. A stack of them, like plates at a feast.”
“And just when I thought I ought to say a proper thank you, he vanished like chimney smoke.”
This time, the boy pointed to the coal smoke rising from the houses.
“And he says, ‘Anytime Time Traveling Pizza,’ just like that. I don’t know what it meant, but I wish he were real.”
“Then I wake up, so hungry and not anything to eat except my shoes and dust under the bed. You mentioned food, sir. Could we go? I’ll be like at church and make no more noise than a mouse. Please, sir.”
“Boo, hoo, creeek, hoo” Jeckle cried.
Ghost floated up and held out her hand. “Sure, let’s go, little sir.”
#MicroFiction #NMPrompts #NMTTA #CharlesDickens #pastiche #DavidCopperfield #HeckleAndJeckle #Pizza
@QuasiTemporal -
#TimeTravelAuthors 06/01 Tell us about your story
#TimeTravelingGhost Part 8Ghost drifted out of Scrooge’s house, where she hadn’t felt welcome, and sat on the steps in the grim pre-dawn light. As the light grew stronger, a ragged, dirty boy sat down beside her. Silence stretched between them until the boy tentatively began talking.
“Sir—if you please, sir—are you quite deceased?” the boy inquired, tugging his threadbare cap.
“Yeah, it sucks.”
“If it wouldn’t trouble you greatly, sir, I should like to hear your story. I expect I shall be dead soon myself, what with the hunger and all.”
“Sure. Then I’ll take you someplace where there’s food—Bob Cratchit’s house.”
There’s an author who writes silly things, and she wanted to write a story for a prompt (#WSS366). #HEAVEN knows why! So, she made a “Lass” who... (Let me cut that short.) Anyway, she killed the Lass most cruelly. Then she found another prompt for time travel stories (#TimeTravelAuthors) and had the Lass summon me. I think I’m a kind of ghost, but not really. (Frankly, it makes little sense.) The ghost can time travel and is named “Time Traveling Ghost.” (That’s me.) “Ghost,” for short. Only Author (that’s her name in the story) hasn’t told Ghost how to time travel. All Ghost wants is to get revenge on the people who killed Lass (Poe and Time Manager—TM for short). The—
The boy raised a hand. “You believe the strangest things, sir,” said the boy, wide-eyed. “But I dare say the world is full of such strangeness, if only one’s stomach weren’t growling too loud to hear it.”
Jeckle, who perched below them on Scrooge’s steps, added, “She sure does, don’t she, Boy? Let’s EAT!”
Heckle, sitting next to Jeckle, screeched, “Chow down. Chow down. Get yer feed bag!”
#MicroFiction #NMPrompts #NMTTA #AChristmasCarol #CharlesDickens #pastiche #DavidCopperfield #HeckleAndJeckle #Crow #Corvid #Plushies @ShadowPlay @plush_bot