They pulled up onto
the beach, Yuffie was waiting for them with a boat on the shore.
“This road once had hamlets everywhere,” said Copper, “each had
a village idiot.”
“Yeah, I think
they all ended up in Westminster,” pondered Fuen.
The trio stepped out
of the car, looking back across the sands. “Our homes decayed
quicker than a nineties Skoda joke,” sighed Copper.
“Let’s try and
make sure the same doesn’t happen to you too,” replied Fuen.
“I should tell you,” said Fuen. “As creations of the living, how we carry on past the expiration of our creators, differs for everyone. Yuffie showed Hydra to a bunch of artists to keep his memory alive. He grew from three foot tall to twelve foot tall. It’s all about how the living interprets and remember the ideas, hopes and dreams of the dead.”
“Like critics
looking for meaning in a hundred year old painting,” pondered
Copper. “When sometimes, the artist just wanted to paint a boat.”
“Exactly,”
remarked Fuen. “However we’re interpreted, good ideas are worth
keeping alive, aye?”
Copper reached out of the car window and swiped a bottle of wine up from the sand. She turned it over in her hands. “I remember moments with a lady,” she sighed. “she loved a bottle of wine.”
“Who’s the lady?” asked Fuen.
“I don’t know anymore,” lamented Copper. “She used to believe in giving wine first aid though. She used to say, ‘Open the bottle to allow it to breathe. If it doesn’t look like it’s breathing, give it mouth-to-mouth.’”
Copper rummaged
through the glovebox then handed Fuen a newspaper article about the
vineyard. Fuen scanned down the page. The article said not only did
they create some of this countries finest wines, but they also sold
grapes for medical research.
“They created an anti-diuretic with their wine to help with incontinence,” pointed out Copper. “Got it branded as well. Pinot More.”
“No,” replied
Fuen. “Well, yes… Maybe. Here’s the thing. Every so often,
islands appear off the coast. They pop up, filled with life, then
deteriorate and sink into the ocean. Nothing from these lands ever
makes it to the mainland. A friend and I just wanted to see what was
on one of those islands.”
“Can you stop our
land deteriorating?” asked Copper.
“The loss of these islands seems unstoppable,” sighed Fuen. “Like the tides, time or humans posting pointless Facebook updates.”
Cooo, sorry if you haven’t been able to like, comment or have been missing the last few posts in WordPress app this last few days. My JetPack plugin disconnected on the 7.1/2 update and I only noticed last night. Seems the effects have been rather random on a person by person basis. Some folk just haven’t been able to comment. Others haven’t seen my posts pop up for days. While a few folks had no issues whatsoever.
Vermin loved the mattress. The mattress was warm, dark, sticky, plenty of dripping things for food. But Vermin wanted more. Vermin had dreams.
He felt more than
saw the two swaying shadows fall across the landscape he wanted so
desperately to conquer. Desperately, he broke out of the dark, he
would have his prize!
Then the shadows fell, hard, and Vermin was pushed back. “One day,” Vermin cursed, “I will make it.” If the mattress could disagree it would, but it couldn’t. And that was just fine with Vermin.
This week’s Sunday collab was written by Jessica of The writing life of Jessica Halsey. A prolific writer and servant to two kitty cats. Cheers for the spookems, Jessica!
Little Fears 