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!
Fuen pecked around
in the boot and tossed out a spare fuse to Iron. “Why were you
looking for us?” asked Copper.
“I wanted to see
if anyone lived on this island,” sighed Fuen. “Then got myself
stuck here.”
“Where did you
come from?” asked Copper.
“A place between
the world of the living and the lands of the dead. Where hopes, ideas
and dreams live until they’re forgotten,” replied Fuen. “We’re
hoping the Brits forget about Brexit sometime soon. Bad ideas that
big really stink up the place.”
The corvid hopped along the road towards them. The closer it got the less threatening it seemed. Its curious gait was anything but threatening.
“Bugger me,”
grumbled the bird as it reached them. “This place is a sod to get
around.”
Copper and Iron
looked to each other. Then at the bird. “I lost you both when the
city collapsed,” said the bird. “Been trying to catch you since.
You’ve been harder to find than a sniff of common sense is in a
British government.”
As Copper and Iron
moved around the car they felt their feet sinking into the sand.
Walking was hard and running was impossible. They watched the corvid
walking ever closer to them. Iron popped the bonnet open and began
rummaging around the electrics. Copper ducked underneath the car.
“Dammit,”
grumbled Copper as she got her first view of the chassis. The sand
they’d been driving on had blasted the entire underside of the car
several shades of burnt rust. The only time she’d seen a deeper
shade of orange was when she watched a human step out of an Essex
tanning salon.
Trying to think of an orange segue, and I don’t mean the fruit. So we’ll go with mentioning the Little Fears tees are available in orange.
The duo stepped out
of the car. Looking back up the road they could see the bird was
walking towards them. They could hear the howl of wind above their
heads, yet they felt no wind on their bodies and the sand was
unmoved. Copper reached with her hand outstretched. She felt a chill
wind on her fingertips.
“Even the weathers
decaying,” she sighed. “That blows.”
Do you know what doesn’t blow? An artist’s desperate attempts to market themselves below their stories.
Little Fears 