Somewhere on a small island in the Great Pacific Northwest…. Day trip to the Magical Isle
“Away, damn you Loki. Take Skidbladnir and begone! My beloved Sif, what has he done? Why is it always about the hair? Now yours is no more. My Wife! I want my wife! Oh Pink One, why do you keep me from her?” I am roused from a fitful sleep with a curt “Come on, we’re late for the red-eye!” I find out later, that being ‘late for the red-eye’ is a proud tradition on this island. The only ferry I want to be late for is the one on the Styx, but then I’m not Greek so I guess it won’t matter. We head for the sea in the human’s automobile. I have been in many on this road trip, and this is by far the finest, as there are no foul odors from the small humans and their pets. It is also neat, without the clutter of the white cups with green mermaids that seem to cover the floor of all the other’s automobiles. Like that woman in Southern California with the tiny odious boy-child who would not ‘bow down before me’. The worst adversary I have faced thus far… I was luck to escape with my life. ’Bite Eyeball’, indeed!
The sun is rising and the beast comes into view. I stand ready to fend it off at the first sign of trouble, as it is as fearsomely ugly as assumed.
Into the belly of the beast we plunge. A strange rumbling ensues and we push-off into the sea, headed for Orcas Island.
I wave good-by to the human’s village in the harbor, with high hopes of finding a link to Asgard on the magical isle.
We approach the island and the time has come to find these nobel artists and lovers of the earth. Perhaps they will be of assistance in my quest.
While the human is busy, I take leave to explore. I find that the artists I meet are interested in selling their wares and no nothing of Asgard. All the friends of the earth I encounter are sputtering about organics and preoccupied in hugging trees… not at all what I expected. I head back and find myself on a road with alarming signs proclaiming No Trespassing! Do they not know I am the God of Thunder? I find myself taken captive and tied up with other prisoners.
“Have you been here long?” I say. ”Oh yes. Many years, for us there is no hope. Save yourself Thor. What you seek is on the island you just left. You must find… The Mausoleum!” I thank the maiden with the once red hair and breaking my bonds with The Mighty Hammer! I go in search of my human friend to ask about this Mausoleum.
To be continued…
Previously… Adjusting to New Surroundings (pt. 2)
Previously… The Arrival (pt. 1)
To learn more about Thor’s World Tour, and see where he’s been… THE GOD OF THUNDER IS TOURING THE WORLD
SUMMER IS… in 33 words
Summer is ‘The Mill’! Music in the air… everywhere. There are violins, guitars, flutes, harps, accordions, drums of all kinds, harmonicas, banjos, cellos, tambourines, horns, pianos, squeeze-boxes, cymbals, lots of singing and dancing!
The instructions for the Trifextra Writing Challenge this week were… “This weekend we’re asking you to describe summer in your own words. Thirty-three of them exactly, of course. Good luck!”
Each summer high in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, somewhere near Yosemite, about 500 souls gather for a conclave of The Sierra Music and Arts Institute… more commonly known as Sweet’s Mill. The old timers just call it The Mill. For 60 years now, on the site of an old sawmill, a music and arts retreat takes place in the form of a giant campout. Musicians from around the world come together to share their knowledge and talents with others, and just plain perform. Artists gather to demonstrate their skills and teach others. There’s also drama taught, with two plays being produced. Do you want to learn how to belly dance, flamenco, tango or swing? Classes for that. At night on different stages, there are performances to show off new-found skills, and for old friends to get together and jam. And, lots of dancing!
I help out in the Arts Area. I don’t play a musical instrument, but I write stories and take thousands of photos. Here are two from last year. The photo of the young man playing the steel guitar got me a ‘Best of Show’ ribbon at our county fair, in its category. He was sitting at a table near the main stage practicing or maybe just playing… there’s a lot of that going on. It made a great still-life photo.
But my favorite photo of all, is this one of a woman playing the violin. For me, the story makes the photo, and I’ll tell how I came to take this photo. I had gone up to the Flamenco Camp, because I had never been there. The Mill is over 200 acres, with different interest groups banding together in camps. There’s Gypsy Camp, Flamenco, Cowboy, Meditation Meadow, Old Timey, Bluegrass and on and on. There are still some I have to discover. So, one day I went up to the Flamenco Camp and watched a maestro teach a group of children the fine points to playing a flamenco guitar. Some women practiced dance to the music on a small stage they had made. As I was leaving, I heard the most beautifully haunting violin music. I went toward some tents expecting to see the violinist, but nothing. I followed the music up a hill through increasingly heavy brush, and finally in a small clearing I found a young woman playing a violin. I snuck a photo and listened to her play. She finally stopped, saw me and shyly smiled. I asked if I could take her photo, and she beamed and posed for me. They are nice photos of her facing me, but I like the first one I took best. So, that’s kind of two faces of The Mill. I’m leaving in two weeks… I can’t wait.
Somewhere on a small island in the Great Pacific Northwest… just freed from prison…
I breath in a deep lungful of fresh air, a relief from the scent of dainty perfumes that have hung so heavy in my cape. I detect a hint of ocean air, and I long for the sea again. My eyes encounter a dazzling array of color from every corner imaginable, in this seeming rural landscape.
I find that my iron prison is high from the ground, held high aloft on a post. I will have to descend with care, as my strength has been weakened by exposure to excessive amounts of polyurethane. It will be some time before my belt, Megingjörd, is able to regain full power. I espy a soft landing spot and jump!
I make it without harm and look for sanctuary while I garner the lay of the land. This is the first time I have been on my own, and not brought back into the world to the sight of leering eyes and painted lips bending over me. Impossible to escape their grasp until they tire of playing with me, and eventually ship me off to another one.
I immediately encounter a threat from a giant creature that I have to ward off with a blow from The Mighty Hammer… I am the God of Thunder! She goes back to sleep.
This place seems to be some kind of farm, as there are egg layers sequestered nearby, and I am hungry. I enter the enclosure with as much stealth as I can muster… but a “Cock-a-Doodle-Do” soon gives me away and I am beset with feather bearing monsters. I barely escape with my life, thanks to my Mighty Hammer!
Leaving the foul fowl behind, I enter a wood shop in search of a clue to my whereabouts. Jumping on a workbench I accidentally activate a switch putting me in harm’s way. I am saved once again, thanks to Mjölnir (TMH). Must make a note to send a check to Mr. DeWalt for the damage.
I come to a body of water and decide to go across. A nearby boat seems the answer, but a family named Noah is busy loading it with animals and say I am welcome to join them, but they are waiting for the flood and it might take some time to float their boat.
Not to be deterred, I take matters into my own hands and float across… no Princess Cruise, that’s for sure, but maybe that’s a good thing.
THOR!!! Someone calls my name. A handsome gentleman tells he is my host and welcomes me to his island. I tell him I am ‘The God of Thunder’, he says he knows that and invites me inside, to a table groaning under the weight of a sumptuous feast of garlic sausages, grilled chicken, ranch style beans and corn on the cob. Breads of all description and fresh fruits and beverages are a welcome sight. He is anxious to hear about my tour, but first has some distressing news… The Pink Haired Princess now has blue hair. Oh, My Magical Mistress… what hast thou done? ’There must be a Witch involved’, is my first thought, then I remember she is a writer… and you know how they are. I ask when I can see her, as my heart is blue, and he says he will see what he can do, but I must finish the tour first before finally joining her. He invites me to go to a special island tomorrow full of artists and gentle people of the earth. I am hopeful to learn more about this place. I ask how we will get there, as I have not had much luck with water transportation of late. He assures me there is no problem, as we will be ensconced in a fine Swedish automobile and catching something called a red-eye ferry. ’What new monster awaits’, I think to myself.
To be continued…
Previously… The Arrival
To learn more about Thor’s World Tour, and see where he’s been… THE GOD OF THUNDER IS TOURING THE WORLD
Somewhere on a small island in the Great Pacific Northwest....
What have I done to deserve such a fate? How have I offended thee, O mighty Odin? I have been sent on a seemingly endless tour of giant horny housewives, fawning over me and subjecting me to the most degrading acts, dragging me around their villages to show off to their friends, and taking photo after photo with something called a phone.
Somewhere on a small island in the Great Pacific Northwest….
What have I done to deserve such a fate? How have I offended thee, O mighty Odin? I have been sent on a seemingly endless tour of giant horny housewives, fawning over me and subjecting me to the most degrading acts, dragging me around their villages to show off to their friends, and taking photo after photo with something called a phone. Thank the Gods for their children, they are nice and lots of fun to play with, they seem to understand me. But, those things they call ‘pets’ are everywhere, and to be avoided at all costs. I have seen a lot of interesting places though, and am amassing quite the postcard collection. If I ever get back home, I won’t be sharing with Loki, since I’m sure this trip through purgatory is his doing. The one bright spot of this whole affair, is that everywhere I am sent, the girl child’s seem to have an endless supply of beautiful princesses, just the perfect size. The curious thing, they all share the same name… Barbie. They are quite tiring, as they all want to play with my hammer, and sometimes there are 10 to 20 of them.
I was perfectly happy with my pink-locked mistress, waiting for a call to once again save the world. One day I found myself being wrapped into a strange substance. Quite soft and smelling faintly of toluene diisocyanate. A cardboard coffin awaited next, and as she shut the lid, I detected a rivulet of tears on the cheek of my beautiful maiden. A jostling trip ensued, and you can imagine my surprise, when released from my confinement I found myself in the possession of another giant female, also quite cute. She was very excited to see me.
I found this routine was to be repeated, seemingly endlessly… even to a place called Canada.
So, here I am, once again, bubble wrapped in another cardboard coffin. This time, not so tightly bound, I am able to swing my mighty hammer and break loose. I find myself in a semicircular shaped metal building. A large door is before me. Light streams in around the opening, which appears to be hinged at the bottom. With a blow from my mighty hammer it surrenders and falls open. Beautiful sunlight bursts inside, my eyes are treated to a wondrous sight… Have I found Paradise?
To be continued…
To meet the ‘pink-locked maiden’ and see what in the hell this is all about… Debra Kristi and Thor’s World Tour
TALENT SHOW… A Drabble
“Some people will do anything for a laugh.”
” What do you mean?”
“Well, look at that old fool over there, trying a stunt like that. She’ll get hurt.’
” What do you care, you’re not her mother, don’t be so critical. You can’t save the world you know.”
“Who’s trying to save the world? I was just making an observation.”
“Well, at least she’s trying something different. I suppose you are going to trot out that old song you always sing.”
“Everyone loves my song.”
“They’re just being kind.”
“Look at her, now she’s taking out her teeth flapping her gums!”
“We’ve got to find it. It’s here somewhere.”
“It would help if you told me what we are looking for.”
“The Light of course, silly.”
“Oh, that’s at the end of the tunnel.”
Here’s a silly 33 for the 3rd definition of the noun LIGHT… for my friends at The Trifecta Writing Challenge asking for 33 to 333 words about a light.
Here’s my favorite ‘light at the end of the tunnel’…
A few months ago, a guy named Joe Owens asked me if I would like to join a group of writers in a collaborative story. He writes Joe’s Musings. I said yes. He calls the story Baker’s Dozen, since there are 12 writers… he wrote the first chapter and will finish the story with the 13th. Look for TedBook on the BD Logo, created by the ever so clever Jennifer Pendergast at Elmo Writes. You may have read my chapters in the Fiction Relay started by The Reclining Gentleman… that’s been going on for almost a year now, and lots of fun.
So now the Baker’s Dozen is up to Chapter 9… hey, that’s my turn… here you go!
This is the story of a guy named Forrest. He is caught in a series of escalating events started by a cryptic message on his computer screen and a strange medallion he has worn on his neck since youth. He has escaped death with the beautiful Angie many times since the story started. But is Angie who she seems or something else? When last we saw Forrest, he was confined to a cell and knocked unconscious…
The staccato click of high heels on tile reverberated down the hallway alerting the men sequestered in the situation room of a rogue unit of the RNC. A phalanx of men entered and took up position, followed by a svelte figure dressed in a back pencil skirt, topped with a silk camisole and trademark red blazer, sporting the familiar rhinestone American flag pin on the lapel. Piercing eyes behind the Kazuo Kawasaki eyewear locked on each man for a second.
“Have you heard from Ross yet?”
“Yes ma’am. He briefed us an hour ago.” A withering glance made the speaker wish he had lied, he quickly continued. “Ross claims they are being held in the Pelosi/Reid compound outside Las Vegas. His agent arranged to be held captive with the others to gain access. Forrest was wearing the medallion when he entered, so there’s every reason to expect recovery should be ours.”
“I would like Forrest unharmed if possible, and the girl held captive too, save her. What of Angie? Has she shown her true colors yet? Her father was none to happy.”
“She is not being held with the others, so Ross thinks Forrest must know by now. He says the conditions are pretty brutal in the cells”
Sarah smoothed her skirt and blazed a look at the group. “That’s the Dems for you! They have become emboldened during his second term. Gentlemen, there can be no failure if the GOP expects to beat Michelle in the next election. We must have the medallion. What does Ross plan to do?”
A senior aide stepped forward. “Mr. Ross has assembled a crack team of Cirque de Soleil performers from the show at the Bellagio to infiltrate the complex. A complete layout and the location of the cells, along with an escape route was furnished by Max Welton after he was expelled from the house and defected to our side. He is Tea Party all the way now and has been most helpful. Mr. Ross is awaiting the go.”
“Good. Then green light it and have my helicopter ready in five minutes.” A quick turn and the heels left the room.
A nondescript white van left the bright lights of The Strip and headed toward the Wilson Cliffs. The smell of rosin and makeup hung heavy in air. Good thing they’re small, thought Ross, otherwise I’d have to get a larger vehicle. After going over the plan and assigning roles, an excited silence fell over the group of men and women dressed in black. The threat of world domination and the resulting chaos on their homelands had made for an easy recruitment. Tranquilizer guns had been issued, and a switchblade in case the slitting of throats became necessary. Ross hoped not, as he did not want to further ramp up hostilities. The bombing by drones on Forrest’s building, and subsequent attacks had been unfortunate and showed the lengths they would go to win an election. He wished he could have stayed to free Forrest from Angie’s grasp, but after that damn fool bolted with her, he had to make other plans. Sarah had not been happy.
In Washington D.C., two powerful leaders meet in the back room of a small restaurant. One leads a majority and the other a minority. The clink of champagne glasses finishes the meeting.
“Has Renaissance been notified of the news from Nevada?”
‘Yes, I’m told she’s grateful.”
Later that evening, the captives find themselves tied to metal folding chairs against a stone wall in an open courtyard. The girl next to Forrest watched as the woman the others called Angie crushed a capsule under Forrest’s nose. Jolting awake, he was disoriented and fought his bonds. Waste of good Amyl, thought Angie, but it did the trick. ”Forrest, can you hear me? I am going to say good-bye to you and your friends now.” This announcement and the men with the M-27′s seemed worrisome to them, as the guards had not been seen carrying machine guns before.
Sleep in the cells had been hard to come by, and the girl thought she was seeing things as if there were people sliding down ropes in the gloom on the other side. A sudden flash of light and a deafening roar caught everyone by surprise. There was no time to react as figures came cascading across the stones in a dizzying array of cartwheels, handsprings, and somersaults. The guards were quickly subdued, but it took 3 tranquilizer darts to put Angie down. The group was rushed to the center of the yard as lights started flooding the compound.
Then, blades of a helicopter so silent they could barely be heard, and the rush of air seemed heaven-sent to the captives. The girl crushed against Forrest asked how he had been. Looking at her he could only say…
Thanks for reading… to start at the beginning, click on the Baker’s Dozen link at the top. Would love to hear how you liked my chapter.
I just realized, I may have lost some of my ‘international’ readers. So, a glossary of sorts:
RNC… Republican National Committee ~ GOP… Grand Old Party ~ Sarah… Sarah Palin, the darling of the Tea Party (a radical conservative faction of the GOP) ~ Pelosi and Reid… the Minority Leader of the House of Representatives and the Majority Leader of the Senate… The leaders of the Democratic Party ~Renaissance… the secret service code name for Michelle Obama
¿What’s to get?
“Senõr! Gala called. Salvador is upset! He wants to know when Tarot Universal Dalí will be completed, and why you did not like the last image.”
“Tell her it will be ready for his 80th birthday as promised, and I did not get the animal, where do we use it”
“Senõr! Gala called, he said, ‘There is nothing to ‘get’ with a Dalí animal! Besides, that one is a birthday present for your granddaughter, why didn’t you ‘get’ that!’”
“Oh, tell him muchas gracias!”
“Senõr! Gala called, he said, ‘De nada’. He is thinking of using you for El Loco.”