Note: This week I am taking a detour from sharing The Stable Boy's Roughneck Ride to share a piece from the final chapter of my newly finished WIP, The Key of Eidolon, which I have renamed The Quest for the Wizard’s Key since Eidolon is
never mentioned in the story, but the Yaddithian wizard Zkauba makes several
appearances.
Now comes the fun of editing and formatting...oh, joy.
I don't have a blurb for this book yet. I'll share the 10-sentence snippet first and then a longer bit for your reading pleasure/displeasure/what have you. I would suggest that if you don't like the first 10 sentences, reading further is not your best course of action.
“A-C-E,” Gerry spelled out the name under the skinny bloke’s
picture. “Ash. No, Ace. ‘Is name is Ace. Lad looks like a Frank, though, like from
that Rocky Picture movie. Frankie Furter. Sez ‘ere that Ace is a night nurse.
Well, that makes sense, don’t it, since he’s always around ‘ere at night.”
Gerry turned his attention to the picture of the big fellow.
“T-O-M,” he read. “Toom. Tomb. Well, that’s a dreadful name.
C’mon, Gerry, ‘is name ain’t Tomb, ya ninny, it’s Tom. I always call him
something else, though. It’s another bloke from the Rocky Picture Movie.
Freddie, innit? Nah, that ain’t quite right. It’s Eddie. ‘E looks like Meat
Loaf Man from the Rocky Picture Movie. The note says ‘e’s with security.”
Gerry turned his attention back to the sentence he’d
written. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on being what Gerry really
was and not a symptom of his corrosive brain.
“Brain ain’t corrosive,” Gerry murmured. “The disease what’s
eating it is corrosive. Ain’t gonna sit ‘ere and quibble with meself about
syntax. That’s just a ruse ter throw me off the scent of danger. I’ve gotta use
all me questionable detection skills ter work out what’s goin’ on in this
place. I’ve gotta consider every possibility, no matter ‘ow crazy it might
sound.”
Gerry smacked the heel of his hand against his temple as if
to shake the thoughts free. Frustrated, he began slamming both hands into his
forehead.
“Blast this useless feckin’ rotting sponge in me dome!” he
snarled.
“Oi, Gerry!”
Misshapen Realities
A pair of hands firmly grasped Gerry’s forearms to stop him
from hitting himself. Gerry opened his eyes to see the black-haired nurse and
his big friend looking at him with concern. When Gerry ceased his aggressive
battle with his broken brain, the nurse released his arms, smiled at him, and
patted his shoulder. He sat on the bed beside Gerry while the big fellow pulled
up a chair.
“No sense in beatin’ yourself up, Mate,” Ace advised. “So,
what’s goin’ on here, Ger? What has you in such a whirl of ambidextrous
pugilism against yer forehead?”
“Well, you ain’t no use if yer gonna talk like that,” Gerry
admonished.
Thomas smirked and Ace shot him a withering glare.
“Got ya dead ter rights there, Mate,” Thomas chuckled.
“Zip it, or I ain’t givin’ you none of me deviled ham,” Ace
warned.
“Oi, I like deviled ham,” Gerry declared.
“Well, then, we ought to have some. Tom, go grab the tin of
ham and loaf of bread from me bag. So, what’s goin’ on here, Gerry?”
“Well, I was just tryin’ ter make sense of this
higgledy-piggledy hodge-modge I wrote earlier,” Gerry explained. “I know I
wrote it, ‘cause that’s me writing. I remember you lads being in ‘ere when I
asked about it, or at least I think I do. It’s so ‘ard ter tell sometimes what
really ‘appened and what I just imagined. These bloody misshapen realities in
me head are quite enough to drive me stark raving barmy.”
“Yeah, I don’t blame you fer feelin’ that way. It would
starch my shorts too. If it helps, me and Tom were in here earlier and you did
show us that sentence.”
“So that bit was real realities.”
“Yeah, definitely real realities.”
Thomas entered the room carrying a tin of deviled ham, a
loaf of bread, and a spreading knife. He portioned out the deviled ham and
bread for Gerry, Ace, and himself.
“Tom, you remember the sentence that Gerry showed us
earlier?” Ace inquired. “Do you remember what you said to him?”
“Yeah. I said it looked like a couple of them words were
from an alien language.”
“Well, that’s what I was tryin’ ter think about,” Gerry stated.
“See, I suppose it don’t matter if I sound crazy, ‘cause I ain’t goin’ home for
me wife to cuckold me no more in this life. You lads don’t wanna hear about
that soap show, though. The thing is, ever since me brain decided ter fuck off
ter shite, I’ve started remembering things about this other place. It looks
like a city from the future, like on one of them space programs like Star
Tracks or such, but see, I know it’s from the feckin’ dark past. Them weird
words, Lads, they’re from that life.”
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Acknowledgments
The Rocky Horror Picture Show is a 1975 musical
horror/comedy film written by Jim Sharman and Richard O’Brien, based on O’Brien’s
1973 stage production of the same name.
Prompts Used
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie
Photo Challenge
https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2021/02/02/photo-challenge-352/
Sunday Writing Prompt
https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2021/01/31/sunday-writing-prompt-31st-january-discovering-the-past/
Tale Weaver
https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2021/01/28/tale-weaver-312-making-sense-of-nonsense-january28th/
Wordle
https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2021/02/01/wordle-225/
Lure
Ruse
Danger
Detection
Dry
Corrosive
Blast
Crazy
Cuckold
Snarl
Ambidextrous
Basement
October Spooky Writing Challenge: Haunted
https://thewritershandbook.tumblr.com/post/630699213481705472/this-years-october-spooky-writing-challenge-is
Putting my
Feet in the Dirt
http://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com
About the
Story
This is the
final chapter from my WIP, The Key of Eidolon, which is the second book in the
Tales from the Dreamlands series. If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider
picking up a copy of Ketil and Yitzy's Adventures in the Xura Dream House.
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Kindle version of Ketil and Yitzy's Adventure in the Xura Dream House for
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The Icky,
Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
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