This week's prompts are provided by River at Drifting through Life.
It's not Wednesday any more anywhere on the globe, I'm afraid, but I had a deadline this morning.
1. miasma
2. powerhouse
3. shiver
4. foolish
5. plumber
6. twenties
and/or:
1. foyer
2. palms
3. intricately
4. monastic
5. courtyard
6. sprawled
Once again I wrote a small chapter from my mock autobiography and
once again I took up the additional challenge of using the prompts in
the order they were given.
We pick up the story where we left off a week ago:
"Friday!" Heidi piped, "but ... that's today."
"Are we going to be at that black bridge today at nightfall?" Tue asked the other three.
"Yes! ... But how?" said Lis, her expression changing from eager to despondent in the wink of an eye. "We're going home tomorrow, you know. We're supposed to be packing and throwing a good-bye party for Susan and her family.
"Eww." Susan said, are you going to invite my family over? That's bound to be a disaster. My father said something about your kind ... my kind -- she quickly amended -- being like a miasma to the society. It did not sound as if miasma was something nice the way he said it."
"Really!" Lis said. "Miasma is a word from the days of the plague. It meant the poisonous air or mist that caused the illness."
"That was not a nice word to use about other people," Heidi said, looking an Susan as if fearing she would begin using such words as well.
"No it is not." Susan said in a hard voice. "My father did not take well to the idea of witchcraft still existing in the world."
Tue suggested that they all packed as quickly as possible, then told their father that they had forgotten something down at the Unicorn Farm. Timing it in a way that enabled them to be at the bridge at sunset, and so that Heidi and the twin's father would think that they would make it home for dinner. "... and with just a bit of luck we might still be back in time. Today is the shortest day of the year. The sun sets already at half past three. Dinner won't be until six or later. Let's just hope that Mom's not nearby. A bout of premonition is the last thing we need."
I'll take care of that," Heidi said. "there must be something ... I 'll ask for her help with some packing or folding issue. Then she'll be in my room as you ask daddy."
The ploy went as planned. At a quarter past three the four children stood at the old powerhouse by the black bridge, beginning to shiver in the last rays of the setting sun. They had their cloaks on, and their wands were hidden in an easily accessible place.
"Hey, what are you kids doing here?" A van pulled over, and a young man got out. " D'yo know, it's a bit foolish of you wandering around playing hide and seek near the road." It was a plain looking plumber in his twenties. Tue told him they were practising for a Christmas play, and were about to leave the road. One of his talents were that he could sound very mature and persuasive when he set his mind to it. The young plumber left after admonishing them one last time.
"We'd better hide," Tue said. "We don't want to attract any more attention. Yet the road was the best way of avoiding the vigilant sheep dog of that farmhouse."
They went into the abandoned powerhouse. The dam was broken long ago and power now came via cable from the mainland. But the foyer looked as though it had been deserted only days earlier. The big palms had died, but they still retained all their leaves; they criss-crossed intricately across the big windows. Lis told them they were called fronds, not leaves.
"Oh, whatever -- Susan said -- they're still big enough to hide us from people outside, and I'd like to wait somewhere out of the cold."
They opened the door and carefully moved some of the palms so that they could stand near the door without being seen from the outside. When everything was to their satisfaction, they crept up behind the wizened foliage and waited.
They did not have to wait for long. Shortly the saw Torben come pedalling down the road. His big body looked even bigger on the small bike and his midnight blue cloak billowing behind him. He leaned the bike against the railing of the bridge and tied his shoelaces, waiting for his partner. The children could barely contain their surprise, or was it lack of surprise, as David too came pedalling down the road. "Him!" Tue hissed.
"Oh, nice to see you," David said. "Did you get the stuff?"
"Yes, Torben replied. "what about you?"
"Of course," David replied, "but let's get out of sight before we continue."
They both pushed their bikes to the monastic courtyard leading up to the foyer, and the children praised their luck.
Torben swished his wand and made a small fire in the middle of the yard. Torben and David both squatted, unfortunately facing away from the foyer. Small bottles changed hands and David pulled a small cauldron and a collapsible tripod from the pannier on his bike.
"Whoever penned this recipe -- David agonized -- sprawled and nearly illegible writing that is ..."
"It's mine" Torben said through clenched teeth, grabbed the recipe and began reading. Unfortunately in a very low whisper.
Soon the stench from a brewing potion reached the nostrils of the hidden children.
I am so glad that the prompts allowed you to continue this story. And can only say again - more please. I want to know what Torben and David are up to. And whether it can (or should) be stopped.
SvarSletSigh at Susan's father. People like him are the miasma that they claim others to be. How I wish that prejudice wasn't so strong.
This story is getting very interesting. I'd like to know what the potion is for. Good or bad things?
SvarSletNot spoiling anything - as I've earlier posted small pieces near the end of the book - David and Torben sure as heck are up to something bad and ought to be stopped. If they (or the bad things) can be stopped is the question, and I won't spoil my story by revealing the very end.
SvarSletAnd people are rigth to be afraid of witchcraft and magic, Susan's father is just afraid for all the wrong reasons.