More art!

[pyat]

slwatson was inspired by my recent discovery of a dragon's egg, and momentrabbit's advice in regard to same.



I look pretty cool! Even when perched on an egg.

In return, I decided I'd been sucking at this whole "art" game, so I wrote her a short piece of fiction, one that explains the true reason for her "vacation" in rural Maine in October. I was inspired by this photo from the trip.


(Steff is slwatson, Rachelle is commanderteddog)

Death Lobster 2: Rise of the Yellow Jacket
Steff casually flicked a cigarette out of the rental window into the night. The glowing tip described an arc that was abruptly extinguished by the midnight waters of the Atlantic. So peaceful. For now.

Steff closed her eyes and allowed her mind to focus on the shifting potentialities of Ficspace, a place of shifting alternatives and impossible lies made truth by a force of will. She saw... in three, four days at most... an army of crawling, red-shelled monsters rising from the sea, filling the streets of Boothbay Harbour, South Bristol, and even Portland.

She saw them led by a horrid, bellowing giant, a veritable Yellow Idol, forged in the shape of their enemies. The crustaceans, using a kind of perverted sympathetic magic had twisted the fairest eidolon of mankind into a mocking instrument of destruction.

Could this absurd vision of the future possibly be true? The dreams she shared with her Canadian friend suggested otherwise. They'd been enough to drive them to this remote and desolate corner of the country, a simple land of sou'westers and novelty paper weights shaped like lobster traps.

Still, it seemed even the stolid locals had been disturbed of late. Dark dreams, half-remembered legends of snapping claws and beady eyes... all the old ways were coming to the fore. The stark terror in the face of the strapping Lobsterman, Dave, when they'd asked whether lobsters were dangerous had said more than his words ever would.

The passenger door opened with a click and Rachelle clambered in, grinning nervously.

"I got them," said the stocky blonde, holding up a large paper sack. "We're ready."

Steff shifted the car into drive, pulling away from the pier and rolling slowly along the darkened streets, headlights dimmed. "You're sure...?"

Rachelle nodded. "I had my suspicions even before we found the Lobsternomicon at the Cathedral of Learning. We need something to open a dimensional rift, to draw out the King in Yellow and banish him from realspace. We need something that defies the laws of physics, and these are them."

Steff adjusted the rearview mirror, thinking, for a moment, that she'd seen movement behind the car. Nothing. She looked back at her friend.

"A half-dozen Wicked Whoopies." She grinned evilly.

Rachelle smiled back. "Containing as much sugar as a Twinkie thirty-five feet long, weighing approximately six hundred pounds," she said.

"That's a big Twinkie," muttered Steff, capping the film quote as she squinted into the darkness. She braked, and threw the rental into park. "And here we are. Let's see if the old boy wants a midnight snack."

The two disembarked, and made their way cautiously toward the front of a nearby fish restaurant, where loomed the lurid yellow form of Death God of Lobsters.

And meanwhile, unseen in the shadows behind them, a thousand thousand chittering sea-insects began to fill the streets. The invasion of Boothbay Harbour had begun...

Comments

Vodka and Chaka Khan

[ankhorite.livejournal.com]

I was crushed when she sang for that Republican event a few years back!

How could she do such a thing?