It took him a long time to wake up, only to discover what he thought was a soft bed was in fact the muddy ground. The filtered light wasn’t streaming through a hotel window, but was the shadows cast by the trees surrounding him. He tried to stand and just about made it to his knees. He looked around and saw nothing but trees in every direction. This wasn’t the Coventry he knew.
Inspired by dusting my office. Most people would have grabbed the furniture polish and wiped the dust away without a second thought. As a writer, I did the same, but with many thoughts.
Where did all the eggs and chicks come from anyway? It’s not all lost in the mists of time and legend, but much of it is conjecture and guesswork. So, here’s my contribution to the mythos.
The back door was old and warped, held closed by a single lock. Danko took out his jimmy and slipped it into the gap. The whole frame moved when he applied pressure, allowing him to open the door without unlocking it. As he took a step forward, he noticed a sign fixed to the wall.
‘Caution – Guarded By Gnomes’.
Danko shook his head. People really were obsessive.
A short story about Halfa, a jaded hero who decides to take control of his own fate for a change. “You aren’t making this easy.”“You’re the one talking to himself.” “Fair point.” “The horse gets a girlie horse and a warm stable, and I get a smelly cave full of deadly things that aren’t dragons!” Even heroes need to take a break.
The bad guy would be defeated, falling into a reactor/volcano/super-powered space laser. The woman would be rescued, and they’d get out just as the place exploded. Their method of escape is always a convenient and luxurious boat/submarine/hovercraft complete with mini-bar and a huge bed. My question is who builds these bases and why do they always explode?
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