escape

April 13, 2008 at 5:14 pm (Caledon, ETC Adventures (Doctor... Who?), original poetry/prose, the Muse sings)

You have heard that strange, grinding sound before.  When the big blue box appears, you are hardly surprised, except that one has not been seen in this part of the forest.  Still, there it is, and there is the lady you recognize: the banshee, the muse, lurching from the blue doors to a tree stump, her long hair curly and tangling in her haste.  She thrusts one pale hand into the stump, pulls out a little leather tome, then scribbles in it, with phoenix feather and ink that gleams violet black.  She replaces the book, then dives back into the blue box… but not before catching your eye, and flashing you a little mischievous smile.

The blue box makes those sounds again, like exhausted machinery grinding Time under its wheels.  And then they are both gone.

But the tree stump remains, with its’ hidden prize…

Sometimes a girl just has to escape for awhile.

I’d been staring entranced at the flashing coloured lights on the console when like a flash, I understood their language, and how to operate the ship.  Bits of it.

I need out of this place, this era, for awhile.  I need a reset.  I’m sure Oolon won’t mind me dropping myself off… especially if he doesn’t find out.

And once I’m there, I should be able to find my way home naturally.  Of course if I can’t, you’ll know why…

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3 Comments

  1. Bloodwing said,

    It was a rare lull in New Gomorrah. Mornings of silent study, days of swinging swords and spraying bullets, and nights of debauchery. At twilight he found himself i a corner of the palace that only a demon would call “cozy”. He was counseling a younger demon, comparing the cost-to-benefit ratio of savagery versus subtlety, intimidation versus deception, and destroying castle walls from outside as well as within.

    He found a decent vintage of absynthe under the bar after a few good chuckles with the youth, who trundled off to some other lightless tunnel. He nearly choked on the glass of Green Muse when the blue box grinded its way onto Hell’s doorstep. He reached under the bar, laying his hand on the wickedly curved blade secreted there.

    But then he saw a face so very familiar, and his scowl lifted. His crimson eyes gre brighter.

    “Well curse me twice if it isn’t Lady Darkling!”

    Where was the bloodwyne? Ah, hanging upside down of course. Nothing but the best vintage would do.

    “Have a seat, M’lady…we have many stories to share…”

  2. DarklingRose said,

    She opens the door slowly… peering uncertainly out into the gloom. This is not where she intended to land! She’d envisioned a deep forest, or a vintage nightclub, or a highway with no one on it… Not this dark… wicked… place…

    But with the familiar voice of her old friend, all uncertainty melts.

    “Wha- … Bloodwing! Is that–? I thought yeh were–”

    Even a Prince of Hell can get knocked over by an enthusiastic hug!

  3. Diamanda Gustafson said,

    *Lifts her head from her decks.

    It appears that the rather familiar faces never cease to amaze me.
    I’ll be watching, doing the thing I know best.

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