Danse Macabre by
Camille Saint-Saens
You should know by now my friend, that a saving grace is a
miracle (those are lovely should one come your way) but it is a cheat on the
tale.
In this here tale, there has never been (nor will there ever
be) a sudden miracle out of the blue. That
would be a disservice to these lively characters.
And to you.
A hack writer will cheat, and I am no hack.
You see:
If properly constructed, a story will unfold as it must, and
it will surprise even the one scribing the events, much like a news reporter.
I have always followed three tantamount beliefs:
1. Write only what
you know (or have researched well).
2. Remain true to the
characters and the tale they want to tell.
3. Be true to the Reader
of the tale. (This is the most important
of all. Readers of your tale have
amazing forgiveness for bad speeling and such, but they will you call you on a
misstep, gawbless them.)
Hey, I’m along for the ride just like you, my friend. Know this:
I don’t want to lose the track, the tack of the sail, the wind, nor the
island ahead, to where we head. I’ve got
it mapped out, but the treasure is in the journey, not buried under the X on
the map.
TCC
CH 18
BLUE
FIRE
I pushed down on the legs of that angry punk and looked to
where the crying young man pointed. I
saw a white-hot glint of blue fire far across the desert dunes. The angry sun glaring down from overhead
could not erase such an indelible image, in the mind’s eye.
I pointed at it and shouted at the others, “Hold tight! Something is coming towards us!”
Tellesco clapped me on the back after he watched me do this.
He said, “Mr. Will, you see it, too?!”
I nodded and said back to him, “Yes I see him! Now help us out with this big bastard!”
Tellesco chucked himself down on the back of the struggling
giant and forced his elbow against the neck of our adversary into the desert
sand. Fat Jerry got his face buried,
again.
I turned back to look at the wildfire.
At first: a glint, a hint, a spark of white hot mettle
appeared. Then it grew across the vast desertscape. I was looking at the sharp edge of a flat
blade, swinging towards us at great speed.
(Duck!)
(Run to the hills!)
(Bury your head in the sand!”)
I could not speak.
Them others looked up to see what I was doing as Tellesco pinned that
big man down solid.
Joey said, “Weeee-ill! What you doing?! Ain’t nothing coming! Come put this boy to bed!”
Patrick the utility truck driver said, “I don’t think my
company insurance covers this liability!
This is certainly a dream I’m having-“
Big Bryan said,
“We got him down, Will! You do what you
gotta do.”
Me? I about shit my
pants.
Instead of saying, “What, you guys can’t see this blue
flame,” I said, “Hold him tight! I got his legs. That old fucker said we need him, but he
didn’t say that we need him awake!”
They each wrestled with new strength and held that evil man
down until he stopped quivering.
I got up from kneeling on his hamstrings to meet our demise.
When Mistah Death appears, he doesn’t need a welcome. No need to panic the ones with you who are
about to die…
…with you.
This is what I saw:
The thin blue blade gleamed across the horizon, and a glint from
the center of the sharp edge glowed with fire, like Tellesco had said.
The shiny gleam upon its edge neared, and as it did so, I
could see a fireball of blue.
In its center I could see a massive black hole, like the
spot in a photograph where the Sun should be.
It was Mayhem.
Blue fire whipped back from its head as it hauled a black
hearse.
A man sat atop his hearse with the reins held taught in one
hand and a shotgun in the other.
His face looked to be dried out for a hundred years and one
of the black lenses in his spectacles was broken in half.
The Glinty led The Blue Army of them ghosts.
He sure did like to make an entrance, didn’t he?
But you should
understand one thing, which is this:
There was an angry young Thai chick who sat beside him:
Katheena
She Brings The Rain
by Can
See you tomorrow for the goods.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
.
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