hmmm...well, it's looking increasingly like it's just going to be me and Scuppy for the comp. *sigh* i so hoped foodie at least would join in too. but she's been poorly, poor love (get well soon! X) and i don't blame her for not wasting her depleted energy.
sooo...here we have attempt number 2 at posting those pictures...
goddamnit!!!
ok, so i guess you can see that the pictures have not only decided to post themselves at the top of the post, they have also decided to duplicate themselves.
(n.b. see lower down for why this ain't so - real-time blogging, brought to you by Squeaky The Pathetic Noob!)
i am also a complete and utter pillock, as i realised when i went to do this again that the reason the "post pictures" button was greyed out the first time, is that i hadn't ticked the box that says i agree to the terms of service (or whatever).
...but thanks for the advice anyway, Jens. i'll figure it out one day, i swear...
hmph. this blog (therefore me, since i write it) is probably the most pants blog ever! however - i will learn! oh, yus! because...
in other news, i am assured that my brand-new sparkly broadband internet connector-thingy is winging its way here as we speak (or type, or read) (whatever...anyway...) i shall now perform (for about the tenth time since yesterday) a happydance, because it makes me happy......
*happydance*
there. that's better! now, let's try something else, shall we?...
*fiddles with picture thingies a bit more*
okay! well, now, at least we only have one of each picture. AND!!! they are in the right order. WIN!
time for a quick cut-and-paste of the text again...
1.
The autumn day was cool and damp. On a day like this, when the air was fresh on his skin, smelling faintly of leaf mould and the promise of winter, he wanted to be outside.
Strolling along an anonymous back street, marvelling at how people managed to get their cars in and out of the closely-crammed lines on either side, he idly scratched an itch at the back of his head.
The itch refused to be scratched.
Then he realised – the itch was not on his scalp, but inside his head. As he came upon a knackered blue fiat, the itch flared into pain, as he met the malevolent stare of the black cat sitting, hunched and still, on the bonnet. Its ginger companion stared far away into a place that only he could see.
As the pain grew and set fire to his mind, he realised, with dread, that he had strolled down the wrong street, and these were not mere cats, but guardians.
And they would make him pay for his trespass.
The autumn day was cool and damp. On a day like this, when the air was fresh on his skin, smelling faintly of leaf mould and the promise of winter, he wanted to be outside.
Strolling along an anonymous back street, marvelling at how people managed to get their cars in and out of the closely-crammed lines on either side, he idly scratched an itch at the back of his head.
The itch refused to be scratched.
Then he realised – the itch was not on his scalp, but inside his head. As he came upon a knackered blue fiat, the itch flared into pain, as he met the malevolent stare of the black cat sitting, hunched and still, on the bonnet. Its ginger companion stared far away into a place that only he could see.
As the pain grew and set fire to his mind, he realised, with dread, that he had strolled down the wrong street, and these were not mere cats, but guardians.
And they would make him pay for his trespass.
2.
Jim couldn’t believe his luck.
How many times, if ever, do you spy a half-dressed raven-haired honey running full pelt down a busy city street, making a beeline for you? He knew she was heading for him, since her dark eyes never left his face as she ran.
“Oh, wow!” was all he could think.
“Oh, wow!” as she drew nearer and nearer.
He just couldn’t help the broad and (he hoped) welcoming smile that spread across his features as she skidded to a stop in front of him.
The smile, however, was instantly replaced by a grimace of wide-eyed terror as her intense stare nailed him to the pavement, and she drew two of the biggest hand cannons that Jim had ever seen – in or out of the movies.
“Down.” She ordered, quietly.
Jim hit the flagstones an instant later and, as the guns went off, heard twin thuds on the pavement behind him.
How many times, if ever, do you spy a half-dressed raven-haired honey running full pelt down a busy city street, making a beeline for you? He knew she was heading for him, since her dark eyes never left his face as she ran.
“Oh, wow!” was all he could think.
“Oh, wow!” as she drew nearer and nearer.
He just couldn’t help the broad and (he hoped) welcoming smile that spread across his features as she skidded to a stop in front of him.
The smile, however, was instantly replaced by a grimace of wide-eyed terror as her intense stare nailed him to the pavement, and she drew two of the biggest hand cannons that Jim had ever seen – in or out of the movies.
“Down.” She ordered, quietly.
Jim hit the flagstones an instant later and, as the guns went off, heard twin thuds on the pavement behind him.
3.
Venice. Romantic Italian city-state. Home of the masque, of art, and of decadence.
Grey, wretched, filled with the noxious smell from the lagoons, and absolutely pissing down.
The little boats bobbing on the canal reminded her of children on a school trip to Buxton in the wintertime.
He had sent her a picture of this place, saying “Meet me here, and I will show you delights of which you have never dared to dream.”
So she had come.
What she had found was a gloomy, empty, swamp-stinking picture of misery and decay. The buildings, stained with the damp and mould of centuries, wept in the desolate downpour.
And she wept with them, mourning her shattered romantic dreams.
Grey, wretched, filled with the noxious smell from the lagoons, and absolutely pissing down.
The little boats bobbing on the canal reminded her of children on a school trip to Buxton in the wintertime.
He had sent her a picture of this place, saying “Meet me here, and I will show you delights of which you have never dared to dream.”
So she had come.
What she had found was a gloomy, empty, swamp-stinking picture of misery and decay. The buildings, stained with the damp and mould of centuries, wept in the desolate downpour.
And she wept with them, mourning her shattered romantic dreams.
4.
The lowering evening sun struck diamonds from the ice that sparkled all around her. Her mermaid’s body rose up, the tail just out of sight beneath the steely surface of the still water. She was young, softly rounded, and utterly beguiling in her freedom from care or reserve.
Smiling into the sunset, she stretched luxuriantly in her icy bath, seen by no-one but a swan, making his stately way over the ice, on business of his own.
Smiling into the sunset, she stretched luxuriantly in her icy bath, seen by no-one but a swan, making his stately way over the ice, on business of his own.
there - now, if you are interested, dear reader, you won't have to do toooo much scrolling.
bloody hell, this blogging lark's bloody hard work!
...i really must sort out the clock on this thing, too - it appears to be on NW US time. that's great for the Wavy Navy though, i guess...*grin*
ReplyDeleteHA! NW US time is great! I have no problem with it. But, Toni, your entries are absolutely wonderful. I LOVE them. Especially #2. Well, and #1 also. Well, #2 is the very best. I want to read more!!!!!!!! Jens made a good choice. Congratulations. :)
ReplyDelete