Daily Archives: January 30, 2022

Blue Rose

While Lena Horned sang the entirety of her new album “Creepy Alley” inside for an exclusive audience…

… manager Zach Black danced on the deck with the less affluent people, although almost all of them had gone home by now.

7 o’clock in the morning. And he and Lena had to do the same thing tomorrow night, starting at 8. PM, that is. Mr. Low’s orders — he’s always one to give commands and not receive them. But the pay was grand, and they needed it on their whirlwind tour of the Nautilus continent, back on since the Maebaleia army declared war on its own navy in another surfacing of the ever-present North-South tension down there. They decided to amscray off the continent to protect their neutrality. Besides, Zach was an old air force guy, and, like many of his kind, didn’t know where he fit in with the conflict. “We’ll take the army boat out and the navy boat back in, just to placate both,” he said to Lena as they were pulling out of Cassandra Bay in the dead of the day hidden behind a bale of hay. It was the only way (he reckoned).

—–

“How was the party up at the yacht tonight?” asked wife Alysha to Jeffrey Phillips as he *finally* reverted and returned. “Good, I’m assuming. It’s 8 o’clock. *8* *o’clock*. I get up and you go to bed. Typical these days.” Julius was now 3 years old and playing in the palm shaded sand outside the beached submarine they live in. His sister Julia was nearly one herself. Tomorrow was the 4th anniversary of their marriage and hopefully it would get off to a better start than this one. They would be heading back to the same yacht, sans Mr. Low. Because he had his own tight itinerary to hold to. He was heading inland with his new wife of 3 years, following the high central beige ridge of Lower Austra and then the low green western coastline of Upper Austra. Bound for the north in a plane with military insignia both right and left. Just in case.

(to be continued)

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Redd star

“I know this is only our second date,” Jeffrie Phillips began again. Eraserhead Man had decided to move the location of the shoot to nearby Antares Isles, just northwest of Fio Fum. The Giant For A Day post title can wait. Or can it? “But I’m a marrying type, I’ll warn ya. I want to marry you. I think, I *know*… I love you.” He turned toward her, Redd For A Day.  She of course wasn’t expecting this. Blue script; in the white one she would have slapped him, knowing what he did on that filthy yacht just yesterday while she was with Thomas getting her tattoo. He promised to stick to the clean one from now on. And that’s where they got married. Just back there, in the background. And then they lived in the submarine home a little closer, on the largest and most northern of the 3 or 4 isles in the chain, right near the yacht, pointing toward it like a time bomb. Julius was born a little while later — well I guess it would have to be at least 9 months later. Jeffrey named him while she was busy reading her current furniture and fashion magazine on the far isle again, just where they are now, in the present. A black child for a white couple but that was just part of the magic.

They set a date. March 1, 2022. The day the music died.

Ironic that while perusing black and white photos in that fashion and furniture magazine during Julius’ illicit naming event back there she was thinking about Newt. And Annaberg — why did she ever leave that Sunklands burg in the first place?

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Giant for a Day 01

“Thanks for meeting with me again, Redd.”

Redd, she mused privately. I like that name. Better than Alysha. For now, for this scene anyway, with this actor/person. She decided to let him talk again instead of replying. It was in the script: blue.

“I… have a problem.”

“Yes?” Blue.

“I gave away my car to a man I’m not sure I can fully trust. Guy named Monroe Ray. Or maybe it’s Manray Roe. Anyway…”

“Anyway,” she quickly added, uncomfortable with the ad lib.

“… I’ve decided to get it back. You see, Manray, I mean…”

“Monray, I mean, Monroe.” Now *I’m* doing it, she thought. Eraserhead Man might not be so pleased with *this* ad lib. He was with some, and not as much with others. 1/2 and 1/2. Yet another one in a long line of 1/2’s and 1/2’s. I’m so tired, she continued pondering. Didn’t get enough sleep last night. The tattoo I got yesterday still smarts. I’m not sure it was a smart thing to do now (!). She instinctively reaches her left arm around and scratches it. Thomas said it would take a couple of days to heal up properly, maybe a couple of weeks. She could tell he wanted to add “a couple of months,” to extend the sentence even more but he didn’t. So it could be that long, ugh. But very very difficult to reverse now. She was stuck with it, most likely — in all likelihood.

“Monroe, right. Fern said it was ultra important and that the portal should *not* be closed right now, the one that goes to Bluefield, West Virginia, US of A. A purple car *will* come through, she stressed in her wise or at least brilliant way.” Then he turned away from his fishing and looked at Redd, aka Alysha. “But *you’re* Fern.”

“Kind of,” she explained. “Kinda not.” 1/2 and 1/2 once more, ugh. They both looked toward the cameras for direction.

(to be continued)

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