Greetings all and first up let me thank Anna, Jo, Shilpa, Dianne and Mary(LinkedIn) for your comments, likes, shares, etc. on my last blog post. As always, it's appreciated that you take the time to read my musings.
It is so nice to see the sun rise high in the heavens and donate some of the kind warmth our way. We've certainly felt the pleasant side of the Aries effect in the heavens and we do most approve and hopefully we'll see a bit more of that heat in the next few months where we may wander freely in more looser attire.
This weekend has been sent in the sharing of knowledge with runes. It was my seminal course in this field and I have to say it was really well received. I'm looking forward to doing it all again in the summer and I've already seen a few areas where I'll enhance what I've put forward so far. Knowing me I'll probably knock up a bit more written material to put with the workshop and it was quite nice writing about the respective symbols in my own fashion. A most splendid way to spend a Sunday.
I shall now delve into those archives once again to see what I can bring forth. I do hope this piece of flash fiction will entertain
Eight days
Josh Cartwell fingers the edge of an expensive envelope. For days the postman failed to send what he wants, yet the black package with gold lettering daunts him.
He withdraws a tiny knife and slides the blade across the top. A card falls face down onto his table. He stares at the back of the card and a pattern of hearts, swords, crosses and bags of gold looks straight through him. He flips the card.
“You've got to be kidding me.”
A skull with a pole rammed through the jaw with the words 'Dead in a week' written underneath demands his attention. His Nokia jangles in his pocket. He scrolls down to a colon and question mark and opens the message.
“Sorry friend, it's the luck of the draw. I suggest you make your final arrangements within seven days before we collect.”
John hurls the mobile across the room and cares nothing for the sound of breaking glass. He seizes his car keys, credit card and a few clothes. He head north and keeps driving. There is no plan. Maybe he can outlast the week and perhaps he'll be fine. Perhaps.
John sips from a cup of cold tea. He glances outside to see a white world and a splattering of snowbound cars. He switches on the telly and the news of impassable roads across Scotland gives him a feeling of immense security.
He leaves his room and bids good morning to the garrulous landlady who promised him a splendid breakfast.
“We've a new chef starting today. He's a bit of a fancy one by all counts and has come all the way from France.”
“He came here through this weather?”
“Oh aye, he said it's nothing to him. He's used to driving up in the Alps and this is child's play for him. Make yourself at home, John and I'll get one of his specials for you.”
John soon gazes upon a generous plate of mushrooms, eggs, bacon, sausages and a pile of baked beans. He agrees with the landlady after a few mouthfuls.
“This is the best breakfast I've ever had.”
She flushes and scuttles away to the kitchen. The chef walks in in alone and stands eager to offer his thanks.
“I'm glad you enjoyed it, Monsieur. You have proved to be tricky to find. Anyway, I shall bid you adieu.”
John's face pales and he reaches for his chest. He looks to his plate and one card with a simple message sits in the middle of an island of eggs.
'Sorry we're late, but we always collect.'
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