Darklands

CCC #106

“Here’s the boundary to the Darklands,” Dillion said matter of factly. “You are on your own past this point.”

“Those blocks don’t seem like they would stop much,” McCann observed. “Why aren’t there any fences, or guard posts?”

“Well first of all the D’landers love to steal the wire, and we don’t want to put anything in place that might draw them nearer. The second thing is that the guards are three clicks back at the stone rampart we passed.

“Is there anyway else to get to the coast?”

“Sure there is. You can fly like everybody else.”


Padre

CCC #106

Homestead

CCC #105

It wasn’t much to look at, and it was a bit draughty, but it was the best gift Periwinkle ever received.   

Peri had lived in the hollow of an old elm for nearly a century, but the big storm had toppled the fairy’s home.  It was shortly after that, that the children who lived in the big house at the top of the garden dragged together several pallets and then got their father to construct a little roof. 

What more could a fairy need?  This was more than just believing in fairies, it was love for them.  Hey, so much more effective than clapping hands will ever be. 

 

Padre

 

 

CCC #105

Rue Britannia

CCC #104

They said that Brexit was the only way

And that we should seek it without delay

While Boris on zip-wires flags did display

A virus was brewing far away

And was the Cabinet for it prepared

As they to Oxbridge clubs repaired?

They left it to Dominic and his ilk

Who did things more despicable

Than Maggie with the milk

And as we enter lockdown once again

For anyone with half a brain –

That it would come to this

Was so easy to ascertain


Padre

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #104

Driftwood

CCC #103

“So you say that it was some driftwood you put in your fireplace?” the fire investigator asked.

“Yes, I go down to the beach and gather driftwood and put it in my shed to dry. Then after a few weeks I use it in the living room fire.”

“Was this logs, or what?” the fireman asked.

“Well anything really: old pallets, or logs. Whatever.”

“And was this scrap we found one of them?”

“Yes, that a piece of the old crate I burned right before the chimney exploded.”

The charred fragment bore a simple stencil: Опасный диномит

“I think you really need to use the internet more, or buy your firewood from a dealer like everyone else,” the investigator said shaking his head.


Padre

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #103

Drake’s Heroic Return

CCC #102

It was quite the eventful year. The invasion of the Spanish had threatened English shores, but Drake was at the ready. That stalwart defender of the Sceptred Isle’s navigation left his coastal home and saw-off the white-faced Iberian intruders. It was with great celebration that he retuned home in triumph. He was truly a Mallard among Mallards. May the bards long sing of his exploits, and may this be but the first in a long series of salutes.


Padre

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #102

Journey

CCC #99

Sometimes a journey never feels as lonely, as does one taken with others.  The tour group was a diverse collection of individuals.  They were strangers brought together by the promise of “shared” discovery.  Thus far, all Helen had discovered was that the loud blonde, Ellen smoked too much and used every opportunity to cloud the doorway.  Rita spent at least half of the travel time in the loo, and queues usually formed while others waited for her to “finish.”

So much for adventure and commradery.  The next time she went to London, Helen concluded, she was going to drive herself.

Padre

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #99

Net Profits

CCC#97

The one thing Alan knew was that he didn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps and become an accountant.  So determined was he, in fact, that he purposely failed his mathematics exams in ordered to be labelled a “no hoper” in the numbers game.

What he didn’t realise at the time was that the lack of such a basic qualification landed him in a situation where he had limited employment opportunities.

After a series of unsatisfactory job interviews, he finally secured an entry level position working in the fisheries.

The work was grueling, and he found that, at end of each day, he hurt in places he didn’t realise he even had.  But what was worse was the smell.  A day of being soaked in water and fish left him continually odoursome.  As his accountant dad might have phrased it, “the net was gross.” 

Padre

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #97