Another hot day in Kansas City began by 9 a.m., and David sighed. Why the hell did we move here? Why? Chicago to Kansas City was a leap of insanity, especially in July.
David found himself on the library steps, trudging up into the brisk cool air of books and tables, musty and old.
Purposefully, David headed back to where he had last tossed “The Adventures of Lord James St. John” onto the floor. The book, of course, had been shelved by some over-zealous librarian. Even so, he caught the sapphire blue spine among other lined up remnants of insipid adventure fiction books.
Purposefully, David headed back to where he had last tossed “The Adventures of Lord James St. John” onto the floor. The book, of course, had been shelved by some over-zealous librarian. Even so, he caught the sapphire blue spine among other lined up remnants of insipid adventure fiction books.
Sitting in a dark corner on a battered leather chair, David experienced a surge of anticipation.
“…the ground rumbled beneath him... as he raced ahead of the cave-in, only to sense burning vitriolic acid mist surrounding him, engulfing him. The air morphed into a freezing mixture, combined with rotten egg scent of liquid sulfuric acid…
Oh,
come on! Sulfuric acid AND gaseous nitrous oxide? Together? Ancient
tribes would have no knowledge…Idiot writer…Do your research, why
dontcha? David sneered.
“Misfortune loomed as the fumes waved over him. Coughing through a torn shirt sleeve, he had an epiphany. Holding his breath, he crouched and crept along the craggy cave floor, breathing through the rock and dirt.
Stay low, stay low…out of the mist…David whispered.
Stay low, stay low…out of the mist…David whispered.
A light gleamed ahead, a source of rescue. St. John tumbled and rolled into the bright daylight. He snatched grass and twigs to pull him the rest of the way until he could escape the fumes. Lord James revived just enough to see his worst nemesis towering over him. Lord James St. John groaned.
David smirked. Well then…this was unpredictable. He should have been taken captive, tortured, or something.
A tall man glared down at him. “…had to take another gamble, didn’t you?...A man who finds misfortune, unworthy to bear the colors of the St. John banner…”
James lost consciousness blessedly, but when he came to, the man was still there, still haranguing at his son. “…you impertinent worthless…."
Can’t he just shut up…just shut up…David growled.
First you deny the privilege of serving Queen and Country…A PACIFIST….”
Can’t he just shut up…just shut up…David growled.
First you deny the privilege of serving Queen and Country…A PACIFIST….”
David groaned. His dad. Just silly plot twist. Come on, really?
Lord James William Arthur St. John, puffed out his medal covered chest. “Why, in my day…”
Lord James St. John gazed through a haze at the self-proclaimed hero of martial glory. Before passing out with a fading smile, he whispered, “You peacock you…”
David chortled. Flipped a few pages ahead, Lord James St. John was already on another adventure.
Why not? He took the book to the check-out desk.
The underlined words were provided in 2015 from Wednesday Words, started by Delores and maintained by several talented bloggers: Elephant's Child, River, . Over the years, the words have been challenging and entertaining.
After editing and rewriting and then editing more, this emerged. It was a load of fun, but then, isn't writing just that?
This was published in 2018.
The underlined words were provided in 2015 from Wednesday Words, started by Delores and maintained by several talented bloggers: Elephant's Child, River, . Over the years, the words have been challenging and entertaining.
After editing and rewriting and then editing more, this emerged. It was a load of fun, but then, isn't writing just that?
This was published in 2018.
