In from the Cold - part 2 - by Sven Pertelson

Tom was frozen to the core by the time he had trudged back to his flat. He quickly hooked the video camera up to his laptop to download the footage and while it was working treated himself to a good hot shower. At least he had not drawn the night watch on this operation, no warm café for whoever had to spend the night watching the park.

"North Pole" An insider's perspective by Tami

Santa leaned back in his black reindeer leather lay-z-boy, put his winter-booted feet up on an old bourbon crate, and took a long swig of Budweiser. After swilling the warm, flat, beer around his mouth, he spewed it over the railing onto one of the elves working below, letting out a deep belly laugh as he gave the little twerp a beer shower. Sighing because his beer was now too warm to enjoy, he lit up a nice Cuban cigar and inhaled a lungful of the sweet, rum-dipped, tobacco smoke before flinging the half-full beer can at a passing elf. Ah well, it was almost noon and he hated drinking more than a couple of dozen beer before his lunch. It was time to switch to Jack and Eggnog. Feeling a rumbling in his stomach, he let out a long carbonated, beer smelling, belch and closed his eyes for a short nap under his sunlamp.

Drowning - Part 2 - Marita Decosta (from November)

He made it back into the drivers seat of the van, closer to the vents that were blasting on high with slowly warming air, grasping the steering wheel as hard as he could to try and still the shivering and shaking and attempt to return some more feeling and control back into his hands and arms.

The Magic Santa Bus Stop! - Part 1 - by Relay Caedmon

The Snow who falled down covered everything, roads,bushes even the rusty old stopsign who had seen many days, and its condition wasnt as it best. But there right there in the white field of snow there was a bus stop. Its oriented inspired roofs covered in snow kept part of the ground below free from it.

Winter Wonders - by Lillian Morpork

I walked through the park the day after the storm,
The snow was so deep, but I was quite warm.

"Little Bird" by Llola Lane

"Little Bird" by Llola Lane

Little bird up in a tree,
Little bird looks at me,
Another bird flying high,
Can not see me from the sky.

In From The Cold - part 1 - by Sven Pertelson

From the warmth of the park café Tom could see the old tramp shuffling along towards the frozen pond and the shelter. All the paths to the shelter were pristine unbroken snow. No-one had been near the shelter today and as it had not snowed since yesterday sunset that meant it had not been visited over night.

Your Inspiration for November 2013

 

Waves of  Life by Elin Egoyan

Waves of Life – part 4 – Lillian Morpork

The story so far.
A young woman is with an archaeology team on a strange planet. They are there with government permission, but some of the natives object to aliens digging up their past. Some of the most aggressive sneak into the dig and capture her while she sleeps. She wakes in a boat floating down a river. Someone had stowed a lot of supplies in the boat, so after she wakes, and realises she is heading for a tall cataract, she manages to steer the boat to shore.

She retrieves the supplies and sends the boat off to crash over the falls. By the time she made her way up from the river bank, it is late, so she sets up camp and settles for the night. She is wakened by the sound of yipping and howling and something circling the tent. When she peeks out, she sees natives dancing around. One sees her and forces her to come out of the tent.

They travel to the Capitol city and to the government. There she is greeted warmly and promised help for herself and the archaeologists. Unwrapping a cloth bundle, she reveals a small statuette; she had been told to keep it safe, and secret. She presents it to the Flxl (president) and all in the room go to their knees in awe.

The story continues:

Slowly I knelt too. The atmosphere of reverence and awe in the room was so strong, I could do nothing else.

Staring at the sea - Part 3 - By Sven Pertelson

This was the kind of blue water, open ocean sailing that Rob had dreamed of. A gentle swell faded into the distance, steady winds, blue skies and warm sun. First chore of the day was to collect flying fish that had collided with the sails overnight. Gutted and de-scaled they went into the frying pan for breakfast. Drain a little fresh water out of the solar still on the foredeck and make coffee and watch his straight line wake dissapear behind him. Life was good,