Hello Everybody, how is Friday going with you? All is well here, apart from a nagging feeling that I have forgotten something. Not unusual and impossible to say what of course but, I daresay that if it is an important thing it will make itself known soon enough… Over on the table matters are a little dark I fear. I have overheard rumblings, grumblings and tuttings…
Living on the Edge 163; the Smoke House…
The evening news had just announced that the last sunrise would be on April 12th. After that no one was sure what to expect; not even the experts. A gloomy silence hung in the place usually taken up by chitchat.
Margaret belched into the evening air releasing a dark plume of smoke.
“Pardon me,” she spluttered. After she had finished speaking, her voice rattled on with a deeply embedded and ugly echo.
At the top of the mountain David was in no mood for pardoning.
“Pardon you my eye,” he huffed. “It’s all your fault we’re in this state you know, Margaret.”
He was trying out his latest invention; a special platform to distance himself from the choking gas. It was failing miserably. He longed for fresh air. He longed for the filthy revolution, taking place beneath him at the foot of the mountain, to be over. He returned to his drawing board and pencils, sharp and ready to go. But it was becoming more and more difficult to have blue sky thinking… xxx