A Slippery Slope

Glad you could join us for the next precarious episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning to the beginning, and reading really fast…

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Photo credit: Nathan Ng

“Well if it isn’t Vernon the Valet-ison,” Spike sneered, reclining on a curved leaf, attended by an impossibly handsome young wasp. “I hafta admit, I didn’t expect her to send you. Arturo, bring our guest something to eat; he’s looking a little peak-ed. Or is it ‘piqued’?”

He looked Vernon up and down as the blushing Arturo, eyes downcast, sped off in the direction of the battered butterfly. “Sit,” Spike instructed, “let’s catch up.”

“I don’t have time to indulge you, Spike. Show me the Princess so I can report back to the Queen before she wonders what happened to me.”

Continue reading “A Slippery Slope”

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Spike’s Messenger

Glad you could join us for the next eye-popping episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning to the beginning, and reading really fast…

Elliot 081, Eucharitid wasp
Photo credit: Rundstedt B. Rovillos

With that image fresh in his mind, Elliot easily resisted the Bols de Mort. He pushed headlong through the malodorous meadow to arrive at the Hive at the tail end of twilight.

Vernon, Liaison to Queen Lilian the Undisputed Monarch of Fen, notified the Queen the instant Elliot returned. She met him in the bower moments later.

“Your Magnificence, one of Spike’s rebels has taken Cassandra. He knows she’s King Arnie’s daughter. I’m afraid I’ve put her in grave danger.” Continue reading “Spike’s Messenger”

Not That Thirsty

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Photo credit: Nigel Hewitt-Cooper

Maroon, green, yellow — they stood like soldiers in the grass, waiting so long for a command that never came, they had taken root. Now they thrummed with their thirst for blood, each with its own voice in its own low tone, waiting with the patience of the earth itself. The smell of honey and decay thickened the air.

Elliot’s throat shriveled to a dusty sponge. “I should have asked Marcel for water before I left.”

As he passed the first of the blooms, it shivered with a sloshing sound. “Water. They have water inside. Of course,” he told himself, “they catch the rain. If I can tip one over, I should be able to pour it out.”

At the mouth of the shortest, Elliot stopped dead. “Maybe not.” He swallowed dry air and hurried on.

To be continued. . .

Previously, on Elliot’s Adventures ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Next time . . .

Bols de Mort

Glad you could join us for the next foreboding episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning to the beginning, and reading really fast…

Elliot 079
Photo credit: Cincinnati Transit Blog

“Zee shortest way to zee Hive from here,” Marcel Pierre Clouseau told Elliot, “eez east srough zee Bols de Mort field, but eef you go zat way, you must be most cairful not to touch zem.”

“Bols de Mort?”

Continue reading “Bols de Mort”