Not That Thirsty

Glad you could join us for the next cringe-worthy 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: 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 . . .

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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”