litranaut

“Shitty new flat. Shitty decorating. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Ramona sat in the corner of the room looking at the mess that was her hall. She loved the fact she’d found a new place and she knew that at the end it would be as beautiful as every other place she had been in.

But she hated the bit in between. She wanted her path to be:

1) Find an apartment

2) See what needs to be done

3)

4) Beautiful place to live.

“Alas.”

She found herself thinking of her brother. She was sure that he was a dab hand with a roller. Or his annoyingly enthusiastic personality would keep her from flagging, and idling.

Like she was doing now.

Her face crunched in confusion. She hadn’t thought about Steven for ages. Longer than the last time she saw him. She couldn’t remember if they’d fallen out, or if they’d just lost contact.

She half-arsedly scraped some paper of the wall.

“How do you lose contact with family?”

She scraped some more.

“Why isn’t my boyfriend here to help me?” She pouted. “I’m surrounded by useless men”

She scraped some more paper off the wall, falling into a rhythm, focusing on the sound of her breathing. Letting her mind focus on the action of-

2 hours had passed.

“What… Wow. I totally got into that.” She was aware that the was talking out loud to herself because she hadn’t spoken to anyone for at least a day and a half, and – for some reason – didn’t want other voices of TV or Radio to keep her company.

“The last thing I need is the time suck of soap, soap, quiz show, 70’s detective, kid’s TV.” She frowned again, leaning against the ladder in conversation with herself, in her head. “Not that I’d watch kid’s TV. The first show is always pre-schoolers anyway.” She blushed. “I assume… Anyway – it’s then I’d start work, and 20 minutes after that wonder what’s for dinner and have to go shopping and then it’d be too late for decorating and. No. Better the silence.”

She scrapped a little more.

“What is for…” she craned her neck and looked at the clock. It was 12:30. “It’d be lunch, then. I suppose I should shower before I leave. And…look -” She gestured at the walls for herself to admire. “I’ve done a couple of walls.”

She kicked at some paper on the floor, knowing she was slacking off.

“Fuck it. Shower and a salad.” She turned away from the wall before yelling, “STOP!”

She froze.

“Showertime!” And danced to the bathroom.

***

In incredibly efficient shower later, she left the house in search of food.

She was 2 steps from her door when she heard the phone ring.

“Grrrr.” She paused. No. She procrastinated. She was out. In the fresh air. The buzz of traffic, the allure of shopping. All that inside held was the Walls of Half Finished Scraping.

“If it’s important, they’ll call back.”

***

Steven called 5 times in the next 5 minutes before finally hanging up.

He’d try again later, and hope it wasn’t too late.

***

Today’s photo was supplied by Trine Petersen.

They ran, laughing, through the dunes. The sun so hot it bleached the colour out of everything.

They should have been in sunblock. They should have had been in glasses, but they were young. What did it matter.

Steven fell into the sun – but it didn’t burn, it held him – warm and comforting. He rolled over, smiling, squinting in the sunlight.

“Come on, slow coach. We’ll never get there if you’re sleeping on the job.” His sister ran past, stumbling as the sand sucked at her feet.

He turned and scrambled after her.

The woman with the pink hair stood at the crest of a dune and looked down at him. He blinked. There was no one there.

“Steven. Come on.”

Steven turned, slowly, slower than he wanted. “Mona.” His voice was so quiet. He couldn’t find the breath to call out louder. “Mona. Wait!”

***

He stood on the beach in front of the lighthouse. It was as he always remembered – so bright it hurt the eyes.

He didn’t remember how he got there.

He was in the Dunes. He was with Mona. “Ramona!” He looked around. “Ramona. Where are you?”

There was giggling from behind him and his sister stepped out.

“I’m always near, silly. Come on. Let’s go up!”

“Are you sure?” He was suddenly scared.

“We always do! Come on!” She walked towards the door. “It’s time, Steven. Come on.”

He tried to move, but his feet were stuck. He looked down, grabbed a leg, tried to move it. He looked up, “Wait. Mona. I’m stuck.”

She should never have been able to get that far in the short time he had turned away. He stumbled forward and fell to his knees. From there, he managed to crawl forward, slowly, towards his sister.

“Mona! Wait!”

At the door, she turned and waved. He wasn’t sure if it was to tell him to hurry up, or if it was goodbye.

***

He reached the door, and started up the stairs. “Ramona! Are you up there?”

Her voice answered, high above. “Hurry, Steven. Look at this!”

He ran up, two stairs at a time.

Something…wasn’t right. He hadn’t spoken to Ramona for years.

He stumbled on the stairs.

“Stop it, Steven! You have to come up here.”

This – was this…

“Steven. Don’t make me come and get you.”

This –

The stairs fell away and Steven found himself standing next to the light at the top of the lighthouse.

– was –

Ramona was standing there. She was young. But he wasn’t anymore. “Ramona.” His voice was deeper.

– a –

From behind her, a woman with pink hair stepped out, placing her hands, protectively, on his younger sister’s shoulders.

“Don’t you touch her.” He was sure he said the words, but all he heard was the roar of the wind in his ears.

The woman with pink hair spoke. “Talk to your sister.”

– drea—

Steven sat up, sweat pouring from his body.

“Whaeesih, aybee?” His wife was still half asleep.

“I have to call Ramona.”

***

Today’s photo was supplied by Lorna Harley Andrikopoulos

The Eel was waiting by the door as Santa arrived.

“Heelo, sir. Nice to see you again.” He bowed, slightly.

“Ah…yes. Um.. Hell-Ah, Heelo. Ho..Hoho. I see what you did there.”

The eel smiled. It’s eyes didn’t.

“Your usual table at the bar, or would sir prefer a boooth today?” The elongation of the word made it sound smutty in Santa’s ears and he fought the urge to shudder.

“Ah… Hmm. Actually, I’d like a table today.”

“Cerrtainly, sir.”

“Please, GOD don’t let him bring a tray. Please, God, not the tray,” thought Santa.

The maîtres d’ shuddered and force an appendage from the side of his body. A noise like wet flesh thrashing in thick mud accompanied it. On the end was a bloody, bone hook with which it grabbed a tray. “If you’d like to follow me.”

Santa threw an evil look at an old guy in the robes who sat at the bar.

Who just shrugged, apologetically, and turned back to his Virgin Mary.

“Heeeere we are, sir.” The tray was placed on the table and the hook now smeared over the back of the chair as the eel pulled it out.

Santa sat and looked at the menu. “Um…I’ll… ah… order something later. But…you could have my usual brought over.”

“I shall brrring it myself.” The Eel bowed smartly.

“NO!” shouted Santa. “No, I mean. You must be um… oh! You must be eely busy. Send someone else.”

The eel laughed. “I see what you did there, with that witty bòn mót. Indeed, sir. I shall send your drink over.” And with that, he slithered off.

***

In the corner of the cafe, in a darkened booth, a tentacle waved to attract a waiter.

“Si…un…Mad…” the waiter fumbled. “Can I get you anything?”

“Very probably.” The figure laughed. “I suggest you open a tab for me. I think I’m going to be waiting here for a very…very long time.”

***

Todays photo has been supplied by Natalia Mekras

Brad and Janet Chambers stood at their son’s bedroom door.

“He’s so cute when he’s dreaming.”

Brad nodded. “Look at his little hands going. It’s like he’s building something.”

They both laughed.

“Aurri”

“What did he say?” Janet asked.

“I think it was Aurri,” laughed Brad.

***

Simon, Brad and Janet’s son, dreamt. He dreamt he was an elf, working on a plan for Santa.

Well. How do you think he makes all those presents?

Simon was staring at his pad, working on the problem – how to insert an idea into the real.

He was working his way around-

“GOT IT!” He jumped up, punching the air. “It’s OBVOUS!” And with that he scuttled to the workshop to begin work.

And, before he could wake, he’d made a prototype.

“And what is this?” Asked Santa. But not with the joy of Christmas, more with the weight of a condemned man.

“It’s an idea bomb.”

“An…idea bomb?”

Simon yawned and Santa realised he had to keep it short.

“How does it work?”

Simon cut it in half. “Look – each of these seeds is an idea. You make the item and then you fill it with ideas. That way – even if one doesn’t go off, another will.”

Santa nodded. He liked where this was going. “But…how do we get it there?”

“That…” Simon let off an enormous yawn. “That’s the best part. We wait in the cafe for somewhere we can stash it to come through. Then we plant the idea of the item in that world. We don’t even have to put the item in there – just the idea of it. Once someone takes that idea, then the item should go with it. And we’ll know, because it’ll disappear from here.”

“You know, son. That might just-“

But it was too late. Simon had woken up, and all that was left was a small pile of elf clothes and a tomato.

***

Today’s photo was, once again, supplied by Kostika

The Realm of Ideas. The Sidetrack Cafe. The Other Side.

What have we found there?

A desperate old idea, lost in a time where he has been relegated to being a story believed only by the very young; and the machinations of a bad idea – of The Bad Idea – plotting to seed ideas deliberately or, worse, seed itself directly into our world.

And.

This Side. The Corporeal. Here we have a message, seemingly from the future, telling a girl to learn to meditate so she can create Tulpas – physical embodiments of ideas – and a particular Tupla that can come back in time and tell her to learn to meditate. The temporal paradox on that one has not gone unnoticed.

And so, the pieces have been placed on the table, and time passes.

Well, time passes for the girl.

The Other side is a place without place, without time. It exists all-when.

So – even though Santa’s idea is strong in December on this side, the Other Side can access any, and all, Decembers at any, and all times. There, Santa works on his plans to … to strengthen his idea to more than just the fat man delivering presents.

And The Bad Idea watches, waiting to see what happens, to see if it can steal anything to its advantage.

All three toil under a moon.

Santa’s, round and happy, smiles down as he briefs his elves.

“It must be small, like a bauble. But everyday – so we don’t have to wait until Christmas. It has to be special, so it catches the eye. And it has to be able to carry seeds of ideas in it.”

The elves looked at Santa as if he had finally lost his mind. But, one by one, they turned and headed back to the workshops to see what they could dream up.

***

The moon that looked down on the Bad Idea was shrieking and gibbous. It glared on scenes of perverted rituals, of blood sacrifices. The Bad Idea violated the brains of the disturbed, whispering of pain; of suffering. It demonstrated; it insinuated.

“Do what we show you. Spill blood for secret knowledge.”

The Bad Idea sat on a Throne of Nightmares and briefed a pet.

“If that fat fuck creates an vessel that travels over, I want to know about it.”

The pet considered the words of its master, then slithered away, leaving him to his pleasure.

***

On This Side, Ramona lay in bed and looked out at a moon she had looked out on for years.

Time has passed since the dream of Mona, and Ramona is ready to leave where she is now. She has found a place where she can look upon a new moon.

She has worked hard, over the years. Studying the mundane, the normal. She understands How Things Are.

She doesn’t remember the mocking at the hands of her brother. It is as if the entire memory has got lost.

Tonight, though, she lies awake and talks to the moon.

“I should be happy. I have someone who loves me; a place to move in to; a job that I enjoy. But there is something missing. And I don’t have the faintest idea what that could be.”

But the moon says nothing. It just looks down upon her, as it always has.

***

Today’s photo has been supplied by Lee Briggs. Do read his Bio, as it has a tease for a bonus story.