- Lisa (Audio coming later)
- Richard
- Serendipidy
- Tom
- Norval Joe
- Planet Z
LISA
A Chat
We talk seriously when we get back. I thought I’d smelled an open fire and I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I’d seen him watching behind the door. I wonder if I’m just enjoying recounting my adventure.
We all agree, we’re in an odd position. We’re prisoners, his prisoners but actually we’re all in an unlocked basement just because we don’t know what’ll happen if we leave.
I’m sure, at the start. He HAD locked the door. I want to talk about the other girls, the bodies that have been found, but I can’t.
A lot is left unsaid.
RICHARD
Seating plan
I always sit at the back of the plane.
Last row, aisle seat, no exceptions.
I think it’s the ideal position for surviving a crash.
Others disagree and tell me the seats next to the emergency exit are safer, better still, if they’re over the wing; but I disagree.
I prefer to have a solid bulkhead behind me, rather than bodies and debris flying through the air. And, let’s face it, if we’re going down, the tail is going to hit the ground last.
My employers disagree.
They think I should sit at the front… Like all the other pilots.
LIZZIE
The yacht was tired. The crew and the passengers were also tired. No radio signal.
The Captain looked at the First Officer. “Let’s rest here.”
Suddenly, something something “what’s your position?”.
“Captain, we need time to fix the hull.”
“We’ll stay here. Nice, tropical island. We’ll be fine.”
When the search party arrived, the locals snickered.
“Where are they? The yacht is right over there.”
The locals snickered some more.
No one was found.
However, there were some suspiciously fresh bones, hanging above the doors of the houses.
That’s when the search party decided to leave as quickly as possible!
TOM
By Grace Alone
When Timothy Cratchit graduated from Cambridge with honors in accounting, he was offered the position of junior partner by emeritus Chairman Scrooge. Along with his father CFO he became a strong supporter of the Abolitionist Movement in America. In 1878 he met Rev. John Parker and soon after set up an endowment in his adopted uncle’s name. There was a secret clause in the endowment as to the name of a future church. When Timothy died in 1890 he was buried in the graveyard of Ebenezer Baptist Church. On his marble stone is written the following: God bless us everyone.
Bleak Gadgets
John despite his creative output was a very convivial person. All the same his company produced Bleak Gadgets. Funeral parlors need products, John supplied them. The solar powered last words tombstone. The thermal lying In-wait body grid. Aurora Borealis Cremation Urns for Human Ashes Adult Female for Funeral, Burial or Home. Memorial Lantern Sympathy Gifts for Loss of Mom/Loved One Bereavement Gifts. Hydraulic Embalming Table High quality stainless steel, hydraulic foot pedals, locking wheels. The Viruserv VB Guardian electrostatic sprayer a workhorse that will help you disinfect your facility quickly, effectively, and with confidence The BioSeal Portable System fully contained
SERENDIPIDY
Put yourself in my position.
If I let you go, you’ll go straight to the cops, and I really can’t have that, can I?
So you may as well forget trying to persuade me otherwise, and focus instead on making things easier for yourself.
I may be callous and unfeeling, but I’m a reasonable person. Perhaps I can be persuaded to let you live?
And, if not, at least you can try to convince me that a quick, clean death is in everyone’s best interests.
If nothing else, you can say you gave it a shot.
Before I shoot you.
NORVAL JOE
From Billbert’s position above meadow he saw everything at once.
Sabrina lay with her leg off at an odd angle. Buhmilda knelt, bent over, clutching her stomach. The driver of the van swung his rifle upward and aimed at Billbert.
He flew toward town and punched 911 into his phone.
As soon as an operator answered, he shouted, “There’s an active shooter at Buhmilda’s meadow. Do you know where that is?”
“I do,” she replied.
Billbert said, “People have been shot. They need help. Send police and an ambulance.”
The operator scoffed. “Right. You’re probably just swatting the old lady.”
PLANET Z
There is nothing more dangerous than a dying animal.
What about two?
Lying in a pool of their blood.
Their teeth on each other’s throats.
Vultures circling overhead, scavengers surrounding the endless battle.
Waiting for their chance to pick apart the ragged corpses.
One after another, they creep forward and peck or sniff.
A growl sends them scuttering back.
None of them notice me set down my stool, unfold the easel, and begin to paint.
Brushstrokes of very fang, tooth, eye, and hair.
I finish, pack up my things, and walk away.
Who won? I don’t know.
Does it matter?