Digital Ischemia

31/12/2018

The Twelve Days of Twistmas part 7/12

The Christmas song twisted into a series of linked short tales, fabricated around tortuous puns. Begins at part 1.

Yesterday’s inaugural sleigh run was a tame affair and thoroughly exhausted the flat area around the hut. Having converted all that snow to an ice rink, and itching for a little reckless speed, we set out along the track seeking a slope.

Obviously we are surrounded by slopes, being situated in a glen. However, we were after ones that went down. Not really concerning ourselves with the having to come back up again afterward.

Entering unexplored territory, the fluffters seemed quite content as passengers, and the dove made occasional navigational recces ahead. What she’d seen remained secret.

The landscape unfolded slowly until, as we emerged through a half-dozen spindly old pines, we spied a water body, a loch, well, pond, well, to be entirely truthful: a swampy puddle. Not fussed. Downhill all the way and remember to brake before your feet get wet.

We wasted no time lining up on the banking. Santa, the hens and the dove took the forward positions; I wedged myself in the back, feeling much like ballast. I rocked the sleigh back-and-forth a little, checking the grease.

“Brace yourselves, girls!”
We were off. Accelerating through degrees of amusement, excitement and mild palpitations. How wonderfully refreshing to feel the wind through your feathers. And where I was sitting the feathered breeze was not unpleasant. The scenery moved fast enough to be interesting and the ride was sufficiently cushioned by straw. Certainly there was enough interest to keep my mind well off the subject of swans.

Two-thirds of the way to the pond, my glance took in a blackened, splayed, dead tree trunk. In the fraction of a second that my brain took to suggest that a tree was unlikely to grow in the middle of a pond, one of its branches moved. Instinctively I dropped both my feet off the sleigh and into the snow, unafraid of snapping like a wishbone, and waited for the braking effect. Left foot won, we slewed around, and were all gently deposited on a white crispy blanket, to the right of the sleigh.

I wobbled upright, and re-orientated myself. The dark, sodden human figure in the pond flailed again. I frantically grasped at the rope and set off toward the edge of the pond, pausing only briefly when the end that was still attached to the front of the sleigh yanked me back.

I was watching my feet so carefully that when I reached the edge of the pond and looked up, the figure had vanished. The feathered entourage soon caught up, making assorted sympathetic noises. I gathered the rope in an effort at preparedness. I tried to persuade the collared dove to take the end out across the water à la sleigh-lasso. Tricky when she could see no destination. I willed the figure to resurface.

“Are you trying to drown the bird?”
The voice completely startled me, and had to repeat itself. When I calmed myself down from full alert, and explained unconvincingly about the dove and the noose, my newly-discovered neighbour introduced himself——Svendsen——and his penchant for wild swimming. Waving not drowning.

Svendsen swimming.

The Twelve Days of Twistmas continues at part 8

1 Comment »

  1. […] The Twelve Days of Twistmas continues at part 7… […]

    Pingback by The Twelve Days of Twistmas part 6/12 | Digital Ischemia — 31/12/2018 @ 12:03


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