Digital Ischemia

01/08/2019

Neohaguich 11/11

Neohaguich series starts at part 1/11

Cautiously, but, as it turns out, unnecessarily, they negotiate the room and emerge alongside a subterranean rivulet, a sub-springs creek, a path beneath.  The Stranger pauses.  His face contorts around an ancient conundrum.

“Why are you—?”

Calluna needs no thinking time.  She doesn’t even need the end of the question.  She has been rehearsing this for just as long.

“You promised you’d always be there but you weren’t; you vanished; never came back.”

“I did.  I just took longer than I expected.  You didn’t wait.”

“I waited for eons!  Patiently!”

“You didn’t recognise me.”

“Your features are carved into the inside of my forehead…  Like that rock actually!”

“My features changed.  I got old.”

Calluna shrugs, suddenly fully aware of her own ancient, sagging, changed features.  The Stranger still worries at something.

“Why the elaborate obfuscation to ensorcel an old man when he finally returns?”

“Hard work keeping up an image.  Way beyond the promised time.”

“Finding my way home took millennia.”

“Meaning you mucked something up.”

“And this isn’t home, is it?  It’s not quite right.”

“I had to set out to find you, and I’m not quite omnipotent.  It’s a compromise: somewhere you could get to; somewhere I could make look a bit like…”

The Stranger suddenly groans.  “I’ve been walking for so long.  Look at my feet.”

Calluna drags her reluctant eyes to his feet.  She is petrified of seeing mutilation, gore and putrefaction.  The anticipation is worse than the reality: his feet look as if he’s been treading red grapes, but nothing significant is missing, not even that phalanx, although it is attached only by habit and chance and not the proper complement of gristles.  Red, sticky, like cherry treacle.  Thea-treacle.  Not real.  She lurches into brisk war effort.

“How very theatrical.  Easily mended: the hechlers will make you a paper cast.  Sturdy and breathable, but don’t get it wet.”

The stranger petulantly slaps the injured foot into a menacing puddle.

The slap reaches Calluna.  “How long have you been squelching about down here?”

“Long.”

“And yet your foot…”

“The water hasn’t miracle-cured it, but maybe that’s a big ask.”

“I think the miracle is that your foot hasn’t turned green and dribbly.  I think nature has found a way to extract the pure water from Udderfiddle’s ordure for everyone to benefit.”

As the words fade, the walking resumes.  Calluna, having again forgotten entirely about Jardine, finds herself unable to resist sharing a useless relic.  “I have decided to call you Magnus Opium.”

The Stranger splutters a laugh, thereby acknowledging how much work he inherently is, and that he is hers.  Comforting.

The walking and the thinking and the sloshing of water seem to achieve some intermediate level of mutual forgiveness, or at least relaxation of hostilities.  Finally, no longer required, the water disappears into a rock crevice, destination unknown.  The tunnel shrinks to a crawl space with encouraging dappled light at the end.

Calluna and the Stranger, Magnus, emerge from the rock with very necessary caution through a bramble thicket, an effective deterrent to any pilgrims seeking an easy way in.  Calluna geo-locates herself.

“Is this–?”

Mr Opium smiles by way of completing her question and answering it.  The very site of the fateful picnic.  One bramble lucky to be abandoned.

They survey the landscape with different eyes.  Magnus points out how the arse-shaped indentation in the rock by the cave entrance is actually caused by the tenacious sapling splitting the linn so it hits the rock in two curling streams.  Calluna recognises the similarity to a certain farmer’s seat, and pronounces this Udderfiddle’s Cleft.  Once formally notified, Farmer Udderfiddle senses this is not a great accolade.

Finally, to acknowledge the equality of all geographical features, Calluna rebrands the village ‘Bubbling Bridge over Lochsplit Linn under Springs Creek’.  If you tilt your head and squint this is not far off an amusing acronym.  Something about it attracts visitors anyway.

END

Advertisements

1 Comment »

  1. […] …concludes at part 11 […]

    Pingback by Neohaguich 10/11 | Digital Ischemia — 01/08/2019 @ 15:41


RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

If you spot a typo, I shall gnaw off an unworthy phalange.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: