In Part One of this tale, Our Heroes learned of their Urgent Need for a Manifesto (lest their Web-Site license be revoked!), and traveled Bravely to the Manifesto Mines of Kazakhstan. Upon arrival, they found themselves Surrounded by angry Miners with Rifles!
Lida
Darlings! Now I can tell you what happened next!
Ethelie viciously shoved me out from the shelter of my precious zeppelin, toward the glowering miners. At first I assumed this was her vengeance for the time I caused her laudanum addiction to overcome her, and I cried out against her. “Stop shrieking,” she whispered, though I could barely hear her words over the fierce thunderstorm that raged around us. O, how loud the rain was as it pummeled my zeppelin and the miners!
And how hopelessly wet I became, in mere seconds! My frock was soaked through and clung to my skin, nearly as if it were a part of me, like a selkie skin. (Fortunately, it was not a selkie skin, for it would have been terrible to turn into a seal there at the mines, so far from the welcoming mother-sea!) Darlings, it was also frightfully cold: Kazakhstan in Spring is no balmy retreat. I shivered, but not in a delicious way at all.
Lightning flashed, and illuminated me for the miners. The cruel light left nothing to their imagination, and I saw their countenances begin to shift as their anger was replaced with an emotion more . . . feral.
Just like writing, I said to myself. You cannot hide on the page, and you must engage the emotions of your audience.
Now I understood Ethelie’s cunning plan. I smiled at the miners, though I could not help comparing them to the Beastmaster, safe at home at the Directorate, surrounded by the warmth of his Beasts. O, darlings, I missed him so! But I knew I must do my duty for my Directorate. “Hello!” I called out. There were six of them, all wiry muscles and strength built up over years of working their tools in dark tunnels.
“Good girl!” Ethelie said, behind me, and from the corner of her eye, I saw her and Gustav slip out of the zeppelin, toward the gaping maw of the mine. They were burdened with their equipment: ropes and ladders and picks and shovels, and Gustav was dragging a heavy duffel bag with him. It seemed to squirm of its own volition – but that was impossible; surely it was just a trick of the treacherous light. They disappeared into the mine, and I turned back to the miners.
“So,” I said. “What now? Could we go somewhere warm and, ah, settle our differences?”
They blinked at me, clearly not comprehending my words. Of course; we were in Kazakhstan! I did my best, but my Kazakh is rudimentary at best. Eventually, though, I believe I made myself clear, and they lead me into a tiny hut that stank of mushrooms and dirt. At least it was warm and offered shelter from the downpour. The miners set their rifles down to gape at me in the flickering light of their lantern.
My goodness, what an enthusiastic group they were!
I could not help wondering how Ethelie and Gustav were faring, so did my best to distract the miners. My companions would need all the time they could get! I suppose it was fortunate that my Kazakh is so weak, for it took us ages to figure out the simplest question; had we been able to communicate easily, we might have run out of topics of conversation within moments. Below I offer my clumsy translation of our conversation – and darlings, just be thankful I spared you the painful fumblings as the miners and I strove for a common language, and only present to you the sense of it.
Why, it’s just like writing! For what is writing but the attempt to render the numinous into words?
The miners told me that they were in fact not angry, but were guarding the mine to prevent the unwary from entering it and facing the dark hazards that had driven them from its stony depths. A great beast stalked the lower tunnels, preying on unwary miners. It sulks through the passages, great iron nails scraping against the stone, hideous scales scraping against the walls, sparks of flame igniting pockets of flammable gas as it passes, leaving a fetid trail of slime and blood in its wake. The beast had slept for thousands of years – until the miners, unwisely, delved too deep, and awoke the slumbering horror.
At least, I believe that’s what they told me – I cannot guarantee the accuracy of my translation of this particular bit of the numinous.
Oh, bother. I hoped Ethelie and Gustav would fare well against the dangers of the mine! I had nothing but the deepest admiration for their skills, but suspected even they might find such a creature as this a formidable challenge.
I asked the miners if they had any pie, but alas, they did not, so we found ways to amuse ourselves that did not involve pie.
As dawn broke, I was roused by screams and running footsteps outside. I hurried into my clothes and crept out of the hut. It was Ethelie and Gustav, fleeing toward the zeppelin.
“Get us out of here!” Gustav howled, and we clambered aboard.
“What happened?” I asked, as I made ready for our escape. I could hear the miners shouting, but I could not pause to make my farewells.
“Just get us out of here.” Gustav’s face was pale and drawn, and Ethelie looked even more unhappy than usual, despite the glistening manifesto clutched in her hands. Ah, at least they had succeeded! I obeyed Gustav, and in an instant, we were aloft, and speeding away from Kazakhstan.
Behind us, I heard a terrible rumbling sound, and as I looked back, the whole mountain exploded! The zeppelin was buffeted by the shock waves and debris; but she is a sturdy vessel and I am a fabulous pilot, so in short order, we escaped, shaken but unscathed.
O, darlings, those poor miners! I wept at the thought of them perishing in that terrible explosion — for surely no living creature could have survived.
“What the hell did you do?” I asked.
Gustav cleared his throat and told his tale.
TO BE CONTINUED
In Part One [**LINK] of this tale, Our Heroes learned of their Urgent Need for a Manifesto (lest their Web-Site license be revoked!), and traveled Bravely to the Manifesto Mines of Kazakhstan. Upon arrival, they found themselves Surrounded by angry Miners with Rifles!
Darlings! Now I can tell you what happened next!
Ethelie viciously shoved me out from the shelter of my precious zeppelin. At first I assumed this was her vengeance for the time I caused her laudanum addiction to overcome her [**LINKY], and I cried out against her. “Stop shrieking,” she whispered, though I could barely hear her words over the fierce thunderstorm that raged around us. O, how loud the rain was as it pummeled my zeppelin and the angry miners!
And how hopelessly wet I became, in mere seconds! My frock was soaked through and clung to my skin, nearly as if it were a part of me, like a selkie skin. (Fortunately, it was not a selkie skin, for it would have been terrible to turn into a seal there at the mines, so far from the welcoming mother-sea!) Darlings, it was also frightfully cold: Kazakhstan in Spring is no balmy retreat. I shivered, but not in a delicious way at all.
Lightning flashed, and illuminated me for the miners. The cruel light left nothing to their imagination, and I saw their countenances begin to shift as their anger was replaced with an emotion more . . . feral.
Just like writing, I said to myself. You cannot hide on the page, and you must engage the emotions of your audience.
I smiled at the miners, though I could not help comparing them to the Beastmaster, safe at home at the Directorate, surrounded by the warmth of his Beasts. O, darlings, I missed him so! But I knew I must do my duty for my Directorate. “Hello!” I called out. There were six of them, all wiry muscles and strength built up over years of working their tools in dark tunnels.
“Good girl!” Ethelie said, behind me, and from the corner of her eye, I saw her and Gustav slip out of the zeppelin, toward the dark and gaping maw of the mine. They were burdened with their equipment: ropes and ladders and picks and shovels, and Gustav was dragging a heavy duffel bag with him. It seemed to squirm of its own volition – but that was impossible; surely it was just a trick of the treacherous light. They slipped into the mine entrance, and I turned back to the miners.
“So,” I said. “What now? Could we go somewhere warm and, ah, settle our differences?”
They blinked at me, clearly not comprehending my words. Of course; we were in Kazakhstan! I did my best, but my Kazakh is rudimentary at best. Eventually, though, I believe I made myself clear, and they lead me into a small, dirty, foul-smelling and dimly lit — but blessedly dry and warm — shack, and set their rifles down to gape at me in the flickering light of their lanterns.
My goodness, what an enthusiastic group they were!
I could not help wondering how Ethelie and Gustav were faring, so did my best to distract the miners. My companions would need all the time they could get! I suppose it was fortunate that my Kazakh is so weak, for it took us ages to figure out the simplest question. Below I offer my clumsy translation of our conversation – and darlings, just be thankful I spared you the painful fumblings as the miners and I strove for a common language, and only present to you the sense of it.
Why, it’s just like writing! For what is writing but the attempt to render the numinous into words?
The miners told me that they were in fact not angry, but were guarding the mine to prevent the unwary from entering it and facing the dark hazards that had driven them from its stony depths. A great beast stalked the lower tunnels, preying on unwary miners. It sulks through the passages, great iron nails scraping against the stone, hideous scales scraping against the walls, sparks of flame igniting pockets of flammable gas as it passes, leaving a fetid trail of slime and blood in its wake. The beast had slept for thousands of years – until the miners, unwisely, delved too deep, and awoke the slumbering horror.
At least, I believe that’s what they told me – I cannot guarantee the accuracy of my translation of this particular bit of the numinous.
I thanked the miners for preventing me from entering the mine, even as I fretted about Ethelie and Gustav. For while I had nothing but the greatest admiration for their skills, I do not think they’d ever faced a foe quite so formidable.
I asked the miners if they had any pie, but alas, they did not, so we found ways to amuse ourselves that did not involve pie.
As dawn broke, I was roused by screams and running footsteps outside. I hurried into my clothes and crept out of the hut. It was Ethelie and Gustav, racing toward the zeppelin!
“Get us out of here!” Gustav howled, and I leaped into the zeppelin.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Later,” he said. “Just get us out of here.” His face was pale and drawn, and Ethelie looked distinctly unhappy, despite the glistening manifesto she clutched in her hand. “Hurry!”
Darlings, I hurried. No one can hurry like I can, when I put my mind to it! In an instant, the zeppelin was aloft, and speeding away from Kazakhstan.
Behind us, I heard a terrible rumbling sound, and as I looked back, the whole mountain exploded!
O, darlings, those poor miners!
“What the hell did you do?” I said, once we were safely out of range.
Gustav cleared his throat and told his tale.
TO BE CONTINUED
Part Three
