r. James has suffered an unfortunate computer melt-down — literally, melted down — and is so unable to write for a bit. The good Doctor is also limited in his computer time. Squatch and the others aren’t the most prolific of our writing crew. Which leaves poor, sad, busy me. Hey, I’m doing my best over here, alright?
     Anyways, I don’t have anything ready to post yet — soon, though. Very soon. In a day or two. In the meantime, you’ll have to accept the beginning of my next post to tide you over until next week. Enjoy.

DreamTime, Pt. 2: Tales of Delgato

     Sheila stood up, wiping away the tears in her eyes and holding tight to the tiny piece of jewelry. There had to be a way out. And she’d find it. She was a brave, smart, wonderful girl, and Gramma Emma believed in her!
     Then the panther slammed into her back, grinding her face into the sawdust. Claws cut deep into her back, and it rumbled a low growl in her ear.

     The panther bounded over Sheila, posting off her back and grinding her into the sawdusty dirt. The cameo spilled away as the panther landed before her. Gasping for a breath, Sheila scrambled to her knees. The panther rounded on her, snarling, showing jaws full of yellowed teeth.
     A couple of feet away, the cameo glinted in the sawdust.
     Sheila stared at the huge, sleek cat. It tensed, as though to pounce again, and Sheila made up her mind in a flash. She snatched at the cameo. The panther leaped. The world lit up like fireworks, the light so blinding it washed out color, leaving the Carnival a stark white scene full of chiseled shadows black as sin. There was a scream, pitched so high Sheila heard it in her teeth. She looked up, and a comet was shrieking towards the earth, leaving a vivid trail of white and yellow flames stretched out behind it. It arced overhead at super-sonic speeds, trailing bone-rattling booms. It hit somewhere to the east, and the earth rocked.
     The light faded slowly, carnival sounds rising up as the light ebbed. The formerly bright and brilliant Carnival now looked drab by comparison. Sheila glanced around, and the huge panther was gone. She clutched the cameo to her chest, back aching, and stood, wary.

     Delgato the Cat fled from the fire and roaring, the man-voice now small and quiet in his head, driven by instinct. He ran, stretching full out, and dove into hiding between the leathery flaps of a tent. It was dark in the tent, silent, and empty.
     There was a whoomf of a halogen firing up, and suddenly the room was flooded with stark, clinical, white light. The cat whirled, snarling, and faced –
     A doctor’s office?
     The floor was tiled in white tiles, and the sharp tang of antiseptic was creeping into the room. Pale green walls had replaced tent canvas, and the lone light shone down over an operating table. Or perhaps a morgue slab. Either was likely. Standing on the other side of the table was a tall, somewhat portly gentleman in surgeon’s scrubs. The light glinted off his small, circular-lensed glasses, hiding his eyes as he snapped on the second latex glove. He was a little on the jowly side, with a reddish, neatly-trimmed goatee. It looked less like he was going bald and more like his blond-red hair was slipping off the back of his head, leaving a shining expanse of forehead to gleam free.
     The doctor looked up, over the lenses of his glasses, his gaze sharp. His mouth was pursed with displeasure. “You’re late.”
     The panther snarled, backing into a wall.
     “Enough of that.” The doctor tapped on the table. “Up here, now.”
     Much to his dismay, Delgato the Cat found himself leaping nimbly up to the table. He tried to snarl again, but couldn’t seem to manage it. The doctor picked up a clipboard from a little stand full of tools, next to the table. He consulted the clipboard, glasses at the end of his nose.
     “Mr. Delgato, I see you’re scheduled for an internal examination of the conscience/moral regions, with a possible soulotomy to follow pending the results. Is that right?” The doctor looked up. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
     Delgato hissed.
     The doctor snorted, rolling his eyes. “Everyone laughs when Mr. James does it. When I do it . . . “ He set the clipboard down, a bit harder than needed. Surgical steel tools jumped and clattered against the metal stand. “I am Dr. Stevens, and I will be performing your surgery this evening. Rest assured, I am well skilled in this arena.” Dr. Stevens selected a scalpel. The panther, still standing, eyed the movements of his hands, tail twitching. “Nurse?” Stevens called.

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This entry was posted on Tuesday, December 11th, 2007 at 9:00 am and is filed under Original Fiction, Tall Tale Tuesday. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.