(no subject)
Halloween and there was nothing wrong, odd or ridiculous was happening to him. Guy was infinitely pleased. No costume stuck to his body, no horrors chasing him, no zombies; no idiocy. Hu-bloody-rah.
Scarcely one second after having thought this, Guy walked into a bit of mist and was suddenly in a very different landscape.
There were mountains in the distance, far higher and further away than what would be possible on the island. Different trees, a different smell in the air, and - more telling even - a village of Southern European structural design where there shouldn’t be a village of Southern European structural design. Ill at ease, the whole scene. There was smoke coming from the village and Guy thought he could distinguish gun-shots.
Just when he thought he would not be bothered by idiocy, idiocy found him still.
He looked around to see if he could recognise the place, or - better yet - if he could find a way to get back to the island. Was it odd that he was searching for the exit? He had had stranger experiences here.
There were no people near him, and no planes over him and still a note floated down from the sky and landed gently before his feet. He picked it up and opened it. It was Julian’s handwriting - irrefutably.
Why didn’t you come? Something had to be done. Your voice above complacent murmurs. Your first against the asleep. What happened?
Why didn’t you come with me?
Julian
Fuck. Was he in Spain?
Scarcely one second after having thought this, Guy walked into a bit of mist and was suddenly in a very different landscape.
There were mountains in the distance, far higher and further away than what would be possible on the island. Different trees, a different smell in the air, and - more telling even - a village of Southern European structural design where there shouldn’t be a village of Southern European structural design. Ill at ease, the whole scene. There was smoke coming from the village and Guy thought he could distinguish gun-shots.
Just when he thought he would not be bothered by idiocy, idiocy found him still.
He looked around to see if he could recognise the place, or - better yet - if he could find a way to get back to the island. Was it odd that he was searching for the exit? He had had stranger experiences here.
There were no people near him, and no planes over him and still a note floated down from the sky and landed gently before his feet. He picked it up and opened it. It was Julian’s handwriting - irrefutably.
Why didn’t you come? Something had to be done. Your voice above complacent murmurs. Your first against the asleep. What happened?
Why didn’t you come with me?
Julian
Fuck. Was he in Spain?