Sunday 12 February 2023

Hyperlink to Lost Souls (Extract 2)

 


   “Dan, I have no idea what’s happening to us. We’re in some kind of cave. I have no explanation,” says Stan in bewilderment. 

    “And you told me not to panic.”
    “Yes I did, but there shouldn’t be a cave here. I can’t tell you off the top of my head how many times I’ve driven this route, it must be hundreds but there is no cave here.”

     We’re being shaken and not stirred inside the cab of Stan’s Coronado. Thank God for the clever guys who invented the seat belt. If we weren’t strapped in, we would be tossed around like rag dolls.

     Snowy’s mouth as you can imagine, is very dark. Monsters like this guy, or gal don’t have lights installed. I think the cougar is a guy though because no girl could be so ug— Girls are gorgeous. I think I’ve said that once before about someone, or something. But I can’t remember when.


    Luckily for us, the truck’s headlights and spotlights are shining light on our surroundings. Did I say luckily? Yep. I know I did, but sometimes I’m a bit of a nitwit to say the least. Why am I a nitwit? Well, if it was too dark to see, I wouldn’t see his jagged teeth, imitating stalagmites and stalactites. Remember, mites go up and tites come down. Naughty. OMG. I’ve never seen a cavity that size in a tooth; we could go potholing in it. It resembles the Linville Caverns in North Carolina. I have no idea how I know that, but I do. Stan has kept the wipers on in an effort to clear the thick, slobbery stuff that’s splurged across the windscreen. Yuck!
    “Hold on for dear life!” shouts Stan.
    He probably should have said ‘
grim death’ in my case. We’re sliiiding, sliiiding along Snowy’s tongue and bouncing—bong, bong—off his soft palate. There’s an even bigger cavern up ahead and we’re heading towards it. It’s called his throat. Wooo, we’ve came to a sudden stop. I think we’ve jack-knifed across his throat and I think we’re hooked onto his uvula. How do I know? Trust me, I just know. Your mind is getting worse. You thought I was being rude just now. FYI, the uvula is the wiggly, dangling bit at the back of the throat. If it wasn’t for that fleshy, flapping piece, we’d be tumbling down into the pit of his stomach. The ‘Great Abyss’ of the cougar.
    “Dan, this is no time to be playing around on your gizmo,” says Stan.
    What he doesn’t know is that I’m sending out a celestial SOS. Just in case my prayers are being blocked by some other force.
    “It’s my way of keeping calm.”
    “Whatever. Maybe I could get a loan of it sometime real soon. Because I’ve never been so scared in my life,” says Stan.
    “Hick, hick, hick.” Snowy has started to hiccup. Whoa, we need earplugs. The noise is echoing all around us. We can’t cover our ears because we’re holding on tight!
    Whoaaa! We’re on the move again; we’ve been dislodged from Snowy’s uvula. We’re shooting forward away from his throat, then back toward it again. With each hick, we’re simulating the ball in a pinball machine.
Plunk, plunk, plunk.                                                        

     “Aaagh!” Stan and I shout simultaneously. We’re heading straight for Snowy’s gnashers.     

     Smash. We slide forward in our seats. The smashing sound was the truck hitting Snowy’s decaying front teeth. Away we go; we’ve crashed straight through them.The truck is now skidding across the ice road again. Snowy has disappeared, as quickly as he appeared and the opening in the road’s surface has closed over. Stan wrestles with the steering; sweat is dripping from his brow. We’re slowing down. Sloow, sloow. It’s as though everything is happening in slow motion. Praise the Lord, we’ve stopped.

    “Well done, Stan,” I say.

    My new comrade shrugs his shoulders and says, “I did nothing. I think a miracle just happened.”
    “
Take the credit for that good piece of driving.”
Phew, thank goodness that little ordeal’s over. I e-mailed Mickey, thanking him for the celestial intervention and he replied, I’m glad I could be of help. I bet he’s not as glad as I am.
     “
Are you okay?” asks Stan.
     “
Yes, I don’t think there’s any damage.”
    
Stan pulls the fur-trimmed hood of his jacket up to cover his head and says, “I’ll be back in a moment. I need to look her over.”
     “
Sure thing, take care.” I watch him raise his scarf up over his mouth to save him from inhaling the ice-cold air outside. He winks at me and opens the driver’s door; he keeps a tight grip of the handle as the wind tugs at it hard. The snow has stopped, but the wind is gale-force and with each gust the cab rocks from side-to-side. He looks up and down the road before he jumps down onto the ice road.

     I look in my side view mirror and I can see Stan is examining the rear end of the trailer first. He’s struggling to stay upright; the force of the wind is hitting him from behind. It’s no use a whippersnapper going out to help him; therefore, I think it would be better if you stay here with me. Ha, ha. Seriously, I’d be blown off my feet straight away. I’d be rolling around like a piece of desert flora. Not that there’s any desert flora around here.

     I’ve been trying to check Sower to see if any other angels, or angelets, have also come across Snowy on their travels. However, my signal seems to have faded for now. Sorry, Sower is a micro-blogging service that heavenly beings use. I believe the name relates to sowing seeds. In our case, the seeds being the Lord’s word.
I know humans use one as well, strangely enough the name evades me. Duh!
     Here comes Stan. I better prepare myself for the blast of cold air that’s going to come in when he opens the door.
     “No real damage. A few bumps, scrapes, and scratches,
just like us,” shouts Stan. I can just make out what he’s saying; the scarf that’s up over his mouth is muffling his voice. Of course, the gale force wind that’s now blowing in through the open door isn’t helping either.

     The air coming in is so cold that I feel as though I’ve stuck my body inside a freezer. Stan climbs up into the cab and yanks his door shut. He drops his hood and removes his scarf from his face, rearranging it back around his neck. He takes off his gloves; cupping his hands, he blows into them and quickly rubs the palms together vigorously.
     “I told you before, you’re such a good driver,” I say.
     “Thanks, Dan. I didn’t imagine that we drove into a huge cavern, did I?” Stan now rubs his forehead.
     “No, you didn’t. It must have been some freak thing that happened because of the ice, don’t you think?”

    
“Yes, it must have been. It’s just that, nothing like this
has ever happened before. I can’t believe it.” I believe it,
do you?

 End of Extract
Salvation: Hyperlink to Lost Souls 9
examining the rear end of the trailer first. He’s struggling
to stay upright; the force of the wind is hitting him from
behind. It’s no use a whippersnapper going out to help
him; therefore, I think it would be better if you stay here
with me. Ha, ha. Seriously, I’d be blown off my feet
straight away. I’d be rolling around like a piece of desert
flora. Not that there’s any desert flora around here.
I’ve been trying to check Sower to see if any other
angels, or angelets, have also come across Snowy on
their travels. However, my signal seems to have faded
for now. Sorry, Sower is a micro-blogging service that
heavenly beings use. I believe the name relates to sowing
seeds. In our case, the seeds being the Lord’s word.
I know humans use one as well, strangely enough the
name evades me. Duh!
Here comes Stan. I better prepare myself for the blast
of cold air that’s going to come in when he opens the
door.
“No real damage. A few bumps, scrapes, and scratches,
just like us,” shouts Stan. I can just make out what he’s
saying; the scarf that’s up over his mouth is muffling his
voice. Of course, the gale force wind that’s now blowing
in through the open door isn’t helping either.
The air coming in is so cold that I feel as though I’ve
stuck my body inside a freezer. Stan climbs up into the
cab and yanks his door shut. He drops his hood and
removes his scarf from his face, rearranging it back
around his neck. He takes off his gloves; cupping his
hands, he blows into them and quickly rubs the palms
together vigorously.
“I told you before, you’re such a good driver,” I say.
“Thanks, Dan. I didn’t imagine that we drove into a
huge cavern, did I?” Stan now rubs his forehead.
“No, you didn’t. It must have been some freak thing
that happened because of the ice, don’t you think?”
10 Christina Rowell
“Yes, it must have been. It’s just that, nothing like this
has ever happened before. I can’t believe it.” I believe it,
do you?

   

 

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