The Best Days Ever

     

 

    I enjoy watching cookery programmes, and I have my favourite go-tos. The other day, I viewed an episode of a series of programmes that featured picnic food. It got me thinking back to when I was a kid and when my grandmother used to take me on a picnic regularly.

    The food we ate on the picnic was very different from the food suggestions on this programme. There was no quiche, sausage rolls, scotch eggs or Battenberg cake, washed down by iced lemon tea.

    Our feast usually consisted of jam or cheese sandwiches accompanied by a flask of tea. They were the best days ever.

 

    I’ve included a classic poem today, written by African-American Julius C. Wright. I hope you enjoy it.

 

 Going to the Picnic

 

There is a large crowd of folk

Hurrying down the road

They are going to have a picnic now 

And spread the news abroad

They're wearing beautiful bouquets

And carrying bright tin dippers

New straw hats are waving high

And patent leather slippers

Their hats are made of fine chiffon

And decorated too

There will be plenty of goodies

For your friends and for you

They will have a big barbecue

And a lot of other stuff

They are going to eat and drink

Till everybody puff 

They will have cakes and candy by the heaps

And ice cream pressed in cakes

Peanut parched fresh and hot

And a lot of fine milkshakes

They will have fish croquettes by the bushels

And coconut jumbles too

They are going to feed their friends and foes

And have enough for you

They are going to have a big dance

And have a Jolly time

They want to show their handsome looks

Because they look so fine

 

One barrel or two of lemonade

Mixed all through with ice

Lemons cut and thrown therein 

Gee! it’s awful nice 

 

Of all the fun and jollities

And all the places of rest

Just go to an old picnic ground 

They tell me that's the best

 

 

 

 

 

Inspiration from the Tedium

    The last few weeks I’ve been nursing a cold and annoying cough. The good news, for my partner is that I lost my voice for a few days. Of course, for every piece of  great news, there is a piece of not-so-good that seems to come along and smack you in the face. Yes, my voice has returned.

    Due to the tedium of spending all day at home and my eyes feeling a little tired, with screen time, I decided it was time to look through old notebooks and files.

    Some notebooks contain the blogs I've written over the last eleven and a half years. That's six hundred and twenty-five to be exact. I even came across a few surprises along the way, as to how I chose my subject matter in the early years.

    Now, my  completed and unfinished manuscripts, are contained in plastic folders. Some of the unfinished works have been printed out on paper and some not, I hold them all on my hard disk drives anyway. But, each file has a notebook enclosed and sometime these are also accompanied by sheets of lined A4. 

    These notebooks/A4 sheets contain outlines, descriptions of characters, plots and rough drafts for each of the chapters. All written in longhand, as unfortunately, shorthand is not something I ever managed to grasp.

    There was one of these unfinished works  that caught my eye dating back to 2015. I started to try and remember why I just never finished it. The answer is that in everything I write, I always require to know how it's going to end. This story I just could never think of an ending.

    I read through the notes and character outlines, call it inspiration or, boredom, the ending came to me in a flash. 

    So guess what I’m working on?

    Have a great week.

   

    

    

No Kissing Required CHAPTER ONE

 

Limbo

 
    My name’s Dan Pierce; whether or not that’s my birth name, I don’t really know. You’re asking; why don’t I know my identity? Good question. But there’s also a good answer; I’m Dea...d, and my earthbound memories have been totally wiped out. I’m finding the D word kind of hard to say, so excuse me. That revelation shocked you, didn’t it? Well it came as quite a blow to me. In fact, it’s a bit of a bummer, when you wake up and realize you’re now a spiritual being.

    I’ve discovered that entry into heaven is no mean feat. It’s like starting a new college, or university, the powers that be want to make sure that you’re qualified for the tasks ahead. When you reach the pearly gates they don’t say, “Hey you’re dead, come on in.”

    Firstly, your name’s got to be checked against God’s database. It used to be called the Book of  Life; well it still is, but it’s no longer etched on tablets of stone, or written on papyrus. No way, Heaven has invested in a high tech computer system and the gatekeeper accesses the information via an android tablet. I couldn’t believe it; the miracles of modern science will never cease to amaze.

    Back to the Book of Life, it’s literally a journal of your existence. You know, birth name, where you were born, achievements, disappointments, the good and the bad things you did; of course, it helps if you’ve led a blemish free life and I don’t mean a life without zits. Finally, it states where, when, and how you died. Now this data allows God and his trusted elders to judge as to whether you’re celestial material.

    When I arrived several days ago, or was it several years ago? Time isn’t measured the same way here. Sorry I’m rambling, put it down to shock. I don’t even know if it’s relevant as to when I arrived, what is relevant to me is the fact that I didn’t actually know my name, never mind how I died. But seemingly, this isn’t so uncommon.

    However, there was a complication in my case and that was the gatekeeper didn’t know my details either and he certainly wasn’t expecting me. He had no note of my arrival, nada. To cut a long story short, I didn’t get in. I was named Daniel Pierce, for the sake of the records and whisked away to Limbo, tout de suite.

    That’s when I got the devastating news; take a deep breath because this is a shocker. I was told that if they couldn’t establish who I was, or why I was there, I’d be thrown into the Lake of Fire for a second death. Well knock me down with a feather, if it wasn’t bad enough
that I’d died already, I was to die again. No right to appeal, no chance of a reprieve.

    Well that was until Mikey, sorry, I mean Archangel Michael, arrived in Limbo yesterday, to speak to me and a bunch of undesirables. He explained that there was a chance of salvation, all was not lost, we could prove that we were worth saving.

    He proposed that we enlist in God’s army to help defeat the Red Rider, aka Satan and his foot soldiers who are attempting to flex their muscles on Earth. It seems that Satan has escaped from the burning sulfur lake and he is determined to seek revenge on God for the years he has lived in torment. He is proving to be elusive, his army is growing stronger every day, and Heaven needs all the help it can get.

    Duh, now who would say no to this opportunity of redemption? Surprisingly enough, some of my fellow suspected hoods did decline. They didn’t fancy doing good deeds, obeying God’s word, or Devil slaying. But I said, “Bring it on.”

    Sooo, that’s where I’m at in my celestial career. By the way, I’m now an angelet, which is another name for a probationary angel. How long will my internship last? Well how long is a piece of string?

    Guys, I’m about to embark on an important journey and I could do with good friends like you around. What I’m saying is, I’d like you to tag along. I’ll need someone to sound off to. How about it? I believe I’ll be boarding a bus in Las Vegas tomorrow, headed for Phoenix. I hope to see you then.

 https://www.amazon.com/No-Kissing-Required-Salvation-Book-ebook/dp/B08GD315P1

 

No Kissing Required PROLOGUE

Arizona, six months earlier

    What’s happening? How did this all spiral out of control? The sixteen-year-old boy is confused. With the promises of no rules to obey, eternal life, and sex anytime he wants, with anyone he so desires; yeah, who wouldn’t be tempted? Besides, no money need change hands.

     However, payment was expected; of course, there was a charge for Utopia. Deep down, he had known it was all too good to be true. The price was non-negotiable, no haggling, no cutting a better deal was possible. What he had been asked for in exchange was priceless, and he just wasn’t prepared for it. No, selling his soul to the Devil wasn’t something he would ever be prepared for and something he wasn’t going to do.

    Therefore, he was now fleeing for his life, he needed to get away from Wingate and fast. Luckily, for him, the road was quiet. He had been driving for about an hour, he had only seen one other vehicle in that time and it was following close behind. It had joined the road about three miles back; the driver had not attempted to overtake and was unlikely to do so now, due to the byroad’s narrowness. At first he had thought it was a police car following. Somehow, they may have been alerted that he had stolen his father’s car, but eventually he had decided it was unlikely his father would notice it was gone before morning.

    The tailgating car suddenly closes the distance between them and it’s headlights illuminate the rear-view mirror of the boy’s vehicle; blinding him on every turn and twist of the winding road. He presses his foot down, hard onto the gas pedal, but the car’s response is sluggish. The young driver is certain that the engine is protesting at being pushed so hard.

The two cars reach the summit of the climbing road and the fearful teenager knows that the ground drops steeply down away from the side. He can’t see the bottom of the ravine, it’s as though it’s lurking in the bowels of the earth.

    “What the?” the teenage boy yells with surprise, as the pursuing car gently nudges the rear bumper of his. He moves forward slightly in his seat, but his seat belt clicks and saves him from being hurt in any way. His foot is flat to the floor, but his vehicle continues to struggle to pull away from its pursuer. The boy grips the steering wheel as though he’s on a white-knuckle ride at the fairground. The road widens around the last bend and will start to drop downhill, towards Highway 87. He hopes the maniac following him will pass then.

    Both cars are now traveling at high speed and the awkward curves of the road are hard to negotiate. The inexperienced driver is finding the steering heavy and he knows he is being pulled closer and closer to the edge of the precipice. He’s finally approaching the last bend; he glances in his rear-view, but what he sees causes him to lose his concentration. Just for a moment, but a moment too long. The car leaves the road on the bend and the darkness swallows the teenager up like a whale consuming a minnow.

The tailing car doesn’t stop; it drives on, no looking back.

 

https://www.amazon.com/No-Kissing-Required-Salvation-Book-ebook/dp/B08GD315P1

Hyperlink to Lost Souls Chapter 2 (First of two parts)

  

 

Chapter Two

 
Day Two: Welcome to Tuk

Brrrrr, I’m going to have to put on another jumper or pull my beanie down further over my ears. My buzz cut isn’t practical here. I might need to grow my hair and have it restyled. It’s freeezing in Tuk; today, it’s minus twenty-six degrees outside. At the risk of repeating myself, brrrr. Back to cool hairstyles; do you think ‘surfer’ style would suit me? Think about it and get back to me. Remember though, I won’t actually be surfing. Snowboarding maybe, but not surfing.   

Moving on; I arrived late last night and wow what a welcome. Caribou stew and walrus meat. Yum, yum. Now, don’t screw your nose up until you’ve tried it. Really, what are you like? Were you a picky child?   

After our little adventure yesterday, Stan was rather subdued for the rest of the evening. He didn’t eat much, which puzzled the rest of his family. He also asked that I keep the incident to ourselves, he said that it would just worry Rachel.   

That was fine by me because this morning his mind should be virtually wiped clean of our ordeal. If his brain cells have decided to store any of the details, he’ll think it was just a vivid nightmare and it certainly was that. Oh, and one of the elders confirmed by e-mail that Snowy is in cahoots with the Red Rider, aka Satan.   

I’m sharing a real nice bedroom with Stan’s son, Simon Tuligag. He’s a real cool dude and has no objection to me calling him Si. Thank goodness because Simon Tuligag would be a lot to say each time I wanted to tell you about him. I had to get my head around it at first, never mind my tongue. Stan explained to me on the way here that he’s originally from Detroit. But, twenty years ago on his first trip to Tuk, he fell in love with the most beautiful
Inuit woman, they married one year later and he’s lived here ever since. When the kids came along, he said his wife wanted the kids’ names to be in keeping with Inuit tradition. He was happy with that and, as tradition goes, they were given a Christian first name and an Inuit second. That’s what love is all about, compromise. Yeah, I’m being soppy.                                   

Back to Si, there’s something kind of sad about him and his sister, Beth Amaruk, though. Sorry, I forgot to tell you about Beth. She’s hot, hot, hot. The kind of sight that warms a guy up on these cold Tuk days, and looong nights. 

Whoa, do you hear me? I’m talking as though I’m human again. Danger zone, danger zone. It’s a good job I’m not sharing a bedroom with her. Forget I said that. Sorry, God. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted by wayward thoughts, these kids’ eyes are full of sadness. I can only hope and of course pray they’ll share whatever is troubling them with me real soon. 

Stan and his wife Rachel Nauja also share their home with Rachel’s father, Charlie Angakkuq. He doesn’t say much, he just throat sings most of the time. He’s a real old guy and he’s been looking at me rather suspiciously since I arrived. Now, why would anyone be suspicious of me? Cheeky. I don’t need your impudent little retorts.

Charlie definitely isn’t convinced of my cover story. Did I tell you my cover story? No, I didn’t, I must have forgot. Hanging on to an uvula for grim death and smashing through a cougar’s teeth kind of put me off.

FYI, I was to meet up with my father here. He’s been working offshore and he’s hoping we can settle down here. It seems I’ve been living with my guardian since my Mom died. But on my way here, I found out that,  due to work commitments, he isn’t going to be here for another few weeks. Blah, blah. I’m not going to bore you with the whole story because, in fact, it’s a teeny wee bit lame.

As you know, I’m not good at lying. It’s not an angelic thing to do, but needs must. The truth is, I was supposed to meet up with a guardian angel here, but it seems he has been unexpectedly held up. No need to worry because I know for a fact that he isn’t in any kind of trouble. It’s just his last assignment is taking longer than planned. So, you see, he was held up due to work commitments!

Back to the old man, his surname Angakkuq translated from Inuit to English, means wise person. He’s the local Shaman, a well-respected figure amongst the aboriginals here in Tuk.

It’s believed he has powers to communicate with gods, spirits and talk to the souls of the dead. One thing for sure, we’ll soon find out if he’s tapped into my world, won’t we? Now, Stan thinks its all bunkum, he says that, while he loves everything Inuit, he draws the line at believing in myths. However, his family believes undoubtedly in the old guy’s powers.

On the odd occasion he actually speaks, they hang on to every word he says. Its different strokes for different folks that make the world go round. That’s one thing I’ve found out since I arrived on Earth. There’s one thing we all have in common, we’re all born and we’ll all die. Do I sound philosophical? Okay, I sound like a nerd, I know.

If I’m still here when new term starts, I’ll be attending Boreas College along with Simon and Beth. My mind’s not made up as to whether that’s where all the celestial action is going to go down. Who knows? If you do, e-mail or send me the answer on a postcard c/o TUK. E-mail Mikey if that’s easier and he’ll download it on my app.

Listen, I’m going to sign off for now. Rachel’s calling  me and I can smell food. Whatever it is for eats has a very fishy smell. Yum, yum. I wonder what Inuit’s have for breakfast. No need to e-mail me with the answer because I’ll have already eaten it before you even get round to logging on.

  https://devilslayingamongstotherthings.blogspot.com/2023/02/hyperlink-to-lost-souls-book-extract.html?m=1           

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?

   

 

Hyperlink To Lost Souls Book Extract

     It's the start of a new week, great. Hope you all have a fantastic one. I thought I'd share an extract from the first chapter of my second book in, my YA, fantasy, Salvation series. So here's a five minute read to start your week off.

 

 

 

 

Chapter One (Extract)

Day One: On the Road

 

    OMG, I’m on my way to a place called Tuktoyaktuk in the Northern territories. It seems the locals call it Tuk and if it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for me. Besides, all those key depressions on my android could give me repetitive strain injury.

    Before I set off, Mikey said to me, “Make sure and pack lots of warm clothing for your trip.” So, I can only assume it’s going to be on the nippy side. He didn’t enlighten me as to what the actual temperature will be, but he informed me that it was a land of ice caps, pingos, aurora borealis, and the midnight sun. Which I think translates into, brrrrrrrrr, shiver, shiver. Oh, and by the way, for those of you who have just joined me, Mikey is my pet name for Archangel Michael. Not to his face of course.

    Now, I need to tell you about my new amigo. His name is Stan Carter and he’s a truck driver. Come on, keep up. How could he drive a truck if he was dead? Don’t even try to justify what you thought or said out aloud. He’s very much alive and kicking, and he’s the
driver of the truck I’ve managed to hitch a ride in.

    Oh, apologies, apologies to my new friends who have just joined me. You don’t know that I’m D— I don’t say the ‘D’ word when I’m referring to myself. I have difficulty with the whole concept. You really should have read the first book before starting this one. If you
had done so, I wouldn’t need to keep explaining things as I go along. Boring the socks off the guys who joined me at the beginning of my journey on Earth. Whoa, I’m
not complaining, the more the merrier. I rely on all you guys out there in the real world and I appreciate your marvelous company.

    Back to Stan, I approached him at a diner some five hours back. He lives in Tuk and kindly agreed to take me there. Sorry, he agreed to take us the rest of the way. That’s if you’re sticking around.
    Pleeease, pleeease. I’m pleading with you; I won’t plead for too long. Great, make sure you pack your woollies. Well, maybe not. If you’re lying on an exotic beach reading this, you sure would look dumb.

    Stan says that we’ll reach Tuk in another three hours, as we’ve only one hundred fifty kilometers to go. We’ve just left Inuvik and it’s going to be ice road all the way now. The ice road being the Mackenzie River, which is frozen solid.

    You know, appearances can be so deceptive. Let me explain myself; Stan is a big, scraggy faced guy, arms covered in tattoos and a head full of piercings. Well, not actually his skull, but you know the sort I mean. He has rings in his ears, nose, and eyebrows and his tongue clicks when he speaks, because there’s a large silver stud in the middle of it. Eek! It was bad enough getting my demon early warning stud put in my earlobe. The thought of it still sends a shiver down my spine. Brrrrrr.

    What was I talking about before I digressed? Something that you newbies need to realize is that I do this on a regular basis. Oh, I was telling you about Stan. Yeah, yeah, Stan. If appearances were something to go by, you sure wouldn’t pick a fight with this guy, no sir.
But since I’ve been able to spend some one-on-one time with him, I’ve found out that he’s a great big teddy bear.

    He’s just invited me to stay at his place until I’m settled in Tuk. I’ll fill you in on my cover story later. He said I can share a room with his son, who happens to be the same age as me. Coincidence? Don’t think so. I’ve agreed because I believe this is where my adventure is about to start.

     Then again, it looks like my adventure could be starting here, right now. Holy cow! Visibility is very poor, a complete whiteout. Stan has slowed the truck down to 20 mph and the tail lights of the truck in front are no longer visible. Earlier some of Stan’s fellow truckers warned him over the CB radio of the blizzards ahead. He tried to prepare me for this situation, but hell I never thought it would be as bad as this. Sca–reee. I don’t know if I’m allowed to say hell in this context. Hell, I’ve said it anyway.

    “Don’t panic, I know this road like the back of my hand. We just have to try to keep moving. The ice is real thin here and I don’t feel like taking an ice-cold dip,” says Stan calmly. He sounds unruffled, in fact he’s as cool as a cucumber. 

    “Neither do I. I didn’t pack my swim shorts and I definitely don’t fancy skinny dipping,” I say, chuckling nervously. I can hear the ice road crackle under the weight of the wheels. Sooo, I’m hoping Mickey’s following my progress and can give me some help if something goes wrong.

    Whoa, Stan has just slammed on the brakes. The truck’s wheels have locked, we’re now skating on the thin ice and we’re not stopping. OMG, something very strange has happened to the road in front of us. A mound of sorts has risen up out of the ice and we’re skidding
straight towards it. Closer and closer we go.

    I can see the front of it has opened up, like a grotto. The thing is, I don’t think we’re going to meet Saint Nick, or Our Lady of Lourdes in here. Aagh! I think we may be
meeting up with the Tooth Fairy; we’re now staring into the open jaws of a huge and I mean humungous, white cougar.

    Gulp. That wasn’t me gulping, that was the giant cougar. He’s gobbled us up and that was the sound of him swallowing us, truck and all. We’ve been engulfed. Yes, you read my words correctly.

   End of extract