So yesterday i got off to a start. Suprisingly I had a few notes on the post, which was nice. All to often when you blog, it can feel like you are shouting into an abyss. That is both a good and a bad thing. However (as new visitors to my writing will soon find out) my writing style is very haphazard and if you are following this writing journey, you may find that what you read one day, may have no connection to what you read yesterday. That is just how I work. I have tried planning a novel out and just got caught up in a muddle. So I just write. There is a basic plan in my mind but often, I just sit and write. Somehow it all works out by the end of the novel. I have no idea how but it does.
Anyway here we go with todays entry. I have two children in the same room as me and they are arguing about Prince of Persia…so who knows what is going to get written today!
The room was full of ultraviolet fish. That seemed to be the Artists Two decoration of choice at the moment. They changed their mind quite often though, so the agents had agreed that the best way was to always expect the unexpected. The Laird walked between the shoals of fish, almost as if they were not there. His fellow agent decided to stay outside the room. The way the fish managed to glide through mid air as if it was water just made her feel uneasy. She decided that The Laird could explain whatever they had found, far better than she could. Indeed she was not entirely sure what they had discovered. People in the reflections of a trains window, that was something she did not entirely believe that she had actually seen.
The Artists Two stood at right angles to each other, facing away from the door. It was obvious that they were in the middle of an installation. At times like this, it was better to just carry on as if things were normal. They had evolved so far beyond the comprehension of humanity that they were capable of multi tasking at a omni dimensional level. The Laird could still hear the constant chattering of the smaller Artists teeth. In a way, he was glad that he was not facing him face on. A mere glance of his visage always seemed to awaken something primal deep inside him. A fear that manifested itself out of nowhere, as if a past life was remembering that which crawled through the dark.
“You have a report for us?” Artist one was talking now, his deep accent seemed to hint at him being from the North of England. Sometimes it was struggle to make out what he was saying but if one took enough time and patience and really, really listened, you would get the gist of the conversation.
“Yes I do,” The Laird pulled a chair from the pile that stood against the wall. Waited for a brief moment for the fish to swim away from the seat and sat down. Removing his top hat, he placed it onto the floor and watched as a curious fish swam into it. Resisting temptation to poke it with his silver topped cane, the Laird merely sighed and continued.
“The rumours were correct. They are in the trains.”
“My only suggestion is that they are somehow related to the people who are sitting on the trains. Almost as if they are trapped in that thin pane of glass. Forever condemned to look at what they no longer have access to.”
“I see”, Artist Twos voice was slightly clearer in pitch to Artist One. Slightly sped up almost, as if someone had started to play a forty five single at seventy eight by mistake. The flames that danced around Artists Twos head, changec colour as he spoke. In the past, the Laird had assumed that it was a visual representation of Artist twos mood but past experience had shown him that it was far more random than that.
A china cup full of steaming hot coffee appeared to the Lairds right, on a table that had not been there a minute ago. Omni Dimensional work was like that, objects flickering in and out of visibility was commonplace. It was no longer the shock that it had been back when he had first been recruited. It was a small mercy that the rising steam, seemed to dissuade the ultraviolet fish from diving into the coffee.
Sipping the warming liquid, he listened to the Artists Two speak to each other. It sometimes could be heard as a normal conversation with both sides participating equally. Other times it was a mixture of that and then them finishing each others sentences. On a rare occasion it was just a low pitched hum but it had been many months since he had witnessed that. On this occasion, it was rythmic beat poetry. So he drank his coffee and watched as the two brown suited men had their discussion and planning session. They would work out what had to be done, how that was to be carried out and who was the agents that were best placed to do this with the highest guarantee of success.
The conversation stopped and the Artists Two had changed position again. Artist One was kneeling on something that could not be seen in this reality, half his left leg was invisible and he was reaching forward with his right hand, the tips of his fingers glowing a neon blue. All the while, Artist two was climbing what looked like a ladder made of cutlery knives. Up and up he went, yet he never moved from the spot he was in. Politely the Laird finished his coffee and placed the china cup down on a different table than the one he had picked it up from, cleared his throat and awaited his instructions.
Then without any warning, the lights went out. Sirens started to sound from the depths of the Nexus. The Artists Two shimmered in front of the Lairds eyes as they returned from whenever and where ever they had been. Standing in front of him, the Artists Two stood, hands clasped behind their backs, looking straight ahead.
“It has begun”.