The Viral Story-
Started here -
Continued here and passed to me -
Stepping off the bus for the first time in Arkham, I was taken by the contrast of what locals I could see and the obviously erratic slithering group I was part of. The post card I had so carefully protected through what seemed years of miles did not do this first hand image my electric eye focused on justice of any kind. Damn those postcards. They always doctor them up to make them look good. Where was the filth? Where were the dark holes and scum covered alleys? This immaculate place was not what it had been advertised to be. Surely we had just been let out on the wrong side of town.
The recently discharged passengers all turned to watch their bus leave them in the dust. In unison we turned to face the town that would surely be my last chance in Hell of ever living it out alive. The rest of the group acted like tourists but I knew it was indeed my last "stoop". If I couldn't find it in Arkham, it was over for me.
All of us clutched the same postcard in some type of appendage, mechanical or otherwise. The hooded entity next to me mumbled, "A ssdjpo ;osdkk;s dik?" As I was from a different part of the Outlands, my translator had trouble making sense of his words at first. After a swift shot to the box that dangled from my neck, I finally gathered he was wondering where his ride was.
"Not sure kind cloaked sir." I tried to look past the gloom his hood created. But he might as well have been wearing a ski mask. All my electric eye could fathom were two eyes red as coals and what appeared to be a small orifice from which he spoke and presumably ingested the necessary nutrients to stay upright and mobile.
Not satisfied with my inspection, I shrugged and continued, "I am sure one of those travel agency folks will be by soon to help us out. I see you have one of their postcards."
"Hs;dkj jaoiejf kal'jdfm hyr", he said. Again my translator was having some trouble with the dialect, but I finally settled on that he was going to want to speak to someone of stature about the promises made that were beginning to appear to not have been kept.
I had come to Arkham not to vacation but to find my destiny. I was just happy to be on its doorstep. I would figure out how to get around. I was an immigrant, not some huffy tourist from the Outlands.
The group from the bus began to break apart. The previous need to herd fell away as the notion we were on our own in this fabulous city dawned on us at the same time. Singly and in pairs they began to sluff off towards the city center. One couple was carrying that dripping box I had been kicking for all those miles as it oozed what I hoped was water under the seat in front of me. A listless tentacle seemed to be trying to point the way, but fell back and just hung. Animated sounds passed between the two. A couple of more unhappy visitors I assumed.
We had been dropped off at the junction of 4 massive arteries. Only one seemed to head towards Arkham's center. For some reason I decided to not follow the group as they all appeared intent on that direction. As it turned out, I had picked lucky.
Coming at me full bore was one of the Righteous Indignants. "Ut Oh", I thought, "Someone is in for it." One never saw a Righteous Indignant without seeing blood and gore shortly after. He went blasting by me, his white robe flapping hard and his Red Cross lit up. I stood there on that immaculate street in awe and turned to follow his passing. He rounded the corner onto the main drag that went straight for the city center. He disappeared as had the group I just left. Suddenly sounds of explosions and screams drifted over flat buildings and I knew I should find some dark space to lay low.
I could continue, but that is not the point of this. The point is to pass it on. Hmm. Having only recently been rebuffed by others after passing a meme on to them, I am afraid my group of chosen bloggers is a contrary bunch. I hesitate to name names or twist arms. The few I know who would participate are already named or have given their best to this effort. So I will pick some new folks. Let's see.
dana wyzard - bound to come up with comedy if she chooses to play
The Frumpy Professor - I have never picked on him before.
ThreeScorePlusTen - This may not be his type of meme, but I think he should step outside his box
That's it I guess. Like I said after my last dismal attempt to engage someone else in stupid fun, I am now the kid who has felt the sting of that hot wood stove. The rules are simple. Play or don't play. Tag or don't tag. The originator just thought it would be cool to see if this story could make it for awhile in the Internet ether.