25/4/14

avery11: (Default)

Author: Avery11
Genre:
Gen


loggerhead turtle

ENDANGERED SPECIES

 

Napoleon Solo slipped out the door of their bungalow, wincing at the soft click of the mechanism as it closed behind him. He hoped the sound would not be sufficient to wake the exhausted Russian.

Barefoot, shirtless, and more than a little drunk, he padded along the cobbled path, past a half-dozen bungalows decorated in typical Barbadian style, their gingerbread eaves silhouetted dramatically against the night sky. A chorus of tree frogs, serenading one another in the branches of a nearby acacia, cut off abruptly as he passed. A mongoose, disturbed in the midst of its nightly hunt, slipped away unobserved.

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avery11: (Default)
Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen

Russian fairy tale

 ONCE UPON A TIME



He arrived at Olgino in the brutal heart of Winter, 1942, a pale, terrified child crammed into the back of a lorry along with thirty other prisoners sentenced to the gulag for various crimes against the State. The man seated on his left was a murderer, condemned to twenty years at hard labor for strangling his neighbor to death in a dispute over firewood. On his right, the dough-faced man who had dared to tell a joke about Stalin to a co-worker sobbed shamelessly, his tears freezing on his plump cheeks. Across from him, a prostitute, the lone woman in the group, mumbled to herself as she picked at her few remaining teeth. The other prisoners sat silent, numb with fear and cold; they had no tears left to shed.

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avery11: (Default)
 Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen

 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”

 

Robert Frost- “Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening”


Notre Dame de Paris


A SNOWY EVENING


From their room on the fourth floor of the Hotel Saint Honore, Illya Kuryakin observed the snow-covered Rue Jean Jacques Rousseau with equanimity. It had been snowing since early morning, the first significant storm of the season, and although the snow had tapered off by mid-afternoon, the streets of Paris remained buried beneath a thick carpet of white. Traffic was non-existent, and the only sign of life on the street below was a lone man shuffling by on cross-country skis, his rucksack brimming with brightly wrapped presents. Orly-Paris Airport was closed until morning, their flight back to New York cancelled.

Ah well, Illya thought to himself, such are the vagaries of fate.

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avery11: (Default)
 Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen


samovar


THE SAMOVAR AFFAIR

I

Alexander Waverly tried to light his pipe for the third time in as many minutes. As with both previous attempts, the sacred ritual was interrupted by the annoying beep that signaled an incoming telex.

“Blast. Is it too much to ask for a moment of world peace to allow me to light my pipe?” He blew out the match and began to read, muttering to himself as he scanned the coded message. His eyebrows rose and fell, rose and fell.

Never a good sign, those eyebrows, Napoleon Solo thought to himself. While he waited for the fate of the world to be decided yet again, he rose from the conference table, and poured himself a cup of much-needed coffee, wishing there were a way to jury-rig an intravenous drip. As meetings went, this was going to be a long one.

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