Monday, November 14, 2005

The Return

Solene sat in the corner of The Sterling Stag, staring out the window. She waited in shadow, hood obscuring her face. Although she was known by name to many of the denizens of the Stag she wanted to keep a low profile, away from prying eyes.

Her contact was late, and that was unlike him, but she had no reason to be overly concerned. She glanced around the Stag again. Everyone in the room was known to her, but for one man seated at the bar. A young man, clothes dusty from travel. He was engaged in conversation with the regulars around the bar and was well in his cups even this early in the day. He was becoming increasingly loud...

"the old bastard kept screaming... he wouldn't shut up," he burped. "So I gave him the back of my hand and sent him sprawling."
He guffawed loudly.
"Well the bastard was carrying a bag. He dropped it when he fell over... and guess what?"
He lolled about in his chair, looking drunkenly at his companions.
"Guess what?... It was full of bones... I said, 'you old bastard, who'd you murder for those?'... Well, he kept screaming and screaming. I drew back a foot to kick him, and the next thing I knew I was waking up on the side of the road. It was nighttime, and he was nowhere to be seen... I'd better not see him again, that's for sure... Filthy old bastard."
He paused thoughtfully, staring into his cup.
"He was headed this way too. Maybe I'll tell some of the boys to keep an eye out for him."

The blood had drained from Solene's face upon hearing the young man's words. Exiting the pub, she ducked down a side street. Swiftly she navigated a network of alleyways until she arrived outside a nondescript building with a wooden door. It was marked with a strange array of crosses. Knocking thrice, she stepped inside and found herself facing a large male figure. His face was disfigured with scars. "What?" he snapped.

"The Man of Bones... He's coming."


  1. Ho ho!!!

    Continuity! Excellent.

    This story is already way, way better than the rubbish Steven King film I watched last night.

    The Night Flyer.


  2. Ah yes, the Night Flyer... some sort of vampire pilot... Like a Ryanair employee who was never paid and was forced to become a member of the undead just to eke out a meager living.

    I seem to recall the film being the worst kind of shit... the shit that has a big name behind it.

  3. This reminds of an incident that occured between Rob and I some days ago in the canteen.

  4. What? Rob turned into a Ryanair pilot? Or you a demented old man?

  5. No, I gave Rob the back of my hand once.

  6. Decent Stephen King adaptations are few and far between.

    The Shining, Shawshank, and Duel are the only ones that immediately spring to mind.

  7. And the Shining wasn't even a good adaptation, if you catch my drift... more of a reinterpretation...

  8. Knocking thrice shows genuine artistic talent. Stop. Was it a deliberate thrice knocking with adequate pauses in between? Stop. Oh, I hope so. Stop. Will wait for reply. Stop. Won't ever. Stop. Until I find out. Stop.