A ridiculously early flight, followed by a touch-down on an arid runway, and we were there.A small, sweaty man held out a piece of cardboard with the word, 'STEPHENSON' written on it and, before long, we began a three hour journey over the mountains, with the best local music I have ever heard coming from the car's radio.
As we caught up with sleep in the 300 year-old hotel, the zephyrs from the ocean gently lifted the white curtains inward and upward. A little later, the sun began to sink and the smell of charcoal fires wafted in to the whitewashed room.
The nightmare began.
...and so does the story.......
ReplyDelete( love the fact that even though your name is a pseudonym you have designed the sign!!!)
That sign is one inch across...
DeleteOh Tom....I hate these 'leave 'em wanting' cliffhangers. You've wetted my ...... appetite now. Couldn't you just give us another paragraph/chapter before you go to bed ?
ReplyDeleteIt's 'whetted', Jack@ - you can wet yourself...
DeleteOk. For a moment there you had me. I thought: "Wow, and he even kept the sign as a souvenir!" But we are on to you, Mr. B.!
ReplyDeleteCan't wait to read where the story goes, though. Very interesting!
So far, so bitten -- waiting to read more...
ReplyDelete