Friday 2 March 2012

The Rough Guide to Utopia

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.

6 comments:

  1. ...and so does the story.......
    ( love the fact that even though your name is a pseudonym you have designed the sign!!!)

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  2. Oh 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 ?

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    1. It's 'whetted', Jack@ - you can wet yourself...

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  3. Ok. 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.!

    Can't wait to read where the story goes, though. Very interesting!

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  4. So far, so bitten -- waiting to read more...

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