Episode 5 of The Adventures of Mike and SJ

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This thread started on a forum Mike and I shared, when we started playing off each other about this alternative/fantasy persona we each gave ourselves. Since then, we’ve started writing a novel together and Mike has had a number of books published as Michael D. Griffiths (The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part I, The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part II, Eternal Aftermath) while I’ve been busy rewriting several books and establishing my Creative Writing classes at Northbrook College. But though he writes horror and I write sci fi, when we get together, we write… differently! So I thought I’d put a slice of our combined madness on my blog…

Why is SJ all mad?

It wasn’t like I asked her to take me to Chepstow, I thought it was her idea, but then she keeps belly aching about it. Sure she doesn’t have a lot of money, but at least the guy in the pub let me drink all night when I gave him one of those rings I found.

So anyway what is it with this country and their bed and breakfasts? I go out to have me a few pints and then try to get back into out room and find the place all locked up. It was only 2am – sheesh! I tried to bang on SJ’s window to get her to let me in, but would she… no. You would think that she was the one drinking.

As I headed back into the dark wet streets a light fog began. Everything was oddly deserted and the fog grew thicker. Surrounded by the ancient buildings, my mind almost felt like I had gone back in time or entered some creepy horror movie, so naturally I thought that was super cool.

download-arabian-horses-wallpaper-arab-horseThen I heard it. Clip, clop, clip clop. That was that, I wondered? Clip, clop, clip clop. It was growing closer. Clip, clop, clip clop. I looked around; there was no one on the street. Clip, clop, clip clop.
Then I saw it. Out of the mists, coming straight at me, was a wild-eyed black horse. I could see the whites of his rolling eyes as it gazed at me. The blood froze in my veins and I couldn’t move. The black beast stared at me as it drew nearer. It was only then that I saw that it had a saddle on, but no rider!
What had happened to its master? Was this a ghost horse? Had it killed it rider? I took a step back and the thing passed slowly by, the echoing of its hooves fading into the distance. This was enough for me and I fled back to the bar, but it had already closed.

So after this unnerving event and a night of sleeping under a few soggy newspapers in the alley, SJ has the nerve to tell me, “I look a fright.”

I was about to tell her what’s for when I heard a familar squawk overhead. It was Dahtoe! I was pleased as punch, as the English would say, but SJ started weaving a string of curses that would have made one of those tank drivers she loves so much, blush.

Strangely enough Dahtoe didn’t land and instead began to fly towards Chepstow castle. Before long I lost him in the fog. It looked like a storm could be brewing, but with all the fog around these parts who could tell?

We were about to head to the castle,when my cell rang. It is Jack Primus of all people. Sorry… I need to take this – he doesn’t sound happy…

WHAT was I thinking, inviting Mike over to England???

Well I’m up to my elbows in, now!! I’ve had NIGHTMARES about that seagull, I’ll have you know! And there’s Mike – who looks like something a stray cat sicked up – crooning and calling to the psychotic bag of feathers like it’s some pet! Doesn’t he know it’s related to dinosaurs? It’s certainly got the cuteness factor of a velociraptor.

I wouldn’t mind – but it’s only Dahtoe that gets to see the softer side of Mike this morning, that’s for sure. He’s in FOUL mood. seagullsApparently I’m the hag from Hell for not opening my bedroom window at 2 am and letting him in. It’s all very well for him – he gets to go back home after this car crash of a holiday. But there’s my REPUTATION to consider. Aunt Gertrude’s first cousin’s husband’s niece and her family live in Chepstow. What if word got back to Aunt G. that a man was seen climbing through my window at night? I’m in enough trouble with the Family as it is. It was one of the reasons I didn’t want to come to Chepstow, by the way. Although Mr I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about is squirming out from taking any responsibility for THAT dreadful decision…

Anyway – onwards and upwards, as Aunt G would say. Well, before she got buried by the books in my spare room, anyhow. These days she’s rather grumpy…

We’ll go and see the castle – and I’m going to ignore Mike’s groaning about the weather. You’d think he was made of sugar the way he’s moaning about the drizzle. It’s only a bit of misty rain, for goodness sake. We’ll have a nice time tramping around the ruins and – maybe – I can cheer him up by getting him to imagine what it was like when Edward Longshanks had it built… The knights clumping around… the peasants toiling… the women embroidering…

C’mon, Mike. I’ve got my National Trust card and we’ve travelled all this way. Put away your phone – you can chatter away to Jack any old time. Let’s go and see us a castle…

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