Brrrr, Shhh, Brrrr… Continued

Ecrits Blogophilia Week 25.14 Topic: A Cherished Memory
Hard Bonus: Incorporate a quote or line by author/ poet Jack Kerouac
Easy Bonus: Mention your favorite herb or spice (Bergamot)

First Read David’s Piece of the Puzzle: Written By David Schrader

He sat with a thump. Dusting off a light coating of snow absentmindedly, while the Red Queen sighed.

“Do you remember the night of the caves along the Mississippi? Kevin and Inna and us. Just a lark? I was wearing a florescent orange windbreaker, and you that dark jacket, fashionably cut?”

“Ah, holy hope,” she replied with a laugh.

“That floored me, to be honest. You picking up on the Jack Kerouac quote.”

“I had misgivings when Kevin said to hide in the ditch if a K-9 patrol came by, me in my brightest jacket. I wasn’t much of a trespasser by nature I guess.”

She laughed again. Remembering him scrambling up the side of the hill. A subtle scent of crushed Dill. The authorities had closed the entrance with huge concrete blocks, covered with soil. Kevin had been there before and led to a tight, scaped opening at the top.

They all had contorted themselves to wriggle in, and down the back of the blocks to the cave floor. Pitch black. Even she felt a little claustrophobic, it wouldn’t be that easy or quick to get out.

Then they had started going deeper into the cave. A huge space, easily two stories in height, the floor sand.

Things got worse, there was another group of urban explorers. They really weren’t hoping to make new friends while trespassing in a forbidden cave. And these guys gave off a bad vibe.

“Ah, holy hope.” One of them sneered.

“On the road, right?” She snapped back. That backed them off.

***

“What brought up that cherished memory?” She felt intuitively something was very wrong.

“At the museum I swear a ghost whispered to me, ah, holy hope. Then I had dream, in the dream the cave was both real, and a metaphor for life. We have to go back, and return that…”

Both of them were startled by a pounding at her bothy door…

And Now the tale continues…Written By the Sleeping Queen aka Red Queen aka Christine Wichman

The Red Queen eyed the Cowboy suspiciously, “Now who could be calling..in the middle of all this snow?”

Again she inched the door open, revealing the one and only Viking Nomad, Golden God and Brother to her Soul, Robert Anthony Plant. He was layered up in a tartan blanket and sheepskin coat, his long curls unfurling from a grey cashmere hoodie. Bits of frost still on his beard as he warmed his hands with his breath. “Open the door Woman, I’m freezing my arse off out here,” he teased.

Upon entry he spied the Caftan Cowboy seated at the tea table his chin in his hands. “Oh you again,” nodded Robert.

“And you..” grumbled the cowboy.

“You will both be happy to hear I come bearing good news. News of Hope!” Robert grinned.

“Ahh, not holy hope by chance?” The cowboy perked up.

“Indeed, Holy Hope!”

“Well this calls for more tea,” The Red Queen put the kettle back on the fire and joined the men at the table while it boiled. “Tell us then Robert, what news?”

“Well do you remember Merlin’s Cave?” Robert was addressing the Red Queen.

“Yes the one we explored with the Merfolk in Tintagel?”

“One and the same, well it appears we overlooked a few secrets in that cave, perhaps all caves to be precise. Hidden in those rocks, those crystals, are memories. The memories of those that have come before, and in the memories, wisdom. Ancient knowledge going who knows how far back. I think we need to go back and return that.”

The Queen sipped her bergamot tea, “Hmm two caves. Two memories. And two things to return. I believe we can kill two birds with one stone. I have an idea…”

*to be continued