Good morning everyone, I hope you are doing well on this Thursday morning. The air has become more saturated as the week has gone on and I suspect the humidity will be too much for the air to hold when it cools post sundown. Whether that gives us rain before bed or into the night I don’t know, but I suspect it is on the way. Again. I know, I will miss it when we are in our routine summer drought. It just feels waterlogged at the moment. But on with the prompts. Timers set for fifteen minutes and off we go.
No idea what this story is going to be but I like the character. I may think about this for a bit.
Thursday, June 18th: The rocks were slick.
The rocks were slick. He stepped out onto the first one hesitantly. It was, at least flat, if not dry. Barly sticking out over the surface of the water it was shiny and slick.
‘But stable,’ he thought.
He knew this was a bad idea but he also knew he had no choice. The only bridge across the river was several miles upstream. He could already hear sounds of pursuit in the woods. They were still at a distance, but time was running out.
He was not by nature an adventurous man. He didn’t even watch action movies. He didn’t like the sounds of explosions or the thought of the danger the characters had to go through. He was content with a nice quiet life. The fact that he was now running for his life through a very dangerous situation was baffling to him. ‘Certainly not what I planned when I got up this morning.’
Jerome tried to shove the thought to the side as he concentrated on his footing.
‘Don’t think about the slick rocks and the deep water with the fast undercurrents,’ he told himself as he made his way across the slick rocks. As the raging river was mere millimeters below his feet in some points it was hard to ignore.
‘Ignore the sounds in the woods and don’t rush,’ he told himself.
It was a lot to ignore and the fact that he had to ignore so much irritated him. This should not be happening. His irritation burned away some of his fear and Jerome found that if he concentrated on it, it was easier to forget about the river and the pursuit.
He was Dr. Jerome Douglas. He was renowned in his field. He had the respect of his community and won a series of awards for his groundbreaking work, work that had the potential to help millions.
‘Admittedly those wards brought me the attention that got me here,’ he thought.
He took another step and had to focus on his balance. It was almost a relief to shift back to the physical.
He felt the heat creep to his neck at his own stupid naivety that led him to his pass. He was flattered and as most in his field these days, he was constantly looking for funding, for new sources of grant money or funding. Mr. Emory was well dressed, well-spoken and he had all the right credentials.
There was nothing improper or underhanded about the proposal. It was all very straightforward. Jerome reached the other side of the river and stepped off the rocks onto the shore. It was more pebbled shore than sand and not very even so his footing still had to be watched, but without the river beneath them it was easier to contemplate.
‘With fewer footprints.’
He glanced back. The sounds were still in the woods but they seemed to have been lured significantly more northward. In the distance sticking out into the sky and rising above the tree line he could still make out the shape of the castle. The sun was starting to set behind it making it seem dark and ominous.
‘Or that could be because I just escaped their dungeon. He shook his head and turned away, leaving the rocky shore for the woods. He may not have liked action movies, but he loved hiking and knew the woods well. These weren’t ones he hiked but the map was decorating the wall of the room he was initially givn and he studied it.
‘Who would have thought the proposal would lead me here?’
Ten til Midnight 