This week marks the beginning of a commitment to writing more fiction, short stories in just one card, or spread over several.
This story, Crossing The Gap, picks up another tale from The Gap, about which I’ve written a few stories now. It will end up being four or five chapters, I think. (Did I mention I’m making this up as I go along?).
All the cards this week are drawn from Graham Rawle’s fantastic “Lost Consonants” work. There is no correlation between what’s on the front of the card and the back.
|sent from: London, UK. destination: Encino, California, USA|
It should never have been a stand-off. People around here didn’t do that sort of thing. However The Gap, the occasional inter-dimensional rift in Space-Time on a leafy suburban street in Middlesex, was bound to stir up something sooner or later.Jeremiah, an American preacher, had heard about it and, certain that it was the source for Jesus’ imminent return, mobilised a small ground of followers known as The Chosen to fly to London.
Meanwhile, members of the local rotary club who lost their pets to The Gap and having been ignored by the local council, were planning their next move.
Brian, the club’s president, said, “Mavis, I’m not sure what else we can do.” Mavis, blue-eyed champion of the county’s jam making festival, still mourning her miniature dachshund, had no intention of giving up so easily.
“We should go there. Get as many members together as we can. My Grandson says he’ll make signs for us to hold. I didn’t sit around knitting during the war and I won’t be quiet now.”Brian acquiesced, knowing it was useless to fight her when she was determined, plus he needed her support during the Christmas pick-a-Santa debates. They all agreed to meet tomorrow.
Jeremiah and The Chosen stepped off the plane the next day at Heathrow, felt the cool mediocrity of the English weather, and knew in his heart that things were going to get a lot hotter.
Armageddon was nigh.