In response to Sue Vincent’s blog:

Thursday Photo Prompt – Look Out – #writephoto

https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/3193846/posts/1081481498

They never remember my name; I mean Lissrack isn’t much of a moniker, is it? But I know theirs… and, through the tiniest cracks I’ve watched them trudge across these sodden moors and hills for many years, now. I mean just look out there at it! Eternal damp…rain, bloody rain…

They like stone things, churches, burial mounds, circles, that sort of thing, but even when it’s right in front of them they can’t see the wood for the stone, so to speak. I’ve dreamed the word Lissrack at them a thousand times, but do they listen? I suppose the notion of a winged stone monster is difficult to envisage. But they’ve got ships made of metal that don’t sink, so what’s the problem? Think laterally, little darlings!

Who do they think did the deeds that inspired all those grotesque figures on their precious churches?  Their forbears were all fleeing from us, that’s who! till we did the heavy breath thing, and petrified the lot… a few of them are still in there – in the oldest of their buildings of course.

Lissracks… we’re very old, so old that we got bored with the eternal Derbyshire rain and decided to hibernate. A thousand years, we thought, should see it cured; but that sleep was wonderful, and it looks like it’s been a bit longer! Still, who’s counting… and the rain’s exactly the same as it was back then, LissJoy said it would be, smart little flocker.

The little ones’ language isn’t hard to grasp, not when their bipedal speaking has been the substance of my dreams for much of that time – we can hear when we sleep, you see. Our dreaming is watching you – and listening. Mind, it’s changed a bit, your tongue; but difficult? No. They should have tried Neolistics! Ha! Get your grunting gear around them syllabubbles, I say…

I’ve grown fond of them really, these two intrepid stone-hunters – and they never give up. They’ve just gone past, again, trudging along in the mud in wholly unsuitable footwear… and I bet they’re wearing wool! In this day and age, I ask you! Can’t wait to try on some of that Lycra or even a GoreTex shell or two! No more sodden feathers for me…

Should be quite a surprise when I start running down the valley after them on my three legs, pretending I can’t fly!  Makes a fantastic and scary thumping noise. At the last minute, I will, of course, soar above their fleeing figures and caw my name as I circle them.

Bet that helps them remember in future…

Hawks, pah! Bi-fluffs! Wait till they see what four wings can do.

Nearly there now…  couple more pecks at the last of the stone egg and I’ll be free. Born again…

And then we’ll see…

©Copyright Stephen Tanham, 2016.