Gigantic waves lunged at the rocks. The cove was wedged between two rugged points. Wind raged, blasting sand through me. Only yards away I observed a motionless body of a girl. Three men hovered over her. Fritz crouched down over the girl. Dr. Mario stormed around with hands on his hips. The muscular bulk of Kirk roamed close by like a caged lion, the bandages gone from his eyes, his doe eyes squinting in the bright Pilgrim sunshine. I recognized the life-saving actions of CPR. Pumping the chest. The electric jolt of the defib machine. One…two…three…zap!
My spirit was standing next to the girl’s body. I studied the prone body, blue lips, white face. There wasn’t much time, for her—for me.
The words were picked for me as if a higher, holier sprit had ordered them.
‘What are you doing here? Boris—Maggie—Tails—Latitude 50, Longitude 130,’ I murmured. ‘Why am I on the beach?’
Go on a reading binge and discover the up close, personal and rather awkward relationship between Gunter and that nasty piece of cockroach-alien work Boris in…
For several days, Sister Salome’s misplaced communicator lay mysteriously smashed to smithereens on the footpath. That worried me.
The bath I was in had become too cold to enjoy, and a strange twilight glow hung over the horizon as the second sun began to make a shy appearance for Pilgrim spring. What if someone found the communicator fragments? Would they trace it back to me?
I turned on the hot tap and heated up the water.
The bath then was hot, but I went cold. ‘I hope they don’t find my…’ I said, and finished the sentence in my mind, ‘journal? That would incriminate me.’ I stepped out of the bath, dried myself off and wrapped the gown around my body. I can’t let them find that. I can’t let them see the smashed communicator. I can’t let them know what I’ve been up to.
Gums were already flapping since the first Kirk visit and sharing of honey biscuits. Following that occasion, he requested my company each day to read to him—Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, —that’s all I found in the Convent library—kid’s books. But Kirk didn’t mind. He liked my voice, he said. And I liked the endless supply of Frau Biar’s honey biscuits, kuchen and strudel…and Kirk’s easy going childlike nature… and his muscles. Did I say his muscles? No harm in looking, I remember Maggie saying. Besides, I was sorry for him, blinded and all alone so far away from Earth. And anyway, what’s wrong with a bit of colour in this dull cloister? Most importantly, Kirk’s attention on me, distracted the community of gossips from my plan—to gather intelligence on Günter’s whereabouts and to continue to find the thread to unravel the Taylor’s tight-knit alibi concerning their connection with Boris and the murders of John and others. My photographic evidence had been incinerated, it would seem.
I strolled down the stairs, out the huge oak entrance doors and to the path, where I aimed to surreptitiously sweep the offending bits of communicator into the bushes and bury them under some leaves. That was the plan…
Go on a reading binge and discover the up close, personal and rather awkward relationship between Gunter and that nasty piece of cockroach-alien work Boris…
And the Mischief and Mayhem Boris manufactures in…
[Extract from Chapter 7–Pity in Their Eyes. Minna meets her nemesis then receives news that will devastate her future.]
Flash Point
I stowed along the corridors, glancing behind me, poking into rooms. Toe mountains of sheet were in the room opposite. I stuck my head around the door. ‘Hello? What? Three heads?’ Oh, well, it is the Pilgrim Planet and we’re not the only species in the galaxy. ‘Sorry about that, wrong room. Looking for three feet, actually. Seen any three-footed customers?’
The three-headed being waggled his heads and head-butted each other’s heads.
Down the corridor, crept past the nurses’ station. Good, they’re all busy…turn right. Hope I don’t lose my way. Next room, on my left. Nup, just a Grey alien the shade of green. Methane poisoning. Happens when there’s too many cows—like on this planet, for Greys, that is.
Crossed to the room on the right. Mutant frozen in wood. How’s that possible? I tiptoed in for a closer look. Curious. I touched its skin, like bark.
‘Hi,’ I said.
The man of bark blinked at me.
‘You wouldn’t—’ woops, hope he’s not offended by the pun, ‘—do you know of a three-footed patient in the hospital?’
The mutant nodded and pointed a branch in the direction further up the corridor. ‘Came in yesterday, saw him as I was returning from my oil bath.’
‘Thanks.’ I turned to go, then I looked back at the wood-paneled mutant. ‘How do you find the baths? Do they help?’
‘Oh, ye-es! I was like a forest before I came here and had them.’
‘Oh, well, all the best,’ I said, and then left. I tried to imagine how he looked before he came. If he were a forest, how did he fit into the Convent? Nah, must’ve been exaggerating. Or did he mean a Bonsai one?
Go on a reading binge and discover the up close, personal and rather awkward relationship between Gunter and that nasty piece of cockroach-alien work Boris in…
Through the tent window, a thick cluster of stars spilt over the Milky Way. Dawn cast its frail light over Salome asleep one side of me, and Günter twitching on the other side. He muttered in sleep-speak, arguing. ‘No-no-no…you’re kidding me…no, I won’t…you must, you owe him…but my son…I won’t go…’
Best my mother didn’t know what was happening. She’d stress. Her blood pressure would rise, her feet would swell, and she’d need a larger pair of slippers. Not a good look for the Admiral of the Fleet. She could do with some Russian tablets for her blood pressure.
‘No!’ Günter screamed and snapped out of his doze. ‘What? Did you say something?’
‘Nothing! One of your nightmares.’ I needed to distract him from the distress of his night terrors. See? I am thinking of him. I took his hand and placed it on my tummy. ‘Can you feel it? The baby’s kicking.’
Günter softened and smiled. ‘What a cheeky baby! We’ll call him Philippe if it’s a boy, remember?’
‘Yes, Philippe is a good name, for a boy. Philippe Augustus, as your father was August Philippe.’
Günter withdrew his hand and turned.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘It’s still early, go to sleep.’
I did as he commanded. Best not to cause waves. Best to wait for the right time and then ask. Thus, I held onto my questions and rode with them tucked inside the rest of the day’s journey to the Convent.
[Read how the cosy carpet of Minna’s life with Günter is pulled from under her in the continuation of Chapter 5 on Wattpad.]
Undercover Minna is building up a case against her enemies Maggie and Tails. Her life and plans unravel as her enemies incite the Wend village to hunt witches. And Minna becomes their main target.
In the coming episode Minna receives bad news. She and her husband must move from their idyllic life in Luthertal. Read the complete chapter (or chapters 1&2) on Diamonds in the Cave on Wattpad]
The Habit of Playing the Devil’s Advocate
Light streamed through the slatted shutters and lace curtains. Had morning broken so soon? I rose and opened the window to greet the day. Pastel lime-green wispy clouds streaked the sky. Luminous clouds shone against the black night sky. The stellar show brightened and dimmed as dying coals on a fire do. I stood at the window transfixed by the cosmic aurora so brilliant that the land was touched with an eerie glow.
‘Wow!’ I exclaimed and scampered back to the bed and Günter buried under the quilt. ‘Günter! Quick! The sky is brilliant!’
Günter dug himself deeper into the bed linen and mumbled, ‘Just let me sleep! I’ve got to get up early to milk the cows.’
I sighed and gazed out the window watching the dying star for a few moments and then crawled back into bed.
‘You need your sleep. I understand. Anyway, you’ve seen more awesome cosmic fireworks when you traversed the galaxy with Boris as his 2-i-C.’ I was glad he was free of Boris’ hold and those days were behind him.
Wide awake, I lay in bed on my back, watching the light dancing on the ceiling. Under the covers Günter slumbered. He rolled towards me and draped an arm around my mountainous waist. Concerned that it was not good for Günter to be buried, carefully I peeled back the covers. I turned and stroked his hair from his face. I mused at how dark his hair looked in the night. As Andreas it was ash blonde. The lights brightened for a moment. In the dusky hues of the room, I imagined Günter as I had met on the beach all those years ago, ebony locks cascading over his tanned neck. I withdrew my hand and whispered, ‘No!’
Then I shook him. ‘Günter! Your hair’s gone dark.’
‘Really?’ Günter rolled the other way. The light went out turning the room pitch black again.
I wandered into the kitchen, the light of morning glaring in my sleepy eyes.
‘What time is it?’ I asked Salome and then poured myself a cup of tea.
She sipped coffee freshly picked and ground from the Convent plantation. ‘Breakfast time!’ She placed a hand on my arm. ‘Relax! Günter’s out doing the chores, it gives us time to talk.’
It was the way she emphasized “talk”.
‘What do you want to talk about?’ I asked, gazing at her.
Salome leant forward, clutched her knees with each hand and locked eyes with me. ‘I’ll get to the point.’
‘What point?’
‘Boris is back.’
I choked on my tea. ‘No!’
‘Yes, and we need Günter’s help.’ The nun flattened the white tablecloth over the roughly hewn wooden table.
‘You can’t take him; I’m having his baby.’
‘I’m sorry, you must understand this is of intergalactic importance—not to mention Earth. You’ll have to manage without him for a while.’
‘I can’t. I won’t! Can’t you find someone else?’
‘There is no one else.’ The holy sister’s words were infallible.
Stars clustered before my eyes. The headache intensified. Pounding. Pounding.
‘I have to go lie down…’ I staggered as far as the armchair before flopping into it.
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