3 minutes 9 seconds| Music originally inspired by the Cassini space probe to Saturn, although there was a name change after I got rid of the SWF video. Still, a futuristic space vibe permeates.
Only two days separate the start dates for Tuperware Ignes (4/26/09) and Lactose Summer (4/28/09), so one or both time stamps are off. I have no doubt that both works were completed in Apirl or early May 2009. This work has survived to the present day with little modification.
Novel-in-Progress, excerpt 60| The bike ride continues:
The cyclist gained speed of the downhill slope, and did not glance behind him again, although a thready stand of the northern trees remained a preoccupation. The snow’s interference played tricks on his eyes, and had he doubled back more than the few yards he willingly surrendered, he might have glimpsed someone on a parallel track. The backside of a possible pursuer was spotted periodically moving away in thin winter branches, and then, closer by, emerging from the next copse—still heading away. Yet how was it possible that this individual should walk in an opposite lateral direction and simultaneously gain on him?
This aberration may have been wildlife, but as the impression persisted over many minutes, it intermittently resembled two sets of black trousered legs, which hinted at collusion and a masquerade. He thought, briefly, this was a composite: a pair of twirling dancers locked in arms, where one or the other’s back was always presented to him. A hunter’s unusual blind came next to mind: a two or three-sided construction that bore walking cartoonish figures rendered in casein paint. When rotated, this produced a sequence of someone either striding forward or backward.
Most disconcerting in these attempts to make a factual determination, night’s advancing remnant stubbornly maintained a sharp boundary from east to west. It waited on him, and whatever nightmare lurked in this direction used the dim concealment like a stage curtain, through which it peeked, taunted, and finally withdrew.
In coming onto a part of the road never travelled before, a low star marked the horizon as a guide where clouds had dissipated. It rose not as a companion, but as a distant lamp-shaded window: Curtains and drawstring were imagined to dance on its open sill, and with the steps of his ghostly companion swallowed in agony.
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