"They're moving," Jazz said.
"They certainly seem to be," answered Guzzi. He looked around nervously. "So. Maybe now would be a good time to tell me what your plan is?"
Jazz, bobbed her head, not quite nodding, looking anywhere but into Guzzi's eyes. "Sure. To bring Schmeep Gar of the fourteenth hive to this place."
"And?"
"Nope. That's it."
Guzzi made an exaggerated show of looking around the immediate area. "That's your plan."
"Yep."
"To bring Lord Schmeep Gar of the fourteenth hive to this place," he gestured at the air around them.
"Yep."
The walls were writhing. They looked like vertical versions of a mudball game, with way too many players and even more mud.
"He's not here."
"Nope."
Guzzi heard the answer but couldn't quite believe it. "Jazz," he said in his best conspiratorial and only slightly exasperated voice, "Not sure you heard? Schmeep Gar is not here."
Jazz looked at him. "I. Know."
Guzzi let out a stressed kind of squeal, which he didn't even notice. "So what's the plan, now?"
"You're the expert. This is your job. S'in the contract."
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Guzzi couldn't believe what he was hearing. All this, for nothing. The voice in his mind screaming pointless insanity was so loud that at first he couldn't hear the approach of Schmeep Gar. But everything else did.
The walls stopped writhing. Everything stopped. A deep quiet descended.
Except for the sound of gravel being mixed with water, which soon was translated into common.
"Hello," the Gar said through the translator. "I think we need to go."
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Keep reading...
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Read the series:
The Guzzi series is an example of "Snapshot Fiction", a genre of serialised fiction designed for Steemit - check it out at: https://steemit.com/writing/@drwom/snapshot-fiction-a-genre-made-for-steemit
✨ 👽 ✨
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