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Book, Rise, River
Barmymoo:
The memory of the floods hadn't faded from the collective psyche, and everyone was on edge watching the rain fall. Behind the foreground anxieties about the economy, swine flu and the war everyone had half an eye on the weather.
It was hard to escape the signs of last year's deluge. The lucky ones were repainting freshly plastered walls and hanging pictures to cover the tidemarks. The unlucky ones were wrestling with insurance from the claustrophobic sanctuary of their caravans, and trying to remember what it felt like to live in a house. At the sixth form college the books were all new: hastily-purchased replacements for the rain-sodden library which had been destroyed as the river overflowed. To the disappointment of a generation of children, the school was back in action with a store of sandbags stored cautiously to hand.
The signs all suggested that the summer would be hot, and the weatherman was warning of a summer heatwave. But still, no one could quite forget the sudden destruction of last year's summer floods. Everyone was carrying an umbrella and sunglasses; hoping for sunshine, preparing for rain.
kemon:
books, rise, river...
Two days earlier.
"I'm never going to get this stuff," Abram Halton moaned as he dropped the technical manual he had been reading onto the lounge table.
"Hey, shove it. I only have three hours until my next watch." The anonymous voice was muffled from passing through the fliimsy metal screen that mostly separated the lounge from the ranks of sleeping racks in the able spacer berthing compartment.
"Sorry," Halton half-whispered. He stowed three of the four books he'd been trying to study and decided he should go down to the plant. Maybe seeing the machinery he was reading about would help him understand it all. His final qualification interview for all-important space warfare pin was in two weeks. If he didn't pass, he'd never make petty officer, much less stay in the fleet past the five year initial enlistment. Engineering was just not his cup of tea and it was the last section he needed signed off before the interview.
He went forward along an outboard passageway. It was one of the few that actually had viewports, so it was a little crowded as it always was when they were near a planet. He glanced out and saw what was drawing a crowd today. Halton was a little amused that there was so much interest in watching a simple bulk goods transport rise from the planet. It was a new colony, of course there were going to be a lot of those coming and going.
Abram continued forward, then headed inboard. The big, heavy door into the engineering spaces was painted red and had several warning signs about unauthorized personnel. He forgot about needing an engineering spacer to accompany him if he wanted to go down and see the river of pipes going into and out of the huge fusion reactor plant. He shook his head at the silliness of it and went on in.
Thomas Edison:
Book, Rise, River
The pages scattered with the wind, swooping and soaring far beyond the reach of the children on the bank. A poor sighted person could have quite easily mistook the flying literature for a flock of birds, an abstract thought, and I smiled as I watched them rise ever higher. The child who the book had belong to had slumped to her knees, defeated, watching forlorn as her prized possession sailed away upon the invisible currents of air. She had been showcasing it to her compadres, explaining how the book had been given to her by her father, and of the stories it contained. Tales of dragons, wizards, witches and old world magic. The kind of stories which would make any child's heart flutter with excitement. But now her face was dirtied by tears which flowed like the river she was knelt beside.
Little did she realize I could get her book back.
Little did she realize I was a librarian.
allison:
Book, Rise, River.
He and his wife used to sing an old Johnny Cash song together on those nights when he had the itch to play guitar. It didn't happen too often, but sometimes he'd pull it out of the dusty case and tune it as best he could. She loved to sing with him and it was one of the only ones she knew by heart, a bluegrass love song that was a little bit gospel. He always thought he was singing it to her, she always was the strong one. He'd still sing it to himself in the more difficult times.
"I'll be waiting on the far side banks of Jordan, I'll be waiting drawing pictures in the sand."
She'd long since crossed that River into the promised land. His voice caught in his throat a little but his fingers went through the familiar motions. "When I see you coming, I shall rise up with a shout, and come running through the shallow waters, reaching for your hand." He put down the guitar, still humming to himself, and he clutched the good Book to his chest, his last thought of her calling out to him across the River Jordan.
Yayniall:
The reincarnated body of River Phoenix sat up, a lingerie model lay on either side of him. On the bedside table stood the lamp, a book on home DIY, and the ice cream scoop which he had used to feast on the delicous brains of the brazilian beauties.
The star of Stand by Me began to rise up from his enormous bed, kicking the blood caked sheets to the floor. He chuckled at the women as he stood naked before them, there was something strangely nourishing about the brains of bimbos, he jotted this down.
River injected a potent dose of speedball straight into his eye, the cocktail of drugs which had killed him all those years ago now was the only thing that kept his body going. Perhaps this was irony? Probably not.
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