Northern Mist: An Earplug Adventure (part 2)

I must confess that (when I posted Part 1) I had no idea where the story was going. It is part of the reason that I’ve produced so few photos for the story. As usual I just trusted my imagination to come to the rescue. Well I guess that trust was warranted. Last night I awoke for a nocturnal tinkle – with the story complete in my dreamstate mind. All I had to do was remember it in the morning. Unusually that very thing occured. I now have the story in my conscious mind.  I even climbed into my attic studio and shot more pictures. The tale can continue. Welcome to Part 2…

Meanwhile, a strange sound momentarily wrenched Dumper Collins’ attention from his smelly gourde…

It seemed to him that it originated from an artisan’s workshop several doors along from his own…

Dumper was used to hearing the amber goo stirrer’s gyrations at the ladle; so when it fell silent suddenly, he grew concerned. So concerned that he closed the lid of his gourde and began to climb the ladder to his escape hatch…

He called out to his fellow artisan, but the frightened fellow raced by without acknowledging Dumper’s hail. Intrigued, Dumper dropped into the narrow alleyway…

“What’s come over Ferdie Crank?” He asked himself. “Has his amber goo gone critical and is about to explode? Or did he spot something unusual from his tiny workshop window?”

In order to answer these questions, Dumper dared enter the amber goo worker’s establishment. Darkness prevailed, so he felt his way to the shutter and opened the window…

But what he saw almost made him poop in his pants…

“Argh,” he bellowed, “it can’t be so. No-no-no: surely not. Surely it can’t be the legendary Northern Mist. If it ever existed, it would have been centuries past. No, you silly farting gourde maker; it can’t possibly be the Northern Mist: if it was, it would spell doom for each and every one of us!”

“I know,” he said as he raced to the exit in search of somebody with which to share the discovery…

…I’ll tell that Fanny Gander. She’s smarter than the average earplug: she’ll know what to do.”

During the moments it took for Dumper to successfully negotiate the exit the subject of his sudden interest had just wandered from her lavatory, into her kitchen…

“Honestly,” she muttered, “if I wasn’t a female, I’d swear I had an enlarged prostate gland: I’m always going for a wee – or so it seems.”

Any further thoughts upon the subject were interrupted by a hammering upon her front door. So, squeezing along the narrow corridor…

…Fanny was able to open the door to one of her neighbour artisans…

She was surprised. “Dumper Collins,” she complained loudly, “what the flipping heck are you doing battering down my door, you heavy-handed twerp?”

However surprise would turn to shock and horror when Dumper told her what he and Ferdie Crank had witnessed through the amber goo workshop window.

“Shoot!” she exclaimed, or a word that sounded rather similar to that. “This isn’t good. Come on, Dumper, we must raise the alarm!”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2023