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Gopher's Minions
Dave Syrinx

Call of Cthulhu (all eras)

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In The Shadow of The Future



THURSDAY, July 8th, early evening



Chuck had decided to do the next best thing to actually do nothing at all. He sighs, puts last Thursday´s tape in the machine and presses the on air button. The commercials and jingles start. Across the street one floor down a motorcycle comes to a stop. Putting down the head phones on the desk, Chuck walks over to the coffee machine and pours a large cup. What to do of this nice evening? He sips the too hot coffee and burns the tip of his tongue. Neglecting the pain, he lets the caffeine work it´s magic.


The Old Reliable

Beatrice watches as the biker fills the Harley with gas and she fiddles with the sunglasses stand, almost knocking it over when the, young man enters the store. He watches the variety of goods and frowns upon the old snow-blower substituting for a door stop behind the entry door. The fans of the Old Reliable turn ever so slowly. The biker nods at the woman behind the counter, seeing a number of wares he could use on the upcoming trip.


Behind the drapes to the construction area, Denise puts the family laptop down, ejects the flash drive and pockets it in a side pocket of her white and blue dress. She walks over to the window and flexes the blinds. Now, there´s no chance anyone can see her. Not that too many people would, even if she rode into Barkerville like lady Godiva, but still. A girl needs her own space, right? She thinks about the file she just saved to the flash. A new update for her Facebook account. Hopefully dad would take her with to Tucson tomorrow. The guys at the park had mentioned a party tonight, something about a BBQ.


Buck and Frank watch one of the Tarantino DVDs Frank borrowed from Kevin last night. Faster Pussycat! kill! kill!, is about three drag racing go go dancers with a vengeance and a lust for money. The volume is quite loud. In the room a floor above, Reignald prepares Friday´s trip to Tucson, what to take up with his superiors and what to leave out. The noise from the boys´room almost drench the sound of a motorcycle out front.



 The whole commune of sorts spends the flickering end of the hot and dry day around the pool next to the administrative facility that came with the park. Thursday barbecue as usual. The coal is almost perfect. The pool water at least suitable to cool down sore feet and the coloured light bulbs on the washing line sets the atmosphere. The only thing that´s amiss is that there´s nothing cold to drink.

Sparky barks at some animal scurrying off under a derelict RV on the other side of the fenced in pool area. Rebecca leans back in the sun chair and pulls her cardigan over her shoulders while stretching her legs closer to the grill. The big commotion tonight seems to be who should be in charge of steak-watch and what to drink. Rebecca studies the residents already on site from behind her over sized brown tinted sunglasses.



 Mike Ames watches the steel windmill up against the setting sun, one of its eight sails missing. Maybe he could get Dansky to fix that too, when he came with the gas tanks? The prospect of having the trailer park manager riding over to the ranch to actually make good on the words of helping the only true resident of Barkerville would put him one step closer of getting Ames´ appreciation. Mike kicks off the dust of his boots and spits on the gravel path leading to the mansion.

The stairs up the porch creek a little and a bitter wind rustle the leaves on the meticulously raked gravel he just left.


It´s time for a listen in on the night´s broadcast. After having retrieved the six pack of Fosters, he sits down on the porch and flips the radio on. He adjusts it´s position on the rail to hinder it from falling down. The relentless jingles of KMTH and commercials for everything and nothing is over and the Country top ten chart begins. He lets the first Fosters wash away the dust from his dry throat. The day´s excursion in the mountains had taken it´s toll. He still hadn´t collected courage to open the hatch to the silo buried on the plateau. Maybe tomorrow...


He kept the house in a kind of suspended animation. Only the dust showed the keen observer the walkways of the old man. What remained tended was the study and workroom which doubled as bedroom. Not that it had a bed, the couch and a handful of blankets did the trick. Mike leans the chair on the back of it´s four legs and stops the backwards tilt with his neck. Perfectly timed. His mind switches between trying to determine which of the rascals of Barkerville is scurrying around his property popping guns at night and what really happen3d to the dreams of gold back in the 50´s...


Then it dawns on him that he still hasn´t fixed the Wildcat´s radiator... Could it wait for a better day? Should he have a stab at it, now? Or ought he add that to the to-do list for Dansky?


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In Another Time - 

A black sedan parks in a cloud of dust and sand. A pair of cowboy boots can be seen walking out of the car. A man in a windbreaker with yellow lettering on the back walks up to a ridge and overlooks what is the reported area of the occurrence. 

"What happened here?" He sees smoke rising from a building and the area seems devoid of life. His question is rhetorical aimed at some higher power. "Wait what is that...?" He squints and sees...

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Rebecca relaxes and let the sun bake down on her. Under her eyelids she observes the shenanigans of her neighbours. She shies away of thinking too much of Chet, that cheating bastard, but Tim's child support is overdue again and unless she makes nuisance of herself, she is not going to see a cent again. 

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