Kat Out of the Bag Chapter Nine By Steve Rudd

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

Life is a race against time, didn't you know? Sometimes I'm worn out by my own energy, but as we four walked first towards Langtang, right on through the cosy cluster of weather-beaten buildings and then so far past the village that even the strangely surreal flicker of in-house candlelight could no longer be detected, I didn't feel a thing. Physically or mentally, I didn't think a thing.

We came to a cave and the men gave me a wave. Beckoning me to sit on the cold ground in the cave opening, I prepared to slump down just as the sun came up and over the mass of surrounding mountains that put the small valley into harsh perspective. Let there be light, I thought, and I fought again just as the man who seemed to be in charge turned his back on mine.

I swung round and clipped his right cheek, yet upon turning back around to face me he instantaneously stood stock still with his already stern expression seemingly ten times worse than before. He didn't try to hit back; in my mind the thought of doing so never even crossed his. So, it was my turn again, but as I was in full swing one of the other men lunged my way with bedazzling grace and caught my fist as it flew forward. He held my fist in his hand.

I was at their mercy now like never before and I let out a limp whimper, subtly praying for forgiveness and wondering what on earth I could have been doing right then if only I'd been back at home in sweet old England. I could have been mowing the grass, or taking the dog for a walk... even getting ready to go to work. On sudden second thoughts I was somehow glad that I was in Nepal.

For so long I had craved excitement and adventure of this unforeseen calibre, and as I coolly considered this I began to chuckle to myself without even noticing I was doing so. When I did realise and brought myself to task over the matter, I stared long and hard into the eyes of the man who held my life literally in his hands in order to gauge his reaction to mine. His expression remained unchanged. A spirit level-lying pair of lips gave nothing away, so I tried a sneaky smile to see if he might react to such a thing. And you know what? He did.

In fact all three men began to smile. So I let go, purely in a metaphorical sense, and I grinned the biggest grin that I could humanly muster given the circumstances. And, to my amazement, the man who held me let go. Literally. His arm actually dropped down to his side momentarily before shooting back up, into the fray and towards my stomach. Naturally I flinched, until I realised that what we all had here was a truce materialising out of a wickedly tense mutiny.

The man simply wanted to shake my hand for God's sake, and so I gladly obliged. © Steve Rudd 2005

Continued on www.thisisUll.com...... Chapter 10

Fiction - Welcome To Hellville - Part 4 By Rich Mills
	Addict vaccine, social behaviour training, helicopter strafes overhead, government propaganda drenched lo-fi media docu-slice-of-life info-mercial broadcast, fed straight to your hole. (Written on a Planet Coffee branded paper napkin.) The napkin referred to above was Read more...

Fiction - Fishheads By Michelle Dee
	Monstrous silver and blue -green severed fish heads emerged at the forefront of her mind. Open, close, open, close the gaping mouths. She fancied there were others behind it. Each time the razor sharp teeth were bared she looked into the blacker than Read more...

Fiction - Kat Out of the Bag Chapter Seven By Steve Rudd
	Time spent away from the daily grind forces you to assess where, in life, you have been - and where you would like to go. Back in England, perversely, I had always wanted to return here to Nepal, but now I was back here, I wanted Read more...

Fiction - Welcome To Hellville - Part 3 By Rich Mills
	Boring! It's far too wet and miserable to venture outside for a good few days now. Six months and that's it - I'm out of here. Eight at the very most! All depends on how fast I can save to get myself over to the Southern Hemisphere. Read more...

Fiction - Firm but Fair By Mark Pollard
	Cry-Baby Jim Breaks. He pioneered it, they say. And the hushed, almost ecclesiastical tones of Ken Walton had heralded it's entry into Saturday afternoon folklore: the bright lights of Blackpool and Great Yarmouth, down to the lesser reputes of Ilfracombe and Skegness had all borne witness Read more...

Fiction - Puzzles By Denis Price
	I've got a really nice room, when the door's closed I feel ever so safe and warm. It's quiet as well, just the swish of the wind in the trees outside. I like the trees; they hide the big tall fence. My watchers say the fence is there to keep me safe, and that's their job too, they're always there Read more...

Fiction - COLD WAR TALES- THE CUBAN MISSILE CRISIS By Denis Price
	The piercing insistent wail of the siren woke him. `For Christ`s sake now what!` Over the tannoy the smooth expensive voice intoned languidly that this was only a drill and that all personnel should continue with their normal duties. He groaned and thought, this is my normal Read more...

Fiction - Kat Out of the Bag Chapter One By Steve Rudd
	Above all else it was ignorance and arrogance that helped me pack my bags. The ignorance and arrogance of myself, that was, and everyone else. I was only interested in people and past-times that furthered humanity. And what was wrong with that? Read more...

Fiction - Scrawls Of The Unexpected By Mark Pollard
	Professor Colin Pillinger, lead scientist on the Beagle II programme, was calm but well pissed off inside. He had been clinging to the idea that his £35 million Mars Probe was stuck in a crater, waiting for some narrow rays of sunlight to banish the shade for a few precious hours each day in order that Read more...

Fiction - A Short Story - The Beaver Stalker By The J.E.M. Cult
	I stepped out into the cold frosty air. I pulled my muffler tighter round my hands and crunched across the frozen grass. Today was the first day of the beaver season- and by golly, I was sure gonna get me one. I love beavers. I can't help it. There's just something about stroking that damp fur that sends me Read more...

Fiction - The Art Of Being Alone In A Crowded Bar By Rich Mills
	What music are you into, man? The American exchange student who had earlier introduced himself, without any regard for Jean-Paul's need to be alone, suddenly threw a curve-ball of a question in his direction. Well I listen to... What followed was a definitive list of bands from Jean-Paul's wide ranging rare vinyl Read more...

Fiction - Old Tired & Completely Rucked By Martin Dale
	Of course, I used to be big league me. Right up there with the bigwigs I was. Every game I'd be out there, working my socks off for the club. I'd be at the bottom of every ruck, in the thick of every maul, I'd cover more of the pitch than anyone else on the team. Pretty good really, now that I come to think about it, Read more...