The Case Of The Red Ribbons

by Benjamin Mark

About the Author: Benjamin Mark has been writing a weekly e-zine for over ten years entitled Tidbits which has a free readership distribution of around 10,000 readers per week around the world. His unpublished and published writing accomplishments are on www.benimark.com. Benjamin was educated in Europe and U.S. and escaped WWII in 1942 as Hitler was preparing to invade Belgium.

Excerpt

“I do hope you don’t mind a little rain,” said Samuel Sharpe.

“Not if you don’t mind a hint of drizzle,” said Bartholomew Blunt, motioning to an empty expanse of grass for Sharpe to park his lounge.

“I do believe it’s been about a week since we last met,” said Sharpe.

“I have personally counted one hundred and sixty-eight hours,” said Blunt. “Time does indeed fly when one is waiting for one’s favorite fantasies to make their presences known.”

“We could use a mailbox of sorts,” said Samuel Sharpe.

“An auto-forwarding telegraphy system for our reveries would be nice,” said Bartholomew Blunt.

“With notifications sent to us directly,” said Sharpe.

“A sort of messaging service from that world to this world,” said Blunt.

“It will be a methodology for easy communications,” said Sharpe.

“They need to be able to let us know that they want us when we’re asleep,” said Blunt. “We work best when we drowse.”

“Shall we then traipse forth?” said Sharpe. “We can see in our dreams that which we are not able to see when we’re awake.”

“First allow me to give us these hats,” said Blunt.

“Ah,” said Sharpe. “Straw Fedoras. We will be the sophisticated, corn-cob, pipe smoking hillbillies of the land of Nod.”

“It obliges us to now close our eyes in order to find what the fates have in store for us,” said Bartholomew Blunt.

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