The sky pirates of gur, p.1
Larger Font   Reset Font Size   Smaller Font       Night Mode Off   Night Mode

       The Sky Pirates of Gur, p.1

           Donald Broyles
 
1 2 3 4 5
The Sky Pirates of Gur


  THE SKY PIRATES OF GUR

  (A POST-MODERN TALE)

  ****

  Narrated by

  PROFESSOR CARTER LINWOOD

  Foreward and Afterward by

  JASON MAHARS

  By

  Donald R. Broyles

  Copyright  ©  2014 by Donald R. Broyles

  This is an original ebook publication.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Rabbit-Do Press.

  The Sky Pirates of Gur 

  In Appreciation of

  Lin Carter

  Fantasy writer and editor of the

  Ballantine Adult Fantasy

  Series

  Foreword by

  Jason Mahars

 

  I must state at the outset that I have yet to meet Professor Carter Linwood. In fact, his very existence remains shrouded in mystery, his whereabouts as impenetrable as a caliginous tomb on a moonless night. Some there are who state that Professor Linwood was committed to an insane asylum somewhere in upstate New York, exact location unknown, while other rumors maintain that he is living a carefree life as a recently divorced man whooping it up in a nameless South American country, enjoying the sexual freedom that most elderly people (such as myself) only fantasize about. The rumors of his whereabouts continue to this very day, with various letters arriving at my doorstep on a weekly basis. Four freshmen at Miami University, in Oxford, Ohio, proclaim to have seen him last year at a ‘pot’ bash attended by a bevy of undergraduates and two professors. One person claims to have seen him working as a maintenance repairman for a well-respected bathroom supplier in Arkansas. No University thus far has come forth to verify his place of employment. He was never, I discovered, a professor in Miami University’s English Department. When I questioned one of the professors there (from Georgia), she claimed to have no knowledge of the definition of Post-Modernism, stating that “we don’t cotton to that kind of research here. This is a comfortable mid-western, ivy league school located in a pleasant, unassuming area where not much happens.” I thought she was lying to me, covering up something – perhaps some dark secret, maybe a romantic liaison that had turned sour – but ultimately, I had to leave dissatisfied with her answer. The fact is that I can find no record to verify his ever having lived, as if his entire existence has been wiped clean by some secret cabal. Yet, surely his narrative – wild as it is – has some glimmer of truth in it. One does not create such an outrageously improbable story without, in some sense, having left an impression on someone, whether it be sleeping with a hormonally-eager undergraduate or returning a carton of spoiled milk to the local grocery store and demanding a refund. I know I would do both, if given the opportunity…

  I came upon this manuscript, dog-eared and soiled with what looked to be dried spots of urine, while house-hunting in Oxford, Ohio. An urgent need had led me to the bathroom on the second floor. In the distance (next door?) the sound of a lawnmower was a welcome respite to the silence all around me. Since I was alone in the house, I naturally took the opportunity to look everywhere, to explore all the cabinets and drawers in the house, before being forced to visit the bathroom. Later, looking for toilet paper and finding none – I fortunately had my handkerchief with me, since I suffer from allergies – I chanced to look down at the bathtub in front of me. I was horror-struck to see an amethyst-colored mold sprouting like a runaway weed in a large crack in the tub. Next to it a stack of papers lay in scattered disarray, the edges chewed by what appeared to have been a large rodent. Unfortunately, my handkerchief was not large enough to accomplish the completion of my mission, and I had to resort to using twelve pages of Professor Linwood’s manuscript. It was unfortunate as will be shown upon the completion of this story, how important were those missing pages. Needless to say, I purchased the house.

  I think it is now time to let Professor Linwood tell us, in his own words, the astounding story and the people he met on his remarkable journey. One finishes this story with a sense of relief, with a feeling of charity, and with an overall sense of disbelief.

  For myself, I will be leaving for Peru tomorrow, as I continue to gather information about the elusive author of this narrative. I am currently in correspondence with a Peruvian woman named Carla Rosado, who says she lived with Professor Linwood for six months before his abrupt departure. She now claims to be a reformed sex addict and promises to unveil new secrets concerning the Professor’s whereabouts. She also claims to possess additional manuscripts left behind in her bathroom.

  I am quite anxious to meet her.

  Professor Carter Linwood’s Narrative

 
1 2 3 4 5
Turn Navi Off
Turn Navi On
Scroll Up
Scroll

Other author's books:


Add comment

Add comment