Iris (or How To Fuel Panic By Mentioning The Word ‘Terror’) – A Thrilling 5 Part Epic!

June 15th, 2009

Here’s one in the eye for all those literary buffs who think that we’re all about nonsensical futile discussions about chagrins and stuff. This here represents the highest point in modern fiction. Thanks to the remenants of Chris Industries we managed to secure the rights to publish the debut story by Byzantium Terror, a whiper snapper of unbelievable proportions.

Read the first part and loathe yourself.

Pet away! Pet away!

Once upon a time in a far distant kingdom there was a young girl called Iris. Iris was not what usually constituted a young girl because really she was just a pair of eyes and no other features. No nose to smell the sweet smells of spring, no mouth to taste the wonderful culinary delights of Senor Sauce, no ears to hear the music that swept through the valley. She was a pair of eyes, oh, and a small pair of feet to help her get about. When you’re only a pair of eyes with a tiny pair of feet your life is pretty limited to walking about and looking at things which is what Iris would do every single day of her life. Don’t get me wrong, she saw some wonderful things during her lifetime in Soreen Sity but it all came down to the fact that she lacked the other parts of her that everyone else seemed to have. So it came about that after ten years of living in this state that, sat on the top of the hill overlooking her village, she decided to leave. There were tales written that in the far off regions of the country there were others held in a similar state such as her; a nose to the north, some ears to the east, a mouth to the south and a face in the west. With nothing keeping her where she lived Iris left one warm summer morning and started in the direction north hoping to find something if not hope for her condition.

          A couple of miles from her quaint cottage she came across a bridge that swayed back and forth in the light breeze. There was a problem though; the middle part of the bridge was missing! She was glad she had seen such an obvious error and sat back to wonder how to deal with it. For once she was quite relieved to have huge, looming eyes as otherwise she would have walked to her death. There’s no telling how delicate a sole pair of eyes is and how much damage they could take from a 10ft drop into a mildly lukewarm trickle of water. Just then a parade of travelling musicians came up behind her. They were playing the best jazz-fusion the world had ever heard; only the only person within five miles of this place was Iris who was unable to hear it. She could see them wandering towards the bridge so caught up in their music. A disaster was on the horizon. As fast as her little legs could carry her she ran at the troop hoping to prevent them from a fall but with no mouth to warn of the impending doom she was powerless. Over they went, still playing their provocative jazz as they fell through the air into the slow-moving stream below. Iris felt a pang of sadness at knowing their fate but luckily because the water was shallow they succeeded in making it to the lower bank on the other side albeit instrument slightly wetted. She saw it all. The musicians waved back at her with great cheer and admiration for such a lovely pair of eyes. Had she the power of hearing she would have heard a wolf whistle or two along with some racy remarks to make even the most heavy-hearted of people blush into the deepest shade of red.

CONTINUES TOMORROW

Entry Filed under: Bedtime stories,Chris Industries,Ian,Quite nice