June 13th, 2007

writing dust rengeek shakespeare

This is really nice right here.

So I'm sitting on a deck on a mountaintop in North Carolina, with a view through the trees of the next ridgeline, and there are long-needled pines oaks all around me. Everybody else is napping or hiking or off in Asheville, and I have a burned cup of the pretty good coffee that blackholly and Kelly Link made before lunch, and I'm wearing a chambray shirt and a wool cardigan and I'm barefoot and there's mustard on my jeans from lunch. And it's raining. Not right here, right by me, but a little further down the mountain where I can hear and smell it.

And now the rain has reached the mountaintop, and the ridgeline is all translucent behind a veil of rain and mist, and I have a really good short story to read.

Look, ma. I found the glamour.
bear by san

Man, I feel bad for the hikers.

It's really coming down out there. I hope the people who were driving down to town didn't get caught on the winding mountain road in the rain.

There's another group here too, some jewelers from Florida, and most of them seem to have left the mountain too, I think to go visit an artist's colony the next town over.

Oh, the hikers just came back. Pretty rattled--Christopher said that they met up with a raccoon that was behaving strangely, and it attacked them. snurri actually got scratched, but Christopher had a sturdy walking stick with him and managed to beat the thing off. We just tried to talk snurri into going down to Asheville to get it looked at--in case the raccoon was rabid--but he said it barely broke the surface and anyway the only car our group has left on the mountain is my truck, which can only fit two. And we were all up late last night having too much fun (Alan had to wake me up to go to bed.) So he's going to see his doctor about rabies shots when he gets back home, and for now, went to lie down and read stories for tomorrow.

I guess that's the practical solution, and I'm just being paranoid...


ETA: I went to the pay phone and tried to call the people who went on down to Asheville and let them know what happened, but nobody is answering their cells. And there's all kinds of weird stuff on my reading list. Did I miss some kind of wacky group blog event while I was up here on the asteroid?

...oh heck. None of the doors lock in these buildings.

I think we better keep a really close eye on Dave...
rengeek player king

The internet connection seems to be spotty...

I can't get lj to load, I'm not getting comment emails, and I'm not sure this will post. I hiked down to the gravel access road (226A) and found something really weird; there's an abandoned car overturned in the middle of the road right at the beginning of the retreat's driveway, which is only wide enough for one vehicle to travel on at a time. So the one route down the mountain is blocked. The inside of the car was all torn up, and there was blood and, well, bits in the upholstery. Fresh blood, still dark red, and jellylike in consistency.

It looked like a crime scene photo.

The sun's come out, though, and the rain has stopped. I guess we could try to hike down to the Blue Ridge Parkway if we have to, but nobody wants to leave until we find out what happened to the Asheville group. Christopher's been trying to call them--there's one spot on the mountain where you can get a cell signal.

We've been smelling smoke all week--there's a small forest fire a couple of mountains over, but we had heard it was contained and the smell is stronger today.

If worst comes to worst, I don't think there's anything here that's defensible. The buildings were built in the seventies and they're contemporary design, with huge picture windows.

This morning, I thought that was really nice, actually. Right now, I kind of wish I could find a fire axe, but I picked up a stout tree limb.

At least it's afternoon, and the staff is still here. There's been a black bear spotted in the woods recently. I wonder if maybe somebody on the mountain has a gun.

There's a sparrow sitting on the porch railing right now eyeing me. I thought they were supposed to be afraid of people.....

Oh, I hear snurri. I'm going to go check on his leg. And, you know.

Just check. That's all.

Just check.
rengeek fucking silence

Oh, my god.

We're barricaded into Mary-and-my room on the third floor, and I've got one of the rocking chairs propped under the door handle. snurri tried to bite Mary, and Dale and Barzak had to hit him with a table lamp.

I don't know what's going to happen--there's still internet, but power is off in this building, and my laptop is running on battery.

So of course, I'm at a writer's retreat and people are going crazy everywhere, and what am I doing about it?

I'm blogging.

I suspect there won't be any other updates. We've filled up the bathtub with water, and we have some bags of chips and whole-wheat goldfish and a half of case of Deer Park. We're going to try to hold out here.

Maybe help will arrive before nightfall, and if not, well, there's six of us in here and we can probably put up a pretty good fight. Good luck, everybody.

I'm going to post this fast before the internet goes out also.
writing softcore nerdporn _ heres_luck

It's always the quiet ones.

It's getting dark on the mountain, but we're not all dead yet.

Well, mostly.

Dave must have got Mary when he attacked her, because after about three hours barricaded in the bedroom, she started growling and went for Richard. Christopher, Chris, Dale, and I managed to haul her off, and Dale pushed her out the window, but she got ahold of him and he was bleeding. He went off on his own--he said "to finish this," and I'm really scared for him. He saved my life about a dozen times today.

Christopher, Chris, and Richard and I decided to make a break for it. Christopher has his bike; he thinks he can outrun them on it. I wish him godspeed; he's going to try to send back help. He's a brave man.

When we broke out, we found Gavin. God help me, I thought he'd gone into town with the others, but there he was battling up the stairs with a torch in one hand and a fire extinguisher in the other.

He was magnificent.

It just wasn't enough.

Richard and I are the last ones now, and.... Well. He's going to try to make it to the lodge; some of the goldsmiths are in there and they have a fire going. Maybe there's a little safety in numbers.

It's so funny. When we came up here, we were joking about how it was the perfect setting for a slasher movie. There's only one road out, the doors don't lock, it's isolated and spooky. We even started assigning people roles: Mary was going to be the good girl who survived, Richard was the serial killer who decoyed us all up the mountain on a pretext.

Isn't it ironic?

Me? I'm going to siphon some gasoline from the truck into all these empty diet coke bottles. I've got a lighter and the sheets from the bed. They travel in packs. Maybe I can attract a lot of them, all together.

There's a creeping numbness in my leg, and a lot of pus in the wound already. I don't think it's going to get any better.

The flies are already hovering.