Ianthina
Nine or ten years elapsed pushing them further and further from the hour in the museum. The grassy slope of their initial attraction was left far behind as they were slowly engulfed in the quicksand of their vanity. Wilfrid used flattery and saccharine kisses to undo the wrappings of her resistance pressed against her panting breathlessly in the torpid steam of the hothouse he took her without passion. Ianthina imprisoned within the vault of her ungratified greed impatiently returned his kisses with interest clutching and fumbling in her haste to close the deal. Afterwards she felt her advantage slip away when he said that it was time to stop lying to one another. He broke her nose to make sure she got the point indignant she poked out his eye to show that she understood. Very soon they were knotted together by a hatred so horrible so full of shame they couldn’t bear to be alone.
Things will run after us in the night whispered Ianthina dreadful things with glowing red eyes and buttery fangs. We’ll drop boiling water on the unsuspecting snowmen living in the deepest craters of the moon we’ll shoot robots in the jungles of the sun. Writing this as a long confused tale hundreds of years from now will result in a loss of a great many readers but it is pointless for the departed to reason with the living.
Dishevelled in the hothouse they watched their shadows advance across a gravel path.
The burning ship took off as soon as they were on board and Ianthina excitedly reminded Wilfrid of her prophecy when it became clear that the moon was their destination. Right or wrong the man with the wings demanded that they boil massive vats of water arranged in rows on both sides and running the entire length of the ship. On reaching the moon they were ordered to be ready to dump the vats. The ship skimmed rapidly along the surface then suddenly it dropped to the bottom of a deep crater leaving behind a trail of sparks smoke and ashes. Thousands of snowwomen men and little children ran in all directions. Some of them threw icicles at the ship but most fell short.
Now! shrieked the winged man shrugging off his human skin to reveal a black reptile’s body wizened with age and covered with scarlet spots. Pour!
The boiling water showered down on the snowfolk and all but a few were blithely massacred. Huge hissing clouds shot up drowning out the last of their shrill cries. The reptile brought the burning ship in for a crash landing and the shadowtravellers tumbled out of the wreckage. Two snowmen succeeded in spearing the reptile with icicles and they pitched him into a deep crevasse. An interval of crushing gloom ended when snow began slowly falling. It increased gradually like hollow applause until it turned into the uproar of a blizzard. The demented shadows were frozen stiff.
