Moving On

Krulnor stood in shock, looking down at the crater where a Now Obliterated Messenger had recently been situated.
“Hmmm,” he mused like a revelatory black hole, “That was unexpected.”

Indeed, it was. Hundreds, nay, dozens, nay ones of fans were left in stunned silence at the blindside that had just been unleashed (not to be confused with The Blind Side, starring Sandra Bullock in her Oscar winning role), and were even now preparing their pens, typewriters, keyboards and saxophones to write sternly worded letters to the blognovelists, complaining that a fan-favourite had been killed off, and that this had ruined the series forever, and accusing the novelists of making the story up as they went along and not having any idea what the smoke monster was – each accusation of which was vehemently denied, although with an awkward cough that may have implied a little too much truth to the rumour…

But, there was no time to mourn. In fact, it was morn. The sun rose over Krulnor, as seemed to be a common occurrence in this novel, and he decided it was time to move on, as did Krulnor. There was still so much to get done.

He turned his attention to the next part of his quest: climbing the Pass of No Passage.

It was relatively easy to find the pass, as it had a large sign with “NO PASSING” written on it, and solid double yellow lines right down the middle, but this made the trek all the more treacherous, as Krulnor could only make use of half the pass during his ascent legally.

For hours he climbed, hauling himself upwards over rocks, and other rocks, and pointy things, making his way up towards the top of the pass. Once didst he almost turn back, as a cold wind whistled down on him like a jug; twice didst he pause to fight off angry squirrels – leading to the extinction of the pre-New Zealand native squirrel; thrice didst he almost fall, as showers of pebbles came raining down upon him like a shower of small candy-coated chocolate pieces; and fhrice didst he wonder why there was no terminology for what comes after thrice.

Eventually, however, he reached the summit, and surveyed the pass lying far below with pride.

Followed by a growing realization that the pass, being far below, would have been a much easier journey than the cliff-face he had just ascended.

He sighed frustratedly, and found himself thankful that the messenger hadn’t been around to see his faux pass.

Then he began his descent, trying to ignore Albert’s sniggering.

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