Story Behind the Painting (7)

The ‘morning after’ progressed from warm to sweltering and with each minute, energy drained from my recovering limbs that were lumps jelly. I plodded through the simple tasks of packing and eating breakfast.

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Lost World of the Wends (20)

Joseph recognised that voice. O-oh, this is not good! Fear like an Antarctic blast, paralysed him. He perched on the bench. The rustling was the other side of the outhouse door—an unlocked door—the Wends didn’t believe in loo locks—apparently.

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Journey to Finale

So, my painting has had a rest for a couple of weeks. In that time, I put the work out of sight for a few days. I must distance myself. Otherwise, I consider a seriously flawed work, brilliant.

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We charged along the unsealed highway with no break for lunch or snacks. Dad’s need to reach our destination of Kings Canyon before nightfall compelled him ever forward, resisting the temptation to rest.

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Not So Relieved…

Later, I decided the boxes of bazooka ammunition should go too. As the hatch flew open, I tossed them. They landed with a decisive thud, then a series of cracks and bangs like fireworks as they hit the flinty stone. Not such a clever idea.

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