Out of the Chocolate Box (60)

Mutants appeared from nowhere, for their early morning swim. Their sack-like bodies flopped in the water.
Then the mutants spotted us. And they were after us.
‘Wanna go out with me?’ one asked his tongue hanging out in anticipation.
Another followed us like a shadow. ‘You be my frwend?’

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Out of the Chocolate Box (54)

‘You have one more chance to redeem yourself, Ensign Mueller,’ Driver took a deep breath and made a tent shape with her hands and fingers. ‘You will be heading for Boris’ hideout; his planet. Over the past few days, we’ve been able to track Boris’ movements. It’s a distance, many light years from here, close to the galactic hub near a black hole. This mission is extremely dangerous. You’ll sever all ties with family, friends and shipmates. Although for you the time will seem only a few weeks, because of the time distortion near the epicenter of the Milky Way, for the rest of us, time will pass into years, maybe decades.

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Out of the Chocolate Box (53)

A weedy male with a salad bowl haircut and a face that would make alien abduction stories believable, stepped up beside them. I assumed he was the newest addition to the LSS. Great! Another little upstart! Just what I need!
‘This is Bruce.’ Liesel barely moved her lips. She mumbled something I could not catch, then said, ‘He’s taking your place…Sorry things didn’t work out.’

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Out of the Chocolate Box (47)

In the meantime, I had questions that must be answered—like why does the kitchenhand hide his face under his hoody? I had nothing better to do. Besides, Günter, distant and preoccupied, had escaped to the village. As for Commander Driver, she had morning prayers and worship, taking up the whole morning.
So, when the kitchenhand scuttled out of the dining area after washing up, I followed him…at a distance.

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Out of the Chocolate Box (45)

At seven in the evening, I scampered down to the kitchen and attempted to scrounge some scraps from the kitchen hand; some weedy adolescent wearing a hooded windcheater. What was he hiding? Pimples? He kept mumbling, ‘You’re too late, Miss’.
In the end, I mumbled in reply, ‘This retreat is not a retreat, it’s more like a boarding school or even a concentration camp’.

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Out of the Chocolate Box (43)

I had an idea and slipped behind some thick curtains while Günter poured over some huge leather-bound book. I did not know if my plan would work, but it was worth a try.
Günter turned around. His eyebrows knitted together in a searching look. He glanced around the room, darting his eyes in every corner, like a cat hunting prey.
I tried not to laugh, but a snort escaped. I would have to move to keep one step ahead.

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Out of the Chocolate Box (42)

We walked the path from the beach. The Convent emerged over the dune before us, reminding me of Le Mont St. Michel in Brittany; beautiful, yet imposing.
Already the incoming tide consumed the sand on the shore.
‘Do you think Trigger will be alright?’
Günter gazed over to the Convent and for some time remained silent.

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