Shangri-La

I looked out of the window watching the little fluffy clouds skirt the mountain tops, the sun shone on the glistened snow, hurting my eyes. I put on my sunglasses and shifted in the uncomfortable seat. The wing tips had little crystals of frost just melting as we made the final approach into the last airport at the foot of the Himalayas. I longed to leave this shaking, vibrating tube of metal and plant my feet on terra firma. The alternative was a couple of days on hair pin bends and altitude sickness, I planned to leave the headaches and nausea until the last possible moment. I had got everything organized, I didnt like surprises. Once in Akbar I had arranged a guide for the rest of the journey to find him, my lost friend. I hadnt figured into my plans the aircraft running out of gas and having to make an emergency landing in the middle of forbidding desolate mountains, but thats what happened.

I love the settings and descriptions in your stories, Mrs Figg. It always makes me feel like I'm there right off the bat.

And then what happens, Mrs Figg?

the Yeti ate my shorts.

just kidding  

I'm somewhat disappointed now... i was imagining myself as a Yeti there for a moment...  a big hairy one.


{{{Which makes me think of something my daughter and I were talking about recently, Mrs Figg. She has been going to Gay Nightclubs of late in the Big Smoke and tells me that there are certain big brawny bearded men who go there hunting the more delicate and smooth individuals, and they're called 'Bears'. I suggested I could go with her one night and be a 'Bear', and my daughter said that I'd be more like an ''Otter'. Now, what does that mean, I wonder?}}}

The Aircraft let out a small splutter of protest then the propellor outside my window swung lazily to a standstill. Luckily there were three others keeping us afloat among the clouds, the other passengers, all locals, seemed unfazed but I clung to my seat and let out a wimper, My dreams of fiesty heroine-hood disolving as I contemplated the jagged rocks below. To my left a bundle of blankets below a battered hat shuffled and formed itself into a little brown raisin faced Mongolian chap, he looked into my pinched pale face bathed in sweat and gave me a gummy grin, he then jumped up and down in his seat as if to give it a helping hand to the ground, giving me a wheezy giggle. I silently cursed his act of tomfoolery and gave him a baleful stare. I think he realized I was sick with fear, he reached his gnarled brown hand into a pocket, reached over and placed something warm into my hand. It was a little carved flower, a lotus gilded and exquisite. Temporarily diverted from certain doom, I studied it, it seemed to grow and as I gazed at it, it gave off a sparkling light, Golden then silver, dazzling.
I looked up in wonder at the man, but he had gone, had just disappeared.

Hey! Isn't there some other story about Mrs Crumblycakes or something you are supposed to be continuing?  

I got a low boredom threshold  

teee hee hee... threshold... tee hee hee.....

? ?

??   who can tell?

BTW, I loved your description of the Mongolian emerging from blankets.

 thanks

Curiouser and curiouser

Suddenly there was some buffeting turbulance, the Aircraft lost height and swooped down in a horrible dipping motion. The sensation of falling into the abyss was too much for my brain I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself safe at home. Why on earth had I landed myself in such a ridiculous situation. We were shaken up and down a few more times and then I could feel the undercarriage open under my feet, we were fast approaching the ground, too fast, I could only see Whiteness, whiteness everywhere, I didnt know if it was sky or land. We hit the ground with a terrible jolt, the plane seemed to speed up and roared across the icy Landing strip. It seemed to go on forever, the pressure pushed me into the seat in front, at last we were slowing, the wheels skidding, there was a lot of deafening noise coming from the underside, it sounded as if the wheels were being ripped off. I guessed this was the brakes, but at last we taxied to a halt. There was a rush and flurry as the other passengers peered out the Windows, I kept to my seat and prayed I wouldnt vomit.

Outside was a snow covered Wilderness. The mountains so high it hurt my neck to see the tops. We stumbled outside onto a snowfield, the cold hit like a punch. Everyone was leaving. In silence as if someone had given them silent orders, the local passengers took their belongings and set off into the Wild. There was a straggling line of Shaggy coated folk, I desperately wanted to stay inside the Aircraft until help came. But what if it didnt? I would be totally alone in this terrifying place. There was no choice, I couldnt ask them where they were heading, none of them spoke English, (I had found that out during the long flight, my requests for drinks and blankets being met with polite indifference). I grabbed my warmest coat and my bag, and set off. My feet sunk into the deep freezing snow, I put on my snow shoes and the going got better, but the locals were quick and used to the thin air, before long I was wheezing and cursing with fatigue. I didnt know if I was going to make it.

I'm reminded of pictures I've seen from Tibet and Nepal and other areas; very beautiful landscapes. Although unfortunately the first thing I thought of when reading the title was Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. Though fortunately that was quickly replaced in my mind with Rush's "Xanadu".

Xanadu is perfect  

 

Damn straight.