Muppet Terror....

[redBoobergurl]

Speechless....you are a gifted writer Beau and that's all I can say.

 

[MrsPepper]

I think I am going to cry. This whole thing is all just horrible, and I actually cannot continue to read this... of course it's well done though, Beau, maybe just a little too much..

 

[Beauregard]

Mrs Pepper, that is quite alright. I am afraid, yes, I did write it very strong because I wanted to totally capture the moment, pull us there into that carrage, putting our hands around those who lost loved ones. I can understand that you did not want to finish reading the story, neither did I, but I knew it was something I had to do.

Count, I cannot explain why I chose Rowlf and Mis Piggy. Except that I was reading an eyewitness acount when the first line of this book came into my head so strong that I knew I could not shake it, and that I had to place it in writing and share with others a close perspective on today's events.

 

[MrsPepper]

Oh don't get me wrong, I read the whole thing. It just made me very uncomfortable, is all. Urgh, I don't understand these things..

 

[Beauregard]

Forgive me if the images portrayed are too powerfull, but for me, I have to write this, to show the hearts of those close by. These are the effects of terrorism on lives. It has to stop, it can't go on.

__

A radio crackled with static. Someone was trying to communicate. The driver. But there were no words.

People were up now, many injured, some bruised. Rowlf touched a hand to his forehead. He felt like he were going to burst. The train rocked, some lost their footing and fell in the aisle.

Two teenagers in rad jackets kicked the doors with trademark trainers. They kicked together, too many times. There were coughs, stifled tears.

Rowlf held the woman’s fleashy arm, and helped her to her feet. She clung to him, and to her pet-carrier as though it were her last possession on earth.

An orange jacket came into view beyond the smeary, soot-covered glass in the division to the next carriage. Help had arrived. No. No, it wasn’t a jacket, or help, or even a person. It was flames. The fat woman panicked and fled to the back of the carriage, banging her fists on the windows.

Then someone got the doors open. Maybe the two rad jackets. Rowlf looked around for someone he could help. There it was, under a seat, looking at once frightened, content, and wild. A splash of white in the blackness. Rowlf knelt, he scooped the rabbit into his arms.

“Not going without my baby!” The fat woman cried.

Rowlf came to her, pressed the silky fur of the rabbit’s skin against her hands. She took it. He led her out of the buss into the dark tunnel. He hoped all were out.

They began the long walk.

*^*^*^*

“It’s a terrible thing to have happened, Sprocket,” Doc said. He sat, leant forward, eyes only on the television before him, his hand resting on the head of his dog. The wind howled around the lighthouse.

Gobo Fraggle stood behind, his mouth partly open, and his gaze fixed on the events unfolding in London. This wasn’t real. It was another of Doc’s movies. It was real. He shook his head slowly. Why? Why would any human do this? For political power…that was no balance. There was no balance. No thing on earth or in heaven that could weigh out against a human life. It wasn’t real. No one would do this.

*^*^*^*

“You are going to have to leave,” The paramedic said again. “All members of the public must be evacuated.”

“No, no, no,” Sam said. “I won’t go.” His hand was wrapped around Miss Piggy’s. Her purple gloves were black stained from smoke and soot.

“Please,” the paramedic said again. “I’m going to ask you once more. Only medical offices may stay here. Leave.”

“No, she’s hurt and…”

The yellow-coated paramedic moved away. He stopped beside a shocked looking policeman, whispered something. The policeman approached Sam. “You have to go, we’ll take care of her, come on, that’s a good lad. That’s right. Come on. Let’s go.”

The policeman gripped his shoulders, propelled him away. He felt Miss Piggy’s hand slipping from his own. Saw a man lifting her to a stretcher. Sam was pushed into the crowd, and he lost her in the sea of grime streaked faces.

 

[Skeeter Muppet]

Another speechless reader here, Beau. Whatever you've been trying to capture here in your story, you've done it very well. I love the glimpses into the reactions of other sections of the Muppet family, like Sesame Street and the Fraggles.

I have to admit, you've inspired me. I'm trying to work out an idea on the events of this morning from the points of view of the Ghost of Faffner Hall gang. Hopefully I can do as good a job at it as you are at this.

-Kim

 

[Beauregard]

That would be wonderfull, Skeeter. Feel free to post (if you wish) your addition to the story in this thread.

And now...light at the end of the tunnel...

__

Miss Piggy woke up in a strange bed, in a white washed room surrounded by the casualties of war, for a war it was. A war on peace. She touched the thin blankets that covered her. Her head was cold, she reached up, then stopped. They had cut her hair, mended her injuries, but cut her hair. How dare they, how…

Gingerly, she sat. She bunched the sheets in her lap, folding the cloth over in her hands. She was inside a hospital. Nameless people in white medical gowns sourounded around her. The same sterile beds stretched in lines. She felt dizzy.

Miss Piggy lifted her feet out of bed. Her shoes were gone, no, one shoe was gone. Where was her handbag? She closed her eyes. The world tilted.

*^*^*^*

There was daylight…somewhere. Somewhere there was daylight. Rowlf stepped over the slates in the line. The fat woman beside him didn’t stop talking, not for one second. Nervous energy was running high. “What if a train comes? What if we don’t get out?” Maybe! What if… When? How! Go back. Carry on…Rest. Stop, please, stop.

A man beside him held his mobile phone open for light. He’d tried ringing out, but signal was bad, and the lines were full.

“Ahead,” a voice shouted from the front.

There was light. Light at the end of the tunnel.

*^*^*^*

Kermit closed his eyes. There was nothing he could do. Was there? He opened them.

Robin watched him anxiously from a nearby seat-arm. “Uncle Kermit,” he said. “What are you going to do?”

“There’s nothing…” Kermit said. “Nothing we can. But wait.”

Scooter knocked once, and entered. “You don’t want to hear this, Boss, but you have to.”

“What is it, Scooter?”

Scooter looked at Robin, then turned back to Kermit. “Another five confirmed dead. No names. I’m sorry...I…”

Kermit sunk into the cushions of the seat, and laid his head against the back. Robin held his hand. “Uncle Kermit?” Robin said.

“What is it, Robin?”

“They won’t win, will they?”

Kermit stared at the ceiling, then his gaze lowered and rested on his young nephew. “They won’t win.”

 

[TogetherAgain]

“They won’t win, will they?”

<crumples up on desk>

“They won’t win, will they?” “They won’t win, will they?” “They won’t win, will they?”

Gosh, Beau... That line keeps circling around in my head... “They won’t win, will they?” Oh, gosh........

I must say, though, this one line that made me smile just a little bit... They had cut her hair, mended her injuries, but cut her hair. How dare they, how…

I liked that.

But by gosh... “They won’t win, will they?”

<shudder>

 

[Beauregard]

They won't.

 

[TogetherAgain]

<rocks back and forth, clutching teddy bear>

No. They won't.