Pastiche

Our hero’s eyes become all of one color, that being green with a faint spark of yellow at their centers, and in a voice that is perfectly clear and somehow faint and far away says: “There is a change in the flow of the tides of Life. Not a riptide, but a tidal wave. Not merely an abrupt current-flow but something that may change in a moment the shores against which the waves break, moving the currents to different paths forever.”

He taps the ground sharply twice with his silver-headed cane, smiling. “Surf’s up.”

This, because I haven’t the time to talk, but wanted a place-holder to remind me what I wanted to say. And because it will amuse Ed, who will recognize the reference.

Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry

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