Nothingness stretched out towards Ernie 'Pink' Cugs like a very stretchy elastic band with a GCSE in Applied Stretchiness.
He had finished his degree in Hamic Language Studies and Politics and was looking for a decent job somewhere in Plymouth.
Studying the outside view from the window carefully he saw only the silent battle ships. Fortresses of the sea...he saw them every day....
The television blinked at him.
He had been watching Cash in the Attic and other day time TV shows like Bargain Hunt and Father Downing Mysteries et cetera.
Although tediously addictive, the programmes did give him a sudden idea.
He had gone to get the step ladder to reach the attic before he realised he was lodging in a flat, and therefore had no attic.
This was a shame, because in all good programmes and books, the hidden historic treasure which he was looking for, was always found in the attic.
Ernie sighed.
With no chance of finding a hidden historic treasure worth millions he turned his attention to the bookshelf that his previous tenant had left.
Picking up a few books he looked at their blurbs quickly before dismissing them.
'An unlikely story where 3 unlikely friends go on an unlikely adventure....'
No....
The next book he pulled out was more interesting.
Despite having been in a well cleaned bookshelf, the book was laden with heavy grey dust.
This could only mean one thing.
It was a hidden historic treasure!
Blowing the dust off the book dramatically he discovered the half peeled off gold title, 'Your Journal' it said, suggesting it had been bought as a last minute Christmas present.
Opening the cover up gingerly he saw some more text, 'This journal belongs too....'
Then, in a small ink-blotted scribble, ' Herbert G Cugs (Capt.)'
How can this be?!
Thought Ernie before opening to the first page of the journal.
His very own great Granddad's journal had somehow ended up in his previous tenets bookshelf!
He started reading from the first page.
As he read the journal he could see the whole story happening in his mind......
* * *
Air Commodore Brownham had been told to welcome and talk to the guests for 60 seconds each before they entered the main cocktail party that was happening inside the airbase.
He sighed.
The food looked so appetizing! There was salmon paste on crackers and bottles full of ginger beer, not to mention the trays full of cookies!
"Ah, so who are you then?" he asked politely to a couple of lizards.
"Er...Mr & Mrs Lizzardo...sir."
"And what business are you in, Mr. Lizzardo?"
"I'm a customs officer...sir."
"Right." said Brownham, "So, wha.."
There was a sudden cry from the main entrance.
"Air Commodore Brownham!" said a messenger from the door.
Breaking away from Mr & Mrs Lizzardo, who were ushered into there seats, Brownham followed the messenger to a side room.
"Who are you?" he enquired of the messenger.
"Sir, I may be the deliverer of a nightmare, sir.......
