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Ob'lisk -- FWG Flash Fiction for 11/20/2021

This week's post is an experiment in dialect. It's called "Ob'lisk" and is inspired by:



Pixabay.com/photos/old-elisabeth-houses-historical-3284212



Ob'lisk


We called it the ob'lisk. Not that it was anything close to those what in 'Gypt or Rome or nothin'. We thought it was 'robly just a silo or some such. Strange thing was there weren't no doors nor winnders to put any grain in or out.


Alls we knew was it was always there, an' had been afore me gran' an' his 'gran. Standin' nex' ta what passed for the road, really just a track, in those parts.


Me Gran' builded his house right next ta the thing, so I visited of'en. I swear I heared it hummin' late at night when the wind didna blow. Gran' told me once in that hoarse whisper of 'is that he heared it too somatime.


When Gran's heart quit on 'im, I moved inta the house, since nona me cousins wan'ed anythin' ta do wit it. That's when I found the key ta the secret door in the basemen'.


Th' door led to a tunnel, which led ta 'nother door. Thata one opened inta a stair spiralin' right up to the toppa that ob'lisk.


Up there in the pointy end a the thin' was a room chocka full of machines an' dials, an' all manner of lighted panels on the walls.


One a dem lights was blinkin' so fur'ously that I stuck me finger on it to block out the damn thin'. Nex' I knew I was on me back and it felt a giant hand was tryin' to push me through the flo'!


Af'er a couple minints of barely breathin', I floated up in the air like I was driftin' in the mill pond. Now, I'm floatin' here lookin' through a winnder ya canna see from the outside at wha' musta be the Eart'.


An ya know wha'? It's roun'!


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