guess the world -
sixth series
entries 501 -

[ + links to:   Guess The World entries 1-100  -  Guess The World entries 101-200  - 
Guess The World entries 201-300  -  Guess The World entries 301-400  - 
Guess The World entries 401-500  -  Scene-counts ]

In a basin of porphyry, at the summit of a pillar of serpentine, the thing has existed from primeval time, in the garden of the kings that rule an equatorial realm of the planet [..........]. With black foliage, fine and intricate as the web of some enormous spider; with petals of livid rose, and purple like the purple of putrefying flesh; and a stem rising like a swart and hairy wrist from a bulb so old, so encrusted with the growth of centuries that it resembles an urn of stone, the monstrous flower holds dominion over all the garden. In this flower, from the years of oldest legend, an evil demon has dwelt- a demon whose name and whose nativity are known to the superior magicians and mysteriarchs of the kingdom, but to none other. Over the half-animate flowers, the ophidian orchids that coil and sting, the bat-like lilies that open their ribbèd petals by night, and fasten with tiny yellow teeth on the bodies of sleeping dragonflies; the carnivorous cacti that yawn with green lips beneath their beards of poisonous yellow prickles; the plants that palpitate like hearts, the blossoms that pant with a breath of poisonous perfume - over all these, the Flower-Devil is supreme, in its malign immortality, and evil, perverse intelligence- inciting them to strange maleficence, fantastic mischief, even to acts of rebellion against the gardeners, who proceed about their duties with wariness and trepidation, since more than one of them has been bitten, even unto death, by some vicious and venefic flower. In places, the garden has run wild from lack of care on the part of the fearful gardeners, and has become a monstrous tangle of serpentine creepers, and hydra-headed plants, convolved and inter-writhing in lethal hate or venomous love, and horrible as a rout of wrangling vipers and pythons.
And, like his innumerable ancestors before him, the king dares not destroy the Flower, for fear that the devil, driven from its habitation, might seek a new home, and enter into the brain or body of one of the king's subjects- or even the heart of his fairest and gentlest, and most beloved queen!

entry 507      [contributed by Zendexor]

>>  here's where this is

The pilot sighted the landing platform, checked with Control Tower, and eased up for the final descent. He was a skillful pilot, with many landings on [..........] to his credit. He brought the ship up on its tail and sat it down on the landing platform for a perfect three-pointer as the jets rumbled to silence.
    Then, abruptly, they sank—landing craft, platform and all.
    The pilot buzzed Control Tower frantically as Kielland fought down panic. Sorry, said Control Tower. Something must have gone wrong. They'd have them out in a jiffy. Good lord, no, don't blast out again, there were a thousand natives in the vicinity. Just be patient, everything would be all right.
    They waited. Presently there were thumps and bangs as grapplers clanged on the surface of the craft. Mud gurgled around them as they were hauled up and out with the sound of a giant sipping soup. A mud-encrusted hatchway flew open, and Kielland stepped down on a flimsy-looking platform below. Four small rodent-like creatures were attached to it by ropes; they heaved with a will and began paddling through the soupy mud dragging the platform and Kielland toward a row of low wooden buildings near some stunted trees.
As the creatures paused to puff and pant, the back half of the platform kept sinking into the mud. When they finally reached comparatively solid ground, Kielland was mud up to the hips, and mad enough to blast off without benefit of landing craft...

entry 506      [contributed by Lone Wolf]

>>  here's where this is

    ...The Shadow deepened imperceptibly into night.  The rolling rusty clouds of the dayside had become the greyer clouds of storm and fog.  The men toiled through dimming mist and falling snow that turned at last to utter darkness.
    Lannar turned a lined and haggard face to Fenn.  “Madmen!” he muttered.  And that was all.
    They passed through the belt of storm.  There came a time when the lower air was clear and a shifting wind began to tear away the clouds from the sky.
    The pace of the men slowed, then halted altogether.  They watched, caught in a stasis of awe and fear too deep for utterance.  Fenn saw that there was a pallid eerie radiance somewhere behind the driving clouds.  Arika’s hand crept into his and clung there.  But Malech stood apart, his head lifted, his shining eyes fixed upon the sky.
    A rift, a great ragged valley sown with stars.  It widened, and the clouds were swept away, and the sky crashed down upon the waiting men, children of eternal day who had never seen the night…

entry 505      [contributed by Zendexor]

>>  here's where this is

    Olear's little ship passed through the ringstorms, and he did not take over the controls until he recognized the familiar mark of the trading company, a blue comet on the aluminum roof of one of the larger buildings. Visibility was good that day, but despite the unusual clarity of the atmosphere there was a suggestion of the sinister about the lifeless scene—the vast, irresistible river, the riotously colored jungle roof. The vastness of nature dwarfed man's puny work. One horizon flashed incessantly with livid lightning, the other was one blinding blaze of the nearby sun. And almost lost below in the savage landscape was man's symbol of possession, a few metal sheds in a clear, fenced space of a few acres.
    Olear cautiously checked speed, skimmed over the turbid surface of the great river, and set her down on the ground within the compound. With his pencil-like ray-tube in his hand he stepped out of the hatchway.
    A [..........] native came out of the residence, presently, his hands together in the peace sign. For the benefit of Earthlubbers whose only knowledge of [..........] is derived from the teleview screen, it should be explained that [..........] are not human, even if they do slightly resemble us. They hatch from eggs, pass one life-phase as frog-like creatures in their rivers, and in the adult stage turn more human in appearance. But their skin remains green and fish-belly white. There is no hair on their warty heads. Their eyes have no lids, and have a peculiar dead, staring look when they sleep. And they carry a peculiar, fishy odor with them at all times.

entry 504      [contributed by Lone Wolf]

>>  here's where this is

    …He kept hearing the weird screams of the Loathi echoing inside him; he kept seeing their long, keen beaks, and their batlike bodies swooping crazily out of the [..........] night…
    …Pictures appeared in the screen – bleak, rolling desert and tortured gorges.  Then an oasis where there was water, and where the radioactive ores underground provided enough heat to permit the growth of vegetation.  At its center was a little rough city under a crystal dome.  Joraanin, the [..........] colony!
    Around it men and loyal Loathi were entrenched, fighting off hordes of rebel Loathi that circled on batlike wings above, their long beaks gleaming.  The revolt was still in progress…

entry 503      [contributed by Zendexor]

>>  here's where this is

The [..........] sea was dotted with many shallow puddles and lakes of salty water.  But low ridges still provided ample camping ground for the Earthians.  A few had erected tents, but most of them still preferred the comfort of the cabins of their ships.  Some were now busy fabricating machinery – steam engines several of those devices seemed to be, their boilers flanked by huge mirrors, which, when the unsettled weather, incident upon the influx of air and moisture from Earth, came to an end, and the Sun shone once more, would collect and concentrate the solar rays.
    Still other colonists were attempting to plant gardens in the ashy soil – efforts which were almost certain to be abortive under the new conditions.  But by now countless pale-green shoots were peeping through the snow everywhere, promising soon to develop into a lush growth that would provide nourishment for such livestock as had been brought to [..........], and at the same time offering a source of cellulose from which by synthesis, a nourishing diet for human beings could be made.  The green shoots were the sprouts of the ancient [..........] vegetation, whose seeds or spores had remained quiescent in the waterless soil for countless ages…

entry 502      [contributed by Zendexor]

>>  here's where this is

    “I’m fed up with squirting my beer out of a bulb,” he explained.  “I want to pour it properly into a glass now we’ve got the chance again.  Let’s see how long it takes.” 
    “It’ll be flat before it gets there,” warned Mackay.  “Let’s see – g’s about half a centimetre a second squared, you’re pouring from a height of…”  He retired into a brown study.
    But the experiment was already in progress.  Scott was holding the punctured beer-tin about a foot above his glass – and, for the first time in three months, the word “above” had some meaning, even if very little.  For, with incredible slowness, the amber liquid oozed out of the tin – so slowly that one might have taken it for syrup.  A thin column extended downwards, moving almost imperceptibly at first, but then slowly accelerating.  It seemed an age before the glass was reached: then a great cheer went up as contact was made and the level of the liquid began to creep upwards…

entry 501      [contributed by Zendexor]

>>  here's where this is