Morning Glory - YSM2023

The fissure was barely wide enough, but I managed to squeeze through. Before me lay an immense oaky-brown expanse.

Once out in the light, I scanned the horizon and my eyes widened at the apparition in the distance. At first, I thought it was a mirage, but as my vision adjusted to the daylight, I realised it was real. Perched high up on a plateau, a twirling kaleidoscope of blue, purple, pink, cyan, yellow and magenta; it could only be the Morning Glory, the largest and most spectacular I had ever seen.

Where there were flowers, there was sure to be food, and the instinct to feed my kin was greater than the fear I felt of having to traverse that wide-open plain to reach it. I glanced right and left and couldn’t see another soul… it was now or never.

Unhindered by obstacles, I scampered as fast as I could until I was a short distance away from it and could no longer see the flower high above me. To my right and left were two tall mahogany red columns, each as immense as sequoias. Both towered upwards to that divine place where that angelic Morning Glory stood proud, worshipping the heavens.

I was no stranger to climbing, it was in my DNA; so, I chose the left-hand pillar and up I went. Every few inches I would stop and check to take measure of my progress and consolidate my grasp. The rotund surface ended and became a mountain-like, flat-faced surface. It was not a problem, if anything, it made my purchase on the surface even more tenacious.

Sure and steady, I reached the crucial point of the ascent; an overhanging cornice forced me into a precariously inverted position. With the world upside-down, I felt disorientated and thought I would lose my footing and fall, but I was determined to reach the summit… my brothers’ and sisters’ lives depended on my return.

Once the vista reverted back to sunny side up, I saw the Morning Glory directly above me; it was planted in a large wooden box, which was raised slightly from the plateau, sitting on donut-like feet. I thought I would have to continue the climb outside the box, but instead, I found a little crevice underneath the structure. A shortcut, perhaps, that would allow me to reach the flower tout suite.

Once inside, I remained dumbfounded. What was this monstrosity? I had expected soil and roots. Instead, the box contained metal lattices, a massive ribbon spring and clockwork offal… mind-numbingly fascinating for a civil engineer, like myself. However, there was no time to dawdle, I was on a time-critical mission.

I noticed another opening in one corner of the box's ceiling, so after negotiating the mechanical array, I climbed the short stint to reach it. Once again, I was outside and at the foot of the stem of the flower. I was almost there, I just needed to climb a bit further to get inside the bell of the Morning Glory and delight of its sweet nectar.

It was an easy gradient, with the curvature flattening out the further I progressed. Suddenly, I heard pounding footsteps; thundering thuds from a waddling giant. It approached closer and grabbed a crank handle fixed to the side of the box below. I heard a ratcheting sound for a few seconds, followed by a decisive click and the giant returned from whence it came. I exhaled in relief, it hadn't seen me, and yet my adventure was not over.

I began to feel some tremoring and the flower began to resonate. Then, a melodic boom… an upbeat tempo resounded throughout the land; I had never picked up such a vibration with my antennae, so I did not recognise this acoustic experience. I inched forward to the lip of the flower’s bell, peeking over the edge I looked down. Below, a dizzying sight unfolded; a rippling black circular disc spinning clockwise. I could see that the inner part of the disc was orangey-yellow and had some writing. I could only catch a few letters at a time as the disc spun…

“ADAM AND…”
“THE ANTS…”
“ANTMUSIC”

Bastards, the Morning Glory was nothing more than a painted metal horn attached to a sound making machine. Such pure evilness in the world of giants, drawing me, an innocent little ant, here with this fake flower… I had been duped and my family would now starve.

That melody was the cherry to top off the cruel prank, but, on the ironic bright side, at least the music was good…

“Don't tread on an ant, he's done nothing to you
There might come a day when he's treading on you
Don't tread on an ant, you'll end up black and blue
You cut off his head, legs come looking for you”
by Adam Ant

The End

Spoiler Alert: Please read OP story first, then come back here.

A picture = 1,000 words. This image seeded my story.


And this song has accompanied me since my teens.

Antmusic - Adam & The Ants (1980)


Dedicated to all trodden ants around the world.

a reply to: Encia22

Awesome Encia!

a reply to: JJproductions

Thanks, JJ. A bit of a surreal hodgepodge, but Ant Lives Matter and deserve better.

a reply to: Encia22

I enjoyed that Encia. Intricate, detailed and humorous with a twist at the end! I like the words you choose to use, if that makes sense.

I think we would all love that old phonograph!

As the masters rot on walls. And the angels eat their grapes. I watched Picasso visit The Planet Of The Apes...



Cheers Encia22

a reply to: Zothyria

Cheers Zothyria, Adam Ant really was inspiring with his whacky and wonderful warped mind.

a reply to: midicon

Thanks, midicon! I drive my wife and colleagues crazy because that's how I comunicate in real life... I like to mix words, often inventing new ones to explain the unexplainable.

Yes, that gramophone is something special! I ended up doing a lot of research into it for the story.

a reply to: Encia22


Awesome story and I love you picked one of the greatest bands of the age to weave it around. Kinda wondereing how you got it to play something that wasnt a 78 though unless there was a 78 issue I never knew about

a reply to: SprocketUK

Cheers SprocketUK, I'm glad you're an Adam Ant fan, too.

For the rest... the magic of storytelling or a heavily modded gramophone. The disc playing would have been a 45.


Remember, I've got an ant who's a civil engineer... anything is possible.

a reply to: Encia22

Good point I do miss juke boxes too, and that single with the centre knocked out just reminded me of how good they were

a reply to: SprocketUK

Yep, as a kid, I remember we had a simple record player that had a removable adapter to play those type of records.

ETA: Found a picture...

a reply to: Encia22
I grew up in a pub, we had a jukebox and one of those record players with the little disc thingy

a reply to: SprocketUK

Cheers for the fond memories, Sprocket. Still just a teen, my mates and I would drink at a biker's pub in Enfield Town. They had a jukebox in the back that only had rock music. We played to death both Lynyrd Skynyrd's Free Bird and Long Train Runnin' by The Doobie Brothers... Oh, and of course, Born To Be Wild (Steppenwolf). Anytime I hear those songs, my mind drifts back to those golden years...

Best movie scene with a jukebox, IMHO...

a reply to: Encia22
For my screen memory I always think of the Fonze kicking the jukebox

a reply to: SprocketUK

Oh, yes! I almost forgot about that.

a reply to: Encia22

Spoiler Alert: Please read OP story first, then come back here.

I am so glad that I didn't see this alert until now.

I thoroughly enjoyed trying to figure out what sort of critter the protagonist was while reading. I had settled on squirrel until " I had never picked up such a vibration with my antennae". That's very close to the end. All that suspense!

a reply to: pthena

That's very kind of you, pthena! I'm glad you enjoyed it.

I'm happy the story worked the way I intended. I was in two minds about adding the spoiler, but I figured most people wouldn't skip past the end.

a reply to: Encia22

So we got an 80's nostalgia record spinning on a gramophone, a burrito spinning to oblivion, and the world itself.

Love the literal applications written from the perspective of inanimate objects.

a reply to: Degradation33