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| >> Book >> Writing >> ID #1841626 |   |
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  A glance inside my writing mind. This is concepts, ideas, observations, exercises, opinions and thoughts. Some of the entries will have no punctuation and be raw ideas, which may not make a lot of sense. The entries are basically raw material in the process of being worked. |
| 6. Tuesday 22 January 2012 | ID #745483 |
| Posted: 1-24-2012 @ 3:20 pm EST | |
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Tuesday 22 January 2012 Free Writing Exercise The old oak tree stood at the side of the stream as if it had been there for centuries, marking time and recording all the observations, yet having no one to tell. She wondered what it had seen before her time and cast her mind back over the stories it could tell of hers. She sat prim and proper under the tree she had clambered all over as a child, although the urge to climb to the lowest limb filled her, she restrained herself since now she was considered a young lady and had to behave appropriately. There would be no end of trouble and discomfort if she was seen sitting in a tree and her father would punish her severely. The time had come for her to make a good marriage and as a gentleman’s daughter of high society, it was important for her to keep the social standing she was fortunate to have and secure her future comfort. The burden of being a good prospect due to her inheritance had become boring and there was no end of suitors to choose from, yet none of them were interesting enough to hold her attention. She would not be able to marry below her set and the pompous parade of spoilt young men was a complete bore. * Why will you not agree to marry me? I am not Annabel. Well I am not Anton, so on this score we are even. You cannot have him and I cannot have her and there is nothing either of us can do about it. Is it not better to be matched with one in the same circumstance as yourself? It is not exactly the best reason to form a union of life. What other choice do we have? We can converse on any subject, we are comfortable in each other’s company and there are no pretences. This is more than most married couples can claim where position dictates the options for a match. At least with the understanding we have life could be tolerable and neither of us is repulsive to the other and we have a mutual respect. What you are saying makes sense in theory, but are we willing to spend our lives without hope of our hearts being claimed? The only other option we have is settling on another match where we would have to pretend to the suitor that they had our hearts which neither of us are willing to give. All I am suggesting is that you consider my offer and I will not press you. We can be seen to be courting and that will be sufficient for both of our families at this time. If you decide that this is not going to work then I will understand but I feel that this may be the only solution and neither of our families know we are each aware of the other’s past history. How could we be? It would not be considered prudent to reveal such circumstances to a prospect that has been selected as a good match; no one would think it wise to neglect duty. It is a difficult thought to consider for me at this time. I agree with you on the arrangement and as you know; my prospects have been damaged by the gossip generated by my association with Anton. This may make things complicated for us in the public eye. We do not have to settle near either of our homes if this would be easier for both of us. It is not as if I would struggle to secure us a suitably comfortable residence in another county. It will depend on where we decided to live and what would give both of us something to enjoy. Let us be seen courting at this time and it will give both of us a chance to make the final decision upon our future. Spending time together more often will let us both see if we can make this work and if it will be suitable. Then we are agreed on the arrangement to be courting at this time and be content to see what will become of our acquaintance. As for our families we can declare an interest which will keep them content for now. Agreed, we shall just have to make the best of it and do what we can.  |
| 5. Monday 23 January 2012 | ID #745482 |
| Posted: 1-24-2012 @ 3:18 pm EST Edited: 1-24-2012 @ 3:35 pm EST | |
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Monday 23 January 2012 Ingwendo Gehorin Donaldbain and Aideen’s indiscretion leaves a legacy where two half brothers, Tynan and Deacon, are locked in a battle that will decide the fate of the new world. Seer Leaders Family Tree Warrior Leaders Family Tree Keeper Leaders family Tree Theorin Morella – Yore / Yula – Aldus Thane / Donaldbain / Aideen – Torin Neala – Devin Xylo / Kennis – Blaine Deacon / Tynan / Tara – Wyman Wira – Unknown 1st King Brietta – Egan / Grania – Caley Kaylin – Bryant Rory – Freed Slave Etain Afton – Edana / Dallas – Calder Rianne – Kane Doyle – Freed Slave Morag Fergal – Zreale Argamel – Theorin Man Slave – Queen Halcyon Morven Aaron ----------- Arana Ronan – Theorina United Ingwendo Gehorin Leaders Race The Ingwendos of Gehorin Prologue Did I do something wrong? I am shivering in icy darkness and do not know why the warm light I was floating and dreaming in has vanished. I call out to my mother, father and uncle, but there is no sound. I am afraid and alone, surrounded and blinded by the endless black emptiness. I can see a glow of light in the distance. Maybe I fell from the warmth I was floating in and if I run I might be able to catch it. I am sure I will find my family there and I will be warm and no longer alone. Stumbling as I run towards the light, I can feel icy fingers trying to pull and hold me back. I fight as hard as I can, determined to reach the glow and desperate to find my family. I am growing tired, the light seems to be no closer and the icy fingers are all over me. I feel the energy draining from me and the tears flowing down my cheeks as I begin to lose hope of catching the light. I cannot remember my mother, she is fading from my memory and I do not know why. Has she left me behind and forgotten me? As I start to slow down a strong hand is upon my back pushing me forward. It is warm and although I cannot see the man it belongs too I feel it is my uncle Thane, a fearless and respected Warrior. I am being lifted out of the reach of the icy fingers and gliding towards the glowing light. I am starting to feel warmer and I am now flying towards the light and my uncle’s hand is no longer upon my back. I hit the ground hard but there are no icy fingers here and the warmth of the glow sends tingles through my body. It is not far now and I use all the energy I have left to sprint towards the warm welcoming light. Bursting into the brightness my eyes are all blurry and my ears are popping. Finally I am warm and safe. The exhaustion engulfs me and I fall to the ground on the soft springy covering. Two gentle arms lift me, I do not know the woman but I am too tired to worry about it. I am placed upon a soft mound and wrapped in warmth. Here I shall rest until my ears stop popping, my eyes adjust to the light and my body becomes warm without aching. Secrets and Confessions Donaldbain cried out as he tossed and turned in his sleep. The fever burned him and he was sure it was a sign of the punishment yet to come. Deacon did not understand what his father had said but thought he may have been calling out to him. Rising from the stool by the fire Deacon moved towards his father’s bedside trying not to let the stench of stale wine churn his stomach Father I am here Donaldbain opened one eye to see who was in his chamber; then turned his back on the boy and faced the wall. He grasped the wine flask and guzzled down its contents desperate to drown his pain, but not even its sweet nectar could ease his burden anymore. Deacon moved back to his stool trying to ignore his father’s drinking habit that disgusted him. Donaldbain closed his eyes hoping sleep would take him to a place of peace. Aideen’s heart pounded with every step as she paced the top of the Warriors’ tower frantically. Her frail worn body barely casting a shadow in the strong light of midday, and she twisted her hands together as she muttered constantly to herself. Her mumblings hardly audible, her face crushed with concern and the tears trickling down her cheeks. Aideen could not contain her distress and had locked the tower door to get some peace from Torin’s intense attention. She felt trapped by everyone’s concern and the guilt that was eating away at her soul. Sweet scents from the blossoming forest travelled in on the wind as she gazed over the lands cradled by the mountains. She stared out trying to find peace but it was forever lost to her. Startled by the rattling of the tower door and the voices calling her name she leant over the small surrounding wall of the tower and lost her balance. Deacon was startled by the shrill scream of a woman that filled the air, as Donaldbain was yelling “Aideen.” Deacon could not work out what his father had said but resisted the temptation to see what was happening outside the room, deciding it was best to tend to his father. He approached the bed more cautiously than before as his father appeared to be agitated. Donaldbain turned suddenly towards Deacon and grabbed his shoulders tightly. “I am sorry Aideen, please forgive me.” Donaldbain wept, “I did not know what this would do to us. Forgive me, I am sorry. Please forgive me.” Deacon tried to pull away from Donaldbain’s grip, not sure why his father would be speaking this way to Aideen, the Warrior Leader’s wife, and why he would think he was her. Donaldbain’s grip lessened enough for Deacon to get away and his father lay back in his bed sobbing loudly. Donaldbain turned away to face the wall again as the chamber door was thrown open and Thane entered the chamber. “Uncle,” Deacon said surprised, “is something wrong? I heard a woman scream.” “Are you alright Deacon? How is Donaldbain?” Thane asked as he came closer to the bed. “I am fine Uncle; Father is becoming more gripped by the fever.” “I am sorry that you are left to see your father this way, but I have much to do and cannot say when I will be able to take over for a while. Try and rest Deacon, you look tired, and there is nothing more you can do for him than you are.” “I know my duty Uncle and I am here to serve it.” “You are a brave young man Deacon, I am proud of your maturity, and you shall make a fine Warrior that will pride our tribe.” “Thank you Uncle.” Deacon replied slightly blushing from the praise. “There is a lot of confusion just now as Aideen is lost to us. It was her scream you heard as she fell from our tower.” Donaldbain began sobbing louder and his ramblings were muffled. Deacon turned towards the bed and thought twice about approaching it. “I am sorry Deacon,” Thane said. “I should have realized that any distressful news may make caring for Donaldbain more difficult. Will you manage?” “Yes Uncle, I will be fine.” “I must go. I will return as soon as I can.” Deacon nodded and Thane left, leaving him alone with Donaldbain who was agitated again. Donaldbain tossed and turned tormented by things Deacon could not see. His ramblings became louder and Deacon was ashamed that it was beginning to frighten him. “I am sorry Aideen, I was weak and I did not do anything to stop him. I know Tynan was tormenting you, threatening to tell Torin, and I did nothing to defend you. I still love you. Can you forgive me? Please forgive me. Please forgive me.” Donaldbain would not settle and Deacon did not know what to do. He approached the bed and called out to his father. Donaldbain turned towards Deacon suddenly and lashed a fist out at him. “You ungrateful horrid boy, Tynan do not move away from me, I am your father. Why did you torment your mother? You showed no respect to Aideen, the most gentle and caring woman I have ever known. Don’t deny it.” The look of shock on Deacon’s face did not register to Donaldbain’s eye as he turned and began calling out to Aideen. Deacon was frozen where he stood trying to make sense of what he had been told. Tynan, the second son of Warrior Leader Torin, was not his son but Aideen’s and his father’s. There must be some mistake, the fever has confused his father and these ramblings must not be his own. Deacon did not know what he should do and he kept listening to Donaldbain’s rambling, careful not to get to close to him. “I confess it. I killed her. All she wanted was a girl and I could not give it to her. All I wanted was comfort and to feel her soft caress, her gentle kisses. I should have let her go and turned her down, but I could not refuse her. It is my entire fault. I still love you Aideen, please forgive me. Can you forgive this wretched man and still love him, even after all that has happened...” Donaldbain’s ramblings were replaced by loud sobbing and groaning full of pain. Deacon still stood just out of Donaldbain’s reach, staring at the man tossing in his bed, losing the battle against the fever and the past. Deacon watched as Donaldbain turned towards him and looked him in the eyes, but Deacon did not know if it was him that Donaldbain could see. “Please forgive me...I am sorry...I cannot heal what I have done...” Donaldbain pleaded. “There is nothing for me to forgive.” Deacon answered. Donaldbain smiled, “Thank you...Thank you...I am coming Aideen...” The last breath of life left Donaldbain’s lips and he appeared happy in his peace. |
| 4. Sunday 22 January 2012 | ID #745481 |
| Posted: 1-24-2012 @ 3:11 pm EST | |
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Sunday 22 January 2012 Uncle Jack The bland darkened room held no comfort, as I lay on my cot in my holding cell and waited to face judge and jury alone. I’m in trouble again, more than ever before. I called Auntie May to ask if she could be there with me, but I understood if she couldn’t. She and Uncle Jack have enough problems on the farm without mine. I was ready to give up all hope of anything good ever happening. There was a knock at the door and my heart jumped into my mouth. It seemed as though the hearing was earlier than I thought. “It’s open.” I said, with no enthusiasm. I was astonished to see Uncle Jack. He never leaves the farm except to get supplies. “Auntie May is worried about you.” Uncle Jack said as he closed my bedroom door. “I am sorry Uncle Jack.” “Sorry about what?” “Making Auntie May worry,” I looked down at the floor. “So this is your room...Bit bland,” Uncle Jack said looking at the bare walls. “I am only here for one school term at a time, and then I move to the other holding cell. I go from one to the other until I get the small break of freedom.” Uncle Jack laughed. I did not know he could do that. “Auntie May is down stairs working on getting you a fair trial. She sent me up here to make sure you are okay.” I shrugged my shoulders and then nodded. “Don’t worry. We will make sure your side of the story is heard. It is not like you are going before a jury. It’s only your parents and step parents, so it can’t be that hard.” I said, “Wanna make a bet?” Uncle Jack laughed again. “Come on, let’s go and see Auntie May.” I hesitated, not quite ready to go out there. Uncle Jack looked at me and smiled. “I won’t let anything bad happen.” I slid off my bed and followed him down the stairs. Auntie May was waiting at the bottom and threw her arms around me. “How are you doing my little warrior?” She said with a laugh. “What have you done this time?” “I’m okay. I upset the Troll because she had to come to school again. The Ogre is annoyed because his and Mum’s time has been disrupted. All because a boy pulled my hair and would not let go so I punched him in the nose. As usual, I got into trouble. Dad is furious because the Troll is upset, Mum is furious because the Ogre is upset, but no one is worried that I am upset.” Auntie May hugged me so tight I could hardly breathe. “I am worried that you are upset and getting into so much trouble. You are so good when you are out on the farm with us. Come on let’s get this over with.” I followed Uncle Jack and Auntie May into the dining room, not sure I was ready to face the firing squad. Three chairs sat on one side of the long table, which were empty and waiting for us. Opposite there sat the Troll and Dad, with Mum and the Ogre, and it was strange to see Mum and Dad sitting next to each other. The Troll’s three spoilt brats sat away from the table next to her and the Ogre’s two were next to him, all of them sniggering and whispering. “What...” Dad started to say. “These children can leave now, before we begin.” Uncle Jack said. “Any objections and the step parents can go with them.” The Troll and Ogres’ faces screwed up as though some disgusting smell had climbed up their noses and was suffocating them, but they did not argue with Uncle Jack. Instead, they hustled the spoilt brats out of the room and promptly returned to their seats. “Okay. Now that the unnecessary onlookers have gone, we can begin.” Uncle Jack said. Auntie May took my hand and held it tight making me feel safe. I finally had someone on my side, for a change. “What do you have to say for yourself?” Dad said his face turning red. “Well...” I began to say before the Troll interrupted. “I have had to go to the school three times this visit. It is extremely embarrassing having to deal with your bullish behaviour and bad temper.” She said. I just rolled my eyes at her. “Respect your parents.” Mum yelled. “All...” I said before the Ogre cut me off. “She doesn’t know how. Completely, out of control and spoilt.” He said. The words being yelled at me faded into blah, blah, blah, as I stopped listening and gave up on having my say. The anger was building inside me and I just wanted to explode. Auntie May held my hand tighter as I sat back in my chair and looked at the painting on the wall to my left. “Alright that’s enough.” Uncle Jack said. “It’s Betsy’s turn now.” “Betsy.” Auntie May said softly. I turned and looked at her. “It is you turn now, what do you want to say?” I wanted to scream and yell a million different things, my head was racing, and I wanted them to hurt as much as I did. “I had to leave my school, my friends and my home, and have got none of those things back. The brats break all my stuff and nothing is ever done about it. I am the only kid in the two families who has second hand school books, and I am the only one who has to go to two schools. The brats have had to give up nothing. I don’t want to live with either of you and I hate you both.” My mother gasped, “How can you say such a thing?” “Very easily, you promise that things would work out okay and they are not. The Troll’s brats go to their dad’s place and I am shipped off to you and the Ogre so Dad and the Troll can have time together. When the Ogre’s brats go to their mum’s place I am shipped back so you and the Ogre can have time together. When do I get some time? Never! No one spends any time with just me, I have to compete with the spoilt brats everyone is so busy keeping happy so that you and your partners are happy. No one gives a shit about me or about what I want. I heard you all talking about an orphanage or sending me away somewhere, good idea. You don’t love me, you don’t want me, and you don’t care about me. I am just an inconvenience to your new families that you love so much more. “ I don’t remember seeing four adults more shocked. I turned to my Auntie May and asked, “Can I go now, please.” “Of course you can my little warrior.” Auntie May replied. “Uncle Jack and I will be up to see you real soon.” “I’ll go and pack now. Send me away anywhere, as long as I never have to come back. I don’t care.” I left the room slamming the door behind me and heard the Troll say, “Temperamental little...” “If one of you had bothered to get off your arse and find out what was wrong, there would not be this mess.” Uncle Jack yelled. “It’s called parenting, what you do when you are responsible for the care of a minor.” I had never heard Uncle Jack so angry, or talk so much in one day, and decided that running up to my cell was the best thing to do. He never talks much out on the farm, except to Auntie May. I threw myself on the bed and cried. What was going to happen to me, the girl that no one wants? Where would they send me away too? If I went to boarding school I would still have to come back for the holidays. It was no use. I would never be able to get away from here, unless I ran away. It was hopeless. “Betsy dear,” Auntie May said gently, “Uncle Jack and I need to talk to you.” I lifted my head from my pillow, I must have fallen asleep, rubbing my eyes and waking up to see Auntie May sitting beside me on my bed and Uncle Jack on a chair beside her. Auntie May smiled at me while Uncle Jack sat with his elbows on his knees, his chin resting in his huge hands and both his eyebrows raised. I laughed out loud as I thought he looked funny, and he smiled at me. “Uncle Jack and I have had a little chat, and we rang Grandpa as well to hear what he thought about our idea,” Auntie May said. “All that is left now is to see what you think? I know that our three boys can be rather loud and boisterous at times, but you can have the room you stay in when you visit and we will fix it up just for you. I know it is in the attic but it would be quite nice if we fixed it up together with lovely curtains and painted the furniture. Sometimes the budget is a bit tight, but there is always food, clothes and school expenses covered and farm chores can earn your pocket money. It is up to you but you are welcome to come and live with us on the farm?” |
| 3. Saturday 21 January 2012 | ID #745480 |
| Posted: 1-24-2012 @ 3:08 pm EST Edited: 1-24-2012 @ 3:12 pm EST | |
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Saturday 21 January 2012 Brice Cottage Amy Brice is a confused young woman in an unfortunate situation who is left a letter from her Aunt Martha after her passing. It mentions a cottage belonging to the family and the options have been willed to Amy, who never knew the place existed. Mystery surrounds the cottage and Amy must choose whether to stay or run. Jack Jeffries is a man who knows more than he lets on and is the gardener of Brice Cottage. He has a strange relationship with The Black Cat who appears from time to time at the cottage. Adam Jenkins, not sure if he is helping Amy or has his own agenda as he has been in charge of the Brice Family interests for many years. He seems above board but is he? I am undecided and will have to see how this character unfolds. Still have many questions about this one which remain unanswered for now. What is the history behind Brice Cottage and what about it may make Amy decide to run? The black cat is still a mystery and is it the same black cat rumoured to have been at the cottage for decades or is it just coincidence? The Black Cat Grey stones shimmering with flecks of silver formed a low wall where a black cat with deep green eyes sat waiting, tail flicking in a rhythmic motion as if counting down the seconds. There was a strange look upon its face, as if smiling in amusement, although there was nothing visible to explain the pleasure. The cat watched as the old red truck rumbled along the lane and pulled up in front of the wall. The driver climbed out of the truck and shuffled his way towards the small Iron Gate, stopping as he noticed the cat. “I see you have returned,” he said, tipping his cap in the cat’s direction. “What are you waiting for this time I wonder?” The cat merely tilted its head in acknowledgement and the man proceeded to enter the cottage garden, shuddering as his hand touched the gate. He just shook off the feeling as if it was a normal everyday occurrence and headed for the garden shed formed from the same stone as the wall. The deep green eyes watched him intently until he was out of sight. A small blue car approached and parked behind the truck, the cat stretched and then vanished into the rose bushes before the driver caught sight of it. Amy sat in the car and wondered if she was in the right place, as Aunty M’s letter had not given any real description of the cottage and there was no numbers marked on the place to show the address. The numbers on the houses nearby suggested she had found it. She had not been aware there was a cottage tucked away in the country, they had never visited it and Aunty M had never mentioned it. How strange, Amy thought, as she and Aunty M had always shared everything with no secrets kept. Amy climbed out of her car and stood in front of the cottage, taking a deep breath and drawing in the clean country air. It was if time had passed by and completely forgotten this patch of land, leaving it peacefully to linger and stand, watching the world go by. Gazing upon it, Amy felt a strange tingling through her body, stirring her anticipation and oddly comfortable at the same time. It was like coming home but Amy was certain she did not know this place. As Amy drew closer to the gate the gentle perfume from the scented roses mixed with honeysuckle and lavender grew stronger. Her mind drifted to memories of her dear Aunty M, the adventures they had together and how wonderful her childhood had been. “Can I help you Miss?” Amy was startled by the enquiry from an elderly man who tipped his cap when she looked at him. “I am wondering if this is Brice Cottage,” Amy replied. “This is Brice Cottage and I am Jack Jeffries, gardener of the cottage,” Jack replied, rubbing his chin whiskers in deep thought, “I wasn’t expecting anyone today.” “I received a letter from my Aunt after her passing and I did not know how to contact Mr Jenkins. I am Amy Brice.” Jack was snapped out of his deep thought in a flash and the look he gave Amy unsettled her. “Miss Brice, please forgive me as I did not know of Miss Martha’s passing. Sad news is always a shock, even at my age when it should be expected,” Mr Jeffries said in an apologetic tone, “I had not seen Miss Martha in years and you forget as you age so do others, even if you only remember them in their youth.” “I am sorry to bring distressing news to you as it was not my intention. I thought this would be the best place to begin seeking Mr Jenkins as my aunt’s letter is not very clear. Brice Cottage is a mystery to me as I do not remember ever seeing it or even my aunt speaking about it. I only came as I am confused and was not sure the place existed.” “Please do not trouble yourself with an old man’s sentimental ramblings,” Jack said with a big smile, “I have a kettle in the shed if you would like some refreshment before driving into town to see Mr Jenkins?” “Oh that would be wonderful as I have been driving most of the night. Thank you Mr Jeffries,” Amy said, lighting up her tired face with a smile. Amy made her way towards the gate as Jack watched her, waiting for the reaction he expected when she touched it and surprised it did not come. Amy opened the gate and passed through easily without the slightest quiver. Jack lead Amy to the garden shed on the left side of the house, opened the door for her and found the cleanest crate for her to sit on. Then he boiled the kettle to make some tea for them and found the biscuit tin and a clean mug. “The gardens are beautifully kept,” Amy remarked as she gazed out of the shed door at them, “Do you do this all by yourself Mr Jeffries? “Yes and please call me Jack,” Jack replied handing Amy her tea. “My family have cared for these gardens for generations. It is just something we have always done and been part of our business. My son runs the family business now and I take care of this garden. The cottage, on the other hand, has been locked up all the years I have been breathing and at least since my grandfather’s time.” “I wonder why it has been locked up and forgotten for so long,” Amy asked, half to herself. “I think it was your aunt’s great grandmother who decided to leave the village first, something about a tragic event and the death of her mother. Possibly it was a tragic death of her mother, I am really not sure and from then on each generation has decided not to return. Miss Martha already had comfortable arrangements and a lifestyle she loved when the cottage was passed to her and decided to just keep things the way they were. There are plenty of stories about the cottage’s history, rumours of witchcraft and other ghostly tales, but Mr Jenkins is the one to speak to as his family have handled the Brice family affairs for generations.” “So I will need to speak to Mr Jenkins regarding any questions and the particular details of the cottage, is that correct.” “Yes and as today is Tuesday, Mr Adam Jenkins will be in the office. The firm is Jenkins and Morgan, the legal and financial business in town. It is clearly marked and easy to find in the main street. Mr Jenkins will be able to give you sound advice and explain all the details clearly for you.” “Thank you Mr Jeffries, I mean Jack” Amy said, looking for a sink to wash her mug, “I am feeling much better after a cup of tea.” “Just leave the mug there,” Jack said, pointing to the potting bench. “I will see you to the garden gate as you will want to be getting to town.” Amy followed Jack as he led her back to the garden gate. As she made her way through the gate Jack said, “Take care Miss Amy Brice, and if I do not see you safe travel.” Amy waved good-bye to Jack before driving away wondering what he had meant. As the car drove off the black cat returned to the stone wall. Its deep green eyes peering at Jack in clear disgust and it hissed venomously at him. Jack just smiled and tipped his cap saying, “Well, what did you expect as I do not hold the keys or the knowledge the girl needs. She will hear the tales soon enough and make up her own mind,” before returning to his work. Jenkins and Morgan Amy arrived in the main street of the town which you would surely miss if you blinked. Jenkins and Morgan was easy to find as it was the tallest building in town, a whole two levels and built in large grey stones. The heavy oak doors were a bit confronting as they were more like guard gates than doors. Amy turned the thick brass handle and pushed open one side of the door. It took a bit of effort but not as much as she had expected. She entered the marble foyer and the door swung closed behind her. It was quite a spectacular foyer which was elegantly furnished in rich wood and leather. A marble staircase leads to the second floor and there were two main doors downstairs at each side of the staircase. In the centre of the room was a round reception area with two ladies of substantial age and efficiency working behind the desk. One of the ladies looked up over the top of her glasses straight in Amy’s direction. “Can I help you dear?” She asked in the most pleasant and friendly tone. Amy approached the desk, “I was wondering if I would be able to see Mr Jenkins please?” “Do you have an appointment?” “No, but I was told by Mr Jeffries that he would be in the office today.” “Ah, it is Mr Adam Jenkins you wish to see, not Mr Peter Jenkins. Is that correct?” “Yes, it is Mr Adam Jenkins I would like to see.” “May I ask you name Miss,” the lady enquired. “I am Amy Brice,” Amy replied. “Miss Brice, if you would take a seat and I will let Mr Jenkins know you are here.” “Thank you,” Amy replied, before choosing a seat to wait in. ~ Mr Jenkins smiled, “I shall explain the options you have before you. If you decide to take the cottage and live here then there is a substantial monthly allowance that is managed by my partner who is an accountant. Our firm has taken care of the Brice family affairs for many years and has been passed down through time. If you choose not to live here in the cottage then a sum will be provided for you which will allow you to set yourself up in a place of your choice, the only requirement is then to chose someone to inherit the same choices after you have left this world. I suggest that you take a room at the local bed and breakfast to spend some time looking around before making your decision. It is written in the paperwork that once the choice is made then the other option is no longer open to you. The cottage itself cannot be opened until someone decides to take up the residence option.” “How long has the cottage been closed up?” Amy asked. “It was locked before my time and I believe it has not been entered these past hundred years at least,” Mr Jenkins replied. “That long,” Amy gasped. “I understand that Miss Martha Brice’s great grandmother died tragically and it was not long after that the cottage was locked and held in trust. The Jeffries family have been the garden caretakers ever since and my families firm has taken care of all the legal and financial agreements. I believe it was Miss Martha Brice’s grandmother who made all the arrangements after deciding she did not want to live in the cottage. Her daughter chose not to live here and Miss Martha Brice already had comfortable arrangements and a lifestyle she enjoyed before the options were given to her.” “Aunty M adopted me so I do not think I have a right to live in the cottage as I am not blood.” “Well actually you are a distant relative of the Brice family as great grandfather did run off with another woman and your birth father is descended from that line.” Mr Jenkins replied as gently as he could, “As we have no control over our ancestors actions we cannot carry their burdens of shame and therefore this is a fact no one really needs to be made aware of. I was the one who assisted with your adoption and it was something that we checked as a matter of interest in case you wish to know your family history. The fact is that you have free choice of both options as it is the wishes of Miss Martha Brice that matter in this case.” |
| 2. Friday 20 January 2012 | ID #745013 |
| Posted: 1-19-2012 @ 7:34 pm EST Edited: 1-24-2012 @ 3:06 pm EST | |
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Courageous Champions Idea A collection of short stories and possibly poems dedicated to the people who stand behind the uniform. Introducing four main characters, SO Patrick Paige, his wife Mary, his best mate SO Lucas Sweet and Mary’s best friend Alexandra Snow, with every second short story relating to these characters either individually, together or in different combinations. The idea being that the reader can get to know these characters and see their lives unfold. The other stories will be about different characters that may appear in some of the four main character stories. There is no definition of the uniform, which could be military, law enforcement, mercenary, fire fighter, volunteer groups or medical. All have a network of non-uniformed behind them and each is a person who puts on a uniform to do a job. Most of the stories are not about the uniformed job but life for those who are in or live with or are family and friends of the person in uniform. Short Story Ideas List constantly changing Story One: A Wife Waits A simple story of a wife waiting for her husband to come home from work, wondering when and if he will arrive Story Two: Crimson Passion {main character story} Mary and Patrick meet for coffee on Mary’s birthday and the difficulty Patrick faces trying to find a bunch of flowers in a small town with no florist. Story Three: Just a Housewife The mother of a person in uniform finds out her husband has not been honest with her and is planning to run off with his mistress, who is around the age of their children. The mother decides to go into battle, here is her story. Story Four: Sasha {main character story} Mary looks after a member of the dog squad while her handler has surgery. This is a story about Sasha’s first day back at work after holidays with Mary. Story Five: Small Black Bear Sometimes challenges come and everyone is tested, the waiting can be the hardest thing to deal with. Story Six: Snow Angels {main character story} Patrick takes Mary for her first visit to the snow. Story Seven: Woman of War A short story about my grandmother and her service to Germany during the Second World War as an ambulance drive on the front, she taught me that there are no winners in war and the losses to both sides are heavy. Story Eight: Weekly Challenge {main character story} Mary and Patrick are now married and this is a story about a conversation at the table over a cup of coffee. Originally this was a contest entry and came from the prompt given. List of Story Ideas Main Character Stories That Jacket Mary enters Patrick’s house to discover the most revolting smell and discovers it is coming from his jacket. This is the story of Mary’s first attempt at cleaning “That Jacket”. A Bite to Eat, Dinner The first dinner date for Patrick and Mary, before going out together Did You Like the House? Mary was due to take her Aunt on their annual holiday and by chance Patrick would be in the same place working. Patrick asked if Mary could pick up an envelope and bring it with her for him. She agreed and was let into Patrick’s house to collect it from his safe. Then the question began to be asked; did you like the house? Early Morning Phone Call Patrick rang Mary early one morning and managed to get her to agree to have breakfast with him every morning while on her holiday with her Aunt. She also agreed to go to an Art Exhibition with him. This is the story of her meeting with Alexandra as Mary tries to remember what she had actually agreed too. Other Stories Bluey’s Mum Being a mother of a volunteer fire fighter has its challenges and Bluey is one of a kind. Here is her story of dealing with her son’s choice to go and fight bushfires, attend accidents and generally help people out. Possible will end up as a group of stories as I have plenty of material to use. Fire Brigade Runner A short story about my grandfather, when he was a boy, as a runner for the Fire Brigade in Glasgow during the First World War, on the day Glasgow was bombed and the streets he knew no longer existed. |
| 1. Thursday 19 January 2012 | ID #745012 |
| Posted: 1-19-2012 @ 7:17 pm EST Edited: 1-24-2012 @ 3:03 pm EST | |
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Thursday 19 January 2012 Write a paragraph without using the letter “e”. I stand watching for what I do not know. Hills of grass and rock with no distraction or variation, sky full of clouds and no living thing within my sight to worry about, it is silly if I think about it, watching hour upon hour until my turn is up and I can go away until it is my turn again. Expand on the above paragraph. I stand watching for what I do not know. The unexpected invasion or wandering fool who drifts into our path, it seems such a pointless exercise to me. It is not as if there has been any advertisement of our presence or current position and I doubt anyone would know or care we are here. Hills of grass and rock stretch out for miles with no distraction or variation to catch the eye, the sky is full of clouds and there is no living thing or movement within my sight to worry about. It is silly when I think about it, standing to attention and watching hour upon hour until my turn is up and someone arrives to relieve me of my duty. Then I can leave and return to camp for food, water, shelter and sleep before my turn begins again. Other Thoughts, Ideas Our rations are running out and morale is low. With tight bellies rumbling the arguments over duties and other minor annoyances are running high. I wonder if we will ever get out of here or this is where it all shall end, lost and forgotten. The tag placed upon what I am is not always true and I wonder if they ever think of my fondly or have their hearts hardened to the point where only vile comments are attached to my memory. I knew when I made my choice, which was the only viable option for me; there would be consequences and a price to pay. Only those of my kind understand and they are my true family. Earning acceptance is hard work but it is the only way as trust is vital to survival in our world. Each operation is selected on its merits, but things can always go wrong and often do. Taking the hard line and making a stand in the face of death is not unusual, its instinct, skill and experience which makes the ultimate difference on whether you make it back or not. Will anyone search for you if you don’t? In the end does it really matter? I guess it does if you are still alive. I am handed my slip of paper, my service is over and I am tossed out to find my own way. I have served in two wars; I have many skills and plenty of experience but nothing I can use in the civilian world. There is nothing to go back too as the military has been my home for so long, I don’t know anything else. I don’t know what to do? There is nothing else for it and I have applied to a mercenary group. They have the best reputation and a long list of want tobies trying to get in. Have I got what it takes? I have sound skills and plenty of experience, but the selection process is the toughest there is and who knows what will be thrown in to deal with. I have to get through it and gain a place somewhere. Notes Possible short story for Courageous Champions collection, subject being Mercenaries, with the story being about reasons for the choice and the importance of trust and acceptance. Basic Idea He arrived on the island with a duffle bag filled with old training fatigues and basic toiletries; his kit bag was interesting as the couple of firearms contained in it were unusual. His skill base being chopper pilot and firearms with a sound knowledge of explosives, but could he get through the physical course and how sound of mind was he. His character was more difficult to ascertain, the blank vacant expression upon his face gave away nothing and his eyes resembled those of a dead fish, not a flicker of life or emotion to be found within them, but piercing enough to be unsettling. Although the fish eyes were not common, it was not unusual to see them occasionally amongst those who appeared on the island looking for life after military service during war. It often meant they had needed to cross boundaries and there was no going back or they had endured or witnessed things not mentionable in civilized circles. The one thing which linked all those who had arrived for selection was that there was no hope of rejoining civilian life at this time, for some it would never be an option. Further Work on Idea He had been handed his discharge papers, his military service had now officially ended and he was being returned to the civilian world to find a way to survive on his own. The military had been the only home he knew and after serving in two wars he had many skills and plenty of experience, but nothing he could use in the civilian world. There was nothing else for it and he applied to a Mercenary Group. They had the best reputation and a long list of want tobies trying to make the cut. He wondered if he had what it takes, but knew he had to get through the selection process and find a place somewhere. ~ |
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