Sunday, June 28, 2009
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Chapter 5
Chapter 5
University of Sydney 1901
Deo Patriae Tibi
'I can't believe they got away with only a reprimand,' Arthur commented as he read aloud a story from the Sydney newspaper about the prank at Fort Denison the year before.
'What do you mean you can't believe it?' questioned Harry with a mischievous grin appearing upon his face, in recollection of the event and a contemptible wish that he had been the one who had caused such a stir within the growing community of Sydney.
A cool breeze sneaked through the window of the second floor room at St Paul's College. Muffled sounds of undergraduate gentleman on their way to classes at the main university buildings could be heard; it was a little before ten o'clock in morning. In front of both young men was a hearty, half eaten breakfast of sausages covered in the most pungent smelling onion sauce, along with too many slices of fried potato, a generous helping of boiled cabbage and a double serving of toast; all being accompanied by a selection of condiments.
Arthur continued his assessment of the report while looking somewhat perplexed at Harry's ridiculous lingering grin, 'According to this article five shipmen from the visiting ship, 'Medic', led by the Fourth Office, a fellow by the name of Mr Charles Lightoller, rowed out in the early hours of the morning to the island of Fort Denison. There they hoisted the Boer flag of South Africa and set off an explosion that lit up the night sky, shaking the ground violently, smashing windows and waking almost everybody bar the dead...' he smiled before adding, 'and even some of them may have been disturbed.'
'Arh, I remember it well, my dear fellow,' said Harry joining Arthur in his amusement at the thought of a commotion at the cemetery. 'I say really, Arthur, I had spent the most boring day of my life with Isaac at some theatrical club event for the college. As if that was not enough, we had then been roaming the city in search of some fun when suddenly, Isaac decided it was time to retire for the evening... at eighty-thirty. A most disagreeable fellow and I do not understand how you put up with him constantly quoting all that Shakespeare rubbish.'
Placing the newspaper to one side and taking a sip of tea, Arthur immediately replaced the china cup onto its matching saucer, hurriedly heaped a generous teaspoon full of sugar from the sliver plated sugar bowl and then clumsily plunked it into the cup. During the effort he spilled half of it onto the white tablecloth while managing to splash warm tea over the sides. With his left hand he began to brush the wayward grains methodically toward the edge of the oval plate. His preoccupation with cleaning up his mess warranted a strange glance from his breakfast companion who had seen it all before on many occasions. However, his condescending observance did not worry Arthur, as this systematic approach to ignoring what Harry had to say about Isaac appeared to work every time.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Chapter 4
Chapter Four
New York City - Present Day
Shift Happens
There was fundamentally no reason whatsoever why Dabria Livingstone should have been flying into New York on the evening of the 16th March, during a seasonal cold snap in the early northern spring- other than, of course, to satisfy her overwhelming sense of curiosity. Dabria was financially well above comfortable but regardless, at this point, she would need to undertake some serious wheeling and dealing to be able to afford the object of her latest intrigue. Closing the glossy catalogue over which she had spent the last hour admiring various items, she replaced the lid to the black fountain pen she had used to scribble several short notes on pages: twelve, forty-one and fifty-three. Dabria thought wilfully. The satisfaction of her sense of curiosity would be manageable but the other would be more difficult.
Dabria liked her life, she was good at most things she did and had developed a habit of referring to everyone as, 'darling'.
'Ladies and Gentlemen please be aware that the seat belt sign has been illuminated, and the Captain would ask that you return to your seat and prepare for landing,' requested the voice over the planes internal intercom system.
Dabria moved instinctively in her seat and placed her left hand purposefully across her waist to make sure that the seatbelt was fastened while continuing to listen to the voice. The American Airlines flight AA40 would be touching down at seven forty-two pm into JFK Airport; a few minutes before the scheduled arrival. Following baggage claim, it would allow time enough, for the thirty-six year old, who had left Melbourne earlier that day, to be at her hotel by 9 o'clock.
Pushing the plastic window shade upward, the light from over the left wing of the plane lit up the sky far brighter than Dabria would have expected. She smiled at the comparison to a set of car headlights on high beam. On this occasion, at an altitude of nineteen thousand feet, she hoped amusingly, that the lights of the plane would not need to be deemed for oncoming traffic.
The plane unexpectedly lurched and her smirk disappeared instantly. From the corner of her eye, Dabria saw the hostess stumble. Her outstretched arms were trying to aid her in regaining her balance. Whatever had been in the hands of the hostess flew into the air and several of the passengers let out a cry in unison.
Have a nice week everyone...
Steven
ps - the pic was taken at the Waldorf=Astoria in New York - where I was staying while writing this chapter of 209 A Story - and also it is the destination of Dabria Livingstone - when she survives this flight into NYC...
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Sydney Australia Summer 1897
'Roam like Kings-
Defend like Heroes!
Charm like Angels;
Live every single day...
To thine self be true.'
Unknown
‘It can never happen again,’ he whispered, as he closed the door silently behind him and left.
Arthur Gordon McCrae stood as quiet as his surroundings in the middle of the large sparsely furnished room. The silence reflected the solitude, and comparatively he was as tall and as colourless as the candle which burned slowly atop the rosewood dresser in the boarding house of the Sydney Grammar School.
Alone, he was not; there were three of them – one real and two reflections. One could be seen in the pane of glass from the window and the other, soundless and unresponsive, in the slightly speckled mirror. The real one gazed alternately, and momentarily, upon the others. With purpose, he pulled almost shut, the long, dark green velvet curtain; now there were two of them.
The real one regarded the other and even though the candle flickered briefly, Arthur could see the adventure begin to dance in his deep blue eyes. The skin was pale, the hair ruffled and in need of a cut, the lips were as red as a ripe strawberry and the face was mature for his seventeen years. It was not a match for the rest of his body. Lifting one hand toward his left cheek, Arthur then moved his fingers unhurriedly downward; commencing from just near to his ear and following the line of his rounded jaw, until his index finger came to rest upon his bottom lip. The mind dreamed of adventures and his body was warmed by the very slight stale wisp of air, which presented itself from the hot Australian summer of 1897.
Tomorrow would begin his final week before the beginning of the Christmas holiday. Even at this moment, his anticipation for the following year was real. Arthur would be in his final year of studies at the prestigious establishment of the Sydney Grammar School.
Disregarding the silver plated snuff that matched the holder, Arthur gave one swift blow; the candle extinguished – and now there was one.
Removing his attire, and not bothering to dress in the cotton night shirt which almost covered the small wooden chair, he lay naked on his oversized single bed. Placing both hands behind his head and gazing upward, the darkened corners of the room drew his attention for what seemed like a long time. And as the soporific environment claimed its prize, his final contemplation asserted the moment. ‘The far distant corners,'
Friday, June 5, 2009
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