The time has come to work on the second draft for the editor, taking into account all of the suggested changes, and there are quite a few. So much for thinking I could put in an almost flawless manuscript.
…
Tis the last day, but not the last day, if that makes sense.
I did not get the story done in the 30 days, but I did knock a big hole in it. All 85,177 words of it.
I did not anticipate the story would go that long, or consider that it might even be longer, say, around 100,000 words.
But, this is what happens when the story tells itself, going down narrow alleys and ending up in dark corners you never anticipated at the start.
That and the fact the characters evolve, and some even begin to start stealing the show and have to be reined in.
It’s been an enjoyable journey though, and fun to write, but after I’ve got the first draft done, there is going to be a 6-month hiatus because so many other projects got put on hold so I could get this done.
Fortunately, at this time, we have the perfect weather for writing, continuous rain, so it makes it easy not to regret not going out.
There will be further updates until the book is done.
50 photographs, 50 stories, of which there is one of the 50 below.
They all start with –
A picture paints … well, as many words as you like. For instance:
And, the story:
Have you ever watched your hopes and dreams simply just fly away?
Everything I thought I wanted and needed had just left in an aeroplane, and although I said I was not going to, i came to the airport to see the plane leave. Not the person on it, that would have been far too difficult and emotional, but perhaps it was symbolic, the end of one life and the start of another.
But no matter what I thought or felt, we had both come to the right decision. She needed the opportunity to spread her wings. It was probably not the best idea for her to apply for the job without telling me, but I understood her reasons.
She was in a rut. Though her job was a very good one, it was not as demanding as she had expected, particularly after the last promotion, but with it came resentment from others on her level, that she, the youngest of the group would get the position.
It was something that had been weighing down of her for the last three months, and if noticed it, the late nights, the moodiness, sometimes a flash of temper. I knew she had one, no one could have such red hair and not, but she had always kept it in check.
And, then there was us, together, and after seven years, it felt like we were going nowhere. Perhaps that was down to my lack of ambition, and though she never said it, lack of sophistication. It hadn’t been an issue, well, not until her last promotion, and the fact she had to entertain more, and frankly I felt like an embarrassment to her.
So, there it was, three days ago, the beginning of the weekend, and we had planned to go away for a few days and take stock. We both acknowledged we needed to talk, but it never seemed the right time.
It was then she said she had quit her job and found a new one. Starting the following Monday.
Ok, that took me by surprise, not so much that it something I sort of guessed might happen, but that she would just blurt it out.
I think that right then, at that moment, I could feel her frustration with everything around her.
What surprised her was my reaction. None.
I simply asked where who, and when.
A world-class newspaper, in New York, and she had to be there in a week.
A week.
It was all the time I had left with her.
I remember I just shrugged and asked if the planned weekend away was off.
She stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, hands around a cup of coffee she had just poured, and that one thing I remembered was the lone tear that ran down her cheek.
Is that all you want to know?
I did, yes, but we had lost that intimacy we used to have when she would have told me what was happening, and we would have brainstormed solutions. I might be a cabinet maker but I still had a brain, was what I overheard her tell a friend once.
There’s not much to ask, I said. You’ve been desperately unhappy and haven’t been able to hide it all that well, you have been under a lot of pressure trying to deal with a group of troglodytes, and you’ve been leaning on Bentley’s shoulder instead of mine, and I get it, he’s got more experience in that place, and the politics that go with it, and is still an ally.
Her immediate superior and instrumental in her getting the position, but unlike some men in his position he had not taken advantage of a situation like some men would. And even if she had made a move, which I doubted, that was not the sort of woman she was, he would have politely declined.
One of the very few happily married men in that organisation, so I heard.
So, she said, you’re not just a pretty face.
Par for the course for a cabinet maker whose university degree is in psychology. It doesn’t take rocket science to see what was happening to you. I just didn’t think it was my place to jump in unless you asked me, and when you didn’t, well, that told me everything I needed to know.
Yes, our relationship had a use by date, and it was in the next few days.
I was thinking, she said, that you might come with me, you can make cabinets anywhere.
I could, but I think the real problem wasn’t just the job. It was everything around her and going with her, that would just be a constant reminder of what had been holding her back. I didn’t want that for her and said so.
Then the only question left was, what do we do now?
Go shopping for suitcases. Bags to pack, and places to go.
Getting on the roller coaster is easy. On the beginning, it’s a slow easy ride, followed by the slow climb to the top. It’s much like some relationships, they start out easy, they require a little work to get to the next level, follows by the adrenaline rush when it all comes together.
What most people forget is that what comes down must go back up, and life is pretty much a roller coaster with highs and lows.
Our roller coaster had just come or of the final turn and we were braking so that it stops at the station.
There was no question of going with her to New York. Yes, I promised I’d come over and visit her, but that was a promise with crossed fingers behind my back. After a few months in t the new job the last thing shed want was a reminder of what she left behind. New friends new life.
We packed her bags, three out everything she didn’t want, a free trips to the op shop with stiff she knew others would like to have, and basically, by the time she was ready to go, there was nothing left of her in the apartment, or anywhere.
Her friends would be seeing her off at the airport, and that’s when I told her I was not coming, that moment the taxi arrived to take her away forever. I remember standing there, watching the taxi go. It was going to be, and was, as hard as it was to watch the plane leave.
So, there I was, finally staring at the blank sky, around me a dozen other plane spotters, a rather motley crew of plane enthusiasts.
Already that morning there’s been 6 different types of plane depart, and I could hear another winding up its engines for take-off.
People coming, people going.
Maybe I would go to New York in a couple of months, not to see her, but just see what the attraction was. Or maybe I would drop in, just to see how she was.
As one of my friends told me when I gave him the news, the future is never written in stone, and it’s about time you broadened your horizons.
Aside from the fact it is one of those necessary items to walk with, and the fact we can have two or four for most humans and animals, there are a few other uses for the word ‘leg’.
Like…
‘You haven’t got a leg to stand on’, doesn’t necessarily mean you have no legs, but that you are in a precarious position.
“the table had ornate legs’, yes, even non-living objects can have legs, like tables and chairs.
“It was the fifth leg of the race’, meaning it can be a stage of a race.
“He was legless’, meaning that he was too drunk to stand up. Some might think being legless is a badge of honour, but I suspect those people have been drinking a long time and the alcohol has destroyed most of their brain cells.
“leg it!’, meaning get the hell out of here before you’re caught.
Then, finally, ‘he’s on his last legs’, meaning that he’s exhausted, or about to die.
I’m sure there’s more but that’ll do for now.
I have to use my legs to get some exercise, of which the first leg is to the tripod to check if its legs are stable, and the second leg is to come back to the table and replace one of the legs which is broken. Then I’ll leg it to the pub where hopefully I won’t become legless.
It could be said that of all the women one could meet, whether contrived or by sheer luck, what are the odds it would turn out to be the woman who was being paid a very large sum to kill you.
John Pennington is a man who may be lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. He has just broken up with Phillipa Sternhaven, the woman he thought was the one, but relatives and circumstances, and perhaps because she was a ‘princess’, may also have contributed to the end result.
So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?
That is a story that slowly unfolds, from the first meeting with his nemesis on Lake Geneva, all the way to a hotel room in Sorrento, where he learns the shattering truth.
What should have been solace after disappointment, turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.
He suddenly realizes his so-called friend Sebastian has not exactly told him the truth about a small job he asked him to do, the woman he is falling in love with is not quite who she says she is, and he is caught in the middle of a war between two men who consider people becoming collateral damage as part of their business.
The story paints the characters cleverly displaying all their flaws and weaknesses. The locations add to the story at times taking me back down memory lane, especially to Venice where, in those back streets I confess it’s not all that hard to get lost.
All in all a thoroughly entertaining story with, for once, a satisfying end.
You could say there was a story to tell, because when it came down to it, the answers to the specific questions put to me during an interview which I learned later, had been fueled by another interview, required truthful answers, and those answers were, in reality, quite damning.
It just shows what can happen when you’re ambushed by a very clever detective seeking a specific result.
It ran, in part, thus:
The first: did you know the victim.
The simple answer was: yes
So, if I left it at that, the note in the detective’s notebook would say, the suspect knew the victim.
Next question, did you know the victim was dating your ex-wife?
The simple answer to that question was yes. But there was more to it than just a yes, but I was not given the chance to explain the complexities of that answer.
But here’s the story that goes with that answer: I knew my ex was seeing someone else long before we broke up, but it only became clear who it was when she moved out. He inadvertently came to the house when she was out, but that was just confirmation.
It had to be one of her old boyfriends, she had hinted at it often enough.
Did it surprise me? No. She had to be seeing someone because she wasn’t talking to me, and her grief had become more manageable over time. And given her dislike of psychiatrists, she wasn’t getting help from that quarter.
But I was not asked about those circumstances, nor when I tried to, was I given a hearing. If I had anything further to add, I would be given the chance later.
Instead, we moved on to the next question, laying the foundations of the case against me.
What did you think of Garry given his relationship with your wife?
Answer: I didn’t think anything. It was clear early on that the marriage was irrevocably broken, I’m sure you are aware of the circumstances that led to that breakdown, and that it was inevitable she would seek solace elsewhere. She put the blame for the death of our son on my doorstep and was never going to forgive me.
At that point, there was a subtle change in the detective.
Did he or did he not know what the cause of our marital breakdown was? He tried to make it look like he didn’t, but if I knew (name) it would be the second item out of her mouth, after the accusation I was the perpetrator.
He said: You can see how this looks?
I said: How what looks? I was guessing this was the time to start acting dumb and being careful what I said.
As far as the detective was concerned, and had been hinting at, was that I had a motive, and it wouldn’t, in the end, matter what I said, or left unsaid, he had already decided who was guilty.
For instance, I’ve heard someone mutter, “the devil you say…”
Or another, who was telling his friend, who, at the time was in a spot of bother, ‘You’re between the devil and the deep blue sea.”
Wrong. We all know the sea is green, not blue.
But whatever the circumstances, the devil seems to pop up a lot.
For instance,
Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.
It seems I’ve heard that somewhere before, or at least a part of it. Hmmm.
Maybe you’ve “gone to the devil”. Can that be paired with “going downhill at a rapid rate of knots”?
OK, it’s impossible to go downhill using the speed measure of knots, that only applies to boats, so who came up with that saying, a landlubber sailor?
Hang on, isn’t there a team called the New Jersey Devils? Funny, I didn’t see if the players had horns or not, and they were using hockey sticks not tridents.
Maybe I misheard.
Neutral men are the devil’s allies, therefore there must be a lot of devils in Switzerland
The devil finds work for idle hands, oh yes, my grandmother used this often on me whenever she caught me doing nothing, or digging around in her magazine room … which was a lot
But my favorite,
When in hell, only the devil can show you the way out.
Of course the first action I took was to call on security to disperse people across all decks and departments to make sure no one boarded our ship unnoticed.
We needed to find a way of detecting such boardings without having to deploy people, a matter I’d bring up at the first departmental heads meeting.
If there was ever going to be a time for it.
“Mallory to the Captain, can we meet urgently?”
Mallory was one of the three men in the shuttle that brought me to the ship, and he was, if I remember rightly, one of the scientists, his field being scanners. Just the man to ask about detecting alien presences.
“Come up the the bridge. We’ll talk in the day room.”
I handed over the bridge to number one, and met Mallory at the elevator. He took a few moments to take in the bridge, the screen, now showing both Uranus, and several of its moons.
“Great view “
“Sometimes it’s better not knowing what’s out there,” I said.
His expression told me that comment might have been a little too flippant in the circumstances.
“Come this way.” I led him to the day room, opened the door and followed him in.
“I assume,” I said after waiting till the door was closed, “that it’s not a matter you wanted to share with the rest of the bridge.”
“That’s for you to determine. But it’s about the ship that was just here.”
“We believe it’s alien.”
“It’s not.”
OK. That was a revelation, but how could he tell the difference? My immediate guess, they had no previous alien profile to run it against.
“How so?”
“We have scanners, and we have scanners.”
Confusing to say the least, but I think I knew what he was trying to say. We had a military presence, but until I became captain, I didn’t realise we also had military hardware.
What else did we have?
“We have the ability to scan other vessels, and in certain circumstances, check for lifesigns inside. But we only had earth created ships to use as a subject for testing, simply because we know the compounds used in our vessel’s structure, including this one.”
“So anything made by us can be scanned?”
“Yes, and that ship just standing off us, we could scan it and what and who was inside, which means it’s not an alien vessel.”
That was perfectly good reasoning, except as far as I was aware, this ship was not completely earth technology.
“There might be only one way to create the outer skins and superstructure, in any ship.”
“That’s possible, yes. But we anticipated that we might eventually run into something we couldn’t penetrate until we could work out what the ship was made of and then work out how to penetrate it. That so called alien ship, we could see inside.”
“It could still be an alien ship. After all, I assume you adjusted the scanners to work through the material this ship is made of, and I doubt you’re going to argue the metal used was the result of an accidental discovery.”
He looked uncomfortable, and for a moment I thought he was going to try, but just sighed. “It’s possible, but unlikely.”
“OK then, does it fit the profile of any earth vessels?”
I knew of about 200 different types of ship out here in space, not all as well as some, and the computer recognition system had hundreds more variations, so if we ran into another ship, we could identify it.
“One or two, but it’s been modified. Also, there’s only six people on board, and from our scan, it seems all were recently in custody at a Mars penitentiary outpost. They were given a so called vaccination which put nanites in their system so they could be recognised if or when they decided to rebel.”
“Are they escaped prisoners?”
“Given the discussion I just had with security, that seems to be the case. But to verify those assumptions I got onto the Mars station, and it seems they are unaware of any missing prisoners or ships, but have sent someone over to check “
“Don’t they guard prisoners anymore?”
“They do, but with robots, and due to the remoteness, infrequent fly bys. They were coming up for one.”
“How infrequent?”
“I was told a few months, but I suspect it’s been longer. As for getting a ship, a well organised gang could have rescued some space junk and brought it back to life. It’s possible. And space still is a bit like the wild west.”
A recent problem, now that there was an ever increasing demand for travel and freight across our particular galaxy. Venus, Mars had galactic hotels, Saturn a space station and fly bys, and mining on various of the planets.
It was disappointing to realise our first contact wasn’t a first contact with a new world, just criminals expanding their horizons.
“Do they have weapons?”
“If we do, they do. We think the two smaller ships are modified troop carriers, the larger vessel, a freighter, but they have tinkered with the exterior to make people think they’re something or someone else.”
“They move pretty fast, much faster that anything we’ve got.”
“Except for this ship which may have surprised them, as well as some of us.”
“Anything else I need to know about?”
“About the other ships no. The military boys will want to join in the discussion of our next move. Something else you might want to know is that we were checking the logs and indemnified where those so called aliens came aboard, and to safely transport from one point to another, you need markers at each end.”
“And you found them?”
“In two places, and immediately removed so there will be no more unwanted boardings.”
“It raises the question…”
“A traitor on board? I don’t believe so, because they looked like they’d been installed as part of the decking. The traitors are back at the space station where the vessel was built.”
“OK. We’d better get everyone in the conference room and work out what we’re going to do next. Don’t go too far.”
The time has come to work on the second draft for the editor, taking into account all of the suggested changes, and there are quite a few. So much for thinking I could put in an almost flawless manuscript.
…
I’m not going to get this finished, but there is an upside.
After writing the latest parts to the story, it gave me a sense of how it is going to end.
This story is probably the first where I had the end written before it started, a novel idea to writing stories, and it’s good to realize that after neatly 80,000 words, the end ties up the story exactly the way I wanted it to end.
It’s just what happens between the beginning and the end changed a lot during the month.
I dropped out the revenge part, which became a short story in itself, so it will be told later in a novella, and it made sense to stick to the original plan, the main character starts out as the protector, and is slowly drawn into the revolution.
He doesn’t have an active role in it, just maintaining a presence in the background, until Teresa forces his hand.
The rest, well, you’ll have to read the story when it’s finished. Tomorrow I’m going to try and write a blurb, that will give the reader some idea of what the story is about.
Beijing Zoo Founded in 1906 during the late Qing dynasty, it is the oldest Zoo in China. It also has an aquarium and has 450 land-based species, some of which are rare and endemic to China like the Giant Panda, and 500 marine-based species. Other rare animals to be seen are the Red Panda, the Golden Snub-nosed Monkey, the South China Tiger, the White Lipped deer, the Chinese alligator, the Yak, and the Snow Leopard. Most of the original animals were bought in 1908 from Germany by the viceroy of Liangjiang Duanfang. The Zoo first opened on June 16th, 1908. Currently, the Zoo grounds resemble classical Chinese gardens, and among the attractions are a number of Qing dynasty buildings to view, as well as an Elephant hall, a Lion and tiger hall, a Monkey hall, and a Panda hall. In all, there are 30 halls. The Zoo is located at 137 Xizhimen WaiDajie in Xicheng district, near the 2nd ring road.
We are primarily at the Zoo to see the Pandas, and there is a specific hall devoted to them, and by the way, it costs extra to see them. Everyone in our group is particularly interested in seeing them because it’s rare that any can be found anywhere else in the world. Perhaps if there had been more time, another hour, maybe, it might have made all the difference, but I think that extra time might have clashed with the pearl factory, and that, for obvious reasons, was deemed to be more important.
Our first stop is in the Panda hall.
There are two pandas that we can see, one of whom is a little camera shy, and the other, above, who is demonstrating how pandas eat bamboo. They are behind a large glass wall, and you have to wait for the opportunity to get a good photo, and, sometimes only enough to include the top of the head of the person in front of you. Unfortunately, the Chinese visitors don’t understand the polite excuse me in English, and, can at times, be rude enough to shove their way to the front.
What is also a problem is the uncooperativeness of the pandas to pose for photos. I guess there’s no surprise there given the thousands of visitors every day with only one purpose in mind. We counted ourselves lucky to get the photos we did.
The hall itself is built on to the external enclosure where there are a number of giant pandas some of whom that were on show were relatively lethargic, as though they had a big weekend, and we’re sleeping it off, like this panda below:
Then, remarkably, we came across one that decided to be a little more energetic and did a walk in front of hundreds of Chinese who had undoubtedly come to show their children the animals.
This Panda was also easier to photograph whereas the other panda, one chewing on a morning feast of bamboo, saw a lot of pushing and shoving by the spectators to get the best spot to take his photograph. Having manners just doesn’t cut it here, so do what you have to to get that photograph.
We also saw a couple of monkeys that were also in the panda enclosure, but they were not much of a side benefit. They may have been there to use the Panda’s exercise equipment, though it was not quite like what we use. There was no time really to wander off to see much else, but apparently, there were also red pandas, and surprisingly, a category called Australian animals. But who goes to another country to view your own animals? The cutest animals were the stuffed pandas, and they were quite reasonably priced.
You would think, being one of a dozen colours that pip onto your head when asked, name a dozen colours, that it would be easy to find almost anything.
Wrong.
We are on a quest to find bridesmaid dresses in, you guessed it, any shade of purple.
We might as well be looking for gold nuggets. In fact, we’d have a better chance of finding gold than a purple dress.
And, seven stores later, five of which are specialty fashion boutiques, sorry, no one is doing purple. Maybe a dash here or there, but it’s lost in the overall dress that may have flowers or a Picasso abstract.
OK, so the dresses are for a 15-year-old and a 12-year-old, you would think you could go to a Target, or K Mart, or Cotton On, or perhaps the Guess type of store that caters to that 13 to 25 market.
Think again.
Purple, mauve, lilac, or any shade in between just isn’t on the rack.
I suddenly consider the notion of phoning a supermodel and then convincing her to wear every shade of purple every waking hour in public, thus setting a new trend.
I’m betting that within a week, every store on the planet will have purple clothes in stock.
Of course, there is only one flaw in the master plan. I don’t know any supermodels.
So, this search is going to have a bad ending. I’m guessing the bride’s decision for purple and white as the signature color scheme was made before discovering that practically nothing comes in purple.
No the way, it was originally lilac, but that is impossible, not unless there are about 3 years before the wedding and you can get to Hong Kong to have the dresses specially made.
We’ve got about three weeks.
Yes, there’s another thing about this wedding. From announcement to the big day, is six weeks. Logistically, it can’t be done. Practically, there’s going to be a ward in the mental hospital for the wedding party, even if they pull it off.
Meanwhile, it’s back on the trail. There’s one more level to trawl, in what is a very large shopping mall.
And for the first day after the easing of many of the drastic Covid restrictions, it seems everyone for miles around has descended on this very place.
Sigh!
Then, majestically appearing through the mist…
No, not sunshine! A purple dress.
I am all astonishment. And, it’s not just one, there are several.
Hold that thought…
Alas, we find the dress, but not the colour, well, not in that store. Now it’s a matter of phoning other stores to see if they have any purple stock.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 