Tag: Author

A to Z Blog Challenge – April 2025 – J

…

J is for — Journey through danger.  The travails of people seeking a new place

…

There were four stages of recovery, each approximately six weeks in length.  Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Delta.

Sitting around the table discussing in detail what was expected, it was assumed that the fallout would be between an extinction event and a totally destroyed planet surface, that our plans were to be optimistic, assuming the lesser of the two evils, and that we would be out and about sooner rather than later.

Six years advance notice, three years of denying it would hit us, one year of squabbling between major political parties, and now leadership, or lack of it, that was dictated by the oligarchs, made it difficult, if not impossible, for those who wanted to help to enact plans.  Everything that required funding had to be approved, and that approval was subject to profiteering.

It basically created two factions. The idea of making money off a crisis situation, abhorrent as it was, had become the driver for everything and eventually spawned It created the newspaper headline, “The race to save the world, but not by whom you think it is!”

I don’t think those who were in control realised there wasn’t going to be a world in which wealth would mean anything.  It was why, with one year to go, a group of other billionaires realised they were going to be left out in the cold and unilaterally decided to create their own solution, one that went against the prevailing government, one that was only going to be able to pick up the pieces, if there were any pieces left.

A meteor was coming, all efforts to knock it off course had failed, and there was a last-ditch plan to try and blow it to pieces.  It was the ultimate Hail Mary, but it wasn’t our bailiwick.

They were building underground rescue centres, and after the meteor hit or shattered, the military that wasn’t aligned with the government would be running their own rescue effort.  There was no time or space to save everyone.

That was the plan.  And I and thousands of others were also part of the plan.

Lieutenant Giselle Landers, the closest thing we had to a meteor and space expert, had just concluded the presentation to a packed hall of about one thousand servicemen and women of all ranks and branches, one of a dozen held around the country.

There was stunned silence.

I was not surprised.

In the alpha phase, we just stayed underground and hoped for the best.  Either the meteor hit us and, like in dinosaur times, obliterated the life-giving rays of the sun, or if the Hail Mary worked, the meteor was destroyed, and then it rained shrapnel down for days, weeks, or months.

No one knew for sure what would happen, other than life as we knew it would be over.  And quite possible for all those who didn’t get an invite to a shelter, what amounted to 95 per cent of the population.

Gabby’s final statement, that most of the 95 per cent would die in the first six months, was that moment when it started to feel real.  She had run model after model, scenario after scenario, but the result was the same.  The government had left it too late to do anything to help the people, only themselves.

The best case scenario:

In the beta phase, the teams sent to individual recovery centres would start monitoring the outside to see when it was safe to commence operations.

Gamma phase, six weeks after impact, it was assumed that by this time, it would be reasonably safe to go out and start searching for survivors

Delta phase, having collected our first quota of survivors ready to transport to the new city that was expected to be under construction and ready to take refugees, we called base and started moving people.

Like I said, it all sounded feasible when sitting around that table.

Then came the reality.

They succeeded in destroying the meteor, shattering it into a million or more pieces, pieces that broke through the atmosphere and rained down for a week.  What no one knew was that there was a smaller meteor in the tail of the larger one, totally undetectable until too late, and it hit the earth in the middle of Africa.

It made all the plans we made almost irrelevant.

Each phase was meant to be measured in weeks, but in the end, by the time we could execute the Gamma phase, nearly eight months had passed, and most of us believed that no one could have survived the aftermath, let alone the actual event.

The collision created a huge crater, set off a chain reaction of explosions, and set in motion a large number of volcanoes, all in turn heating the atmosphere and the oceans, creating steam and ash that blotted everything.  In the end, the meteor storms were the least of the planet’s problems.

And we, buried in our bunkers, barely survived ourselves.  It was a tribute to the designers and builders, and the redundancy that was built in kept us alive.

Until everything outside settled down.  There was still ash in the air, and the landscape that we could see was desolate, destroyed, and uninhabitable.

Giselle and I, and four others, were in the first team to go outside, initially to see if life could be sustained, and if not, to begin operations to find anyone who survived.

We were dressed in special Hazmat suits with independent oxygen supplies.  The air was still polluted with dust, and for 10 am, it was very gloomy, the sun barely penetrating the thick air.

All around us, the once lush forest was simply a swauve of blackened rocks and scree and charred stumps where trees once grew.  Nothing could survive very long in those conditions.

Nothing.

The outside temperature was registered at 45 degrees Celsius.  The air had 400 times the required level of pollution and was, therefore, unbreathable.

Our facility was built deep in the forest, about five miles from a highway, about 20 miles from the nearest town.  We had managed to save a hundred and fifty people from the town, those that hadn’t tried to escape north.  They were told their best chance of survival would be to head for the Arctic Circle, which Giselle said would have been good advice if there were shelters.

We could have saved more if they had listened to reason.

Each facility had a version of the vehicles that were used on the moon landings, specifically designed to traverse rough terrain.  It was rough between the facility and the highway, and we had to go slowly.

When we reached the highway, there were thousands of cars in every direction, with bodies inside and out as far as the eye could see.  They would not have died straight away.  It would have taken a few days, a week, perhaps longer for the nearest volcanic activity to overcome them.

From the highway, we drove down to the town with no break in the traffic that had clogged the road.  The town wasn’t much better, the buildings relatively intact and filled with those people who thought it would protect them.

It did not. Those bodies were not charred like those outside.  We checked all the buildings, and in local government offices that housed the sheriff’s station and law courts, the inside was remarkably intact and almost as it would have been before the event.

Giselle was intrigued and found on investigation that the walls were made of mud bricks and over two feet thick.  The doors were three inch cast iron and the window shutters about the same, closed and locked.

It was odd that the door was closed but not locked.

And unlike the other buildings crammed with people trying to hide, it was relatively empty.  A quick search uncovered three bodies, remarkably intact.

We brought a doctor, and his examination told us they had only recently died.

People who had almost lived to tell about it.

That’s when Giselle said, “There will be more, somewhere.  These places have basements, deep underground.  Start looking.”

It didn’t take long.  Another cast iron door led to a passage and stairs going down.  At the bottom, another door unlocked and easily opened.

I took the lead and drew my weapon in case there might be trouble.  I switched on my torch and walked slowly down the passage towards an underground room.

It was in darkness, and standing at the entrance, I moved the light around the room.  20 cots with 17 people on them.  None were moving or had reacted to the light.

I called out to the doctor.  “17 people, they don’t look like they have survived.”

The doctor followed me in and went to the first cot.  I held the light over the body while he examined it.  It was a middle-aged woman who looked malnourished but otherwise in reasonable condition.

Then he almost yelled, “She’s alive, barely.”  And them went to each cot and after a brief examination, “and another, and another…”

We had brought water and rations, and I sent two up to get the supplies.

I kneeled down beside the cot and looked at her more closely.  I knew the face and then remembered who she was.  The Mayor.  We had stopped briefly on our way to tell her we would be back to collect anyone who wanted to come with us.  She had rounded up all the townspeople she could but volunteered to stay behind to fetch the rest.  I guess she had found them, and by then it was too late..

When the others returned, I shook her gently by the shoulder, and after a minute, her eyelids fluttered, then opened.

“You made it.”

“Did I.”  Her voice was more a dry rasp.  “I thought I was in heaven.  The others?”

“I’m checking them now.” I handed her a bottle of water after removing the lid. It might be an idea to sip first.”

“How long since…”

“Three weeks the food ran out, four days the water.  I told everyone to lie down and conserve energy.  I think we all knew our time was up.  Did you make it with the others?”

“Yes.  We saved about a hundred and fifty.”

The doctor yelled out, “Fifteen alive, two dead, but only in the last hour or so.  Ration the water for a few minutes so they can recover.”

“What happened, other than the end of the world?”

“Have you seen outside?”

She shook her head.  One day there was endless traffic passing through, the next the skies turned black, with rocks falling like hail, tje air swirling with ash and smoke so thick you couldn’t see, with the sound of continuous thunder, and people just started dying, slowly at first, the screams made it feel like we’re were in hell, and then nothing.  By that time, we had locked ourselves in and came down here and barricaded the doors.  It was nearly six months before we came out to look.  Is it all like this?”

“We don’t know.  This is the first time we’ve left the facility. No one can survive yet, so we’ll take you back in suits.  Soon.”

She reached out and took my hand in hers. “Is there any hope?”

When I set out earlier, I didn’t have any.  I expected to discover we were the only people left, other than those on other facilities.  Now, finding these people alive, even if barely, there was hope.

“Yes.  There’s nearly three hundred of us, and there’s more.  If you can survive, then others will have.  So, let’s pray we find them as quickly as we found you.  Are there any other places in town we might find people?”

“Thank you.  And yes, there might.  But I will need a few minutes.”

“OK.”  I looked over at Giselle, who was talking to a young girl.  She glanced my way and smiled.

The first step, she had said to the team before we left the facility, of a very long journey into danger.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

Writing a book in 365 days – 85

Day 85

Do you seek feedback from other authors?

….

So, here’s the thing. If I thought I could get James Patterson’s opinion on one of my novels, I would try, but I don’t think, given the prolific output he maintains, that he would have the time to put an amateur like me on the straight and narrow.

But…

Who’s to say that if I found another struggling author like me who was of a mind to offer an opinion, I wouldn’t take it?

I would have to say the best critic would be someone who writes similar genre stories to yours.

So…

Here’s the deal, minus the steak knives.

Join a writing group, a bunch of fellow writers who write the same stuff, and take on board contemporary reviews.

Something else that might help, in the absence of those great authors who probably have no time to look over our work, is to get the opinions of beta readers. I’ve been looking, but it seems a lot of them want payment. I guess there’s a good living out there, but they would have to be both reputable and good at it.

Other than that, there’s always a possibility that one day…

NANOWRIMO – April 2025 – Day 11

…

The Fourth Son

…

Facing the public was not going to be easy.

For someone who had not had to be the public face of anything and who was living in an environment where in America only two people knew who he was, stepping out of the plane at the small international airport, he is staggered to discover half the principality has turned out to see him.

The fear he feels extends to whether it is going to be a problem for Ruth.

He need not have worried.  She is far more experienced in fronting up to, sometimes hostile, crowds, having worked for an accounting firm that specialised in takeovers, mergers, and bankruptcy.

A crowd of adoring people is grist to the mill for her.

Of course, meeting people who are pleased to see you is one thing, but there’s also the drive to the castle and the people who might not want to see you or make you welcome.

Our new king is not so sure about what his family’s reaction might be, and he was definitely very scared of what his mother was going to do or say.

Searching for locations: The Henan Museum, Zhengzhou, Henan Province, China

The Henan Museum is one of the oldest museums in China.  In June 1927, General Feng Yuxiang proposed that a museum be built, and it was completed the next year.  In 1961, along with the move of the provincial capital, Henan Museum moved from Kaifeng to Zhengzhou.

It currently holds about 130,000 individual pieces, more of which are mostly cultural relics, bronze vessels of the Shang and Zhou Dynasties, and pottery and porcelain wares of the various dynasties.

Eventually, we arrive at the museum and get off the bus adjacent to a scooter track and despite the efforts of the guide, there’s no stopping them from nearly running us over.

We arrive to find the museum has been moved to a different and somewhat smaller building nearby as the existing, and rather distinctively designed, building is being renovated.

While we are waiting for the tickets to enter, we are given another view of industrial life in that there is nothing that resembles proper health and safety on worksites in this country, and the workers are basically standing on what looks to be a flimsy bamboo ladder with nothing to stop them from falling off.

The museum itself has exhibits dating back a few thousand years and consist of bronze and ceramic items.  One of the highlights was a tortoiseshell with reportedly the oldest know writing ever found.

Other than that it was a series of cooking utensils, a table, and ceramic pots, some in very good condition considering their age.

 
There were also small sculptures

an array of small figures

and a model of a settlement

20 minutes was long enough.

Writing a book in 365 days – 85

Day 85

Do you seek feedback from other authors?

….

So, here’s the thing. If I thought I could get James Patterson’s opinion on one of my novels, I would try, but I don’t think, given the prolific output he maintains, that he would have the time to put an amateur like me on the straight and narrow.

But…

Who’s to say that if I found another struggling author like me who was of a mind to offer an opinion, I wouldn’t take it?

I would have to say the best critic would be someone who writes similar genre stories to yours.

So…

Here’s the deal, minus the steak knives.

Join a writing group, a bunch of fellow writers who write the same stuff, and take on board contemporary reviews.

Something else that might help, in the absence of those great authors who probably have no time to look over our work, is to get the opinions of beta readers. I’ve been looking, but it seems a lot of them want payment. I guess there’s a good living out there, but they would have to be both reputable and good at it.

Other than that, there’s always a possibility that one day…

A to Z Blog Challenge – April 2025 – I

…

I is for — If the planets line up.  A lot of things have to happen, and realistically, they don’t

…

It was a clear night, and the stars were out as well as they could be seen in the city from the roof of my apartment block.

I had wanted to go to Arizona or Montana where stargazing would be so much better, but Cecily wanted to go on an Ocean Cruise with her parents and just didn’t come back.

That much I learned when I came home from work several weeks later and every shred of evidence of her was gone.

It was, I guess, time to end what had become a stagnant relationship, but even so, it didn’t help to see her photos with her new boyfriend, a prince from one of those minor European Principalitys on Facebook and in the magazines.

She could have, at the very least, sent me a text.  I thought I was owed that much, and perhaps if she had known who I was, it might have been different.

Or not.

I shrugged, took another sip of the cold beer, and stared up at the sky.  It was the early hours of the morning. I had a telescope, a rather good one at that, and often came up to see if I could locate the planets whenever they were in range.

When they were not, a shooting star or a celestial body sufficed, and, failing that, sometimes it was just sitting on the roof, knocking back a six-pack that was equally as preferable.

It was the way this night was going.

I heard rustling over by the exit and looked over.  The light wasn’t that distinct, but it wasn’t hard to pick out the shape of another roof visitor, though not the usual visitor.

“Ruth told me this is where you hide from the rest of humanity.”

Female, different voice.  Was this our infamous new apartment dweller?  Old Mary McGinty had passed on, her apartment remaining empty for months, unusually because of a shortage, until one Agatha Morell arrived very early one morning and moved in.

Ruth had been trying to find out who she was, with no success.  No one could because no one had seen her.  Except, it seems, by Agatha’s admission, Ruth.

“Ruth has a vivid imagination.”

“Ruth wishes you would use yours and read the signals.”  She came over, and we shook hands, or more likely touched hands.

I felt a tingling sensation.  The night air was charged with static electricity.

“Ruth and I are just friends.”

“So she tells me.  Home astronomer?”  She had seen the telescope.

“Would be astronaut.”  I was feeling like being flippant, a trait Ruth sometimes frowned upon.

“Were you too old, too young, under qualified or over qualified?”

“I wish.  Let’s just say I’m thirsty.  Do you drink beer?”

“Of course.”  She took one out of the six-pack, removed the lid like an expert, and drank.

I picked up mine and did the same.

She flopped into the seat by the telescope.  I looked at the telescope, the sky, the new arrival, and sat in another beside her.

In that glance as I sat I saw a woman in her mid thirties, shortish hair coloured red or auburn, a expression that showed she smiled a lot, very fit, and, even in casual clothes looked very, very attractive.  And unattached, maybe.  There were no rings.

A fitting rival for Ruth, who I had once declared, was drop-dead gorgeous.  And the only person in the building who knew who I really was, other than Mary McGinty.

And yes, I got the signals Ruth was sending, and yes, I would have acted on them, but she would be eaten alive by the people who professed to care about me and who had other ideas about whom I should have a relationship with.

And then, if my true identity was discovered, there was the relentless and intrusive media who would make her life utter hell.

For a few brief moments after Cecily had gone, I thought my invisible handlers had gotten to her.  Or perhaps she met my mother; that would be enough to send anyone packing.

“So, hiding or not, what brings you to the roof?

She had another go at asking the same question.  She was either a politician or a journalist.

“The sky, the beer, a chance to meet inquisitive women.  Your excuse?”

“The sky, the beer, a chance to meet mysterious men.”  She smiled, and an instant shudder went through me.  My instinct was telling me this girl was trouble.

“I assure you I am far from mysterious.”

“Then that dream I had as a child, to be swept off my feet by a prince, is not about to come true?”

My heart rate just went into overdrive, trying to keep my best poker face in place and quell the rising panic.

“Unfortunately, no.”  It took a fraction of a second to get that panicked inflection in my voice under control.

It elicited a quick and concerned glance from her

A deep breath and then, “I suspect, given the number of actual princes I don’t know of, I would imagine they do not go around sweeping damsels off their feet, except, of course, in Hallmark movies and Mills and Boon paperbacks.”

Her expression changed to one of surprise, perhaps something else.

“And you know this gem of information how?”

“My older sister, who is often dreaming about being swept off her feet by a prince, though admittedly it would be on the dance floor to a waltz.  She’s actually pretty good.”

A first attempt to deflect and switch subjects.

“Do you dance?”

“Waltz, yes, what that wriggling and uncoordinated swaying like drunken sailors represents, no.  My mother made all of us go to dancing lessons.  Do you?”

I would stick to the truth and improvise until I discovered what she was after.  I could, if I was worried, push the panic button, but that would cause no end of trouble for a great many people.

Perhaps, on her part, it was just a poor choice of words.

“Finishing school in Lucerne, Switzerland.  My grandmother thought I needed the rough edges honed off before I returned to civilisation.  Ballroom dancing seemed to be a part of the finishing process.”

Finishing school.  Granddaughter, presumably of Mary McGint,y was more than just a possibility.  But, if it was a cover story, it was a good one.  I tried to remember if Mary had ever mentioned such a granddaughter, and on the fringe of my memory, I remembered her mentioning that her daughter had three children.

“I assume you are Mary’s granddaughter, Emmeline, if I’m not mistaken.  You had this thing about red hair, even though it wasn’t, and spent some time working through the colours of the rainbow.  It seemed to vex her.”

Now, it was an interesting shade of auburn blended with black.

“I didn’t realise you were so well acquainted.”  She looked me up and down with more interest.

“She liked talking about you. I got the feeling she would like to have seen you more often.”

“She and mother had this thing, and we suffered as a result of the collateral damage.  Mother died about a month before Gran, leaving us precious little time to be reacquainted.  Then there was the inheritance, tedious and convoluted, with claims and counterclaims, as if we wanted anything to do with it.  We just wanted somewhere to live.”

“A nice place indeed.”

“The luck of the draw.  We could have ended up in a tenement on the Lower East Side.  I’m grateful, and I don’t intend to be or cause trouble.”

“Your sisters are with you?”

“Yes, Bethany and little Diana, though not exactly littlw amy more.  It was the devil’s own job keeping them out of the foster system, but we’re together, and it’s going to stay that way.”

A woman of determination.

“Do you have a job?”

“Yes.  Managing my aunt’s business interests.  I had no idea she had so many fingers in so many pies as she used to say.  It keeps me amused, along with being a surrogate mother.  This is my first night off, well, it’s not exactly a night off, just repurposing the early hours.”

She finished the bottle of beer, put the empty back in the six-pack, and stood.  “If you find any available princes, tell them I’m looking for one.  A dance partner or whatever. In a couple of weeks, the planets are lining up, so there’s no hurry.”

She smiled.  “Thanks for letting me ramble on.  It feels good to have someone I can talk to at last.”

Then, as quickly as she appeared, she disappeared.

…

Being as interested as I was in the solar system, and the fact she had said the planets were going to line up, I checked, and she was right.

It was odd that she knew such random stuff, and since I didn’t believe in coincidences, I wondered whether she had interrogated Ruth about me.

Ruth was finally back from the other side of the country, and I went to meet her at the airport.  I did this sometimes to surprise her.

She was suitably surprised when she saw me leaning against a pillar, hands in pockets, surveying each passenger as they came out of the door into the terminal.  Ruth was almost last, a sign she had travelled coach.

She was frowning as she entered the terminal, but that changed to a smile when she saw me.  Like lovers who hadn’t seen each other for a long time, we kissed and hugged.

“I was hoping you’d come.”  The hug lasted longer than usual.  I suspect her business had not gone well.

“Either that or another starless night on the roof.”

“I’m glad I rate above astronomy.”

“You always rate above astronomy.  I take it you shunned the airline food?”

She made a face, the one that said don’t ask silly questions.

“Good. I have made a reservation at Luigi’s.”

She looked at me thoughtfully, then said, “Annaline.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I’ll tell you over wine and pasta.”

…

Luigi’s was a small, intimate restaurant, a favourite place for both Ruth and I.

It was the sort of place where one could propose to the love of their life, and it had happened three times while we were dining there.

She had dropped hints more than once that it was just the sort of place she would like to be proposed to, and if I had been more romantically attached, it would be exactly the place I would use.

And in that moment, looking at her in the subdued lighting and the flickering candlelight, she had never looked so enchanting.  It made me wonder why I was so reticent.  As Annaline had said, the planets were lined up and what other reason did I need?

I guess it was the fallout from making such a decision when so much was expected of me, one that would cause my parents’ consternation, though eventually there would be reluctant acceptance, but in that period beteen proposal and acceptance they would have destroyed the romance and the very essence of a girl who simply wanted to be loved.

The truth is, love would not be enough.  Not being in the constant limelight and the intrusion into every facet of her life.  I’d seen it happen to my next eldest brother, choosing a girl for love, and it had broken both of them.  It was why I was hiding, accepting anonymity for as long as possible.

And I knew it was not going to last much longer.  A recent Sunday magazine feature on my family and the country, celebrating 800 years of royal rule, had an early photo of me in a family portrait, but the resemblance between then and now was discernible if someone was looking.

Ruth had seen it and had remarked on how adorable I was as a child.  I had no such recollection.  It was more as the youngest that I was the figurative punching bag for my elder brothers.

Enough staring into each other’s eyes and wishing everything could be different.

“Have you met Annaline?  Yes, of course you have.  She is what some would call a force of nature.”

“She invaded my astronomy space.”

“The roof belongs to everyone.”

I shook my head.  “I guess I had a good run.  I’ll have to find somewhere else to hide.”

“What did you think of her?”

“Trouble.  I think she knows who I am.”

She gave me one of those looks, the one that said I spent too much time worrying about what might happen rather than concentrating on what I should be doing.

“I didn’t tell her, and I doubt Mary ever would.  She knew the importance of keeping your identity a secret.”

“She may have seen the paper.  They might have had the decency to tell me what was about to happen, or perhaps it was part of the plan to get me to come home.  Did she ask about me?”

“You are not exactly a presence that could be ignored, and she is of an age and availability that she would ask about you.  I simply told her you were the shy, retiring type who preferred to keep to yourself.  When she asked if we were, you know, I said I liked to think so.  She was interested.”

“Then I didn’t help my cause.”

She took both my hands in hers.  “You are going to have to decide what it is you want.  You can’t keep drifting.”

“Well, that might be decided for me.  My father is thinking of retiring, and the consequent reshuffle of responsibilities would mean I would have to return.”

“Forever?”

“No, but I would have to become a Prince, and that would mean the end of anonymity.  It would also mean, if I was to keep seeing you, the end of your life that you have now, and I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“Is that why…”

“I saw what it did to my brother, Edward, and the girl he chose for love, and it destroyed them.  I don’t want that to happen to you.”

A strange expression took over her face; her eyes glistened, and a smile appeared.  I knew right in that moment she was everything I wanted, and that what I felt was like the earth moving.

“I can’t ask you to sacrifice your future or life for what could only be described as pure hell.  Aside from what would happen at home.”

“What do you want?”

“It’s not a matter of what I want.  It’s a matter of what is expected.”

“And yet you are here despite all that?”

An interesting point.  Against all their advice and reluctance, they had succumbed to my wishes.

“The fourth son has its advantages.”

Luigi hovered and refilled the glasses with champagne.  I hadn’t ordered it, but he must have sensed something.

“You are the perfect couple, you know.  Drink, talk, I will prepare the perfect meal.”

He gave a little bow, as he did to his favourite customers and then left us.

“We shall visit my parents and if you survive that, then I will do what I should have done months ago.  If that it you’ll have me?”

“You had me the first time I met you.  Yes, yes and yes.”

It was a sublime moment.

Until….

I looked up and saw a rather tenacious-looking woman staring down at me.

“You’re that prince something or other that was in the paper.”

That was followed by camera flashes, and the moment I had dreaded arrived.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

Writing a book in 365 days – 84

Day 84

Writing exercise – about “She didn’t know what he wanted” with the reveal in the last line.

…

It always amused me that everyone in the office thought I was the fountain of all knowledge, the one person who knew all the answers to everyone’s dating problems and what they should do to win over a particular boy or girl.

I had my own aspirations, but no one seemed interested, and because of this, I had made up my mind not to help another person.

Except when it came to Daisy Withers, how could I not?

We started out a few ears back on very rocky ground. We both arrived full of hopes and dreams, and wanted to do the best to achieve our hopes and aspirations, and we were both very competitive.

That competitiveness brought us to a showdown when a particular role was up for grabs; we both went for it and ended up getting overlooked simply because of our actions.

That day, we forged a new alliance, where we would help each other rather than try to sabotage our best efforts, and in my case, I started seeing her in a different light. The problem was, she did not feel the same way about me, and simply saw me as a friend.

It was difficult to watch her dating other men and more difficult when those relationships crashed and burned, but I was always there to pick up the pieces.

It was an ago old story, and I had finally decided, when the previous Christmas, when she had finally agreed to come home with me, for no other reason other than to be somewhere else, she had found a new man, and I went home alone, finally realizing that it was never to be.

…

When Daisy didn’t return after that Christmas break, I discovered she had requested a transfer to the West Coast office for a few months. I figured that her new romance had moved up a notch, the man coming from San Francisco, and she wanted to be with him.

It gave me a chance to exorcise her from my mind and get back to my work. The enthusiasm level had been flagging a little, and being passed over for a promotion, I thought I had given me pause to wonder just exactly what it is I wanted.

Daisy wasn’t the distraction, so I couldn’t blame her. I think I had made another realization in those few months: that my heart was no longer in what I was doing. It was time for a change, a complete change, and I had all but decided to hand in my resignation and spend a year in Europe just looking at old stuff.

That resolve just hardened when I saw Herb MacKenzie coming up the passage towards my office. Only yesterday, I discovered the man who had taken the role I had wanted was a relation on one of the directors, his identity disguised by the fact he was using his mother’s maiden surname, a ploy to have the office believe it was not blatant nepotism.

It was. He was very inexperienced, and sadly, when his father came to see me and ask that
I helped him as much as I could. Until today. That was now off the table.

He knocked, came in, and sat down. He never waited to be asked and had that air of arrogance that ran through the father as well. We were minions and to be treated as such.

I sighed. “What’s today’s crisis?”

“None. I need a little advice, and I’m told you’re the expert.”

“Who in this office thinks I’m an expert?”

“Everyone. This place wouldn’t run without you.”

It’s odd that he was telling me that. Last I heard, last Friday in fact, over celebratory drinks in the board room, that he was the one the place couldn’t run without.

“I doubt that’s true, Herb.”

He shrugged. Maybe flattery wasn’t working today.

“One of the senior staffers is coming back from the West Coast office next week, and I was thinking of flying over to lay some groundwork.”

The moment he mentioned groundwork, I knew it was not work he was referring to. He was rich and entitled and had no trouble dating socialites. His photo in the papers told me as much.

And if I was to make a guess…

“She was here for a few years. Seems you two were always in the running for the same promotion. and I’m guessing a little more on the side.”

Why not tell him the truth? I was over her, and it wouldn’t matter. My resignation letter had been written for months; all I had to do was sign it.

“There wasn’t. We were not each other’s type. Competitors, not lovers. Sorry.”

“But you know what makes her tick.”

Enough to know she was not his type, but given all her previous choices, maybe it would work. After all, he was the boss’s son, and that might count for something.

I shrugged. “Why am I not with her if I did?”

That seemed to confuse him, but then it wasn’t hard to do that, either.

And as usual, when I tried to tell him what he didn’t want to hear, he ignored it. “Any words of wisdom, what she likes, or wants.”

I thought about it. I had over the years, tried to work out that exact answer and had never quite succeeded. Flowers, no; fine dining, no; a night in an expensive hotel, no; a week away at an exotic resort, no; going to see my home and family who could win over the most reticent of people, didn’t get the chance.

And then I realised, what did it matter. My window had closed, that ship had sailed, call it what you like. “You want to know what I think. She would want to know what you want, because most of the time most girls just don’t know what you want. And that would have to be very special. So, for what it’s worth, tell her it would mean everything to you if she would take the time to go home to where you live and meet your family. They will more than you ever could help her realise the sort of person you are and want to be. Girls like that stuff.”

If nothing else, that would turn her off so quickly she’d probably resign too.

“Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.” He leapt out of the chair. “Gotta go.”

…

By the time he reached the end of the corridor, I had retrieved the resignation letter, signed it, attached it to the email saved in drafts and sent it to his father.

I had never been more sure of anything in my life. The future of the company belonged in his hands. Resignation sent, I went to the stationery storeroom and got a moving box. I was halfway throwing the accoutriments of four years into it when I saw his father coming up the passage.

I looked at the timer on my watch.

Five minutes and twenty-three seconds.

He didn’t knock.

“Unaccepted. You can’t leave. I’ll double your salary. Tell me what you want, and you can have it. within reason, that is.”

I looked at him. Serious but afraid. I don’t think it could occur to him that someone like me might want to leave. Minions needed their jobs and would do anything to keep them. I believed that for a long time.

“Daisy’s coming back. She’s better at this than I am. And Herb will schmooze her. He has a way with women I could only dream about.”

The expression on his face told me a different story. Why was Daisy coming back if she was doing everything right? The word was she had been told that if she reorganised and revitalised the office, which had seen revenues and prestige begin to decline under the previous manager’s auspices, why would she leave?

A question I was no longer interested in.

I tossed the last forgettable item into the box.

His phone rang, and he looked at the screen and frowned. Another crisis. He looked up. “I have to take this. “Take a week’s vacation. Anywhere. Think about it. Tell the travel office you have my authority.”


A week’s vacation wasn’t going to change my mind. But it was wrong of me to give Herb what I believed was the secret to winning her heart.

I called her.

Disconnected. She had changed her phone number. Well, if that wasn’t a sign from the Gods!

…

A week’s vacation wasn’t in the stars. I picked up the box, took a last look at what it was I
thought I wanted, and walked out.

I rang home and told them I was coming in a few days and to dust off my old room; I’d be staying for a while. It was superfluous; Mom had my room ready for me to come back. She always knew, one day…

Ticket booked and apartment sorted, there was only one thing left to do; go to the bar I went every Friday night and tell anyone who cared I was going. For the last three months, it had been without Daisy, but that didn’t matter. I had to get used to her not being around.

At the fourth drink, the hands of the clock about to reach my home time, I heard rather than saw someone sitting in the seat next to me. Daisy’s seat.

“Do you come here often?”

Daisy.

“Too often. It’s a habit I’m breaking after tonight.”

“Any particular reason?”

“It’s not the same anymore.”

I looked sideways, and sucked in a breath, maybe two. I had forgotten how beautiful she looked. It just made the parting all that much harder.

“That’s because I’m not here. Pity I’m not staying.”

“That’s a shame. Why?”

“A friend of mine quit his job, quite out of left field actually, and, well, it won’t be the same.”

“That is a shame.”

The bartender came over, and she ordered what I was having and another drink for me. It was going to be the last, but the apartment could wait.

We didn’t speak again until the drinks came, and she had taken a few sips of hers. Perhaps she needed time to think about what she was going to say.

“Funny thing, life. Three days ago, I was sitting in a posh restaurant opposite this guy, Herb – I mean, who calls their kid Herb, or Herbert. Anyway, he’s prattling on like the try-hard he is, and all I’m thinking of is this guy I know back in New York. He used to listen to all my woes, gave me this annoyingly right advice, never telling me how he really feels, never chastising me, as he should have, for being the fool that I was.”

“That’s being a bit harsh on yourself. I’m sure he wouldn’t agree.”

“No. He wouldn’t. And that was what was annoying about him. I mean, he went out of his way to ask me if I wanted to home home with him, not because he had to, but because I had nowhere else to go and he didn’t want me to be alone.”

“Maybe he thought if he left you behind, you might do something foolish. Again.”

“I did do something foolish, again. And when that broke up as it inevitably does, I had a long think about it. I needed time away. Walter gave me a chance at running the West Coast office, but it was never going to work. That was always going to be Herb’s domain, and it didn’t take long to realise that his desire for us to be more than friends translated into, I would do the work and he would take the credit.”

“Just like his grades and university qualifications. They were too good to be true.”

“Wendy told me you’d left. Double the salary and a week’s vacation in the Maldives. When you took your box, I knew that was off the cards. That’s when she told me that Herb was coming over, and we guessed it was to see me.”

I think I would have paid money to see her deal with Herb.

“Anyway, there I am, sitting there with a seventy-five dollar plate of soup in front of me, and he tells me the plan. Yes, he had a plan. I seriously hope he doesn’t approach all the girls with this. He says something like, ‘it would mean everything to him if I would take the time to go home to where he lived and met his family. They could more than he ever could help her realise the sort of person he is and wants to be.’ I mean, you couldn’t make that stuff up – well, he certainly couldn’t, but I knew who did. Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

I shrugged. “You weren’t ready to hear that or wanted to hear it. I figured if you wanted to go, you would, but that if something better came along, then I’d finally get the message.”

“That I was taking you for granted. Staring into the bowl of soup, hearing those words, I finally got the message. Not from him, but from you. I doubt whether he’s ever had an original thought in his life. The thing is, I ate the food, made all the right noises, assiduously avoided being closer than a yard, thanked him for his kindness and said I would think about it. Then I went back to the office, signed the resignation letter and sent it to Wally, packed my backpack with everything I wanted, not that it amounted to much, and sat at the airport until the first plane flew to New York.”

“And now you’re here.”

“And now I’m here. When did you fall in love with me?”

Was this a conversation worth pursuing? Probably not, but again, I had nothing better to do.

“The first moment I saw you. I knew then I was going to have my heart broken, but I still did it anyway. You were always the impossible dream.”

“You were just impossible. I wanted to hate you, tried to hate you, pretended to hate you, and then just gave up. You were there, I liked you being there, and then, when you weren’t, I missed you. So, I tried to forget you, and it didn’t work. I started thinking about why you would ask the one person who drove you nuts to go home with you. It just didn’t occur to me that I might just discover why you were the person you are, and that I just might come to my senses and see what
I had always been looked for standing right in front of me. Maybe it just wasn’t about you, but inadvertently, you told me what it was you wanted. Nothing special. Just the girl that you fell madly in love with and just wished, even for a second, she would love him back. Well, here I am, here to tell you I love you back. And I have since the day I met you. It’s why nothing else works. it’s why I’m happiest when I’m with you. It’s why I’m never afraid to be me when I’m with you. And it’s why I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

And then she let out a huge sigh of relief. “Now, we just have one problem…”

I pulled out an envelope from my coat pocket and handed it to her. I had bought her a ticket just in case she came.

She pulled out the piece of paper and read it. “You were that sure?”

“No. Like I said, you are, or were, the impossible dream.”

“And yet…”

“I read my horoscope this morning. It’s the first time ever. It said quite specifically that my impossible dream would come true.”

…

©  Charles Heath 2025

Searching for locations: The Henan Museum, Zhengzhou, Henan Province, China

The Henan Museum is one of the oldest museums in China.  In June 1927, General Feng Yuxiang proposed that a museum be built, and it was completed the next year.  In 1961, along with the move of the provincial capital, Henan Museum moved from Kaifeng to Zhengzhou.

It currently holds about 130,000 individual pieces, more of which are mostly cultural relics, bronze vessels of the Shang and Zhou Dynasties, and pottery and porcelain wares of the various dynasties.

Eventually, we arrive at the museum and get off the bus adjacent to a scooter track and despite the efforts of the guide, there’s no stopping them from nearly running us over.

We arrive to find the museum has been moved to a different and somewhat smaller building nearby as the existing, and rather distinctively designed, building is being renovated.

While we are waiting for the tickets to enter, we are given another view of industrial life in that there is nothing that resembles proper health and safety on worksites in this country, and the workers are basically standing on what looks to be a flimsy bamboo ladder with nothing to stop them from falling off.

The museum itself has exhibits dating back a few thousand years and consist of bronze and ceramic items.  One of the highlights was a tortoiseshell with reportedly the oldest know writing ever found.

Other than that it was a series of cooking utensils, a table, and ceramic pots, some in very good condition considering their age.

 
There were also small sculptures

an array of small figures

and a model of a settlement

20 minutes was long enough.

NANOWRIMO – April 2025 – Day 10

…

The Fourth Son

…

Perhaps it should be a time to reflect on what has just happened to him; after all, it is an eight-hour fight across the Atlantic, and there’s a lot of water under them proverbially and in reality.

Why did he leave his country and go and live in New York?

It could be said that he was the youngest of the boys and that there was never any possibility he would become the King.  Why stay home and have your three older brothers make your life hell just because they could?

Perhaps.

But explain this: why did he not go home every year, or at any chance he had?  Wouldn’t he get homesick?

And by the time you get to the end of the list of questions and that part of the story you will find out.

There are very valid reasons for his absence, but it was not just to get away.  He spent the last fifteen years studying, learning, and observing, with a view that one day he would return with all this accumulated knowledge. Preferably when his father had passed away.

It was one of those relationships, he hated him and yet he loved him and would mourn his loss.

And on the other hand, would be extremely grateful he didn’t have to see him.

That would have been an interesting moment in time.

Writing a book in 365 days – 84

Day 84

Writing exercise – about “She didn’t know what he wanted” with the reveal in the last line.

…

It always amused me that everyone in the office thought I was the fountain of all knowledge, the one person who knew all the answers to everyone’s dating problems and what they should do to win over a particular boy or girl.

I had my own aspirations, but no one seemed interested, and because of this, I had made up my mind not to help another person.

Except when it came to Daisy Withers, how could I not?

We started out a few ears back on very rocky ground. We both arrived full of hopes and dreams, and wanted to do the best to achieve our hopes and aspirations, and we were both very competitive.

That competitiveness brought us to a showdown when a particular role was up for grabs; we both went for it and ended up getting overlooked simply because of our actions.

That day, we forged a new alliance, where we would help each other rather than try to sabotage our best efforts, and in my case, I started seeing her in a different light. The problem was, she did not feel the same way about me, and simply saw me as a friend.

It was difficult to watch her dating other men and more difficult when those relationships crashed and burned, but I was always there to pick up the pieces.

It was an ago old story, and I had finally decided, when the previous Christmas, when she had finally agreed to come home with me, for no other reason other than to be somewhere else, she had found a new man, and I went home alone, finally realizing that it was never to be.

…

When Daisy didn’t return after that Christmas break, I discovered she had requested a transfer to the West Coast office for a few months. I figured that her new romance had moved up a notch, the man coming from San Francisco, and she wanted to be with him.

It gave me a chance to exorcise her from my mind and get back to my work. The enthusiasm level had been flagging a little, and being passed over for a promotion, I thought I had given me pause to wonder just exactly what it is I wanted.

Daisy wasn’t the distraction, so I couldn’t blame her. I think I had made another realization in those few months: that my heart was no longer in what I was doing. It was time for a change, a complete change, and I had all but decided to hand in my resignation and spend a year in Europe just looking at old stuff.

That resolve just hardened when I saw Herb MacKenzie coming up the passage towards my office. Only yesterday, I discovered the man who had taken the role I had wanted was a relation on one of the directors, his identity disguised by the fact he was using his mother’s maiden surname, a ploy to have the office believe it was not blatant nepotism.

It was. He was very inexperienced, and sadly, when his father came to see me and ask that
I helped him as much as I could. Until today. That was now off the table.

He knocked, came in, and sat down. He never waited to be asked and had that air of arrogance that ran through the father as well. We were minions and to be treated as such.

I sighed. “What’s today’s crisis?”

“None. I need a little advice, and I’m told you’re the expert.”

“Who in this office thinks I’m an expert?”

“Everyone. This place wouldn’t run without you.”

It’s odd that he was telling me that. Last I heard, last Friday in fact, over celebratory drinks in the board room, that he was the one the place couldn’t run without.

“I doubt that’s true, Herb.”

He shrugged. Maybe flattery wasn’t working today.

“One of the senior staffers is coming back from the West Coast office next week, and I was thinking of flying over to lay some groundwork.”

The moment he mentioned groundwork, I knew it was not work he was referring to. He was rich and entitled and had no trouble dating socialites. His photo in the papers told me as much.

And if I was to make a guess…

“She was here for a few years. Seems you two were always in the running for the same promotion. and I’m guessing a little more on the side.”

Why not tell him the truth? I was over her, and it wouldn’t matter. My resignation letter had been written for months; all I had to do was sign it.

“There wasn’t. We were not each other’s type. Competitors, not lovers. Sorry.”

“But you know what makes her tick.”

Enough to know she was not his type, but given all her previous choices, maybe it would work. After all, he was the boss’s son, and that might count for something.

I shrugged. “Why am I not with her if I did?”

That seemed to confuse him, but then it wasn’t hard to do that, either.

And as usual, when I tried to tell him what he didn’t want to hear, he ignored it. “Any words of wisdom, what she likes, or wants.”

I thought about it. I had over the years, tried to work out that exact answer and had never quite succeeded. Flowers, no; fine dining, no; a night in an expensive hotel, no; a week away at an exotic resort, no; going to see my home and family who could win over the most reticent of people, didn’t get the chance.

And then I realised, what did it matter. My window had closed, that ship had sailed, call it what you like. “You want to know what I think. She would want to know what you want, because most of the time most girls just don’t know what you want. And that would have to be very special. So, for what it’s worth, tell her it would mean everything to you if she would take the time to go home to where you live and meet your family. They will more than you ever could help her realise the sort of person you are and want to be. Girls like that stuff.”

If nothing else, that would turn her off so quickly she’d probably resign too.

“Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.” He leapt out of the chair. “Gotta go.”

…

By the time he reached the end of the corridor, I had retrieved the resignation letter, signed it, attached it to the email saved in drafts and sent it to his father.

I had never been more sure of anything in my life. The future of the company belonged in his hands. Resignation sent, I went to the stationery storeroom and got a moving box. I was halfway throwing the accoutriments of four years into it when I saw his father coming up the passage.

I looked at the timer on my watch.

Five minutes and twenty-three seconds.

He didn’t knock.

“Unaccepted. You can’t leave. I’ll double your salary. Tell me what you want, and you can have it. within reason, that is.”

I looked at him. Serious but afraid. I don’t think it could occur to him that someone like me might want to leave. Minions needed their jobs and would do anything to keep them. I believed that for a long time.

“Daisy’s coming back. She’s better at this than I am. And Herb will schmooze her. He has a way with women I could only dream about.”

The expression on his face told me a different story. Why was Daisy coming back if she was doing everything right? The word was she had been told that if she reorganised and revitalised the office, which had seen revenues and prestige begin to decline under the previous manager’s auspices, why would she leave?

A question I was no longer interested in.

I tossed the last forgettable item into the box.

His phone rang, and he looked at the screen and frowned. Another crisis. He looked up. “I have to take this. “Take a week’s vacation. Anywhere. Think about it. Tell the travel office you have my authority.”


A week’s vacation wasn’t going to change my mind. But it was wrong of me to give Herb what I believed was the secret to winning her heart.

I called her.

Disconnected. She had changed her phone number. Well, if that wasn’t a sign from the Gods!

…

A week’s vacation wasn’t in the stars. I picked up the box, took a last look at what it was I
thought I wanted, and walked out.

I rang home and told them I was coming in a few days and to dust off my old room; I’d be staying for a while. It was superfluous; Mom had my room ready for me to come back. She always knew, one day…

Ticket booked and apartment sorted, there was only one thing left to do; go to the bar I went every Friday night and tell anyone who cared I was going. For the last three months, it had been without Daisy, but that didn’t matter. I had to get used to her not being around.

At the fourth drink, the hands of the clock about to reach my home time, I heard rather than saw someone sitting in the seat next to me. Daisy’s seat.

“Do you come here often?”

Daisy.

“Too often. It’s a habit I’m breaking after tonight.”

“Any particular reason?”

“It’s not the same anymore.”

I looked sideways, and sucked in a breath, maybe two. I had forgotten how beautiful she looked. It just made the parting all that much harder.

“That’s because I’m not here. Pity I’m not staying.”

“That’s a shame. Why?”

“A friend of mine quit his job, quite out of left field actually, and, well, it won’t be the same.”

“That is a shame.”

The bartender came over, and she ordered what I was having and another drink for me. It was going to be the last, but the apartment could wait.

We didn’t speak again until the drinks came, and she had taken a few sips of hers. Perhaps she needed time to think about what she was going to say.

“Funny thing, life. Three days ago, I was sitting in a posh restaurant opposite this guy, Herb – I mean, who calls their kid Herb, or Herbert. Anyway, he’s prattling on like the try-hard he is, and all I’m thinking of is this guy I know back in New York. He used to listen to all my woes, gave me this annoyingly right advice, never telling me how he really feels, never chastising me, as he should have, for being the fool that I was.”

“That’s being a bit harsh on yourself. I’m sure he wouldn’t agree.”

“No. He wouldn’t. And that was what was annoying about him. I mean, he went out of his way to ask me if I wanted to home home with him, not because he had to, but because I had nowhere else to go and he didn’t want me to be alone.”

“Maybe he thought if he left you behind, you might do something foolish. Again.”

“I did do something foolish, again. And when that broke up as it inevitably does, I had a long think about it. I needed time away. Walter gave me a chance at running the West Coast office, but it was never going to work. That was always going to be Herb’s domain, and it didn’t take long to realise that his desire for us to be more than friends translated into, I would do the work and he would take the credit.”

“Just like his grades and university qualifications. They were too good to be true.”

“Wendy told me you’d left. Double the salary and a week’s vacation in the Maldives. When you took your box, I knew that was off the cards. That’s when she told me that Herb was coming over, and we guessed it was to see me.”

I think I would have paid money to see her deal with Herb.

“Anyway, there I am, sitting there with a seventy-five dollar plate of soup in front of me, and he tells me the plan. Yes, he had a plan. I seriously hope he doesn’t approach all the girls with this. He says something like, ‘it would mean everything to him if I would take the time to go home to where he lived and met his family. They could more than he ever could help her realise the sort of person he is and wants to be.’ I mean, you couldn’t make that stuff up – well, he certainly couldn’t, but I knew who did. Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

I shrugged. “You weren’t ready to hear that or wanted to hear it. I figured if you wanted to go, you would, but that if something better came along, then I’d finally get the message.”

“That I was taking you for granted. Staring into the bowl of soup, hearing those words, I finally got the message. Not from him, but from you. I doubt whether he’s ever had an original thought in his life. The thing is, I ate the food, made all the right noises, assiduously avoided being closer than a yard, thanked him for his kindness and said I would think about it. Then I went back to the office, signed the resignation letter and sent it to Wally, packed my backpack with everything I wanted, not that it amounted to much, and sat at the airport until the first plane flew to New York.”

“And now you’re here.”

“And now I’m here. When did you fall in love with me?”

Was this a conversation worth pursuing? Probably not, but again, I had nothing better to do.

“The first moment I saw you. I knew then I was going to have my heart broken, but I still did it anyway. You were always the impossible dream.”

“You were just impossible. I wanted to hate you, tried to hate you, pretended to hate you, and then just gave up. You were there, I liked you being there, and then, when you weren’t, I missed you. So, I tried to forget you, and it didn’t work. I started thinking about why you would ask the one person who drove you nuts to go home with you. It just didn’t occur to me that I might just discover why you were the person you are, and that I just might come to my senses and see what
I had always been looked for standing right in front of me. Maybe it just wasn’t about you, but inadvertently, you told me what it was you wanted. Nothing special. Just the girl that you fell madly in love with and just wished, even for a second, she would love him back. Well, here I am, here to tell you I love you back. And I have since the day I met you. It’s why nothing else works. it’s why I’m happiest when I’m with you. It’s why I’m never afraid to be me when I’m with you. And it’s why I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

And then she let out a huge sigh of relief. “Now, we just have one problem…”

I pulled out an envelope from my coat pocket and handed it to her. I had bought her a ticket just in case she came.

She pulled out the piece of paper and read it. “You were that sure?”

“No. Like I said, you are, or were, the impossible dream.”

“And yet…”

“I read my horoscope this morning. It’s the first time ever. It said quite specifically that my impossible dream would come true.”

…

©  Charles Heath 2025