Well, when they too have the rug pulled out from under them, how much can they do?
Her best friend and fellow founding member of the charity, recently but no longer CEO, due to the new Chairman who had taken over during our main character’s incapacity, had been visiting her friend in hospital and relating the day-to-day events that had turned the running of their organisation into what she calls a circus
I’m going to give her a daughter who is a tenacious reporter and set her on the trail of a conspiracy, that of the so-called benevolent charities and the shady characters that manage to attach themselves to what she will call the charitable gravy train.
She also is the product of that echelon of people who are upper-class nobility, having resented from a young age being called Lady So and So, going to the privileged schools and being treated differently.
She is the rebel against her birthright, her parents, and everything they stand for.
And yet, as she gets older and sees the worth of those connections, those she had so willingly trashed for the sake of getting an editor to take her seriously, it’s going to be a tricky line she will have to walk if she is going to help her mother.
Perhaps her parents were not the monsters she believed they were.
Children are meant to be the joy in your life, not the bane of your existence.
Of course, keeping the secret from their father might have seemed like a good idea if not out of spite in the beginning.
But the truth was he left, and that was on him. It was not as if he was going to hang around, not after telling her that it was not the time to be having children, not with her wild partying or the fact he was trying to move on after his stint in the Army and that overseas deployment that had severely scarred many of his friends.
Yes, they were perfectly matched, and both agreed they both soul mates and kindred spirits, but it was not enough to keep them together. Marrying him to spite her father had the reverse effect, and she still suspected her father had bought him off.
But, whatever the reason, she was left with the parenting, delegated to nannies, then boarding school and servants. It was no wonder they hated their forever disinterested and absent mother, and because of the bored, mischievous miscreants who were constantly in the news and police stations.
Their latest antics were mild compared to previous escapades, but the school could always see a fundraising opportunity. And being sent home yet again to consider their situation was all she needed.
Fresh out of her latest and longest stay in hospital, the full extent of her situation was becoming clear.
It’s a matter of getting from a normal busy life, running a very successful and very well-regarded institution, that from the outside was one everyone was envious of to where she is lying in an induced coma following an accident that is still being investigated.
Perhaps we get a glimpse into the detective who will be later called on for a more complex investigation into her life and sadly death.
The question we have to ask is, was this just an accident as a result of her poor health, some were saying a result of her wild childhood early years of dung and alcohol abuse (the privileged life of the youth of the elite wealthy being paid back in spades) or something else.
Is there something about charities that’s not all above board? With a new management team installed by her father, is the money getting to those who need it, or is it to pat the names needed to be in the high-profile donors?
It strikes me that ages ago when I was talking to a group of others about making donations to a charity that had a high-profile person as spokesperson it had to be good if they spoke on behalf of it for nothing in return.
My illusion was shattered in seconds. That personality was paid plenty to spruik the charity, drove around on a large expensive car provided, and hosted endless lunches and functions for those who seemed to live an already lavish lifestyle.
It’s a premise I am investigating and will use as a possible outcome to what should be a beneficiary-orientated charity versus one that is there to principally serve the high-profile spruikers.
We’re unravelling the mystery behind the slow deterioration of our main character.
When did this mysterious malady first manifest itself?
The point here is that there is always a starting point or a catalyst. It might not always be pinpointed by the person but by someone else who can look from the outside and assess all of the evidence.
And it’s not always an easy task when you don’t really know when it first began because it creeps up on you without you realising it.
Until one morning, you can’t get out of bed.
Of course, there are convenient answers to Amy’s question, and in moments of extreme paranoia, only one name will come to the fore, the name of the person you hate the most at the time.
And then it’s not difficult to attach the reasons to that name, correctly or not. In her debilitated state, it was easy. Whether she could prove it, was the hard part.
Sounds prophetic. I see what’s going on in the world these days, with people discussing the possibility of World War 3.
If there is, I suspect it will be the end of mankind.
And having said that, why do we lump all of humanity into ‘mankind’?
I think the threats of such a war are what fuels a lot of the dystopian books we read, especially those about life after a nuclear exchange. The point is that there is no life after the nuclear bombs go off. They are not like those used in Japan in 1945.
They are one hell of a lot worse, they will poison the atmosphere and will kill everyone and everything on this planet. We cannot come back from it which is why for many years it was the threat of using nuclear bombs was the deterrent.
There are no safe places other than a special bunker, but given the life of nuclear fallout, we would, if there were any bunkers which there are not, be in them for thousands of years.
Oddly enough many, many years ago when I was in secondary school, I saw a film that was about a war where nuclear bombs rained down on cities and the after effects, and it was horrifying because the visual results were horrifyingly real. This was being shown to 14 year olds, and some were physically sick, others had nightmares for months afterwards.
I suspect it was to educate the next generation of leaders, to make them realise that the only result of a nuclear war was utter annihilation.
They were showing it to the wrong people. It needed to be shown to the Russians and the Americans and her NATO allies and the Chinese and the North Koreans, the people who are constantly toying with the idea of using such weapons. I thought we had treaties to get rid of all the nuclear weapons. Seems I was wrong.
Let’s hope someone sees the light and soon.
And I think I’ve just found a theme for my next story.
…
Word written today 2,400, making a total of 55,467 words
Sounds prophetic. I see what’s going on in the world these days, with people discussing the possibility of World War 3.
If there is, I suspect it will be the end of mankind.
And having said that, why do we lump all of humanity into ‘mankind’?
I think the threats of such a war are what fuels a lot of the dystopian books we read, especially those about life after a nuclear exchange. The point is that there is no life after the nuclear bombs go off. They are not like those used in Japan in 1945.
They are one hell of a lot worse, they will poison the atmosphere and will kill everyone and everything on this planet. We cannot come back from it which is why for many years it was the threat of using nuclear bombs was the deterrent.
There are no safe places other than a special bunker, but given the life of nuclear fallout, we would, if there were any bunkers which there are not, be in them for thousands of years.
Oddly enough many, many years ago when I was in secondary school, I saw a film that was about a war where nuclear bombs rained down on cities and the after effects, and it was horrifying because the visual results were horrifyingly real. This was being shown to 14 year olds, and some were physically sick, others had nightmares for months afterwards.
I suspect it was to educate the next generation of leaders, to make them realise that the only result of a nuclear war was utter annihilation.
They were showing it to the wrong people. It needed to be shown to the Russians and the Americans and her NATO allies and the Chinese and the North Koreans, the people who are constantly toying with the idea of using such weapons. I thought we had treaties to get rid of all the nuclear weapons. Seems I was wrong.
Let’s hope someone sees the light and soon.
And I think I’ve just found a theme for my next story.
…
Word written today 2,400, making a total of 55,467 words
It’s almost done, and another story has made it to fruition.
I have to say, this one started as a short story. I was in the process of writing 26 new stories for next year’s April A to Z Blog. That notion of being able to write a short story every day, particularly the length mine seem to get to, has become quite daunting.
This one was called Behind the Green Door, and the little note I made for myself to prompt an idea, a game show with a difference.
I’m not quite sure what I had in mind as I was writing those titles.
Another example title: Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining – a romance ala Hallmark. As if I could stick to the brief! Every romance I’ve written has veered off into adventure territory.
Enough Already…
I have had a lot of ideas doe Miranda over the month. Making her a robot was fine at the start, but then it evolved into a robot that was very hard to tell from the real thing.
Originally I wasn’t going to give her Elsie’s persona. She was just going to be loaded up with memories of her, so Elsie wouldn’t be forgotten.
I had no intention of making Elsie the creator of the life-like robots. But, then, when I thought about men being involved, it veered off into weird territory, because men don’t quite think the same as women, and have other ideas for female robots, and super soldier is not one of them.
I liked the idea of making her a guidance counsellor, to see those who were going to meet their end a little easier, and it seemed like I had gone exactly where I did;t want to go. Making her the robotic equivalent to Michael’s wife of many years might seem cruel, but it salved my conscience for about ten minutes.
But this is a different society borne out of disaster and forced to find a new way to live over a very long time in difficult circumstances. One thing I can say, in my imaginary world, men might be in charge, but women are the people who make it work.
When I discussed the story with my three granddaughters, as I do quite often with all of my stories, they were surprised. They, like me, could not begin to imagine what the world would be like in 200 years, except it would be without mobile phones and computers, cars, except for the odd electric vehicle, that men and women would be on equal footing, and that everyone would get along, after a fashion, because there was always an oddball or two.
But the warning was that we were always just a short distance away from there being classes of people (like in India where they are labelled castes), such as the university types, the professionals, not self-entitled but a little above everyone else, the working class, the tradesmen, the people who keep everything working, and the nerdy types, university educated, but they live on their own planet. They were unanimous in believing that over time in such a confinement, crime would become non-existent.
After all, where can you hide?
But just the same, because of human nature being what it is, there would always be the odd person who would steal, be envious of his or her neighbour, have affairs and illicit relationships, kill, irrationally or not, and want to wage war on others because sadly that’s who we are.
Oddly enough they never considered 200 years in confinement a cause to go stir-crazy!
…
Word written today 1,389, making a total of 53,067 words
It’s almost done, and another story has made it to fruition.
I have to say, this one started as a short story. I was in the process of writing 26 new stories for next year’s April A to Z Blog. That notion of being able to write a short story every day, particularly the length mine seem to get to, has become quite daunting.
This one was called Behind the Green Door, and the little note I made for myself to prompt an idea, a game show with a difference.
I’m not quite sure what I had in mind as I was writing those titles.
Another example title: Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining – a romance ala Hallmark. As if I could stick to the brief! Every romance I’ve written has veered off into adventure territory.
Enough Already…
I have had a lot of ideas doe Miranda over the month. Making her a robot was fine at the start, but then it evolved into a robot that was very hard to tell from the real thing.
Originally I wasn’t going to give her Elsie’s persona. She was just going to be loaded up with memories of her, so Elsie wouldn’t be forgotten.
I had no intention of making Elsie the creator of the life-like robots. But, then, when I thought about men being involved, it veered off into weird territory, because men don’t quite think the same as women, and have other ideas for female robots, and super soldier is not one of them.
I liked the idea of making her a guidance counsellor, to see those who were going to meet their end a little easier, and it seemed like I had gone exactly where I did;t want to go. Making her the robotic equivalent to Michael’s wife of many years might seem cruel, but it salved my conscience for about ten minutes.
But this is a different society borne out of disaster and forced to find a new way to live over a very long time in difficult circumstances. One thing I can say, in my imaginary world, men might be in charge, but women are the people who make it work.
When I discussed the story with my three granddaughters, as I do quite often with all of my stories, they were surprised. They, like me, could not begin to imagine what the world would be like in 200 years, except it would be without mobile phones and computers, cars, except for the odd electric vehicle, that men and women would be on equal footing, and that everyone would get along, after a fashion, because there was always an oddball or two.
But the warning was that we were always just a short distance away from there being classes of people (like in India where they are labelled castes), such as the university types, the professionals, not self-entitled but a little above everyone else, the working class, the tradesmen, the people who keep everything working, and the nerdy types, university educated, but they live on their own planet. They were unanimous in believing that over time in such a confinement, crime would become non-existent.
After all, where can you hide?
But just the same, because of human nature being what it is, there would always be the odd person who would steal, be envious of his or her neighbour, have affairs and illicit relationships, kill, irrationally or not, and want to wage war on others because sadly that’s who we are.
Oddly enough they never considered 200 years in confinement a cause to go stir-crazy!
…
Word written today 1,389, making a total of 53,067 words
We’re near the end, and it’s a little late to be having second thoughts…
But…
Yes, there’s always a but there somewhere, isn’t there?
I have been thinking about the end, and it has changed a few times in the last week, based on how the story has progressed. It seems the end I had in mind was not really the end that would work. I had them heading for the stars.
Silly me.
The notion that the death has been restored sounded a lot better. And I did;t want to keep them underground for four hundred years, so I halved it to 197 and a half, for the moment.
I’ve also been thinking about Elsie and over the course of several hundred pages I made her good, bad, indifferent, evil, horrible, nice, and everything in between. Can one person be so many different things?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
The only thing I’m sure of at the moment is the rewrite is going to be monumental.
Oh and I forgot to brag about the fact I reached the 50,000 word mark yesterday.
Yea!
…
Word written today 1,628, making a total of 51,678 words
We’re near the end, and it’s a little late to be having second thoughts…
But…
Yes, there’s always a but there somewhere, isn’t there?
I have been thinking about the end, and it has changed a few times in the last week, based on how the story has progressed. It seems the end I had in mind was not really the end that would work. I had them heading for the stars.
Silly me.
The notion that the death has been restored sounded a lot better. And I did;t want to keep them underground for four hundred years, so I halved it to 197 and a half, for the moment.
I’ve also been thinking about Elsie and over the course of several hundred pages I made her good, bad, indifferent, evil, horrible, nice, and everything in between. Can one person be so many different things?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
The only thing I’m sure of at the moment is the rewrite is going to be monumental.
Oh and I forgot to brag about the fact I reached the 50,000 word mark yesterday.
Yea!
…
Word written today 1,628, making a total of 51,678 words
