Tag: Thoughts

Writing a book in 365 days – 88/89

Days 88 and 89

Writing exercise – Things are not what they seem

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Include the elements, who does this person think they are, who are they really, what are they running from or to, and what just happened they cannot undo.

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I knew her simply as Emma, the enigmatic woman who lived in Apartment 772, five doors up from me. Sometimes she would be alone, sometimes with a man whom I assumed was her husband. They were quiet and unassuming and had lived in the block for about a year.

Amonth the others on our floor, there were the busybodies, the people who had more time than sense and spent their time talking about matters they generally knew nothing about. Emma was one of those subjects.

To them, she was not married, the man was really two who looked the same, possibly brothers, and that arguments had been heard, up the stairs, and from within the apartment. I simply told them it was none of their business.

Each morning, I would leave for work at the same time. Emma was more erratic but would also leave for work about the same time. I took the bus from the stop outside the building; she took a bus from the other side in the opposite direction.

Each evening, I would come home on the bus, stopping on the other side of the street. Not so often, Emma would come home in a car, driven by the man she was seen with in the building. She would get out, and he would drive off, only to return a half hour later on foot.

No, I wasn’t a stalker; she had simply piqued my interest.

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This morning was different.

I came down to join the others at the bus stop, waiting for the bus that was three minutes late. i was running late.

Emma was on the other side of the road, standing next to the shelter, but there was something else. A case, not a large one, not a small one, but one just enough for her to pack enough for a free days away.

This sent my deductive mind into overdrive.

IT was cold but the sun was out, and she was holding rather than wearing her red coat with the fur collar. She was not wearing her usual white blouse and black pants, but a summery yellow dress with flowers on it, a yellow ribbon in her hair, and instead of practical flat heeled shoes she was earing high heels. It completely transformed her into someone else.

My assumption that she was an office clerk or shop salesperson was shattered. Perhaps she was something else entirely. Had my bus been on time, I would have missed this transformation. Perhaps she was emulating the epitome of a 1950s housewife.

She was certainly nothing like the type of woman that would be associated with the man who brought her home. He was rough, unkempt, perhaps a factory worker or something else. My mind briefly went to a dark place and back again. No, it was not possible.

Of course, all of this speculation could be resolved in an instant if only I had the courage to talk to her, and now that I had seen her in this guise, that might never happen. She was far too nice for the likes of me.

I;d seen her glance nervously over the road, as if she was looking for the man in the car, the man we saw with her in the corridors of our building. Did he bring her home last night? Was she running away from him? It would explain the nervous glances. Those nervous glances extended to the direction the bus came from, and she was willing it to arrive so she could get away.

If he did come out and saw her trying to escape, would I try to intervene and save her? No. I was too much of a coward to do that. Those furtive and apprehensive looks confirmed my suspicion that she was leaving. He was not her type, and maybe was once, but not now. Not this version of her.

Had they argued? Had it got violent? I hadn’t heard anything, but then I never did. I went to bed early so that I was fresh for the next day. What could have happened that precipitated this? If she was trying to get away, would she come back?

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My attention was diverted for a moment on a pair of badly behaving school children. when I looked back, I could see the stricken look on her face, staring at the entrance to the building. I turned around and saw the man, quickly looking up and down the street, then over the road.

His manner told me he had seen her, and he was almost running towards her.

I looked up the road and the bus wasn’t coming. She had picked up the suitcase but in the motion of doing that she had dropped her coat, and buy the time she picked it up he was there. He grabbed her by the arms and was yelling, not too loudly, at her.

I couldn’t understand the language he was speaking.

She looked devastated and didn’t put up any resistance. He was trying to take her case and she wouldn’t let him. Others at the bus stop were moving away, not wanting to get involved.

I made a decision. it might not be the right one, it might be none of my business, but to me it looked like he was hurting her.

I crossed the road and stepped up to them.

He stopped and glared at me. “You want to go away, little man.” Full of himself and arrogant. I knew then what he was. Italian, recently arrived, with halting English. There were a few near where I worked, men who were recently arrived, looking for a new life.

I pulled out my badge and showed it to him. “You might want to rethink that, sir.” He stepped back slightly. My detective’s badge carried only so much weight, and people like him generally had no respect for the law.

I looked at her. “Are you alright? Is this man bothering you?”

She looked at me, trying to remember where she had seen me. It was certainly not as a policeman. I rarely let anyone know who or what I was.

Over the other side of the road, my bus came and went. Damn.

“Yes,” she said. “You are from apartments. A policeman. Yes, this man is annoying me.
I wish to go to my sisters.”

“And this man?”

“Comes from home, thinks we are still,” she hesitated, looking for a word, “friends. That is home, not here. He is terrible man at home, why I leave. I do not wish to see him, now or ever again.”

“OK.” I turned back to him. “Leave now, sir. She does not want to see you.”

“Not true. This is wife, my woman, she is mine, do what I tell her!”

She came and stood beside me. “Was married, divorced now. I am not his.”

He took a step towards me and tried to push me aside to get to her, as she moved backwards to stand behind me. Perhaps I acted on instinct, perhaps it was the fact he was going to shove me, but I grabbed his arm, twisted him to one side, and when he tried to resist, I levered him onto the ground, pinning his arms behind him.

A patrol car pulled up just as he hit the ground, and two uniformed officers jumped out, one with a hand on his gun. I held up my badge and said, “This man was trying to take this woman away forcefully, I told him to stop after identifying myself as a police officer, and when he didn’t, I had to restrain him.

The bus arrived and pulled in front of the police car. The two policemen had the man in custody and were holding him.

She looked at the very angry man, and at the bus. “May I catch bus. My sister is waiting for my arrival.”

“You want to prefer charges against this man?” I asked.

“No. I just want to leave. Please.”

I looked at the two officers. “Go. We’ll detain this man for a few minutes. Give him a warning.”

“Thank you.” She picked up her case and walked over to the bus. She took one last look back, and then she was gone.

I had no doubt I wouldn’t see her again.

They gave him a warming and then let him go, waiting until he had walked off. He gave the nastiest of looks, and I knew my business wasn’t done with him. He didn’t look the sort who would let it go.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

A to Z Blog Challenge – April 2025 – L

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L is for – Let’s have some fun.  Burned operatives get a second chance

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I’d seen the Trevi Fountain in the movies, but, until now, it just seemed like any other fountain, only larger.

In reality, it was much more than that, and, so it seemed, it was also that for many other people.  Mid-afternoon on a warm sunny day, they were all standing in awe.

Perhaps some were making a wish, and I saw several toss coins in.  There would be a lot of money in there, and I couldn’t help but think about what sort of job it would be to retrieve it.

Odd too, I thought, if they hadn’t, how many old and rare coins might be somewhere on the floor.  Of course, I only thought of the aesthetic value rather than the practicality of the water system that the Romans had built long before such feats of engineering were being contemplated.

No, I was here on holiday. 

After years of travelling to a great many places for my job, one that never really gave me any time for sightseeing, I’d decided it was time to indulge in a little tourism.

Before this, I’d been to the Colosseum, the old ruins, the Spanish Steps, and the Parthenon.  This was going to wrap up in the afternoon.

“So, are you here on business or pleasure?”

I turned to see Giuseppe, a man I’d had a rather complicated relationship with in the past, and one who was not told I was coming.

But the fact he was here was no surprise.

It was, however, surprising that he could sneak up on me.  It showed I was slipping, or, more than likely, I was more susceptible to being distracted.

“I am but a humble tourist.  I’m sorry, but you have been following me for nothing.”

“Why is it I find that difficult to believe?”

Maybe because of what I used to do, but it was not something I would openly admit.  And the only reason he was standing there was that someone else had made a mistake, and required a bit of diplomacy to smooth the waters.

Unfortunately, that had destroyed my invisibility in Italy, and probably most of Europe, and these days I spent most of my time in semi-retirement driving a desk.  Not entirely put out to pasture.

“As difficult as it might be, having your cover blown makes it impossible to continue, verified by the fact you’re here now.  Was it a red flag on my name or facial recognition?”

“Just remember, we’re watching you.”

With a last shake of his head, he walked over to a car parked a short of distance away, got in, and drove off.  I had no doubt he was not the only one who had been watching me.

“It seems you were right.”

Another voice, this time a woman, and expected.  Carla had been waiting in the coffee shop for Giuseppe or someone like him to make an appearance.

“They were not exactly hiding the fact they had me under surveillance.”

She handed me the coffee with a smile.

“That means we can have some fun, does it not?”

That had been the plan.  I knew if I entered Italy using the identity I used the last time, it would put them on alert and prompt a reaction.

“It still doesn’t mean they won’t suspect something is afoot.”

“And since when did you start doubting yourself?”

Since my last operation fell apart because I made one simple mistake that no agent would have made in a million years.  But, I had, and it basically ended two careers.

The other person had just handed me the coffee and unaccountably seemed less angry with me than she should be.

“You of all people should know the answer to that.”

She sighed and took my hand in hers.  “What I do know is that there’s a very clever operation afoot, and you’re the one who planned it.  And, far from being on the sidelines, we have a new and very important role to play.  And speaking of play, it’s time you and I got into our roles.  Oh, and just for the record, I still love you and I know how you feel about me, and before I brought you coffee, I made a wish.”

So had I, and it had been answered.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

Writing a book in 365 days – My story 11

More about my story

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So…

The conference is also having a dinner the night before it all gets under way, with dancing.  Someone had this notion that an orchestra should be supplied and play classics from the Glenn Miller/Benny Goodman/Dorsey Brothers era.

The idea behind this interesting development was intriguing, to say the least, after I watched a late-night movie that had Glenn Miller and his band in it, and the music was amazing.  I’ve always been a fan of it, and I have countless recordings of nearly all the big bands of the era.

It’s also a time when our protagonist will get a look at all of the participants and decide which people are going to be a problem or not.  It is also the first time he gets to meet the head of the secret police, and the description he was given was far kinder than the reality.  And, the evil man has more interest in his partner, one of the younger and more attractive of the women present.

But it’s more about what’s going to happen when our protagonist happened to notice some odd activity at the rear of the building near the kitchens and goes to investigate.

It goes from a friendly enquiry to a hostage situation to a shootout, to getting injured and sent to hospital.  Our protagonist is not carrying an injury.

But, the silver lining, he now knows who is the leader of the rebels.

NANOWRIMO – April 2025 – Day 14

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The Fourth Son

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The woman he dreaded.  The woman who was never really a mother for him.  That had fallen to the wife of the king’s brother, the Ambassador way back in New York.

The woman who once threated his mother to a pistol duel at dawn and had got as far as the back lawn and started walking the ten paces before the king came and stopped it.

It might not have been a good idea to stand between the two very angry women.

Ah, the memories.

But his mother was not herself, not the firebrand he was expecting, just there to apologise for not being there to welcome him home before she collapsed on the floor, the sedatives finally taking hold.

The doctor is apologetic.

In between this, there are a few questions for the butler, who used to be his father’s, the morgue superintendent and the doctor, again, when he goes to see the bodies of his brothers and father, sans the eldest, who is missing.

There’s a problem: why is he missing? He should be somewhere in the debris caused by the avalanche, like his two other brothers.

That was something he was going to get to the bottom of.

Autopsies are asked for when he learns they were not going to.

Odd…

Writing a book in 365 days – My story 11

More about my story

…

So…

The conference is also having a dinner the night before it all gets under way, with dancing.  Someone had this notion that an orchestra should be supplied and play classics from the Glenn Miller/Benny Goodman/Dorsey Brothers era.

The idea behind this interesting development was intriguing, to say the least, after I watched a late-night movie that had Glenn Miller and his band in it, and the music was amazing.  I’ve always been a fan of it, and I have countless recordings of nearly all the big bands of the era.

It’s also a time when our protagonist will get a look at all of the participants and decide which people are going to be a problem or not.  It is also the first time he gets to meet the head of the secret police, and the description he was given was far kinder than the reality.  And, the evil man has more interest in his partner, one of the younger and more attractive of the women present.

But it’s more about what’s going to happen when our protagonist happened to notice some odd activity at the rear of the building near the kitchens and goes to investigate.

It goes from a friendly enquiry to a hostage situation to a shootout, to getting injured and sent to hospital.  Our protagonist is not carrying an injury.

But, the silver lining, he now knows who is the leader of the rebels.

Writing a book in 365 days – 87

Day 87

Synonyms

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Or, more to the point, we all want to use words that will emphasise the description or the point we want to make.

The trick is not to make it so obscure that we send the readers to the Thesaurus too many times before they get bored.

Then there is that other problem of using the same word over and over and that too gets boring.

Such a word is said. But you have to be careful not to use too flowery a description of what is being said, or the manner in which is being imparted.

Gushed – I mean, who gushes these days?

Snapped – that’s what alligators do, and they don’t speak.

Quietly, whispered, demanding, spitefully, angrily. Try to think of how you would impart the words if you were in the place of your character.

How would you feel on the other end of a verbal barrage?

Perhaps therein lies a possible solution to the problem of describing conversations, arguments, heated exchanges, or what do they call them these day, robust discussions.

How would you react?

NANOWRIMO – April 2025 – Day 13

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The Fourth Son

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Banquets are not cosy dinners, or parties with friends, or dining in the best restaurant in the city with a dozen others. Ruth had done all that, and it had been amazing. 

A banquet, an orchestra – I mean a full complete orchestra playing music – and a menu that was designed and delivered by a three-Michelin-star chef.

Now you know why there is one, not only on the plane.

It was Cinderella at the ball, with the exquisite ball gown, the music, the dancing, and the prince. Oh no, there wasn’t a glass slipper or a fairy godmother.

AND THIS WAS JUST THE FIRST NIGHT!!!

Was reality going to set in in the cold, hard light of dawn?

I don’t think so.

Not for Ruth anyway.

For our new King, it might be said it was a little different.

Breakfast in the room where he had all his breakfasts when he was a child, and the reminiscing coming back in a flood of thoughts, his father, his mother, his brothers, his sisters.

Now, he got to sit at the head of the table.

Except for one small problem.  His mother was there waiting for him.

Searching for locations: From Zhengzhou to Suzhou by train, and the Snowy Sea Hotel, Suzhou, China

For the first time on this trip, we encounter problems with Chinese officialdom at the railway station, though we were warned that this might occur.

We had a major problem with the security staff when they pulled everyone over with aerosols and confiscated them. We lost styling mousse, others lost hair spray, and the men, their shaving cream.  But, to her credit, the tour guide did warn us they were stricter here, but her suggestion to be angry they were taking our stuff was probably not the right thing to do.

As with previous train bookings, the Chinese method of placing people in seats didn’t quite manage to keep couples traveling together, together on the train.  It was an odd peculiarity which few of the passengers understood, nor did they conform, swapping seat allocations.

This train ride did not seem the same as the last two and I don’t think we had the same type of high-speed train type that we had for the last two.  The carriages were different, there was only one toilet per carriage, and I don’t think we were going as fast.

But aside from that, we had 753 kilometers to travel with six stops before ours, two of which were very large cities, and then our stop, about four and a half hours later.  With two minutes this time, to get the baggage off the team managed it in 40 seconds, a new record.

After slight disorientation getting off the train, we locate our guide, easily found by looking for the Trip-A-Deal flag.  From there it’s a matter of getting into our respective groups and finding the bus.

As usual, the trip to the hotel was a long one, but we were traveling through a much brighter, and well lit, city.

As for our guide, we have him from now until the end of the tour.  There are no more train rides, we will be taking the bus from city to city until we reach Shanghai.  Good thing then that the bus is brand new, with that new car smell.  Only issue, no USB charging point.

The Snowy Sea hotel.  

It is finally a joy to get a room that is nothing short of great.  It has a bathroom and thus privacy.

Everyone had to go find a supermarket to purchase replacements for the confiscated items.  Luckily there was a huge supermarket just up from the hotel that had everything but the kitchen sink.

But, unlike where we live, the carpark is more of a scooter park!

It is also a small microcosm of Chinese life for the new more capitalistic oriented Chinese.

The next morning we get some idea of the scope of high-density living, though here, the buildings are not 30 stories tall, but still just as impressive.

These look like the medium density houses, but to the right of these are much larger buildings

The remarkable thing about this is those buildings stretch as far as the eye can see.

Writing a book in 365 days – 87

Day 87

Synonyms

…

Or, more to the point, we all want to use words that will emphasise the description or the point we want to make.

The trick is not to make it so obscure that we send the readers to the Thesaurus too many times before they get bored.

Then there is that other problem of using the same word over and over and that too gets boring.

Such a word is said. But you have to be careful not to use too flowery a description of what is being said, or the manner in which is being imparted.

Gushed – I mean, who gushes these days?

Snapped – that’s what alligators do, and they don’t speak.

Quietly, whispered, demanding, spitefully, angrily. Try to think of how you would impart the words if you were in the place of your character.

How would you feel on the other end of a verbal barrage?

Perhaps therein lies a possible solution to the problem of describing conversations, arguments, heated exchanges, or what do they call them these day, robust discussions.

How would you react?

A to Z Blog Challenge – April 2025 – K

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K is for — Knight in shining armour.  A surprising twist in a simple rescue

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To tell my mother that a large orchestra was not a necessity for a ‘ball’ thrown in my honour was the same as telling her I didn’t want one.  Missives that she totally ignored.

I knew my father agreed with me, a man who didn’t like the idea of showing extravagance for the sake of it in the face of the current economic climate.  We were going to feature not only in the society pages, but also near page one as a hot news item. Some of it was going to be for all the wrong reasons.

I’d seen several roving reporters, scribbling in their notebooks.

When Madeleine and I returned, the orchestra had fired up and was regaling the attendees with a waltz, though not that many had taken to the floor.  Perhaps the art of ballroom dancing at balls was no longer a thing.

“Perhaps we should set an example,” she said.

“You dance?”

“I’ve been around the floor once or twice.  I’m assuming your boarding school taught you the finer points?”

“Mademoiselle Garmin.  You learned, or it was twenty lashes.  I learned.”

Odd, too, that I found by the time we reached the dance floor, we were holding hands.  She was subtle and sneaky.

“I’m willing if you are.”

And, yes, after a few hesitant first steps and getting closer to her than I had ever been since the first day I met her, I found she was very competent.  Perhaps she was equally surprised I was quite good and could actually lead.

Our demonstration pulled others out of their seats and into the vortex.  It got a round of applause at the end, and then the orchestra slipped into something less challenging for those without formal training.

She still had my hand, and I don’t think she was giving it back.  Did this mean I had to take her home with me?  It was an interesting thought, given the Madeleine/Oscar dynamic.  Or was that why she sent him away, so she could advance this relationship?

Even more interesting.  I found myself almost as intrigued as a member of the public would be when reading about us.

We reached the edge of the dance floor when I heard my mother advancing, “There you are.”  She was very quick when she wanted to be, perhaps thinking I was about to disappear again.

“Where have you been?”

“On the dance floor, demonstrating that you didn’t waste your money sending me to that awful school.”

She smiled at Madeleine.  “You dance beautifully.”

And I didn’t?  Sometimes, my mother could be aggravating.  I glared at her.

“So did you,” she said to me.  Then back to Madeleine, “Come, there’s some people I’d like you meet.”

She gave me a baleful look then the link was severed, and she reluctantly left with my mother.  Rather her than me, meeting all that ‘old money’ and then unattractive daughters.  It was a compelling reason to stay with Madeleine if only to keep the others at bay.

A hand on my shoulder and words in my ear.  “You two make an attractive couple out there,” he waved his hand towards the dance floor, “but it didn’t seem you were ‘together’ if you know what I mean.”

Howard was both a keen judge of character and could spot a phony a mile off.  I’d have to work hard to convince him we were ‘together’.

“Early days, Howie.  I’m not like you. A sideways glance from a girl and you are taking her to a cheap motel.”

“You should try it?”

“A cheap motel?  Sorry.  It has, at the very least, five stars before I walk in the door.”

“Snob.”

“Expensive boarding schools will do that to you.”

He punched me in the arm, playfully but hard enough.  “So, seriously, do you like her?”

“Do you?”

He shook his head.  “When you start answering questions with questions, I know there’s trouble in paradise.  What is it?”

“Nobody is that perfect, Howie.”

Before I overheard a conversation that suggested an ulterior motive, it was one of the foremost items on my mind.  She was almost perfect, which meant there had to be something.  And the timing.  Girls like her do not come out of left field like she did; they are noticed and talked about.  No one I knew had any idea who she was or anything about their family.  And internet searchers found very little.  It was interesting that she did not have a digital footprint or social media presence.

Even I had one of those, albeit tended by a personal assistant.

“Then grab her while you can, before there’s a line of eligible bachelors beating a path to her door.”

I was about to tell him they could but decided not to.

“I’m working on it.”

“Work harder.”

Another pat on the back, and he was gone.

The whole time Howard was with me, I’d seen her glancing in my direction, in between being attentive to the women in the group, giving me the ‘come hither’ look, suggesting she wanted to be rescued.

I gave it a few more minutes and then wandered slowly over to the group.  My mother’s cronies, the morning tea reading group, I think.

“Have you finished torturing my partner in crime?” I asked Mother when she looked condescendingly in my direction.

“You make it sound like you’re bank robbers.”

“We’re working on it.  I don’t know yet if she’s going to be the safecracker or the getaway driver.”

It got the required response for the elderly group: a look of disdain from all of them.

“And with that, ladies, I must whisk her away.  I hear the orchestra is working towards a tango, and that is one of my criteria in a girlfriend.”

“Tango,” she said, almost in disbelief.

Was that mantle of perfection starting to slip?

“What’s a ball without a tango, and the honourees not being able to lead from the front?”  I made the bold move of taking her hand and gently extracting her from the group.

“Oh, do so if you must, Sam.”

She smiled as I led her away.  “You are my gallant knight in shining armour.”

“Overly expensive tuxedo, perhaps.  Not one for shining armour, though.  But I can handle a sword if necessary.”

“Another boarding school class?”

“Senor Rafael, Olympic champion no less.  Until that first lesson, I idolised Zorro and wanted to be just like him.”

“Anything you haven’t done?”

“Sweep a girl off her feet.”

“Then let the sweeping begin.”

If there was a moment that I could say I fell in love with Madeleine, it was during the tango.  I would never admit it, but there it was.

Such a line, ‘you had me at the tango’.

This was going to be painful if it didn’t work out.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025