A knock on the door. Zoe nodded and Von stepped into the hall. A gurney, a nurse and a contingent of armed guards, dressed in black, weapons drawn, waited. Their black face-shields were polished, his reflection like a house of mirrors, equally elongated, reflected back. He looked from the nurse to the guards and back to the nurse before raising an index finger and ducking back into the room.Zoe raised her weary head and inquired. Von held his finger to his lips and motioned toward the window.
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Rog had called for help. He had dressed Yul, wiped and continued wiping the blood from her face rocking her back and forth in his arms. The dispatcher had said it would be an hour before anyone could arrive. Rog had yelled. Must have worked and his anger subsided as with fifteen minutes, a knock on the door, help had arrived.
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Von opened the window, returned to the bed and placed Zoe on his back, her emaciated hands wrapped around his neck, the bulge of the child uncomfortably pressing into his back. Quickly they moved through the courtyard, steps light, breath shallow.
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Watching the girls skip and dance around the tree, an odd-shaped figure, dark, hunchbacked, cloaked, caught her eye moving toward the tree and toward the girls. Fear turned to shock as the girls stopped, their dogs pulling forth and barking. The figure kept moving and slipped from sight, the bubble of joy broken, a chill of aloneness, vague, grew.
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The Hood read the report. His communique had not reached Polaris, solar storm was reason claimed.
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John pulled up to the hospital, his comm blinked. While Kyra and Ariel slept, he took the call, a voice spoke in even tones and direct declarative statements. Quietly, he pulled away, heading for the chapel.
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Watching the girls skip and dance around the tree, an odd-shaped figure, dark, hunchbacked, cloaked, caught her eye moving toward the tree and toward the girls. Fear turned to shock as the girls stopped, their dogs pulling forth and barking. The figure kept moving and slipped from sight, the bubble of joy broken, a chill of aloneness, vague, grew.
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The Hood read the report. His communique had not reached Polaris, solar storm was reason claimed.
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John pulled up to the hospital, his comm blinked. While Kyra and Ariel slept, he took the call, a voice spoke in even tones and direct declarative statements. Quietly, he pulled away, heading for the chapel.
5 comments:
Your writing is simply marvelous. The descriptions, the story, everything. There is a lot going on here, and you capture the flavor of every moment.
Thanks Deb. I love having the time to immerse myself in the story and yesterday was one of those days where I swam to my heart's content. :-D
I do love these chapters, where we get to see everyone (or almost everyone) in the same space of time. A reminder too that we are only privy to parts, that movement and thought, life, continues for that character even when we are not witnessing it, not that we didn't know that, but it sets one to wondering about all that we do not see, do not hear and do not know. No doubt whatsoever that Von would do as was asked of him, for the reason that he understood what she was saying, understood the strength and need that will not allow her to give up on being a mother to her child, the will to survive so that she can hold and love her child and have the child look upon her, know her. Even in the shortest of sentences, you paint the most vivid of pictures. Their black face-shields were polished, his reflection like a house of mirrors, equally elongated, reflected back. Rog and Yul in the thick of the action, I am reminded of words once spoken by Rog to the effect that no matter what they would be together, that they would survive, endure, live to love another day to be cliché and with all that lies behind them and the flawed perfection of their twosome, despite fate having taken many an undesirable turn along the course of this story, there is as much conviction as can be that this too they shall come through. Rog, bless his heart, with everything that he does becomes more endearing, the anger, the demand, the refusal to accept what just was not good enough, what was necessary. The carrying of another is always something expressive, so many examples within this story for example where there has been great significance to the act of carrying, I thought of the story about the brothers from Boy's Town as your words painted the picture of Zoe upon Von's back, stirring the sight, rounded belly pressed into his back, her emaciated arms circling his shoulders, there are some words that evoke a thousand images, that shoot like a rocket straight to the heart, the heart of the matter, where understanding is immediate, of concept, of meaning. Minus sufficient c(onsciousness)offee this morning, or should that be plain daylight, for unfathomable reasons since the possibility, probability, is now so clear, I hadn't considered that the hunchbacked, cloaked figure that Em sees could be Von and Zoe, this afternoon her sense of being alone increasing confirms as does the fear of the girls turning to shock. The Hood these days makes me think of Strumpet and hope that we shall see her back soon. And with John, again, it seems likely that it is Von calling him given the location to which he heads. So much speculation, so much curiosity evoked and the eternal desire for more even as one holds the current close, one cannot help but wonder what comes next, how far into wow will your writing propel, what will we learn of a particular character, how might they think and react to a given situation, will Zoe hold her child, will she hold him for a little while, will she hold him for a long while, is the certainty that Yul will recover based merely on wishful thinking, on hope, will Em continue to be alone, abandoned it amounts to in harshest terms by Trev and what of Mairi, who was with her and whom we have heard nothing about, her non-appearance, in Em's room, seems to foretell not least for her role when Yul was in hospital that there is reason. Each of these are somewhat like your opening sentences, it has always been a source of joy and of admiration that from the very first words, regardless of character, regardless of where the plot has been and is headed, regardless of mood and regardless of how long it has been since the last chapter, or the last connected chapter perhaps more significantly, from the very first words, the story is here, everything, everyone, it, as a whole entity, everything ever felt, every memory, every turn, like homecoming, the day may have changed, the time of day, the sights and sounds that surround, the occupants within, not making my point well, but the story is always the story. Regardless. Never leaves, never is anything but familiar. Wonderful, vivid, wonderful once more.
Sunshine, these are, perhaps, the easiest chapters to write in so much as each character and their situation is just a blurb. I do them whenever I feel the strands of the story slipping from my fingers or fear those stands have slipped from the readers. Sometimes I have to take my own advice and just focus on the chapter at hand and forget everything else. :-D
I'm finding it hard to write about Von and Zoe without slipping into the trite and cliche. I'm trying to see the world as they might see it and although it is a little easier to do that with Von than Zoe, I'm finding it hard to be them as them as opposed to being them as me--let me know if that makes no sense and I'll try and explain it better. In part, the challenge of writing character is staying true to that character in thought and action and word, which at times, sometimes often, is in direct conflict with the writer's own views and thoughts and words and actions and it can be easy, at times, to blur the two and what you end up with is a muddy character that rings somewhat hollow. I'm trying to avoid this.
As always, your readership and comments thrill me to no end. We are approaching three years on the story and you've been there every step of the way. Just know that I've not taken a single comment for granted and feel blessed to have had you along for the ride. Thank you.
I resent the presence ruining the beauty of the little girls running around the tree. But this seems true to life.
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