…when I designed this trap door, I only meant for it to be a well kept secret hidden under the rug of my shop’s study, and did not factor in a quick entry… nor did I ever imagine a reason for the need of such.
…out of the corner of my eyes I noticed the shadows of movement through the slit left by curtains that were not closed all the way.
The pounding on the door told me all I needed to know … that I must work in hurry… which was not my style...
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
Untitled rough draft
The shrill whistles of the Police Officers calling an alert... all stirred up, looking for me, were starting to make lamps and candles be lit, causing the curious to open up their windows and peek outside into the early morning dawn.
My path through London's cobble stoned streets had been distinguished by the accent of blood my severely cut hand was leaving on the thin accumulation of snow ... red bread crumbs that led to my damnation...
...my shaking hands fumbled with the lock, trying to get the key into the frozen rusty tumblers.Dropping the needed key into the early morning shadows just made matters worse ...
As I fumbled for the lost key, I noticed a huge stone and decided it would open the lock quicker.Beating on the lock did announce my presence in the alleyway... Just as the lock gave way and I kicked in the door to my workshop, a Policeman blew his whistle and started running my way.
I hated to do it, but I reached into my cloak, drawing the dueling pistol, which I had not yet fired... and with an eerie calmness ... aimed ... reluctantly squeezed the trigger, igniting the flintlock and sending the lead ball on an undiscriminating path towards the Policeman that had now thrown his hands up...I stood there ... frozen by more than the cold ... and watched as the man that I had shared drinks with during better occasions, tried to stop in his tracks, as though the bullet would stop short, which it did not.
I was hoping the reason his feet flew out from underneath him was because his slick soled shoes just didn't do well on the slick cobblestone. "Sorry friend", was all the lamenting I could muster, which is more than he would have had for me if I stood trial for the murder of the woman that would soon be identified as his wife...
…the echo of the pistol shot was drowned by a shrieking voice which now became familiar as the nosey lady that lived on the second level of apartments that helped create the alleyway behind my shop ... I wished I could have laughed at the thought of that fat lady singing, “HE’S HERE! … HE’S HERE!” ... wishing this madness would end when she stopped singing her good citizen song.
… but the thought to laugh turned into a saying my father, a sailor, always told me … “Time and Tide wait for no man” ...
…Before I stepped into my temporary sanctuary of darkness, I threw the emptied pistol at her, watching as it miraculously made it’s way between her waving arms … striking her forehead… at least she shut up.
…closing the shop door to the chaotic scene behind me and lodging a conveniently placed chair under the door knob, I made my dance with the darkness without the companion of a candle towards the trap door in the floor that led to my secret room … and hopefully to freedom.
... in another time...
My path through London's cobble stoned streets had been distinguished by the accent of blood my severely cut hand was leaving on the thin accumulation of snow ... red bread crumbs that led to my damnation...
...my shaking hands fumbled with the lock, trying to get the key into the frozen rusty tumblers.Dropping the needed key into the early morning shadows just made matters worse ...
As I fumbled for the lost key, I noticed a huge stone and decided it would open the lock quicker.Beating on the lock did announce my presence in the alleyway... Just as the lock gave way and I kicked in the door to my workshop, a Policeman blew his whistle and started running my way.
I hated to do it, but I reached into my cloak, drawing the dueling pistol, which I had not yet fired... and with an eerie calmness ... aimed ... reluctantly squeezed the trigger, igniting the flintlock and sending the lead ball on an undiscriminating path towards the Policeman that had now thrown his hands up...I stood there ... frozen by more than the cold ... and watched as the man that I had shared drinks with during better occasions, tried to stop in his tracks, as though the bullet would stop short, which it did not.
I was hoping the reason his feet flew out from underneath him was because his slick soled shoes just didn't do well on the slick cobblestone. "Sorry friend", was all the lamenting I could muster, which is more than he would have had for me if I stood trial for the murder of the woman that would soon be identified as his wife...
…the echo of the pistol shot was drowned by a shrieking voice which now became familiar as the nosey lady that lived on the second level of apartments that helped create the alleyway behind my shop ... I wished I could have laughed at the thought of that fat lady singing, “HE’S HERE! … HE’S HERE!” ... wishing this madness would end when she stopped singing her good citizen song.
… but the thought to laugh turned into a saying my father, a sailor, always told me … “Time and Tide wait for no man” ...
…Before I stepped into my temporary sanctuary of darkness, I threw the emptied pistol at her, watching as it miraculously made it’s way between her waving arms … striking her forehead… at least she shut up.
…closing the shop door to the chaotic scene behind me and lodging a conveniently placed chair under the door knob, I made my dance with the darkness without the companion of a candle towards the trap door in the floor that led to my secret room … and hopefully to freedom.
... in another time...
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