Fictional Fridays #23

fictional-fridays

The Misfortunes of Mr. Ferrars (Part Three)

The colours seemed too bright to his pounding head when he stepped inside The Golden Apple. A guard escorted him to a far table in one of the corners, where a man sat with a mountain of papers stacked perfectly in front of him. The morning sunlight fell on his back and illuminated him like some sort of angelic figure. Dwayne lifted a hand to shield his eyes. The guard released him from his grip and trooped back the way he had come, leaving the two of them alone in the tavern’s main hall.

“You seem like the pleasanter sort,” the man commented, looking him up and down. “What might your name be?”

Dwayne shrugged and answered.

“Dwayne?” The change in the other’s voice was evident. “I should’ve recognised you instantly, I suppose, but it’s been many years. I hope you remember me, cousin.” He got up and moved to stand in front of Dwayne.

“Rick?” asked Dwayne, uncertainly.

“And so you do,” replied Richard, clapping him on his back. “It’s a pleasure to see you after… how many years has it been?”

“Six or seven,” mumbled Dwayne, leaning away from him. It was as if his nightmares were suddenly coming true. The news of his turn of fortunes had sped like a wildfire among his relations and the last thing he wanted was one of them to see him in his poor condition.

“Too long, too long. But I suppose I have been busy. It must be desperate times indeed for you if you’re thinking of applying for this job.” He chuckled, but Dwayne chafed at the insult.

“I heard it pays very well,” he defended his decision.

“Of course it does because the job itself is nothing short of torture,” Richard guffawed.

“I do need the money, Rick. If you could help me out, I’d be forever indebted to you,” Dwayne said through gritted teeth. Only Lessie’s pleading eyes had kept him there even after Richard’s words.

“Anything for you, dear cousin. I’m certain that you’re the most qualified man to apply; over-qualified, really.” He gave Dwayne a pointed smile and continued, “I would have to hire you based on merit itself. But I must ask you, Dwayne, after your stint as a businessman, can you take orders from a little boy?”

Dwayne nodded but said nothing. He would do whatever was asked of him for that amount of money, or so he told himself. He had already buried any pride he had had when he walked into this tavern.

Richard shook his hands solemnly. “Then welcome to the palace, Mr. Dwayne Ferrars, as the caretaker of Prince Jeffrey. I hope you enjoy your time in the palace.” There was a mischievous sparkle in Rick’s eyes that annoyed Dwayne. He withdrew his hands quickly.

“Thank you, cousin,” Dwayne said with as much fervour as he could muster. “Is there a contract I must sign? When do I start?”

“Come round to the palace tomorrow morning and I shall have your contract ready. You will start two days hence, if that is fine by you.”

“That would be perfect. Thank you again, Rick.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Dwayne. Oh, but when you do arrive tomorrow, make sure to ask for Mr. Richard and not Rick. We are colleagues now, after all.” He laughed without humour.

“My apologies, Mr. Richard,” replied Dwayne, doffing his hat and curtsying. He hoped Rick wouldn’t notice the mockery in his fake smile.

“That’s much better now,” Rick called, striding away from him towards entrance. “Send the rest away,” he ordered the guard as he left.

Dwayne should have been happy as he followed his cousin out of the door, but a heavy dread filled his heart. He had to see Lessie and tell her he had a job, but he wasn’t yet sure if that was good or bad news.

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Fictional Fridays #22

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The Misfortunes of Mr. Ferrars (Part Two)

Dwayne poured out what he sternly told himself would be the last cup for the day. The sun had set outside and shadows had crept across the room as he had not bothered to light any candles. Only the golden and pink streaks of fading light in the sky provided a little illumination. He barely noticed the lack of light. He sat staring at the drab walls of the dingy establishment that he had been forced to call home for the last two weeks. An open trunk lay yawning in a corner. He didn’t have any money to pay the next day’s rent, so he knew he had to move out, but hadn’t the heart to pack when he had returned “home”.

He emptied the glass down his gullet and set it down forcefully on the small table, sighing. The bottle was still half full, but he felt no inclination to even pull it toward himself again. He wanted to do nothing and be nothing. He knew he would have, that fateful night two weeks ago, if not for Lessie. He truly would be nothing if not for her. He knew he should be grateful that she’d stayed with him even after his business was closed down, but he only felt anger for not being the one accompanying her to the party. His blood boiled at the thought of her being asked for a dance by a handsome stranger, someone with the money and influence that he’d lost. Before he knew it, he was on his feet, his hands curled into fists at his side. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

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Fictional Fridays #21

fictional-fridays

The Misfortunes of Mr. Ferrars (Part One)

Dwayne Ferrars looked down at the gold coins in his hands and counted five carefully as he dropped them in his money bag.

“That is the last of your savings, Mr. Ferrars,” said the man behind the counter. His polite smile from earlier was gone. Sensing the dismissal as the man busied himself with paperwork, Dwayne got up and walked away, his money bag giving a pitiful jingle as he moved.

He looked back at the bank after he’d walked a few paces onto the street. Its almost-white walls smiled at him mockingly in the sun. He knew he’d never have a reason to come back there again and the realisation produced a tingling at the back of his eyes. He blinked once and continued on his way, his head consumed with bitter thoughts.

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Fictional Fridays #20

This is not the original story I had planned. I had written a draft with a complete story titled ‘Resilience’, but the page refreshed and I lost the original. I had hoped that the draft would be saved somewhere, but no such luck. I am disappointed and quite angry, but what good will that do? I couldn’t recreate the story and do justice to the original, so I decided to write a new one. I apologise for the length, but there’s only so much you can write when you’re frustrated.

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Fictional Fridays #19

The last time I posted fiction on this blog was 5 months ago and I still can’t believe it! Writing fiction just for the blog took a backseat during NaNoWriMo but I vowed to continue it, so here I am again with a short story. This qualifies as fanfiction, but I really couldn’t get this out of my head after New Year’s day. I’m talking about (brownie points for getting it right) Sherlock, of course.

The first episode came out on Monday and since then I haven’t stopped thinking about it, or about what the next episodes will showcase. A short story titled Appointment in Samarra is narrated by Benedict Cumberbatch in this episode, with the backdrop of the London Aquarium and sharks reinforcing the nature of the tale. During the episode, however, Mycroft (played by Mark Gatiss) remembers that Sherlock had written his own version of the story as a child for he did not like the original. It seemed like a good challenge to try writing that version of the story, so here is my interpretation of what the young Sherlock might have written (and then some more of my imagination).

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Fictional Fridays #18

Black

Leslie entered her grandmother’s room to get away from the crowd below. Her eyes were tired of seeing only black everywhere and sympathetic faces that offered no real comfort. It had been years since she had set foot here and she felt like she was invading the privacy of a person who still lingered around somehow. She sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. The sheets still smelled like her grandmother, but the warmth had seeped out of them. Leslie shivered, getting the distinct feeling that she shouldn’t be here, but she couldn’t help herself. She needed to see if those awful rumours that were being whispered downstairs were true.

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Myths about Fanfiction

First off, I apologize for not posting anything on Monday. I’ve been having a hectic week and sleep seems to be coming less naturally to me than it used to, which leaves me more tired at the end of every passing day. Secondly, it seems my brain is unresponsive when it comes to fiction. I got through two sentences before the words shut off. My Camp NaNoWriMo word count is still at a stubborn zero. I have made plans for the weekend though, and I hope I can get something written then. Today, however, you’ll have to excuse me. This post is in response to a lot of stigma out there about the fanfiction writing community. I felt I needed to clarify a few things as someone who writes original stories 80℅ of the time and 20℅ fanfiction.

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Fictional Fridays #17

Who thought holidays could be more stressful than the months I have to attend college? Strangely, I find myself having no time to do the things I want to finish and having all the time in the world to complete TV series in record time during my semesters. Another example of time being a vindictive creature, I suppose. Putting aside selfish concerns for a bit, I decided to write something, anything, to take my mind off of things. Here is the result (Incidentally, it fits this week’s Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes Prompt Challenge #33 – Favourite Food).

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Fictional Fridays #16

I’m back with some flash fiction this time. I’m still in the process of ironing out the finer details of Cold Scent and hope to continue it as a part of Camp NaNoWriMo in July. For today, I’ve written a fictional piece using Ronovan Hester’s prompt for this week – ‘Have a drink’. He suggested a word count of 500 and I managed to stick to that. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I liked writing it.

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Fictional Fridays #15

Special bonus day! Here are the next two chapters of Cold Scent. Happy reading! 🙂

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