Acquaintances and coincidences

by

Thomas Leathan-drum

celui-ci (1)

Adam steps forward from the shadows; in a gloved hand his sword, its blade long and sharp.

    'Be off with you~you paparazzi': his words slice through the air as sharp as his features and the cut of his cloth, and as clear as his silver boot buckles shine.

    'I thank you Sir for your kind intervention, it came with good timing, may I enquire of your name?'      

    'I have done nothing more than is expected of one,' taking the gents hand.       'Adam is my name, and yours sir?',      'James Pathway, at your service.'

    They both glance towards the fleeing figures.

    'I believe sir,' Adam contributes a thought of his own; 'to rob ones time is a crime equal to freeing a coin from ones pocket.'

    'Well stated,' James said, returning a hand to a jackets pocket.

    'I trust you are not harmed in anyway?', Adam asks, stepping a little closer.

    'No more than my pride, thanks to you,' James replies.

       With the matter addressed, and with no further conversation entered into, they part on good terms, returning in the direction they came, equally the better for the acquaintance.

fin.

duex (2)

 'I have the address that you require, Mr. Higgins.      He is always address in this manner by Edwards, the family butler.

    Jonathan slides the card from the gold plated plater, glancing to confirm.

    'Have my horse saddled and brought to the front door,' his voice showing his urgency, 'advise my mother of my departure'.

    Jonathan lengthens his stride, for if he is to locate Lilly Worsley, the women he seeks, she must be tracked down before reaching her destination .... four days Jonathan has traveled, his only company to date, his chestnut coloured horse; the nights spent under the stars, behind hedges or by a stream; eating and drinking only the provisions packed in his leather saddlebags.

    'May I join your Sir?  The voice came from a large thin male figure, standing no more than seven paces to Jonathan's fire; his height, Jonathan estimates to be six foot, his greatcoat, one size larger than his body; removing his cap the stranger apologised for the un-timely interruption.

    'Please come closer and sit by the fire,' were Jonathan's first words, showing no concern.     'Have you eaten tonight?'      Without waiting for an answer places a chunk of bread and a slice of dry pork on a pewter plate.

    'By what name should I address you by? asked Jonathan.      'I answer to the name of William Worsley, I hear you seek my sister?' 

fin.

trois en nombre (3)

'To your beds boys, and no more chatting,' the commands coming from Peter Bright; master of dormitory one.

    While in the next, 'That's it boys, time for sleepy-byes, have you finished reading there my little Oliver?', this kind voice of Jacob whispers his question.      Oliver places his reading book to the bed side table; and the light is extinguished. 

    Top to toe, boys slept in rows, some suck fingers, where others toes; many hold hands of friends and sleep in peace ... Scott turns and twists restlessly in his own torment, towards the end he lay, held fast against the wall,

... if only the wall could grab his image, his mind, his young body in full and transport him through the barrier~for there two young boys would find themselves friends and lovers.

    With the new morning aroused, by he who controls the coming; has woken all from their sleep and drawn them to wash and to eat; all apart from two lost soles, neither, knowing the night before, that either lived or cared for each other.

    'Have they run away together?', Peter Bright demands to know, from anyone who may know; but; no on comes forward, for no one knows ... the beds are searched, from one end to the other, yet no clues are given up to their hidings, no notes left to incriminate them, or to shine motive to their disappearance.

    Maybe if walls could talk? ... 

fin.

quatre (4)

Hanging over the oak veneered (stand) is the school's coat of arms and motto, embroidered with golden thread; by the late Mrs. Riversten and donated to the school by her daughter.

    All the long narrow pews in the auditorium of the coed college are now occupied; made of pine and lightly stained, showing darken areas on the curvatures of the arm rests, also where generations of bare legs have rubbed smooth, leaving their own patina.      Running left to right in straight lines, from the central aisle towards the North wall where large rectangular windows, longer in height than in width channel the morning sun on those who on entry, peeled to the left; those second, forth and so on, turn to their right towards the South wall, also with large rectangular windows but as this time of the day lacked the sun.

    The members of the choir although not in attendance today have four narrow pews to themselves — raised just left of the stage, each with a crimson cloth cushion;  not forgetting the orchestra — also not in attendance today, they have pride of place with individual seating on a platform, a little higher than the audience yet not enough to obstruct the view in either direction. 

    Slowly silence commands its place within the walls of the architecturally designed, award winning structure of steel and glass; Idle chat and scuffing of feet decrease in volume as principal Elvin Macintosh stands to address the pupils.

Try to imagine yourself in the shoes of Elvin Macintosh … seconds, to those who are about to speak give time to reflect on the past and the un-spoken sentence; the master aware of the anticipation of knowledge to be shared or to learn something to ones benefit, or sacrifice requested by another.

    They grey clouds today are no darker than those that fell upon the defeated soldiers~defeated in trenches, in bomb shelters, in dug outs; out manoeuvred, out numbered, over powered by a greater force; captured before their surrender or their death, rounded up like trained circus performers; to be matched in parade lines ... officers to the front, larger than life itself, heads high with dignity, rank and position.      Not a dry eye to be seen within the ranks as the battle song~sung with strength and fortitude by the choir, now in position sitting on their crimson cloth cushion, along with the orchestra — now seated with their  instruments, drums large and small; trumpets long and short; bagpipes full of air with reeds poised ... now in pride of place and a little to the left of the defeated soldiers, but to the right of the enemy guards yet not enough to obstruct the view in either direction

    Slowly silence conquers the despair within the walls of the timber and concrete institution even those engrossed in personal conversation stall; loose tongues tighten as commander Elvin Macintosh stands to address the prisoners.

fin.