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 Cognac and Fireflies

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PostSubject: Cognac and Fireflies   Sat Apr 13, 2013 2:27 pm

I welcome y'alls opinions. This is only the first part of what I'm aiming to have be a murder mystery but I would love to hear what you think.



Prologue
It was late evening in the little hamlet of Barwick just east of Sherbourne and a great mist hung over the air. A pleasant evening had ensued from a party that would not soon be forgotten. It was the textile master, James Newbirch’s fourty sixth birthday and his chums held quite the celebration in his honor. A strong man by any means, he had a very muscular physique which was accentuated only by his massive height. At a massive 6 and a quarter foot tall, he was looked the part of a seasoned war veteran with little to no “war wounds”; only leftover grout under his nails and callouses over his hands which bore bore the mark of a man who took his job very seriously. Tiny scrapes and nicks seemed to linger with a pinkish hue which further likened them to that of flesh colored stone. He wore the face of a kind and lighthearted man who was quick to forgive but could be easily stern if need be. His eyes, a brilliant gray, seem to bring this to life in every word that he spoke and carried with them the energy of a youthful teen with an outlook at bright as his sanded yellow hair.

By a happy coincidence, it was also his youngest son, Charles' year to come of age. Unlike his father he bore a much less intimidating persona with only a slight tone to his arms. Thin and lanky, he tended to take after his mother favoring her eyes and hair more than anything. They were both a brilliant shade of auburn with only the slightest tinge of yellow on James' behalf. At only a diminutive four foot seven, it was abundantly apparent that the only traits he had in common with his father were in his personality and facial structure.

With the sun now a distant glow setting over a calm lake, the father and son sat on the porch of their colonial home enjoying the evening. Thick rings of smoke filled the air as the embers of the father’s cigar lit up the night with an orange glow. Soon the titillating scent of the evening’s feast and the sweetness of the glistening water were but a memory as the plumes of tobacco permeated the air with a smell similar to that of an old rotten shoe. With a start, the son sprang from his seat on the cold wood out into cleaner territory and coughed as though he surely would have met his death if he held out a minute longer. Rocking backing and forth in his chair, his old man chuckled sheepishly and set his cigar on the rim of his evening glass of cognac. Still chuckling, he lit a nearby oil lamp with a match and made his way down to the foot of the stairs where his son stood still gasping for air. Standing beside him, they both took in their surroundings and watched as fireflies flew over the lake. With a warm but still jovial voice, he remarked, ‘Not having any of it, eh?’

Still light headed from the smoke, Charles replied, ‘Yes sir. To be honest, I can’t understand how you can taste anything after a stench like that. It is worse than moldy bread left to rot in the wind. Is it really necessary to smoke one of those every time you have your friends over?’

‘Well, you have to understand it from the perspective of the man who made it. He took great pride to produce something for the joy of other men. When you taste a cigar, you taste the time and effort that he spent to make it the disdain of friends and family members alike. This brilliant man had a care to make something so that you could feign death at it later.’

With uncontrollable laughter, he answered, ‘Dad, what are on about? You must be mental. I don’t think with a smell like that you classify as anything close to “brilliant”. Brilliant mortician, maybe but cigar maker, no…’

In a still kind and respectful look he smirked as he picked back up the cigar. 'Ay, that may be true but only a true man would have the strength to back up those words or enjoy the sweet and subtle flavors that this brilliant “mortician” brings to the table. Hell, your brother took it in like a man on his first try. Surprised the piss outta me, it did. He's still a cadaver when when it comes to a good glass o' scotch but I suppose you can't blame me for trying. As for you however, I'm still undecided on which casket I will put you in or whether I'll just bury you in a box on the side of the road. That is unless you have the bollocks to handle your own.'

With that, his smile turned wry and he drew deep from his smoke before setting it back down and waiting for his challenge to sink in. Stepping gingerly forward, Charles had a look of determination as he bared down on his father. Without a second thought, James tackled him to the ground. In what seemed as a sudden burst of energy, the two began yipping like a pack of wild dogs wrestling on the ground in much of the same fashion. Determined that he would finally beat his old man, the young man constricted his arms and legs around the man’s torso with as much strength as he could muster. Still laughing, the old man attempted to slide his son’s arms down or pry them off but for all his effort, they wouldn’t budge. With a shortness of breath, he added, 'I see that all them years spent beside me at the mill has started to finally pay off. Very well, it’s time for a good ol’ fashioned ducking. Come ‘ere you.'

With the strength of a much younger man, the textile master reached behind him grabbed hold of his son's torso so that he couldn't escape began pounding his way through the grass toward the lake with purpose in every step he made. Charles, knowing what was coming next started laughing hysterically and trying to escape without success. It weren't for nothing that the old man had spent years upon years lifting heavy tile and concrete despite how much his physique might protest. Wading out into the lake, the son's humorous attempts at escape became much more frantic and boyish with no holds barred. He took a large amount of his old man's arm in his mouth and bit down hard in an attempt to loosen his grip. He winced in pain but just laughed it off and shifted all of his weight toward his back. Knowing that there was no way to escape, Charles took in a deep breath of air as James leaned backward into the water and completely submerged his passenger in the cold lake. Almost immediately, their limbs seemed to separate themselves from his body as he straightened up and made his way out of the water back to higher ground. Breathing hard but still laughing, he watched as Charles came up gasping for air with a look of resounding fury.


Last edited by Alucard on Mon Apr 22, 2013 3:18 am; edited 6 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: Cognac and Fireflies   Sat Apr 20, 2013 5:19 am

Awesome! I want that book now!
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PostSubject: Re: Cognac and Fireflies   Mon Apr 22, 2013 3:16 am

Thanks for your compliments for everyone who read it. I have now made my first revision and I think I reads a lot smoother and more authentic now. I added a lot more description and a few more paragraphs. Feel free to have a gander. I will make a new message in this post whenever I update it. Hope you like it.
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Utsu
Novice
Novice


Posts : 175
Reputation : 0
Join date : 2013-03-25
Age : 17
Location : in your nightmares, eating pizza and consoling you

Character Sheet
Current Active Characters:
Game Related Information:
Nom de Guerre:

PostSubject: Re: Cognac and Fireflies   Mon Apr 22, 2013 3:18 pm

Again. Awesome, can't wait until it's finished.
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