After noon. Carol is pretty much packed and
you decided to wait until this afternoon to do your exercises. You also have
six hundred and some words for Brothers – Fourteen. – Amorella
1231
hours. Surprisingly, it is coming along. I didn’t really start until about a
half hour ago. I kept thinking that Carol would be done using the bed to sort
clothes.
Why didn’t you use the other bedroom? –
Amorella
1234
hours. I didn’t want to. I’m still somewhat tired. I should have taken a nap
after breakfast – but then she was working on her clothes packing. She always
wants to have a proper appearance; probably because her dad was a
superintendent of schools when she was young, and then overseas in the embassy
. . . like a preacher’s kid always having to be well-behaved in public. Where
it counts most Carol is pretty rebellious. That’s one of the things I have
always loved about her.
Mid-afternoon.
You had the usual at Penn Station for a late lunch then ran errands and filled
up the Accord to take to Columbus tomorrow. You also completed a near final
draft for The Brothers Fourteen. Add and post. – Amorella
1558
hours. The draft is pretty much the essence of what needs to be said in
concluding the book.
***
The Brothers 14 ©2016, GMG.2, rho
It
is late a cool, brisk Friday morning in March when Richard arrives at Robert
and Connie’s with a “What’s up?” greeting to his brother.
“Come
on down the basement I’ve got something to show you.”
Richard
comments upon seeing the object, “The girls inherited their Grandpa Bleacher’s
train set. You’ve had it up for years.”
“But
here,” says Robert, “Look underneath.”
“The
old table,” replies Richard, “it looks antique.”
“It
is smaller but looks like a section of Merlyn’s table in the story,” comments
Robert. “Looking at the old legs this could be the table Merlyn leaned on at
Lord Thomas. Was this the table of inspiration.’”
Once
up and standing Rich indifferently replied, “It is not a table or leg from the
sixth century. – How did the girls
come by the table?”
“Their
great-grandmother had a lot of antiques. She bought many of them from people in
the Ohio area.” Rob paused, “I thought you would want to see it because the
table and legs look like the ‘props’ when you write. I thought you’d be
interested.”
“Rob,
how did you get it down here anyway?”
“It
is cut in half.”
“You’re
kidding? I never knew that,” replies Richard.
“Someone
cut it down long ago. It has a rig of wood planks and brackets underneath to
hold it together. Grandpa thought it would be the ideal top for the train
sets.”
“I
remember seeing the train sets when we were kids.”
In
unison, “Grandpa Bleacher’s trains were our first twin’s attraction.” They
laugh.
“Why
did Grandpa Bleacher make a model of Uptown and put it at the base of a
mountain? Central Ohio is a flatland if there ever was a flatland.”
Robert
notes, “Remember the model of town cemetery in the movie Beetlejuice? Grandpa Bleacher could have added a representation of
the cemetery too. He easily could have gray cardboard tombstones and painted a
large matchbox to be the mausoleum and the main four corners of Cemetery Way.
That would have been cool, something you could have used in your book.”
Richard
chuckles and says, “I’m not going to draw any allusion to Beetlejuice. The mountain though could represent an unconscious
mountain of thought.”
Leading,
Robert suggests, “Maybe the mountain symbolizes something really esoteric, or
Grandpa Bleacher just wanted an excuse for some train tunnels.”
We
should have asked him about that when he was alive,” comments Richard, “now
we’ll never know.”
Connie
sticks her head through the open basement door and in a very mother-like tone
asks, “What are you two doing?”
Somewhat
sarcastically Robert answers, “I didn’t know you came in.”
Richard
glanced up, sees Cindy beside her, and comments more politely, “We didn’t hear
you.”
Cyndi
walks half way down the steps, “You got dirt all over your shirt, Richie, what
were you doing rolling on the floor?”
“I
was looking under the train table,” he retorts.
“What
were you looking for?” asks Connie. “That’s a scary table. I’d never crawl
under it.”
“Why
do you say that?” wonders Robert aloud.
“It
is too old and rickety,” says Connie.
Cyndi
continues, “The whole thing could fall down. Only the legs are solid.“
Connie
continues as the sisters walk to the basement, “I heard Grandpa talking about
putting a cemetery in the display. If Grandpa were alive I know where he would
put it.” She points, “Here, on the
other side of the ninety degree crossing.”
Robert
chuckles in a sullen undertone, “Why the other side?”
Grandpa
said the board was a symbol of the world.”
“Really,
I didn’t know that.”
Connie
shrugs her shoulders, “You don’t know a lot of things about our Grandpa.”
“Like
what, how is the board a symbol besides having the Living on the right side of
the tracks and the Dead on the other side.”
Connie
smiled warmly in a memorable thought, “He said you have to be off track to see
it.”
“To
see what?”
“To
see his display as a symbol.”
“I
know he read a lot,” says Richard, “was he into Ian Fleming?”
“Why
do you ask?”
“If
you look at the layout, you have the large oval track and an inner oval track
interconnecting with another large oval figure eight track, plus a total of
half a dozen or so side rails seemingly going nowhere.
“You
are reading far too much into this Richie.”
“This
was your idea, Connie.”
The
four climb the basement stairs and each step up is a step away from something
easily misread.
Once the four are in the kitchen Cyndi closes the basement door saying, “Both
of you boys read too much into things and forget what reality is really about."
In an upbeat tone Connie suggests, “Anyone up for
home made oatmeal cookies and hot chocolate?”
797 words
***
2333 hours. I just published
Dialogue 8 on Dewdrop.
You have some misgivings, but need not.
Editing is what it is. Clarity is what is important here, the intent, tone and
proper word choice are what is important. Post. - Amorella
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