Wednesday, March 31, 2004
In the mean time well atleast till I can get back home to find those files here's abit of the fantasy novel (The house of Clouse: Wizards Walk) I'm working on. It's not much but none the less... ... enjoy. (This is just the beginning bit no fantasy yet)
Men, a foul race, self-seeking and utterly corrupt. It is my misfortune to be born to them. A greater misfortune that I should linger amongst them this enisled world. That however is not the greatest of my woes. The true bane of my existence is knowledge. Knowledge of another world beyond this mundane plane.
-------------------------------------------------
On a Sunday, most homes would be considered quite peaceful. Parents spending extended periods in bed ignoring their offspring, offspring discovering new ways to endanger their lives. Timid rain tapping on windows. Grumpy adolescents huddled under umbrellas wandering the streets, invading malls and clogging cafes. Peaceful.
“ Deron! Deron Clouse! Get this filthy thing out of the kitchen this instant!”
Sadly the house of Clouse has never really adhered to this norm. Mrs Clouse made sure of that. Elegant, sweet, kindly and generous were just the sort of words you’d never use to describe her. She was a plump sort of woman with short legs, curly hair and a certain misgiving in wearing blouses. The blouses did nothing to improve her appearance; though they could be congratulated in succeeding to make Mrs Clouse’s pudgy arms look like pale, white, out of shape chipolatas.
“ Did you hear me Deron! I will not tolerate any animals in this house!”
Deron was in his room, choosing very unwisely to ignore his mother. He stuffed a finger in each ear, nestled comfortably in his bed and continued with his favorite past time; starring out the window. Out in the shortened distant, Deron could have seen children splashing about in puddles in a bid to get themselves, fellow splashers and anyone fool hardy enough to walk by as wet as possible, he chose not to. Rather his attention was focused just pass the iron gates that marked the entrance to the Mansion of Clouse.
“ Deron! The only beasts I want in this house are those used for dinner. If you don’t get this out of my kitchen …”
This empty threat roused Deron, he had no doubt in his mind that his mother did not mean what she just implied, but still anger does funny things to a person’s psyche. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he set out in a quick gait towards the kitchen. “ Yes mother, I heard you, ” he mumbled, half-heartedly hoping to pacify her or at the very least stop her from shouting. Starting his journey cross the corridor, pass his sister’s bedroom, on to the landing, thumping down winding stairs, he entered the main hall, pass the entryway, then promptly tripping over and falling face first. Crash! Deron stared blankly at the floor for a few moments before…
“ Can’t you even walk to the kitchen without bringing down half the hall with you!”
Deron picked himself up off the floor and surveyed the damage he had done. From the coat stand on the floor that rocked slightly from left over moment, the coats strewn all over the place, the sudden appearance of his butler Morgan from his room. He surmised the following: he was in trouble, big trouble.
His mother promptly huffed out of the kitchen waving the newspaper she was reading dangerously in the air. Deron saw his mother’s eyes scan the hall for damage, gathering information before…
“ Deron Clouse! Explain yourself! Of all the things to knock over, Morgan’s Coat stand! You jolly well know that it …”
“ Belonged to his mother, and is the only this she left him when she died in World War one.” Deron finished for her, in a dull tone, acrobatically rolling his eyes at the same time.
The commotion in hall drew the other inhabitants of Clouse manor to the scene. For one and the second to arrive was his sister Grietje (whose name everyone found impossible to pronounce and so resorted to just calling her Gri). Gri surveyed the scene hungrily watching her brother get into trouble with mom was her favorite any day activity, which she felt was well justified seeing that Deron had similar interests when she got into trouble.
For two his butler Morgan had creaked into the hall as well. Morgan had one distinguishing factor that set him far apart from every other butler every known; he was far older than any other butler alive or should be. Yes, Morgan was a hundred and forty-six and still proudly serving the house of Clouse. Walking for him had been a fashionable last century trend that he had done away with, these days Morgan creaked along as fast as his joints could harmonize with each other.
Mrs Clouse looked apologetically at her butler, then turned to shout at her son some more.
“ See what you’ve done! You’ve made Morgan rush here!” Mrs Clouse ranted, then on a softer note to the butler “ Sorry Morgan, I’ll get Clouse to clear that up, don’t bother fixin…”
A horrible series of creaks and crunches served as an ironic welcoming anthem to the last inhabitant of the house of Clouse that Sunday; Halleyween
“ And you get that unnatural beast out of my house! What were you thinking bringing the filthy pest into the house! ”
“ It’s raining she’ll catch a cold and die,” Deron explained, knowing full well his mother didn’t and wouldn’t hear any reason of any kind.
“ Meow ” went Halleyween, giving her most adorable wide eyed kitten look, pawing Deron’s jeans in hopes that she wouldn’t be driven out into the rain.
That's it for now.
Cheers
Men, a foul race, self-seeking and utterly corrupt. It is my misfortune to be born to them. A greater misfortune that I should linger amongst them this enisled world. That however is not the greatest of my woes. The true bane of my existence is knowledge. Knowledge of another world beyond this mundane plane.
-------------------------------------------------
On a Sunday, most homes would be considered quite peaceful. Parents spending extended periods in bed ignoring their offspring, offspring discovering new ways to endanger their lives. Timid rain tapping on windows. Grumpy adolescents huddled under umbrellas wandering the streets, invading malls and clogging cafes. Peaceful.
“ Deron! Deron Clouse! Get this filthy thing out of the kitchen this instant!”
Sadly the house of Clouse has never really adhered to this norm. Mrs Clouse made sure of that. Elegant, sweet, kindly and generous were just the sort of words you’d never use to describe her. She was a plump sort of woman with short legs, curly hair and a certain misgiving in wearing blouses. The blouses did nothing to improve her appearance; though they could be congratulated in succeeding to make Mrs Clouse’s pudgy arms look like pale, white, out of shape chipolatas.
“ Did you hear me Deron! I will not tolerate any animals in this house!”
Deron was in his room, choosing very unwisely to ignore his mother. He stuffed a finger in each ear, nestled comfortably in his bed and continued with his favorite past time; starring out the window. Out in the shortened distant, Deron could have seen children splashing about in puddles in a bid to get themselves, fellow splashers and anyone fool hardy enough to walk by as wet as possible, he chose not to. Rather his attention was focused just pass the iron gates that marked the entrance to the Mansion of Clouse.
“ Deron! The only beasts I want in this house are those used for dinner. If you don’t get this out of my kitchen …”
This empty threat roused Deron, he had no doubt in his mind that his mother did not mean what she just implied, but still anger does funny things to a person’s psyche. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he set out in a quick gait towards the kitchen. “ Yes mother, I heard you, ” he mumbled, half-heartedly hoping to pacify her or at the very least stop her from shouting. Starting his journey cross the corridor, pass his sister’s bedroom, on to the landing, thumping down winding stairs, he entered the main hall, pass the entryway, then promptly tripping over and falling face first. Crash! Deron stared blankly at the floor for a few moments before…
“ Can’t you even walk to the kitchen without bringing down half the hall with you!”
Deron picked himself up off the floor and surveyed the damage he had done. From the coat stand on the floor that rocked slightly from left over moment, the coats strewn all over the place, the sudden appearance of his butler Morgan from his room. He surmised the following: he was in trouble, big trouble.
His mother promptly huffed out of the kitchen waving the newspaper she was reading dangerously in the air. Deron saw his mother’s eyes scan the hall for damage, gathering information before…
“ Deron Clouse! Explain yourself! Of all the things to knock over, Morgan’s Coat stand! You jolly well know that it …”
“ Belonged to his mother, and is the only this she left him when she died in World War one.” Deron finished for her, in a dull tone, acrobatically rolling his eyes at the same time.
The commotion in hall drew the other inhabitants of Clouse manor to the scene. For one and the second to arrive was his sister Grietje (whose name everyone found impossible to pronounce and so resorted to just calling her Gri). Gri surveyed the scene hungrily watching her brother get into trouble with mom was her favorite any day activity, which she felt was well justified seeing that Deron had similar interests when she got into trouble.
For two his butler Morgan had creaked into the hall as well. Morgan had one distinguishing factor that set him far apart from every other butler every known; he was far older than any other butler alive or should be. Yes, Morgan was a hundred and forty-six and still proudly serving the house of Clouse. Walking for him had been a fashionable last century trend that he had done away with, these days Morgan creaked along as fast as his joints could harmonize with each other.
Mrs Clouse looked apologetically at her butler, then turned to shout at her son some more.
“ See what you’ve done! You’ve made Morgan rush here!” Mrs Clouse ranted, then on a softer note to the butler “ Sorry Morgan, I’ll get Clouse to clear that up, don’t bother fixin…”
A horrible series of creaks and crunches served as an ironic welcoming anthem to the last inhabitant of the house of Clouse that Sunday; Halleyween
“ And you get that unnatural beast out of my house! What were you thinking bringing the filthy pest into the house! ”
“ It’s raining she’ll catch a cold and die,” Deron explained, knowing full well his mother didn’t and wouldn’t hear any reason of any kind.
“ Meow ” went Halleyween, giving her most adorable wide eyed kitten look, pawing Deron’s jeans in hopes that she wouldn’t be driven out into the rain.
That's it for now.
Cheers
