Hey So I’m thinking of writing like a 5 part story-sorta-book-sorta thing. It will have only 5 chapters -about 80 pages worth of material in totality. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about , but nothing is concrete yet.
I write a Prologue. Give it a read – tell me what ya think.
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A bell rings.
The sound of footsteps echo through the corridor. The knob clicks open.
“Come inside.” He says with a dry smile.
“Well , aren’t you gracious.” She says , almost mirroring his dryness but with an added sense of wit.
“Please , do hang your coat on that rack over there. It’s a humble request – I’m sure you won’t mind” he said with a silly grin on his face as if he had told a joke , pointing towards the coat rack.
“Right. I can agree to that.” She nodded and placed her coat on the rack. Then both of them proceeded to enter a large hall.
“Please make yourself comfortable. Do you fancy a drink?” he extended his hand to the bar beyond the study table.
“That’s very nice of you. However , I must … respectfully decline. You see , I don’t drink. But (pauses) , I reckon you don’t drink either . Judging by how aesthetically presentable you bar looks , there is a certain sense of symmetry to it. One cannot not notice it. It’s been untouched, perhaps for years.”
He smiles. “That’s clever. I was just being a good host. This is how things go , right? I welcome you into my house , offer you a drink.”
“It’s raining outside.” She says looking at the raindrops gliding down the glass of the windows.
“Yes. Your powers of observation are really remarkable.”
“Oh , stop it. You are flattering me.” She chuckles.
“Not at all. A gracious host offers honest compliments, does he not?” He asks with utter innocence.
“Yes. Yes. That he does. So if you are as gracious of a host as you say you are , why don’t you fetch me something refreshing to drink? I am a bit thirsty to be honest.”
“I somehow thought you would say that. Make yourself at home while I get something going in the kitchen.”
“If it is all the same , I wouldn’t mind coming along with you to your kitchen.”
“I thought you said you wanted me to ‘fetch’ you a refreshing drink. Wouldn’t be fetching you anything if you came along with me to the kitchen. “ He smiles , then pauses. She blinks at him in agreement.
“Oh sure , it would be my honor , although I don’t really want you to find yourself engaged in trifle work.”
“Aah. Yes. Still gracious”
“Follow me.” He says as they walk together towards the kitchen.
They arrive in the kitchen.
“I’m sure a lemonade will suffice.” He says with some confidence.
“Lemonade ? Now . Boy, you are a bit out there , aren’t ya?” she says in justified bewilderment.
“Can’t think of anything else. I grew up on this. It is easy. It is tasty. It is quite refreshing.”
“In the summer” she added.
“Forgive me. How about some cranberry juice instead?”
She walks past him. Opens up the fridge. Takes out a large portion of lemon. Cuts it into two pieces.
He looks at her , unequivocally embarrassed at the turn of events. “Oh don’t look so grim. Aren’t girls supposed to be good with these kinds of things?” she adds playfully.
“Uhh.. yes. I suppose” he responds , scratching his head.
Fetches two glasses from the top shelf. Squeezes them into the first glass. Adds a bit of salt and sugar. Then adds water. She then nudges the glass towards him.
“That was pretty quick.” He exclaims. “Thank you.”
She then proceeds to drink some water from the other glass.
“Is it refreshing enough for you?” she asks. “Yes. Quite.” He sips with joy.
“Look at you , so happy. You seem transported back to your childhood.” She says with a slightly crooked smile.
He walks towards her. Slowly. He raises his glass , click’s with hers. “Cheers. Here’s to the simple things ,eh”
“Yes. Simple things.” She responds with equally lackluster verve in her voice.
“Would you care to follow me back into the hall please?”
“Sure.” They walk silently back in to main hall.
“Have a seat “. They both sit down into old cozy oak chairs , cross-legged.
“So , What brings you to my part of the woods , Miss…”
“I think you already know the answer to that.”
“Do I?” he asks in utter confusion , almost choking on his lemonade.
“No. Not really. I was just trying to add a dramatic feel to the scheme of things.”
“Aah. Like enacting a play , yeah? Very intriguing. Do you know any good ones?”
“Ah , small talk? You are a bit predictable. But I like this.” She takes another sip.
He follows her with a sip off his own glass.
“It’s a pity. It’s almost time.” She says.
“Time for what?” He adds , smiling with a sense of satisfaction.
“You’ll see.” She adds.
“I’m sure I will”
They both finish their glasses. She begins.
“3..”
Their eyes affix each other.
“2..”
“1..” he concludes.
At an instant , both their glasses drop to the floor and they faint into a deep sleep.
The silence is only broken by the tick-tock of the clock and the sounds of the rain outside.
That’s how Winston and Martha first met.
The Quasar Syncopation 