04/28/13
Personal #28
Third installment
Weekend Warriors
ONE TWO ONE TWO
a g h o s t s t o r y
The Set Up
Two very old men, Henny and Bill are sitting on a bench over looking English Bay, halfway between the Bath House and Second Beach in Stanley Park, in conversation...
I will continue where I left off,
in my first chapter.
The next 8 sentences.
“Shush,” Henny said, hesitating. “A crowd of spectators—most men and boys—congregated in a semi-circle in front of the platform, standing in the drizzle as the oxen did. Waiting, not knowing what to expect. One man stretched up to the sky with his brown arms and started wailing in his native tongue. Eerie! Others did the same. The whole scene; it raining, the oxen, the people wailing, the poor prisoners, the shit, it had the smell of filth. An atmosphere of hopelessness, doom and gloom. Henny looked over to Bill, he was listening.
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04/21/13
Personal #9
Second Installment
Weekend Warriors
ONE TWO ONE TWO
a g h o s t s t o r y
First, let me thank you all
for coming to my site.
ONE TWO ONE TWO
will be my debut novel.
This weekend I will continue where I left off.
Check the bottom of the page for last installment.
The Set Up
Two very old men, Henny and Bill are sitting on a bench over looking English Bay, halfway between the Bath House and Second Beach in Stanley Park, in conversation...
ONE TWO ONE TWO
a g h o s t s t o r y
Dog Brindle
continued...
...An old wagon pulled by a team of white, old and tired, long horned beasts. Skinny ones, yoked together, chewing their cud.
They shit where they stood. It dropped to the ground in front of this temporary wooden platform, decked out in British; blue, red and white regalia," Henny said. "No one cared. The shit got stomped where it fell. Fumes rose up through the floor boards and seeped into the cage. The five prisoners had no choice but to inhale.
They had been hauling criminals on the west coast for more than two years, between Mumbai and Goa. The slight drizzle made the ensign hang limp and the warm breeze, too far from the ocean, provided no relief. The Superintendent’s heavy wool uniform was dirty, cumbersome, uncomfortable and itched. Ten or so medals adorned his chest adding regency and a sense of urgency to the whole affair.
Bill twisted up his nose. "Is this necessary?"
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04/14/13
Personal #36
Weekend Warriors
First Instalment
Personal #36
Weekend Warriors
First Instalment
ONE TWO ONE TWO
a g h o s t s t o r y
First, let me thank you all
for coming to my site.
ONE TWO ONE TWO
will be my debut novel.
Hope you enjoy this little snippet.
The Set Up
Two very old men, Henny and Bill are sitting on a bench over looking English Bay, halfway between the Bath House and Second Beach in Stanley Park.
The first opening sentences, enjoy...
ONE TWO ONE TWO
a g h o s t s t o r y
Dog Brindle
“Captain William Sleeman, is a real person. Google him, I’m not lying.”
“I believe you,” Bill replied.
“High up in the British Government, a Superintendent. A powerful man," Henny said. His major undertaking was to eradicate India, of it’s Thuggee problem. An obsession, that became his life-long ambition. A feat he at first, underestimated.
He eyed the prisoners looking back at him through the wood post bars. Five men accused of being Thugs, huddled together in one corner of what was more a dovecote than a jail.
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Please leave a comment.
Dog Brindle
Coming May 2013
OPENING SCENE
Vancouver in spring. The best time of the year.
May. It’s a warm sunny day, crocuses are popping their heads out of the ground. Cherry blossomed streets and pink orange sunsets.
Two very old men, Henny and Bill are sitting on a bench over looking English Bay, halfway between the Bath House and Second Beach in Stanley Park. Seven, black and orange tankers bobbed, out in deep water, anchored against the tide.
East, the Burrard Bridge spanned to False Creek. Across the water, three huge kites flew high over Kits Beach. If they strained their eyes hard enough, Jericho Beach lay to the southwest. This is where the sun disappeared, past the flat surface of the ocean, behind Vancouver Island Mountains, far in the distance.
Actually, Bill is in a wheelchair and it is just Henny sitting on the park bench. They are there to watch the sunset and have a lot of time to enjoy the sunshine. Henny is telling Bill a story.
People are on the beach in front of them, sunbathing on blankets and towels.
Actually, Bill is in a wheelchair and it is just Henny sitting on the park bench. They are there to watch the sunset and have a lot of time to enjoy the sunshine. Henny is telling Bill a story.
People are on the beach in front of them, sunbathing on blankets and towels.
They are there to watch the sunset, not them.
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Questions For The Writer:
Question
#1
Where did you get the inspiration to write
ONE TWO ONE TWO?
L.Murphy theflamingoman.com
Answer
A lot of inspiration for ONE TWO ONE TWO came from my own childhood. Coming from New Brunswick and growing up in Hamilton. Living in Vancouver and Surrey. From memories.
The more I wrote the more memories remembered, sculpting my story.
They say write from the heart. Where else can you get such inspiration,
except from the heart.
Question
#2
Henny and Bill, why did you choose two old men, as your main characters?
L.Murphy theflamingoman.com
Answer
Answer
I came up with the idea for the book, ONE TWO ONE TWO when I was walking around the Sea Wall in Stanley Park. At the time a regular daily walk. As I came around a bend I noticed two old men, one sitting on a park bench and the other in a wheelchair, talking to one another. The scene, over looking English Bay with seven tankers out in the water, the two old men. Questions rolled over in my mind. What was the topic of their conversation? Their history? I went from there, letting my imagination go wild, adding a personal touch with reflection from my own childhood experiences.
Question
#3
How long did it take
from that first thought to completion?
from that first thought to completion?
L.Murphy theflamingoman.com
I would say it has taken me ten years from conception, to write this book. Jotting ideas, writing short little paragraphs, collating. The vast majority of it written within the last year. Most of it spent on editing. I never realized the work involved.
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