Historical
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chap 6 - Pt 2 (A PRINCESS IN INTERVENTION...) Sonia followed Nigel around the circular driveway, looking up at the facade that was the front entranceway of Bedloe Manor. The masonry was trimmed with a light cream coloured brickwork, the building itself was brownstone; there were hedgerows and garden-beds running along the length of the foundation, as well as manicured walking paths that would have done any groundskeeper proud.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chap 6 - Pt 1 (A PRINCESS IN INTERVENTION...) Sonia checked her look in the small compact’s mirror. One last time, she told herself, before turning the key and shutting the engine down. She pulled on the handbrake before touching the corners of her lips and wiping a small smear of lipstick she’d missed the first two times she’d checked; she had to ask herself if it even mattered anymore.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chap 5 - Pt 3 BUT IN A PRINCELY HOME THERE SITS The Gardens of Marlborough Estate were close to an acre in size. Broken and discarded paving stones were used to make the Estate's walking paths, with small benches and cozy alcoves built in the later years for reading, talking, (perhaps an evening tryst during one of the many gala Balls), the benches lined up along the footpaths and under the cover of a dozen willow trees. Built nearly a hundred and fifty years ago, time has helped establish the natural wonders of the Gardens more handily than any landscaper, or gardener, employed by the Estate could have ever hoped to accomplish.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
PART TWO THE PROMISE OF A NEW DAY Chap 5 - Pt 1 (BUT IN A PRINCELY HOME THERE SITS...) Marlborough was the smallest of the six Manor houses located in what the locals were now calling Chumley Glen; it boasted eighteen bedrooms. It was what one might label the senior representative of the six; the arbiter of local history. It’s own colourful history went back to 1705, and the house had been through as many renovations as it had owners. Some claimed it was haunted, others that the walls were simply too tight. It hosted all the major celebrities of Europe through its colourful history: Handel, Mendelssohn, Litz; Christopher Wren, Isaac Newton, Edmund Halley; Pope, Defoe, Swift—the anecdotal tales about the house had gone through as many incarnations as it had renovations.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chap4 - Pt2 (ARE SEETHING FOR CONTENTION...) ii The roads were a boggy mess. Niles was grateful to have taken the Triumph rather than using Charlie’s Austin under the circumstances. There were times he’d had to get off the bike and push it out of the mud, reminding himself of his time at the Front serving as a motorcycle courier. It had been much the same as this on a good night, he told himself. He couldn’t imagine what the trip out would’ve been like in the Austin. He hoped the doctor wouldn’t have any troubles. The man was far too old and frail to be pushing his auto out of the mud. Still, the night was clear, and any threat of the rain they’d been having for the past three days was blown out to sea by a calm wind coming up from the south. A waning moon hung above the horizon, lighting his way as if it was a dull street lamp lost in the distance. The soft light enabled him to see and avoid the larger puddles and potholes, and he wondered how long it would take the current government to deliver on their promise of an extensive roadway connecting all of England. It was a project that would literally be years in development, and would cost millions, but a cost well worth it, he thought.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
CHAP 4 - PT 1 (ARE SEETHING FOR CONTENTION...) i Nigel Bannister looked up from the picture he was drawing, watching the hallway closely; he could still hear the echo of the door slamming downstairs. He had the lights dimmed somewhat, thinking there was no need having all the lights on, not with everyone at the fair. It was the major reason he’d volunteered to stay behind and answer whatever calls might come in—knowing there’d be none because of the fair. It gave him a chance to study the police procedurals he’d neglected for far too long. He wasn’t planning on spending the rest of his career in the middle of Devon. He had his mind set on London. The only way he’d be noticed was if he were to make a name for himself, and the only way for him to do that, was to understand the newest breakthroughs in law enforcement. But he was easily distracted and soon found himself drawing another picture--a face in the crowd as he liked to call it.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
Unanswered
The last judicial execution in Australia was of 41-year-old Ronald Ryan in 1967. He looked like death a day too early. There was still twenty-four hours until Ronald Ryan’s date with the hangman, and already his skin had a grey corpse-like quality. His eyes were ringed so dark they looked bruised. Perhaps they were? Lord knows what sort of treatment he’d been receiving in this horrible place.
By Jacynta Clayton5 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chap 3 - Pt 1 (WHILE PARTNERS WON AND PARTNERS LOST...) i They ran through wide hallways hung with tapestries and paintings; cliched suits of armour seemed to lurk around every corner—every nook and cranny—with armaments, breastplates, and coats of arms hanging between the murals, paintings and tapestries. It made it easier with the hallway lit up by the new electric fixtures; they helped reveal the dirt and grime of the last century though, where cobwebs gathered in dark corners in parliamentary numbers. The hallways were panelled in Norwegian pine, for no other reason she supposed, than her grandsire admiring the colour.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chap2-pt3 (IS PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS...) iii Somewhere a clock struck the hour, echoing through the emptiness. Artie looked at the open French doors where the moonlight slipped through the etched glass, spilling across a Turkey carpet partially covering the parquet floor, and washing up against a book lined wall. There was a large piano-forte tucked into one corner, the dark, ebony coloured legs reflecting the soft moonlight. A large harp and small chair stood nearby, along with a music stand and violin, as well as a cello and two chairs. Paintings lined the West wall, and he thought, I wouldn’t have put them above an open fireplace.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
