My son’s birthday party was yesterday and I barely got 700 words done. Today I am on a bit more of a roll.
The first year I wrote SoGlog. The second year I wrote WeFair. I had to skip last year because of too much going on in my life due to a personal loss and having to move.
This year I am writing a tale called “A Year on the Concourse”. It is a departure from my normal book in that it is not a person’s life story. It is about the missing year from the two above stories when SoGlog went on a quest to get the Chuggers to loan the Rafters a large engine in order to earn WeFair’s hand. The story was far too much to include in the book so now the book this year is to tell the story of how he accomplished that quest.
I have included the conversation between Shaft and his wife they had right after the offer was struck.
“Is it?” Lure pulled back the bedcovers and smoothed the sheet below with a quick brush of her hand. “You know the boy will do whatever he can. I hope he makes it.”
“That’s not the point.” He stopped, arms akimbo. “The point is that it is impossible. It cannot be done.”
“Do you want him to fail?” She sat on the edge of the bed and allowed her slippers to drop to the floor. With her toes she nudged them to align them.
“Of course not. If he succeeds, then it would set us so far forward we would need to tie ourselves to the mast to keep from getting blown off deck.”
“And my father?”
“To the black dark of the bottom with him if SoGlog succeeds.” He stood firmly ensconced at the foot of the bed. “The benefits far outweigh what we stand to lose.”
“We stand to lose my father.” She frowned.
“That man in an arrogant trout.” He hit one hand down on the bed rail. “Stubborn does not even begin to describe him.”
“You want to know what he says about you?” She fluffed her pillow.
“Not particularly.” He turned his back. “I can quite imagine.”
He crossed his arms and stood there for a moment before finally turning around. “What does that trout say about me?”
Lure laughed. “He called you a runaway train with no driver and no brakes.”
“He called me stupid?” Shaft frothed.
“Yes, and stubborn too.” She said in a soft voice. “Now come to bed, there is front coming in and I need someone to keep me warm.”
Shaft turned to the window and listened to the surf for a moment. “There is no front coming.”
“Nevertheless, I want some warmth.” She purred.
“Oh.” Shaft uncrossed his arms. He looked at the lamp light as it shone off Lure’s red hair. “Now?”
She smiled at him.
He smiled and used the toe of one boot on the heal of another to shed his footwear. “Give me a moment.”