MULTIPLY Creative Challenge #20: The Tempest

Christine stood on the shore watching the white foam tipped waves going back and forth over the sand with fascination. It looked like a storm was coming, so she hurried back home to her mother’s house up the stone stairway carved into the cliffs. She loved the sea and weather storm or calm, it made no difference.

*****
Sam Collingworth hugged his wife Anna goodbye. Time was getting short and as first mate on the M.S. Lady he was expected by the crew to take his place. This time he was particularly sad. His wife was expecting their first baby and the journey was taking him to the other side of the world. They both knew that Sam would never see their firstborn until at least half a year later. Anna was crying and Sam trying to comfort her.
“Please be careful Sam and come back safe to us.”
“Don’t worry Anna” he said “I have always returned and I will this time, even if it will take longer.”
“You are going so far and it could become dangerous. I have heard about ships crossing the Cape of Good Hope and never returning, being caught in a storm.” and she continued sniffing into her handkerchief which she had embroidered herself.
“I have an idea Anna, Give me your handkerchief as it is. It is full of your tears for me and when I am away on the ship and feel lonely I can take it in my hand and know how much you are waiting for my return.”
“This is a small compensation” thought Jack, but it did the trick and Anna calmed down. She gave it to him and it helped her to think that things would not be so bad. Sam would be away but would have something that belonged to her.

Sam took his bag onto his shoulders packed with his personal belongings and made his way down the cliff to the harbour where the boat was waiting, clasping the handkerchief in his hand. He decided to keep it in his uniform pocket to make sure it was always near.

The ship set sail and apart from a few problems around the Western coast of Africa when they did not have enough wind in the sails, everything went well and the ship made its way to the Cape of Good Hope on the Southern point of the African continent on its way to Australia.

“What do you think Mr. Collingworth” asked Jim the cabin boy and cook’s help “will we see any of those famous storms that the others are always talking about. The horizon doesn’t seem to be very friendly.
“Don’t worry Jim” said Sam. “We all want to go home again and although the Cape can have a few surprises, we are a good ship and good team.”
“Mr. Collingworth, if anything happens to me, well I wanted to say – you know my mum and dad get so worried when I am away at sea. Can you tell them that I was thinking of them all the time and that I love them very much.”
“You don’t have to be so worried Jim. Look my wife gave me her handkerchief because she was crying so much when I left and I promised to keep it with me. I always have it in my pocket in my jacket. We will make a bargain, if anything happens to us I will bring word to your parents, and you will take this handkerchief and bring it back to my wife.”
“It’s a deal Mr. Collingworth” and Jim was happy. Sam had said it to Jim to calm his nerves as he was only a boy and earning his way up the ladder of the ship’s crew. Sam had also started as cabin boy and today he was first mate.

On Christmas day the brave ship “Lady” made her way into the storm. She had a lot of experience with rough and tempestuous weather so no-one really doubted that anything could happen. The sky slowly turned from grey to black and the waves reached a height which almost covered the ship.
“Mr. Collingworth, I am frightened” shouted Jim above the noise of the storm to Sam.
“Stay by me son” answered Sam, “Hold onto my hand and we will remain together. Don’t forget our promise Jim so take this handkerchief and if anything happens bring it to my wife. She lives on the cottage overlooking the harbour on the cliff top.”
“Will do Mr. Collingworth, but please visit my parents if anything happens to me.”
With those last words a final wave crashed down on them and the ship turned over in the water and broke into pieces. It was the end of the MS Lady.

“Quick over here” Jim heard a voice in the distance. “Here is another one from the ship and he is still breathing”. The rescuers took the cabin boy Jim into their care. Jim was lucky, apart from a rough beating from the waves and a broken arm he was ok.
“Where’s Mr. Collingworth” asked Jim, but he never got an answer. Sam Collingworth became a victim of the Cape of Good Hope.

Some months later Anna had just finished feeding her baby Samuel and there was a knock on the door. She was feeling sad at this moment. She had been given news by the merchant navy of the loss of the MS Lady and that her Sam would never return. She opened the door to find a young man with a sun tan and a sailors bag over his shoulders.
“Are you Mrs. Collingworth?” he asked.
“I am, but who are you.”
My name is Jim and I was the cabin boy on the MS Lady”
“Did you know my husband Sam?” she automatically asked.
“Yes ma’am” he answered. “He was a good man and sailor and the best first mate I had ever served under. He promised to tell my mum and dad if anything happened to me on the ship, and in return I promised to bring this back to you.”
He opened his hand containing the beautifully embroidered handkerchief. Anna took the handkerchief and burst into tears. She knew that Sam had thought of her until the end.

*****
It was Christmas Day and Christine returned home to her mother for the Christmas dinner.
“Has it got wet again” she asked her mother.
“Yes dear, as it always does every Christmas day” was the answer. In a frame on the cabinet was a beautifully embroidered handkerchief. It was very old, at least one hundred years, and had always been in the family being handed down from one generation to another. A mystery surrounded the handkerchief. It was noticed that on Christmas day it sort of wept leaving a damp mark and a salt crust on the cabinet.

Creative Challenge #20

It's Autumn

So what did we do today? It started with a morning's work in the office. I am still on half days according to the doctor and probably will be for some time. I start work at around 07.15 in the morning until 11.30. Then it's shopping and I cook lunch. After a little midday sleep (it is terrible as you get older, just can't keep awake after lunch) the afternoon is mine.

Mr. Swiss, my other half or whatever had to go into town this afternoon. He has a bit of a problem with his neck and is at the moment visiting a lady therapist. I told him he could drop me off on the way at the local Autumn Fair. It takes place once a year in Solothurn and all the local shops and companies can exhibit their goods. I am not so keen on large collections of people, but decided Thursday afternoon is fairly quiet. I took a walk around the exhibition and met a few people I knew and then went to the grounds outside, which is the real reason why I was there.

Arn't they beautiful. If you don't know what they are then I can tell you they are Alpacas, a sort of South American mini-lama. I only know that their fur is very expensive, but I had never seen one before. The lady who brought them to the exhibition made quite an impression in Solothurn as she walked with them through the town to the exhibition place just outside.

Original size

I found them to be so sweet and wonderful I took quite a few photos of them. I had never seen them before in "real life". I think I would have liked to take one home with me. They were all wearing a muzzle and I think like most llama similar animals they like to spit quite a bit.

There were also some ducks there

The pigs seemed to be a bit sleepy and spent most of the time relaxing. The animals are actually there for the children, but today there were not many children there as it was a normal school afternoon.

Of course being in Switzerland the cows had to make their appearance, but there were only calves there.

And here a couple of goats for good measure.

I eventually decided it was time to go home. As it was only just down the road I decided to walk the fifteen minutes as my local train had already gone. If anyone would like to see all the photos I took you can find them either in

Flickr

or

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A Visit to the Armoury/Arsenal in Solothurn

Yesterday my other half, the Swiss one, had to go into town in the afternoon. I decided to go along as I had to make an important appointment (with my hairdresser). Mr. Swiss was busy so I had an hour to spare and decided to do something I had not done for at least fifteen years. I visited our local armoury.

It is the large building in the middle back of the photo. It has the largest collection of armour in Switzerland ranging from the olden days to the last world war, showing what the Swiss were wearing at the time. I seemed to be the only visitor except for a French bloke that was taking photos the same as me so I could get on with things. The first thing you see when you enter is this.

He is known as the "Zeughaus (armoury) Joggeli" and just belongs there. I remember when I went with the kids when they were younger. If you stand too near you get a spurt of water out of his mouth. He is well known all over our town of Solothurn. The armour seems quite small, but I think people were smaller in those days.

On the ground floor it is mostly canons and such like, but this seems to be something they used for bringing food supplies to the front in one of the wars the Swiss took part in.

The Swiss were involved in a few wars in their past history. Although they are known today as being neutral, in the olden days they had quite a few invaders from the surroundings, the Austrians, Prussians and I don't know who else, but there were many.

This scene shows part of Swiss history. The bloke in grey is Niklaus von der Flue, the patron saint of Switzerland. Now I am not all into the Swiss history, but he was a farmer, got married, had 10 kids then moved on to become a hermit. Perhaps the kids were too much, I don't know. Anyhow he was very much loved by the Swiss and he was the mayor in the town where he moved to. Eventually he seemed to be good at smoothing over conflicts and I think this scene shows how he managed it in front of the soldiers and the church. Anyone who knows better may correct me. I just found it a nice photo.

Here is a selection of the armour on show. There is so much to see and I did take about fifty photos of everything. Although Switzerland is known as being a neutral country, they always had to guard their borders. I know my father-in-law was away during the war years on the Swiss-French border and there were some more "modern" uniforms being shown.

I was quite enjoying my time in the armoury, but my mobile suddenly rang and it was Mr. Swiss telling me he had finished his business and was waiting for me on the bridge (how romantic). I was planning a visit for another fifteen minutes, but when the voice calls you have to go. Anyhow if anyone is interested that can look at the photos either on

Flickr or

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Pictures to Words: Reflections Week 2: The Cowboy

“There were so many people at the funeral and it was only a few days ago that he gave his last interview.” Paul James should know, he was the journalist that was assigned to make the interview. Paul was writing a series on child film stars from earlier days and in this connection he was reminded of the television series “My faithful horse”. One of those films where week for week you were confronted with a school boy and his horse that went through all sorts of adventures and always came out top.

He arrived at the Quiet Valley nursing home just a week ago with an appointment to see Sammy Dexter the boy star of the series, but this was sixty years later and he had heard that Sammy was seriously ill. The nurse told him at the entrance that he was only allowed to make the interview because Mr. Dexter had given his express permission. Paul found a thin grey haired man in a wheelchair breathing his life from an oxygen cylinder. Yes, Sammy Dexter looked years older than his seventy two years.

“Take a seat Mr. James, and don’t worry about these contraptions I have around me, they are keeping me alive and that is all that concerns the nurses in this place, just having a celebrity as a patient; makes good advertising for the home. I hear you want my life story.”
“That sure is why I am here Mr. Dexter.”
“Just call me Sammy like everyone else and then we will get on ok together Paul.”
“Well that’s fine by me Sammy. Perhaps we could start at the beginning. I have an old photo here showing you pictured together with your horse, Hurricane. You certainly captured the hearts of the people at that time. It was one of the first successful children’s series to be shown on the television. Where did you find such a fine horse?”
“My father actually found the horse. He was the owner of a large ranch in Indian country. He specialised in horses. Grew up in the area and could almost ride before he could walk. The farm had been in our family for many years and it was obvious that his son rode in his father’s footsteps. There was only one little problem. His son was allergic to the four legged brutes and didn’t even like them. From my first days I remember the smell of having horses in my nose; the hay, the stables and the smell of their shit if you can excuse the language, but that was how it was. Yes Paul, Sammy Dexter just hated horses. Hard to believe I suppose.”
“Then how come you had such success with the film series.?”
“Well you have to go back a bit for that. My mother died when I was born and Big Sam, my father was left to bring up a son and look after a horse ranch. I think the son made more problems that the ranch. I was given in the hands of one of the squaws that worked at the ranch. She also bore a son a few weeks before I was born, so I was sort of weaned on her milk together with Tamtam her boy. Now Tamtam was different to me. Him being from Indian folk, he could tell what a horse was thinking before the horse knew it himself. We grew up almost as brothers. Tamtam was one of those Indians with fair skin and blue eyes, although he had black hair, he just didn’t look like the real Indian. It was at the time when cowboy films were all the fashion in the television. Wells Fargo, Wyatt Earp, Jessie James: their life stories came to you in a weekly series. Characters like the Lone Ranger, Hoppalong Cassidy and Roy Rogers were the stars of the day, so it was only natural that they had to come up with something new. One of the film scouts visited our ranch looking for some horses for their films and had the idea of making a series starring a boy like myself with his trusty horse. Rin Tin Tin had been such a success showing a boy adopted by a fort with his dog, so they decided to take the plot further showing a boy, an orphan naturally, growing up with his horse.

It was then that they saw Tamtam doing his tricks with Hurricane his horse. They approached my father but Big Sam, as my dad was known, did not want to know anything about an Indian boy being used as a film star for a film. He told the film scout he could have Hurricane as the film horse, but only on the condition that his son Sammy filled the role as the boy. So if you look at the photo you brought with you from the magazine of the day you can see me standing next to Hurricane dressed in my cowboy clothes and that was how people knew me from the film.”
“But I thought you were allergic to horses Sammy.”
“I was and the only pictures you ever saw were when I was standing next to the smelly creatures. Oh how I hated horses.”
“But the scenes in the films where you were riding?”
“No problem, Paul, that was where Tamtam came into the whole thing. They used him for the action parts of the series.”
“In that case the whole series was sort of based on a lie.”
“Just be careful what you say Paul James. If my daddy was here now you could be happy if you were allowed to write for a sex magazine spreading rumours like that. Everyone was more or less happy. Big Sam was glad that his son got the fame he had earned and his Indian squaw was pleased to have a son like Tamtam that was being paid for doing something he had done since he started walking, riding a horse and even being shown on the television. Of course the scenes on the horse never actually showed my face, you just saw me when I had saved a lady in distress, or perhaps a farmhouse from burning down. My faithful horse Hurricane always showed me the way to go and I was there following. Tamtam was just the kid that sat on him and guided him through the tricks and the film.”
“So where is Tamtam today Sammy?” asked Paul.
“What do I care where he is today. You are here to make an interview with me and not with a half Indian like Tamtam who tried to cheat me out of my fame and fortune.” It was then that Sammy Dexter went red in the face and had a coughing attack. The nurses came running telling Paul James that the interview must come to an end as their patient had an attack and needed to rest. He was seriously ill and the excitement coming with the interview was just not necessary.
Paul got ready to leave but amongst the fit of coughing Sammy told him in a few spluttering words to be back in two days where they could finish the interview in peace.

Paul James went home that evening with a feeling that there was more behind this child film star than met the eye. As he had two days to spare before meeting Sammy Dexter again he decided to do some research in Indian country. The next morning he arose early and took the five hour drive upon himself to the old Dexter ranch. He was surprised to find that it had become one of those fashionable riding schools for the sons and daughters of the upper class. He explained why he was there and was taken to meet the owner, a young man about the same age as Paul, dark skinned and long black hair down to his shoulders. He could have been an Indian himself were it not for his blue eyes.

“Can I help you Mr. James?”.
“I was wondering if you could tell me anything about the previous owners of this riding school. I believe it used to be a horse ranch.”
“There is not a lot to tell Mr. James. My parents worked here when it was a ranch and I grew up on the ranch. Horse farming came a bit out of fashion and that was when I decided to develop the place and it became the successful riding school it is today.”
“But what happened to the owners of the horse ranch. I am working on a interview with the child star Sammy Dexter and he seemed to get slightly excited when I mentioned one of his friends Tamtam.”
“Got slightly excited Mr. James?”
“Just call me Paul.”

“OK Paul, if you have time I would like to show you something. I haven’t yet introduced myself, my name is Shawnee Dexter.”
“I am here to do some research on my interview with Sammy Dexter and would be pleased to have any assistance.”
“Just follow me Paul” and he lead the way to a path behind the riding school up on a hill where there were two graves. Paul was astonished to read the name on one of the tombstones of Hurricane, the horse, who died after an unfortunate accident and laying next to him a grave bearing the name TamTam Dexter died at the age of 22 through an accident. The inscription read on the tombstone“May they never be parted in death as they were always together in life.”
“Can you explain what the two graves are” asked Paul
“Mr. James, Tamtam was my father and Hurricane was his horse.”
“I feel somewhat confused.” answered Paul. “Why is the name on the stone TamTam Dexter?”
“Do you have to ask Paul? I would think the solution to the mystery is clear.”
It suddenly dawned on Paul that TamTam was also the son of Big Sam Dexter. TamTam and Sammy were half brothers.
“I see what you mean, but what happened to them both. TamTam seemed to have died at the same time as Hurricane.”
“Paul, the story is a bad story and shows what greed and envy can do to a man. Sammy Dexter became famous as the boy who rode Hurricane and Big Sam died leaving the ranch to my father TamTam knowing that TamTam would be capable of looking after the horses. Sammy never showed any interest in the ranch. Big Sam had acquired a lot of wealth during his life and his son Sammy inherited a lot of money and property. Unfortunately Sammy Dexter just gambled the money away and was left without a penny. It was then he came to my father and demanded half of the ranch as his rightful inheritance. My father was in the stable looking after Hurricane. There was a fight and somehow Sammy Dexter drew a gun and fired at TamTam hitting him in the heart. Hurricane leaped at Sammy and Sammy ran for his life, the horse chasing him. Witnesses at the court case said that the horse had lost his mind and would have killed Sammy if it had not been that the horse fell and broke its leg and had to be killed. Sammy was found not guilty of murder. There were no witnesses at the fight except for the horse, and it was found to be a case a self defence. Sammy Dexter was acquitted after a verdict of not guilty. So you see Paul I never really got to know my father as I was only a baby at the time. He had married one of the Indian girls working at the farm and it is from my mother and father that I have inherited my features and the gift for looking after horses. You may print your interview in your magazine with Sammy Dexter, but from what I have heard he is an old broken man. Time is running out and when he meets his maker I am sure he will get his just sentence.”

Paul left the ranch with mixed feelings. He had to go back the next day to the nursing home where Sammy Dexter had promised him the remainder of the story. He was wondering what he would be told; whether Sammy would tell him the truth or just invent something for the public. As things happened Paul did not have to worry about the last paragraphs of his story.

The next day Paul arrived at the nursing home in the afternoon as arranged and was met in the entrance hall by the head nurse.
“I am sorry Mr. James but Sammy Dexter passed away in his sleep yesterday afternoon. He was a very sick man and there was little that we could do. We found a letter addressed to you which he had written before he died.”

Paul took the letter, and sat down on a bench in the gardens of the nursing home.

"Dear Paul,

When you read this I will no longer be amongst you. All my life I have been plagued from the ghosts of the past. Tamtam was my half brother and is no longer with us through my own foolish mistakes. He was a good man and perhaps if we had met under other circumstances we would have been the best of friends. I have just one wish. In this envelope there is a key to a bank safe and here I write the numbers you will need to be able to access the safe. Please bring its contents to his family in Indian country, the address is written below. They belong rightfully to his children. I heard that they have made something of their lives and they are good people.

When you write your words then please write only the good things about my half brother. I do not deserve to be remembered as an idol for the generation that grew up with my films. They were not mine, but those of TamTam. Write about him and the good life that he led.

Sammy Dexter”

Paul read these words through many times and of course he did what was required of him.

What he did not know and the nursing home did not tell him. On the afternoon that Sammy Dexter died he had removed all the tubes leading to the devices keeping him alive in the hospital himself and within five minutes had taken his last breath.

Pictures to Words

MULTIPLY Writers Block Challenge #47 The Spiral Staircase

I was just taking a walk in town. A sunny day, no rain in sight and above all armed with the camera. Then I saw the sign, “Tower open today” and decided it was now or never. For such an excursion you should be wearing flat comfortable shoes, but unfortunately it was one of those spur of the moment things. My feet were clad in black suede hoes with a small heel and as was the fashion at the time, with rather long points on the sole. How often had I seen people on the outside balcony looking down and envied the view they must have. Taking my courage in both hands, and feet, I decided to achieve what I always wanted to do; to stand outside on the gallery looking down and watch people crawling along like ants. The adventure began.

Why do those steps always look so simple at the beginning; just a spiral staircase carved in stone. Although the tower was small compared to others in the world that I had climbed, I was now fifty years older and so were my legs. There was another problem that just did not occur to me. Wearing sneakers would have been so much easier. The steps were narrow and just a little bit too narrow to accommodate the long points I had on my shoes. “Come on” I thought, “You have taken steps in life more difficult than this.” I was the mother of two children which was not an easy task in life. “Remember when you climbed the Monument in London. Now that was really just a spiral staircase leading to the top.” These thoughts did not really calm my nerves. I was then about sixteen years old and my legs could have carried me miles and I would not have got tired. Today just ten steps made me pause and rest. I was not the only person climbing today. It was summer and the tourists were here. Tourists are never alone: a mother, father and two small children were on their way to the top. I decided to move to one side and let them pass. Luckily there was an alcove accommodating a large window and I moved into this for safety.
“Did you see that lady, mum” one of the children said “she had to move so that we could walk past her.”
“Of course, dear, you know she is not as fit as we are and cannot walk so fast.”
The family had already turned a corner on the steps and probably thought that when I had problems with walking I also had problems with hearing, but everything echoed on the stairs and I heard all.

I was wondering if this spiral staircase came to an end when I met some people making the descent and our paths crossed.
“Not far now” the man said “just a few turns and then it is straight up with no curves”.
I was reassured but still felt uncertain. Why did I have to do this? The mountaineers always gave as an excuse “because it was there”. I suppose I could say that as well, but I did want to take a few photos from the top. Suddenly I felt some fresh air and as I turned the corner a wooden staircase met my eyes. This went upwards for a while, made a curve and a second staircase turned a corner and again ascended, but to where? As I looked upwards I could see the reverse side of the wooden stairs. I suppose I should have felt a feeling of relief, knowing that the spiral stone stairs were left behind and a new phase was greeting me on my walk. Again I felt isolated with my unsuitable shoes. Were these wooden stairs deeper? They were wider but again not deep enough to accommodate my stupid shoes. I reflected on the builders of the tower. What were they wearing? Probably some sort of leather sandal with a sensible structure covering their bare feet. The tower had been built in the middle ages and then the people did not have problems with fashionable leather shoes and high heels.

On the next curve I saw a large bell hanging from the rafters of the ceiling. I checked quickly on my watch and was glad to notice it was some time in the middle of the afternoon, and no bells would be rung. I had already envisaged suffering a heart attack, or a circulatory collapse, but I did not want to go deaf as well. Memories came flooding back of my ascent in St. Pauls Cathedral, London. There was not just one bell, but many and it took some time before my ears stopped whistling with the effect from the noise, but there again my ears were then much younger. I then had the brilliant idea of taking a photo of the bell. This was easier said than done. I was suffering from the effects of the climb and I discovered that I could not hold the camera still as I was trembling. I leaned against the wall which steadied me somewhat and took the photo. On and on the steps went and I even managed to photograph the view of the steps from my perch next to the wall.

Somehow the sound of voices above became clearer and I realised that my target was almost reached. A few more steps and I entered a small room where a young man gave me a ticket and told me three francs. Not only had I braved near death on the way up, but I had to pay for it. There was a door leading to the gallery outside, but I first of all sat down on a chair which was probably reserved for the dying before they took their last look at the world from the outside gallery. I decided that after five minutes rest I should move. In the meanwhile another elderly lady had arrived and was looking with envy at the chair I was sitting on. I stumbled towards the exit, brushing past a collection of leaflets that the young man had on his desk. Unfortunately they all fell to the floor and I spent the next five minutes helping to put them back again. I think I was still shaking from the ascent, but nevertheless I walked out onto the open gallery. Yes, I said open. I always thought they covered these things in case someone had the intention of putting an end to their days on the earth. This tower had more trust in the people and the protective railings only reached to my elbows.

The time had now arrived for the photography session. I think the idea was to lean on the iron railings and take a photo. I leaned back against the walls of the tower for support and took my photos just as well. What I actually photographed I was not sure of. I just walked around the tower, being grateful that I came back to the door where the exit was and made my photos. I decided that there was no point standing outside, my duty had been done and I was feeling a slight attack of vertigo. It was time for my descent. I did not see any people crawling like ants from the view I had, but I just did not stand out far enough.

It is funny really, but descents always seem to be much quicker than ascents. I am sure I was at the entrance to the tower again in half the time I took to climb to the top. I walked back home, just a kilometre down the main road, and arrived safely.

“See anything interesting” my other half asked when I arrived home.
“I took a few photos” and the whole ascent was just worth it to see the expression on my husband’s face.

Writers Block Challenge #47