Danger - A Safe Bahamian Novel - Day 11
(1:35 pm Sunday Nov 11, 2007)
(3:52 pm Sunday Nov 11, 2007)
*** A Lonely Room
And time is having its way with me again today I see gentle reader.
*** Shack Near Beach
A song is playing on the stereo again.
Well I got me some new, time to kill
Got it from a man just over the hill
I'll take it and grind it
Down at the mill
Yes I got me some new, time to kill
Well I got me some fresh, time to waste
I'll waste it on you baby out on a date
Yeah I'll pick you up at seven
Or maybe at eight
Yes I got me some fresh, time to waste
I got me some extra, hours to burn
Light em up bright baby, never learn
Sparkling stride baby
Smooth groove turns
Yes I got me some extra, hours to burn
Well I sold him some new, time to kill
Don't need it no more, just went over the hill
Let him take it and grind it
Down at the mill
Yes, he's got him some new, time to kill.
The guys are sitting around listening and playing "I spy" and drinking swicha.
(3:57 pm Sunday Nov 11, 2007)
*** A Lonely Room
I guess the guys at the shack are having a day sort of like the one I am having. Well, At least I am not sitting around playing "I spy" but I wouldn't mind having some swicha now my own self.
Well, I guess I will get a cup of tea soon instead. I hope I can sleep tonight.
(4:23 pm Sunday Nov 11, 2007)
Yes indeed, time is a mess again. I think the writer's block is what keeps messing up the time. I wish I had me some new time to kill for my own self right about now. Wouldn't that be just the luxury.
I really must learn to plot novels if I intend to keep doing these thirty days in November writing sprees. I guess I need to try and develop some ability with characters as well. That might help too.
Theme might be something to consider as well. Other than the pointlessness of some things that is.
There is a famous guy in literature who has come unstuck in time. I could name the guy for you, but I wont. If you don't know off hand, ask around, someone is likely to. Or call up your friendly school librarian. Or head on down to your favourite search engine and see what you can scrounge up.
I seem to remember having to read, or at least reading, that book in high school.
One question that has been in my own mind this month of November in the year two thousand and seven is if I will come unstuck in time. I really do need to come unstuck in time myself.
Don't misundertake me though. I do not need to come unstuck in time in the same way.
That famous literature person came unstuck in time in the sense of being cast loose from his mooring on the sea of time. And so moved back and forth on that sea if I recall correctly.
I have no wish to come unstuck like that at this point in my life.
No, I am stuck in this writing quicksand. I keep trying to get unstuck but sinking deeper in the earth. So will I manage to get unstuck in time to succedd at this project this year?
See what I mean gentle reader? A different kettle of fish all together now. (No mention of bugs or things down under needed.)
(6:18 pm Sunday Nov 11, 2007)
*** Beach Near Shack Near Beach ~;-)
Well, really the rocks west of the beach near the shack near the beach.
Jack is sitting cross legged on a little wooden platform he has constructed out of hand carved drift wood. He collected the wood himself while taking lonely, solitary walks along this shore. He carved the pieces himself. He built the platform himself. he is the only one who comes to this particular spot and sits on this platform of his.
His friends know that it holds some special place in his heart and psyche and so they leave it for him alone. He does his best to come here at least once a day and to sit and talk to himself and to his ancestors. Not in any mystical way. More or less, just to sort out things in his own mind and learn about himself.
He sometimes even wrote letters to his ancestors using a little hand made writing desk he kept under the platform. Whenhe did, he wouldput them in bottles and throw them in the ocean. He often felt like a litter bug for doing this, so he made sure to collect and recycle at least twice the number of bottles he sent to roam the world's oceans.
(6:57 pm Sunday Nov 11, 2007)
*** Shack Near Beach
Sam and Ronnie are sitting on the porch watching the water, listening to the music from the stereo, talking, watching Jack sitting on his platform from time to time. looking over at Reg sleeping in a hammock around the side of the shack.
"So Sam, what do you think about our boy? Is he a bit too obsessed with this treasure he is hunting?"
"I don't know Donny, he does worry me sometimes. I wish he would think about eternity more. And he does concern me sometimes with how he talks to himself and his ancestors so much. He needs to read his bible more. Shoot, I need to read mine more too so what am I talking about. Still, he does worry me some with that."
"Sam, you think too much about the bible for your own good. You know that don't you? It must come from being alone up the top of those poles all day. If anyone needs to worry about anyone, it is Jack and I that need to worry about you. I mean, how would it look for a good christian boy like you to get fried? Someone might think you were secretly playing for the other team."
"You shouldn't joke so much about things like that Donny. These are serious, long term, life time things. And besides, I am not a good christian boy by a long shot. I may wish I was, but I fall far short of that."
"Don't you mean, long term, post life time things, Sam?"
"You may be only joking with me on that one, but you are right. I do mean long term, post life time things. At least, post this lifetime things. Eternal life things."
"Well, you know that's all beyond me right now Sam. I am just trying to get things right for this life time, I don't have time to work on the next lifetime yet."
"I keep tellling you you are looking at things wrong, but you never listen do you?"
(7:27 pm Sunday Nov 11, 2007)
*** Rocks Near Shack Near Beach ~;-)
Jack has been sitting talking to himself for a long time now. But things are not getting any clearer for him today. He decides to write a letter to his piratical ancestor, Isamu Kato.
Honoured ancestor, I am searching for a greater connection with my past and I need your help and guidance.
(8:08 pm Sunday Nov 11, 2007)
*** A Lonely Room
Ahh gentle reader. You find me still in need of great help. Still in great need of great help. I have had a slog today with some joy. I have learned a bit more about my characters and the background of this story, and it even raised my spirits for a while. Yet, I find that I don't yet know enough to make the writing flow. If only I could get ahead, perhaps I could take the time to explore the as yet uncharted regions of this story and that could make it easier to get even further ahead.
Oh, if only.
I am currently north of thirteen hundred words for the day, but I had wanted to do at least three thousand words and be fully caught up for the near zero word day on Friday gone. I managed to get above three thousand words yesterday and catch halfway back up as you know, but I needed another three thousand word day to be fully caught up. That looks like it is going to be hard. I will try.
So far, I see no gentle reader help on the blog site for the book though:
So remember to leave me any helpful ideas that you can before the month is out. If you do choose to leave ideas though, make sure you are cool with the Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike licenses before doing so.
(8:23 pm Sunday Nov 11, 2007)
*** In The Very Spacious Salon Of A Mega Yacht Anchoured Off the North Shore Of Great Guana Cay, Abaco
Moon Daughter is speaking to the assembled women, "Sisters, we are making good progress in out search for our goal but just today, I have received some disturbing news. It seems that Black Jack is not the only other party who we are in competition with in reguards to finding the hiding place of the lost treasure."
"It seems out old aquaintences, The Club, are in the game and hot on the trail as well. In fact, if what I hear is fully accurate, they may well actually be ahead of us at this point."
"How can that be sister? We have the only known copy of the map in existence. How can anyone else be ahead of us?"
"Well, it seems that our friend Black Jack has a better memory for graphics than we imagined. And a softer spot in his heart for his mother. We certainly can't fault him for the latter."
"What does his mother have to do with it?"
"It seems that The Club had his mother and traded her for a hand drawn map that Jack made. They were unsure of its quality but they made the trade and have been following where it leads. Our sources tell us that they are growing more and more confident in their copy of the map as each day goes by."
"But we have the original map, surely we should be ahead than them using the real thing."
"You would think so," muses Moon Daughter, "but there may be more to this than we are taking into account."
"Like what Moon Daughter?"
"Well, sisters, I would like your help with that, but I have been thinking about it all day, ever since I first got word of this. I have two vague thoughts in my mind. One. It may be that The Club has some extra private information in their possession that we do not have and that, combined with the map that jack drew, that is giving them the edge."
"That could be a possibility."
"Thanks you sister. Two, if you take a look on the back of the map, you will see that it was made by one Isamu Kato. I find myself wondering if perhaps he made a slightly inaccurate map. One that can be corrected by one knowledgeable in his family's lore. I find myself wondering if perhaps, subconsciously, Jack made the corrections when making his copy so that the copy is more accurte than the original."
"Surely that is too far fetched Moon Daughter!"
"You are likely right sister, and I am likely grasping at straws, but I have to consider every possibility we can think of so that is why I want all of you to take an hour to think and then meet me back in the salon in an hour for a brain storming session."
"Yes Moon Daughter," they say in unison, getting up to leave.
"And sisters, I want you to bring me everything, even if it is ten times more far fetched than the second idea I just put forth."
The women file out and head off to various locations around the yacht. One lowers a small speedboat from the front deck and descends a ladder and boards it.
She lowers the engine and starts it before casting off the mooring line and heading in to the beach.
(10:50 pm Sunday Nov 11, 2007)
*** Top Of A Sand Dune - Great Guana Cay, Abaco
Golden Child should have been back on the Yacht long ago, yet here she sits, enjoying herself and feeling guilty at the same time.
For the first time in her life she has met a man who fascinates her. Fred Malone. She figures that it is a rather plain name for such an interesting individual.
Little alarm bells are going off in the back of her head but she pushes them down deep. She has been warned about letting something like this happen with outsiders. She pushes the thoughts down deeper and look into Fred's blue eyes in the candle light.
He smiles at her and looks deeply into her eyes, "Hey beautiful, you want me to go get us another round? I know the bar keeper and he is giving me two for one specials all night, I could ask him to play another song for us as well, how about another slow dance?"
"Anything you say Fred," she sighs.
Fred gets up from the table and walks over to the bar. He and the bartender shake hands in some elaborate way and exchange some words and laugh and smile. The bartender hands Fred a three ring binder that he spends some time looking through and then they talk some more.
All the while, the bar tender is mixing up some of those lovely drinks. Fred Looks over her way and winks at her. Golden Child blushes. Her cheeks feel a bit hot. She smiles at him and waves.
He walks over and hands her her drink, "Here you go my sweet, sex on the beach, just like you like it."
She blushes again and takes the drink. Such a lame joke, but he says it with such a flare and how could she resist that smile. She sips it. The name may leave a lot to be desired, but the taste. That is a different matter. He takes a swallow from his drink and then grabs her hand and pulls her to the dance floor as a new song starts.
One particular ocean
One particular bay
One particular sailboat
Every wind blowin my way
Their bodeis sway to the music and she is enchanted. He looks into her eyes and keeps whispering what she thinks is called sweet nothings into her ears. She could dance here with him all night.
One particular moment
One particular day
One particular girlfriend
Every thing going OK
One particular lover
One particular play
One particular ending
Now I've nothing more to say