Endeavour Untitled Work in Progress

Tue, 06 Feb 2018 03:06:50 GMT

Your routine becomes your life. Becomes your life. He didn't want to think this. But the thought came unbidden, like the pattern of the wallpaper across from the sofa. A bland medallion pattern in gold, that he neither admired nor abhorred. He could see it before he opened his eyes. He could sense it even as he became aware of the jagged angle that caused his neck to ache. The sofa was too short to claim a night's restful sleep. Then again there was rarely a truly restful slumber anymore for Morse.

A slim volume slid from somewhere across his middle and landed quietly on the shag carpet when he stretched then sat. Morning, by the bleak light coming in round the edge of the shade. He contemplated his stocking feet for a numb moment before noting atop the coffee table, a crumb strewn plate, and slightly more than one finger of amber drink in a glass. The modern marvel of a phonograph had turned itself off automatically some time during the night. Morse hadn't even heard the absence of the music.

He passed a hand through the thick tangle of his hair. Rising, he stepped toward the lavatory but hesitated.
As though fulfilling some unseen master's bidding, he turned then picked up the glass and downed the remainder of the drink in one swallow. Routine becomes your life, a voice of some paternal expert someone echoed in his head. It was another working day.

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The Ruins

Mon, 24 Feb 2014 01:10:01 GMT

Maybe that's not such a great working title. It will do for now. Have become inspired as of late to take up once again, my WWI story. It could be that the Centennial of the onset of the Great War is prompting this. Whatever the reason, even 100 years ago seems uncomfortably close. Battles where tens of thousands were lost at a time, whole landscapes destroyed and new, hideous ways to kill others were the fruits of this conflict.

A thing that strikes me by contrast is the means of communication available at the time. Radio was not generally available to the public and telegraphs were sent in code for the war effort. Civilians got their news from the front via newspaper or letters. This seems so indicative of such a different age. We lose patience if the car ahead of us in the drive through lingers at the service window. Our access to news is nearly instantaneous to the event.

Wish me luck with my book.

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Jesse's Zen

Endeavour Untitled Work in Progress

The Ruins