...my heart is in my throat!
Survivor's Guilt (The Beautiful Soul)
Thank you, dear ones: Tammy and Baba!
It was so nice to awake to your comments this morning. I will think of you and 'Charlie on the ledge' as I away to cut a client's lawn and pull her weeds!
What makes this new roman a clef exciting to me is how I will be stumped and then - out of the blue - it all comes to me [as I napped a restless nap yesterday, cogitating madly and with relentless purpose]. The latest portion regarding Charles' grief and then the flashback to "Charlie's" night on the ...
See you later! Have a great day.
Encouraged by his father to put all his visions to sketch pad and, eventually, to canvas, William did not require the least coaxing to follow through on recreating the beauties of Nature, so abundant her cornucopia of earthly visual delights in Aldercroft County.
Every morning the lad was out and about scouring the wood, looking, one, for delicate flora that sprung up new and undiscovered daily - "Eureka!" - and, two, donning field glasses to bring into closer and mentally fathomable range the wondrous, breathtaking Loma Prieta mountain range. William's keen imagination flew off into the wild and very bluest of blue yonder as he surveyed the ridge of spirits inhabited by and duly worshiped eons ago by the ancient Aztec. He saw its once glorious Temple to the Sun intact but currently unused and, for the sake of the ethereal romanticist's swelling heart, in ruins. Sketch upon hurried sketch, on location, to catch the sun's predictable but forward moving race through the electric blue overhead, was roughed out by the young artist's hand. Soon, the stack of charcoal drawings (carefully packed between layers of clear sheets to avoid smudging) would be sorted through at home, perused by father and son, and implemented and fashioned into an oil painting that would boast the realities of Golden State's natural glory, yet not fail to hint at the visual flights of artistic fancy drawn up from the deep well of heart and mind and put so cleverly by hand to canvas.
The predictable haunt of the pair - father and son frequently explored and sketched together - was that treacherous, broad overhang that gave onto the most favorable view of Aztec Ridge but a small ledge of which gave way years ago under little Charlie's feet. The grown-up Charles was not foolhardy. He had not forgotten that night years ago when his faithful pooch, Frank, stood watch over him, unconscious as the young master lay twenty feet below in a twisted heap against a small but tenacious pine. Now, however, Charles and son, William, watched their steps carefully, because they had promised Mother and Grandmother that they should do just that.
William - Billy - would need to come out again, however, but on his own. He had a very good reason for not telling his beloved daddy, whom he told just about everything.
YOIKS!!! This is why I was never allowed to watch Lassie as a child. I get far too fraught! ~whew~
LOL @ Baba
CoCo - I can hear Jude Law narrating this. Partly because I find your writing/tone to be old english historical - if something like that exists? But also because I love the english accent and I just finished watching Lemony Snickets :)
Good morning, Baba and Tammy.
Thank you for responding. I hope all is well with you and yours.
I got to thinking that either Frank is totally loyal to his wounded master or too dumb to find his way home and tell Mom and Dad that "Timmy's in the well." I appreciate, too, the thought about a Jude Law reading. It's cool to hear one's writing narrated!
[...] Frank, stood watch over him, unconscious as the young master lay twenty feet below in a twisted heap against a small but tenacious pine.
Correction: [...] Frank, stood watch over him, as the young master lay unconscious twenty feet below in a twisted heap against a small but tenacious pine.
Talk about a misplaced modifier! Were we?