Fantasies and Brickwork. Radhanagari Damsel; part 6. (#wordprompt)

January 4, 2018

 

Her weight across his thighs was holding his legs together.  She straddled him and gazed at his face, yet avoided eye contact.  He felt the promise of seeing into her soul was tantalisingly close.  The silk negligee slid across her own smooth legs, riding ever higher as her fingers teased the hem closer to her torso.  John looked from her face down to her hands and watched, his slightly open lips quickly becoming dry as his breathing rate increased.

A bang on the door woke him with a start and he cursed as he swung his legs off the bed and padded to the door to look through the spyhole.  Thanks Ramesh.

“Five minutes?”  John spoke through the gap, after Ramesh explained they needed to meet Aditya and the insurance men at the dam as soon as possible.

“OK, I’ll wait in reception.” Ramesh stalked back along the hotel corridor.

2-minute showers were a leftover skill from his days in the army.  As he dressed, John prayed Riya had remained comfortable through the night.  John had left the hospital after her parents arrived to take up vigil by her bed and he was unsure about how to create an excuse to go back there.

The road were surprisingly clear of debris as they neared the dam.  “They’ve been working all through the night.” the locals had brought their diggers and had assisted in clearing rocks from the hillside.  “These guys always come and help in this area; the government equipment is still in use 100 miles away following last month’s quake.”

“What did this one measure?”  John swung the door to the truck closed and they walked together from the open space which had become a makeshift carpark, surrounded by no risk hills.

“Only 3.2 but we think the dam and this valley took the, what do you english say, brunt of it?”  John smiled briefly and they walked past the taped off entrance and down the steps towards the power house entrance.  John kept his mind on the job at hand as the next two hours was spent with the authorities and so called profressionals, although was shocked at the safety steps not being taken as they moved around damaged areas.  A few men were taking wheelbarrow loads of bricks and timber out from within the office.  The dam had been built well and while there were no serious breaches of the principal spillway, a persistent leak was escaping to one side where the abutment was weak at its join to the hillside.

Aditya’s angry voice could be heard long before they could see him.  “I need the work to start today.  You know this water is a lifeline to the whole state.”

“Sir, we do not have the man power free yet.  The teams are still working on the bridges; the 48 and the 160 both took serious hits last month and we have to get supplies in and out of Mumbai.”

“For God’s sake!”  Aditya ran his hands through his hair “My great grandfather built this and I am not going to sit around waiting for some half-wit team to turn up when they are ready.  I have a handful of locals happy to work for me.”  he pushed past the man with the clipboard, clanking his crutches against remaining door uprights.

“You cannot use these people.  They are not covered by your policy.  We have to wait Sir.”  The insurance man tip-toed through the broken window panes on the old lino flooring, attempting to keep up but the tone of Aditya’s statements left no-one in any doubt as to the direction this would go.

“I will take that risk.  Fuck the insurance!  I will buy my own materials.”

Ramesh shook his head an followed the men, but John chose to stay and look around.  Glass crunched below his boots, papers and desk paraphernalia littered the floor where Riya would have been sitting.  Her chair was on its side, its wheeled feet looking not unlike an upturned ladybird and an old metal filing cabinet lay at an angle against the chair back.  On closer scrutiny he noticed a brown smear on its edge and knew this was what had hit her.  He struggled to push the cabinet upright and it see-sawed slightly before resting once again on its base, the top drawer slowing opening of its own accord, offering its contents for examination.

Flicking through the wallets within, John saw only invoices to contractors, letters and delivery notes.  More of the same in the second drawer.  The bottom drawer was stuck.  He kicked it; nothing.  The desk behind him had remained upright and its top drawer revealed a promising key and sure enough it allowed him entry.  A wooden box was just visible towards the very back, inlaid with mother of pearl around the edges in an intricate pattern.  From John’s squatting position, he opened the lid and inside were folded pieces of paper.  A faint scent; the same perfume as when he had got into the Jaguar.  He hesitated before unfolding the first piece; feeling like a traitor but desperate to help;

Riya,

For years I have waited and you do not disappoint.  Everything I have is yours and all you are will be mine.  We will be one.  No other man will come between us.   You will work a little longer but I have a house awaiting your presence and you will not need to work my love.

X

Another read;

Riya,

You are young my darling, you are not to know these ways, but I will not tolerate the behaviour you displayed last night.   You are committed to me now and your eyes will remain down in company.   I am not angry with you my dear.  You will soon learn.  I will make sure of it my love. 

X

“John?  Come – we are leaving now.”  Ramesh called from outside.   There were many letters inside and John grabbed them, leaving the box, forcing them into an envelope he had spotted earlier.   “Aditya wants to know if your men can come.  I told him you will try, please?”  the engineer seemed an enigma; uneducated in some respects yet qualified to build and design complicated structures.  But it was Aditya who had flagged up in John’s mind.  His permanent angry state; the disregard for his sister in the hospital.

“I have emailed UK already; they will come back to me soon and we have two teams who could be here in two days if the plans for work are viable”

“I want them yesterday.”  Aditya squared up to John, his eyes blazing.  “And I get what I want.”

If you would like to start at the beginning, catch part 1 here!

Fun with the daily word prompt – viable

Daily Prompt: Viable

To beard or not to beard? That is, I suppose, a question if you’re really, really bored.

January 4, 2018

Why the hell am I awake? It’s 4am and my body is yearning to be asleep but some bugger inside my brain hasn’t found the off-switch. So let’s talk about beards. (That’s fairly random. Can’t you stick to the plot and write part 6?)

Personally, you just can’t beat a beard. Why? I’m not entirely sure I can explain it. For me, it’s biological – the reaction within when I see well-maintained, groomed facial hair. I’m simply drawn in!

The stubble look is particularity acceptable I find. Google images came up trumps again … although I’m not convinced by the pink lips. Excuse me sir, what lipstick are you wearing because I’m pretty sure that’s mine you have on.

Oh dear, what’s going on here? Poirot meets that burly rugby player from Scotland (you can’t use that; they’ve all got beards!).

What does John look like? If you read part 4, I’ve based him on the photo there. I see him as mid-30s. Eager to do well in India and now Aditya truly needs the help. But John has a whole load of shit (are we allowed to swear on here? I’ve no idea – it’s not live on channel 4 is it, so swear if you must) coming his way shortly.

Least he has that stubble to use as a stress ball between thumb and first finger …. I bet men do that a lot when they are thinking about stuff.

I need sleep, but perhaps when you get into writing a story, and your cogs are turning, much like the turbine at the bottom of the shaft at the dam, you should react and just write. Like I have in fact. (Yes but this post is destined for Boringborough. You’re probably right. I’ll give it 24 hours and if it has 10 likes it can stay – deal? Deal. Now, treat yourself and go to sleep)

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/treat/”>Treat</a&gt;

#insomnia

#amwriting

#wriring

#beards

#men

Fun with daily word prompt – TREAT

Sedatives and finger tips. Radhanagari Damsel; part 5 (#wordprompt)

January 2, 2018

The coffee was bitter; the irony of this was not lost on John as he handed a polystyrene cup to Ramesh who sat poised on the edge of a chair on one side of Riya’s hospital bed.  A lemon waffle-weave blanket followed the contours of her body, from the neatly positioned feet, knees and up to her hips – so narrow she suddenly looked child-like.

Riya was sleeping, heavily sedated.  She had drifted in and out of consciousness during the ambulance ride and was now being monitored closely.  A nurse came in half-hourly to check pupil dilation and encouraged the men to talk quietly between themselves so Riya would hear familiar voices if she woke.  A knock on the glass panel gained the attention of them both, before Aditya attempted to wheel himself through the door, his right leg in a cast from his thigh to his ankle, balanced on a support directly out in front of him.

Ramesh moved to assist with the door and the look of concern altered slightly as he moved behind the wheel,s John noted.

“How’s she doing?”  Aditya’s eyes strained to interpret the screens.

“She’s comfortable.  There’s slight swelling of the brain on one side but they have sedated her and are confident it won’t cause long term damage.”  John fought the urge to reach for Riya’s left hand only inches away, as he updated her brother.    Ramesh sat again and it was as though he had read John’s mind.  He reached for her right hand and while a boss should care about their employee’s wellbeing after an accident, the way Ramesh’ thumb moved back and forth over her fingers left John feeling a little uneasy.  Aditya appeared not to notice and had moved his attention to his phone.

“Do you think I could get away with making a call in here?  I really need to get back to the dam.  Ramesh, you will take me. Riya is in good hands.”   he grunted as his foot caught the end of the bed as he turned his wheelchair awkwardly in the space.  “Now Ramesh!”

“But what will I drive? You won’t get in a car!  I’ll reserve a big cab!” their debate continued along the corridor and as the door swung slowly closed, the room was once again restored to the sound of machines and the gentle rythm of breath.  John moved his chair a little closer and did not hesitate to take Riya’s hand this time.  “Um, I don’t know what to say.  Only that I hope you can hear me.” the whisper which escaped his lips surprised him and he coughed to regain control of his voice. “The thing is, silly really, but since December when I saw you last, I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”  with his free hand, he picked at an errant thread on the blanket and watched it refuse to alter its direction.  “I know we have a lot of work on the dam to discuss; even more so now ….. God only knows what damage has been done today, but sometimes …  you meet someone and y’know….” he trailed off again and stared at the creases in the skin of each knuckle.   He was desperate to kiss her fingers, the back of her hand, the tendons fanlike from her wrist.

“I’m scared. Don’t let him near me.” the voice caught him off guard and he glanced to the pillow to see Riya’s eyes just barely open, the long dark lashes fluttered and her head turned slightly towards him.  She sucked inwards and groaned “My head.” the groaning came again.

“Stay still.  I’ll get someone.” but as he stood, a nurse came in anyway.

“It’s ok, she will gain consciousness but we want to keep her quiet and motionless for a few more hours.”   she fiddled with something and Riya almost immediately relaxed.    “She’s a fighter this one!”  the nurse smiled and left him to his confusion…

Fun with daily word prompts from wordpress … to join in press today’s word selection: Reservation

Pastry and passion..

January 2, 2018

I can see Riya in her hospital bed … I can hear the blink blink blink of her monitor. I want to write about John’s intense, hidden and growing passion but I am moving around my kitchen, hands covered in flour.

Damn these family members who will insist on eating, like every day! What is wrong with these people? Can I click my fingers for a few hours and render them immobile enabling me to write? I have characters needing development – their stories need to be told! An earthquake to be recovered from… (read part 1 here)

Left the pastry cooling in the fridge a little too long – no-one will ever know that it was falling apart as I rolled. Once it has its contents and mixture … sshh and I’ll get away with it.

You’ll not have to wait long… as I make this quiche, the nurse is checking Riya’s pupils and no-one is overly worried.

I shall post part 5 tonight …. once I’ve had time to locate the daily word prompt and tie it in (although there’s a part of me feeling this story has legs and could stand on its own, without the prompts now. Which is a good sign isn’t it? It’s what prompts are all about. Getting the creative juices flowing!)

What’s that burning???????

Concentrate woman. You cannot multi-task.

Lunch is ready! 💃🏼

Look in the mirror more..

January 1, 2018

IMG_7487.jpg

How long can I wait before I start the post-Christmas ‘tidy up’?  I mean, realistically, how long do I have to walk past the collection of cracker gifts sat patiently on the sideboard before their inevitable journey to the bin, but which at the time of explosion brought genuine  ‘oohs’ and ‘wows’ because they were a step up on the 2cm opaque plastic aeroplane, or the one lonesome plastic leapfrog (who at least you can attempt to force into somebody’s wineglass!).

I might actually try and use the bookmark – it will give me the look when reading on the train of a more organised person than the one who uses last week’s train ticket.

The frame is cute.  And pretty useless.  It will undoubtedly end up being pushed from my bedside table if I ever find a photo small enough to place inside it.   The books and the phone and the glass of never-consumed water will take priority in the dark.

Perhaps the bottle opener could be of use to my son who now has a set of car keys.  Although what message is that giving him – drink and drive?

The stumpy thing which was designed to touch your touch screens to save your finger or thumb is simply a waste of time.   By the time you’ve located that in your handbag debris, the recipient of planned text has morphed into next month.

A bulldog clip which opens wide enough to contain perhaps 9 pieces of paper.  Useful.  I’m sure, for …. for cheques!  Collected as I deliver clients’ horse rugs.  Except they all pay by bank transfers these days.  I probably bank fewer than ten cheques a year nowadays.  Holding credit cards together in said bag?

Now, a mirror is a useful thing.   Something stuck in your teeth following what was meant to be just a scotch egg from the garage along with the costa medium-sized coffee which is never quite large enough – yet I’ve yet to choose a large at the machine!   Eyebrow check; lipstick check, sleep in the eye check.  Because you never know when Daniel Craig will walk across your path do you?

Look closer into your mirror and you will see not the things that make you prettier, but yourself or the next generation of yourself perhaps.  Those beings who take your core morals and beliefs into their world and mould them a little to suit their own evolving take on society and what it means to them.

My daughter. My son. (Yes, I could say ‘our’ but this blog is about me, not ‘us’)

Their smiling faces, directed at me stood behind the camera that day, when my son was throwing his spear for England.  But that’s another story, for another day, which I will share with you I promise.

But today, on the first day of a new year, wherever you are, whoever you are with and however you are reading these words, take time to look in a mirror, a reflecting shop window because this year?  Make it about you first.  If your well-being and self esteem is intact, you will have the strength to look after those around you.

I’m going to. xxx

 

Dust and tears … Radhanagari Damsel: part 4 (#wordprompt)

December 31, 2017

Finally
via Daily Prompt: Finally

For months now he had wanted to hold her, bury his nose in her silky hair, whisper nothings to her delicate neck, but not like this.  John’s fingers moved dust-covered hair from her face, her eyelashes meeting over closed eyes, her body limp in his arms.  The rumbling of the aftershocks evident every few minutes as the ground shook beneath them.  He had moved her to the road, away from the wooden office structure perched on the top of the dam.

Ramesh was running, talking frantically into a walkie talkie which John noticed an hour before, attached to a utility belt, as they had together investigated the turbine room.   No sign of Aditya who had moved the car at the first warning, away from the crest.  John watched the ground, as shingle and small stones jumped and bobbed around him, shimmying along in the same direction for three or four seconds before resting.   Riya was breathing but unconscious, drying blood glued itself to her temple.

“Ramesh!  Get a fucking move on with that kit!”

“It’s here!” the engineer appeared again sprinting the few yards from the office, box in hand, the walkie talkie babbling all the time.  He dropped the box and a litre bottle of water on the ground, touched John’s shoulder and spoke back,

“Adi, the ambulance is on its way for Riya; John’s with her.  Where the hell are you?”

“Gimme your jacket, quick!” ordered John, not taking his eyes from her face, but holding his right arm up to leave Ramesh in no doubt as to what was expected of him.

Manoeuvring Riya’s head from the crook of his left elbow, John carefully arranged the makeshift pillow with his right hand, before opening the first aid box.   He used wipes to gently assess her temple wound, pouring fresh water from the bottle to clean further down her cheeks.   He found saline, fresh cotton wool and was relieved the wound was small which he covered with a basic dressing.  He took a swig from the bottle as the next rumble began; he watched the water level shudder, circles attempting to escape but finding instead the circumference and bouncing back.

Ramesh’s voice travelled up from somewhere near but out of sight.  “John! Adi is also hurt – come!”

He was torn.  How could he leave Riya exposed to falling rocks from the hillside?  He searched the immediate landscape for somewhere more safe to lie her but just as he lifted her off the ground, he caught sight of Aditya, his arm around Ramesh’ shoulders and bearing weight on only one leg.  “Come to this piece of flat land!”  John called back over his shoulder as he walked his previous cargo and the others followed.  Around a slight bend in the road the hill flattened out and there was less risk from falling debris.   In the distance a siren offered an increasing hope of medical attention and John paused, exhausted not with the weight of the beautiful girl in his arms, but with the anguish that she may be more hurt inside than could be seen.  He wanted to make her better, he wanted to look into her eyes, wanted to see her smile.

As the ambulance drew closer and the lights flashed their arrival, the ground vibrated more than before, making them all fall to their hands and knees.   Covering Riya’s face with his body, John prayed for it to stop.   It did giving them long enough to receive immediate roadside attention before being placed inside the vehicle for the return journey to the nearest hospital.    As they sat in silence, all moving in unison with the vehicle’s twists and turns along the road, they each stared at their sister, PA, friend; the men each engrossed in their thoughts.   The paramedic attached various patches and lines to monitors and Riya’s body became the charge of the professionals.

John rested his elbows on his knees and allowed his head to drop so no-one could see his face.  He fought the sting of tears threatening their appearance behind his eyelids and swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes more tightly shut while the motion of the ambulance and the anguished squeal of the siren dulled as he visualised Riya’s voice speaking to him in her velvet tones only an hour before when they had made their way down the steps inside the dam’s inner structure.

It was no good, he couldn’t stop them.  He cursed himself as they forced their way out, much like the water through the dam’s seep holes.  His silent tears collected this time on his lips, then fell to the floor, just as he felt his hand being touched.  He moved his head a little and his intake of breath was audible as he saw Riya’s fingers reach for his own.  He looked at her face, covered in dust, blood and now tears were creating clean channels through the dust on her perfect skin.  Finally, she had opened those beautiful eyes and chosen him to be their first picture.  She smiled at John and his tears continued through relief.   This girl was something and John knew instantly what he had to do.

(Image – google images)

TO READ PART 1 – PRESS HERE

TO READ PART 5 – PRESS HERE

No Ordinary Girl #bookreview

December 31, 2017

#cherylelaine #bookreview

I am beyond excited.

Cheryl Elaine has sent me a signed copy of her debut novel which I read six weeks ago and was blown away by it. While I don’t generally do book reviews, as I’d rather leave those to the experts who know what they are doing, occasionally I read a book which I want to shout about because it was incredible.

To produce a work so harrowing to read, yet so gripping and breathtaking in its suspense … for a first book is outstanding.

Human trafficking is the background, Aimee the main character. Her forced journey into the clutches of this underworld of sordid profiteering is documented by Elaine in minute painful detail.

Her research into this subject matter proves that the practice is ongoing, daily, even in the UK while we all bumble along wondering what to eat for dinner later.

If you enjoy a fluffy romance, I suggest you do not open these pages of dark exploitation.

As an avid reader of a wide selection of genre, I can tell you this book will stay with me. Elaine’s writing style is the type I love and her next book is on its way and if it is half as good as this debut, then it will fly off the shelves.