Dennis is jostled awake by the percussion of landing wheels hitting the runway. The plane has delivered its passengers to the mainland oversea. Off the coastline are dotted countless islands and isles of light brown and gray, the larger islands are roost to small villas and mansions, and the mainland is masked by a continuous coastline metropolis, it is impossible to tell the natural boundaries where the ocean meets land had once been.
Raymond enters the cabin to declare, 'Rise and shine! We've arrived!' Dennis sits up and looks out one of the windows to sunlight streaming through the portholes.
'Did I sleep through the whole way?'
'You did, without noise too, that's a very desirable quality in a man, I say.' Raymond winks at Dennis, and makes his exit.
Dennis gets up slowly, and sits for a prolonged period of time in the cabin, staring out the very same porthole. In the airfield, Dennis can see Raymond unloading several small bags of cargo from the hold, among them are three cases that contain a violin or viola, a larger case with a cello enclosed, and a case of similar shape that is a good head taller than Raymond, the double bass. Also being unloaded are three black duffel bags, and finally, a military case. The plane's captain helps Raymond load these packages onto a limousine, and Dennis takes that as a sign that they are continuing on their way.
Just as he expects, Kenny puts the blindfold on Dennis as he is about to get into the limousine, and his vision is blackened, before he gets a good sense of bearing about the surroundings. Raymond , Kenny and Addy are in the compartment when the engine starts.
'Is Karla not riding with us?' Kenny asks.
'Nope, you need a break too, Kenny, she'll meet us again, unfortunately, at the opera house.' Raymond replies, grinning from ear to ear. 'And in addition, Dennis has to meet Jerry and Chelsea, you know Karla doesn't like Jerry very much, that's another reason why she isn't coming with us.'
'Not to mention his poems.' Kenny says.
'Too skeptical.'
'Too hopeless.'
'Too gruesome.'
'Too much chaos.'
'Too much love for death and suffering.'
'If Hannibal Lecter were a poet, he would write such materials as Jerry writes them.' Kenny concludes. They high five each other.
'Is she going to drive there herself.' Kenny asks, suddenly with the thought.
'She insisted.' Raymond replies with nonchalance. 'And the car is platinum-plated, even if a BMW T-bones her, that BMW is going straight to heaven.'
'Alright.' Kenny says, 'What piece are we performing?'
'A good piece, tweaked with some personal fixation by yours truly, you'll love it, trust me.' Raymond turns to look at Dennis, who is sitting still next to him.
'Before we do anything of that sort though, we're taking you to meet my siblings Jerry and Chelsea, and we'll show you the almighty power of the Nuts.'
'He means our ensemble.' Kenny adds.
'Why's it called the Nuts Strings Quintet?' Dennis asks.
'Don't ask me, Raymond came up with that one when he was fifteen years old.' Kenny says with a shrug.
'With Support from Jerry if I remember correctly.' Raymond counters, 'We needed something that grabs for attention instantly, not to mention, the nut is my favorite part of a strings instrument.'
'Not to mention also, the innuendo it portrays.'
'That fact happens to be completely accidental in terms of the English language.' Raymond concludes the conversation debate.
The limousine pulls up the long and elegant driveway to the Spacescraper hotel, a two hundred floor tall structure, the second most tallest in the world. 'We own a penthouse suite here.' Raymond explains, 'Sometimes the oxygen is so pure up there it can make your lungs feel brand new.'
They take a lengthy elevator ride to the top floor, Dennis still blindfolded. They are next in a dimly lit corridor, and Raymond takes Dennis' hand, guiding him to a double door at the end of the short hallway. The bell rings.
'Well, well, well, what an unpleasant surprise, how good to see the impending doom of the entire family fall upon us at this dark hour, what an absolute surprise.' The voice of Jerry Wyatt makes his appearance, full of wit, sarcasm, and the embodiment of outright malice. 'It's not about time you show up.'
'Yes, glad to see you too, Jerry, we have with us a guest I may introduce here, Dennis Raveley.' Raymond announces.
Saturday 28 April 2012
Wednesday 25 April 2012
Dennis Raveley - chapter 11
'Have you heard? The Bushkin Brothers' company got chapter 11.' Raymond says to Kenny, they are playing chess aboard the plane in flight, Karla is watching. Addy is napping some distance away, in sitting position, on the couch. Dennis is still snoozing in the room nearest the cockpit.
'Bankrupt already? They've only had the company for...what was it? Half a century?' Karla replies. 'Not even one generation.'
'Well, I heard from Leo that it was the son's fault.' Raymond replies, chewing on a handful of Almonds.
'Oh? So who has the company now?' Karla asks, her brow tightens.
'Slimy old McMurphy got ahead of us, or else that would have been fifty billions worth of dollars straight into our hands. It's almost possible McMurphy planned the whole thing all along.'
'You think he's behind the attack on the isle too?' Karla says, 'And why are you still so laid back about this matter? Even you understood how serious this is.'
'I'm not laid back, simply assessing my situation calmly. Oh wait, I've completely forgotten about the steak! Bring it here!' Raymond declares. Karla sighs and brings a hand to her face in a facepalm. The flight captain, while the plane is in autopilot, quickly enters the cabin and delivers the steak on a platter.
'Thank you.' Raymond takes the platter and digs in.
'Checkmate.' Kenny says quietly. Moving his queen to sever the last escape route for Raymond's white king.
'You're finished.' Karla says to Raymond, who takes a look at the board, steak sauce dripping off his chin.
'Do you prefer suicide, or death by the bishop, the queen, or the castle?' Kenny says, another systematic win for him.
Raymond doesn't think twice before tipping over his king. 'I die with honor.' Raymond says, winks, laughs, and strides towards the kitchen cabin to finish his steak. 'Oh yeah, and I have it all planned out here.' He takes a folded sheet of paper from his pants pocket and lays it on the table. 'Still wondering why I don't worry?' He leaves the sentence hanging.
Kenny opens up the piece of paper. On it is scrawled the simple plan.
'We use our guise.' Kenny reads, 'That's all he has to say.' He puts down the piece of paper, these words he read out are the only words written on the page, in huge handwriting. 'What a surprise, I already know that.' He sighs and rubs his eyes.
'You do that a lot, you know.' Karla says, starting off a new conversation.
'I'm going to get new lenses soon, these ones are falling short. Five generations and no one but me ends up with bad eyesight, now that's pure work of the devil in the genes.'
Karla laughs, 'What about me? Am I not part of the family? Don't I have four eyes too?'
Kenny smiles, 'All depends on your definition of family, and by your definition, that makes two of us.' They slap each other a high five. 'But, I still have the shortest sight, and that title is mine to keep.' He puts on his glasses. 'Care to see Alien with me?'
'What? You want to see Alien while this situation is going on?' Karla gives him an incredulous look.
'Raymond has a plan right here, and if the Wyatt wants Raymond to learn, I'm happy to let him learn. This mission will be carried out with Raymond in the lead.' Kenny says, shrugs.
'You do understand that among your siblings Raymond would rank below last place when it comes to spearheading a plot, right?' Karla says.
'That's why the Wyatt wants him to learn.' Kenny says, 'So what's it going to be then, eh? Alien, or other?'
'I'll pass, I have to snooze. And why don't you ever call your brother by his name? I've asked you that exact question endless times.'
'How do you know I'm referring to my eldest brother, and not my eldest sister?'
'I don't know, I've never met either of them, I guess it's because...maybe your brother sounds more like the person running the show?'
'Good point, he does. I'll show you our complete family portrait one day.' Kenny says, 'But right now, I have to see Alien, since we're only halfway there and I hate to waste a good two hours.'
'Do you never sleep when you travel?' Karla says skeptically.
'Never in flight.' Kenny smiles, and exits the room.
Karla looks over at Addy, peaceful in her sleep, in one of those rare times out of her wheelchair, still sitting, of course. Outside, light fills the atmosphere, and if it isn't for the burden carried in the cargo hold, these passengers can very well be traveling through the heavens.
'Bankrupt already? They've only had the company for...what was it? Half a century?' Karla replies. 'Not even one generation.'
'Well, I heard from Leo that it was the son's fault.' Raymond replies, chewing on a handful of Almonds.
'Oh? So who has the company now?' Karla asks, her brow tightens.
'Slimy old McMurphy got ahead of us, or else that would have been fifty billions worth of dollars straight into our hands. It's almost possible McMurphy planned the whole thing all along.'
'You think he's behind the attack on the isle too?' Karla says, 'And why are you still so laid back about this matter? Even you understood how serious this is.'
'I'm not laid back, simply assessing my situation calmly. Oh wait, I've completely forgotten about the steak! Bring it here!' Raymond declares. Karla sighs and brings a hand to her face in a facepalm. The flight captain, while the plane is in autopilot, quickly enters the cabin and delivers the steak on a platter.
'Thank you.' Raymond takes the platter and digs in.
'Checkmate.' Kenny says quietly. Moving his queen to sever the last escape route for Raymond's white king.
'You're finished.' Karla says to Raymond, who takes a look at the board, steak sauce dripping off his chin.
'Do you prefer suicide, or death by the bishop, the queen, or the castle?' Kenny says, another systematic win for him.
Raymond doesn't think twice before tipping over his king. 'I die with honor.' Raymond says, winks, laughs, and strides towards the kitchen cabin to finish his steak. 'Oh yeah, and I have it all planned out here.' He takes a folded sheet of paper from his pants pocket and lays it on the table. 'Still wondering why I don't worry?' He leaves the sentence hanging.
Kenny opens up the piece of paper. On it is scrawled the simple plan.
'We use our guise.' Kenny reads, 'That's all he has to say.' He puts down the piece of paper, these words he read out are the only words written on the page, in huge handwriting. 'What a surprise, I already know that.' He sighs and rubs his eyes.
'You do that a lot, you know.' Karla says, starting off a new conversation.
'I'm going to get new lenses soon, these ones are falling short. Five generations and no one but me ends up with bad eyesight, now that's pure work of the devil in the genes.'
Karla laughs, 'What about me? Am I not part of the family? Don't I have four eyes too?'
Kenny smiles, 'All depends on your definition of family, and by your definition, that makes two of us.' They slap each other a high five. 'But, I still have the shortest sight, and that title is mine to keep.' He puts on his glasses. 'Care to see Alien with me?'
'What? You want to see Alien while this situation is going on?' Karla gives him an incredulous look.
'Raymond has a plan right here, and if the Wyatt wants Raymond to learn, I'm happy to let him learn. This mission will be carried out with Raymond in the lead.' Kenny says, shrugs.
'You do understand that among your siblings Raymond would rank below last place when it comes to spearheading a plot, right?' Karla says.
'That's why the Wyatt wants him to learn.' Kenny says, 'So what's it going to be then, eh? Alien, or other?'
'I'll pass, I have to snooze. And why don't you ever call your brother by his name? I've asked you that exact question endless times.'
'How do you know I'm referring to my eldest brother, and not my eldest sister?'
'I don't know, I've never met either of them, I guess it's because...maybe your brother sounds more like the person running the show?'
'Good point, he does. I'll show you our complete family portrait one day.' Kenny says, 'But right now, I have to see Alien, since we're only halfway there and I hate to waste a good two hours.'
'Do you never sleep when you travel?' Karla says skeptically.
'Never in flight.' Kenny smiles, and exits the room.
Karla looks over at Addy, peaceful in her sleep, in one of those rare times out of her wheelchair, still sitting, of course. Outside, light fills the atmosphere, and if it isn't for the burden carried in the cargo hold, these passengers can very well be traveling through the heavens.
Monday 23 April 2012
Dennis Raveley - chapter 10
Dennis is not sitting in the same compartment as the rest of the Wyatts for the duration of the ride, he feels rather alone. The van stops when Dennis is thirty-five away from reaching three thousand, he found the pass-time of counting to himself. After all, he sees only darkness, and hears nothing. he tried only once to take the blindfold and earmuffs off, only to find the knots that ties his blindfold and which also connects to the muffs unsolvable. Suddenly a hand touches his face, he flinches. The earmuffs are removed in so little time with such precision Dennis is absolutely bewildered.
'Hello Dennis, pleasant trip so far?' Raymond's voice speaks.
'I've nearly counted to three thousand.' Dennis replies.
'Ah, I do that too back when I had to wear a fold to every destination by van. Tell you what, I'm going to give you this.' Raymond presses something into his hand. An MP3.
'An MP3?' Dennis feels for confirmation, he is still blindfolded.
'Yes, it's Kenny's, the muffs can come off now, you can thank me for that, and the MP3.'
'Well, thank you.'
'You're more than welcome. Karla insisted she drive so we might arrive at the airport a little later, say ten minutes, and it's an hour's more drive.' Raymond says, he turns the MP3 on.
'I'll set the music to all songs and you can hear all that's on Kenny playlist, but be warned, there's so much John Williams, Alfred Newman, Jerry Goldsmith, John Barry, Howard Shore and God knows what other movie composers you'll get sick of it after half an hour, give or take. Unless of course, you're as big a film bluff as Kenny.'
'Probably not, but I like movies.'
'Alright, I'll tell Kenny to test your devotion sometime.'
'Okay....why have you stopped by the way?'
'Oh, it's a...bathroom break.' Raymond says. In the background, a noisy truck's engine can he heard starting and romping away.
'Can I go too?'
'Hold it 'till later, the washrooms here are a nasty space, you don't want to walk into one without an eye to see, on the other hand, not seeing is better.'
'Okay.' Dennis plugs the high-definition earphones into his ears, he does not recognize the first song until the one minute mark, when he identifies it as the theme music of Alien. By then, Raymond has exited the compartment and shut the door, the van has started moving again, and Dennis does not want to go to the washroom at all, he simply asked because he finds it odd that at a rest stop - if that's where they were at - he should hear the sound of rifle shots, in the time frame his ears are not muffed.
The music flows on, and several songs are quite good that Dennis fumbles with the buttons to replay them a few times. He reaches the E.T. theme song when the van grinds to a halt, the door to the compartment opens, and Raymond's hand reaches out, he voices announces, 'we've arrived!'
Dennis is lead, still without sight, towards the warm currents emitting from a small ultra-sonic jet, he can tell it is an open airfield and the time is already the early hours of a new day. Dennis feels fatigue creeping upwards from his joints. He yawns.
Raymond carries Dennis up the rest of the way and up the removable stairway to the interior of the plane. Dennis is already asleep, so Raymond puts him on a couch, and drapes a tablecloth over him. The jet has yet to fire up the heaters and the interior of the plane is chilly. Raymond whispers to Kenny, who enters behind him, 'I've always wanted a little brother like him.'
'And you know what Jerry would say to that.' Kenny replies.
'He'll say yeah, but you got me and Kenny instead, feel like carrying one of us up that plane?'
'Ha, good one.' Kenny, 'You know I'll say?'
'What?'
'Why don't you be a gentlebro and carry Addy up here too?'
'Geez! Am I my siblings' foot soldier?' Raymond gives Kenny an incredulous look.
'Quite.'
'Geez! Gotta be a slave on my own private jet! Now that's fair.!'
'It's ours too, and don't forget, Addy purchased it.'
'And I should also not forget, Karla bugged Addy into paying for it.' Raymond leans in a little closer, 'By the way, tell me, what do you find so intriguing in Karla that makes you come out of your cave?' Raymond looks towards the runway pavement, Addy, Karla, and the Driver are saying final goodbyes and making further arrangements.
Kenny is silent, he sighs, 'Ray, you're making a very dangerous guess right now.'
'I don't guess, I know.'
'In that case, you know very little indeed.' Kenny walks in the direction of the cockpit without another word.
'I don't guess, Kenny, I know! I'm your brother, what do I know that you don't about yourself?'
Karla has pushed Addy's chair to the stairway now, and Raymond sighs deeply. He strolls down to the pavement, bows his head, and declares, 'Raymond your servant at your service my dear sister.'
Addy smiles, amused, and Karla crosses her arms, 'Took you long enough!' She says.
'Hello Dennis, pleasant trip so far?' Raymond's voice speaks.
'I've nearly counted to three thousand.' Dennis replies.
'Ah, I do that too back when I had to wear a fold to every destination by van. Tell you what, I'm going to give you this.' Raymond presses something into his hand. An MP3.
'An MP3?' Dennis feels for confirmation, he is still blindfolded.
'Yes, it's Kenny's, the muffs can come off now, you can thank me for that, and the MP3.'
'Well, thank you.'
'You're more than welcome. Karla insisted she drive so we might arrive at the airport a little later, say ten minutes, and it's an hour's more drive.' Raymond says, he turns the MP3 on.
'I'll set the music to all songs and you can hear all that's on Kenny playlist, but be warned, there's so much John Williams, Alfred Newman, Jerry Goldsmith, John Barry, Howard Shore and God knows what other movie composers you'll get sick of it after half an hour, give or take. Unless of course, you're as big a film bluff as Kenny.'
'Probably not, but I like movies.'
'Alright, I'll tell Kenny to test your devotion sometime.'
'Okay....why have you stopped by the way?'
'Oh, it's a...bathroom break.' Raymond says. In the background, a noisy truck's engine can he heard starting and romping away.
'Can I go too?'
'Hold it 'till later, the washrooms here are a nasty space, you don't want to walk into one without an eye to see, on the other hand, not seeing is better.'
'Okay.' Dennis plugs the high-definition earphones into his ears, he does not recognize the first song until the one minute mark, when he identifies it as the theme music of Alien. By then, Raymond has exited the compartment and shut the door, the van has started moving again, and Dennis does not want to go to the washroom at all, he simply asked because he finds it odd that at a rest stop - if that's where they were at - he should hear the sound of rifle shots, in the time frame his ears are not muffed.
The music flows on, and several songs are quite good that Dennis fumbles with the buttons to replay them a few times. He reaches the E.T. theme song when the van grinds to a halt, the door to the compartment opens, and Raymond's hand reaches out, he voices announces, 'we've arrived!'
Dennis is lead, still without sight, towards the warm currents emitting from a small ultra-sonic jet, he can tell it is an open airfield and the time is already the early hours of a new day. Dennis feels fatigue creeping upwards from his joints. He yawns.
Raymond carries Dennis up the rest of the way and up the removable stairway to the interior of the plane. Dennis is already asleep, so Raymond puts him on a couch, and drapes a tablecloth over him. The jet has yet to fire up the heaters and the interior of the plane is chilly. Raymond whispers to Kenny, who enters behind him, 'I've always wanted a little brother like him.'
'And you know what Jerry would say to that.' Kenny replies.
'He'll say yeah, but you got me and Kenny instead, feel like carrying one of us up that plane?'
'Ha, good one.' Kenny, 'You know I'll say?'
'What?'
'Why don't you be a gentlebro and carry Addy up here too?'
'Geez! Am I my siblings' foot soldier?' Raymond gives Kenny an incredulous look.
'Quite.'
'Geez! Gotta be a slave on my own private jet! Now that's fair.!'
'It's ours too, and don't forget, Addy purchased it.'
'And I should also not forget, Karla bugged Addy into paying for it.' Raymond leans in a little closer, 'By the way, tell me, what do you find so intriguing in Karla that makes you come out of your cave?' Raymond looks towards the runway pavement, Addy, Karla, and the Driver are saying final goodbyes and making further arrangements.
Kenny is silent, he sighs, 'Ray, you're making a very dangerous guess right now.'
'I don't guess, I know.'
'In that case, you know very little indeed.' Kenny walks in the direction of the cockpit without another word.
'I don't guess, Kenny, I know! I'm your brother, what do I know that you don't about yourself?'
Karla has pushed Addy's chair to the stairway now, and Raymond sighs deeply. He strolls down to the pavement, bows his head, and declares, 'Raymond your servant at your service my dear sister.'
Addy smiles, amused, and Karla crosses her arms, 'Took you long enough!' She says.
Saturday 21 April 2012
Dennis Raveley - chapter 9
Thirty seconds after Raymond charged out of the room, Dennis realizes that Raymond wasn't joking. Addy and Karla had left right after Raymond, and now Kenny is the only other person in the dining hall. Kenny, unperturbed, continues to scribble into a notepad.
'Wait, where are they going?'
'It's been decided, that Raymond is going to perform a small gig overseas.' Kenny says.
'A gig, you mean a concert performance?' Dennis asks.
'Not quite as large as a concert, merely five performers, a strings quintet.' Kenny continues, 'And Raymond's the concert master, as I'm sure he's told you.'
'Of a strings quintet?'
'He could concert the world's ten finest orchestras in one symphony if he wants to, but knowing that as a fact is good enough for him. He's that famous anyways.'
'I've never heard of a Raymond Wyatt in the music scene.'
'Ever heard of the Nuts Strings Quintet?'
'Yeah! The second greatest instrumental group in the world, what about it?'
'Raymond's in it, and correction, the Nuts Strings Quintet is actually the finest instrumental group in the world, but I paid the Guinness Book of World Records to put us in second place.'
'What do you mean?'
'Geniuses all learn to keep obscure over their career, earlier or later. On the Wikipedia page of the Nuts Strings Quintet, you find the names of the five siblings who founded the group, Clarissa, Reinhold, Jackson, Kenneth, and Alma Woodward, do you find the resemblance?'
'The same initials, Reinhold Woodward is Raymond Wyatt.'
'Yes, it's one of the oldest tricks in the book, Clarissa is Chelsea, Jackson is Jerry, Alma is Addy - what, are you surprised? - and Kenneth is me.'
'So what was all that about?'
'All what?'
'All that, why did Raymond charge out of the room like...like...'
'Like James Bond always does when the villain's threat becomes apparent?' Kenny completes his sentence.
'Exactly.'
'Do you want to hear a long story or a short condensation?'
'I prefer the details.'
'You don't have much of a choice, here's what I'll lay out: my older siblings Chelsea and Jerry (you'll meet them shortly, I promise) are overseas, on a vacation sort of deal. Raymond stays behind because he is too famous there, I stay behind because I'm busy, and Addy stays behind because she hates traveling and because Karla drops by pretty much at her will and if Addy's not here Raymond might get some ideas of his own.'
'Karla dropped a bazooka on his foot.'
'Good thing she did.' Kenny nods in acknowledgment, 'So Chelsea and Jerry got into a bit of trouble with the cops overseas (the news I got a few hours ago), a couple of people got injured, and they can't leave unless we go ourselves and bail them out, in the meantime, Raymond wants to do a small gig while we're there.'
'And who's Herman?' Dennis asks; that's the last bit of information he had heard from the conversation.
'Well, well, well, you have keen ears, I'm feeling a morsel of envy here, keen ears are most useful.' Kenny finishes his writing on the notepad, 'Herman's our agent, our estranged agent, to be precise. Come on, I believe the car is waiting.'
Kenny leads Dennis to the main entrance, where a large van is parked on the driveway, the Driver at the wheel. Everyone else is already in the van. Kenny produces a blindfold and earmuffs from his pocket.
'Why the blindfold, again?' Dennis sighs, not surprised though.
'You see, hear, and speak no evil.' Kenny says, seemingly at random, 'Just a quote from a Wes Craven movie, take it as a surprise.'
'I've barely arrived here.' Dennis looks back towards the mansion, feeling lost.
'This is how people of power navigate life, we're the wind, we shall never know our place.' Kenny smirks, 'Do you get the reference?'
'I have one last question.'
'Is it a question regarding fine films?'
'Close enough, what do you play?'
'In the quintet? I play the cello, the reason being, there's less emotional range to figure out.'
'Good point.' Dennis says, and finds his vision blackened out for the second time in twenty four hours, this time, he hears nothing either.
'Wait, where are they going?'
'It's been decided, that Raymond is going to perform a small gig overseas.' Kenny says.
'A gig, you mean a concert performance?' Dennis asks.
'Not quite as large as a concert, merely five performers, a strings quintet.' Kenny continues, 'And Raymond's the concert master, as I'm sure he's told you.'
'Of a strings quintet?'
'He could concert the world's ten finest orchestras in one symphony if he wants to, but knowing that as a fact is good enough for him. He's that famous anyways.'
'I've never heard of a Raymond Wyatt in the music scene.'
'Ever heard of the Nuts Strings Quintet?'
'Yeah! The second greatest instrumental group in the world, what about it?'
'Raymond's in it, and correction, the Nuts Strings Quintet is actually the finest instrumental group in the world, but I paid the Guinness Book of World Records to put us in second place.'
'What do you mean?'
'Geniuses all learn to keep obscure over their career, earlier or later. On the Wikipedia page of the Nuts Strings Quintet, you find the names of the five siblings who founded the group, Clarissa, Reinhold, Jackson, Kenneth, and Alma Woodward, do you find the resemblance?'
'The same initials, Reinhold Woodward is Raymond Wyatt.'
'Yes, it's one of the oldest tricks in the book, Clarissa is Chelsea, Jackson is Jerry, Alma is Addy - what, are you surprised? - and Kenneth is me.'
'So what was all that about?'
'All what?'
'All that, why did Raymond charge out of the room like...like...'
'Like James Bond always does when the villain's threat becomes apparent?' Kenny completes his sentence.
'Exactly.'
'Do you want to hear a long story or a short condensation?'
'I prefer the details.'
'You don't have much of a choice, here's what I'll lay out: my older siblings Chelsea and Jerry (you'll meet them shortly, I promise) are overseas, on a vacation sort of deal. Raymond stays behind because he is too famous there, I stay behind because I'm busy, and Addy stays behind because she hates traveling and because Karla drops by pretty much at her will and if Addy's not here Raymond might get some ideas of his own.'
'Karla dropped a bazooka on his foot.'
'Good thing she did.' Kenny nods in acknowledgment, 'So Chelsea and Jerry got into a bit of trouble with the cops overseas (the news I got a few hours ago), a couple of people got injured, and they can't leave unless we go ourselves and bail them out, in the meantime, Raymond wants to do a small gig while we're there.'
'And who's Herman?' Dennis asks; that's the last bit of information he had heard from the conversation.
'Well, well, well, you have keen ears, I'm feeling a morsel of envy here, keen ears are most useful.' Kenny finishes his writing on the notepad, 'Herman's our agent, our estranged agent, to be precise. Come on, I believe the car is waiting.'
Kenny leads Dennis to the main entrance, where a large van is parked on the driveway, the Driver at the wheel. Everyone else is already in the van. Kenny produces a blindfold and earmuffs from his pocket.
'Why the blindfold, again?' Dennis sighs, not surprised though.
'You see, hear, and speak no evil.' Kenny says, seemingly at random, 'Just a quote from a Wes Craven movie, take it as a surprise.'
'I've barely arrived here.' Dennis looks back towards the mansion, feeling lost.
'This is how people of power navigate life, we're the wind, we shall never know our place.' Kenny smirks, 'Do you get the reference?'
'I have one last question.'
'Is it a question regarding fine films?'
'Close enough, what do you play?'
'In the quintet? I play the cello, the reason being, there's less emotional range to figure out.'
'Good point.' Dennis says, and finds his vision blackened out for the second time in twenty four hours, this time, he hears nothing either.
Wednesday 18 April 2012
Dennis Raveley - chapter 8
Eventually, Dennis gets back up and goes back to the library, he stays there, thinking, until the Driver comes to the main entrance, knocks, and enters, holding the talkie Addy had used to talk to him on a platter.
'I guess you don't talk at all, do you?' Dennis says, without intent.
The Driver remains impassive. He is still wearing the very same trench coat, and his eyes never meet with Dennis. He gives the talkie to Dennis.
'Dennis! My friend. It is dinner time and we are dining on steak, yes, raw steak my friend, so prepare your stomach, and follow my instructions.' The voice this time is undoubtedly Raymond's.
'Alright then,' Dennis can not think of anything else to say, 'How is the state of your foot?'
'Ah, rather ugly. You see, two sacks of flour is not quite the same when it is iron, a large portion of it has gone rather purplish, which, as you probably do know, signifies considerable hemorrhage under the skin.'
'I see.'
'You have a good visual sense of intelligence then, now, enough chitchat, I want you to come to the grand dining room at once, so I may have a support flank for this evening's continued sparring.'
'Okay.' Dennis says, rubbing his head where the hardcover War and Peace had hit him.
Dennis enters the grand dining room, which is the size of a small backyard, and finds Raymond already seated on the far end, Addy with her wheelchair parked on the left side, and directly opposite her is Karla. Raymond's one foot is stationed onto a second chair, under a large icepack.
Dennis hesitates at the door before entering. Addy greets him with a raised hand and a slight smile, Karla stares at him from the corner of her eyes, and Raymond is not looking up at tall; he appears to be reading.
Dennis sits down on the other chair next to Raymond, and discovers that he is reading sheet music, very complex sheet music. Raymond catches him staring.
'Do you play?' Raymond asks, in the first serious tone Dennis has heard at all since he met him.
'The guitar, what do you play?'
'Depends, how much do you want to know?'
'I don't know, give me everything.'
'Alphabetically, the accordion, the bass, the cello, the fiddle, the harp, the horn, the saxophone, the snare, the trumpet, the tuba, the viola, the violin, and the xylophone. But violin's my specialty, I'm a concert master.'
'And that's also the only thing he can brag about.' Karla says from down the long table.
'So you're a prodigy.'
'Of course I am, and Karl, that's not the only thing I can brag about, when it comes to sharpshooting, I can beat you any day -" Raymond is interrupted, his shifted gaze directs everyone to a new arrival standing in the doorway, a slim, lean, brown-haired, weary-eyed teenager in a dark plaid shirt and very loose, very gray jeans that might be mistaken for sweatpants. Unlike a popular fashion trend these days, his shirt is tucked into his pants, which are quite high themselves. Though his appearance is vastly different from both Raymond and Addy, the atmosphere he carries clearly defines him as a member of the Wyatt family.
'Kenny! What brings you to dinner?' Raymond asks with bemusement. Addy and Karla, on the other hand, seems to recognize the appearance of Kendrick Wyatt as the harbinger of an event much more urgent.
'Certainly not the steak.' Kenny replies, and rubs his eyes under thick, heavy-framed compact lenses.
'Oh? Of course, the last time you had steak the tablecloths had to be detoxified by professionals, certainly not that. So what can it be?' Raymond toys with the question, intent on not divulging into the subject matter Kenny came to bring, 'Is it the loneliness of spending every hour in the garage? Is it the wine that made you tap dance on the dinner table last time you came by? Is it, oh, good heavens! Is it Karla?'
'No, no, and no to your uneducated hypothesis respectively, Ray, I've come bearing news.' Kenny sighs as he says this, though not as deeply as he would have had Karla not be present at this time.
'Go ahead, what is it?' Karla cuts off Raymond's next remark, and asks.
'Jerry sent a message, I've just received it on the W.I.C., he can't come back on the schedule, things have been compromised.'
'How so?' Karla answers.
'Chelsea did meet up with Herman, but there was an intervention by a third party, so Chelsea fled to the isle. Jerry said they were pursued and now they're searching off the mainland, they're trapped on the isle.'
'Where are they?' Raymond suddenly speaks, he is now very serious, his expression speaks only concern.
'At the Spacescrapper.' Kenny replies, he walks over and slides a map across the table to Raymond.
'And they can't get off the island by private transport?'
'Unlikely, the yacht house was bombed, three agents missing, one dead, found in the canal, execution-style.'
'I'll alert the W., tell the seaplane to head for the isle in twelve hours.'
'You're in charge, Ray.' Kenny nods, 'Is everyone coming?'
'You bet.'
'Wait a minute,' Kenny turns to Dennis, picks his hands up, and shakes them, 'I'm Kenny of the Wyatt family, you're Dennis Raveley, good to meet you, your father is a great man.'
'Thanks...and good to meet you too.' Dennis says.
'We're about the same age, I see, good, this calls for an elaboration, though not now, not today, very well, carry on.' These last words are for Raymond.
'Alright, it's set. Everybody, pack your bags, take up arms, we're going overseas!' Raymond charges out of the room supported by a cane, his head reappears a few moments later, 'Take the steak onto the plane, my hunger is yet quenched.'
'I guess you don't talk at all, do you?' Dennis says, without intent.
The Driver remains impassive. He is still wearing the very same trench coat, and his eyes never meet with Dennis. He gives the talkie to Dennis.
'Dennis! My friend. It is dinner time and we are dining on steak, yes, raw steak my friend, so prepare your stomach, and follow my instructions.' The voice this time is undoubtedly Raymond's.
'Alright then,' Dennis can not think of anything else to say, 'How is the state of your foot?'
'Ah, rather ugly. You see, two sacks of flour is not quite the same when it is iron, a large portion of it has gone rather purplish, which, as you probably do know, signifies considerable hemorrhage under the skin.'
'I see.'
'You have a good visual sense of intelligence then, now, enough chitchat, I want you to come to the grand dining room at once, so I may have a support flank for this evening's continued sparring.'
'Okay.' Dennis says, rubbing his head where the hardcover War and Peace had hit him.
Dennis enters the grand dining room, which is the size of a small backyard, and finds Raymond already seated on the far end, Addy with her wheelchair parked on the left side, and directly opposite her is Karla. Raymond's one foot is stationed onto a second chair, under a large icepack.
Dennis hesitates at the door before entering. Addy greets him with a raised hand and a slight smile, Karla stares at him from the corner of her eyes, and Raymond is not looking up at tall; he appears to be reading.
Dennis sits down on the other chair next to Raymond, and discovers that he is reading sheet music, very complex sheet music. Raymond catches him staring.
'Do you play?' Raymond asks, in the first serious tone Dennis has heard at all since he met him.
'The guitar, what do you play?'
'Depends, how much do you want to know?'
'I don't know, give me everything.'
'Alphabetically, the accordion, the bass, the cello, the fiddle, the harp, the horn, the saxophone, the snare, the trumpet, the tuba, the viola, the violin, and the xylophone. But violin's my specialty, I'm a concert master.'
'And that's also the only thing he can brag about.' Karla says from down the long table.
'So you're a prodigy.'
'Of course I am, and Karl, that's not the only thing I can brag about, when it comes to sharpshooting, I can beat you any day -" Raymond is interrupted, his shifted gaze directs everyone to a new arrival standing in the doorway, a slim, lean, brown-haired, weary-eyed teenager in a dark plaid shirt and very loose, very gray jeans that might be mistaken for sweatpants. Unlike a popular fashion trend these days, his shirt is tucked into his pants, which are quite high themselves. Though his appearance is vastly different from both Raymond and Addy, the atmosphere he carries clearly defines him as a member of the Wyatt family.
'Kenny! What brings you to dinner?' Raymond asks with bemusement. Addy and Karla, on the other hand, seems to recognize the appearance of Kendrick Wyatt as the harbinger of an event much more urgent.
'Certainly not the steak.' Kenny replies, and rubs his eyes under thick, heavy-framed compact lenses.
'Oh? Of course, the last time you had steak the tablecloths had to be detoxified by professionals, certainly not that. So what can it be?' Raymond toys with the question, intent on not divulging into the subject matter Kenny came to bring, 'Is it the loneliness of spending every hour in the garage? Is it the wine that made you tap dance on the dinner table last time you came by? Is it, oh, good heavens! Is it Karla?'
'No, no, and no to your uneducated hypothesis respectively, Ray, I've come bearing news.' Kenny sighs as he says this, though not as deeply as he would have had Karla not be present at this time.
'Go ahead, what is it?' Karla cuts off Raymond's next remark, and asks.
'Jerry sent a message, I've just received it on the W.I.C., he can't come back on the schedule, things have been compromised.'
'How so?' Karla answers.
'Chelsea did meet up with Herman, but there was an intervention by a third party, so Chelsea fled to the isle. Jerry said they were pursued and now they're searching off the mainland, they're trapped on the isle.'
'Where are they?' Raymond suddenly speaks, he is now very serious, his expression speaks only concern.
'At the Spacescrapper.' Kenny replies, he walks over and slides a map across the table to Raymond.
'And they can't get off the island by private transport?'
'Unlikely, the yacht house was bombed, three agents missing, one dead, found in the canal, execution-style.'
'I'll alert the W., tell the seaplane to head for the isle in twelve hours.'
'You're in charge, Ray.' Kenny nods, 'Is everyone coming?'
'You bet.'
'Wait a minute,' Kenny turns to Dennis, picks his hands up, and shakes them, 'I'm Kenny of the Wyatt family, you're Dennis Raveley, good to meet you, your father is a great man.'
'Thanks...and good to meet you too.' Dennis says.
'We're about the same age, I see, good, this calls for an elaboration, though not now, not today, very well, carry on.' These last words are for Raymond.
'Alright, it's set. Everybody, pack your bags, take up arms, we're going overseas!' Raymond charges out of the room supported by a cane, his head reappears a few moments later, 'Take the steak onto the plane, my hunger is yet quenched.'
Tuesday 17 April 2012
Dennis Raveley - chapter 7
'This, my jealous enemy, is Dennis, Dennis Raveley.' Raymond replies before Dennis can open his mouth to comment that a fourteen year old girl can not legally drive an automobile.
'Raveley? What kind of a name is that? I've never heard of it.' The Girl crosses her arms, skeptical.
'Good question!' Raymond brings a hand up to his chin, 'I've never thought about that.'
'Of course you've never thought about that. I have relatively low expectations for inept, stupid morons such as you, Raymond.' The Girl replies.
'Excuse me, an IQ of 115 is considered near genius. I would respect that number if I were you, and I do shudder at the mere thought of taking your place.' Raymond counters, with a devilish grin on his face. Clearly, he believes age is at his advantage in this sparring.
'And divide that number by two is the amount of IQ you actually use,' says the Girl, 'on the bright side, you're just at borderline deficiency, at least you're not a total retard by professional standard.'
'Well, I'll have you know that I can -' Raymond is unable to finish his thought, or rather, the Girl does not let him finish it, she picks up the bazooka leaning against Addy wheelchair, strides up to Raymond and Dennis in an astonishingly quick manner, and drops the bazooka onto Raymond's foot, which do happen to be unprotected, in sandals.
'Yeooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!' Raymond screeches, like a cat who got bitten on the tail by a dog. He has thought, of all things, that the last thing the Girl would do is come over and drop the bazooka on his foot. He has guessed wrong that age is at his advantage in this sparring. Dennis winces, equally caught by surprise, and would hate to be in Raymond's shoes at that moment, literally.
Raymond, with his face flushed as a ripe tomato, stumbles off, hopping on one foot back into the mansion.
'So, I've found out your name through that neanderthal and I've wasted enough time on the doormat, I'm Karla Simone by the way, French descent. Karla shakes Dennis' hand. 'By the way, what kind of surname is Raveley? I've never heard of it, and I don't think it connects to any name off the bat either.'
'Well, my grandparents were called Raven and Connelley, and they refused to settle in term of my dad's name by a coin toss or the gender, so they created a portmanteau surname, and it became Raveley.'
'Ah, a portmanteau, and what were the ancestries of your grandparents?'
'I don't know.'
'What do you think?'
'I admit, I don't put too much thought into that.'
'Hum, disappointing, I'd have thought someone who look as striking as you do would actually be as intelligent. Your hair is dark brown, and your eyes, wow, I don't think I've seen eyes quite as gray as yours, I 'd say you're part Irish, it matches the skin and the looks too.' Karla keeps his gaze locked on Dennis during this assessment, who returns the gaze unperturbed.
'Is this a staring contest?' Karla declares, not bothered by Dennis' stare, she has the intellect to match Dennis' dark grayish eyes. Dennis decides to withdraw from the challenge, he shifts gaze.
'Looks like I won. Listen, since you're at the house of the Wyatt family, especially under the same roof as my dear friend Addy, I do hope you have good reason to be here.'
'Good reason? I don't quite know why I'm here myself.' Dennis is beginning to find the inquisitive questions a bit too invasive.
'Another great disappointment, you seem lacking somewhat, are you aware of that?'
'Am I? Am I really? You know something, I don't quite understand you either, I thought underage people aren't supposed to be driving a car.'
'Oh? Are you really so dull? I am perfectly trained well to drive, ask the driver. Driver!' Karla shouts.
The Driver, the very same who has driven Dennis here, steps out of the car.
'Am I a capable driver?' Karla says to the Driver.
The Driver nods, gets back in, and drives the car away towards the garages.
'There you go, and don't say anything about what the law says, I know perfectly well and I know to whom it applies to. Oh, and what's that you're holding?' Karla reaches over and grabs a thick volume Dennis does not realize he is holding, 'ah, War and Peace is it? How many times have you read it?'
'Once.' Dennis says dryly.
Karla looks at him in a way that communicates serious disappointment, suddenly she raises the book with both hands, and whacks Dennis on the head, who falls down upon impact.
'I've read it three times.' Karla says, and walks off into the mansion, pushing Addy's wheelchair along.
Dennis is very not ready to get back up from the pavement, he lies there, and realizes that Karla took the book too. 'What's the point of reading it three times?' He says to himself mournfully, rubbing his head.
'Raveley? What kind of a name is that? I've never heard of it.' The Girl crosses her arms, skeptical.
'Good question!' Raymond brings a hand up to his chin, 'I've never thought about that.'
'Of course you've never thought about that. I have relatively low expectations for inept, stupid morons such as you, Raymond.' The Girl replies.
'Excuse me, an IQ of 115 is considered near genius. I would respect that number if I were you, and I do shudder at the mere thought of taking your place.' Raymond counters, with a devilish grin on his face. Clearly, he believes age is at his advantage in this sparring.
'And divide that number by two is the amount of IQ you actually use,' says the Girl, 'on the bright side, you're just at borderline deficiency, at least you're not a total retard by professional standard.'
'Well, I'll have you know that I can -' Raymond is unable to finish his thought, or rather, the Girl does not let him finish it, she picks up the bazooka leaning against Addy wheelchair, strides up to Raymond and Dennis in an astonishingly quick manner, and drops the bazooka onto Raymond's foot, which do happen to be unprotected, in sandals.
'Yeooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!' Raymond screeches, like a cat who got bitten on the tail by a dog. He has thought, of all things, that the last thing the Girl would do is come over and drop the bazooka on his foot. He has guessed wrong that age is at his advantage in this sparring. Dennis winces, equally caught by surprise, and would hate to be in Raymond's shoes at that moment, literally.
Raymond, with his face flushed as a ripe tomato, stumbles off, hopping on one foot back into the mansion.
'So, I've found out your name through that neanderthal and I've wasted enough time on the doormat, I'm Karla Simone by the way, French descent. Karla shakes Dennis' hand. 'By the way, what kind of surname is Raveley? I've never heard of it, and I don't think it connects to any name off the bat either.'
'Well, my grandparents were called Raven and Connelley, and they refused to settle in term of my dad's name by a coin toss or the gender, so they created a portmanteau surname, and it became Raveley.'
'Ah, a portmanteau, and what were the ancestries of your grandparents?'
'I don't know.'
'What do you think?'
'I admit, I don't put too much thought into that.'
'Hum, disappointing, I'd have thought someone who look as striking as you do would actually be as intelligent. Your hair is dark brown, and your eyes, wow, I don't think I've seen eyes quite as gray as yours, I 'd say you're part Irish, it matches the skin and the looks too.' Karla keeps his gaze locked on Dennis during this assessment, who returns the gaze unperturbed.
'Is this a staring contest?' Karla declares, not bothered by Dennis' stare, she has the intellect to match Dennis' dark grayish eyes. Dennis decides to withdraw from the challenge, he shifts gaze.
'Looks like I won. Listen, since you're at the house of the Wyatt family, especially under the same roof as my dear friend Addy, I do hope you have good reason to be here.'
'Good reason? I don't quite know why I'm here myself.' Dennis is beginning to find the inquisitive questions a bit too invasive.
'Another great disappointment, you seem lacking somewhat, are you aware of that?'
'Am I? Am I really? You know something, I don't quite understand you either, I thought underage people aren't supposed to be driving a car.'
'Oh? Are you really so dull? I am perfectly trained well to drive, ask the driver. Driver!' Karla shouts.
The Driver, the very same who has driven Dennis here, steps out of the car.
'Am I a capable driver?' Karla says to the Driver.
The Driver nods, gets back in, and drives the car away towards the garages.
'There you go, and don't say anything about what the law says, I know perfectly well and I know to whom it applies to. Oh, and what's that you're holding?' Karla reaches over and grabs a thick volume Dennis does not realize he is holding, 'ah, War and Peace is it? How many times have you read it?'
'Once.' Dennis says dryly.
Karla looks at him in a way that communicates serious disappointment, suddenly she raises the book with both hands, and whacks Dennis on the head, who falls down upon impact.
'I've read it three times.' Karla says, and walks off into the mansion, pushing Addy's wheelchair along.
Dennis is very not ready to get back up from the pavement, he lies there, and realizes that Karla took the book too. 'What's the point of reading it three times?' He says to himself mournfully, rubbing his head.
Saturday 14 April 2012
Dennis Raveley - chapter 6
Dennis is in the library on the main floor, a room the size of half a basketball court minus the bleachers, looking over the library's worth of books, there are entries of renowned fiction authors Charles Dickens, Leo Tolstoy, William Faulkner, Jane Austen, and any other must-own authors of all books collected, though not necessarily read from volume to volume. There is also a fenced off collection of movies, filling as many bookshelves as the novels, and equally impressive. Addy explains that the movies section is off limits to all members of the Wyatt family, because it is the private sanctuary of Kendrick Wyatt, one of the world's biggest film bluff, who loves films so much to the extent of setting traps on the aisle. The section is armed with dangerous tripwires engineered by himself, and ever since Raymond had almost had his heart fried by electrocution trying to infiltrate Kenny's aisle, nobody has dared or bothered to venture there to do mess to his treasure, not that anyone other than Raymond would care to try again anytime.
Addy has left Dennis in the library, with the foreknowledge that he is a lover of books, and went on her way to find Raymond to drop the bazooka on his foot, after she has decided that a greater satisfaction will be gained if she is to violate him personally as to having Dennis do it.
'The Storm has arrived, oh the horror! The Storm has arrived!' Raymond's voice suddenly erupts from the hallway outside with heavy exaggeration and drama.
This startles Dennis to the point that he drops a hard copy of War and Peace, missing his left foot by two millimeters. He stares at the open doorway, where Raymond has just ran past, a moment ago, running in the direction of the main entrance. Dennis runs out of the library, and follows Raymond to the front of the mansion, where a solid stone fountain resides in the middle of the large pebbled pavement of the courtyard, and coming up the driveway through the woods where Dennis has also arrived from is a polished black car, driven with wobble, as if the driver is rather inexperienced behind the wheel. Addy is also in the courtyard, with the bazooka still at her side. She seems to have prepared for this arrival after leaving Dennis in the library. Raymond is now wild as an ape, jumping up and down, flapping his arms, running in circles, and laughing thoroughly, enjoying every minute of his own act. Dennis can do no better that observe befuddled as the car pulls to a halt, nearly crashing into the fountain, and the new arrival exits from the driver's door.
'Duh-duh-duh-DUH! The Storm arrives! Oh! The horror! Run, hide, take shelter, here comes the storm, oh how it terrifies me! It's the apocalypse! It's coming! Oh, the Horror!' Raymond utters a final scream, drops to his knees, then to the ground, and begins to laugh and roll.
The new arrival is a girl of fourteen, dressed in black, a pair of sunglasses perched atop a face of coolly defined features, black hair matching that of Addy's, and an air of sharp maturity exits the car with her. Addy holds up her left hand in a welcome gesture, and the girl returns the greeting in the same silent fashion. The girl walks up to Addy and they embrace; the girl almost lifts Addy out of her wheelchair, and she responds with such action as if she will actually get up.
Raymond quips another declaration, 'Oh the horror! The Storm has arrived, yes, it is so, ah my friend (to Dennis), so you have not taken my warning to heart and sought shelter? That is blatant misfortune, as you can see here, it is now too late, the Storm has arrived. Yes, Simone the Storm has arrived.' Raymond face-palms in a dramatic sulk.
'Oh shut up, Raymond!' The girl shouts. In sign language, she speaks to Addy for a moment, and Addy replies. She turns to look back at Raymond, standing next to Dennis, whom until that instant she did not notice. 'And just who are you?'
Dennis Raveley - chapter 5
'Look, what do you see?' Addy says through the talkie, coming to a halt at the railings of a patio overlooking the scenery of the back of the mansion. For as far as their eyes can travel, lush, dense pines cover the valley in a blanket, and in the distance, a thick line of suspended cable can be observed stretching across the horizon.
'It looks nicer when the sun's out.' Raymond says. On their way to the back, Raymond climbed through a window into a room that would most likely be a pantry and took a selection of breads before climbing back out. He is now munching on a croissant. Dennis has not started on his croissant yet; he is no longer hungry.
'I see...land.' Dennis says, not sure why Addy would ask him such a broad question.
'And this land you see is mine,' Addy replies, 'It also belongs to my brother Raymond (Raymond nods with claim to this statement while stuffing another croissant into his mouth), and the large extended family that I am a part of.' Addy finishes, scanning the landscape. 'This land, until those cable lines fifty acres away, is also yours.'
Dennis is taken by surprise.
'You see, your father is a very close friend of my family's. He has been employed by my family for several decades, and my family, as all good families should, honors the work of such a loyal man. Sharing is, simply put, caring. I understand that he's probably never told you about my family, and I don't wish to explain either, as it is an inconvenience, but my family does not withhold secrets to our next of kin, therefore if you do desire the such secrets, I won't withhold them from you.'
Dennis does not respond, he considers his position, which feels to be no position at all, and nods in agreement.
'Geez, have you gone mute like my sister? Raymond mused, 'You know, your lawyer impression scares me sometimes too.' He adds, directing a wink to Addy, who looks at him curtly.
'And you're the older sibling whose been to University.' She states in a matter-of-fact with heavy sarcasm, in sigh language.
'Yes, yes, so you're eight years junior but eight decades smarter, so you should go to university, that'll teach you to have a social life.' Raymond retorts.
'Did I ever tell you that I found fifty-seven errors in a university level mathematics textbook that was written by not one, but three, professors with PhD in calculus? I don't learn from education, education learns from me. And as for a social life, it is a rather harmful practice to braincells, so I am more than happy to refrain from taking such risks, not that it would resonate with you anyhow.'
'I thought Kenny found the textbook errors.'
'He found fifty, I checked and unearthed the additional seven.'
'Well, not that it would resonate with you, little sister, but the less of a supreme-prodigy you act like, the better chance you have hooking up with our man Dennis here. Who knows? You might even become a woman one day.'
Addy gives him the finger.
'Okay, okay, maybe I'm overextending my hypothesis, you probably won't make it that far, we'll see, but I'm starving, and I'm going back to the pantry, I'll see you, and you (points to Dennis and winks) after you get up to date on our family business, and Dennis, from the bottom of my heart, don't make moves on my dear sister yet just because you feel sorry for her, okay?' Raymond wanders off, laughing.
'If anyone can wander around all day, do nothing, and call himself king, that would have to be Ray.' Addy's voice says through the talkie, observing the valley. 'Your father helped my grandfather make quite a fortune in the trading business, and he's asked my family to take care of you for now, as he's currently on a long trip overseas with my father, I don't suppose you know his destinations.'
'Indeed I don't.' Dennis feels like speaking for the first time in his entire life.
'Me either, as you can clearly imagine from this emptiness of our mansion, my family won't be taking care of you any time soon, it's only going to be you, me, and Raymond. Looks to be that we shall be taking care of each other.'
'Sure, I suppose.' Dennis says with uncertainty, 'Is that it?'
'An explanation? Yes, that is all.'
'Was that so inconvenient?'
'You'll see.' Addy begins to steer her wheelchair away from the railings, towards the back main entrance of the mansion, 'And look, Ray has forgotten his bazooka here, let us remind him, and don't forget to drop it on his foot when you give it to him.'
Dennis is about to pick up the bazooka, when he remembers the croissant still clutched in his hand, just so happens, a gray pigeon lands on the railing and Dennis can guess what it is desiring, he tosses the croissant onto the pavement, and sure enough, the pigeon swoops down and begins to feast on its prize. Dennis picks up the bazooka, exhales under the weight, and walks after Addy.
'It looks nicer when the sun's out.' Raymond says. On their way to the back, Raymond climbed through a window into a room that would most likely be a pantry and took a selection of breads before climbing back out. He is now munching on a croissant. Dennis has not started on his croissant yet; he is no longer hungry.
'I see...land.' Dennis says, not sure why Addy would ask him such a broad question.
'And this land you see is mine,' Addy replies, 'It also belongs to my brother Raymond (Raymond nods with claim to this statement while stuffing another croissant into his mouth), and the large extended family that I am a part of.' Addy finishes, scanning the landscape. 'This land, until those cable lines fifty acres away, is also yours.'
Dennis is taken by surprise.
'You see, your father is a very close friend of my family's. He has been employed by my family for several decades, and my family, as all good families should, honors the work of such a loyal man. Sharing is, simply put, caring. I understand that he's probably never told you about my family, and I don't wish to explain either, as it is an inconvenience, but my family does not withhold secrets to our next of kin, therefore if you do desire the such secrets, I won't withhold them from you.'
Dennis does not respond, he considers his position, which feels to be no position at all, and nods in agreement.
'Geez, have you gone mute like my sister? Raymond mused, 'You know, your lawyer impression scares me sometimes too.' He adds, directing a wink to Addy, who looks at him curtly.
'And you're the older sibling whose been to University.' She states in a matter-of-fact with heavy sarcasm, in sigh language.
'Yes, yes, so you're eight years junior but eight decades smarter, so you should go to university, that'll teach you to have a social life.' Raymond retorts.
'Did I ever tell you that I found fifty-seven errors in a university level mathematics textbook that was written by not one, but three, professors with PhD in calculus? I don't learn from education, education learns from me. And as for a social life, it is a rather harmful practice to braincells, so I am more than happy to refrain from taking such risks, not that it would resonate with you anyhow.'
'I thought Kenny found the textbook errors.'
'He found fifty, I checked and unearthed the additional seven.'
'Well, not that it would resonate with you, little sister, but the less of a supreme-prodigy you act like, the better chance you have hooking up with our man Dennis here. Who knows? You might even become a woman one day.'
Addy gives him the finger.
'Okay, okay, maybe I'm overextending my hypothesis, you probably won't make it that far, we'll see, but I'm starving, and I'm going back to the pantry, I'll see you, and you (points to Dennis and winks) after you get up to date on our family business, and Dennis, from the bottom of my heart, don't make moves on my dear sister yet just because you feel sorry for her, okay?' Raymond wanders off, laughing.
'If anyone can wander around all day, do nothing, and call himself king, that would have to be Ray.' Addy's voice says through the talkie, observing the valley. 'Your father helped my grandfather make quite a fortune in the trading business, and he's asked my family to take care of you for now, as he's currently on a long trip overseas with my father, I don't suppose you know his destinations.'
'Indeed I don't.' Dennis feels like speaking for the first time in his entire life.
'Me either, as you can clearly imagine from this emptiness of our mansion, my family won't be taking care of you any time soon, it's only going to be you, me, and Raymond. Looks to be that we shall be taking care of each other.'
'Sure, I suppose.' Dennis says with uncertainty, 'Is that it?'
'An explanation? Yes, that is all.'
'Was that so inconvenient?'
'You'll see.' Addy begins to steer her wheelchair away from the railings, towards the back main entrance of the mansion, 'And look, Ray has forgotten his bazooka here, let us remind him, and don't forget to drop it on his foot when you give it to him.'
Dennis is about to pick up the bazooka, when he remembers the croissant still clutched in his hand, just so happens, a gray pigeon lands on the railing and Dennis can guess what it is desiring, he tosses the croissant onto the pavement, and sure enough, the pigeon swoops down and begins to feast on its prize. Dennis picks up the bazooka, exhales under the weight, and walks after Addy.
Saturday 7 April 2012
Dennis Raveley - chapter 4
This second time, Dennis is not so lucky to avoid falling in surprise; he tumbles down an incline he thought wasn't there and rolls quite a while before coming to a stop on his bum. The lower ground Dennis finds himself sitting on rises a short distance towards the mansion, which is built on a low hill, and he is at the bottom of it.
'Did I surprise him that much?' The deeper voice speaks. Dennis does not rise to his feet, he sits there, letting the damp morning dew in the grass soak into his pants, and stares at the bazooka carried on the shoulder of the new arrival, a young man near his twenties. Though the expression he wears speaks otherwise of a much younger and less mature age; an expression of a mixture of bemusement and malice, topped with an air of arrogance found prevalent in upper class preps.
Addy motions with her hand to the rocket launcher perched on his shoulder, which until then he seems to take no notice of and has forgotten it is still there.
'Oh, this thing. I didn't know I carried it with me.'
Addy gives him a looks that asks, 'has your brain capacity reached a new low?'
'Just kidding, this thing is actually pretty heavy, I can't forget two sacks of flour on my shoulder right? I'm not that insensitive.'
Addy makes several rapid gestures with one hand. The young man nods in understanding. A grin split his face as if Addy had told him a joke that is particularly funny.
'Okay, okay, so I'm getting there, but I really have to show you this,' he refers to the bazooka, now holding it with two hands gripping each end, 'I found this in the dungeon, and believe it or not, I think it still works. It looks old but I bet it can take down president's car no problem.'
Addy points to Dennis, who has sat through the conversation without interrupting.
'Oh! Hey buddy, forgot you for a second there, sorry I startled you and all.' Saying this, the young man drops the bazooka which makes a clink upon contacting the pavement, he makes his way down in the incline and pulls Dennis to his feet without a moment of hesitation, he shakes Dennis' hand without letting go of it. 'I'm Raymond, you can call me Raymond Francis Allen Jackson Miles Wyatt.'
Dennis has a befuddled look on his face, even his gray eyes have lost their cool.
'Just kidding,' Raymond says with a wink, 'you can call me Ray or Mon, or Raymond, I have many names and I accept all of them.'
'I'm Dennis.' Dennis says.
'Ah, so that's your name! You know, I've been trying to recall it since this morning, Addy told me last night, but I soon forgot since I was busy indulging within myself.' Raymond walks Dennis back up the incline, and to the side entrance from where he had exited. Without an indication, Addy begins to propel her wheelchair forward, parallel to the wall, towards the back of the mansion. It is at this instant when Dennis realizes that Addy is in a wheelchair.
'Are you a cripple?' Dennis exclaims, forgetting that Addy is deaf, but she hears him anyways, for the laptop never closed on her lap, and he never did drop the talkie either, miraculously rather.
Addy takes the chair to a halt (Raymond and Dennis stop in their tracks also behind her), she types into the laptop. 'Is it too great a tragedy to be handicapped in two ways?' The supposed voice of Addy speaks.
'Believe me, I've tried many times to point that out to her. It does nothing for discouragement.' Raymond counsels solemnly.
'Wait,' Dennis turns to face Raymond, 'when I asked where am I, I thought I wasn't going to get an honest answer and it looks like you confirmed that when you surprised me down the hill.'
'That's correct, now we're talking business I see,' Raymond says, looking down on Dennis, who is a good head shorter than he.
'Yes, and I think if I can't know where I am, I deserve to know one thing.'
'And that is?' Raymond says, expecting the question.
'Do you people work for my father?'
'No,' the voice is not Raymond's, it comes from the talkie. Both Raymond and Dennis stares after the wheelchair, which has stopped again. Without turning back to look at Dennis, Addy types, 'on the contrary, he works for us.'
Dennis does not say a word.
'Come, Dennis, there is a lot to tell.' Addy's voice says. 'And Ray, you've forgotten your bazooka, if you will.'
'Did I surprise him that much?' The deeper voice speaks. Dennis does not rise to his feet, he sits there, letting the damp morning dew in the grass soak into his pants, and stares at the bazooka carried on the shoulder of the new arrival, a young man near his twenties. Though the expression he wears speaks otherwise of a much younger and less mature age; an expression of a mixture of bemusement and malice, topped with an air of arrogance found prevalent in upper class preps.
Addy motions with her hand to the rocket launcher perched on his shoulder, which until then he seems to take no notice of and has forgotten it is still there.
'Oh, this thing. I didn't know I carried it with me.'
Addy gives him a looks that asks, 'has your brain capacity reached a new low?'
'Just kidding, this thing is actually pretty heavy, I can't forget two sacks of flour on my shoulder right? I'm not that insensitive.'
Addy makes several rapid gestures with one hand. The young man nods in understanding. A grin split his face as if Addy had told him a joke that is particularly funny.
'Okay, okay, so I'm getting there, but I really have to show you this,' he refers to the bazooka, now holding it with two hands gripping each end, 'I found this in the dungeon, and believe it or not, I think it still works. It looks old but I bet it can take down president's car no problem.'
Addy points to Dennis, who has sat through the conversation without interrupting.
'Oh! Hey buddy, forgot you for a second there, sorry I startled you and all.' Saying this, the young man drops the bazooka which makes a clink upon contacting the pavement, he makes his way down in the incline and pulls Dennis to his feet without a moment of hesitation, he shakes Dennis' hand without letting go of it. 'I'm Raymond, you can call me Raymond Francis Allen Jackson Miles Wyatt.'
Dennis has a befuddled look on his face, even his gray eyes have lost their cool.
'Just kidding,' Raymond says with a wink, 'you can call me Ray or Mon, or Raymond, I have many names and I accept all of them.'
'I'm Dennis.' Dennis says.
'Ah, so that's your name! You know, I've been trying to recall it since this morning, Addy told me last night, but I soon forgot since I was busy indulging within myself.' Raymond walks Dennis back up the incline, and to the side entrance from where he had exited. Without an indication, Addy begins to propel her wheelchair forward, parallel to the wall, towards the back of the mansion. It is at this instant when Dennis realizes that Addy is in a wheelchair.
'Are you a cripple?' Dennis exclaims, forgetting that Addy is deaf, but she hears him anyways, for the laptop never closed on her lap, and he never did drop the talkie either, miraculously rather.
Addy takes the chair to a halt (Raymond and Dennis stop in their tracks also behind her), she types into the laptop. 'Is it too great a tragedy to be handicapped in two ways?' The supposed voice of Addy speaks.
'Believe me, I've tried many times to point that out to her. It does nothing for discouragement.' Raymond counsels solemnly.
'Wait,' Dennis turns to face Raymond, 'when I asked where am I, I thought I wasn't going to get an honest answer and it looks like you confirmed that when you surprised me down the hill.'
'That's correct, now we're talking business I see,' Raymond says, looking down on Dennis, who is a good head shorter than he.
'Yes, and I think if I can't know where I am, I deserve to know one thing.'
'And that is?' Raymond says, expecting the question.
'Do you people work for my father?'
'No,' the voice is not Raymond's, it comes from the talkie. Both Raymond and Dennis stares after the wheelchair, which has stopped again. Without turning back to look at Dennis, Addy types, 'on the contrary, he works for us.'
Dennis does not say a word.
'Come, Dennis, there is a lot to tell.' Addy's voice says. 'And Ray, you've forgotten your bazooka, if you will.'
Monday 2 April 2012
Dennis Raveley - chapter 3
Dennis rights himself before falling on his bum just in time. In front of the doorway he had just exited from, there sits a girl of about eleven or twelve years of age, with black, curly hair tied in a bundle, a face to rival the color of a whitewashed wall, wearing what appears to be baggy pajamas, and sitting in a wheelchair.
'I know what you are thinking, but please refrain from saying it.' The voice speaks from the talkie. Dennis looks at it and them at the girl, and then back at the talkie. He continues to do so between these two subjects, not knowing which to focus on.
'Are you - how - is this you speaking?' Dennis finally manages to coax out, incoherently. The strangeness of this situation is much too odd for someone who has confined to the capacity of his own mind for the duration of his existence.
'Yes, but I am not speaking, I am typing, see this laptop?' Dennis notices the laptop in the girl's lap, into which she is typing at breakneck speed. 'It's all technicalities, what I type into this laptop transcribes into audio sound, and it's sent to the talkie you are holding.'
'You don't speak?'
The girl does not respond verbally, she raises her left hand and in rapid succession performed several gestures that spells I. A.M. D.E.A.F. S.O. I. C.A.N. N.O.T. T.A.L.K. This is of course all lost on Dennis, who does not understand sigh language. The girl repeats her sentence in the laptop, and Dennis hears it through the talkie. He nods to show his understanding, vaguely.
'Then how do you hear me?'
'Technicalities once again. The laptop transcribes your audio voice into word phrases, it's a bit more difficult with accented people, but it's a fortune that you are not one of them.' The voice says.
'I've never heard of such technologies.'
'And I've never heard of anyone who does, anyone outside my family.'
'And who is that family?' Dennis feels his suspicion retreating. The effect of a conversation in an empty setting - one that Dennis is thrust into so very abruptly - has a certain calming effect on Dennis, one such feeling he is familiar with.
'There are few names, and most don't know them.'
'What is your name? You know mine...and my credit card number, I should hope to know yours.'
'My name is Adelaide, Adelaide A.J. Wyatt, though I prefer Addy. Adelaide is a name I'll accept once I'm old and aged, and that won't be for a long time. You should call me just Addy.' The voice says.
'Um, you're still using a man's voice...'
'Very well, I shall change it.' A rapid click on the laptop, and a new voice spoke. 'Now does the voice sound any more adaptable to for you?' The voice is now high pitched, lyrical even, and in Dennis' unspoken opinion most fitting for Addy. Dennis lets out a spontaneous bit of smile
'Kenny designed this voice, to what he imagined my voice would be if I have a voice. I'll never hear it, but I trust him it's adequate.'
'And who's Kenny?'
'My repressed, fearful, and very miserable brother.'
'These are strong adjectives.'
'Not strong enough here.'
'Where is here? Though I won't hear a truthful answer I suspect.' Dennis says, confronting his gut instinct and half joking too.
'Your suspicion confirmed.' A deep voice speaks. Dennis turns around, and is startled to the point of falling, for the second time in a single morning.
'I know what you are thinking, but please refrain from saying it.' The voice speaks from the talkie. Dennis looks at it and them at the girl, and then back at the talkie. He continues to do so between these two subjects, not knowing which to focus on.
'Are you - how - is this you speaking?' Dennis finally manages to coax out, incoherently. The strangeness of this situation is much too odd for someone who has confined to the capacity of his own mind for the duration of his existence.
'Yes, but I am not speaking, I am typing, see this laptop?' Dennis notices the laptop in the girl's lap, into which she is typing at breakneck speed. 'It's all technicalities, what I type into this laptop transcribes into audio sound, and it's sent to the talkie you are holding.'
'You don't speak?'
The girl does not respond verbally, she raises her left hand and in rapid succession performed several gestures that spells I. A.M. D.E.A.F. S.O. I. C.A.N. N.O.T. T.A.L.K. This is of course all lost on Dennis, who does not understand sigh language. The girl repeats her sentence in the laptop, and Dennis hears it through the talkie. He nods to show his understanding, vaguely.
'Then how do you hear me?'
'Technicalities once again. The laptop transcribes your audio voice into word phrases, it's a bit more difficult with accented people, but it's a fortune that you are not one of them.' The voice says.
'I've never heard of such technologies.'
'And I've never heard of anyone who does, anyone outside my family.'
'And who is that family?' Dennis feels his suspicion retreating. The effect of a conversation in an empty setting - one that Dennis is thrust into so very abruptly - has a certain calming effect on Dennis, one such feeling he is familiar with.
'There are few names, and most don't know them.'
'What is your name? You know mine...and my credit card number, I should hope to know yours.'
'My name is Adelaide, Adelaide A.J. Wyatt, though I prefer Addy. Adelaide is a name I'll accept once I'm old and aged, and that won't be for a long time. You should call me just Addy.' The voice says.
'Um, you're still using a man's voice...'
'Very well, I shall change it.' A rapid click on the laptop, and a new voice spoke. 'Now does the voice sound any more adaptable to for you?' The voice is now high pitched, lyrical even, and in Dennis' unspoken opinion most fitting for Addy. Dennis lets out a spontaneous bit of smile
'Kenny designed this voice, to what he imagined my voice would be if I have a voice. I'll never hear it, but I trust him it's adequate.'
'And who's Kenny?'
'My repressed, fearful, and very miserable brother.'
'These are strong adjectives.'
'Not strong enough here.'
'Where is here? Though I won't hear a truthful answer I suspect.' Dennis says, confronting his gut instinct and half joking too.
'Your suspicion confirmed.' A deep voice speaks. Dennis turns around, and is startled to the point of falling, for the second time in a single morning.
Dennis Raveley - chapter 2
'Take off your blindfold, it's no longer necessary.' The voice says.
'Was it ever necessary in the first place?' Dennis muses.
'You have a very dangerous sense of humor, my friend.' The voice emits a chuckle.
'I'm your friend? Figures, I don't know your name. Do you know me?'
'You are Dennis Raveley, son of Harold Raveley, businessman, ex-mercenary, and trading manager for the company ETC. You are fifteen years of age, you are an only child, and the password of your bank account is 1984, which also happens to be your favorite novel. So it happens, I do know you.'
Dennis is taken aback. 'You...do...indeed, and I'm supposed to know you?' He quickly shakes off the now overwhelming feeling of paranoid suspicion growing inside him. Until that point, he does not know the quivering sense of chilliness in his gut; he has found the correct term.
'You can start, take off that blindfold, you don't need it.'
Dennis takes off the blindfold and takes a look around the room. His eyes does not need to adjust to the light in the room, for the light comes only from a dimly lit twenty watt lamp situated on the large oak desk which his chair is directly facing. The desk is bare except for the small lamp, and behind the desk is a huge red, leather backrest, the backrest of a swivel chair, its occupant concealed.
'Are you sitting there?'
'I am. Come and see.'
'Why don't you turn around?'
'My capability prevents me from doing so.'
'Are you a cripple?'
'Come and see.'
Dennis starts for the chair, slowing down when he reaches the desk, he pauses.
'Come forward, come on, you're not going to find the demented Tom Riddle seated in this chair, so hurry up."
Dennis chuckles, and reached over to turn the seat around. The backrest is bare.
He blinks, surprised. He looks down, and seated in the center of the chair is, sure enough, a walkie-talkie. The communicator is aged, gray in color, and resembles a brick. Surprisingly, it emits the sound of a voice with amazing clarity. Dennis picks it up.
'Hello?'
'Yes, I'm right here.' The voice chimes in from the speaker.
'How - I don't get it.' Dennis stammers; rather uncommon of him.
'Nothing but technicalities, this is a high definition talkie, very ideal for a convincing voice projection.'
'You're not actually in the room.' Dennis states, having not much else to think of to say.
'I'm not. You should know, revealing oneself too quickly to the guest establishes no trust, I would rather trust you to trust me instead.'
'What does that mean? You doped me just now.'
'Let's leave that to interpretation some other time. I have a series of instructions for you, if you choose to abide, follow them and we shall meet soon enough. If not, I won't stop you.'
'Alright, so what if I don't want to meet you? I changed my mind just now.'
'As I've said, I won't stop you, but I do not speak for any third party involved.'
'Third party?' Dennis repeats, considering his options, which seem very few.
'Do you wish to hear the instructions?'
'Yes, but just one more question, do you work for my father?'
'We'll find out soon enough, here's what you will do. Exit the room.'
Dennis exits the room and looks down both sides of the hall as though crossing traffic; he waits.
'Now, turn left and descend the main staircase, shouldn't be too hard to find.'
Dennis walks slowly down the left hall, glancing at the bare oak walls. The corridor has many doors indented on either side, he does not try the knobs of any; they all look to be locked. He arrives at the grand staircase.
'Go to the ground floor, and turn right. Go down that main hallway until you reach a door to the outside.'
Dennis follows these instructions, and soon find himself outside. His view is of a large field of weeds, ending where a tree line of dense growth begins. The entire field is the size of a football stadium. It gives off the exactly same feeling of emptiness in the mansion. Dennis has been here no more than a quarter hour, and he already feels isolated.
'Now, walk a few paces out into the field.' Dennis complies to this request.
'You've arrived, bravo.'
Dennis continues to star ahead, he sees no other human life.
'Are you here in person?' Dennis asks, skeptical.
'I am now.' The voice speaks. 'Turn around.' Dennis turns around, and nearly falls down in surprise.
'Was it ever necessary in the first place?' Dennis muses.
'You have a very dangerous sense of humor, my friend.' The voice emits a chuckle.
'I'm your friend? Figures, I don't know your name. Do you know me?'
'You are Dennis Raveley, son of Harold Raveley, businessman, ex-mercenary, and trading manager for the company ETC. You are fifteen years of age, you are an only child, and the password of your bank account is 1984, which also happens to be your favorite novel. So it happens, I do know you.'
Dennis is taken aback. 'You...do...indeed, and I'm supposed to know you?' He quickly shakes off the now overwhelming feeling of paranoid suspicion growing inside him. Until that point, he does not know the quivering sense of chilliness in his gut; he has found the correct term.
'You can start, take off that blindfold, you don't need it.'
Dennis takes off the blindfold and takes a look around the room. His eyes does not need to adjust to the light in the room, for the light comes only from a dimly lit twenty watt lamp situated on the large oak desk which his chair is directly facing. The desk is bare except for the small lamp, and behind the desk is a huge red, leather backrest, the backrest of a swivel chair, its occupant concealed.
'Are you sitting there?'
'I am. Come and see.'
'Why don't you turn around?'
'My capability prevents me from doing so.'
'Are you a cripple?'
'Come and see.'
Dennis starts for the chair, slowing down when he reaches the desk, he pauses.
'Come forward, come on, you're not going to find the demented Tom Riddle seated in this chair, so hurry up."
Dennis chuckles, and reached over to turn the seat around. The backrest is bare.
He blinks, surprised. He looks down, and seated in the center of the chair is, sure enough, a walkie-talkie. The communicator is aged, gray in color, and resembles a brick. Surprisingly, it emits the sound of a voice with amazing clarity. Dennis picks it up.
'Hello?'
'Yes, I'm right here.' The voice chimes in from the speaker.
'How - I don't get it.' Dennis stammers; rather uncommon of him.
'Nothing but technicalities, this is a high definition talkie, very ideal for a convincing voice projection.'
'You're not actually in the room.' Dennis states, having not much else to think of to say.
'I'm not. You should know, revealing oneself too quickly to the guest establishes no trust, I would rather trust you to trust me instead.'
'What does that mean? You doped me just now.'
'Let's leave that to interpretation some other time. I have a series of instructions for you, if you choose to abide, follow them and we shall meet soon enough. If not, I won't stop you.'
'Alright, so what if I don't want to meet you? I changed my mind just now.'
'As I've said, I won't stop you, but I do not speak for any third party involved.'
'Third party?' Dennis repeats, considering his options, which seem very few.
'Do you wish to hear the instructions?'
'Yes, but just one more question, do you work for my father?'
'We'll find out soon enough, here's what you will do. Exit the room.'
Dennis exits the room and looks down both sides of the hall as though crossing traffic; he waits.
'Now, turn left and descend the main staircase, shouldn't be too hard to find.'
Dennis walks slowly down the left hall, glancing at the bare oak walls. The corridor has many doors indented on either side, he does not try the knobs of any; they all look to be locked. He arrives at the grand staircase.
'Go to the ground floor, and turn right. Go down that main hallway until you reach a door to the outside.'
Dennis follows these instructions, and soon find himself outside. His view is of a large field of weeds, ending where a tree line of dense growth begins. The entire field is the size of a football stadium. It gives off the exactly same feeling of emptiness in the mansion. Dennis has been here no more than a quarter hour, and he already feels isolated.
'Now, walk a few paces out into the field.' Dennis complies to this request.
'You've arrived, bravo.'
Dennis continues to star ahead, he sees no other human life.
'Are you here in person?' Dennis asks, skeptical.
'I am now.' The voice speaks. 'Turn around.' Dennis turns around, and nearly falls down in surprise.
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