The "Freeola Customer Forum" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
Image is Everything
The small silver coin spun violently in the air and then came to a firm landing into an oily palm, which clenched it strongly, as to make sure the coin could not be dropped into the dirt below the two gentlemen.
This was foreign land for the two men and so they had to conceal themselves in the riverbank’s reeds. They swayed in an ever-present wind that forced one of the man’s hats to be taken swiftly off his head. As he lent down to pluck the hat from the dirt he spoke, almost replying to the coin, “Heads.” He always chose heads believing that it could not betray him this time, unlike many times before.
The oily hand that clenched the coin in a strong fist slowly unravelled revealing the coin; it shined slightly in the moon’s dull gloom. “Sorry, Siberious, tails it is,” the other man finally spoke, “Maybe next time, eh? Winds of change and such like?” He paused, expecting some reaction, but none was given. “So, you remember the story, the plan and – ”
“Of course I remember it all, was it not me who did it for the past week whilst you got drunk aboard our ship, Roland?” Siberious replied, angrily. He was a medium built man, who originated from Yorkshire, but had lost his unique accent long ago whilst travelling the highways around the country. He wore his favourite suit for this sort of activity, a black neat and perfect cut one, with equally sized pockets, where he always slid his spectacles in. Although he didn’t need them he always thought they gave him a character of intelligence and wit.
“Steady on, Siberious, I put a lot of work into where we strike and how to get the next –”
“Save it.” Interrupted Siberious once again. “I’ll meet you back here at midnight.”
As Siberious crept through the long shivering reeds along the side of the murky water Roland grunted and muttered under his breath, which still carried traces of a mixture of Brandy and Gin from the previous night. Roland was a large man who had a soft spot for spirits and alcohol. His stomach rolled over his trousers and his bronze coloured belt. He wore a red waistcoat that was clearly stretching and this was visible by the eye. His hair was a scruffy mess as he had woken this morning and had not prepared for this night. Then again he never seemed to bother much with this activity, unlike his partner Siberious.
Roland climbed back aboard the old tugboat and flicked the light on in the small, cramped cabin. Not ideal for two men, but it was perfect for Roland and his alcohol. He closed the rusted door with a creek and sat down in the chair, which was in a sorry state. Roland and Siberious had bought the boat themselves and were constantly reminded of how they were ripped off for such scrap metal, but they grew to love it and after all it did what it was meant to: get in and out.
Siberious by now had managed to weave his way through the thick reeds and undergrowth and was now approaching the sand coloured walls of the all so familiar town. The same old lights shone out of the city walls. He straightened himself up, dusted the dirt from his clothes and fixed his collar. He appeared to be the perfect gentleman, full of honesty. As Siberious approached the main gates, the ones which would grant him access to the city, he noticed two Sentries armed with rifles that flickered slightly in the dull moonlight and the bright oil lamp near to where he was standing. One was quite plump and half a sleep with a large crooked nose, the other, quite awake and even though it was of the late hour quite enthusiastic about his current role in protecting the City. Siberious walked up the sanded steps of the gate and was not questioned about where he was going at such a late hour, but instead greeted by the young Sentry opening the small, tucked away side door of the gate, holding it steadily as he walked through. Neither of them uttering a single word as Siberious once again entered the familiar city.
It was around ten o’clock that Siberious finally worked his way to a local pub. It was here where he was meant to meet him. Siberious stepped in. Laughter from the locals filled the air, as well as the smell of fresh ale and tobacco. It was a light atmosphere in the bar and everyone seemed to know everyone. The bar tender singing a long with the locals. Two fishermen telling tales to young men, eager to learn new tricks. In one of the corners there was large party, obviously celebrating a joyous occasion. It was a friendly environment. Siberious familiar to his surroundings and the way things work in such a place asked for a pint of ale to be brought over to his table in a corner, one of the only ones with little light, perfect for the following activity. As Siberious sat down onto a hard wooden stool, which was previously a tree stump, the bar tender brought over his drink, the froth slowly dripping down the sides and onto the table. The laughter was still around, but wasn’t as present as before.
As more people began to fill the bar as the others were shut by now Siberious watched for his guest to arrive. He went through half a pint, still with the thick froth on top, just the way he liked it.
Finally the man Siberious was waiting for had arrived, Siberious immediately stood up and waved the large man to join him at the table located in the corner. The man dressed in dark trousers and a woody coloured short sleeved shirt, pulled another tree stump from beneath the table and sat down. He didn’t order any drink and was quite shocked to see Siberious greet him whilst drinking a pint of ale, he was a strictly business man and wouldn’t be easily put off by any distractions, such as drink. Equally shocked by this man’s lack of buying a drink Siberious offered him a pint of the finest ale in the pub. The man lifted his tanned hands up in a gesture to indicate no.
“I don’t need these erm… distractions, thank you anyway.” He spoke in a gentle, soft tone and obviously still struggled with confident English.
“Are you sure, it’s the best ale in the whole City. Well that’s what the locals say anyway.” A small smile appeared Siberious’s face as he tried to ease the tension between the two men.
“I’m sure, but still… I’m sure you understand, yes?” the way the man’s voice quivered reminded Siberious of the reeds by the riverbank, blowing in the wind. And then of his original plan.
“Please, allow me to buy you one. Just one. As a friendly gesture?”
Finally convinced the man gave a weak nod and Siberious gave the signal to the bar tender that indicated he wanted another pint of the finest ale. In response the bar tender nodded. He then came over and placed the frothy beer upon the table. He stood there for a while and stared proudly at the mug he had just delivered then he returned to his singing behind the bar.
The foreign man stared at the drink that lay in front of him, not quite knowing what to do next. Siberious lifted his drink to toast with him; he also raised his pint as it splashed some of the liquid hurtling to the table and floor. They then both sipped from the fine mugs.
The two men spoke for a while about their lives in general and were having quite a time, with shared laughs and such. Siberious was still in control of the conversation as the other man was now working through his third pint. The froth of the ale beginning to make a dark stain upon the fine oak table By now he was quite out of it and was easy prey for Siberious.
They didn’t actually talk once about the actual purpose for them meeting like this and why they were meeting at all. But that suited Siberious fine, because of course he knew nothing of savings and ‘wise investments’ in oil at all.
As the night grew older the thick smoke that once filled the air began to finally filter from the room as many people began their journey home, staggering as they went. The bar tender began the final part of his nightly routine, cleaning up. Siberious and the man were the last people in the pub and all was quiet except from the occasional drunken out burst of laughter from the man, whilst he splashed and thrashed his ale violently around in his arm. This was obviously why the man was so keen not to drink the liquid.
Luckily for Siberious he only had one and half-pints and was still keeping his gentlemen’s composure about him. He was very much in control of the situation, which made it almost to easy and simple for him.
“So tell me, Mr Hibrey, what do you know of the Golden Blackbird Project?”
He spluttered a reply; “Well you see I’m a leading engine- engine- engineer on the projectsh. You see?”
“Quite, dear fellow, but what do you know?”
“What?”
“The project. The Golden Blackbird Project!”
“Oh yeah of course, birds!”
Frustrated Siberious repeated it again, clearly.
“I always keep the dogs on me. I mean documents on me! Yesh that’s me, breaking them rules!”
“May I have a look, friend?” Siberious knew he was on to something that could lead him to the next part of the giant jigsaw puzzle. He sipped his ale and awaited Mr Hibrey’s reply.
He starred at Siberious for a while, with blood shot eyes that fixed both on him and the ale in front of him. Finally he gave his answer, “Don’t see why not, friend.”
He handed Siberious a couple of documents rapped in some parchment, which had been scribbled on. He had a quick glance at the documents and stuffed them into his pocket, the same one that contained the spectacles in. “Well goodbye, Mr Hibrey.” He flashed a smile in his general direction as he headed for the large oak door. Mr Hibrey still calling back, saying his farewells.
Siberious entered the street; fresh cold air of the night filled his lungs as he gave a sigh of relief. The winding cobbled roads only just illuminated by a few solitary oil lamps, their wicks almost burned to the ends. He walked casually away as he had done before. He soon found himself at the main gates where another Sentry who was carrying an oil lamp in one hand and his rifle in another greeted him. He took one look at his clothes and allowed him straight past and out of the City, not once questioning him about what he was doing at such a late hour.
He was now walking down the three sandy steps again and out onto the road that led to the City gates the Sentry nodding to himself as he was trying not to fall asleep on his duty. Then, covered by the darkness, Siberious slid away down into the reeds towards the small, rusted tugboat.
Roland was fast asleep, through a mixture of drunkenness and tiredness. Siberious opened a small maroon coloured casket that was full of many pieces of paper, each one holding its own tale of how it ended up in the casket. Siberious knew he had another piece of the puzzle safely in their clutch. He also knew either him or Roland would return to the City.
By Silent Thunder
The small silver coin spun violently in the air and then came to a firm landing into an oily palm, which clenched it strongly, as to make sure the coin could not be dropped into the dirt below the two gentlemen.
This was foreign land for the two men and so they had to conceal themselves in the riverbank’s reeds. They swayed in an ever-present wind that forced one of the man’s hats to be taken swiftly off his head. As he lent down to pluck the hat from the dirt he spoke, almost replying to the coin, “Heads.” He always chose heads believing that it could not betray him this time, unlike many times before.
The oily hand that clenched the coin in a strong fist slowly unravelled revealing the coin; it shined slightly in the moon’s dull gloom. “Sorry, Siberious, tails it is,” the other man finally spoke, “Maybe next time, eh? Winds of change and such like?” He paused, expecting some reaction, but none was given. “So, you remember the story, the plan and – ”
“Of course I remember it all, was it not me who did it for the past week whilst you got drunk aboard our ship, Roland?” Siberious replied, angrily. He was a medium built man, who originated from Yorkshire, but had lost his unique accent long ago whilst travelling the highways around the country. He wore his favourite suit for this sort of activity, a black neat and perfect cut one, with equally sized pockets, where he always slid his spectacles in. Although he didn’t need them he always thought they gave him a character of intelligence and wit.
“Steady on, Siberious, I put a lot of work into where we strike and how to get the next –”
“Save it.” Interrupted Siberious once again. “I’ll meet you back here at midnight.”
As Siberious crept through the long shivering reeds along the side of the murky water Roland grunted and muttered under his breath, which still carried traces of a mixture of Brandy and Gin from the previous night. Roland was a large man who had a soft spot for spirits and alcohol. His stomach rolled over his trousers and his bronze coloured belt. He wore a red waistcoat that was clearly stretching and this was visible by the eye. His hair was a scruffy mess as he had woken this morning and had not prepared for this night. Then again he never seemed to bother much with this activity, unlike his partner Siberious.
Roland climbed back aboard the old tugboat and flicked the light on in the small, cramped cabin. Not ideal for two men, but it was perfect for Roland and his alcohol. He closed the rusted door with a creek and sat down in the chair, which was in a sorry state. Roland and Siberious had bought the boat themselves and were constantly reminded of how they were ripped off for such scrap metal, but they grew to love it and after all it did what it was meant to: get in and out.
Siberious by now had managed to weave his way through the thick reeds and undergrowth and was now approaching the sand coloured walls of the all so familiar town. The same old lights shone out of the city walls. He straightened himself up, dusted the dirt from his clothes and fixed his collar. He appeared to be the perfect gentleman, full of honesty. As Siberious approached the main gates, the ones which would grant him access to the city, he noticed two Sentries armed with rifles that flickered slightly in the dull moonlight and the bright oil lamp near to where he was standing. One was quite plump and half a sleep with a large crooked nose, the other, quite awake and even though it was of the late hour quite enthusiastic about his current role in protecting the City. Siberious walked up the sanded steps of the gate and was not questioned about where he was going at such a late hour, but instead greeted by the young Sentry opening the small, tucked away side door of the gate, holding it steadily as he walked through. Neither of them uttering a single word as Siberious once again entered the familiar city.
It was around ten o’clock that Siberious finally worked his way to a local pub. It was here where he was meant to meet him. Siberious stepped in. Laughter from the locals filled the air, as well as the smell of fresh ale and tobacco. It was a light atmosphere in the bar and everyone seemed to know everyone. The bar tender singing a long with the locals. Two fishermen telling tales to young men, eager to learn new tricks. In one of the corners there was large party, obviously celebrating a joyous occasion. It was a friendly environment. Siberious familiar to his surroundings and the way things work in such a place asked for a pint of ale to be brought over to his table in a corner, one of the only ones with little light, perfect for the following activity. As Siberious sat down onto a hard wooden stool, which was previously a tree stump, the bar tender brought over his drink, the froth slowly dripping down the sides and onto the table. The laughter was still around, but wasn’t as present as before.
As more people began to fill the bar as the others were shut by now Siberious watched for his guest to arrive. He went through half a pint, still with the thick froth on top, just the way he liked it.
Finally the man Siberious was waiting for had arrived, Siberious immediately stood up and waved the large man to join him at the table located in the corner. The man dressed in dark trousers and a woody coloured short sleeved shirt, pulled another tree stump from beneath the table and sat down. He didn’t order any drink and was quite shocked to see Siberious greet him whilst drinking a pint of ale, he was a strictly business man and wouldn’t be easily put off by any distractions, such as drink. Equally shocked by this man’s lack of buying a drink Siberious offered him a pint of the finest ale in the pub. The man lifted his tanned hands up in a gesture to indicate no.
“I don’t need these erm… distractions, thank you anyway.” He spoke in a gentle, soft tone and obviously still struggled with confident English.
“Are you sure, it’s the best ale in the whole City. Well that’s what the locals say anyway.” A small smile appeared Siberious’s face as he tried to ease the tension between the two men.
“I’m sure, but still… I’m sure you understand, yes?” the way the man’s voice quivered reminded Siberious of the reeds by the riverbank, blowing in the wind. And then of his original plan.
“Please, allow me to buy you one. Just one. As a friendly gesture?”
Finally convinced the man gave a weak nod and Siberious gave the signal to the bar tender that indicated he wanted another pint of the finest ale. In response the bar tender nodded. He then came over and placed the frothy beer upon the table. He stood there for a while and stared proudly at the mug he had just delivered then he returned to his singing behind the bar.
The foreign man stared at the drink that lay in front of him, not quite knowing what to do next. Siberious lifted his drink to toast with him; he also raised his pint as it splashed some of the liquid hurtling to the table and floor. They then both sipped from the fine mugs.
The two men spoke for a while about their lives in general and were having quite a time, with shared laughs and such. Siberious was still in control of the conversation as the other man was now working through his third pint. The froth of the ale beginning to make a dark stain upon the fine oak table By now he was quite out of it and was easy prey for Siberious.
They didn’t actually talk once about the actual purpose for them meeting like this and why they were meeting at all. But that suited Siberious fine, because of course he knew nothing of savings and ‘wise investments’ in oil at all.
As the night grew older the thick smoke that once filled the air began to finally filter from the room as many people began their journey home, staggering as they went. The bar tender began the final part of his nightly routine, cleaning up. Siberious and the man were the last people in the pub and all was quiet except from the occasional drunken out burst of laughter from the man, whilst he splashed and thrashed his ale violently around in his arm. This was obviously why the man was so keen not to drink the liquid.
Luckily for Siberious he only had one and half-pints and was still keeping his gentlemen’s composure about him. He was very much in control of the situation, which made it almost to easy and simple for him.
“So tell me, Mr Hibrey, what do you know of the Golden Blackbird Project?”
He spluttered a reply; “Well you see I’m a leading engine- engine- engineer on the projectsh. You see?”
“Quite, dear fellow, but what do you know?”
“What?”
“The project. The Golden Blackbird Project!”
“Oh yeah of course, birds!”
Frustrated Siberious repeated it again, clearly.
“I always keep the dogs on me. I mean documents on me! Yesh that’s me, breaking them rules!”
“May I have a look, friend?” Siberious knew he was on to something that could lead him to the next part of the giant jigsaw puzzle. He sipped his ale and awaited Mr Hibrey’s reply.
He starred at Siberious for a while, with blood shot eyes that fixed both on him and the ale in front of him. Finally he gave his answer, “Don’t see why not, friend.”
He handed Siberious a couple of documents rapped in some parchment, which had been scribbled on. He had a quick glance at the documents and stuffed them into his pocket, the same one that contained the spectacles in. “Well goodbye, Mr Hibrey.” He flashed a smile in his general direction as he headed for the large oak door. Mr Hibrey still calling back, saying his farewells.
Siberious entered the street; fresh cold air of the night filled his lungs as he gave a sigh of relief. The winding cobbled roads only just illuminated by a few solitary oil lamps, their wicks almost burned to the ends. He walked casually away as he had done before. He soon found himself at the main gates where another Sentry who was carrying an oil lamp in one hand and his rifle in another greeted him. He took one look at his clothes and allowed him straight past and out of the City, not once questioning him about what he was doing at such a late hour.
He was now walking down the three sandy steps again and out onto the road that led to the City gates the Sentry nodding to himself as he was trying not to fall asleep on his duty. Then, covered by the darkness, Siberious slid away down into the reeds towards the small, rusted tugboat.
Roland was fast asleep, through a mixture of drunkenness and tiredness. Siberious opened a small maroon coloured casket that was full of many pieces of paper, each one holding its own tale of how it ended up in the casket. Siberious knew he had another piece of the puzzle safely in their clutch. He also knew either him or Roland would return to the City.
By Silent Thunder
Cheers Mr F, and congrats on the win.
Edit - *wins
Edit - *wins
Huh, why are you sighing? Anyway, good story.
*sigh*
Ineedsleep wrote:
> I agree with Ashman that it lacked a certain something and was a
> little bit obscure........
Hmm.. maybe I should have kept the murder in. :-/
Ah well, all good tips and points for my next story.
>
> But it did glide along nicely until the end and I enjoyed it anyway.
And thank you for your comments. :-)
> I agree with Ashman that it lacked a certain something and was a
> little bit obscure........
Hmm.. maybe I should have kept the murder in. :-/
Ah well, all good tips and points for my next story.
>
> But it did glide along nicely until the end and I enjoyed it anyway.
And thank you for your comments. :-)
I agree with Ashman that it lacked a certain something and was a little bit obscure........
But it did glide along nicely until the end and I enjoyed it anyway.
But it did glide along nicely until the end and I enjoyed it anyway.
Thanks for the comments.
As for the action, I did originally have a murder plot devloping in the last paragraphs. Then being carried out so Siberious could steal the papers, but I felt it just didn't read well and also didn't fit in with the previous paragraphs. So finally I just stuck to a mysterious ending - or so I hoped.
Once again thank you for the comments.
As for the action, I did originally have a murder plot devloping in the last paragraphs. Then being carried out so Siberious could steal the papers, but I felt it just didn't read well and also didn't fit in with the previous paragraphs. So finally I just stuck to a mysterious ending - or so I hoped.
Once again thank you for the comments.
Good, yes, very good.
Well written, aside from the occasional grammatical error here and there, the piece had some wonderful describing words and phrases, especially near the beginning and near the end. The first couple of paragraphs had an appropriately slick feel to them, whereas later on this was not so obvious, making the switch from environments seem more realistic.
Possibly the biggest downfall for me was the lack of a turning point, a major twist, or sequence of events containing a lot of action. Whilst the stealthy approach worked well, it just lacked a major punch I was looking for entering the last two paragraphs.
Even so, very good, and I hope to be reading more such genius from you in the near future, ST. Keep it up.
Well written, aside from the occasional grammatical error here and there, the piece had some wonderful describing words and phrases, especially near the beginning and near the end. The first couple of paragraphs had an appropriately slick feel to them, whereas later on this was not so obvious, making the switch from environments seem more realistic.
Possibly the biggest downfall for me was the lack of a turning point, a major twist, or sequence of events containing a lot of action. Whilst the stealthy approach worked well, it just lacked a major punch I was looking for entering the last two paragraphs.
Even so, very good, and I hope to be reading more such genius from you in the near future, ST. Keep it up.
I can't believe people are overlooking this - its quite long though, but every word oozes quality - very good indeed.
Image is Everything
The small silver coin spun violently in the air and then came to a firm landing into an oily palm, which clenched it strongly, as to make sure the coin could not be dropped into the dirt below the two gentlemen.
This was foreign land for the two men and so they had to conceal themselves in the riverbank’s reeds. They swayed in an ever-present wind that forced one of the man’s hats to be taken swiftly off his head. As he lent down to pluck the hat from the dirt he spoke, almost replying to the coin, “Heads.” He always chose heads believing that it could not betray him this time, unlike many times before.
The oily hand that clenched the coin in a strong fist slowly unravelled revealing the coin; it shined slightly in the moon’s dull gloom. “Sorry, Siberious, tails it is,” the other man finally spoke, “Maybe next time, eh? Winds of change and such like?” He paused, expecting some reaction, but none was given. “So, you remember the story, the plan and – ”
“Of course I remember it all, was it not me who did it for the past week whilst you got drunk aboard our ship, Roland?” Siberious replied, angrily. He was a medium built man, who originated from Yorkshire, but had lost his unique accent long ago whilst travelling the highways around the country. He wore his favourite suit for this sort of activity, a black neat and perfect cut one, with equally sized pockets, where he always slid his spectacles in. Although he didn’t need them he always thought they gave him a character of intelligence and wit.
“Steady on, Siberious, I put a lot of work into where we strike and how to get the next –”
“Save it.” Interrupted Siberious once again. “I’ll meet you back here at midnight.”
As Siberious crept through the long shivering reeds along the side of the murky water Roland grunted and muttered under his breath, which still carried traces of a mixture of Brandy and Gin from the previous night. Roland was a large man who had a soft spot for spirits and alcohol. His stomach rolled over his trousers and his bronze coloured belt. He wore a red waistcoat that was clearly stretching and this was visible by the eye. His hair was a scruffy mess as he had woken this morning and had not prepared for this night. Then again he never seemed to bother much with this activity, unlike his partner Siberious.
Roland climbed back aboard the old tugboat and flicked the light on in the small, cramped cabin. Not ideal for two men, but it was perfect for Roland and his alcohol. He closed the rusted door with a creek and sat down in the chair, which was in a sorry state. Roland and Siberious had bought the boat themselves and were constantly reminded of how they were ripped off for such scrap metal, but they grew to love it and after all it did what it was meant to: get in and out.
Siberious by now had managed to weave his way through the thick reeds and undergrowth and was now approaching the sand coloured walls of the all so familiar town. The same old lights shone out of the city walls. He straightened himself up, dusted the dirt from his clothes and fixed his collar. He appeared to be the perfect gentleman, full of honesty. As Siberious approached the main gates, the ones which would grant him access to the city, he noticed two Sentries armed with rifles that flickered slightly in the dull moonlight and the bright oil lamp near to where he was standing. One was quite plump and half a sleep with a large crooked nose, the other, quite awake and even though it was of the late hour quite enthusiastic about his current role in protecting the City. Siberious walked up the sanded steps of the gate and was not questioned about where he was going at such a late hour, but instead greeted by the young Sentry opening the small, tucked away side door of the gate, holding it steadily as he walked through. Neither of them uttering a single word as Siberious once again entered the familiar city.
It was around ten o’clock that Siberious finally worked his way to a local pub. It was here where he was meant to meet him. Siberious stepped in. Laughter from the locals filled the air, as well as the smell of fresh ale and tobacco. It was a light atmosphere in the bar and everyone seemed to know everyone. The bar tender singing a long with the locals. Two fishermen telling tales to young men, eager to learn new tricks. In one of the corners there was large party, obviously celebrating a joyous occasion. It was a friendly environment. Siberious familiar to his surroundings and the way things work in such a place asked for a pint of ale to be brought over to his table in a corner, one of the only ones with little light, perfect for the following activity. As Siberious sat down onto a hard wooden stool, which was previously a tree stump, the bar tender brought over his drink, the froth slowly dripping down the sides and onto the table. The laughter was still around, but wasn’t as present as before.
As more people began to fill the bar as the others were shut by now Siberious watched for his guest to arrive. He went through half a pint, still with the thick froth on top, just the way he liked it.
Finally the man Siberious was waiting for had arrived, Siberious immediately stood up and waved the large man to join him at the table located in the corner. The man dressed in dark trousers and a woody coloured short sleeved shirt, pulled another tree stump from beneath the table and sat down. He didn’t order any drink and was quite shocked to see Siberious greet him whilst drinking a pint of ale, he was a strictly business man and wouldn’t be easily put off by any distractions, such as drink. Equally shocked by this man’s lack of buying a drink Siberious offered him a pint of the finest ale in the pub. The man lifted his tanned hands up in a gesture to indicate no.
“I don’t need these erm… distractions, thank you anyway.” He spoke in a gentle, soft tone and obviously still struggled with confident English.
“Are you sure, it’s the best ale in the whole City. Well that’s what the locals say anyway.” A small smile appeared Siberious’s face as he tried to ease the tension between the two men.
“I’m sure, but still… I’m sure you understand, yes?” the way the man’s voice quivered reminded Siberious of the reeds by the riverbank, blowing in the wind. And then of his original plan.
“Please, allow me to buy you one. Just one. As a friendly gesture?”
Finally convinced the man gave a weak nod and Siberious gave the signal to the bar tender that indicated he wanted another pint of the finest ale. In response the bar tender nodded. He then came over and placed the frothy beer upon the table. He stood there for a while and stared proudly at the mug he had just delivered then he returned to his singing behind the bar.
The foreign man stared at the drink that lay in front of him, not quite knowing what to do next. Siberious lifted his drink to toast with him; he also raised his pint as it splashed some of the liquid hurtling to the table and floor. They then both sipped from the fine mugs.
The two men spoke for a while about their lives in general and were having quite a time, with shared laughs and such. Siberious was still in control of the conversation as the other man was now working through his third pint. The froth of the ale beginning to make a dark stain upon the fine oak table By now he was quite out of it and was easy prey for Siberious.
They didn’t actually talk once about the actual purpose for them meeting like this and why they were meeting at all. But that suited Siberious fine, because of course he knew nothing of savings and ‘wise investments’ in oil at all.
As the night grew older the thick smoke that once filled the air began to finally filter from the room as many people began their journey home, staggering as they went. The bar tender began the final part of his nightly routine, cleaning up. Siberious and the man were the last people in the pub and all was quiet except from the occasional drunken out burst of laughter from the man, whilst he splashed and thrashed his ale violently around in his arm. This was obviously why the man was so keen not to drink the liquid.
Luckily for Siberious he only had one and half-pints and was still keeping his gentlemen’s composure about him. He was very much in control of the situation, which made it almost to easy and simple for him.
“So tell me, Mr Hibrey, what do you know of the Golden Blackbird Project?”
He spluttered a reply; “Well you see I’m a leading engine- engine- engineer on the projectsh. You see?”
“Quite, dear fellow, but what do you know?”
“What?”
“The project. The Golden Blackbird Project!”
“Oh yeah of course, birds!”
Frustrated Siberious repeated it again, clearly.
“I always keep the dogs on me. I mean documents on me! Yesh that’s me, breaking them rules!”
“May I have a look, friend?” Siberious knew he was on to something that could lead him to the next part of the giant jigsaw puzzle. He sipped his ale and awaited Mr Hibrey’s reply.
He starred at Siberious for a while, with blood shot eyes that fixed both on him and the ale in front of him. Finally he gave his answer, “Don’t see why not, friend.”
He handed Siberious a couple of documents rapped in some parchment, which had been scribbled on. He had a quick glance at the documents and stuffed them into his pocket, the same one that contained the spectacles in. “Well goodbye, Mr Hibrey.” He flashed a smile in his general direction as he headed for the large oak door. Mr Hibrey still calling back, saying his farewells.
Siberious entered the street; fresh cold air of the night filled his lungs as he gave a sigh of relief. The winding cobbled roads only just illuminated by a few solitary oil lamps, their wicks almost burned to the ends. He walked casually away as he had done before. He soon found himself at the main gates where another Sentry who was carrying an oil lamp in one hand and his rifle in another greeted him. He took one look at his clothes and allowed him straight past and out of the City, not once questioning him about what he was doing at such a late hour.
He was now walking down the three sandy steps again and out onto the road that led to the City gates the Sentry nodding to himself as he was trying not to fall asleep on his duty. Then, covered by the darkness, Siberious slid away down into the reeds towards the small, rusted tugboat.
Roland was fast asleep, through a mixture of drunkenness and tiredness. Siberious opened a small maroon coloured casket that was full of many pieces of paper, each one holding its own tale of how it ended up in the casket. Siberious knew he had another piece of the puzzle safely in their clutch. He also knew either him or Roland would return to the City.
By Silent Thunder
The small silver coin spun violently in the air and then came to a firm landing into an oily palm, which clenched it strongly, as to make sure the coin could not be dropped into the dirt below the two gentlemen.
This was foreign land for the two men and so they had to conceal themselves in the riverbank’s reeds. They swayed in an ever-present wind that forced one of the man’s hats to be taken swiftly off his head. As he lent down to pluck the hat from the dirt he spoke, almost replying to the coin, “Heads.” He always chose heads believing that it could not betray him this time, unlike many times before.
The oily hand that clenched the coin in a strong fist slowly unravelled revealing the coin; it shined slightly in the moon’s dull gloom. “Sorry, Siberious, tails it is,” the other man finally spoke, “Maybe next time, eh? Winds of change and such like?” He paused, expecting some reaction, but none was given. “So, you remember the story, the plan and – ”
“Of course I remember it all, was it not me who did it for the past week whilst you got drunk aboard our ship, Roland?” Siberious replied, angrily. He was a medium built man, who originated from Yorkshire, but had lost his unique accent long ago whilst travelling the highways around the country. He wore his favourite suit for this sort of activity, a black neat and perfect cut one, with equally sized pockets, where he always slid his spectacles in. Although he didn’t need them he always thought they gave him a character of intelligence and wit.
“Steady on, Siberious, I put a lot of work into where we strike and how to get the next –”
“Save it.” Interrupted Siberious once again. “I’ll meet you back here at midnight.”
As Siberious crept through the long shivering reeds along the side of the murky water Roland grunted and muttered under his breath, which still carried traces of a mixture of Brandy and Gin from the previous night. Roland was a large man who had a soft spot for spirits and alcohol. His stomach rolled over his trousers and his bronze coloured belt. He wore a red waistcoat that was clearly stretching and this was visible by the eye. His hair was a scruffy mess as he had woken this morning and had not prepared for this night. Then again he never seemed to bother much with this activity, unlike his partner Siberious.
Roland climbed back aboard the old tugboat and flicked the light on in the small, cramped cabin. Not ideal for two men, but it was perfect for Roland and his alcohol. He closed the rusted door with a creek and sat down in the chair, which was in a sorry state. Roland and Siberious had bought the boat themselves and were constantly reminded of how they were ripped off for such scrap metal, but they grew to love it and after all it did what it was meant to: get in and out.
Siberious by now had managed to weave his way through the thick reeds and undergrowth and was now approaching the sand coloured walls of the all so familiar town. The same old lights shone out of the city walls. He straightened himself up, dusted the dirt from his clothes and fixed his collar. He appeared to be the perfect gentleman, full of honesty. As Siberious approached the main gates, the ones which would grant him access to the city, he noticed two Sentries armed with rifles that flickered slightly in the dull moonlight and the bright oil lamp near to where he was standing. One was quite plump and half a sleep with a large crooked nose, the other, quite awake and even though it was of the late hour quite enthusiastic about his current role in protecting the City. Siberious walked up the sanded steps of the gate and was not questioned about where he was going at such a late hour, but instead greeted by the young Sentry opening the small, tucked away side door of the gate, holding it steadily as he walked through. Neither of them uttering a single word as Siberious once again entered the familiar city.
It was around ten o’clock that Siberious finally worked his way to a local pub. It was here where he was meant to meet him. Siberious stepped in. Laughter from the locals filled the air, as well as the smell of fresh ale and tobacco. It was a light atmosphere in the bar and everyone seemed to know everyone. The bar tender singing a long with the locals. Two fishermen telling tales to young men, eager to learn new tricks. In one of the corners there was large party, obviously celebrating a joyous occasion. It was a friendly environment. Siberious familiar to his surroundings and the way things work in such a place asked for a pint of ale to be brought over to his table in a corner, one of the only ones with little light, perfect for the following activity. As Siberious sat down onto a hard wooden stool, which was previously a tree stump, the bar tender brought over his drink, the froth slowly dripping down the sides and onto the table. The laughter was still around, but wasn’t as present as before.
As more people began to fill the bar as the others were shut by now Siberious watched for his guest to arrive. He went through half a pint, still with the thick froth on top, just the way he liked it.
Finally the man Siberious was waiting for had arrived, Siberious immediately stood up and waved the large man to join him at the table located in the corner. The man dressed in dark trousers and a woody coloured short sleeved shirt, pulled another tree stump from beneath the table and sat down. He didn’t order any drink and was quite shocked to see Siberious greet him whilst drinking a pint of ale, he was a strictly business man and wouldn’t be easily put off by any distractions, such as drink. Equally shocked by this man’s lack of buying a drink Siberious offered him a pint of the finest ale in the pub. The man lifted his tanned hands up in a gesture to indicate no.
“I don’t need these erm… distractions, thank you anyway.” He spoke in a gentle, soft tone and obviously still struggled with confident English.
“Are you sure, it’s the best ale in the whole City. Well that’s what the locals say anyway.” A small smile appeared Siberious’s face as he tried to ease the tension between the two men.
“I’m sure, but still… I’m sure you understand, yes?” the way the man’s voice quivered reminded Siberious of the reeds by the riverbank, blowing in the wind. And then of his original plan.
“Please, allow me to buy you one. Just one. As a friendly gesture?”
Finally convinced the man gave a weak nod and Siberious gave the signal to the bar tender that indicated he wanted another pint of the finest ale. In response the bar tender nodded. He then came over and placed the frothy beer upon the table. He stood there for a while and stared proudly at the mug he had just delivered then he returned to his singing behind the bar.
The foreign man stared at the drink that lay in front of him, not quite knowing what to do next. Siberious lifted his drink to toast with him; he also raised his pint as it splashed some of the liquid hurtling to the table and floor. They then both sipped from the fine mugs.
The two men spoke for a while about their lives in general and were having quite a time, with shared laughs and such. Siberious was still in control of the conversation as the other man was now working through his third pint. The froth of the ale beginning to make a dark stain upon the fine oak table By now he was quite out of it and was easy prey for Siberious.
They didn’t actually talk once about the actual purpose for them meeting like this and why they were meeting at all. But that suited Siberious fine, because of course he knew nothing of savings and ‘wise investments’ in oil at all.
As the night grew older the thick smoke that once filled the air began to finally filter from the room as many people began their journey home, staggering as they went. The bar tender began the final part of his nightly routine, cleaning up. Siberious and the man were the last people in the pub and all was quiet except from the occasional drunken out burst of laughter from the man, whilst he splashed and thrashed his ale violently around in his arm. This was obviously why the man was so keen not to drink the liquid.
Luckily for Siberious he only had one and half-pints and was still keeping his gentlemen’s composure about him. He was very much in control of the situation, which made it almost to easy and simple for him.
“So tell me, Mr Hibrey, what do you know of the Golden Blackbird Project?”
He spluttered a reply; “Well you see I’m a leading engine- engine- engineer on the projectsh. You see?”
“Quite, dear fellow, but what do you know?”
“What?”
“The project. The Golden Blackbird Project!”
“Oh yeah of course, birds!”
Frustrated Siberious repeated it again, clearly.
“I always keep the dogs on me. I mean documents on me! Yesh that’s me, breaking them rules!”
“May I have a look, friend?” Siberious knew he was on to something that could lead him to the next part of the giant jigsaw puzzle. He sipped his ale and awaited Mr Hibrey’s reply.
He starred at Siberious for a while, with blood shot eyes that fixed both on him and the ale in front of him. Finally he gave his answer, “Don’t see why not, friend.”
He handed Siberious a couple of documents rapped in some parchment, which had been scribbled on. He had a quick glance at the documents and stuffed them into his pocket, the same one that contained the spectacles in. “Well goodbye, Mr Hibrey.” He flashed a smile in his general direction as he headed for the large oak door. Mr Hibrey still calling back, saying his farewells.
Siberious entered the street; fresh cold air of the night filled his lungs as he gave a sigh of relief. The winding cobbled roads only just illuminated by a few solitary oil lamps, their wicks almost burned to the ends. He walked casually away as he had done before. He soon found himself at the main gates where another Sentry who was carrying an oil lamp in one hand and his rifle in another greeted him. He took one look at his clothes and allowed him straight past and out of the City, not once questioning him about what he was doing at such a late hour.
He was now walking down the three sandy steps again and out onto the road that led to the City gates the Sentry nodding to himself as he was trying not to fall asleep on his duty. Then, covered by the darkness, Siberious slid away down into the reeds towards the small, rusted tugboat.
Roland was fast asleep, through a mixture of drunkenness and tiredness. Siberious opened a small maroon coloured casket that was full of many pieces of paper, each one holding its own tale of how it ended up in the casket. Siberious knew he had another piece of the puzzle safely in their clutch. He also knew either him or Roland would return to the City.
By Silent Thunder