Chapter 2

River Otter Wid... — Thu, 04/23/2009 - 11:47

As the airship approched her gyro, Rose had the thought that she might be quite a bit late to the wedding after all. On deck, a dozen or more sky pirates sneered and taunted her. Catcalls and that metallic taste filled her senses. Suddenly a loud metallic noise caught her attention, as a three prongged hook dug itself deep into her craft's body. With no choice, slowly she was reeled in by the sinister looking lot on board the airship. As she unwillingly approched, she could make out the ships name on the hull.......Gryphon!

Tales

Chapter 2 Cont.

Sturty — Fri, 04/24/2009 - 09:56

The smell of the crew quickly took on a palpable existence, overpowering the smell of burnt satin and skin from her dress. On board the Gryphon was not how she expected to finish this quick excursion. It was a quick delivery job for Professor Lagchu. Pick up, drop off, quick change and she could be at the chapel with Charles before noon. No one would have been the wiser and she’d have one more run on her tally sheet and cash in the account for the honeymoon.

She didn’t really need the money, Charles would certainly have enough to go anywhere in the world. He had been working with his father in the rail business for years. After they completed the New Amsterdam to Fort Ponchartrain run in under 24 hours, their wealth expanded exponentially.

It was an odd match, Rose and Charles. He preferred the quiet work in the office overseeing traffic on the ground, crunching numbers with the accountants, managing from his teakwood office. Rose was the polar opposite. Few had flown as many hours as she had. Her delivery record was unmatched. There was few who had spent as little time in the office as she had.

Chapter 2 Cont (more)

River Otter Wid... — Sun, 04/26/2009 - 03:12

In fact, the very thought of office work made Rose quite physically ill. It was the fresh air and high adventure she longed for, a sense of despair overcame her on days she could not be out flying. Stormy weather would find Rose sitting by the oak windowsill in the room the office personel refered to as "courrier's corral".One finger full of boredom, lazily drawing clouds in the accumulated dust, while her eyes scanned the cloudline for a break in weather....

"Clothes make the man, naked people have little or no influence on society" - Mark Twain

Chapter 2 Cont.

Sturty — Mon, 05/04/2009 - 10:35

It had been just that kind of week leading up to her wedding day. Rain and wind grounded all the couriers. She was just popping in to the office to make some final arrangements before her vacation when she saw the dispatch on Lydia’s desk. “Margaret, have any of the other’s claimed this shipment yet,” she asked the attending dispatcher.

“No, Miss Van Turstan, they haven’t. But don’t fret on it, ma’am, I know you’ll have a busy week and I’m sure Young Mister Thomas can handle it. He’ll be in later today and from what I hear he’s been eager for a few more flights.”

“I’m most certain he is, Margaret, he’s been itching to break my record for months now. This would be his opening. Bags, Margaret, just because a woman meets then exceeds expectations, the men get all hopped up and worried about their precious pride.”

“Well, ma’am, I myself prefer to keep busy here in the office and leave all that frightening daring-do to the men, no offence to you, of course, Miss Van Turstan.”

“Poppy-cock, Margaret, that just because you’ve allowed yourself to fall into the fenced in pen men have created for us. I’m sure you wouldn’t even be interested if we could vote either.” It was a conversation that had happened many time before and ended much the same each time. Sometimes Margaret would quickly capitulate and change the topic, other times she would be prepared with visions of doom and dismay. She could envision a day when woman would have to open their own doors, men wouldn’t raise from their chairs when she entered a room, when she would have to maintain her job not as a past time but out of necessity. It frightened her dearly.

“Either way, Margaret, I’m going to accept this dispatch and don’t you bother telling anyone until I get back. I don’t want any men fretting over what I can and cannot accomplish. If anyone does ask just tell them I went shoe shopping or something.”

She chuckled at that, now.

Sturty — Tue, 05/19/2009 - 18:19

She chuckled at that, now. The only person who knew she was out here was too demure to say where she was. Margaret wouldn’t lie; she just wouldn’t say anything. Rose then started running through the guest list at the wedding and was certain Margaret wasn’t invited anyhow. “Well, Rose, you’re on your own for this one.”

The faces grew nearer and she started scanning them for anything familiar, any sign of hope in the toothless grins staring at her. A friendly face could, but wasn’t likely to show up.

She cut the engines on her gyro, crashing blades against the hull of the airship isn’t going to get her out this mess unless she was after a permanent solution. Jeering and catcalls rushed upon her as her little vessel bumped against the bigger ship with finality. She climbed as much as was dragged from her pilot’s seat to the deck. She knew better then to struggle as the groping hands pulled her upright to the highly polished hardwood floor.

She was spun around and she had one last look at her little messenger craft as it was released, falling, crashing hundreds of feet below. Angrily, she turned on her captors and her breath stuck in her own chest. The Captain, himself, was there to see her aboard.

His long green velvet jacket trimmed with dark leather hung open exposing a brilliant red satin vest. Gold chain hung at the waist, no doubt clasping a pocket watch too expensive for such soiled men surrounding the captain. His dusty brown hair blew in the wind as he bowed gracefully with his silk coachman hat held in hand. “Bon Jour, Miss Van Turstan, it seems we ‘ave both been avoiding a cathedral today. Although I ‘ave no been to one since I was a boy. I am thinking you must be looking for a trip north of the border, no? I am most certain your beau will be ‘appy to ‘ear you are most safe with my crew. Shall we send ‘im a message now or wait until we ‘ave you tucked away? I am thinking we wait.”

She struggled from the grip that was holding her and spat towards to Captain. “You vile, two headed, pecksniffian, git! Surrounding yourself with this nasty pablum! You…” from somewhere a gray, grease flavored rag was jammed in her mouth just as the next tirade was about to explode from it.

“So we no ‘ave a wilting flower, eh?” he glared at her then turned to his crew. “Such a woman would surely be missed, no? Monsieur Gludeau, why do you not show our dear guest to the quarters we ‘ave waiting for her?”