Princess Ash
<font color=deeppink>Disney Princess<br><font colo
- Joined
- Feb 16, 2002
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Here are some excerpts of a story my friends and I were going to write about the Titanic.
PLEASE PLEASE anyone who goes to this post and reads...let me know what you think!
PS- I am thinking that creative writing may be a future for me...do you think I could do it? Would you read my stuff?
PPS- I know a lot of it is sad, but that's what happened on the Titanic...
The chime of the clock declared to all of Southampton that it was half past eleven. The active hustle and bustle of the crowd implied that an exciting event was about to occur. Indeed one was - It was April 10, 1912, the departure date of the RMS Titanic. The sun shone brightly upon those two thousand two hundred boarding. The three brothers stood together, waiting for their women to arrive. The first had not bought a ticket not had been offered one. Rather, he had been offered a position as head chef in the prestigious kitchen of the unsinkable ship. When his brother, the police officer in London, had received word of this excursion, he desired to go, but for a different reason one closer to his heart. The third brother was finally going home, back to the United States after being abroad on active duty. First, he must make a stop to see his brothers, in London but what a better way to arrive home in New York than on the grand Titanic?
He pulled his pocket watch out 11:35...he paced with anticipation. He could not wait to see her beautiful face. Whenever he saw her his heart filled with joy and he was happy. He cared for her more than she would ever know. As he turned back to talk to his brothers, he saw her motorcar drive up. His heart leapt and he smiled as the door opened
As his brother paced back and forth, the police officer fidgeted with his badge. Everything must be perfect when he saw her. Although together for a while, each time it was like seeing one another for the very first time. The next day was their anniversary. He wanted he needed for the day to occur flawlessly; he wanted to give her the best of everything. They were each others worlds
The third brother stood at attention, looking to smooth the nonexistent wrinkles out of his bomber jacket brushing off the imaginary dust. Though he looked calm on the outside, he could not wait to see her. They had been through many hard times, but had made it against the odds. Her sweet ways and charming smile had captured his heart. He looked up as he heard the engine of the vehicle pull near
The driver stepped out and opened the door for the ladies the chef stepped forward to greet his amazing girl. He took her hand gently and kissed it, blinded once again by her beauty. He took her aside to converse quietly, away from the crowd. The policeman and his love could not help the smiles that appeared when their eyes met. They embraced, holding each other close then joining the other two. The pilot met his sweetheart right as the suns ray illuminated her pretty face, her glittering eyes. Their hands entwined, they completed the group the best friends the six
She stood on the deck, the air was cool, and there was a slight breeze. She looked out to sea, the moonlight cast against the horizon, and the stars shown brightly. She turned and walked back to the group. There was a taller gentleman in an chef's apron leaning against a bulkhead, he had his girl with him, he was holding her gently with his hands on her sides. Sitting on a bench to his left was man in a USAF uniform, he wore a pilot's jacket, he had a girl on his lap, and he was wispering in her ear. She walked back and sat down with her man, a town sheriff, who held her tight. The six of them were there, two standing, four sitting. There the six remained until the wee hours of the morning, listening to the Titanic's band play upbeat music. They were close friends from the beginning... to the end of their lives.
The heat was intense, the air was humid, there was fire all around him, the sweet smell of meat cooking on the steal stoves. There was a hustle all around, orders comming in left and right. He glanced up and and checked the paper pinned in front of him, he was making sure of what he was doing, his shif all most over. Even as he studied the paper, his hands moved, all most indipendent of his body, preparing the knife, adding an edge to the blade. He looked back at the table, and he went back to work, cutting the chicken, preparing a stew for the lunch of a man, woman, or child he had never met. He was filled with an intense intoxicating sense of his work, and yet he knew he was tired, and a different part of his mind began to tick off the time he had left till his shift ended and he could go and see her.
* * * * *
He sat in the wooden deck chair, his back straight, unused to this casual life of pleasure. The sun beat down on him, and his mind drifted in and out. He had come on this cruise, a maiden voyage of the greatest ship ever built, to celebrate their anniversery. He watched her now in the pool, she moved gracefully through the water. She was beautiful, and she was his. He looked about him and noticed that most of the other men at the pool were watching her discretely, he knew he had quite a woman, and he cared for her deeply. As he focused his attention back to her, he was just in time to see her hoisting herself out of the pool, the sun seemed to shine on her shoulders alone. He stood and brought her a towel, and draped it over her shoulders. She smiled at him. She was six years younger than he, and retained her beauty, where as the strain of working law enforcement on the streets of London had taken some toll on him, but now it was barely apparent.
* * * * *
He stood strait and tall, but at the same time he seemed relaxed. He was watching her as she combed her hair, in their cabin. She was getting ready for this evenings dinner, and she looked as beautiful as ever. All though he was not wearing his uniform one could easily tell that he was in the military, he leather jacket gave him away to be a pilot. His accent gave him away as being an American, the slight twinge of south remained in his speach. He looked at her lovingly, and she returned the smile and he caught it through the mirrors reflection. They had been together since they were teenagers, and when they were together they could light up the darkest room, and put a smile on the face of the grimmest face. She stood, and turned to him, she looked perfect, and yet she was modest. He kissed her gently, and they left the cabin on their way to the dining hall.
* * * * * *
When he left the kitchen he headed straight for the dining hall, he had a jacket waiting for him behind the desk. He walked briskly, and removed the shirt that defined him as a chef, he wore a white dress shirt undernieth. He picked up his jacket, and the waiter de helped him into it. He moved to the table, his two friends and their girls were already there, and he smiled. Then he saw her crossing the room towards him, and his breath caught in his throat. She was so perfect, with her long black hair. He took her hand and they sat down at the table. Three couples, the men like brothers, the women like sisters, in all they were a family of the closest kind. The night carried on with laughter comming from the table in the middle of the room.
He lay on the gurney in the medical bay, a sheet covering him, a bandage wrapped tightly around his head, a blood stain shows through by the temple. Over the past few days he had been visited by his friends on several occassions. He drifted in and out of consciousness, but for the most part he remained in what was becoming a routine, he remained out-cold. He could not see it, there was no way he could be expected to know it, but deep in his heart he could feel it... She was by his side, her hand squeesing his, she had remained with him day and night since the accident. He seemed miles away, and yet she had not left him, just as he had promised he would not leave her. And so she remained with him as his friends drifted in and out of the medical bay when they could. The policeman always came with his girl, the blonde beauty. They would recount the days events, and always sit close. The girl would always sit by his girl, and comfort her for the fact that the chef was in a coma. The policeman woud go over new ideas for the automobile he had been granted for patrols through london, a new and novel inovation. The policeman had ideas for a sound device not unlike a locomotive's wistle that could be used to attract the attention of the people in the street, and thus move them out of the way. The pilot appeared in the mornings and the afternoons, he would not discuss much. He would sit and think. From time to time he would tell some amazing story or he would describe in detail the appearance of the mystery girl who no one in the group had yet seen. He did this because he knew the cheff could not hear him, or would not remember, in essence it was the ultimate way to tease the comotose cheff. And when the nurse's were not looking the Pilot would thump the cheff on the shoulder for some crude joke the cheff had not yet made. This would always result in a slap from the the cheff's girl, a short black haired wonder of the world, as she returned from where ever it is she went when not sitting by his side. In the evenings the pilot would be AWOL with his new girl, who not one person in the group had yet seen. How had he reached the gourney? How had he come to find himself in a coma? He had walked over a scuttle when the lid was removed, and thus awkwardly dropped three decks like a bird with no wings. And so it continues, the Titanic sails on. The Pilot on the run with his mysterious girl, the Policeman with his girl down by the pool. And the Chef in a gourney with his girl at his side.
She sat on the deck, leaning up against a wall, freezing in the night air, as she waited for her love. She pulled her black shimmery shawl closer around her. Though it provided minimal warmth for her body, it provided no warmth for her heart. She stood up suddenly as she saw the girl...her sister...approaching. Though not truly sisters, they had been the best of friends for a long time now. The girl knew she could always count on her sister, through the good times and the bad. She TRUSTED her and thought she would always be LOYAL. The girl grabbed at her sister's arm as she rushed by...called her name...the sister did not respond. She did not look back. She did not care. The girl ran after her sister, she could not lose her in the crowd, which seemed like a cloud of emotion, anger, and terror. She reached her once again, "Wait! Come back with me!" she pleaded, "Let me help you! Let's get though this together! I know we can!" The sister just pushed the girl away and continued running toward the lifeboat. The girl did not give up. She continued to follower her sister; up a flight of stairs, down the other way. Knocking over screaming women, crying children, men giving loud orders. She grabbed her sister again, "PLEASE," she pleaded, "This is my last attempt. I have tried talking to you, explaining this terrible situation to you. I told you I would ALWAYS BE THERE FOR YOU AND I AM." The sister looked at her, but her eyes were cold, unfeeling. The girl knew she had not gotten through to her friend, the friend she considered her sister. But sisters would not do such a thing as ignore each other in times of trouble; sisters would try to understand one another and come to an agreement before things were too late. The sister ran off once again as a man yelled out, "Last call for women and children on this lifeboat!" Suddenly, the crowd swallowed the sister up. The girl pushed her way to the edge of the deck just as the sister's lifeboat was being lowered into the water. She began to cry and called out to her sister one last time. She watched the boat for over thirty minutes as it floated away, it seemed like over thirty days. The sister finally looked back with her deep, dark eyes and flowing dark brown hair, but it was TOO LATE...the two of them were separated...perhaps for that night...perhaps forever. She blinked back her tears and tried to think rationally. She had to get back to her friends...the ones who cared about her in her time of fear and insecurity...
Epilogue (Yah think we missed a bit in the middle or what???)
The Titanic had sunk. The pilot had gone back to the United States. The cook had gotten a job on a different ocean liner, the Luscitania, and the police officer had gone back to his job in the streets of london. The pilot's old girl from the Titanic had had the charges against her as a German spy dropped, and had been released from the prison she had been held in, and had moved to Europe. The man she had been picked up with had been convicted and shot. The cook's girl had moved to a small New England town with her family. The police officer's girl remained with him. It seemed that they were all doomed to loose contact, until things began to happen (with some pushing from all sides) that would bring them back together again.
The pilot was offered a new and more dangerous job, wich he took instantly. He moved to a small town in New Mexico where he was now in a group known as the Test Pilot's. His new job suited him well.
A job offer made to the police officer proved to tempting to be avoided and was accepted. The former patrolman and his girl moved to a small town in the South-Western United States where he became the chief of a newly founded fire brigade with its own fire house. As it happened the brigade was establised in the town just ten miles North of the Air Force base the pilot now lived on.
Upon hearing how close his two friend's were again, the cook left his job on the liner when she docked in New York City, and with what money he had, he bought a brand new Norton 16H and rode to New Mexico to join his friends.... the ride took him six weeks. Upon arrival he joined his friend's fire brigade as a machinest/mechanic and moved into the firehouse. He also began writing letters to his girl back east asking her to come out and join him. His girl wanted to, but also wished to remain close to her family.
In no proven relation to any of the above, the local pharmacy burned to the ground, and the former pharmasist what inclined to leave town. As luck would have it, the machinest's girl's brother had just recieved a degree in that area and he too moved to New Mexico with his wife and sister to open a new buisness. His new store was built by a slim Irish/french carpenter's son, who stayed for three weeks before moving back to California where he was making a name for himself behind the scenes in Hollywood
PLEASE PLEASE anyone who goes to this post and reads...let me know what you think!
PS- I am thinking that creative writing may be a future for me...do you think I could do it? Would you read my stuff?
PPS- I know a lot of it is sad, but that's what happened on the Titanic...
The chime of the clock declared to all of Southampton that it was half past eleven. The active hustle and bustle of the crowd implied that an exciting event was about to occur. Indeed one was - It was April 10, 1912, the departure date of the RMS Titanic. The sun shone brightly upon those two thousand two hundred boarding. The three brothers stood together, waiting for their women to arrive. The first had not bought a ticket not had been offered one. Rather, he had been offered a position as head chef in the prestigious kitchen of the unsinkable ship. When his brother, the police officer in London, had received word of this excursion, he desired to go, but for a different reason one closer to his heart. The third brother was finally going home, back to the United States after being abroad on active duty. First, he must make a stop to see his brothers, in London but what a better way to arrive home in New York than on the grand Titanic?
He pulled his pocket watch out 11:35...he paced with anticipation. He could not wait to see her beautiful face. Whenever he saw her his heart filled with joy and he was happy. He cared for her more than she would ever know. As he turned back to talk to his brothers, he saw her motorcar drive up. His heart leapt and he smiled as the door opened
As his brother paced back and forth, the police officer fidgeted with his badge. Everything must be perfect when he saw her. Although together for a while, each time it was like seeing one another for the very first time. The next day was their anniversary. He wanted he needed for the day to occur flawlessly; he wanted to give her the best of everything. They were each others worlds
The third brother stood at attention, looking to smooth the nonexistent wrinkles out of his bomber jacket brushing off the imaginary dust. Though he looked calm on the outside, he could not wait to see her. They had been through many hard times, but had made it against the odds. Her sweet ways and charming smile had captured his heart. He looked up as he heard the engine of the vehicle pull near
The driver stepped out and opened the door for the ladies the chef stepped forward to greet his amazing girl. He took her hand gently and kissed it, blinded once again by her beauty. He took her aside to converse quietly, away from the crowd. The policeman and his love could not help the smiles that appeared when their eyes met. They embraced, holding each other close then joining the other two. The pilot met his sweetheart right as the suns ray illuminated her pretty face, her glittering eyes. Their hands entwined, they completed the group the best friends the six
She stood on the deck, the air was cool, and there was a slight breeze. She looked out to sea, the moonlight cast against the horizon, and the stars shown brightly. She turned and walked back to the group. There was a taller gentleman in an chef's apron leaning against a bulkhead, he had his girl with him, he was holding her gently with his hands on her sides. Sitting on a bench to his left was man in a USAF uniform, he wore a pilot's jacket, he had a girl on his lap, and he was wispering in her ear. She walked back and sat down with her man, a town sheriff, who held her tight. The six of them were there, two standing, four sitting. There the six remained until the wee hours of the morning, listening to the Titanic's band play upbeat music. They were close friends from the beginning... to the end of their lives.
The heat was intense, the air was humid, there was fire all around him, the sweet smell of meat cooking on the steal stoves. There was a hustle all around, orders comming in left and right. He glanced up and and checked the paper pinned in front of him, he was making sure of what he was doing, his shif all most over. Even as he studied the paper, his hands moved, all most indipendent of his body, preparing the knife, adding an edge to the blade. He looked back at the table, and he went back to work, cutting the chicken, preparing a stew for the lunch of a man, woman, or child he had never met. He was filled with an intense intoxicating sense of his work, and yet he knew he was tired, and a different part of his mind began to tick off the time he had left till his shift ended and he could go and see her.
* * * * *
He sat in the wooden deck chair, his back straight, unused to this casual life of pleasure. The sun beat down on him, and his mind drifted in and out. He had come on this cruise, a maiden voyage of the greatest ship ever built, to celebrate their anniversery. He watched her now in the pool, she moved gracefully through the water. She was beautiful, and she was his. He looked about him and noticed that most of the other men at the pool were watching her discretely, he knew he had quite a woman, and he cared for her deeply. As he focused his attention back to her, he was just in time to see her hoisting herself out of the pool, the sun seemed to shine on her shoulders alone. He stood and brought her a towel, and draped it over her shoulders. She smiled at him. She was six years younger than he, and retained her beauty, where as the strain of working law enforcement on the streets of London had taken some toll on him, but now it was barely apparent.
* * * * *
He stood strait and tall, but at the same time he seemed relaxed. He was watching her as she combed her hair, in their cabin. She was getting ready for this evenings dinner, and she looked as beautiful as ever. All though he was not wearing his uniform one could easily tell that he was in the military, he leather jacket gave him away to be a pilot. His accent gave him away as being an American, the slight twinge of south remained in his speach. He looked at her lovingly, and she returned the smile and he caught it through the mirrors reflection. They had been together since they were teenagers, and when they were together they could light up the darkest room, and put a smile on the face of the grimmest face. She stood, and turned to him, she looked perfect, and yet she was modest. He kissed her gently, and they left the cabin on their way to the dining hall.
* * * * * *
When he left the kitchen he headed straight for the dining hall, he had a jacket waiting for him behind the desk. He walked briskly, and removed the shirt that defined him as a chef, he wore a white dress shirt undernieth. He picked up his jacket, and the waiter de helped him into it. He moved to the table, his two friends and their girls were already there, and he smiled. Then he saw her crossing the room towards him, and his breath caught in his throat. She was so perfect, with her long black hair. He took her hand and they sat down at the table. Three couples, the men like brothers, the women like sisters, in all they were a family of the closest kind. The night carried on with laughter comming from the table in the middle of the room.
He lay on the gurney in the medical bay, a sheet covering him, a bandage wrapped tightly around his head, a blood stain shows through by the temple. Over the past few days he had been visited by his friends on several occassions. He drifted in and out of consciousness, but for the most part he remained in what was becoming a routine, he remained out-cold. He could not see it, there was no way he could be expected to know it, but deep in his heart he could feel it... She was by his side, her hand squeesing his, she had remained with him day and night since the accident. He seemed miles away, and yet she had not left him, just as he had promised he would not leave her. And so she remained with him as his friends drifted in and out of the medical bay when they could. The policeman always came with his girl, the blonde beauty. They would recount the days events, and always sit close. The girl would always sit by his girl, and comfort her for the fact that the chef was in a coma. The policeman woud go over new ideas for the automobile he had been granted for patrols through london, a new and novel inovation. The policeman had ideas for a sound device not unlike a locomotive's wistle that could be used to attract the attention of the people in the street, and thus move them out of the way. The pilot appeared in the mornings and the afternoons, he would not discuss much. He would sit and think. From time to time he would tell some amazing story or he would describe in detail the appearance of the mystery girl who no one in the group had yet seen. He did this because he knew the cheff could not hear him, or would not remember, in essence it was the ultimate way to tease the comotose cheff. And when the nurse's were not looking the Pilot would thump the cheff on the shoulder for some crude joke the cheff had not yet made. This would always result in a slap from the the cheff's girl, a short black haired wonder of the world, as she returned from where ever it is she went when not sitting by his side. In the evenings the pilot would be AWOL with his new girl, who not one person in the group had yet seen. How had he reached the gourney? How had he come to find himself in a coma? He had walked over a scuttle when the lid was removed, and thus awkwardly dropped three decks like a bird with no wings. And so it continues, the Titanic sails on. The Pilot on the run with his mysterious girl, the Policeman with his girl down by the pool. And the Chef in a gourney with his girl at his side.
She sat on the deck, leaning up against a wall, freezing in the night air, as she waited for her love. She pulled her black shimmery shawl closer around her. Though it provided minimal warmth for her body, it provided no warmth for her heart. She stood up suddenly as she saw the girl...her sister...approaching. Though not truly sisters, they had been the best of friends for a long time now. The girl knew she could always count on her sister, through the good times and the bad. She TRUSTED her and thought she would always be LOYAL. The girl grabbed at her sister's arm as she rushed by...called her name...the sister did not respond. She did not look back. She did not care. The girl ran after her sister, she could not lose her in the crowd, which seemed like a cloud of emotion, anger, and terror. She reached her once again, "Wait! Come back with me!" she pleaded, "Let me help you! Let's get though this together! I know we can!" The sister just pushed the girl away and continued running toward the lifeboat. The girl did not give up. She continued to follower her sister; up a flight of stairs, down the other way. Knocking over screaming women, crying children, men giving loud orders. She grabbed her sister again, "PLEASE," she pleaded, "This is my last attempt. I have tried talking to you, explaining this terrible situation to you. I told you I would ALWAYS BE THERE FOR YOU AND I AM." The sister looked at her, but her eyes were cold, unfeeling. The girl knew she had not gotten through to her friend, the friend she considered her sister. But sisters would not do such a thing as ignore each other in times of trouble; sisters would try to understand one another and come to an agreement before things were too late. The sister ran off once again as a man yelled out, "Last call for women and children on this lifeboat!" Suddenly, the crowd swallowed the sister up. The girl pushed her way to the edge of the deck just as the sister's lifeboat was being lowered into the water. She began to cry and called out to her sister one last time. She watched the boat for over thirty minutes as it floated away, it seemed like over thirty days. The sister finally looked back with her deep, dark eyes and flowing dark brown hair, but it was TOO LATE...the two of them were separated...perhaps for that night...perhaps forever. She blinked back her tears and tried to think rationally. She had to get back to her friends...the ones who cared about her in her time of fear and insecurity...
Epilogue (Yah think we missed a bit in the middle or what???)
The Titanic had sunk. The pilot had gone back to the United States. The cook had gotten a job on a different ocean liner, the Luscitania, and the police officer had gone back to his job in the streets of london. The pilot's old girl from the Titanic had had the charges against her as a German spy dropped, and had been released from the prison she had been held in, and had moved to Europe. The man she had been picked up with had been convicted and shot. The cook's girl had moved to a small New England town with her family. The police officer's girl remained with him. It seemed that they were all doomed to loose contact, until things began to happen (with some pushing from all sides) that would bring them back together again.
The pilot was offered a new and more dangerous job, wich he took instantly. He moved to a small town in New Mexico where he was now in a group known as the Test Pilot's. His new job suited him well.
A job offer made to the police officer proved to tempting to be avoided and was accepted. The former patrolman and his girl moved to a small town in the South-Western United States where he became the chief of a newly founded fire brigade with its own fire house. As it happened the brigade was establised in the town just ten miles North of the Air Force base the pilot now lived on.
Upon hearing how close his two friend's were again, the cook left his job on the liner when she docked in New York City, and with what money he had, he bought a brand new Norton 16H and rode to New Mexico to join his friends.... the ride took him six weeks. Upon arrival he joined his friend's fire brigade as a machinest/mechanic and moved into the firehouse. He also began writing letters to his girl back east asking her to come out and join him. His girl wanted to, but also wished to remain close to her family.
In no proven relation to any of the above, the local pharmacy burned to the ground, and the former pharmasist what inclined to leave town. As luck would have it, the machinest's girl's brother had just recieved a degree in that area and he too moved to New Mexico with his wife and sister to open a new buisness. His new store was built by a slim Irish/french carpenter's son, who stayed for three weeks before moving back to California where he was making a name for himself behind the scenes in Hollywood
). It's a good story. 
aw:
aww thankyou so much! 
