The finished Castle for the school project.

(Sorry the photo is blurred. it’s been handed in now so we can’t re-do it)

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Story – Cive’s Thunderbolt
20141212 – armund.org

Clive went to the lavatories for a pee. While standing there he read the toilet humour on the wall:
“You don’t come here to piss about, just have a piss and piss off out.”
It was in purple so he surmised it was written with a copying pencil by some clerk or tradesman.

He smiled to himself as he recalled his mother’s favoured reply to rudeness.
“Charmed I’m sure.” said with a menacing irony and an unblinking stare.
The smile melted away as he pondered what he was doing by admiring the girl so much. He knew he was smitten, she wasn’t simply attractive, she seemed to be someone special who he would love to be with not just love to be in bed with.
“Still no harm done,” he half spoke aloud. Apart from a few complimentary glances at her all of the rest was safely in his head and he hadn’t made any comments to Ethan. Apart from ordering drinks he hadn’t spoken to her either. No asides, no compliments, no flirtatious comments. All that had happened was that he looked at her face and felt a deep deep longing that came from nowhere and hit him like a thunderbolt. As he buttoned his flies he resolved to spike the heavenly pleasures looking at her gave him.

Sat now at his table with Ethan and a recharged glass he was aware of her moving between the tables clearing and chatting. He could not help himself, she was perfect. Slim and petite with wonderful posture. Her back as straight as a ballet dancer, her face aloft as though she was balancing books on her head. She possessed a bust neither large nor small but it was emphasized by her tiny waist around which a broad hem held her long slim black skirt. Her hair was deep brown and shining and rolled up into a bob on top. As she meandered through the tables she came very close to him but did not look his way. Instead she leaned over the adjacent table and stretching forward wiped up a small spill in front of a motherly woman and her husband.

“Are you enjoying a rest ma’am?” she asked, “did you come far today?”
“From London dear”, the woman replied, “It took six hours, the train stopped all the time, very trying it is too. Still, it would take nearer six days in a coach in my grandmother’s time.”
The girl smiled then standing erect she raised her hands to fiddle with an unseen stray lock on her neck thus silhouetting her perfect profile.

The beer flowed in the George Hotel and the girl looked more attractive than before. Ethan had joined in a game of dice and was enjoying himself. Clive was at his shoulder jollying him on but could not resist glancing at the girl. She seemed to have a look of dissatisfaction though it disappeared when she spoke and she almost seemed to smile when she took payments. He was a little beguiled; Marianne was wonderful, always cheerful and optimistic and a delight to be with: so; he wondered, what was it about this girl that so invaded his consciousness. The possibility that it may be a mix of business success and alcohol creating exuberance did occur to him, but he dismissed it, the feeling and longing was overwhelming. The quarters of the clock passed without observance and afternoon melted into early evening until at half past six o’clock Ethan bid his unexpected departure to Clive, chatted for a few more minutes and went off to catch the 7:03 train for Leeds and home.

Clive was now alone amongst strangers. His glass was full and the diners, drinkers and toss-pots who had shared his afternoon were, all but him; departed. The few people in the room were newly arrived and still sober and upstanding. He moved to sit at a corner table and wondered what he should do. He had lost track of time but did not want the day over yet. Sense returned when he asked a gentleman at the next table the time as he seemed to possess a pocket watch and was told it was 6:55pm. Clive looked at the girl once again and noted that she seemed to sense that he was looking at her and she looked up at him while tapping another glass of beer then, looking him squarely in the eyes, smiled for a second before slowly returned her gaze to the glass. Clive did not know how to take it; was she being coquettish or was she simply thinking he had spent well and would return another day with the help of a little pleasantry. She was walking away from him now with her back to him and over her shoulder he became aware of the landlord, Archie (Grumpy) Gains staring with a serious look straight at him. He cursed himself for being stupid and walked out into the cool early evening leaving the last of his beer in the tankard. The fresh air hit him almost straight away and he had to take support from one of the six white Tuscan-Doric pillars embellishing the front of the George Hotel. After moving along Coney Street a pillar at a time he decided to rest in the shadows hoping to acclimatise so set himself down on a small high sill reminiscent of the old misericords from his choir days at church. He leaned silently in the shadows hoping to be absorbed into the blackness.

He first heard someone then saw the girl again walking past across the street from his hidden lair. As she passed on her way he shuffled forward to watch her departure but was surprised when she instead stopped at the door of the photographers shop, knocked and waited at the door to be let in. Looking up at the sign he saw that the photographers name was Gains. Realisation washed over him, she wasn’t simply a barmaid, she was a relative helping out her family and Grumpy was probably her uncle.

Feeling much improved in demeanour he set off for the tram stop and home but not before deciding that next week he would frequent The George Hotel more often and he would be making an appointment to have is picture taken.