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Novellas are strange beasts-not quite novels, and not quite short stories either. They are in between, unidentified. They are what you make of them-and I will craft mine into a form and shape so wondrous, your very eyes shall be blinded by the rich and beautiful literature that you shall read. However, before we go any further into my boasting, I would suggest you make yourself comfortable, if you havenÕt done so yet.
Please sit down comfortably on a nice leather chair, streeeetch, lean back, and place the book right up in front of you. Be sure to keep your seatbelt on at all times and be aware of the emergency exits-this novella is dangerously good.
Now, I shall delve onwards, into the very beginning of my novel. My prologue, I hope, was sufficiently enticing for you to continue. But I will have to tear you away from your relaxed state and ask you to think now- think of anything you want to for just a few moments.
Now that you have had some practice, we can get right into my introduction. No doubt you are wondering what this novel is about by now. You are not the only one, I assure you; I myself have only a mere inkling of what I will type in my mind, a brief and intermittent glimpse as to what the future sentence holds. What does the next sentence hold, then? A scene of a city in total chaos.
***
The sky was darkening with smoke rising from the distance. People looked up at it curiously, as if it were an alien invader from an old movie with 3 legs and 4 eyes. On the whole, they went about their day, thinking it only a passing phase in the life of the ÔotherÕ part of the city. When they arrived home, they were greeted with an incomprehensible occurrence-their televisions did not work. Neither did the electricity, nor the gas-not even the water system.
Panic began to spread, bursting forth from its prison in the smallest parts of the mind, creating hysteria, rioting and widespread looting. The government was non existent, its authority wiped out with many of its police and fire stations. As the wave of destruction spread, so did the stream of refugees trying to escape; the stream turning to a current, the current to a torrent of people, left only with their hunger and a fear they had never felt before in their lives.
***
The sky was darkening; slowly covering itself with storm clouds, rumbling endlessly. Or, perhaps, to look at it from a different perspective: the sky was a musician, incessantly strumming the same note on its pitch-black guitar.
Beneath it lay a city, strewn about in a chaotic fashion, as if a baby had knocked its toy building blocks to the floor. The city had been burning for a few weeks now, the product of an oil refineryÕs fiery end. The whole picture seemed unreal; as if it were an artificial end to an artificial scene of destruction.
There were scattered remnants of people left, desperate, hungry, abandoned by civilisation. They had not seen the sun shine in weeks; their source of light during the day was a muffled light seeping through the cracks and holes of the clouds.
***
In the East corner of the city, farthest from the reaches of the rest of the world, and closest to the still
raging inferno of the North-Eastern sector, lie our characters. They are faceless, nameless- a blur which would soon be filled with the colour and vibrancy of life. Both belong to two different sides of a conflict-two gangs of starved, vulnerable leftovers; both forced into their positions in life, with no choice, no way to escape from them; both trying to kill the other to survive. Both struggling to escape the hell their lives had become. Were they to meet, it would be not a scene of friendship and camaraderie, but one of death, bullets, and blood.
***
The derelict government office known as "PalmerÕs" was a knife: sleek, metallic, and deadly. Inside one office of this complex sat a small, quiet, seemingly avuncular old man. Fashioning himself as a government employee, Palmer forged exit visas for anyone who could 'persuade' him to do so.
Keeping with his front of officialdom, Palmer managed to keep ÔhisÕ office well kept and furnished. Books never read covered the bookcase; abandoned government stationery was used in each of his letters and memos. To those who did not know him, he was their last ray of a hope; their means of escape. Those who did know this sadistic man, realised it would take much more than an ÔapplicationÕ to leave the city.
ÔThe government official opened the door to his office to let in his nextÉvictim? Client? Refugee? All of the above?Õ
Palmer smiled. It was time to put on the faade once more. He opened the door to the hallway. Families were crowded around here, some starved, others with barely any clothes. He searched for some of the more ÔaffluentÕ people in the corridor, and found one boy who appeared to have an actual gold watch-Ôno doubt stolenÕ.
He walked kindly towards him in his almost reproachful manner, as if he were admonishing him politely for some unknown wrongdoing. Palmer smiled his cheerful smile and beckoned the boy to his office without a word. Surprised, the boy stood up and walked through the door.
ÒGood morning, lad. Take a seat. My name is Lucius Palmer; I am the government officer in charge of immigration from this city. And your name is?Ó
The nervous boyÕs mind raced around in circles, awaiting the slightest request of his saviour.
ÒJames Leicestervild.Ó He answered, lightning fast, eager, nervous to do everything possible to leave the city.
ÒWell James, IÕve looked at your applicationÓ- Lucius had taken a sidelong glance at the sheet of paper James had filled out, but a much longer glance at JamesÕs watch and clothesÓ-, and the good news is that it seems you have a good chance of leaving.Ó
James might as well have melted into the chair; he let out a large sigh of relief.
ÒUnfortunately, there are someÉother requirements.Ó
ÒThese-these requirements, they-they werenÕt listed on the applicationÉÓ
ÒThe application was only the first stage of the process, you understand. There are corrupt officials in charge of key operations involved in this refugee situationÉand the only thing they listen to, unfortunately, is money. So, obviously, I can only allow those who are more affluent to apply, and even then I must go through back channels or make additional bribes. It is horrible to think about, but there are those who think less of men and more of money, and it may take months to persuade them with gifts and money before they allow any application through their doors, let alone into their desks.Ó
JamesÕ eyes flashed open as he felt his departure ripped away from him and that all of his struggles were in vain; everything was useless because he could not sleep at night knowing he would be here for another day more than necessary.
Unfortunately, there are few means to acquire money-you may have to turn to means that areÉdifferent from the usual ways to get money. Now, as I am a government official, I cannot recommend you to go to a person who partakes in theseÉunusual means of acquiring finances-but I do know of a person who happens to live quite comfortably here in this city; you might want to ask him why. His abode is the large apartment building a few blocks from here. You know where it is?Ó
James nodded, more desperate and worried than ever before, and asked the question that Palmer had heard so many times, but still considered a delicacy, to be appreciated for all that it was worth. This question was the culmination of his deceitful glory.
ÒHow much will I have to pay?Ó
-
Novellas are strange beasts-not quite novels, and not quite short stories either. They are in between, unidentified. They are what you make of them-and I will craft mine into a form and shape so wondrous, your very eyes shall be blinded by the rich and beautiful literature that you shall read. However, before we go any further into my boasting, I would suggest you make yourself comfortable, if you havenÕt done so yet.
Please sit down comfortably on a nice leather chair, streeeetch, lean back, and place the book right up in front of you. Be sure to keep your seatbelt on at all times and be aware of the emergency exits-this novella is dangerously good.
Now, I shall delve onwards, into the very beginning of my novel. My prologue, I hope, was sufficiently enticing for you to continue. But I will have to tear you away from your relaxed state and ask you to think now- think of anything you want to for just a few moments.
Now that you have had some practice, we can get right into my introduction. No doubt you are wondering what this novel is about by now. You are not the only one, I assure you; I myself have only a mere inkling of what I will type in my mind, a brief and intermittent glimpse as to what the future sentence holds. What does the next sentence hold, then? A scene of a city in total chaos.
***
The sky was darkening with smoke rising from the distance. People looked up at it curiously, as if it were an alien invader from an old movie with 3 legs and 4 eyes. On the whole, they went about their day, thinking it only a passing phase in the life of the ÔotherÕ part of the city. When they arrived home, they were greeted with an incomprehensible occurrence-their televisions did not work. Neither did the electricity, nor the gas-not even the water system.
Panic began to spread, bursting forth from its prison in the smallest parts of the mind, creating hysteria, rioting and widespread looting. The government was non existent, its authority wiped out with many of its police and fire stations. As the wave of destruction spread, so did the stream of refugees trying to escape; the stream turning to a current, the current to a torrent of people, left only with their hunger and a fear they had never felt before in their lives.
***
The sky was darkening; slowly covering itself with storm clouds, rumbling endlessly. Or, perhaps, to look at it from a different perspective: the sky was a musician, incessantly strumming the same note on its pitch-black guitar.
Beneath it lay a city, strewn about in a chaotic fashion, as if a baby had knocked its toy building blocks to the floor. The city had been burning for a few weeks now, the product of an oil refineryÕs fiery end. The whole picture seemed unreal; as if it were an artificial end to an artificial scene of destruction.
There were scattered remnants of people left, desperate, hungry, abandoned by civilisation. They had not seen the sun shine in weeks; their source of light during the day was a muffled light seeping through the cracks and holes of the clouds.
***
In the East corner of the city, farthest from the reaches of the rest of the world, and closest to the still
raging inferno of the North-Eastern sector, lie our characters. They are faceless, nameless- a blur which would soon be filled with the colour and vibrancy of life. Both belong to two different sides of a conflict-two gangs of starved, vulnerable leftovers; both forced into their positions in life, with no choice, no way to escape from them; both trying to kill the other to survive. Both struggling to escape the hell their lives had become. Were they to meet, it would be not a scene of friendship and camaraderie, but one of death, bullets, and blood.
***
The derelict government office known as "PalmerÕs" was a knife: sleek, metallic, and deadly. Inside one office of this complex sat a small, quiet, seemingly avuncular old man. Fashioning himself as a government employee, Palmer forged exit visas for anyone who could 'persuade' him to do so.
Keeping with his front of officialdom, Palmer managed to keep ÔhisÕ office well kept and furnished. Books never read covered the bookcase; abandoned government stationery was used in each of his letters and memos. To those who did not know him, he was their last ray of a hope; their means of escape. Those who did know this sadistic man, realised it would take much more than an ÔapplicationÕ to leave the city.
ÔThe government official opened the door to his office to let in his nextÉvictim? Client? Refugee? All of the above?Õ
Palmer smiled. It was time to put on the faade once more. He opened the door to the hallway. Families were crowded around here, some starved, others with barely any clothes. He searched for some of the more ÔaffluentÕ people in the corridor, and found one boy who appeared to have an actual gold watch-Ôno doubt stolenÕ.
He walked kindly towards him in his almost reproachful manner, as if he were admonishing him politely for some unknown wrongdoing. Palmer smiled his cheerful smile and beckoned the boy to his office without a word. Surprised, the boy stood up and walked through the door.
ÒGood morning, lad. Take a seat. My name is Lucius Palmer; I am the government officer in charge of immigration from this city. And your name is?Ó
The nervous boyÕs mind raced around in circles, awaiting the slightest request of his saviour.
ÒJames Leicestervild.Ó He answered, lightning fast, eager, nervous to do everything possible to leave the city.
ÒWell James, IÕve looked at your applicationÓ- Lucius had taken a sidelong glance at the sheet of paper James had filled out, but a much longer glance at JamesÕs watch and clothesÓ-, and the good news is that it seems you have a good chance of leaving.Ó
James might as well have melted into the chair; he let out a large sigh of relief.
ÒUnfortunately, there are someÉother requirements.Ó
ÒThese-these requirements, they-they werenÕt listed on the applicationÉÓ
ÒThe application was only the first stage of the process, you understand. There are corrupt officials in charge of key operations involved in this refugee situationÉand the only thing they listen to, unfortunately, is money. So, obviously, I can only allow those who are more affluent to apply, and even then I must go through back channels or make additional bribes. It is horrible to think about, but there are those who think less of men and more of money, and it may take months to persuade them with gifts and money before they allow any application through their doors, let alone into their desks.Ó
JamesÕ eyes flashed open as he felt his departure ripped away from him and that all of his struggles were in vain; everything was useless because he could not sleep at night knowing he would be here for another day more than necessary.
Unfortunately, there are few means to acquire money-you may have to turn to means that areÉdifferent from the usual ways to get money. Now, as I am a government official, I cannot recommend you to go to a person who partakes in theseÉunusual means of acquiring finances-but I do know of a person who happens to live quite comfortably here in this city; you might want to ask him why. His abode is the large apartment building a few blocks from here. You know where it is?Ó
James nodded, more desperate and worried than ever before, and asked the question that Palmer had heard so many times, but still considered a delicacy, to be appreciated for all that it was worth. This question was the culmination of his deceitful glory.
ÒHow much will I have to pay?Ó
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