Prologue: Thus Began the Crises

A brief introduction to some of the characters, the London Event occurs.

 

            I could not begin to tell you of what transpired that fateful day without first introducing myself.

            My name is Roswell Carpenter, son of the great Wallace Carpenter, a menial landowner out of Devonshire. I attended Oxford and suddenly found my mind entrapped by the word of law. I had worked hard in my father’s name and had done him a service worthy of his pride. Soon after, I found myself work in Sheffield, under the Great Lord Humphrey Williams.

            Now that you know who I am, I can continue.

            I remember the day clearly, for all the horrors that were unleashed upon us unsuspectingly. I had gone to see the Lord Williams that day, the First of May in the Year of Our Lord 1742, to discuss a petition to be put forth to the court over some matters of little import. That day, like any others, I brought a bouquet of flowers for the Lord’s lovely young wife, Lisa. Lisa was the daughter of a wealthy merchant, a beauty with long golden hair and full lips. The Lord Williams, a man forty and three years her senior had long been coveting her hand, and in exchange for a forgiven debt, he did claim it.

            She had yet to bear him children. It’s been shared to me, under good authority, that the likelihood of such is a near impossibility. I must confess against my sins that upon making her acquaintance, I had found myself smitten by her in a most unbecoming fashion.

            However, I was a man under the employ of a Lord, and as such I could not forget my station. Neither could I ignore hers.

            “Ah! Roswell!” the Lord Humphrey greeted as the great door to his estate swung open and I stepped inside. “You’ve brought flowers for Lisa! Lad, I must confess, you’re starting to bring her flowers more often than I!” He shook a finger at me. “You’re like to keep an old man on his toes just to keep his wife happy!”

            I smiled. “I came upon a florist on my way here,” he said. “And no good woman should be without flowers, I say.”

            “Well, you are a thoughtful lad, then,” said the Lord Humphrey. “Lisa! Aloysius! Come on out, then! Roswell is here!” 

            Aloysius Deacon was another lawyer that worked for the Lord Humphrey. He was a shrewd and calculating man, but I often found him a bore. God’s word had taken him in such a way that astounded even the most devout of Christians. He would announce to any who would listen that the path of the True Christian is to give oneself wholly over to serve His army, and commit to the spiritual warfare which Christ demanded of his people. I was always a God-fearing man, but the extent to which Aloysius expounded the militant nature of Christ astounded even I.

             The two came out of the Lord’s Study, Aloysius puffing back on an aromatic tobacco pipe, his thin moustache stained yellow. I watched Lisa’s eyes light up as she floated into the room and saw the flowers. She took the flowers from me, curtseying plainly and thanking me coldly. Any man would be confounded by the poles to which she reacted at times. For me, it was doubly so. She often leapt from warm and genuine to cold and distant.

             I could not tell you of what we spoke of in the time afterwards. All I know is that Lisa excused herself to pursue, in her words, more womanly affairs, while Aloysius, the Lord Williams and I discussed the petition. It had been a day like many others, except for one thing.

We three had just put to writ the opening statements of the petition when a most peculiar event stirred us from our task. It was just as the sun began to deep toward the horizon when a strange rumbling came from the Earth below us. A bright, blinding light flashed through the window, tracing shadows on the wall behind us. We found it necessary to shield out gentle eyes from the harshness of it.

             “What the devil?” asked the Lord.

             Aloysius said nothing, whilst I took to my feet and peered out the window.

             What I could see defied description of any sort. There, far, far in the distance rose a spire of flame that stretched deeply into the sky. From the distance of the spire, I judged it to be roughly where London would have stood.

             I could feel the blood rush from my face, paling my complexion. Was that London? Could it have been? What strangeness could have transpired that would create such an abomination?

             The spire began to turn black, as smoke and ash. It rolled over unto itself in the sky, taking on the appearance of a strange black truffle, as massive as the finger of God.

             “My Word!” The Lord exclaimed upon witnessing the column. “Is that London?”

             I could not say, for fear that if I had, would make it to be true.

             “It’s God’s work!” Aloysius declared. His eyes were wild and frightened. “It’s his Divine Judgment! Look!” he stabbed a finger through the window towards the unholy spire. “He rains fire and brimstone upon us! Like Sodom and Gomorrah!” He quickly backed away from the window. “We must repent!” he exclaimed. “We must all repent!”

             “Aloysius, come now,” the Lord pleaded. “Surely it can’t be that!”

             Aloysius only looked back at him. “I must get to the church! We must all go there!”

             I looked out to the spire in the distance. It was starting to spread out into the sky. I looked back to the Lord Humphrey, who then nodded. “Perhaps that would be a good idea,” he said. “I will go and fetch Lisa. Will you find Richard? Have the stage prepared?”

             I could only nod.

Reviews

[Dempsey Wilson (D.L. Wi..]

Nicely done, EJ. You obviously have a gift for storytelling. Excellent characterization, and the dialogue was bang-on. I also liked the fact that this story is taking place in the distant past. You did well in using the proper vinacular of that time. I only saw one error: Lad, I must confess. You're starting to bring her flowers more often than I!

< This sentence should read: Lad, I must confess, you're starting to bring her more flowers than I!
The period between "confess" and "You're" should be a comma.

Excellent writing, though! I look forward to reading the first chapter.