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Post by Christmas Chief on Aug 28, 2010 12:05:38 GMT -5
Thank you Dante! I've started Chapter Eight, but I don't know how long it will be until I can finish it--hopefully soon.
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Post by Christmas Chief on Nov 6, 2010 19:56:31 GMT -5
Chapter Eight: A Flashlight Before Lemony left his office, he surveyed the scene around him. Everything seemed in order—or as in order as he needed things to be—but there was just one other thing Lemony thought he should consider bringing before his departure. He glanced at his desk where a flashlight sat, quietly observing him. Lemony had an odd urge to grab it, but then decided against it when he realized that it’d just be one more thing to carry. Without glancing back, he left. Maneuvering through the city streets was easy for Lemony. Having lots of practice, he was able to arrive quickly at his destination, which in this case was the well-lit area of Ned H. Rirger Theater. This was where Lemony and several other volunteers were viewing the play The Bells of Joy and Vice Versa. Lemony took his seat in the third seat in the tenth row, preparing for the opening line “Hear the bells ring! Help and encourage their sound!” The play was listed as starting an hour later, but performances such as these always began early, so the message for volunteers could be received. The play began as expected, but during the middle there was a rather odd scene. Lemony had written in his commonplace book the words “Help the three children discussed in the last performance. They can be found near—” ten words had been spoken, but as he was awaiting the next an actress wearing an obscure costume suddenly came onto the stage. She had a green antenna popping from her head, and her dress rather resembled a knife. Her smug demeanor echoed off the stage and into the audience, and though it was clear this character did not belong in the play, no one could quite place who she was. Until she spoke, that is. “Lousy people!” She declared, and as she did a spotlight shone only on her figure as the rest of the theater went completely dark. “My name is Esmé Gigi Geniveve Squalor, and the Lane these props resemble is quite unremarkable. Ringing has nothing to do with lanes!” This message was heard by all volunteers present. It was then spread to more volunteers, discussed at meetings, and analyzed by critics. It was only years later when it was finally discovered that Esmé Gigi Geniveve Squalor had sabotaged the play, and changed the lives of three very unfortunate children. In the theater, whispered discussions were taking place, and Lemony remembered them well. “Lousy Lane! Isn’t that where another volunteer moved recently?” “I believe so. That man with a funny double-name?” “It isn’t polite to criticize the names of others.” “Of course, of course. So the three children can be found near Lousy Lane? Do you think our fellow volunteer has turned on us?” “Quite possibly, quite possibly. I certainly hope not. He was a very valuable source of information.”
In another area of the theater, a slightly more structured conversation was taking place.
“It’s nothing to do with Dr. Montgomery, easily.”
“The horseradish—they’re probably being held hostage in the horseradish factory. We must get there quickly.”
“We shouldn’t jump to such grand conclusions, however, it isn’t a bad bet. Isn’t it odd, though, that actress appearing so suddenly? I don’t think her name was listed on the playbill.”
“Her costume was probably to give the code a grand finale. But I’ll check.” But then, after Esmé had spoken and ended the play—the important part of it, anyway—every single light went out, including the EXIT sign Lemony was sitting near. Panic arose, as everyone struggled to reach a switch or a door. If Lemony could light the place, he could tell everyone the message was wrong—that Esmé was not to be trusted. He could quiet the panic, change the future, and fix at least a sixth of the day’s problems. If only he could shine a light on the playbill, on the stage, on the exit, on the truth. This is the point Lemony remembered the flashlight. He remembered how he’d stared at it, and he thought of how much it would come in handy now. Regret churned through him as he thought I should have brought that flashlight. I should have brought a flashlight.
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Post by Dante on Nov 7, 2010 3:52:39 GMT -5
I'm a big fan of fics which fill in holes in the series, so this went down well with me. I like your use of Sebald Code as something experienced by volunteers in the text rather than something for us to decode ourselves. “My name is Esmé Gigi Geniveve Squalor, and the Lane these props resemble is quite unremarkable. Ringing has nothing to do with lanes!” And I really like these lines, for some reason. I think it's the unusual sentence construction sometimes necessitated by Sebald Code.
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Post by Christmas Chief on Nov 7, 2010 6:47:47 GMT -5
Thanks Dante! It's awkward trying to get "lane" and "ring" into the same sentence, as you've noted, but I don't think the volunteers really care as they're not there for entertainment.
This is actually the anecdote that went with the regret line in THH.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 7, 2010 9:58:12 GMT -5
Great chapter, Sherry Ann, and I enjoyed the introduction of Esme. Her outfit was definitely something she would wear, not to mention that it greatly complements her long, red nails. I expected her to start ranting of how the props were out, or lanes, or ringing. XD
If only Lemony had decided to pick up that flashlight before leaving for the theater! But isn't that usually the luck of the character in ASoUE - to realize too late that doing things differently would have changed so much? ^^
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Post by Christmas Chief on Nov 7, 2010 11:26:18 GMT -5
Thank you! I expected her to start ranting of how the props were out, or lanes, or ringing. XD I wish I would have thought of that.
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Post by Hermes on Nov 7, 2010 13:01:46 GMT -5
Brilliant! I've always wondered about the flashlight. And because we always get Sebald Code on a page, it's easy to forget that VFD members have to decode it as they go along, in a film or play.
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Post by Christmas Chief on Nov 10, 2010 16:01:49 GMT -5
Chapter Nine: Beatrice[/u] Lemony sat in his office, reading the letters that had been sent to him so many years ago. He reviewed his notes scribbled in the margins, the codes underlined, the anagrams solved. He walked over to his window—it had a rather interesting view—and stroked a pigeon, feeding it bird seed and bread crumbs. He looked out into the gray sky, watching shadows come closer and closer. He’d never have imagined that those shadows were delivering the worst news of his life. Meanwhile, though, he sat by his desk and remembered some of the times he’d had with Beatrice. He’d sent her a letter some days ago, and was expecting a reply sometime soon. He recalled one of his first conversations with her, in that room made entirely of green wood... The moment Lemony walked into the room all his worries about arriving at the wrong address evaporated. The green wood was prominent, and Lemony knew immediately he was in the right place. The class hadn’t started yet. Lemony had always believed, long before he was taught, that arriving early was one sign of a noble person. He apparently wasn’t the only one that held that view, because he noticed three girls in a corner of the room having some conversation about anagrams. One member of the group he’d recognized was Beatrice—her report on the science of hypnotism was memorable and accurate, and he’d enjoyed it very much. Walking over to the group, Lemony decided to point out the over-achieving punctuality everyone present had accomplished. “You know, I’ve always believed arriving early was a sign a person was noble.” He spoke directly to Beatrice. Her friends chuckled, for some reason, and Beatrice looked rather uncomfortable... Lemony awaited anxiously outside the East Gate. He didn’t know if Beatrice would agree to join him, or even if she had gotten his note. But then, he saw someone of Beatrice’s exact appearance approach, and he knew she had accepted his invitation. Together, they proceeded to a nearby café where some very tasty root beer floats were being served. This became routine, and soon enough Lemony and Beatrice were meeting regularly for root beer floats. The only difference was that they now met at midnight. They met as often as possible...
Testily, the workers at the café put up the chairs as they waited for Lemony and Beatrice to leave. They finished the last of the root beer float, and Lemony slipped a ring with a complicated history onto her finger... And suddenly Lemony was back in his office. The memories blurred together, and the past and the present were almost indistinguishable. Two additional pigeons were waiting for him on the windowsill, carrying a very thick packet of papers. Lemony suddenly felt cold. He didn’t know why, but suddenly the air seemed thinner. He carefully removed the pack from under the bird’s feet, and recognized the handwriting immediately. Dearest Lemony, the letter began. Lemony scanned the packet, and felt his heart drop. He read from the beginning, and he read into the middle, and he read until the end. There, attached to the end of the long manuscript, was a ring with an “R” emblazoned in the wood. Lemony felt his heart shatter. It supported everything written in the pages, but Lemony still could not believe it. He set the ring aside, and began reading again, from the beginning. Three and a half times he read the letter. He read until the truth had fully sunk into his being, and any happiness he’d ever known was buried deep into its depths. He walked towards the pigeons, deciding at least they could benefit from his sadness. But he couldn’t erase the memory of the letter, and the thoughts that must have provoked it. This was something that would remain with him for the rest of his life.
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Post by Dante on Nov 10, 2010 16:07:38 GMT -5
You haven't been rereading TBL lately, have you, Sherry Ann? This does a good job of presenting some of its moments in narrative rather than epistolary form. But what is the meaning of this recent burst of written activity?
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Post by Hermes on Nov 10, 2010 17:36:29 GMT -5
Ah, how sad! Very nicely retold. I especially like the bit about the pigeons benefiting from L's sadness.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 11, 2010 9:44:35 GMT -5
Such a sad chapter, but lovely all the same! I really enjoyed your version of this famous moment in ASoUE history. At first I expected the scene would cover Lemony's reaction to Beatrice's death, considering the mention of "the worst news of his life", but there's no reason why their breakup wouldn't be on equal grounds with that. I loved your interpretation of the couple's first encounter, too, btw - it made me chuckle. I found it quite sweet, as well, the mention of Lemony's enjoyment of Beatrice's report on hypnotism. He's such a Jerome, what with his careful observance to all things the girl he loves does.
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Post by Christmas Chief on Nov 11, 2010 16:05:05 GMT -5
Thank you for the comments, all! But what is the meaning of this recent burst of written activity? I'd rather like to wrap this up before a certain date.
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Post by Christmas Chief on Nov 13, 2010 6:35:24 GMT -5
Chapter Ten: Facing Evil[/u] Lemony enjoyed coming to the dairy, even though he knew it was dangerous. It was a quiet place, despite its line of work, and Lemony quite liked to review his notes when there was little to distract him. At the moment, he was leafing through his commonplace book, reading through an interview he’d had with a librarian quite some years ago. It was before he’d completed his training, and Lemony had to marvel at just how different he was then. “Self:” he’d written. [Humming soft tune whilst waiting for Mr. L] Mr. L: [Arriving] Young lady, have you been good to your mother? Self: Pardon? Mr. L: Ah, oh, I see. Well, never mind. You had a specific question upon which you wished to inquire...?
Self: Yes. I was wondering if you’d seen a person matching the following description: One eyebrow, rather tall, sinister looking?
Mr. L: Why, my child, I see one every day!
Lemony remembered the librarian’s response and now, in hindsight, it was an excellent response. Lemony envied his ability to evade questions with such skill, and it was knack he wished to acquire some day.
While he was flipping past other memories, though, he sensed that he was being watched. He felt the uncanny sense that alerted him danger was near. Of course, Lemony always carried around a healthy dose of paranoia, but this was entirely real. He looked around, but didn’t see anything of interest—which isn’t to say nothing of interest was there. The only thing in Lemony’s line of vision was the tall grass that surrounded the dairy, the dairy itself, and a cow lurking a few yards away. Lemony returned to his notes.
Moments later, however, he felt the feeling again, and looked up to see that the cow had moved closer. Come to think of it, it was a very suspicious-looking cow, but he realized this too late. Snap! Went the camera, and the light blinded him so he could never be sure whether the vision of the cow hurrying away on two legs actually happened or was a scene from his imagination.
Whatever the case, when his vision returned in full the cow was gone. And so was, as far as he was concerned, Lemony’s identity.
Years of training had prepared him for this. Lemony pulled his hat over his face and ducked beneath the weeds. He crawled through the maze using only the mental map he’d memorized months before. He crawled until he reached headquarters, where a volunteer was prepared for incidents such as this.
The volunteer immediately began to reconstruct his appearance. By the time she had finished, Lemony could have been anyone. The important thing now was to blend in.
******** The next day, Lemony walked along the street. He passed a fountain, an odd mailbox, and strange conversations. He would have kept walking straight ahead had he not heard a voice say to another person,
“That Lemony Snicker character is at it again,” it said, “read this.”
Lemony paused to listen as the other person took The Daily Punctilio from the first person’s hands.
“Well, isn’t that something? And what an interesting face.” Lemony found this comment particularly striking, and waited until the pair left to examine what remained of the newspaper.
LEMONY SNICKER
Was the headline. Underneath that was one of the most dreadful things that could happen to Lemony; his face blown up in perfect clarity. (Of course, “blown up” is the expression used to refer to a picture being expanded by a certain size, not deranged by an explosive device.)
The article continued to describe that Lemony might have burned down the dairy, had it not been for a trusty detective disguised as a cow.
Lemony panicked. He considered fleeing the country. The chaos on the street was suddenly incredibly noticeable, and he realized he mustn’t ever let his face be caught on camera again. If he could accomplish this, everything might just turn out all right. Maybe.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 13, 2010 10:28:29 GMT -5
Oh! So this is the reason Lemony's face is never turned toward the camera in photographs! Very interesting take on this, Sherry Ann, and certainly something I can see having occurred in the canon. And would you believe I suspected that cow almost from the beginning? I wonder who the disguised person was? I loved the line concerning the "healthy dose of paranoia". I don't think one can get more Lemony than that. ;D Lemony Snicker. *giggles* Now, I wonder who's responsible for that little error?
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Post by Dante on Nov 13, 2010 13:01:28 GMT -5
I started reading this earlier, but then had to leave for several hours. I have a vague sense that "Mr. L." might actually be the character's original name... did you pick it for any particular reason? But yes, this is a good reconstruction of the reason Lemony has to hide his face, and I agree with it, and I also like how you tied it in to events at the dairy.
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