Bonus Fun Post! Belle's Car???

As you will learn in later tales from our adventures, Belle may be one of the damned best pilots in the world, but she's not so great behind the wheel of a automobile. Heehee, one bad experience, and now we don't trust her to drive at all. Of course, she did kill herself and Leonard...

Anyway, I came across this marvelous blog post on the web entitled Preserved Moments of Historical Sass, (Vol. 3) and there was this picture of the cutest little car. Maybe we could trust Belle with it...

(Photo found on Shorpy, where you can find it for sale.)

If you get the chance, go check out the blog link. There are some other photos of the 1920s there, along with some other great and sassy pics.

The Next Installment?

Hello dear friends and readers,

I want to apologize for not having an installment of the new story up last Saturday. It....was a long weekend, filled with much sleep. (Mother's Day was very nice, however. I have the perfect husband, for me.)

The story is in need of a LOT more editing than the last one. I thought I'd give you a bit of an idea of just how much work I realized it needed, so here's one of my hard copy pages of the manuscript.

 

 

There's even more ink under those Post-Its. You see, I was writing this in November as my National Novel Writing Month Project, where the goal is to just get it out. And sometimes, getting it down on paper isn't as pretty as other times. This particular story seems to be one of those times. I've got the wrong tense all over the place and the lack of description in some areas is just horrendous. However, the editing for tomorrow's installment is finished. I just need to make the changes on my computer document and get it set to publish. Hopefully I'll hit a point where I wasn't so obviously out of it while writing and it won't need quite so much work to make it readable. But the editing is part of the writing process and it's sometime I've come to enjoy more and more as I get more experienced. The end result is so much more worth the time and effort I've put into it. And it's more worthy the time you take to read it.

 

Melinda

The Watchtower Affair: Peril Aboard the Plane

Part 2
The Watchtower Affair: Now You See It, Now You Don't

Bridgette's Diary
13 February, 1925

            We are in Chicago. I am writing this from some lab at a university while some of my experiments are processing. This time I am trying to create a potent explosive. Here is hoping I don’t blow the place up around us. (I also thin, Diary, that I need my own lab. Something portable so Walter Smith doesn’t always need to arrange space for me in strange places.)

To catch up the narrative, everything was fairly calm until we were close to Chicago. Not too far from the city, Billy Wilde takes it into his head to attack Mr. Smith with what appeared to be a sword composed of concentrated light. Considering the two of them appear to have a good working relationship, this came as a bit of a surprise. Mr. Wilde appeared to be under the control of some outside force. His expression had gone slack and while there was a determined glint in his eyes, it did not appear to be the man before us who was in control. Springing into action, Mr. Long managed to land a blow upon Mr. Wilde that shook him out of whatever trance he was in, although not before his sword cut a gash in the roof of the place. (I’m not sure how the sword functioned, but it did not seem at all frightening until I saw the gash appear. The blade of light cut through the metal skin of the plane’s roof like it was warm butter.)

            Mr. Smith was next for whatever mind control games were happening. The same blank look came over his face as all expression went slack. Pulling his big gun out, he headed for the cockpit, where Belle sat flying the plane. Since the door between the pilot’s area and our area was closed, she had no idea of the danger now heading her direction.

            Once again, Mr. Long was on the mark and managed to land a compelling kick to Mr. Smith’s solar plexus. This enabled him to shake off whatever seemed to be controlling his actions. Whatever was manipulating us then jumped to take control of Mr. Long, perhaps because he had managed to defeat it twice already. He struggled with the door of the cockpit. Grabbing a rather large wrench from nearby, I actually managed to land a glancing blow to the side of his head – just as he managed to pull the door open. Fortunately, the blow was enough for Mr. Long to shake himself out of his trance. Unfortunately, the next target was Belle herself. We discovered the new danger almost immediately as the plane entered into a very steep dive.

            I managed to make it back to my seat and held on for dear life. Kiera was already clutching hers for dear life. Mr. Long, being a bit more foolhardy than I, jumped into the co-pilot’s seat and struggled to get control of the plane. It was either Mr. Smith or Mr. Long who managed to hit Belle hard enough for her to regain control of her thoughts and actions.  By this point the plane was frighteningly close to the ground, but Belle managed to pull us out of an almost certain impact, regaining control once more and heading us into the final bit to Chicago.

            We were all jumpy and on alert for any further attempts to control the minds of our fellow travelers. Fortunately, nothing more untoward happened during the final few minutes, other than Mr. Smith muttering something about tin foil hats. Apparently he believes they can protect one from having their thoughts influenced by outside sources. Belle did decide to show off a bit as we crossed the city proper enroute to the landing field. Apparently she couldn’t resist “barnstorming” downtown. Fortunately, my stomach was able to resist the affects such maneuvers had upon it. And I’m most certain that I am not the only one truly grateful to be upon Terra Firma once again. I believe Keira joined me in kissing the ground. Even the gentlemen seem relieved to be taking deep breaths of fresh air once again.

            After getting our bearings, and stomachs, under control once more, we all pile into a rather large auto and set off for Mr. Rasicci’s office, not too far from the heart of Chicago. I am grateful that it was an uneventful ride. I’m not sure I could have handled more excitement, such as what we had on the plane.

What is going on in Chicago? Find out more next week in the next thrilling installment of The Watchtower Affair....

The Watchtower Affair - It Begins Again

Part 1

The Watchtower Affair: Now You See It, Now You Don’t

Bridgette's Diary

Tuesday, 11 February, 1925

 

 

            Dear Diary, as I was sitting down to tea this afternoon what should I spy landing in the field across from my cottage in Cambridge but a cargo plane.

What the devil is a cargo plane doing in a field in Cambridge? That question was answered in a few moments as the door opened and out jumps a man I’ve never met, followed closely behind by Belle Devereaux. Of course, my next question is to wonder why they here in Great Britain instead of over in the United States. The obvious answer is that they’ve come to see me, but I honestly had no idea why. Just then my telephone rings with a call from the States. Curiouser and curiouser. I easily place the voice on the other end as that belonging to Mr. Walter Smith, asking me if Belle had arrived yet. Answering that yes, she had indeed just arrived, I put the phone down to answer the door. Upon my return to the phone, Mr. Smith asks me to please come with her back to America. They have another incident that they are investigating and the thought is that Miss. O’Reilly and I will be of some assistance. He had already spoken with my superiors at University, covering for my absence. After confirming that there shouldn’t be any living sewer tunnels involved and hopefully no metallic vampires, I get off the phone and give Miss. Devereaux a more proper greeting. Introductions are then made between myself and the mysterious gentleman with her – a Mr. Billy Wild. Actually, he seems to be a bit of a proper cowboy, although Belle assures me that he does indeed work for Walter. She then smiles a little sheepishly and says that perhaps Mr. Smith thought her plane a bit slower than it really is in reality.

            Making us some tea, I gather what little information she could tell me about the current problem. Apparently some folks are just going missing in Chicago. And apparently it is indeed the Chicago that I’m thinking of. You know, the one with the mobsters running around all over the place. There were some other details involving a missing building as well as the missing people. It was there and then it was simply gone and Mr. Smith seems to think that the two occurrences are connected. Very curious. I excuse myself to go pack, making sure to tuck an extra flask into the medical bag, just in case of emergencies. While I find myself liking these fellow investigators, the shocks to the psyche seem to come hard and fast when around them. Goodness knows what we’ll wander into this time.

            After I was ready, we took off in Miss. Devereaux’s, er, I mean, Belle’s plane for Ireland and Keira. Belle estimated that we would return to the Washington, D.C. area by that evening if we could keep on schedule. Fortunately, Mr. Smith was attempting to reach Keira right after his call to me, so she hopefully had plenty of warning.

 

            We are currently enroute to Washington, D. C.; I’m going to stop writing now, although goodness knows when I’ll have another chance to record our experiences. And, thankfully, Belle seems a more than competent pilot.