ben woestenburg
Bio
A blue-collar writer, I write stories to entertain myself. I have varied interests, and have a variety of stories. From dragons and dragonslayers, to saints, sinners and everything in between. But for now, I'm trying to build an audience...
Stories (104/0)
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chapter 14 part 4 (IN THE AFTERNOON OF A FAUN) iv Artie looked down at Agatha laying on the bed, her body half covered by the bedsheet, the rest of it dressed in shadows; the late afternoon light breaking through the windows. He was standing at one of two windows, looking out at the small village below, his naked reflection mirrored in the window glass where he could see her watching him. He turned to look at her, smiling.
By ben woestenburg3 years ago in Filthy
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chapter14 (second installment: part 3) iii Claire looked up at what she’d always considered was the elegance of Marlborough House, marvelling at the beauty of it; the ivied gables seemed to give the house an air of grace she felt was missing from many of the other Manor houses in the area. That’s because Marlborough House is the oldest, she told herself. It was a distinction she’d never taken into consideration before, but she knew it made a difference when you worked in a place like this. She’d told Greggson as much when she’d first made arrangements two weeks earlier to bake three dozen pies. Artie had insisted she make the effort, and while Greggson had been reluctant to accept her help at first—and what cook would want her in their kitchen, she wondered?—she’d explained exactly that to Artie, and a week later Greggson had reluctantly agreed.
By ben woestenburg3 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chap 9 pt2 (IS LOST TO ALL CONVENTION...) Lunch was a sumptuous affair served in a gazebo overlooking the gardens; the only access to it was an outdoor staircase forty feet wide bordered with rhododendron, hyacinth, and azalea no longer in bloom. Artie counted thirty steps before losing count. The gazebo was built on a landing above the garden, its base a wall of solid brickwork stained green by lichen, moss, and time. Artie looked out at the endless passage of walkways, their red and white brickwork meandering through the garden Artie imagined would be a mosaic of colours during the summer. There were decorative benches and delicately made arbours that were almost hidden in tight recesses. Two streams of water tumbled down two troughs of broken stones—the water eagerly catching the afternoon sun in a cascade of colours. Willow trees wept in the distance, near a greenhouse, their tentacled branches dancing in a light breeze, scratching at the sky—but the sky was a clear blue, what few clouds there were earlier, blown out to sea long ago.
By ben woestenburg3 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
(In The Afternoon With A Faun...) i Artie carried the boxes up the stairs, looking every bit the servant he felt he was, watching Agatha ahead of him trying to fit the key into the door. The Inn was typical for a village the size of Chumley, he supposed; no more than six rooms, with a narrow hallway, a wooden floor worn out through years of use, and the walls painted a faded yellow. Three new electric fixtures lit the hallway, as well as four large windows letting in the late afternoon light.
By ben woestenburg3 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
iii Gabby sat down on a bench to watch the couple across the street. She’d first spotted them when they stopped off at the Town Hall earlier. She’d just happened to be out and about herself, running errands and picking up foodstuffs from the market on the corner of Fore and George Streets when she saw them. She knew the woman for one of the town’s Constables.
By ben woestenburg3 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chap 4 - Pt 3 (ARE SEETHING WITH CONTENTION...) iii Berry directed Nigel to the East Library, guiding him soundlessly through wide hallways hung with elaborate paintings, sculptures, and wall hangings he wished he had the time to examine. He knew he'd give anything to sit in one of the hall chairs and make endless studies. All the same, it was an ostentatious show of wealth, and little else, he thought. Like the jacket Berry had given him to wear, a little long in the sleeves. He willingly admitted to himself the paintings were quite fanciful, and while they were possibly quite valuable, it also reminded him that the people working the farmsteads on the outlying grounds probably paid for many of these treasure with their toils. It was another example, as far as he was concerned, of the extravagance of riches. People, monied people, seldom think of anything but their own welfare—which for the most part is the same for everyone else—and while he may have felt that it would be better to share the wealth, he knew that type of thinking in today’s world was impossible.
By ben woestenburg3 years ago in Fiction
CHAPTER 13
ii The Chancellory boarding house stood at the end of Broadmoor Lane. Originally an Old Country inn, it was at least two hundred years old. A gentle claw of ivy owned one side wall and part of the chimney. The inn itself had recently been converted into a more modern dwelling by offering its guests the comforts of an enclosed latrine. The seat sat over a small stream on the downward slope, spilling over rocks and emptying into a large holding pool before cascading down a slough on its way to a water wheel and granary at the bottom of the hill. There was an elm tree sitting alone at the end of the property, its contempt for Nature’s worst evident in its twisted pantomime of defiance. The yard had been weathered through the years, tortured by the elements, but every year the yard would have to be scythed and the fresh scent of cut green lawn would fill the fields. But the seasons had turned and the elm was a simple silhouette of its former self.
By ben woestenburg3 years ago in Criminal
Monstrum horrendum
The sky was a dark grey—battleship grey I think they called it—the clouds a dark smear on the horizon. That’s where we’re going, they told us: Over the hills and far away. I didn’t have the strength to go any farther, so my father carried me in his arms, trying to keep up with the group, but falling farther behind with each step, until we were so far behind they had to wait for us to catch them up. I was four years old at the time; it’s one of the oldest memories I have of my father. Him carrying me until he couldn’t go any farther, dying out there in the loneliness with no one but his child to mourn him. When the others found us, I was sitting at his side, crying, the small locket my mother asked me to hold for her clutched tight in my hands.
By ben woestenburg3 years ago in Fiction
CHAPTER 13
i The drive from Chumley to Okehampton was usually little more than half an hour; with the mood they were in after having met DCI Biles, it took Sonia an extra fifteen minutes to make the drive. The countryside was mostly farmland, the sky a light turquoise colour with large cumulus clouds moving in from the East. Farms, with hedgerows marking their boundaries, and trees of every colour swaying in a gentle breeze, appeared, and just as quickly, disappeared from view. A few of the small villages set off from the roadside were approached by narrow tracks of dirt worn deep by centuries of use. It was the type of drive Sonia usually enjoyed. She could see cows grazing lazily in the wide, open pastures, and sheep dotting the hillsides. Swans swam lazily in open ponds created by the recently flooded rivers and streams, and she wondered how long it would be until the water finally receded.
By ben woestenburg3 years ago in Criminal
JACK OF DIAMONDS
iv “I want to know who she is,” Chernetsov said, his voice low, controlled, but threatening. He looked at the three men sitting in front of his desk. It was obvious, even to him, that he was fighting to keep himself under control—he could see that looking at his reflection in the mirror behind them—where it was obvious he was fighting to control the anger threatening to get away from him.
By ben woestenburg3 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
iii Magda was the first one to see him. She’d heard the sickening thud as he landed on the carpeted floor, and turned to see him trying to sit up before he fainted. Her scream echoed through the open foyer. She was at his side before she knew what she was doing—panic stricken—not knowing what to do, or how she should hold him. His face was ashen, his lips turning blue, and then she looked down the length of his body seeing the damage to his leg.
By ben woestenburg3 years ago in Fiction
JACK OD DIAMONDS
CHAPTER 12 Part TWO (WHILE IN THE DOMINION OF...) Anatoly watched his father walk away, thinking if he could retrieve the Cromwell Skull, he might be able to pay off some of the bills he’d picked up over the last months. One thing he’d discovered at great cost to himself, was the amount of money needed to run a counter-revolution. He doubted very much if his father would help him out of the hole he’d found himself wallowing in. Knowing him as he did, Anatoly assumed his father would simply tell him it was his problem to sort out.
By ben woestenburg3 years ago in Criminal