Chapter #3Herbert Neuman by: Gimlet   'The Retreat' was aptly named. A retreat from civilization. A retreat from his 'friends'. A retreat from his fans. Oh, and from the ground as well.
Herbert looked out of his window as he rested his elbow on his writing desk and gazed down into the gorge. The view from up here was truly breath-taking, but he'd lived here for almost seven years now, ever since his 'big break' happened and he ran screaming from Fame. Now, with this little 'shack' (OK, mini mansion was closer. Very expensive and well fitted, just small), a good satellite internet connection and a computer he could send his novels to his agent remotely and not need to see anyone. Ever.
The first wake up call after he'd got his 'big break' had been his brother.
"Just a few grand... you can spare it."
Things had gone down hill from there. His family relations hit rock bottom on pretty much the third day after the first royalty check arrived, and his attempts to meet people to talk to outside his family got even nastier. His books since then had taken a slightly darker tone, definite works on the nature of the human condition... ie selfish and greedy. He had made a conscious effort to lift the tone in his works as even he had thought 'Darkness Conquers' had been over the top, but in the six years since then his works had gone from strength to strength. He very occasionally agreed to a web conference call, and once an online connection to a TV chat show. Other than that he was here, with the mountain, trees and his shack, and that was enough.
Leaning back he looked across the garden, the thin stretch of green along the cliff edge, and smiled. He'd known nothing of gardening when he'd set this place up and had to rely on airlifts or donkey trains to bring in supplies. It had taken quite a while to get good at it, but the soil here was very rich. Now he barely needed anything. He even had a little workshop to fix mechanical things (as much as his limited technical experience could deal with) and also had about five backups of anything he needed that he couldn't fix down in the basement... including his computers; desktops and laptops. He still occasionally got a helicopter landing supplies, but generally it was about once a year. He could just about put up with that.
*Knock knock!*
With a crunch Herbert fell over backwards in his chair, his heart beating like a drum! What the hell? The front door? Wait, he didn't have a knocker on it!
He shakily got to his feet and managed to calm down, though he was still nervous as he approached the door. Flinging it wide he found... nothing. Just his garden, the helipad and the path down the mountain.
"Hello? Are you my Father?"
Herbert jerked, glancing down and seeing a pink baby laying naked on his doorstep, no swaddling, no cradle, nothing. Just a baby! He blinked and stared at the infant for several seconds. It was obviously a girl, and clean and seemed healthy, but was unusually still and calm looking for such a young one.
"I said are you my Father?" the baby said clearly, in a rather cultured feminine tone. That sounded like an adult British woman but it was the baby, he saw her lips move.
"I... me? What?" he said articulately.
The girl frowned and crossed her tiny arms.
"Oh, did I get it wrong? I'm sorry, I thought I'd worked out English well enough." Suddenly a melodious operatic voice rang in his mind, complete with trumpets and a choir backing; "HOW IS THIS, BETTER?"
"Ack!" Herbert said, and fainted.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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