Writing Makes Me Feel Alive
~Patty Fischer
Eighteen
years ago, I found I could write a decent editorial, and short story
after taking some writing courses. I expanded my projects to longer
pieces of fiction, enjoying the research process as much as putting
together characters, scene descriptions, and dialogue. So far I have
managed to have two fiction novels published. "Blood And Eggs" a
crime/horror published in July 2011. "Sweeten The Pot", a spicy
contemporary romance was published in March 2013. The more I write, the
greater my passion for writing builds. In the last two years, I have
added specific platforms to my passion. On Word Press, I write blogs on
issues that I feel outraged about, the link: http://penandstick.wordpress.
INSECT POLITICS
CHAPTER ONE - 2010
A
tall black curly haired gentleman wearing a two-button Brooks Brothers
custom suit crafted in Mongolian cashmere climbed slowly out of a silver
stretched limousine parked in front of a historic majestic building in
the Beaux-Arts tradition. The eye-catching front carried out in Portland
stone, the two upper stories were embraced by an Ionic order of
plain-shafted columns raised on unmolded pedestals. He took his two
hundred dollar sunglasses off to get a good look at The Royal Automobile
Club in Pall Mall, London. An aristocratic gentlemens club comprised of
the upper class and very affluent with different political views,
different interests, and different professions. Senator from Virginia,
USA, Charles Mead entered the stately structure teeming with an
atmosphere of distinction, poise, and extreme wealth, he seldom felt on
Capitol Hill.
He was
approached by a short redheaded man wearing a red jacket with a royal
insignia sewn onto his left pocket just below the well-tailored lapel.
"Can I be of service to you, Sir?" Each word uttered in precise timing
with a sing-song Welsh accent.
"Certainly, I have a meeting with Sir Terrence Percy." The senator said, flashing his engaging smile.
He
was led to the east library on the first floor where the impressive
rose garden can be viewed from the series of window treatments styled
from the Edwardian days. No interior artificial light needed, the
sunlight provided a natural golden sheen to the furnishings surrounding
the small intimate room.
"Sir
Percy, your guest from Virginia has arrived." The polite attendant
announced, then bowed to take his leave. The wealthy aristocrat, CEO of
The Nero Group stood up confident possessing a look of high breeding,
but demonstrated some eccentricities. Revealed immediately, his attire
somewhat inconsistent, his suit jacket off, his fire-engine red Baker
City waistcoat did not much match his more modern cut of pants, pleated
with a quarter-inch cuff at the bottom. "My good man, so join us for
tea. We can discuss issues at hand over the finest brew and some
sweetbreads."
After ten
minutes of small talk, 'how was your flight? your accommodations are in
order not too far from here, and..."These two gentlemen on my right are
regional directors in the states from our expanding divisions - Bruce
Abernathy and Lowell Gibbons." A tall slender older man wearing the same
red jacket brought in a silver tray containing all they needed for
their olfactory needs.
"Senator,
are you familiar with The Nero Group?" Sir Percy asked, his short
cropped hair white as snow glistened in the golden light. His thin lips
opened to show the noticeable gap between his front discolored teeth.
"You
started this corporation in 1992, services of catering, environmental
cleaning, and laundering that now in 2010, the company possesses the
worth value of thirty billion. You turn the public sector institutions
into private sectors that employ workers, giving them a flat wage scale,
very few benefits, and skirt any sign of advancement." Senator Mead
said as he brought Percy's colleagues to a shocked expression. They
thought maybe the senator's acute candor would offend their leader.
A
tension rose, then lingered for only a brief time as Sir Percy leaned
back in his brown leather chair to break forth with a hearty bellowing
laugh. "You have a clever sputter of insight, senator! You have the look
and honesty of a pretty black Irish, but carry yourself like a bloody
Royal!"
"Sir Percy, as more
states passed the 'Right To Work' law, your take on big business
coincides with a majority of our new policies put into motion since the
Economic Crisis in 2008. I have reliable sources saying the Midwestern
states are ripe for an empire such as yours to snatch up service sectors
of hospitals, prisons, and schools. A vantage point, a strategic move
exists in Central Indiana." The thirty-nine year old Republican
eloquently explained, his sapphire eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
"Why Central Indiana?" The pale middle-of-the-road in the looks department, Bruce Abernathy asked, sitting looking puzzled.
"The
region once a prestigious hub for the Automobile Industry has been
gutted when GM and Delco Remy closed a number of assembly plants. The
unemployment rate is at an all-time low, property taxes have fallen onto
the dwindling residents, who desperately need to stay employed." Mead
smiled, delighted in his clever rhetoric, making some visible headway.
"Can
you guarantee legislature cooperation to our distinct guidelines?" Sir
Percy asked, at the same time glancing down at his silver chained pocket
watch attached to adjoining pockets of the waistcoat.
"Sir
Percy, I was a college chum of Senator Will Morton of Indiana. He is
Republican, very pliable to our ways of thinking about privatization.
The other senator is Democrat Andrew Fischer, who can be overruled by
the seven district Congressmen and women." Mead concluded, very pleased
with himself. He rewarded himself by greedily gorging himself on the
buttery square cake-like bread.
"Bruce,
you can give Senator Mead the check now." Sir Percy said as he passed
on a two million dollar check to the Cheshire cat smiling senator. "My
good man, this is for your upcoming re-election campaign. Ironically,
your government is embracing King George III regime after all, a turn
around. I should say, what!"
Beautifully
timed, the white-haired attendant returned to clear the table with the
business matters at a close. "Chester, this is for your trouble." Sir
Percy said, handing Chester a hundred dollar bill.
Taken
aback, Mead was shocked and impressed at the excessive gesture. "That
is the height of service. The last tip I left was to a waiter in
Georgetown, a twenty. My wife and I were dining with a table of eight."
"Free
enterprise is such a gas! When you've got it, you can afford to be
excessive." Lowell Gibbons, a blonde youthful executive spoke for the
first time.
Next chapter introduces the main character of Ava Hester, and the first appearance of the phrase, "Insect Politics".
CHAPTER TWO - FOSTER, INDIANA
Ava
Hester struggled to push her cleaning cart down the winding corridors
of St. John's Memorial Hospital's massive basement. With each ascending
step forward maneuvering a heavy loaded metal cart, pain gripped her
pelvic area on into her inner thighs. Perpetual agony seized her
fifty-nine year old frame, as though she had undergone the gruesome
torture device prevalent during England's reign of the Tudor Dynasty,
the Rack.
There was no time
to be giving in to her immediate malady, she had her orders from radio
message from her supervisor, Mitch Fareway. He wanted her to check the
recently cleaned dismissal rooms on 6South to inspect the work. Despite
the difficulty her hips letting out a muffled popping sound underneath
her navy blue scrubs, she slid into the basement Elevator 11 like a
graceful dancer. Taking a deep breath, "Well, it's gone for now. Thank
you, God!" Ava spoke out only herself to hear. The time was seven-fifty
p.m.
She parked her car
close to the service elevators nestled in front of the locked janitor
closet. Marilyn, a friendly mature large brown-eyed African-American
floor secretary manned the floor's front desk. The nurses and nurse
attendants behind her were taking a break eating and laughing during
their Friday night pitch-in.
"Hey,
Marilyn, how's tricks?" Ava asked as she glance over the Environmental
Tally Book. Marilyn chuckled, then filled her in. "You will see your
gals got to ten dismissals in record time. We seem to be good for now."
Ava
made her way to Room 631, the first of the rooms to inspect for the
nightly quota. Passing Room 601, a lingering foul odor hit her in the
face. She heard a squeaky wilting voice, "Nurse, help me! I had an
accident, nurse!"
What the
Environmental Senior Housekeeper discovered in 601 caused all her senses
to react in a silent revulsion. There laid an elderly woman appeared so
frail, as a victim of the German concentration camps during the
Holocaust in World War II. The sight on the sheets and the odor was
explained why the poor woman was in such distress. The sheet underneath
her ruffled soiled gown was soaked in watery feces, and making its
descent to the floor under her bed. Ava, despite the ever-increasing
mess moved closer to the woman's face to hear her better. "My bag burst.
I've been laying here for what seems like hours."
The
patient's eyes were sunken in. Ava could make out a faint filmy color
of hazel. Suddenly, looking deeper at this woman, she knew who she was.
Beatrice Tibbitts, the author of mysteries that had received widespread
notoriety for the last three decades. Her connection to this woman
brought her back to when her children were in high school. She took a
creative writing course from Beatrice.
"Mrs.
Tibbitts, I will get you help. Just hang on, one moment." Ava pleaded,
then raced to the nurses' station. Typical everyone on staff still
gorging themselves on buffalo wings, loaded baked potato skins, and
carrot cake.
"Look,
Beatrice Tibbitts in Room 601 needs help, Stat! She's been lying in her
excrement for hours!" Ava shouted above the endless chatter and annoying
female cackles of laughter. Marilyn was the only person to reassure Ava
was well among her rights to shout at them. "Is there anything I can
do?"
After two corpulent
nurse assistants in red violet skin-tight scrubs moved toward Room 601,
Ava grabbed her cart. Beatrice, frail as she proved to be, with
assistance was able to make it to the shower for a 'sits bath.' Ava
cleaned every crevice and surface that was affected by the vile mess.
Beatrice was put back in her cleaned bed, freshened by Marilyn putting
on white laundered sheets and a clean lightweight comforter. The four
air in the room much vacated, Beatrice's tubing changed and secured, she
began to recognize her savior. "Ava Hester, are you still writing?" She
asked as she enjoyed a glass of cold water.
"Yes,
I am. Not getting published, my daughter Betsy is a literary agent for
LittleJohn in the heart of San Francisco. I've sent her finished
manuscripts for three years now, no favorable response." Ava said as she
pulled one of the room chairs closer to the patient's bed.
Beatrice
laid there, her eyes stared hard at Ava. "My dear, have you ever heard
of 'Insect Politics'? Survival of the Fittest, the infirmed and the
elderly to be systematically wiped out. Keep writing, you are strong
enough to tell the story. I remember, you had promise." She said then
lowered her head and closed her eyes into an exhausted repose.
Evening
shift at its eventful end, the shock of seeing her former writing
teacher in such a wasted human state deeply disturbed Ava. A puzzlement
developed on the ride home, Beatrice probably in the last stages of
bowel cancer plagued by confusion from all the medicine she was under.
Her body totally taken over by the disease, emaciated beyond reason, but
her mind seemed intact. Her words rang with the intelligence that made
her the well-known writer her large circle of readers knew.
This
tragic encounter began Ava's journey of discovery as leading
corporations blatantly were allowed to distribute damaging additives in
the food supply: processed foods, factory meats, and soda beverages that
the public grew addicted to. Ava's first born, Betsy proved to be one
of the conflicted relationships Ava encountered on her ongoing
discoveries. Later in the book, Betsy changed completely where her
mother was concerned for reasons she discovered that 'Insect Politics'
was going on out West at a rapid rate.
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