The Fountain Pen

I discovered that the two-and-a-half year-old battery in my laptop will go from fully charged to nearly empty in less than an hour now. I also discovered that I was (am?) about empty today when it came to the ability to focus on my writing. I recall having a few off days the last two times I did NaNoWriMo. I can only hope I gave myself enough of a lead to compensate else I’ll be writing like a fool during Thanksgiving.

I managed a measly 1,100 words today which is better than nothing, but it’s not the best stuff I’ve written. Here goes:

Chapter Six

They walked in silence, Ignatius leading with Katarina and Joe only a step behind. They passed many shops closed for the day, which struck Joe as odd given that the sun was net yet beginning to set. “The shops close early around here,” Joe commented.

Ignatius either ignored him or did not hear him for he kept walking, arms swishing with almost exaggerated movement. “People around here aren’t much for a night life,” Katarina responded.

“But still, to close now, so early while the sun is still out?”

“My boy, would you want to be cooped up indoors on a day like this?” Ignatius called out.

“Why do you think I’m a freelance designer?” Joe replied sarcastically.

“Precisely!” Ignatius quipped. It was as if Ignatius could see Joe make a face of bafflement for he continued, “You decided ’tis a better life out among the sky and the stars than one sequestered behind walls and a desk. Ergo you carved out a career whereby you could work with the freedom you desired. Alas, we cannot all employ such tactics, else where would your kind go for coffee, conversation, and that beloved free ‘Wi-Fi’?” Ignatius was gesticulating rather wildly and his legs began to high step as if he were marching.

“I don’t get what you mean,” Joe said curtly, getting the feeling he was being mocked by this rather odd man.

“He means, businesses close early so their employees can still get out and enjoy something of the day, and the weather.”

“Precisely!” Ignatius exclaimed a hand raised to the sky, the index finger extended.

“You could have just said that you know.”

“Aye, but where would be the theatrics? Where the grandiloquence of speech? Is not all the world a stage?” he cried in response, his arms sweeping wide. A little old lady hurried across the street when she saw Ignatius bearing down on her. Joe got the impression she was trying to avoid the crack-pot ahead of him.

“What’s with him?” Joe whispered to Katarina.

“At one time he wanted to be an actor, but his reviews were so bad he could not find work. He tried to parlay that into a career with the Big Top but that didn’t work as well as he hoped,” she whispered back.

“Sounds rough.”

“You have no idea. He eventually gave in and became an organ grinder.”

Joe looked askance at Katarina. “You mean one of those guys with the monkey and the crank-powered music box?” Joe said a little too loudly.

Ignatius stopped in his tracks and spun around glaring at Joe. “I will have you know organ grinding was an honest job. Hones!” Ignatius insisted. “And I’ll have words with anyone who says otherwise,” this he said to Katarina.

“You seriously had a monkey and stood on street corners?” Joe asked, despite Ignatius’s veiled threat.

“I did, sir. I endeavored to bring a bit of class, a bit of the appreciation of the finer arts of music to the less privileged of the city dwellers. Little Lucien — my monkey as you called him — would entertain the wee ones while I expanded the horizons of the giant counterparts.”

“You played music for giants?” Joe asked.

“No no my dear boy. I played music for their parents.”

“Oh.”

“But it wan’t just music, my boy!”

“No? Dancing too?”

Ignatius glared at Joe but otherwise let his sarcastic remark pass. “No! I recited poetry. I performed one man plays. I was Horatio and Pip. I was Rumpelstiltskin and Aladdin. I was Romeo and Juliet.”

“I’ll bet that was a site to see,” Joe muttered.

“It was bliss my boy, sheer bliss. But alas,” he threw his hand onto his forehead, striking a melodramatic pose, “it was more than they could bear. I was forced to give up my trade, to set aside my greater calling, until such a time as I am needed.”

“Does he realize he is making a spectacle of himself?” Joe muttered to Katarina.

“I believe that is the point, dear Joseph,” she replied quietly. “Isn’t it Ignatius?” this she said louder.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You are trying to draw attention to yourself.”

“Tsk tsk my dear. I am merely trying to raise the cultural atmosphere of this sleepy little burg.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps you are ensuring people take note of you and your companions should something untoward befall you.”

“What ever do you mean?” Ignatius asked in mock outrage.

“It’s quite clever really, but only if you intend on reneging on the deal.”

“Madam, I don’t even know the meaning of the word renege,” Ignatius said with an overly dramatic sweep of his arm.

“It means to go back on a promise,” Joe supplied with deadpan humor.

“My boy, surely you don’t think that someone such as myself could be capable of such a thing?”

“Mister, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you sprouted wings and tail and terrorized girls and their little dogs,” Joe said in his best little boy voice.

Ignatius laughed heartily, “Well said my boy. Well said. Now let us be off to a far greater stage!” whereupon he spun around on one foot and sticking his chest out began dramatically walking down the street as if he were Lord of Salem.

“It takes all kinds,” Joe muttered under his breath.

They approached a wooded park, Ignatius still leading the way in his enigmatic and eccentric fashion. They walked past a quirky sculpture of animals on parade which gave Joe a pause to wonder if there was more truth than fiction portrayed for all the world to see. They veered away from the water fountain and settled in a gazebo overlooking a ring of flags.

“You always did like parks,” Katarina commented as they took a seat.

“People were less likely to object to my performances,” Ignatius conceded. “Though I’ve been chased out of more parks than I care to recall,” he sighed.

“So who is this Sikander person?” Joe asked. “Was he your acting coach or something?”

Ignatius guffawed. “Sikander act? I would pay to see that. No my boy, he was something far more … sinister.” Ignatius gave Katarina a look asking for permission to divulge information.

“Go ahead. He needs to hear this.”

“Sikander Cavanagh Cranmer was my mentor, this much I’ve already said, you’ll recall.” Joe nodded impatiently. “He was also Helmut’s pupil.” Ignatius paused for effect.

Joe shrugged. “So? What does that have to do with anything?”

Ignatius looked dumbfounded. “How sad it is when the young are jaded,” he lamented. Joe gave Ignatius an icy glare in response. “Helmut had but a few pupils in his life. Much of what he did he kept secret — though it has been suggested he kept a coded diary full of his notes and findings. So when I say that Sikander was a pupil of Helmut’s I mean that he was privy to information that few others ever were, or will be.”