Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Ike and Ginger

The Adventures of
Ginger Bonneau & Ike Patterson

Chapter One
“The Beginning”

The gravel crackled under the speeding tires of the red coup drove as it sped up the sycamore tree lined passageway to Kensington Manor. As the tired slid to a stop, dust engulfed the sports car. The air cleared by the flash of the open door and the long leg slowly stretching out till the spiked heel rested in the dust. Keys flew through the dusty air to Swen’s open hand while Ginger’s skirt swirled in the turn to the marble steps.
Pressing open the huge oak doors laden in crystal glass dividing the light like prism onto the white and black marble floor. Her heels echoed down the hall pass the floor to ceiling mirror.
Ginger turned right at the end of the dark hallway into the light of the aviary. The sun cast a long shadow as she looked through the French doors at the acres covered in green and woods.
Several minutes past until she reached to the side table for the tall glass of brown liquid, meticulously prepared to her specifications by Swen.
Ginger sipped the liquid as the sound of the outside grew through the room’s silence. Shadows of wings scattered across the floor as she lifted the handle to the green world.
. The rustle of small creatures settled as Ginger walked into the grassy vastness, kicking off her heels to feel the wet dew between her toes. She quickened her pace, as the sounds of chirps and calls became louder. She threw her hands up and twirled in the suns last warm beams. Then lay down in a soft blanket of leaves.
The blue sky was the fast lane for the fluff as it sped goodnight.

Ike walked quickly to his study. He had a mission.
The overhead light was dim, as Ike entered his sanctuary. He paused as the window to view Ginger on the lawn before pulling the floor length curtains to a close.
“Computer On!” Ike ordered as he prepared himself a drink. He opened his canvas pack and un-stuffed a stack of books and papers as the machine whirred to the command.
The screen lit the way to the soft chair as Ike settled in for the night. He shuffled the papers, arranging them in different order and positions, between quick sips. Then he turned to the keyboard.

Back inside, Ginger closed the French doors and said “Good night” to her outdoor friends.
As the sunset, she turned and walked past the roaring fireplace to the kitchen.
The steely blue ice box opened with a chill frost.
Upstairs. Climbing the increasing number of steps. One, two, three, four.... Until finally, the landing strip appeared. Familiar land. She turned and walked softly on the thick oriental runners.
The light beaming under the door lead Ginger to the bath. The warm water was filling the sudsy claw footed tub. Candles lit the incensed smell.
Ginger slipped out of her red satin into the blanket of warm water. As her body slid beneath the surfaces of soft bubbles, she reached for the champagne. Her head lay back to the air filled pillow. Sounds of Celtic music wafted through the air as she closed her eyes. Relax.

Ike pounded on the plastic keys, ever searching for the answer. The right hand grabbed at the mouse and jerked ferociously back and forth to guide the arrow. Me and My Arrow.
His eyes squinted as the dim light lit his face. His eyes raced back and forth with each keystroke.
As the intensity grew, the music became louder. Ike grabbed another drink. He focused on the blue screen.
Another window. Close. Back again. The motor whirred.
Suddenly he paused.
Colors swirled across the glass. Letters flowed up and down, tight, loose, straight, and curved. Lines bend, grew thick, dashed, and faded away. Faces contoured and shaded. Stretched, blurred, bright or skewed.
Anything could happen. The master was at the control.

Ginger patted her powdered body with the thick towel before wrapping it in a warmed robe. A last sip of sudsy liquid, bid adieu to the humid room. She stopped to replace her lost slipper before strolling down the darkened hall to bed.
A quick glance to the light under Ike’s studio door, then opening the heavy entrance to the room of sleep.
Moonbeams lit the grain on the wooden floor. Shuffle to the high mattress. Lay the robe on the hook. Slide onto the warm flannel sheets and pull up the woven wool blankets and homemade quilts. Arrange the pile of fluffy pillows to perfection.
The night quiets as you rest.

The light brightens Ike’s face as he reads the blue screen. His head slowly moves right, then left, then back again. His eyes follow the text as it appears magically on the screen. Letters, words, sentences. Messages from another place. Who is sending these thoughts?
Ike smiles as he sips the tall thick glass. He adjust his glasses, then leans forward to reply. His fingers gently tape the keyboard with skills learned in high school on a manual typewriter.
“What do you mean by that?” he replies.
A smile fills Ike’s face as he reads the response. He leans back in his chair and takes another sips as he ponders the text before him.

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