After my first few days of posting here, I thought: this place is good, and useful and friendly to boot. Maybe I'll stick around.
So I did.
I'm working on a new novel, tentatively titled Man O'War. It's still pretty immature, but I'm reasonably excited about it.
Here's Chapter 1 (about 1100 words). It's first draft, so I expect there to be a couple of glitches here and there. But I'd like to know whether or not it roughly works, what doesn't work, and if there's enough intrigue to keep people reading.
I look forward to seeing what people make of it!
~
Chapter 1 – Dhiraj
Dhiraj knew the rain stopped this distance from the coast, but it still made him uneasy. It wasn’t natural to be without the rain. He jerked the throttle down into a low rumble, and his seine skiff iDiviner slowed to a crawl. Even in the wheelhouse he was soaked, so he wiped the greasy sleeve of his raincoat across his face. In the darkness its garish yellow became dirty mustard. Once iDiviner had slowed to a halt he switched on the floodlight and pointed it portside, bathing the water in electric moonlight. He hopped out of the wheelhouse and clambered down. The North Sea’s cold whip lashed his face, taking the breath from him, but he bore it, looking upon the gentle horizon. Even under the floodlight, he couldn’t see the purse seine net, but he could imagine it, swelling with bounty just beneath the surface. He smiled in spite of the cold; no, because of the cold. The cold brought them swarming. He’d bring a bumper harvest back home tonight. That little line, invisible in this blinding blackness, demarked his offshore empire. Tomorrow it might be somewhere else, and the day after somewhere else still, but it always warmed him to know a little piece of this earth would be his, if only for a short while. He headed aft and threw his weight behind the power block lever, cranking it into life. Somewhere out of sight the power block wheezed and creaked, dragging the chain back inside the hull, closing the dragnet. Odd spots of rain floated in the air, reassuring him of the shoreline’s presence somewhere beyond his eyeline.
It was a few minutes before the bounty began to show at the surface. Dhiraj grinned. Not everyone could see the little beauties, but his was a trained eye. The slightest trace of a tiny light blue shadow quivered below the water’s break. Then another. Another. Soon hundreds, then thousands of the little jellyfish shadows throbbed ever so gently with the thrum and swim of the current. When he shut off the power block the dragnet nodded up and down agreeably just off portside, and he swung around to clamber back up to the wheelhouse.
When at the top he engaged the throttle, took another look at the dragnet under lights, and cursed. He could see a piece of plastic caught in the net; a crumpled corner poking above the water offensively. He shook his head and cursed. Could be a plastic bag. Murderous bloody things, he thought. He irritably threw the throttle back into neutral. He’d have to fish it out before some of the fish suffocated in it; or worse, he’d sell on the catch with the bag in, only for it to become part of the food chain. That’d happened before to friends of his, and it was the responsibility of the fisherman to make sure that didn’t happen. Once on deck he slid the stepladder along the gunwale, grabbed a pole hook and climbed over the side. The sea splashed around his ankles, and the blue shadows lapped at his thick black boots like pet dogs. He reached out, straining, and hooked the plastic bag. He yanked it towards him, but when it didn’t move he almost hauled himself into the water, and would have fallen if he hadn’t scrabbled back to the ladder in time. Bloody hell. If there was one thing worse than a plastic bag, it was a full plastic bag. God knows what was in it. Cursing anew, he hooked his elbow around the stepladder rung for greater stability and reached again. This time he gave it a firm pull with the hook, and the little finger of material started to rotate and rise to the surface: first a small, crinkly triangle, then bigger. Not a disposable plastic bag; thicker than that; a vacuum-packed bag, large, getting larger as the material bobbed to the surface, pushing the blue moon jellies out of the way, eager to break the surface. He saw something white and translucent inside, difficult to discern amongst the waves and jellies, but then it spun about quickly, catching the glare of the floodlight.
When the face emerged from the water enclosed in the plastic Dhiraj cried so loudly he shocked himself, grabbing the ladder tightly with both hands and dropping the pole in the water with a limp splash. He was shivering, and his eyes were blurred with water. Had he been shivering already from the cold? And had his eyes been filled with rainwater before, or was this all new? He pressed his forehead to the freezing cold bulk of iDiviner’s hull and closed his eyes. When he opened them, the ship was still there. He turned his head to the water and breathed slowly, trying to slow his heartbeat.
Sh*t. Sh*t sh*t sh*t.
He turned. The body was still there, serene and ghostly over the bioluminescence of the moon jellies, partially obscured by the glare of the floodlight bouncing off the plastic wrapping. His breathing had calmed now. He hadn’t seen a dead body since his Aunt Kiri’s funeral, but back then the sullen teenager in him had been repulsed by the rituals, the flowers, the incense, his aunt’s puffy body, shiny with exuberantly-applied makeup, and the whole damn need to structure something so profound as human grief. He didn’t feel that way now. To his great surprise, he found himself muttering, “supreme light, lead us from truth to untruth, from darkness to light and from death to immortality.” He probably hadn’t said the words since that very funeral as Aunt Kiri was consumed by the crematorium’s fire. But Aunt Kiri had died of a heart attack – too much ghee and whiskey – whereas who could say what had happened to this poor wretch, wrapped up in plastic and dumped in the sea? The wrongness of it all hit him about the head like a jackhammer, over and over.
Dhiraj shook the whys and wherefores away. He couldn’t think about how it had got there, or who might be responsible. That wasn’t his problem. His job was to fish it out, and hope his catch wasn’t too contaminated. The body had rolled onto its front, its nakedness obvious yet indistinct. He stepped down into the water, picked up the pole and reached across to the body. His hands were still trembling, and apprehension still hung about it, but he mastered it, and after a few attempts the body was within touching distance. As he pulled it close and lifted the head out of the water, his distaste lessened somewhat. The face was calm, peaceful even. It didn’t look distressed, or as though it had suffered any violence. It almost looked asleep, melting Dhiraj’s fears away.
But when it opened its eyes Dhiraj screamed and lost his grip, and the sea greeted him with an icy kiss.
~
So I did.
I'm working on a new novel, tentatively titled Man O'War. It's still pretty immature, but I'm reasonably excited about it.
Here's Chapter 1 (about 1100 words). It's first draft, so I expect there to be a couple of glitches here and there. But I'd like to know whether or not it roughly works, what doesn't work, and if there's enough intrigue to keep people reading.
I look forward to seeing what people make of it!
~
Chapter 1 – Dhiraj
Dhiraj knew the rain stopped this distance from the coast, but it still made him uneasy. It wasn’t natural to be without the rain. He jerked the throttle down into a low rumble, and his seine skiff iDiviner slowed to a crawl. Even in the wheelhouse he was soaked, so he wiped the greasy sleeve of his raincoat across his face. In the darkness its garish yellow became dirty mustard. Once iDiviner had slowed to a halt he switched on the floodlight and pointed it portside, bathing the water in electric moonlight. He hopped out of the wheelhouse and clambered down. The North Sea’s cold whip lashed his face, taking the breath from him, but he bore it, looking upon the gentle horizon. Even under the floodlight, he couldn’t see the purse seine net, but he could imagine it, swelling with bounty just beneath the surface. He smiled in spite of the cold; no, because of the cold. The cold brought them swarming. He’d bring a bumper harvest back home tonight. That little line, invisible in this blinding blackness, demarked his offshore empire. Tomorrow it might be somewhere else, and the day after somewhere else still, but it always warmed him to know a little piece of this earth would be his, if only for a short while. He headed aft and threw his weight behind the power block lever, cranking it into life. Somewhere out of sight the power block wheezed and creaked, dragging the chain back inside the hull, closing the dragnet. Odd spots of rain floated in the air, reassuring him of the shoreline’s presence somewhere beyond his eyeline.
It was a few minutes before the bounty began to show at the surface. Dhiraj grinned. Not everyone could see the little beauties, but his was a trained eye. The slightest trace of a tiny light blue shadow quivered below the water’s break. Then another. Another. Soon hundreds, then thousands of the little jellyfish shadows throbbed ever so gently with the thrum and swim of the current. When he shut off the power block the dragnet nodded up and down agreeably just off portside, and he swung around to clamber back up to the wheelhouse.
When at the top he engaged the throttle, took another look at the dragnet under lights, and cursed. He could see a piece of plastic caught in the net; a crumpled corner poking above the water offensively. He shook his head and cursed. Could be a plastic bag. Murderous bloody things, he thought. He irritably threw the throttle back into neutral. He’d have to fish it out before some of the fish suffocated in it; or worse, he’d sell on the catch with the bag in, only for it to become part of the food chain. That’d happened before to friends of his, and it was the responsibility of the fisherman to make sure that didn’t happen. Once on deck he slid the stepladder along the gunwale, grabbed a pole hook and climbed over the side. The sea splashed around his ankles, and the blue shadows lapped at his thick black boots like pet dogs. He reached out, straining, and hooked the plastic bag. He yanked it towards him, but when it didn’t move he almost hauled himself into the water, and would have fallen if he hadn’t scrabbled back to the ladder in time. Bloody hell. If there was one thing worse than a plastic bag, it was a full plastic bag. God knows what was in it. Cursing anew, he hooked his elbow around the stepladder rung for greater stability and reached again. This time he gave it a firm pull with the hook, and the little finger of material started to rotate and rise to the surface: first a small, crinkly triangle, then bigger. Not a disposable plastic bag; thicker than that; a vacuum-packed bag, large, getting larger as the material bobbed to the surface, pushing the blue moon jellies out of the way, eager to break the surface. He saw something white and translucent inside, difficult to discern amongst the waves and jellies, but then it spun about quickly, catching the glare of the floodlight.
When the face emerged from the water enclosed in the plastic Dhiraj cried so loudly he shocked himself, grabbing the ladder tightly with both hands and dropping the pole in the water with a limp splash. He was shivering, and his eyes were blurred with water. Had he been shivering already from the cold? And had his eyes been filled with rainwater before, or was this all new? He pressed his forehead to the freezing cold bulk of iDiviner’s hull and closed his eyes. When he opened them, the ship was still there. He turned his head to the water and breathed slowly, trying to slow his heartbeat.
Sh*t. Sh*t sh*t sh*t.
He turned. The body was still there, serene and ghostly over the bioluminescence of the moon jellies, partially obscured by the glare of the floodlight bouncing off the plastic wrapping. His breathing had calmed now. He hadn’t seen a dead body since his Aunt Kiri’s funeral, but back then the sullen teenager in him had been repulsed by the rituals, the flowers, the incense, his aunt’s puffy body, shiny with exuberantly-applied makeup, and the whole damn need to structure something so profound as human grief. He didn’t feel that way now. To his great surprise, he found himself muttering, “supreme light, lead us from truth to untruth, from darkness to light and from death to immortality.” He probably hadn’t said the words since that very funeral as Aunt Kiri was consumed by the crematorium’s fire. But Aunt Kiri had died of a heart attack – too much ghee and whiskey – whereas who could say what had happened to this poor wretch, wrapped up in plastic and dumped in the sea? The wrongness of it all hit him about the head like a jackhammer, over and over.
Dhiraj shook the whys and wherefores away. He couldn’t think about how it had got there, or who might be responsible. That wasn’t his problem. His job was to fish it out, and hope his catch wasn’t too contaminated. The body had rolled onto its front, its nakedness obvious yet indistinct. He stepped down into the water, picked up the pole and reached across to the body. His hands were still trembling, and apprehension still hung about it, but he mastered it, and after a few attempts the body was within touching distance. As he pulled it close and lifted the head out of the water, his distaste lessened somewhat. The face was calm, peaceful even. It didn’t look distressed, or as though it had suffered any violence. It almost looked asleep, melting Dhiraj’s fears away.
But when it opened its eyes Dhiraj screamed and lost his grip, and the sea greeted him with an icy kiss.
~
Line of sight?
