Sorry I haven't been updating lately. I've been busy with school work. I'm not making any excuses because I AM really busy with schoolwork. Anyways, enjoy. Also please kindly leave likes, or if you want to you can review this because likes and reviews keeps me alive. Thanks
The last couple of days went by uneventfully. The only people in the library were Ms. Stone, my assistant, and myself. Ms. Stone was the most frequent of the party to visit the library, Mr. Sylvester was the complete opposite of her. Actually, Mr. Sylvester never came to the library, not even once. Of course that wasn’t my concern, perhaps he had something important to do.
I woke up with a knock on my door. It was the day of the expedition. The baggage that I had prepared the night before were neatly stacked beside the door. A suitcase with documents and clothes and a mountaineering bag filled with hiking gear. Going to the Himalayas would of course make me think about hiking.
“Excuse me, Mr. Anderson? There’s a phone call for you from Ms. Stone,” my assistant said to me from behind the door.
I stood up and washed my face for some time. I looked at the grandfather clock inside my bedroom. It was showing the time 08:30 AM. I had thought to myself, “It was a good thing we leave at 12 PM.”
“Hello, Mr. Anderson?” she said as I answered the phone.
“Yes, how can I help you Ms. Stone?”
“Yes err… do you remember that novel I was reading yesterday?”
“Yes, I haven’t forgotten about it.”
“Well would it be a bother if you bring it along with you?”
“Oh, I don’t mind at all, anything else I can do for you?”
“Can you also bring some more novels, maybe two or three more, the ones you recommended to me the other day,” she said with a soft tone.
I didn’t believe I was talking to the same Ms. Stone that glared at me at lunch a few days ago. Maybe she was sick.
“Of course,” I answered calmly.
She said ‘farewell’ and ‘see you soon’ before she hung up. After that I would go back to my bedroom and get ready. I took a shower, a hot shower, and took my time with it. Why wouldn’t I, considering that I don’t know if I will ever get another chance to take a hot shower in these next four months.
I looked at my reflection inside the mirror. No significant changes there. My face looked fresh thanks to the hot shower earlier. After that I left my bedroom to find some breakfast. I went to my favorite café, the one with the goat cheese, and ordered a slice of banana bread and a cup of cappuccino. The cappuccino wasn’t as strong as an ordinary espresso but it hit the spot, along with the sweet delicious banana bread. My favorite kind of bread.
On my way, the streets were, like always, not too crowded. The time was 09:57 AM and I have about 2 hours left until we have to get to the pier. I would imagine us travelling by ship but after Mr. Smith was asked to get something relating to aeroplanes get done I began to have my doubts.
The coffee was sweet and bitter, a good balance between the two and the sweetness gets its bonus from the banana bread that I was about to drown in cappuccino. I left the building after I had paid all I need. I pocketed my hands for warmth and started walking out. A fog escaped from my breath every now and then. I would love pretending to smoke a cigar using the fog on my breath when I was young. That charade ended after I start my last year at middle-school. That was the time I first fell in love with someone. Mr. Sylvester would tell me that playing with my fog breath was not very masculine and he also said that women like masculine men. Being the young teenager I was back then made me become easily influenced.
Of course that was the past, and the past stays behind.
I got back to the library only to find that it was already 10:24 and so I packed my baggage and started walking to the pier. Before I left my assistant had called out to me to say that Mr. Sylvester left a message. His message was for me to not forget to bring my grandfather’s journal. Of course I brought it along with me.
The walk to the pier felt short. I would only see buildings after buildings on my sides. They all came to a stop and were replaced by warehouses. I never knew what these warehouses were holding in. Even so, I never bothered trying to find out what’s inside. What’s inside the warehouses isn’t any of my concern.
A relaxing sea breeze came into contact with the skin on my face. If only it was summer and not autumn, the breeze would feel a whole lot better on my skin. The smell of sea water lingered in my nostrils pleasantly as I passed through the warehouses.
After passing a number of warehouses I saw a large figure at the pier. Soon I realized it was some sort of blimp. As I get closer to it, I saw Mr. Smith commanding a few men who were working on it. Mr. Smith saw me when I was closing in to the aircraft and waved. We exchanged greetings and talked about the blimp before us.
“I assume this is what you needed the book for?” I asked him, rubbing my chin.
“Correct, right now we are just about to finish the last pieces, care to see it take flight for the first time?”
“Are you saying that this thing hasn’t been tested yet?” I asked him a bit panicked. Of course I would panic knowing the aircraft that I was about to ride for four months hasn’t been tested yet.
“Nope, it hasn’t,” Mr. Smith said with a smile, “But do you really not trust me or my products?”
Mr. Smith had the wrong assumption. I trust him very much, him and all of his works. Even so, this thing is an entirely different story. The only aircraft that I have rode was a hot air balloon, once, and I didn’t like it nor do I like it more now. Imagining myself riding this contraption is uncomforting. Nevertheless I still put my trust on Mr. Smith.
“I guess I can trust you,” I said with a hint of doubt.
“Hmph, very well then, I’m guessing you want to put those down,” he said pointing out to my luggage. I accepted his offer and he led me closer to the ship and left me to do his obligations. I had imagined that a ship of this size would have a baggage compartment. Then again I also thought a ship of this size needed more crew members.
Then I saw Mr. Sylvester briefing the rest of the crew about the expedition, or at least the trip to the Himalayas. There were eleven people in total who were listening to his briefing, five women and six men. What their jobs were not of my concerns, as long as they help make the trip to the location easier.
I walked over to him as he was finishing his briefing. Before that he already noticed me and introduced me to the crew. He introduced me as a named historian and the crew agreed without question. It’s either Mr. Sylvester’s remarkable bluffing skill or I look like a competent historian to the crew that led to that bluff being believable. The crew members left after the briefing was closed and headed towards their private locations.
“I see you’re here quite early Andy,” He said to me, sitting down on one of the crates around the pier. He took out a rectangular iron case and popped it open. He took a roll of cigar and cut it then he put it on his mouth.
“Well I needed time to adapt and prepare to the environment that I’ll be stuck in for the next four months,” I explained to him. He took out a silver lighter and handed it to me.
“Help me,” he requested, looking up at me.
“Lighting that cigar?” I confusedly asked him.
“That, and another thing,” He said. I lit his cigar and he puffed it without care.
“What thing?”
“I’ll tell you about it when I need you,” He said, dropping his cigar to the ground. He stomped it and ashes and sparks came bursting out. A good roll of cigar, wasted with just one cloud of smoke to its name. I shrugged at his request, agreeing to it. Why would I decline in the first place? It was probably just a favor, a simple request, nothing more and nothing less.
“Do you need anything else, if not then I want to have a look inside the… aircraft,” I said looking up at the blimp and the makeshift station it’s docked at. Mr. Sylvester gave a hand gesture signaling that I may leave. So I head to the makeshift station. There I met some of the crew members checking out their equipment. I gave them a friendly gesture and left them be.
Inside I met Ms. Sylvester, checking what seemed to me was a pipe-system. I hadn’t a clue to what it was supposed to do but that was not my specialty. Since she was very much attracted to the pipelines I did not pay her much attention so I moved on with my exploration of the blimp.
I discovered an amount of five small bedroom and two bunkrooms, one with five beds and another with 6 beds, accommodating the crew members’ number. Meanwhile the other five crew, including myself, had our own bedrooms. The bedrooms were quite simple. Each were equipped with a bed, a desk, a drawer, a personal bathroom, a table lamp, and a tall lamp.
A few of the rooms were already taken, by taken I meant I saw their briefcases inside. So I chose the farthest one in the hall. I put down my mountaineering bag by the chair in the table and set my suitcase on the bed. I sat down on the bed, testing it. Surprisingly, the bed felt quite comfortable. After setting up my documents on the table something stopped me. It was the journal. I made myself comfortable on the bed, setting down the suitcase on the floor. My hand flipped the leather cover, revealing the old man’s signature. My finger traced the black ink on the almost rotten page. I began reading the first couple chapters and stopped at the third. There were a total of 43 chapters. It wasn’t that I lost interest that I had stopped reading it, it’s just that someone had interrupted me in the middle of it. Only a simple knock broke my concentration. I marked the book with a piece of note I had in my pocket and closed it.
“Come in,” I responded to the door. The door opened silently and a woman came creeping in. For some reason she did not want to be discovered even though he was the one who knocked. It was Ms. Stone.
“Pardon me Mr. Anderson,”
“Yes, how may I help you?”
“Do you, perhaps, remember what I requested earlier?”
“Earlier?” I played dumb at her. Of course I remembered, I already set them up inside the drawer. I only wanted some assurance as to what she wanted.
“Yes, earlier, th-the novels,” she finally spoke.
“Oh yes, the novels! Of course,” I exclaimed, pointing a finger into the air. I walked towards the drawer and pulled out a number of novels. I handed them to Ms. Stone and she went out with it, into her own bedroom I assumed. After she left I had forgotten to ask her how she knew where I stayed. Maybe she had checked all the rooms beforehand.
With that even passing by I decided to go out of my room and try to find Mr. Sylvester. I checked the rooms but aside from Ms. Stone, nobody was inside their rooms. I decided to check the bridge but I only met Mr. Smith and Ms. Sylvester inside.
“Anyone knows where Aaron is?” I asked the busy two. They were about to start the airship’s engines before they were interrupted by my question.
“Try checking outside the bridge,” Mr. Smith suggested, standing up from his past position.
I went outside and checked outside the bridge, in other words the upper deck. There he was, leaning forward to the fences, smoking a cigar. He was sipping from a liquor canteen, rum I assumed since he loved it and so do I and Mr. Smith. It was one of our common traits. I patted his back, leaning next to him. He offered me his canteen and I took a sip. I was correct, it was rum.
“This is quite good,” I said, swallowing the liquor into my system. The alcohol embraced my system, warming my insides and also helping it rot in the process.
“Jamaican,” he explained. I gave him back his canteen and he took a sip.
“I smell rum,” A sudden voice came in. it was Mr. Smith. Apparently he had already taken care of his business with Ms. Sylvester in the bridge.
“Are you done with the preparations?” I asked him.
“More or less so, your cousin actually handled it, she said I should join you,” He said pointing at Mr. Sylvester. Apparently he hadn’t taken care of it.
“Want a sip?” Mr. Sylvester offered Mr. Smith his canteen. He took it and gave himself a sip.
“Jamaican?” he asked Mr. Sylvester.
“Good tongue you have there,” Mr. Sylvester commented.
Tired of leaning to the fence I decided to sit on the floor and leaned back with the fence on my back. We stayed silent for quite a while there, Mr. Sylvester was smoking his cigar, Mr. Smith was sipping Mr. Sylvester’s canteen, and I was just sitting there, blank. It was an enjoyable sort of silence, a state only achieved by great bonds. Although this very bond has been quite loose these past few years.
“I rarely see you now Wyatt, been busy?” I broke the silence.
“I’m sorry I’m not easy to reach Andy, I have a company to run, it’s not easy leaving it alone,” He tried to explain himself. I had regretted pointing that fact out, the comfortable silence became a quite awkward conversation.
“A letter would be nice, or if you could maybe lunch. I know a great shop with a very refreshing basil and tomato soup, thanks to your cousin, Aaron,” I said, trying to patch things up. It somehow worked.
“That’d be nice, I’ll spare some time whenever I can,” He said with a smile, looking down at his shoes.
“Heheh, I can’t believe you two don’t talk to each other often, and here I am thinking I was the one who was left behind,” Mr. Sylvester suddenly said. We all chuckled a little.
“How about lunch, the three of us, after this god damn four months?” Mr. Smith suggested.
“Hey! This expedition will be worth it! I swear to you,” Mr. Sylvester exclaimed. He wasn’t very fond of the idea where Mr. Smith called this expedition in a negative way.
“Yes, this is going to be a long god damned four months thanks to you Aaron,” I added. Mr. Sylvester puffed his cigar.
“Whatever you people say then, I’m telling you this is going to be worth your while,” he explained again.
In the middle of it Ms. Sylvester came out from the bridge and informed us that we were about to take flight.
The three of us stayed outside, enjoying the autumn sea air. The engines of the airship began starting up and rumbles ran through the floors of the airship. We were still at our position, Mr. Sylvester with his cigar, Mr. Smith with a canteen of rum, and myself sitting on the floor. I took out the old man’s journal and flipped it open. I opened the empty pages.
“Any of you have any pencil?” I asked the two. Mr. Smith threw a wooden pencil to my lap and I thanked him.
“Is that what I think it is?” Mr. Smith asked me. I nodded.
“My god, after all these years you still have it,” he said with surprise.
“Can’t think of a reason not to,” I explained, examining the pencil’s edge.
“Are you going to write in it?” he asked.
“Of course,” I answered shortly.
As I was about to write a letter the ship began moving upwards. This time we were all flinching. We got our grip back in a moment. I looked at the fence, now leaning back to the bridge. The blue sky blanketed with white clouds stretched as far as the eye can see, and under it was the great deep blue.
“And so it starts,” Mr. Sylvester said, puffing a smoke from his cigar.
“So it does,” Mr. Smith said, sipping rum from the canteen.
“Hmm,” I said, starting to write on the journal.
I could see that we were all smiling, excited on the journey that we longed for since the days of our childhood.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
