[Introductory disclaimer: Today’s entry will be the start of a mini story that will continue over the next few days/prompts. One of the reasons for my undertaking this challenge, as mentioned at the start, is to prompt me to write something every day, even if it’s random musings, to hone my writing skills and style. The story that is about to unfold is completely fictional – any resemblance to actual or existing fictional people, places and/or events is purely coincidental. I’m making this all up as I go along. This is the first time I am publicly publishing a piece of fiction, fashioned from my own strange imagination, so in a way , this entry in and of itself an example of making history – whether or not it makes any sense, is another story.]
Writing Prompt #3: Making History
Gabriel Remington Hartford stood out on the balcony of Summerstone Hall and watched the sky turn crimson as the sun slowly set, reports of the ongoing war weighing on his mind.
A wheezing groan sounded from within his study, interrupting his thoughts. Heaving a sigh, he strolled inside, careful to secure the French windows to ensure that there would be no interruptions.
“You’re late,” Gabriel said, glancing at the grandfather clock that stood at the far corner of the room.
“I ran into a bit of trouble getting here,” A robust alto voice replied, the outline of a lithe figure appearing at the threshold of the study. “There will be a detailed report soon enough.”
Gabriel smirked, “Duly noted. I’m sure you’re wondering why you were summoned here, Kendrick.”
Rosalind Kendrick strode purposely across the room, her scarlet cloak billowing behind her. “A few thoughts have crossed my mind. Would you care to elaborate, or am I to guess the reason?” Standing face to face with Gabriel, she continued with a raised eyebrow, “I do like guessing – I am quite good at it.”
Oh, I’m sure you are. Your reputation as a private investigator is exceptional – you have a keen eye for detail and you have quite a vivid imagination” Gabriel waved her towards a plush armchair positioned opposite to the mahogany desk. “Do have a seat. We have an interesting assignment for you to undertake, one fraught with danger, uncertainty and intrigue – elements I’m told you quite enjoy.”
He leaned on the edge of the desk, wondering for the first time if this proposal was the wisest option to undertake – there were too many variables to consider, and the consequences of its failure were too high.
“For the right price,” Rosalind countered, taking the proffered seat and crossing her legs, revealing black leather pants and red velvet boots. “What does the Alliance want me to do this time? I presume it has something to do with the appalling manner in which they are conducting this sorry excuse of a war against a seemly invincible army of vampires.”
“This war has to end – too many lives are being lost and there are some who wish to broker peace with the fiends and acquiesce to their sovereignty.” Gabriel waved a finger to prevent her from responding. “That is not an acceptable outcome – we need to vanquish these vampires once and for all.”
Rosalind leaned forward. “And how do you propose to do that?”
“By rewriting history.”