I’ve had a great weekend writing, so I thought I’d introduce you to a new character.:)
Tragic house fire kills three
In local news, the bodies of two men, and a woman were recovered from the burnt out shell of a house on the outskirts of Stradwick.
Located in the once green hills of Macedon, Stradwick is a small, domed enclave that was rebuilt after the devastating fires of 2072 razed the original township to the ground.
Thirty years on, Stradwick has become the favoured weekend retreat of wealthy CEO’s and holo stars.
Francis Naismith, one of the ten permanent residents of Stradwick, told me the gutted house was a rental property administered by Greenhills Real Estate.
A spokesperson for Greenhills refused to comment on the identities of the deceased, or even if they had, in fact, been renting the property.
Police also refused to comment, saying the relatives of the three deceased had not yet been notified.
Neither the police nor the fire services would comment on whether arson was involved. I did, however, manage to discover that the house had a sophisticated fire protection system of its own, above and beyond the protection afforded by the dome.
Why the fire protection system did not work is just one of the many baffling questions surrounding this tragic fire.
This is Jonathon Szabo for Victoria Today, reporting from Stradwick. June 2, 2102.
Alex Tang sat in his luxury penthouse, bottle of cognac in hand, as he looked out across the dark water of the moat.
The Forbidden City was a beautiful sight, especially at night when everything was lit up.
Once, he had dreamt of travelling to Beijing and seeing the city of the old emperors for himself. Now he hated it.
Draining the last of the Louis XIII cognac as if it were water, Alex rose from his chair, and threw the bottle at the plate glass window that framed the view of the Forbidden City.
The bottle shattered, and the Forbidden City disappeared behind a web work of crazed glass.
They should have let him die.
Barely tipsy, despite the cognac he had drunk, Alex looked neither right nor left as he walked to the bedroom.
A towel covered the large mirror on the wall, opposite the bed, but as the lights came on, he caught a glimpse of a slim, Asian man reflected in the window.
Pulling off his t-shirt and jeans, Alex knelt beside his bed, and clasped his hands in prayer.
“I am James Milgrove,” he whispered into his hands. “I’m 6’2”, and I have blond hair and blue eyes. I was born in Perth twenty-nine years ago. I have an older sister…”
…and I was once married…
They really should have let him die.
I have known about this character from the very beginning, but until this weekend he was just a hazy shadow. On Saturday the name, the location, the whole scene just… happened. These are the moments writers live for. They give us the courage to soldier on during the lean times, when every new word feels like giving birth to a 20 pound gorilla.