new ficlet (Heartlines) #51 water Gargoyles
Title: Heartlines
Fandom: Gargoyles, Animated Series
Author: karrenia
claim: gargoyles, general series
Characters: Jeffrey Robbins, Travis Marshall (journalist)
References events from the episode "Lighthouse in a Sea of Time."
Rating: General Audiences
words: 1,113
Prompt: #51 water
52/100
Disclaimer: Gargoyles belongs to Disney and Buena Vista Television;
created by Greg Weisman as do the characters of Hudson and Macbeth, and
any others who appear here or are mentioned; they are not mine.
Jeffery Robbins felt nervous but refused to persist in pacing back and forth on the carpet in his parlor, for one he’d just had it cleaned and the other he refused to indulge in that sort of thing; for another he wouldn’t want to inadvertently step on his dog, Gilly, in his abstraction.
It had been a very long time since he had people into his home besides the occasional maintenance worker or the like, and it’s not that he was a recluse, far from it, it was just that ever since he’d begun to put himself out there again, and his work had begun to attract attention. Granted, the market for works in Braille was small, it still had a following.
Now, a journalist was coming over any minute for an interview and realized he’d been tugging at his tie for a good forty five minutes now.
Travis Marshall got out of his car and pulled up in front of the drive of the quaint old manor where his latest interviewee resided. He parked the car and got out, checking his watch. Reassured on that score he walked up the graveled path to the front door.
Robbins met him at the door with his dog Gilly butting up against Marshall’s shin with her low, flat head and her tail wagging enthusiastically.
“Welcome, Mr. Marshall, thank you for coming,” greeted the older man. “Please come in. Gilly, stop that!”
“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me on such short notice,” Travis replied.
Travis stepped across the threshold and inside while Robbins and his guide dog led the way from the foyer to a study with a roaring hearth blazing merrily away. Upon the shelves tidily lined were the books written by the author in both American English and in Braille.
“Please, have a seat,” said Robbins as he took one in the comfortable chair behind the desk and Gilly lay down at his feet.
“Can I offer you a drink, coffee or tea, perhaps,” offered Robbins.
“Thank, but no, thank you,” replied Travis, sitting down in another chair, pulling his satchel of documents into his lap and then opening it to retrieve his tape recorder.
“It might just be a formality, but I have to ask Mr. Robbins, for your consent to be recorded during the interview.”
“Yes, that will be fine.”
“Then, let’s get started, shall we?” said Travis eagerly, hoping he did not come across as too eager.
“I understand that before you even think of putting pen to paper, or rather, that you typically dictate the idea and plots for all your stories, is that true?”
Jeffrey Robbins allowed himself a small smile and then replied, “Yes, I do.” Call it an idiosyncrasy, a whim, but after the long dry spell I’ve experienced up until now I find it helps me to read out loud.”
“In the frontis piece of your most recent novel you said something about reading being like a lighthouse in a sea of time’ What did you mean by that?”
“Mr. Marshall, I believe that you cover more than the arts and entertainment section for the New York Times, correct?”
“Yes, but I don’t see what you’re getting at.”
“If you’ll recall several months ago there was an incident involving a rather recluse individual who tried to waylay a shipment from England. The shipment contained valuable scrolls ostensibly written by the legendary Merlin.”
“That can’t be true. Merlin never existed,” Travis scoffed. “Everyone knows that.”
Robbins smiled as if some private inside joke but kept a potentially trouble comment regarding his thoughts on that matter and other urban legends to himself; finally replied. “Be that is at may, in reference to your earlier question, much like a lighthouse that will lead a wandering mariner to safety in the night, or guide a ship off of the rocks of a dangerous reef; the written word has the power to bring light to the darkness.
“I, I think I understand what you’re getting at Mr. Robbins, very poetic.” But if could take another tack here… You mentioned earlier that you experienced a long dry spell, what was your inspiration for continuing your series of novels?”
“There really is no one thing that I could specifically point to. I know that’s terribly vague, Mr. Marshall, and no doubt you were hoping for something more.”
“Was it really that transparent?” asked Travis.
“Don’t worry. Maybe I’m just out of practice with interviews. It’s my privilege to wander in thought a bit. Please, bear with me.”
Travis nodded. “Of course, not a problem, but I do have wonder if there were any particular author whose work inspired your own.”
Oh, so many, I couldn’t possibly list them all, but there is one quote by Richard Wright comes to mind: “The more closely the author thinks of why he wrote, the more he comes to regard his imagination as a kind of self-generating cement which glued his facts together, and his emotions as a kind of dark and obscure designer of those facts. Reluctantly, he comes to the conclusion that to account for his book is to account for his life.””
Travis smiled and then asked, “Is that why you called your latest novel “Heartlines?”
“It is, and as cliché as it might sound, much like the main character in my book it’s all about the journey rather than the destination.”
“I understand,” Travis replied. “Well, I don’t have any more questions, other than is there anything else you would like our audience to know?”
“No, No, that’s about it,” replied Robbins.
“Although, I am curious about one thing,” Travis began a bit hesitantly, and then swallowed before he asked. “About the dedication?”
“What about it?”
“Hudson, I read the advance copy of the book, and I got the sense that it wasn’t so much a place as it was something else. Would you care to elaborate on that?”
“No, no, I don’t think so. It’s well, something of a personal matter of honor, you see.”
“Oh, of course,” replied Travis reluctantly backing down.
“Will I get a copy of the article, in two versions because I have a friend who would appreciate an opportunity to read it.”
“Yes, of course,” Travis replied. “Thank you again for agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Robbins. It has been a pleasure.”
“Then Gilly and I will see you out.”
“Thank you, and I wish you a pleasant evening, Mr. Robbins.”
“And to you as well, Mr. Marshall.”
Fandom: Gargoyles, Animated Series
Author: karrenia
claim: gargoyles, general series
Characters: Jeffrey Robbins, Travis Marshall (journalist)
References events from the episode "Lighthouse in a Sea of Time."
Rating: General Audiences
words: 1,113
Prompt: #51 water
52/100
Disclaimer: Gargoyles belongs to Disney and Buena Vista Television;
created by Greg Weisman as do the characters of Hudson and Macbeth, and
any others who appear here or are mentioned; they are not mine.
Jeffery Robbins felt nervous but refused to persist in pacing back and forth on the carpet in his parlor, for one he’d just had it cleaned and the other he refused to indulge in that sort of thing; for another he wouldn’t want to inadvertently step on his dog, Gilly, in his abstraction.
It had been a very long time since he had people into his home besides the occasional maintenance worker or the like, and it’s not that he was a recluse, far from it, it was just that ever since he’d begun to put himself out there again, and his work had begun to attract attention. Granted, the market for works in Braille was small, it still had a following.
Now, a journalist was coming over any minute for an interview and realized he’d been tugging at his tie for a good forty five minutes now.
Travis Marshall got out of his car and pulled up in front of the drive of the quaint old manor where his latest interviewee resided. He parked the car and got out, checking his watch. Reassured on that score he walked up the graveled path to the front door.
Robbins met him at the door with his dog Gilly butting up against Marshall’s shin with her low, flat head and her tail wagging enthusiastically.
“Welcome, Mr. Marshall, thank you for coming,” greeted the older man. “Please come in. Gilly, stop that!”
“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me on such short notice,” Travis replied.
Travis stepped across the threshold and inside while Robbins and his guide dog led the way from the foyer to a study with a roaring hearth blazing merrily away. Upon the shelves tidily lined were the books written by the author in both American English and in Braille.
“Please, have a seat,” said Robbins as he took one in the comfortable chair behind the desk and Gilly lay down at his feet.
“Can I offer you a drink, coffee or tea, perhaps,” offered Robbins.
“Thank, but no, thank you,” replied Travis, sitting down in another chair, pulling his satchel of documents into his lap and then opening it to retrieve his tape recorder.
“It might just be a formality, but I have to ask Mr. Robbins, for your consent to be recorded during the interview.”
“Yes, that will be fine.”
“Then, let’s get started, shall we?” said Travis eagerly, hoping he did not come across as too eager.
“I understand that before you even think of putting pen to paper, or rather, that you typically dictate the idea and plots for all your stories, is that true?”
Jeffrey Robbins allowed himself a small smile and then replied, “Yes, I do.” Call it an idiosyncrasy, a whim, but after the long dry spell I’ve experienced up until now I find it helps me to read out loud.”
“In the frontis piece of your most recent novel you said something about reading being like a lighthouse in a sea of time’ What did you mean by that?”
“Mr. Marshall, I believe that you cover more than the arts and entertainment section for the New York Times, correct?”
“Yes, but I don’t see what you’re getting at.”
“If you’ll recall several months ago there was an incident involving a rather recluse individual who tried to waylay a shipment from England. The shipment contained valuable scrolls ostensibly written by the legendary Merlin.”
“That can’t be true. Merlin never existed,” Travis scoffed. “Everyone knows that.”
Robbins smiled as if some private inside joke but kept a potentially trouble comment regarding his thoughts on that matter and other urban legends to himself; finally replied. “Be that is at may, in reference to your earlier question, much like a lighthouse that will lead a wandering mariner to safety in the night, or guide a ship off of the rocks of a dangerous reef; the written word has the power to bring light to the darkness.
“I, I think I understand what you’re getting at Mr. Robbins, very poetic.” But if could take another tack here… You mentioned earlier that you experienced a long dry spell, what was your inspiration for continuing your series of novels?”
“There really is no one thing that I could specifically point to. I know that’s terribly vague, Mr. Marshall, and no doubt you were hoping for something more.”
“Was it really that transparent?” asked Travis.
“Don’t worry. Maybe I’m just out of practice with interviews. It’s my privilege to wander in thought a bit. Please, bear with me.”
Travis nodded. “Of course, not a problem, but I do have wonder if there were any particular author whose work inspired your own.”
Oh, so many, I couldn’t possibly list them all, but there is one quote by Richard Wright comes to mind: “The more closely the author thinks of why he wrote, the more he comes to regard his imagination as a kind of self-generating cement which glued his facts together, and his emotions as a kind of dark and obscure designer of those facts. Reluctantly, he comes to the conclusion that to account for his book is to account for his life.””
Travis smiled and then asked, “Is that why you called your latest novel “Heartlines?”
“It is, and as cliché as it might sound, much like the main character in my book it’s all about the journey rather than the destination.”
“I understand,” Travis replied. “Well, I don’t have any more questions, other than is there anything else you would like our audience to know?”
“No, No, that’s about it,” replied Robbins.
“Although, I am curious about one thing,” Travis began a bit hesitantly, and then swallowed before he asked. “About the dedication?”
“What about it?”
“Hudson, I read the advance copy of the book, and I got the sense that it wasn’t so much a place as it was something else. Would you care to elaborate on that?”
“No, no, I don’t think so. It’s well, something of a personal matter of honor, you see.”
“Oh, of course,” replied Travis reluctantly backing down.
“Will I get a copy of the article, in two versions because I have a friend who would appreciate an opportunity to read it.”
“Yes, of course,” Travis replied. “Thank you again for agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Robbins. It has been a pleasure.”
“Then Gilly and I will see you out.”
“Thank you, and I wish you a pleasant evening, Mr. Robbins.”
“And to you as well, Mr. Marshall.”