I've entered 2012 with a substantial amount of work under my belt on my new project 'Gifts Of The Peramangk' and, though it is well advanced, it is far from complete. I wish I could give you a more definite time frame as to when it will be finished, but I am doing as best I can given the crazy life I have.
In this, my fourth work in progress preview, I am introducing - for the first time - the character of Ruby Delfey, who is the modern day protagonist of second novel "Gifts Of The Peramangk" and the grand daughter of Virginia Crammond - who I've featured in my previous WIP previews.
Ruby is an eight year old Aboriginal girl, who lives in abject poverty in Adelaide's Northern Suburbs with her grandmother, her Aunt and Uncle and their three children Jeremy, Asher and Minty. She lives under the cloud of domestic violence, crushing poverty and ingrained racism. But Ruby's gift - passed on to her from her grandmother Virginia - has just been discovered by an elderly but formidable Professor of music. He is not yet convinced of Ruby's prodigious talent but, in the following piece, he challenges her with a piece of music she has never encountered before. What follows is major turning point in the story that will bring two worlds together - the ramifications of which will either give Ruby the opportunity to shine or crush her gift forever.
This piece came to me almost by accident, when I was trying to come up with a new way of portraying music in a literary sense. It was difficult because, whereas before - in Hambledown - I'd developed a method of visualizing the music of the guitar and translating that onto the page. I have some familiarity with the instrument. The violin on the other hand, is a much different proposition entirely. I wasn't as familiar with it's sound, the way it is meant to be played. So, I had to take a slightly different approach.
The result is an impassioned visual, which has a particular significance for one of the central characters - which will be borne out as the story progresses.
Again, this is raw, unpolished and probably grammatically incorrect. But this comes from my soul. I would love to get your feedback...
Reading the
composition before her, Ruby began to hear their music in her mind.
She saw within the notes on the page, a stark emotion underlying them
- a darkness that unnerved her and intrigued her simultaneously. Her
uncanny ability - that which had been drawn from her by her
grandmother - switched on like a light bulb and she closed her eyes.
She breathed softly.
Ruby
positioned herself as Khalili had shown her just a few minutes before
and she raised the violin to her chin.
She drew
her bow across the strings as lightly as a feather, eliciting a long
and plaintive note with just enough quiver on it to give it a
satisfying vibrato. She knew she had attained the note perfectly. A
familiar feeling, akin to a buzz, rippled in her temples and slowly
she opened her eyes.
In her
mind's eye, the darkness and the dank cold of a cramped bunk house
coalesced, filled with the sad faces of people. They were huddled
together for warmth around a pair of candles that were seated in the
middle of the room. They were prisoners in the bunk house. A large
and heavy steel door at one end of the building was fastened shut. In
the flickering light that played upon their anguished features, Ruby
could see them clearly. Their sunken eyes. Their prominent cheek
bones. Their lips, chapped and cracked from the cold. Their faces
pocked with sores. All of them - Men, women and children - coughed
and spluttered under the weight of chronic illness. They wore
tattered clothing over emaciated frames. Ruby played their
circumstance upon her violin.
Creeping
tendrils of fear weaved their way through the group as they sat on
the earthen floor, each of them afraid to move, afraid to speak.
Outside the brick walls of the bunk house, guttural sounds, inhuman
sounds swirled all around, taunting them. The sounds of machinery, of
belching smoke and fire melded with anguished human voices - voices
that cried out in fear and pain. Ruby's violin traversed the huddle
of people, translating these sounds with a chaotic progression of
notes on the violin, signifying a chilling representation of dread.
That sense of dread germinated in the pit of her stomach as she
played which, in turn fed through her fingers onto the strings. The
piece returned to those poor souls trapped in the bunk house and Ruby
descended into ominous plucking of low notes. Something was happening
that changed the dynamic of the piece. Ruby was heralding the arrival
of a foreboding presence somewhere nearby - a presence that was
coming.
Several in
the group began crying, weeping; their tear filled eyes were filled
with long suffering fear - as though they had been crying for all of
their lives. Ruby played long, lingering high notes, suggestive of
their grief, suggestive of their wearied panic before she plunged
back down into the lower registers again as the unseen presence
outside grew closer and more threatening. It amplified their fear,
causing many of them to scramble backwards across the floor to the
corner of the room that was farthest from the direction of presence.
The room
was suddenly rocked by powerful explosion which seemed to strike just
outside the bunk house. Like an earthquake, the explosion caused the
entire bunk house to shake. The flickering light from the candle
flame threatened to extinguish. The panic that surged through
everyone was all consuming. They were paralysed where they sat or
stood.
A second
explosion, even louder and closer than the first struck with a
deafening boom, causing the brick wall at one end of the bunk house
to visibly move and shake. Mortar dust collapsed from the spaces
between the brick work. The prisoners huddled closer. Ruby translated
their terror with rapid, punctuated strokes of her bow across the
violin's bridge.
And then,
from the centre of the huddle, a lone figure stands. A child, a boy
wearing a moth eaten woollen pull over and tattered shorts, steps
forth and peers through the darkness towards the precarious
brickwork. Men, women and children gasp in horror and desperately try
to coax him back to the safety of the group, but he ignores them.
Something has piqued his curiosity. He shuffles cautiously across the
earthen floor on shoeless feet, that are hardened and calloused.
A third
explosion rocks the bunk house with such force that the brick wall
and part of the roof crumbles and collapses inward with a cacophony
of noise and dust and iron. A gaping hole is revealed through which,
the boy gazed up onto a night sky that was ablaze with fire.
A monstrous
shadow falls across the gaping maw of the ruined building. It's form
is suggestive of a beast like figure with huge hands and a powerful
jaw, but there is no physical accompaniment to it. It exists -
wraith-like in the darkness. Two great limbs plant their extremities
upon the ragged edges of the hole and the presence glares down into
the bunk house. The boy stands solitary, returning the glare of the
presence with an innocent curiosity. He has no fear, despite the
violence that rages all around.
And with
that innocence, the boy reaches up with an outstretched hand towards
the presence and he smiles warmly.
There is
surprise. There is confusion. There is hesitation.
The
presence reaches down into the ruined building and takes the boy's
hand gently in it's own. All at once, the violence, the chaos and the
terror fall away. The screams subside. The machinery throttles down
to a low thrum. Ruby's own strokes slow as she holds several high
notes with a delicate hand.
His hand
still entwined in that of the presence's, the boy gingerly steps
forward and over the pile of ruined bricks, lead by the shadow, out
and away from the bunk house.
The boy
turns back to his companions inside, as the burning sky begins to
break overhead. The presence too, has dissipated with the violence
and, with a warm glow of dawn playing across the boy's dirty face, he
smiles, urging them to follow him.
Through the
gap they file. Slowly. Hesitantly. None of them are sure of what to
expect. But, as a dawning sun rises to meet them, they step out of
the bunk house. Each and every one of the prisoners are touched by a
comforting warmth that splashes across their faces. A light that has
eluded them for what seems like a life time.
The
concentration camp crumbles all around them. Buildings collapse
inwards. Other gaunt, emaciated prisoners file out of similar
structures.
The boy
leads the way towards a brilliant green meadow, beyond a ruined
barbed wire fence. Wild flowers bloom into life as the prisoners
cross over from the coarse, grey stone of the prison to the soft,
lush pasture of the field beyond.
Some fall
to their knees in gratitude of the splendour to which they have been
delivered. Others just stand, unsure of what to make of their
circumstance now. But in time, they look around at each other and,
slowly, they greet each other with beatific smiles.
In the
centre of the meadow, stands the boy, free of the shackles that has
been his bondage. His eyes meet those of an elderly woman who kneels
on the ground nearby, unable to support her own frame. In that
moment, her eyes are as vibrant and alive as his very own.
In that
final moment, Ruby drew the bow away from the violin, allowing the
last note to trail away. Then she lowered her instrument and gingerly
looked up at Khalili. She was surprised to find him sitting there,
his eyes redenned with evidence of tears having stained them.
Ruby
shifted uncomfortably in her chair and fidgeted with her violin.
"W...was
that okay?" she asked hesitantly.
Khalili
nodded slowly and gestured silently to the auditorium behind Ruby.
Slowly, she
turned to see a number of people who'd been watching her. They
appeared visibly moved. Some of them, like Khalili himself, were
wiping away tears.
DFA.
Gifts Of The Peramangk is copyright © 2011 Dean Mayes & Hambledown Road Imprints.
