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Post by Steve on Nov 1, 2015 5:57:42 GMT
Hi folks! This is a short story I wrote recently, and I thought I'd share it with folks. Believe it or not, it actually originated as brainstorming for a college English assignment(at a local community college here in my town.)! The story kinda sorta came together, but here's the general backdrop: it was set in an alternate reality 1969 New York in which the Patriots (barely) lost the Revolutionary War, and the Commonwealth of North America was created in the place of what would have been the United States. A young journalist hoping for a bright future suddenly stumbles upon a mysterious figure only calling themselves "M.C.", and making references to some previously unknown (to the public) documents written by Benedict Arnold, in this world one of the founders of the Commonwealth, asking the reporter in question to uncover them so that they may see the light of day. And what he finds shocks him beyond belief. Although these revelations would no doubt shock the nation to it's core, the journalist presses on, believing in his craft and his story, and takes the risk of trying to convince a major company to publish a story about his findings. Does he succeed? And what happens to him afterwards? You'll find out..... (This story coming soon! Watch this space.)
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Post by Steve on Nov 3, 2015 3:59:36 GMT
Okay, here's the first part! I hope you all like it. Manhattan, New York Commonwealth of North America April 7, 1969 It was a pleasantly cool morning in this city of eight million people, and Albert Hoskins sat on one of the old wooden benches in St. Albans's Park, just across from Manhattan's Johnston Street neighborhood, sipping the last bits of a cup of coffee. It was 8:20 a.m., and in just under an hour, he was to meet his newest boss at Davies Brothers, one of the many small, independently owned publishing houses in the city; he had worked for them once before, in 1962, when he was still a “greenie” as his veteran fellow journalists would call him. Albert had originally started working as a freelance journalist to help him pay for college, but came to love his job the more he got into it; just five years later, he was able to earn enough to scratch out a basic decent living, with a modest apartment in uptown Manhattan, and a nice little economy car for his girlfriend. Albert, however, wanted a bit more out of his life. Having been the eldest son of a lower middle class family in rural Vermont, all he had ever wanted when he was younger, was to leave behind the semi-poverty of his childhood, as far as possible; he had dreamed of being a novelist, or perhaps an actor, having spent many an hour engrossed in a book or watching movies at the local theater, whenever he had the chance. And even now, he still nursed some of those old childhood dreams from time to time. Now, however, was no time to dwell on what could be; Albert needed to ready himself for his meeting with his new employers. So, after he finished his coffee, he waved down a taxi, and began his half-hour long journey to the offices of Davies Brothers in Columbia Heights. By the time he got to the office, he was feeling quite refreshed and ready for the day's work. After he exited the cab, and paid the driver for his services, he took a moment to take in his surroundings. 'Well, here it is, the head office of Davies Brothers. Haven't changed a bit since I was here last, have they?', Albert thought. Despite their forward-thinking approach to publishing, the Davies's weren't known to be terribly enthusiastic about the latest trends in office décor; indeed, this building had stayed largely the same since the company was founded some years ago. He chuckled briefly, at the very idea. 'A fascinating irony, I'd say.' Albert then looked at his watch; it was 9:02, and they'd be expecting him really soon. “Guess I'd better get going, then.”, he said softly to himself. Albert entered the front lobby, and was immediately greeted by the receptionist. “Hi there. Can I help you, sir?”, the woman asked, in a pleasant voice that hinted of a Brooklynese accent. “Why yes, ma'am, you can.”, Albert replied. “My name's Albert Hoskins, and this is about my new assignment.”. “Hoskins, is it?”, said the receptionist. “I'll look to see if I can find your name in the registry.” After looking through the notebook on the desk for a little bit, she found was she was looking for. “Oh, there you are. Albert Hoskins, April 2nd, 9:52 a.m.”, she said, reading off the information on the line. “By the way, didn't we hire you once before, Albert?”, asked the receptionist. “Well, yeah, it was the Governor Patterson story, wasn't it?” Jonathan Patterson had been a highly respected governor of the state some fifty years prior, and Hoskins was the one journalist lucky enough to be able to have a conversation with the fellow on his ninety-second birthday; June 6th, 1962, to be exact. “Yes, I believe so. You did a real good job on that story, Mr. Hoskins.”, said the receptionist. Albert felt a little more confident upon hearing that; “Thanks,” he said, “Ol' Pat sure knew how to spin a good yarn or three, didn't he?”. “Yep,”, the receptionist replied, “he sure did. What an interesting character he was. Nice man, too, to boot.”, to which Albert nodded affirmatively. “Anyway, it shouldn't be much more than about 10 minutes or so before they call you in now.”, she said. “Well, alright then. I'll just wait here 'til the time comes”, Albert replied. He then found a nearby bench and pulled out a newspaper he'd grabbed at the coffee shop, to pass the time. “Mr. Hoskins?”, said another employee. “Frank Davies will see you now.”. “Thanks.”, Albert replied, and followed the stocky man up a few stories of stairs before arriving at the main office. And soon, he was face to face with Frank Davies himself, an average-looking man in his fifties with a mustache. “Well, hello there, Mr. Hoskins! I'm glad you could stop by again.”, a jovial Davies exclaimed, before the two shook hands. “Hello, Mr. Davies, and thanks. It's been a good while, hasn't it?”, Albert replied, “By the way, sir, didn't I work for your brother some years ago?”. “Yep. Johnny said he was mighty impressed by the job you did on the Patterson story back in '62, and I figured I could use the help of somebody of your caliber, especially given what I've heard about your other work.” Albert smiled upon hearing that; it boosted his confidence a little bit. “Hmm, I guess I'm a little more famous around these parts than I'd have imagined.”, he thought. The Davieses were not known to just take anyone off the street: they always preferred someone with talent and a solid work ethic, both of which were quite well present in the person of Albert Hoskins. “Well, thanks, Mr. Davies, I always do try to make the best of things.”, he replied. After that initial conversation, the two men sat down to discuss Albert's current assignment. “So, Mr. Davies, what's the scoop?”, Albert asked. There had been hints of a potentially big story in the advert that he had answered, but nothing really specific, and Albert was quite curious as to what it was going to be about. “I was just getting to that.”, Mr. Davies replied. “You remember that huge protest that gathered at Van Houten Square in '67, after the bigwigs in Trenton decided that we were going to to help the Aussies fight their little war in Indochina?” Albert sighed in response. “Yes, I do. My girlfriend was actually right in the middle of it all.”, he replied. He was no radical, but although he understood the situation with Australia, he sincerely hated the very thought of his fellow North Americans having to fight a war that might not perhaps be as justified as its proponents suggested, no matter how aggressive the communist Chinese government may have been in that part of the world at times. What made it worse for Albert himself was, his younger brother Patrick back home was going to be out of college next year, and would then be running the risk of being drafted, in a war in which 20,000 North American soldiers, along with 15,000 Australians, had already died. He only hoped that that day would never come. Mr. Davies continued. “Well, if the sources I've been in contact with are accurate, in just two days, there's about to be another one, in Brooklyn's Lancaster neighborhood this time. It probably won't be quite as large as the Van Houten event, but there's still likely to be a turnout exceeding several tens of thousands.”. “That would be interesting, although I must admit, Mr. Davies, I've never quite covered such a large event before. Just a student gathering at Columbia University in '66, and there were maybe 2,000 people.”, Albert replied. “Though I hope that won't be an issue, sir.” “Nah, I don't think so,”, said Mr. Davies, “A crowd is a crowd, regardless of how many people are in it, and besides, I'd like to point out that the more people are present, the more perspectives that you may be able to gather.”. To this, Albert breathed a brief sigh of relief, reassured that his boss indeed trusted him with the job. Mr. Davies continued, “But, in any case, the main reason I picked you in particular, Mr. Hoskins, is that both John and I agreed that it would probably be best to have an independent journalist cover this event. To be truthful here, I don't think either of us can trust the mainstream media to be entirely fair or balanced with these folks. Some of them may be a tad on the, erm, radical side, but both of us feel that they do have some valid concerns, and it seems like most of the reporters from Columbia, North American, et cetera, are just brushing them off, which, frankly, is a little disconcerting. Reminds me of what happened with the union strikes back in the '30s.” Albert knew quite well what he meant; his uncle Robert had been a miner in northern Pennsylvania then, desperate to keep his family fed during the worst economic crisis the country had ever faced, and after years of being neglected and being paid a substandard wage, he and dozens of others, desperate for an improvement in their situation and seeing no alternative, went on strike in September 1935. Many of the local newspapers tried again and again to spin the narrative in favor of the company, but when strikebreakers killed several of the miners during a subsequent protest just five months later, the Pennsylvania state militia finally intervened after a third party witness came forward in a telegraph to Harrisburg. Robert had lived, but had watched a good friend die on that cold February afternoon, and once he finally told Albert, he never forgot his uncle's story. “And based on what we've heard so far, you seem to be quite qualified for the job, as you haven't been afraid to let whatever personal biases you may have get in the way of telling the truth as it is, a quality that seem to be a bit lacking with some other reporters out there.”, said Mr. Davies, with a hint of frankness in his tone. “Honestly, I mainly got that from my mother.”, Albert replied, smiling, “She always had a real nose for truth.”. Mr. Davies chuckled. “Well, well, so did mine.”. But then he frowned a little. “She died in '67, though.” “Oh, sorry to hear that, Mr. Davies.” said Albert; he had lost his own maternal grandfather to lung cancer just six years earlier. “It's alright. It was an embolism, so she went quickly and felt no pain.”, Mr. Davies replied. “Anyhow, with that aside, here's the lowdown.”, said Mr. Davies. “This protest is supposed to start at about 12 noon on Wednesday, and, since I didn't menion this earlier, it also looks like there's going to be a counter-protest in that same area. Here's an idea. Maybe you could go over to both sides, and see what the counter protesters are saying as well. Really, as long as you make an honest effort to stay as even-handed as possible, that's all that matters to us.” “Don't worry, Mr. Davies, sir, I won't let you down.”, said Albert. “Is there anything else you needed me to know?”, he asked. “No, Mr. Hoskins, that'll be all. Send the final draft to us when you're done with it. And good luck.”, replied Mr. Davies. “Thank you, sir. I guess I'll be on my way now.”, Albert said politely, and promptly walked out the door to head back to the ground floor 'Hopefully everything goes well. I still gotta help pay the bills, don't I?', he thought, slightly nervously, as he was walking downstairs. His girlfriend had her own part-time job, at one of the local markets at the intersection of Ashbury Avenue and 147th Street, but although she liked working there, her wages were minimal, and so, they both needed Albert's income from his freelancing to keep them safely afloat. On his way out, the receptionist said hello to him again. “Hi, Mr. Hoskins. I assume all went well today?”. “Yep, it sure did. I gotta cross town into Brooklyn for this one, though. It's about that major anti-war protest that'll be happening later this week, and the crowds will no doubt be huge, so hopefully there won't be too many issues.”, Albert replied. “Even so,”, he continued, “This could potentially be the biggest break I've ever gotten, so I'm looking forward to it.”. “I hear the International Socialists' Association might be getting involved in this one. My cousin's the Chief Foreman of the Bricklayer's Union 202 in West Queens, and he's got some buddies in there who've been long time members.” “Ah yeah, those guys.”. Albert chuckled. 'Some of the ISA guys are a bit kooky, but they're all well-meaning, honest folks.' Looking at his watch, it was now almost 9:40; he was going to try to meet his girlfriend for lunch. “Anyway, I'd better get going, so have a fine day, ma'am.”, he said. As he exited the building and approached the sidewalk, Albert Hoskins couldn't help but get the feeling that somebody might be spying on him; looking to his left, he just caught a small bit of a blue sedan that was parked on the next street in a slightly odd fashion. 'Now that's funny.', he thought, 'I wonder what's going on there?'. But he shrugged it off. 'Probably just a student driver who's still learning to park.'. Smiling briefly, he then turned back to face the street to flag down a taxi to take him back home.
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Post by Steve on Nov 5, 2015 2:59:56 GMT
Garrison's Corner, Manhattan, New York April 9, 1969, 7:50 a.m.
Albert Hoskins woke up feeling confident and refreshed on this lovely Wednesday morning. 'Not a cloud in the sky right now. Just the sun.', he thought, smiling. When he left the bedroom, he saw his girlfriend already up, cooking some breakfast for the both of them; she was a slender five-foot-eight woman with reddish brown hair, with hints of blonde, and was currently wearing her hair in a bunch. “Hello there, Gwen.”, Albert said cheerily, “Sleep well last night?”. Gwen turned around. “Hi, Bertie dear, I sure did.”, she replied. “Yeah, so did I. Good thing, too, I gotta head down to Brooklyn in a little while.”, said Albert, and Gwen knew exactly what he meant. “Good luck. Oh, and look, breakfast is ready.”, she said, before fetching the finished eggs, bacon and toast to their kitchen table. It took them just 10 minutes to finish the meal. “Oh, and guess what?” “Yeah?”, said Albert.
“I'm going to be promoted! Mrs. Caccione wants to make me the assistant manager. She said she's been quite impressed by my dedication to serving our customers, not to mention my leadership qualities.”, said Gwen, with a helping of excitement in her voice. “Oh, that's great! Happy for ya, Gwen.”, Albert replied, happily.
“Thanks, hon. I'll be talking to her about it today.”, said Gwen. “Alright.”, Albert replied. “Say, do you want to watch a little TV?”. “Yeah, The Llanfair Chronicles is on today. It's my favorite show these days.”, said Gwen. So, with that, after Albert got dressed in their bedroom, they sat down for their morning entertainment.
After just over an hour, Albert glanced at his watch. “Well, hmm. It's almost 9:30 already, Gwen. Guess I'd better get going.”. “Okay then, good luck sweetheart.”, said Gwen, pecking him on the cheek. “See ya later, hon.”, said Albert, smiling at his girlfriend, before walking out the door and out to the street. After waving down a taxi, he began his journey to Brooklyn, to cover his newest story.
Lancaster, Brooklyn. 5:55 pm
The anti-war demonstration in this middle class neighborhood had gone relatively well, and there had been no riots or arrests that day on either side. Albert Hoskins also had some really good material to show to the Davieses once he got back to them. As the crowds disassembled and went home for the day, he decided to go back the way he came. But as he turned, he happened to see a somewhat familiar sight. 'Hey. That blue car over there looks exactly like the one that I saw was parked across from Davies Brothers on Monday. Isn't that weird?', he thought. It was a slightly older model, dating from the late '50s or earlier in the '60s and had a slight dent on it's front bumper. Nevertheless, he just shrugged it off. 'Probably just a strange coincidence.'. Albert got a hold of another taxi, which took him back to Manhattan, and the offices of Davies Brothers. After this, he picked up dinner and went straight home for the day.
Garrison's Corner, Manhattan April 12, 1969, 1:00 p.m.
Albert Hoskins was feeling great today; just after finishing his lunch, he had received word from Davies Brothers that his final draft would be published in the next edition of their Saturday morning paper. “Why don'tcha come on down and pick up your earnings, Mr. Hoskins? You did a rather fine job on this one.”, said Frank Davies, over the phone. “Thanks, Mr. Davies, I'll be there pronto.”, Albert replied.
“Hey Al. The Davieses again?”, said Gwen. “Yep, I just got my latest paycheck.”, said Albert, with a smile. “Here, maybe we can take my car.”, said Gwen. “Sure, why not?”, Albert replied, and they both left to get in their car. The bright yellow little machine stood almost directly in front of their apartment's entrance, and was just perfect for Gwen's current needs. It was a bit of a tight fit getting in, but at least the seats were comfortable, and the heater and A/C both worked. “Okay, Gwen, do you need any help with directions? I don't think you've ever been there before.”, said Albert. “Well, alright, hon, I guess that wouldn't be a bad idea.”, Gwen replied. Albert nodded, and Gwen put the car in gear so they could get going.
After the meeting with Frank Davies, Albert walked out of the building looking like a million bucks. He got into the car. “Hey Gwen. Can you believe it? A thousand dollars.” “A thousand? Oh, Bert, I'm happy for you! They must've been really impressed.”, said Gwen. “Oh, yeah, they said about as much.”, said Albert. “But in any case, this is great news for both of us. Maybe either tonight or next weekend, we can do a little something special.”
“Well yeah, sure. Like what?”, asked Gwen. Albert continued, “Oh, I was thinking maybe some place like Granatelli's Italian Bistro...” “I love that place!” “Yeah, me too. Also, maybe we could try that new Indian-Chinese restaurant on Schuster Avenue.....”, and they talked all the way home.
April 19, 1969, 7:52 p.m.
Albert Hoskins and Gwen Martin were one happy couple indeed, tonight; first they'd gone to Granatelli's for lunch, and then to Taste of the Orient on Schuster Avenue for their dinner. They had just paid for their meals and were now walking towards their car. “You know, Gwen, between this and lunch, I'm just plain stuffed.”, said Albert. “Yep, me too, Bertie. And it was worth every bite.”, Gwen replied. Indeed, that was the best lunch and dinner they'd had in quite a while. “Alright then, you ready?”, said Gwen, smiling. “Yup. I'm ready to wind down for the night myself”, Albert replied.
When they got home, Albert happened to take a glance to his right, only to see a strangely familiar blue sedan. 'Hmm....it's that blue car again. If somebody really is following me, who is it, and why? I don't have a fan club, as far as I know.....', Albert thought. He was an indie journalist who had some local acclaim in the Greater New York City metro area, but he wasn't quite a celebrity either. He stared at the car for a little bit longer before Gwen got his attention. “Hey, Bert. We're home.”, she remarked, gently. “Oh, sorry Gwen. Guess I just got distracted for a little bit.”, Albert said, sheepishly. He chuckled; it had been a long day and he was tired anyway. Gwen yawned briefly; so was she. “Alright, Bert, let's head on in.”, she said. “Mmhmm.” Albert nodded, and they both went indoors, to go to their 7th floor apartment. Just before they went in, Gwen said, “Could you check the mail real quick, Bert? I'm expecting something from my mom.”. “Sure thing.”, Albert replied, as his girlfriend walked in to their apartment's living room.
But just as he was about to carry everything in, he happened to notice an envelope that was addressed specifically to him, with a post office return address. 'Hmm, that's a bit strange. Who could it be from, and what's it all about?', he wondered. But Albert quickly decided that he would wait until the next morning to read it. After he came in, he quietly slipped the letter into the drawer on his side of the bed they shared, unnoticed. They watched a little bit of nighttime TV together, a Saturday night police procedural drama that Albert liked, and then the 10:00 o'clock news, before heading off to bed.
April 20, 1969, 9:06 a.m.
Albert had just woken up, but he felt ready to start the day. Just as he was about to get out of bed, someone knocked on the bedroom door. “Come in.”, said Albert. It was Gwen; he hadn't noticed until now that she was already up. She peeked in the door. “Hi, hon. I made coffee for the two of us.”, she said. “Alright, sure.”, said Albert, “I'll be out in just a minute.” Before he did, though, Albert remembered the letter in his drawer, and decided to open the envelope. And when he glanced at the letter, he suddenly became rather intrigued. 'Now this is rather interesting indeed. I'll go ahead and show this to Gwen. Maybe she'll want to know what it's about.'. Albert came into the living room, holding the letter. “Hey, hon.”, he said. He had casually placed the letter almost square in the middle of the table before grabbing some coffee.
Just as they sat down, Gwen found the letter. “Hey. What's this about?”, she asked inquisitively. “Okay, this is gonna sound a little weird, but I just got this mysterious letter from somebody named “M.C.” They're asking for help uncovering an old historical mystery of some sort, and apparently, I'm the only journalist they had considered, that they were totally sure they could trust.” Now, Gwen was really fascinated. “Really? This sounds interesting. I only hope this isn't some sort of elaborate joke.”, she remarked.
“I'm not so sure that it is. They seemed pretty genuine to me. Apparently, they're going to have a friend of theirs meet me at St. Albans's Park sometime this next Saturday.”, Albert replied. “Well, whatever it is, good luck.” said Gwen. “Thanks.” said Albert. After he finished his coffee, he went into the bedroom to get dressed for the day, for another meeting at Davies Brothers. He couldn't help but think, however, that he was about to be in for the adventure of his life.....
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Post by Steve on Nov 7, 2015 3:58:00 GMT
St. Albans's Park, Manhattan. April 27, 1969, 1:50 p.m.
Albert Hoskins waited patiently on a bench in St. Albans's Park. It was shaping up to be a lovely afternoon, and temperatures were supposed to just hit 70 degrees. He was originally instructed to come here by the mysterious writer who'd sent him that strange letter, and was positioned as close to the one of the local restaurants as he could get at the time.
Albert had just finished his deli sandwich when a mid-size white sedan pulled up to the curb. A somewhat stocky, shortish man with graying brown hair peaked out of the window. “Hey pal, you Albert?”, he asked. “Yeah, that would be me.”, Albert replied. “Friend of mine asked me to drop this off for ya.”, said the other man, and he grabbed a small package from the unoccupied passenger seat, and handed it to him, as well as an envelope that had been attached on the top. “Just be sure to only get into it by yourself, or with someone you know you can trust, if that.”
“Alright then, I'll be careful.”, said Albert. “Sure,”, the sedan's driver replied, “Oh, and you should probably open the envelope first. The letter within explains what's in the package.” Albert looked at what he had received, and then stepped back a few paces. “Thanks, pal. Have a good afternoon.”, he said to the driver, to which the driver replied, “Same to you, mister”. Albert then began walking to the bench and the man in the car began to drive off into the distance.
After getting some lunch for Gwen and himself at a local deli, Albert decided to drive home for the day; it took him about an hour and a half to get home. “Hey sweetheart, it’s me. I got some lunch for us.”, he said once he got in the door. “Hi, Bert. What did you get?”, Gwen asked. She had been watching TV at the time. “Just went to Panitzky’s and got us a couple of Staten Island Specials.”, Albert replied. “Mmm, I always liked those”, said Gwen, licking her lips. She went ahead and left the television on while she and Albert ate their lunch.
Afterwards, Gwen noticed that Albert had left a package on his side of the sofa that they shared. “Hey, hon, what’s this about?”, She asked. “Oh, sorry.”, said Albert, “Remember that letter I got?”, he asked. Gwen nodded affirmatively. “Well, the guy I met with was apparently a friend of whoever wrote it, and he had some stuff to hand to me. I haven’t checked to see what’s in it yet, but I can’t help but wonder if it might be something really important, if they didn’t send it through the mail.”
“Yeah,” said Gwen, “You know how the Postal Service can be sometimes, though.”. She remembered a particularly embarrassing moment in which she had sent a few Christmas gifts to a little cousin in Indiana one winter; one of them never got there, and the others were damaged. And to this, Albert nodded. “Anyway,”, said Gwen, “One of our local TV stations is running a Galloping George and Pete the Pony marathon. Wanna watch?”, “Well, sure! Always did love that show.”, said Albert. And they spent the rest of that day and evening watching TV, before finally heading off to bed at 11 p.m.
Garrison's Corner, Manhattan April 29, 1969, 10:20 a.m.
Albert Hoskins stared at the package on the living room table. His girlfriend Gwen had already left for work, and he was becoming quite curious as to what, exactly, he had gotten from the guy in the white car. So, he decided to open it, since he was home alone. It wasn't much; just a house key, a couple of miscellaneous trinkets, a hairpin, and a small booklet. Albert was a tiny bit perplexed at this point. 'I do wonder what all this stuff is really for? I guess I'd better open the letter that came with it and see what I can learn from that', he thought. So he opened the envelope and began to read the letter.
After he finished reading the letter, Albert realized that there was more to this whole scenario than he had first believed. He decided to place the letter back on the table, and that he was going to tell Gwen when she got home from the market. April 29, 1969, 7:00 p.m.
“Okay, hon, lemme get this straight.”, said Gwen. “This M.C. person, whoever they are, is asking you to, at some point in time, seek out this old, rundown house in North Manhattan, just so you can go find some old documents?”, she asked, feeling quite puzzled. “Yeah, that's the basic gist of it,”, said Albert, “though they asked me to wait at least about a month or so before actually doing anything. Something about having more information about these papers.”
“I dunno, Bertie.”, Gwen replied. “It just seems a little too strange to me, that's all. First you see a peculiar little blue car, then we get these strange letters, and now they're asking you to poke around in a house that hasn't been lived in for 50 years?” Albert understood; he thought it all a little strange himself. “I see what you're saying, Gwen. But something about this just tickles my fancy bone, ya know? I've always been into all this historical stuff myself, and who knows? This could be the thing that really launches my career.” He chuckled. “Who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky and make the history books.”. Gwen let out a small sigh in response. “I know, and I respect that, I really do. I'm just a little concerned, that's all.”
“Don't worry, I'll be fine.”, Albert replied, and he moved to embrace Gwen, who reciprocated in turn. “Say, I'm getting' famished right about now. How do you feel about pizza tonight?”, he said to Gwen, getting hungry. “Petrelli's.”, said Gwen, “They had a special deal going and tomorrow's the last day to take advantage of it.”. “Alright, I like 'em too.”, said Albert, who then proceeded to order their pizza.
Later that night, as he lay in bed with his girlfriend, Albert Hoskins wondered just how deep this rabbit hole really went. 'What's so important about these papers that they picked a relatively obscure freelance reporter like myself to help them solve this old mystery?', he thought.
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Post by Steve on Dec 6, 2015 18:57:02 GMT
And the plot thickens.....
East Harlem, Manhattan Ludwig's Deli and Buffet May 17, 1969, 3:50 p.m.
Albert sat in front of one of the outdoor tables of this modest Harlem establishment savoring the warm springtime air, waiting a minute for his newly made sandwich to cool off a bit. He had come up to this place to eat lunch alone while Gwen was across the Hudson in New Jersey taking care of family for the weekend. He liked this place in particular because he had come here often during his university days, and had become friends with the son of one of the owners, and, besides, their sandwiches were always top-notch.
He looked around for a little bit; although the more observant Jewish folks in the area, often amongst the Ludwigs' most frequent customers, were at home, given that it was a Saturday, there were still many diverse faces to be seen-African-Americans, Cubans, Dominicans, Italians, Indians, and even a few Chinese and Syrians, amongst others, could be seen here. But when he looked to his right, he happened to catch the sight of a middle-aged fellow in a khaki colored shirt and faded blue work pants, who, too, had just gotten a sandwich. The two men's eyes met, and the other fellow walked towards Albert's general direction. “Hey pal.”, said Albert, amicably, “Haven't I seen you before?”. “Huh. Come to think of it, yeah, I have. A few weeks ago at St. Albans's.”, said the other guy. “Ya mind if I take a seat here?”. “Sure, no problem.”, said Albert.
“My name's Bernard, by the way. Bernie Mitchell.”, said the man in the khaki shirt. “But I just go by Bernie.”. “Alright, man. My name's Albert Hoskins. Call me Al or Bert if you'd like.”, Albert replied, “Ya come here a lot?”. “Yeah, quite a bit. You?”, said Bernie. “Nah, it's been a while. Last time was a couple years ago, with an old college pal of mine.” “Oh, I see. You really should come here more often, though. Their Reubens in particular are one of a kind.”.
After the two men finished eating their sandwiches, Bernie spoke up again. “By the way, pal, since we're both here, my friend, M.C., has told me that you'll be getting another letter from them within a couple of weeks.”, he said. “Apparently, it's rather important, too. Can't tell ya exactly what, but you'll find out eventually.”. “Mm-hmm, I see.”, said Albert.
“Hey listen man, I gotta get going. Wife and kids are gonna be waitin'.”, Bernie said. “Well, alright. It really was good to meet you, Bernie.”, Albert replied. “Sure, you too, Al.”, said Bernie jovially. The two men then shook hands and went their separate ways for the day.
Garrison's Corners, Manhattan June 2, 1969, 9:00 a.m.
Gwen Martin was in her apartment's kitchen making a nice traditional North American breakfast for her boyfriend Albert. It was the first full day of summer now, and temperatures were warming up quite nicely; perfect weather for this kind of meal. Suddenly, Albert Hoskins walked out of their bedroom. “Hi Gwen! I could smell your wonderful cooking from all the way in the bedroom.”, he said, cheerfully. “Aw thanks, Bertie.”, Gwen replied sweetly, “I always do try.”, and Albert smiled. “Anyway,”, said Gwen, “Everything's almost ready.”
But just as they were about to sit down and eat their breakfast, a knock on the door came. “I'll get it!”, said Gwen, and she answered the door. A female Postal Service worker was standing there. “Here's your mail, ma'am. Also, I got a package for you. Could you sign this, please?”, she asked politely, handing Gwen a receipt. “Sure, no problem.”, said Gwen, and she signed the receipt and handed it back to the postal worker, who smiled. “Okay, thanks, and you have a nice day, ma'am.”
“You too, ma'am.”, said Gwen, and the postal worker resumed her duties to deliver to other residents. Gwen then went back into the door, carrying the mail and a small, neatly wrapped package, which she then placed on the table. “Hey Gwen,”, said Albert, “What's this thing?”, he asked. “Oh, yeah.”, Gwen replied, “It's the Kentucky Scotch I ordered a while back.” She then opened the package, and a small glass bottle was revealed.
“Ah, I see.”, Albert said, “Had something similar back during Christmas of '62. Jack's Best, I think, from Tennessee. Great stuff.” “And this bottle,”, Gwen replied, “is for this Christmas.” Albert nodded. “Don't worry, hon, I won't touch it.”, he said, smiling.
“Anyway, Bert,”, said Gwen, producing a white envelope, “this one's for you.”. She then handed it to Albert, who was clearly interested to see what it was about. “Thanks, hon. Maybe we should finish breakfast first, though, and I don't want my bacon getting cold.”, said Albert, chuckling slightly. “Mm-hmm.”, said Gwen, and they sat down to finish their meal.
Later that day, while Gwen was out to lunch with an old friend of hers, Albert sat on the sofa, with the letter he had received now open and in his hands. He began to read it, and was frankly stunned to see what the author was saying. 'Wait a minute.', he thought. 'This is really all about shady political deals, and under-the-table money exchange? Now I'm really curious'. “Guess I'll find out exactly just what those shady deals are soon enough.”, he said softly to himself. He then sat down to watch some TV, trying to take his mind off of what he'd just read; he would tell Gwen about it all later.
June 19, 1969, 12:00 noon
Albert and Gwen had just finished watching the morning soaps on TV when their home phone rang. Albert went to pick up the phone, expecting it to be the Davies Brothers as he had just recently done a story for them. “Hello?”, said Albert; and, as expected, it was Frank Davies on the other line. “Oh, hello, Mr. Davies, sir. What'd you think of the article?”. The conversation continued for another eight minutes, before Albert hung up. Gwen could tell it was good news. “So, Bert, did he like that story you did on that Guatemalan restaurant last week?”, she asked. “Sure did.”, Albert replied, “And I'll be going there later today to pick up the check. 100 dollars worth.” “Happy for you, hon.”, said Gwen, who then smooched Albert; he smiled widely at her and did the same.
“Okay, I'm going to check the mail real quick.”, said Albert. As he reached into the mail slot, he noticed that there wasn't much in there. But he did find another letter addressed to him, from M.C. again. He walked inside and put most of the letters down, except that particular one, before going into the bedroom. “Hey, Bert, whatcha doin'?”, said Gwen. “I'll just be a minute.”, said Albert. Gwen shrugged, and went back to watching the 12'o clock newscast.
Albert sat on the bed for a minute, before opening the letter. This one was briefer; 'So M.C. wants me to meet their pal Bernie at Ludwig's, for a formal meeting, at 4 p.m. on July 11th. Hmm.....hopefully work won't get in the way.', he thought. 'Still, though, it'd be nice to get to know the guy a little, just so I know I can trust the fella.'. He then put the letter in his bedside drawer, and walked out of the bedroom, and back towards the sofa. “M.C. and the mystery papers again?”, Gwen asked, when she saw him again. “Yeah, pretty much.”, Albert replied. “I see.”, said Gwen. They both smiled at each other and went back to watching more TV.
East Harlem, Manhattan Ludwig's Deli and Buffet June 21, 1969, 2:00 p.m.
Albert Hoskins sat next to one of the restaurant's outdoor tables near the entrance. He hadn't ordered a sandwich yet, but he was looking to see if a certain middle-aged fellow named Bernie Mitchell was hanging around. And, surely enough, there he was, on the far right side of the restaurant. Albert decided to meet with Bernie, but first, he decided to order a sandwich.
After he got his sandwich and a drink, he realized that Bernie was still there. He decided to walk over to Bernie. “Hey, Bernie. It's Albert Hoskins. Remember me?”, he said. “Oh yeah, I do. How've ya been?”, asked Bernie. “Doin' fine, Bernie, doin' fine.”
“Alright, good.”, said Bernie. “Do you come here often on Saturdays, by the way?”, asked Albert. “Yep, just about every week,”, Bernie replied, “They've got great deals on the weekends, 50 percent off on some sandwiches. It's a deal ya can't beat. Oh, speaking of sandwiches, by the way, I'll be right back. I think mine might be ready.”
Bernie quickly came back out with his sandwich, and Albert decided to break the ice. “So, Bernie, we've talked a few times, and it looks like we may be working together sometime soon. So, mind telling me a bit about yourself?”
“Oh, boy, where to start?”, Bernie said, chuckling. “Anyway, I'm originally from just outside Jameson Park, New Jersey, and I was the second oldest of the bunch, five of us to be exact. My dad's Jewish, and from Newark, but not particularly religious, and is actually kind of a socialist type. My mom was born in Vineland down in South Jersey, and all four of her grandparents basically got straight off the boat from Scotland and Northern Ireland. She's more of a middling, go-with-the-flow type, but she did join the National Association for the Advancement of Gender Equality some time back. I, myself work with McCaskey and Sons, who built that big ol' tower pokin' out of the middle of North Queens.....”
The conversation lasted for almost 20 whole minutes before they stopped.
“Ya know,”, said Bernie. “I've only met you a couple of times and I already like you. You're a damn smart guy, for one. You oughta be a professor at Columbia or something.”. “Thanks”, said Albert. “I'm starting to like you, too, Bernie. Hard working guy, always there for his family.”, to which Bernie chuckled. “Anyway, I guess I'd better get going.”, said Albert. “Alright, see ya later, Al.”, Bernie replied.
Later that night, Albert Hoskins contemplated his next move. He was sure Bernie was a swell guy, but what, exactly, was in store for him when he got to that to old house? He still didn't know, but he decided to not worry about it for the time being. The Commonwealth Day holiday was coming soon, and he wanted to help make it the best that either he or Gwen had ever had.....
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Post by Steve on Dec 19, 2015 3:59:28 GMT
Hi folks, another update for you: our intrepid reporter finally takes the plunge-what, exactly, does Albert Hoskins find in that old house? Find out, below..... Garrison's Corner, Manhattan July 2, 1969, 10:50 p.m. Albert Hoskins was feeling quite contented; today had been full of festivity and merrymaking, and he, Gwen, and a couple of friends and family had enjoyed the best Commonwealth Day dinner in quite a while, with spiced turkey, Welsh cakes, succotash, and all sorts of delicious traditional North American fare, and after everybody had gone home, Albert and Gwen had enjoyed a nice, sultry half-hour long lovemaking session. Simply put, everything about that day had gone quite well. As he and Gwen finished watching the last few moments of TV, Albert decided to get up and check the mail. When he got there, there were a few greeting cards and letters from family, and yet another paycheck from Davies Brothers, but one letter in particular stood out, from the mysterious “M.C.”. He opened the beige envelope to see what M.C. had written to him. 'Not much.', he thought. Just a reminder of the meeting with Bernie.'. He then carried it, and the rest of the mail inside, not mentioning this newest correspondence from M.C., and neither did Gwen mention it that night. Both went to bed just before midnight, their stomachs full and their minds on what a wonderful time they had had. East Harlem, Manhattan July 11, 1969, 4:05 p.m. Albert waited patiently on a street corner in East Harlem. Bernie Mitchell, an associate of M.C.'s, and, he considered, a friendly acquaintance of his own, was supposed to pick him up right about now. He wasn't too worried, though, and just as he'd expected, a white sedan pulled up next to him; it was Bernie's car. “Hey, Al, sorry I'm late. Hop in, would ya?”, said Bernie. “No problem, man, I'm coming.”, Albert replied, before hopping into the passenger seat. “Nice car, by the way.” “Thanks,”, said Bernie. “It's a '62 model, and it hasn't died on me yet.”. “Mm-hmm.”, said Albert, nodding. “So, we're headed to West 186th Street, right?”, he asked, as Bernie put the car in gear. “Yep, West 186th Street and Wadsworth. They say that Benedict Arnold's grandson basically built that house with his own hands back in the day. A great guy, but a little eccentric, too. Apparently, he liked to collect things, and there was stuff in there that was never touched by anyone except for him or his father. Including those letters that M.C. was talkin' about.”. “Now that's interesting.”, Albert replied. “Wonder what else that old house has been hiding all these years?”. “Haha, who knows?”, said Bernie. “Maybe the Glockenspiel Diamond, or something.”. Both men chucked. “Yeah.”, Albert replied. The two men then made a beeline for the old house. Arnold's Manor Wadsworth Heights, Manhattan, 4:29 p.m. “So, here we are.”, said Bernie. “Got everything ya need?” “Yeah, pretty much.”, said Albert, patting his pockets. “Alright. I'll be stickin' around until you got everything.”, Bernie replied. “Sure. Okay, hopefully we'll be done by 6.”, said Albert, and he got out of the car and started walking towards the house. Arnold's Manor, as it was popularly called, was a fairly dilipadated old house; reputedly, nobody had lived there since 1920 and only a part-time housekeeper employed by the original owner's great-granddaughter kept it from falling into a total state of disrepair. Albert remembered the house key he'd gotten from M.C., and used it to open the front door. The old house had no lighting, so Albert brought a flashlight with him. He spent the next 20 minutes looking around the various rooms, but then, he remembered something. ' Wait, the booklet! It might be able to help me find what I'm looking for.'. Once he got to the nearest window, he used the light of the sun to read it's contents. And, sure enough, the booklet contained entries for all sorts of things contained within the Manor. ' It's basically a “What's what” of everything of any interest within this whole house! Thanks, M.C.'. Feeling a little more confident, Albert decided to go for the most important things first: the letters. He followed the booklet's directions until he got to a room on the left side of the upper floor. But there was a slight problem: the door was locked, and the house key didn't work. Albert quickly realized, however, that this might have been what the hairpin was for. Reaching into his right pocket, he found the hairpin and began to twist it around in the lock. It took a few minutes, but he was able to unlock the door, and go inside. There wasn't much in this room now; just an small old wooden cabinet in the left rear corner, and that was it. Albert looked to his right, and noticed a small closet. He found a small safe in the closet and decided to consult the booklet for information; luckily, he found the combination on one of the last pages. Albert only needed just under a minute to unlock the safe, and the door opened. Albert sat on the floor for a little bit, trying to comtemplate what he was about to find. After a couple of minutes, he braced himself, and reached into the safe. ' I wonder, what I'm about to discover. Is there more to Arnold than I once thought?' Benedict Arnold was one of the founders of the Commonwealth of North America, and was admired by many as a great compromiser by historians who both fell on the Loyalist side of the American Revolution, and those who sympathized with the Patriots as well; indeed, the entire impetus behind the creation of the Commonwealth had been a compromise between the two sides. But had some things come with a heavy cost? It took him nearly an hour to finish reading the letters, and when he was finished, he'd been both greatly intrigued, and stunned at the same time. ' I always knew that old Ben Arnold was a shrewd dealer, but this seems a little hard to believe. Paying off abolitionists to stop discussions on the slave trade? Selling out his former fellow revolutionaries to exile, or worse, even execution? Damn. Just damn. I really gotta think this through, can't take it all in at once'. Albert didn't have much more time to wait around, however, because just after he finished putting the letters in the suitcase, he heard a motorcycle passing in the alley behind the house. Realizing his time was up, he began heading his way downstairs, but just before he could make it to the front door, he glanced to his left, and realized he'd been spotted by somebody: it was the housekeeper. ' Oh dear. I've been found out.', he thought.? The lady gasped. “Hello? Who are you, and why are you here?”, she asked, somewhat startled, although unsure if she felt threatened or not. “It's okay, I'm not a crook!”, Albert shouted. 'Well shoot, I gotta think quickly. Poor lady probably didn't know I'd been asked to come here.'. Meanwhile, Bernie had been sitting in the car when he heard the commotion. “Aw, damn, Albert. Looks like you just got busted”, he muttered, concerned about his partner. ' Hope he can talk his way outta this, though.' Back in the house, Albert remembered the trinkets that M.C. had sent to him back in April. ' Hmm, maybe she might recognize one of these?It's worth a shot!' he thought. He then peeked around the corner. “Hey, listen, ma'am, I have something here that you may recognize. Can I reach into my shirt pocket to get it?”, Albert said to the housekeeper. “Sure, anything, as long as you promise not to hurt me or nothin'. I got little grandkids at home, okay? They need their Abuelita.”., the housekeeper said, sighing. “It's okay, ma'am. I got it in my hand and I'm going to walk towards you slowly, okay? Just so you know I'm not gonna hurt anybody.”. Albert walked slowly and calmly towards the housekeeper as she came more fully into view. She was a short and somewhat curvy Latina who looked to be about forty-five, or thereabouts, though might have been slightly older. Albert produced the two trinkets, one of them was a large pocket watch with a picture inside. “Do you recognize these? A friend of a friend gave them to me.”, he said, trying to reassure the housekeeper. The older lady opened the watch's cover, and then she stared at it for a little bit. “Mia.”, she said softly, holding the watch to her cheek briefly; Albert could tell that they had had a close connection somehow. “I helped raise her. Sweet little girl.”, said the housekeeper. “Honestly, only she would know where this was.”, she continued, “This was one of her father's most prized possessions before he died and I hadn't seen this old thing in ten years before today.”. 'How sweet indeed. They must've been really close.', thought Albert, nodding in response. “So, I guess you were alright after all.”, the housekeeper remarked, smiling. “Sure.”, said Albert. “Listen, I am so sorry I scared you, ma'am. I really had no intention of causing any problems.”, genuinely apologetic for the mishap. “It's alright, I know you're okay.”, the housekeeper said, feeling quite relieved. “Have a good day.” “Sure, and you too.”, said Albert kindly. He then waved to the lady, and then left the house to go back to Bernie's car. After putting the suitcase in the trunk, Albert sat down in the front seat. Bernie immediately started talking to him. “Hey, pal, I was gettin' a little worried back there. Everything turn out alright?”. “Yeah, Bernie, it's alright. I ran into the what was apparently a housekeeper, but I was able to convince her that I wasn't going to harm anybody, and that M.C. was the one who had sent me here.” Albert showed Bernie the picture behind the watch's cover, a black and white photo of a little girl who couldn't have been any older than three years old: the date on the bottom read, “To Joe, from Gramma-Feb. 21, 1939”. “Aww. Cute kid.”, said Bernie. “Reminds me of my niece Cassie; she just had her fifth birthday.”. “Happy for her, Bernie.”, Albert replied, and Bernie smiled. The two men drove back to Albert's apartment, and Bernie dropped him off. “See ya later, Al.”, said Bernie. “Thanks, bud. Have a great one.”, Albert replied. Once home, Albert checked his watch: 6:21 p.m.; Gwen wouldn't be home until 9, as she was out with friends again. Albert decided to just watch TV for the rest of the night and have a homemade sandwich and soda for his dinner that night.
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Post by Steve on Dec 19, 2015 5:57:56 GMT
Here's another part. Albert Hoskins finishes gathering the last bits of evidence he needs for his story.....but will it come at a price?
Garrison's Corner, Manhattan July 19, 1969, 11:50 a.m.
Albert Hoskins sat on a small bench outside of his apartment. M.C. had informed him that there were a few more papers that she wanted him to have, and he would be able to get them by meeting the housekeeper. Bernie got there just before 12:00, and they took off towards Wadsworth Heights.
Arnold's Manor Wadsworth Heights, Manhattan, 12:27 p.m.
“I'll just be a minute, Bernie.”, said Albert, exiting out of the car. He walked towards the house, and knocked on the door. “Hi, is Tere here?”, he asked, making sure to be polite. “Si, estoy aqui. Are you Alberto?” replied the woman inside. “Yeah, it's Albert. I'm working with Mia.”, said Albert. “Ah, si. Uno minuto, por favor.”, said Tere the housekeeper. Not long afterwards, Tere emerged with a small green briefcase. “Here's the stuff she wanted me to give you.”, she said, with a smile. “Thank you, ma'am.”, Albert said. “You're welcome, and please do tell Mia I said hello if you ever see her, okay? It's been so long since I've talked to her.”, Tere replied.
“Okay, I will.”, said Albert. “And have a nice day.”. “Oh, you too.”, Tere replied. Albert then walked back to Bernie's car and proceeded back home. After Bernie dropped him off, Albert went upstairs, only to find Gwen waiting for him. “Hi, hon, I thought you were just going out for some fresh air.”. “Yeah, I did, but I got another letter from M.C. just last night; they wanted me to go back to the house for the rest of the papers.”. “Oh?”, said Gwen. “How did that go?”.
“Heh, funny story behind that one, sweetheart....”, said Albert, and he spent the better part of 15 minutes explaining what had happened. “Oh. I'm glad everything went alright, then.”, said Gwen, who then hugged her boyfriend. “Thanks.”, said Albert. “Anyway, I was told that she had talked to Davies Brothers and that someone in that company was going to help me set up a meeting with Vince Bucciali over at Merryfield and Company about possibly publishing this whole story.”
“You ever work with them?”, asked Gwen. “Just once before, on the Columbia protests back in '66.”, Albert replied, “But they were quite impressed with my work, and Mr. Bucciali loves a good blockbuster story. Who knows? Maybe I'll get really lucky and find a place in the history books.”
Gwen chuckled. “Oh, Albie, ever the dreamer.”, she said. “But I always loved that about you.” And Albert blushed. “Aw, shucks.”, he said. “Anyway, I guess we'll just have to wait and see, huh?”
Albert Hoskins, however, didn't realize that things were about to get a little more difficult for him and Gwen.
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Post by Steve on Jan 3, 2016 5:59:57 GMT
Hi folks, a post for the New Year-Albert Hoskins and Gwen Martin face a break-in.....and the first real test of their relationship. How does it all end? See it all here:
Garrison's Corner, Manhattan September 24, 1969, 10:40 p.m.
Albert Hoskins and Gwen Martin had been having the time of their lives this month. Gwen had just realized that she was pregnant with their first child and was in the mood to celebrate, so they went out to one of the best restaurants in Manhattan. But when they arrived home, Albert noticed something quite odd: the door was slightly ajar. “Hey, hon, what's with the door?”, asked Gwen. “I'm pretty sure we remembered to lock up for the day. “I dunno,” said Albert, “But something does seem really off.”, I'm gonna go ahead and go in there.”.
And when they did enter, they were stunned: the apartment was a complete and total mess, with the sofa turned over, the TV unplugged and laying on it's side, and several items missing from the refrigerator, as well as clothes strewn all over the floor. And in the middle of it all, lay a note, saying, simply, 'Do not continue this pursuit for any longer, Mr. Hoskins, or we will tell the public all about your little affair with Serena Pratchett. Signed, Your Benefactors.”
Gwen was now confused. “Who....who's Serena?” Albert sighed, melancholy in his voice. “An old friend of mine. Tough thing to explain, but I'll tell you soon.”. A helpful neighbor, meanwhile, suddenly peeked into the door and informed them that she had called the police.
No immediately actionable clues were found as to the identity of the would be-burglar, but Albert remembered that the papers taken from the Arnold estate were in safe hands; Bernie had picked them up for the night, and was going to return them the next morning. 'Smart idea, Gwen!', he thought. 'Now, if only I could tell you about Serena...'
September 26, 1969, 7:00 pm
“And that's pretty much all of what happened.”, said Albert to Gwen. He had just spent the past hour explaining who Serena was and what happened; she, Serena Pratchett, was a young Canadian college student from somewhere near Toronto that Albert had once dated, and made love with, only for him to find out later on that she was engaged to be married; her distraught husband-to-be committed suicide and Serena had to leave the city, something that Albert had had a hard time living down. “And it still bothers me today. If I had only known.”, he said. “It wasn't your fault, sweetheart. Ya didn't know.”, Gwen replied, and she hugged him and smooched him on the temple. “Thanks, hon. It does make me feel a little better, at least.”, Albert replied. Although he wondered just who he'd managed to piss off by doing all this, he wasn't about to thrown in the towel. Albert Hoskins just wasn't that kind of guy. 'I'll stick to it 'till the bitter end. For me, and for her, too.', he thought. He was about to start a family, and wasn't about to let some piece of blackmail get in the way of his work, or his love for Gwen and their unborn child.
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Post by Steve on Jan 7, 2016 3:59:58 GMT
As our intrepid journalist seeks out his big break.....will he have to keep searching? Or is this the opprotunity that he's been looking for? Merryfield & Company Castellano, Brooklyn. November 9, 1969, 2:00 pm Albert Hoskins waited patiently for his appointment with Vincent Bucciali. 'This is it. This either catapults my career to new heights, or I have to start again from square one.'. He was nervous, quite nervous today. But he sucked it up, and steeled himself; he did it for his love of free journalism and his family. Suddenly, one of Mr. Bucciali's assistants appeared. “OK, Mr. Hoskins, Mr. Bucciali will see you now.”. “Okay, thanks.”, said Albert, and followed the assistant upstairs. Soon enough, he came face to face with Vince Bucciali himself. Bucciali was a well-built Italian-American man in his forties, and stood about six feet tall. He had an overall imposing figure, one which either intimidate people or made them admire him. “Mr. Hoskins, I presume?”, he said. “Yes, sir, Mr. Bucciali. That would be.”. “Well, come on in, Mr. Hoskins, we do have a lot to discuss.” November 9, 1969, 3:48 pm “In short, Mr. Hoskins, I do find this story of yours to be intriguing, and I do see that you have provided a more than satisfactory amount of evidence to back up your claims. Not to mention that, as I have seen, much of your prior work, to be truthful, has been simply impeccable, rivaling that of even some of the most famous big-name reporters in all of North America!”, said Vincent Bucciali. “But I'm afraid I can't consider this too lightly. On one hand, I'll have to put it to you straight: this is a potentially highly controversial story that would no doubt shake this country to it's core. It might even anger some folks, to the point where it could jeopardize this company's future! However, I must admit that this could potentially revolutionize the way we think about this nation's early history, and people will be talking for years. Hell, perhaps you may get lucky, and have your name written in the history textbooks of the future, along with Joseph Lincoln and Tom Collins. In either case, I will let you know about my final decision as soon as it's possible for me to do so. It could be within, say, a few days, or it might take until just before Christmas. Rest assured, you'll be getting a personal call from me.” “Thank you, Mr. Bucciali, sir. I do hope this all works out.”, Albert said. He stuck out his hand, and Mr. Bucciali shook it. “Likewise, Mr. Hoskins, and it was a pleasure. Angela, if you may?”, he said to his assistant. “Of course, sir.”, said Angela, and she and Albert took the elevator down to the front office, and Albert then set off for home, feeling the most hope & confidence that he'd had since he went on his first date with Gwen in the summer of '66.
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Post by Steve on Jan 9, 2016 3:59:28 GMT
Garrison's Corner, Manhattan November 9, 1969, 4:59 pm
“So, you got the job?”, Gwen asked. “I'm still waiting for the final confirmation.”, said Albert, “But Mr. Bucciali seemed to be pretty darn impressed, and, from what I've heard, he's kind of a tough nut to crack. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing in this business, of course.”. “Well, whatever happens, good luck.”, said Gwen, smooching him on the cheek. “Thanks, sweetheart.”, Albert replied. November 22, 1969, 2:18 pm
Albert and Gwen hadn't done much today, and this had been a perfectly ordinary day so far. Really, neither of them was expecting much of anything to happen. But, just then, their home phone rang. “I'll get it. Could be Mr. Bucciali at Merryfield and Co.”, said Albert. 'Here it comes, the big moment!', he thought. He picked it up. “Well, hello. This is Albert Hoskins here.” On the other end of the line was none other than Vincent Bucciali himself.
“Hello, Mr. Hoskins. I hope you and your fiancee are doing well. Anyway, I'll just cut straight to the point. Having carefully considered this idea, and talked with Mr. Merryfield himself, we have decided to approve the publication of this story, and it will be out sometime around the Christmas holiday. And, as a bonus, I trust you'll enjoy the ten thousand dollars that we've sent your way. Enjoy your holiday, Mr. Hoskins.”, said Mr. Bucciali. “Thank you, Mr. Bucciali, sir, and I hope you have a good holiday season as well.”, said Albert, and hung up the phone.
The cheer that emanated from Albert's mouth a few seconds later could be heard in their neighbor's apartments. “So, the deal came through?”, asked Gwen. “Yes, yes, it did, and with ten thousand dollars to boot.”, said Albert. “Oh, Albie, I'm so happy for you!” Gwen said, quite cheerily, and she embraced and smooched him all at once. This was one of the happiest days that either of them had ever had, and with a wedding coming up, it was shaping up to be the happiest year of both their lives at this point.
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Post by lordroel on Jan 9, 2016 22:16:25 GMT
Like to read it, you are better in creating this kind of stories that i am.
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Post by Steve on Jan 10, 2016 3:59:10 GMT
Like to read it, you are better in creating this kind of stories that i am. Thanks, lordroel! Definitely glad you enjoyed the story. I just need to finish posting the last couple of bits and it'll all be finished.
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Post by Steve on Jan 10, 2016 4:59:31 GMT
And here we are! The end of the story.....and a little epilogue to finish it all off.
December 25, 1969, 11:57 am
Albert and Gwen Hoskins were enjoying their first Christmas together as husband and wife, and , along with a few family members, a couple of special guests were also coming. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. “Hey,”, said Bernie on the other side, “It's me, and somebody wants to see you.”, Albert opened the door, and there stood Bernie, and a woman to his right. “Albert, this is M.C., M.C., Albert.”. “Hi, are you Mia?”, he asked. “Yes, I was. But my full name is Maria Carlotta. Maria Carlotta Jeffries. By the way, as for Benedict Arnold? He was my great-great-great grandfather.” “Really?” said Albert. “Do tell! History is one of my favorite subjects, and I've always been a bit of a genealogy buff, too. After you.” He let M.C. in, and she began to tell a little bit of her story, the whole of which would be revealed over Christmas dinner.
December 25, 1969, 10:59 pm
Albert and Gwen lay happily in bed together, as they prepared to sleep for the night. “That was the best Christmas dinner I ever had.”, said Albert. “Yeah, it was for me, too.”, said Gwen. She sighed. “Honey, whatever happens in the years to come, I just want you to know that I will always love you.”, she said. “Awww. I love you, too.”, Albert replied, and they cuddled together, eventually falling asleep in each other's arms.
December 29, 1969 11:07 am
Nothing much was happening on this cold and wintry Monday morning, but that was alright in Albert's mind: growing up in Vermont, he always liked seeing (and when younger, playing in) snow, and a couple of inches of it coated the ground all across the New York area. At 11:07, the phone rang, and Albert picked up the phone. “Yeah, hello? This is Albert Hoskins.”, he asked. “Hey, it's Bernie.”, said the man on the other side. “Oh, hey, Bernie.”, said Albert. “Family doing all right?”. “Yep, all good here.”, Bernie replied. “Listen, Al, M.C., Maria, wanted me to tell you about a few things. First, you remember the guys who broke into your apartment back this September? Well, they caught 'em just before Christmas. And, oh boy, you wouldn't believe what one of these fellas had to say! Apparently...” 'Oh wow. Now that's amazing. Who knew some old letters could rile up so many Old Money multi-millionaires?', he thought, as Bernie relayed the story to him.
“Also, I read the story you did about the 'Manhattan Papers', as they're calling them now. I was never a history buff, but wow. I never knew about all that stuff Arnold had to do to keep himself above water.”. “Yeah, me neither. But at least he was actually trying to help keep the country glued together, and even became a philantrophist late in his life. I gotta give him that.”, said Albert. “Heh, yeah, maybe, maybe.”, said Bernie, chuckling. “Anyway, she also wanted me to tell you that several major publishers are interested in having you do some work for them at some point. Looks like you've really hit the jackpot, buddy.”, Albert chuckled. “I guess so, Bernie, I guess so.”. “
“Sure. Anyway, that's pretty much it. Have a great New Year, buddy.”, said Bernie. “Alright, and you too.”, Albert replied, hanging up the phone.
“So, hon, what are they saying?”, said Gwen. “From what I've heard, it sounds like this story may have garnered more interest than I ever could have really contemplated, especially amongst historians. Our future is really shaping up to be fabulous.”, Albert replied. “Wonderful. And I hope our children will be able to enjoy a fulfilling life as well.”, said Gwen. “Oh, Gwennie, I'm sure they will.”, said Albert.
Gwen moved a little closer. “I love you, sweetheart.”, she said, hugging him, and smooching him on the cheek. “I love you too, hon.”, and did the same to her. Indeed, what a journey it had been for the both of them! And despite some difficulties, they had pulled through, with flying colors.
Santa Clara, California July 9, 1979 10:19 am
Albert and Gwen Hoskins sat on the porch of their new California home, enjoying the morning sun. Their kids were playing in the front yard, and he and Gwen were both reading, Albert a book about the “Manhattan Papers”. Although his discovery had been highly controversial at first, and sent ripples throughout the entirely of academia (and elsewhere) , the letters ultimately allowed for some welcome discussion on the early history of the Commonwealth, and the re-examination of not just history, but how many Commonwealth Americans viewed the world and life in general. 'Sometimes,', Albert thought, 'finding new perspectives really can change the way you think about things. It can even change the course of history.' He smiled to himself, and then looked at Gwen, and they kissed each other. Life truly had gone well for them, and they looked forward for many more wonderful years of joy and bliss.
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Post by lordroel on Jan 10, 2016 8:39:34 GMT
Like to read it, you are better in creating this kind of stories that i am. Thanks, lordroel! Definitely glad you enjoyed the story. I just need to finish posting the last couple of bits and it'll all be finished. Have you gotten already something new in the works.
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