My Box of Lost Stories

“Where to, jefe?”, the Captain asked indicating the map on the  Senora’s  bridge. Drecker sighed, his tell-tale puff of cigar smoke curling up and disappearing in the ocean breeze. He reached into the inside pocket of his duster and retrieved an envelope. “That’s a mighty fine question. Where ARE we goin next?” The Captain had seen him reference a new letter before every job and still didn’t know who was sending them. He didn’t mind. People were allowed their secrets on his ship. When you’re at sea for long periods of time, stuck in a tin can, and bunked with a bunch of salty guys who spend way too much time thinking and talking about women, secrets can be a precious retreat. Secrets are what held his crew together. He had also come to trust Drecker during all their misadventures, so if he wasn’t ready to share what was on his letter, the Captain could care less. “Bruges”, said Drecker with a tone of irritation. “Belgium is where we’re goin. Better get another ...

‘Waiting was always the worst’ A burst of steam crept over the man’s bushy mustache, from his mouth, and rose silently into the air. The air was always humid in the cramped little laboratory. A hissing noise came from the large, metallic, apparatus slung over the man’s back. He sat and stared anxiously, his short round figure leaning forward with anticipation from the top of a barstool. Sweat ran in small rivulets down his face, from his fuzzy grey head, past the goggles he always wore, down to his neck where it disappeared behind the tall collar of his white leather lab coat. He stared, unwavering, at the side of a small metal box as if attempting to intimidate it. Wilhelm Klank’s handler’s watched as he (yet again) finished a small and meaningless invention. The men seemed like gentlemen from their appearance; nice black suits with shiny wing-tip shoes. Their well-groomed demeanor hid well the fact that they were killers. They had locked him in his lab and had been watching h...

The entrance to the Lome Officer’s Club burst open, a middle-aged Spaniard staggered in panting. The club was dimly lit, the air was damp from the storm with a haze of pipe and cigar smoke lingering. Bracing himself against the bar, the Spaniard pleadingly looked into the bartenders eyes. “Senor Drecker?” he said anxiously, realizing the steely eyes of the German patrons this club catered to were now focused on him. The bartender, moving to remove this bedraggled man who was clearly a sailor for one of the ships in port, halted as he heard the name. Easing the grip he had on the man’s arm, he motioned him towards a barely lit corner of the club, a booth with a large stein of ale on the table in front of it sat occupied by a dark silhouette. Periodically an orange glow would emanate from the figure, revealing a scarred visage under an old leather slouch hat, before being obscured by a cloud of smoke and dimming once again. As the Spaniard frightfully, but cautiously, made hi...

It should be noted that this was my first attempt at a short story. I feel, and I hope you will too, that my writing begins to improve after this story. Enjoy. It was a typical sweltering day in Little Italy, or at least it was what Frederick had decided was typical. His wide-brimmed hat he usually wore shielded his face from the hot noon sun, but being unaccustomed to this miserable weather, his coat was now draped over his arm. Working his way down the crowded street, passing vegetable carts, mothers shopping and gossiping, children getting up to no good, and jobless men, Frederick longed for the silence of his private library and the comfort of his pipe. He’d been away from his home in Germany for 7 years, ever since his employer sent him on this wild goose chase, but he’d finally tracked down his quarry. After all these years, and all the leads, all the loose ends, and all the failures. After all the angry and berating telegrams from his employer when he’d lost the trail, he...

I have deleted my old blog, titled "The Warmaster's Musings". If it wasn't obvious, I have lost the passion to post about such historical items as I did. I still find it all fascinating, however I thought I might put this blog to better use. I will use this blog, going forward, to improve my writing skill. Hopefully, someday, I can work towards getting something published.