Read Online Out Through the Attic by Quincy J. Allen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Quincy J. Allen
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my own mind to pull it all off, and I couldn’t afford a breakdown. I took the stuff like clockwork, every six hours, just the right amount. At the rate I was consuming it, that last delivery, my only stash, would last quite a while.
The parties, however, came to an end.
I set aside two bags of gold and then threw the Queen’s money around like candy at a parade. I had a crew, a director, actors … everything I needed. We started production in record time and hit it full steam with a vengeance.
I must admit, I was surprised that the Queen’s people didn’t check in on me more often. The gaunt elf showed up from time to time, making sure everything was going as planned. He even watched some of the dailies to ensure that the script was what they expected. But his appearances were few and far between. I suppose the Queen figured I was too hooked on PD, too scared of poverty and too terrified of her to run a double-cross. Or maybe she had bigger fish to fry. I didn’t care.
I had a mission.
I hired a marketing firm to litter the city with advertisements. We billed it as The King: The Truth . It took us six months to finish production, and when the movie was in the can we sent a copy up to the Palace for approval. I received a reply from the Queen that same afternoon. The message simply read, “ We approve. ”
I scheduled the premier and sent invitations to everyone in the movie industry. I had the marketing firm advertise that there would be snippets of the film running in every theater in the kingdom.
On the morning of the premier, I got up bright and early and put together the best costume of my career. It was a variation of King Hoffer in his golden years, the schtupping years, taken from what I remembered of my first movie. It seemed appropriate. The clothing was plainer than a King would wear, but there was no doubt that I looked like a grizzled, stooped, old man.
I’d done everything I could to make sure that the entire kingdom would be in front of a silver screen that day. And it worked.
On the morning of the premier, the streets were mostly empty. I know, because I snuck out of my house, made my way to the zeppelin terminal and left town.
O O O
I’d chartered an express zeppelin bound for Wendy’s hometown, and when I touched down I bought a fast steam carriage, paying in gold. No names were exchanged. Like a whirlwind I’d kicked in her mother’s door, gathered up my family, and with the simple phrase “We have to leave,” we packed their bags and rushed out.
Wendy never said a word.
She heard the urgency in my voice, saw the fear in my eyes. I have no doubt she knew or at least suspected what was going on. She still trusted me, after all those years of failure.
I drove further and further north. The silence inside the steam carriage was oppressive, but I thanked the heavens for it. I didn’t want to explain it all to them. Couldn’t.
We crossed one border and then another. Darkness settled in, and I found myself wondering how the premier had gone, what the Queen was doing to find me.
It was after midnight when I finally pulled into a zeppelin terminal with flights bound for distant lands. I gathered them up and we picked a spot in the terminal where we were out of sight. Keeping only a handful for myself, I gave Wendy both bags of gold and told her buy tickets for herself and our daughters, told her to get as far away from me as possible. The girls were tucked away in a corner, fast asleep, and I watched over them as Wendy got the tickets. When she returned, she finally looked at me, the obvious question clear in her eyes.
I grasped her shoulders gently, feeling an ocean of emotions welling up inside.
“This is the way it’s got to be, Wendy. My life for you and the kids.” I squeezed. “You’ve got to stay safe, anyplace the Queen can’t reach you. Hide. Change your names. Forget you ever knew me. If she gets her hands on you …” my voice trailed off and I shook my head,
The parties, however, came to an end.
I set aside two bags of gold and then threw the Queen’s money around like candy at a parade. I had a crew, a director, actors … everything I needed. We started production in record time and hit it full steam with a vengeance.
I must admit, I was surprised that the Queen’s people didn’t check in on me more often. The gaunt elf showed up from time to time, making sure everything was going as planned. He even watched some of the dailies to ensure that the script was what they expected. But his appearances were few and far between. I suppose the Queen figured I was too hooked on PD, too scared of poverty and too terrified of her to run a double-cross. Or maybe she had bigger fish to fry. I didn’t care.
I had a mission.
I hired a marketing firm to litter the city with advertisements. We billed it as The King: The Truth . It took us six months to finish production, and when the movie was in the can we sent a copy up to the Palace for approval. I received a reply from the Queen that same afternoon. The message simply read, “ We approve. ”
I scheduled the premier and sent invitations to everyone in the movie industry. I had the marketing firm advertise that there would be snippets of the film running in every theater in the kingdom.
On the morning of the premier, I got up bright and early and put together the best costume of my career. It was a variation of King Hoffer in his golden years, the schtupping years, taken from what I remembered of my first movie. It seemed appropriate. The clothing was plainer than a King would wear, but there was no doubt that I looked like a grizzled, stooped, old man.
I’d done everything I could to make sure that the entire kingdom would be in front of a silver screen that day. And it worked.
On the morning of the premier, the streets were mostly empty. I know, because I snuck out of my house, made my way to the zeppelin terminal and left town.
O O O
I’d chartered an express zeppelin bound for Wendy’s hometown, and when I touched down I bought a fast steam carriage, paying in gold. No names were exchanged. Like a whirlwind I’d kicked in her mother’s door, gathered up my family, and with the simple phrase “We have to leave,” we packed their bags and rushed out.
Wendy never said a word.
She heard the urgency in my voice, saw the fear in my eyes. I have no doubt she knew or at least suspected what was going on. She still trusted me, after all those years of failure.
I drove further and further north. The silence inside the steam carriage was oppressive, but I thanked the heavens for it. I didn’t want to explain it all to them. Couldn’t.
We crossed one border and then another. Darkness settled in, and I found myself wondering how the premier had gone, what the Queen was doing to find me.
It was after midnight when I finally pulled into a zeppelin terminal with flights bound for distant lands. I gathered them up and we picked a spot in the terminal where we were out of sight. Keeping only a handful for myself, I gave Wendy both bags of gold and told her buy tickets for herself and our daughters, told her to get as far away from me as possible. The girls were tucked away in a corner, fast asleep, and I watched over them as Wendy got the tickets. When she returned, she finally looked at me, the obvious question clear in her eyes.
I grasped her shoulders gently, feeling an ocean of emotions welling up inside.
“This is the way it’s got to be, Wendy. My life for you and the kids.” I squeezed. “You’ve got to stay safe, anyplace the Queen can’t reach you. Hide. Change your names. Forget you ever knew me. If she gets her hands on you …” my voice trailed off and I shook my head,
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