Charles Heath's writing blog

Here’s the thing...   Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.   I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.   But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.   Once again there's a new instalment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.   ... Ormiston from the library papers ... It was a question of what was I looking for.  It would be easy to say I wanted a piece of paper that definitively said where the treasure was or find a map that led straight to it. Instead, there was, in one box, a dozen journals filled with the ramblings of a madman. Searching for treasure had sent Ormiston senior mad.  For an hour, perhaps longer, I tried to decipher the spidery writing, and then gave up when it switched to German. I assembled the journals in order of his expeditions and found the first easy to follow because it was a time of excitement and expectation, that he would find the treasure. 

Here’s the thing...   Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.   I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.   But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.   Once again there's a new instalment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.    ... The Ormiston story, and that of the thousand or so acres between the sea and the mountains now known as Patterson’s reach, but once called The Grove, began in 1865 when the original Henrich Ormiston arrived from Germany. Originally intending to go to Australia to grow grapes in South Australia, instead, his fate turned West to the Americas, and, eventually, this part of Florida.  He started out with the intention of growing grapes, but when that failed to materialise, he moved on to Oranges, hence the name, The Grove. He had married before leaving Germany and had two children, Marta and Gunter before leaving, and Friedri

For a story that was conceived during those long boring hours flying in a steel cocoon, striving to keep away the thoughts that the plane and everyone in it could just simply disappear as planes have in the past, it has come a long way.   Whilst I have always had a fascination with what happened during the second world war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.   And, so, it continues...   ... A second report from Blinky’s surveillance of the castle had Leonardo on the move, and a second shadowy person following them. It had to be Jackerby, Atherton thought.  Jackerby would be the only one who didn’t trust anyone, or, perhaps, he had more murderous intentions.  Maybe he had worked out that Leonardo was rapidly becoming a liability. Or he had some other agenda. “How many of resistance are waiting at the barn?” Atherton asked the soldier. “Four.  The fifth went to find them.”

For a story that was conceived during those long boring hours flying in a steel cocoon, striving to keep away the thoughts that the plane and everyone in it could just simply disappear as planes have in the past, it has come a long way.   Whilst I have always had a fascination with what happened during the second world war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.   And, so, it continues...   ... Mayer was woken by the abrupt jolting of the guard van, and for a few moments was disorientated.  It was no longer dark, and light was coming in through the cracks of the windows, and he could see now the van was quite old and battered. And that odd smell was the residue of many fires in the pot belly stove, that presumably kept the guard warm in winter.  There were a few scattered coals on the floor. Then he remembered he was in the van and it felt like it was being connected to a shu

Here’s the thing... Every time I close my eyes, I see something different. I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox. But these dreams are nothing to laugh about. Once again there's a new instalment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt. ... Back to the newspaper office ... I went around to Boggs's house on the chance that he might have come home, just as his mother was heading off to her night job.  I raised the possibility that something might have happened to him but she didn't agree, nor did she look all that concerned. The fact he had experience in cave exploration and used to camping out with his father and later uncle Rico and had told me he might not be back for a few days was not cause for concern, and we left it at that, telling her I would drop in again soon. She didn’t seem to think that he might get into trouble considering the instability of some of the caves, nor th

Here’s the thing... Every time I close my eyes, I see something different. I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox. But these dreams are nothing to laugh about. Once again there's a new instalment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt. ... A run in with Alex ... It had been an interesting excursion, with discovery, but not so significant, it meant anything.  I went back to Nadia’s hotel room to collect the maps she had in the picnic basket so I could compare them with others because at least two of them had features I’d not seen before. I was there only for the maps, then left.  It had been a long day and she was tired, and I was glad not to be working that night.  I also had been thinking about what Boggs was doing, and where, for that matter, he’d been. I hadn't seen Boggs for days, and worse, the last time I did see him, we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.  It was a long

Here’s the thing... Every time I close my eyes, I see something different. I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox. But these dreams are nothing to laugh about. Once again there's a new instalment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt. ... A late picnic ... We spoke no more of bloodlines, and instead spread out the surprises she had brought.  Cheeses, cured meats, her mother’s creation learned long ago in the mother country, and wine from their Italian winery. As a quirk of fate, she had lined the basket with old copies of treasure maps, and after indulging in the food and wine, looked them over.  There were six different maps, each with a different detail as to where the treasure might be buried.  One had it on the edge of the lake, a lake by the way that had now disappeared, another at the foot of the hills, identified by a cutting high above the spot. Another was on the mountainside,

Here’s the thing... Every time I close my eyes, I see something different. I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox. But these dreams are nothing to laugh about. Once again there's a new instalment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt. ... Three a.m. is meant to be so quiet; you could hear your heart beating. Ten to, all hell had broken loose when one of the conveyor belts broke, and a replacement was needed, and the engineers were on the clock. Ten past, the hullabaloo had died down, and back at the desk, I was contemplating a long scotch to calm the nerves.  Drinking on the job was not condoned, but not unheard of.  I opened the drawer and looked at the bottle, then thought the better of it. And, when I looked up, Nadia was standing in front of the desk. She was as quiet as a ninja, and just as dangerous. “Never a dull moment,” she said, dragging a chair over and sitting down.  “I got