Days of Flowers.

By Carl Delprat

Days of flowers is a journey of the soul. A long never ending spiral of repetitive events intwining with a select collection of like souls all engaged in a karmic connection of timeless proportions.
This fictional explanation may come as a surprise to some, a revolution to others and perhaps cause many reflections over personal issues.
As with all my fiction novels, this was another creative trip for me as I had no idea whatsoever what would appear on the following page.
Yes ... come along for the ride ... read and watch while one lost soul searches for stability.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carl Delprat
• Release date: Jan 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370915903

Carl Delprat

Carl Delprat is a prolific storyteller. His home is the Australian coastal city of Newcastle, New South Wales.

Book preview

Days of Flowers.

An adventure/fiction/ novel

by

Carl Delprat.

Storymaker.

ISBN: 9781370915903

Copyright 2017 Carl Delprat

Cover photography by Carl Delprat.

A special thanks to Carmel, Carmen, and Herb for all their help.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

As per all fiction I have written, any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely accidental and with no intention of insult or offence.

Note: My stories are in Australian English, and … indicates talking while ‘…’ signifies thinking.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Other excellent stories by Carl Delprat are ~

ALL STRINGS ATTACHED: Find out what happens after a mysterious glowing object is discovered inside a coal seam. Based on Steven Hawkins ‘string-theory.’

31 LAMAN STREET: Is where an evil ghost wreaks havoc amongst the locals.

GIRL SOLDIERS: A futuristic global adventure where the girls have taken over.

~DREAMMAN~: Where a young man uses his dreams to fight for good over evil.

THE THREE TREES: An international serial murder mystery set in the 1950’s.

THE TWO BROTHERS: A randy romp around Sydney and Newcastle set in the 1980's with a serial Killer on the loose.

THE STORY OF ANNIE: The long life of a MG-TC roadster.

THE HARPSICHORD MAN: A tale about a criminal harpsichord builder.

WHAT ABOUT MADELYN?: A political catfight between two female rivals.

THE NEW PRIEST: Revisit the times and tribulations of 1950' style priesthood warts and all.

A FEED OF FISH WITH FREDDY: A chocolate box selection of short stories.

MAGIC MOMENTS: A young man's long search for a family.

BIG DADDY: A manual for the middle aged man.

THE RED BOOK: Two university students discover a hand written novel, and it leads them straight into trouble.

A YOUNG MAN'S POETRY VOLUME I: The first of three editions of poetry commenced in the late 1970's.

A YOUNG MAN'S POETRY VOLUME II: A collection of short poems all guaranteed to raise an eyebrow.

A YOUNG MAN'S POETRY VOLUME III: A special selection that must be shared with everyone.

**********<(0)>**********

Its time to write again and ... where will it all begin?

The word 'flowers' came to me as a seed, yes 'flowers' one of natures amazing gifts ... perhaps the most sublime expression of the life force encapsulating everything that emphasises existence and procreation. This colourful catalyst and promoter of proliferation, nature's crowning achievement ... yes, her most precious gift . . . but, but enough of flowers for now, its time for me to get on with my story. So where will I start it?

As I've faced death many times and my life is reaching it's end ... why not ... yes why not start it in an imaginary place we all wait about for ... that bus stop between old and new lives ... a mythical paradise we so desperately try to believe in ... the home away from all homes ... our eternal playground ... yes what else?

So I'll start this new story in heaven, (following the introduction) and then what happens after that ...

I have absolutely no idea at all.

Yes ... once again I'm back in free-fall and doing some more storymaking.

Now, I hope this old arthritis ridden fingers will work because my typing skills are shot ... so let’s see what's going to happen.

*********<(0)>*********

Contents~

About Carl Delprat, Storymaker

Other titles by Carl Delprat

A word from the author

The introduction. (Ernest's story.)

Chapter 1: Again, again, and still once again.

Chapter 2: Being young once more. (Georges story.)

Chapter 3: Over the ocean waves.

Chapter 4: Present dangers.

Chapter 5: A seasoned sailor.

Chapter 6: I wonder how me old mum is faring?

Chapter 7: What is wrong with my head? (Jenny's story.)

Chapter 8: Here we go again.

Chapter 9: A fresh start. (Joe's story.)

Chapter 10: The die was cast.

Chapter 11: Over and under the ocean waves.

Chapter 12: A different view of life. (Marvin's story.)

Chapter 13: Praise the lord and pass the chemicals about.

Chapter 14: Days of roses and saltwater.

Chapter 15: Perhaps life’s a spiral?

Chapter 16: One door closes and a new one opens. (Kevin's story.)

Chapter 17: Kevin grows up.

Chapter 18: Rite of passage.

Chapter 19: More surprises.

Chapter 20: Bringing it all to a head.

Chapter 21: On the road again. (Zonda's story.)

Chapter 22: Living under a shadow.

Chapter 23: A gardener's delight. (Hamid's story.)

Chapter 24: Living with the Taliban.

Chapter 25: The dogs of war.

Chapter 26: Life and death in a valley of flowers.

Please again note: As with all my stories, … indicates talking and ‘…’ signifies thinking.

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The introduction.

(Ernest's story.)

A little while, a moment of rest upon the wind, and another woman shall bear me. Kahlil Gibrain.

*********<(0)>*********

Have you ever wondered why some people’s lives are so vastly different? I have and often do.

The complexity of it all, is it destiny, fate, self-ordained... then who really knows, perhaps it's a combination of all three?

For this story I have chosen a life ... a long string of them in fact and I shall start them off about 100 years before today's date.

I could venture way back further but that would be too much detail and far more confusion than warranted.

Yes, keep it simple and start say when this particular lifeline is around thirty-five years of age.

Now don't forget this is all fiction and I have no exclusive contact with the paranormal or how ever you define such matters.

No ... all I possess is a vivid imagination linked together with an ever-questioning intellect.

So let's set sail and see what happens . . .

Our first person of interest (according to his overimaginative wife) . . . has had a long string of interesting and varied lives, and left behind in all those footprints was a personal reckoning awaiting repudiation.

Anyway ... Kapitänleutenant Ernest Müller was more interested in planting his new petunias than ever delving into that sort of psychic nonsense.

Yes he would leave all that to his dear dizzy wife Hanna to amuse herself with.

Hanna and Gretchen, those two inseparable weird sisters that so often drove him mad with their psychic research ... and séances ... and ... a cabbage moth had suddenly appeared and disturbed his thoughts.

That's the last thing I want to see in my garden!

Then there was his ever-interfering mother; she always smothered him with affection and in front of everyone, even his Kapitän. 'Yes even the very Kapitän of SMS König'.

"Ernest, Ernest come inside now ... you carriage will be here within the hour."

He placed the garden tools together like husband and wife lying alongside the pansies and then turned away towards the kitchen doorway.

Blast this war, and blast all wars.

The doorknocker announced his departure had started.

Kapitänleutenant Müller took his wife's hand, his childless wife's hand and lightly kissed it, and then he leant forward and kissed both her cheeks.

All the waiting servants clapped their hands.

"I expect to find my house running in the same condition as I left it, now ... now don't forget there's a war on and any waste will help our enemy.

Hans, water my flowers every third day, unless it is raining and if I find any weeds ... like last time, you-will-be-severely-reprimanded."

A glance at sister-in-law Gretchen's face confirmed she had been up to her mystical mischief once again. The woman had tears in her eyes and looked back a him as if it was for the very last time.

Hanna held firm, she was a proud German wife and had no intention of letting these servants see a sign of weakness.

Her left arm was raised to half-mast and then two short waves signalled her farewell.

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The grey skies were awash with coal smoke making any accurate observations precarious.

Along with her three sisters Grosser Kürfust, Markgraf and Kronprinz, SMS König was currently travelling at half speed, about eleven knots.

Kapitänleutenant Müller filled his pipe and then stared across the sea.

He was not at all happy, no not happy with himself ... yes not one bit.

Last evening he'd lost heavily at cards again, lost to that braggart von Bartels.

'If there was anyone so detestable, yes ... so absolutely disgusting, and someone who should be frog marched out of the Imperial German Navy it would be Korvettenkapitän Reinhardt von Bartels the slimy snake-in-the-grass he is.

Anyway the British were out there ... out there somewhere ... they just had to be.

To ease the tension he reflected back over the past twelve months, or more.

Training in the Baltic, torpedo training off Mecklenburg.

Then that horrid winter return when they grounded in the Kaiser Wilhelm Canal during a snowstorm. Yes, that was the second time that had happened.

So more training in the Baltic, more training, training, endless training, and no gardening whatsoever ... and ... no fresh flowers.

'Well something big is about to happen, I just know it because right behind us at full-steam-ahead are a line of VI Division battleships'

The alarms were ringing, yes something big was really about to begin, something very big.

'And now the closest twelve-inch gun turret was turning, so now it was time to get below, get to stations and rouse the men.'

He took one last look at Korvettenkapitän von Bartels' smug face while he took command of the forward magazine hold.

Von Bartels smiled back and then tapped his top pocket.

'So how much did I loose, and how can I ever pay him back?'

Yes this was going to be something big this time and Kapitänleutenant Müller so hoped all that hard training had been worth it.

The ratings looked towards him as their saviour, he was the only officer they trusted.

Everyone in this magazine hold knew this would be the real thing ... an actual historical sea battle was about to commence, a mighty modern sea battle and of the like this world had never seen before.

The conflict continued for many hours and SMS König was often in the thick of it.

She'd engaged the Lion, Princess Royal and Tiger, fired on destroyers Nestor and Nicator.

Even had torpedos launched at her.

On and on the battle raged, she engaged the BarHamid and the Valiant, fired against British cruisers and hit the Defence, an armoured cruiser.

Then SMS König entered gunnery range with the Warspite.

Things became very serious when the main British battle line came in range of the German line.

The Iron Duke fired nine salvos at the König at 12,000 yards; luckily only one shell hit her.

During an evasive turning manoeuvre she was struck again by a 13.5-inch shell from the Iron Duke and suffered significant structural damage.

Ammunition stores were set on fire and the magazines had to be flooded.

Further shells struck the stricken vessel and 16,000 tons of water entered the ship.

Somehow she made it back to Germany.

*********<(0)>*********

A carriage drew up outside the Müller residence, the same carriage that arrived two weeks earlier.

A young naval officer was watched through a front window, he looked nervous and twice wiped his eyes before departing.

Frau Kapitänleutenant Müller slowly approached the young officer who was standing in the parlour.

She knew what to expect, her sister Gretchen had already forewarned her.

"Young man, you are about to tell me my husband has died at sea, drowned in fact, yes drowned when the König's magazines were flooded to prevent an explosion.

As I'm still grieving I shall not stay any longer ... the servants will supply you with refreshments, now will you please excuse me, I have to inform my late husband's mother."

*********<(0)>*********

Chapter 1.

Again, and again, and still once again.

Keep love in your heart.

A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead. ... Oscar Wilde.

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'So there you are Boy ... if you keep wasting away like this, before long you could become invisible.'

'What ... why ... yes why should I care?

I don't like it here and invisible would be very nice thank you very much.'

'Boy, I'm afraid not ... no, you will not like it at all ... not one bit.

Being invisible means you either fall into the 'Abyss of Nothingness' or get drawn towards and then onto the 'Event Horizon', and I can only guess what they might be like.'

'Well then ... I'm not afraid.

No not one bit!'

'What's the matter with you Boy, everything you want is right here, its all in the 'Rapture' and waiting for you are your family and some friends from the past ... don't you understand that this is heaven Boy and ... this is as good as it gets?

Now stop obstructing and join in with the 'Rapture.'

The boy wished himself ever fainter then noticed he was beginning to drift sideways and quickly regained form.

'If this is supposed to be heaven then why aren’t I happy? ...

And why am I a Boy?

I was a Kapitänleutenant in the Imperial German Navy when I arrived here?

Well I shall tell you why, it's because I am so alone ... yes so alone and that's why.'

'But Boy ... that is ridiculous ... there are souls everywhere about you ... just be aware and they will materialise ... look!

Yes see!

So be receptive and ... and you are suddenly within an ocean of them ... all this light everywhere is coming out from a countless collection of atmospheres.

Keep fading away Boy and you will soon slip into the darkness and vanish forever ... and well before you ever become a baby once again.'

'Maybe I should ... yes maybe I will ... yes slip into obscurity and then hopefully ... anyway when the 'Rapture' starts to spin ... I get thrown out ... yes it always throws me out.'

Boy pulled himself inward again and felt the drifting recommence.

'Boy ... BOY ... BOY ... don't be so silly ...

Boy you will regret what you are doing ... Boy ... Boy ....... Boy'

As the light faded, as it dimmed a new shading emerged. It was at first magenta ... yes a light then slighter darker shade of magenta and ... eventually became a deep purple.

'No need to worry, ... what can go wrong?

Besides I'm still sort of lonely and I appear to be drifting ... just wandering about.'

Then a jolt yes a tug a tittle tug had Boy moving backwards and far away out of the purple ... out past the magenta ... and back towards the ever brightening light.

'Boy. Boy you have been returned — now join with the 'Rapture' ... right, in you go.'

Back again, back again awash with the 'Rapture', that endless droning, the uninterrupted swaying back and forth all fused together with light.

An infinite family focused on euphoria and all winding around within itself.

Privacy was impossible, thought likewise, total entanglement with no possible exclusion.

The spiral of light slowly became a cone ... then a ring ... which ... folded within itself into a helix ... and then once again into a spiral.

The 'Rapture' remained unaware, content to continue in harmony ... an endless geometrical cascade creating a protuberance of light.

Infinite light.

Now the light formed into a cylinder and commenced rotating, at first very slow ... then ever faster.

The purpose perhaps was one of purity as tiny fragments soon detached themselves leaving shining trails behind.

Finally the 'Rapture' condensed into a cloud ... and then compressed itself and became a ball.

A bright glowing ball.

In orbit about this vivid ball countless tiny trails of light traversed the surface.

One such trail slowly dimmed ... then faded from view.

'Why do I always feel so alone?

Why?'

The other traces eventually returned into this glowing ball of rapture.

Except for those rejected, and their dim lights soon lost orbit and dissipated into the magenta. *********<(1)>*********

Without light feelings became his guidance.

Sometimes Boy felt the drag and sometimes the repulsion.

So far the purples had been uninterested, had taken no reaction to Boy's presence.

However, something new was beginning to make a presence, a