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breakinglight11) wrote2024-08-22 11:02 pm
breakinglight11) wrote2024-08-22 11:02 pm
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31 Plays in 31 Days, #22 - “Just Powder”
Okay, this turned out kind of cute. Another bit from Mrs. Hawking part 8 that still needs work, but has a decent idea at the core of it. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it when I forced myself to dig into it today— late in a valiant struggle to get caught up —but bits of it kind of came together. I think I will have to adjust some of the details for logic reasons, but the dynamics are pretty good. Just goes to show, sometimes when you make yourself just write something, you can surprise yourself with what comes out of you. 😆
I noticed I haven’t written much with Hawking herself yet for this challenge. Her scenes are taking more time to come together, I guess.
Photo by Mark Edwards
Day #22 - “Just Powder”
From Mrs Hawking part 8
By Phoebe Roberts
London, 1892
VICTORIA HAWKING, lady’s champion of London, early fifties
NATHANIEL HAWKING, Mrs. Hawking’s nephew and assistant, late thirties
CLARA HAWKING, his lady wife, early forties
BEATRICE HAWKING, their precocious daughter, mid teens
~~~
(The Hawking study. MRS. HAWKING stands beside BEATRICE, who is holding a gun level.)
MRS. HAWKING: Higher. Higher.
(BEATRICE aims the gun higher.)
MRS. HAWKING: And pull.
(BEATRICE fires. The unexpected recoil knocks her back.)
BEATRICE: Oh, goodness! You might have warned me!
MRS. HAWKING: Then the test would have been for nothing.
BEATRICE: I might have shot straight through the roof!
(NATHANIEL and CLARA rush in.)
NATHANIEL: Oh, there you both are— good heavens!
CLARA: For God’s sake, is that a gun?
(She rushes over to BEATRICE and snatches it from her.)
CLARA: Have you lost your mind, Victoria?
BEATRICE: Mama! We’re testing!
CLARA: Testing what? If you can blow holes in each other?
MRS. HAWKING: Nonsense, there’s only powder in there. And we are testing if the recoil is sufficient to explain the trajectory of a certain bullet!
NATHANIEL: Oh, indeed? And was it?
(She points up.)
MRS. HAWKING: See the powder mark from the blank casing? Nearly identical to the stray bullet hole in the wall of the Chamberlain house.
NATHANIEL: By Jove. So, if there were no other signs of struggle, that might have been enough to explain why the shot went so off course.
MRS. HAWKING: Indeed. From an inexperienced hand, light enough to be easily thrown.
NATHANIEL: That certainly rules out Sergeant Cole.
MRS. HAWKING: Which leaves only one other person with motive enough—
NATHANIEL / BEATRICE: Miss Stavros!
BEATRICE: Oh, it simply must be! It’s the only thing that makes sense!
MRS. HAWKING: We shall have to confirm it, but… yes, my suspicions do that way tend.
CLARA: Well. I am very glad you’ve had such a useful revelation, madam. But I’ll thank you in future to find some other laboratory animal than my daughter upon which to experiment. If you don’t mind!
MRS. HAWKING: As I’ve said before— if you’re all going to hang about, then damned if I am going to make use of you.
CLARA: Madam, I— well. If we’re all quite finished, I’ve come to collect Beatrice. Miss Lawrence is expecting her.
BEATRICE: But, Mama, I’m being useful!
CLARA: I think you’ve been quite enough use for one day, miss. Come along.
BEATRICE: (Sighs) Let me know what becomes of Miss Stavros, then— won’t you, Papa?
NATHANIEL: I promise. Now, I’ll be along. I need a word with your auntie.
(CLARA and a sulky BEATRICE exit.)
I noticed I haven’t written much with Hawking herself yet for this challenge. Her scenes are taking more time to come together, I guess.
Photo by Mark Edwards
Day #22 - “Just Powder”
From Mrs Hawking part 8
By Phoebe Roberts
London, 1892
VICTORIA HAWKING, lady’s champion of London, early fifties
NATHANIEL HAWKING, Mrs. Hawking’s nephew and assistant, late thirties
CLARA HAWKING, his lady wife, early forties
BEATRICE HAWKING, their precocious daughter, mid teens
~~~
(The Hawking study. MRS. HAWKING stands beside BEATRICE, who is holding a gun level.)
MRS. HAWKING: Higher. Higher.
(BEATRICE aims the gun higher.)
MRS. HAWKING: And pull.
(BEATRICE fires. The unexpected recoil knocks her back.)
BEATRICE: Oh, goodness! You might have warned me!
MRS. HAWKING: Then the test would have been for nothing.
BEATRICE: I might have shot straight through the roof!
(NATHANIEL and CLARA rush in.)
NATHANIEL: Oh, there you both are— good heavens!
CLARA: For God’s sake, is that a gun?
(She rushes over to BEATRICE and snatches it from her.)
CLARA: Have you lost your mind, Victoria?
BEATRICE: Mama! We’re testing!
CLARA: Testing what? If you can blow holes in each other?
MRS. HAWKING: Nonsense, there’s only powder in there. And we are testing if the recoil is sufficient to explain the trajectory of a certain bullet!
NATHANIEL: Oh, indeed? And was it?
(She points up.)
MRS. HAWKING: See the powder mark from the blank casing? Nearly identical to the stray bullet hole in the wall of the Chamberlain house.
NATHANIEL: By Jove. So, if there were no other signs of struggle, that might have been enough to explain why the shot went so off course.
MRS. HAWKING: Indeed. From an inexperienced hand, light enough to be easily thrown.
NATHANIEL: That certainly rules out Sergeant Cole.
MRS. HAWKING: Which leaves only one other person with motive enough—
NATHANIEL / BEATRICE: Miss Stavros!
BEATRICE: Oh, it simply must be! It’s the only thing that makes sense!
MRS. HAWKING: We shall have to confirm it, but… yes, my suspicions do that way tend.
CLARA: Well. I am very glad you’ve had such a useful revelation, madam. But I’ll thank you in future to find some other laboratory animal than my daughter upon which to experiment. If you don’t mind!
MRS. HAWKING: As I’ve said before— if you’re all going to hang about, then damned if I am going to make use of you.
CLARA: Madam, I— well. If we’re all quite finished, I’ve come to collect Beatrice. Miss Lawrence is expecting her.
BEATRICE: But, Mama, I’m being useful!
CLARA: I think you’ve been quite enough use for one day, miss. Come along.
BEATRICE: (Sighs) Let me know what becomes of Miss Stavros, then— won’t you, Papa?
NATHANIEL: I promise. Now, I’ll be along. I need a word with your auntie.
(CLARA and a sulky BEATRICE exit.)