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Rock 'n Roll by michael ross
Thursday, March 16, 2017
Rated "G" by the Author.
...and you thought life was tedious!
Rock ‘n Roll
“Really? Me? Yeah of course. Great - I’m off.” I cannot hide my excitement.
Only my second week in the job and I pull an assignment like this –there’s no way I’m turning this opportunity down.
“Any chance I can spend a couple of minutes on some internet research?” I ask the boss. He doesn’t have to say anything, the blackness in his eyes tells me I’d better make my way over to the hill, and be quick about it.
By the time I get off the bus and walk the five miles from the terminus, the light is beginning to fail and it is no great surprise that the tourists have left the area to return to the bright lights of the city. It’s one hell of a hill, almost a mountain when you stand at its base and look up: Bloody hell.
He’s nowhere to be seen, maybe at long last he’s done it and if he has I’ve pulled the scoop of a lifetime. I fill in my time by making some notes for the background of the article. You don’t read much of a positive nature about him, everyone mentions his massive ego, this self-belief that drives him on; others refer to it as more of a self-conceit. He divides public opinion quite violently; half consider him something of a dinosaur and well beyond his ‘sell-by date.’ The other half, who amount to about 2% of the population, find him to be an inspiration and relevant. Me? He’s always been something of a hero to me; that steadfast confidence in that what he does is of a greater significance and somehow has a deeper meaning, than can be easily understood. If I’m honest I am quite star struck and the nerves are starting to jangle – I need him to see me as something more than a rookie reporter.
This could make me; even lead me to a career of international fame. I should have brought a proper camera with me, but a selfie on my mobile phone should be more than good enough. In my head I’m composing the headline for tomorrow’s Times: Tom Brady with his hero at the momen…”
My thoughts are shattered by a rumble from somewhere near the peak of the hill, followed by a thunderous roar which approaches me at a breakneck speed. The noise is quite literally deafening and then followed by a stillness quite like nothing I have ever encountered before in my life. The stillness brings with it an overwhelming sense of loss, a depression clouds my thinking and I sit motionless for a very long time, before I lift my eyes back to the hill and spot him heading towards me and he is smiling! I feel it is my duty to stand and greet him.
“Hello young man and how are you today?” His voice thunders.
“Mm I’m very well sir and yourself?”
“I’ve never been better. Would you like to take a selfie with me?” He cheerfully asks. Not really, but I don’t want to offend the man.
“Of course Mr Sisyphus. Better do it now whilst I’ve got the chance.” He misses the irony and dutifully joins me in a beaming smile.
*****
Autumn 1940. Germany invades Britain. Newport is blitzed. Danny O’Shea’s house is bombed, his wife is killed. While taking his young son Adam to neutral Ireland, they witness an attack on a German convoy. The result is brutal.
Based on the memoirs of a Pearl Harbor survivor. Letters from two pen pals take the reader on a journey into the past, a past where nightmares came true, and when hatred reigned.
Shanghai Escapist grabs the faint-of-heart right from the get-go and serves up an ultimatum: What would you do if caught in the same circumstances? From the opening scene, the reader is tossed into the maze of daily intrigue as it existed in 1960s-70
Rock ‘n Roll
“Really? Me? Yeah of course. Great - I’m off.” I cannot hide my excitement.
Only my second week in the job and I pull an assignment like this –there’s no way I’m turning this opportunity down.
“Any chance I can spend a couple of minutes on some internet research?” I ask the boss. He doesn’t have to say anything, the blackness in his eyes tells me I’d better make my way over to the hill, and be quick about it.
By the time I get off the bus and walk the five miles from the terminus, the light is beginning to fail and it is no great surprise that the tourists have left the area to return to the bright lights of the city. It’s one hell of a hill, almost a mountain when you stand at its base and look up: Bloody hell.
He’s nowhere to be seen, maybe at long last he’s done it and if he has I’ve pulled the scoop of a lifetime. I fill in my time by making some notes for the background of the article. You don’t read much of a positive nature about him, everyone mentions his massive ego, this self-belief that drives him on; others refer to it as more of a self-conceit. He divides public opinion quite violently; half consider him something of a dinosaur and well beyond his ‘sell-by date.’ The other half, who amount to about 2% of the population, find him to be an inspiration and relevant. Me? He’s always been something of a hero to me; that steadfast confidence in that what he does is of a greater significance and somehow has a deeper meaning, than can be easily understood. If I’m honest I am quite star struck and the nerves are starting to jangle – I need him to see me as something more than a rookie reporter.
This could make me; even lead me to a career of international fame. I should have brought a proper camera with me, but a selfie on my mobile phone should be more than good enough. In my head I’m composing the headline for tomorrow’s Times: Tom Brady with his hero at the momen…”
My thoughts are shattered by a rumble from somewhere near the peak of the hill, followed by a thunderous roar which approaches me at a breakneck speed. The noise is quite literally deafening and then followed by a stillness quite like nothing I have ever encountered before in my life. The stillness brings with it an overwhelming sense of loss, a depression clouds my thinking and I sit motionless for a very long time, before I lift my eyes back to the hill and spot him heading towards me and he is smiling! I feel it is my duty to stand and greet him.
“Hello young man and how are you today?” His voice thunders.
“Mm I’m very well sir and yourself?”
“I’ve never been better. Would you like to take a selfie with me?” He cheerfully asks. Not really, but I don’t want to offend the man.
“Of course Mr Sisyphus. Better do it now whilst I’ve got the chance.” He misses the irony and dutifully joins me in a beaming smile.
*****
