NOTTINGHAM, LTD. / comments please & thank you

[William Lewis]

NOTTINGHAM, LTD.

Chapter One.

The giant, beastly axeman is breathing heavily in deep, uneven gasps. Even though substantially deranged, he has managed thus far to maintain his position over the man lying still on the elevated wooden slab. He is shifting his obese weight from one leg to the other - then again, moving his huge head and shoulders about in jerking, non-rhythmic motions, tossing his long greasy and matted hair in every direction as it flings sweat and lice for five yards.
A full stone’s weight, the ax is a massive slab of black metal, affixed at the end of a thick, five-foot oak handle. It glistens in the hot, noon-day sun.
He was literally beside himself, almost orgasmic. Finally, at last, he would have the head of the king's greatest enemy, William Locksley. Goreland had dreamed about this moment, the thick steel blade slicing through the upper neck at just the right angle, causing the jugulars to erupt simultaneously, so that he could catch the gush of warm, red spray on his thick, fat, bearded face.
William wasn't bound, which confused the crowd that he would lie on the wood slab, unrestrained, without attempting to escape. But the crowd was unaware that the evil Sheriff of Nottingham had captured Marian and was holding her in a secret underground cell. He had assured William that if he attempted an escape, that Marion would die a slow and horrible death. What the sheriff did not know was that Marion was with child, a child William was to never know.
And now, in that deep gravelly, voice, the sheriff yelled,
"Where are your men, you filthy, common criminal?"
No reply.
The evil sheriff walks over to William, grabs him by the front of his tunic, and lifts him off the slab. "One more time, Locksley."
Then William, more for the purpose of showing his total disrespect for the sheriff offered, "You know, I'm not for certain, but the last time we chatted at tea, I think they were planning a holiday in southern France."
The sheriff is enraged. He spits in Robin’s face and throws him back, banging William’s head on the wooden slab, turns to the now fully rabid axeman, and in that deep gravelly voice,
"CUT’M."
The axeman slowly and deliberately raises the long, heavy slab of black metal, affixed to the end of the large oak handle. He hesitates for a few seconds - for effect - and when he reaches the top of his extension, gorland smiles wickedly, letting out a beastly sound as he expends all his strength in the downward swing.
William never blinks. The arc of the ax seems like slow motion as the yell of the axeman continues until the sharp heavy blade finds its soft, fleshy target.
William never blinks.
The sky-blue eyes are affixed on the heavens. The smile on his face, framed by a close-cut, dark goatee, is not the smile of a man who is about to die. But die he surely must, for we now hear the distinct sound of the heavy ax crushing through William’s neck bone, and then finally burying itself in the large wooded slab with one final, loud but muffled thud.
The eyes - the eyes - the sky-blue eyes, they close softly and slowly. And now they are completely closed, but the slight grin remains on the lips. There’s no movement. There is no sound. Only the face, the beautiful face of a man who seems to have simply fallen asleep. The head, the face, the eyes, there is no movement.
Then,
"This… is CNN."
The eyes, the same eyes, open immediately. How could it be? He throws the covers offer, leaps out of the huge king-sized bed and speaks to the television.
"Good morning, Frank."
As we hear the voice of Frank Reynolds in the background giving the morning's news. He takes two steps, leaps into the air and does a triple-forward. As he lands flatly on both feet, he springs upward and grabs a trapeze bar that hangs ten feet from the floor. Its rope supports are attached to a heavy wooden beam that is twenty five feet from the floor.
The ceiling of this thirty by fifty foot New York loft apartment is ten feet above the beams and is covered almost entirely by a twenty foot diameter stained glass dome composed of almost every color in the rainbow, and interspersed with crystal and beveled glass, which now illuminates the loft apartment with the breath-taking array of colors about which an artist only dreams.
William swings his body around the trapeze bar and suddenly comes to an abrupt halt atop the bar in a Himalayan handstand, which he holds for a full five seconds while the bar is a swinging back and forth. He then drops his feet as he retains his hold on the bar, releases, performs a forward double, and as he comes out of the maneuver, he grabs a stationary steel bar fifteen feet from the floor. He then performs three test book giants, completely circumventing the bar as his body remains taunt and in perfect Olympic form. On his third giant he releases his left hand and does a complete full giant with only his right hand attached to the bar. He then reattaches his left hand, releases his right hand, and does yet another full giant with only his left hand attached. And almost to the top of his next swing, he releases, does a double twist, two backward flips and lands with both feet flat on the random width oak floor… right in front of Mr. Coffee.
He nailed it, as usual. A routine that would have won him a 10 across the board in any Olympic competition, and, remarkably, that wasn't even his event. He reaches out, punches the start button on the Mr. Coffee, and at that moment, the front door opens slowly, and in steps an elderly gentleman in a black tuxedo.
William: "Good morning to you, Mr. Brumsley."
Brumsley: "And a top of the morning to you too, Master Locksley."

End of first chapter.

Full Storyline upon request.
And,,, thanks.
William R. Lewis
administrator@theclinic.org

[Jenny Hilton]

Yes....let me have it.



Jenny

[F. Truk]

I'm somewhat amazed at your clarity of description.

I certainly would encourage you, and I too want to see the rest of the line.

[Valerie Moreau]

other then a few errors, like offer instead of off him, it reads nicely. The description at the beginning is very good. Intense, capataving. Excuse spelling errors I can't type, cut my finger, had to get stitches. Maybe a little less detail on the gymnastics but that is only a personal opinion. All in all it is very good. I find I am curious as to why and how he was transported to modern times.

[William Lewis]

Anyone please feel free to correct me if I should not repost (or post) this to this forum...
but in the meantime, and in response to Valerie (thank you):

c Corrections / per Valerie / thanks

NOTTINGHAM, LTD.
Chapter One.
The giant, beastly axeman is breathing heavily in deep, uneven gasps. Even though substantially deranged, he has managed thus far to maintain his position over the man lying still on the elevated wooden slab. He is shifting his obese weight from one leg to the other - then again, moving his huge head and shoulders about in jerking, non-rhythmic motions, tossing his long greasy and matted hair in every direction as it flings sweat and lice for five yards.
A full stone’s weight, the ax is a massive slab of black metal, affixed at the end of a thick, five-foot oak handle. It glistens in the hot, noon-day sun.
He was literally beside himself, almost orgasmic. Finally, at last, he would have the head of the king's greatest enemy, William Locksley. Goreland had dreamed about this moment, the thick steel blade slicing through the upper neck at just the right angle, causing the jugulars to erupt simultaneously, so that he could catch the gush of warm, red spray on his thick, fat, bearded face.
William wasn't bound, which confused the crowd that he would lie on the wood slab, unrestrained, without attempting to escape. But the crowd was unaware that the evil Sheriff of Nottingham had captured Marion and was holding her in a secret underground cell. He had assured William that if he attempted an escape, that Marion would die a slow and horrible death. What the sheriff did not know was that Marion was with child, a child William was to never know. And now, in that deep gravelly, voice, the sheriff yelled, "Where are your men, you filthy, common criminal?"
No reply.
The evil sheriff walks over to William, grabs him by the front of his tunic, and lifts him off the slab. "One more time, Locksley." Then William, more for the purpose of showing his total disrespect for the sheriff offered, "You know, I'm not for certain, but the last time we chatted at tea, I think they were planning a holiday in southern France."
The sheriff is enraged. He spits in Robin’s face and throws him back, banging William’s head on the wooden slab, turns to the now fully rabid axeman, and in that deep gravelly voice,
"CUT’EM."
The axeman slowly and deliberately raises the long, heavy slab of black metal, affixed to the end of the oak handle. He hesitates for a few seconds - for effect - and when he reaches the top of his extension, Goreland smiles wickedly, letting out a beastly sound as he expends all his strength in the downward swing. William never blinks. The arc of the ax seems like slow motion as the yell of the axeman continues until the sharp, heavy blade finds its soft, fleshy target.
William never blinks.
The sky-blue eyes are affixed on the heavens. The smile on his face, framed by a close-cut, dark goatee, is not the smile of a man who is about to die. But die he surely must, for we now hear the distinct sound of the heavy ax crushing through William’s neck bone, and then finally burying itself in the large wooded slab with one final, loud but muffled thud.
The eyes - the eyes - the sky-blue eyes, they close softly and slowly. And now they are completely closed, but the slight grin remains on the lips. There’s no movement. There is no sound. Only the face, the beautiful face of a man who seems to have simply fallen asleep. The head, the face, the eyes, there is no movement. Then,
"THIS… is CNN."
The eyes, the sky-blue eyes, open instantly, and while leaping out of the huge king-sized bed he speaks to the television. "Good morning, Frank."
William R. Locksley, six feet two, black hair tied back in a pony tail, close-cut, dark goatee… and the rightful and true heir apparent to the estate of Sir William Locksley of Nottinghamsire, England.
But this he doesn’t know, and neither did his father, grand father, or great grand father - who was whisked off to the new world in 1833 at the age of three after his parents were murdered.
As we hear the voice of Frank Reynolds in the background giving the morning's news. He takes two steps, leaps into the air and does a triple-forward. As he lands flatly on both feet, he springs upward and grabs a trapeze bar that hangs ten feet from the floor. Its rope supports are attached to a heavy wooden beam that is twenty five feet from the floor.
The ceiling of this thirty by fifty foot New York loft apartment is ten feet above the beams and is covered almost entirely by a twenty foot diameter stained glass dome composed of almost every color in the rainbow, and interspersed with crystal and beveled glass, which now illuminates the loft apartment with the breath-taking array of colors about which an artist only dreams.
William swings his body around the trapeze bar into a Himalayan handstand, which he holds for a full five seconds. He releases with a forward double, grabs a stationary steel bar and performs three textbook giants. Almost to the top of the third giant, he releases, does a double twist, two backward flips and lands with both feet flat on the random width oak floor… directly in front of the DeLonghi CC80 Deluxe Cappuccino Machine.
He nailed it, as usual, a routine that would have captured 10 across the board in any Olympic competition - and, remarkably, that wasn't even his event. As he reaches for the first double-cap brewed up by the DeLonghi the heavy iron-strapped wood entrance door opens slowly, and in steps an older, white-templed gentleman in a black tuxedo.
William: "Good morning to you, Mr. Brumsley."
Brumsley: "And a top of the morning to you too, Master Locksley."
End of first chapter.
Full Storyline upon request.
And,,, thanks.
William R. Lewis
administrator@theclinic.org
How's that??

[Valerie Moreau]

you have floored me. I'm rathered flattered that you changed it on my word. I do appreciate knowing we aren't speaking time travel, but I have another question, not about the story pre se, did Robin Hood, lose his head? Or have you taken what is called artistic license? I don't recall him losing his head but it is not necessarily my area of historical expertise.

[Mary M.]

Also, consider changing "obese weight" to "obese body."

[William Lewis]

Corrections / per Mary M. / thanks
"obese weight" to "obese body".
Wow. This is great. What’s the fee for this incredible help???

[Mary M.]

We'll be picking your brains in the future!

[William Lewis]

Mary. Your use of the plural <"We'll be picking your brains"> could be somewhat disturbing were it meant in a culinary way. You aren't a Steghen King fan, are you?
<G><G><G><G><G><G>
Cheers.
William