A Steampunk Snippit

[soulresin]

I'm trying out using my imagination. Here is a snippet of a something that's been stewing for several months about a charming young lad named Tobias, living in futuristic, steampunk London. Since I've never really been to London myself, I'm leaving out a few details about the acutal city until I've had a chance to explore London myself, but since this is a work of fanciful futuristic fiction, accuracy is allowed to be an afterthought. There's not much here, but I'm just looking for initial reactions to the storytelling and language. Please do tell me what you think!



I could have humoured my delusions of grandeur and gone north when I’d had the chance. Now it was too late. The last dirigible had made its way to the north the night before and I had chosen to stay in London; smoky, busy, crowded, forsaken London town. I hated myself for it, but I knew I’d made that decision for a reason. My gran had told me that when I was a young boy. There was always a reason. Sometimes God dictated those reasons. Sometimes it was fate. Sometimes it was politics. She always had said that, regardless of the guiding hand.

Not considering what my grandmother may have said to me in my youth, I was now stuck in London for the rest of the year, as the last airship had left the day before to go over the North Pole and to the People’s United Provinces of Canada. This year was already shaping up to be terrible. I looked over the top of the newspaper and into the streets. Ladies with big dresses and men with silk suits and top hats bustled in and out of the shops and businesses, no doubt glad that most of the city had been vacated of its seasonal and often belligerent cloud of tourists, soul-seekers, and vagabonds. I again stared at the headlines and tried to make sense of what I wanted to do since I was in London, jobless and homeless with less than two hundred pounds in my pocket and bristling to leave the country.

It was then clear to me that selling my flat and buying a roving barber shop had not ever been in my best interests. The little oak wardrobe attached to a bicycle had been my means to make money during my stay in the wintery part of the world, but now I was stuck with a damned rolling cupboard full of razors and no idea how to use them.

"Tobias!" someone called from the door of the cafe before rushing to my table. I recognized him only after several stunned moments as he sat down and pulled his scarf off and smoothed his wind-blown hair. "I thought you'd left!" Octavian had never been the one to care, but once I had told him that I was dead set on going to the PUPC, my best friend since childhood took the role of a protective mother. I closed the paper and folded it down the crease.

“Well, it looks like you thought wrong, my friend,” I replied, leaning back in the stiff wrought-iron chair and stretching. “It was a last minute decision, but I decided to stay in London.”

“With the roving barber? My boy, you haven’t the slightest idea on how to shave even your own bloody beard,” he said. “I’d sell the damned thing if I were you.” He waved over a waiter and ordered a bowl of coffee. He leaned back over to whisper, “Smells like shit in here.”

“Yea,” I said, nodding toward the counter. “Apparently they installed the new steam engine for their bakery. Those new models tend to stink.”

“That’s rank,” he said, picking up the newspaper to fan himself. “How’re you not sick yet?”

“Being in here is better than freezing out there on my bloody bicycle,” I said, looking though the curtained windows to the frosty streets.

“Toby, don’t be silly,” Octavian said, snorting at me. “It’s hardly autumn.”

“Well, I run cold, I do,” I replied, pulling my scarf around my neck defensively.

“That’s the problem with you,” Octavian said, slurping the recently-served coffee. “The fire in your little chugging heart’s gone out.” He set the bowl down, making a grand gesture with his arm. “I shall offer to take you in in your sorry, despondent state, and in return, you must promise me never to do something stupid like this again.”

“Deal.”

[Allan-p]

Rank lol, what a brilliant choice of a word.

Reminds me just a tad bit on Fitzpatrick War;however, with the lesser mannerisms presented in Fitzpatrick war as it was influenced by the civil war and knighthood system.

Really love the name "United Provinces of Canada" sort of a play on words with the US of A.

All I can say thus far is I really enjoyed it, and yes it sparked an imagination.

[soulresin]

Originally Posted by Allan-p

Rank lol, what a brilliant choice of a word.

Reminds me just a tad bit on Fitzpatrick War;however, with the lesser mannerisms presented in Fitzpatrick war as it was influenced by the civil war and knighthood system.

Really love the name "United Provinces of Canada" sort of a play on words with the US of A.

All I can say thus far is I really enjoyed it, and yes it sparked an imagination.

Thanks, Allan! I'm glad you read and enjoyed it!