Many of you are familiar by now with my play; The Greater Granguer, featuring Rolf and Egon. Well, many of you also know that I had mentioned once before that I would be converting my play into an actual series.
The series itself is Historical-Fiction with tethers to Greek mythology and Norse mythology. So without further a dew, I present to you a sneak peak from the starting process of The Clandestine Power (the first book).
THE CLANDESTINE SOVEREIGN POWER:
The errand boy rushed down the halls of the vast Neoclassical auditorium towards the chairman’s head office. Swiping any strands of disheveled hair back into place, passing various etchings and sculptures of Greek Phidias and Pericles Two soldiers stationed outside the chairman’s office gave him a nod and opened the doors for the errand boy. Fixed his suit and tie, steadying his shaky hands holding the letter of importance and stepped into the office. The doors closed behind him. The office was bigger than he had thought. There were multiple other rooms and various display cases. Paintings worth fortunes hung and framed. The middle of the office was a vast lounge area with a couch and coffee table. The Chairman was there, center of the room nursing a whiskey and staring into the mantle above the fireplace.
“Is It done?” The chairman sipped his beverage, licking his lips. The errand boys’ throat caught from excitement and restrained giddiness.
“Yes.” He walked up to the back of the Chairman.
“Everything has been taken care of sir, we can proceed.” The errand boy clutched the letter in his hands, excitement bubbling in his stomach. The Chairman stood cold and glaring into the fireplace.
“And the letter?” He spared a small glance in which the boy excitedly waved in his face.
“All set. Just need to address it and send it to the post!” A wicked smile spread from ear to ear, eyes glinting with mischief and an unrestrained thirst that even the Chairman seemed uneasy.
The Chairman directed his attention outside of the grand window at his left. Outside was the grand courtyard and beyond were the lights of the city of Schillerplatz. The perfect playground for a perfect new constitution. A bowl on intelligence and creativity, and the Academy of the Fine Arts of Vienna was its center, the piece that tied it all together. The Chairman smirked to his own reflection in the glass.
“Grab a pen.” He turned back to the errand boy.
“So, who are we rejecting?” That wicked, sadistic smile returned. Clicking the pen, hovering over the white broad surface of the letter face.
“To one, Adolf Hitler…”
Germany,
1941.
END
Please note that I do want your feedback on this attention grabber of the first book. If there’s too much or too little of anything and your own personal thoughts on what you think so far! Thank you guys for reading!
Before anyone says anything, Peak is supposed to be Peek.