This week’s prompt is Misfortune.
There is no family tree that has not had some misfortune. This week, we have been encouraged to explore some of it. It doesn't have to be a heart-wrenching tragedy. It could be a set-back in business or a missed opportunity. We are asked to write about something that didn't go the way our ancestor would have wanted or had planned.
My writing this week is a Creative Non Fiction Story on my Paternal Great Grandfather Alfred Brandt.
ALFRED'S MISFORTUNE
It is going to be a long night, those punters at the end of the bar look like they are settled in for the night.
“Time gentlemen, please,” Alfred heard his wife Louisa call from the doorway. It’s all very well to call time my love, but when they are only just starting their pints, they aren’t about to get out of here anytime soon!
She looks tired, little Ethel must have given her a hard time again last night. I don’t remember her getting up to the babe, but then I don’t usually hear anything once I start snoring, smiling sheepishly wiping ale glasses, Alfred noticed that they were out of water again.
She looks tired, little Ethel must have given her a hard time again last night. I don’t remember her getting up to the babe, but then I don’t usually hear anything once I start snoring, smiling sheepishly wiping ale glasses, Alfred noticed that they were out of water again.
“Alfred we are out of water, how am I supposed to keep up the hot water over the fire if the buckets aren’t kept full in the kitchen?”
Just as I thought, another trip out in the cold to the well. I wish it wasn’t so slippery out there. Grabbing a bucket and the lantern, Alfred headed outside in the bleak July winter, stopping to give his wife a quick peck on the cheek on the way.
Once outside he noticed the punters from the end of the bar had followed him, deciding it was a good time to relieve themselves as well. It’s going to be hard getting them to go home now that their bladders are empty!
The ice had formed on the ground covering it with a thick layer of frost. Phew, it’s cold out here. Blast, there goes me light, where did that gust of wind come from?
“Where’d you go Bert… what happened to the lantern… how’s a man supposed to p..s in the dark?” he heard them carousing, while he gingerly picked his way over the crunchy ground underfoot. It was hard work in only the shadow of the early moonlight.
How does a man in 1883 fall down a well? I imagine that Occupational Health and Safety Practises weren’t in place at this time.
Was it just an accident? Could he have been pushed? The coroner's report claims that it was an accident.[3]
Falling down a well is certainly a misfortune. I have written about this event on other occasions, especially from the viewpoint of Louisa.
But this time I felt that Alfred deserved a story of his own!
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1 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swedish_profanity
Once outside he noticed the punters from the end of the bar had followed him, deciding it was a good time to relieve themselves as well. It’s going to be hard getting them to go home now that their bladders are empty!
The ice had formed on the ground covering it with a thick layer of frost. Phew, it’s cold out here. Blast, there goes me light, where did that gust of wind come from?
“Where’d you go Bert… what happened to the lantern… how’s a man supposed to p..s in the dark?” he heard them carousing, while he gingerly picked his way over the crunchy ground underfoot. It was hard work in only the shadow of the early moonlight.
He pulled his coat closer to ward off the bitter wind. Now where is that infernal rope? Ahh there it is, bending to retrieve the rope to pull up the bucket, he panicked realising his foot was slipping, much too close to the edge.
“Herregud!”[1] he yelled with arms flaying as he tumbled down the inky dark hole for what seemed to last forever. He hit the bottom of the well with a force that shook every bone in his body, realising he had landed on one of the outcrops that stuck out of the wall of the well.
Herregud, am I to die here in this darkness and cold?
All too soon Alfred breathed a slow rasping sound, drifting into eternal unconsciousness, the cold and dark creeping into his soul…
“Louisa…”
_____________
“Herregud!”[1] he yelled with arms flaying as he tumbled down the inky dark hole for what seemed to last forever. He hit the bottom of the well with a force that shook every bone in his body, realising he had landed on one of the outcrops that stuck out of the wall of the well.
Herregud, am I to die here in this darkness and cold?
All too soon Alfred breathed a slow rasping sound, drifting into eternal unconsciousness, the cold and dark creeping into his soul…
“Louisa…”
_____________
Back Story
Alfred Ludwig Brandt died falling down a well in 1883.[2]
Alfred Ludwig Brandt died falling down a well in 1883.[2]
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| Newcastle Morning Herald and Miners' Advocate (NSW : 1876 - 1954) |
How does a man in 1883 fall down a well? I imagine that Occupational Health and Safety Practises weren’t in place at this time.
Was it just an accident? Could he have been pushed? The coroner's report claims that it was an accident.[3]
Falling down a well is certainly a misfortune. I have written about this event on other occasions, especially from the viewpoint of Louisa.
But this time I felt that Alfred deserved a story of his own!
________________
1 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swedish_profanity
2 GUNNEDAH. (1883, August 2). Newcastle Morning Herald and Miners' Advocate (NSW : 1876 - 1954), p. 2. Retrieved March 21, 2018, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article135952127
3 State Archives NSW; Series: 2924; Item: 4/6618; Roll: 343, Ancestry.com. New South Wales, Australia, Registers of Coroners' Inquests, 1821-1937 [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc.
Marcia, An interesting and sad story about Alfred's demise. Good on you for experimenting with the different styles of writing we tried in the Family History Diploma. Vicki
ReplyDeleteThanks for tHe comment Vicki.
ReplyDelete