Writing the Family Saga - Flash Story 5

Bang, bang, bang! It’s still dark! Who could be at the door? Rubbing her eyes Louisa grabbed her housecoat, rushing to open the front door. A policeman stood on the verandah.

Dear God no! It can’t be John, can it? Grabbing hold of the door frame her legs began to shake uncontrollably.

“Mrs Engstrom, there has been an accident, John is in hospital, you need to come quickly.”

“I won’t be more than two minutes, Officer,” turning on her heel, she rushed down the hall to throw on her dress and coat.

Listening to the policeman on the journey into town, Louisa’s gave up trying to keep her tears in check. John had been clearing the building site. While carrying wood he had slipped in the mud, crashing down the incline, with the roughly hewn wood going everywhere. By the time his employer had reached him, he was screaming in pain with a large piece of wood sticking out the side of his face. He thankfully, lost consciousness, before being taken to the hospital. [1]

Not mincing his words the officer explained the piece of wood had torn his jaw and cheek, causing him to lose a lot of blood.

Four days later, in great agony, John gave up his battle.[2] Louisa never left her son’s side.

I should never have let him take that job. I should protect my children! He was only fourteen years old.

Tears streaming down her face, she clung to his hand. Oh my dear Johnny. Now I have to bury you too, beside your father and step-father!

Reflective Statement

I tried to write this story with Louisa’s voice at the forefront. I am not sure that I have succeeded.

I still find that I struggle with tenses and I must admit that I changed words ending in “ing” to ending with “ed” many times.

I found an article on the Trove website reporting on this tragic accident, in 1890. I wove my story from this information. My great Uncle was the fourth eldest of eight children to a twice widowed mother.


[1] Gunnedah. (1890, March 1). Australian Town and Country Journal (Sydney, NSW : 1870 - 1907), p. 15. Retrieved May 27, 2017, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article71108542

[2] Australia, Death Index, 1787-1985 for John Brandt (Provo, UT, USA, Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2010), http://www.ancestry.com.au.

Writing the Family Saga - Flash Story 4

Surely the boat would be better than this hell hole. We have been crammed in here for so long, I have forgotten what month it is!

Elizabeth’s nostrils twitched with the stale smell of tobacco and rum emanating from the gaoler coming down the passageway.

“Wake up you scraggily wenches, it’s time to go. Your next ‘ome will be on HMS The Pitt. Yer, got first rate digs,” he said, spitting on the floor as he entered, “now ‘urry up, you’ll be marching to the harbour.”

Shivering in her skimpy rags, with water running ankle deep in the gutters, she sighed as the eery silence of the early morning fog engulfed her. I have never been on a boat before, I ‘ope our lodgings are better than the gaol.

Her hopes were soon dashed on arriving at the wharf.

Climbing down the ladder, I gagged as the overwhelming stench and damp hit me. At least we have hammocks, even if I have to share, it’s better than the floor. Her chains clinked in time to all the others. So much for our first rate digs! This is going to be a long voyage!

Lieutenant Rowley walked up the gangplank. I hope I have a decent cabin.

“Boy, where’re you taking my things?” calling after his batman.

“Lieutenant, your cabin is this way please.”

Hmmp, cramped but better than I expected. Where is that wailing and smell coming from? Holding his kerchief to his nose and rubbing his hand over the mattress, he sighed, this is going to be a long voyage!

Reflective Statement

I struggled big time this week to choose my e-tivity. After much deliberation, I realised that I was thinking too broadly and trying to cover too much.

When I remembered to focus on just one incident, I was able to tackle this e-tivity, with a bit more confidence.

I still had to 'kill some darlings' in my efforts to describe two different accounts of my great, great, great grandparents arrival on the ship that would bring them to Australia.

Writing the Family Saga - Flash Story 3

Dry retching again, she held her hair away from the bush. She couldn’t have anything else to bring up, she thought! When does this stop? How would she tell him? 

“Elizabeth, where are you, where is my breakfast?” bellowed the Lieutenant coming toward the kitchen.

Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, she scurried through the back door, just before he entered the kitchen.

“It won’t be long Sir, I just stepped out to get the eggs,” she replied, swallowing bile again. Just breathe, she thought, I’m not ready to let him know, I don’t want to leave ’ere.

Placing his plate on the table she found herself remembering the day The Pitt sailed into Sydney Cove.

Seven years transportation, was a long time, she would never see her family again. She felt him watching her as soon as she came on the deck with the others. It sent a shiver of fear down her spine. Names were being read out by a scrawny soldier standing near the gangplank. Fate had been kind to her that day, she hadn’t expected to leave the boat as housekeeper to Lieutenant Thomas Rowley!

“Elizabeth, what is wrong with you?” asked the Lieutenant. “You are miles away, it’s not like you to be wool gathering.”

She should have been more careful, she thought, he didn’t want a babe! Could she get rid of it? How could a convict bring up a baby without a father? Now he would send her to the barracks, as she deserved.

“I’m with child!” she blurted out as she burst into tears, running out the door to her favourite bush!

Reflective Statement

I chose to write this story as it is the beginning of my Family Saga in Australia.

I can only imagine what it must have been like for Elizabeth, to find herself pregnant to Thomas only a month after being assigned to him and arriving in Australia.

I am finding that I like writing dialogue as I think, it is an outlet for my overactive imagination! I am also finding that although I want to stay true to facts that I have found, I am definitely enjoying the Creative Non- fiction genre!

Week Six Flash Story

My Photo 

The boys and I are ready. Mr Kent will be here to take our photograph soon. I will finally have a record of my success. Something to hand down to my children and hopefully their children. I have never had my photograph taken before.

The three trucks sparkled in the sunlight. They had been washed and polished until they shone with the combined effort of Samuel and his team.

SS Briggs Contractor - Roselle was painted on the side of each of the three trucks.

Just think, it was only last week that I had been running the business with horses and drays. Now here I am the owner of these fine new trucks.

This type of advertising is the future . My business will prosper with this advertising promotion. 

****

Now approximately ninety five years later, I ponder this professionally taken photo in my possession, taken in circa 1920 by Milton C Kent.

My research and University courses have shown me the importance of this photo. I need to release it from the cluttered drawer and get it in a frame on my wall.

Obviously it meant a great deal to my Grandfather, although I don't remember my mum ever talking about it.

I wonder if the Great Depression proved the downfall of his business. History was to prove that things didn't go well for Samuel.

Week Five Flash Story

THE MAN WITH THE CHILD IN HIS EYES

JOHN 

As he arrived at work covered in mud from the walk in the rain, he couldn't remember a day of his fourteen years, when he hadn’t been working.

He wondered what it would be like to go to school, to have holidays, to play footy with mates.

At least he got a pay packet each week, which was better than working for Mother at the Inn for nothing. Instead of giving all he earned to Mother, he longed to buy little Ethel something special. A little sweetie from the General Store would put a smile on her face.

John loved to see that smile. But there hadn't been much to smile about, after Father died seven years ago. Then the death of Step Father two years later.

But work he must and if he must, he might as well get on with it.

When returning from lugging another load of wood inside for the cook, he slipped in the mud and came crashing down with the roughly cut wood going everywhere. He heard screaming and realised it was coming from him. That couldn't be a piece of wood sticking out of the side of his face could it? 

He lost consciousness.

Four days later John gave up his battle with pain. Another life ended too soon.

Week Three Flash Story

Chatting with History

Louisa stirred in bed with a sense of dread.

She lay wondering why baby Ethel wasn’t fussing as usual and Alfred snoring beside her. The realisation slowly came to her. She was alone in their bed.

“Are you awake Missus?” the young girl who came in on a daily basis to help with the cleaning of the bar asked.

“What are you doing here, Gertie?" But before Gertie could answer, Louisa awoke fully with the memories of last night flooding back. Alfred was gone. Fallen to his death down the well. 

“There is a Constable waiting to see you Missus, I’ll just pop out and let him know you be awake,” she replied.

Louisa stopped her, “I must see the children, please bring them to me.”

She dragged herself from the bed and realised she was in the same clothes as last night. Oh well she thought, a comb through my hair will suffice for now. Where is my comb? Dear God, how am I going to tell the children?

Realising that someone was knocking on her bedroom door, she called: “Enter.”

Constable O’Riellly came in. “I am sorry to have to inform you Mrs Brandt, that Alfred’s body has been recovered from the well out back. He is indeed dead. The Magistrate has taken his body, as there will need to be an inquest. “

Louisa could only nod, “ I have to see my children, excuse me,” she replied as she ran from the room.

Week Two Flash Story

Conversation with the Past

Midnight found me in my armchair researching Samuel on my Ipad. If only I could talk to you grandfather, I thought.

Suddenly I was sitting on the verandah of Stanville, his home in Collaroy. I could hear the waves crashing on the beach in the background.

Across from me in a rocking chair was my grandfather Samuel Stanley Briggs..

“I have so many questions for you grandfather.” 

“Ask away my dear, he said. “what is troubling you.”

“ I have a photo of your three Thornycroft Trucks with SS Briggs Contractor painted on the side of the trucks. But I can’t seem to find much about them.”

“As I think you already know, this photo was taken in 1922. I had only just received delivery of them, it was taken as an advertisement for Thornycroft.”

“ This looks to me as though you were fairly well off, owning three trucks.”

“Ah, but appearances can be deceiving my dear,” he replied. “it was hard times, businesses were only just getting on their feet after WWI.”

“So what happened that you went from business owner of three trucks in 1922 to being taken to court in 1937 for non payment of your mortgage, with the possibility off losing this lovely house?”

“Well in one word, no make that three,” he said, “the Great Depression.”

“For goodness sake Marcia, you are asleep. Will you put that iPad down before you drop it and come to bed,” my husband yelled from the comfort of our bedroom.

Writing the Family Sage - Flash Story 6

St. Cecelia’s Bazaar

Thunder rolled in from the coast. The sky darkened to a foreboding inky hue.

“Hurry my loves, or we will get very wet. I have a surprise for you when we get home.” Isabella tucked the weekly Freeman’s Journal firmly under her arm, thinking guiltily of the coin that should have gone on the plate during Mass, but had paid for her purchase instead!

I can’t wait to see their faces when I read it.

“Oh Mumma, my dress,” Valma wailed! “My boots are squeaking,” giggled Lorna.

“Garvice, stop jumping in puddles and come inside this minute,” Isabella called, hiding her smile.

“Da will have the kettle on, so get out of your wet things and then come warm up beside the range.”

On entering the kitchen later, she was assailed by a chorus of “What’s the surprise, Mumma?”

“Well, I need a cuppa first and maybe you three, a glass of milk and a rock cake?”

“What about me?” George asked as she sat down, giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Of course the server of morning tea always gets first choice,” she replied with a wink!

Opening the newspaper she started to read the article.

Amid the squeals of delight from his children, George marvelled at his wife.

Moving from Gunnedah to Wyong had seen her embracing church life with her usual gusto! Now here she was being written up in the paper for helping with the Church Bazaar. Madam Brandt, Misses Brandt and Master Garvice Brandt.

“Why did Garvice have his name in the paper and all we got was Misses?” wailed the girls!

Reflective Statement

I found myself wanting to write this narrative as it answered some of my questions as to why I have such a sense of family and church community.

The article in the Freeman’s Journal on Trove, brought to my attention a strong connection with the Catholic Church.

I hope I have conveyed through “showing with dialogue” the strong sense of family and community that Isabella, my grandmother, brought to her every day life.

A phrase from one of this week’s lectures “your imagination will be helped by research” found me googling many things for this narrative; the Freeman’s Journal, weather in September 1923 and many other tidbits of information.

I still find myself leaning towards dialogue and internal monologue as my preference.

I enjoy the Creative Non-Fiction Genre.


Reference
‘Wyong, St, Cecelia’s Bazaar, About £170 Realised’ Freeman's Journal (Sydney, NSW : 1850 - 1932), 6 September, p. 19.

Writing the Family Saga - Flash Story 2

NO CHOICE!

Elizabeth shaded her eyes, focusing on all the sights vying for her attention. The sea was so blue, but the overwhelming heat made her head swim. It was a vivid contrast to the stench and close conditions of below deck.

Her thoughts drifted to the time when she had boarded the Pitt, six and a half months ago. She shuddered with the memories of all she had seen.

Seven years transportation for stealing items of apparel, she thought. She had needed the money for Mumma to buy food for the rest of the family. What would they do now, left without her meager downstairs maid wages?

Shuffling behind the other female convicts, she found herself herded like sheep on one side of the deck, with the men on the other side.

She felt the trickle of apprehension down her neck, as she had experienced many times during the voyage.

There he was again!

He was watching, just like the other times during the female convict exercise breaks.

A soldier gave orders for disembarkation. Turning her attention toward him, she wondered why she bothered. It wasn’t as though she would be given any choices in the matter.

“Elizabeth Selwyn, sentenced for seven years, assigned to Lieutenant Thomas Rowley as Housekeeper,” he read.

Then she saw the Lieutenant, motion to her to follow. So he is an Officer, she thought. Picking up her cloth bundle she made her way to his side.

No, not a choice, but maybe a better option, she thought. Housekeeper, I can do this!

Reflective Statement

I chose this story to showcase the arrival of my first two ancestors on Australian soil.

In writing about Elizabeth and Thomas, I found myself trying to focus on just one scene as taught in Writing Family History. I feel that I might have finally succeeded!

I found myself looking for what was important to tell this story.

It is difficult finding a balance between non-fiction and fiction, as there is so much conjecture in my stories because of evidence yet to be found. So I am finding my writing leaning towards the Creative Non-Fiction genre.

Writing the Family Saga - Flash Story 1

In this Unit of the Diploma we were encouraged to write on more than one ancestor in our Flash(short) stories. Again we had a 250 word limit, but with the added 100/150 word Reflective Statement.


Many of the characters appear in many of these stories, but told from different points of view as required by each activity's instructions. So you may have read of some of these before as all these Flash Stories are for writing practise.

STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT 

Fell to his death down a well...

Died of inflammation of the lungs...

What could link these two things together?

Louisa, Sugarloaf, Gunnedah, Sweden to name a few! Two similar but very different men married Louisa.

Alfred Brandt married Louisa Barker, after the birth of their seventh child, in January 1883.[1]They moved from Tasmania in 1870, where Alfred was a Gold Miner, to northern NSW. They settled seven miles out of Gunnedah, where Alfred became the Publican of the Sugarloaf Inn. They had been together for approximately fourteen years and had seven children.[2]Unfortunately six months after their marriage, Alfred fell to his death down a well. [3]

Three years after Alfred’s death August Engstrom married Louisa. She had been Publican of the Inn, in her own name since Alfred’s death. August assumed the role of Publican with the arrival of their first child and the eighth for the family.[4] Tragedy struck again with August dying from Inflammation of the lungs in 1888.[5]

Research shows that both Alfred and August were born in Sweden.[6]

Alfred and Louisa are my Great Grand Parents, so by default of her second marriage to August, he now appears on my tree.

Did these men know each other? I am yet to find out.

The common link in their stories is undoubtedly their love of one woman, Louisa. One strong woman, who even after the death of two husbands went on to provide a living for her large family of eight children.

How had these events affected her and her family in rural NSW in the late nineteenth century?

REFLECTIVE STATEMENT

My main decision in writing about Alfred and August was twofold. Firstly to highlight the similarities between the men. Secondly to introduce Louisa, who may make an appearance in later e-tivities.

The limited documentation for these three has led to many challenges in writings. I hope the more I find about this part of my Family Tree, will eventually add many branches with interesting leaves being told in stories.

The documentation stating that Alfred and Louisa married after the birth of their children, poses many unanswered questions for a Family Historian. 

1 Australia, Marriage Index, 1788-1950 Index Reg 685 [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2010. Accessed 12 August 2015, http://www.ancestry.com.au
2 Australia, Birth Index, 1788-1922 Index Reg #44 Alfred L BRANDT, Index Reg #135592 Magnus BRANDT, Index Reg #14877 Peter BRANDT; Index Reg #15707 John BRANDT; Index Reg #22850 George BRANDT; Index Reg #25169 William BRANDT; Index Reg #17610 Ethel BRANDT; [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2010 accessed 12 August 2015, http://www.ancestry.com.au
3 Australia, Death Index, 1787-1985, Index Reg#8157 [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2010, accessed 18 August 2015 , http://www.ancestry.com.au.
4 Australia, Birth Index, 1788-1922 F ranges Engstrom, [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2010. http://www.ancestry.com.au
5 Family Notices (1888, March 31). Australian Town and Country Journal (Sydney, NSW : 1870 - 1907), p. 34.
Retrieved May 27, 2017, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article71095921
6 Australia, Death Index, 1787-1985, Index Reg#8157 [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2010, accessed 18 August 2015 , http://www.ancestry.com.au
Australia, Marriage Index, 1788-1950 [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2010. http://www.ancestry.com.au

Week Four -Flash Story

NO PLACE LIKE HOME

STANVILLE

What had I done? The Court wanted to auction my beloved Stanville.


I remember the first day I saw that parcel of land. Through the trees I could see the sun shimmering on the waves at Collaroy beach. Patterns of orange and pink danced on the calm tide. The memory of those colours remain with me always.


Things had been going well, with my Carrier business. Surely, with the Depression over, it was time I provided Florence with a home of her own. It would be good for the children to breathe the sea air instead of the stench of the streets of Newtown and play in safety, without fear of being run down by passing vehicles.


It had been a labour of love building our little cottage Stanville. The name just seemed right. Stanley had been such a dear little lad, taken from us too soon, he never saw the carriage approaching.


Now nine years later we could lose it all. My house to be auctioned because of my foolishness and not paying my mortgage. How was I going to find the £336.16s.7d. needed to pay the bank.


No matter what it took, I would work day and night. This was our home, our Stanville, our first and only home.

Week One Flash Story

For my weekly activity in the Writing Family History Unit for my Diploma, I had to write Flash Stories of a limit of 250 words. 

These exercises were aimed at teaching us the art of choosing our words, subject and genre of writing to tell stories that packed a punch, hooked the reader at the beginning, used different techniques of dialogue, description, showing instead of telling, etc.

We had a choice each week of six different topics.  I can see a growth in my writing from my first story to that of my sixth story.


Here is my first foray into Family History story telling.

The Story in History

Louisa was cleaning the bar. She was tired and looking forward to when they could call closing time.

Her life was a busy one, with seven children under the age of thirteen and the baby not yet one. Sleep would elude her tonight, with Alfred snoring beside her and the baby waking constantly with those blessed teeth!

She thought sulkily that Alfred was taking a long time getting that bucket of water from the well. What could be taking that man so long!

Louisa bit her tongue for the umpteenth time that night. He had been drinking with his cronies again leaving all the work in the bar to her as usual. The Sugarloaf Inn wasn’t high class but it was a roof over their heads and good steady work. A far cry from their gold mining days.

Suddenly there was a commotion coming from the backyard. What were those men up to now?

One of the men came running in blabbering incoherently, he was too drunk to make head or tails of what he was saying.

Then she saw the rest of the men. Their faces told the full story. Alfred wasn’t with them.

The next thing she remembered was waking up in her bed by herself. No Alfred, no baby Ethel and a strange women sitting beside the bed.

Then the memory of last night came flooding back. Alfred had fallen down the well to his death. What was she going to do now?