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Old 04-13-2009, 02:28 PM   #1
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The Endless Deep Chapter 1 4/13/09

Totally Fiction!! If you think this is real you are smoking crack (and not the blue kind)!!! Takes place in the near future!!!! Deep breath...here goes..enjoy







“Come on Ansleigh…” I muttered to myself, looking at the reflection. It seemed like this was the 50th dress I tried on, but nothing was right.
“Damn…” I knew I should have picked out something sooner. I was hoping the fashion gods would smile on me and provide divine inspiration.

I was getting ready for a party, given by my Uncle, with whom I lived since I was fourteen. He was famously wealthy, thanks to the IT boom of the 90’s. Now he used his money to support arts and culture here in Chicago. More recently he began supporting the causes of Africa, thanks to my travels to that continent.

Tonight he was having a fundraiser and the guest of honor was Mr. Paul Hewson. Bono. My heart skipped a beat at the thought of having someone so famous, someone I admired so much, at the house. My uncle had many important people as guests, but none that famous.

The list was fairly exclusive and included the who’s who of Chicago elite. I had a feeling it would probably be many self congratulating old white guys coming to see “who this Bono” was. My Uncle is the kind of man who still believes in a good cigar and a brandy, in the study, by the fire. Not a very hip crowd.

“Arrggh.” I spy it. The perfect little black dress in the back of my closet. It was cut low, but not too low, gathered at the waist with a perfect A-line skirt. There were two diamond bands at the top of each strap. I put my hair in a dressy pony tail and made sure my make-up was perfect. I looked in the mirror. It was a long way from Africa to my home in Chicago. I felt guilty in a way for enjoying being home. For enjoying my running water, little black dresses and make-up. Africa had changed me. It ate at my soul, and I was still trying to figure out if that was good or bad.

The house was buzzing with electricity. The party was starting to fill with people. I mingled with the crowd, meeting friends of my uncles, telling them stories of my travels.

“Well, good evening.” A voice said. It was my friend Luke. He was my age and worked for the mayor.

“Looks like you got lucky, Luke.” I said.

“Well,” he smiled, “I know people.”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “I do too.”

“So what are you doing now?” He asked.

I sighed,”Well, nothing at the moment…” my voice trailing. “I need to re-group. I’m thinking of opening a photography studio.” It sounded so lame. I was supposed to be conquering the world.

The party was getting louder. Luke leaned in to talk to me. “I can’t believe that f-ing Bono is going to be here.” I nodded my head. “Yes, but maybe he’ll just be here for a few minutes and leave, you know how celebrities are.” I said.

Then, it happened. You could feel it. A physical change in the air the moment he walked in. Bono was here. I was on the other side of the room, but I could see him with my Uncle. He was shaking hands with the mayor, talking to the president of my Uncles foundation.

It seemed like forever by the time I made it to the other room where he was. I was drawn like a magnet. I almost lost sight of him in the crowd. They were in the billiards room: a lovely dark-paneled place with a beautiful oak bar and a stone fire place that was lit. It gave the room and other-worldly glow. There were fewer people in this room. I was convinced the crowd was afraid of him, like they did not know what to say. So they just decided to leave him alone. He was at the end of the bar, drinking out of a highball glass, chatting with an older man. I was stopped by a friend of my Uncles, who wanted all of the details of my “African Adventures.” I probably looked horribly distracted, trying to engage in the conversation and keep my eye on Bono at the same time.


He caught me.
Caught me, looking at him. He smiled bemusedly, but held my gaze. I quickly looked down and back at my Uncles friend, trying desperately to pay attention.

“Oh, Ansleigh. Dear I’ve been looking for you.” It was my Uncle. “Please excuse us. I’d like Ansleigh to meet our guest of honor.” He said, leading me away. My uncle took my hand. I was trembling slightly. “Darling,” he asked. “Are you alright?” I nodded. “Yes, of course.” Of course, my Uncle did not understand that one of the biggest stars in the world was in his house. I loved his naivety about pop culture. Slowly we made our way to Bono’s side of the bar.
He was smiling at me, again.

“Bono.” My Uncle says. “This is my dear, dear niece, Ansleigh Fisher.”

I am relieved that my Uncle does not say “Mr. Vox.” Or “Mr. Bono.” Or, “Mr. Hewson.”

He leans in as he takes my hand, “Ansleigh.” He says, drawing my name in like he’s taking a hit off a cigarette. “You look beautiful.” He’s smiling, all Irish charm.

He was wearing the standard Bono uniform. It looked like his jacket might have been slightly more fitted for the occasion. I was trying hard not to stare. He smelled wonderful, like exotic spices. I was trying hard not inhale too deeply.

“Thank You.” I smiled back. His hand was warm and soft.

“My niece is a photographer and she’s just returned from Africa.” My Uncle said.

I could not tell if my Uncle realized something was happening, I was sure everyone in the room was disappearing.

“Oh, really?” Bono said. “Ansleigh doesn’t look like an “Africa”-type of girl.” His voice was slightly gravelly with a wisp of accent.

I got mad for a second, but he smiled crookedly again and I knew he did not say it to be mean.

“Well, I’m not afraid to rough it, Bono.” I said, than I could not help myself, winked at him playfully.

I couldn’t tell if anyone else could feel it, but I’m sure the room was starting to spin.

“Would you like to see her work, Bono?” My Uncle asked. Bono looked around, like he was looking for the time. He glanced at the end of the bar, at a rather large man with salt and pepper hair. A discreet earpiece was in place. A bodyguard? The man nodded to no one in particular. How strange and peculiar it was to live in such a way, I thought to myself.

“Sure, I’d love to.” Bono said

We followed my Uncle into the adjoining study. Bono put his hand on the small of my back as we went into the room. I was filled with an electric thrill.

“I’m sorry about the lighting in here, Ansleigh.” My Uncle said. The room was lit by the glow of an antique desk lamp and another in the far end of the room. The room was rather dim, but at the moment, it felt like candle light; warm and beautiful.

“You have a great home here, Mr. Fisher.” Bono said. “I can tell you have very fine tastes.”

“Well, Thank You.” My uncle replied. “I do love this place. It has been in the family for generations.” He motioned to the corner of the room, to the portfolio rack. We had about fifty of my pieces matted and put in protective sleeves. Bono went over to the rack and began thoughtfully paging through the photos. From behind I could look at him more intently. His dark jeans were slightly frayed at the heel, his boots slightly scuffed. His hair, graying slightly, was cut short. He was definitely shorter than most of the men at the party. It didn’t matter; he was still taller than me.

I watched him looking at the photos of the colorful Masi Warriors, joyful children. The photos of life. The good and the bad, and the unspeakably horrible.

Bono glanced up at me. “It changes you, doesn’t it?”
I nodded, “It ate at my soul.” I exhaled “And I don’t know if it was in a good way.”

His eye went up a bit, his voice empathetic. “You’ll figure it out, Ansleigh.” He was looking right at me. His eyes, covered by his blue sunglasses, were reassuring.

“What do you think?” my Uncle asked.

Bono looked back over at him, “Just wonderful.” He said. “And all of those other things Africa is.”

“I’d like to buy some.” He said. We both looked over as the man with the earpiece appeared in the door way.

I smiled like a child who received the best Christmas gift ever.

“Bono, you can have whatever you want.” I said.

He waved his hand dismissively. “I too, am a patron of the arts. No freebies, Ansleigh.”

He reached into jacket pocket and pulled out his Palm. He quickly typed a note into it. “My assistant will be in touch with you.” he said. He looked at the man with the earpiece. “Looks like I have to go.” He said. I nodded, and followed my Uncle and Bono out of the room. They exchanged last pleasantries.

He turned to me then, took my hand in both of his, leaned to speak in to my ear. I could feel his breath, warm, sweetened by one of my Uncle fine scotches. His stubble grazed my cheek and neck.

“I’ll see you later.” He whispered like he was sharing a secret. My mind raced, and I felt his words rushing past my ear. The words, felt true.
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Old 04-13-2009, 05:03 PM   #2
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Old 04-13-2009, 06:35 PM   #3
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if only... sigh
very drool-emoticon-worthy
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Old 04-13-2009, 08:24 PM   #4
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Im so glad you posted this - cant wait for the next chapter!!
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Old 04-13-2009, 10:02 PM   #5
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That was beautiful.

I like your writing style. I could see the room in my head.

I can't wait to read more of this.
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Old 04-14-2009, 11:54 AM   #6
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^^ yes, I agree -- very descriptive
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Old 04-14-2009, 01:03 PM   #7
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Thanks everyone. Hope to have chapter 2 up soon.
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Old 04-19-2009, 04:03 PM   #8
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OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH...I am gonna like this!!
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Old 04-19-2009, 04:11 PM   #9
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Fantastic start.........eager for the next chapter
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Old 07-07-2009, 12:32 PM   #10
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OH man I havent visited this folder for a while!
I'm glad it is slow at work cause this is GOOD!
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Old 07-13-2009, 09:22 AM   #11
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Wow that it took me so long to find this story... First chapter and I'm already hooked. Going to read the other chapters, too
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