Blown Away: Hamilton Fan Fiction (part II)

I’m alone at home dressing for the play the next day when I hear a knock the front door.

It’s Father. “I hadn’t expected you back so early,” I stammer, surreptitiously glancing towards the clock. Philip Hamilton should be arriving very soon.

Father’s face is exceptionally haggard. He has been this way ever since Mother died, but today the creases in his face are deeper.

“Theo, someone told me he saw you George Eacker yesterday,” he says. “What am I supposed to make of that?”

What on earth—I had thought the meeting was private! How could anyone have seen me with Eacker? Despite my shock I smile briefly in remembrance of the successful peacemaking. Father seizes upon it.

“Don’t tell me you’re seeing him,” he warns. “How long has this been going on? I’ll not have it.”

“Oh, Father,” I say as lightly as possible, “it was nothing important. I’m sure whatever you heard was blown up by exaggerations.”

He frowns, unconvinced. Again I glance towards the clock. It’s five till six. If I can leave the house now I might be able to intercept Hamilton before he comes to the door. If Father sees him he might just blow up, especially right after hearing about me and George Eacker.

Just as I think this I see Father’s eye glance down at my dress. He frowns again. “Going out?”

“To see a play,” I say, taking a step towards the door.

Suddenly Father’s face brightens. “I’ll go with you,” he says. “I need some relaxation after all the drama at work.”

In spite of myself I feel my face flush. “Oh…Father, I would love to go with you, but I—I can’t, not today…I’m…I’m going with someone…” I trail off, helpless to avoid the arriving explosion.

It deeply saddens me to see the short-lived joy disappear off his face as quickly as it appeared. “Who’s going with you?” he says.

I murmur, “Philip Hamilton.”

He flares red to his ears. “Theodosia!”

“Father…”

“And I thought George Eacker was bad,” he says, almost to himself. “What will people say? Of all people you go see a play with the son of Alexander Hamilton? Don’t you know how he has disgraced himself? I have the Reynolds pamphlet right here somewhere, Theo, would you like to read it? Maybe then you’ll think twice about seeing his son.”

“Father, it’s just a play! And why should a son have to suffer the disgrace of his father?”

“Forget it, Theo. You won’t understand these political matters. I forbid you to go out tonight—”

Three knocks sound on the door, and I catch my breath. With a furtive look back at Father, I reach for the doorknob and open the door.

“Oh,” says Philip Hamilton, as he meets Father’s stony gaze. I take a breath to speak, but the silence between is an eternity.

“Father, this is Mr Philip Hamilton.” I keep my voice as calm and steady as possible. “Mr Hamilton, my father, Senator Aaron Burr.”

Mother would be proud.

I’m impressed at how quickly the young Hamilton recovers from his surprise. He proffers his hand to Father, as he does so cordially saying, “Mr Burr, sir.”

Almost grudgingly Father takes his hand.

“Sir,” says Hamilton, “I’ll have your daughter back before nine.”

I watch him with bated breath.

At last he grunts, but it is at least assent. Elated, I grasp his hands and beam at him. “Thank you, Father!” In a way I have the psychological advantage: I figured out long ago that when I smile a certain way I remind him of Mother.

I may have chosen a wrong moment: a tear appears in Father’s eye and he turns away, clearly embarrassed in front of the both of us. Realising the gravity of the situation I turn to Hamilton and whisper, “Shall we?”

He nods, and we exit the house. But as I shut the door behind me I see Father sink wearily into his armchair, head in his hands as if it hurts. For a moment I remain staring listlessly at the closed door.

“Miss Burr,” says Philip Hamilton, softly.

I snap out of my reverie and look distractedly into his face. Again I’m struck by the vividness of his expression. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “My father…”

“I understand.” He offers me his arm; I take it and for a moment we walk in silence.


Today’s selection is a bit short because if I added the next bit it’d be abnormally long. I guess you people will just have to wait for next week. I wanted to delve into the relationship between Burr and Theodosia, so here’s my take. There’ll be more OTP moments in the next one, all you fangirls/boys.

 

 

 

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Quick Update and Apologies :(

Hey to all my six followers who have probably forgotten all about this corner of the Internet…sorry for the long break.

(I know that probably no one realised that I was gone. But now I’m back.)

So in the past seven or so months a lot has been happening. Not that I’ve been too busy to blog. Just that I shifted this little space to my lowest priorities. I was even thinking about shutting the whole thing down.

But one day someone messaged me telling me that I “needed to write a fan fiction about Philip Hamilton and Theodosia”, and that I should post in on my blog. This dying blog.

I was game. Why not? For the past month and a half I have been drowning in love for all things Hamilton. (It’s my first current ‘fandom’. But I wouldn’t call myself a fangirl, per se.) And I hadn’t been writing anything for a terribly long while, so fan fiction would be better than blank pages.

So I whacked a mediocre little thing onto the computer and posted it. Apparently people like it. Thank you for the encouragement.

Over the next few weeks I’ll release the next few parts. I have no idea how many parts there will be. I have a vague idea of what’s going to happen but I might change my mind as I go.

I’m currently on break from school till November. So you might expect a tiny increase in the number of posts (well, anything is more than zero, so). I’ll try to prioritise more, but I can’t promise.

To all those random Internet people who came just to read fan fiction, please subscribe? I will post other stuff too. If you scroll down after the fiction piece you’ll see samples. Anything is much appreciated.

Till the next post,

Sarah.

Blown Away: Hamilton Fan Fiction (part I)

A young man rushes into the theatre as the lights fade in. At first I think he’s late for the show time, but then he starts to shout. 

“George Eacker!” His voice is filled with fury, mad accusation. “Eacker!”

Out of the corner of my eye I notice a man lean forward and look around. He smiles. It’s a derisive, mocking smile. Almost a sneer. “Oh, if it isn’t Philip Hamilton?” he says, laughing out of the side of his mouth. “What are you up to, barging in on civilised society like this? Didn’t your father teach you anything?”

Now that he has found Eacker, the young man rushes closer into view. I notice how bold and bright his eyes are. They’re filled with anger.

“Watch your mouth when you talk about my father,” he says. “He’s a man of honour. You know nothing, Eacker!”

“Ha! What I do know is all true, and that’s what I said.” He’s still smiling the same queer smile. “Your father’s a scoundrel, and so it seems are you.”

I wish they would stop. I want to see the play.

Hamilton flinches, visibly wounded by the insult. Around him the audience waits with bated breath as to what will come next.

“So it’s like that?” he says. He’s obviously lost his footing for a bit. 

“I tell the truth, Hamilton,” says Eacker. “I’m not your little schoolboy friends. A kid like you shouldn’t try to mess with—”

“Well, I’ll see you on the duelling ground!”

No, not duels. The vague image of men shooting at each other rises unbidden to my mind, and I shudder.

“Ooh, like I’m scared,” says Eacker. “Yeah, see you there too. Now, if you’ll let me watch this in peace…?”

Philip Hamilton lifts his chin, bright blue eyes flashing with challenge and determination. He turns on his heel and walks out.

Eacker scowls round at the rest of the audience and adjusts himself into a more comfortable position. I cannot enjoy the play anymore. I cannot think of that young man going so readily to a chance of death.

“Excuse me,” I murmur, and make my way out of my box.

When I exit I can still see Philip Hamilton stalking away, head erect and determined. Something compels me to run after him. I get this unshakable feeling that what I’m about to do may save his life.

“Mr Hamilton,” I call. He turns, clearly still sore, in his mind running through what he should do next.

“Yes?”

I open my mouth and realise I don’t actually have anything to say. I just want to stop the duel. “Sir, I was at the theatre just now…”

“Oh.” He bites the bottom of his lip. “I’m sorry for ruining the show for you. But I must get going. You understand I have a duel to prepare for. Good day.”

 “Wait, sir!” He’s just about to rush off, but stays.

 “Yes?” he says again.

“Please don’t duel, sir,” I say, shaking my head helplessly. “How could you bring yourself so near to death? All for a matter of your own honour? Isn’t that…selfish to your family?” 

“It is not just my own honour,” he says quietly. “My father’s honour is at stake as well. Eacker has to pay.”

“With his life? He’s just a brash person, why does it really matter?” 

“Look, why are you defending him?” The irritation shows plainly on his face. “Are you a relative of his, or what?”

“I had never seen him till today, sir. I promise. But please don’t duel, sir. I will go to Mr Eacker and make a peace with him.”

 He starts to laugh. “So you’ll be my second, then? And in the event that you don’t reach a peace?”

“I will, sir. Lives depend on it.”

“Well! You’re a rare bird.” He chuckles some more to himself. “Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Theodosia Burr, sir.”

“Burr?” He’s taken aback for an instant.

“I believe our fathers are acquainted,” I say softly.

“I see.” He has withdrawn back into a reclusive state. There is no more laughter in his eyes. “Your father took my grandfather’s seat in the Senate, I understand?”

 “Mr Philip Schuyler? Oh no, sir, he won it fairly. And I had nothing to do with it.”

For a moment I sense that he is appraising not only my appearance, but my brain.

 “I will go find Mr Eacker now,” I say, but I linger for an instant. For some reason I want to hold his gaze for as long as he will hold mine. Then I shake the silly feeling and turn away again. 

 “Miss Burr?”

When I turn back Philip Hamilton is smiling again. For the first time I see his eyes soften into gentle kindness. “If you don’t mind I’d like to take you to see the play that I disturbed. Would tomorrow be fine?”

I feel a smile creeping into my face despite myself.

I say yes.

Keep…

image sourced from google
image sourced from google

Keep praying, because He will come through.

Keep singing, because the melody of your voice is audible poetry.

Keep writing, because your words whisper meanings yet unspoken.

Keep dancing, because clumsy movements can release your burdens.

Keep working, because in all faithful work there is profit.

Keep laughing, because joy feeds the weary soul.

Keep crying, because sorrow can sometimes mend the deepest fissures.

Keep hoping, because your treasured hopes will blossom into reality.

Keep dreaming, because life is dreary without crazy dreams.

Keep loving, because your love has power you cannot know.

Keep trying, because you will reach the summit, and it will be glorious.

Keep doing what you’re doing, because it’s beautiful.

 

Writing Endeavours: Day 21

from google
from google

What is it about crowds that tears your soul
and makes you feel so bare, alone?
are they not of same kind?
do they not walk the same space,
breathe the same air,
see the same view?
yet in throngs you morph
you shrink, you fade—
and your soul can only grasp, never reaching
never ever quite reaching solace
Instead there’s stormy solitude
translating to
loneliness.


Just like that twenty-one days of writing have flown by. But I’ll be the first to admit that I have not written properly every single day. Yes, I’ve missed two days due to busyness or forgetfulness or don’t know what-ness but I’ve missed, and it kinda hurts. What does ease the pain, however, is knowing that I didn’t even start on the first day of the year anyway, so I haven’t really ruined anything save my idealistic dreams. Those can stand a little bruising anyway.

Stardust: Book Review

First book review of 2016 (well, not that I did that many during 2015, but here’s one now)!!! First off, this year marks the first year I’m making a booklist, literally a list of books that I read in 2016. It’s going to be amazing, I’m sure, because I already have four books down. One of those books that I’ve read happens to be the one I’m reviewing today, BUT I’ll try to quit rambling and get on to the backstory behind how I read the book.

Stardust is another loan! I love it when people loan me books because in my head it means that they’ve accepted me as a fellow literary nerd and they also trust me to keep the book in good condition. So yup, Stardust is one of four books lent to me by a very good friend. I started and finished it in the same day, partly because it’s really short and partly because it was extremely interesting. You know what? I would use the word alluring. 

Ahem, ahem, I think I’ve got back to rambling, so without further ado…

Stardust by Neil Gaiman
Stardust by Neil Gaiman

Title: Stardust
Author: Neil Gaiman
Pages: 194
Genre: Fantasy
Tense: Past
POV: Third person
Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars
Rated: NC16

 

Stardust by Neil Gaiman is set in a fantasy England area called Wall, thus named because a wall encircles the village, the only barrier between Wall and Faerie. But every nine years the Faerie folk and people from all over flock to Wall for the Market, and it is there that the story starts.

Enter Tristran Thorn, seventeen years of age and absolutely smitten with Victoria Forester, to him the most beautiful girl in the British Isles. Desperate for her hand in marriage, he makes a rash promise to bring her back the star she had seen fall from the sky and sets off on a journey to Faerie. But several other than Tristran will have the same star, and will cheat and kill and lie to obtain it. Innocent of what dangers may befall him, Tristran wanders deeper into Faerie, only knowing that he will bring the star back to his true love.

But there are other things he finds, such as unicorns and chains and a desperate fight among seven brothers for the throne. Ultimately, will Tristran and his youthful love conquer all obstacles, and will Victoria Forester keep her promise to give him whatever he asks for?

Okay now that the summary is over, it’s time to review. I loved this book. I’m going to read it again. Oh, so you want something more concrete than that? Well, firstly the whole style of the narrative was beautifully crafted, full of colourful descriptions and phrases that seemed to have been born in Faerie itself. I don’t even know how this works, but the prose was like poetry that danced and felt so smooth and easy to read. Nothing boring about it at all.

Then the characters. And the names. Oh, I can’t even begin to tell you how much I loved the names. Every single name fit so beautifully and perfectly. I almost cried out aloud for joy when I read the name of the star. Excuse me while I spoil this a bit, but the star is a person. And for a long time in the story she refuses to speak to Tristran or give him her name, but when she eventually does IT’S PERRRRFECTTTTT (I want to sing it it’s so lovely). But honestly, it makes me so happy when I see beautiful names that fit the character like a mould. (Really, when she was about to reveal her name I was holding my breath and then she gave it and I nearly SCREAMED because it was beautiful!!!!!!! Fangirl moment!!!!!! Ok I’m back.)

What was I saying about the characters? Oh yes they were crafted. I don’t even have to put an adverb there. They were crafted, they were real. And they fit so nicely into the genre of fantasy because when you read fantasy you always have this suspension of belief that holds better than when you read ‘real-life’ books. So even if the characters do weird things, it all seems perfectly normal. It’s great like that.

Um. Now we get to some prickly territory? Why is it NC16, you ask? Hello Sarah, you aren’t even 16 yourself! Who are you to tell me I shouldn’t read it if I’m not 16 when you aren’t and you’re gushing all over the place about this book? Well…there’s…THERE’S A BAD WORD! And even though you’ve probably been exposed to vulgarities for a long time even if you aren’t 16, I still don’t like reading foulness in prose. I don’t know about you, but there are certain standards I set for myself (but I’m still going to read it again because I know what part it’s at and I can just cover it). But yes, it’s only one (one is still a lot! It taints the whole thing and makes me sad) early on in the book, so after that you can sort of forget about it and read in peace.

One more thing about the NC16 thing is that at the start there’s some stuff that probably wouldn’t be appropriate for younger people to read. Ok fine actually it can be NC15 but there’s no such thing as that so I’m leaving my rating.

Now we get back to the awesomeness of the book. The theme is wonderful, and coming from me that’s amazing because I’m such a clueless butterfly that I usually have a very hard time finding the themes of books. Want to know what the theme is? ‘Tis:

Follow your dreams; strive to attain your goals. Even if you find that what you wanted at first was not what you truly wanted, it is on the journey to fulfil your dream that you will find your real desire and attain it.

and I’m telling you I would have rated it 5 stars if not for the parts mentioned above. It was excellent. It was art and poetry combined in prose, and to make matters better it’s a really short book! So I’d advise you (if you are of the accepted age) to read Stardust and come and talk to me about it. I love it.