8 Sentence Sunday on Dieselpunks

8 Sentence Sunday On Dieselpunks #29

In today’s snippet from Rand Hart, we pick up where we left off last week in Hart’s conversation with von Osler.

“Okay, then why me?”

“Because I like your luck.”

“Sometimes I’m lucky.”

The German paused, as if searching for the words to say, then spoke, “You are a very creative poker player. I like and reward creativity.”

Hart looked him in the eyes. “You’re not so bad in the creativity department yourself.”

Von Osler smiled. “You see, Herr Hart, we already have the start for a good working relationship. We understand creativity.”

To be continued!

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8 Sentence Sunday On Dieselpunks #28

Rand Hart’s conversation with von Osler continues. Twenty Gs to deliver a little box!

“I need this box in the hands of a certain person in Rio de Janeiro by noon on the eleventh of May. I will give you twenty-five thousand deutsche marks now and the person to whom you give this box will give you another twenty-five thousand.”

Hart thought a moment. “That’s around twenty thousand dollars. Twenty Gs just to deliver a box?”

“Yes.”

“What’s in it?”

“It is best if you not know, Herr Hart.”

To be continued!

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8 Sentence Sunday On Dieselpunks #27

Today, Rand Hart discovers what the meeting with von Osler is all about. And it’s not an invitation for tea and crumpets.

“I am pleased, Herr Hart, you decided to meet with me.”
“What’s on your mind, Mr von Osler?”
“I have a small job for you.”
Hart’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of job?”
“I want you to deliver a package.”
“What kind of package?”
The German took a small box out of his suit coat pocket, put it on the table, and said, “This.”
Hart reached for the box and von Osler put his hand over it.

To be continued!

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8 Sentence Sunday On Dieselpunks #26

Rand Hart has received an invitation to meet with Herr von Osler. Hart has showered and dressed and makes his way to the promenade. Here is today’s snippet:

When done, Hart toweled himself dry, shaved, and dressed. The only downside to flying on the Hindenburg was the low water pressure of the shower. Then again, it did have a shower. Dressed in a navy suit, white shirt, rep tie, Hart made his way to the promenade by the dining area. He spied the German sitting in the far corner and made his way towards him. Von Osler stood when he saw Hart coming towards him. Upon reaching the industrialist, Hart shook hands with him, and the German invited him to sit. Hart did so and von Osler followed suit.

To be continued!

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8 Sentence Sunday On Dieselpunks #25

Rand Hart reads his mysterious note and sings opera! Here is today’s snippet:

The note inside, written in a large hand with a double-broad nib, read:

Dear Herr Hart,

Please do me the honor of meeting with me at your earliest convenience in the dining area promenade.

Respectfully yours,

von Osler

Hart tossed the note and envelope into the wastebasket. “Wonder what the hell he wants?” he said to the mirror and then took a look at the ring on his right hand.

With a perturbed look on his face, Hart gathered his clothes and shaving kit and went to the shower. A man was just coming out. Hart nodded his head in greeting and the man did likewise. When he left, Hart entered the shower and turned the water on. The temperature was good. The pressure, abysmal. He lathered up and rinsed off, singing “Amor ti vieta” from the opera Fedora by Giordano.

To be continued!

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8 Sentence Sunday On Dieselpunks #24

In today’s snippet, Rand Hart gets a mysterious envelope:

Hart was roused from sleep by someone knocking on his cabin door. He got out of bed, went to the door, and called out, “Yes? What is it?”

“A message for you, sir.”

Hart slipped on his robe over the pajamas and opened the door. The steward handed him an envelope.

“Just a minute.” Hart rummaged through a drawer and gave the man a dollar.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome.” Hart closed the door, sat on his bed, and opened the envelope.

To be continued!

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8 Sentence Sunday on Dieselpunks #23

It seems Rand Hart and Dorothy Gale have something in common: there’s no place like home. Here is today’s snippet:

He walked over to the stairs and went down to B deck. His cabin was on the lower deck, but he decided to stop in at the bar and smoking lounge instead. He went through the pressurized airlock. Four other passengers were in the lounge having a smoke. Hart took a seat by himself and set on the table a cigarette paper and a package of Briggs Pipe Mixture. He put tobacco in the paper and rolled a cigarette. When finished, he put it between his lips and lit it.

Yes, he thought, it would be good to get home. Be good to enjoy his winnings. Enjoy some time doing nothing.

To be continued!

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8 Sentence Sunday on Dieselpunks #22

Today we continue following Rand Hart, who is ruminating on gambling and gamblers. Enjoy!

The best gambling was in Europe. He could also get in a decent game or two on the Hindenburg or Graf. Like the one he’d just won. Always helps when several wealthy industrialists want to lose a little money. Little to them, that is. Of course, one wonders when they cheat. Hart shrugged. People are people and even wealthy industrialists are, at the end of the day, people. You just have to get a little more creative than they are.

To be continued!

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8 Sentence Sunday on Dieselpunks #21

Rand Hart’s been in Europe all winter and, perhaps due to a touch of homesickness, he’s looking forward to spending some time at home with his money. We continue Hart’s adventure in today’s snippet:

Yes, Hart thought, sometimes he was lucky. This past winter, for example, his time on the Riviera had been profitable. He’d been lucky more often than not. Chemin de fer and backgammon. Those had been his main sources of income. He never played roulette. Luck wasn’t a lady often enough for Hart’s liking. Now he was looking forward to going home for awhile. Then he’d fly down to Rio de Janeiro and catch a flight on the Graf Zeppelin for Europe.

To be continued!

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8 Sentence Sunday On Dieselpunks #20

Rand Hart not only won his poker game, he gained possession of Herr von Osler’s personal memento — a gold ring from the Führer.

We pick up from where we left off last week.

A steward came and collected the chips. “I’ll take these to the purser, sir.”

“I’d like the money in American dollars.”

“Yes, sir,” the steward said and left with the chips.

Hart looked at the ring and tried it on several fingers before he found it fit the middle finger of his right hand. He walked to the promenade and looked out the window of the Hindenburg. In a couple hours the sun would be up. Down below, on the Atlantic, Hart saw the lights of a ship. Otherwise, there were only the stars.

To be continued!

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