Mein literatischer "Erguss"

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  • Beteiligte Poster: Josef D. - Bloody-Mad-Looney - ReCon242 - stuttgart
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    Re: Mein literatischer "Erguss"

    Josef D. - 08.09.2007, 17:17

    Mein literatischer "Erguss"
    So, dann will ich euch mal zeigen, was ich so zusammengemurxt habe... aber Vorsicht! Das ist erst ein erster Entwurf dieses ersten Kapitels, und es kann sich noch vieles ändern. Jedes Mal, wenn ich es durchlese, mache ich wieder Änderungen. Immer wieder will ich was anders schreiben. Aber gut, ich will jetzt mal wissen, was ihr so denkt:


    <p><font face="Times New Roman">- Chapter 1 -

    A Dursley Reunion


    Dudley Dursley was driving home from Grunnings, a company that sold drills. Dudley was working at that company. He had been employed there ever since he had graduated from his school, Smeltings, because his father had given him the job. While Vernon Dursley was an elderly man now and his hair was almost white, he was still the boss of the company. Dudley didn’t like that. He wanted to be the boss. That would mean that he’d have a lot more money. He’d also be an important man then. But mainly he wanted to be the boss because that job would provide him with much more money than he currently had. His wages never lasted long enough for his wishes (mainly shining sports cars and dates with pretty women and expensive holidays on Majorca and… and… and…).

    Dudley had been living in a rented flat of his own for several years now. He hadn’t liked moving out of his parents’ home. But his mother always made a lot of fuss when he had brought home a girlfriend. She always acted as if the girl he had with him was his fiancée now. And she kept asking him, even afterwards whether any plans were made for a wedding.. One thing bothered her very much: Dudley was not married. Not that he wasn’t interested in girls. No, in the very opposite, he craved for them. But each girl just bored him after a while; so he dumped her and tried to find another one. He was mostly lucky.

    Dudley was a large, beefy man, very much like his father. Only he was even a bit taller and larger than Vernon Dursley. He wasn’t as fat as he had been in his youth because he regularly went to have boxing and wrestling training in a sports school in town. Nevertheless his clothes always seemed to be to small by a size as it was not easy to get clothes large enough for himself. It was even worse with his shoes, always a menace when he went somewhere to buy shoes. Once a few years ago, a clerk in a shoe shop had asked him why he didn’t just try to get himself fitting shoes at a shipyard. Lucky enough, one of his girl-friends had been with him at the time, and so the clerk had been spared a very painful lesson.

    There was never enough money, anyway, Dudley thought, remembering his lousy job at Grunnings. Why couldn’t Dad finally retire? He was old enough, wasn’t he?

    Dudley was not driving a very big or shining car. He had once bought himself a large sports car but after a while but the repayment of the loan had turned out to be very pressing. What was more, he had crashed the car after only a few weeks. Of course there had been that other car which had crossed his way when he had been going along the street just like that. Dudley had, of course, never told anybody that he had run over a stop sign so that he had almost crashed into the other car. The car had swayed to the other side then, breaking through a fence and ending up with its front squeezed flat by a large willow tree in a garden. The car had been completely damaged. Still, his father had not helped him out this time. Dudley had argued with his father, yelled at him, even threatened to leave his job at Grunnings - but this time Vernon Dursley had not given in. Dudley had had to cope with the whole embarrassing mess on his own. It hadn’t been easy. But somehow he had managed it – more or less.

    After a while, Dudley had bought himself another car, but he had only been able to afford a very old and very battered car. Though he had, on occasion, tried to repair it himself (the effort of which had mainly consisted in a lot of kicks from his large boots, making the car look even more battered), it didn’t always work properly and had broken down once or twice before.

    Paying back the loan for the demolished sports car was not the only financial pressure Dudley had to deal with. His mother received a monthly payment from him for keeping and raising his daughter, Tuney.

    While Dudley had usually changed his girl friends very often, one woman had made a more lasting impression on him. They had even been married for a short period of time. That time it had, however, seemed that not he had been bored by her - but she seemed to have been bored by him! Millie had been so sweet, almost as big as him and always had a lot of funny ideas. She had talked about a lot of stuff he hadn’t understood. But since when was it necessary to understand what a woman said, as long as she had other qualities to give him a nice time. And Millie had had a lot of other qualities, definitely. But then she had become bored of him. One day he had woken up and she had left. He had been very sad and depressed. He had, at first, thought he could forget her soon. But she had made sure he couldn’t. Several months after her departure, he had shown his parents a letter which had said that Millie was dead – and that he was supposed to take care for their new-born daughter. An additional letter from a lawyer had told them that the girl had been put in Dudley’s custody. And the next day, a middle-aged woman had arrived at Grunnings while Dudley had been working – and had brought him his daughter. He hadn’t really known what to do with her. He hadn’t had anything to do with babies ever before. He had brought her to his mother after whom he had christened her as well as his late wife, and little Tuney had found a place in the Dursleys’ home (though Dudley himself had not moved back). Millie or his family had never even bothered to pay so much as a penny for Tuney.

    “So what?”, he sighed. Today he was driving to Little Whinging, a very neat little town in Surrey. Little Whinging was where his parents’ home was and where his home had been. They had planned on a special reunion. Dudley was none too pleased about that but he knew it might pay off. So he straightened his tie as he drove up Privet Drive. He had to brake very hard when somebody crossed the street in front of his car. Mrs Figg had been an elderly woman even when he had been a boy. But now she must have been positively ancient. She slowly shuffled across the street, leaning heavily over her cane. She was very lucky he hadn’t run her over. Dudley parked the car in his parents’ driveway and got out. Entering the house, he first met his mother. Petunia Dursley had not changed very much over the years. She was still thin and still had a long neck which still helped her craning over garden fences and spying at the neighbours. Maybe she had more wrinkles than before.

    “Now there you are, Dudders!”, Mrs Dursley said. She still called him by his childhood nicknames, ignoring that he really detested them. She could, at least, have called him “Big D”! “We’ve been waiting for you already. She’s here already and she’s asked for you!” Mrs Dursley hastened back into the kitchen where a huge cream pudding with sugared violets was waiting. In the oven, a large leg of pork was sizzling. For a moment, Dudley thought this should remind him of something. But his thoughts were directed otherwise, when he saw a young girl who longingly looked at the large pudding.
    “No, Tuney, you’ve got to wait. It’s for dessert!”, Petunia Dursley told the girl. The girl turned around and saw her father.
    “Hi dad, finally here? I’m hungry and I want dinner to be started!”, she said, none too friendly.
    “Tuney…” His words always somehow failed him when he had to talk to Tuney because his daughter looked so much like her mother. Tall and stately for her age, with a considerable bit of flesh on her ribs, she looked older than her age.
    “Now c’mon, let’s get going, I’m starving!”, she said, walking away towards the sitting room. from where Dudley suddenly heard a booming voice. Oh yes, she was THERE already.

    Marge Dursley hadn’t visited the Dursleys’ home for more than twenty years. Dudley could very well remember what had happened when she had last visited them. His cousin, Harry, had lived with the Dursleys then. And this cousin had meant trouble all along. Even Aunt Marge had not been spared. Dudley could remember very vividly when one day she had hovered at the kitchen ceiling like a balloon after Harry had blown her up. Harry had been able to do such things among many others. Harry Potter was Dudley’s cousin – and a wizard. Dudley could remember the old days when Harry had once set a Boa Constrictor on him in the zoo. He hadn’t really been very afraid of the snake (it had been large but it had been gone very quickly) but he had reacted a bit stronger than necessary because it had been so funny seeing Harry being told off and punished by his father. Later, Harry had caused more trouble when the whole family had to flee to an island because Harry had kept receiving letters. There had been hundreds of them. Vernon Dursley had tried preventing Harry to get those letters. But in the end it hadn’t worked out. Harry had been picked up by a very large bearded man who had given him another of these letters. And Dudley remembered the time following this as the worst in his life because the large man had done something odd so that Dudley had grown a pig’s tail! He had been forced to go to a hospital, and there had been a lot of tongue-wagging among doctors and nurses in that hospital. Dad had complained that it had cost him a fortune. But the tail was gone at last.

    This had not been the only trouble Harry had caused, but Dudley didn’t like to think about some of them, like one time when he’d eaten a toffee made by one of Harry’s unpredictable friends, and his tongue had started growing. Nevertheless Harry had once saved Dudley’s life and Dudley was grateful for that. He had been walking home with his cousin one night when everything had turned cold and dark around the two of them. Two hooded figures had approached them and Harry had done something with his wand so that a bright light had come out of the top of it. The bright thing had driven the dementors away. Though he had been violently sick afterwards he could remember that that was what the hooded figures had been called. He wasn’t very good in remembering things but that he could remember.

    Dudley hadn’t seen his cousin for a long time. Actually, he hadn’t seen him since his parents and he had been ushered out of the house because some crooky bad wizard was said to after Harry and probably after the Dursleys too because they were his relatives. They had been away for months and months after that. When they had come back everything had been calm but the garden had looked very untidy, the lawn not having been mown for so long and the flower beds not having been weeded or watered.

    But years before that, Harry had blown up Aunt Marge. While she didn’t really seem to remember what had happened, she had never come back to see her brother and his family. When the Dursleys had visited her at her place, she had once remarked that she felt like it was not such a good idea to return to that house. Dudley had been sorry about it. Not that he had been particularly fond of his aunt. Only, she had been quite liberal as it came to giving Dudley money. A twenty pound note had been the standard. Dudley had liked all that money because it enabled him to buy a lot of sweets. After the incident with Harry Potter, however, Aunt Marge’s visits had ended and so had the cash flow. But maybe it was worth being friendly towards her. She had no offspring, after all!

    Taking a big breath, Dudley entered the sitting room. And there was Marge Dursley. She was not as large as he remembered her to have been. The doctors had told her to lose some weight after she had felt particularly dizzy several times. They had warned her that she might suffer a stroke if she didn’t lose a substantial part of her weight. She hadn’t given a damn on this. The stroke had never come. But she had lost a medium part of her weight anyway because her joints weren’t what they had used to be, and her hips and knees were often hurting.

    “Dudley, my boy!”, she boomed. “Come here and give your old aunt a big bear hug!”
    “Hullo, Auntie Marge! I hope you’re doing well!” Dudley almost expected to find a twenty pound note in his hand after parting with his aunt but his hand had remained empty. He wanted to sulk but forbade himself to do so. Instead he forced a smile and said: “And here is Ripper the dog… I take it Colonel Fubster is taking care of the others.”
    “Dudley, you’re behind your times!”, said Marge. “This is Barnabas, Ripper’s grandson. And for the poor Colonel – you should remember that he’s been dead for several years now. Just went to bed one night and didn’t wake up any more the next morning, how sad!” (Aunt Marge didn’t quite look very sad at all!).
    “Sorry, I forgot…”, he said, vaguely. “How’ye doing anyway, Auntie?”
    “Ah, never mind.”, she said. “I took care of the late colonel’s affairs afterwards. What a mess they were. Fubster must have been growing very careless during the last few years of his live. Well, I straightened out everything for him. I’m sure it would have been his wish.” What she didn’t mention was that a substantial amount of money had been involved.
    “Now, as long as I don’t have to walk around a lot, I’m rather fine. That’s why I also gave up large-scale dog breeding. It became too exhausting. I don’t grow any younger these days. My knees, you know. They can be bothersome on occasion. But that will be helped soon. I’m going to London where I’ll have them done. Those new ceramic knee joints they developed lately should hold on for a few decades. I’ll still be running around on them at a hundred!” Aunt Marge laughed loudly. Then she looked around, enquiringly, almost alarmed, as if she had just remembered something nasty.
    “This boy, what became of him?”
    “What boy?”, Vernon Dursley said, nervously fumbling his grey moustache. He knew what was coming now.
    “That boy who used to live here.”, Aunt Marge pulled up her eyebrows. “My old Ripper once chased him and he fled onto a tree. Ripper had so much fun those days!” She chuckled, patting her huge dog’s head. “No one here today for Barnabas to chase, though!”
    “Now, what about the boy?”, she continued. “He was your nephew, Vernon, wasn’t he?”
    “Yes…”, Vernon Durley shifted in his chair, uncomfortably.
    “He went to a school, St… St… whatsit… and his father…. let me think… he was killed in a car crash, if I remember correctly.”
    “Er… yes”, Vernon Dursley said, knowing very well that this wasn’t true. Harry Potter had gone to a magical school named Hogwarts. And his father hadn’t been killed in a car crash but by one of his kind. Mr Dursley usually chose not to think about these things because they were a lot too unpleasant to remember. The most unpleasant thing had been when he had been forced to explain his prolonged absence several years ago. He had been told to leave his home by some of….. Harry’s. Oh yes, he’d had a lot to explain and it had been most embarrassing for him. The only good thing was, Grunnings hadn’t been run into the ground by the time of his return.
    “St. Brutus’s, it was…”
    “Ah, St. Brutus’s, for the Incurably Criminal Boys, if I remember correctly! Funny, one day I met one of the curators of that school. He didn’t seem to remember a pupil named Harry Potter. But then he was a very busy man, can’t be expected to remember the names of all the pupils!” Marge laughed loudly, which sounded as if she were barking. “Now, what became of him? By the way I remember him I’m sure he’s been in and out of prison for most of his life. Ah, I’m sure he has a big list of overstepping lines. These people never get anything right. Or maybe he got himself killed just like his father did!”
    “I think he’s still alive… once rescued my life…”, Dudley mumbled, being deep into thoughts about his cousin and the past.
    “Ha!”, yelled Aunt Marge. “That can’t be possible. That good-for-nothing, as if he ‘d ever amount to anything at all, let alone rescue someone! Didn’t you tell me, Vernon, that he once spoiled a very important business dinner for you?”
    “Ahm, yes… “… Vernon Dursley was VERY uncomfortable by now. He REALLY didn’t like the topic. He mumbled something like “… spoiled the punch line of my Japanese golfer joke”… and tried to retreat farther into his seat which was not very successful, given his large bulk. He really didn’t like the way this talk was going on and he furiously looked at his son because he had blabbed out something that was considered a family secret. Fortunately, that was the very moment when Petunia called from the kitchen, “Dinner’s ready!”
    Everyone got up, making their way into the dining room. Vernon Dursley was very relieved that the attention was drawn from his nephew. He pulled his son aside and told him, fuming: “You fool! Why are you blabbing out things? You could have spoiled anything... Harry having saved your live, really… who knows what really happened that night? You wouldn’t even have been in danger if Harry hadn’t been…. hadn’t been what he was! Ha, we’re lucky Marge didn’t leave right away when you divulged into all that nonsense! I want this to be a really good reunion and I don’t want any trouble. Do you understand me?”, Vernon hissed.
    “Sorry Dad… just didn’t think about… very much…”, Dudley retorted. He was angry, too because he didn’t like being told off like a little child. He’d always been the cherished and pampered boy, only to have that changed once he‘d grown up.
    “Now, let’s go for dinner – and be kind to your aunt!”, Vernon Dursley said, turning towards the dining room. Dudley followed him. The three female members of the family had assembled there already.
    They enjoyed a very neat dinner. Mum had really outdone herself!, Dudley thought. Wine was served for the adult family members while Toney got apple juice.
    “And little Tuney, how’s she doing? She’ll be attending a boarding school soon, I take it? Should be Lowood, shouldn’t it?”, Marge remarked, turning towards her grand-niece. The two hadn’t met more than once or twice in their lives and each time had been when Tuney had been very little.
    “Oh yes,” Vernon answered. “Wasn’t too easy but we finally got her a place there. It’s a very good school, as you know. Only the best teachers there. The headmistress, Miss Brocklehurst, assured me that the education there is the best a girl could get!”
    “Oh yes that’s true. I should know. I was there myself! It’s been run by members of the same family for almost two hundred years now and it’s always been a first-rate address!”, Marge said, after having taken a deep draft from her wine glass. “Now what would you say, Tuney, if your Aunt Marge were to provide for your school equipment and everything you need? You seem to me a very promising young girl and you need to get all the help you can! I guess there might even be some money for a handsome allowance…”
    “Thanks, Aunt Marge!”, Tuney said, smiling shyly. She liked money just as much as her father, it seemed.
    “Then that’s settled! Dudley, we’ll talk the rest over later. I suppose there are a few papers to sign… you’ll have brought htem along I guess.”
    “Sure, Aunt Marge.” He was very much relieved that the matter of Tuney’s education had been settled. It had bothered him a lot that he might have to pay for Tuney’s school, too, in addition to all the other costs he had to deal with. But at least this problem had been solved. He liked it when his problems vanished. He didn’t like to think about how to solve problems because he always got a headache from that. And he didn’t like headaches either. But never mind, it was solved now for good. He divulged into his pudding which had started to taste a lot better now.

    But his “better” feeling wasn’t bound to last very long. It was a hot and sweltering summer day, and the window of the dining room was wide open to let in what little breeze there was. Dudley was eating the last of his pudding and was hoping to get another helping when all of a sudden he heard a swishing, feathery sound from the window. He gasped as he saw, turning his head towards the sound, the reason for it: A large barn owl had swept through the window, and Aunt Marge was squealing loudly (she didn’t like birds) while Dad sank back into his chair and got very pale, mumbling something like: “Not again, not again…” Petunia silently disappeared into the kitchen, closing the door behind herself. The owl dropped something on Tuney’s head. Dudley saw a large, yellowish envelope with words scribbled on them in a tiny kind of handwriting in green ink. Then the owl swept past Aunt Marge who screamed loudly and almost fell from her chair, trying to hit the owl with her walking stick while Barnabas the dog was barking like mad, making an effort to jump at the owl. But the airborne animal was much quicker. Swiftly as it had arrived, the owl vanished through the window. Only the letter remained.
    Dudley’s headache was back now, only a thousand times harder than before. He knew what the letter meant. He had always dreaded this to happen. And now it had happened.</font></p>



    Re: Mein literatischer "Erguss"

    Bloody-Mad-Looney - 08.09.2007, 20:54


    das kann ich erst lesen, wenn ich bissl mehr zeit hab, is viel... aber ich bin schon gespannt! die ersten paar zeilen klingen schonmal gut! :)



    Re: Mein literatischer "Erguss"

    ReCon242 - 09.09.2007, 02:30


    Ui, lang....

    Ich kenne ja die Potter Bücher nicht, schon gar nicht auf englisch, sind die in dem gleichen Stil geschrieben?

    Die Grundidee ist schonmal gut, aber da fehlen jetzt noch 800 Seiten oder wie hast Du das Ganze angelegt?

    Deine English-Kenntnisse in Ehren, aber damit es richtig gut wird, solltest du nochmal von einem native speaker drüberlesen lassen, ein paar Punkte die sich stilistisch verbessern ließen meine ich entdeckt zu haben.... was überhaupt nicht heißen soll, daß ich es besser geschrieben hätte, ganz im Gegenteil....



    Re: Mein literatischer "Erguss"

    ReCon242 - 09.09.2007, 02:31


    scheiße, doppelt....



    Re: Mein literatischer "Erguss"

    Josef D. - 09.09.2007, 22:43


    Ja, wenn's was werden soll, dann muss ich das sicher irgendwann einem Native Speaker vorlegen. Aber erst mal muss ich noch viel arbeiten dran... und richtig veröffentlichen geht sowieso nicht wegen Copyright oder so.

    Wie es weitergehen soll, weiß ich noch gar nicht so genau, ich weiß gar nicht, was am Ende sein soll, wer dann der Böse ist und so, das muss ich mir erst noch überlegen. Ich bin gespannt, was am Ende dabei rauskommt... :D



    Re: Mein literatischer "Erguss"

    ReCon242 - 09.09.2007, 22:45


    aber es gibt doch auch bei H.P. sicher im Web viele Seiten für "Fan Fiction" - oder ist das alles illegal? Da könntest Du es doch sicher veröffentlichen.



    Re: Mein literatischer "Erguss"

    Josef D. - 09.09.2007, 22:47


    Stimmt, da schon.... aber erst mal muss es was gescheites werden. ;)



    Re: Mein literatischer "Erguss"

    ReCon242 - 09.09.2007, 22:48


    Ich glaube bei Fan Fiction werden viele Sachen veröffentlicht, die weniger gescheit sind...



    Re: Mein literatischer "Erguss"

    Josef D. - 10.09.2007, 21:09


    Ja, mag sein... aber bisher ist es ja nur das 1. Kapitel, da muss schon noch mehr kommen... ;)



    Re: Mein literatischer "Erguss"

    stuttgart - 10.09.2007, 21:22


    ReCon242 hat folgendes geschrieben: aber es gibt doch auch bei H.P. sicher im Web viele Seiten für "Fan Fiction" - oder ist das alles illegal? Da könntest Du es doch sicher veröffentlichen.

    So lang man kein Geld damit verdient, ist es legal und vollkommen i.O.



    Re: Mein literatischer "Erguss"

    Josef D. - 10.09.2007, 21:29


    Das denke ich auch! ;)



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