The Ruby Spiderwebs

The Ruby Spiderwebs

By Nathan Lamb-Ockerman

Brian Noveleskiy had been a world-renowned writer since the age of thirteen. A critic once said he was to be the next John Steinbeck, he was on top. There were seventeen books all written in the last five years, all accredited to his name. Ten of those titles were on the New York Times Best Seller list, two of those became instant classics, four were made into movies, and one was given the Bram Stroker award. He could never explain why he was able to write so fast and so well, he just knew what he needed to say and executed it in story form perfectly. He produced plots that were twisted in more knots then a scout troops monkey bridge; with stories that were horrifying and hilarious at the same time. His life seemed to be the perfect American dream. Brian was a millionaire by eighteen; he had everything.

That was all a long time ago, Brian thought as he tapped his pen on the blank parchment and puffed on his Pall Mall (he preferred Menthol but he was tight on money). He hadn't been able to write a decent book since around his nineteenth birthday, now it was three days after his twentieth. He felt his irritation rise as he realized he was yet again not thinking of anything new to write he was just spacing out; but he needed to write something. Most of his royalty money had been used up (on his damn house) and he needed to pay overdue bills. He was determined to something even if it was crap. He figured if he could whip out something that had a point to it he could later revise it into something good, though that entailed him being able to write something. He had barricaded himself from the outside world; he had shut all the curtains, turned off his cell phone and had taken the house phone off the hook. The only light that shone in the apartment was from a small desk lamp, the soft red smoldering of his cigarette, and the glow from his laptop that was placed beside him.

Brian angrily sighed (grunted was more like it) and decided to start simply, by making up the main characters name; he wanted one the seemed to fit just right. He thought for a moment then started to brainstorm; Alex Richards. No. Rich Richards. No. Robert Richards. Possibly. Singleton. No. Friday. Oh no. Eyring...bingo. Robert Eyring. He vigilantly laughed at the thought of bidding for names, SOLD to Robert Eyring. He chuckled again then quickly lost focus, he became transfixed by a small ring on his right index finger.

He had received it on his birthday from his father. It was a plain silver band with a finely detailed gold rose indentation on its face and around the edges was woven spider webs embroidered with strands or ruby. Brian only half-way believed the tale behind the ring that was told to him when receiving. It was apparently a family legend and had been passed down to every first son on his twentieth birthday since Alexander I reined as Tsar over the countries homeland; and the same story was told and retold every time the ring changed hands. Brian had received it reluctantly, the ring was rather flamboyant for his taste; and he was mildly turned off by the thought of having a faggy rose on his finger all the time. The ring, however, was starting to grow on him now that his wife lectured him about wearing it for his Father’s sake and said it made his hand look sexy.

"This ring..." his father had started, "...was the wedding band of your grandfather of sixteen generations back, Holler Rulbouvic Noveleskiy; He was a fisherman for the town of Minsk. He and his wife Anastasia were married when they were both twenty; the rings were specially crafted for them as a present from Hollers mother. The rose on this one," he motioned to the ring, "represents Anastasia, and the spider webs around the band represent all the trials and hardships that Holler would need to help her through. She had an identical ring except for the gold indentation; on her ring there was a sword to represent Holler. That ring, however, was lost a little more than two years later when a group of robbers mugged the young bride on her way home form the market, this ironically was the same time Holler really understood the meaning of the ruby strands.

"Not long after the incident the couple fled the country. No one knows exactly why, some people in the family say it was because Holler killed his wife's attackers, others say it was because of the first political shift in the government to more liberal and less peasant labor views. What ever the reason it's not important, the how is the focus of this event." His father looked at Brian's puzzled expression deeply.

“The how, dad what are—“ Brian started to say.

"Now shut up and listen, a writer should enjoy a good story if he expects people to like his” His Father said lightheartedly. “You see a small amount of genius, for the times, went into the escape. You recall I said the Holler was a fisherman?" Brain nodded. "Okay well what he did, was he took a large hammer, similar to a sledge hammer, and smashed a line down the width of his boat, towards the back. He then cut a hole in the bottom of the ship and another in the upper part of the lower wall." He was sketching a picture of what he was talking about as to help Brain follow along. "When he shipped out the boat instantly started to fill with water. It didn't sink the boat though because the water just got pushed back out once it reached the upper hole; what it did do though was start pulling the broken deck wood apart. And when the weight became too much for the crippled ship to handle, it snapped in two, posing a wreck instead of the boat just sinking.

"Three days later, after playing a very convincing role as a grieving widow, Anastasia staged a suicide by drowning. She jumped off the highest pier on the river in a dramatic display of pain and agony over her lost husband. Once she was under the water she started to swim to where the boat had sunk and meet up with Holler. After she found the ship they both stayed hidden for two days in the sunken heap. The two of them survived by breathing into thousands of glass bottles that Holler had skillfully stuck to the roof of the boats cabin trapping the oxygen inside when the boat sank.

"After the search parties had ceased looking for them they started walking along the bed of the river using a life boat for oxygen in the same way they did with the bottles. Six miles down river they flipped the boat over and floated the rest of the way down the rigid river into Poland. They then made their way down through Germany into France where they again settled down this time in a suburb of Paris. Luckily for them, or if you’re going by personal speculation, they were out of the country only months before its fall to communism.

"Holler got another job at a hospital and within three years had become a doctor; this is what helped establish the family fortune... which was sadly lost by your grandfather a few years back." He chuckled. "Anyway they lived in France with mild confrontation until the Napoleonic Wars,” his father stopped talking and looked confused for a second, "sorry I need to back up for just a second. Holler and Anastasia had two sons who they named Thomas and Viktor. Ashton disowned the family when he was eighteen changing his name to Lincoln, Thomas Lincoln; we'll talk about that in a few minutes though. The other son, Viktor, worked along side his father in the hospital. When he was twenty his father Holler was killed by a small mob of angry mourners, now-a-days you sue for malpractice, but back then you put a musket shot in the doctors back. Viktor recovered the ring; which from then on started the tradition of passing it on when the son is twenty.

“Viktor had two sons also; they were given more German origin names. Michel and Philippe were their names. Being the older son Michel was the recipient of the ring; and when he was Thirty-two, about year 1897, he changed his name back to a Russian name. Grigori Rasputin. He then decided to move back to Russia to regain his families honor there; by changing his name he hoped to conceal the families previous escape, and shame. He became highly favored in the political world, as I’m sure you know, and helped set up the Romanov Empire… then killed them all. He then helped establish the USSR as a side plot to his fame; he was murdered soon after by one of Philippe’s daughters. She then transferred the ring to her brother, Grigori’s nephew, Esrco.

“Escro fought for Germany against Austria-Hungary in the first world war. He was highly favored in his ranks and won many awards; after the war he used his military gains to place him in a political role he then pushed for a communist mindset and birthed Hitler’s rule.

“Now, we’ve taken a step back then three forward, let’s take a half a step back to Viktor and Napoleon. Viktor was forced to fight in the tyrant’s army. He left for the campaign in Spain and Portugal six days after he received the ring. He, however, wasn't totally loyal to his country or any other for that matter. See he fought for France fiercely but sold information to the enemy on the side. When he started selling to England he gave away the information that lost Napoleon the Battle of Waterloo. He then fled to Germany and changed his first name to Dieter.

"Okay now let’s switch gears so you don't start believing all your ancestors are swine. You remember Thomas Lincoln right? The one who changed his name?”

"Yes." Brain replied robotically, feeling the story start to bear down on him. He couldn't specify why but his father annoyed him to no end asking stupid questions like that, and just in general; but he let his dad continue.

"Well his son migrated to the New World when all that hype was going on. His son then had a son of his own who he named Abraham." The grinning father gave Brain a swift joking kick and laughed. "Betcha didn't know you were related, well very indirectly but still related to the greatest president of the United States didja."

"Nope dad had n--” His father cut him off sensing his sarcasm. Stood and motioned to the wall bar.

“Scotch?” His dad asked as he poured himself a brandy; Brain shook his head to decline the offer. He then offered a drink to Brian’s wife who accepted, but only took a small sip and set it aside.

"Anyway back to Europe -- that's where the interesting story is. Escro had a son named Marcus Noveleskiy who became an Admiral in the Nazi Army and fought mercilessly during the World War II; by the end he had worked his way up to the status of general. Mind you he had nothing against Jewish people, he just had a lust for military power, but so did most of the Germans at that time am I right?

"Well during the Normandy attack in France the Americans captured Marcus and made him a prisoner of war in hopes to use him for collateral for the release of their own P.O.W.'s. And at the end of the war he was let go and shipped back to Germany. The problem with that was that he liked the U.S. so much that he spent the rest of his life seeking clemency for his war crimes and American citizenship. His goal was later accomplished by his son, my father; Jade Noveleskiy who then settled here in Chicago where we are waiting for the next place the ring will take us."

Brain looked down at the history wrapped around his finger. "That's right," his father began, "that ring has seen more that anything that any archeologist could ever uncover. It went through bloodshed and tragedy without tarnish. It has seen more romance than even Casanova could account for; and now it's yours. Who knows Brain, maybe you'll be the next chapter in the story. You write your own life, just let the ring see it too.--"

The bang of the door broke Brain's trance. He had been sitting there for three hours.

"Why is it so freakin' dark in here?" A familiar voice asked as the hall light clicked on. Brain and Violet had been married for the better part of two months; she owned a small coffee shop in Chicago's business district.

"What have been up to honey?" She asked upon entering the room.

"Just starting another book." Brain replied as he stamped out the glowing red tip on the butt of his fourth cigarette.

"Oh got any ideas?" She asked almost absent mindedly while looking through the mail that was on the counter. After seeing that it was nothing important she stood by her husband’s side giving him undivided attention.

"I... I think so... no, actually I think I have the whole story done, and I have a feeling this is what's gonna save my career." Violet looked at the page, then at the illuminating blank screen.

"Hmm...” she said raising an eye brow. “Honey I don't mean to sound unsupportive or anything but 'As Robert Eyring arose from another sleepless night' is not a book it's a sentence." She giggled at the comical remark. “And a pretty dry one at that. But a good name, though you can’t sell a name; well, legally anyway.”

Brain grunted. "I know, I know... what I meant was, I know what to write I just need to do it." He winked at Violet, turned and hunched back over the paper, and crossed out the blurb of script he had written. A smile broke out over his face. This was going to save his career he knew it; this was it. Well I'll be damned, thanks dad, he thought and began writing.