Tag: death

Redemption

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

It seemed that the dean had learned this
speech by heart and repeated it like a parrot, irrelevant what was the
country’s current situation.
Hermes sat next to Eleni, feeling bored and angry: under the
junta, things were not good at all, and they wouldn’t get any better
any time soon; and the graduates were not going to do better than
the previous ones. If nothing was done, things were only going to
get worse. Hermes tried very hard to be attentive, and when his name
was called, he got up and walked slowly to the dean, who smiled and
shook his hand before handing him the “holy” paper.
Hermes nodded his head and smiled politely at the dean and
the rest of the officials, as well as his professors. Deep inside him,
Hermes felt the urge to stand up in front of them and give them a
real piece of his mind, but he knew it was not his time yet, so he went
back to his seat. His head throbbed from the tension, which Eleni
sensed as she also sensed that he was absorbed in his own world, so
she asked,
“Are you okay? You look like you don’t like being here.”
“I have this bad headache. My head is really hurting.”
“This thing is just about over. We’ll go soon.”
He nodded, and indeed the ceremony was quickly over, and
the people started to disperse. He and Eleni rose from their seats and
walked toward the exit.
At the door, George, a clerk from the secretary’s office, stopped
them.
“Again, congratulations, young man,” he said to Hermes.
“Oh, thank you, George.”
“The dean would like to see you before you go.”
Surprised, Hermes left Eleni and followed the secretary in the
long hallway to the dean’s office. He knocked at the door and entered.
The head of the university welcomed him and praised him for all the
good work he had done. After all, Hermes was the student with the
highest marks in his class.
Hermes waited for the dean to get to the point.

https://draft2digital.com/book/4172538#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763858

The Unquiet Land

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

“In what way is he different?” Padraig’s knees, as he sat on the wooden chair, touched Caitlin’s momentarily. He turned to one side and crossed his legs. “I can’t imagine Finn ever changing.”
He said this to reassure Caitlin, but his voice held little conviction. He recalled the wrinkles and the grizzled hair, the tired eyes and the wasted face. He remembered the bitterness that Finn could not hide on the night of the homecoming party and the violent anger on the day he ordered Padraig out of the house. And Padraig heard, as he had a thousand times, Finn’s deep voice saying, “I’m not only ailing, Padraig. The truth is, I’m dying.” He had lived more than a full year since then.
“Finn should have died a long time ago,” Dr Starkey told Padraig. “But that old warrior doesn’t know how to quit.” Sadly the doctor shook his head. “He won’t be fighting death much longer though. Not now. He’s taken too much punishment, Padraig. The referee’s about to stop the contest.”
“How much longer?” Padraig asked, instantly apprehensive.
“I am not the referee,” Dr Starkey replied. “By my watch the fight should already have ended. Personally I’d have stopped it long ago. As it is, I’d give Finn days now, rather than weeks. Certainly not another month. Even with treatment, if he’d ever agree to it. Which he won’t, of course.”
God won’t let him die yet, Padraig thought to himself, his apprehension mounting to panic. He can’t. I have to complete my mission first. I have to save Finn’s soul before God destroys his corrupt old body.
“My father is a sick man.” Caitlin’s voice brought Padraig back to the present. “I can sense it now. Perhaps it is something that has been going on for years, like the erosion of land by the sea. But lately it’s begun to show. And his personality is changing.”
“In what way is it changing, Caitlin?”
“I… I don’t rightly know, Padraig. I don’t know. Perhaps age has at last caught up with him. Perhaps he sees death coming and he’s frightened.”
“Do you really think so?”
Caitlin thought of the painting on the wall for a moment, her concentration fixed on the tallest of the three black crosses. “No,” she said slowly. “It’s something else.”
“Do you know what it is?”
Caitlin thought she did. “It’s as if he is being threatened and doesn’t know how to react.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562888

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203

Redemption

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

…most were ordinary-looking housewives of the gossip circle,
and of course, a few were the ones usually found in the aristocratic
bars and lounges, ladies with housemaids and black chauffeurs, with
small bedroom dogs and a gigolo on the side. Hermes always looked
down on the so-called upper class; a degrading and pathetic life, he
thought they were like snakes. Those people had all the money they
needed, with their luxurious cars and drug addictions or similar
kinds of crap, and they blindly followed whatever is “modern,” a certain
mania to do as the foreigners did, just to be part of the trend.
According to Hermes, this way of living did nothing to
improve a person’s life. He didn’t belong to the idealists and skeptics,
either, who ignored reality and lived in the clouds of their isolation
with the hope that the world would change on its own volition on
some fine morning and everything would just be splendid. What he
wanted was a major change in society, a change that would make the
commoners’ lives better and the upper class more decent and more
confident people.
What else he wanted to help achieve was to unhook the populace
from the iron fist of the church that had grasped the people’s
lives and orchestrated their comings and goings according to the
dogma of an eastern religion that forbids them from letting go and
adopting a freer mindset, Hermes believed was the inherited treasure
of the Hellenes.
That was the psycho-spiritual hold the church had over the lives
of people, which exerted such power that no one ever had stood opposite
to, from the days of their liberation from the Turks, beginning
of the 19th century. However, how that could be possible and which
method could be applied to get the desired outcome was unknown to
Hermes. Yet he hoped that that would appear to him at some time in
the future. A smile came to his face as if he had already been affected
by such a change.
He walked as he disembarked the ship. His uncle, Demetre,
was among the others on the dock, lordly as always, waving his hand.
Hermes beamed a big smile and walked to him.

https://draft2digital.com/book/4172538#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763858

Arrows

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

I, too, was part of the jungle.
Our lovemaking grew into a world of dreams. Apacuana had the
power to take me to a hitherto unknown God, beyond the Church, into
an expanse of uncharted feelings as miraculous as any star-filled sky.
Her body became a refuge, a place for revival, like an inexhaustible
spring of healing waters. It was a gate past which I discovered a world
where loneliness was banished. I was shocked to discover she was part
of me, as much as Bartolomé was, perhaps more.
When we lay in one another’s arms, I forgot to think before I
spoke. I told her things that would have never have left my lips
before I knew her. It astonished me that we could learn compassion
from our own tenderness. This was not a lesson in a book, or a
lecture from a priest, and it was certainly not everyone’s duty to
learn it, but pleasure was natural to her, and she taught me that my
tongue could talk to her in ways I had never imagined possible.
And it was these conversations of pure touch, with our expanding
vocabulary of caresses, that I yearned for, that I craved, as much as
the need to satisfy my own desire. And so I came to value frankness
as a form of kindness. She loved me for who I was, not for what I
represented. The truth was simple with her.
She began to trust me with her thoughts. She talked to me, and she
told me how she feared for her future, for the future of her people, and
especially for Matyba and Padumay. Apacuana was wise beyond her
years, perhaps wise beyond her sex. Or were all women wiser than
men and men were trained by other men not to see?
That morning, at the base of that tree, as we lay staring at the sky, I
suddenly asked myself what, in God’s name, was I doing with her?
She must have read my mind, for she turned to me. “If my bleeding
stops,” she said, “will you stay?”

Five days of hard drinking had passed since the killings, and I saw
drunken people sleeping in the most unlikely places. I left the hut for
bare necessities only, but Apacuana came to see me several times…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562848

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073522

In Turbulent Times

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

Nora never let Joe know that they had been espied that night. She continued to write her long letters every week, letters in which she tried to hide her sadness and her melancholy and her bitter disappointment. Three months after Joe’s departure she was pregnant again, and that added to her bitterness. But she hid her gall from Joe. She did not want him to think she was accusing him of failing her. Joe wrote sad, serious letters with only an occasional light or amusing remark. But they were letters full of tenderness and love, like those he used to write before he learned of Nora’s marriage. It was almost as if the marriage had never happened, as if Joe and Nora were the lovers they had been before, with their own marriage to look forward to when the war was over. Nora realised that this was a fantasy to which Joe clung to help him through the bloody butcher days of war, the black, tense nights of watch and wait and pray. She gave him what he needed. She wrote what he wanted to read. She almost came to believe in it herself. Nor was it difficult. That they were both as deeply in love as ever was true and needed no deception. That they could ever enjoy that love outside of their passionate letters was where they lived in a soothing fantasy.
As time passed Joe’s letters became more morbid. He was losing his friends one by one but kept referring to a very old companion who was with him still, who never left his side. This old companion was never named, and it was some time before Nora realised who the companion was. In one of his letters Joe wrote:
He’s been with me since that day your father pulled me out of the harbour. He fought over me with Dr Starkey when I had pneumonia and he lost that time. He wants me to go with him somewhere, but I just turn to him and say, “I’m sorry, friend; but I have this girl back in Ireland and I’m going to her first. We have a lot to do, this girl and I. I hope you can wait a bit longer.” He’s waiting, my darling, but he’s becoming impatient. How long can this war last?’
Joe was excited about a posting to a Buckley-class frigate, the HMS Bullen. On 6 December 1944, the Bullen was torpedoed by U-Boat U-775, in the frigid waters of Pentland Firth, northwest of Scotland. The Bullen broke in two and sank in two hours. Of the one hundred and sixty-eight crew members on board, seventy-one went down with the ship. One of those lost was Chief Petty Officer Joseph Ignatius Carney. His turn had come. And this time there was no Michael Carrick to pull him out of the icy water.
A few weeks later Nora gave birth to a daughter whom she christened Josephine Siobhan.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562904

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763270

The Unquiet Land

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

The bottle had been opened but little drunk from it. “As you can see, I haven’t been overindulging.” He pulled the cork out of the neck, poured two glasses and handed one to Caitlin.
“Thank you, Padraig.” As Caitlin placed the glass of wine on the table beside her, she noticed an old, soiled envelope. “This is addressed to my father,” she said, turning to look at Padraig.
“Yes, your father gave it to me when I left Corrymore to go to university.”
“You’ve kept it all this time?” Caitlin idly picked up the envelope.
“Yes. Seven years I’ve had it. You can read the letter if you wish.”
“No, not if it’s personal.”
“No, it is nothing private or secret that you have no right to read. It is addressed to your father after all, not to me.” Padraig took the envelope from Caitlin, removed the letter from inside and unfolded it. “It makes for rather disturbing reading though.”
Intrigued, Caitlin accepted the letter from Padraig and started to read with difficulty the untidy scrawl in which the letter was written. It was dated “Kyle of Lochalsh, Ross and Cromarty, Scotland, 11th March, 1902.” Caitlin turned to the last of the letter’s several pages; it was signed by Dr. Hamish Graham.
Dear Mr MacLir,
Thank you for your letter of 2nd ult. I apologise for my tardy reply but my practice has been busy of late, as is not unusual at this time of year. You requested any information I might have concerning the boy Padraig, over and above what little I was able to communicate to you during our brief meeting in November. You tell me that you have formally adopted Padraig as your son, so I can appreciate your desire to learn more about the laddie. However, until the month of July, 1899, we knew very little, not even his surname which he refused to divulge for fear, I believe, of being returned to the care of his uncle from which he and his mother had been so cruelly expelled. That part of Padraig’s unhappy history you are already familiar with.
What transpired in the month of July following Padraig’s arrival in Kyle was a disturbing court case in which a farm labourer from a community twelve statute miles from Plockton, a man of well-established bad character, was tried and convicted to hang for the brutal rape and strangulation of a vagrant woman who had been given permission to sleep in the hay in a barn belonging to this man’s employer. At the rapist’s trial, about which I read in several newspapers, both local and national, it was revealed that the woman’s father, the Rev. Magnus MacArtan,

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562888

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203

Redemption

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

these voices of the innumerable people, pagans as they were called,
the ones who had died under the knife of the first Christians, who
exterminated thousands and thousands, as the scholars claimed,
perhaps even millions, to establish the new religion? It was written
in certain books, not of course in the regular books taught in
schools, that millions of Hellenes were eliminated so Christianity
could spread over the lands, and perhaps these voices and groans
Hermes was hearing coming from the depths of the earth were none
other than the pain those millions of Hellenes suffered.
He stood motionless as if to listen to a discourse coming from
somewhere deep under the floor of the monastery, groans of people
killed and buried under the soil of this church, when unexpectedly
a thought came to him: did the purpose justified the means when a
man is condemned to death for the success of a movement, did the
death of a man in the hands of another was rightfully approved by the
system which always craves to retain power over the people? And what
about the killing of a brother by brother, only for the killer to gain the
approval and help of a superior? Such thoughts overtook Hermes to
the point of feeling sick, indeed he felt the need to run away, far away
from this place, which he had visited with all the positive intentions of
looking into the monastery correspondence. He felt suffocated. He put
the papers away, he walked out of the church, he didn’t stop to thank
the monk who helped him, he just walked out at a fast pace as if to distance
himself from voices and images he wanted to forget.
Then, when far out, he felt his heart had calmed down as he
climbed a short hill since he wanted to change his route and followed
a narrow trail towards the top of the hill to reach his village on the
other side. He surely felt a lot better, and quite unexpectedly, a tune
rose from within his essence to his lips, and he started singing a local
tune; soon, he reached the top of the hill and found an old man on a
donkey right ahead of him. He greeted him and then asked,
“Are there any partridges around here, Uncle?”
“I have seen a couple of flocks over that mountain,” the old man
pointed to the other side of the horizon.

https://draft2digital.com/book/4172538#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763858

In Turbulent Times

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

…no doubt hoping that the audience might have been larger. Denied by religious difference the pleasure of verbally crucifying Liam in front of his congregation in church, the Reverend MacNevin had decided to get compensating satisfaction by birching him in the barber’s shop. Unfortunately for the Reverend MacNevin only the barber was present. The other chairs were empty. Jackie Harrison’s assistant came in from Carraghlin only on Friday evening and Saturday.
‘I would have preferred not to inform you of this highly distasteful matter, Mr Dooley,’ the minister went on disingenuously, ‘but the act was witnessed inadvertently by two teenaged boys, one of whom happens to be my son. They went to collect waste paper at your house and it so transpired that they caught sight of the adulterers through your kitchen window. Fornicating on the floor. On the floor, I repeat. In their lustful passion they could not even wait to go to bed. I have extracted a promise from my son that there shall be no spreading of this unseemly scandal on his part, and he has endeavoured to extract a similar promise from his companion. But I fear the damage may already have been done. You can, of course, imagine the effect that such a sordid narrative must have on the imagination of adolescents. And what kind of an example does it present to them? The schoolmaster’s wife and an officer of the Royal Navy. By the greatest of good fortune, your wife is no longer a teacher at your school. You showed commendable prudence, Mr Dooley, in removing her from that position of responsibility. But I shudder to think what she might have been instrumental in instilling in the minds of her charges while she was so employed. That is why I have made it my painful duty to draw your wife’s gross indecency to your notice. It cannot be allowed to happen again. Furthermore, as a moral lesson to the young people of this village, it cannot be permitted to go unpunished. The very least you can do, Mr Dooley, is to forbid your wife ever to be seen in public with Joseph Carney again. What further steps you take to ensure that your wife does not repeat such immorality is, of course, up to you. I should think, however, that in view of the house from which she comes, such immorality and gross misconduct are indelible aspects of her character. Good day to you, Mr Dooley. And to you, Mr Harrison.’
With that the Reverend Lucas MacNevin, touching his hat to the two men, abruptly left the barber’s.
Jackie Harrison turned to finish the cutting of Liam’s hair. ‘None of this will go any further than these four walls, Liam,’ he promised.
But Liam did not hear what the barber said and would not have believed him if he had.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562904

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763270

Arrows

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

Guacaipuro surveyed the damage.
“Your god,” he panted, “is evil.”
Then he seemed to see something in the shadows of the bushes
illuminated by the firelight, and all distress lifted from his
countenance. He reached out, but life left him at that moment. He
collapsed onto Urquía, his face buried in her bosom. I gawked at
them. He had trusted me with her life, and there she was, dead. And
he saw her die.
I was on my feet. Where had all the air gone? I gasped, trying to
suck it in, and stumbled away. My knees buckled, and I held myself
by the middle. A shout emerged from the centre of my soul, a long
throat-shredding, “No!”
She hadn’t converted either.
The Spaniards stepped back. I would have liked to see them try
and touch his body, chop off his head and take it as a trophy.
Something stopped them. Horror, I guess. As they fled uphill,
leaving only desolation behind, I felt Benjamin’s big hand on my
shoulder.
“Coming?”
I shot him a loathing look; pain choked me, tears stung my eyes,
my head throbbed. I saw in the fleeting expression that crossed his
face that that was the last thing he expected from me. He strode
away, looking back over his big, swaying shoulders a couple of
times. It was not his fault, of course, but at that moment he became
the Spaniards, a group I did not want to belong to any longer. My
reaction was unjust, and I knew it, but couldn’t bring myself to be
like Jesus.
Had I ever?
The next hours were filled with the numbness of incredulity. I just
sat there until the hut was nothing more than a glowing mass of
smouldering thatch. Desolation after the storm. Not a breath of hope
in the air. Nothing but pain and sorrow. Fragments of the person…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562848

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073522

Redemption

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

mother had waited for him to get up so she could talk to him, so she
could look at him, so she could look at her first and only child, a man
now, a graduate from the university, her pride. All night, she wondered
about what to prepare for him, what to treat him with. She knew it was
difficult for him to live away from his mother’s touch while studying
in the city, attending classes, writing exams, and all. She had prepared
some cheese pies of her own recipe with lots of sugar and cinnamon,
which she knew he loved. She expected him to rise late since he had
travelled all day yesterday; she fixed his coffee and walked to his bedroom.
To her surprise, he was not only awake but also dressed.
Hermes’ father, George Dragakis, was a fifty-two-year-old man
who grew up in the orphanage, placed there by his mother, a young,
unmarried woman who got pregnant out of wedlock. George grew up
in the orphanage until he reached the age of eighteen, when he went
back to the village where his mother and natural father lived. He had
two stepsiblings on his mother’s side: a brother, Demetre, who lived
in Athens, where Hermes stayed while in school, and a sister, Katerina,
who lived somewhere in Germany. He also had a few stepsiblings
from his natural father’s side, but his father had never told Hermes
how many there were and whether they had any children.
Hermes’ father was a reticent man, and it was rare to be able to
start a conversation with him. It was Hermes’ mother, Despina, who
told him the story about his father and how they got married soon
after he came back to the village from the orphanage. Despina was a
chubby sixty-four-year-old woman, a saint, as her son thought of her.
She had only love in her heart, so much love for everyone, but mostly
for her only son Hermes, who was her pride.
“Oh, Mother,” he said affectionately and embraced her. “I will
have to leave you soon after breakfast because I need to go up to the
monastery. I promise we will have a long talk when I come back.”
“Why do you need to go to the monastery, son?”
“I need to look for something in their library. I will go by the
orchards to say good morning to Father first and then carry on from
there. I will be back for lunch.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/4172538#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763858