Tag: fantasy

Arrows

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

Bartolomé let him go, patting him on the shoulder. Pánfilo bent over
and coughed, hand on his throat as though choked instead of rattled.
I crouched beside Antonio and tilted the flask. I wasn’t sure how
much would suffice; a few drops would have to do as more would
kill him. I concentrated on balancing against the movements of the
ship and tilted the flask just a little more until a few droplets fell into
Antonio’s limp mouth. The potion squirted between Antonio’s lips.
He coughed from the bitterness and tried to sit up.
I gasped and tried to clean the excess with a rag, but it was too
late. Antonio had swallowed it all. I uttered unconfessable
commentaries under my breath and glanced at Bartolomé. He
looked at me, and I shrugged helplessly. We took our positions in
silence. I buried my nostrils in my armpit while positioning my
hands on Antonio’s chest, bewildered by the stench.
Benjamin knelt beside me, arms straight down, squashing
Antonio’s good leg. I was sweating, we all were.
Bartolomé produced a leather bundle and carefully spread it on
the floor, revealing a number of surgical instruments. Rag strips
were neatly folded in a small pocket. In the monastery, Fray
Bernardo had taught us to cure wounds. A few times we saved the
life of one of the animals by cutting an infected limb. We had always
proceeded faster when we placed a board underneath for support. I
found one and put it under the leg with a subtle nod to my brother.
He acknowledged with the sharp knife, ready to cut.
“Lord, have mercy.” I said.
In the uncertain light given off by two candles, Bartolomé crossed
himself and began cutting with long swift movements. Antonio’s
drunkenness and my potion failed to stop him from becoming a
struggling, swearing beast, but finally he passed out when
Bartolomé began sawing the bone.
We loosened our grip. Pánfilo gawked at the wound. Better he
keep his mouth shut for, whenever he talked or breathed, the foul
odor of his remaining teeth made me want to vomit.

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

Swamped

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

these images oen came to his mind when he walked
the seawall along the Dundarave to 22nd Street. When he reached
the dock, he would go to the end, lean over the wooden structure,
and gaze at the sea bottom, at the sea life around the big wooden piles
full of barnacles, on which the small fish fed, at the crabs visible from
above where he stood. He remembered all the times he and his
brother would chase and try to outsmart the small crabs on the rocks
of his homeland, and how they would get soaked by the waves crashing
against the same rocks where they hunted the crabs and sea snails
their mother could turn into tasty meals that he devoured eagerly
every single time.
The sea’s familiar aroma filled his lungs. He looked around at all
the people standing and admiring the skyline of the University of
British Columbia across the bay or gazing out at the open sea toward
Vancouver Island, which was clearly visible in today’s sunshine. His
ears picked out a strongly accented voice behind him saying something
about the size of the university campus across the water and
the number of students that went there, and then a similar voice answering
him. The people talking were Iranians. He knew the accent.
Having an accent himself, he had learned to discern the accents of
others during his twenty years in Canada. He leaned over the wood
fence again and looked down into the water. It had a fascination that
attracted his eyes every time. He couldn’t imagine himself living in
the interior, in a place far from the sea. The restless, changeable sea
with its serene, glassy surface or its rough waves when the winds ran
amok. It was too important to him.
Eteocles Armenakis from Crete, had worked for a while for CP
Rail when he first came to Canada. The other yard men, his co-workers,
couldn’t handle the name Eteocles, so they had renamed him
Eteo. This prompted Eteocles to file for an official name change, and
he became Eteo Armen, simplifying both his first and last names.
Eteo raised his body up from the edge of the dock and felt the
tears filling his eyes. The images of those early days would remain
forever in his memory. They would always bring tears to his eyes. He
started walking back toward Ambleside Park.
His phone rang. It was Herbert.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08WP3LMPX

Jazz with Ella

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

Jennifer suddenly realized she was the hostess. “Listen, let me order some drinks or coffee. Tell me about yourselves. Do you live here in Moscow?” She moved to the phone then realized that room service might be a foreign concept in the Soviet Union.
“No need,” said Misha, pulling two tall bottles of fizzy water from his satchel. “We cannot stay very long and we have brought some drinks. May I pour?”
“Yes, please.” She picked up the two cups that sat beside a metal teapot on a corner table, and Misha poured and passed the drinks to his wife and Jennifer. He took a swig from the bottle.
“We live in Tula,” Marta said. “It’s about 60 miles south of Moscow. You know about it?” Jennifer shook her head. “The traditional samovar town—we make the finest samovars for all of the Soviet Union there. It’s also close to Tolstoy’s estate, Yasnaya Polyana. You are a language student, correct? Surely you will be visiting the home of such a great author?”
Misha cut in, “You must come to visit us. Tula is 100 kilometers east of the village where my father and your mother were born.”
“Yes, I’d like that,” Jennifer replied. She had so many questions. “When my mother got to England and met my father it was the start of a whole new life. She wouldn’t have known that her brother was still alive. Did he go back to the village after the war?”
“Only to find everyone gone: father and mother dead, sisters missing,” Misha replied. He fell quiet for a few seconds. “He said it was the saddest moment of his life.”
Misha continued to describe their family background, Marta chipping in occasionally and smiling fondly at Jennifer. Even little Nadya left her magazine and put her arms around Jennifer’s neck, calling her “auntie.”
I could grow quite fond of these people, Jennifer thought.
“We have applied to leave the country,” Misha told her. “As you know, Jews are allowed to leave—some of them. We will go to Israel.” He looked about uncomfortably. “But perhaps it’s best not to speak of these things here.” He nodded at the wall indicating a grating with a tilt of his head. Of course, microphones. They had been told that the hidden spying devices were in all the hotels that catered to foreign tourists.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

The Circle

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

“Are you okay? You look like something is bothering you.”
“Hakim, do you ever think about home? Do you miss home?”
“Yeah, I think about home, why?”
“For a long time now I’ve been having these dreams. I’m losing sleep because
of nightmares.”
Hakim’s eyes get cloudy while he browns the prawns in a pan. He turns and
looks deeply into Talal’s eyes and asks, “Why do you have nightmares? What
kind of nightmares?”
“Things from back home in Falluja, the war, the destruction,
things like that. I have nightmares about my parents when they died in front of
our house, their bodies badly burned. I see them in my dreams all the time.”
Hakim becomes agitated when he hears Talal’s description of his dead
parents. He finishes cooking the prawns and checks the rice in the cooker; it will
be ready in a few minutes. He knows very well about nightmares—he has his
share of them. He has had his own nightmares for a long time now, and hasn’t
said anything to anybody, not yet. Not even to Talal, who opens the discussion
about nightmares as if they were his monopoly. He knows too well the
devastating images from home, during those dark days of the war. He has seen
himself under the rubble of his house, covered by pieces of cement blocks and
broken furniture, the night when the American bombs fell from the sky like lava
from heaven and destroyed most of Baghdad. He takes his wine glass and raises it
to Talal’s glass.
“Don’t worry, bro. Don’t let these nightmares control your life. Here’s to
you!”
Talal doesn’t answer. Instead, he goes to the fridge and takes out the lettuce
for the salad. He starts to cut the lettuce, “I see the images of my parents over and
over in my head, as if they are in front of me, like the day it happened.”
“Tell me how your parents died, Talal.”
“It was that offensive; I think it was 2004, at the beginning of the war, when
the Americans fought against Falluja, against what they used to call insurgents.
Do you remember?”
“Yeah, those were the days of hell. I remember well. I was with Uncle Ibrahim
during that time. By then, our house was already destroyed.”
“Well, in our case the Americans tried white phosphorous against the
insurgents. They used chemicals that burned the bodies like fire. That is how my
parents died, because they didn’t leave their house. So much damage was done to
the people who stayed behind instead of leaving as they were advised to. People’s
flesh got burned up right on the spot. That’s how my mom and dad died. We
were a couple of kilometers away at my grandfather’s house,

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Arrows

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

We threw together in a childish competition
that entertained not only us but also the lads kneeling in groups of
four holystoning the deck.
“Hey!” I turned and saw the weather-worn face of Pedro Mendez,
the ubiquitous bosun, obscured by the sun at its zenith, as he
glowered down at us from the quarterdeck. Already, everyone
knew better than to provoke him.
“Ballast is for ballast,” he snapped. He marched toward us, bare
feet turning inwards, glared at the bucket, snatched the stone from
my hand and shoved the bucket at Bartolomé’s page, a boy
nicknamed the Canary for his constant whistling. As the bosun
returned to his duties, my fellow passenger chortled, half-covering
his mouth with his hand. He took a big step back and bowed with
one hand on his belly, the other on his back.
“Gregorio de la Parra, at your service.”
I had seen Gregorio a couple of times before but had never talked
to him. To my surprise, I quite liked him. He was different from the
man who stood apart with a haughtiness around his jaw and neck
that went all too well with his inquisitive brown eyes.
“What did you do back in Spain?” I asked.
“I studied Canon Law in the University-College of Santa María de
Jesus in Seville,” he said. “But my godfather, who lives in Havana,
wanted me to join the next expedition to the land of the Caracas
Indians.”
“Why, God must have something in store for us, my friend!” I
said, “I was sent to join the same expedition!”
I assumed we might become friends but instead he briefly
frowned and looked me over as though for the first time.
“Did you finish your studies, then?” I asked, changing the subject
but keeping the smile in place. He pulled at his leather doublet to
make it fit more comfortably.
“No,” he muttered, straightening his back and looking away.
“Are you planning to finish them?”
I was mystified by his sudden solemnity. His eyes took on a
piercing intensity.

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

Water in the Wilderness

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

As she entered, she could see the night staff hurrying along the corridor which stretched out before her. They were in the midst of morning care, preparing the patients for breakfast. She picked up her pace as she headed to an alcove to leave her handbag and retrieve her nurses’ cap.
After pinning the cap in place in front of the one small mirror in the cubbyhole that passed as a staff cloakroom, she returned to the corridor and hurried to the nurses’ station where report would be given to the day staff in less than five minutes. She saw Inge Larson, the matron, walking towards her with a grim look on her usually pleasant features.
“Mrs. Cresswell,” Miss Larson said quietly when she reached Tyne, “I would like to see you in my office. Never mind report. You can catch up later.” She turned and led the way.
Tyne’s heartbeat quickened as she followed. What have I done wrong? Did I do something on my last night shift? Frantically, she tried to recall exactly what she had done that night, and which patients had been ill enough to require extra attention. Had she messed up? She remembered that she had been preoccupied with thoughts of Morley alone with the children, and Bobby’s fretting at bedtime. She also remembered she couldn’t wait to get off duty so that she could go home.
“Please close the door, Tyne, and sit down,” the matron said as she seated herself at her desk.
Tyne found some reassurance in the friendly tone, and the fact that Miss Larson had called her by her first name. She sat in a chair facing the desk, and waited.
Inge Larson placed her arms on the desk top and folded her hands which Tyne could see were not entirely relaxed. “Tyne, I have bad news, shocking news really.” She took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “Lydia Conrad died last night.”
Tyne did not know how long she sat in stunned silence, staring at the woman who seemed to recede into a fog in front of her eyes. Finally, she choked out the words, “Why? How? What happened? Oh, dear God, no.”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676319X

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

Ken put his pencil down and slowly came back to the room. “Come
and take a look,” he said.
She stood beside him and silently gazed at the picture. “I wish I could
do that,” she whispered. Then she placed a hand on his head, “My god,
you’re soaking,” she said. Ken’s hair was as wet as if he had come in from
a spring shower. His shirt clung to his body in damp folds.
Still gloriously naked, Jessica sat beside him on the couch and told him
what it was like to be an Indian. She and her sister had been fortunate.
They had escaped much of the pain that so many of her race had lived
through. The girls had attended a public school but Patrick had been sent
to a residential school and refused to talk about those years.
The Indians had been chased from their land again and again. She expressed
no anger or resentment. Her voice remained gentle and soft –
that gentleness fanned the flames of Ken’s anger. Wars had been fought in
Europe over territory and land. Why had the Indians not fought back?
“It’s not in our nature to lash out and hurt others,” she said. “When we
get hurt, we hurt ourselves. It seems to be something that is rooted deeply
in our cultural background.”
She said that she and Patrick and her sister belonged nowhere. They
were not white and yet by Indian standards, they were not natives either.
They belonged to no tribe and did not live on a reservation. They were
completely free and had no wish to be involved in any part of the political
or racial battle. “We’ve managed to make a very good life for ourselves,”
she said. “We work together, we are partners and we help each other.”
Jessica was describing the life he wished to live. His story was different
but it was also the same. He too had no desire to be categorized or pigeonholed.
He too wanted to unfold and allow life to happen rather than
force any particular direction.
Jessica turned down the lights, leaving one kerosene lamp glowing in
the dark. Then she took Ken’s hand and led him into her bedroom. Like
everything else about her, her room was also unexpected. It was as spare
and sparse as her manner. To still his turmoil, Ken forced all his concentration
on studying his new surroundings. He slipped under the goose
down cover and Jessica lay opposite him, her face cradled in her hand, her
eyes unblinking, gazing deeply into his. “I’ve never slept with a man,” she
said. “I’ll bet you can’t say that.”
“Actually I can,” he said grinning.
“You know what I mean,” she smiled back at him.
“Yes, I do.”
She waited and when he didn’t reach for her, she asked, “Is there something
about me? Maybe, you don’t like me?”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073573

He Rode Tall

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

Especially this morning as he stumbled to
the toilet, dropped to his knees, and wretched his guts out. For
maybe ten or twenty minutes Joel, continued to engage in the ritual
of dry heaves. And every time he thought it was over, because
he needed to get to his office, his entire body would be overcome
by yet another compelling desire to puke and he would once
again gag into the toilet. Once the heaves subsided, Joel was
wasted of whatever strength he might have. The coolness of the
porcelain toilet bowl on his forehead was a comforting feeling as
he rested to regain his strength to rise. Eventually, knowing that
he just could not afford to be late again, Joel rose, brushed his
teeth, and shaved. Lately, Joel had taken to simply using the
razor every other day. But looking at himself in the mirror this
morning, Joel realized that it had probably been three and maybe
even four days since his face had been visited by the razor. Knowing
that with his hands shaking as they were and realizing that he
was going to be late again, Joel opted to quickly shave his upper
lip and race to the office. A shower would have been nice. No, a
shower would have been wonderful, but he couldn’t afford many
more reprimands from the office manager, Mr. Lee, for being late.
Even if he was the best damn engineer on the waterfront, Joel was
pushing his luck.
After throwing his old rumpled suit on, Joel rushed down the
stairs to the teeming street below where he quickly hailed a cab and
twenty minutes later rushed into the offices of Empire Engineering
Works. Empire was one of those harbor-based engineering firms
that specialized in all kinds of projects on the Hong Kong waterfront.
Joel had been with Empire for many years now, including
postings at the home office in London and an endless string of
assignments around the globe that usually lasted anywhere from
twelve to twenty-four months. He had actually spent nearly three
years at one posting in Amsterdam, but that was only because of
overlapping projects, and once the first project, a new dry dock facility,
was completed, he was asked to finish up a project with another
team of engineers who were designing a new pier for the ferry fleet.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0980897955

Water in the Wilderness

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

Rachael giggled. “You’re silly,” she said as she hurried to the chair that Tyne indicated.
Five minutes later, Rachael ran over to where Bobby sat on the floor plowing an imaginary furrow with his new tractor. “Look, Bobby, look at my new shoes. Aren’t they beautiful?”
Bobby glanced up with a puzzled frown. “They’re just shoes.”
Tyne laughed as she lifted the boy to his feet. “Come on, you two, we have to pay for all these things.”
While the clerk, a young married woman whom Tyne knew only as Doreen, sorted out the purchases and rang the prices into the till, Tyne tried to ride herd on Bobby. But Rachael stood at the counter, gazing at the new shoes, making sure that Doreen didn’t overlook them.
From a few feet away Tyne heard the door open, followed by a female voice demanding, “Rachael, what are you doing here?”
Tyne swung around to see Ruby Harrison bearing down on the startled child at the cash register. Then Rachael squealed and launched herself at her aunt. “Auntie Ruby.”
Ruby bent to give Rachael a brief hug, then straightened her back and looked at Tyne who now held the hand of a recalcitrant Bobby.
“Hello, Ruby. How are you?”
Ruby ignored her, focusing instead on the clothes and toys that the clerk was placing in brown paper bags on the counter. Her eyebrows raised, she looked at Tyne. “New clothes?”
Tyne nodded. “Yes, they both need play clothes and Rachael has to have something decent for school.”
“I’m sure my sister had plenty of clothes for them at home, if you’d bothered to look.” She walked to the counter and fingered a pink wool sweater. “These look expensive. Who’s paying for them?”
Two immediate responses sprang to Tyne’s mind. It isn’t any of your business, and I defy you to find anything expensive in this store. But she forced herself to say quietly, “Morley and I are buying them for the children.”
Ruby lifted her chin. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I spoke to Corky, and he’s going to sign over custody to me and Bill.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676319X

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

“It’s true.” Francisco explained that she had fallen ill while visiting her
family in the north. She paid no attention to her illness, and by the time
she returned and went to the hospital, it was too late.
Ken tore out of the shack and ran to the hospital, Francisco following.
If he talked to the doctor, surely he would confirm that Miloo was alive.
Someone had made a terrible mistake.
The doctor explained that Miloo’s appendix had burst and she had
died of acute peritonitis.
At that moment, Ken’s world ended. He staggered to his feet and
opened the door to the corridor. Francisco was waiting for him. He took
a few stumbling steps and a nurse rushed up to him. “You bastard,” she
hissed. “You killed her.”
Francisco grabbed Ken’s arm and began to push past her.
“What do you mean?” Ken asked.
“She was pregnant!”
Ken’s legs wobbled. He turned, braced himself against the wall and
groped his way back to the doctor’s office. “She was pregnant?” he asked.
“Yes, she was,” he said. “But in the very early stages of pregnancy.”
“How early?”
“Perhaps a month.”
“Was this the cause of her death?”
“Absolutely not.”
“How can I be sure of that?”
“You can consult any doctor you wish and he will tell you that. Her
pregnancy just happened to coincide with this.”
The days and nights blended into one another. Ken wouldn’t talk and
he couldn’t eat or sit still. He could not bear to be inside his own body –
a body with an enormous empty, echoing cavern where a heart used to
be. He walked, pacing endlessly up and down the beach, on the village
streets, and on the sidewalks of Lisbon.
The emptiness of his body lay on him like a massive stone. He could not
swallow past the obstruction in his throat. It blocked the emptiness where
there used to be a stomach, lungs, kidneys – there was nothing left inside
him and since he felt nothing, he thought about ending his own life.
One minute he was numb and then a wrenching sadness swept over
him, threatening to drown him in its endless ocean. A minute later white-hot

anger engulfed him and flared into a murderous rage.
When the stone moved from his throat long enough to let air through,
he talked to Francisco but even that led to despair. He knew that nothing
Francisco could say could ever bring her back.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073573