Tag: literature

Jazz with Ella

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

Shiny new ones from Germany and Japanese ones with colourful markings. He began to wonder if he had the wrong hotel.
Just when he considered giving up, maybe returning tomorrow, he saw her coming. She was a long way off, walking, not from the direction of the Hotel Rossiya, but from the direction of Red Square. As she got closer, he could see that she was laughing and happy. His heart gave a little lurch and she approached him quickly, still smiling. Wonder of wonders, she was apologizing to him:
“Sorry I’m late. We’re not staying at this hotel after all. We were taken to the Hotel Bucharest, way over there. I walked across a bridge…”
“Da, da, da,” was all he could think of to say, nodding and smiling in return. This was superb! Recovering slightly from his daze, Sergey linked arms with her like a sweetheart and they walked around the block, while Sergey ran through his various shopping lists. She interrupted several times to tell him that she hadn’t seen such an item or there was a good supply of the other. Eventually he gave her all the foreign money, which turned out to be $45 American dollars, a few pounds sterling and some West German marks, and she disappeared into the store.
“Ech, you dope,” Sergey muttered. “You could have offered her a drink or an ice cream from the stand…”
Once more he waited, this time choosing a different street corner, next to the GUM department store. He could shop at GUM himself later. The way he calculated it, shopping for goods like vodka and brandy at the foreign currency store would save him money because everyone knew items for tourists were at least four times cheaper than in their Russian stores—that is if you could find them in the Russian stores. Also, it would give him lots of time to procure out of stock goods elsewhere. The difference would probably pay for his wanton taxi ride plus maybe an evening at the restaurant…with Lona. Guiltily, he realized that he had been in Moscow for three hours and hadn’t thought once of Nadya, his sister. He should telephone her; she had a phone installed recently and he had the new number. There was a pay phone across the way, but the receiver hung uselessly. Some one had placed a sign “Not Working” and it looked as if the sign had been there for months. There would be public telephone booths at the telegraph office in back of the hotel and they would be in good working order. He slipped over there to make his call.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562892

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

The Unquiet Land

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

…that rumour either—in fact Caitlin thought she would more quickly believe the other—and she was annoyed that Caitlin might be about to ridicule religion as she had ridiculed Padraig.
“No, it doesn’t make me laugh,” Caitlin said earnestly. “It happens to be true. I’m joining the Church.”
Nora turned and looked in disbelief at Caitlin. Her face showed her astonishment, but as the truth of Caitlin’s words became apparent, Nora broke into a radiant smile, and her eyes lit up with a joy such as Caitlin had never seen before.
“Oh Caitlin,” Nora cried, grasping Caitlin by the shoulders and staring into her eyes in rapture. “I can’t believe it has happened. I’ve so much longed and prayed for this day.” She leaned toward Caitlin and hugged her tightly as tears glimmered in her eyes. She straightened up, dropped her hands into the lap of her pink summer dress and asked, “When did you reach this momentous decision?”
“It’s something that developed gradually and not without a lot of heart-searching,” Caitlin said. “I think it was Joe-Joe Carney’s illness that started it.”
Nora looked serious again. “That incident with young Joe-Joe did Padraig a lot of good in the village. He needed that miracle badly. A lot of people were not at all happy about Padraig coming back among them as their priest and confessor. They remembered his background and they didn’t trust him.” Nora paused and glanced awkwardly at her hands. “You won’t be angry if I say something personal?”
“No.”
“These latest rumours of an affair between you and him are destroying all the goodwill Padraig earned from Joe-Joe’s recovery. People are saying unkind things about him again and gaining credence. You have to let it be known what’s happening, Caitlin. For Padraig’s sake.”
“Another miracle for the Father,” Caitlin said with an edge of sarcasm. “Very well, Nora, you have my permission, as not just my twin sister, but as my closest friend in this village of spite and vindictiveness, to broadcast the truth. Caitlin MacLir has accepted the One True Faith.”
“Does Daddy know?”
“I haven’t actually told him in so many words,” Caitlin replied, while a guilty shadow flittered across her face. “But he knows.”
“Or just suspects.”
“No. I believe he knows what’s going on.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562888

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

Still Waters

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

“I don’t feel comfortable talking to Mrs. Shaughnessy. I think she
pushed Curly into doing something she didn’t want to do.”
Nevertheless, the two nurses took the bus to the Shaughnessy
home on Saturday afternoon. Curly’s mother greeted them at the
door and ushered them into the sitting room.
“You both look wonderful,” she said as they made themselves
comfortable on the sofa across from her. “And Maureen, it’s so nice
to see you again. Where have you been hiding?”
Moe cast her eyes down and fidgeted with the crease in her slacks.
“I haven’t been hiding, Mrs. Shaughnessy. I just haven’t felt comfortable
coming around to see you.”
Tyne glanced at their hostess and saw her eyes open wide. “Why
ever not?”
Tyne held her breath as she felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.
What did Moe intend to say next? Maybe they should
not have come. Oh God, don’t let her make a scene.
Moe leaned slightly forward. “I’m sorry to say this, and forgive me
if I’m wrong, but I thought you held it against us for what happened
to Curl … Carol Ann.”
The shock on Mrs. Shaughnessy’s face was evident. For a moment
she stared at Moe, then she seemed to struggle to find her voice. “Oh,
my dear girl, I did not hold anything against you … either one of you.
Why should I? Carol Ann acted on her own, I knew that.”
She looked down, fumbled for a handkerchief from her sleeve and
brought it to her suddenly moist eyes. “I’m sorry if I treated you
badly. I was embarrassed and ashamed. Such a thing had never happened
in our family, and it was so dreadful in the eyes of the church.”
She looked up, and Tyne saw that her lips were trembling. “Please
forgive me for the way I acted. You were always such good friends to
Carol Ann.”
Tyne felt helpless in her compassion for the woman. She wanted
to go to her and hug her, but she didn’t know how the older woman
would react to such a display of emotion. Moe, however, had no
such inhibitions. To Tyne’s surprise, she rose from the sofa and, going
quickly to Curly’s mother, bent down and enveloped her in a full
embrace. They clung together while Tyne watched through her tears.
She dried her eyes and squeezed Moe’s hand as her friend resumed
her seat. She hoped Moe knew how grateful she felt.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763068

The Circle

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

“Iraq is very hot place, Jennifer, but it is a beautiful. So far, everything looks
good, although one can see all the destruction still in a lot of places. It’s so sad to see
how some people live, so sad.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Are you having a good time, though?”
“Well, yes, I suppose. We’ll be going scuba diving in the gulf in the next couple of
days. I will not be able to talk to you from there, I suppose; however, I’ll talk to you
when I get back, okay?”
“Yes, Mom. Take a lot of pictures, remember?”
“Yes, Jennifer. Bye for now; I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
Hakim hugs her and says, “There you are. They’re doing fine; my uncle also
sounded good, and Talal sounds good, too.”
“Why do you wonder how Talal is doing?”
“I have always worried how he would feel returning to his home and how he
would find it after all this time.His house has been uninhabited for a long time, the
same as mine.However, Talal hasn’t gone to the old house yet; he saw his sister and
young brother, though. His sister will be getting married next summer.”
“Oh, that’s nice. What are the weddings like there, honey?”
“It all depends, sweetie.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for the people who follow religion, it’s different from the ones who do
not follow it as much like us; my uncle and Mara have been quite liberal when it
comes to religion and we just don’t follow strict church rules of any kind.”
Jennifer looks him in the eyes and asks, “Have you ever thought of getting
married, honey?”
He’s silent for a while. This is a question he hasn’t thought about before, and
now he must answer her.
“No, I haven’t thought of it, sweetie. Have you?”
“No, I haven’t. But now that the subject of marriage has been brought up, it
made me think of it.”
“Maybe one day, sweetheart. Maybe one day, I’ll think about it.”
Jennifer gets up and makes their breakfast; they sit quietly and eat their toast
with marmalade. She thinks Hakim probably has too much on his mind right
now to think of marriage; he’s worried about his uncle and he has to get together
with Peter before their important meeting.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562817

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

In the Quiet After Slaughter

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

The group visited a cultural village. They were greeted by locals
wearing heritage garb and playing traditional instruments. Theirs
was not the only vacationing group in attendance. Her travel companions
tallied the number of languages overheard in the gift shop.
Harold was hungover, Winnie exhausted. She felt the ground
rotate beneath her feet. That morning they took turns using the bathroom.
– Are you feeling all right? Karen asked her. They’d been ushered
into an uncovered grandstand and left to dehydrate.
– I know it can be a little overwhelming the first time.
– Better keep an eye on Harold, Winnie said. His ancestors were
Norwegian.
A translation was read aloud about the importance of the dance.
All Winnie remembered of it, she told the gals back home, was that
the jig had been enacted for thousands of years. The steps told a
story. Through a slit in the curtains she could see the performers
extinguishing cigarettes and changing out of their western clothes.
It surprised her to learn that in this troubled land much was made
of longevity. Repetition seemed sacrosanct; the past, one’s forefathers,
were worshipped like deities. As the dancers stomped across
the stage she considered how different it was from the true north
strong and free, where there was a 12-step program for every misfortune,
where one was encouraged to forget, to move on, let go. To
erase people and things as though they’d never existed.
And stitch quilts.
Their last night she decided to say something. She’d promised herself
she wouldn’t, but she couldn’t help herself. Days she neglected
to take her prescription, Winnie was quick to boil.
– I thought, she said to Harold, we’d do something together.
We’re going home tomorrow.
He sulked through dinner and complained afterwards of heartburn.
It disappeared when Phil came by.
She decided not to wait up or visit Donna’s room, where some of
the others would be comparing what they believed were bargains…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562874

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0980897971

Prairie Roots

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

…watched her eat all the things that “were good for us”. Thank
goodness he liked perohy or we may not have acquired the fondness
for them that we did.
In fact, every Friday morning was perohy-making time, since,
as Ukrainian Catholics, we observed the meatless Friday rule.We
were roped into the perohy-making assembly line whenever we
were home from school. It was usually fun, invariably initiated
one or two squabbles about who was or was not doing how much
of what, but also included listening to Mom telling a story or singing
us songs. When she ladled those delicious little creations out
of the hot water into the cooling pot and then onto our platters,
and covered them with melted butter and crisply fried onions, a
morning’s work was known to disappear in short minutes! They
were so good!
I certainly well remember mother’s songs and stories that she
had brought with her from “the old country”. As she worked
away in the kitchen she forever sang those wonderfully sad
Ukrainian soul songs or told us stories of her early life. So many
times the tears would gather in her eyes and we would feel sad
with her, not really knowing what had made her sad in the first
instance. We must have been a comfort to her though, she being
so far from her family and almost certain that she would not see
any of them again. She at least had us to occupy herself with, leaving
her precious little time for self-pity.
I also recall the concerned exchanges between my parents as
World War II ravaged their birth areas and then as communism under
Stalin’s fist tightened its’ vicious grip throughout eastern Europe,
I wonder now what conflicting thoughts they had to endure. Their
life was not easy; however, what little news came through, devastating
as it must have been, would certainly have made them feel
thankful for getting away from that tormented region.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562900

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0980897920

In Turbulent Times

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

Those who went to the house swore it had never been cleaned since Maggie’s mother was alive. It seemed that Maggie lived, ate, slept and washed in only one room. All the other rooms were packed to overflowing with the accumulated belongings and unsorted junk of at least two generations of Potters. In several corners in the house stood unemptied buckets of Maggie’s excrement and urine which neighbours said she used as fertiliser in her garden. Even more remarkable were the envelopes and canisters and small cardboard boxes filled with money—more than four thousand pounds in all—that passed to a man in the city, a nephew, it was said, who had never ever been to see his aunt in all the years that anyone in the village could remember. Old Rachel Dunn, Willy’s arthritic mother, was still alive in a nursing home in Ardross, a helpless cripple, clinging tenaciously to life at the age of eighty-seven.
Into Maggie Potter’s ill-starred house Liam and Nora moved in the first week of January 1943 when all the country could talk about was the rout of the German forces at Stalingrad. But Nora’s mind dwelled not on the frozen snows of Russia nor on the hot desert sands, where Tom Carney was fighting, but on the treacherous waters of the North Atlantic where the German submarine wolf-packs prowled: grim, determined, unseen predators of the convoys from America. Joe Carney was among the prey, and Nora feared for his life. She wrote to him almost every week, giving him all the gossip from the village and keeping to herself her misery and her cherished memories.
They’ve actually made a good job of fixing up the house and painting and decorating it. I never thought that Maggie Potter’s place could look so clean and trim. Even the outside walls have been whitewashed and the doors and window frames painted the usual dark green. As in the old schoolhouse, we have a kitchen and a scullery and a sitting room downstairs, two bedrooms and a box room upstairs, and a view of the sea from the back. The sea is pale blue and grey today and sparkling where the sun is shining on it. I used to love the sea but now I hate it for separating us and threatening you with so much danger. And yet I still love to walk along the shore and watch the endless convoy of waves reach the rocks and shingle and break there and whisper to me with their parting breath that they have seen your ship on their way across the ocean and that you are well and send your love.
Later that day, for the first time since she had written to Joe to tell him of her pending marriage to Liam Dooley, Nora mentioned in her letter that she was unhappy.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562904

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

Arrows

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

thundersticks of the white men, never making it to the appointed
battlefield. Others fell under the hoofs of the frightening beasts or
were stuck by the long spears while trying to break through metal
with their wooden swords.
Guacaipuro and Paramaconi persisted in their attempts to pass,
thinking that the rest of the coalition must long be engaged in battle.
Precious hours went by. It was past noon when Losada, sick to his
stomach in bed, was notified of the unnatural gathering of savages
on the outskirts of the city.
The several caciques that had opted to wait and those who had
wanted the charge soon found the choice made for them. I was told
later by Benjamin that Losada dressed leisurely when alerted to the
Indian presence, showing once again the temperance that had
always characterized him. He chose thirty men and appointed the
rest to the protection of the city.
The cavalry went out first, forming a crushing front with horses
bred and trained for bodily conflict: horses that would kick, turn and
caracole on command; that would not shy away from the sound of
battle; that would dismiss wounds as long as they could stand. The
infantry followed, finishing off any stubborn traces of life. Many
Indians fled in confusion, but it was a massacre all the same.
In my days with the conquistadors, I heard many stories of battle
and triumph. In those accounts, there were always thousands of
Indians attacking a handful of heroes who, despite the odds,
managed to come out victorious. The Indians could not possibly win
simply because of their inferior means, but had there been so many
thousands, as the Spanish accounts relate, I am sure no Spaniard,
half-breed or traitorous Indian would have survived.
From living amongst them, I knew there was no lack of courage or
commitment from the Indians. On that day, according to Benjamin,
after the Spaniards had thought most of the Indians were dead or
had withdrawn, a solitary voice defied Losada. There, amid corpses
and dying friends, stood Tiuna with gold bracelets on his arms and a
gold pendant on his chest. He was a warrior from the Caracas
Indians, of which Catia was cacique.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562848

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

Savages and Beasts

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

his wife of eighteen years got pissed right off and left him; she
filed for a divorce which was issued with no contention at further
financial loss for Mr. Wilson, who moved to a shabby apartment
and he even had to sell his truck to pay off some of his debt.
These days Mr. Wilson finds enough satisfaction in his
present work since it pays him some money, which along with
the government assistance on which he also relies gives him just
enough to support himself. Today though his mind ran to his
ex-wife, who he found out was cheating on him long before the
downturn of the real estate market and that recollection truly
pissed him off to the point that he saw women as nothing but gold
diggers. His mind bothered him a lot lately, when he recalled the
last years with Ariel, his ex-wife who he could simply kill if he
would get the chance.
His angry eyes fell on a young man who responded to the
name Lucas, an Indian youth, who by handling his handsaw the
wrong way he misplaced a cut on the piece of wood he was working
and this was something Mr. Wilson couldn’t tolerate. He
clenched his teeth, grabbed the ruined piece of the plank from
Lucas’ hands and struck the back of the unfortunate young man
with such force that made the boy scream in pain and run away
from his teacher who was still holding the instrument of pain
ready to reapply it on the back of the youth.
“You stupid dog, you ruined your wood,” the teacher
yelled on the top of his lungs while Lucas, being in extreme pain,
kept on yelling and cursing in his language something his teacher
couldn’t understand and which made him angrier. The boy’s fists
tightened and he ran against his teacher when Marcus, who had
witnessed everything as all other boys had, stood in the middle
between the angry student and the scared teacher and upon hugging
Lucas, he whispered to him,

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763602

The Unquiet Land

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

Now Caitlin too was becoming angry, her face flushed. “Padraig has never wanted me. You do him a great injustice. He only wants to see me married to you. Until then there can be no more sinning.” She felt her anger subside like a guttering candle. She held her hands out to Michael, enticing him to come close to her again.
He did. He took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes with a mix of love, disappointment and confusion.
“You know I’m going to church again, Michael,” Caitlin said gently, soothingly. “I am a baptized Catholic. Father Riordan baptized me and Nora when we were born and my mother died. He was afraid that we might die too. Unbaptized. And be put in a sack in a hole behind Killyshannagh Chapel.”
“Finn MacLir would never have allowed that,” Michael said. “He would have seen you buried properly. Along with your poor mother.”
“My father was too distraught to know what was going on,” Caitlin said. “Una Slattery, when we were very little, used to take us to church when my father was at the fishing.”
“Do you realise how much you have abused your father’s trust, Caitlin?”
“I never did,” Caitlin protested. “I was a new-born baby when I was baptized. I was a little child when Una took us to church. You’re right though. These things were done without my father’s knowledge or consent, but don’t blame me or Nora.”
Michael remained dubious, his simple heart troubled. Though he knew that Caitlin and Nora were not to blame, he still felt that Finn MacLir had been cheated by others. But he could not put his feelings into words.
“Be that as it may, Michael,” Caitlin continued, “before I could receive Communion I had to go to Confession. I had to tell Padraig everything. Everything about us, Michael.”
“Does this mean, Caitlin,” Michael began awkwardly, yet with a heart-stopping surge of hope, “does this mean that you are going to marry me?”
“Yes, of course, I am going to marry you, Michael. You know I am. I love you.”
“When, Caitlin? When will we be married?”
“Soon. It takes a lot of planning.”
Caitlin’s answer sounded evasive to Michael. Hope dropped from him like a rock from a wall. Suspicion filled the hole it left. He lowered his eyes and half turned to walk away. “Whenever you are ready, Caitlin,” he said, his voice charged with controlled anger, “come and let me know.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562888

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