Tag: love-story

Straits and Turns

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THE BELL

…and Mike ran to change two switches and guide the engines to the
appropriate spot. The other two, Giovanni and Johnny, went to the area
of the fuel pumps and the pit, where they checked the underbelly of the
engines while Mike filled the tanks with fuel. Scotty checked all levers
and pressures as the others got busy doing their jobs. Mile noticed that
a light snow started falling and a light breeze perked up, spreading a
chill in the air. The bodies felt the cold, and the exposure to the frost
was getting into them.
Darkness had covered the yard like a shroud, and poetic images
came into Mike’s mind, which he promised himself that he’d write
some time later. Giovanni and Johnny finished their inspection, and
after Mike finished his job, the engines were driven back outside the
old shack for the rest of the work. Mike started washing the outside
of the engines, and the mechanic and his helper did their part of the
maintenance. All men worked for an hour and a half until the engines
were ready to be taken away. They all had an hour to relax and wait for
the new crew. They sat inside the shack when, from inside the cabin,
Scotty yelled,
“The darn bell isn’t working.”
Johnny, with his cigarette hanging off his mouth, climbed up to
the top of the engine to check the bell. Surely nothing looked different
than any other time, yet the bell was silent when Scotty turned the
proper switch on. The bell was needed each time the engines came to
a station and was part of the general function. However, tonight, the
chill in the air had frozen the air in the air pipe, which surely couldn’t
activate the bell. Giovanni also climbed up, and both men struck the
air pipe with their hammers, hoping that they would help the air flow,
but to no avail.
“The air pipe is frozen,” Giovanni diagnosed, and the boss said,
“Why don’t you try to warm it up with a couple of flares…” Surely Mike
ran to the shop and brought a bag with half a dozen flares. In the meantime,
Giovanni and Johnny climbed down and chatted with Scotty
inside the cabin.

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https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763866

Redemption

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Excerpt

…campaigns as well as various entertaining events with the primary
goal of collecting money for the Archdiocese of Canada, which obviously
was getting richer and more powerful at the expense of the
communities.
He kept in touch with his relatives. He often wrote to them, and
he also sent them a picture or two occasionally, just to make them
feel better and let them know they didn’t have to worry about him;
he was really doing okay. Magda wrote to him and let him know she
was planning to take a trip to Vancouver sometime the next summer,
which was only six months away. His parents sent a few letters, but
Demetre and Maria wrote to him more often.
What he enjoyed most was the way the Canadians lived, their
“take it easy” attitude and their simple, pleasant outlook about life
in general. He could understand that because he knew Canadians
hadn’t gone through occupation by the Germans in the Second World
War, or the dictatorship of a junta. But what he liked about the people
the most was that they started a conversation with you at any time,
at any place, either on the street or on the bus. They could talk to you
about anything without caring whether it interested you or not.
They were mostly polite and cheerful, and they helped you if
they could. They didn’t care who you were or what you were wearing,
or how you talked, as most Canadians spoke with an accent. Hermes’
accent was profoundly distinct, so that one could tell easily he was
Greek. But it didn’t matter to them at all. He wrote all these things
to his relatives and Magda with such enthusiasm that at one time
he asked her whether she could see herself living with him in this
country. He was surprised to get a positive answer in her letter, which
came rather quickly. He was glad to hear that she had the blood of the
gypsies in her veins; she could go away from her home at any time
if the circumstances were the right ones. He enjoyed knowing that
because he was also a man who loved to travel, to move around, to
visit and discover new places and new people.

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

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

Still Waters

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Excerpt

The car, a 1953 Cadillac convertible, stood in front of the Tournquists’
house. Red and shiny, it had gleaming white wall tires. Tyne
had not seen it there on any of her previous visits.
As Cam drew his Buick alongside, she said, “Your parents must
have visitors.”
“I don’t think so, honey. There’s no car here except what belongs
to the family.”
“Oh, did they get a new ….” She stopped, realization dawning. “Oh
no, Cam, it can’t be … not mine.” Stunned, she remained seated until
he came around to open her door.
“I’ll let them tell you.” Cam helped her out, and led her up the
front steps. At the top, she put her hand on the wrought iron rail and
turned to look back. “Oh, my goodness,” she murmured.
The car was indeed hers, Arthur Tournquist informed her a few
minutes later.
“But, I can’t let you … really, it’s too much ….”
“Tyne, will you please stop mumbling and accept our gift graciously?”
Arthur smiled at her, but Tyne sensed his impatience.
What did one do in a situation like this? She didn’t want to refuse a
gift. On the other hand, this gift was much too extravagant, the most
she had hoped for being a second-hand older model something. She
had no idea what she had expected, because she knew little about
cars. But this … even if she was to be their daughter-in-law, she could
not accept a gift like this.
And that’s just the point, she thought. If Cam and I were already
married, it might be a different matter. They could have waited …
they should have waited.
She thought about Moe and the humble little television set from
her future in-laws. She would give anything to be able to trade places
with Moe right now, or at least be able to trade gifts. Since that was
impossible, she craved the next best thing – to call Aunt Millie and
ask her advice.

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

Tasos Livaditis – Poems, Volume II

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Long-listed for the 2023 Griffin Poetry Awards

2023 Longlist Announcement

Violin for the One-Arm Man

4
Therefore I sit and contemplate: what man has that is
truly his
since my life assumes its importance when I narrate it
to someone like daylight that is important to the blind
who, at least, need to be seen
thus I sleep in peace knowing that someone else risks
on my behalf,
the one they know, only that each morning, just not
to betray myself,
I have to gather the broken pieces of the nightmare
and Uncle Elias,
very old, powdered with talc, since he lived humbly,
returned each Christmas and spent his evenings
making birds, not real ones, just to make sure they
wouldn’t lift up the house again;
in fact, one night I retried, and I swore with such
empathy that the few cloths I had placed in the room
almost dried up, yet
just that, and the bed, Judas the Iscariot, betrays me
to them every morning
I therefore preferred to walk aimlessly, a true delight
to my kind of people,
and then I truly found myself close to my life, like
the very sick who love the next fellow and who
stand absentmindedly under the trees or wear old
pyjamas or die fast like honeymoons
and Mr. Such and Such was very joyous when he made
money though that didn’t stop him from slapping
me two or three times a day
so that my poor mother’s milk went bad and we had
to exhume her so other seasons wouldn’t be in danger;
Besides, how can I learn new tricks at my age? In fact
I’d like to stop here for a moment as it happens in old
transcribed glorious documents or like the drunkard
who stands in front of the icons for a while before he
goes to spend the funeral money on drinks and
then the expulsions from parish to parish, short affairs
with the handrails, mysterious way of wearing
the same hat all the time
and this woman at the end of the road, so forgotten
that her steps are heard from inside all the fairy tales;
then there is always a sorrow for ourselves in all
our illusions
like our true residence that lasts as long as a song.

(If this poem touched you, you may find more about this beautiful book of translations in the following links)

https://draft2digital.com/book/4051627

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763564

Straits and Turns

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Excerpt

Necrophilia

…“I’m going out. I’ll be back in two hours. I don’t want to find you
here when I get back,” she said in a stern voice and left.
He sank into his armchair in a world that had collapsed around
him. His wife didn’t want to see him again. Where could he go? His
life was a big question mark. His life was so arranged and well set up
until this morning. His life of order and security has suddenly become
chaos and disarray, a gigantic open mouth ready to swallow him. His
orderly life has turned into a disorderly one. How could he live now?
How could he face his co-workers on Monday? Could he talk to someone?
Did he have anyone to talk to?
A quick thought flashed through his mind, and he felt shivers
travelling through his whole body. He walked upstairs to their bedroom.
Everything seemed to be in place. Then why does his life feel
upside down? He stepped into the closet. His clothes hung orderly in
it. On the top shelf, he groped for the box. He took it down. Went to
the bathroom. He placed the box on the counter. He opened the box:
he looked at his service revolver. He hadn’t cleaned it in a while. Like
a zombie, he loaded his pistol with ammunition. He stared at himself
in the mirror. The code. Yes, he remembered the code they all followed,
their protocol. That dark thought ran through his mind again, and this
time it didn’t make him shiver at all. He felt peaceful. He felt better. The
code was what he had followed all his life. A code, a protocol, the secure
way of a CIA agent. It’s the same code he had to follow to the bitter end.
When everything goes into disarray, and everything becomes nothing
but chaos, the code must come into place. Tears flowed down his cheeks
as he stared at his face and then faced the pistol in his hand. Suddenly,
a euphoric sense of well-being overtook him as if someone was protecting
him. He felt strong, good, and comfortable. Heroic. He smiled at
himself. He winked at himself. What would she think when she found
him? Would she cry? Would she laugh at him exiting this way? His
eyes filled with tears, and somehow, he felt an inexplicable warmth,
as if in a different state of mind, in that dimension that various books
described. He put the barrel of the pistol in his mouth and, following
the example of so many others before him, Bradley pulled the trigger.

(If this excerpt spoke to you, you can find more about this book in the following links)

https://draft2digital.com/book/4250839#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763866

The Unquiet Land

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Excerpt

“I bet none of your sons’ll be fishermen,” Sweeney argued. “You can’t make a decent living at it any more. The whole industry’s gone mad.” He reached out and poured the formerly rejected half bottle of porter into a glass. “What did it cost to run a boat before the war? A hundred pounds a week maybe. Now it costs around three, four hundred. Even more for the big boats. You’re paying out more than you’re taking in.”
“I’m not.”
“Then you’re an exception, Joe; and I wish I knew how you did it.” Sweeney was staring at the pale, frothy head in his glass of porter. Then he looked up at Joe. “It must be galling for you to get tuppence or thruppence a pound for your fish at the quayside and watch the fishmongers in their shops rake in anything from sixpence to half a crown.”
“And there’s damned little going for sixpence, I can tell you,” said Slattery. “In fact the housewives in the city are complaining because they can’t get enough fish, and the fishermen are complaining because they can’t get rid of it. I hear that whitings were so plentiful during Lent that fishermen couldn’t give them away. They had to send them to the manure yard. I think Michael was wise to sell out. Not that he’s a fisherman anyway.”
“Speak of the Devil and he appears,” said Sweeney. “How are you, Michael? Come and join us.”
Michael and Caitlin had just appeared at the dining-room door and looked in.
“We’re going pretty soon,” said Joe Carney. “Don’t give us that impatient look.”
“They’re not very hospitable, are they, Joe?” Sweeney teased with a leer. “Wouldn’t you much rather be surrounded with good friends, lots of food and plenty to drink on a miserable, wet night like this than stuck in here all alone with nothing to do and no one to talk to?”
“I would to be sure, Sweeney,” Joe agreed. “Come on, you two, sit down, have another drink, enjoy the craic.”
“I think we should take the hint and go,” said Seamus Slattery. “It’s getting to be very late. This isn’t one of Finn’s parties.”
“You don’t have to leave on our account,” said Caitlin.
“Oh, I think we do,” Slattery declared. “It’s been a long and memorable day for you two lovebirds.”
“Well, your wife’s still gossiping in the kitchen,” said Sweeney. “Go and grab hold of her and tell her it’s time to go home. Come on, we’ll all go together.”
Twenty minutes later the house was empty, and Michael and Caitlin sat…

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

Jazz with Ella

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Excerpt

“There won’t be any children, Mrs. White. It’s summer holidays,” Lona said with a smirk. Paul rolled his eyes skyward.
Jennifer felt a little sheepish. Lona was probably correct. However, it was irritating the way she always ensured that everyone knew she was correct. It was time to change the subject. “How did you happen to study Russian, David?” she said, leaning back in the grass, ignoring Lona and fixing on the young man. He had an intelligent, open face with sparkling white teeth but even at the age of 25, his hairline was just starting its slide toward the back of his head. She knew that his family was of English descent, not unlike her own history on her father’s side.
“My father’s in the Air Force,” said David, “and I guess we’ve lived on a dozen different bases as I grew up—Germany, Italy and NORAD in Colorado. I picked up a little of every language but never Russian.”
“So why Russian?” Lona asked.
“Well, six years ago I got chosen along with a lot of other army and air force brats to go on a teen cultural exchange to the U.S.S.R. I had no knowledge of the country before that. We were just supposed to be shining examples of North American kids. It was sure different than this tour. It had been organized by Sputnik—that’s the youth tour group—and we had cocky Komsomol leaders not much older than us in charge.”
“So you have more than a nodding acquaintance with Lenin?”
“And Marx. And Brezhnev. The Komsomol is seriously political, and this was before the signing of the SALT treaty so east-west tensions were high. Believe it or not, it’s more relaxed now.”
“But how did you learn the language?” Paul asked.
“Oh, we had a crash course before the trip. Then we stayed in a dormitory for four months and ate with the Eastern European kids, so we learned a lot that way. We didn’t visit the churches back then because they tried to pretend that they didn’t exist. Instead, we had to study in the dorm a lot and debate the class struggle or dialectical materialism with our team leader. Most of us didn’t have a clue!”
“My god, I’m not sure I could define them now,” laughed Jennifer. “But I bet we’ll know by the end of this trip.”
“Well, that was what sparked my interest in Russian. Learning by talking is the best way. That’s why I didn’t pack my Ozhegov.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562892

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

Water in the Wilderness

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Excerpt

…ently held out his hands to her. His missing fingers did not seem to faze him; he appeared to be learning to compensate for the loss.
“An’ you know what, too, Auntie Tyne?” He gazed up at her when she stood, his eyes like saucers now. “Rachael says we’re goin’ home on the really biggest old bus she’s ever seen, with a long dog on the side.”
Tyne chuckled. “You sure are, Bobby. And when Uncle Morley and I come home you’ll be able to tell us all about it. Okay?”
Solemnly, he nodded his head then offered his hand to Tyne’s mother. Shoulders erect and head held high, he escorted her through the door.
A few days later Emily Milligan brought the children back to the Holy Cross, to say goodbye before starting their trip home to Emblem. Tyne took them to see Morley. Following Sister Carol Ann’s gentle instructions, they approached the bed quietly, and stared in wonder at the man they scarcely recognized as the jovial person whom they called Uncle Morley. His hair had grown a little so that he didn’t appear bald anymore, and the bruises around his eyes and cheeks had faded to a pale yellow, tinged with blue. But Tyne knew that he must look strange to the children who were seeing him for the first time since the beating.
She had been of two minds about bringing them to his room, but Morley had asked to see them. And when he opened his eyes and smiled at them, she knew she had made the right decision. There was something she and Morley wanted to do together before the kids left for home.
“Do you … have the gifts, hon?” Morley asked haltingly.
Tyne removed a large bag from the bottom of the bedside table. Opening it, she drew out a brightly painted dump truck followed by a Shirley Temple doll. The looks on the faces of Rachael and Bobby brought tears to her eyes.
When they had gone, Tyne took Ronald to a quiet waiting room. He had tried, without success, to hold back the tears. She wanted to hug him, but knew he already felt embarrassed because of loss of control over his emotions, so she sat quietly by his side and let him talk.
“I wish I could go with them, Mrs. Cresswell. Do you think the doctors will let me go soon?”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562884

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

Redemption

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Excerpt

He walked back to the rented room and settled in his new home. It was
a small room with a table, a chair, a closet for his clothes, and a single
bed. The size of the room was no more than three by four meters,
with paint cracks all over; some paint had peeled right off the walls.
He didn’t really care about its condition. It was a very cheap room.
A small window with shutters opened to the street, and Hermes
saw a small garden. He took out his clothes from the suitcase and
hung them with care in the closet. He, then, sat down on the bed and
thought it would be a good idea to write home and let them know he
had arrived and was okay, three letters to three different addresses.
Realizing he had no paper, he walked out to the closest corner
store, where he bought some paper, a small jar of coffee and a small
rectangular box of sugar cubes, which he encountered for the first
time in his life. He went back to his room and sat at the desk to write
his first letter to his uncle and untie. He described in detail that his
trip was very good, the city was beautiful, and he felt enthusiastic
about the university. He wrote with intense feelings, particularly
in the second letter, addressed to Magdalene. He signed the letters
and sealed the envelopes. He would post them first thing tomorrow
morning. Hunger took over him. He got up, knocked at the
door of his landlady and asked where he could find a restaurant to
eat something. She informed him that “Black Cat” was the closest
restaurant to the house and told him how to get there. Hermes got
out and walked the few blocks to the restaurant. The server brought
his coffee. Hermes understood that coffee was served each time, even
before an order was given to the servers. He looked at the menu, but
he couldn’t understand the words; therefore, he didn’t know what to
order. He had his coffee and a cigarette. The girl refilled his cup and
looked at him with questioning eyes. He pointed to the menu and
said, “I don’t know what these are…” his finger travelling down the
list of food items. The young server asked him,
“What language does he speak…” He said, “Greek,” she called
him to follow her. He got up and followed the girl through a hallway
to an opening that connected the restaurant to the kitchen.

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

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

Prairie Roots

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Excerpt

The picnic brought out most of the people who lived in the vicinity
of the school or whose children attended the school. As
well, because it was a Sunday, people from other school districts as
well as relatives and friends of the parents came to gossip and to
munch on a few goodies. It was usually a relaxing day for the
adults and their only concern was to avoid sunburn and prevent
their children from consuming so much food that their little
stomachs would rebel and reject the contents. Which frequently
happened. They came on foot or in wagons and some even in cars.
Those who arrived by wagon would unhitch their horses, lead
them into the barn for the day and join their friends and neighbours
beside the school and the confectionery stalls. They stood
around in circles or brought out chairs or sat on the grass in the
shade to smoke and talk. Thewomen watched their children, compared
notes and exchanged information on various women things.
We found out in the evening whether any of our school indiscretions
had been leaked from the loose lips of our friends, then
through their mothers to our mother, and were relieved when no
accusations were made or suspicious questions posed to us.
The children did what children always do; they began by
spending some of their money on the various goodies before gathering
on the sports field to play games, as they waited for the official
program to begin. On a nice warm day, the merchants would
be very busy selling pop and ice cream, not to mention a variety of
candies, suckers and chocolate bars as well as items such as oranges
and hundreds of hot dogs. Even though the prizes awarded
to the winners were chits for food items, the children could not resist
the temptation of the smells and sights and just had to have
some of the good things before the races started.
At approximately 1:00 PM the main organizer, usually the principal,
would get his teachers and other helpers together and they
would walk out to the sports field to begin the various races.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562900

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