Tag: short-story

The Circle

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Excerpt

He gets the Admiral a beer and, for Ibrahim, a glass of water as he requested.
Emily is obviously surprised with the arrival of Hakim’s uncle, as she had
thought only Bevan was coming. Bevan’s was the first invitation she sent out.
“I decided to surprise you with an extra guest. This is a very good friend of
mine from the old days. I met Ibrahim in Baghdad many years ago,” Bevan says
to Emily.
Hakim takes his uncle aside because he needs to be with him for a few
minutes alone. Jennifer catches them as they walk away.
“Hi honey, are you going to introduce me to your uncle?” she asks.
Hakim smiles and introduces them. His uncle takes Jennifer’s hand and, the
same as with her mother, kisses it politely.
“I’m quite happy to meet you, Jennifer. I see my nephew has made a very
good choice.”
“I’m very happy to meet you, too, sir,” she replies. Her cheeks blush.
The three stroll around the yard for a few minutes. Hakim is eager to
know more about his uncle’s health, but he knows it will be hard to find out
surrounded by people at a party, that will carry on for the next few hours. He
goes along with the old man who wants to sit down for a while. Jennifer
brings a chair for him from inside the house and places it in the shade of the
big maple.
Ibrahim smiles at her and Hakim, and says, “Young lady, you are an angel,
thank you kindly.”
She smiles back at him and takes Hakim’s hand. He doesn’t object and all
three sit by the big maple tree talking about the non-serious things that keep
this world going around without getting bored. The ever-watchful eyes of the
maple keep them company, and before the feelings of revenge that enter and
exit Hakim’s mind became a thorn on the stem of a beautiful rose, the
watchful eyes of the maple turn and the tender sight of Ibrahim softens his
thoughts. The pleasant, warm afternoon, and a light breeze coming from the
Southeastern horizon, along with the flowers’ scent from the beds of the
garden complements the area around the guests with the fragrance of lilac and
honeysuckle.
Ibrahim turns to Hakim.
“How is your work going, my son? Are you happy here? Would you like to try
something different? There are ways, you know.”
For the second time, he’s caught unprepared for this questioning, as if his
uncle knows things that are happening or are about to happen, of which Hakim is
not yet aware.
“Why are you asking me this, my uncle?”

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

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

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Excerpt

“Grab a coffee and shut the door,” the manager said. When he was sure
no one could hear, he said, “I’ll hire you.”
“Sure,” Ken said. “That’s fine, but let’s sort this out first. I’ll keep your
offer as an ace in the hole.”
Later that day a small plane landed at the airstrip, disgorging the owner
of the company and his entourage, who commandeered an office and
closed the door. Ken slammed the door open and strode into the room.
One man jumped to his feet and tried to usher Ken out. “No,” he said,
shaking the man off. “If this is about me, I’m going to have my say. You
don’t hire an engineer. You don’t have one on the job, but you expect the
job to get done. I’ve learned how to do it. I’m doing it and what’s more,
ask yourself, is there any single thing wrong in the information provided?
Show me one thing that is incorrect – just one! I know you can’t. The
other question I have, is why am I doing the job of four to five men and
getting paid for one? I’m glad I’m fired. It feels good. Have a nice time!”
Ken slammed out of the room, as boldly as he had entered, got in the
truck, and drove back to Jessica’s house. He was nearing the gate when
he spotted the camp manager in his rear view mirror. Ken stopped and
waited for him to pull alongside.
“Are you fired?” he asked.
“I haven’t a damned clue and I don’t care. I’m having a good time.”
“Let me know immediately,” he said. “I’ll get you on the payroll right
away.”
“How much?” Ken asked.
“What are you making now?”
“That’s got nothing to do with it.”
“Well what do you want?”
“When I know what I want I’ll tell you. Right now I don’t want anything.”
Late that evening John came to the log house with the news that the
entire issue had been smoothed over. He had told the owner that he was
the one who had taught Ken how to use a slide rule, and that everything
had been done correctly. They had screwed up in head office, not Ken.
The camp manager had also spoken on his behalf. In fact, John said, it
was a lovefest. “Everyone’s in love with you. And the owner of the company
looks like a dummy. Of course, he’s not – he’s a smart guy but he had
no idea what was going on. He has a lot of other companies to look after.
But this is a big project with a lot of contracts. No one wants to look like
an idiot. But, everybody’s happy now!”
“Well, isn’t that wonderful!” Ken said. “I’m not happy!”
“But it’s okay – you’re supposed to come back,” John said.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Ken said. “I’ve been fired.”
“So what do we do?”

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

Arrows

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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

He Rode Tall

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Excerpt

The land, the buildings, all of that old
equipment, and the horses. Heck, you wouldn’t even have to
unpack. I’ll write you the check right now and you can cash it at the
bank on the way through town as you head back to the city.”
Joel could have very easily taken the money. Heaven knows he
could use it. He really didn’t have anything that was stopping him
from accepting the offer. And 60,000 dollars could go a long ways
in Costa Rica, or wherever he ended up. Maybe he could even buy
a nice little bar on a sandy beach to keep himself occupied. He
could see himself passing out cool cervezas and renting out
sea-doos to tourists. Or maybe just passing out. That sure would
have been his preferred behavior in the past. But there were a few
things bothering him about the offer. First of all, he just didn’t like
Buck Smith. Secondly, from what Smith had to say, there probably
wouldn’t be a place for Harry in the Buck Smith Ranch Corporation.
Thirdly, the offer just came too easy, and if Joel was any judge
of character, the offer was probably significantly below market
value. Joel was feeling confused. He knew that life was all about
the choices we make, and right now, it seemed as if he was faced
with a big choice. He could either sell the Circle H to Buck Smith
for 60,000 dollars or he could be a stubborn son-of-a-gun and try to
make a go of it in this god-forsaken country.
The consequences were obvious. On the one hand, he could
have the bar on the beach in Costa Rica with the scantily dressed
babes, and on the other hand, he could have a grizzled-up old
ranch-hand and a bunch of horses. What the hell was he thinking?
One thing he knew for sure—right now, standing in the
sparse and desolate yard of the rundown Circle H, there was a
battle going on inside of him between his head and his heart. And
he didn’t know which was winning.
“Let me think it over,” Joel said.
“Think it over. Hell, man. What is there to think over? This is a
good offer and there just aren’t any other buyers for a small
standalone place like this. Besides that, your dad and I had it all
arranged.”

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

The Circle

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Excerpt

he hugs each one and says, “Hi”. Hakim kisses her and says, “Well, today
is the day. Today, I’ll meet your father.”
“I know, honey. Come, I’ll introduce you to him.”
She takes them to the backyard, where some people have already gathered.
She finds her father and says, “Dad, this is Hakim.”
Matthew looks at Hakim as if inspecting him, and with a broad smile on his
face, says pleasantly, “Well, well! I finally get to meet you, Hakim. It’s my
pleasure. I have heard quite a lot about you.”
Hakim looks at him and responds, “Thank you, Mr. Roberts. The pleasure is
mine, and happy birthday.”
“Oh, no need for formality. Matthew, is good enough.” Matthew says.
Jennifer introduces Talal to her father as well. They shake hands, and
Matthew turns and hugs Helena, waiting patiently for her turn.
“Happy birthday, Matt,” she says.
“Thank you very much, Helena. Thank you, all. Please, feel free, and have a
drink. Enjoy the party.”
Talal turns and walks away toward the house, hoping to find Emily among all
the other people, but he can’t see her anywhere in the backyard. Seeing Matthew
for the first time, he sees a person very committed to his work, and Talal
appreciates this in any man. But, from Emily’s comments, Talal gathers that this
man thinks of work, work, and nothing else. He goes inside and finds Emily in
the kitchen talking to a friend. She looks so pretty, to him. She sees him and calls
him over.
“Cathy, this is Talal, a good friend of Jennifer’s and a good friend of
Hakim’s. They came together from Iraq to study here and have done very well.”
Talal takes Cathy’s hand and kisses it, as is his custom.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Cathy.”
“You, too, Talal.”
Emily follows him toward the kitchen sink and says, “Oh, Cathy, dear, could
you please take this platter outside and place it with the rest of the food?”
showing her friend the last cheese platter.
Cathy takes the platter and steps outside, while Talal goes to Emily’s side
in the kitchen and touches her buttocks as he passes, making her feel a shiver
through her spine. She gives him a beautiful smile and blows a kiss toward
him, and he smiles back, winks, sends her a kiss through the air, and goes
outside.
Emily is left there, overpowered by her emotions, and so excited she feels that
she wants him, now. Yet, she knows that cannot happen, not now, not today. Is
she ever going to enjoy him the same way she enjoyed him the other day?

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

Arrows

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Excerpt

Despite it all, I felt gratified to be useful. Rats were a frequent
nuisance on ships; they woke us up at night, walked on us, dug their
teeth into our flesh. Many sacks had holes, and in some the rats were
still feeding. What to do? Benjamin was wiggling a stick in his hand.
He snuffled repeatedly while throwing me a similar weapon.
We took the hideous fruits of our slaughter to the upper deck,
spilling them overboard. The bodies of the rats floated on the surface
until two small sharks appeared and devoured them.
“Do what’s bad and expect it back,” Benjamin said, waving an
accusatory finger at the rats. I couldn’t tell whether he was joking.
Normally he was laughing. His eyes turned into a glittering line
whenever he laughed—but for several hours he had seemed almost
despondent.
“Something bothering you, my friend?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I’ve been from here to there and back all my life,
not knowing where night would find me. I thought life at sea would
be better, but . . . I should never have come.”
Our work together below decks had brought us together. This
was a different sort of confessional than I was accustomed to
hearing. I felt the solution was not necessarily in God’s hands.
“Why don’t you come with me to join the expedition? I’m sure
they will need a strong man like you.”
He looked up, eyes brighter, then his shoulders slumped again.
“I’ve signed on for five years with the captain,” Benjamin said. “I
have to stay.”
“You leave that one to me,” I said. And so devised a simple plan,
knowing I would soon be losing my brother’s companionship.
Although I felt I did not need my older brother as a protector, I knew
Bartolomé liked to feel he was necessary to me in that way.
Therefore, if Benjamin went to Bartolomé and volunteered to act as
my guardian in the New World, my brother might allow Benjamin
to leave the ship to accompany me, for my benefit…

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

Jazz with Ella

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Excerpt

The tour wound up at the fairground’s major landmark—an impressive communications tower. Natasha launched into her set speech. Several of the group yawned.
“Excuse me, Natasha,” interrupted Ted. “In Toronto, we’re just now building a free-standing tower like this one—for telecommunications. It’ll be the tallest in the world.” He beamed proudly, removing his baseball cap and flicking one hand through his curly hair.
For a split second Natasha’s face twisted in rage. Colour rushed to her cheeks and she drew up her chin.
My god, I think she’s going to explode, thought Jennifer. Several of the students backed away hurriedly.
“How many metres?” Natasha snapped.
“Oh, well, I’m not sure…”
“Ah.” Recovering, Natasha smiled triumphantly. “But this one has a restaurant at the top…that revolves.” Ted smiled and shut his mouth.
“I thought she’d lost it that time,” Paul muttered to Jennifer. “Have you noticed how touchy the Soviets are when you criticize—or even make a suggestion that anything could be wrong in their country?”
“Yeah, they’re pretty defensive.”
“I’m too tired to take in any more,” Paul continued. “Let’s zap over to that ice cream stand and sit on the grass for a while.” The two slipped away and were not surprised to see Lona and David following them.
“Whoo,” David shuddered, sprawling beside the others to suck on a strawberry cone. “You have to have the constitution of a bear to see this country right.”
“I hear we’re going to visit an elementary school tomorrow,” said Lona. “I think I’ll pass and go to the Trediakovsky Art Gallery instead. I must see the Rublev icons.” She rearranged her cream linen suit and settled gingerly on the grass.
“I’d like to meet the children,” Jennifer said mildly, dusting off her faded blue jeans. She was aware that she was supposed to be supervising this unruly crowd, but she was torn. In her opinion they were over-supervised between Natasha’s military command and Chopyk’s academic requirements. Fortunately, this morning the professor had dashed off on his own errand, putting her in charge. Surely the students could be allowed to explore at their own pace? That’s what immersion in a country was all about, wasn’t it?

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

Swamped

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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

He Rode Tall

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Excerpt

Joel wasn’t sure what it was, but somehow he had connected
with the peace and tranquility of the land. He was wondering
if there wasn’t some way he could make a go of the Circle
H. Joel knew that he had lost his soul a lot of years ago, but now,
maybe just maybe, he had found his soul in the hills.
“So who is this Smith character?” inquired Joel.
“Big rancher. Moved in about ten years ago and hasn’t stopped
buying since. Must control almost the entire county. Between
what he has already put his hands on and what he has tied up in
first right of refusals he pretty well owns Sweetwater Country.
They say he runs over 5,000 head.”
Even Joel knew that 5,000 head was a lot of anything let alone
cows. Anyone who has enough land to feed that many cattle
would be just about as close to a king as you could get in this dry
country.
By now, Harry had run out of chores to do and things to tinker
with so he slowly turned to face Joel. It was then that Joel clearly
saw the withered, weather-stained face of the man he was speaking
with. Joel couldn’t help but think that Harry’s head was too
big for the size of his body. His tiny frame carried maybe 140
pounds, none of it fat. With a thirty-inch waist, this ranch hand
of fifty or sixty, or was it seventy, years appeared to be in excellent
condition. His face featured a big nose, ears the size of tea saucers,
and an abundance of thick black hair. And his hands. His
hands were those of a worker and his big head seemed out of proportion
to the size of his lithe body.
“Lives over there,” offered Harry.
“Over where?” asked Joel, almost forgetting who it was that
they were talking about.
“The Buck Smith Ranch Corporation Headquarters are just
over those hills. Maybe a mile across.”
“Then we are neighbours.”
“Might say that. A mile across the hills but must be ten miles
around on the roads. Don’t see much of them over here. Just
their cows all over the hills.”

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

Arrows

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Excerpt

I gripped the lifelines, my habit soaked and
pasted to my body. He shook his head and curled his mouth as he
placed his bare feet on the steps.
Bartolomé glared when I came up to the quarterdeck. He and the
helmsman were fighting with the long tiller to steer the Isabella who
was surfing a wave downwind with increasing speed. He was too
busy to pay me attention.
I could see he was thinking hard, for he had seen men break their
bones when propelled by the long tiller as the waves jerked the
rudder.
The pilot concentrated on the movements of the needle in the
compass set in a wooden box fixed onto the binnacle. A sailor tried
to record the time and course while another minded the sandglass.
Every man there had a duty to perform; all others were tucked away
in the relative safety of the ship’s innards. Bartolomé chewed his
inner cheek, as he always did when considering his options.
The visibility was nil, no other ships were in sight. Every vessel
was on its own now, each full of men fighting for their lives and
praying, the galleons surely better off than the Isabella. They didn’t
have the wretched high castles fore and aft, taking all the wind and
making the vessel ungovernable.
Bartolomé growled, covering his eyes with one hand and
lowering his head without releasing his grip on the tiller. I saw his
lips move silently amid the roar of wind and sea. He could attune his
senses to the mood of the wind, feeling it on his nape, sniffing it out
of the air, hearing it on the sails and rigging.
Bartolomé knew I was adamant about staying on deck; nothing
short of an angel or God’s thunderous voice would send me down.
He aimed a sullen glare in my direction and yelled to the sailor
minding the sandglass to pass me a coil of line. I caught it in the air
and fumbled, keeping an eye out for waves until I found the end of
it. Bartolomé motioned me to bring it around my waist. I managed a
knot above my Franciscan cord and tied myself to the rail as the
others were to the binnacle, but he sighed, nodded to the pilot, let go
of the tiller and came to tie the knot to his liking.

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