Tag: short-story

Savages and Beasts

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Excerpt

“Hey Dylan, after lunch come for your sweet,” George
addressed the old man.
Dylan agreed with a movement of his head and grabbing
a tray he showed to Anton it was time for them to pick their
serving of food.
“He’s a good man,” Dylan said while they were eating, “A
stroke of fate brought him here, like everyone else, I guess…”
“What brought you here Dylan?” Anton’s voice sounded
full of curiosity.
The old man turned his eyes in various directions, from left
to right, even above towards the ceiling before he decided to say, “I
was a fisherman once, back east, in Halifax, when my craziness told
me to go west, to come to the West Coast and go salmon fishing.”
“What happened? Did you ever do that?” Anton wondered.
“No I never made it to the coast…” his voice was interrupted
by the stern voice of the Sister Helen who was on duty
along with Father Thomas; one of them supervised the boys and
the other supervised the girls while they were eating.
“There are no seconds,” father Thomas said to a boy of
about fourteen years of age who looked very tall and skinny.
“But I’m hungry,” the youth protested.
“Stand up and pick your things,” the priest said to the
boy who got up and taking his tray was ready to start walking
towards the counter when father Thomas gave him a hard hit
with his strap. The leather strap hit the boy on the left shoulder;
he abruptly leaned a little to his left and turning toward the priest
one could see his anger on his clenched teeth and fiery eyes; he
was almost ready to hit the priest when the hand of the priest
swung again and the strap hit the arm of the youth once more.
His tray fell on the floor. Noise was heard by all the children who
turned to see what was going on.

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

Still Waters

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Excerpt

His face, which a moment before had been bright and expectant,
lost its glow. “Some other night then?”
“No Cam, I’m sorry I can’t.” She hesitated only briefly. “I have a
boyfriend back home. We’re practically engaged. It wouldn’t be right
for me to date anyone else.” Feeling remorseful when she saw his hurt
look, she added quickly, “Please understand, Cam.”
His smile was gentle, if regretful. “I do understand, Tyne. And it’s
all right, really. My loss.” He held out his hand. “I’m glad we met.
Who knows, someday we may find ourselves working in the same
hospital.”
Tyne had smiled and gripped his hand firmly. “You bet, that would
be great. Goodbye, Cam.”
As she opened the door to 215 on Friday afternoon, she prayed he
would not be in the room.
Arthur Tournquist, in his bathrobe, sat in an easy chair near the
window. Tyne saw immediately that he had a visitor, but not Cam.
The man who turned to face her as she walked through the door was
her father.
“Dad,” she gasped, “what are you doing here?”
He got to his feet and crossed the room to embrace her. “Surprised
you, didn’t I, daughter?” With his arm around her, he led her to the
window and sat down again across from Arthur.
“But I don’t understand,” Tyne said, glancing from one to the other.
“It’s simple enough,” Jeffery Milligan said, “I came to see my old
friend, of course.”
“Oh,” she said, still a little bewildered. She had not realized their
friendship merited a hospital visit from a distance of a hundred and
fifty miles. “But how did you know Mr. Tournquist was ill, Dad?”
“I called him, Miss Milligan. Not to inform him I was ill, particularly,
but to tell him I’d met his lovely daughter.”
Tyne looked at her patient and was surprised to see the mischief
glinting from his eyes – eyes so much like Cam’s.
“I had some business to discuss with my old friend here,” Jeff said,
“and I thought it would be a good chance to see you, too, Tyne. Arthur
tells me you have a day off tomorrow, which works out perfectly.”
Alarm bells immediately sounded in Tyne’s head. Business to discuss?
Had her dad seriously considered Mr. Tournquist’s offer of a job
on the Herald? Would he even consider leaving Emblem and the Echo?

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

Arrows

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Excerpt

“My mother always worked in a household.”
“Why is it bad to ask your name?”
“You didn’t ask my name. Say the words again, and I’ll tell you
what they mean.”
The horse had begun to graze, and Tamanoa took hold of the
bridle again.
“Matircom yeunatir ueipano dauquir” I repeated slowly.
“Breasts, nipples, whore . . .” His voice trailed off as he signalled
the meaning of the last word by pointing to his crotch. “And what
was the other thing you said? Ah, yes. Guecenar onque. That means
give me your . . .” Again his voice trailed off, and he turned and
pointed to his rear end.
Heat rushed to my face. I massaged my eyes with the heels of my
hands and heard him giggle.
Torn between anger and laughter, I laughed. Benjamin, Benjamin.
He had taught me words I would never have dreamed of saying,
and I had repeated them like a parrot. No wonder we had gotten so
many looks. I was laughing so hard I removed myself and my horse
from the convoy.
“It was Benjamin,” I said. “So it’s your turn to help me. How do I
ask your name?”
“It depends. There are Indians from far away who have been
brought here to work, and we all speak different languages. But in
mine it would be atiyeseti?”
“What language is yours?”
“Cumanagoto. Carib. It comes from the eastern coast. It’s the
most common. My mother came from the region of Cumaná.”
“Are the families brought here together? As husband and wife?”
He shook his head. I looked at the Indians around me. That could
explain much of their sullenness.
In the year 1511, the Church had proclaimed the equality of men
and denounced the Spanish debauchery in La Española. But in that
same year, King Fernando El Católico had declared the branding of
cannibals. For the Spaniards, natives out of range of missionary
protection were cannibals. They were raided and sold as slaves.

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

Swamped

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Excerpt

A dark windy night. Eteocles is about three years old, Nicolas five,
and their mother as old as the worry about how to feed her children
has made her, as old as any mother who lives in the ruins of war, a
woman whose husband is on the front line. It is a windy night, and
the gaps in the doors and windows make an apocalyptic music, as if
the inhabitants of this hovel are walking through the hallways of hell.
Eteocles remembers the scene well. They are sitting around the metal
bucket their mother has made into a heating element. She burns
wood in it, and the heat reaches out perhaps a meter all around it.
They are sitting warming themselves, listening to the wrath of the
tempest just a few meters away beyond the frames of the single door
and the courageous window to the north.
Suddenly from the deadly war of the elements outside a sudden
wind floods the room as the door opens. A man stands in the frame
gazing inside. It is their father returning from the war. He stands
there for long time, not knowing what to say, how to greet them; he
hasn’t seen them for twenty-seven long months. Their mother lets
out a cry, a cry that sounds like the name of the standing man, her
husband, the man who had gone to war when Eteocles was just a few
months old. Her husband is home at last, and she gets up and calls
him inside and walks up to him and hugs him with a fierceness that
expresses the emotional volcano boiling inside her. She hugs him for
a long time, then she pulls away, and their father kneels and calls his
sons to him. Neither of them dares approach this stranger. Eteocles
doesn’t know this man at all, while Nicolas, who was three years old
when his father left his sons, perhaps has some faint memory of him.
Neither of the two dares move toward the man in soldier’s clothes
who calls them again and again until Eteocles observes his feet making
small steps toward the open arms of their father and Nicolas follows
soon after. The soldier clings tightly to them, saying words the
two brothers only feel, the soothing words of a father who has missed
his sons, a man who had gone to war without knowing if he would
ever see them again. They feel those words, and they cuddle with the
man who has come inside their house and ignore the wind that has
entered with him and turned the room into a frozen habitat in which
the small metal bucket with the burning wood cannot warm more

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

The Circle

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Excerpt

She cleans up the plates and puts them in the dishwasher to get her mind
away from thoughts that will get her nowhere. Then she gets ready to go to
church for the eleven o’clock service; she hopes Jennifer will come home in the
meantime.

Talal has been up for about an hour. He did his meditating while Helena was still
in bed. He showers, puts the coffeemaker on, and is about to get her up. However,
he finds her awake when he goes into the bedroom.
“Good morning, darling,” she says.
Helena stands five foot ten, a beautiful tall, slender woman with a firm, sexy
body. Talal admires her silhouette as she walks naked to get her robe. He goes
behind her and hugs her, feeling the warmth of her body once more. She rubs
herself against him and laughs.
“Enough of this, mister; it’s time I get ready to go. I have things to do, you
know.”
He lets go of her and pours her coffee black, no sugar. She’s sweet enough. He
smiles at the thought.
They have had a great night of lovemaking; Helena is very devoted to the art
of sex and Talal loved every minute of it. Yet, a number of times during the night,
his mind traveled to an older woman with shoulder-length blonde hair, a firm
body, and a very hungry sexual appetite. He knows her husband is on his way to
work today, and after she goes to church to give the day some holiness, he’s sure
he will be able to see her the same afternoon or, at the latest, tomorrow morning.
He also wants to meet with Hakim some time today after Hakim and Uncle
Ibrahim have had their walk in the park.
Helena hops into the shower when his phone rings. It’s Emily. He doesn’t
remember having given her his phone number.
“Hello, Emily.”
“Hello. I’m sorry I’m calling you at your place.” She sounds apologetic.
“No need to be sorry, are you alright?”
“I’m fine, I’m just fine,” she utters, “I just wanted to hear your voice.” Silence
stops her.
“I’m just fine, and you are fine, so everything is fine. I’ll see you later on,
tomorrow?” he questions her.
“Yes, tomorrow, I guess.” She sounds disappointed.
“I’ll call about ten, okay?”
“Yes, ten sounds okay. Have a good day.”
“You, too.” He puts the phone down.

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

Savages and Beasts

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Excerpt

Absorbed in their work they faintly heard the recess
bell. Children walked out to the schoolyard again. They were
still timid and quiet like the sun behind the clouds that didn’t
dare show itself, same as the light breeze amid the tree leaves
that didn’t know whether to play and create its rustle or to keep
quiet like these hurt and intimidated kids. The savages, Anton
thought, were outside and the civilized and mighty remained
within the walls of this facility. And these civilized and wise
archons had their goal: to educate and make good law abiding
citizens of these brutes, to make them alike themselves so they
could one day go out there and subjugate others, they could one
day go out there and proselytize others to the good word or else.
Anton’s mind ran amok to things unpleasant and cruel,
things these kids were going through at their tender age and
suddenly he revolted at the cruelty of such a system and tears
started flowing down his eyes. He turned aside so Dylan wouldn’t
see him and wiping his eyes with his hand he took a deep breath
that didn’t go unnoticed by the old Irish man.
“What is it Anton?”
“I’m thinking of these kids and my mind went to the
rumors out there, things people talk about. Even the man who
lived under the same roof with you, old Simon, I often meet him
at the diner.”
“That drunkard? He’s of no good. He’s only good when
he prepares the traditional haggis during the Robby Burn’s day
annual festival. He’s no good for nothing else. He’s just a big
mouth that’s who he is, nothing more.”
“He sounded so convincing each time he spoke about these
kids in this school and the archons over them. He sounded so
convincing and he insisted of the cruel ways the church people go
after these children.

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

Arrows

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Excerpt

I helped him up and guided him to a seat on top of the same barrel
he had supposedly broken. His weight caused the wine to pour out
even faster. Without a word, I turned to Benjamin and offered him a
hand.
“The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good.”
I smiled, extending my hand further. “I apologize for the push; I
didn’t think I could stop you otherwise.”
His eyes darted from my face to my hand, and he took it with a
grunt. I smiled even more, digging my heels to support his weight as
he stood up. I patted him on the shoulder. I was getting rather good
at applying Bartolomé’s persuasive techniques.
“The barrel must have been damaged already,” I said. “You do
realize it could not have been broken by this little fall alone, don’t
you? Please, don’t hurt him or anyone else again.”
Benjamin put a hand on his dagger and leered at the Indian, who
was already picking up the damaged barrel and loading it onto his
narrow shoulders. He was lean and small, the barrel undeniably big
for him.
I met Bartolomé’s eyes, intense and darkened by the shadow of
his scowl in the dawn’s dim light. The corner of his mouth twitched,
and he gave me an imperceptible nod.
“Back to work!” he bellowed.
I felt ashamed for all of us. It sickened me to realize that every
man among us, even Benjamin, someone who had a tendency to be
jovial, was inclined towards cruelty towards the Indians, as if by
some pre-ordained right.

Soon it was almost time to leave Borburata for the city of El Tocuyo.
We would be a party of ten men on horseback, one hundred Indian
servants, fifty tame Indian warriors and three hundred head of
livestock.
The horse they offered me must have been the oldest quadruped
ever to walk under the sun, and a moody one at that. It glared at me.

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

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

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Excerpt

He ran to the first aid clinic next door. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“There’s been an accident on the road,” the medic said.
“What sort of accident?”
“A tractor-trailer jackknifed and went off the road.”
“Anyone else involved?”
“A pickup truck. There’s other help coming from town.”
Ken’s skin crawled. He forced the bile in his throat back down into his
gut and ran back to the lab, yelling through the door to John that he was
going to check on Jessica and her family. He cranked up the truck, his
heart pounding, an unnameable fear rising in his chest. He put his foot to
the floor, the truck careening around potholes and over the rutted washboard
road. About thirty miles down the road he saw the flashing lights.
He pulled up, got out of the truck and ran to the RCMP car parked at the
edge of the road. Below him, at the bottom of the embankment, amid the
jagged broken-up pieces of the semi, the pickup burned. Shaking beyond
control, Ken ran, stumbling and sliding down the steep slope. The young
RCMP officer he had met previously was struggling back up toward him.
He held up his hand. “Don’t go down there!” he shouted to Ken.
Ken stumbled toward him.
“Don’t go down there!” He yelled, again.
The officer grabbed at Ken’s shirt. Ken spun away. “Is the pickup blue?”
he shouted.
“I don’t know.” The officer said.
“How many people are in the truck?”
“I don’t know.”
“How many people in the god damned truck?” Ken screamed.
“Three, I think.”
“What do you mean, you think?”
“Don’t go down there, the officer pleaded. “Please don’t go down there.”
Ken ran down; tripped, fell, rolled, picked himself up and scrambled
down. He stopped when he hit the wall of heat bursting from the truck.
The flames were dying; the truck was gutted. But what he saw was a vision
he would spend the rest of his life trying to erase from his mind – a scene
that would come to him in nightmares over and over, until sleep meant
nothing but reliving the carnage – pieces of charred bodies inside the truck
– one of them still wearing a piece of fringed and beaded leather jacket.
I have spent so much of my life trying to contain these feelings – to deal
with these things. For a person of that age I had seen far too much death. I
was born to it – born in it. Anyone looking at me – coming from the right
side of the tracks, from a privileged family – anyone who would imagine the
sort of life a person like that would have would be completely off the mark.
So, I have to deal with these feelings very severely because I can’t make the
pictures go away. They don’t go away.

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

Swamped

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Excerpt

that he had truly learned how to cook. Jonathan and Logan cleaned
up the table, took the dishes to the sink and rinsed them, and Alex
loaded them in the dishwasher, while Eteo went to his office to make
a few phone calls to inform more clients about the new Target Resources
company and the shares he recommended for them. Meanwhile
Jonathan sat down at the family room table and did some
homework while Logan went out to meet his new flame, as he called
his new girlfriend, and Alexander got busy with his play station.

Next day Eteo arrived in the office at 6:10, well before Helena, but almost
as soon as he turned his computer on, Logan walked in. Herbert
was not far behind, smiling and chuckling.
“Let’s look at the opening orders” he said to Eteo and stood behind
him. Eteo went to the page that showed the buying and selling
orders for Platinum Properties. Pointing to two orders from Pacific
Trends, he confirmed to Herbert that they were both his orders.
“Could I buy a few more shares, Eteo, before these two orders?”
“We bought you some yesterday morning, remember?”
“Yes, I know, and here is my cheque, by the way.” Herbert handed
Eteo a cheque for yesterday’s purchase and what he was planning to
buy today. “For another 30,000 shares,” he explained.
Eteo wrote the buying order and turned to his client.
“I should go to the trading desk to instruct the head trader in
person about who’s first and who’s second. I’ll be right back.”
He needed to get to the trading desk quickly. It was almost time
for the opening bell. By the time he got back to his office, trading had
begun and a beaming Herbert had his extra 30,000 shares. With that,
the always smiling investor walked out, though not before promising
to keep Eteo in the loop.
The rest of the morning unfolded like any other trading day.
Eteo’s other orders were in line, and he steadily picked up more shares
of Platinum Properties and allocated them to the six clients he had
selected while keeping a steady eye on the price of the stock, which
moved up slightly into the low forties.

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

The Circle

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Excerpt

with Hakim the next morning or early afternoon. The Admiral, who is also ready
to go, stands up. Matthew escorts them to their limo, which has been parked in
the street, and shakes hands with Ibrahim.
“Thank you very much for coming over. I hope everything turns out well
with your tests. I look forward to seeing you again soon.” Then turning to the
Admiral, he adds, “I’ll see you Monday, Bevan. Thank you for coming over.”
“See you on Monday, Matt. Thanks for everything.”
Night arrives with her dark colors to replace the light of day and to inspire
the poet’s stanzas once again. Helena wants to go; she has a few things to do
before going out on Saturday night, and she wants Talal to take her home.
Peter and Rose have already gone. Hakim would like to go as well; however,
Jennifer keeps him for a while as her mom starts cleaning up from the party.
Matthew is eager to talk to Emily again about Hakim and he can’t wait until
everyone is gone. Talal has enjoyed the commotion of the party and exchanges
looks with Emily, who is still in seventh heaven just having him around her all
afternoon and evening.
Talal sits next to Hakim for a while in the living room when Hakim says to him,
“You won’t believe what my uncle told me.”
“What?”
“You know the company I work for. A year and a half ago he put up the
money and we bought shares when the company did a small financing. The
shares trade these days at more than ten times the investment. When I
mentioned the value of the stock to him, he said I can do whatever I want with
the money. He says all the money is mine. He wants me to keep it for myself.”
Talal looks deep in Hakim’s eyes and says, “You don’t even know half of what
Uncle Ibrahim has for you. I have a small number of the same shares and
Ibrahim paid for them as well. How do you think I pay my bills without a job? I
sell shares here and there to get by.”
It’s not that Hakim has never thought of what would happen to Ibrahim’s
money when he dies. He has thought of it a number of times because he knows
Ibrahim and Auntie Mara have no children of their own. He knows his uncle is
worth a lot of money, and now he has confirmation even from his buddy, Talal.
But today’s news has still caught him by surprise, and suddenly he realizes he’s
not a poor man anymore, but a millionaire.
“What else does Ibrahim have; what do you mean?”
“What is important is that you take care of yourself here in the United States
and make sure you get ready to take over for him when the time comes. Never
forget where we come from and where our loyalty lies—to Ibrahim, to our
homeland, to our people, to our future. Everything will fall into place sooner or

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