Tag: writing

Swamped

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excerpt

and as the time approached for the bell to announce the end of trading,
he called Rebecca Horton and suggested they meet at Da Carlo’s,
to which she agreed.
When they met Rebecca in the lounge of the restaurant, Eteo
hugged her. Her body, firm and willing, excited him, and he remembered
when Rebecca had told him about travelling to Crete the summer
after her graduation and the great time she had had there with
the Cretan lover she had met there and would never forget. Eteo had
joked at the time that Cretan men knew how to make a woman happy
and since then they had developed a relationship, a strange one since
Rebecca was a married woman now, but her desire for a Cretan man
had remained in her mind and Eteo was the only Cretan man around.
at was their secret pact, and whenever the opportunity came along,
they enjoyed each other in the fullest of ways.
She was hot today, with an obvious fire burning in her eyes, a
flaming, dark red lipstick and a body that moved next to Eteo in an
outrightly sensual way. As they talked, he couldn’t take his mind away
from the desire to have her today. They sat close to each other and
ordered a drink, but business had to take priority.
“Talk to me” Rebecca said.
“I have a small group I can use to raise a couple of hundred thousand
dollars,” Eteo replied, “and I have a good property from George
Beaton. He assures me it will go through very easily.”
“So you want to put together a new shell company.”
“Yes, and I have the directors. You know my people.”
Rebecca frowned at this.
“You think I shouldn’t use my regulars?” Eteo asked her.
“Well, investors keep an eye on who’s in there, and they tend to
dislike the same people as directors, especially when they aren’t as
qualified. Remember the article that came out lately?”
Rebecca had a valid point. Eteo remembered the article very well.
It was by a well-known VSE critic, George Gains, and had appeared
prominently in the business section of the Vancouver Sun. Gains was
famous for reporting everything and anything he could learn about
the low-lives that run around law firms and brokerages hatching
shady deals.

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

Missa Bestialis

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The World I Have Arrived From
from dusk to dawn
from dawn to dusk
the same thing I’ve heard on all radio stations
I could no longer stop the device
to interrupt myself I could not do it –
my angry eyes flash
I look around
at the slattern world where
such as my ancestors’ sins
humbly I’ve tried to feel at home
hatred was boiling within me:
in tin pots pooped diapers
trapped the boar thrust its fangs
in its own body
sympathetic and in amazement
speechless
in pubs beautiful boar trophies
stared at me forcing me
that again through their eyes
I look at myself
his fiery sword in paradise
obliged me in the heat of the hangover
he thought of the taste of the apple
what else could be more delicious
than drained pressed guaranteed
lower prices
and only the spoiled God knows
a sickened face and which sin
they caught the fly webbed in honey
the chill of terror
accompanied me out of
the mazy ruin of upsets
where even the dead-end streets have exits
until I struggled with my
unknotted shoelaces
and the last guest bid farewell
slurping the last drop of alcohol off huckleberries
from glasses filthy with fingerprints
I hated them
that with all my might against the wall
I hit my head
I abandoned my body weakened of pain
I ran off and
once more I sat on the cliff tilted toward the valley
I waited
for the phantom to come closer but I couldn’t see it
magnificent the sunset
on the canvas of my sights and mane’s aura
dragging silky doilies
came toward me and
with my eyes goggling
I stared but I could not discern its features
although familiar
I’ve tried to remember and
more impatiently I was waiting
for the date
I stood up
then sat down
I rubbed my hands
and bit my lips
and when the vivid red jelly of the dusk
came closer to me
it sank on the dark falling curtain
only onesmiling star coldly shone
I shivered in the thin coat
and to rest I receded
in fact I converted myself
although peace was not eager to settle
but unleashed monsters
that greeted us
emerging from the unfathomable
mist of the matter and
I had already run among houses
under the heavy silence
and I tried to scream
over sleepy towns
but I’d forgotten the words
that in such occasions were appropriate
I yelped like a newborn puppy
tardy passers-by
eyed me with compassion
hurriedly going before me
to their homes or someone else’s
the night turned colder
I grabbed my Chinese agenda
I searched a familiar name
a number I could dial
strangers were moving at the other
end of the line ( ) the laugh of nothingness
God frowning looked at me
from the menacing tower
high above me He yelped
that even the vagabond cats hissed
their tails between their legs
jumped and disappeared in their dark
nooks and the world I have arrived from
after closing time, the world
I searched for was
a place where ________

Still Waters

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excerpt

to the look on Morley’s face. He looked down at her with a frown,
clearly bewildered. The expressions on Mr. and Mrs. Cresswell’s faces
showed that they simply had no idea what was going on. Tyne
could not see Aunt Millie until she turned her head. Then she almost
gasped at the look of outrage on the older woman’s flushed face.
“No,” Tyne said stiffly, “I didn’t know. Cam and I have no reason to
be in touch. But I can see how pleased you must be, Mrs. Tournquist,
that your son is coming home.” She then turned to her mother with a
forced smile. “I’ll probably be going closer to home myself now that
graduation is over. I think I’d like to work in a small hospital.”
Emily Milligan’s mouth curved in a sudden smile; then she glanced at
her husband and quickly sobered. He wore the same expression of outrage
as his sister had a moment earlier, but for quite a different reason.
The remainder of the evening became a blur to Tyne. She barely
remembered thanking her host and hostess, and saying goodnight to
her family as they left for their hotel. She remembered Aunt Millie
whispering in her ear as she hugged her, “Good night, sweet graduate.
We’ll see you in the morning before we leave.” 


Morley drove his dad’s car through the city streets with uncharacteristic
silence. Mr. Cresswell, sitting in the back seat beside his
wife remained strangely silent, too. Only Rose Cresswell seemed not
to be affected by the events of the last few hours. She did her best
to keep the conversation flowing, and Tyne found herself answering
mechanically. At the entrance to their hotel, Morley helped his parents
out of the car while Tyne got out to shake hands with them, and
thank them for coming to her graduation.
Back in the car Morley drove for several blocks in silence, concentrating
on the unfamiliar city streets. Finally, when she no longer had
to direct him, Tyne chanced to speak.
“Is something the matter, Morley? You’ve been very quiet. Did
something at the Tournquists’ upset you?”
“I think you know, Tyne,” he said quietly.
“Do you mean that business about Cameron Tournquist coming
to the Holy Cross to intern?”
He nodded, grim-faced.
“But Morley, that has nothing to do with me. I personally don’t

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

He Rode Tall

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Maybe, thought Joel. But, on the other hand, what price can you
put on a palomino filly that allowed a young girl to find herself?
“Sorry, Mr. Schwartz. I appreciate your offer, but the filly is no
longer for sale.”
Joel quickly jogged the buckskin to catch up with Tanya, who
was way ahead of him by now. When they got back to the barn
they gave each other big hugs and lots of words of celebration,
telling each other how well they had done. Their section of the
barn, which until now was a very quiet and practically abandoned
aisle with no other horses and no traffic, all of a sudden filled
with lots of people to congratulate Joel and Tanya and take a look
at the horses.
And that was just the start. With Friday being just the first of
the three-day show, Tanya and Joel continued their success.
Tanya took first-place on both Saturday and Sunday to sweep the
show. And Joel came in as the runner-up both days.
After the show was over, Joel could tell that he had witnessed
something special. This really wasn’t the end of a show for his
young partner, but the start of her career. With her momentum,
he wondered how far she could go.
It was late on Sunday when they loaded up and pulled out of
the show grounds. Joel guided the old truck and the trailer out of
Great Falls and then they realized that they hadn’t eaten since
noon; they were both running on adrenaline. It would be a few
hours before they would even be home for a midnight snack, so
they decided to stop at the diner at the last gas station on the edge
of the city. Even though it was late, the kitchen was still open and
there was one waitress on duty. Joel’s finances were tight and he
had to figure out his next move soon, but for now, they both
deserved a decent celebratory meal.
Over dinner, Tanya said, “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask
you: as you came out of the ring on the first day of the show, what
was that conversation that you had with Mary Lou’s husband?”
“Oh, nothing really,” replied Joel.
“Come on now. You can’t do that. What did he say to you?”

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

Savages and Beasts

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For now, let us have our supper; come wife get the table
going,” he addressed his wife who was waiting for their word
before she put the table together.
They ate their supper in utter silence; each in their
thoughts: Anton’s mind ran to Mary and the light touch of her
body, which brought a faint smile on his face; his father’s mind
ran to the Indian Residential School and the monsters who have
managed it up to now and the church’s role in all this; Anton’s
mother’s mind ran to the peaceful retirement they might have
come time when her husband would make up his mind to put his
papers in; he wasn’t of excellent heath either and it was time for
him to take it easy, something he despised and always reminded
her that he had no hobbies, other than reading books, and retirement
could be a fast walk towards death; he had followed the
statistics which he had studied and which never lied, as he often
said to his wife, to be sure, most of his pals at work had died
within a year or two after retirement.
Silence the queen of the evening was still in control of
their house when they finished their supper; Anton’s father
took the diary and went to sit by the window. He opened it and
started reading the entries from the beginning. Anton helped
his mother with the dishes before he took his truck and drove
to Molly’s diner; he briefed Molly about Dylan’s heart attack.
Dylan’s buddy, Simon, the drunkard was there and said he was
so sorry Dylan had a heart attack and asked how serious it was;
Anton said to them it was serious enough to make the doctors
keep him there for the angiogram that was to be performed early
tomorrow. The drunkard shook his head in disbelief that all these
things were taking place and how could his buddy get out of this
calamity that struck him.

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

The Circle

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excerpt

“Matthew,” she yells, but hears no answer.
She walks upstairs to their bedroom. Everything is the way she left it before
going out. She goes toward the bathroom and before entering, sees his body
through the half-opened door.
“Oh, my God!” she yells to herself. “Oh my God, Matthew…” She leans
against the door frame of the bathroom. “Oh, my God, you found the courage for
that!” It seems as if she’s waiting for an answer from her dead husband.
She lets her body slide down along the door frame to the floor of the bathroom,
and sits staring at him. All the clocks of the world suddenly stop, and Emily
Roberts exists in a timeless state, in a condition of self-absorption and
contemplation, as if amid the petals of a diaphanous flower, or amid the thorns of
a crown an invisible hand has placed on top of her head, and her blood begins to
trickle down her forehead like in a crucifixion. Then suddenly, time strikes loudly
on her left tympanum and pierces her head to the right, making her blink as if
trying to find consolation among the myriad bad thoughts flooding her mind. The
world doesn’t have any consolation for Emily Roberts, not now, not at this
moment, not today. The world has turned into a new purgatory and Emily floats
like a masked misery searching for the proper face. She feels an inexplicable
numbness; not hatred anymore, not anger, not joy—but a feeling of immense
freedom from the chain she has dragged for such a long time. She feels no pain, but
what is it she feels? Is she filled with fear or is she light as a feather, like a free
butterfly flitting from one flower to the other? Time strikes again as if hitting a
loud cymbal and brings her back to this world where she has things to do. She
needs to call Jennifer; she needs to call the police; perhaps she has to call Bevan;
and yes, she needs to call Talal. Oh, God, how she needs to call him now.
She runs downstairs and picks up the phone.
She dials Talal’s number first.
He answers, “hi, sweetheart, what’s up?”
“Matthew. Matthew is dead.”
“What? How? Are you okay? I’m coming right over. Stay calm, I’ll be right
there.”
She dials Jennifer’s cell number.
Jennifer answers, “hi mom, how are you?”
“Sweetheart, it’s your dad. Come home, please. Your dad is dead.”
Jennifer is with Hakim in Ibrahim’s hotel room. They have helped him from the
clinic to his suite at the Sheraton. She’s flabbergasted hearing about her dad being
dead. She says aloud, “What happened? How? I’m coming home, right now.”
Hakim, who has overheard, says, “What happened? Is everything alright?”
“No honey, I have to go home, right now, please. My dad is dead.”

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

Arrows

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Worry over everybody’s salvation overwhelmed me. At the
moment, my own salvation seemed too big a task. I relaxed in the
current and let my body drift as I focused on an old Christmas
anthem. Humming, I sunk my head until only my face broke the
surface, and relished in the gurgling of the water below and the
expanse of mottled sky above framed by brilliant green trees.
Some time later, I pulled myself toward shore, with the water
under my chin. There was no doubt in my mind where I had left my
clothes, but they were not there.
A small monkey darted from one bush to another with my frock
trailing behind him. I scrambled out of the water and picked up the
rosary where I had left it hanging from a branch. I found my
undergarments and shoulder cape muddied near the bushes. I put
on my pants, and, just as I tied the laces and started off in pursuit, a
rustle in the bushes cut me short. I was not at all prepared for such
unadorned beauty.
It was a young woman. Her large eyes reminded me of the sun
drowning in the sea, the moment of its most striking beauty. They
glittered, and I could see the light of her gaze sparkling on the ocean
between us. Her giggle broke the spell; two dimples appeared at the
corners of her mouth. Her teeth were even and white, like pearls.
She offered me my frock and I remembered I was almost naked.
The monkey ran out of the bushes and climbed up her arm,
perching on her shoulder. She was so fulfilling to look at, I almost
resented the monkey’s familiarity.Atiara of yellow flowers adorned
the head of that wild Aphrodite; her long hair was like braided
streams rushing down chocolate-capped mountains.
A stream of words tinkled from the sweetest smile. She offered
me my frock, and the movement of her arm tore my eyes from her
face. She pinched her nose and shook her head, but drifted toward
me nonetheless.
I recovered my frock and balled it up like a buckler, for she was
now close enough for the warmth of her breath to cause the hairs of
my nape to stand up on end. I stiffened as her hands came up to my
face. She kept on talking. I listened to the inflections of her girlish

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

Still Waters

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excerpt

man of the board. As she returned to her place, she blinked back
tears. Suddenly, the stress and excitement of the last few days – even
the last few months – overwhelmed her. The culmination of three
years of nurses’ training, the anxiety over her parents’ animosity towards
the man she loved, the disappointment that one of her two
best friends could not be graduating tonight, all gathered into a river
of tears that rose in Tyne’s throat and threatened to gush from her
eyes. Panicked, she darted a glance at Moe, and was saved by another
broad wink and a cheeky grin from her friend.
Good old Moe. Thank you, kid.
As graduate after graduate walked to the podium, Tyne tried not
to think of Carol Ann who should be with the nurses in the last row,
soon going forward to receive the coveted diploma. But, thanks to
Bryce Baldwin, Curly’s dream had died with her unborn child.
Tyne tried to shake the negative thoughts. After all, Bryce had not
acted alone, and Curly must certainly have been a willing partner.
And it was hardly his fault that she had resorted to the measures she
had to get rid of the baby. He had suggested she get an abortion but
he could not make her do it.
Tyne now remembered that a few days after her confrontation
with Dr. Baldwin in the nursery, she had begun to harbour guilt
feelings about the anger she felt towards him. She had finally gone
to confess her uncharitable thoughts to a priest. Father O’Malley
had been stern, and had given her much greater penance than Tyne
thought she deserved. She left the confessional with equally negative
thoughts about the priest, and for a moment she wondered if she
should go back and confess that, too.
However, only hours after her confession, the anger began to surface
again. This time, Tyne told herself she had a right to be angry.
After all, was there not such a thing as righteous anger? Had not Jesus
been angry with the money changers in the temple? So why should
she not be angry with Bryce Baldwin after the way he had treated her
friend?
But she found no peace from holding the grudge, and she recognized
that Morley’s influence was having an impact on her conscience.
Jesus had told his disciples they must forgive. Not seven
times, he had told Peter, but seventy times seven. Tyne finally realized
that she had to forgive Dr. Baldwin.

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

Poodie James

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He tried to raise up, but they jerked him backward down the
step and onto the ground. The clubbing began. He wrapped his
arms around his head and tucked into a ball.Two of them straightened
his body by pulling his hands and feet while the biggest man
alternated kicks with blows from a length of wood. The clubs and
boots battered his arms and legs, his torso, his shoulders. The pain
was like fire on his skin. The ache went to the center of his bones.
They let him go, then knocked him off his feet when he got up,
laughing at his contortions when he twisted and thrashed to evade
their clubs.Theywere killing him, he thought.Hewas going to die.
Suddenly, the big man was on his back and Engine Fred was on
top of him with a forearm bearing down on his windpipe. Poodie
sat up and saw the other two running down the lane. His head
throbbed. Three more hobos came down along the path from the
jungle. The man on the ground got an arm free, knocked Engine
Fred off balance and was up and running away. He disappeared
into the orchard, headed toward the river. Two of the hobos ran
after him, but came back shaking their heads. It all happened in the
space of a few minutes. The Thorps slept through it, but Engine
Fred told Poodie that he heard a scream. Poodie didn’t know that
he was capable of screaming.
Dan Thorp called the police the next morning. By then, the
hobos had hopped a freight. Poodie could not identify the thugs.
The bruises on his face and body took weeks to heal. Thorp put a
lock on the cabin door. The attack was the worst thing that had
happened to Poodie since his mother died. He lived it over in his
dreams night after night for months. Years later, he still awakened
in fear that the men would come back.
Alice Moore looked up to see Poodie James’s face floating just
above surface of the checkout desk, a stack of books next to it. She
had never seen that face without a smile. She looked at the books;
Howard Carter’s The Discovery of the Tomb of Tutankhamen, three
books about whales, a collection of de Maupassant stories.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08W7SHCMV

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

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“Why?”
“A painting that is given is all but worthless. It’ll be up in the attic or
down in the basement before you know it. A painting must always be
well paid for and it will be up above the mantel quicker than you can
snap your fingers – and it will stay there. And another thing you need to
know – you never give wealth a gift. It’s one of the ‘middle classes’ really
bad habits.”
When Ken walked into the gallery in Kelowna, Jack Hamilton took
him into the back office and handed him an envelope. “I see you keep
very fancy company,” he said.
Ken tore it open. The premier had written that he would be delighted
to visit the gallery the next morning at eight.
At seven-fifty, Jack staggered down the steps from the apartment above
the gallery, in his rumpled pyjamas, unlocked the front door to let Ken
in, and shuffled back up the stairs. At eight sharp, a chauffeur driven car
pulled up, and Bennett stepped out. He gave Ken a hearty handshake, sat
down at a small table near the front of the gallery and asked to hear stories
of the Arctic. “I thought you were just going up there for a month or
two, but you seem to have gotten yourself lost up there.”
“In a way, I did,” Ken replied. “It’s a long story.”
“I want to hear it.”
He told the Premier about his adventures and the atrocious conditions
the people lived with. He talked about the famine and the disease, and the
autocratic rule of the church, the RCMP, and the Hudson’s Bay Company.
When he finished, he asked if there was anything the Premier could do to
help the people up there.
Bennett stood. “Let’s see your paintings,” he said.
They walked through the gallery.
“What do the red dots signify?” Bennett asked.
“It means they’re sold.”
“It looks like they’re all sold.”
“Yes, they are.”
“You must be doing very well.”
“Yes I am – I’m very lucky.”
“I’d say there’s more than luck involved. I know nothing about art but
I do like what you’re doing, especially that one,” pointing to a landscape
of rolling grasslands. “I’d be interested in owning that one.”
“I’m sorry,” Ken said. “I’m afraid the entire exhibit was sold before it
got here.”
He led him into the back office where three paintings leaned against
the wall. “These are not sold,” he said.
Bennett pointed to one of the high plateau on the Douglas Lake Ranch.
“I like that one. Where is that?”

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