Tag: writing

Still Waters

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

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

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

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

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

“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

Jazz with Ella

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

ROSTOV-NA-DONU, JULY 13, 1974
The Canadian student tour group were old hands at Soviet travel by the time their plane left Leningrad bound for Rostov-na-Donu in the Ukraine. The usual plump stewardesses, more relaxed on this domestic flight, handed out the usual sticky candy. The students played the now familiar game of who had the functioning seatbelts. David had no seatbelt, and he threatened to hang on to Paul’s leg for the duration of the flight should they meet turbulence.
Despite the gloom of parting from Volodya, Jennifer’s spirits lifted slightly. The plane was full of Ukrainians returning home—women in harem pants, swarthy men with metallic, toothy grins carrying bundles, carpets and, in one case, something alive in a cage that screeched at intervals. The passengers moved around the plane freely, paying no attention to the attendant yelling at them.
Jennifer wasn’t the only one who was mourning the loss of a friend in Leningrad. Ted had ended his stay there at a party with students from the institute. He had met them on the street, and over some powerful moonshine liquor they had discoursed heavily on the problems of the cold war and had resolved to bring peace to their various countries. Unfortunately, Ted couldn’t quite recall how they had proposed achieving this lofty aim. Lona had also found some friends in Moscow, it seemed, and was only now telling the group about them. Jennifer wondered if Lona would have admitted the liaison if she had not been spotted outside the hotel with a group of sharp and eager young men whom everyone suspected of being some kind of confidence tricksters. If anyone can take care of herself, it’s Lona, thought Jennifer, and she wondered if Lona’s swains had asked her to help them leave the country. Then, in an attempt to shake off…

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

He Rode Tall

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

Trying to remember everything that Tanya had taught him
about reining in the last two months, Joel quietly walked the big
buckskin into the arena and took his position just outside of the
end gate. After nodding to the judge, he began his run into the
show pen. He could not remember feeling so nervous, but he
knew that he couldn’t let that get in his way. He needed to focus
on everything that Tanya had taught him. Sure, he wasn’t on a
100,000-dollar horse and, sure, he wasn’t accompanied by his
own cheering section, but he had a good horse and had worked
hard to learn everything he could. He had put a lot of miles on the
buckskin, not only in the training arena, but also out in the
wide-open spaces, and if anyone was going to get a great performance
out of this horse, Joel knew that would be him. Besides, if
they were going to take full advantage of the quality breeding in
their horses, it would sure help to get a few nice wins on the
three-year-olds—the buckskin and the palomino had shown
them enough to earn the right to be there.
Leaving these thoughts behind, Joel ran the buckskin through
the gate and accelerated into the middle of the arena. With an
incredible blast of raw acceleration and a long run down, the
buckskin executed an awesome sliding stop that went on so far
that it looked like the horse was gliding on Teflon. Once the
buckskin came to a stop, Joel reined the horse to the left, ran him
back down the arena, and executed another excellent sliding
stop, which hurled dirt into the faces of the crowd standing at the
fence. Joel rolled the horse back to the right, quickly moving him
at a gallop past center, and then cued him to stop. This third sliding
stop was immediately followed by a quick reverse to center
with the horse backing effortlessly.
Joel and the buckskin had everyone’s attention—the buzz of
the crowd had quieted and all eyes focused on the horse and rider.
At the center of the arena, Joel waited for a few seconds to allow
the buckskin to rest and Joel to calm himself. Then, with a gentle
shift of the reins, Joel asked for the gelding to spin. With a burst of
energy, the buckskin executed four spins to the right

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

Swamped

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

He dialed Rebecca’s number first. Her pleasant voice delighted
him when she answered. It was a voice Eteo likened to a mixture of
honey and birdsong, both of which he loved.
“Would you be able to drop by for a few minutes, Eteo?” she
asked. “The annual report for Redama Resources is ready. Come and
have a look at it, and let’s make sure we haven’t forgotten anything.”
Rebecca always consulted him before she filed reports on
Redama with the regulators and other authorities. Eteo had brought
this file to her and she regarded him as the guiding force behind the
company, whose directors, two engineers with little financial background
between them, didn’t know much about these filings. Eteo
had seen many over the years and knew how to peruse them quickly.
“I could come anytime, Rebecca. How is your own schedule?”
“I’m free for the next hour. Could you come over now?”
As usual Eteo had hardly anything to do by this point in his day.
He would have left in half an hour anyway, so he confirmed that he
would walk over soon. It was only two blocks down to the 1177 West
Hastings tower and a quick elevator ride up to the 21st floor where
the Horton and Musgrave offices were located.
Ten minutes later, after telling Helena where he was going and
that he would not be back that day, he was sitting at Horton and Musgrave’s
reception. He only had to wait a minute before Rebecca appeared
and extended her hand, which Eteo squeezed warmly and
held perhaps a moment longer than would have been customary between
business colleagues. Rebecca told the receptionist to hold her
calls and took Eteo to her office. He sat down opposite her and she
handed over the file. It took Eteo only a couple of minutes to be satisfied
that everything that needed to be said was there. When he
handed the papers back he noticed that Rebecca’s hand felt hot and
sweaty, and when he got up to leave, she gave him her hand again.
He pulled her closer and found no resistance at all. Instead Rebecca
almost fell into his arms and returned his deep kiss with equal passion.
Her breathing became fast and excited and Eteo felt his groin’s
hot desire for the body of this attractive young lawyer, who was exploring
his mouth with her tongue and obviously eager for more and
more of him. His hands ran down her delicate body to her buttocks,

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

Nikos Engonopoulos – Poems

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Fellow Traveller in Melancholy
As she realized how much my tragic love for her overtook my heart, she invited me, among the ruins of the London Tower, for a cup of tea from the same hands, named by the killers of her lovers, depending on the season, sometimes “shovels”, other times “shiners”. She accompanied her offer with the only word she had kept inside her for years like something precious, she said, more than her life, like a secret gift of her breasts in the tempest of my lust. I raised my eyes and looked, as an unexpected shiver shook my body: she was naked before the year’s fountain, the fans of a nighty fire sprouted out of her belly and the wall was splattered with blood. I felt that the famous, “better tomorrow” had arrived, was a present reality. It was obvious that everything from the past was already erased, the nightmare of the tropics and the harbour had already vanished. I was a gigantic red eagle that saw, from a young age, the closing eyes of the opposite sun. She was the big, dark forest spread among the chandeliers, the chest and the big hallway mirror used for official palace events. Her thought was crown, her glance renaissance, her glance a beak. Her name was Rodamne. She had lived in faraway lands from where she had come to meet me. I told her I freaked out, thinking we hadn’t met earlier. How could she have, via the measure of the beautiful woman she was, replaced her eyes with two green Egyptian scarabs and she didn’t see me when I passed her? She had probably cut her long hair short so that the words that escaped from my mouth were one cathedral church built, for the only purpose of executing at the site and a specific moment, the unknown archbishop, and seller of small items, from an irregular Mexican squad. She didn’t talk, she didn’t stir, she only took in her embrace the flowers that decorated the room and scattered them in the fresh ravines, in orchards with the delayed hunter, at the foothills of the Memories Mountains. The candles burned joyously on the graceful bronze candelabras and the song she sang teary-eyed had the same meaning with the phrase “time for Shaba” in the Hebrew neighbourhoods of Thessaly cities.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763734

Still Waters

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

In the nursery, Tyne watched as Miss Pomeroy, the supervising
nurse, cleansed the baby’s tender skin with cotton soaked in mineral
oil. Then she combed the dark mass of hair into a cock’s comb on
top of the rounded head. There was little moulding of the skull because
Jeannette had had a fairly rapid labour, especially during the
last stages. Tyne had received permission to come into the nursery
while the baby was being admitted, but she was surprised when the
supervisor turned to her and told her she may diaper and dress her
little namesake.
“And then,” said Miss Pomeroy, “Daddy’s waiting at the window.
Would you like to show him his daughter?”
Tyne carried her charge to the viewing window and smiled at a
beaming Guy. His eyes were fixed firmly on his daughter, the look
on his face a mixture of amazement and pride. Finally, he looked up
and, realizing for the first time who held his child, his eyes widened
and he grinned broadly. Then he waggled his fingers at the sleeping
baby, and reluctantly turned away.
Tyne carried the infant to her waiting bassinette and laid her in it
carefully. She was pulling the cover up when a voice behind her said,
“Don’t cover it yet. I’d like to examine it before I go.”
Tyne swung around, and came face to face with Bryce Baldwin.
She felt the blood drain from her head, then return in a rush. Her
pulse raced. He gave her an appraising look, then turned his attention
to the baby. As he unwrapped the child, he spoke to Tyne without
looking at her.
“So, Miss Milligan, I understand you are now a full-fledged nurse.
Was this your last day?”
Tyne took a deep breath. “Yes, it was. Too bad Carol Ann Shaughnessy
couldn’t have had the same privilege. This should have been
her last day as well.”
Tyne saw him tense. After a moment he said, “Where is Miss
Shaughnessy? I haven’t seen her for a while.”
“Oh? You haven’t heard then?” Tyne used her sweetest tone.
Dr. Baldwin turned to look at her. His face had paled. “Heard what?”
Tyne smiled, in no hurry to answer. Doesn’t he know she aborted?
Does he still think she’s having the baby? Does he think she had to leave

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

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

“Sure. I’ll be happy to try that, but you know that while I’m doing that
I won’t be painting.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Fraser said.
“I’m not worried. I just don’t want you to get in a huff about not having
enough paintings.”
“I said don’t worry. I’ll make it worth your while.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m happy to do it for you in return for what
you’re doing for me. And I don’t want any money for it.”
“You don’t want any money! Well, I never – a man who doesn’t want
money. So what do you want?”
“I just don’t want you to get upset when my painting production falls
off because I’m doing other things for you.”
“Of course, I’ll be upset at your lack of paintings. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“But that’s not reasonable!”
“It’s quite reasonable in light of how you present yourself – as the one
apart – the one to whom the rules don’t apply – the one who walked in
here without an appointment. There isn’t a painter in the country that
would dare do that. And, your shenanigans in the Peace River Country
– and your wanderings in the Arctic – as if you owned the bloody place.
You put yourself forward, with a quiet aloofness, as the man who can do
everything and anything, so I’m sure it won’t be any kind of a trick for
you to be in two places at the same time, doing two different things at the
same time.”
“Well,” Ken said. “That’s not how I see myself.”
“Fine. But I’m only telling you how you portray yourself.”
“If I was who you say I am, I’d be able to get my Arctic paintings and
stories out to the public, and I can’t.”
“Your Arctic paintings are the only tentative part of you. You haven’t
come to terms with that subject. You’re unsure and it shows. Everything
else you paint is clear, simple, strong and sure-footed. But don’t be concerned.
In good time, all of this will look after itself. With your confidence
and your bloody single-mindedness, you’ll work your way through it. But
right now, you’re not there and I will neither show them nor recommend
them. In that area you have a long way to go.”
That evening, he related the conversation to Helen.
She laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised. You have an ego as big as
the world. You’re full of yourself. The long and short of it is that you’re
arrogant. Alex is right. You wander into a place, you give it the once-over
and all of a sudden, you’re going to fix everything, you’re in control, and
you’ll take care of it. That’s what it looks like from the outside.”
“It does?”
“Yes, it does. And what do you have in mind anyway? Where are you
heading with all this?”

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

The Circle

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

incinerated bodies, and pain. Then she remembers the body of a man next to
hers and she is being violated. Her mind, suddenly feels as if it is exploding when
she realizes what had really happened.
She turns to Matthew and says, “So, you have come to enjoy necrophilia
these days, Matthew Roberts. You must be really desperate. You obviously
couldn’t wait until morning.”
He turns looking at her with a smile.
“You looked so attractive, sweetheart, I couldn’t resist.”
Suddenly the room becomes dark and an explosive anger overtakes her
whole body; her eyes darken and her heart accelerates in a frenetic rhythm as if to
break through her chest and run away, burning everything in its path.
“Of course, you couldn’t resist using your weekend whore. That’s what you
always do, five minutes for your pleasure; five minutes is always enough for you
to find your manhood at its peak. The thought of how you view lovemaking
makes me puke,” she yells.
He’s flabbergasted by her outburst; he has never seen his Emily in this state of
mind. This is not his Emily, the quiet calm person he has known all those years.
She screams from the depths of her larynx and her voice carries such disgust,
such pain, such nausea that his eyes and mouth open wide and he doesn’t know
what to do or say. Suddenly, he interrupts her.
“What is it, sweetheart? Why all this commotion?”
“Don’t sweetheart me! Don’t you ever dare sweetheart me again, Matthew
Roberts. I’ve had enough of that. I have had enough of that, do you hear me? I’m
not your sweetheart or your weekend whore, anymore!”
He ducks down as if expecting her to throw something. He has never seen her
this way. He becomes apologetic.
“What would you like me to do, Emily?”
But her anger is so fierce and unappeased that she can no longer think logically.
She yells out her frustration and pain, “When you come to the point of violating me
when I’m asleep, I don’t know what you want me to say, Matthew. You are
despicable! You make me sick! Yes, my God, how you make me sick! I don’t even
want to look at you anymore.Why the hell do I put up with your crap all the time?
For the stupid salary you earn; for the stupid agency you work for; for the stupid life
you and I lead? It makes me sick to think of all that. Yes, Matthew Roberts, it makes
me sick! You make me sick. I want you out of here. Are you listening to me? I want
you out of here, out of my life! I’m not your weekend whore, anymore. Go, go to
your stupid hotel where you spend every day of the week. You may as well spend
your weekends there. Why did you come here? For your five-minute fuck?” The
tears course down her cheeks, and she wonders why she has not revolted before?

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