Tag: writing

He Rode Tall

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Excerpt

the way that they were groomed, he guessed all of the stock in
this sale were show horses or show-horse prospects.
Rounding the corner of one aisle and starting up another to
continue his inspection, Joel saw a growing crowd of people forming
outside of the old mare’s stall. Joel was feeling pretty good
about this turn of events. With that kind of interest, he might
even get the three- or four-thousand dollars that Harry predicted
she would be able to attract. That was a lot of money for an old
mare, but darn, she was a real good looker. Joel wandered past the
group of admirers but wasn’t able to pick up on any of the
conversation.
Once the sale got started, time seemed to fly by. After reading
the rules and regulations of the sale, the auctioneer, a gravelly
voiced man in a big Stetson, rattled the numbers off. After a while
a pattern started to emerge. The auctioneer would call for a while
and then a man beside him in the auction booth would stop the
sale and take a few moments to go on about the breeding and performance
record of the horse in the sale ring. The auction would
then continue for maybe another minute or two, depending on
how the bidding was going, before the auctioneer would call out,
“Sold!” As the sold horse exited from one end of the ring another
horse would be led in from the other end and the process would
start all over again. But while the system remained consistent,
the prices didn’t. Joel could see that most of the horses were
going in the five- to ten-thousand-dollar range with the odd one
going over ten. This was encouraging to see, but these were
prized, well-bred show horses or talented show prospects of superior
breeding, and none of them were twenty-one-year-old mares.
In fact, other than the twenty-one-year-old mare, the next oldest
horse in the sale was twelve.
Even at the fast clip of the auctioneer and the efficiency of the
helpers moving the horses in and out, it was the end of the afternoon
when the crowd of 500 or so horse enthusiasts were reminded
that, despite what the catalogue said, there really was one more
horse. Number fifty-one, the old blonde mare was led in.

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

Neo-Hellene Poets, an Anthology of Modern Greek Poetry

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IV

                        Argonauts

And the soul

if it is to know itself

must look

into its own soul

the stranger and the enemy, we have seen him in the mirror.

They were good boys, the comrades, they didn’t complain

about the tiredness or the thirst or the frost

they had the behaviour of the trees and the waves

that accept the wind and the rain

that accept the night and the sun

without changing in the middle of change.

They were good boys, for days on

they sweated at the oars with lowered eyes

breathing in rhythm

and their blood reddened a submissive skin.

Sometimes they sang, with lowered eyes

when we passed by the deserted island with the prickly pear trees

toward the west, beyond the cape of the dogs

that bark.

If it is to know itself, they said

it must look into its own soul, they said

and the oars struck the gold of the sea

in the sunset.

We passed by many capes, many islands, the sea

that brings another sea, gulls and seals.

Sometimes grieving women wept

lamenting their lost children

and others angrily sought Alexander the Great

and glories lost in the depths of Asia.

We moored on shores filled with night fragrances

with bird chirps, with waters that left on our hands

memory of a great happiness.

But the voyages did not end.

Their souls became one with the oars and the oarlocks

with the solemn face of the prow

with the rudder’s wake

with the water that shattered their image.

The comrades died one by one

with lowered eyes. Their oars

point to the place where they sleep on the shore.

No one remembers them. Justice.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763513

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

Jazz with Ella

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Excerpt

If he pushed his face right into the window, he could just see the edge of the canal where Gennadi often waited for him to begin their sociable walk to work together. Gennadi was younger than Volodya, 22 years old to Volodya’s 31, and his taste in music was abominable, Vlad thought, but still, he was a friendly, loyal fellow and Volodya really needed support this morning.
Their job was a dull one, though it required a certain amount of mechanical aptitude. The firm they worked for serviced automatic machines: the water vending machines located on every street corner and several other types that sold carbonated fruit juices. They replenished them, cleaned them, oiled them and fixed them when they broke down, which happened frequently. It was not the profession he would have chosen, nor why he had received such a comprehensive university education at the state’s expense. In fact, he loathed it. But he was thankful it was not an office job. At least this way, he moved around the city regularly, and it was easy to take an hour here and there for a break or to practice his music. As a job it moved along like a square wheel, and this is what had sparked his current problem with his commissar, a petty, stupid man with bad teeth, who would have him disciplined for breathing. Volodya cursed a little but not too loudly.Each day, he would arrive at work more or less on time, though his punctuality was always subject to the taunts of the administrative clerk, Ivana the Terrible as they called her, she who stamped their work orders and doled out their pitiful tools. After the morning check-in with officialdom, they were on their own. Sometimes he and Gennadi went out on foot together, sometimes they caught a lift to their destination in the service vehicle. That was why he suffered this miserable job. It was in that time, away from official eyes, that Volodya could indulge his passion for jazz music by visiting a musician friend who allowed him to use his piano.
He had always been good at finding a piano when he needed one. He had been raised in Leningrad just after the war by his mother and his aunt, and the two women had denied him nothing. In a time of excruciating hardship, they made sure he had his share of toys, candy, as nutritious food as was available, and his own little bed in their tiny, grim apartment. They discerned that he was a musical child at an early age when he would drum and tap on the tabletop, his bed, anything that would make a percussive noise with interesting rhythms. They bought him a toy drum which he adored, though it nearly drove

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

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

Arrows

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Excerpt

“I’ll talk because the time for our farewells is near,” I said, “and I
don’t want us parting like this.”
“Try me.”
He turned to look at the ship. His aftershave aroma of lavender
and storax, mixed with our sweat, filled my nostrils and sharpened
my senses. Watching him reminded me of my own looks, a sort of
discovery. Over the years, although he was four years older,
Bartolomé and I had become more alike, despite the inequality in
weight and his hooked nose. The main difference was the ripple of
his strong muscles visible under his shirt. Sometimes it was like
watching the movements of a powerful horse.
When I had come to board the ship, we were shocked to see each
other again. We always wrote and knew everything about the other,
but six years had passed since our last encounter. He took me by the
shoulders and looked me over from head to toe. Apparently
satisfied with my growing into manhood, he patted me on the
shoulder and grabbed my tonsure, shaking me softly before
squashing me in a bear hug.
Now we would soon be taking our leave of each other, and only
God knew when we would be reunited. I realized I was staring at
him and turned to face the sea.
Illuminated by the rising moon, the ship swayed, two lanterns
glowing on the castle decks. I watched the white spume of the waves
breaking, their hissing claim on the beach. The breeze carried the
voices of the men still sitting around the fire.
“Why the hell did you flog yourself?” Bartolomé asked.
“To purify my heart.”
“Purify your heart? Salvador, you haven’t done a bad thing in
your life!”
I snorted, shaking my head and reaching back to pull at my habit
and detach it from my wounds.
“I beat him,” I said. “I beat Pánfilo. He was having his way with a
girl. She wanted to resist. I don’t know what came over me. I
couldn’t believe my eyes, and before I knew it I was beating him up.
I didn’t mean to.”

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

Water in the Wilderness

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A beam of moonlight reached through the open drapes at the window, giving a gentle glow to the room. Tyne felt no closer to sleep than she had when they had come to bed two hours earlier.
“Can’t sleep, hon?” Morley put his arm over her and brushed her tousled hair with his lips.
“No, and I suspect you can’t, either.” Tyne laid her cheek against his stubbled one. “Morley, what’s going to happen to them?”
He sighed deeply. “I don’t know, hon. I wish I did.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do?” She knew that, if anyone could give her an answer, her husband could.
Morley stirred and propped himself on one elbow to look down at her. In the faint light, she could see his eyes, now wide open. “Are you thinking we should try to keep them here?”
She took a deep breath. “It has crossed my mind. But even if we get Corky’s permission, it would be a big step, wouldn’t it?”
Morley lay down again, and for several moments looked up at the shadowed ceiling without speaking. Finally, he whispered, “A huge step, Tyne. It would be a huge step.”
Suddenly, she giggled. “I once told you I wanted to live on a farm with the man I love, and raise vegetables and lots of children. This would be a good start.”
“But not quite as soon as you thought.” There was laughter in Morley’s voice now. But after a minute, he said seriously, “Anyway, it all depends on Corky, doesn’t it?”
And partly on Ruby, Tyne thought. She had not told Morley what Ruby had said in Matron’s office, and she had no intention of telling him. But she knew in her heart that, if they applied for custody of the children, the biggest opposition would not come from their father, but from their Aunt Ruby. Because Ruby could not abide ‘Bible thumpers’.

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

Swamped

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Excerpt

“Okay.” He glanced back at his cooling sauce. “Are you fine with
penne, or would you prefer spaghetti?”
“Penne, please.”
“Penne it is.” Eteo smiled at his son, who was already heading
upstairs again. “Dinner at seven, okay?”
“Yes, Dad,” Alex called from the floor above.
Eteo went back to his chair. He absentmindedly scanned the
space around him, registering the familiar, steady sounds of the
house. Normally they were like the heartbeats of a healthy person,
regular, unhurried, relaxed, almost unnoticeable, but now, with Eteo’s
attention focused on them, they began to sound more like loudspeakers
in a plaza. The map of the earth on the far wall, made of sheets of
copper, was still as shiny as it had been earlier today and the fireplace
sat ready to be lit whenever he wanted that cozy ambience. He
thought about what he needed to do to organize those he wanted to
get involved in Herb’s deal. It looked like a winner, and Eteo knew
that when you have a winner you take care of clients who haven’t
done so well lately. Spiro and Michael, and Angelo too. They had lost
a bit of money on Eteo’s last recommendation, so he owed them a
piece of the action on this one. He also had to work in some of his
personal accounts. Yanni would buy anything Eteo recommended,
as would Nick the hairdresser and Kenny Wong and his friends. The
market, Eteo had learned, was a beast that no one knew how to tame.
Investing in penny stocks wasn’t much different than betting on
horses, except that at least you could look at the horses and, if you
knew horses, separate the strong ones from the weak. Penny stocks
all looked alike, yet each ran on its own terms and no two ever got
exactly the same results. All the more reason why when you get a
loser for a client you better find a winner soon. Yes, he had to include
Spiro and Michael and Angelo in this one.
Logan arrived home while Eteo was still on the phone organizing
his first three clients and explaining to them what he had in mind for
the next few days. Logan, who stood almost six feet, smiled down at
him. He knew who his father was talking to and exactly what he was
doing. Apart from his height, Logan looked a lot like his father.

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