Incidentes de honor

Posted on by under 2020, November 2020 - Dilemma

Since my last visit to Cartagena, a pair of aerial fig roots, previously just hints, were dangling near the statue of the eighteenth-century actor, Isidoro Máiquez.

“I’ve been away too long,” I thought as I brushed sun-dried leaves from the statue’s base and looked up at his Shakespearean pose.

Máiquez, although famous, is interesting to me as the father-in-law of Manuel Tamayo-y-Baus, author of “Un drama nuevo”, the object of my student’s study. My student, a young woman by the name of Analia is, in turn, the object of my secret desires.

I settled into a café chair facing the plaza, ordered a coffee and flicked open the binder of notes I made on her thesis.

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Poor Bobby

Posted on by under 2020, November 2020 - Dilemma

Rushing up the path, my nan, Iris, was waiting. 

”Here’s the keys honey, have to rush as the girls are waiting for me. See you Tuesday and thank you for house-sitting for me.”

In a whirl, she was gone. Opening the patio doors, glorious weather, sunbathing for me. Five days of rest and relaxation on my own. Bliss. Wandering back inside after a few hours, my attention was caught by the birdcage rocking as a cat darted past. With my heart in my mouth, I looked into the cage. Nothing. The door wide open, no Bobby the budgie. Knowing how much the bird meant to her since my granddad died, tears welled up and I sank onto the sofa crying.

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A different life

Posted on by under 2020, November

I was living the dream, although I didn’t know it back then.  Detached house, two children in public school, a husband with a well-paid job, two cars, flying off to exotic places every summer and skiing in the winter.  How things can change within a few months.

My so-called friends wouldn’t recognise me now, let alone cross the street to talk to me.  It’s the kids who have lost the most though, I realise that.  What with their father committing suicide, our house repossessed, having to leave the school they loved. I keep on thinking back, trying to remember if Clive had been acting differently for the last six months.

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Scent of a Killer

Posted on by under 2020, November 2020 - Dilemma

DCI Will Bailey eased his car into gear. The sun peered sleepily from behind its blanket of clouds as the six o’clock news pips sounded. The only other vehicle, a bin lorry, crawled up the street, its rhythmic beeping and flashing almost lulling Will back to sleep.

One of the bin-men, his old school friend Danny Hiller, waved as he passed. Will smiled. The great thing about living here his whole life was that no-one was a stranger.

His former school slid into view. He remembered playing in those fields, throwing down school jumpers for goalposts. When the jumpers inevitably got muddled up, the teacher would complain that no-one ever labelled their uniform. But the children were adept at identifying one another by smell, and the jumpers would quickly be tossed to their owners.

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Learning New Skills During Lockdown

Posted on by under 2020, October 2020 - Lockdown

It took quite a while to perfect walking across the ceiling but I got it in the end. Just takes practice. As the boot prints attest, this has become a favourite way of taking exercise. And life takes on a fresh perspective.

Jan next door likes to fly. I often hear her talking to seagulls and launching herself off the window ledge. She sometimes drops a fish or part of someone’s pie and chip dinner on my doorstep. Always grateful for a food delivery, and I’m not going to complain about seagull poo on the window.

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Unlock, lock

Posted on by under 2020, October 2020 - Lockdown

She’d keep some of his jackets and shirts; they were comforting. They smelt of him, his sweat and pipe tobacco. He was almost a presence.   

            A week after the funeral she unlocked the wardrobe because his absence was niggling, and ran her hand over his nice check jacket, an expensive one from Marks and Spencer. She felt something in its inside pocket. It was a letter which simply said: ‘What a great day yesterday. Love you lots, S.’

            Who was S? When was the letter written? Don hadn’t been a romantic man, not one for giving flowers or chocolates. He was steady in his feeling for her, rather than ardent or demonstrative. He wouldn’t have kept a love letter: for this was a love letter wasn’t it?

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Lockdown Entertainment

Posted on by under 2020, October 2020 - Lockdown

“What shall we do now Mummy?” Claire, my six-year-old daughter asked.

“ Yes, what shall we do now?” Her brother Andrew asked.

“I know” I said, let’s Skype Granny, and ask her what she use to do when she was a little girl.”

“Boring” stated Andrew, “ it will all be girls stuff anyway.”

“Okay, well let Claire ask Granny and you ask Grandpa.”

Pleased with myself for remembering things from my childhood that did not include the use of computers, I eagerly awaited my parents’ response.

The answer was not what I had expected or hoped for.

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I Fucking Hate Lockdown

Posted on by under 2020, October 2020 - Lockdown

I’m trapped in a tiny flat with my two mortal enemies.

We were okay at first, seeing each other in small doses but now lockdown’s struck, all we can do is either sulk in our cramped bedrooms or spend every second in each other’s company. As it turns out we really don’t like each other very much. Oh, sure before we’d sometimes go to the pub or go to the cinema but by and large we were casual acquaintances, which is how it should be.

John’s a carefree kind of guy, enduring in some circumstances and pretty damn funny. Samson’s the adventurer, the walls of his bedroom are covered in photographs of him standing by the Grand Canyon and the Great Pyramids and even riding elephants.

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Small Fox

Posted on by under 2020, October 2020 - Lockdown

The boys were all there: Huw Parry with his bow and arrows, dressed in his Indian outfit, headdress and all, Gwyn Griffiths with his spud-gun, Owen Davies with some firecrackers and matches he nicked from his brothers’ hidden hoard. And finally me, Billy Thomas, with my sling and small stones.

Venturing into the wood, we were determined to catch the small fox that had been causing all of us to be kept at home for the last few weeks. Gwyn told us all about it after overhearing his parents talking about it.

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The big picture in Acedia Row

Posted on by under 2020, October 2020 - Lockdown

“Oh, dear God,” Abe clasped his hands to his face as he looked at his emails.

“What’s up?” Shoshana asked poking her head around the door.

“We have been invited,” said Abe rolling his eyes, “to another bloody Zoom cocktail party.”

“Fuck,” Shoshana said, “who is it this time?”

“My boss,” Abe responded, he ran his hand through his thinning hair, “which means we can’t cry off, can’t leave early, and definitely can’t turn up in dressing gowns.”

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A Fairy Godmother’s Job is Never Done

Posted on by under 2020, October 2020 - Lockdown

The Fairy Godmother arrived in a puff of smoke and surveyed the chaos.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Cinderella opened one eye, still lying in bed dressed in last night’s clothes. Empty wine bottles and a month’s worth of washing-up littered the floor, the dirty clothes pile reaching the ceiling.

“What time is it?” she muttered.

“Mid-day. Why are you in halls at Swansea University instead of at the palace?”

“Oh, I left the boring prince ages ago. Decided to come to Uni, but now we’re in lockdown and it’s no fun anymore. Can you believe those vile ugly sisters happened to be on the same corridor as me?”

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Lockdown Blues

Posted on by under 2020, October 2020 - Lockdown

I can feel the depression setting in

I feel the dark days closing in

I’ve got the Lockdown Blues

Don’t know if it’s the same for you

My mama phoned me just the other day

I told her my guitar I couldn’t play

My girlfriend has run off with my dog

I just can’t see through my fog

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Late Again

Posted on by under 2020, September 2020 - Demons

You fumble for your mobile. “Boss. I’ll there in about 10 minutes. Sorry. You’ll never guess what I’ve just seen”

Working last night up to 1 am was too much. Shouldn’t have to take the accounts home – not after a 10 hour delivery day.

You hear a grumble, see a spray of earth flume upwards as the paving-stones lift corner by corner. With a creak and snap of cables, the telephone booth upped on points and pirouetted on one corner.

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Little Demons

Posted on by under 2020, September 2020 - Demons

Billy Thomas sat red-faced, eyes lowered, as the new preacher ranted about the demons the devil placed in all of us, then glared at poor Billy; sins of the flesh sent to tempt us into evil doings.

Friends of Billy’s persuaded everyone to go skinny dipping in the river. Old Mrs.Pugh had come across them, screaming at them that the Lord would strike them down for their sins. Personally, Billy thought Mrs Pugh had a demon, as she had stood watching them for ages according to Huw Parry. Off she went to tell the preacher and our parents, hence we all had to attend chapel to renounce our sins.

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Lloyd x 2

Posted on by under 2020, September 2020 - Demons

Driving from Cardiff to Swansea, Lloyd found a passenger in his car.

            ‘Who are you?’ he said, slowing.

            ‘Your inner self,’ came the reply.

            The guy certainly looked like him: older, more haggard, greyer. It could be him.

            ‘You’re on the wrong road, Jim,’ the passenger said, ‘every day commuting a ton of miles to that vehicle licensing hole.’

            ‘It’s a job.’

            ‘So’s being a galley slave. How about jumping ship?’

            Port Talbot steelworks skittered by, its Meccano limbs tangled against the grey sky as if in agony. The other Jim had vanished, gone in a spurt of yellow steelworks gas.

            Work went badly. Workmates faces resembled those of ghouls. The phone calls, a hundred ways of asking the same thing about car tax, lapped in his brain with a disturbing echo. He felt outside everything.

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A Demon’s Perspective

Posted on by under 2020, September 2020 - Demons

I read a lot, stories mainly, it helps to pass eternity. One idea that regularly catches my attention is the advice that you should always be in charge of your own stories: never let others tell them on your behalf or you will inevitably come out badly. So very true, and excellent advice for we demons who have suffered greatly from such blatant cultural appropriation down the ages.

I mean, you’ve heard the one about the Gadarene swine? Completely Fake News. Where was the demonic voice in that tale? Suppressed, and completely rewritten to make demons look really bad. As well as all those artists like Fuesli, another really atrocious exponent of anti-demon propaganda is Salman Rushdie, who ruthlessly exploits the demonic repertoire for his own profit. It makes me weep the way demons have come to be associated with wickedness.

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He Dun It!

Posted on by under 2020, September 2020 - Demons

Everyone on first meeting Lucinda thought she was a delightful little girl, with her long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, she seemed such a perfect little Angel. She lived with her parents and her younger brother, Damien in a nice large house in the countryside. The family pet was an old retriever named Goldie, who faithfully followed Lucinda wherever she went.

In school term, there was a nice easy-going atmosphere in the house as everyone had a definite routine to stick to. Lucinda went to ballet and gymnastics after school, and Damien had swimming lessons, not that they did him much good. The weekends were usually pretty booked up with sleepovers and camping trips.

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My Sister’s Demons

Posted on by under 2020, September 2020 - Demons

It started off like a game. Lucy passed me her piece of cake under the table on Mum’s birthday. It felt funny singing happy birthday when half an hour ago Mum was crying, and Dad wasn’t living with us anymore. But I got two slices of cake and that made me smile.

Then she started putting all her lunch in my lunchbox. I didn’t know what to do with it.

It wasn’t only the food. She shouted all the time and she was always in her room. Mum said it was just teenage behaviour, but I didn’t think so.

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The Devil’s Music

Posted on by under 2020, September 2020 - Demons

“Hey Belial,” Lilith shot the demon a furious glance, “will you quit your beatboxing, or I swear to Dog I’ll beatbox your ears.”

His single, vein-etched eye widened as she swept a taloned claw inches from his snout and he tumbled backwards in mid-beat into a vat of moral turpitude soup.

“Watch it, mam,” he coughed, picking lumps of jellied depravity out his hair, “you nearly had my eye out then.”

She skewered him with a look that would have frozen sunspots.

“What,” she snarled, “do you think I was TRYING to do?”

He tensed expecting another wave of maternal violence; she was always grouchy at this time of the millennium.

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The Way Back

Posted on by under 2020, August 2020 - The Long and Winding Road

It brought tears to my eyes when the hospital staff clapped my Dad’s discharge from hospital.  My Mum and I clung onto each side of the wheelchair as the porter wheeled Dad out. As we neared our house, all of our friends and neighbours had turned out to welcome Dad back, cheering our return.

It was a moment that Mum and I didn’t think would happen.  The last two months were our private nightmares, each of us afraid to answer the phone, expecting the worst.  But now, finally my Dad had come home. 

Mum and I would never forgive ourselves, blaming his symptoms on man flu.  It was Dad himself who had phoned the doctor in the end.  I was surprised they even had his medical records, I don’t ever recall him seeing the Doctor.  The ambulance had been at the door within twenty minutes.  They took dad off leaving the two of us bewildered on the doorstep.  I didn’t see my Dad again for twelve long weeks.

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