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Showing posts from December, 2020

SON [SHORT STORY]

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                                               Eleanor didn’t know exactly what Son would go on to become. How could you know? But, even on the day of his birth, she felt a coldness and distance that forewarned her of the problems to come with Son. Most mothers put it down to post-natal depression and move on. But Eleanor felt something deeper as she looked upon Son. Eleanor felt a chill, a fright, lingering anxiety that said that all will not be well with this one. A few days later, when she took Son and herself home from the hospital, she made sure that Hugh spent all day with Son. Eleanor meanwhile, cried herself dry in the bedroom. She spent that week tossing and turning in bed and asking God why she can’t bear the sight of her own child. Eleanor didn’t love Son from day one. Not because she was a cold and crappy mother incapable of love but because she felt something dark and unlovable emanating from Son. Something that only she could feel, it was impossible to love him. H

Dr. Ackula

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“Hey doc, where did you get the crazy name?” Joe said. “It’s Hungarian or Romanian, I am neither. I’m American. My family moved over here many years ago.” Dr. Ackula said with a devilish smile. Dr. Ackula was aware of the connotations of his name and he’d often make a joke out of it. He’d wear the fake teeth at Halloween and dress in a cape and scare the neighbourhood children. But Dr. Ackula was just a regular doctor. He ran a small surgery, he came out in sunlight, charged a fortune in medical insurance and had a wife – Mrs. Ackula. Joe had cirrhoses of the liver. Joe was in his eighties. It was a miracle that he’d even made it this far. This was a late night call-out. Dr. Ackula charged a hefty premium for these call-outs. Joe lay down on his bed. Joe had a big house but the problem for Joe was that it was empty. Joe’s wife (also treated by Dr. Ackula) died about three years ago and Joe had been hitting the bottle hard ever since. This was the first time that Dr. Ackula trea

DINNER FOR TWO

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DINNER FOR TWO   It was a pleasing ritual for Vivienne to cook a meal for  her love Marco; especially during one of their most romantic nights of the year.  Another monthly anniversary. Vivienne would light a candle, put the player on and play  some soft Sade. She would stare into each of Marco’s beautiful eyes. Remind herself of how she fell so completely in love with this man. The love of her life. She loved  him with every inch of her breath, but maybe… she loved him just a little bit too much.    Tonight was steak night. With a side of home cut chips and a homemade garlic sauce that was ground and creamed all from scratch.  A meal fit for a king, a meal perfect for a devoted-husband. Marco was her king. Marco was a solitary figure.  Sure; when he was younger he was like any other young man. Marco was once impulsive. He was once ambitious. He was once rambunctious, fast living, with a devil may give a shit kind of attitude. But now – he was a quiet, gentle and wise man of solitary

JUST LEFT THE WINDOW OPEN

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Trevor just had to nip out to the shops. It was a simple task of picking up the washing powder, milk and eggs before the missus gets back. If he doesn’t get the washing powder, then he’s a dead man. Tanya said it herself. The milk and eggs were just for a spot of lunch… Trevor was a meticulous man, rarely prone to human error. He turned all of the plugs off, turned the cooker’s ignition off, turned the electrical items off. He often took photos of the front door just to allay his anxieties and tell himself that it was locked. But this time; the window was ajar. Trevor closed the door behind him, put the keys in, twisted it shut and shook the handle to ensure that yes, it was shut. He left the front door open once before – all day long… eight hours with the front door open. He got lucky. Perish the thought to do that again. But… Trevor saw the crack of the window. He’s just popping to the shops. He’ll be back in a jiffy. Does he need to open the door again, go into the bedroom and close

CLINICAL (SHORT STORY)

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CLINICAL After lunch I went back to my living quarters and drew a triangle. Between each corner of the triangle I wrote our names out. I was at the top of the triangle. On the bottom two corners I wrote Rosie and Kenneth. Rosie and Kenneth hated each other. I liked Rosie but I didn’t like Kenneth. Kenneth liked me but hated Rosie. The words hate were written at the bottom of the triangle. The words hate rang out in my mind. Hate being such a stronger word than like. Like, at the same time, being so timid in comparison to hate. Love was too extreme for two people I had known for two weeks. But like was so tame next to hate that it almost didn’t belong. Lunch was preceded by a jab in the arm. A new trial vaccination. We don’t even know what the vaccination is for. And any time we ask the question the answers are so dense and conflated that we wish we’d never asked. I share my living quarters with Rosie and Kenneth. Now that a triangle of like and hate has formed there’s a bipo