I was so used to being scared and running by then, I don’t know, guess I just always seen it coming. We spent a lot of years running, Ma and me. Start out seeking something better, that life we never had, just to hightail it in the night when that life went and turned its teeth on us.
Country living, living in nature’s bountiful bosoms, being a country girl, pastoral delights and splendid nights with stars shining bright.
Don’t, just don’t shovel that hot, rancid, fly infested, maggot breeding horseshit in my direction. I been there and done that. I sat on that milk stool. I swam in that polluted pool. I slept on the straw mattress with the rats and fleas. I churned butter, collected eggs, slopped the hogs, fed the chickens, shoveled the shit, planted the garden, weeded the rows, gathered the crops, canned, and sewed.
And, I cooked, cleaned, snapped beans, made beds and did the laundry in my spare time.
My country, the country that I lived in, was more than a place in space and time it was an evil disposition of heart and mind.
Reader Advisory:
The Union of Pennames, Imaginary Friends and Fictional Characters (UPIFFC) now requires the anonymous employer of an associate penname to give the latter a yearly performance review. This event usually occurs in the sort of establishment where the wait staff all have the personalities of unpurged butter clams. As it goes with PR’s throughout the observable universe, the employer typically leads off with the employee’s strong points as a method of Trojan-horsing in darker observations. Sadly, for the employer, the penname has access to each and every of the former’s thoughts while the employer remains as clueless about the penname’s wicked ways as ever. To put it plainly, the whole thing goes to hell from the get go, and the only thing that I as Leila Allison’s employer get from our conversation is a tingling headache and bewilderment over the fact that my alias has the social graces of an irked thirteen-year-old child.
However, I may have gained something useful from this year’s face-to-face. I now present the missive that my penname scrawled on a stack of cocktail napkins not long after she dropped the pretense of pretending to listen to me—But I’ll give her this much: she writes awfully damn fast. Unfortunately, my headache has prevented me from reading it; and it may also be true that I only wish for it to be known that I have had nothing to do with its construction, just in case it too goes to hell from the get go.
Respectfully,
Ms. Allison’s Employer
I’ve decided this week to write about pride.
Not ‘In the Name of Love’ even though that is a cracking song. Not as in the film about the Gay Pride / Miner Strike match up even though that was a cracking film. And not as in loads of big pussies, even though they are braw beasties!
Pride commeth before a fall. That’s a phrase about a disappointed lady called ‘A Fall’ and the problems she had with her husband Pride.
Yep more nonsense before I get to a point.
I’m a very proud person but in a shit sort of way. Not asking for help, cutting my nose off to spite my face and stubbornness are the realistic terms for my pride!
For example I’ll never ask for assistance when I need it, I would rather say ‘This is pish’ and give up. Writing is a bit different as I have other folks to state that…So, so many!!
To explain my stupidity I would like to share this. I had the best time of my life in 2000 when we were in Toronto, I tip my hat to Canada, I loved the place. We tried so many different things. The Swiss restaurant was excellent. I thought it would have been three courses of Toblerone, nougat and almonds but I had a lovely fruity and mildly spiced chicken type dish.
One night we ended up in a traditional Chinese Restaurant. I am a rather adventurous person when it comes to food so when I saw ‘chilled chicken wings with shredded jellyfish’ I wanted to give it a go. I probably should have twigged when the waiter asked me:
“You handle this?”
My pride (stupidity) kicked in!
“Of course I can handle this! I’ve ate Pot Noodles and Crispy Pancakes which just goes to prove that God doesn’t think we should bother with anything tasty…I’m fine…Go for it auld stockin’!”
So the waiter brought my food and he was sniggering…I should’ve sussed.
So I began to eat. I turned green. Ironically this was the same colour as the jellyfish. I’m not sure if it was supposed to be that colour but it didn’t matter whether it was fresh or on the turn…It couldn’t have tasted any worse. But did I leave it? Nope, although at one point, I did think I would spew. I chewed and swallowed, heaved and retched but I finished it.
When the waiter returned I saw his face fall. I puffed out my chest and my greenness changed to a more acceptable yellow.
He asked,
“Did you enjoy?”
“Well I could have done with a little more jellyfish.”
“You want more?”
“Sorry auld champion but your establishment had its chance to impress…Just bring us a bog standard Chow Mein and we’ll say no more about it!”
The point to this is Pride!! And swallowing it!
The reason that I am mentioning this is due to feedback we gave to a writer. They took it, didn’t go in the cream puff and decided whether or not our comments helped. That is the thing, don’t spit out the dummy if anyone says that something is wrong. Look at it and THINK!
I’ve mentioned before when I have a story in mind, it’s so strong in my head, I can’t understand how anyone doesn’t get it. (My story this week was an example of this. )
But when it is pointed out, don’t be like me and eat the fecking jellyfish, consider changing it to something more palatable.
I am shit at metaphors but hope you all get the point!
OK on to this weeks stories!
As always our initial comments follow.
We had two new folks this week, (I’ll need to ask our resident statistician exactly how many authors we have.) one third timer, an old campaigner and me.
Our first new person began the week. We extend the usual welcome and plea for more stories!
Ellen Kibbe had her wonderfully titled short ‘A Cosmopolitan Epiphany Regarding a Certain Cecil ‘ published on Monday.
‘What a weird wee piece, I liked it.’
‘I enjoyed the ride and found the ending quite sad.’
‘This had a charm to it.’
An old hand graced Tuesday. The talented and quirky Mr Adam Kluger had his story, ‘High And Low‘ next up.
‘A longer story than Adam normally sends us but he skilfully kept the pace and the points relevant.’
‘Strange but quite compelling.’
‘Some great lines and interesting characters.’
We had a third time published author on Wednesday. Julie Howard was our key-stone of the week with ‘Hunger‘
‘The flow was good and the prose most enjoyable.’
‘Concise and well put together.’
‘A good self-help / self discovery type story.’
Tabitha Sterling was our last new author of the week. The same welcome applies to Tabitha, we hope both these writers have a lot of fun with the site. On Thursday her short story ‘Plague Song‘ was showcased.
‘The back story fuelled the understandable bitterness between them.’
‘Excellent writing with an interesting choice of main characters.’
‘You are left with a tiny doubt at the end about whether or not the murder was due to the ‘illness’ or their strengthening resentment.’
And on Friday, well I put together my usual happy little tale. ‘In Five Years Time‘.
This was first shown to the other editors the middle of last year and it had been refused due to the ending. It took me around eight months to work through the issues that they had raised. I thank them all as always for making me a better writer and not being so focused in what I know compared to what I have written!
So week 108 is done and dusted.
I am going to access some jellyfish and completely ignore it.
…Pot Noodles and Crispy Pancakes, they are a different matter!
Hugh
Banner Image: jellyfish Salad – By Bình Giang (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
The Eastern sky lit up for hours this time. Smoke billowing out of whatever building had been bottle-bombed and the stench of charred meat reaching for the wind. Cajoling it to carry the warning to every survivor still making their way towards a pre-recorded radio message or following hopeful, dusty signs carved into tree trunks and telephone poles.
Her fingers dripped with sticky syrup. A warm breeze blew in from her kitchen windows and she closed her eyes for a moment. One perfect moment. Opening her eyes, she sucked one finger after another, savoring the tart sweetness, then dipped one finger in the pot for one more taste. The plum jam was perfect, as she knew it would be.
The croissant had just the right crispness to it.
” Yes, they brought the towels and thank you for doing that, but I need soap for the sink.”
The views from the 22nd floor were stunning. From the East you could see the Silver Cup Studios sign and from the other side of the atrium you could see the Empire State Building already lit up red and green for the holidays, vibrating amidst a vast New York Cityscape.
I wanted to be cosmopolitan, so I redecorated my veranda using a sea green, vinyl bus seat, and I hung a Chinese lantern as my muse. I drank only the bitterest coffee sent directly from Jamaica through a friend of a friend’s ex.
I felt no different.
Continue reading “A Cosmopolitan Epiphany Regarding a Certain Cecil by E.K.”
For this week we have a wee change. Apparently it’s as good as a rest. So I will get on with the review and take it from there.
Continue reading “Week 107 – Fledglings, Success And Rhino Skin”
The tiny clearing off to the side was cooler than the obscenely voluminous garden with its organized cacophony of colors – massed vermilions and oranges alongside indigos, violets, and fuchsias, eye-popping yellows and the occasional calm of white or cream. Cedars bent over an exquisite pool, granite lined, with water more crystalline than glass. Almost lost between moss-padded banks that nearly met, a miniscule stream fed the pool, dribbling over mammoth slate slabs stacked like pricey leather-bound books resting on deep emerald velvet.
literally stories 