I live up off Sorrel Creek road in Gusty Hills. Its eighty acres of good pasture land on rolling hills with majestic Blue Oaks and plebeian scrub brush residing on gentle swells like green clad bosoms in the spring and tanned brown breasts in the fall.
I live in the house that my grandfather, father and I were born in. A solid Oak and Sugar Pine structure with redwood shingles and two stone fireplaces.
The bars of the cage sparkled. Each morning the cleaning detail scrubbed them from outside the building using long handled brushes. A clean cage kept life threatening germs away from the inmates, the same germs that caused the near extinction of the human race.
Literally Stories welcomed a new author – Ashlie Allen – onto the site in week 22. We also saw the return of an ‘old boy’ in Dave Louden.
Newcomer Ashlie gave Wednesday a real chill with The Violin He Played Downstairs – keep an eye out for that kid Abramo folks, he’s a bit special.
In an alternative Ulster known as Ultra-Belfast Dave Louden’s protagonist was seated at a card table with a rather unsavoury bunch. Texas Hold’Em was their game. You got to hand it to Dave, it was a fine story.
Sandwiched between these diverse horrors we found Hugh Cron, who dealt readers another unsettling hand when he gave us The Choice. Hobson only knows what to make of that one?
Sweden is a wonderful country full of peace loving, pine furniture admiring Nordics. Erm – not according to Tobias Haglund it isn’t. Well, wasn’t, back in the day when Sadistic Justice got metered out here, there and ‘bloody’ everywhere, in his gory tale of valour and revenge and how not to form a queue at IKEA.
If your appetite wasn’t fully satisfied by Tobias’ smorgasbord of Scandinavian mayhem then no doubt you easily digested the Bread and Chicken Diane Dickson served up on Friday. Not a culinary delight but a literary one nonetheless.
You’ll have to choose.
“Who said that?”
You did.
“No I didn’t. Who is taking the piss?”
…Mirror, mirror on the wall…We all know the rest. You said that. Do you deny it?
“No. I was only mucking about. For fuck sake I was only having a shave.”
You should never muck about with your soul. You are in trouble now! You’ll have to choose. One of three. If you hurry you will be able to stay but if you don’t…Well…
I glanced up from the screen, resting my eyes and easing stiffened shoulder muscles. This job, editing copy for a company based in London is easy but tedious. It fits in though with the other things I like to do, the beach walks and gardening and most importantly going down to the nursing home. I am not keen on the job but I enjoy being in my office.
I love my home actually, I am very lucky. It has been in my family for four generations now and after the horrible time over the last few years it has taken me back, wrapped its solid stone bulk around me and held me safe.
“We’re all going to Disneyland in the summer! That is six months from now! So I want you to mark each day off so we know how close it’s getting.”
The three children screamed with delight. They ran up to their bedrooms to look out some calendars and to chat and get excited as little children do.
She sat. Never said a word. Asking about how they were going to afford this was a bad idea.
He smiled at her.
“Well, you can tell everyone what I am doing for the kids. That’ll shut your mother up.”
She nodded, trying to hide the swallow that relieved the lump of dread in her throat.
***
Matty wasn’t a very good friend. We’d sit up late and watch these old movies in black and white and sometimes all-new colour and even though I sat right in front of him, he’d throw popcorn and pillows at my head and the feathers would fly everywhere. My mother couldn’t deal with the mess and I always took the blame for him.
I’ve been in the park, lunchtime I went to sit in the sunshine. It was nice. I was on my own as usual and today I just had an apple. It was small, red on one side, green on the other and there was a small bruise near the bottom. I hadn’t brought sandwiches today. Partly because I was late up and didn’t have much time but mostly because I only had chicken roll in the fridge.
When she left home Briony hadn’t meant to leave so – well, quite so permanently. She went to the shop to buy a cabbage. A medium sized drumhead was what she had in mind, although in fairness there was an option for cauliflower. Dinner was beef, already in the cooker, rich and redolent, herby and delicious. Beef, Beef in beer for Dick and to go with it mashed potatoes and cabbage. His favourite.
Continue reading “Just Going for a Cabbage by Diane M Dickson”
Life: what is it all about?
I’d left for the party minimally drunk and maximally desolate. Eva and I had argued earlier. “Laurie,” she’d said truculently, “why don’t you want to go? Who stays in on New Year’s Eve? Jenny and Pete are our oldest friends. But maybe you have your own reasons?”
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