Sheltering- A Reading List and Confession?

The Stand- by Stephen King is not on the list. I am, for the most part, a King fan, and enjoy his writing. Like a well-done horror or suspense movie should, he safely scares you. But The Stand is a dystopian landscape after Captain Trip (a deadly flu) decimates the population. King throws in a little Good vs. Evil with Randall Flagg. He reminds readers that the book is not about covid 19, but it is about a pandemic. I am not going to recommend any dystopia right now.

I have read The Dutch House by Ann Prachett and Greg Iles’ Mississippi Blood, the last in his Natchez Burning trilogy. Now for the confession. There have been a number of mysteries in my list but they were an easy read and kept my mind off more serious things. There was non-fiction, too, but some of it depressing and that’s not what is needed right now. I have almost finished The Slap by Christos Tsiolkas which it very much a book I’d likely set aside, even though it won the Commonwealth Writers Prize in 2009. I will admit to starting some books and not finishing…I think it’s my state of mind.

Since covid, I have read a variety of books that I might have read but might not have if I’d had better access to titles I’d reserved at my public library. I finished Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince and am now reading HP and the Deathly Hallows. My grandson read the series a year ago and I thought I should see why he so enjoyed them. Well, Harry leads an exciting life and the plot moves right along. Glad I decided to follow my grandson’s lead.

I caved and bought The Mirror and the Light by Hilary Mantel. It’s the last of her Tudor trilogy and takes concentration to read. There are so many characters, so many intrigues, and they deal with plague all the time. It’s not a major theme of the book, though, history and the character of Thomas Cromwell is. It’s fascinating how he, as a commoner, became one of the most powerful men in England and a trusted advisor to Henry V111. It’s also a total diversion from what is going on right now (at least for me). So even though in Alberta, we’re in phase one of opening up, reading is a way to keep safe and stay home.

Fiction Friday – What Are Friends For?

This piece is a flash fiction that I first entered into an Edmonton Journal contest (a few years ago; there’s no budget for such things now.) I’d like to say it won but it didn’t. I edited almost half of the words so that it made the word count for the Writers Union flash fiction contest. There it won an honourable mention…and now to the story.

  Isabel arranged the combs and brushes on the terry cloth towel she had laid over the stainless steel tray.  “Well, Iris, what would you like today?  No, don’t say anything.  I know just what you want.”

Isabel moved one of the combs and set it nearer the edge of the table.  “What did I do with the scissors?  Don’t tell me, I’ll find them.”  She rummaged through her satchel and after a couple of minutes produced them with a triumphant flourish.

“I knew I brought them,” she said.

Isabel looked at Iris’s long, graying hair.  She took a brush and pulled it through the thick straight mane.  It wasn’t easy to get the knots out.  “I’m going to wash this, Iris.  It’ll make it easier to cut.”

Isabel had Iris’s hair washed in record time.  As she toweled it dry, she said, “I think it would look better short.  Short hair makes a person look younger.”

Isabel hummed as she cut great swaths from Iris’s thick hair.  The overhead light flashed silver from the sharp blades of the styling scissors.

Soon most of Iris’s heavy hair lay in a pile on the floor.  Isabel stepped around it and picked up the hair dryer.  “Do you like it, Iris?  No… don’t say anything. I’m not done yet.  Wait until I blow it dry and it has more body.”

The dryer whined as Isabel styled Iris’s new bob.  She drew the brush through the hair and curved it gently at the ends.  When it was dry, Isabel stepped back.  She took a hand mirror from the tray and held it so the back of Iris’s head was in view.

“I told you, you’d look younger.  I never did understand why you were so vain about that long hair.  I’ve wanted to do this for ages.”  Isobel flicked an errant lock into place and picking up the scissors trimmed some uneven hairs from Iris’s bangs.

“There, that’s your hair done.  Let me see your nails.”  Isobel took her hands and inspected her nails.  She shook her head and clucked at the bright polish.

“I can fix these, too,” she said.  “They’ll be easier to keep when they’re short.  You won’t need polish, either.  I’ll just buff them.”  Isobel hummed in a tuneless monotone as she took the nail scissors from the tray.  Snip, and then snip.  As each scarlet nail was severed, tiny silver sparks leapt from the scissors.  Snip, snip.  Iris’s nails joined her hair on the floor.  When Isobel was satisfied that they were short enough, she buffed them carefully.

She sighed with satisfaction.  “Just look at you, Iris.  You look great, so much younger and more stylish.  You should have let me do this, years ago.”

Again she held the mirror so her old rival could see what she had accomplished.  She added, “I know you want to look your best tomorrow.  You’ll never have another funeral.”

 

 

Fiction Friday- read Halloween Harvest

Halloween Harvest

            The sun had set but its slanting rays still cast an eerie light throwing the trees along the road into twisted shadows. Drew steered them deftly along the winding trail.

“I don’t know why you insist on hanging with Keven. He’s so weird.”

Kaitlyn’s frown crinkled her careful Elvira make-up.

“Keven’s okay. He owns a start-up IT company and it’s so successful, he’s thinking of going public.”

It was hard to take Drew seriously, dressed as he was in the cheesy devil costume. The cheap plastic mask was perched atop his head and she knew they wouldn’t make an entrance as the sexy couple they were.

“There now, see that,” he said, as they rounded a final curve.

It was hard to argue. The “cabin”, a large log structure, dominated by spruce trees and alight with Jack-o-lanterns did look like the perfect setting for a Hallowe’en Party…if only the storm stayed away. Ominous, dark clouds could be seen to the left of the cabin, across the lake. Kaitlyn thought she saw lightening but that made no sense…it was October 31st.

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Before she could mention it to Drew, he had stopped the car, jumped out and was looking for the booze in the trunk. On the deck, she could see Keven, in a Grim Reaper outfit. Kaitlyn had to admit it suited him with his tall, gangly build and spidery arms and legs. The black shroud swirled around him in the breeze and the loose hood hid his face. He supported an authentic-looking scythe against the deck floor and its blade curved away from his head. Around him, a werewolf couple, a vampire and a zombie milled. Various interpretations of monsters had inspired the costumes of the ten or so guests. Some unidentifiable music blared, rap or punk or emo or some wicked combination. Maybe it was banshees wailing.

Kaitlyn shivered and followed Drew onto the deck.

“Keven, my man,” said Drew.

Keven didn’t answer but gestured to an old fashioned Coca-cola cooler with his left hand.

“Perfect,” said Drew, grinning as he deposited the beer and hard lemonades into the ice in the cooler. “Want a raspberry to start, Kaitlyn?” he called over his shoulder. He had already popped the top from a can of Bud for himself.

Without waiting for her answer, he opened the drink and held it out to her. Its sweet pseudo- fruit smell mixed with the malty fug of beer. Across the deck, some guests smoked weed, and its pungent odor wafted in the breeze.

Through the windows, Kaitlyn could see two large candlelit tables, one that was covered with catered food- sushi, crab cakes, smoked salmon, vegan offerings and a variety of vegetables. The second featured chips, dip, Cheezies, nachos, any kind of junk food you could think of. The candlelight gave the food a bloody colour and the flickering shadows cast it into disturbing shapes.

A nasty looking witch came up to Kaitlyn and said, “Whoa, I thought Elvira went out in the 80s.”

Kaitlyn stood with her mouth moving but no sound emerged. She looked down at herself. Sure there was lots of cleavage and the outfit was super tight but she could carry it off. Those hours in the gym were worth it and besides, Drew liked her to look good. She knew she looked good.

Drew came over and she could tell he had chugged a couple of first beers.

“Hey, babe,” he said. “Let’s dance,” and he started to contort without rhythm.

Kaitlyn didn’t argue. She loved to dance and it was a chance to show-off her Elvira look. Soon she and Keven had the deck to themselves. Kaitlyn couldn’t contain a smug smile. Then she heard the thunder over the blasting music. The first rain drops were big and cold. The wind rose sending gusts of frigid air churning around the cabin.

“For Cripes sake.”

Keven grabbed her by the waist and they followed the other stragglers into the cabin.

Lightning split the sky, followed by deafening thunder. The icy temperature of the cabin prompted a chorus of complaint.

“Keven,” a vampire shouted. “Get that fireplace going.” There was no answer.

“Turn on some heat.” This from a witch.

There was more carping and moaning. Their host was didn’t hear it because he couldn’t be found.

Kaitlyn had goosebumps and was shivering.

“Do something, Drew,” she said.

“Excuse me, look out.” Drew wove through the guests and tables to the fireplace built into a fieldstone feature that extended beyond the wall. It was bright, new and looked unused. Drew bent closer.

“Do you know what you’re doing, Bud?” asked a werewolf. “Don’t want to blow us all to hell. Keven’s got plenty more refreshments.”

“For God’s sake, light it,” said Kaitlyn.

Drew fumbled a bit as he looked for the controls which were hidden in a panel on the floor of the fireplace. He hesitated but then, turned the main control. Nothing happened. He tried a couple more times with the same result. Shouted advice from the guests didn’t help.

“Oh, for f___’s sake.” The werewolf pushed Drew out of the way and after a flourish, he turned the control to ON.

A huge ball of burning methane exploded into the costumed crowd. The werewolf combusted in a spontaneous flash. Drew screamed as his plastic mask melted onto his face. Kaitlyn’s Elvira gown dissolved and burst into flame. The unholy screams, the roar of the fire, the crashing thunder turned the cabin into a nightmare inferno. The guests cavorted in a final macabre dance as tendons and ligaments contracted spastically. Upstairs hungry flames flickered and licked around Keven’s comatose body.

Outside, a long shadow stretched from the black clad figure watching the conflagration. The only features visible in its hooded face were red eyes, reflecting the fiery destruction before it. Shrouded in black and leaning on his scythe, the Reaper enjoyed his work for a few minutes before turning to melt into the stormy darkness.

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Cold Comfort

Flash fiction No. 2, Fiction Friday. With the nights getting colder, and furnaces working all over the country, this might be appropriate….

           The voice wakes me in the middle of the night.

           “Arnie.  I’m scared.  Arnie.”

           Scared?  Of what?  I always looked after us. I made money to have a nice house.  If you worked as hard as me, you would enforce some standards in that home.  I wanted a hot meal on time.  I wanted that nice house properly cleaned.  It’s not too much to ask, is it?

“Arnie, Arnie. I’m so cold.”

It was her own fault. I told her a hundred times.  “Don’t touch my remote control.” I didn’t like her watching those stupid soaps. She was watching when she should have been getting my supper and she lost the remote. It didn’t hurt her to watch what I wanted.

“Arnie.  I wanted to watch figure skating.  I used to skate.  I was even pretty good. Remember?”

“Shut up,” I said.  “Just shut your hole.”

“Arnie.  I don’t want to be here alone.”

I got my earplugs I wear at work.  Those jackhammers are hell on hearing.  I put the earplugs in.

“Arnie, come on down.  I’m so lonely.  I’m scared.”

Damned earplugs aren’t working. I don’t want to hear her whimpering but I can. Why can I still hear her?

“Arnie, come down for a minute.  I promise I’ll be quiet then.  Please.”

I am a reasonable man.  I just feel stressed sometimes.  I have to go down and see if she’ll shut up. Doesn’t she know I have to work tomorrow?  Doesn’t she know that I had ended it yesterday?

Darlene is right.  It is colder than Siberia in the basement.

“Arnie, please.  I’m so cold.”

I go past the furnace to the storage room. There she is, dead.  Just like I left her.  So why do I hear her voice?”

“Arnie, I’m turning blue.  I’m so cold. Let me come back upstairs.”

I look at Darlene.  She should be blue.  I pushed her yesterday but not that hard.  She fell and hit her stupid head. All she has to do is look after me and the house.  I work hard.  It’s not too much to ask to have a nice home.  To have a good meal.  So when she asked me I said, no.  Why does she have to go to her sister’s all the time?  You’d think she’d learn.

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“Arnie.  It was her birthday.  I just wanted to see her, that’s all.”

That voice. She has to be dead.  How come I’m with dead Darlene…AND I CAN STILL HEAR HER DAMNED WHINY VOICE???

“Arnie, you can’t hurt me now.  But Arnie, I’m so cold.”

What does she think I can do?

“Darlene,” I say.  “Of course, you’re cold.  You’re dead, you stupid woman.”

“Arnie.  I’m so cold.  Arnie.  I’m scared and I’m alone.”

I turn my back because I’m done.  I’m going back upstairs to my bed to sleep.

“Arnie, don’t go. You have to stay with me.”

I try to walk out.  It’s like moving through mud.  So slow.  Then I can’t move at all.

“Darlene, baby.  Let me go.”

“Arnie, I want you to stay.  I’m cold and scared and lonely.  You can’t go.”

“Let me go get you a blanket.”

I forget what Darlene’s laugh is like but it isn’t like this. I try to reason with her. Crazy, she’s dead.  I couldn’t get through to her when she was alive.

“I’ll get you a hot water bottle.”

More lunatic laughing.  I can’t get it out of my head.  I cover my ears.

“You can’t go Arnie.  I want you to turn up the furnace. Turn it up high.”

Stupid woman.  The thermostat is upstairs.  She lets me move to the furnace.  I bend over and pretend to adjust a dial.

That damned laughing gets louder… it’s- WHOOOOSH!

“I’M BURNING.  HELP, DARLENE, HELP.  I’M SORRY BABY.”

The last thing I hear is that crazy laughing and my own dying scream.

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