Adelaide Literary Magazine No. 31, December 2019

Revista Literária Adelaide

They killed an hour or so hanging out in she wasn’t even sure he’d heard her. He
the kitchen making plans for dinner later finished the meal and sat back, wiped his
on, talking about the best place to go for a mouth on his sleeve and finally said, “Don’t
coffee within walking distance, exploring the you find our lives excessive?”
deeper meanings of Star Trek-The Next Gen-
eration. Scotty disappeared at one point, as She looked around, shrugged her shoul-
he often did, saying that he had some work ders and said, “No. You keep saying that.”
to do. Elroy yawned and stretched, writhing
in the chair with her kimono gaping open He rolled his eyes and, even though he’d
to expose one large brown nipple, and de- done it many times before, it angered her
clared that she was going to have a bubble now.
bath. Thee went into the living room and
tinkered around with the VCR that Scottie “What?” she said. “What did I say that
said had been doing weird shit whenever was so, so stupid?”
he tried to record something. Belinda made
another cup of tea, picked up one of the Na- For a moment he seemed contrite and
tional Geographic magazines and sat on the chewed on the edge of his thumb. Then
back step smoking. he straightened up and said, “Look, I know
things…I…me…I’m moving very quickly here.
It was just another Sunday really. But I want you to understand. I’m doing this
for both of us. For what is good for both of us.”
***
“What? Putting everything in boxes?
She rolled over, a Saturday, and looked at his Painting everything grey? Getting rid of
sleeping face in the gloomy March morning. everything that made you…” she faltered,
It had been raining all week. There were no sensing she’d stepped into dangerous ter-
curtains on the window, but they weren’t ritory.
really needed as the building next-door was
in touching distance. The sunshine, when “Made me what?” he pushed.
it was there, didn’t find its way into this
space. When he was asleep, his expression “I don’t know.”
relaxed and seemed kind rather than sus-
picious, amused rather than sarcastic. He’d “Made me interesting?”
wake up soon—the alarm was set for 8:10
am—so that he would have time to dress, She looked down at her shoes.
drink a cup of coffee and smoke two ciga-
rettes before heading downstairs to open “Oh my God.” He got up from the table
the shop at 8:45. and paced around the room. “That’s exactly
what I’m talking about. You honestly don’t
The previous night, they’d been eating know me, do you?”
their dinner in the spartan kitchen / dining
area and she’d looked around at the blank “No, I don’t think I do,” she replied, trem-
walls and empty benches and asked, “So ulous, rising from the table and taking the
what the hell is really going on, Thee?” dishes to the sink.

He’d continued eating, shovelling the He’d gone out then and retuned around
pasta that she’d made into his mouth, and midnight as she lay on the air mattress,
wide awake.

She watched the digital display edging its
way towards his awakening. His disturbance

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of this stark and silent space. The only things Yeah, can’t see Thee suddenly wanting
occupying this room now were their bodies to come up.
on the air mattress, the digital clock on a
simple construction of four planks of wood We ever going to get to see him?
glued to form an empty square, his clothing
on the wheeled hanger, now reduced to five I showed you his photo when I was back.
pairs of black pants and five white shirts.
Meet him, I mean.
She kept her focus trained on his face
as the time approached for the day with Yeah, I know. Sorry.
him in it to begin. Two more minutes and
there would be a series of ugly beeps. She S’alright, pet.
watched his nose twitch and listened to the
deep, slow breathing. ***

“One more minute until your strange and After their ‘fight’, two weeks passed. Two
cruel tyranny resumes,” she whispered. weeks without speaking to each other. Two
Sundays without him hanging out at Scotty
“What?” He woke suddenly, startled and and Elroy’s place.
startling her.
The first Sunday, she went on her own
He looked over at the clock and back at in defiance, but also terrified that they, too,
her, unable to fathom what had woken him. would find her dull and not particularly cool.
Surprisingly, or maybe not, it was only after
“Did you say something?” he asked, rub- she’d been there a couple of hours that
bing one eye. Elroy asked what Theodore was up to. Not,
is he coming around? Not, why are you here
“Yes.” and he isn’t?

The alarm went off and he held it in front “I’ve no idea,” Belinda replied.
of his face, fumbling for the button at the
back and then holding it on his chest with Elroy looked at her kindly for a second or
his eyes closed. two and then asked for her help in sorting
out some stuff they’d been collecting in the
“Well? What did you say?” garage with the intention of setting up a
stall at the markets sometime.
“Do you really want to know?” she asked.
The following Sunday, Belinda had en-
He sighed, got up from the mattress and tered their home with a little more con-
went into the bathroom. fidence, but was still anxious about long
silences, or being alone with one of them,
*** or not being able to uphold her end of the
conversation about the rights of indigenous
Easter soon. people or the merits of jingly-jangly indie
music. Elroy asked where Theodore was, re-
Yeah, I know. ceived a shrug, and suggested they all go to
see a movie, or just them, the girls. As it was,
You coming up? Scotty was keen to accompany them.

Probably…yeah… They sat and watched Pulp Fiction in a
packed theatre, enthralled, nudging each
On your own?

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other and whispering all the way through. to have a cup of camomile tea and iron
Walking back to the car afterwards, Scottie her uniform for the next day. Sparse as
and Elroy did a slow grinding twist on the the room had already become, it seemed
sidewalk, trying to replicate the vibe of that even more so. Some of his novels had gone,
particular scene and almost succeeding. but not all of them. A tiny frame that had
hung on the wall, with a snippet of lace
“You, my dear Belle, have to get your hair from his mother’s wedding dress—a sweet
bobbed immediately,” Elroy said as she got thing that she’d found endearing when
out of the car and flipped the passenger he’d shown it to her, and hopeful when it
seat forward. wasn’t removed or painted gun-metal blue
in the first blitz—was gone. She went from
“Yeah,” Scotty agreed, unfolding his long room to room, noting the absence of his
limbs from the back and getting out awk- clothing, toiletries, concertina folders that
wardly. “Don’t come into our house next contained tax returns and paperwork, ar-
week unless you do.” riving back at the front door suspicious and
unsure of what to do, if, as it seemed, he
“And red, red lips. Thanks for the lift, had left her.
Belle baby,” Elroy said, and Belinda tooted
the horn as she drove home. Was she expected to move out?

Thee was sitting, legs crossed and She wandered back up to the end of the
smoking, in the dining room / kitchen. She flat intending to call Elroy and ask for some
showered and went to bed, falling asleep advice, but it was almost 10 pm, so she de-
easily, unaware of when he joined her. cided to deal with it in the morning.

When she arrived at Scotty and Elroy’s The air mattress was in need of air, but
place the third Sunday, they introduced she couldn’t be bothered with it. The cam-
her to Tomas. She suspected his name was omile tea helped take the edge off her con-
probably Thomas. He worked as an ani- cerns. If worst came to worst, and it wasn’t
mator for a computer games company. He, a bad idea, she could move in with Scotty
too, was a ‘country boy’, but from rural Vic- and Elroy. They’d hinted at it that afternoon
toria. They walked from Coogee along the anyway, saying they had a room there that
coast, past the pretty little cove of Clovelly, was going to waste. She smiled remem-
and onto Bondi. This particular outing had bering how Tomas had gently mocked their
been pre-arranged, with phone calls back urban, pampered childhoods, looking to her
and forth throughout the week weighing up for agreement.
the benefits of going from south to north,
or north to south. She’d persuaded them to Horns beeped and in the distance a
do south to north, purely on the basis that siren wailed. The traffic on the highway
it would be a shorter distance home by bus outside wasn’t too bad by this time of night.
at the end of it. She and Tomas compared For a farm girl, she’d gotten pretty used to
childhoods as they walked. When they ar- the noise of the city. She began to drift off,
rived at Bondi in the late afternoon, they the weight that had been crushing her the
found a beachside bar and ordered a bottle last few weeks had lightened. Tomas had a
of wine. funny way of saying his r’s that sounded like
w’s. A car alarm rang from what sounded
When she returned home, late, she like the car park across the street. Thee
walked directly into the end room intending

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would’ve teased Tomas about sounding
like Elmer Fudd, that’s for sure. There was
a car chase out on the highway. Probably
someone speeding. Maybe Scotty and
Elroy would like to come up to the farm at
Easter. The siren got louder. Tomorrow at
work she had to show a trainee how to do
the payroll.

About the Author

Sue Brennan is an Australian writer. She was shortlisted
for the Wollongong Short Story Award (2018), the Alan
Marshall Short Story Award (2016, 2018) and the Polestar
Literary Award (2016). She has had poetry included in the
Poetry D’Amour Anthology (2016, 2017, 2018) and short
stories published in ACE - Contemporary Stories by Emerging
Writers, Meniscus, Lite Lit One!, and Adelaide No. 20. Raised
in Texas, Joel Howard spent a career in advertising before
retiring early to spend summers in New England and winters
in Florida. He travels frequently, especially to Europe. Writing
is an affliction he cannot shake.

102

THE PIT

by Joel Howard

Ben was shocked that his dad had both- six days of camp, during which time he’d
ered to come. Perhaps the man had been learned to remain mum in both word and
surprised - even elated - that his son had deed, lest the bullies surrounding him or
exhibited some spirit in breaking the rules the counselors ostensibly there to help him
and using the camp phone to call home, ‘grow in Christ’, turn on him. He was for rea-
compelling him to act on his son’s behalf. sons unknown to himself a target for their
Outbound calls were forbidden without cruelty, a handy repository for their rage,
the permission of one of the camp counsel- as he was invariably perceived as being dif-
ors, young men who were loath to exhibit ferent no matter his attempts at fitting in.
any such kindness. Only letters home were Failing to belong, he would blend as best
allowed, and those were censored. Fortu- he could into the immediate surroundings,
nately, the boy’s collect call was answered willing himself to be as innocuous as a twig
by his mom, a perpetually anxious woman upon a forest floor. This too mostly failed,
incapable of saying ‘no’ to the urgent plea any attempt at anonymity opening him to
from her only child. even worse ridicule.

The call sent Ben’s father driving south- If it hadn’t been a Baptist camp, it was
westerly into the star-laden night, three doubtful that his father would have come
hours from Dallas, to the Baptist summer as he did, all that way on a work night. The
camp. Ben vividly recalled the ruckus man, however, had developed a loathing of
upon his arrival - the sound of his father’s Baptists, frequently railing about their pro-
voice as he raged at the camp counselors, pensity at inserting themselves in affairs that
the whiskey-honed edge of his words ca- should remain none of their concern. It had
reening untamed among the camp’s stark been the boy’s mom who’d decided a camp
cabins, slicing deeply into the boys’ sleep experience was a grand idea. Her husband
with abrupt chaos. Peeking out from a side had scoffed at the suggestion, calling the
window, Ben saw his mom’s big, blue Ford church and its members all sorts of names,
station wagon parked haphazardly in the some of which Ben didn’t comprehend yet
area specifically designated as ‘No Parking’, knew instinctively to be foul and degrading.
the driver’s door gaping wide, the interior At argument’s end though, it was his mom
lights casting a pall across the beige interior. who’d prevailed. When the day came for
Ben’s departure, his parents drove him to
“I can’t believe it. They really came,” Ben meet the church bus, the conveyance that
muttered under his breath. He’d persevered

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they had hoped would deliver their son to a sharp pain. Knowing his father’s theatrics
brighter, more masculine future. Their wor- were likely built on liquor left Ben in a new
ries that Ben was different than the other sense of despair. The man’s love of whiskey
boys had deepened as he grew older. If often led him to trespass against the norms
there was a chance of changing him, they of kindness and decorum, strewing discord
felt compelled to try. His mother especially and pain indiscriminately. In short order,
ached at her son’s apparent loneliness, his Ben’s father had morphed from welcome
search for friendship often seeming to her savior to devouring monster.
as a beggar foraging for food in a dumpster,
too often finding mere crumbs amid the His father’s voice neared Ben’s cabin, his
stench of want. As the bus pulled from the threats riding high on his thundering rage,
lot, the chassis squawking from age and taking the boy back to the man’s previous
overuse, Ben’s face was pasted in agony tirades. On those occasions, Ben retreated
against a side window as his parents waved to his bedroom to huddle alone with his
goodbye. Their gesture was answered with emotions, trembling with fear as a thatch
the pained eyes of a boy condemned to live hut riding out a hurricane. His father’s ex-
two weeks on a far, forbidding planet. hortations were accompanied by the faint
‘yes, sir’ and ‘over here, sir’ of one of the
That night of Ben’s rescue, the verbal counselors, which one Ben couldn’t at first
thrashing his father delivered had awoken be sure. Then he recognized the distinctive
every boy in the camp, including the five drawl of Steve. a tall and gangly blond with
others sharing Ben’s cabin. They quickly severe acne and the hint of a lisp, a bully
jockeyed for space at the side window, whose concave chest heaved violently when
which stood open in the oppressive late July he laughed. Upon meeting Ben, Steve had
heat. From that vantage point one could see picked the boy up by his belt, while telling
and hear the entire argument. Ben let the the others, “this little guy here ain’t hardly
others jostle for a view, the dull, yellow glow worth the space he takes up, is he?” In
provided by the large mercury vapor yard agony due to the pressure on his groin, Ben
light infusing the scene with a ghostly pall. pleaded to be lowered to the ground, his
Ben returned to his cot, his stomach undu- eyes focused on Steve’s rollicking chest, his
lating in fits of fear and angst, the blue of his ears overflowing with the roar of laughter
eyes deepening as tears welled there. Now and derision.
that his father was there, he was suddenly
gripped with the terror of the outcome his Steve was not alone in finding delight
father’s mercurial temper may force. in torturing the smallest boys, of which
there was Ben and four others of particu-
“You sorry little shits! I want you to get larly small stature. The five counselors had
my son - now! His mama’s at home in a bonded, forming a gang bent on cruelty
fit, and I’m this close to tearing this God- and mockery, always especially gruff and
damned place to shreds. Just a bunch of demeaning toward the slighter boys, de-
hallelujahs and hypocrisy you got here. lighting in attempts to one-up each other in
Not worth a damned thing.” Hearing that their meanness. The solicitous voices Ben
his mother hadn’t made the trip saddened heard that evening, the continual use of the
Ben, his sense of being denied her soothing word “sir” directed at his father, were as for-
heart at his time of great need inflicting a eign as French to the boy’s ears.

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Earlier that day there had occurred an In short order Ben found himself at the
event that would place Benji - as he was edge of the mud pit, a quagmire created by
mockingly called by first the counselors the running of a hose into a shallow area
and then the majority of his fellow campers, that had countless times before served
all of whom said his name in a piercingly the same purpose in the same exhibition
painful falsetto voice - in the dreaded spot- of strength and stamina, of weakness and
light. He’d been forced to be the lead boy on passivity. As he teetered tip-toed on the
his side in a game of tug-of-war. Across the precipice of the pit’s edge, Ben sensed the
muddy pit that separated the two ragtag vaguest push on his right shoulder, a slight
teams, there stood another slight boy at the offense that nevertheless proved enough
leading edge of the rope. “Runts up front, to send him careening headlong into the
that means you Benji boy, real men behind” pit, his face hitting the sea of muck with
had been the counselors command. Yet the a decided echo. Slowly extricating himself
other small boy hadn’t borne the brunt of from the mess, he found himself covered
ridicule as Benji had. Something about Ben in mud, long rivulets of it dripping from his
elicited the worst of hyper-macho cruelty pale, sun-freckled skin to form inky pools at
from others. As he often did when amongst his feet. Around him, the laughter was so ri-
his peers, Ben felt as if he was traversing a otous that some boys were doubled over on
primitive bridge built of rope and prayers, the ground, howling as wolves at the moon.
his slight body rollicking as he stood mid-
span over a great, yawning crevice. Please, The descent into hell then seemed
he would pray, let me make it across. complete, but now that his father was at
the camp, Ben felt a familiar unease, an
The counselors, joined by the boys not impending path that past experience gave
on either team, began cajoling and cat- promise of a further descent into darkness.
calling. Without the comfort of his mother, he was
left to rely solely on his father, and that reali-
“Pull, Wiggins, pull!” zation was frightening. The man was not one
to easily rein in his fury, nor did he feel any
“Com’n, look alive, you pansies!” compunction to keep his vitriol focused on
his original point of anger. Once unleashed,
“You lightweights, put some effort into it!” his rage could flail about like a garden hose
under high pressure, its direction unknown
“Look at Benji! It almost looks like he’s and impossible to chart. It hadn’t until that
got muscles in his arms!” moment dawned upon Ben that the trip
home would put him alone with his father
“Yeah, muscles the size of your five- in the station wagon - for three hours. The
year-old sister’s!” man’s anger would no doubt echo within
the confines of the car, filling Ben’s very soul
“God made Benji a girl and he just doesn’t with yet more despair. The image of what
know it!” lay ahead sent painful quivers careening
through his body, the effects of which re-
And so it went, the heat as deafening as vealed themselves in fits of shaking.
the taunting in its unyielding intensity. Ben
huffed as his feet slid forward, his auburn As was his habit in such situations, Ben
cowlick bouncing the rhythm of his im- wanted desperately to shorten the ugly scene
pending doom. Both hands burned as they
too lost ground in the battle, the mocking
barbs searing deep into the wounds.

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outside before it denigrated into something “Never shoulda gone to that damned
worse. He scurried through the front door of camp, son. No, it was like I said from the
the cabin, pausing but for a moment on the get go, a lousy idea that promised nothin’
small wooden porch. With the aid of a deep but trouble. And see, here it is, me havin’ to
breath, he quickly took the two steps down drive through the night just to rescue you
to the barren soil and made his way toward from those son’s-a-bitchin’ faggots.”
the car. He walked briskly, holding his head
down, seeking anonymity, or even a ray of “But mom said I should go.”
darkness that would shield him from the mo-
ment’s agony. His father, a short, stout man “Huh, and how’d that turn out?,” he said
of outsized presence, his piercing green eyes with a robust guffaw. “Well? See, you gotta
and jet black hair imbuing him with a men- learn. A woman, even your mom - hell, es-
acing edge, grabbed Ben’s left arm. Twirling pecially your mom - is full of gooey feelings.
his son like a five pound weight, he pushed They get nothin’ but gooey decisions from
him in the driver’s door and across the sea them feelings. See? Hey, I asked ya, do you
of summer-warm vinyl. see what I’m sayin’?” The far edges of anger
crept back into his voice.
Still snorting, Ben’s dad slammed the
door, threw the transmission into low gear, Ben nodded his head slightly, but not
causing the nose of the Ford to heave sky- enough to placate the now suddenly bel-
ward and send dust and gravel trailing be- ligerent man next to him. He felt his dad’s
hind. The pinging of pebbles on the under- hand on his left thigh, the fingers suddenly
carriage sang a metallic tune, one that fell squeezing the man’s discontent into his
to Ben’s ears much like the biting words of son’s pained flesh.
the bullies he was leaving behind.
“Yeah, you gotta learn about women, son.
They made it to the two-lane paved road Learn to let most of what they got to say
and headed east toward the main highway. go in one ear and out the other. Never let
The sounds now were those of the engine even one of their words set up shop in your
quickly accelerating and the tires incessant head. Then do the bare minimum to keep
humming. His father hiccupped and pulled ‘em off your back and then go on about your
a bottle from the seat between them, seem- business. Otherwise they’ll harp on about
ingly surprised to see his son their beside whatever ‘til your ears bust open.”
him, as if the boy was for that moment
nothing more than a mirage. The man moved his right arm. placing it
around Ben’s shoulder. The pain in the boy’s
“Oh yeah,” he finally muttered. The fa- leg lingered absent his father’s squeezing.
miliar smell of whiskey was unmistakable as His arm and hand dwarfing his son’s body,
he took a long gulp. “Aah, that’s the ticket.” the man pulled him close up against him,
With a belched sigh that unleashed a thou- forcing Ben to pick up the bottle of whiskey
sand small grievances into the confines and hold it to his lap.
of the car, the man’s demeanor abruptly
changed, as if turning a page, and he was “Got half a mind to turn around and go
given over to a smile and a chuckle. On the back there and kick some of their snotty
tail end of another, deeper belch, he spoke, asses.” Ben trembled, focusing his gaze on
this time in a softer voice: the radio, the illuminated dial capturing his
gaze and a dull sense of uselessness. The

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red needle raged in the boy’s twitching his head, notes and syllables of sadness
vision, dancing a tango of laughter and tumbling in cruel harmony with his feelings.
mockery. He soon felt the further encroach- So lost was he in a milieu of terror and sad-
ment of a familiar mix of fear and sorrow, ness that he couldn’t be certain if the vio-
as past experiences with his drunken father lent shaking he was experiencing was real,
caused his defenses, weak though they or just his emotions pounding feverishly as
were, to alert in preparation for the man’s they throbbed wildly beneath his skin.
next move.
As he felt his father’s right hand move
As he was pulled even tighter against to the far side of his neck, he resisted as
his father’s heavy form, in Ben’s mind the man began to exert pressure, trying to
there began a fevered volley of ‘what-ifs’, a pull his son’s face to his own. The man’s
painful series of self-recriminations that left strength would soon have his lips pressed
him saddened at his decision to have called hard against his son’s. Ben jerked violently,
home. Perhaps, he thought, it would have pulling back with all his might as his arms
been better to be bullied by the strangers and legs were sent flailing.
at camp - no matter how many of them -
than to be confined with his father as he Such rebuttal to his father’s advances
now was. He knew the likely outcome of his elicited a litany of curse words, so angry
current situation, and it caused a loud sob was he at his son that he soon let go of the
to escape as he shook. At least, he thought, steering wheel, lunging his body toward
the camp counselors and other boys there Ben. The man’s green eyes deepened with
would likely never again be a part of his life. anger, flooding his son’s will to resist. The
Never again would they have the oppor- frenzy of four arms - two small and scared,
tunity of forcing him to be the lead patsy two irate and intent on oppression - filled
in their game of tug-of-war, afterward the front seat of the car. Ben kicked at his fa-
stripping him to his mud-caked underwear ther, causing the man’s leg to at once press
and drenching him with laughter and the the accelerator down while the knee simul-
sharp-nettled spray from the water hose. taneously pushed against the bottom of the
steering wheel, sending the station wagon
Their tenuous connection to Ben’s life into a sideways skid.
would remain a fleeting moment in which
they reveled in inflicting their own evil, Having careened along the highway’s
whether verbal or physical. He shuddered edge, finally the wagon was centered back
at the recent memories of camp. The older on the pavement. Ben’s father accelerated
boys and the counselors each had the fixed to over 80 miles per hour, cursing and then
look of a hunter, their eyes hungrily lapping grabbing the bottle for another long gulp of
at the weakest prey, as they circled around whiskey. He recapped the bottle and tucked
him and called him names - faggot, fairy, it under his right hip before turning toward
queer. They were wolves to his foundling. his son.

Now, sitting up against his father, the “Go on then, you ungrateful little shit!
smell of whiskey pervasive in the boy’s nose, Get in back if you don’t have any appreci-
the crooning of Patsy Cline’s ‘Crazy’ filled ation for what I did for you, driving all this
Ben’s ears. He continued staring at the radio way to haul your sorry ass back home.” He
dial as her words careened maddeningly in swatted at Ben, hitting his ass as the boy fell

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head-first with a startled ‘oomph’ into the hand shaking his shoulder. He rolled over
back seat. There he curled himself into a ball, to find his father perched on the side of his
wearing the day’s pain as a thick blanket, bed. The boy jerked backwards, yanking the
willing himself to stay awake and alert until covers up to his chin. His father smiled.
they reached home. His eyes travelled be-
yond the side window and into the crisp, “Hey, sport. I’m taking a day away from
wide promise of the star-infused night sky. the office. Your mom already called school
and told them you’d be out today, too. We
Ben held the scantest memory of being had us a rough night, didn’t we?”
carried to his bedroom and tucked in by
his father, then came some kind words fol- Ben fell mute. His pulse raced. Had he
lowed by a threat whiskey-whispered into dreamt the camp experience? His father
his ear, the too hot breath scorching his skin. seemed unperturbed from the drinking and
driving that Ben thought had occurred just
“Our little secret, ya hear me? Always our hours ago. The scent of mint mouthwash
little secret, or all hell breaks loose. This is on his father’s words was so strong as to
just between us - or else.” drown the boy’s groggy senses, making him
question his memories in another volley of
He felt certain that he’d heard his moth- self-doubt.
er’s fretful voice afterward, the strained
words being summarily throttled into sub- “I asked you a question, son. We had a
mission by his father’s gruff impatience. Yes, tough go of it last night, didn’t we? Espe-
he was in his own bed and he had heard his cially me, having to stay awake hauling you
parents arguing after he and his father had back here. You’re lucky I’m such a consid-
made it home. erate father. Lots of guys I know would just
tell their boys to buck up and stop whining
“Stop your worrying. He’s safe and sound like a silly girl.”
in his bed, for chrissake. Now let me get
some sleep, woman” his father had admon- Then the events, Ben realized, had in-
ished his mother. Unlike the recent debate deed happened. In response to his father,
about his going to camp, an argument his he found the will to nod his head just slightly,
mother won, his father had prevailed in last but it was enough to placate the man sitting
night’s contest, much as he usually did. Her on his bed. He felt exposed even though the
meek acquiescence was nothing but normal bed linens covered him. And he felt dirty,
to those who knew the couple. not like the muck from the tug-of-war fiasco,
but rather a darkness that stained his soul.
Ben peeked at the alarm clock resting on
the nightstand - 5:22. Darkness yet held a “You get yourself up and out to the break-
grip on the morning just as certain as wea- fast table. Your mom’s made a big break-
riness held the boy. He turned to his side fast for us. Then she’s gotta get going. She’s
and quickly fell into a fitful sleep, his mind promised to help your aunt down at her
flooded with the memory of the hummed shop. Looks like it’ll be just you and me today,
refrain of the station wagon’s movement sport. My old man used to do this same
as he and his father travelled home on the thing, take a day where it was just me and
sparse country roads. him having some quality time. Now it’s up to
me to pass along that tradition. We’re gonna
Ben was roused from what had evolved have ourselves a good time, aren’t we?”
into a mostly restful stage of sleep by a

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Ben glanced up to see his father’s face, Joel Howard
finding there a broad smile. The man’s eyes
stood wide, green pools waiting, insisting
upon an answer.

“Sure,” was all Ben could muster. It
seemed for that moment to appease his fa-
ther, who then stood and gathered himself
into an imposing figure before striding pur-
posefully from the room, the faint murmur
of mint-bathed memories lingering in his
wake.

109

ENDANGERED

by Simon Lowe

A bright and perky morning in 1983. Bill The postman teetered along Bill’s path
Finton, a consultant ecologist, waits for with a package under his arm. The bribes
the postman to deliver a bribe. Yesterday, were not making his life any easier, Bill
Bill took a bribe to the hospital hoping his thought. He used the blade of a kitchen
daughter would be as enthused by the un- knife to slice open the flaps of a cardboard
opened parcel as he was. He thought she box. Waterproof jacket, walking boots, bin-
might like to open it, or guess what was oculars, compass, clipboard, plastic map
inside- a light hearted distraction. But Bill’s bags, lanyards, coloured pens. All top of the
daughter was not seven, she was seven- range and ludicrously expensive. The note
teen and recovering from an abortion. It said, everything you need Bill, good luck
was, in hindsight, eccentric to believe an with the survey. It was from the local farmer
unopened parcel might cheer her up. And selling his land to an ambitious hotelier. The
his daughter was not downbeat. She did purchase depended on Bill’s survey granting
not need cheering. She had books and cas- the all clear. Bill was disappointed. He had
settes, foam tangerines covering her ears. no need for all this new gear, apart from the
Plenty to make her happy. jacket. Bill may not have thinned with age
but his jacket certainly had.
The parcel contained The Complete
Encyclopedia of Plant Physiology, and was Bill folded ordnance survey maps up-
signed by the series editors. There was a stairs in the guest bedroom. There were
note inside. Good luck with your site visit boxes, files, folders, bundles of paperwork,
Bill, sure we’ll be fine. It was from the plan- textbooks, on the bed, on the floor. It had
ners who hired Bill to complete an Extended a thin wall separating it from his daughter’s
Phase 1 Habitat Survey of a site in Wales. bedroom. She was studying for her A levels
The planners were keen to rubber stamp the but mostly liked to play her electric guitar in
application for a luxury hotel and country a maximalist style. The guitar plugged into a
club. In Thatcher’s Britain (boo, spit, vote, small amplifier Bill wrongly believed would
elect) there was a developing belief that lack the necessary oomph to irritate him or
biodiversity mattered. Stricter regulations the neighbours. His daughter’s bedroom
were passed down by Europe. There was was hers exclusively now, it was no longer
plenty of work for consultant ecologists like communal. A virtual bedsitter. Bill had di-
Bill. And planners and developers went to minishing status, there was a rolling back of
great lengths to keep their ecologist on side. the state in their house. It was fine. What

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could he say to her these days anyway? The postman arrived and handed Bill a
Now she was grown. thick, bulging envelope. There were no con-
vivialities. A silent exchange. Perhaps the
Bill’s daughter sat with her guitar, un- delivery of bribes had made the postman
plugged, at the table, eating peaches from solemn and he was ashamed to be a part of
a jagged tin. Bill ate his breakfast sloppily. it. Bill knew the envelope would be stuffed
His beard glowed with marmalade. with notes. Four hundred pounds in crisp
twenty’s. Bill turned the money into fans
-I thought you quit your job because of and ran upstairs like a victorious quiz con-
ethics dad, now you’re taking bribes? testant unhinged by success, mishearing
the instruction, Come On Down! He forgot
-I’m accepting the gifts but I won’t allow to knock. There was a boy in his daughters
them to influence my findings. room. The boy was not compromised or
naked or hiding his erection, nothing like
-Sticking it to the man, right? that. He was sat at his daughters desk scrib-
bling, large text books flopped and book-
-You think? marked in front of him. His daughter was
asleep, some post punk played her a lullaby.
-Why not.
-Hi. Sorry, I didn’t know we had a guest.
-I’m hoping for cash, ideally.
-Hi Mr Finton.
-Cool, what would you buy?
-I didn’t see you arrive.
-That depends on your exam results, re-
member? -No. I couldn’t sleep so I cycled over.
That’s a lot of money Mr Finton.
-Can I accept your gift but not allow it to
influence how much revision I do? -This? Oh just a bribe.

-Well my gift depends on you doing well -Ha. Very good.
so...
-Were you at the hospital yesterday?
-I know. Joke dad. Sooooo serious. Ok,
I’m gonna have a lie down. -Hospital? No. Why?

-How about doing some work? -I just thought… never mind

-I will, later -Was there an accident?

-Come on, think of the cash! -No, nothing like that, well… I suppose....

-I’m tired and.. -Listen Mr Finton, can I ask you some-
thing?
-What?
-What is it?
-Sore.
-My botany module, I wanted to pick
-Oh. your brains...

-Yeah. Oh. -Oh. Great. Sure. What are we talking,
structure, growth, reproduction?
-I’ll give you a shout when the postman
arrives shall I? See what I get today?

-Great, go for it dad.

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When she was little, and he was away, ties had suddenly thinned and trousers
Bill’s daughter would stay with his sister. But straightened. Beards replaced by cater-
she is no longer little. Her friend Bliss had pillar moustaches. Hair cut short and styled
a keyboard. He thought they were always with gel. He saw the peaks of men’s ears for
together, making music, eating out of tins. the very first time. Bill was pleased to have
It didn’t occur to Bill that she was having his maps photocopied by a similarly flared,
sex. Boys never got a mention. Neither his beige man: a survivor. It wasn’t all change,
daughter or Bliss appeared very grown up. just yet.
They showed little interest in Thatcher or
the election. Nuclear crises barely stirred Bill browsed the physiology section. He
them out of their pyjamas. They were so saw the boy from his daughters bedroom at
soundly cuckolded in suburban childhood, a nearby table in similar scrum like forma-
nothing seemed to scare them. Global self tion, hunched over textbooks. There was a
immolation included. big heavy dustbin man coat folded over a
chair, two badges on the lapel. No Jobs. No
Bill packed a bag, filling a folder with hope. The election was in a few weeks. Bill
maps and measuring equipment. It was his read a paper everyday, but he didn’t need
first job since leaving the consultancy. The to, he could tell from the consultancy which
Handbook for Phase 1 Habitat Surveys in- way things were headed. The consultancy,
sists consultants work in pairs, never alone. created by campaigning students, children
But Bill had little money to hire a qualified of the 60’s, had blithely hopped on the en-
surveyor to accompany him. In all his years trepreneurial wave and felt no need to step
at the consultancy he never worked alone. off. Every new government policy read like a
It could get competitive, monitoring the Get Rich Quick scheme. There was a ladder,
area of ground each other mapped, seeing you were free to climb, if you wanted.
who was progressing the quicker. And Bill
was slow. He spent a lot of time admiring Bill felt sorry for the boy and his badges.
the ground, sniffing, touching, sensing the He was surely backing the wrong horse. But
land. He hadn’t become an ecologist by then perhaps the boy didn’t care about
chance. Colleagues complained he only horses. Maybe all that mattered to him was
mapped half the ground they did in the al- the often quoted statistic: three million un-
located time. He saw how they rolled their employed. Bill wondered if this was the boy
eyes on discovering he was their partner for who got his daughter pregnant. He hoped
the day. Bill wouldn’t miss his colleagues. In so. The boy was politically active and inter-
1983, Bill had not entered the new age. His ested in botany. Fascinated, it seemed. He
mode was fading fast and yet he could not credited his daughter with an astute choice.
bring himself to observe the new ways. One There was no denying it, he felt very kindly
eye was closing whilst the other was yet to to the boy. No sign of a father’s rage.
open.
-Still hard at it I see.
Bill walked to the library. The library
was, sartorially speaking, a haven. He felt -Oh hello Mr Finton, thanks for your help
at home amongst the beards and flapping yesterday.
trousers, plenty of beige and brown. It was
unlike the offices at the consultancy where -Making sense now?

-Just about.

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-Will you be over at ours later? Bill wondered how the other fathers did it;
how they gathered and imposed their be-
-Wasn’t planning to. liefs in such a sensible, practical fashion. He
knocked on his daughter’s bedroom door
-I’m going away for a few days. and told her he would be leaving soon, ev-
erything she needed was stuck to the fridge.
-Great, anywhere nice? To his surprise, she asked if he had time for
a cup of tea before his long drive.
-Wales.
-I know this is a big thing for you dad.
-Be sure to take an umbrella Your first solo outing.

-Why’s that? -I’ve done plenty of surveys before, I
think I’ll be alright.
- It rains a lot. We have a caravan there.
-Not by yourself you haven’t, I want you
-Oh well let’s hope I get lucky. So she to take care, you know what you’re like.
didn’t mention I was going away?
-There’s really no need to worry, just
-Nope. I’m going on a march later this af- crack on with your revision, I’ve got all that
ternoon anyway. cash remember.

-Good for you, although I’m not sure it -Call if you need me. Bliss has a car, we
will do any good. can drive to Wales no problem.

-No, the polls look pretty disastrous don’t -Bliss has a car? Since when?
they?
-Last week. It’s a Mini.
-What do you pair talk about then?
-I didn’t even know Bliss was taking les-
-Music and stuff. sons.

-She tells me to stop worrying and learn -Ring every day, promise.
to love the bomb. I hope it’s a joke.
-I promise.
-Yeah, she’s pretty laid back. It’s great re-
ally. -What have you forgotten? there’s always
something
-I suppose. Anyway, got to dash. Good
luck in the exams. Remember the sonoran -I might double check my coloured pen-
desert has devil queen and devil bush, it’s cils.
one of the only places in the world where
both can grow. It’s an exceptional habitat. -The Mini’s good to go dad, so you’d better
ring!
-Right-oh, erm, thanks Mr Finton.
The roads were busy. At the consultancy
There were lists stuck to the fridge it was policy to share a car. Nobody liked
door. His daughter had written Michael Bill’s old Ford Orion. They preferred for-
foot smells in multi-coloured magnets. He eign cars, small nippy things that could tear
didn’t know if this was political expression down narrow streets and country lanes. Bill
or her teasing him, again. It occurred to Bill usually struggled to follow the conversation
that by announcing he was going away, he over a symphony of revs. He was enjoying
had, in effect, invited the boy over. He was
encouraging something few fathers would.

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taking his drive to Wales slowly in the Orion. been delivered first thing. Another bribe,
He felt a tingle of excitement, a joyous burst thought Bill, that’s a bonus. It was a wicker
somewhere (his soul? his frontal lobe?). Bill hamper filled with cake, chutneys, crackers,
was a saviour to the living world. Newts and cheese, plus a large bottle of whisky. A note
creeping marshwort could rest assured, Bill said, busy day ahead, thought you could do
Finton was on his way! And it was no longer with some supplies. The Bank. They had
his bosses at the consultancy who would loaned the hotelier a substantial amount
need to explain themselves if Bill were to of money at a steep rate of interest. Bill
uncover a protected species. Bill would be placed the hamper on the back seat and
the one to apologise for the inconvenience wondered if it might make for a better
his findings might cause and provide an lunch than his planned ploughmans at the
action plan. Of course nobody sat down local pub.
with the whimbrels and whinchats to run
through their eviction. Nobody said sorry The site unfurled itself in front of Bill’s
to them. headlights; a rippling bed sheet over a rising
morning steam. Most of the site was arable
The radio played pop music, synthesised and did not require surveying. Bill plotted
and plastic. It didn’t sound like his daugh- his route. He liked to begin with Habitats
ter’s music. It wasn’t slow and spiky. It was E and F, which included bog, mire, swamp
happy. The radio predicted fine weather and marginal vegetation. There was a sec-
and a landslide election result. Bill could tion of low-lying land where Bill believed
relax for the rest of the journey, enjoy the he might find some wet flushes or bogs. He
solitude, knowing, like the doomed Labour put his bag on the ground and kneeled on a
party, he was on the side of moral rightness. hummock, searching for dominant species
Or righteousness? Either way, it felt good. of peat moss to code. Satisfied with his find-
ings, he began to colour the relevant area
Bill placed his bag on a slim bed. The on his map purple.
room smelled of mildew and cigarette-filled
memories. He looked in the bathroom This process of colouring over mono-
mirror. His eyes were moist, he squeezed chrome maps continued throughout the
them like chamois leathers over a sink. His morning. Next was orange for Habitat B,
daughter was indescribable. She was per- grassland and marsh. It was pleasurable
fect. How was it possible, considering every- work, taking soil samples, placing his ear
thing? Bill felt a rare moment of confidence to the ground, knowing there was no frus-
in his ability to care. trated colleague, dashing from one spot
to the next, scribbling colours, thinking of
In the morning, the window was stip- other things. After finishing the orange seg-
pled with condensation. Bill opened it to re- ments of the site, some stripy (acidic) some
veal a sunrise over the Welsh valleys and a plain (neutral), he went back to the Orion
smell so pure it could only be distilled from and drove to a pub. He wanted to save the
innocence. He chose a continental break- hamper for the following day. A modest
fast rather than the full Welsh, not wanting cheese and onion roll would do, washed
to feel overloaded for his busy day ahead. down with a glass of lemonade perhaps.
Bill was approaching the Orion when the There was always a concern that a stranger
owner rushed to inform him there was a to these parts, an Englishman indeed, might
package waiting at the front desk, it had

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arouse suspicion and be made to answer a more than I do you. Have you got every-
severe line of questions. As it turned out, thing you need. Not forgotten anything.
nobody was very interested in Bill. He got
his change and sat on a barstool to use the -No, I’m fine, speak soon.
payphone.
The afternoon was spent mapping Hab-
-Bill? itat D (heathland). This was coloured yellow
on the map. Bill had to be careful he used an
-Yes, who’s this? ochre yellow pencil rather than the canary
yellow for amenity land like golf courses and
-Mary, your sister, who do you think? parks. It was an easy but embarrassing mis-
take to make if you weren’t thinking clearly.
-Oh, sorry Mary, everything alright? And Bill was not thinking clearly. He wanted
to get back to the B&B and ring home again,
-Fine, she’s gone out. check everything was alright. He didn’t ex-
pect his daughter to be housebound but the
-Where to? idea of her and Bliss, a new driver, driving in
her Mini all day. It was a concern. And she
-I don’t know, she didn’t leave me a note, was supposed to be at home revising. Also,
why would she? anyway, she’s allowed out if he couldn’t get through, she might really
isn’t she? She’ll be down the town with her drive to Wales and check on him.
friends most likely.
The phone rang and rang. Bill went to
-How’s the house looking? Wait, how did the chip shop and sat at the edge of his bed
you get in? eating from newspaper typed in the most
unusual language. It was gone seven and
-I’ve had a key for the last fifteen years there was still no answer. His daughter had
Bill. Trust you to forget. suggested they get an answering machine
that record messages on a cassette tape.
-Right. Bill didn’t think it was a bad idea, it made
sense. But he never got round to it. Cooking
-The house is tidy, much more so than three meals a day, plus a weekly hoover was
when you’re here to be honest. hard enough. When his daughter caught
him reading in his chair, on Saturdays, she
-That’s something I suppose. suggested he should do jobs instead. Bliss’s
mum spends all day doing jobs on a Sat-
-How’s the job? urday, she said.

-Beautiful, it’s wonderful here, on my Bill crushed his empty chip wrapper in
own... a ball and threw it in the bin. He decided
to try once more. The phone rang and rang.
-You were mad leaving the consultancy. And even though, deep down, Bill knew
it wasn’t necessary, he drove back to his
-I know. So you’ve said. A few times now. house. To be sure.

-Quite mad, you’ve got responsibilities, At close to midnight, Bill parked the
you’re… Orion in the street rather than pull on the

-A father. I know.

-I can’t be here all the time, helping out.

-I don’t think you are, are you?

-Fine. I’ll try again in the morning but
frankly Bill, I trust her to look after herself

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driveway. If he used his key she might hear was in no fit state to complete the survey.
a noise and suspect he was a burglar. He He made sure to take the hamper with him,
imagined his daughter quite capable of re- plenty of sustenance. Today was Habitat A
moving half his head with her electric guitar. (Woodland and Scrub). A green pencil day.
So Bill entered his house through the side Even in Bill’s condition, this was something
gate and positioned himself in the garden. to look forward to.
Bill knew his daughter didn’t bother to draw
the curtains at night. He huddled by cherry A wispy cloud cover gave the site a
laurel in his new jacket. The material was darker, lusher feel. There was only a small
different, synthetic, more modern, clearly woodland area to cover but all dominant
engineered for just such occasions. species needed to be coded and the trees
checked for holes and crevices where bats
Bill saw his daughter through the patio might live. Bill carried his hamper with him.
doors. She was sat in an armchair, playing He set it down next to a large conifer and
her guitar. In front of her, cross legged by a made himself some cheese and biscuits. His
coffee table overloaded with books, was the new boots were filthy but noticeably more
boy. Occasionally he would turn and laugh. comfortable than his old pair, less stiff yet
She was distracting him. She was messing more hardy. He used his new binoculars to
his brown curls with her bare feet, rubbing try and spot Hazel dormice in the branches
her toes in his face. At one point the boy whilst eating chutney from a jar. It was a
grabbed her foot and wrote on her wrinkled struggle to keep his eyes open. Bill fancied
sole with a highlighter pen. A tickling, fluo- a coffee, some kind of stimulant. The bottle
rescent yellow message. The television was of whisky was there; he took a nip to get the
on. Neither glanced at it once. blood pumping.

Bill felt uncomfortable spying on his The morning passed, as it always does.
daughter, shame flooded his legs, momen- Bill crunched and scribbled his way through,
tarily paralysing him. His daughter and the stopping regularly to open the hamper and
boy were sharing a moment of ordinary eat rye bread and jam or a slice of fruitcake,
beauty that should not be seen by others. all washed down with more whisky, pro-
An experience that could only be ruined by viding the necessary kick he required. He
Bill. At his car, he noticed the boy’s bicycle, blamed some of his sloppy pencilling on
chained to a lamp post. He wondered if tiredness. And when he tripped on a log,
the boy would cycle home or stay over. He he stayed down, listening to insects shuffle
didn’t mind either way. daily news in his ear. He reflected on nothing,
thought back to no occasion or person, no
In the middle of the night, the radio failed past or doomed future. The seconds
replayed a John Peel session from earlier passed as seconds should, noticeably and
in the day. His daughter recorded them in slowly. But there was still one last area of
her bedroom. The band were called Clock scrub to map. He lay on his back and looked
DVA. There was a disquieting, animalistic at his map. It was something of a mess but
rhythm to their songs. The squarks and the whisky and solitude was bringing him
yelps sounded real as he passed wood- so much joy! Why would he mind? He de-
lands. It was four o’clock when Bill arrived tailed the scrub as best he could before
back at the B&B. He lay on the Orion’s back settling himself once again next to a sweet
seat under a picnic blanket. He worried he

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chestnut coppice. The day was nearly over. his bosses to express concern and demand
He thought about closing his eyes but felt the slow worms be rehoused immediately.
drunk and emboldened and somewhat glo- In his bosses’ office, he was eased into a
rious. He found a twig and flicked dirt and chair, offered coffee and cigarettes and told
leaves, searched under rocks. He was a the consultancy was updating its policies,
child. He found himself eyeing a giant Welsh adopting a more relaxed approach. British
poplar. He decided to climb it. Gas already had six more sites they wanted
surveying. Speed was of the essence here.
His new boots gripped nicely and the If the slow worms were to halt progress,
whisky clinked in celebration as he haphaz- those six sites could go to another consul-
ardly circled the tree’s darkened, ancient tancy.
bark. Black poplars were not so populous
these days. This one, a solitary beast, was So Bill took a clipboard and asked as
unlikely to pollinate. In the future, ecolo- many people as he could to respond. What
gists would only read about black poplars did they think? Would anyone be willing to
yet here was Bill halfway up one. Bill slowly take a stand, did they agree it was outra-
coiled himself, led by erratically sprouting geous? Would a strike be the appropriate
branches. Some of the leaves were covered response? Or should he just leave and they
in scab, a deadly fungal disease. This tree could follow if they wanted? Most didn’t
was hundreds of years old and dying. Bill like the idea of legless lizards slithering
took a drink and rested once more. He tried about the place. They couldn’t see it was
to reinvent the stretched view below. The such a big deal. Some of his fellow consul-
perfectly manicured greens of an undu- tants suggested it was perhaps time for him
lating 18 hole golf course. The deep founda- to go regardless. The broad consensus was
tions for heated basement swimming pools, impartiality. So Bill rang his client in Wales
saunas, jacuzzis. A gabled garden, patio and asked if they would be open to drop-
dining areas, a turreted red brick building. ping the consultancy’s fee and deal with
If money was to be made in this new age, him directly for half the price.
people were going to need places to spend
it. Bill could see his old bosses in white Bill peered through his binoculars. Per-
robes, nodding to waitresses behind flutes haps if he saw a nest, a Lapwing or a Linnet
of champagne. and some eggs, he might stop the luxury
hotel being built. Or delay the inevitable.
The day before he left the consultancy, But to delay the inevitable was not the
Bill decided to take a straw poll in the office. heroic mantra of a man saving the planet.
He told secretaries, fellow consultants, ad- These days it seemed like everything had
ministrators, surveyors and cleaning staff his to go, it was one big closing down sale. His
story, to get a sense of how seriously others daughter, should she by some miracle pass
perceived it. He told them he had audited a her A Levels, would be going too. The two
site and found a clew of slow worms under of them had been entwined, for the entirety
a rock. He filed his report but the develop- of his daughter’s life and half of his. Bill was
ment seemed to be going ahead at lightning going to understand what it was to be alone
speed. When he got a letter from the pur- soon. He drank more whisky. The landscape
chasers, British Gas, thanking him for green looked rigid. It had readied itself for what
lighting the development, Bill approached was to come.

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Bill’s jacket, shoes and trousers were cov- Bill’s arm swelled immediately. Even if
ered in dirt. He’d been rubbing his eyes so he could somehow clamber into the Orion,
now his face was blackened too. He looked he was in no state to drive. It was a pathetic
like an SAS commando on an ops mission, or scene. The adder was gone and Bill, slurring
a rogue sniper, hiding in trees. He climbed his cries for help, was poisoned, drunk and
down with little grace and sat on the ground, alone. Nobody was nearby because he did
his head not reacting so positively to the not bring a colleague to accompany him. He
whisky as it was earlier in the day. He ate a disobeyed the handbook that insists sur-
small tin of shortbread. Wiping sugar from his veys be conducted in pairs on the ground
mouth, he saw an arched, upright head wind of safety. It is not uncommon for surveyors
itself towards him. Bill’s initial thought was to slip or fall or come into contact with poi-
an adder, but this snake was too slender. It sonous plants and animals. It was foolish to
was a smooth snake. Bill didn’t know smooth work alone. Bill’s arm continued to increase
snakes had been introduced here but the in size. It was like watching the incredible
creatures definition was undeniable. Smooth hulk become angry very slowly.
snakes were a protected species. Don’t worry,
thought Bill, I am here to save you, you’re safe The long summer evenings were not
now, I won’t let them build on your home. long enough. It would soon be nightfall.
Finally, he could be a hero. He tried lifting Bill wasn’t sure if his eyes kept closing be-
his arm but found he could only slump. The cause he was dying or simply taking a nap.
bottle of whisky and tiredness had created His thoughts, as always, focused on his
a cogent paralysis in him. He was lucid yet daughter. It occurred to Bill, in the chaos of
incapable. The smooth snake appeared to his day, he had not rung her, like he prom-
enjoy writhing up his trousers. Bill assumed ised. Indeed he had not spoken to her since
it wanted to attach itself, cling to safety, as if his arrival at the B&B yesterday. She would
he were a buoy in the ocean. In attempting be worried. She would most probably be in
to cradle the snake Bill held it in both hands, the Mini now, tearing along. As Bill’s head
like a hose, poised to wash something. He flopped loosely onto his shoulder he pic-
squeezed like any good protector would. tured her heaving him to safety, waiting
He wanted to make it clear, he would hold by the road for an ambulance, refusing to
on until this was over. The smooth snake’s allow history to repeat itself.
fate was not going the same way as the slow
worms, left to be destroyed. He was going to Bill would like to go back to the cafe, fif-
take this fellow with him, to safety; once he teen years ago. To order pink milkshakes
was able to move. But as he held the snake, again. To hold his daughter’s hand and ex-
Bill realised it wasn’t quite as slender as he plain things differently. To firmly guarantee
originally thought and the markings were in- they would both be fine. To be unequivocal
deed adder like. No big deal, adders were pro- on this point. To tell her he was going to
tected too, the principle remained, but unlike look after her, always. They were a team.
smooth snakes, adders were venomous and This time, he would compose himself. He
did not like to be grasped like hoses. would be clear and precise and strong. Like
a father should.

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About the Author

Simon Lowe is the author of one novel, Friday Morning
with Sun Saluki. His stories have appeared in Storgy,
Firewords, Chaleur magazine, Ponder Review, Visible Ink
and elsewhere.

119

FABULOUSLY FALLEN

by Callista Van Allen

Being the angel on someone’s shoulder is Maybe it’s my fault. Last year hit hard—
impossible when they don’t listen, no mat- especially after his father’s accident.
ter what you do. There isn’t even a devil on
their other shoulder—no one else they’re That’s another thing angels can’t un-
listening too. They just refuse to hear me. derstand; loss. Sure, my wards die, illness
or malpractice take them before their time.
Angels don’t have names, but humans Goodbyes are a dime a dozen when you’re
give us epithets; mainly Michael. Lots of Mi- immortal. It isn’t the same for humans and
chaels. Back when I was the patron saint of angels. After all, we know what awaits after
ArchDuke Ferdinand, he gave me the name death.
Jonathan. It’s the only name I’ve ever had.
Humans don’t see the end game, only
I told him not to go to Sarajevo, but he the rotting grave.
didn’t listen to me, either.
I gave Keith time to grieve. I’m no mon-
He’s the most recent notable person I’ve ster; I sent him blessings in disguise, doves
advised. A few kings of old, rulers of fallen outside his window, rabbits in his room.
empires long before recorded history. It’s a Oddly, he found it more annoying than
flashy line on a resume—if angels made such helpful.
things—good for bragging rights, but I prefer
nobodies. Keeping Nero in line? Impossible. Because of his general unpredictable-
ness, I’ve put a special alarm in my schedule
Ironically, Keith, my newest ward, listens to check on Keith every hour.
even less than Nero. He sits on his moth-
er’s couch, trapped in a dark dingy base- When I find him, he’s sprawled on the
ment, playing Halo. Which, in my opinion, floor, surrounded by chip bags and empty
is a blasphemous name for the game. Halo? bottles. I’m not sure what he likes about ei-
Really? Halo? ther indulgence. I don’t eat human food, nor
can I taste it, so I’ve never gotten the hype.
Keith recently graduated college. He Keith, however, diets solely on dollar-store
wasn’t top of his class, but he was well snacks and fast-food meals. He’s only main-
enough along. After he graduated? He tained a reasonable weight because he
traded notebooks for Cheetos and pens for doesn’t eat those meals often enough.
Mountain Dew. He hasn’t sent out a job ap-
plication in months. “Up and at ‘em, boy-o.” Keith groans as I
kick his ribs. My toe rams into his body too

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forcefully and he yelps. Human bodies are Keith into motion. But he lies there. Un-
delicate, glass that breaks with the slightest moving.
breeze. It’s easy to forget my strength.
He won’t listen to me? So be it. I’m not
He rolls over, glancing right through me. his father; I’m not the one to baby him when
We’re invisible to humans, but you hear our things go wrong or hold his hand through
voices—your conscious. Keith slings his arm his self-created crisis. If he won’t listen to
over his face and closes his eyes. an angel, well…

“Wake up,” I say through gritted teeth. Maybe he’ll listen to another form.

“Not today.” Thank God Keith doesn’t have any
weapons except a giant butcher’s knife
My jaw grates so tightly a tooth pops and in the kitchen. Lord knows, he’d probably
falls out. All six eyes burn into his soul, but chop off a finger if he decided to cook, an
there’s no guilting a man without any regret. unlikely scenario, but one I’m prepared to
“One. Just do one application.” Blood ham- face.
mers through my fingers as I clench my fists;
my knuckles must be white. Within seconds, my fingers clasp the
blade, like the mere thought summoned it.
“No.” I shove the bathroom door open and yellow
light spills out. Stepping into the tiny room
“Keith. You must do something with your is stepping into a portal to an unknown
life.” Why? Why am I the one stuck with world.
Keith? Millions of other angels could’ve
dealt with him instead. Handling mundane More than any room in the house, bath-
tasks to no avail laces my nerves with fire. rooms represent what angels don’t, what
angels can’t, have. Skincare? Too selfish.
He tugs a pillow over his face, blocking Hair dye? The body is a temple.
out sound. He’ll have to come up for air
eventually or he’ll suffocate, but Keith is all A bathroom is a museum of rules, a
too good at walking that fine line. charity not meant for cherubs, and when I
enter it, I break one of the most important
“Do you plan to do this forever?” rules of them all; I look in the mirror.

He curls onto his side, fetal position, as if I am not human. I am pure power, en-
he seeks protection. No urgency will break ergy in my veins that gave birth to stardust,
his shield. no mere angel on someone’s shoulder. No,
I’m done asking.
“What would your father say?” It bursts
from my mouth and Keith freezes, rigid, From now on, I’m demanding.
muscles tensing, a taught bow. His breath
hitches. The moment the knife hits my halo, the
wreath of light flickers. The blade bites,
Finally, Keith says, “Doesn’t matter. He’s sawing painfully. Fire races into my lungs,
dead now.” white hot, choking me and then the halo
collapses, leaving only bloody stumps in its
Anger scorches my throat, heating my place—horns.
face and tongue. I hadn’t meant the out-
burst, but it should have been the final The wings go next.
straw—the forbidden subject that spurs

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It isn’t blood that comes out, but fire, I chuck a plate at Keith’s feet. It shatters,
heavenly fire scorching my veins, bleeding, glass spiraling into the walls. A mug ex-
pulsing from my body until there isn’t a plodes by his face and he jumps to his feet,
drop left. My knees give out. I crumple to yelling and swearing. A bowl erupts near his
the bathroom floor, twitching, convulsing, ribs, a shard cuts his side. He scrambles and
bile coating my throat. Black covers my vi- dives behind the couch. Sobs echo from his
sion and yanks me into it with devilish paws. hiding spot as he threads his fingers through
his hair. Trying to comprehend me must be
When I come back around, I’ve never felt frying his brain.
so cold.
“Fill out an application.” This time, my
Light as a feather but heavy as a brick, I’m commands thunder and shake the ground.
falling, falling, falling. And when I finally re- They aren’t merely a whisper in Keith’s mind,
gain my senses, I don’t recognize myself at all. but spoken aloud for all to hear. Keith falls
I’m human. Not human human. Sick. Twisted. backward, eyes rimmed red, cheeks wet.

I’m used to the heavenly fire in my bones, “Ok, ok!” He holds his hands over his face,
but this? This is oil in my arteries, sludge curling into a ball. “I’ll do it tonight!”
in my soul, dirt packing every inch until it
threatens to pour out through my eyes. A plate collides against his thigh, spreading
a dark mark. How fragile human bodies are.
I gather all the glass cups I can find, from How easy to break, when I wish to.
coffee mugs to collectibles. His poor mother
will miss her dishes, but she can get a new “I’ll do it now!” He amends.
set. She can never get a new son.
My heart swells, creeping with a strange
Keith doesn’t hear me as I re-enter the satisfaction, warming my bones. No one
basement. He does sense something through; said being a fallen would be so fun.
maybe the shadow I leave on the wall. I’ve
never had a shadow before. I see why the Perhaps Nero was right –horns suit me
fallen like them, how ominous they are, the much better than a halo .
promise of something where there’s nothing.

About the Author

Callista Van Allen is an American author with a love for
blurring the line between heroes and villains. Her favorite
genre to write is urban fantasy, and in her spare time,
she competes in foil fencing and collegiate Model UN.
‘Fabulously Fallen’ is her first published piece.

122

CHICAGO

by Emily Sullivan

Andrea shifted the gear into park on the “I want you to come with me. I want to
side of the dim lit street. She reached for build a life with you, just not here.”
the volume dial and turned it to zero. Her
thumb pressed into the red release button Tony slid his foot off the dash and sat up
and she coiled her fingers around the seat- straight. His neck cocked back on the head
belt as it slid back to the top. She pulled her rest and his fingers pressed on the sides of
leg into her chest and ran her fingers over his neck. “Well, my life is here. I can’t just
the threads of her beaded anklet. “Tony, leave my job, my family, my friends.”
we can’t keep pushing this off anymore. I
leave in two weeks,” she said. “I don’t belong in Boston. I don’t have a
future here.”
He unbuckled his seatbelt and stared at
the ground as he fiddled with his fingers in “And so, what does that mean for our
his lap. “I know,” he replied. future then, An?” he turned his head and
waited for her response.
“Have you thought about what you want?
What’s best for us?” “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“I don’t know An, I don’t want to think “You’re leaving for art school, that’s your
about it.” Tony slouched in his seat and purpose. I’d be leaving just to follow you.”
swung his foot onto the dash. His elbow sat
on edge of the window and his head rested “Just to follow me? That’s all you’d see
on his hand. “You can’t plan everything,” he it as?” she continued to rotate the beads
said as he watched himself in the side view on her anklet and twist the elastic around
mirror. “We don’t know what’s going to her finger.
happen. Why can’t you ever just let things
flow?” “Let things flow. We can make this work.”

“Let it flow? This is a big change, Tony. “Are you even hearing yourself? You have
I’m moving to Chicago in two weeks and no plan for how it can work. We want com-
you’re staying here, in Boston. How can I pletely different lifestyles.”
let it flow?”
“What do you mean?”
“Hey, I’m not the one who’s choosing to
leave.” Andrea coiled her fingers around her
ankle and her eyes rose to meet Tony’s. “My
career will never be a steady nine to five.
I don’t know what my future holds, and I

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

don’t want to know. I want to live an ambig- neither of us can compromise for the other.
uous life and travel as much as I can. You’re I’m sorry. I just can’t.” Andrea sat forward
content here with your office job, with and wrapped her hand around his cheek
weekly family dinners, hanging out with forcing him to look at her. She grinned as
the same people from high school. That’s she looked into his eyes. A single tear rolled
what you want, forever. You never want to down her face. “I love you, but love isn’t the
leave or do anything outside of your com- only thing that can hold us together. Love
fort zone.” doesn’t mean that we’re happy or that
we’re meant for each other.”
Tony turned away and stroked his hair
with the tips of his fingers. He glared out Tony leaned in and kissed Andrea on the
the window with no expression. “All I know cheek. He tucked the strings of hair dan-
is that I’m in love with you. I want to see gling in her face behind her ear and traced
where this can go.” his thumb along her jawline wiping her
tear away. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” He
“I can’t just let this go, Tony. Not when we reached for the door handle and stepped
both know that our futures don’t align, and out of the car.

About the Author

Emily Sullivan is a writer from Buffalo, NY. She is currently
enrolled at Full Sail University to complete her BFA in
Creative Writing. You can contact Emily on Twitter @
emgsullivan.

124

MURMURS

by Dale Stuckey

Ted thought the creator had made a ter- ***
rible mistake matching him with a career
as a trainer, knowing full well he experi- A familiar sense of dread left the house
enced paralyzing embarrassment speaking with him that morning and deepened as he
in front of groups. To heighten the unfair- drove the pine-infested backroads to Con-
ness, he had been deposited into the role roe, bottoming out when he reached the
of “safety” trainer, one who, in the last year, parking lot. He sat for long minutes gazing
had no regard for his own well-being and up at the American Metal Finishing sign on
despised people who felt compelled to the main building, the original shocking red
buckle up or to check the weather forecast of its letters faded into the orange of a ga-
before venturing outside, as if they had rage sale toy, and he felt faded himself, his
any way to avoid it—the shit—when it de- smoldering anger having aged him far be-
termined to call. But the job paid well, and yond his thirty-five years. It was a beauti-
he needed the money—the hospital bills ful East Texas morning, though, if he could
piling up and laughably steep. So there he have appreciated it, the sky a cobalt blue
was, false identity emblazoned on a silvery and chilled with the coming of autumn.
business card that no one ever asked to
see: Ted Trueblood Sawyer—Industrial Ed- A debate ensued as he sat in his car.
ucation Facilitator. Could he go through with this? What else
was he going to do—roll over and die?
A typical venue for his teaching ability Could he disappear into the pines and find
occurred the week prior when, first thing another life? You’re a fucking train wreck. At
in the morning, he had to conduct an OSHA last he exited and his legs slowly propelled
Hazard Communication class, covering him onward and into the crowded training
such topics as safety data sheets, proper center where the circus was to be held.
container labeling, chemical hazards, and
similar silliness. He smirked at the thought, Technical difficulties plagued him at the
knowing that the workers’ ubiquitous cig- outset, as always. He had to turn the pro-
arettes and the heartless world awaiting jector off and on several times and play
them outside posed far greater dangers. with the mode and keystone buttons to get
Nonetheless, he had to steel himself and the image placed onto the wall and off his
prepare. Twenty “eager” students would laptop. While he fiddled thus he could detect
await his inevitably flustered facilitating. the rising tide of impatience. The rustling of
restless bodies. The tapping of fingers on

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portable plastic tables. The sighs. The shuf- into a dewlap, and the distance between
fling of feet. The hushed giggles—mainly her nose and upper lip had extended, as if
from the back but scattered throughout. a denture had slipped and dragged the skin
with it. The others should be staring disap-
At last he began, not looking directly at provingly at her, Ted thought, not at him.
the students because whenever he did they
seemed to peer through his mask of compo- Snickering came from the back of the
sure, past the false grin pasted on his mouth, class. This increased his blood flow, turning
and to revel in the dirty secret beneath—his him red, he was sure, from corpuscles
inability to get on with life. He could sense splashing crazily against the sides of blood
the audience trying to make him out; he vessels. The sound issued, as usual, from
could feel the question mark hanging over the three amigos—Randolph Pine, head of
his head like a smoke signal. Smothering maintenance; Zach Walters, maintenance
anger consumed him—What was someone helper; and Guy Saunders, the big cheese
who lost a kid to meningitis supposed to look himself, the overall plant manager.
like? Running on such fumes strengthened
him to at last face the faces. Things always Everything about them irritated Ted.
turned out this way, every class—acute em- Randolph was a fifty-year-old delinquent
barrassment morphing into disdain as the turned loose on a substitute teacher. He
training ordeal progressed. sat fingering an annoying moustache that
bristled outward like a chaotic prison break.
After introducing the topic Ted scanned Zach, in the middle, had drawn something
the class like a human periscope and, he endeavored to show the rest, his face
though not surprised, didn’t care for what sprouting a mirth that belonged in an
he saw. Shane Nordrum, from shipping, had amusement park. And Guy, long and lean
slouched back against his seat in the front and redneck to the core, glared fixedly at
row, reading a newspaper though the class Ted while cocking a grin to one side as if to
had already started. Ted winced at the sight, say, “This ain’t my first rodeo.”
as if some scar tissue deep within hadn’t
fully set up and a drop of vinegar percolated Ted glared at the rearguard and
through. This was the kind of expected re- thought—You people don’t know shit. But
spect the clod-heads showed him. he carried on. He didn’t want to confront
these problem children; they weren’t worth
Off in the left corner, nearest the door, it, and he preferred to seethe within, to lash
sporting her perpetual scowl, sat Emily them with invisible ire.
Scones from the non-destructive testing
department. She detested Ted and he de- Somehow he mustered through the
tested her. Funny, because they had never class and did, he thought, a serviceable
actually spoken. He surveyed her briefly, job of containing his feelings, although at
almost amused at her predictability. He times the red dot of his laser quivered on
could tell she had been a semi-beauty in her the screen—projecting a neurotic firefly.
youth. Slender and not too afflicted with At such moments he directed the pupils
wrinkles. Her hair glowed like freshly pol- to their handouts, asking them the proper
ished silver and dropped over her forehead response to a methylene chloride spill or
in a sort of bang. But age and the breathing some such, effectively diverting attention
of penetrant dye had loosened her throat from himself.

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When he finally dismissed the acolytes felt—a mouth elongated into a sorrowful
they, like a school of upright mackerel, howl to make Munch’s screamer appear
moved forward, flicking their empty coffee cheerful.
cups into the trash can as they funneled
through the door, breathing a collective sigh Later, he sat at his desk eating, forgoing
of relief. No one thanked or acknowledged the dining room as usual, blankly watching
him. an NBA game. At halftime he went out on
the back patio to get a breath of fresh air. A
*** jiggled flash of lightning from a storm to the
west teased his eyes open. The night was
Ted arrived home that day to what he knew clear out, unusual for closed-in, insufferably
would be a quiet house, the day’s tension humid Houston. Cassiopeia floated across
still rollicking in his veins as he pulled into on her stellar tide and other constellations
the driveway. He sat immobile regard- salted the sky, and he had the impression
ing the front door, a barrier never easy to of being transported to a mountain chalet
pierce, and his tension began to die down, in Colorado.
replaced by an encroaching sadness.
In the past year he’d often thought of
Inside, he walked past two never-to- moving to the mountains. His son had been
be-opened rooms—the bedroom where fascinated by them and particularly reveled
his wife took her life some six years earlier in a picture book of the national parks. That
and his son’s bedroom with its collection would be something indeed, Ted mused, an
of dinosaurs hanging from the ceiling and above-timberline existence where memo-
its smattering of exotic cars on the carpet. ries would be as mosquitoes blown away in
His wife’s absence made him ache to the an unimpeded breeze, where the air would
core, as if he were deprived of some essen- be pristine and hard edged—like a raw-
tial emotional enzyme, as if suffering from boned gunslinger with no body fat and no
spiritual scurvy. Yes, he’d gotten somewhat sentimentality.
used to it. But the absence of his only living
link to her fueled a burning disregard of God He reflected. Maybe he himself had lost
and of all that was holy and supposed to all trace of sentimentality. He remembered
matter. To say he ached would be an under- idly surfing the OSHA website at work that
statement. day and having locked in on a scrolling mar-
quee that dispassionately listed workplace
Nick’s room may have been closed off fatalities—construction workers suffocated
but Ted couldn’t close off the hall where in collapsed trenches, a worker pulled into a
his eight-year-old son had writhed in agony trash compactor, a roofer fallen from a bal-
that night of the brilliant hospital lights and cony and impaled on rebar, tree-trimmers
the dark looks in the eyes of the nurse who electrocuted by high-tension wires, a city
pulled spinal fluid from his spare, quivering maintenance worker suffocated in a man-
back. hole and a would-be rescuer collapsing be-
hind him. All these scanned past his dead-
In the bathroom Ted splashed his face ened eyes and he felt nothing.
with cold water and looked up at a visage
that surprised him with normality. He’d But now, thinking back on it, an idea oc-
half-expected to see a reflection of what he curred to him. Maybe he’d stumbled upon

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a secret weapon. What if he could find maddening interruptions of scraping chairs
graphic photos of such incidents and dis- and unnecessarily loud coughs and sneezes.
play them in class. Would this not make his
frivolous flock sit up and take notice, make After a monotone presentation whereby
them realize that “shit” really does happen, he introduced the subject and its importance
and would it not deflect attention from him to the hearers, Ted began plodding through
personally. slides of various machine guarding devices:
drill press guards, interlocking guards, pho-
That night before bed he put Google toelectric sensors, wire barrier screens, and
through its paces, digging up horrible de- several others. He related the pros and cons
pictions of machine-on-man accidents that of each and their respective costs. The stu-
could prove useful in the next class—a ses- dents eyes glazed over and they shifted in
sion focusing on machine guarding and ser- their seats, some moaning with boredom,
endipitously scheduled to occur just before some yawning and covering their faces.
lunch. He came up with four photographs,
culled from an ex-OSHA inspector’s website, Without warning he unleashed his first
that he thought would serve his purpose, attack.
ranging from mildly stomach churning to
full-on nightmarish. “And this is the sort of thing,” he said and
paused, “that can happen”—and he flipped
The last photograph was so disturbing up a full cover photo of a hand from which
he felt sickened by it, a result not expected a finger had been severed. The paper towel
and that gave him pause—his emotions that served as backdrop was drenched in
were not as yet totally petrified. Storing the blackish blood, and the orphaned finger,
images onto his flash drive, he was at last a skinny, blanched, pathetic hot dog, had
satisfied with the preparations and, confi- been positioned next to the bruised donor.
dent that the usual snide comments would
be snuffed out by what he had up his sleeve, Quite reigned for a moment. Then a fe-
he drifted pleasantly off to sleep, though male from the back called out, “That’ll teach
subsequent slumber was troubled by vi- you, Jason, to keep your hands to yourself!”
sions of shredded flesh and puddled blood.
A scattering of nervous laughter resulted.
*** But some were shaking their heads. All were
at least paying attention.
The morning of the machine guarding class
wasn’t as laden by dread as normally con- Bill Phelps from the anodizing depart-
fronted Ted. He actually looked forward to ment said, half-jokingly, “Hey, c’mon teach,
the experiment and whether he could put we’ve got lunch coming up.” A general
his carefree and disinterested charges into murmur of agreement arose at this.
a place of stunned respect.
Emily Scones, Ted noticed, had diverted
The class began five minutes late while her stare, for once, from him to the screen,
he waited for the last of the workers and the normally baleful expression on her
to lounge in, texting and conversing as face had morphed into one of dismay.
they came. Then he began, enduring the
usual quips of the participants and their All going according to plan.

He then ratcheted it down, having de-
cided to mete out shocks like a slasher film

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director, and delved into the regulations He waited for the opportune time, then
and the history behind the safety guide- proclaimed, “Before we close I want to drive
lines. When he detected their interest again home my point that this is serious business,
began to wane, he announced, “And if you a real matter of life and limb.” A collective
doubt the importance behind these rules, groan sounded. He thought, They consider
the following, ladies and gentleman, can life all fun and games.
happen to you.”
He pulled up the lathe accident.
He unveiled a color photo showing a
clump of brunette hair from a woman’s It was horrific. Ted could only glance at
scalp hanging off a piece of baling ma- the image for a few seconds himself. A ma-
chinery on a conveyor. The mess dripped chinist had been pulled into the machine.
onto the floor. The top third of his body had been chewed
into hamburger and chunks of it hung in
“Shiiiiit.” great clogs from the torso as if in some
nightmare delicatessen. One of the man’s
“Goddamn.” arms was still partially intact, the hand still
clutching the control switch. On his shirt
“What the fuck” back, almost sprayed over with red, one
could still make out a Green Bay Packers
He could hear a pen drop, literally. logo.

He waited while this sunk in, then The room grew quiet.
plunged back into the banal, into the spe-
cific dangers of rotating parts, listing exam- Ted heard a whispered, “God!”
ples in intentionally boring fashion.
Emily was obviously upset. She searched
Then. Another assault. Two black-and- in her handbag for something, trembling.
white photos. Drop hammer accident De- Guy got up and walked out, spitting into
capitation. the trash can as he left. Ted waited a few
minutes then dismissed the rest.
In one photo, the separated head was
sitting atop a fifty-five gallon drum, the eyes They stood slowly and somewhat aim-
open and startled, the mouth twisted into lessly. With a show of bravado they exited.
a grimace. In the other, the dismembered Bill asked if anyone had brought a baloney
body lay flung onto the floor, the arms and sandwich. Another spouted, “Chow time!”
legs splayed out like those of an ill-fated But overall the mood was somber and Ted
skydiver. felt a twinge of remorse at their parting as if
he’d been guilty of switching a Disney movie
A smattering of graveyard humor pre- with A Nightmare on Elm Street. He knew
sented itself, subdued and uncertain. they’d be with left with images in their mind
for hours to come as he had been. But, he
“Lost your head there, Ralph.” rationalized, I bet they remember machine
guarding.
“Bad hair day.”
The next morning, he was called to the
After this, Ted made as if he were winding president’s office.
down. He launched into a summary of what
he’d covered then asked if there were any
questions. None. Students began gathering
their belongings, in anticipation of the end.

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*** over and when he saw Ted, motioned him
forward and pointed to one of the padded
Jeff Aldonaty’s door was closed. No big sur- chairs facing the desk which was loaded
prise. Ted stood facing the solid oak barrier, with stacks of paper and several loose
collecting himself, hearing Jeff on the phone pieces of correspondence.
inside, his voice pitched high, agitated.
The great man distractedly shifted one
“May I help you?” came the golden voice of these around with his index finger, while
of Candace Wilson, the receptionist, a very listening to whomever spoke on the other
professional and somewhat annoying gate- line. At times he tried to interject in the
keeper. She sat around the corner and had one-sided conversation, with, “But I—” and
rolled her chair back to spot him. “Yes, but I what meant—“ trying to estab-
lish a beachhead against an enemy who
“I was told to see Jeff this morning,” Ted wouldn’t let up bombardment.
answered and remained facing the door.
While Ted sat waiting, he surveyed an of-
“Well, he’ll be on the phone a while. Cor- fice he’d seen only a handful of times since
porate, you know. They never call when he’d started work there. On those earlier
things are going great,” Candace said and occasions he had been flush with adren-
lasered onto him, surprised he didn’t back aline, readied to present safety-related
away immediately at this warning. “I’ll give expense requests and without leisure to
him the message that you need to see him,” look around. This time he could admire the
she offered. “Once he gets off the phone.” gleaming posters on the walls, each showing
a sleek aircraft from the more important
Ted fixed his eyes on the bronze name- customers—an Embraer Legacy 650 execu-
plate—President of Operations—and lis- tive jet, a Learjet 85 executive jet, a Cessna
tened for an ebb in the inner sanctum con- 525, and others that he couldn’t identify.
versation.
Out the window Ted noted the cerulean
“Oh Teedddyyy,” Candace purred. sky of another crisp autumn day. Then he
settled his gaze on Jeff, a short, lean, sharply
“Yeeesss?” dressed man with a rugged face—presiden-
tial even, except for the redness. Ted knew
“I said I’d tell him.” from the warm sensation on his own face
that he probably glowed beet red as well.
“It can’t wait,” he told her. And it
couldn’t—he had` to get this over with. The phone slammed down into its cradle.
Jeff stared at it, motionless, as if he didn’t
“Your funeral,” she said and Ted heard trust the line to be really dead. His hand re-
her roll back to her desk, but he could tell mained resting on it, visibly quivering. Then,
she remained tuned in. Presently, the sound turning to the underling, he launched into
of the phone conversation died down and a diatribe as if Ted were in the know about
he knocked on the door. Heard the terse all that had just transpired. Ted listened in
command, “Enter.” wary fascination.

He found Jeff still on the phone, listening “Those shit-for-brains in Montreal don’t
to something that obviously troubled him. know what it takes to run this company,” Jeff
His face beamed red—forehead rouged as
though he’d been butting a wall—and his
lips were tightly compressed. He looked

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exclaimed. “I tell them we’re on schedule Jeff nodded. “I understand that. But
to get three ship-sets out by Friday. Is that you may need to be more discriminating.
good enough for them?” My workers aren’t very productive if they
spend the afternoon puking.” A hint of a
He looked at Ted, who tried hard to ap- smile flashed across his face; he’d appar-
pear on-board. ently amused himself.

“NO, that’s not good enough for them. “That really happen?”
They’ve got to have five out by Friday. Well
fuck-those-Frenchmen. I can get five out Jeff ignored the question and leaned
EVERY Friday if they gave me the budget back, cupping his head in his hands. He ob-
to hire more people.” At this, he sat silently viously relished the break from the phone.
for a moment, rubbing a nasty-looking “You’ve got to realize,” he said, “some of
mole on his cheek. Finally he spoke directly those people are Desert Storm vets. Guy
to Ted. has PTSD, I’m pretty sure. And Randy wit-
nessed his corporal get pinched in half by
“Mr. Saw”—he snapped his fingers to an Abrams tank that suddenly backed into
coax recollection—“Mr. Sawyer. What’s on a wall.” At this the president paused, a smile
your mind?” no longer in evidence. “Nasty business.” He
stared at the ceiling.
“I was told to see you.”
Ted took opportunity of this lull to more
A blank expression settled on Jeff’s face fully state his case. He argued that the
and, for a while he merely stared. “Oh yes,” photos were an effective, sobering method
he finally started. “What are you—” Then of providing training that would be retained.
the phone buzzed again. He shook his head, After all, he reasoned, they tended to laugh
punched a button and said, “Candace, hold off everything and that habit could get
my calls.” Again Jeff stared down at the them injured or worse.
phone, thinking hard on something. Then
he turned to Ted and said, “Now what’s this A quiet settled while Jeff pondered this.
about the training?”
“I don’t disagree with you,” he responded
Ted shifted in his chair. “Excuse me?” at last. “We have the same goal, Mr. Sawyer—
nobody gets hurt.” He paused again and Ted
“I’ve gotten complaints. Gratuitous vio- had the impression something distracted
lence. An intentional gross-out session right him.
before lunch. What do you make of that?”
“But you may need to more sensitive,”
“What do I make of it?” Jeff continued. “Traumatic memories can
be a powerful thing.”
“A certain female thinks you targeted
her directly. Apparently, she says, you kept Ted mentally prepared to be released
glancing at her and smiling while displaying and rehearsed in his mind the various job
the most godawful pictures.” applications he could put in. But the presi-
dent made no move to dismiss him.
“I was just trying to get their attention,”
Ted responded, struggling to control a mas- After an interval of silence, the president
sive indignation. “They’ve basically been said, “You know, I witnessed a bad accident
zoning out during my classes. I had to do myself, back when I was just a teenager.”
something.”

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He glanced at Ted for a reaction and seeing A slight smile grew on Jeff’s face at this
none continued. “I shouldn’t go into it. . . memory, but then flattened into rigidity.
.it’s not pleasant.”
“Well, this one day, Dan was seated peeling
I’ve got some unpleasant stories of my back the end of a small cable, prepping it for
own, Ted thought a little impatiently. testing. I sat nearby on a large forklift.

“Good old Dan Ames,” Jeff sighed and “There was this reel, a massive one,
chuckled. “We worked at this factory in Katy perched at the edge of a nearby loading
that made communication cables wound on ramp, fifteen feet away from Dan—getting
these huge reels. Eight and ten feet in diam- staged for quality control.
eter, several tons each.”
“The first thing I noticed was a guy back
Ted nodded. behind the reel who started flailing his arms
like a semaphore corpsmen gone berserk.
“Ames was an older guy. We were unlikely
friends, me being only nineteen and him “Then I saw the reel had started rolling,
probably forty, me short and stocky, and slowly then quicker. A huge metal snow-
him tall and gangly. But we joked around a ball—somehow the chock had slipped out.
lot. Whenever he did a particularly good job
polishing the end of a cable he would show “I shouted. ‘Ames!’ He looked up, saw the
it to me, get this gleam in his eye, and tell reel bearing down on him, and started to
me, “Son, how do you like them apples?’ A run. But because of those damn slick shoes
good-natured sort but, man, could he brag. he slipped and fell.
One night he claimed he was the fastest
thing on two legs. “I just heard him say, ‘Oh shit! That’s
all. Then he made a kind of odd noise, like
“I’d just done a stint in high school track and air being let of a balloon. Then came this
I firmly disputed this. So we had a footrace crunching sound.”
inside the warehouse. He had on these slick
black dress shoes—no steel-toed footwear re- Jeff was silent for a minute, unable to
quired back then—so I had an advantage with continue, and gazed out the window.
my sneakers. But he was fast for his age.
Finally, he started up again.
“I barely beat him. Did a victory lap
around the shipping department, came up “He was crushed of course. The bottom
to him with a grin and said, ‘Pop, how do half. Brain popped out like toothpaste.
you like them apples?’ Blood everywhere. On me. The forklift.”

“He ended up owing me a hundred dol- Jeff shook his head then picked up and
lars from that. But he claimed he couldn’t fingered a stapler as if it were a rosary.
pay yet until someone who themselves
owed him money paid him back. “Took me a long, long time to tamp that
one down,” he said thoughtfully.
“Two weeks later, I still waited for pay-
ment. I kept reminding him of the debt. I He stared at Ted. “Do you know, all I
was young and low on money and needed could think about for days, for years after
my winnings to pay rent. It got to be a sore that?”
spot. We quit palling around as much.”
“What?”

“I should have forgiven that stupid debt.”

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*** thinking that a tragedy didn’t usually come
complete with a existential “moral to the
Ted remembered this conversation for story,” and he had long considered it a joke
long afterwards, during intervals when he to say such things happened for a reason.
wasn’t thinking about his son and those
times when he wasn’t preparing for and But upon reflection, he realized the
conducting training (he continued the job). president had been correct in his summa-
tion. He should indeed have forgiven the
It nagged at him, the president’s story. It stupid debt. The whole thing had surpris-
pestered his world view. And though he was ingly moved him. Riding this current he de-
loathe to admit it, it somehow superseded cided to move on, for he never knew when
his cynicism. He’d grown calloused into an Ames might show up in one his classes.

About the Author

Dale Stuckey currently resides in Wichita, Kansas, and
works in the educational field (school bus driver) and do
some environmental & safety consulting on the side. He
received his MFA in Creative Writing from Wichita State
University in 2014. This is first published work of fiction.
He has published a handful of essays in some obscure
journals and the student literary magazine where he won
first prize for non-fiction.

133

IT WAS HIS HABIT
TO GO TO BED EARLY

by Toni Morgan

Following a supper of potatoes fried in over the barn and house, intensifying his
an iron skillet with two pork chops and sense of safety and refuge. The lone walnut
three eggs, he carefully scraped his plate tree, moisture beading its armored fret-
then threw the already picked-clean bone work, stood sentry. He drew in a lungful of
into the yard for the three-legged dog. He air. The farm was his fortress.
washed and dried the dish along with his
eating utensils then wiped out the skillet Impatient lowing pulled him across the
and set it on the back of the stove for use yard to the milking parlor. Soon the sweetly
the following night. While it was still light, sour smell of molasses and the funky odor
he updated his stock journal and then read of damp wool and muddy boots merged
a chapter from his Bible. with the sound of ruminating cows, placid
as he kept covenant. Their tribute streamed
It was his habit to go to bed early and into his bucket.
most nights he slept soundly. Just before
the sky began to lighten, with the aid of ***
an internal alarm clock connected to the
first stirrings of the animals in the barn, he Rain fell in primordial abundance. It pressed
awakened and rose, not pausing to reflect downward on every field and copse, oblit-
on the day just passed or the day ahead. erating the distant brooding houses and
farms and the heaving river at the moun-
After a quick wash, he pulled on shirt, tain’s base. It turned his morning and eve-
overalls, and thick wool stockings and ning forays to the barn and the milking
padded to the back door where he took parlor a slithering obstacle course. Then it
his brown canvas jacket from its peg on stopped. In its wake came a silence louder
the wall, shrugged into it, and pulled on than the pounding of the heavy drops on
his rubber barn boots, aligned and waiting, the roof that for days had drilled into his
toes pointing to the wall. brain.

Outside, a heavy mist swirled down the He stepped from the house and his eyes
side of the mountain and formed a shroud instantly began a search for storm damage.

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He saw mostly mud. A cow stuck her nose wood being chopped and later saw smoke
to the ground as she cautiously stepped coming from the chimney.
from the shelter of the corrugated iron
loafing shed attached to the barn. Her light He looked to the tor that loomed behind
brown sides quivered as she sniffed. Be- his barn. A crow flew from a tall spruce at
hind her were the bobbing heads of two the edge of the woods bordering his pas-
other cows, pushing and jockeying, impa- ture and landed on the barn’s ridgepole. He
tient to be free. Finally, the three cows and wondered what the woman was going to
two heifers emerged and in an orderly line, ask of him this time.
moved up the muddy path to the pasture. A
few chickens, looking for worms or insects, “I need a ride into town tomorrow,” she
milled through the mud in their pen while said. “I know it’s your delivery day.”
the rest remained in the coop.
He considered her request. It seemed
As he re-nailed a board to the side of the innocent enough. He nodded.
house, torn loose by the wind and rain, he
heard a loud “hellooo.” Approaching up the “Good,” she said. “I’ll be ready.” She
track was his new neighbor. turned and went back the way she’d come.

Sara Nowak looked as unkempt as ever ***
in baggy twill pants stuffed into boots caked
with mud and covered with bits of grass and He downshifted and the ancient Dacia-Lo-
straw, her faded green shirt half in and half gan utility van ground its way to the bot-
out of the waistband. She had thrown a tom of the grade and the highway that ran
horse blanket over her shoulders and fas- next to the river. Sara Nowak had changed
tened it together in front with a large safety the horse blanket for a faded corduroy jack-
pin. Underneath a too-large grey felt hat set et he thought might once have been blue,
low on her forehead and bending the tops but other than that, she appeared just as
of her ears, her faded brown hair, curled the day before, including oversized hat and
and frizzed in the humidity, fell in clumps to mud-splattered boots.
her shoulders.
They passed the Lompar farm. There were
“Yoohoo. Mr. Bell, yoohoo.” She waved blossoms on the apple trees in the orchard
an arm above her head as she quickened hinting at the fruit to come. Through the oth-
her pace over the rough and slippery erwise bare branches he caught glimpses of
pathway. When she reached him, her face the storage sheds. He saw no sign of activity
was flushed and her breath came in quick near the sheds and returned his attention to
spurts. “Oh, dear,” she got out. “Wait a the pothole-filled road ahead.
minute while I catch my breath.”
Without warning, the apple trees be-
No one knew how Sara Nowak had come came tall, dark fir trees, the broad river a
to be in the Duric’s place, which had stood rock-filled torrent, and the road ahead a
empty since Mr. and Mrs. Duric followed narrow mountain path. His grandfather
their two grown children to the city five spoke to him. Forget the girl. We can’t stay
years before. The first he knew someone with these people. We must leave them and
was living there again was when he heard find your mother and sister. Blood pounded
in his ears, perspiration beaded on his fore-
head.

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“You can drop me off at the bank when the two young men were done loading, he
we get there,” Sara Nowak said. “I’ll meet nodded thanks and drove off.
you at the grocery store.”
At the grocery store, after being handed
He forced his grip on the steering wheel a receipt for his cheeses, he put a case
to relax. The blood returned to his fingers, of baked beans in the shopping cart then
the fir trees faded back to apple trees. His moved on to the meat counter. Three pack-
grandfather’s voice turned into the hum ages of pork chops, another three of ham
of the vehicle’s engine. He nodded and slices, and two pounds of bacon joined the
reached into his pocket for a cigarette—he beans. Next, he threw in a five pound can of
allowed himself three a day. coffee, two loaves of bread and a large bag
of potatoes. Sara Nowak appeared as, one
“Shouldn’t smoke,” she said. “Fouls your at a time, he pulled bills from his wallet and
lungs.” handed them to the cashier.

He ignored her. Steering with his knee, “Nice weather we’re having,” said the ca-
he took his hands from the wheel long shier, handing him his change. “Going to be
enough to strike a match and hold the flame summer before we know it.”
to the end of the cigarette. His hands shook.
He nearly dropped the match before he got “Yes,” he answered and slipped the coins
the cigarette lit. She cranked her window into his leather coin purse. He turned to
down. Cold air blew in. Neither spoke. Sara Nowak. “Are you ready?”

He turned off the highway and passed She nodded toward the bag in her hand.
over the bridge and the railroad tracks into “Got all I need.”
the main part of town. It consisted of the
bank, a grocery, a miniscule post office, a By the time he returned home, it was
pharmacy and liquor store combined, the almost time for evening chores. Down from
barber shop, a dress shop and a couple of the pasture, the cows milled expectantly
other businesses, none of them thriving. At outside the milking parlor.
the end of the street stood the school, a
one-story red brick building with the flag of ***
Montenegro in front. Children were yelling
and playing a game of field hockey next to The next time he went to town, the blossoms
it. He had a sudden vision of his own child- on the apple trees at the Lompar farm had
hood, his school, the games they’d played. been replaced by apples the size of hazel-
He pushed those thoughts from his head nuts, almost hidden among the grassy-green
and pulled to the curb in front of the bank. leaves. Mrs. Lompar and her daughter ap-
Sara Nowak got out. plied hoes to the nearly weed-free ground
beneath the trees. They each wore a straw
The feed store was located between the hat. Neither raised her head as he drove past.
river and the railroad tracks. He drove back
over the tracks and turned into the store’s Sara Nowak had once again asked him
narrow parking lot. He went inside then for a ride into town. Her appearance hadn’t
came out again and drove around to the changed over the intervening three weeks
loading dock. The utility van bounced with except that she had discarded the jacket.
each bag of feed tossed into the back. When
“Do you miss the home country?” she
asked.

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He gave her a startled look. “What do going in the direction he would have chosen,
you mean?” so he and his grandfather continued on
with them.
“Kosovo. Do you miss it?”
He helped his grandfather over a log in
His hands gripped the steering wheel. the path that led down the mountain to the
“You are mistaken. I am not from Kosovo.” boulder-strewn river below. The sky was
clear, but the air crisp and cool. Leaves had
“Oh, I think you are, Mr. Belushi. But if already begun to fall.
that’s the way you want it, I won’t spread
your secret. I just want to know why you “I need to piss,” his grandfather said.
didn’t have the decency to tell her goodbye,
why you snuck away.” But those ahead and behind wouldn’t
slow, and Adrian knew they were becoming
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. impatient with the old man. He tightened
My name is Bell. Adrian Bell.” his grip on his grandfather’s arm.

She shrugged. “Have it your way. You “I should be at home,” his grandfather
can drop me off here. I’ll meet you at the muttered.
grocery store.”
Adrian, too, wished they were home,
That night, he had his usual dinner of wished they could go back to the time be-
fried potatoes and meat. He updated his fore the war, before his father had gone
stock journal, where he noted how much into town for supplies and not returned.
milk each cow produced. He didn’t read his After days without word and fearing he’d
Bible, however, and when he went to bed, been conscripted by one side or the other,
he didn’t immediately fall into a dreamless his mother and sister had joined a group
sleep. heading for the Montenegro border. He and
his grandfather had camped in the woods
*** next to the farm, watching the house and
waiting for his father.
There were fifteen of them, mostly young
men and a few women. Ethnic Albanians Instead of his father, a truck loaded
whose mission was fighting Yugoslav Serbs. with men in miss-matched uniforms drove
It was an old fight, with hatreds going back up to the house. Several of them pushed
centuries. Dressed in fatigues, they said through the front door and re-emerged a
they were part of the Kosovo Liberation few minutes later with a pair of candlesticks
Army. that had belonged to Adrian’s grandmother,
but nothing else. They laughed as they lit a
Adrian Belushi and his grandfather had torch and threw it into the house.
been making their way across the moun-
tains to Montenegro, where they hoped to They didn’t stay to watch their handi-
find Adrian’s mother and sister, when they work, but climbed into the back of the truck
fell in with the small band. He was unsure as it pulled away. Smoke poured from the
how safe it was to travel with them. He won- door. Adrian rose from their hiding place,
dered if he and his grandfather wouldn’t intending to run from the woods and put
be better off on their own, even though out the flames, but his grandfather held him
they were in unfamiliar territory and had back.
no maps. For now, at least, the group was

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“No. They might see you.” No one spoke and there was little light.
Clothes and boots still damp, he peered into
The roof caught fire and soon the house the green darkness bordering the trail, sure
was engulfed in flames. Several hours later, he glimpsed something darting from tree
they searched the rubble for anything that to tree. Once he thought he heard a limb
could be salvaged. They found nothing. After break. The others appeared to pay no heed.
two more days and still no sign of Adrian’s
father, his grandfather said they must go. Eventually they came to a clearing. One
of the men built a small campfire. Adrian
“He’s not coming back. We must search eased his grandfather to the ground at
for your mother and sister.” the base of a tree. The ground was made
soft by a thick carpet of needles. The old
Nearly a week had passed since they man leaned back against the tree, his eyes
stumbled on the KLA band. Covertly, Adrian closed. Adrian shrugged out of his jacket
watched one of the young women in the and draped it around his grandfather’s
group. He admired her glorious and un- shoulders.
bound black hair and the way her body
moved inside the close-fitting uniform. He After a while, Lena brought a plate of food.
didn’t have much experience with girls.
There had been few to talk with in the vil- “It was dropped from an American air-
lage. Besides, there’d been too much work plane,” she said. His grandfather scoffed at
on the farm. This girl, Lena, was older, eigh- the idea, but ate the food anyway.
teen or nineteen to his sixteen years. Maybe
she would have the experience he lacked. Lena held out her hand. Without looking
toward his grandfather, Adrian placed his
They crossed the narrow but swiftly hand in hers. She gave a slight tug, pulling
moving river at mid-afternoon, holding him upright. Together, they walked into the
their weapons above their heads. Two men, forest.
Stephan, with the crooked back, and Haka,
covered the group as they crossed. Adrian Even then, he’d known Lena’s goal was
held his grandfather’s arm, steadying him to recruit him to their cause. “You are
in the current. young and fit,” she’d said, laying in his arms.
“You should join us. We’ll take care of your
A man came from behind them and grandfather.”
gripped his grandfather’s other elbow,
half lifting him from the water. “We have “She’s bewitching you,” his grandfather
no time for niceties,” he said. Everyone said the following morning. “She is not to
knew they were vulnerable to attack while be trusted. She will keep you from your duty,
crossing open water, although they’d seen finding your mother and sister and taking
no sign of Serb activity. care of them.”

Once across, wet and shivering, they fol- But Adrian, filled with youthful lust, ig-
lowed the river a short distance and then nored the old man and lay with Lena again.
turned west. The ground rose in front of This time he promised to join them.
them and the forest soon closed around
them. After the noise of the river, the silence Three days later, they came to another
of the forest gave Adrian an uneasy feeling. river crossing and once again Adrian helped
his grandfather. In midstream, he was
pushed from behind hard enough to lose

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his grip on his grandfather’s elbow. The old many mountains to Kotor, where his moth-
man was swept away. Frantic, Adrian tried er’s sister lived and where his mother and
to grab one of his grandfather’s thin arms, sister had planned to go. The journey took
but the current was too swift and his grand- six months.
father was quickly pulled under. Adrian
swam after the old man, diving, coming up His aunt said she hadn’t heard from his
for air and diving again. Each time he re- mother. “Only her letter saying she and your
turned to the surface empty-handed. sister were coming. Something must have
happened to them.”
He didn’t want to leave his grandfather’s
body for animals to discover, but after more For months, Adrian continued his search,
than an hour of fruitless searching in the but finally had to accept the fact that his
river and along the bank, Lena said it was mother and sister were gone to him. He
no use. “We need to move on,” she said, her took a job in a factory that built large in-
eyes and face filled with pity. “You need to ground and above-ground tanks. He shared
move on.” a room with two other men. For seven years
he ate meagerly, bought only bare necessi-
The man who claimed to have fallen ties, and saved every extra penny. At first,
against Adrian expressed remorse. Adrian many nights he would awaken in a panic
didn’t believe him. He supposed he’d al- after dreaming about what might have
ways known taking care of his grandfather happened to his mother and sister. Had the
wouldn’t be anyone else’s priority. group they joined been stopped and exe-
cuted? Had their bodies been thrown into a
He remained with Lena and the group mass grave as rumors claimed happened?
that winter, tramping through snow during His sister was only twelve. He didn’t want
the day, searching for food and avoiding to think what rogue soldiers, like the ones
detection, huddled around small camp- who’d burned their house, might have done
fires at night, plotting what and who they to her. Killing her would have been a gift.
would attack when the weather warmed.
Later, cocooned in a blanket, Lena would Over the years, the dreams came less
tell Adrian a little of her life before the war often. Eventually, he saved enough money
and her dreams of a free and independent to buy his farm.
Kosovo. Adrian told her of his need to find
his mother and sister in Montenegro. He ***
planned to find another farm where they
would all live. Although he had no memory of her, Sara
Nowak must have been part of the KLA
At no time did they encounter govern- band he and his grandfather had fallen in
ment forces. with. Or, she’d joined them after he left.
But why had she sought him out now—it
Spring came and they kept moving, but wasn’t mere coincidence that she’d come
when they came to the edge of a village ten here.
kilometers from the border, Adrian slipped
away. The next two days were spent in the
usual way, milking the cows, cleaning out
He never found his mother and sister, de- the loafing shed and carting manure and
spite making his way across Montenegro’s straw by the wheelbarrow-load out of the

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loafing shed and piling the contents at the “Lena could have lain with anyone.” He
side of the barn, spreading fresh straw in knew that was not so. It had surprised
the shed, feeding chickens, gathering eggs Adrian as much as the others that Lena had
and making cheese and yogurt. After the remained steadfast to him.
harvest, he would spread the growing pile
of manure in his wheat field. “She said Petra is yours and I believed
her.”
While these actions kept him busy, his
thoughts continued to circle around Sara “She made no effort to contact me once
Nowak. He could think of no reason for her the fighting ended. Why?”
to be there. On the third day, after his noon
meal and without bothering to clear the “She was captured and put into a de-
table, he stomped down the track to con- tention camp. We all were, including baby
front her. He found her behind the house, Petra. After she was released, she believed
sunbathing in her underwear. she could bring up Petra on her own. Then
she got sick. Dying took all her energy.”
“Put your clothes on,” he said, his voice
steely. “We need to talk.” Adrian frowned. He did not want to think
of Lena, so vital, so alive, brought low by
She rose and casually pulled on trousers capture and then illness. “How did you find
and a denim shirt. She showed no sign of me?”
embarrassment at being caught in a state
of undress, which shocked him even more “Lena knew you planned to find your
than discovering her in such a manner. mother and sister. It took time to locate
your aunt in Kotor. Your aunt told me you
“So,” she said. “I suppose there is no were here.”
need to ask what we need to talk about.”
“And this child, Petra…where is she?”
“What are you doing here? Why did you
contact me? Don’t tell me it is coincidence. “In Kosovo.”
I won’t believe it.”
“So why are you telling me all this now?
“Let’s go sit under that tree where it’s Lena, the fighting, what happened…it is a
cooler.” She pointed to a large pine. long time ago.”

When they were seated on the ground “Now that her mother is gone, Petra
beneath the tree, after first tossing some needs someone to care for her. You are her
rocks and cones out of the way, Sara Nowak father.”
spoke.
He stared at her. No words came out of
“Lena is dead.” his mouth.

“Dead? When?” “She needs you Adrian Belushi.”

“Six months ago. She wanted you to “Bell. It’s Bell now.”
know you have a daughter.”
“Belushi, Bell. It makes no difference.”
He drew in a lungful of air and let it out
slowly. “I doubt that.” Several minutes passed before he spoke
again. “I have no knowledge of children, of
“Her name is Petra. She was born eight caring for one. Especially a girl. Why don’t
months after you left.” you take her? You and Lena were friends.”

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“That is not possible. I don’t stay in one “I’m not hungry.”
place long enough to care for her. I only
stayed on here to satisfy myself you are “Suit yourself,” he said. “You can give your
what Lena claimed, that you will be a fit food to the dog. Then clean the kitchen. I
parent to Petra. Now that I’m satisfied, I’ve have bookwork to do.”
told them at the bank I will be leaving at the
end of the week.” After she did as he instructed, she ap-
proached the table where he sat. “Where
Without replying, Adrian stood. “I need will I go to school?”
to tend to my animals.” He heard them
lowing before he reached his holding. He finished an entry in his journal before
he looked up. “School?”
***
“Yes.”
A month passed before Sara brought the
child to him. They arrived one morning just He shrugged. “In the village, I suppose.
as he’d turned the cows out to pasture. How much schooling do you have?”

“No problem at the border,” Sara said. “Some,” she said. “I can read and do sums.”
“Kosovo had no reason to hold her and Mon-
tenegro was satisfied she has family and a “Then why do you need more?”
place to stay.”
“To learn other things.”
The sun beat down on the girl’s head.
What looked like little sparks shone in her “I thought you would help on the farm.”
blond braids. She held the handle of a small
suitcase in one hand. Her eyes were the “I need to go to school. My mother told
same amber color as Lena’s, but he saw no me. It’s August. School will start soon.
resemblance to himself. Maybe around the Maybe it has already.”
mouth.
Without further comment, he returned
“She has had a difficult life,” Sara said his attention to the journal.
before leaving. Petra had wandered to
the walnut tree and was shaking one of The next day, he drove her to the village
its branches. A slight frown grew between and enrolled her. A test determined her
Adrian’s brows as several green-covered placement in grade four. At thirteen, she
nuts fell to the ground. “You will need to would be the oldest child in the class.
make allowances,” Sara added.
“Why are you behind?” he asked on the
At dinner that night, the girl looked from drive back up the mountain.
the fried potatoes and ham on her plate to
him. He tried to discern what she might be She shrugged as though the question
thinking, but soon returned to cutting his should have been apparent, even to him.
ham and forking it into his mouth. “After the camp, we didn’t stay in one place
long, and then I needed to take care of my
When he looked up again, it was to see mother.”
her staring at her food. “Aren’t you going to
eat?” he asked. He frowned, not wanting to think of
what she so casually described. When they
reached the farm, the cows were down
from the pasture and lowing with impa-
tience. “You need to learn how to milk,” he
said.

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“Why? I won’t have time for milking cows. With a look of distrust, Petra once more
I will be at school or studying. Until I am six- approached the cow.
teen. Then I will leave here.”
Finally, the cows were in the loafing shed
“You live on a farm now. Besides your and the milk put through the separator and
schooling, you will also help with chores; into the cooler. At supper, Petra ate heartily
I make cheese and yogurt with what milk instead of pushing her food around her plate.
doesn’t go to feeding calves. You can help
with that. Also, you can gather eggs each That day set the tone of the days and
day.” weeks that followed. Summer lingered a
while, then fall brought cooler nights and
“I don’t see why I have to. You did all those shorter days. Petra walked the six-kilometer
things before Sara brought me here.” distance to and from school until winter set
in, and then Adrian drove her in the utility
He scowled, tempted to shake her. “Con- van. Through it all, each treated the other
sider it payment for room and board. Go in with politeness, but without affection.
the house. I’ll get you something to wear.”
The week before Christmas, Adrian
He gave her a pair of trousers and a piece walked past Petra’s bedroom door and heard
of rope to tie around the too-big waist. She the muffled sound of crying. He paused, but
needed to roll the pantlegs up about a foot. only for a couple of seconds before crossing
The shirt, too, needed the sleeves rolled. He to his small refrigerator and removing eggs
wadded some rags into the toes of old and and a slab of bacon. He got out potatoes. He
well-worn boots. Her feet, though narrower, reached to start the burner under the pan,
weren’t much shorter than his. but paused and looked over his shoulder to
the closed bedroom door.
“That will do,” he said. “Let’s go. The
cows are waiting.” He sighed, crossed the room and knocked
softly on the door. No answer, but the crying
She glowered, but followed him to the stopped. He knocked again. “Petra?”
barn. When the cows were each in their
stall, he had her scoop out mash and place “What do you want?”
it in front of each. Then he had her fill a
bucket with water and soap. “You need to “Why are you crying?”
wash their udders and teats,” he said.
“I’m not crying.”
He demonstrated with the first cow.
With the filled bucket and a rag in hand, “I heard you.”
she approached the second cow. Her face
screwed into distaste, she tentatively ap- “Well, I’m not now.”
plied the wet rag to its udder. “That’s cow
shit, isn’t it?” He opened the door and peered inside.
She lay on her back on her bed. “Go away.”
“Yes. And it needs to be cleaned off be- Her voice was muffled by the pillow over
fore we milk.” her face

The cow twitched its foot and Petra “You need to tell me why you are crying
sprang back. first.”

“She isn’t going to hurt you.” She threw aside the pillow, sat up and
glared at him. “Because today is my birthday,

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because it’s almost Christmas and you have someone picked her up. That thought filled
no decorations, and because I miss my him with dread.
mother.”
The windshield wipers labored to push
He could think of no response, so he said the heavy snow aside, making it difficult to
nothing, closed her bedroom door and re- see through the streaked window. Finally,
turned to preparing their evening meal. he made out a small figure, trudging along
the side of the road. He took a deep breath
He needed to knock on her door twice while blinking away unexpected tears. He
the following morning. He was already drove up beside the figure and slowed. He
washing the cows’ udders when she joined rolled down the window. The utility van’s
him in the milking parlor. He nodded a tires crunched in the snow.
greeting. Later, after they washed up, he
drove her down the mountain to school. “Get in,” he said.
She sat silent in the passenger seat and
stared out her window. Snow, which had She turned to him, her eyes red-rimmed,
started the afternoon before, continued to her lips nearly blue. “I don’t want to.”
come down. He had to take care driving on
the frozen road. After he dropped her off in “Get in,” he said again.
front of the school, he went to the general
store and made several purchases. Head down, she stomped around the
front of the vehicle and climbed in be-
That afternoon, he waited for her in his side him. He made a three-point turn and
usual place and watched the snow pile up headed back toward the road leading up
on his windshield. Children poured out of the mountain. Snow and ice melted into
the school’s front door and scattered in puddles on her seat and on the floor at her
several directions, calling to one another feet.
or throwing snowballs as they went. Petra
wasn’t among them. He waited for ten They were nearly to the farm before she
minutes before going inside the school. Her spoke. “Why is there a tree in the back?”
teacher said Petra had left school an hour
before dismissal. “She said you were not He didn’t answer. At the farm he told her
well and she needed to walk home today.” to go inside and change into something dry.
“You can fix dinner while I do the milking to-
“You let her go in this weather?” night.”

He didn’t wait for the woman to answer. On his way into the house, after he’d
Petra hadn’t been on the mountain road or finished cleaning the milking parlor and se-
he would have seen her. She must be trying curing the animals in the loafing shed, he
to go to a city. Podgorica? Kotor? Or would pulled the small tree from the back of the
she try to return to Kosovo? He asked him- utility van and shook out its boughs. He set
self these questions without a clue to the it inside the house by the door.
answer. He crossed the railroad tracks and
the bridge, returned to the main road and She eyed the tree, but said nothing as
turned south. If he didn’t find her within a they ate the dinner she’d prepared. He
couple of miles, he’d turn around and head made no reference to the tree either. Af-
north. She couldn’t have gotten far. Unless terwards, instead of turning to his stock
journal, while she cleared the table and
fed the scraps to the dog before it returned

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to its new bed by the stove, he nailed two them. He handed her a small package
short boards into a cross and affixed them wrapped in paper. Inside was a leath-
to the base of the tree. He stood it upright. er-bound journal. “For you to write down
your dreams,” he said.
“Where shall we put it?” he asked.
She stroked the book’s leather side. “I
“In that corner, where we can see it while have a present for you, too. I’ll get it.”
we eat,” she said.
She went to her bedroom and returned
He nodded and placed the tree where with a drawing of her mother. “I did it from
she’d directed. While they decorated it with a photograph taken before the war,” she
the purchases he’d made earlier, they said said.
little. But Adrian felt a warmth that didn’t
come from the stove. He stared at the drawing and remem-
bered the youthful Lena, the only woman
“I’m sorry I didn’t know it was your besides his mother and sister he’d ever
birthday yesterday,” he said. “I will remember loved, and their brief time together. “Thank
next year.” you,” he said.

She smiled and ducked her head. They continued to sit, each wrapped in
thoughts of the past.
Christmas morning, after chores were
completed and breakfast eaten, they sat by Petra’s words were hesitant when she
the Christmas tree, the stove warm behind spoke. “Can I call you Papa?”

About the Author

Toni Morgan: I came home from a summer as an exchange
student in Denmark knowing two things: I loved history,
and I loved traveling and meeting new people. My parents
collected early-American antiques. By their measure,
anything over 75 years of age qualified. The house of my
host family in Denmark was 400-years-old, and the church
where my host-father preached was 800-years-old. I saw
where battles had been fought and where Danes had lived
ten centuries before I was born. It was a revelation. My
writing career began with that trip, keeping the editor of my hometown paper apprised of
all I saw. A former NYT editor, he convinced me I should continue writing. Although a west-
coaster by birth, marriage, and preference, I’ve lived in many places, including nearly four
years in Japan. My published works include numerous articles in newspapers and magazines,
primarily on finance and budget, and short stories appearing in the Clackamas Literary
Journal, Adelaide Literary Magazine, The Path, and Mooring Against the Tide; Writing Fiction
and Poetry by Tim Schell and Jeff Knorr, published by Prentice Hall. My published novels
include Two-Hearted Crossing, Patrimony, Echoes from a Falling Bridge, Harvest the Wind,
Lotus Blossom Unfurling, and Queenie’s Place.

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THE CANDLE CURSE:
NICE OR NEVER

by Franklin Powers

He just got fired from US Armored Car Ser- him as Vice President of Sales. He had
vice, there was over $500,000 missing but brought his family to California from New
they could not pin it on him. Frank perturbed York, trading one big city for another. Instead
“why are you wasting my time by asking me of overlooking the Hudson, he now sees Al-
the same questions?” FBI, “there is $500,000 catraz in the San Francisco Bay. Frank, “It is
dollars missing, you bet we are going to ask crazy what happened in court today boss, I
you questions, we will continue until you tell don’t even own the company and I am ready
the truth.” “I am telling you the truth, you to kill someone.” “It has not synced in yet, I
need to go after my partner, he is the one am still in a daze,” said the boss with a blank
who stole the money.” FBI, “we would love look on his face.
to talk to him; however he is not able to
speak to us, we found him without his head, When his new boss was destroyed in
can you explain that?” Frank, “there is noth- court because of actions of his new Sales
ing to say, someone wanted the money, and Manager, Frank did not know if he was
did not want him to talk, that is easy.” Agent, going to be able to keep his new job, not a
“I would not be so flippant if I was you, we good way to start. Most of the suggestions
are looking at you for the money and pos- from others were about how to minimize
sible murder.” “Listen, if you had something the damages they were going to incur, but
on me, you would have already arrested me, not Frank, he was all about revenge and
so leave me alone and let me get on with my taking them down and making them pay
life.” “you can go, but don’t leave town and with blood for filing this lawsuit in the first
I would caution you to look out for yourself, place. Was this his demeanor as shown in
you could be next.” Frank left the Agency and his last job?
was driving home thinking about all he had
learned, and the fact that someone took his “Hey Frank, you know I do not like it when
partners head was making his stomach sick. you talk that way, take it down a couple
notches, “his boss said.
Premiere Marketing in San Francisco had
decided to take a chance on Frank, hiring The next morning Frank had gotten a call
from his boss who was at an appointment to

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

sign up a company for their benefits. “Frank, I you, are you interested in meeting our little
just was at this company on 7th street and I am friend?” Frank not sure what he was talking
having to leave, I just got instructions on how about, walks closer to them, as he gets close,
to win the lawsuit. I need you to come over “say hello to Bob, he is looking for you,” with
here and finish up the signups before they that he opened his coat exposing a severed
take their lunch.” Frank agreed to go to the head, he pointed his dead eyes right at Frank.
sales appointment in a not so good area of the Frank seeing the severed head of his friend,
city, he was a little apprehensive to even go, loss control of his legs and fell to the ground.
but they were really interested in the product “Before he lost his body, he said that you are
and seemed ready to sign a contract, and his now cursed for rating on him, look at him
boss asked him to complete the process. and feel the curse he put on you.” Frank
on the ground, so weak, cannot get up, his
Frank had driven for 20 minutes and whole body now aching with fear and horror
turned right on 7th street where the com- from looking into Bob’s dead eyes. “Get up
pany was, and he was very curious why you weak scared little man, we would love
his boss left a company who had agreed to to saw your head off as we did with him, but
come aboard. As he turned towards the curb why waste our time, the curse will take care
to park, a truck was backing up and as he of you, you poor bastard.”
watched they backed right into his bumper,
hitting it hard. He got out of his car and The driver of the other vehicle that hit
walked towards the truck, two guys got out, Frank was watching and listening to them
one black and one white guy carrying a bat but did not see the head or hear the dis-
and wearing a black long coat and walked to cussion as he was on the phone after run-
the back where Frank was. A box had fallen ning into Franks car. “Okay guys lets back up
out of the truck onto his hood, the contents and tone it down,” as he approached them
were black candles, and several rolled into dressed in his police uniform, he was off
the street. The car behind Frank swerved duty and now part of this mess. The three
to miss the candles and rammed right into of them seeing that he was a cop, backed
Franks door just missing him, causing a big up and put the knife down and the two with
dent. He was getting pissed off now as he the head, looked hard at Frank, making sure
looked at his car which had now been hit in he does not say anything about the bloody
the front and side. As the two from the truck head. Being he was a cop he was able to
approached him, “what the hell where you take care of the car mess and get every-
clowns thinking?” “Did you call us clowns’ body on their way. Frank was still pissed off
asshole?” “Yes, I did, and I want you ass- and out of sorts as he put his jacket back
holes to get those damn candles off my car on and got his briefcase for his meeting. He
and I want your insurance information, got thought about canceling his meeting, but if
it?” as he starts to take his jacket off. The he did, he would have to explain why he did
taller one, “we have been looking for you, not go to a company after asked to be there.
I am glad we ran into each other.” Frank An hour later, they signed the contract for
grabs his jacket and wraps it around his arm, their 150 employees, Frank was now feeling
“come on you bastards, let’s see what you better but still shaking. He asked around for
got.” The three men start to walk towards any suggestions of a place to get a drink, he
each other ready to mix it up. The taller one, really needed it and some lunch. He was di-
opened up his coat, “hey we know all about rected to Mary’s down by the bus terminal.

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Taking the advice, he headed to Mary’s for wait a few minutes and you will see our res-
that drink and many more. ident Witch come in for her afternoon drink.”
Frank coming back at him, “a witch you say,
At the bar Frank asked for his favorite damn what kind of place did I come into,”
cocktail and sat there enjoying his first sips as Frank thinks out loud. Frank, now feeling
while he looks over the menu. Frank, “hey more scared then before, “all I wanted
barkeep, what is the lunch special today?” was a drink and lunch, not your bullshit
“Bacon cheeseburger on an English muffin,” old man, barkeep, give me my bill, I want
the barkeep responded. “That sounds good, to get the hell out of here.” “It is too late
put me in for one, and give me another for you, you can’t leave, she wants to see
drink.” Frank glanced over to the older gen- you.” “You know old man, I am really getting
tleman sitting one bench away from him tired of you and your shit,” as Frank reaches
and nodded as to say hello when the gen- for his bill. The barkeep pulls it back from
tleman looked over at Frank. “My name is him, “your bill has been paid.” “Paid, who
Bob, haven’t seen you in here before. You did that?” again annoyed of the situation
new here?” Frank sipping on his drink, “you he got himself into. The barkeep, shifted his
say your name is Bob huh, I really don’t eyes to the furthest table, Frank following
have anything to say to you, please leave his move, “she did, and she wants to talk to
me alone.” Bar patron, “I saw you get out of you.” Not wanting to look, but he did, and
your car and head overhear, are you looking she motioned her long finger at him and
for somebody?” Frank did not like the con- pointed to the seat at her table. Oldman,
versation at all, he was making too much “well you waited too long, you have to go
of what he was hearing, could he really be over there now, that is just a fact, you need
saying those things to me because he knows, to thank her for your drink,” with a devilish
but how could he know. Frank was really smile on his face. Frank lifting the end of his
messed up as he asked for another drink, drink to his mouth, put it down and got up
suddenly he was very thirsty. from his bar stool and heading to the door.
“Hey, you need to take this drink to the lady
“I had a business appointment around at the table, thank you,” said the bartender.
the corner and came here for some lunch Handing the drink to Frank, he looked over
and quite time, if you have to know.” Frank at the table, and as if he could not ignore
kept thinking about what just happened the bartender, he took the drink and headed
and he kept seeing those damn candles that over to the table. “I believe this is for you,”
caused the police officer to crash into his handing the drink to her. The lady reached
door. Older gentleman, “we don’t get many for it and put it next to her, “no, this is for
strangers in here, it seems that they would you, it looks like you could use it?” Frank
rather head somewhere else, looking right standing next to her, “I don’t know what it
at Frank. Frank with a disillusioned look on is about this place, but I am not feeling very
his face, “what are you talking about old good.” The lady with a smile on her face,
man, is this place haunted or something?” “are you sure it is this place, or could it be
“Don’t laugh, you might be right, why would what you saw before you got here, sit down.”
you say haunted though, you feeling some- Frank sitting down where the drink was and
thing?” “What the hell are you talking about, picking it up to take a big gulp. “Have you
I think you probably have had to many of been having a tough day, Frank?” With his
whatever you are drinking?” Old man, “well

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

eyebrows going up, “I did not tell you my restaurant near his appointment on 7th street.
name, how do you know me?” “I don’t know The witch had bought him a drink and started
you, I know your soul, and it is turning black, a conversation with him about the court case
just like the candles that fell on your car.” he just lost. She had told him about a curse he
“Okay what the hell is going on here,” Franks could use to get rid of all bad spirits that have
voice cracking. “Nothing is going on here, it tried to take his company down. The boss
is time for you to go.” “I just got here, and seemed to be all over it, anything to get things
I was told to talk to you.” “Yes you were, back the way they were before the lawsuit.
and yes you have, now I am saying it is time
for you to go Frank, you are done.” “I have Franks boss had proceeded to put the
heard enough of your crap, and how did black candles around the offices and put a
you know about the candles and my name, white candle in his office for the good spirits,
I did not talk about them, and again I will just as he was told to do. Now all he had to
say, what the hell is going on here?” “Frank do was wait for all that he had asked for.
you need to listen to me and listen real good
okay?” “I am listening, what is it that I need A few hours had gone by, Frank was at his
to hear from you, I am disgusted with this favorite watering hole, liquoring it up before
whole day.” “That is right Frank, it is okay he goes home. However, this afternoon he
to be disgusted, it will soon be over for you.” was approached by one of the waitresses
“Well that is good to hear, because I cannot who was now off work. They sat there at
take any more of this garbage.” “Frank when the bar exchanging laughter and getting
you leave, you will meet one more person chummy. It was time for Frank to make his
today, that is the last person you need to move, he knew he only had so much time
talk to and be kind too, sound good?” “You before he was expected at home. He had
know what sounds good to me is getting the convinced her to come up to his office and
hell out of here, and never talk to you again, enjoy some good music and some good
that will be a good day.” “Are you listening to smoke. The office was empty of all the staff.
me, one more person you will draw in, and They ventured into his office and to his couch
you will need to be nice to them, there will where they made themselves comfortable.
be no gray area, nice or never. “No I am not It did not take long until there was clothing
listening, go to hell bitch or is it witch,” as he on the floor, good music and a lot of sexual
walks out. “Goodbye Frank, and may your excitement as Frank positioned himself to
soul be set free, and remember you have lie on top of her on the couch. As Frank was
one more interaction, be wise,” the witch busy feeling his pleasures, rocking back and
said as she watched him walk away and out forth, he looked at the table and fixed his
the door. Frank was still shaking as he was eyes on a black candle he had not seen be-
when he walked in there and walking out he fore in his office. He stopped for a minute
still was shaking, he had called a cab to take and leaned back to reach a lighter and lit the
him to the watering hole next to his office, candle. The waitress who was also into the
he just wanted to be left alone for a few min- loving going on, “don’t stop again Frank, I
utes so he could drink a tall strong drink, and am really into it. Frank not responding back
try to make sense of all the craziness. to her comment, just staying on course but
now there was something else competing
Back at the office, Frank’s boss had been for his attention. He kept rocking back and
busy after running into a witch he met at a forth, not hearing the waitress, as if he was

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