The Reunion

Here it is - an extract from my short story 'The Reunion', shortly to be published in the compilation Someone Has to Die, Volume IV. If you like it, please head to spikethecat.co.uk and buy a copy. If you don't like it, please humour me and buy a copy anyway.

When the invitation arrived to my university 10 year reunion, I ignored it. I just knew it would be full of exactly the same louts and airheads who plagued me for my whole three years in Durham. I added the invitation to the pile of post, free newspapers and takeaway menus on the kitchen table and forgot about it. With hindsight, I wonder how different things would have been if I’d just thrown the thing away.
The invitation would probably have stayed in the pile on the kitchen table for the next few weeks, if it hadn’t been for the phone call I received on Friday. I answered the phone as I opened the fridge, looking for milk to put in my tea. As the fridge door opened, a precariously balanced carton of orange juice fell onto the floor and burst. The first word my caller heard from me was, ‘Shit!’
‘I see you’ve still got the legendary charm, Alex,’ the caller drawled.
‘Kate?’ Whoever it was I expected to be on the other end of this call, it’s fair to say it wasn’t her.
‘Afraid so. How have you been?’
My relationship with Kate was highly complicated. This relationship had gone through three distinct phases. Phase one, lasting for the whole first year at university and most of the second, involved me lusting after Kate and going to ever more desperate extremes to persuade her to notice me. Phase two, which lasted just short of eight delirious months, consisted of wine, French cinema, sex (initially pedestrian but gradually becoming more and more acrobatic) and very little else. Phase three was prompted by certain photos of Kate of a rather intimate nature being uploaded to the university website, apparently from my laptop. This phase involved horror, apologies and protests of innocence from me; outrage, verbal abuse and finally, deathly, deathly silence from her. The silence continued up until graduation and had not been broken for the past ten years. So a phone call from Kate now was both unexpected and long hoped for.
‘Kate! I… Have you… This is a surprise!’ My powers of articulation had entirely deserted me.
‘Yes, it is a bit, isn’t it? I’m a little surprised myself.’ Her tone of voice was incredibly level, as always. It made it extremely difficult to judge her mood.
‘It’s… good to hear from you,’ I ventured.
‘I think I’ve been rather hard on you Alex,’ she said briskly. ‘Ten years is a long time to give someone the cold shoulder. I think it’s about time we moved on.’
Every possible definition of ‘moving on’ crowded into my head: every possibility from a chat over a cup of coffee to a post-coital cigarette.
‘So, I was wondering if you’re coming to the reunion?’ Kate concluded.
‘Er… yeah, I’ll be there,’ Dammit! Where did I put that invite?
‘Great,’ she replied. ‘See you tomorrow then. Bye.’
Tomorrow? I soon found the invitation in the pile of paper. Yes, the reunion was indeed happening this weekend. I knew it would be dreary: people I either didn’t know or couldn’t stand, tours around the university’s latest anonymous building, and hourly appeals to give to the alumni association. However, weighed up against the chance to resurrect my relationship with Kate, it was worth it. I switched on the PC in the living room, and began to search for hotels. I was just booking a room when the phone rang again.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello Alex.’
‘Hello?’ I repeated. I didn’t recognise the voice.
‘You don’t remember me?’ my caller asked in a mock-hurt tone, ‘After all we’ve been through?’ Suddenly it clicked. My stomach knotted as I realised who I was talking to.
‘Oh, I remember you, Miles. Don’t worry.’ Miles Lawson had a reputation in our college for being highly intense and more than a little unhinged. The famous rumour was that he once killed and skinned his tutor’s cat after she gave him a bad mark for an essay. This was almost certainly exaggerated, but I’d always had the uneasy suspicion that there was a kernel of truth in it. More immediately relevant to me, Miles used to go out with Kate, before I did. Unfortunately, when Kate dumped him, it took Miles a while to get the message. When Kate and I started seeing each other, Miles offered to castrate me. He got into the habit of sitting in the union bar in the evenings, and spending the whole night just staring at me and Kate. The fact that he was renewing our acquaintance now could not be good news.
‘Of course you do!’ Miles replied, slightly too cheerfully. ‘Now. I have just one question for you, my friend. Will you be at the reunion this weekend?’
‘Wouldn’t miss it, mate.’ Hang on. How did he get my number?
‘Wonderful!’ His tone was unsettlingly warm. ‘I’ll see you in Durham then.’
‘Great,’ I probably sounded considerably less enthusiastic than Miles.
‘Oh, just one more thing,’ Miles went on. His voice became suddenly highly menacing. ‘You’re going to pay for what you did to Kate, you scum. You’ve been waiting a long time to get what you deserve and now you’re going to get it. I’m going to destroy you, Cohen. Your life is over.’
He hung up. If I’d believed for a minute that Miles actually was as serious as he sounded, I would have forgotten about the reunion and spent the weekend at home, in bed, with the doors locked and the curtains drawn. But I didn’t believe it. So I went to Durham.

Joe

He sits in the yard behind his workshop. He often comes out here for a smoke and a cup of tea. It gives him space to think. And today he has a lot to think about. Recently, suddenly, his simple, straightforward life was shaken to its core. Everything’s changed. He was so sure he could trust her. Now he just doesn’t know. When she told him, she was pale and quiet, choosing her words carefully and obviously aware of the implications of what she was saying. How it all happened, he didn’t know. She didn’t seem too clear on it either. She mumbled something about an angel. Could he really believe a story like that? For some reason he did.

He knows how people will react when he tells them. This is a small town with old fashioned values. They way they treat girls in her position is utterly merciless. He can’t tell them. They’ll figure it out themselves soon enough. Hopefully, by then they’ll have got used to the idea.

There’s so much he has to take on trust. He has to trust his fiancée to be telling him the truth, however unlikely it seems. He has to trust God to somehow take care of what happens next. And he has to trust his own instincts. Can he trust the evidence of his own eyes and ears? Is he just the butt of some massive practical joke? He notices his hand is shaking slightly as he takes another drag on his cigarette. He’s not ready to be a dad. He never really saw himself as father material. And he certainly never expected to be bringing up someone else’s kid. How is he supposed to handle all this? All he can do is trust.

The Donkey's Tale

Feeling a little festive? Then here's a piece to get your Christmassy juices going. It's written by Roz, my wife's cousin. She's 11 (Roz, not my wife...) and as you'll see, she's a talented young lady.

I thought it was just another boring day trudging around the village; after all they never used me for any important jobs.

“You’re too small and weak,” the other donkeys would say and they would laugh and call me Silly Little Donkey. Huh!

But that morning one of the humans (a male I think) came into the yard and surprisingly he didn’t choose any of the big bullies, instead he walked straight over to me and put my bridle on.

“Wow! I’ve never been chosen for anything before.”

The human loaded up my panniers then helped a female to climb up – she looked very young, not much more than a foal I would say.

We set off Southwards, I heard the male say it was about 100 miles journey (and I thought we were just going to market!).

We trudged slowly along for several days and I learnt that my humans were called Mary and Joseph. Mary rode on my back all the time and we had to have lots of rests. Joseph looked after her very well and he was kind to me too. He would pat me and give me oats.

“There you are, Little Donkey,” he would say. Nobody had ever been kind to me before, and because I didn’t have to fight the bigger donkeys for food I felt strong and fit. I could have carried her a thousand miles!

After many days and nights of travel we arrived at a big town. It was complete chaos! I was so scared, people were rushing around everywhere! Joseph led me to every inn in town trying to find somewhere to stay but no one could help. During that time I realised that Mary was going to have a baby, poor thing. I thought that we would have to stay outside all night but finally a kind old innkeeper said we could use his stable for shelter.

”Nothing wrong with that,” I thought, “stables are nice places, warm, cosy and friendly."

We settled down for the night. Joseph made Mary a soft bed of straw and the animals gathered protectively around her. In the middle of the night Mary’s boy child was born. It was quite extraordinary for this baby seemed special in a way. He didn’t cry, he didn’t sleep but lay there silently as we gazed at him. The stable was filled with a beautiful light and a feeling of deep peace.

After a few hours there was a bit of a kerfuffle outside and a load of shaggy shepherds trooped in. They were all really excited and I heard them talking about angels and heavenly music but when they saw the child they fell to their knees and were silent.

The light in the stable grew brighter and brighter until it was so bright that we all had to shield our eyes and then the glorious music began. We saw blazing figures of silver and gold with flames of colour surrounding them. I felt scared and fell to my knees and touched my muzzle to the floor in worship. Mary smiled at me and somehow I couldn’t be scared because there was a beautiful warm sensation running through me. I knew this was the start of something amazing.

During the next few days many people came to look at the new born child who had been named Jesus. Then one night some very important men came to the stable, they had camels, servants and carried gifts of great treasure.

All three men knelt down and placed their gifts before Mary and her baby.

“Hail” said one “We have been led here by a star to see the new born king.”

Wow! A king! I knew he was someone special.

That night an angel from heaven came and spoke to Joseph, he said

“Joseph, I have a message from God, you must leave Bethlehem immediately because King Herod, an evil man, is scared that Jesus will take his throne. He has ordered that all baby boys must be killed. Flee at once; you will be safe in Egypt.”

I was terrified, but Joseph spoke calmly to me.

“Little donkey, are you strong enough to carry Mary and her baby 200 miles – all the way to Egypt?”

That very night we set off South West towards Egypt. We travelled by night and during the day we stayed with friendly people or hid in caves. Everyone was terrified by Herod’s law and they helped us when they could.

One night we were hiding in a windswept cave and couldn’t get warm, though I tried to shelter them with my body the baby started crying. A spider in the cave woke and asked me what was wrong.

“It’s so cold” I said “and we are hiding from soldiers who want to kill the baby.”

“Don’t worry,” said the spider. “I’ll help.”

I didn’t think he could do much but he started spinning his web. All night he worked and worked and by the morning a web covered the mouth of the cave. Suddenly we saw soldiers coming and we cowered down in the back of the cave. But when the chief soldier saw the web across the cave opening, he said, “No-one’s been in here for a long time. Look there’s a spider’s web right across the entrance,” and the soldiers moved on.

What a relief! I reckon that hard working little spider saved our baby’s life!

When we finally got to Egypt I was tired but proud and I was even more proud when Joseph patted me and said, “Well done little donkey. Will you stay with us and help us in this new land?”

I bowed my head; I knew I had played a big part in this wonderful adventure.

I maybe a little donkey but I can do big things!

Who knows one day someone might even write a song about me. They could call it 'Little Donkey'.

Runner-Up Again!

Just heard 'What If I Just Kept On Driving?' is a runner up in Cazart's November flash fiction competition. That's encouraging, and it means I get two pieces published in Cazart's next anthology, but I'm beginning to wonder what I need to do to win one of these things. I'm working on some new stuff now, though, so hopefully I'll write something suitably impressive soon. There should be a new piece here in a day or two...

New Material

I've disappeared off the blogging radar for a while now. I've been focussing on writing a short story for Spike the Cat's latest competition, so haven't had any new flash fiction to post. The short story's nearly finished though, and I'll aim to get some new material added here soon.

I'm quite pleased with the story itself - I just need to knock the corners off one or two of the characters and make sure the ending is at least vaguely believable. I won't find out the competition results until January, but at that point I'll post the story here. I'll either post the story in full here if it isn't going to be published in the anthology, or just an extract if it is going to be published. (Hopefully the extract will whet your appetite and make you want to buy the book...)

I'm still entering the Cazart flash fiction comps too, but the latest result didn't go my way. I s'pose the piece I entered ('You Don't Know What You've Got') was a bit risky. Never mind. I'll be trying again with another piece this month. I'm thinking of entering 'What If I Just Kept On Driving?' this time.

Competitions and novels and things

Cazart's October flash fiction comp is upon us. (Has it been a month already?) I'll be having another go at this, if I can jsut decide which of my recent efforts I should enter. Any thoughts on this?

Also, I just discovered Spike the Cat. It's an opportunity for fiction writers to get some of their stuff published as part of a compilation, so that established publishers will be more likely to take us seriously. I'm particularly intrigued by Somebody has to Die (Volume IV). If I can provide a decent short story by 30th Nov, I'm in with a chance of getting it published. I could even win £100 if the judge decides it's the best piece. Now I just need a decent idea...

Finally, I'm also taking the plunge and making a start on a novel. I always promised myself I'd write a novel one day, and I reckon it's about time I got on with it. Don't want to say too much more about it now, but drop me an email or a private message if you're interested.

Visiting Hours

You know the time we went rowing on that lake? It was just after we started going out. (Our third date, maybe?) I don’t remember what made you drop the oars, but I do remember how embarrassed you were. I laughed about it and told you not to worry. What I didn’t tell you at the time was how disappointed I was when someone finally came out to rescue us. I know it was cold. I know you felt stupid. I know we only had a bottle of Ribena and a packet of Mini Cheddars to share between us. But it’s one of my favourite memories. Just you and me, with all the time in the world and nothing and nobody to spoil it. So peaceful. So simple.

It might sound strange, but in the months since the accident, it’s all felt a bit similar to that. We’ve been cast adrift, you and me. And yes, it’s been hard. It’s been a lonely experience, especially since no-one can tell me for sure whether even you can really understand what’s going on. Like being in that boat, we just don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck here. But somehow, I still know it’s all going to be OK. And whatever happens, we’re together.

People wonder why I still come and see you every day. In fact, Natalie took me to one side last week and told me plainly to find someone else. ‘Let him go,’ she told me, ‘Why waste yourself on a man who’s never going to wake up? You’re still young. You’ve still got time to find someone else.’ But how can I do that? When I promised, ‘In sickness and in health’, I didn’t add, ‘unless you’re in a coma’. Besides, I don’t want anyone else. Of course, I’m angry to be in this situation, but more than that, I’m grateful. I’m grateful for what we had; for what we still have. Think of all the people who go through life without ever truly loving someone. Think of all the people who are lonely, abused or bitter. Whatever happens to us now, how many people can say they had what we’ve got? So that’s why I keep coming here. That’s why I’ll always keep coming, regardless of whether you wake up or if you keep lying there, not moving, not saying a word. We might be stranded in the lake, but at least we got in the boat to begin with. See you tomorrow.

New Story

I'll be uploading a new story later today - the 'Love' instalment in the Faith, Hope and Love sequence. I tried to do something a little different with this one. Also wanted to see if I could write a believable female narrator. Not entirely convinced this one works. Have a read and see what you think. As always, I'd appreciate your comments.