Val's Space

1. Beyond The Beaded Curtain 2. Awake At Dawn 3. Number's Up 4. Guardian Of The Home 5. Rage 6. Shana 7. Hearing A Heart Break 8. Grubby Gert

These are a few short flash stories, written in 500 words or less, a great discipline for writing what is necessary to tell a good story without repetition and superfluous words.

The Malaysian woman stood in the doorway of her small, spotless flat, a smile deepening the lines on her already wrinkled face. She beckoned me closer. I hesitated, uncertain, I had heard strange things about her. Her smile broadened, her small head nodding slightly as she persistently motioned me forward. Finally I advanced, she stepped aside indicating I should enter, my heart beat faster as I did her bidding, I turned, watching her fasten the door behind us. She pointed to a back room beyond a beaded curtain, it was dimly lit, I became conscious of a sweet pungent fragrance emanating from within. My head began to swim, I was faintly aware of moving slowly towards the swaying beads, I could discern the high reedy hypnotic sound of oriental music. Blackness came upon me like a giant raven smothering me with its all encompassing wings. Alertness was slow in returning, I couldn’t perceive anything familiar; all was mysterious, my body felt light, cool, in fact it felt good. I looked down and saw I was wearing the loveliest silken sarong I had ever seen. I touched its softness and liked the feel. “You are truly beautiful my wife” I stiffened at the sound of the deep voice, I turned to the direction it came from and saw a handsome man similarly attired to me only his sarong was of a plainer cloth but still a rich silk. His dark features appraising me with love. He reached out a hand taking my smaller one into his. Gold rings adorned my fingers. He was speaking again in an exotic tongue; yet I understood his every word I had a compelling need to look at my reflection, as if he had divined my wish he produced a mirror, I looked at the likeness staring back, fear spiking for an instant. What had happened to my blue eyes, my mousy hair? who was this almond eyed beauty gazing back at me with hair softer than black velvet? The rustle of my husband removing his sarong sent all other questions fleeing from my thoughts

Kelly’s nose pressed up against the window, her big brown eyes caressing the hand made chocolates displayed tantalisingly on silver and cut glass dishes. There were chocolate caramels, peppermint creams, rum truffles, Turkish delights, coconut fudge, praline, and there right in the middle of the display was the biggest walnut whip she had ever seen. Kelly’s mouth watered as she contemplated biting into its soft creamy centre. Her brain suddenly rattled against her skull and her ear stung as her father’s rough hand connected with the side of her head,

“Come on dilly dreamo, ’ere tek the key an dontcha lose it, tell yer mam when she gets in I’ll be ’ome when I’ve ’ad enough”

Miserably Kelly watched her father disappear inside the Dirty Duck.
She hoped in vain, for her mother’s sake that he wouldn’t drink too much tonight,

Kelly let herself into the neat terraced house, everything was still but she thought she could detect the delicious smell of recent baking, obviously it came from next door. Her mother never had time for that sort of thing with working at the factory till five, then cleaning the doctors surgery from seven till nine she barely had time to cook a meal for them. Her father’s invariably ending up in the bin if he was too drunk to retrieve it from the oven.

Kelly went through to the back room, the moment she pushed the door open the light went on almost blinding her, her mother’s voice rang out “Happy birthday to you,” Kelly stood open mouthed waiting for her mother to finish her song.

Kelly looked at the table in the centre of the room, there were daintily cut sandwiches, jelly, blancmange and there… the centrepiece a whipped chocolate cake with a ring of walnuts around the top looking for all the world like the walnut whip in the shop

“I hope you like the cake pet, It’s butter cream, Couldn’t afford real cream, perhaps next year ay?”

Kelly’s happy smiling face told her mother all she wanted to know, her eyes fixed lovingly on the walnut whipped cake.



©

Elsie had found a new friend, it had been a while since her partner had died, she was lonely. She had never been good on her own, had always needed company, even now when she was about to turn eighty two she still felt the need to be with someone.

She’d met Paddy as she was gardening, he was the local community policeman. She had heard on the grapevine that they had a new one, a bit older than the last chap, he had been far too young, the old folk on the estate just couldn’t connect with him, so when Paddy stopped by to say hello she was pleasantly surprised to see he was in his late forties and rather portly. Obviously not long off retirement.

From the moment they met there was a spark, Elsie had always been attractive to younger men so was elated to find she still possessed that certain something men always saw in her.

Her house soon became a bolt hole for Paddy, when he wanted tea and biscuits or somewhere to pass the time. Paddy always gave her a nice kiss before he left.

This morning she had bumped into Paddy in the supermarket just as she was buying her lottery ticket, he came over and whispered,
     “Won’t see you till tonight, I’m on a split shift the rest of the week, new rota they’re trying out. Tell you later, oh I haven’t forgotten what day it is.”
                                         ooOoo

Later as Elsie watched the coloured balls popping up one by one on the TV Screen she couldn’t believe her luck, on her birthday too!
She wondered how much longer It would be before Paddy arrived, she could hardly wait to tell him, she knew he would tell her how to claim her prize.

Elsie sat knitting, her steel pins click clacking in the silence of her neat little sitting room, then the sound she had waited to hear all evening, the soft rat-a-tat-tat on the window meant Paddy had arrived. She picked up the pink ticket and with knitting needle in hand Elsie rushed to let Paddy in blurting out her news almost all in one breath.

Paddy’s face lit up, one arm went around her, his free shovel sized hand held her smaller one that held the knitting needle he bent and kissed her lips. Elsie’s heart leapt as a sharp pain of happiness shot through it, dimly she heard Paddy say “Happy birthday sweetheart.”

Paddy stooped to pick up the piece of pink paper that fluttered to the floor as he wished Elsie a happy birthday.

He knew his numbers would come up one day…

I went to the little tearoom across the street from the courthouse after the sentencing. I was in desperate need of a cuppa, I thought I would treat myself to a scone with strawberry jam and fresh cream. I really needed some instant energy after all the trauma of the last months, not sleeping, wondering how on earth I would tell the children. Telling them would take all the emotional energy I could muster tonight.

I had a quick look around the door before going in to order, I had a nasty vision of the others sitting there swigging back tea, chatting away like old friends. They weren’t thank heavens.

Energy, huh! he had had plenty of that, I never kept him short, we always made up for the lost time he spent driving that bloody lorry from one end of the country to the other… He must have had the energy of a bull elephant and then some.

Randy, yeh! That should have been his bleeding name, not Howard, my God, definitely not Howard. I remember when I was expecting our Tommy, I bought this little book of names and their meanings, I looked Howard up, I’d smiled as I read it, thinking how true… that’s exactly what he is.

‘The guardian of the home.’

Yeh! I’m not kidding.

Some chuffing guardian he turned out to be…

Though when you think about it, he was that in a way wasn’t he? Only not just one home but three buggers and another three kids! greedy sod.

…Well, huh, he won’t have to bother guarding his next home will he eh? they’ll be plenty of those where he’s going…

It’ll be dark soon.

There isn’t so much activity after the night shift comes on, an occasional nurse will pop in to make sure all the gizmos are working, jot something on my chart and leave. They never make any attempt to talk to me, I’m just another regular chore before they sign off in the morning. Some of them aren’t even sure what’s going on inside my head, most believe I‘m dead already to all intents and purposes.

He might not be on duty tonight, please God…

I’m not sure how I came to be here to be honest, at first when the darkness began to lift I didn’t know who or what I was, just that I was, if you get my meaning. I get flashes, pictures that come into my head without warning, pieces of conversations that sometimes hardly make any sense at all. Remembering comes slowly, faces: names: places: all start to align themselves into some kind of order, but I don’t understand yet why I am here, why I can’t move or speak, I don’t understand why they seem to think I can’t see or hear them… these strangers, who appear to be looking after me.


I drop off and dream I‘m walking down a tow path, the sun warm on my face, a herby antiseptic fragrance of Meadow Sweet lolling untidily among Ragged Robin growing up out of the reed beds fill me with a sense of well being; sounds of splashing from a family of water fowl delights me almost as much as the realisation that I am moving freely without thought or effort. Swiftly the scene changes and anguish replaces the contentment as the dream fades to be replaced by the horror of raw reality. I see his dark outline moving in closer feel his hot rancid breath on my cheek, his fingers poking and prodding, I lie here unable to move or make a sound but inside I’m screaming.

“ Get your putrid hands off me you fucking pervert!!”

I will myself to move, to try and push him away but the vessel I’m trapped in remains unresponsive to my brains commands, I look inwards, try to remember my special place, forget the violation that is happening to my all but dead body.

Unexpectedly I am no longer trapped inside that useless carcass. I find myself floating above ‘it’ and my tormentor.

I watch as my poor broken form is abused, listening to his disgusting animal noises .
Rage rises in me like a great tsunami. I want to heave him away and throw him as far from me as I can. No sooner than the thought is formed than his filthy bulk flies across the room and he lands with a great thud against the cabinet where the medical supplies are kept. His head smashes through the glass and there is a loud shattering of instruments and Petri dishes flying in all directions.

Abruptly the door flies open and a small pleasant faced woman stands looking at the scene before her. One look at me, one look at him and she knows.

She shouts down the corridor for assistance and they come running, the clatter of hurrying feet on the marble tiles, a collective gasp followed by outraged voices.

Gentle hands reach for me, sweet crooning voices try to soothe my unresponsive form, yet inside I smile with joy and am wondrous at the thing that has just occurred.

Rough hands reach for him, scathing voices spit vitriol at him as he is dragged forcefully and unceremoniously from my room.

No attempt is made to clean me up, I hear them whispering among themselves, the police are mentioned, I hear the words:

Forensic evidence must not be destroyed.

Time passes and once more I feel like a thing of curiosity, people popping in and out to take a look at this poor creature. Snatches of indignant conversation caught from time to time. Always the same horrified tones…

"That such an atrocity could take place here! Right under our noses. Unbelievable!"

Eventually two sombre faced young women arrive with brief cases and a pile of equipment, they walk slowly around my bed their eyes missing nothing. At last they begin their task in almost silence, just a monosyllabic observation here and there.
The older of the two women turns back the sheet and starts to gently work her way down my body taking note of any bruising as she goes, then she gently but firmly pulls my legs apart, takes out some cotton buds from her case and a plastic vial.
This is when I decide to take my leave and go in search of my special place.

My heart is sick, my soul weary of all this humiliation.

Once more to my delight I find myself hovering over my body and the women who are labouring so silently yet diligently around it.

Gradually I realise I don’t want to return to that useless cadaver, its purpose long since redundant.

I can float, free from pain, It rapidly and blissfully occurs to me that for the first time in an age I am happy…

Why… I bet I can go anywhere I choose…

Yes, I’ll follow that star.

I’m dying, I know what that means and I’m not really frightened like most people are. I saw death happen, it's just like going to sleep. It wasn’t my fault Shana didn't wake up, I didn’t get into trouble for it, but I know that the carer’s were cross with me. I heard them talking about Shana, how there would be an inquiry, I think I know what that means. All the kids are dying here, that’s why we come, it’s called respite care, then your mummy and daddy can go somewhere without having to worry about you. I have Down’s syndrome, so they think I can’t understand much but I’m a very.. Signiar, slnligner, no! no! singular person… that’s what Mr khan my heart doctor says anyway. He said I’m bright considering… I heard him though, when he told the nurse to play with me, I heard what he told my mummy, that my heart was broken and he couldn’t mend it, that’s why I get tired and out of breath. He said only a new heart would do, but they wouldn’t consider me, I think that means they won’t let me have a new heart because I am a sgnie, err.. S i n g u l a r person… I’m not sure. The other kids don’t like Shana cos’ she's ugly and old and looks like a goblin, but she's only five, I love her cos’ she doesn’t mind if I get dribble over her when she cuddles me… When I asked mummy why Shana looks old she said it was cos’ she has pogera no! progeria. I love Shana. When she cries at night, she'll come and get into my bed, but we get told off if we get caught. Last night she was all hot and sweaty and wouldn’t stop crying till I put my hand over her face when the nurse went past, I was so comfy I didn’t want her to go, so I kept my hand over her face till she went to sleep.