The Rafters

I.

I have lived in the cathedral rafters for an endless number of bell chimes. At first I thought I’d count them to track the passage of time. It’s an enormous hunk of bronze, the bell, and every time it rings, it roars so loudly I’m amazed I haven’t lost my hearing yet. In fact, though, most of the time I don’t hear it at all; after so long living here I must’ve learnt to ignore it, and only when I was much younger did it used to wake me up on a Sunday.

Sometimes the chime of the bell is so incessant it’s impossible to ignore. When it rings to announce special occasions, so do my ears. I remember, as a child, church bells singing wedding melodies while beautiful women floated like clouds along the aisle. From this close there is nothing melodious about this bell. It only clangs.

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Reserved

I do love a vintage store, but this smell is like something from Hell. At least I am out of the rain though – Britain, am I right?

Surrounding me are a litany of supposedly real leather briefcases and a couple of wooden chairs. I wouldn’t mind a fancy briefcase but where would I wear it? It feels like the flash and suave look of a well-made briefcase died after the second world war. Oh well, I’m not here for me anyway.

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The Pyre

Dad,

If you see this, just know that I held down the fort for as long as I could.

I scrunched up the letter in my hand, letting it squeeze through the gaps between my fingers. He’d been gone so long I wasn’t sure he was coming back, and my hope was draining. I decided to look after the shop while he went out for more supplies, although I doubted there was much left outside for us.

The shop, once bustling and filled with guests every fifth of November, was now empty, with only me and a few mice that scuttled from corner to corner for any sign of food. Its rich history cemented those bricks together, lived in the floors and lived in me.

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The Krill Bay Mysteries: chapter 1.

The Krill Bay Mysteries: chapter 1.

Brian knew a good deal about Eric’s life story from the first research interview. What he didn’t know was that Eric’s life (but definitely not his story) was going to reach its final destination in one hour and thirty minutes. Nor did Brian know that Eric’s account of his past in the next forty-five minutes would contain (if anyone cared to listen and adequately interpret) the answer to why he died. This, the second interview, began at 2:30 pm Eastern Time in a small room in Krill Bay’s large central library.

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Well, that’s one answer, I guess

Steve sat back with a hearty sigh.

“I,” he said, “don’t have an answer. Don’t have any inspiration either. The series is finished. This was a guaranteed BAFTA winner; the camerawork’s exquisite, for once the animals mostly behaved, the narration… well, I don’t need to add anything there, the man’s a legend. There’s just that one little problem, and I…”

“I know,” Jennifer interrupted. “This isn’t a disaster quite yet, but it’s close. So, what are you going to do? I mean, we can’t have titles with no music, let alone that footage… which you’re right, is beautiful, and kudos to the team for it… but you’ve got some budget left, yeah?”

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LAMENT TO THE CHERRY

Three 15 year old boys sipping around a table at the back of a rugby club sipping shandies while talking about girls.

Billy Thomas and his little gang were sitting around a table at the back of the rugby club sipping their shandies.

            The steward was keeping a watchful eye, the club was busy after a local derby. Both teams were strutting their stuff to impress the girls. They in turn were pretending they weren’t interested while quietly sizing them up.

            The gang looked on from afar. Finally Owen Parry piped up.

            ”Don’t know why they bother, bitches all of them.”

            They nodded as they knew Owen had fallen heavily for a girl, showering her with gifts only for her to turn him down when he asked for a date.

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What Counts as Wealth? 

…”The health of our nation is dependent on the wealth of our nation.  The poorest of our society has had to endure great hardships …”

Kathleen gives the remote control button a vicious prod.

“Oi, I was watching that!”

She turns and gives her husband a look of disbelief.

“The last thing we need right now is some stuck up government speaker telling us what we can’t afford, I already know that.”

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