Well now, ya feeling alright hon?
I gotta say ya done give me a scare, not often that my fellas go under like that, thought I was goanna lose ya.
Now I’d best tell you what I is, I is a hog farmer, and this here is my prize-winning hog, Precious. What can I say sweet cheeks, this little lady sure is precious to me.
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The oppressive heat gave a dreamlike feel to the morning. The purple-grey clouds on the horizon seemed slumbering islands, the motionless sea a broad pane of glass, the people on the beach sleepwalkers.
Half hidden in a rocky cove at the end of the bay, a man of about sixty was digging a hole in the wet sand with a small spade. Progress was slow, the incoming tide hesitant but sufficient to drip into his work. He retreated inside a narrow cave, muttering, ‘Should’ve come earlier.’
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Mack ground his cigarette with the toe of his wingtip shoes, pulled down his fedora and rucked his collar up against the lashing rain.
“Of all the places I coulda ended up,” he grumbled, “I had to land in this two-bit joint.”
He looked at the body lying on the pavement, a pool of blood surrounding the exit wound. It looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to the back of the victim’s head. From the inside.
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Billy Thomas sat red-faced, eyes lowered, as the new preacher ranted about the demons the devil placed in all of us, then glared at poor Billy; sins of the flesh sent to tempt us into evil doings.
Friends of Billy’s persuaded everyone to go skinny dipping in the river. Old Mrs.Pugh had come across them, screaming at them that the Lord would strike them down for their sins. Personally, Billy thought Mrs Pugh had a demon, as she had stood watching them for ages according to Huw Parry. Off she went to tell the preacher and our parents, hence we all had to attend chapel to renounce our sins.
Continue readingIt was love at first sight at the Tesco checkout. “Magdalena,” her name badge said. As she scanned my ready meal for one, she looked at me with her huge doe-eyes like she was peering into my soul and cleansing it at the same time.
Every Friday night, I passed through her till. It became our little conversation piece.
“It’s Ready-Meal-Friday, yes?” she would say, flashing me a dimpled smile.
It wasn’t until the fourth week that I finally plucked up the courage to ask her out.
To my surprise, she said yes. She walked into my flat after her shift, all wide-eyed and waif-like. We ate two ready meals. That was a year ago today. The rest, as they say, is history.
And now, six little numbers threaten to ruin it all.
“Check my lottery numbers for me? It’s a Roller this week”, she said, on her way out this morning.
“Rollover,” I corrected.
It was only when a text message popped up on my computer just now, from Magdalena to her work-mate, Adam, that I remembered to check for the ticket. “I need a lottery win” she joked in the text, declining an invitation to drinks tonight with her work-mates.