K. Morris's Blog, page 814

Action T-4

An interesting piece on the murder of disabled people which took place under the Third Reich’s Action T-4 programme http://www.nizkor.org/ftp.cgi/people/r/rogow.sally/hitlers-unwanted-children

An Act of Mercy by K Morris Remains Free in the Kindle Store

My collection of short stories, An Act of mercy and other stories, is free in the Kindle store until Monday 26 August. For details of the promotion together with information on my other books please visit my Amazon author’s page http://www.amazon.co.uk/K.-Morris/e/B00CEECWHY/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0. For my latest online short story please visit http://newauthoronline.com/2013/08/23/the-paedophile/.

The Paedophile

The girl appeared to be totally relaxed as she lounged back in the straight backed wooden chair. Absently she twirled a strand of her long blonde hair around the little finger of her right hand. The girl’s right foot tapped on the chair leg in time with the beat of the pop tune which she hummed quietly to herself. Inspector Ruth Jones was puzzled. In her lenghthy career in London’s Metropolitan Police she had come across many victims of paedophilia. Ruth had witnessed varied reactions but the behaviour of this 14-year-old girl was bizarre in the extreme. Looking into the girl’s face Ruth perceived only tranquillity. Louisa Jenkins appeared totally at ease with herself. Ruth wondered what the psychologist would make of the girl.

“Louisa I’m Inspector Ruth Jenkins but you can call me Ruth and this is Sergeant Mary O’connor but just call her Mary. Would you like a drink or something to eat?”

“No thanks, I don’t need anything”.

“Louisa do you know why you are here?”

“No” Louisa said with a beautiful smile.

Louisa’s smile unnerved the two policewomen. They exchanged covert glances. Something was very wrong here.

“Louisa I need to ask you some questions about Michael Johnson, the man we found you with”.

“Why?”

“We want to understand about your relationship with Michael. Can you tell us about that?”

Louisa looked perplexed.

“What do you mean? I don’t understand”.

The Inspector spoke very gently

“Louisa when we broke into Michael’s house we found the two of you in bed together. Michael is 50 and you are only 14-years-old. It isn’t allowed for adults to have sex with children. You are a little girl and we want to protect you from harm. Can you tell us how you came to know Michael and how long you have known him for?”

“Always. I have always been his”.

The girl’s words sent a shiver down the spines of the two police women.

“What do you mean Louisa?”

“I have only ever known Michael. He is my love, my world”.

The Inspector tried a change of tack.

“When did you first meet Michael?”

“I told you, I have always known him”.

“Do you mean that you can’t remember when you first met him?”

“I am Michael’s. I have always been his Louisa”.

“What do you mean Louisa?”

“I am Michael’s girlfriend. His only love it has always been so. It is unalterable”.

“Louisa where did you live before you met Michael?”

“I have always been his. He is my only love” Louisa repeated patiently.

The Inspector’s head was spinning. Desperately she tried another line of enquiry.

“Can you tell me about your parents Louisa?”

“My parents?”

“Yes, where do they live? What are their names?”

“Michael is my everything. He is my dad, my lover, my reason for existing”.

Ruth opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted in her intention by a knock on the door.

“Come in”.

Constable Maureen Sykes entered.

“Sorry to interrupt but there is a Professor Mills asking for you” she said addressing Ruth.

“Maureen I told you that I was, under no circumstances to be disturbed” Ruth said her face clouding over.

“I’m very sorry but he was very insistent. He said that it is regarding the current case” the constable said glancing in the direction of Louisa.

The Inspector sighed.

“Louisa I need to leave the room for a few minutes. Mary will look after you”.

“Where is he?” Ruth said as she closed the door of the interview room behind her.

“I put him in your office Mam” Maureen replied.

Ruth strode into her office. An elderly white haired man, a pair of reading glasses precariously balanced on his nose rose stretching out his hand.

“I’m sorry to disturb you but there has been a terrible misunderstanding. I understand that you have one of my patients, Michael and his therapist with you?”

“Pardon!”.

“I lead the Paedophile Management Unit. We are responsible for managing child sex offenders when they are released back into the community”.

“I know what the unit does and quite frankly Professor you are doing a lousy job. Michael was found in bed with a 14-year-old girl earlier today. We where alerted by a tip off from a concerned neighbour and when we broke down the door there he was, not a care in the world in bed with the kid”.

The Professor put his head into his hands.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. We deliberately chose the property due to it being so isolated and some nosy  neighbour wrecks the experiment!”

“Are you saying that you deliberately placed a 14-year-old girl in the company of a known paedophile? If so you should be arrested! Christ I’ve never heard anything like it in all my born days!”

“Let me explain. This must go no further, you understand?”

“I’ll be the judge of that” Ruth said.

“Look Inspector this work has the backing of the Home Secretary. The clearances go right to the very top”.

“Go on Ruth said.

“The problem with paedophilia is that most (if not all) offenders have a compulsion to reoffend when they are released into the community. Drugs and monitoring are of limited success”.

“I know all this” Ruth said impatiently.

The Professor continued seemingly unperturbed by Ruth’s interruption.

“Do you know anything about the science of robotics Inspector?”

“What the hell is this Professor? I don’t have the time to play silly buggers!”

“Have you heard of the Turing Test?”

“Yes the idea that if a machine could fool a human being into believing that they are communicating with a person rather than a computer then artificial intelligence would have been achieved, but what has this got to do with the matter in hand?”

“Well for some time now I have had the idea of producing an artificial child so that paedophiles can indulge their behaviour without endangering the community and, in particular children. Louisa is the prototype of a machine which will, I hope revolutionise the management of paedophiles in the community”.

Ruth stood gaping at the Professor with her mouth open. Surely it wasn’t possible. However the robotic answers of Louisa coupled with her apparent lack of trauma served to convince her of the veracity of the professor’s words.

“Surely the science isn’t advanced enough to produce child substitutes convincing enough to satisfy the average pervert?”

“Tell me how does Louisa come across?”

“Now I know the facts she comes across as what she is, a robot. Her answers where somewhat wooden”.

“Yes indeed. However Louisa is only a prototype. As the science develops we will produce ever more convincing child substitutes. It’s brilliant. It prevents harm to real children and from the perspective of the Treasury it saves money. As you know keeping offenders locked up is very expensive while a robot lasts for years and once they go into mass production the cost of manufacturing will decrease dramatically”.

“But what if some paedophiles want the real thing? What if they get bored with the substitute?”

“I hope that won’t happen but who knows” the professor said shrugging his shoulders. “Now can I have Michael and Louisa back please?”

Thoughts on the unatainable

Oh that I might, in the softness of night, steal a kiss from your lips. Oh that my hands might go awandering in your unexplored land. Your mysteries remain hidden, forever forbidden to those such as I, who yearn to walk at your side. Oh to lie in your arms and forget life’s harms. Beauty or duty?I do forget myself.

An Act Of Mercy Free In The Kindle Store

My collection of short stories, An act of mercy and other stories, is available free in the Amazon Kindle store for the next 5 days. The tales range from stories of blackmail to satanic visitations. To download An act of mercy free please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/act-mercy-other-stories-ebook/dp/B00EHS74CS or http://www.amazon.com/act-mercy-other-stories-ebook/dp/B00EHS74CS

The Call Girl

Suzie winced as she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Was this the same Suzie Jeffries, the daughter of Mark Jeffries, the vicar of Little Compton in the Marshes? The same Suzie who had as a teenager delighted the congregation of All Saints church with her singing? Her father and the congregation would suffer a group seizure where Suzie to appear before them now dressed as a sixth form schoolgirl. But the client had been very specific,

“I want an 18-year-old girl to dress up like a naughty schoolgirl”.

In the world of escorting the client is always right so a sixth form schoolgirl is what would be delivered, by taxi to his hotel in 45 minutes or so.

Sitting in the back of the taxi Suzie wondered, as she so often did just how the daughter of an Anglican clergyman had become embroiled in the world of prostitution.

Charlie wasn’t anything like the privately educated men with whom Suzie normally associated. That was what had first attracted Suzie to Charlie.

“OK darling cars fine now. She’ll go like a dream”.

“Thank you. How much do I owe?”

“Well darling it should be £400 but if you go for a drink with me lets call it £250” he had said with a smile.

Suzie wasn’t used to being called darling but there was something slightly dashing and perhaps a little dangerous about Charlie which sent a tingle down her spine. What did her friend Amanda call men like Charlie? “a bit of rough”. Well if Mandy could have her “bit of rough” why shouldn’t she have her fun also. God those boys from the local congregation where wet behind the ears, she needed a real man.

“OK that would be lovely” she had replied.

That evening she had met Charlie in the Hare and Hounds. They had got very drunk and ended up having sex in the back of his car while parked up in a country lane.

“I wanna see you again babe, show you the bright lights of the smoke. You’re something special babe. Really straight up, no bull shit, you’re amazing”.

Suzie had lapped up the compliments as a thirsty man drinks water on reaching a well in the desert. None of the men she had met through the church made her feel that thrill of excitement. She was, Suzie thought in love with a real man.

Soon afterwards they had moved to London. Of course her parents had hit the roof. Not only was Suzie “living in sin” but she had chosen to do so with a man who, in the view of her parents was her social inferior.

“A mechanic, you are throwing yourself away. You could do so much better” her mother had said.

As is so often the case the objections of Suzie’s parents only served to drive their daughter further into the arms of her lover.

“Hypocrites, that is what you are. The church preaches equality but you tell me that Charlie isn’t good enough just because he grew up on a council estate and he doesn’t speak with a plumby accent. You make me sick” Suzie had said as she left the vicarage banging the door behind her.

In London things haden’t gone well. Charlie had found a job as a mechanic but soon lost it due to his heavy drinking. He found another but lost that also for the same reason. After having lost 4 jobs in quick succession word spread through the grapevine that anyone thinking of employing Charlie Johnston as a mechanic should think again. Offers of employment dried up leaving the couple dependent on the meagre income which Suzie’s work as a cleaner brought in.

“Do you love me Suz?”

“Of course I do Charlie” Suzie had said kissing her boyfriend on the lips.

“Suz where up shit creek without a paddle. I can’t see any way out of it unless …”

“Unless what darling?”

“Forget it”.

“Forget what Charlie?”

“Suz you know I love you” Charlie said putting his arms around Suzie.

“Yes sweetheart and I love you to, I’d do anything for you”.

“Suz there was this ad in the paper”, Charlie paused.

“Ad?”

“Forget it Suz, it isn’t a good idea”.

“Forget what?”

“Would you really do anything for me?”

“You know I would”.

“Suz a company’s looking for girls to keep men company”.

“No Charlie, you are having a laugh aren’t you? Please tell me that you are having a laugh. I’ll do anything but that!”

“Suz it’s just company, nothing dodgy I rang up and asked”.

“You did what?!” Suzie exclaimed.

“OK forget it. I thought you loved me but obviously you don’t give a shit. Just fuck off back to mummy and daddy” Charlie had stormed.

Suzie began to cry,

“I love you Charlie. I’ll do anything but don’t ask me to do that”.

“Stuck up little miss proper won’t do it” Charlie had sneered.

“I can’t. I just can’t”.

“You don’t love me Suz I may as well bugger off” Charlie had said throwing his clothes into a suitcase.

“No my love, please don’t leave me” Suzie had said tears running down her face.

“You don’t love me Suz.

“I do, I’ll do it just please, please stay”.

“Oh babe I love you. Come here” he had said taking Suzie into his arms.

The next evening Suzie had been sent by the agency to see her first punter. The man had, quite naturally expected sex.

“No I’m sorry I can’t do that” Suzie had said.

“Look sweetheart all the girls do it, you are in the wrong fucking job!”

“Can you give me a moment please?”

The man had shrugged. Suzie had walked out into the hallway and called Charlie,

“The man wants sex” she said in a voice shaking with emotion.

“I love you Suz, you know that. I wouldn’t ask you to do this unless things where desperate but please do it for me. I mean do it for us Suz. You know we need the money”.

Suzie had gone back into the bedroom and feeling like a robot had allowed the client to perform on her. Following her first encounter with a client she had, over time  become used to prostituting herself. Suzie clung to the belief that Charlie loved her and that prostitution was merely a temporary interlude before he obtained a job as a mechanic and she could give up escorting. However she was finding it increasingly difficult to believe that Charlie regarded her as anything other than a meal ticket. There relationship was dying. In fact it had died long ago Suzie thought as the taxi moved through the London traffic.

“What would daddy think of me now?” Suzie thought as she pulled her long coat close attempting to hide the school uniform. Prostitution was a sin and her father frequently preached against sexual immorality. She would, according to him be consigned to the flames of hell fire. Such a moral and upstanding member of the community he would die of shame where he to see his little girl now.

The taxi pulled up outside the hotel. Suzie stepped out of the cab, paid the driver and headed for the hotel’s foya. She took the lift to the second floor and as instructed by the agency knocked on room number 22. The door was opened by an elderly gentleman wearing only a bath towel.

“Oh suffering Christ!” he said staggering back into the room. Suzie stood frozen to the spot,

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” she exclaimed.

 

Update to Authors Facebook page

I have updated my Authors Facebook page to include links to my most recent collections of short stories, An act of mercy and other stories, and Sting in the tail and other short stories.

Here is the link to my page:

https://www.facebook.com/newauthoronline?ref=hl

The Silly Things I Do

Do you ever do silly things? I certainly do particularly when I’m thinking about my writing. A few days ago, having finished with a piece of kitchen roll I threw the remains of the paper towel into the bin. Well that is what I meant to do. In fact the kitchen roll had a ducking as it ended up in the washing up bowl, not the waste paper basket! On another occasion I went to put the dog’s bowl away in the fridge. A highly logical place for storing a dog bowl! Well I’ll need to concentrate on matters other than writing this morning as the Guide Dogs for the Blind Association are visiting to check on how my guide dog, Trigger and I are working together. This is a routine visit which all guide dog owners have but I will still be on my best behaviour as will Trigger!

The Observer

Not a flicker of emotion showed in the green eyes as the sceene unfolded below.

“If I can’t have you then no one is going to have you” the man screamed at the girl as she locked the leather suitcase.

“Its over Michael. Can’t you get it through your thick skull that I don’t love you any more”.

“How can you say that? I’d do anything for you. I moved from Glasgow to London to be with you. I gave up my job and you tell me (he paused fighting back tears), and you walk in here, having been with another man and calmly tell me that its all over! Like hell its all over. You selfish little whore. All those times when you told me that you where doing the night shift in the hospital you where with him, don’t you dare deny it, I fucking know you where”.

“You’re a loser Michael. You always where and you will always be a waste of space. I must have been blind not to spot the word loser branded on your forhead when we first met”.

The girl picked up her suitcase and headed for the door. Unobserved the onlooker shifted his position. With mild curiosity he continued to watch  the unfolding drama.

“You’ll leave here over my dead body. Who the fuck do you think you are? You’re going nowhere” Michael shouted as he moved to block the girl’s exit.

“Let me past Michael” the girl said attempting to push him away from the bedroom door.

“Don’t touch me you fucking bitch” Michael said his fist crashing into her nose. Feeling sick and dazed the girl  staggered backwards collapsing on the bed, blood flowing from her broken nose.

Michael approached the cowering girl.

“You are going nowhere Lucy”.

Lucy’s terrified eyes met his.

“Please Michael don’t”.

“Don’t what? You dirty little whore”.

“Don’t” she said tears flowing down her face.

He stood looking down at the girl for a long time. Her pleading eyes sought for a flicker of humanity in his Gaze. There was none. Slowly Michael’s hands moved downwards. An inkling of her fate came to Lucy a millisecond prior to Michael’s fingers closing around her neck. She attempted to scream but the sound was choked off by his merciless grasp. The girl struggled for a minute then her body went limp. Michael continued to apply pressure long after the life had gone out of the girl. Eventually he came to himself and let go. Standing back from the bed he gazed at Lucy. She looked so beautiful her long black hair spread out over the pillows.

“Christ what have I done? What have I done?”

All the hate had gone out of Michael. He felt dead inside. The girl he had loved with such distructive passion was dead at his hands. Life was bleak and empty. Michael wandered into the kitchen. Opening the cutlery drawer he removed the knife. It had come with the wok which Lucy and he had purchased together in happier times. The knife was designed for chopping up meat and was ideally suited for what he had in mind.

From his vantage point the watcher saw Michael return. He saw him lie down next to Lucy. He observed the flash of the blade as it sliced into Michael’s throat. He heard Michael’s death rattle followed by the drip, drip of something unspeakable onto the bedroom carpet. He had seen enough. With a graceful movement the cat jumped from Lucy and Michael’s balcony to that of the neighbouring flat. A cat after all requires to be fed and is not overly concerned with who provides his meals.

A Forsaken Garden By A C Swinburne

I first came across Swinburne’s “A Forsaken Garden” while listening to BBC Radio 4’s Poetry Please! It is one of those poems to which I return frequently and lines from which pop unbidden into my head

 

—

 

In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland,

At the sea-down’s edge between windward and lee,

Walled round with rocks as an inland island,

The ghost of a garden fronts the sea.

A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses

The steep square slope of the blossomless bed

Where the weeds that grew green from the graves of its roses

Now lie dead.

 

The fields fall southward, abrupt and broken,

To the low last edge of the long lone land.

If a step should sound or a word be spoken,

Would a ghost not rise at the strange guest’s hand ?

So long have the grey bare walks lain guestless,

Through branches and briars if a man make way,

He shall find no life but the sea-wind’s restless

Night and day.

 

The dense hard passage is blind and stifled

That crawls by a track none turn to climb

To the strait waste place that the years have rifled

Of all but the thorns that are touched not of time.

The thorns he spares when the rose is taken ;

The rocks are left when he wastes the plain.

The wind that wanders, the weeds wind-shaken,

These remain.

 

Not a flower to be pressed of the foot that falls not ;

As the heart of a dead man the seed-plots are dry ;

From the thicket of thorns whence the nightingale calls not,

Could she call, there were never a rose to reply.

Over the meadows that blossom and wither

Rings but the note of a sea-bird’s song ;

Only the sun and the rain come hither

All year long.

 

The sun burns sere and the rain dishevels

One gaunt bleak blossom of scentless breath.

Only the wind here hovers and revels

In a round where life seems barren as death.

Here there was laughing of old, there was weeping,

Haply, of lovers none ever will know,

Whose eyes went seaward a hundred sleeping

Years ago.

 

Heart handfast in heart as they stood, ‘Look thither,’

Did he whisper ? ‘look forth from the flowers to the sea ;

For the foam-flowers endure when the rose-blossoms wither,

And men that love lightly may die―but we ?’

And the same wind sang and the same waves whitened,

And or ever the garden’s last petals were shed,

In the lips that had whispered, the eyes that had lightened,

Love was dead.

 

Or they loved their life through, and then went whither ?

And were one to the end―but what end who knows ?

Love deep as the sea as a rose must wither,

As the rose-red seaweed that mocks the rose.

Shall the dead take thought for the dead to love them ?

What love was ever as deep as a grave ?

They are loveless now as the grass above them

Or the wave.

 

All are at one now, roses and lovers.

Not known of the cliffs and the fields and the sea.

Not a breath of the time that has been hovers

In the air now soft with a summer to be.

Not a breath shall there sweeten the seasons hereafter

Of the flowers or the lovers that laugh now or weep,

When as they that are free now of weeping and laughter

We shall sleep.

 

Here death may deal not again for ever ;

Here change may come not till all change end.

From the graves they have made they shall rise up never,

Who have left nought living to ravage and rend.

Earth, stones, and thorns of the wild ground growing,

While the sun and the rain live, these shall be ;

Till a last wind’s breath upon all these blowing

Roll the sea.

 

Till the slow sea rise and the sheer cliff crumble,

Till terrace and meadow the deep gulfs drink,

Till the strength of the waves of the high tides humble

The fields that lessen, the rocks that shrink,

Here now in his triumph where all things falter,

Stretched out on the spoils that his own hand spread,

As a god self-slain on his own strange altar,

Death lies dead.