Ray Stone's Blog: A blog for everyone, page 18

chapter 3 – Mrs Malocks

 

Great Condurrow – Mrs Malocks

 

“Past five in the morning and you not risen. Silas Dench never lay after five and if you’re to catch the start of the shift you’ll be needing to taste tea and porridge by now.”

Mrs Malocks stood with her back to the cold grate with hands on hips, one foot beating the wooden floor in a quick little toe taps. A small tray on which a bowl of steaming porridge and a large mug of tea stood, was placed on the night stand by the side of my bed.

“Thank you, Mrs Malocks.” I shivered as I folded back the eider down and wrapped my hands around the mug. My breath spilled and disappeared quickly into the air after taking a sip. “Is it possible to bank the fire tonight for a warm room by dawn?” I asked.

Mrs Malocks eyes widened. “Silas Dench will be turning in the sod. A fire all night is unheard of in this ghostly pile of morbid bricks.” She nodded and left the room.

I finished the breakfast and washed hastily in the bowl of luke-warm water sitting on top of the dresser. Whatever else, my newly acquired housekeeper was efficient despite an unmistakable lack of respect when referencing her previous employer.

***

“Can I ask you about Silas Dench?”

Mrs Malocks sat at the kitchen table peeling potatoes by the light of a single gas lamp. A grey sky filled with fast moving cloud had appeared on the dawn through the one small window that rattled continuously, buffeted by a strong wind that whistled through a crack.

“There’s not much to tell,” she replied without looking from her work. “He was a mean man with a bad temper for sure.”

“Did he not have a wife?”

Her fidgeting fingers stopped working and her head turned, old tired eyes looking up into mine.

“That such a man could once be the kindest man on earth is hard to think of but he was that. A beauty did capture his young heart but your mother loved another despite the prospect of a better position in life. Silas’ soul soured and darkened from then on and not a man nor woman ever shook him from his deep melancholy.”

“My mother?” I slumped into a chair, my heart beating with much force.

Mrs Malocks gently touched my hand. “Your mother loved his brother, your pater, and not a word passed between them after your mother married. When your father died Silas paid for you’re boarding school and for your mother and her sister who lived with her to come here.”

“So uncle Silas boarded my mother and her sister here?” I asked.

“Nay lad, your mother still would not take him to her bed. Silas Dench cruelly sent them to work in the mine. It was the only way they could exist and was to be the death of both of them.”

I left the sad house with heavy heart and set out to visit the mine.

 

Ken Burns – Again

Stay together
Written by: Ken Burns

Ken writes another serial starter as only he can. This one is very interesting as a slice of life. I especially like the way he describes the scene and mixes characters with surroundings. This could be the start of a TV soap. It has all the ingredients for one. Nice work Ken.

Harry loves the idea of being five and taking on the world.   Coping with a bite on the wrist from bucktoothed Sybil at the kindergarten end of year party is something he’ll never forget. It will be a scar to show forever. Sybil said yes about coming to his party.

The bouncy castle takes up most of the grassy backyard.  The diesel powered air blower chugs away making it big and firm.

Phil, Harry’s occasionally lazy dad, is trying to place drinks in the red chilly bin partially filled with ice.  The chilly bin is on the edge of the step when Phil clumsily kicks it.  The ice falls into a melting pile on the lawn.

“That’s the idiot I married to get me this far in life!” Mary candidly smirks to her part time best friend Beryl while finishing the bottom half of a beer.

”Your Mum and Dad are due in an hour.  Will you be ready by then?”

Phil gets riled by the embarrassment and kicks the chilly bin which skids across the lawn and hits their dog lying under the in-bloom apple tree.

The dog yelps and runs to Mary who can only give the dog affection and attention because she knows its love is unconditionally returned.

The decision to take over the parent at home role for Phil has shattered his social confidence. Mary’s has skyrocketed. Phil gets nervous in the late afternoon after a busy day doing everyday tasks.  He is conscious about Mary’s arrival home and his regular barrage of demeaning comments about his day relating to doing nothing and sitting on his butt reading magazines.

He knows that is the event the majority of parents succumb to when the main breadwinner comes home.  The closeness they had has evaporated in to a tiny pool.

“I love this dog more than love you!” Mary says in a sarcastic way to Phil’s big red face.

Phil stumbles over to pat the dog but Mary pushes him away.

“I’d get on with my stuff if you weren’t such a bee-arch to me in front of friends!” Phil whispers in Mary’s ear.

“You’ve got no friends!” Mary triumphantly retorts.

“That is why when Harry starts school you need to find somewhere else to live.  I’m divorcing you!”

Harry is not surprised at the verbal between his mum and dad.  He takes it with a grain of salt.  Some of his friends’ parents, including Sybil’s have split in the first 3 years after they were born.  Kindy has 23 single parents but that means nothing to him. He just wants a sausage and drink.

The phone rings in the kitchen. Mary leaves the dog and strides up the steps to answer it, leaving with the phrase, “That will be one of my friends!”

“Mary speaking,” she says with a smile on her face clearly listening with intent.

She hangs up the phone, turns to Phil and says, “That was your brother Mike.  Your mother is dead!”

 

– See more at: http://www.thestorymint.com/serials/stay-together#serial-book-chapter

Missing Pieces – Roseyn

Written by: roseyn

The envelope arrived like every other.

Always on a Sunday, shoved beneath the door.

Always accompanied with three sharp, loud knocks.

Max Hogan lifted his eyelids and immediately wished he hadn’t.

The early morning sun streamed from the uncovered windows of his small apartment causing him to wince. His throat felt rough, parched as if it had lain in the open desert for days, his bronzed skin hot and damp from the already rising humidity.

Worst of all was his head.

He could swear a herd of sadistic elephants was stampeding through it.

Max blinked several times before scanning his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was his faded, green sofa. He was slumped in it, leaning against its tattered but solid armrest. In his hand was a semi-full glass of whisky. On the floor, beside some fishing magazines, two remotes and a container of half-eaten Chinese take-out, stood a bottle of Jim Beam… completely empty.

Max leant sideways, abandoning his glass on the floor. His dog tags, the only remaining memento of his military days, slid across his bare chest. He straightened up, rubbed the dark fuzz on his face and wondered why he wasn’t comfortably comatose in his bed instead.

The answer came with his next ragged breath.

It was Sunday.

He instantly stood, waited for a sudden wave of dizziness to subside, then hitched up his Garfield boxers and staggered to the door.

Approximately a metre from it lay a white, unmarked envelope.

Max grinned, sensed his rising anticipation urge him onward. He dropped to his haunches, picked up the envelope and ripped it open. He shook the contents into his palm and was immediately disappointed.

There was only one this time.

A photograph.

Unevenly trimmed like all the others.

He carried it to the sun-bathed window and lifted it to the light, carefully studying it.

The photograph was of a woman.

She was pretty in an elfin kind of way with her wild, red hair and overly large, green eyes. But it was thelook in those eyes that interested Max more.

She was frightened, extremely so.

He crossed the floor to a square, plastic table. On it lay many ‘unevenly trimmed’ photographs, some connecting with each other… some not.

Like a jigsaw puzzle.

For six weeks, someone had been sending them to Max. Who or why, he didn’t know. He could’ve rung the police… perhaps should’ve.

But he had found the entire caper too fascinating.

It wasn’t difficult to slot in the new piece, just above the slim figure rigidly positioned on a short, wooden jetty.

Max bent forward. Using his finger, he trailed the woman’s line of sight to an old boatshed. He collected a nearby magnifying glass and studied the shed, finally stopping at its half-opened door.

His breath slammed still.

Was he seeing things?

He checked and rechecked from every possible angle.

Until there was no doubt.

Standing inside the shed, amongst the darkened shadows… was the unmistakeable shape of a man.

– See more at: http://www.thestorymint.com/serials/missing-pieces#sthash.tS1eyyjX.dpuf

Ray’s Smash List

Heart Wants What It Wants
Reader Sets




Category: Fiction » Young adult or teen » Social Issues

by: Jazmin Perez , published 24 December 2015


“I felt like I know him, though, and I know his heart, and I know what he wouldn’t do to hurt me. But I didn’t realize that feeling so confident and feeling so great about myself and then it just be completely shattered by one thing. By something so stupid. But then you make me feel crazy. You make me feel like it’s my fault. I was in pain.” –Viola Angeles


 https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/509150?ref=raystone

 

Dearest, Loveliest Elizabeth: Pride and Prejudice Continues
$5.99




Category: Fiction » Historical » Regency

by: P. O. Dixon , published 1 November 2015


For centuries, Austen fans have wondered what happened after Darcy and Elizabeth exchanged vows and embarked on their new lives together as one. Dearest, Loveliest Elizabeth – the sequel to Jane Austen’s timeless classic, Pride and Prejudice – affords a wonderfully diverting imagining of our dear couple’s early years as man and wife. Discover what happens after the happily-ever-after ending.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/515677?ref=raystone

 

The Vessel
$2.99




Category: Fiction » Fantasy » Paranormal

by: Lili Saint Germain , published 31 October 2015


I was taken. I was turned. And I was saved. I was so achingly close to returning to my old life. Halfway, to be exact. But one mistake came back to haunt me, and now I’m trapped in a nightmare.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/504407?ref=raystone

 

Deadly Peril: A Georgian Historical Mystery
$5.99




Category: Fiction » Mystery & detective » Historical

by: Lucinda Brant , published 6 September 2015 by Sprigleaf


Winter 1763. Alec, Lord Halsey is sent on a diplomatic mission to Midanich, imperial outpost of the Holy Roman Empire, to bargain for the freedom of imprisoned friends. Midanich is a place of great danger and dark secrets; a country at civil war; ruled by a family with madness in its veins. Awaiting him is the Margrave and his sister, demanding nothing less than Alec’s head on a pike.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/519482?ref=raystone

 

Slip Gun (A Waxhachie Smith Western: Book 2)
$1.99




Category: Fiction » Historical » Western & American frontier

by: J.T. Edson , published 27 August 2015 by Piccadilly Publishing


A special badge would make Waxahachie Smith marshal of Widow’s Creek, but it also made him the target of a stone-cold killer. Ex-Texas Ranger Smith had lost both his trigger fingers years back, and some folks said he was washed up as a gunfighter. Now Smith’s manhood and his life were on the line…a specially made slip gun was in his holster…and the town’s safety was in his hands.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/488155?ref=raystone

 

The Music of The Stars
$4.99
11%
11%


Category: Fiction » Science fiction » General

by: Kay Hemlock Brown , published 15 August 2015


Musician and teacher Helen Nordstrom is resuscitated from being in cryogenic sleep on board the Galactic Voyager. Helen quickly charms the shipboard population, but is aghast that there is absolutely no tradition of music performance on board. She changes all that. Then it is discovered that there is a planet dead ahead on their trajectory, which drives the Ship crazy with excitement.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/467804?ref=raystone

 

Talent runs all the way to the top

Changing Places
Written by: Suraya Dewing

Mario was such an exotic name I had to agree to the interview. He had read I was good with numbers and he needed an accountant to manage his books. The job description seemed pleasant enough….not too demanding and I was ready for a new job.

Marty and I had recently split up. He said he could no longer cope with the unexpected calls from Headquarters to work at the company’s various offices around the world. He was absolutely right when he said I was away more often than at home. But I thought he liked it that way as whenever I arrived back I sensed Marty had not spent the week miserably enduring the long hours on his own. I invariably came across tell-tale signs of an overnight visitor like an unfamiliar lipstick, a lingering smell of perfume (rarely the same) and even the odd scrawled note that was not from me addressed to Marty. These notes generally amused me as love hearts always surrounded them. Marty had become careless or perhaps, like me, he couldn’t care less any more.

Our expensive one room apartment looked over the beautiful Waitemata Harbour. I paid the exorbitant rent. Perhaps Marty was interviewing prospects’ to replace me when the inevitable occurred. I walked in on his latest fling laying draped over our bed.

 

As predicted, our separation happened. I was actually relieved. It happened six short months ago. I resigned from the IT Company that solved encryption codes and data storage problems through the cloud, gave up the apartment and bought a rustic house by the beach at Muriwai. I gave Marty the option of joining me but I was pretty confident he would opt out. He did and we parted amicably. None of this was crying into my cup of soup stuff.

Last I heard he was back in an apartment with a gorgeous international air hostess…a perfect arrangement for Marty…only the most sophisticated for him.

One day, as I walked my dog along the beach a woman, dressed in pink shorts and matching tee shirt calling herself Elaine, stopped to admire Scruffy, my dog. After patting Scruffy on her brown tufted head she stood and with clear hazel eyes, a wide pink painted smile, perfectly styled greying hair said, “My boss,  is really impressed by your Linked In profile. He wants to meet you.”

He had overheard my name at the local real estate agent’s office, she said.

Half wondering if I should call the local police and report I had a stalker, I gave her the courtesy of listening. It was a beautiful day, the sea was washing over my tanned feet, and I was in no hurry to go anywhere. My new lifestyle was hard to beat really.

My attention drifted to the sea and I only half heard her say, “he’d like to meet you.”

I shrugged. With a decided lack of interest, I gave her an old business card with my cell number on it.

 

– See more at: http://www.thestorymint.com/serials/changing-places#serial-book-chapter

What the…Sci Fi word, isn’t it?

 

February 12

 

xeriscape audio pron   \ZEER-uh-skayp\

Definition

noun

: a landscaping method developed especially for arid and semiarid climates that utilizes water-conserving techniques (such as the use of drought-tolerant plants, mulch, and efficient irrigation)

Examples

The severe drought led to local water restrictions, and many people looked into xeriscape for the first time.

“With the expertise of the Arlington Garden Club and the Arlington Conservation Council … there are some good xeriscape ideas for sprucing up the grounds.” — Shirley Jinkins, Fort Worth Star-Telegram, December 15, 2014

 

Did You Know?

 

Xēros is the Greek word for “dry” that is the base for a handful of English words related to mainly dry printing (xerography) and dry, or xerophilous, habitats and their plants. In the early 1980s, the Greek adjective was used to name a type of landscaping practiced primarily in the arid western regions of the United States. (The Water Department of Denver, Colorado, is credited with the word’s coinage.) Xeriscape, as it is called, uses plants that require little water and techniques that efficiently use water and reduce evaporation.

50c saves my life & why I will not return to UK for healthcare.

The National Health Service has been ridiculed, kicked and criticized for as long as I can remember and most times, in the UK, for good reason. The vision and idea are sound. Who does not want free health care. The problem is managing a system economically whilst providing an efficient service. In the UK a simple blood sample takes minutes but the results can take up to two weeks. Prescription charges are horrendous. Waiting for a hip replacement is over a year. And so on and on…

WHAT AM I GOING ON ABOUT HERE?

Simply this. Cyprus is part of the National Health Service of the UK. However, any similarities  between the two end right there.  Management here have devised and are running a great service that is affordable and efficient.  When I arrived here I waited just two weeks before receiving my resident card. A week later I had my health card and went to register with my local hospital. As a diabetic I was asked to take a blood test and then sent to have an X ray. The blood sample was taken at 8.30 and at 2.00 I went back to collect the results. I was given my own prescription book which I keep and this the doctor fills out when medication is required. Two days later I was sent to see the cardiologist for an ultrasound. Unfortunately he found I had an enlarged heart. The thing is, all this was caught early and I had two more blood tests in a week. Imaging doing all this in the UK in a week?

Here’s the procedure that runs smoothly. I register to see a doctor and pay E6.00. The clerk gives me my own folder with my medical record. After seeing the doctor I return to the clerk and show her my prescription or blood test request sheet. Each test and each medication costs 50c. The clerk affixes 50c stamps on the script and I walk ten paces to the hospital pharmacy. They neatly pack the meds in a nice carrier bag with a smile while I practice saying thank you in Greek.  So I have 10 pills, two insulin s, needles, free x ray, free ultrasound, and consultation with the doctor and all for E12.50. The medication supplied is for two months. No one, especially  OAP’s and children from less well off families on this island go without medication.

The money collected goes to pay the staff and the ambulance service. Tax pays for the rest of the service.  If the National Health Service concentrated more on well thought out policies as Cyprus has instead of cost cutting care for the aged and what they term as non essential nursing staff maybe a lot more patients would be alive today instead of dying while waiting for a heart or other major operations. It is not the medical staff who should shoulder the blame but the clip board carrying idiots who command high salaries for steering the NHS into the mess its in.

SUMMER – yes it is nearly here after nearly two whole months of winter. My pool is now clean and the loungers are ready to be placed strategically around to catch maximum sun. I have purchased three large fans and am looking forward to spending a few nights sleeping poolside under the stars. There will of course be a bottle of white chilling in the pool for those sleepless nights when tapping away on the computer will accompany the heehawing of a couple of donkeys down the road. Road trips are going to be pretty extensive this year. We are going to Troodos mountains, Kyrenia, Bellapais, Nicosia and a couple of wineries to taste the wonderful wine produced here. I can’t wait to enjoy our first summer here and look forward to a few days strolling the beaches.

Love you all and wish you were here.  Raymond

It’s that word again

February 11

 

poignant   audio pron   \POY-nyunt\

 

Definition

adjective

 

1 a : painfully or deeply affecting the feelings

b : designed to make an impression : cutting

2 : being to the point : apt

Examples

The shuttered storefronts along the city’s Main Street serve as poignant reminders of the economic recession.

“Before there was reality TV and social networks and surveillance cams everywhere in the world, Jim Carrey starred in this film about a man whose entire life is broadcast 24/7—but in his case, he doesn’t know it. It has a lot to say about privacy, making it all the more poignant today.” — Eric Griffith, PCMag.com, December 26, 2014

 

Did You Know?

Poignant comes to us from French, and before that from Latin—specifically, the Latin verb pungere, meaning “to prick or sting.” Several other common English words derive from pungere, including pungent, which can refer, among other things, to a “sharp” odor. The influence of pungere can also be seen in puncture, as well as punctual, which originally meant simply “of or relating to a point.” Even compunction and expunge come from this pointedly relevant Latin word.

 

Hostage – Ken Burns

Another chapter from Ken Burns who is now a regular contributor for the serials at the Story Mint. This is Ken at his most unique and I love him for it.

 

Chapter 7

 

Written by: Ken Burns

Three years at the District Attorney’s office in New York taught Sam how to manipulate a jury, especially one loaded with men. While her father gave her professional advice in an uninhibited way,  her mother taught her there are key elements to define any relationship. To get a man on her side socially and romantically all he needed was implied affection and food.

Sam rose from the corner where she had slumped. She was feeling groggy. She untied her blonde matted, bloodied hair, shook it and walked towards the fat cop who started to breathe heavily looking over the top of his cheap aviator sunglasses at her as she swayed.

“Hey fat boy!” she yelled, staring him in the eyes.

“Do you have a bandage you can put on my bleeding chest?” She started to unzip the blood splattered white jump suit.

Fat boy started to sweat and fidget. He had never had any attention from someone so beautiful.

“Sure,” came his stuttered reply.

“I’ll get you one.” He ran quickly toward the slowly whirling helicopter.

Joey had known Sam for three years and was always attracted to people who were bright, capable and delicious. He strode towards her and put his bloody mouth close to her left swollen ear and whispered in his own seductive way, “Sam, just leave fat boy alone. He’s not too bright. I’m the one you want.”

Then he slowly took his knife out of the thigh pocket in his paramedic jumpsuit and held the blunt edge to her throat while adding, “Now you will have me to deal with as the one who is running this operation.  I know Reece has given you flying lessons so you’ll get us all outta here.”

Brian could easily live with a smack in the head.  Paramedic life had shown him just how much a body can willingly sustain if pain is taken for granted.

He was lying on the ground in a heap, not moving which gave the impression he was unconscious.  Joey still had the next level to step up to professionally and had been taken away with the drama of a family death. Brian was amazed Joey didn’t miss his .44 magnum Dirty Harry gun which he was lying on top of with his hand firmly on the trigger. Now he wanted to know which punk would make his day.

Staring across the forest floor he could see fat boy cop poking around in the first aid kit of the helicopter while its blades slowly rotated.

Relishing the thought of a conflict Brian jumped to his feet, ran quickly, but silently behind Joey, and put the gun just shy of his head.

“Put it down,  pretty boy,” Brian politely instructed Joey as Sam’s beautiful eyes showed some relief then fear.

Fat Boy good cop stood right behind Brian with a gun pointed at his head.

Fat boy said,  “Welcome back to the land of the living. I’m not as dumb as you think I am!”

 

http://thestorymint.com/serials/hostage

The Verdict – Chapter 3 – Donna McTavish

Written by: Donna McT

The faded cover on the sofa that tickled the skin on the back of her legs through her thin cotton dress. The smell of cigarette smoke and Fleur de Lys perfume. Urgent voices, shouting, crying, and the clatter of a typewriter.  Fragments of memory, little flashes of quicksilver, fluttered like tiny birds always out of reach. She’d fallen down a rabbit hole and her ordinary life had broken into a million pieces and was floating past her as she fell.

She woke abruptly and lay still for a moment, remembering where she was, what she’d done. Her grandmother was watching from the chair by the window, her face crumpled and sad. Jenna was surprised that she’d never noticed how alike her mother and grandmother were. They had the same round dark eyes although she noted with a shock that today her grandmother’s were narrow and hard, and cold.

She was holding the photograph.

“Where did you find that?” Jenna asked, but she already knew the answer. She’d left the torn fragments in the pocket of her coat that was now lying empty on the floor.

“I could ask you the same thing, young lady.” Dry brown fingers gently stroked the two faces smiling from the broken paper.

“Where did you get this?” Her voice was sharp, and Jenna realised that it wasn’t sadness on her face but white hot anger.

“Do you know what this is? What this could do?” Now her voice was a menacing hiss.

Jenna had always been in awe of her grandmother but now she was terrified. “I found it … In the kitchen … I don’t … It’s just a photograph … I didn’t… Mum….”

“Your mother,” she spat out, ”your mother should have destroyed this. I thought she had, a long time ago. Such a stupid, sentimental girl.”

Jenna felt sick. I’m still falling down the rabbit hole she thought. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

Her grandmother slumped in the chair and let out a long sigh. She laid her papery hands carefully in her lap still stroking the fragments of that sunny day long ago. Her voice was soft again.

“You were such a bonny baby Jenna. The apple of your father’s eye. He’d watch you sleep for hours and he loved to make you laugh. You’d stop crying as soon as he picked you up. He was the only one who could do that. Not like that … , ” she stopped and shot a glance at Jenna.

“Your mother was always too busy. Important things she said. She had too many secrets. But what’s more important than looking after your own daughter?” she muttered.

Jenna’s head was spinning. What was happening?

“Your father loved you, Jenna. And he loved your mother, too. More than she knew, or cared to know.”

Jenna’s grandmother stared at the words scrawled on the back of the photograph.

There was the sound of a car door slamming, then a knock on the door.

“Oh, Jenna. What have you done?” she whispered.

Previous Chapter



Comment

 

Submitted by Ray Stone on Tue, 2015-02-10



Loved the opening paragraph – Donna you are a poet. I love poetry too and this paragraph is so real in ones mind because the memories you write of could be our own. Wonderful sense of the inner character of Jenna. The dialogue is so full of emotion and that is what made me read this chapter over again. As always, loved your work. What a gem!

http://www.thestorymint.com/serials/verdict