Madden Short Stories for Idle Moments

A Collection of 20 Short Stories Written with Brevity in Mind and a Sting i
1. Auflage 2015
ISBN: 978-1-4835-4632-2
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 115 Seiten

Here is a new voice in short story telling. Tales with an ending that will lead readers into the domain of the unexpected.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Madden, Michael

Leseproben

Mirror Image He would be home within the hour. The thought of seeing him once more infused her with that warmth and camaraderie which she missed whenever he was scheduled to fly. And there was forever the threat of a crash or a terrorist attack. Flying had become so vulnerable to the fanatics of this world. Yet, she had gratefully accepted the role he played in supporting the family, financing the house and its fixtures, paying the accounts that so intransigently filtered through the mailbox each month. So, she waited for the sound of the car as its tyres met the wet road outside. The wintry sound of the swish encouraged her heart to skip a beat, or two. And she would look through the curtains like a timid schoolgirl, barely unable to contain her joy at seeing her beloved husband once more. It was the routine of it all: the life they had forged together in the impressive two-storey home, the two children, the dog and the two powerful four-wheel drives parked in the driveway. It wasn’t meant to impress anyone – not the neighbours, the family, the cohort of close friends. They were living as ordinary couples lived. Weren’t they? Isn’t that the way most people lived, existed in the current world? All so ordinary, really. Nothing to disrupt the image portrayed beyond their walls, their boundaries. A successful couple, doing all the right things imposed upon them by society. The ordinariness of it all. While she waited, the walls seemed to stare back at her. Encasing her and her thoughts. It would only be temporary. He would be home soon to distract that heady anticipation. Her eyes followed the line of the front living room. Its walls had never been painted since they moved into the house, five years before that day. There was now, she felt, an air of predictability about them. The pale grey that had stubbornly attached itself to those walls. It needed to be removed, to be replaced with another colour. Richer, freer, more extrovert perhaps. A slight cream or pale yellow to supplant the relative prosaic character of the existing colour, something to enliven the room. And, while they were doing that, their daughter’s bedroom could be altered too. From the pink that seemed so ‘obvious’ as a girl’s domain to something more akin to her character. Yes, a hue that reflected Jessica’s gaiety and gusto for life. She was not exactly a pink kind of creature. Not your archetypal child who chose tutus and ballet shoes to frolic around the house in, but a more playful, creative girl with a love of adventure and a tomboyish character. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room and the adjoining kitchen. That, too, now looked to Anna as if the entire structure needed to be changed to reflect the family lifestyle. A larger area for each of them to roam while she prepared meals. The latest in induction technology and one of those attractive splashbacks. She would discuss it with Craig during his time with them. Anna gazed at the clock. Fifteen more minutes or so and she would hold him again in her arms, feeling the sturdiness of his physique (there had been a period when they worked-out together, but he had suspended that during her two pregnancies to ensure that the babies would be healthy). She, in turn, had not questioned his assertion that exercise was stressful for both mother and child, regardless of the scientific data that disproved his theory. She wished that they could return to that morning routine, to the closeness they formed during those long jogs, the home gym collaboration and the merging of their sweat on the bathroom floor later. She had never particularly thought of the possibility that the marriage had changed over the past seven years. It had simply evolved as most them do. Presumably. Despite all the warnings and negative vibes that had encircled her through her parents’ attempted intervention in the engagement and wedding, she had taken the ultimate step that led her towards the altar into his arms till death do us part. And afterwards her parents had reluctantly acquiesced; they were wrong in their judgements of pilots. It’s a risky job, you know, dear. There might be a time when he’ll never come home. What about all those potential women he could meet while he’s away? He’s a man, you know, with an average man’s temptations to consider. What if one day he gives in to them? Anna had permitted all the rants to hover between them, for those hurtful words to evaporate into the mists of obscurity and then to relegate them to the OUTBOX of her mind. Craig would never abandon her. He was too good a person. The sound she had been waiting for so patiently for two weeks suddenly pervaded the house. She listened to the resonance of the brakes as they were applied, and moved to the curtains. As he unloaded his cases, his arm raised itself. A wave, slight but meaningful to her. That was all she needed. To be acknowledged, missed and loved. His hug was long and tender. He looked at her with the same expression of intimacy and adoration that greeted her every time. “You look tired”, she said. He gave a wistful smile, removed his jacket and dropped all his belongings onto the nearest sofa. “How are the kids?” “They’re napping. Won’t be long. Shall I wake them?” “Not yet.” It was a slight indication of the fatigue that was slowly overcoming him. He remained in the house for ten days. The call came that once more alerted him to a series of flights which would probably take him away from his wife, children and house for almost two weeks. He sighed as he replaced the receiver and she recognised that movement of his head, the silence, the regret that he would be no longer able to perform the role of dutiful husband and father. They needed him. To be home more, to be visible rather than the temporary visitor he had become. But, there was little point for her to complain. Craig was a highly respected pilot and she had long before resigned herself to being the loyal, abiding wife. His long absences abroad were deeply entrenched in her psyche. Loneliness, isolation and separation that she had somehow managed to cope with. She had shelved the idea of decorating during his stay, but on that evening before he was about to depart, she placed her hand in his while they sat on the sofa. “I’ve been thinking”, she said. “I’m here alone for long periods during your absence. Why don’t I decorate, change the colours of this room and Jessica’s. They look so, well forlorn. Then, there’s that kitchen. It functions reasonably well, but I could do with some more room when the kids are active. I thought…” His abruptness shook her. He withdrew his hand and turned to her. There was an expression of intense anger that she had never seen before. “I don’t want any changes to this house. Do you understand? We designed these colours, this décor. We chose the furniture together. It was all agreed upon. The kitchen is perfectly ok.” “I’m not about to demolish the place. I’m just saying the paint needs renewing. Another colour. Lighter, breezier.” “No, absolutely no.” He had risen from the chair and begun to pace back and forth along the length of the room. An injured animal whose suppurating wound had suddenly gathered intensity. “Are you ok, Craig? I can’t understand your response to such a simple idea. I could’ve just done it while you were away. A surprise for when you return. That had actually crossed my mind.” “Never! You hear me! Never undo anything in this house. Not without consulting me.” “But the room, the house itself is starting to become…so ordinary. Don’t you think? Can’t we start to step out of this precious comfort zone we’ve built around us? The world keeps revolving. But, are we?” “I have no idea where you got all these crazy ideas from, but you have to allow me to make the decisions in matters like this.” She had started a long, slow descent into herself. These were rare occasions, initiated by acts committed beyond her. Yet, she made them internal so that the hurt could penetrate each molecule of her being. To saturate her with the impairment and allow it to flow through her like an invasion that had infiltrated her strong outer resources and had pierced the massive walls she so successfully erected around her. Both her body and her mind had now curled up, foetus-like from deep inside her. She did not look at him as he stormed out of the room. Somehow, a deep chasm had opened between them and that troubled her profoundly. Could it be that her parents were right about this man? When he retuned from the trip, she would discuss the altercation. Rationally and try to comprehend his side of the argument. When she awoke the next morning, the small but expensive bottle of perfume sat beside her on the bedside table. Always, the same brand. The one she adored. And here it was with a card taped to the bottle. She opened it and read it, allowing each word to settle into her mind before proceeding to the next. My Dear, Sweet Anna, It was so irresponsible of me to launch into an attack on you last night. I am so very sorry for the outburst and when I return I will ensure that we choose the appropriate colours together. It will be such fun completing the re-decoration together. I will also contact some kitchen renovators. Hopefully, my next break will be longer and I can make up for my digression of last night. Please...