Tales of Alan

Still Life

2009-01-14T19:13:00.000-08:00

The guest in the next room practising scream therapy at someone named Ron slowly stirred him from his semi comatose state. If the walls had been any thinner he surely would have been in the same room as them. How he would hate to be Ron. Poor bastard.

Very slowly he opened his eyes. The light hurt. There must be a window open somewhere because the Hong Kong fog had invaded the room and made everything hazy so he could not see properly. As he began to focus on the room around him the fog cleared. Blurred vision. It was not the weather. It was him.

A clock on the nightstand. 7.20 a.m. Okay, so it’s not too late in the day.

Someone must have attacked him while he was sleeping, knocked him unconscious and poured shit in his mouth. It tasted awful.

As hangovers go, this one felt pretty bad.

It wasn't a feeling of pain, more a deep emotional scarring. Everything felt suspended in time. He was sure the pain would creep in through the haze soon.

Nausea, headaches, shaking hands. All these could be dealt with by the usual plop-plop-fizz and a quick trip to the Union Bar and Grill at IFC at lunch time. What he was more concerned with was the wiping of his memory from the night before.

Memory is a funny thing. It holds back information. It protects us from the horrors of reality. It allows us only an edited version of events. Yet the mind knows. It has to, in order to know what to hold back. And that's what troubled him.

He went through the events leading up to his system shut-down.

Firstly there were the congratulations in the office on winning the new contract. Then there was a pub after work for a few too many celebration drinks. He knew they would go for dinner so he called his helper and asked her to take special care of his daughter.

Then a taxi with some colleagues to Wanchai and listening to the band in the Amazonia. Loud but good. Those Filipinos sure knew how to play. Then he recalled a girl. What was her name? Lisa? Then dancing. He never did that.

They did a bar crawl and ended up in the Red Bar downstairs. A few glasses of red wine followed by being shown to a table, and then served with a starter followed by more glasses of wine. Then - nothing.

No wait, he thought, there’s more.

Dinner was okay. More red wine. Lisa had joined them. Then the others had left. Lisa had stayed. He knew that she was a hooker, a Hong Kong mattress for hire. Okay, he recalled thinking, maybe this time.

He had checked into a room. The Chinese hotel receptionist was less than impressed. Typical Western guy who had obviously been drinking together with a Filipino hooker in tow. This was a quality hotel but she couldn’t refuse so she had handed over the key and send them up with the porter. What was the room number? Who cares? Somewhere on the fifteenth floor.

Lisa was petite; twenty eight years old, great looks. Short, low cut black dress. Nice girl. Great chest. How did they defy gravity?

She had gone through the usual moves to get him interested but he had just asked her to sit down and relax. In his state he doubted whether he would have been able to perform anyway. He wasn’t drunk but he was on his way. He just wanted to talk. Besides, he wasn’t ready yet to be with someone after Mai. It was still too early. The pain was still too raw, like poking an open wound with a stick. He just wanted some company. Lisa didn’t mind. It would be an easy night for her. After all, he had paid her well.

He had ordered some drinks on room service. What were they again? Doesn’t matter. They were doing the job.

Lisa had asked him what was wrong. She had learnt earlier at dinner about his company winning the new contract. He was supposed to be so happy yet he looked so sad.

He didn’t know why he had opened up to her. Maybe it was because she didn’t know him. Maybe it was because she was warm and friendly. Whatever, it didn’t matter. It had come spilling out of him.

He told her about Mai.

He told her how he had been living and working in Hong Kong at the time he met Mai. Originally from Sydney, an architect, he was well respected at his craft. Young, early-30s, good-looking, good social life, great future prospects. He had it all going for him. Nice bachelor apartment, great lifestyle, sure there was no girlfriend at the time but that would change one day.

He told Lisa how he had met Mai when mutual friends had met for dinner in Tsim Sha Tsui to welcome Chinese New Year and watch the fireworks on Victoria Harbour. Chinese, born in Hong Kong, English speaking, slightly younger than him, medical degree and practising as a doctor, Mai wasn’t bad on the eye either. He had immediately been smitten with her. After a lot of indecision on his part because he wasn’t sure whether she would say yes or not, he had finally asked his friends for her cell phone number and had called her to ask her to meet him for a drink. To his surprise and after some initial hesitation on her behalf she had agreed. Their friendship had developed into a deeper relationship and they had both decided to see where things would lead.

It was only a few months later when they were married and receptions were held in both Sydney and Hong Kong. They had moved out of their single accommodations and into an apartment together in Pok Fu Lam.

He remembered aloud how their first two years together had been bliss. She had filled his life with joy. They had solidified the foundation of their relationship, learnt how to compromise on cultural issues, to laugh at themselves individually and at each other, learnt how to share thoughts and feelings with each other as well as to blend as a couple.

Then the unresolvable had entered their lives.

It wasn’t that Mai had fallen pregnant, that was fantastic news. That was what they had been hoping for. That was going to be a miracle in their lives. The perfect blend.

It was the news that Mai was diagnosed with leukaemia that caused the complication.

Mai had been five months pregnant when the leukaemia had been detected. The medical team had done all they could and the specialist had had to give them a choice to make. Either Mai or the baby. Only one could survive. If Mai continued to take her medicine the baby would miscarry. If Mai didn’t take her medicine, her life would be at peril.

Lisa listened intently as he told her how they had wrestled with their own consciences at what to do and they had cried together in despair. He didn’t want to lose Mai, his wife, the love of his life. It was Mai who made the final decision. The baby would live. Mai reasoned that her situation was terminal at best and that she wanted him and the unborn baby to have a life together after she was gone.

The pregnancy had continued without medication for Mai. She had survived long enough to welcome her little daughter Samantha are into the world and hold her in her arms. He had cried with her. Tears of joy along with tears of sorrow. Mai had died one week later.

That had been one year ago last week. 53 weeks, longer than a year, a lot shorter than a lifetime. It had been on his mind every day, not just for the past week but for everyday since she had gone. Even when he had visited her shrine at Bo Fook Shan it had not helped. He missed Mai so much.

There was an emptiness that nothing seemed to fill.

After Mai had died his head had been a mixture of anger and self-pity. Those feelings had slowly evaporated.

It was all the other memories that kept tormenting him. The unfulfilled plans.

The shared places they had been together still froze his heart: Temple Street Crabs outdoor seafood restaurant in Jordan where they had talked, laughed and even argued; the dining room table at their apartment across which they had faced each other to make sense of their worries and talked about future hopes; even the Wellcome supermarket where they had routinely lingered once a week to refuel their happy lives, smug with the expectation of a lifetime together. They had taken these places for granted, never thinking of tragedy or loss.

For them, misfortune occurred elsewhere and in other people lives, with their sympathies honestly given but couched behind selfish relief. And then Mai was gone and he was alone with Samantha.

He told Lisa how, at first, friends had shown support and love. Eventually he was left to his own devices. His initial meetings with friends and colleagues would elicit friendly nods and smiles but as he passed, those smiles would turn to frowns and heads would slowly shake. Everyone was so sad for him. They felt pity for him. But he was lost to them and to himself. For a time it was if he was in a trance. He inhabited a dream-world where the past and future had evaporated into an endless state of cold endurance within the present. He had simply gone through the motions of living. He had to.

Lisa heard how he had contemplated taking his own life early in his grief so he could join Mai but he decided that would be unfair to his little daughter. For her sake he must endure the pain of living.

In his mind he could always see Mai and feel her, her smile and her soft black hair, and Mai scolded him for clinging on to what was not real. Even when he was in the street he could see her face in the expressions of passers-by. Mai was everywhere.

No wonder he was screwed up.

But Mai was gone. No matter how much he hoped and wished, she would not be coming back.

When he had finished talking he remembered looking up and seeing that Lisa had been crying. She had said some things. What were they again? Can’t remember. Brain fade due to too much alcohol.

The last thing he could remember was telling Lisa she could go. She had understood. She had given him a kiss on the cheek, smiled and told him he was a nice guy and then left.

He couldn’t remember much after that. He could tell he was still dressed in his business clothes, tie done up nearly strangling him, shoes on, that much was obvious. He must have passed out while sitting on the end of the bed and just laid there like a corpse until 10 minutes ago when Ron’s wife had started telling Ron how much she loved him. Not very much apparently.

He lay afraid to move and stared at the ceiling. Why are all hotel room ceilings always painted white he pondered. Why couldn’t they paint them some other colour? What’s wrong with light blue for example? At least people could pretend it was the sky.

Three light fittings, one smoke detector, one sprinkler fitting, and one air conditioning register. The total number of services hanging from the ceiling.

He lay very still. His mind wandered.

One year after her death and he was still numb and indifferent to life and to those around him. He didn’t want to become close to anyone again, to risk the pain of hurting or losing someone else who mattered to him. From time to time he would have nights like last night, numb the pain for a while and maintain his emotional isolation.

He grieved in public yet only wept in private; Selfish ego would not permit his heart to lay itself bare. That was private. Untouchable. Not for public view.

At least he had her memory. He had had his special love in his life and nobody could touch that. Nobody would ever take that away. If he just got up from this bed and kept moving perhaps he could leave the pain behind him so it couldn’t catch up with him.

He cried. He was alone. For the first time he didn't cry for himself; He cried for Mai and Samantha and that they would never know each other.

He opened his eyes. His vision blurred with the tears. The smoke detector came back into view.

What was the time now? he thought. He turned his head.

8.00 a.m. Time to go.

Not yet.

Breath in, breath out.

I will leave in a moment, he thought.

More from last night came back into his memory. What was it that Lisa had said just before she had left? That’s right; she had asked him what Mai would have thought about his behaviour and his attempts to blot out his pain. She had wondered whether Mai would want him to accept what had happened and get on with his life and honour her.

Acceptance is the key, Lisa had said. Acceptance is the key. What does that mean?

Honour her? What did she mean by that?

What would Mai have said about his behaviour last night? He pondered.

Perhaps she would understand that getting drunk last night was just his feeble attempt at forgetting, at least for just a little while. She would understand that the forgetting wouldn’t last long. It never did.

No, Mai would not say that. Lisa was right. He knew that Mai would tell him to stop trying to blot her out, to smile when he thought of her rather than feeling sad and sorry for himself. She would tell him to accept what had happened and get on with his life. Mai would also tell him to honour her and her memory by being happy, living fully, and being a proper father to their daughter.

That’s hard my love, he thought. Its easier to keep trying to forget. Or is it? Trying to forget is such hard work.

Acceptance is the key.

A long sigh.

A pause.

A heartbeat.

This has to stop. I need to accept what has happened and get on with my life.

A deep breath in.

A longer pause

Another heartbeat.

Okay my darling. If that’s what you want. That’s what I’ll do. As long as there is still life in me that’s what I’ll do.

A long slow breath out.

Movement.

He struggled up off the bed. Stood up gingerly while the room spun then slowly settled. He would shower later he reasoned as he just wanted to get away from there. He needed to get outside and get some fresh air rather than keep breathing in the dry stuff coming from the air-conditioning system.

He straightened his clothes, adjusted his tie, smoothed his hair with the flat of his hand. The bottled water on the table made him feel semi human again. Passable.

He opened the door. A short balding guy in spectacles dressed in a yellow polo shirt and grey shorts over black walk socks and runners came walking by. A much larger woman in permed red hair and a floral dress who was clutching a black carry bag was with him. Her face was all screwed up as if she had just eaten a lemon. The guy must be Ron he thought. He really is a poor bastard.

The door to room 1510 closed quietly behind him as he left. He wasn’t going to work. He was going to spend the day with his daughter, to start getting on with his life and to remember his wife with a smile.

Fragile

2009-01-14T19:11:00.000-08:00

The bright white sign with big black lettering said the lifts were temporarily out of order and would return to service shortly.

Paul Carrick stood in front of the stainless steel elevator doors and looked down at the sign. It was the size of his black briefcase. He scratched his head for a moment and ruffled his grey flecked, mousy brown hair. Then he turned and looked wearily to his right, to the bright mid-blue, heavy steel door marked, ‘Stairs.’

‘That’s why all the porters are super busy,’ he whispered, glancing behind him at the hotel lobby. Paintings with floral etching for borders, carpeted floors and beige coloured wallpaper. Somewhere above a gentle breeze from the air-conditioning system caressed his forehead. He smoothed down his striped tie and adjusted his navy suit jacket before moving towards the stair door. This was not exactly what he wanted after returning from a quick business trip to Singapore

‘Oh well. The exercise will do me good.’ He had a quiet, smooth, calm voice when he spoke to himself.

He picked up his suit bag and loped towards the stairwell. His American accent was still noticeable, but nine years of travelling back and forth to Hong Kong had smoothed it out considerably and didn’t sound as if he had just arrived in this busy metropolis.

At the other end of the lobby, the outside door opened. The doorman was letting someone inside. He felt the hot wind like a hot poker in his face. The air smelled of the pollution. He turned to look.

It was someone he had met a hotel cocktail party a few nights previously. ‘Well, hello Miss Wong,’ he said, smiling. ‘Let me help you.’

He put his briefcase and suit bag down awkwardly, and half-jogged the length of the brief lobby to the front door. The attractive, young looking Chinese woman, another guest at Hotel China, was weighed down with large bags identifying where she had shopped, Tiffany, Gucci, Lane Crawford. It had been an expensive day.

All of the porters were busy helping other guests with their luggage so it looked as if she, like him, had decided not to wait but to carry her own stuff to her room.

‘Let me help,’ he said. ‘I can take these for you. They're bulky and you look like you are struggling.’

‘Yes,’ she laughed. “Thank you. Many things. Too many things. I should not buy all this stuff. Just trying to distract myself.’

Paul smiled at her pleasant accent.

‘Come, come in. It's cooler back here. You should have told me you were going shopping.’ He said in an effort to be helpful, ‘I would come and help. It's too hot to carry all these bags alone.’ His voice was loud, confident.

‘Yes. Too hot.’ She brushed the hair out of her eyes that had blown by the wind outside while carrying her bags.

She was not much shorter than Paul, he noticed, and her face was one of those perfect quietly beautiful Asian faces often seen in magazines and catalogues. He wondered if she knew just how beautiful and attractive she looked. If she did she kept it well hidden.

‘And I must be getting old,’ she joked.

‘That's not true.’ They walked towards the stairwell. ‘You must be much younger than me, yes? I'm fifty this year.’

Her eyes made her seem to be smiling.

‘Forty-one.’ She said quietly

‘Ah, see? You are much younger than me. The lifts are not working. Can I take your bags?’

She paused, deep in thought. Her hair had been put up at the back in a pony tail. She was dressed in a light, loose white top that was opaque and cut to accentuate her nice slim figure. She wore plain blue jeans that looked anything but plain on her. Her feet, taking short, determined steps in open toed yellow sandals, were small. It occurred to Paul that her female ancestors may have had their feet bound as young girls and the physical legacy had been passed down to her. She stopped for a moment.

‘I have more, outside. A big box.’ she said, turning around and shaking her head in quiet frustration. ‘The porters are too busy with other guests’ luggage. The doorman is looking after it while he helps others. He wanted to help but I told him I would manage with these bags first and then come back later for the box.’

‘A good day?’ enquired Paul.

‘Too much,’ she whispered, and tapped her forehead with the flat of her palm.

They both laughed quietly in companionship.

‘I will come back,’ Paul interrupted. ‘Come, I will walk with you up the stairs and we can talk along the way. I’ll do what a man is designed for,’ he smiled ‘to be a pack horse and carry the bags after a lady has been shopping.’ They laughed again.

She thanked him and the pair began their climb to the sixth floor.

The stairwell was off white with metallic railings. Everything was newly painted and still smelled that way. The floor was sleek and slippery due to lack of use since the repainting so they needed to be careful. Every sound reverberated off the concrete floor and walls, their shuffling steps, the harsh noise of the plastic and paper bags, the brush of their sleeves, Paul’s briefcase, and their voices, mostly his.

‘In truth, I don't mind walking upstairs. I used to run for aerobic exercise. And I was a football player. American Grid Iron. Very good, too, as a young man. You know American football?’

‘Hmmmmm. Yes, yes. A little.’ She nodded, thoughtfully.

He picked up the bags again, balanced the load, and they continued upstairs.

‘Do you have children?’ she spoke haltingly.

‘Yes,’ he said, with a sense of pride, even though he hadn't seen his children or grandchildren for a few months. ‘I have a son and a daughter, Jesse and Leah. They visit me sometimes. They have children too. And you? What is your first name, Miss Wong? You can call me Paul.’

‘Kitty,’ she said. ‘I have one.’

She held up her open hand, displaying her long slender fingers.

‘One here, in Hong Kong.’ She waved her hand sideways. ‘The rest of my family live everywhere.’

‘How long have you stayed here in the hotel?’

‘Two weeks. I will be here one week longer. My son lives close to here with his new wife,’ Kitty stopped to pronounce the name correctly. ‘Jardine’s Lookout. They want me to stay with them but I want them to have their independence. And I also like mine.’ She smiled.

She took a deep breath and waited as some porters passed them heading down the stairs.. Paul saw how easy the stairs were for her. She was quite fit.

‘No lifts. I hope they fix them soon.’ Kitty said softly while making small talk. ‘What if someone slips and falls as they climb the stairs?’

‘Yes, it could be very dangerous. I wouldn’t like anything bad to happen to you or me for that matter.’ He joked.

While he spoke, Kitty would nod and say, ‘Yes.’ He enjoyed talking with her, and told her.

They reached their floor and stopped a moment to rest. Paul patted his solid but taut waist. ‘Good exercise.’

He had always been a solid looking guy probably due to his Irish heritage. He had once joked that his ancestors must have been potato farmers and that’s why he had a muscular build and big strong hands. Coming in and around 176 centimetres he wasn’t exactly short and looked good in his suits as well as casual clothes.

Pleasant looking, quietly handsome but not a standout he was popular amongst his colleagues and friends because of his pleasant character. His hair had started to get some flecks of grey in at around age 30 but had not continued and his hair remained his natural colour.

Often getting comments about his youthful looks he would often joke and reply that alcohol was a good preservative although in reality he rarely drank and didn’t smoke.

The hallways on every floor of the hotel were wide and well lit, with low white ceilings. Every floor followed a similar layout, and every room or suite looked basically the same. Walls were tastefully papered and commercial carpets that Paul would have described as “autumn tones”. Most rooms had large windows to let in natural light. Good for a short or extended stay.

Being in Wanchai the hotel afforded a busy continuing nightlife for those who liked that kind of entertainment. Restaurants, bars, music, girls, sex workers, it had it all.

For Paul though it had been the hotel that had been recommended to him when he originally started coming to Hong Kong. The location was convenient to transport, was close to his company’s branch office and he enjoyed walking to work through parts of old Hong Kong.

The hotel even had the Red Bar downstairs where Paul would occasionally meet a friend or go for a coffee if he felt like getting out of his suite but not going too far. The bar was a nice place even if some of the local working girls also used it as a place to proposition prospective clients or meet them there for dinner.

‘Here you are.’ He announced when they reached the door to number 6015. ‘Now, you say there is something else downstairs? I will go and get it.’

Kitty made a slight expression of protest, but Paul insisted.

She put her hand on his arm before he left. ‘Thankyou. You are so nice,’ she said. ‘Please be careful.’

He looked at her, puffed out his chest a little, and laughed out loud.

‘Don’t worry. I am a strong gweilo, remember?’

The walk down seemed to take just as much effort as the walk up. Different muscle groups in my legs, he thought, how quickly he lost his base fitness. How he loved to walk often when back in Chicago, his home for many years. He remembered the long walks alone along the banks of Lake Michigan and around Grant Park. He remembered how he often used to walk along the waterfront from Navy Pier past the marina to the Shedd Aquarium and back several times on a weekend, through its crowds: the tourists, people on rollerblades, cyclists, street performers, prostitutes, sidewalk vendors, occasional drunks, and women in expensive clothes who looked like they belonged in a nightclub rather than at the lake.

He remembered how he and some of the other members of his boyhood college sports club had travelled into the Italian precinct one summer evening in the 1970s after a few too many beers. It was there at Maggiano’s Little Italy restaurant on North Clarke Street that he had first seen the raven haired beauty Bianca working as a waitress. He had fallen in love with her at first glance and, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of his buddies, had returned the next night alone and asked her to come out with him at some time when she was not working. She had agreed and they had married 18 months later.

Their marriage had been one of those close, extremely loving unions only read about in magazines. Their love for each other had produced two wonderful children in quick succession and they had been a close-knit unit right up until the time of Bianca’s death in a car accident at age 36. After the initial grieving Paul had set himself to the task of bringing up his children alone and had done a great job even if he personally didn’t think so.

Deep down he still missed his wife dearly and he had wondered if he would ever meet someone once again that he could give his love to. When his children had both reached their early 20s and become independent, they had been the ones to release him from the nest, not the other way round. They had known of his emptiness ever since their mother had died and, while they had also felt their individual black holes in their own respective worlds, they had given Paul the blessing to go out and find a new partner. After all, they had told him a long time ago, the love you had for our mother can never be taken away from you but you have so much love to give it really is selfish to keep it all to yourself. He had valued and appreciated their frankness but he was yet to allow himself the luxury.

After his children had left the family home in Naperville, a leafy and relaxed community outside Chicago he had sold the house and moved to an apartment on South Michigan Avenue not far from the stately Convention Hotel overlooking Grant Park and the lake. It was lonely but at least it saved him the hour train trip to work and back each day.

He had then been offered a directorship in the company he had been with for many years. It also meant travelling periodically to the branch office in Hong Kong and that had been fine with him.

That was nine years ago and his life had been stable but quiet ever since.

He stopped inside the lobby near the exit door to look for the parcel that Kitty had left there. It was a hot, extremely humid day. The air was thick with pollution and sat still in the street. He pushed the door open, and stepped into the furnace. He saw a big cardboard box, over knee-height, near the doorman should have been. Instead the doorman was helping to do porter duties as many guests had arrived and their luggage needed to be brought inside.

He bent to pick it up, and found that it was quite heavy.

‘My stars! What’s in this?’

He picked it up and struggled through the door and to the stairs. The size of the box made it difficult to look over the top or to look around the side. This time the trip up the stairs took longer than before as he had to negotiate each turn in the staircase with the huge box.

‘She's really nice pal, that one,’ he whispered to himself. ‘I wonder what she thinks of me.’

Every so often, he rested the box on the stair railing to give himself a break. The weight was really nothing; it was really just the awkward angle that he had to hold the big box at that strained his arms. He wondered how he had ended up doing this. Stop kidding yourself, he chastised himself. You like her, just accept it, he laughed to himself.

‘Hell. I'm too old to get involved with someone again.’ He said out loud as he struggled his way distractedly up a few more stairs. ‘I'm just a goody-two-shoe.’ He laughed ‘I've always tried to be too much of a gentleman.’

Suddenly, his foot slipped on the shiny, newly painted floor. Without even realizing it, he had lost his grip on the box and it hit the stairs and rolled end over end to the landing below. Something made a breaking sound as it had hit. Glass, he thought.

‘Shit!’ His voice echoed around him, up and down the walls in the empty, hollow stairwell. ‘You idiot! Now what have you done?’

It was difficult to think. How could he have been so careless? What would he say to Kitty? He could forget any romantic thoughts that he might have had towards her now that he shown her how stupid and clumsy he was.

He picked up the damaged box and continued on to the sixth floor, no need for special care any more.

He stood outside Kitty's door for a few moments, holding the box before him before pushing the doorbell. When she opened the door, she was smiling happily, but then looked concerned at his expression.

‘I'm really very sorry,’ he said, entering her suite. He stood, sheepishly, in the middle of the lounge area. ‘It was just as you said. Someone could have slipped and it was me who did exactly that. I'm so very sorry. I think I've broken what is in here.’

He shook the box.

‘Are they glasses?’

Paul set the box down. Kitty tore off the strip of masking tape along the seam sealing the box and opened the top.

‘A porcelain vase. I bought it at that new department store in Queens Road, Central this afternoon. I don’t know what the name is. I saw it in the window and thought it would look nice on a window ledge at my sons place,’ she said.

She picked out some of the pieces. It was smashed, completely broken, unrepairable. It would have been beautiful too, Paul thought. Bright white, with some nice painting done by hand on the front depicting birds in a scene and with some Chinese characters on the back. Very elegant.

Kitty said something to herself quietly.

‘I'm sorry; I didn’t hear you.’ Paul was ashamed of what he had done. He feared that he had offended her.

Kitty closed her eyes before she spoke.

‘Oh, I said, never mind.’

‘No, please’, Paul pleaded. ‘Please let me pay you for the damage. It’s the least I can do.’

‘Its okay,’ said Kitty, eyes still closed. ‘It was an accident’.

‘Please,’ Paul’s voice sounded strained. ‘I really want to make it up to you’.

‘No, really, it was just an accident. Don’t worry about it.’ replied Kitty calmly looking at him. ‘Would you like some tea?’

Her eyes seemed larger to him than earlier. They were open wider and he could see her black pupils looking straight at him. It seemed like she had decided that the matter was over. Finished. He felt really bad. He looked around for something to distract him, something he could talk about.

‘The view from your room is very nice,’ Paul said quietly, embarrassed, looking away from her. ‘Where do you normally live?’

There was no answer. He turned and saw that she was looking straight at him but her thoughts seemed to be a million miles away.

…and then, after a moment’s hesitation

‘Oh, sorry, I was born in Malaysia. Lived there most of my life. All of my family are from there but now they live all over the place.’ She stood up.

‘My husband was born in Hong Kong.’ Kitty continued. ‘My family and my husband’s family own a lot of property in Malaysia and Hong Kong and are well-off. My husband died of heart disease seven years ago. I couldn’t stay living in our big house with all the memories. I live in an apartment in Kuala Lumpur now. I don't miss anything.’

‘I must go.’ Paul was embarrassed and felt awkward. ‘I'm very sorry about your vase. I’ve been a real idiot.’

‘Paul. Paul please….’ He heard Kitty’s voice behind him as he made his exit quickly before Kitty could say anything more. He hurried along the hallway and entered 6022, his temporary home further along the hall.

He sat on his leather sofa.

‘What an idiot you have been.’ He said to himself. ‘Firstly, you run into someone who has actually taken your interest and next you go and break their new purchase and then, if that’s not enough, you embarrass yourself by not insisting on replacing it and asking stupid questions.’

Without a thought he got up from the sofa and walked out of his suite, the door closing automatically behind him. Back down the stairs again and out the front door to the hotel.

‘Good evening Mr Carrick,’ said Rajah the doorman as he carried a large suitcase for an arriving guest. ‘Would sir like a taxi?’

‘Yes please.’ Paul replied. Rajah stopped and signalled for one of the taxis in a queue to move forward and opened the door for Paul to get in.

‘Queens Road please. Stop outside H&M.’ He said to the taxi driver.

The red, four cylinder Toyota took off through the busy streets of Wan Chai. People and traffic everywhere. Paul struggled with the seat belt. The wearing of a seat belt was compulsory by law but they never seemed to buckle up. Why have a stupid law that people can’t obey, he thought. Once again he just held the seat belt over his shoulder to make it look like he was wearing it. Problem solved provided they didn’t hit anything, By the way the driver was speeding through the traffic in the side streets however, it appeared he was on a kamikaze mission and they might not make it. Soon they were in the mid-afternoon crawl and he felt much safer. Soon Paul found himself arriving at his destination in Central.

It was just a short walk from there across the road to the new Chinese department store where he knew Kitty had bought the beautiful porcelain vase. He made his way inside and soon found the section of the department store that sold the vases. He scrutinised every vase until he found one that was quite close in appearance to the one that he had broken.

Calling to the shop assistant, he asked the price.

‘Four thousand, two hundred Hong Kong dollars.’ replied the Chinese shop assistant in English.

‘That’s quite expensive,’ he sighed ‘Oh well, I’ll take it.’

‘That’s amazing,’ beamed the surprised shop assistant ‘We haven’t sold a single vase in the month since we opened and now we have sold two in the same day.’

‘Yeah, really amazing,’ mumbled Paul smiling wryly as the shop assistant wrote out the docket.

After he had paid for his new purchase the shop assistant wrapped up the vase in layer upon layer of bubble wrap at Paul’s insistence before placing it in a cardboard box. He then went back out to Queens Road and hailed another taxi.

‘Hotel China, Wan Chai,’ said Paul as he manoeuvred the box onto the seat next to him.

The trip back was better. The seat belt in this taxi didn’t want to buckle up either but at least the driver drove at a speed that seemed safer than Paul’s previous trip.

Arriving back at the hotel Rajah the doorman assisted him from the taxi and opened the front door to the hotel allowing him to enter. It looked like things were getting back to normal again. The backlog of guests had diminished and porters were doing routine duties.

‘Good evening Mr Carrick,’ he smiled politely as he turned to attend to some other guest that had just arrived.

Making his way through the lobby he arrived at the stairs only to find that the lifts were working again. ‘Just my luck,’ he mused.

He took it to the sixth floor and proceeded straight to 6015.

He tapped on Kitty's door and waited. A few seconds later the door opened.

‘I'm sorry I left in such a hurry earlier. I was embarrassed.’ He looked at the floor shifting from foot to foot. ‘I got you this. It’s to replace the one I broke earlier.’

Kitty was quiet for several moments and didn't seem to know how to respond. Paul felt his uneasiness eating away at himself again. Kitty then looked surprised as she realised what Paul was carrying.

‘Oh my. This isn't necessary. No,’ she said finally.

Paul insisted, as best he could.

‘Thank you,’ she said. Paul’s uneasiness must have shown on his face. Kitty opened the door wider. ‘Come in, please. Would you like some tea?’

‘Perhaps I had better just leave this with you and go,’ he said sheepishly.

Kitty looked at him, hesitated a moment. ‘Paul, may I tell you something?’

‘Yes. Please tell me.’

Kitty searched for the right words. ‘Paul, you are a nice man. Earlier when you met me in the lift lobby downstairs I was being cross at myself for going out and shopping trying to distract myself from the loneliness I have been feeling lately.’

She stopped briefly, then ‘You see, my husband was my first boyfriend and I have not been out with anyone since he died. Now that Simon has grown up and moved away with his wife my life feels a bit empty.’

‘I know what you mean,’ ventured Paul, glad she was telling him this.

‘And then,’ Kitty continued, ‘you helped me downstairs and I enjoyed our chatting very much as we came up. I felt very happy.’

‘Go on.’

‘When you caught me thinking before when you told me about the vase, I wasn’t thinking about the vase, I was thinking of how you were such a nice man.’ Kitty’s cheeks started to turn red, a seconds pause and then almost blurted out ‘….. and how I would love to have a nice man like you in my life again.’

Now it was Paul’s turn to look straight at Kitty and say nothing.

‘I really wish you would come in, put that box down and stay for some tea,’ Kitty whispered as she nervously studied the carpet at Paul’s feet.

‘Thank you,’ he said quietly.

Paul paused briefly. He knew this had the potential to be a life changing moment for both of them. He wanted that life change. He was ready.

He moved past Kitty into her suite.

The door closed gently behind him.

Excerpt from my second novel - Heavens Above

2007-08-10T23:44:00.000-07:00

(Here is an excerpt from my second novel titled "Heavens Above". Its currently in the draft stage, hopefully to be finished in September '07)

Prologue Part Two
Brunswick, Australia 1942

Alexis pulled her coat around her and trotted up the wide, flat steps leading to the Greek Community Centre of Brunswick. She pulled open the heavy door and let the wind slam it shut behind her. Then she stood for a moment in the entryway, allowing her body a moment to warm up. She took a deep breath and smiled at the familiar scents of musty books, potluck food and cologne that clung to the walls of the center.

The entryway was small and dark, with heavy wood paneling and a tall ceiling. Straight ahead was a hall with several glass-paned doors each opening into an office. At the end of the hallway was the large gathering room where most people who came to the center got together for various activities. Behind the “big room,” as most people called it, was a kitchen, where the ladies of the center spent long happy hours cooking Moussaka, Souvlakia, Spanakopita or Baklava and milk custard pie for various events.

Alexis stepped into the big room, and saw a group of people about her age at the far end of the room near the small Philco radio. Most days, Alexis knew she could find people here listening to news reports about the war, playing games and listening to the popular music and dancing. Today, several of her friends were sitting in wooden fold-up chairs, playing two up at the long table near the window. A small cardboard box placed on the table was the ring, and most players had a small pile of pennies and half pennies to toss into the middle of the box.

Alexis hurried to the table and sat in an empty chair next to Stella, her best friend.

“Playing?” Stella said by way of a greeting.

Alexis dug unto the pocket of her coat and took out her coin purse. She undid the clasp and dumped a small collection of coins onto the table. “Yes,” she said.

“We’re almost done this round,” Stella said. “You can jump in when we start the new game.”

Alexis was used to this and leaned back in her chair to let the sights and sounds wash over her. The card players were laughing and taking about a funny incident that happened at the Greek bakery where Stella and Chloe worked. Alexis surveyed the room to see who else was there. Over by the radio a few serious-looking men were gathered around the radio, no doubt looking to find the latest updates on the Royal Australian Navy’s participation in the war. Two of the men, Christos and Philip, Alexis had known since her primary school days. The third man was unfamiliar. Tall, light haired and light skinned, he didn’t seem to belong in the Greek center. Alexis found that she was staring, and flushed with embarrassment when the man looked up and eyed her as he talked with Christos.

Alexis hastily turned her head to find the game was ending and Chloe volunteered to be the new ringy, who would oversee the coin tosses into the ring. Several people scowled, as they had to place their losing bets into the kitty in the middle of the table, which Greg promptly swept a small pile of coins from with a smirk. Stella glanced at Alexis and caught her eyeing the mystery man again.

“Handsome, isn’t he?” She whispered.

Alexis found herself feeling extremely flushed. “What?” She asked, “Who?”

“Silly, you know exactly who,” Stella said. “He’s Philip’s English cousin. His name is Winston. Doesn’t that sound properly English? The girls are all crazy about him since he arrived.”

The cards were dealt, and Alexis took her hand and tried to ignore Winston, who did seem to have a fair amount of female attention. Instead of trying to ignore him, all the other girls were actively flirting with him. Alexis paid more attention to sneaking furtive glances at Winston than she did to the game and kept placing losing bets. After several rounds in which Alexis lost all her coins, she stood up to go to the kitchen and make some coffee for everyone. She was reaching on her tiptoes, trying to grab the mugs from the back of the cupboard, when a hand came in to view and easily took hold of the mug.

A deep voice said, “Here, let me help you, miss.”

Alexis turned with a gasp and found that she was staring up at a pair of piercing bright blue eyes. Her heart felt as if it was leaping in her chest, and she had a difficult time catching her breath.

Winston smiled. “Pardon me,” he said. “I did not mean to frighten you.” He stepped back and placed the mug on the counter. “My name is Winston Andrews. I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.”

He held out his right hand, and Alexis placed her shaking fingers into it. “Alexis,” she squeaked. She cleared her throat and tried again, attempting to make her voice sound more adult and sophisticated than she felt. “Alexis Diamantopoulos. Uh, it’s Greek. The name, I mean.” Once again her face flamed red, and she felt like a silly schoolgirl.

Winston nodded and smiled. “My cousin is Philip. His uncle married my mother’s sister. They’re all Greek, we’re all English.” He politely glanced down and Alexis looked down and realized she was still clutching his hand with her fingers. She snatched her hand away and said, “Pleased to meet you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must retreat to the washroom.”

Alexis fled past Winston and made a beeline for the door on the opposite end of the room marked ‘Ladies.’ Once inside, she leaned against the sink and allowed herself to feel extremely foolish. You’re a woman of 22, she scolded herself. Behaving like a lovesick child!

Alexis had had boyfriends in the past. In fact, she and Roy had broken up just a few moths ago after dating for over a year. Unfortunately, he joined the Royal Australian Navy to go fight the war and told Alexis he thought it would be better if she didn’t wait for him. She was upset, but recovered much more quickly than she anticipated. That was why she was so surprised about her reaction to Philip’s cousin. What is it about Winston Andrews that makes me feel so smitten? She asked herself.

Soon, she had other things to occupy her mind. Christos brought a war flyer to the center and passed it around to all the members who were congregated in the big room. Alexis read the flyer with great interest. In large type at the top of the flyer, it read, “The spearhead reaches south – Always south!” There was a map with a picture of Japan and several arrows pointing south to Australia. Off to the left was a picture of Prime Minister John Curtin, and a column of information about rules for Australians to obey. Alexis read several with a growing sense of trepidation. Help your local ARP wardens all you can. In an emergency, stay put and sit tight. Don’t waste money, food, and precious petrol.

“What can we do?” Alexis asked aloud as she passed the flyer to Stella. The room, a noisy buzz of voices, quieted as Win put up his hand, motioning everyone to let Alexis speak. “What does this mean for us here at the Greek Centre? There are so many of us. We must be able to organize some way to help the war effort.”

There was a brief silence, as many people cast their eyes down and became seemingly immersed in the floorboards.

A deep male voice spoke. “How many of you have a friend or relative in the war?” Win asked.

Almost all hands in the room went up, with people murmuring about their cousins, brothers and friends who were fighting the war.

“What would they want you to do?” Win asked. He glanced at Alexis, who gave him a small smile. Thank you, she mouthed.

“We could send care packages overseas,” Margaret suggested. “Make homemade treats and send them with a letter. It will help keep spirits up.”

“That’s a great idea,” said Alexis. “We can all get together here in the kitchen and spend a day baking, and then once everything is ready we can pack it and write the letters. How will we get a list of people to send it to?”

Theo said, “My uncle knows the local Air Raid Precautions Warden. I’ll ask him if he can talk to him and get us a list. Also, he might be able to suggest ways we can help.”

Alexis grabbed a pen from a nearby table and started writing down everyone’s suggestions. So far she had written Overseas packages, talk to ARP warden. “Anything else?” she asked.

“What about the hospital?” George asked. “Do they need volunteers for the soldiers who have been sent home?”

“It’s worth checking out,” said Win. “Would you be able to do that?”

George nodded. Alexis added Check with hospital to her list.

“Maybe we should look into having an air raid shelter here,” said. “According to this flyer from Prime Minister Curtin, the Japanese could target Australia. I know other towns nearby are building shelters and having air raid drills.”

Alexis added Air raid shelters to the list and asked Theo, “Could you tell your uncle to ask the warden about shelters?”

Theo nodded, “Will do.”

Soon, Alexis had a sizable list of tasks for the members of the Community Centre to carry out. They agreed to work on the list in the next few days and to meet again before the end of the week to discuss their findings and assign jobs.

Alexis took her list and carefully tacked it to the Centre’s bulletin board next to the kitchen. She felt an odd mixture of pride and foreboding as she thought about the events of the afternoon. Pride in having a hand at organizing the Centre’s members to participate in war efforts, and foreboding about the possibility of air strikes. Suddenly, the world felt a little less safe than it had that morning.

“Oh well,” she whispered. “At least now we’re taking some action rather than sitting around worrying about it.”

“Alexis?”

Alexis started and turned to find Win Andrews standing behind her. Great, she thought, now he has caught me talking to myself. That will help his impression of me.

“That was great how you started the conversation about what we could do to help the war efforts,” Win said. “My cousin is serving over in England, and I know how much the troops need the support from us at home. Thanks to you, the whole centre will be involved.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” Alexis said. “If I hadn’t spoken up, I’m sure someone else would have. It’s just that I’ve been feeling like I should help in some way, and didn’t really know how to do it. One of my housemates volunteers for the Red Cross, and the other sews for the war effort. I’ve felt rather useless so far. I should have known my chance would come here, at the Community Centre.”

Win was nodding thoughtfully. “This is an important place in your community, isn’t it? We have nothing like this back in the town in England where I live.”

“I’ve been coming here with my family since it opened,” Alexis said, slightly aware at her surprise that she was actually able to carry on a normal adult conversation with Win. “It’s like a second home to me. Sometimes more than my own.”

“I look forward to seeing how this all turns out,” said Win. “You can count on my help for anything that the centre needs done.”

“Thank you,” Alexis said as she ducked her head. She hoped Win didn’t notice how her cheeks flamed.

The next several weeks were a busy blur of activity. After the initial discussion, word spread and the whole Community Centre became involved in the war efforts. The Ladies Auxiliary began sewing for the war, several groups decided to volunteer for the Red Cross, Comforts Fund and the hospital. Alexis was in charge of organizing the care packages, and brought together women of all ages to cook treats to send. The war effort in Brunswick was kept alive by the community centre, and Alexis was proud of herself and her friends at the community centre for all they were doing.

Despite her busy schedule, Alexis continued to ask herself what her interest in Win Andrews was as she endured watching the other girls fall over themselves in order to get a moment’s attention from Win. To his credit, Win was polite and friendly, but didn’t seem to be particularly interested in any of the other girls. Alexis and Win spoke only in passing a few times, as Alexis alternated between infatuation and indifference. She didn’t want to risk making a fool out of herself as she had that first day, and took his lack of contact with her to mean that her first impression upon him had been lousy.

One dreary afternoon, as Alexis, Stella and a few other girls sat at the table assembling the care packages and writing letters, Stella said to Alexis in a low voice, “Aren’t you ever going to admit you’re sweet on Win?”

“What?” Alexis asked. “No. What are you talking about? I am no such thing!” She tried to sound indignant, but Stella was having none of it.

“Alexis, please, you’re like a dopey puppy dog,” she whispered. “You obviously have strong feelings for him.”

Alexis sighed. “I think he’s friendly and handsome—but so does everybody else. Plus, he thinks I’m loony because I’m afraid I made a terrible first impression.” She paused. “And a terrible second impression. Besides, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want a boyfriend, especially after Roy and I broke up.”

Stella glanced at Alexis for a few moments, a mischievous grin crossing her face. “I don’t believe a word you say,” she said. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.”

Alexis opened her mouth to defend herself, and then thought better of it and closed it again. Better to let Stella think what she wants rather than make a big deal out of it, she told herself.

Thankfully, Philip, who ran to the Philco and turned the volume up as a new song came on, diverted the conversation. “Has anybody heard this?” he asked. “It’s Jack Davey. It’s called ‘Our Air Raid Shelter.’ Listen.”

The people gathered in the room kept working and listened to the song, and some who had heard it before began humming or whistling.

“There’s no more room now in our air raid shelter,
There’s Aunt ’n Gran ’n Dad ’n Mum ’n me.
And when the sirens sound we all run helter-skelter,
Just Aunt ’n Gran ’n Dad ’n Mum ’n me.”

Short Story - A Frozen Heart

2006-08-20T11:33:00.000-07:00

(Authors note - The following short story is reasonably graphic and barbaric. Those persons who may be emotionally affected or squeamish should skip this story and go on to the others after it)

The first time I experienced the death of loved ones was when I was a Captain in the US Cavalry stationed in the mid-west.

My troops and I had been given the responsibility of a routing some Blackhawk renegades who had been attacking wagon trains coming from the East during the past few weeks. The savages had also attacked some of the settlements along the way often killing innocent women and children in a most inhumane manner. Often they would shoot pregnant women in the stomach with their arrows and leave both baby and mother to die. Usually the arrows would instantly killed baby or the foetus. The mother however would often live until either she bled to death for the dead infant poisoned her from the inside. They would dispatch of the children by throwing them up in the air and letting the other warriors spear them with their lances. For the ones that missed the lance, their broken bodies would lay writhing in agony after they had returned to earth smashing their bodies as they hit the ground.

When they killed the men they would scalp them. Sometimes the men were not quite dead as the Indians took their rough and semi-blunt stone knives and, grabbing a handful of scalp in one hand and pulling hard, would start sawing away at the man's forehead until his skin started to come away from his skull. The process continued until the savage held the man's hair and scalp in his hand and the man lay bleeding and dying on the ground. The Indians believed the man's spirit was taken away from him when he lost his scalp.

I have seen many people killed by the Blackhawk in most gruesome of ways. I had yet to see just one of them show evidence of having been killed in a humane way. My resolve to rid the world of this scourge was foremost in my mind and my soul. I had felt nothing but a dull ache and a massive black hole in the middle of my body since my wife and child had also fallen victim to these monsters.

Kate and Jessica were coming west with one of the wagon trains to live with me at the fort. Most of the officer's wives and children had moved to the posts over the past months and their passage had always been safe and well guarded by the escorts provided by the soldiers. The route had been much farther south than the area of the Blackhawk attacks so we all felt secure in the belief that our loved ones would be safe.

On this particular day however, the Blackhawk had attacked by surprise and in that area where they had not been seen previously. They attacked the wagon train with the full savagery they were legendary for. The wagon train had pulled into a circle and the soldiers had stayed outside the circle of wagons to flank the Indians. The Indians had been smarter and had some small war parties already hidden amongst the rocks and the trees. The soldiers never stood a chance. They were mown down in a hail of arrows until they were all either dead or critically wounded. The savages had then moved in and scalped them in full view of the civilians in the wagon train. I can just imagine how both horrific and terrifying it would have been for the women and children to watch men dying in such a manner.

The Indians had then rode their horses around the circle of wagons and their archers took their deadly aim and picked off the defenders one by one until only the women and children were left. The savages had then breached the perimeter of the circle of wagons and raped the women in full view of their children. Even though the women were brutalised by these monsters they tried to bargain with their bodies while they begged for the Indians to spare the children. Their pleading had been futile. When the savages had had their way with the women, the riders on horseback snatched up the little children and threw them in the air as high as they could in full view of their mothers who watched their sons and daughters screaming until they screamed no more as they were either lanced or hit the ground. When all of the children were dead and lay mangled on the ground, the savages gutted the women and left them there in the dirt to bleed to death.

One of the women have had the good fortune to be able to crawl behind some barrels that had fallen off a wagon and the Indians had not seen her while they killed all of her companions.

Two days later, when the wagon train had not arrived at the fort, the commanding officer, General Fletcher had summoned me and told me of his concerns. He could have saved his words, as I could tell what he was thinking when I have looked in his eyes upon walking into his office. I had ridden out immediately with a patrol and have found the remains of the convoy shortly before nightfall.

When the woman had seen us approaching she had crawled out from behind some rocks where she was hiding and told us her gruesome story. Shortly after hearing the end of her story, I found my beloved Kate all broken and torn, her arms and legs and strange angles to her body, her skin bloody and ripped, so defiled that I had hardly recognised her. One of her arms was outstretched her fingers seemingly straining into the distance. When I followed the line in which her arm was pointing, I saw my baby Jessica on the ground. At first I thought that I was looking at a crumpled heap of clothing. I soon realised that this was the shape that Jessica's body had taken as it hit the ground and her life was robbed from her.

A messenger was sent back to the fort for help and, with tears in our eyes, we recovered the bodies and escorted them and the remains of the wagon train back to the fort the following day. No sign of a Blackhawk was seen in our journey although we knew their eyes were everywhere watching us. Once back in the safety of our compound, the bodies of the victims who were our loved ones that we would never speak to again, were lovingly attended to and placed in coffins. Church services were held where the great outpouring of grief provided some outlet for the sorrow and anger that was felt by everybody there. Their burial service was a very subdued affair and was restricted to the families and friends of the victims.

As the sun disappeared over the horizon and the day became night, blackness had eaten its way into my soul and taken possession of my whole being. Any fear that I had previously experienced had evaporated and replaced with a quiet determination. I promised that I would rid the land of the animals that taken away my Kate and my Jessica from me. As a soldier trained to set emotions aside and get the job done, they were the only to human beings that I had ever felt any love for. Now they had been stolen from me before their time.

I would make sure that the Blackhawk would come to shake with fear when they heard the name Captain Mason Jordan.

Short Story - Floating World

2006-06-15T10:50:00.000-07:00

A face appeared before him in the darkness bringing light to where there had previously only been blackness. Her smile filled his whole being with a warm comfortable feeling. Her smile made him feel as if he were lying in a warm bed under the covers on a cold winter morning. The same cold he had felt only moments before she had appeared.

"Not yet." She said softly without moving her lips. "It is not yet your time." He did not know what her words meant, but her eyes gave him a comforting look. He relaxed his tense muscles as best he could, studying her a little closer.

"Do I know you?" He said in low whisper.

Her smile widened as she came closer. Her long silver hair disappeared into the darkness around them. Her white robe emanated an aura of light in the darkness, the only refuge from the cold, dark void he felt trapped in. He shivered as he remembered the feeling of despair and helplessness he had felt within it. He had tried to scream, but to his frustration had only heard deafening silence, until the light, and then she had appeared.

"Yes." She said. There was a touch of amusement in her voice as she drew closer.

"Who are you?"

"That is not what is important. What is your name?"

"Ben."

"Ben. That is a nice name. I always liked Ben." She said in a whisper. "Tell me Ben, what are your earliest memories?"

As she spoke the words, he felt pieces of memories, long ago forgotten, become woven together in an intricate pattern. Suddenly, the memory came to him. The smells, sounds, and sights all too real.

"I am sitting in a stroller." He said "It is a bright sunny day, there are no clouds in the sky. My mother and my sister are there. We are at an oval pond that has a pathway around the edge. There are some reeds here and there swaying gently in the breeze, their green fronds topped with white flowers. Black swans swim gracefully on the lake, looking regal, their black feathers contrasting with their orange beaks. Some ducks are there fighting over the bread my mother has brought and gives to my sister and I to feed them. I am scared of the ducks because I am very small and I cannot throw the bread very far or very well. The ducks come close and I do not like it. They smell. I need not worry however as my mother is looking after me." And then, as abruptly as it began, it was over. After a long moment, an eternity it seemed, Ben was able to speak. "I don't understand. What is happening to me?"

"What is your last memory?" She said before he could ask any more questions. She repeated her question when he hesitated. "Ben, I would like to know about your last memory?"

Like his first memories, he felt his last memory come together in a subtle harmony. But while the last vision had affected his emotions a little, this one hit him with a force that made him cry in pain.

"My mate and I went down to the Menaga Café at Kuta on Bali. Our wives were still back at the hotel and said for us to go ahead and they would join us later. My mate and I had only just got there and got settled when I saw an Indonesian guy come in with a backpack. He yelled something and then reached to his backpack. There was a blinding light, then nothing, the world went black."

He looked at her paralyzed in the realization of where he was. He was dead. It all came to him at once, the silence, the darkness, and the cold - death. He looked up to her, his mature manly expression replaced by a mask of horror.

"I am dead." It was all he could say in a voice too small. The strong, confident man that had stood before her had turned into that of a small trembling child. "I am dead." He repeated softly.

"Who do you love?" She asked softly.

"Kelly, my wife" Ben replied.

"Do you want to leave her behind?" Her soft grey eyes held a love that was reflected in her smile.

He stared at her a long moment before answering, memories of his childhood sweetheart Kelly who he had married just four months ago and his love for her warming his heart.

"No".

"She is waiting for you." Her soft voice was comforting to him. "It is not yet your time. Go back to her"

"But how?" He said. "How can I go back if I am already dead?"

"Decide." She said with a smile and a small laugh. "Now, close your eyes and decide what you want to do. Come to heaven with me now or go back to Kelly until it is really your time" Her words came from far away, not the short distance that had been between them.

He did as he was told. He made a decision that he wanted to be alive, to be with Kelly. She had been the lone candle that lit up his world up until now. In the darkness he could see a tiny light as if from a candle a long way off. The candle seemed to get closer and brighter and bigger.

Ben reached for the light. It grew stronger.

"Sir………… Sir….can you hear me?" Ben was confused now for it was a male voice he was now listening too. "Sir… can you open your eyes?

Ben opened his eyes slowly and looked up at the Indonesian policeman. There was dust and debris all around. "What happened?" Ben struggled to speak.

"There was a terrorist attack. A suicide bomber" replied the policeman. "Many people have died but you are not one of them".

Ben started to cry. He felt like the luckiest man alive

Short Story - The Reunion

2006-06-15T10:47:00.000-07:00

Luke turned to Kelly with a determined look. He could see that her soft blue eyes were full of tears. She had looked after herself over the years and was still quite capable of turning a head or two as she walked down the main street. Five foot four, with a shock of red hair, Kelly was distinctively from an Irish background.

"Now that I have found you after all these years, I am not going to let you go" he said softly.

"Not this time, not again".

Kelly looked at Luke. She had to admire how he had turned out after not seeing him for the past 4 years. At just under six feet tall he was slim and reasonably tanned and toned for his age. His dark hair was short and gave him a southern European look. Not bad for an Englishman.

She had been so happy and yet so shocked when Luke had contacted her a few days before and had asked to meet her. She had wondered what had happened to him those many years ago when he had suddenly disappeared. She had truly believed that they were in love and that they would have a future together. Then suddenly one night Luke had disappeared out of her life.

She had been shocked to learn that he had been pressganged into a ships crew that night after leaving a tavern and had been placed into service with her Majesty's government. Luke had sailed the world as a seaman travelling to lands as far away as the America's and the subcontinent. His vessel had put into the harbor at Dublin town the week before and Luke had spent all his time and efforts upon reaching dry land again in finding her.

"Luke" said Kelly quietly "You know that this cannot go anywhere. You know I am married."

"Yes, I know all that" pleaded Luke "but you can get a divorce and we can start over afresh somewhere else".

"Luke....... Darling. I love you, I have always loved you, always, but I just cannot walk out on Callum after all he has done for me, besides our 1700's society will not allow it nor will my church."

"But Kelly, my love, you know that during your marriage he has abused you, so much so that times you have attempted suicide. He only wants you because you are like a trinket for a prize. He does not love you at all. You are just a chattel to him. "

"Yes darling, but sometimes I believed that I deserved that treatment." Kelly looked at the ground and Luke could tell that she was beginning to cry again. He moved closer and put his arm around her shoulder and held her close. He had been without his soulmate for far too long to let her go again.

"My love, nobody deserves to be treated that way. He treats you like a prisoner and a slave. If I had my way I would do him in."

"Yes my darling, but there is also the other problem of the hatred between the English and the Irish. How do we overcome that? The political situation has become worse since we were together previously. People will simply not accept an Englishman and an Irish woman together anymore "

Luke placed his hand under Kelly's chin and lifted it gently until her gaze met his. Right in front of him was the woman that he loved and would gladly die for.

"I will find a way. Don't you worry, I will find a way" he whispered determinedly as his lips met hers and he kissed her.

Short Story - And Then An Old Mother Cries

2006-06-15T10:36:00.000-07:00

Where am I?

Is it cold? I am cold.

Why am I am lying on my back? The ceiling is stark white. What is this other thing on the periphery of my vision? It looks like some type of machine.

It feels like I am in a bed. It doesn't feel like mine.

I try to sit up. My body will not respond. I can't move. Why?

A young woman is bending over me. I don't know her. She has long raven hair tied back in a ponytail. Who is she? She moves away. Where did she go? Who is she?

There are noises. I hear them. They sound electronic. Beeps. Blips. Mechanical sounds. What are those noises?

The raven-haired woman comes back and looks at me. She smiles. "Hello. You are awake. That’s good," She says. She smiles. Who is she? She is wearing a white uniform. She takes my hand. She looks at something. Holds my wrist with her fingers. What is she doing?

Where am I?

What is happening here?

I look around. There are lights above me. What are those lights over my head? On the ceiling? They don't look familiar.

There are voices. Two of them. One old, one young. I cannot make out what they are saying. Is that Muriel? Yes, its Muriel. I know my wife's voice anywhere. She is here. She must be speaking to that young woman in the white.

I try to speak. "Hello" I say. Why don’t they pay attention to me? I speak again "Please, help me" but they don’t listen. I plead this time. "Please, help me" Why doesn't my voice make any sound? I don't think my mouth can move. What's wrong with me?

Why doesn’t my mouth work? Why can't I speak?

Why can't I breathe? Help me.

Help me. Please. Help me.

Why is the light fading?

What is that pinpoint of light in the distance?

Nothing

Silence

Blackness

And then an old mother cries

Excerpt from "Trouble"

2006-06-15T10:29:00.000-07:00

Ben opened his eyes looked up. Stark white walls looked back at him.

He was in a room about five metres wide and four metres deep. All of the walls were painted white. He could see that the walls were made at masonry or brickwork of some sort. The walls were smooth and there was nothing hanging on them.

Only one door led into or out of the room. Ben could see that the door were solid metal and had no handle on the inside. He knew would be difficult to try to get out through that door.

Looking straight ahead he could see a window in the far wall. It was a big window yet he could not see what was on the other side. There appeared to be a mirror finish to the glazing so that perhaps someone could see into the room but he certainly could not see out.

Ben looked up the ceiling. The ceiling too was stark white. The light fittings had been recessed into the ceiling and Ben could see that all of the fittings were smooth and had no edges to them.

Even the smoke sensor was recessed. The ceiling looked as if it had been constructed to ensure that nobody could hang anything from that part of the room.

The floor too was stark. Unlike the ceiling and the walls, the floor was a grey colour and was smooth like the walls.

Ben looked down in front of himself at the table at which he was sitting. Solid metal, he thought. He examined the table. There were no joins, it was all one piece. Even the legs of the table seemed to have been set into the floor so that there was no opportunity of being able to move the table. There will four chairs at the table and he could see that these too were solid metal was no joining parts and that these too was set into the floor. I wonder if they have done this so that nobody can throw the chairs or the table, he thought.

Looking at himself, Ben could see that he was dressed in white overalls. No pockets and no belt. Very simple and plain. Functional and efficient. Looking down he could see that his feet were bare.

Why do I have handcuffs on my wrists he thought.

Giving himself a moment and then taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly and set out loud to himself "I think I'm in big trouble".

Excerpt from "What Dreams May Come"

2006-06-15T10:26:00.000-07:00

Alex opened his eyes looked up. He could not believe what he saw.

All around him were vivid colours. Red, maroon, cyan, yellow, blue, purple, mauve, green, even the very primary colours of black and white. Every colour was there. Every colour. It was so amazing! It was so bright too and the contrast between the colours was so overwhelming. My God he thought, where am I?

He looked around. I feel like I am in the middle of a painting by Monet he thought to himself. The colours are so similar to that artist. All vivid and beautiful.

He realised he was standing in the middle of the garden and the green of the grass was so vivid.

He looked down and found that his legs and his feet or part of the scene in which he found himself. They colours were just melting around his feet. As he looked at the beautiful flowers around him he could see how the colours from one ran into the colours of another and seemed to melt at the edges where they met.

Amazing, he thought as he reached out to touch one of the flowers. As he put his arm out he ran his hand over the petals of a sunflower. The yellow of the sunflower melted as his hand touched it and it ran into the vivid colours of the iris sitting next to it. Colours' melting into each other and running down the flower stems making a kaleidoscope of different colours that were constantly changing. Amazing!

Am I in some sort of dreamscape? He thought. Am I sleeping? Will I wake up from this? What is going on?

Example of Half Scene

2006-06-15T10:23:00.000-07:00

"You are always late,"" said Ben. "Why are you always late?"

"I am only a little late" replied Chelsea, her eyes moving to the floor

"I have been waiting for you for an hour. The play is half over" fumed Ben. "Every time we make arrangements to meet you are always late. If you are not late, you ring me up at the last minute to change our arrangements."

"What's the big problem" inquired Chelsea sheepishly. "It is no big deal."

"When you are late" said Ben, his eyes fixed firmly on Chelsea's face "what you are saying to me is that my time is not important but your time is"

"That's not true" murmured Chelsea quietly her gaze not shifting to make Ben's.

"It is" steamed Ben "For the last two months you have never been able to be on time. Not once. The first time we met you left me standing for half an hour."

"Yes, but I did ring the restaurant to let you know" pleaded Chelsea.

Yes replied Ben. "I did think at the time that that was a really good sign of good manners from you. I did not realise though that that would be the precursor to your normal behavior. You have left me waiting every time we have arranged to meet, or you have run me up at the last moment when I have made sure that I have arranged my time to be punctual for you. I feel that I am being abused by you and that you do not think me important enough to be am time for."

"That's not true," cried Chelsea. "I am just so disorganised in my life that I am always running late for everything. It's not just you, it's everyone!"

Ben looked at her silently, shook his head slowly from side to side and then turned and walked away.

Example of Exposition

2006-06-15T10:18:00.000-07:00

"Carlivia" stretched out before them. The long winding driveway filled with gravel wound its way from the main road up to the house. Trees lined each side of the driveway and gave it a feeling of grandeur as well as looking like they were guarding the entry from intruders.

The main house had once being the original mansion to the estate that had always been subdivided and was now called Greenbriars. Originally 5000 acres in size the mansion now stood on a 50-acre property surrounded by modern dwellings. Regardless of this, a visitor to the mansion could not help but feel that they were stepping back in time.

The mansion was built of masonry around the turn-of-the-century. Being two stories in height it had the grandeur of the age in which was built and included a massive portico at the main entry to leave a visitor in no doubt whatsoever as to who had the power in this part of the land.

Casement windows were architecturally placed in the facade and each was provided with its own set of shutters for when the weather was inclement. A veranda stretched around the girth of the house both on the ground floor and on the first floor and combined with the ornate latticework helped the house to look totally grand.

Plants sympathetic to the era that the house was built in were planted along the driveway nearer to the house. In the distance a conservatory could be seen surrounded by a beautiful rose garden. Being spring the roses were in full-bloom and it was such a magnificent sight.

The current owners had lived there for eight years. Originally moving from the inner-city they will looking for something not too far out-of-town but that was still in a reasonable distance from their business premises so that there was not too far to drive in the morning and a night-time. They had been so lucky when the family of the owners of the property had put up for sale and they were soon enjoying the magnificence of their new home. They had renamed the property "Carlivia" after their two children Carlo and Olivia. A fitting name as the two children loved the property and all that it had to offer.

Carlo and Olivia would delight in playing in the outdoors in the grounds of the mansion and will ride for hours on their two horses that they had been given shortly after they had moved there.

Being social people and very family oriented the family often had friends and other children over on weekends to enjoying the wonderful layout and openness of the property they had been so fortunate to find themselves living in.

Excerpt from "Cherry Blossoms and Snowflakes"

2006-06-15T10:02:00.000-07:00

Shinjuku castle stood out in stark relief to its rocky surroundings. It had been constructed as the region’s administrative and military headquarters and was now the residence for the ruling warlord Tomomasu, his lords and retainers who had seized it from its previous occupants. The castle's highly developed defense systems included a stone wall that surrounded the complex and several moats. A maze of internal walkways were included in the original design to mislead enemy invaders as were special hiding places for warriors, windows through which arrows could be fired and chutes through which to pouring boiling oil, and countless storehouses for arrows and weaponry. The warlord’s samurai lived in the nearby town and the higher the samurai’s rank, the closer his residence to the castle.

Located in Japans Hyogo prefecture, it was an impressive castle complex made up of many different sized buildings set on the top of Mt. Kikuchi. Constructed in 1581 on the site of a 14th century fortress it was considered a key defensive position by the ruling Tokugawa shogunate.

Consistent with popular Zen aesthetics, Shinjuku castle also had beautifully landscaped gardens that were well maintained. The karesansui style of gardening was popular and was a "dry style" in which sand was used to represent the ocean, rocks, the surrounding hillsides and islands. The garden included a tea house that was considered an ideal place for meditation in the Zen belief.

Ponds were also present to represent oceans. Bridges were included to provide new perspectives and shrubs and trees were also an essential part to the garden’s landscape.

The beautiful setting belied the true evil residing within.
……………………………………………………o……………………………………….

Keiko looked up from where she was kneeling on the floor and stared Tomomasu directly in the eyes. "I will never marry you! Even if I live to be 200 years old I will never marry you!" She knew that her survival depended upon her displaying a balance of defiance and subjugation.

"You will marry me" said Tomomasu, his voice as cold as winter winds, his hand stroking the wispy grey beard dangling from the end of his chin. "I am Warlord. I am the supreme military commander in charge here and I say what will happen and what will not happen. I say who will live and who will die. If I say you will marry me, you will do as you are told!"

Keiko fought hard to hold back the tears that were welling in her red eyes. This was the man who had ruthlessly and mercilessly murdered her father, the Daimyo lord, her brothers and members of her household just days before. The remaining members of the household had been banished from the prefecture in that they lived and told never to return or they would be killed. Keiko realised that her life was now in the hands of this monster, this animal who would stop at nothing to get whatever he wanted.

Keiko's life had been turned completely upside down in the past few days. She had gone from being Lady Ayama to the warlord's prisoner in the blink of an eye. He was twice her age, had taken her prisoner and now he wanted to marry her so that their two families would be united. If that were to happen he would become the hereditary commander of the Japanese army who exercised absolute rule under the nominal leadership of the Emperor just like her father had done. His power would be immeasurable, even the Emperor would have difficulty in controlling him. Keiko did not know what she was going to do, but she did know that she would rather die than let that happen.

"Guards!" commanded Tomomasu, "Take her back to her room and make sure she stays there". With that, he stood up from his throne, gathered up his black and white light cotton yukata robe and marched out of the hall with some of his lords and retainers. The captain of the house guard and two of Tomomasu's personal guard still dressed in battle armour came and held Keiko roughly by each of her arms. They manhandled her in a rough manner not befitting her high station and forced her back to the tatami room where she had been taken from only 15 minutes before.

On arriving at the room Keiko was forced inside and the doors were slid closed. Through the shoji rice paper screen wall she could see the outline of the two warriors and she knew that any attempt to escape would be futile and would certainly lead to her demise. Quietly and with great composure she went and knelt at the Shinto shrine in the corner of the room and began to pray for the spirits of her family and ancestors. Although it was not yet Obon, the Festival of the Dead, Keiko felt some relief in making a spiritual connection with her dead family. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she also petitioned both the Buddhist and Shinto deities for their favour.

Time passed and the light outside began to dim. When Keiko had finished her prayers, she went and knelt on the mat near an open window and watched the outline of a sparrow hovering among the flowers. The scent of the blossoms wafted through the opening soothing her. Outside, in the night, the sounds of insects could be heard starting their nocturnal orchestra.

How peaceful it all appears, Keiko reflected, just like the rivers and streams before Tomomasu and his army brought death into my home.

I must escape from here, she thought. I cannot and I will not let this man marry me and take everything that was my family's. Everything that we held so dear.

She wondered if she would ever again be able to practice Chado, the tea ceremony. She wondered whether other gentle pursuits such as learning to appreciate arts and crafts, poetry, and Shodoh calligraphy, ikebana flower arranging, dancing, cooking and caring for a garden had also all been stolen from her by that tyrant. She wondered at the same time if she could ever return to instilling in herself the grace, selflessness and attentiveness to the needs of others that made her part of who she truly was meant to be as Lady Ayama.

Outside the darkness continued to steal the light. In the distance a taiko drum boomed like rolling thunder.

………………………………………………..o…………………………………………

Keiko was asleep when the guard changed at midnight. The two warriors who had brought her back to her room were relieved by a single warrior. The warrior took up position in the hallway with his back to the shoji screen. She stirred slightly at the noise when he came and partially opened her eyes for a brief moment to observe what seemed to be a puppet theatre taking place as two of the shadows reflecting on the screen wall moved away leaving only the outline of a single warrior and his lance.

A while later however Keiko did not stir from her slumber as a different puppet theatre played out on the other side of the screen. Had she been looking she would have observed a black shadow moving swiftly and silently across the screen unnoticed by the guard. Had she been awake she would have been surprised at how this new shadow set itself upon the guards shadow and how the guard appeared to quickly succumb and melt into the floor without a struggle.

She did awake with a start though when the screen door to her room slid back. "Lady Ayama. Come quickly. This way" urged the black shadow with a male voice that sounded familiar and friendly to Keiko.

"Who are you?" she asked with a stunned voice.

"I am your humble servant, come to take you away to safety" said the black shadow. "Please Lady Ayama. Come. We must go before we are discovered."

Keiko needed no more urging. She was quickly on her feet and stepped into the hallway outside the room. The black shadow dragged the unconscious guard inside the room and slid the screen door closed behind him.

"This way Lady" said the black shadow pointing in the direction from which he had come.

Together they made their way in the dark. I know this person Keiko thought, I know this voice. Who is it? she wondered.

……………………………………………….o……………………………………………

Takahashi moved slowly across the floor. He felt his way gently in the darkness, searching and probing with his feet for that part of the floor that could take their weight and not squeak and give their presence away. Dressed in a black tunic from head to toe and wearing a black hood and mask as well as carrying a katana or long sword, a shorter wakizashi sword and tanto dagger, he looked more like a deadly assassin than a former household servant in the Ayama clan. He moved silently making no sound. It was as if he floated through the air. Behind him Keiko moved with all the grace of a cat, her white silk kimono making small rustling sounds as she walked.

In the distance, through an open door and in the faint dawn light a sparrow could be seen alighting on the branch of the cherry blossom tree. Now, at the start of spring the blossoms were starting to appear. Spring Festival would be here soon and there would be celebrations throughout the whole of feudal Japan to celebrate the birth of the new season and year.

"Move quickly" said Takahashi "If we are caught we will surely be executed."

He could hear the beating of the sparrow's wings even from this distance. He had been trained well in his childhood to hear everything in the forests and the mountains where he grew up. Such were the teachings of "The Way". The slopes of Mount Shiranui had been steep and the forests had been thick and he had trained both in the daytime and at night. As a result he had been able to run at full speed through forests in the dead of night and feel his way through the trees. While he had been training in the art of "the Way" he has also learnt its elements including Ninjitsu, the way of a ninja, Bushido, the way of a samurai, Kendo, the way of the sword and Kyudo, the way of archery. His spiritual teachings had included Shinto, Buddhism and Zen. He had learnt to listen to the night creatures and to identify the individual sounds that they made. He had also learnt shapeshifting that had allowed him to come upon an animal silently with stealth and to embody that creature so that they would not be afraid of him. He had learnt to communicate with the animals and birds. Such were the skills and teachings of"The Way".

And so it was now as the dawn was breaking and the light from the rising sun had not yet entered the building where Keiko, the daughter of his former lord and master, had been held prisoner that he found himself tiptoeing across the matting floor. Takahashi knew that the floor of this Shinto temple had been set with traps in such a way as to alert the guards of anyone's presence in the night.

"Step lightly" he whispered to Keiko "walk on the sides of your feet and near the edge of the wall" he urged. "Step where I step to avoid the trip wires." Keiko complied sensing the urgency in his voice.

"I am afraid" she whispered, her soft voice trembling. "I fear that they will catch us "

"They will not catch us" he whispered quietly, his lips close to her ears. "I will not let that happen. You will be safe with me" he said softly "Come, take my hand. I will lead you out of this temple. Soon we will be outside this temple and the palace and then it is only the outer walls that we must pass to gain our freedom."

"Who are you?" asked Keiko without fear as she knew she was in safe hands.

Takahashi pulled down his mask revealing his face. Keiko stepped back in astonishment.

"Takahashi! It is you! Why are you dressed like that? What are you doing here?" her voice one of amazement.

Keiko took his hand and he led her as he continued feeling his way across the floor. "Why did you come back?" she asked. "The warlord told all of the servants that if he ever saw your faces again at Shinjuku Palace he would have you executed"

"I could not just leave you here to suffer the indignity of having to marry a man who feels that he must steal what he wants" he said. Takahashi saw that they were nearly at the open doorway to the walkway that led across the lily pond to the teahouse on the other side. "I may only be a half caste and appointed as a servant in your father’s household" he said with pain in his voice "but you are royalty to your people and I cannot just let you be taken as a prize in some land war".

"But my father's house was destroyed" Keiko's voice carried the emotion of a memory that would never be erased. "All of my father's people, his servants, his household, his armies, his vassals all destroyed. There is nothing left." Her voice broke as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Not all" replied Takahashi. "There are people left, farmers, vassals, some of your father's household, a major portion of his armies that were away fighting for the Emperor in the West.

There are more than enough to take back what is rightfully yours" he said firmly.

"But who will lead these people" asked Keiko. "There are no more men in my father's household. My brothers were killed in the battles and raids".

"You will lead them" said Takahashi "You will lead your people away from the grip of this tyrant".

"But I am only a woman" Keiko could not believe what Takahashi was suggesting. "Nobody will follow me"

"Yes they will" said Takahashi with conviction in his voice. "Not only will they follow you, but a group of people who you thought were once your enemies will also follow you "

Who?" asked Keiko puzzled. "Who are these people that you talk of?"

"The people from the Tribes" said Takahashi looking her directly in the eyes " the Tribes have already sworn their allegiance to your father's household and to you"

"But this is not possible" an astonished Keiko replied. "The people from the Tribes are completely independent and it is said that they live outside established Japanese law. They live in the valleys and on the side of the mountains away from the cities. It is said they are highly trained and skilled in the arts of warfare and have mystical powers and can do things that other humans cannot."

"This is true" he said "but they only shun oppressors like Tomomasu who do not let them practice their skills in peace. Now they wish to put their skills to good use for you."

"But why would they help me?" Keiko's eyes were wide in disbelief.

"It is very simple." He replied. "There was once a time, long, long ago when your father helped the Tribes."

The sparrow's wings sounded louder now as they stepped out into the light. Takahashi looked to his left and to his right and could see no guards. The first rays of the sun were breaking over the wall and the temperature had risen a couple of degrees. Soon the mist would start to disappear, their cover and camouflage would be gone. They would have to hurry if they were to make it over the wall before they were discovered.

"What happened?" asked Keiko. She could not believe what she was hearing. The Tribes were not known for revealing their identity to anyone nor asking anyone's help. They preferred to live their lives away from the cities so that they could practice their skills and their powers. It was well-known in the cities that people were afraid of the Tribes. There had been many folk tales over the hundreds of years that they had lived away from civilization, tales about religious beliefs, ceremonies, mystical practices, spiritual teachings and all manner of things that have long since been outlawed by the warlord.

"Many years ago a leader of the Tribes was caught by the warlord’s men" ventured Takahashi. "They had tracked him and brought him down from the mountains where they had stalked him and trapped him and then they brought him to one of the towns in your father's prefecture.

There they tried to humiliate him and put him in a cattle cage in the middle of the town for all to see. They intended to put him on trial and have him executed under charges that had been falsely made by the warlord's men. When your father found out about the tribal leaders existence he ordered some of his trusted personal guard to go to the cage in the middle of the night and release the tribal leader and escort him safely back to the forest."

"But why would my father do that?" asked Keiko. She could not start to imagine why her father would release someone the Warlord considered to be an outlaw.

"Because your father knew that the tribal leader was innocent and that the charges were to be falsely laid by Tomomasu" said Takahashi. As he spoke he did reconnaissance of the stone bridge that led over the lily pond to a patch of grass on the bank beyond. He knew that once they reached the green grass on the other side they would climb up onto the roof of the teahouse and be able to reach the top of the stone outer wall of the Warlords summer palace.

"Your father was not convinced that the people from the Tribes were outlaws. He believed that they had been marginalized because of their special talents and powers and had been forced to live in hiding so that they would not be persecuted. The warlord was led to believe that the people from the Tribes had come to liberate their leader and had never found out about your father's involvement."

"But why would the people of the Tribes come to our aid now?" questioned Keiko.

"Because the people of the Tribes never forget a debt. Your father helped the Tribes and the people of the Tribes have been waiting for many years to repay this debt"

"How do you know all this?" Keiko could not understand how Takahashi could know this story. After all, they were both the same age. Takahashi had been placed into her father's household as a servant when he was 12. Since then he had not been away from their Ayama Castle or the Aichi Prefecture except for once every six months when he was released to visit his aging grandmother who lived in the countryside. If this had happened many years ago then they both would have been children at the time. "How do you know this story and how do you know that the Tribes will help my father's household now?"

"Because when I was a boy my father told me about the story of what happened to him years ago. He also told me last night that it was time for us to repay our debt to you and your family." Takahashi looked at Keiko. The look on her face was one of amazement. He had always loved the way she looked. The alabaster complexion, her raven black hair worn up exposing her neckline which was considered by the Japanese to be one of the most beautiful parts of a woman. Takahashi agreed with this thinking as he viewed her slender white neck. The white silk kimono with the dyed outlines of cherry blossoms and snowflakes styled in red and black. Her lips matched the red color on her kimono.

"Your father, he is the tribal leader? They are the same person?" Keiko sounded astonished.

"Hurry, we must not delay any longer." He took her hand again and led her across the stone bridge.

"But how? How could you, the son of a tribal leader be in my father’s service undiscovered for so long?"

"Because it was arranged that way when I was a child. I was given the obligation of protecting you and also reporting information to my father so that he could make sure that your father was always protected and safe. I had already trained in the art of The Way before I joined your household. Every few months when you thought I was visiting my grandmother I was actually seeing my father and honing more skills with him. Unfortunately, my father did not foresee the recent trickery of the Warlord and was powerless to save your father. For this, my father feels very sad and even more in your debt".

When they had crossed the bridge they arrived in the small patch of grass. White swans scattered and fled into the pond. Takahashi and Keiko ran quickly and took up a position behind the teahouse. Takahashi checked the way they had come to make sure that no guards had discovered their presence. Satisfied, he scouted the outer wall to make sure it was safe to cross.

"You lived in our house and spied on us? Is that an honorable thing to do? " Keiko ventured.

"There is a difference between spying and swearing and oath to protect someone" Takahashi sounded hurt in his response. "My father gave me this honour before I joined your household"

"An honour?" Keiko sounded surprised. "You call swearing and oath to protect me an honour?"

Takahashi knew that he had moved into dangerous territory in this discussion. How could he tell her the feelings he had for her in his heart? How could he, a half caste from the Tribes, tell her that he had fallen in love with her the first day he had seen her at the age of 12. How could he tell her that he had made a decision then that he would devote his life to her and if the time came he would gladly give up his life for her? He hoped that the time to offer his life had not come in this dawn light.

"Stay here" he whispered, as he moved away from the teahouse to the centre of the grassy knoll.

Keiko could not believe what she saw next. Takahashi seemed to step through the air as if the air had solid form. One moment he had been on the grass and the next he had floated through the air and was standing on the roof of the teahouse.

"How did you do that? What are you? " she asked with an astonished voice.

"I am just a man. The teachings of The Way are many and varied," he said." This is but one of them". He reached down from the roof and extended his arm to her. "Lady Ayama" his voice was soft and gentle. "Please take my hand with both of yours."

She did as she was asked and he lifted her effortlessly onto the roof of the teahouse and set her down by his side. His strength both suprised and pleased her. They stood there a moment and looked deeply into each other's eyes. He loved her hazel eyes, and the shape of her nose and lips. How could he possibly ever tell her that he loved her this much?

"Takahashi san" a voice said through the mist. Takahashi and Keiko both turned together and saw two black forms in black tunics their faces covered by masks, laying on top of the stone outer wall.

"Akira. Kaiichi. What is our current status?" asked Takahashi.

"We have horses outside the wall" said one of the men. "Your father waits outside the city. He sent us to help you after he had discovered you missing last night. He knew where you had gone."

"Assist Lady Ayama" he ordered "Help her over the wall while I ensure your escape". As he spoke these words, loud noises could be heard inside the temple. Shouts could also be heard.

Alarm bells started to ring. Tomomasu could be seen rounding a far corner of the temple with a band of his warriors just as other armed soldiers burst through the same door of the temple through which they had just came.

"We have been discovered" Takahashi spoke directly to his two companions "Take Lady Ayama. Help her over the wall. Take her to my father. Go." he commanded.

"But Takahashi" said one of his companions "There are many soldiers. Come, let us all try to escape"

"Someone must stay behind to slow them down. Take her. Go now" His voice left no doubt that he expected them to do what he asked of them.

"Takahashi! Do not stay here. I am afraid for you" pleaded Keiko. Tears forming again in her sad eyes. A droplet running down her cheek and falling onto her kimono.

"Go now. Please Lady. Go now while you still can. My life will be worthless if anything should happen to you. Escape with these two men and give me a reason to live. Please. Go. Please."

Akira leaned over and took Keiko’s arm. "Please excuse me for touching you Lady. But we must hurry and I must help you over the wall".

Keiko accepted Akira’s help and stepped out on to the outer wall where the two men from the Tribes lowered her down to the ground level outside the walls. The two men dropped silently to the ground at her side and immediately helped her onto one of the horses. They both swept up on to their own horses and with one kick spurred the three mounts off down the dirt road towards freedom. Behind her, on the other side of the wall, Keiko could hear the sounds of shouting and chaos.

I pray to the spirits of my ancestors she thought, please keep him safe. Please do not let him die this day. It was then that Keiko realised the birth of her feelings for Takahashi. How could she possibly live if anything should happen to him?

The three riders disappeared into the dawn mist, the sounds of battle beginning behind them.

……………………………………………………….o……………………………………

Takahashi picked up the bamboo yumi or bow that he had left earlier on the roof of the teahouse. The bow seemed to come alive in his hands. Being new it was strong and full of energy. With its simplicity and clean lines the bamboo yumi was unsurpassed in beauty and elegance. He had also left a quiver of yadake, bamboo arrows fletched with eagle and hawk feathers together with the yumi. Taking careful aim and steadying his breathing he loosed the first of the arrows upon the enemy. The arrow became one with its target as the first of Tomomasu's warriors fell to the ground.

Takahashi knew that he would not be able to keep the warriors at bay for a long, but he hoped to slow their progress down long enough for Keiko and his two companions to escape to safety.

He kept a steady stream of arrows firing at the approaching warriors, some of whom were beginning to take cover behind the low stone walls surrounding the grassy knoll. He heard a thud just below where he was kneeling in his archer’s stance and saw the first of the enemy's arrows that were beginning to be loosed in his direction. The aim of the enemy was not as keen as that of Takahashi and even though he was only one man against many, his arrows were finding their mark with extreme accuracy while most of his opponents arrows sailed harmlessly by. Even as one of his opponent’s arrows found its mark and hit him in his right shoulder, he kept his steady stream of arrows raining down upon his enemy. At first he did not notice the arrow or feel the pain, it was only when he noticed that he had to adjust his aim to compensate for a slight miscalculation when releasing his last arrow that he noticed what had happened.

Undeterred, he kept firing.

"Bring him down!" commanded Tomomasu, "Kill him! I want him dead!" he screamed at the top of his voice. His archers increased the rate of their fire while other troops raced forward in a hope of scaling the teahouse and getting to Takahashi.

Takahashi could see that the battle would soon be over. He could see that the sheer number of the warlords' soldiers would soon overwhelm him. His stash of arrows was running low and he soon knew that it would be over. He prayed to his gods that Keiko had reached safety. It will have been worth dying to know that she is safe, he thought. If she is safe, my life will not have been wasted.

The first of Tomomasu's warriors had reached the base of the teahouse and started to scale the structure and get to Takahashi. As the first of the warriors was helped onto the shoulders of others, the warrior let out a deadly scream and fell backwards and landed in a crumpled heap on the ground, an arrow protruding from his neck. Takahashi looked up and saw the sky full of arrows raining down amongst Tomomasu's warriors. It was as if the Gods were raining thunder and lightning down upon them. Takahashi looked in the direction from which the arrows had come and saw many black archers in the trees outside the walls of the castle. He heard a noise behind him and looked around to see both Akira and Kaiichi on top of the wall in the same positions as they had been previously. Not only were his two companions there but also dozens of similarly dressed and equipped forms cresting the top of the wall and dropping down inside the palace grounds and then hurrying to engage the enemy. These members of the Tribe were masters at their craft and engaged their ill equipped opponents who had not had time to properly prepare earlier for the pursuit of Keiko and Takahashi. Soon Tomomasu's soldiers were being cut down by both men and women dressed in black and wielding double handed swords, hand axes, deadly hand claws that slashed, maimed and killed, and helmet breakers with hooks to catch under the opponents armour.

Takahashi's two friends jumped across the gap from the wall to the roof of the teahouse and help their courageous leader who was beginning to become affected by his wounds.

"Takahashi san" said Kaiichi "Come, let us help you. You have done enough fighting for one day".

With that, Takahashi allowed his companions to assist him into the waiting arms of other members of the Tribe who were eagerly waiting on top of the wall who gently lowered Takahashi to others below outside the castle walls. Soon he was being assisted onto the back of a jet black stallion and was being spirited away with five of his clan riding around him to ensure his safety. He was only barely able to hang on to his steed as consciousness escaped him and he slumped forward in his saddle, the reins wrapped around his wrists holding him in position as his body swayed dangerously close to falling as he was spirited to safety.

Excerpt from "The Survivalist" - Chapter One - Act One - Scene One

2006-06-15T09:57:00.000-07:00

The alley stretched out ahead like a dark black ribbon. Overhead a pale, crescent moon cast light through holes in the clouds. Shadows were broken here and there by light peering through gaps in the buildings where they had fallen into disrepair. Other elongated shadows moved in the half-light. Four shadows moving slowly, purposely, as if their owners were in search of something.

The austere brick buildings had been built a long ago by men who had come to this land in search of a better life. Men long since vanished. All that remained as proof that they had existed were these old buildings, now half abandoned and falling down. The ones that were left would need major repair if they were to be habitable again. Windows that had not perished with the passing of time had long ago being broken by children playing or by hooligans looking for something to vent their anger and frustration on. Rarely did anyone ever come down to this area anymore, usually homeless people or people on the run from the law. The warehouse area used to be very busy in past decades but changes in transportation systems and the economy in the past had ruined this place and it had been like a ghost town for years.

"I'm hungry" said the first shadow

"I'm cold" said the second

"I'm wet" said the first shadow again

"Don't worry" said the third shadow, "we'll find somewhere to rest soon"

"Look. Here's a place," said the owner of the fourth shadow as it pointed to a hole in one of the brick walls of an abandoned warehouse.

"Okay" the third shadow said, "Houlio, you go in first and see if it is safe for the rest of us."

The fourth shadow moved closer to the wall. Its owner, Houlio, put down the backpack he was carrying and bent over and disappeared into the hole in the wall. The others waited patiently for him to return. They looked around the alley for any others that might be seeking refuge there too. They could neither see nor hear any other movement in the alley.

Houlio returned, and poked his head back out the hole in the wall. "It's clear Sarah" he said to the third shadow. "There is no one inside. It will make a great place to stay for a while."

"Okay" said Sarah, "here is your backpack" as she handed Houlio his bag and he pulled it through the hole in the wall. "Come on Marci and Spider. Let's get inside and out of this rain"

Marci took off her shoulder bag and passed it through the rough irregular shaped hole to Houlio. Houlio took her bag and pulled it inside. Spider passed his in too and both he and Marci crawled inside. Sarah took another look around, bent down and scampered through after them.

Once inside Sarah stood up to join her three companions and had a look around. In the half-light she could see that they were inside a large warehouse. Brick walls ran down either side of the warehouse and she could see that both she and the friends had crawled in at the end of one of the longest sides. About three feet to her left the wall turned and ran right for about sixty feet and then turned right again and returned at the length of the warehouse. She could see down that end of the warehouse there was a small inwards goods and dispatch office that had been abandoned long ago. In the light let in by the skylights, she could see pallet racking arranged in rows down the length of the warehouse which were wide enough for a forklift truck to run between them and take pallets down from the racking. The racking went from the floor to the ceiling high above. Here and there pallets were still stacked in the racking but Sarah could see that they had nothing on them but junk covered in layers of dust.

Rubbish had accumulated over the years and had been added to buy the numerous homeless people who had sought refuge there. Here and there at the end of the warehouse where the four friends stood, they could see evidence of fires having been lit on the concrete floor in the past. The ashes of three or four fires were scattered around on the floor and she could see that there was still enough fuel to light one tonight.

"Come on" said Sarah, "let's get a fire started and get warm".

They slowly moved away from the hole in the wall and walked along the end of the warehouse at the ends of the pallet racking. Once they had determined that they were far enough away from the hole in the wall not to be heard by passers-by and were confident that their fire could not be seen, they put their bags down against the wall and gathered fuel for a fire. They gathered pieces of paper, cardboard and wood from the pallets and then crumpled up the paper and put it in the centre of a circle where a fire had been previously lit. Spider lit the paper with the match. The paper burst into flames as it was very dry and lit up the surrounding area as they all watched the yellow and red flames dancing. Once the paper was alight, they put pieces of cardboard on top to catch the flame and then smaller pieces of wood to get their fire going. Soon they had a nice fire burning and they all gathered around to warm themselves and get dry.

Sarah took off her dark red jacket and put it carefully on her bag with her tartan scarf. She lowered her five foot four, lithe frame down to the concrete and sat with her legs crossed feeling the warmth of the fire through her faded jeans. Her strawberry blonde hair cascaded down past her shoulders and was contrasted against her navy blue top. When she raised her head, it was easy to see her pale complexion in the firelight. With her high cheekbones and thick lips, it was easy to see how she would be attractive to men.

Houlio soon joined her and took his place next to her by the fire. Houlio looked like an original homeboy with his bright blue and orange rave pants, Funky Boy lime T-shirt and Nike runners. As he sat down Sarah marveled at how someone so tall and thin could move like he did in anything he did, fluid movements with the minimum of effort yet performed with such grace. It was easy to see why girls on the street liked him. His wiry hair was closed cropped and worn under a bandanna. A thin wispy moustache adorned his upper lip and typical of the day he wore a small goatee under his bottom lip. His complexion was an easy giveaway for his Hispanic origins.

Marci and Spider completed the circle as they sat around to get warm. Sarah had wondered how Marci had gone her name as it was easy to see that she was from Chinese background. Marci had said that her original name was Xiaofang, but nobody could remember it, let alone pronounce it hence she had chosen the name Marci. Said that she had seen it in a magazine one day, liked it and adopted it as her own. At 17, Marci was other similar age to the rest of her companions. She was the shortest of the group at five foot four. Although of similar build to Sarah and although they sometimes loaned each others jackets, it was easy to tell the difference between Sarah and Marci from behind as Marci's hair was jet black and straight.

Spider completed the group. It was easy to see how he got his name. Gangly, tall, thin and deathly pale, he looked more like a praying mantis than a spider. Unlike Houlio, Spider preferred that grunge look and wore his clothing in layers, padded jacket, checked shirt and light blue T-shirt over khaki cargo pants. Spider also liked to wear his hair long and straggly, down to his shoulders. He might have been mistaken for Sarah's brother as his hair was blonde too, but more straw blonde than Sarah's. Spider preferred Blunstone boots rather than the runners to Houlio wore. Nobody knew Spiders real name and that was exactly the way he wanted it.

Unlike Sarah, Marci and Spider had not started living on the streets until they were 15. Sarah was grateful for this as she knew that she was already reasonably mature by the time she got to the streets at 12 years old. They had been together as a group since finding each other on the streets in their travels around two years ago and had stuck together ever since. Sarah had met Houlio six months before that and they had started hanging out together then. As time had passed Sarah and Houlio had formed a deep bond, much deeper than brother and sister and Houlio had taken on the role of Sarah's protector. Sarah felt safe and secure when she knew that her friend Houlio was near. They would often sit and talk together at length and both of them enjoyed each other's company immensely. They also both new and the love that they shared for each other was much deeper than any romantic love and that they would never have, nor ever want a relationship as a boyfriend and girlfriend.

"Has anybody got anything to eat?" asked Spider.

Sarah looked in her bag and found some tins of fruit. Houlio looked in his backpack and brought out the half a loaf of stale bread he knew that was in there. Marci had some dry biscuits and she offered that for the meal. Spider rummaged around in his bag and found the large bottle of Coke that he had in there unopened and offered that for their communal meal. They all had their own fork and spoon and they got stuck into their meal once the food had been shared around.

When the meal was over, Sarah suggested that they all try to get some sleep as they had been wandering the streets for many hours in the cold, wet weather and needed to recharge their batteries. They all agreed and soon were arranging their bags and clothing as comfortable as possible around the fire so that they could keep warm as they slept.

Sarah and Houlio lay near each other as the fire died down to some smoldering embers.

"I'm tired of this life" whispered Sarah to Houlio. "There must be something better than this", she said quietly so the others could not hear.

"There is something better than this for you little sister" whispered Houlio in the darkness "you deserve a much better life than this and you'll have it one-day. You have my word"

Sarah felt warm and comfortable and Houlio's words and it was not long before she closed her eyes and her tiredness engulfed her and she fell asleep dreaming of that better life.

Excerpt from "The Survivalist" - Jack's Apartment

2006-06-15T09:53:00.000-07:00

Jack lived atop a stately old building located in the heart of the theatre district. Jack's apartment had once been a caretaker's residence but had fallen into disrepair over several years. The building just happened to be en route from Jack's previous residence to his office and was located on a corner of a city intersection that was surrounded by other theatre and office buildings, a hotel and some convenience stores, restaurants and coffee bars for the convenience of theatre goers. Jack had often driven past this old building and looked up at the caretaker's residence and wondered if anybody still lived there.

From the street the apartment looked quite remote and safe and looked like a sanctuary in the heart of this busy metropolis. He had thought each time he passed through that intersection that it would be a very romantic place to live. He had almost begun to feel an affinity with the place. When he was stopped at the traffic lights, Jack could see from his car that the long rectangular apartment was sitting inside the building line way up on the rooftop and a balcony that afforded views in all directions surrounded it.

After Jack had started his company and it had turned out to be very successful, he had made inquiries through business connections in the property world and discovered that the caretaker's residence had been deserted for many years. Sources had said that the last caretaker to live in the apartment had left in 1974 and since that time the apartment had remained vacant. Jack had arranged an inspection and was saddened to find the place in such a state of ruin. The interior of the apartment was far from what Jack had imagined. Crumbling solid plaster made defective by water seepage and weather, rotting timber floors and a dank smell that seemed to escape from everywhere and that’s was caused by years of abandonment. At the time Jack had thought this was quite funny as the interior of the theatre below the apartment was so grandiose and opulent and had recently been refurbished back to its original splendor.

The apartment consisted of a large living area completely surrounded by floor to ceiling glass. The room was located near the corner of the building facing the intersection that afforded 270-degree views of the surrounding neighborhood. At the end of the living area and adjoining the main apartment was a small kitchen and adjacent laundry. A hallway led from the living area past a generous dining room placed within easy access to the kitchen. Opposite was a separate sitting room that looked quiet and peaceful. It had smaller windows and Jack could tell that this space would be a good place to do some reading or thinking. Further along the hallway and located on the street side was a large room that appeared to have been used as an office. Across the hallway was two bedrooms separated by a bathroom complex.

What had also caught Jack's attention was the large space at the far end of the hallway that seemed to mimic the living area. This space was also walled in floor to ceiling glass and had two glass doors leading to the external balcony. Upon further investigation it was found that this section of balcony was totally secluded from all surrounding buildings. It faced a blank side of the neighboring office block and had a two metre high garden wall on each end, both with a gate providing the privacy that would be so delightful in a busy city environment.

Jack had fallen in love with the place immediately and arranged for negotiations with the theatres owners and had made proposition to them that he would purchase the caretakers residence and live there himself after he restored it.

Following discussions, the theatre owners had been so delighted with the result and Jacks generous offer that, upon learning that Jack had a passion for classic cars, they have included six car parking spaces in the private section of the basement carpark where Jack's collection could be kept.

The work on the apartment had taken seven months to complete.

Firstly, Jack had arranged for an architect friend of his to inspect the apartment and make suggestions for its restoration and for making some small change to the layout. Jack's architect friend Sean had done a marvelous job to the place and had opened up the living space into the kitchen, separating both with an island bench. Sean had also improved access from the living area to its balconies, turned the large vacant space at the other end of the hallway into a multipurpose room used for relaxation, a music studio and home theatre complex. As a final touch he had designed a lap swimming pool on the large balcony within the enclosed garden wall space.

Other improvements had included totally refurbishing the bathroom complex and including a spa. Sean's interior designer wife Suze taken up the challenge to create a space for Jack that was welcoming yet private, faithful to the '30s era of the building and yet had modern finishes and clean lines, and in particular, had an Asian and Oriental theme.

The work involved stripping most finishes back to bare surfaces. Hard plaster was removed and replaced. Timber floors were stripped back and, where necessary, replaced with original timbers from demolished buildings on the same era. Roof tiles were replaced in the same fashion. Fortunately, the tiled surfaces on the balconies had remained intact and undamaged and these could be reused with little repair work.

The refurbishment had involved a number of colorful characters who Jack had come to know and like over the course of the following months. In addition to Sean and Suze, there were a number of people that seemed to have their own handle for their name. There was Beau the Builder, Fred the Painter, Tom the Tiler, Pru the Landscaper and a number of others, everyone seemed to have been given a nickname or a handle and the whole crew had got on well together. Even after the work had finished, Jack still got together with these people on a regular basis for a coffee or a chat. In Jack's own way of thinking, he much preferred to be in the company of real people like these rather than in the corporate and sometimes plastic world in which he needed to circulate because of his business circumstances.

Access to the apartment was provided either by a private stairway that led both to the street level, theatres entry foyer and the private carpark below, or by using the goods lift that serviced every level. Jack had arranged for controls to be installed into the lift management system to control access to his apartments level. Only Jack and a few of his trusted people had a card that would allow them to the apartment level.

Once the work had been completed, Jack moved from his previous residence located just outside the city limits to the renovated apartment. He immediately felt at home there and felt a love for the old theatre and the apartment building in which he now lived. Even now as he would catch the goods elevator from the basement carpark to his apartment he always looked forward to walking into his home and feeling a sense of safety and security. It was now two and a half years since Jack had moved in and still every time he came home the felt the same feeling.

Jack smiled to himself. He thought to himself that he had a wonderful life. He had been very fortunate following his slippery slide into his alcoholism. He was well aware that along his path of life that there were as many snakes as there was ladders, he also knew that he could just as easily slip back to where he had come from just as well as he called climb further up the ladder into a satisfying life.

The only thing that seemed to be missing from his life was someone to love. He had been aware of an emptiness in his life for some time and he hoped that at some stage in his future that he might meet someone with whom he might truly fall in love.

Excerpt from "The Survivalist" - Jack in his Bathroom

2006-06-15T09:41:00.000-07:00

"Hmmm, you're not too bad looking for your age" said Jack to himself quietly as he finished shaving. At 46 years old he had kept himself together well despite years of personal abuse during his years of alcoholism. He had joked to himself that alcohol had been a good preservative and that was the reason why his skin had remained so soft and smooth. The real fact was that all the men in his family had remained young looking as they had grown older, a feature often liked by women they had met over the years.

Jack had a handsome but rugged face. Chiseled looks as a result of Irish, English and Scottish heritage. Years ago a broken nose as the result of the child accident had left Jack a permanent feature on his face. Not many people noticed it these days and Jack didn't worry about it either. A long time ago he had decided that it was a feature rather than a defect, something he had learned from computer software developers who, after finding something not quite right with their brainchild would refer to it as a feature, never wanting to admit that something may have been slightly flawed. Jack also saw an odd logic in this thinking.

He also had a dimple in his chin of his broad face. Blue green eyes that could look straight into the back of your brain gave Jack the ability often when dealing with people who may have been telling less than the truth to come clean due to Jack's stare. It was not intentional, it was just that, as a good listener, from time to time Jack got so interested in what the speaker was telling him that the totally forgot that he was "drilling" them with his eyes. Jack had a light-hearted attitude about most things and jokingly called this his biologist look, a look as if he was studying an insect in a jar.

Jacks hair was still mousy brown although over the last years flecks of grey had appeared here and there which seemed to give him a more distinguished look and add rather than detract from his overall good looks.

At 170 centimetres, Jack was of medium height and due to his heritage was thickset but still reasonably trend trim and toned for his age.

After splashing some cool water on his face, Jack took a towel from the brass railing and dried himself and walked from his ensuite into his bedroom.

Jack was a pleasant looking man. His light brown hair was cut short and he wore sideboards in the fashion of the day. His eyes were blue and set wide apart. His chin square and strong.