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Meeting Autumn

Today there was a quandary of misty indecision.
The leaves were contemplating autumn thoughts
The sun and the accumulating cumulus
Was sponging up dampness from the day.
While at its heart like amber set in amber
I matched the seasons phoenix mood.
The breeze had licked at ice before it came
To touch my cheek with change
And turn my thoughts to falling leaves.


Hugh Timothy
8th October 2000

Full Wattage

Is a Novel by Eddie Blayne
Published by Trafford
464 pages; Perfect bound; catalogue #04-0236; ISBN 1-4120-2408-0; US$29.80, C$37.47, EUR24.50, £16.88 from TRAFFORD
http://www.trafford.com/
Click Bookshop and search by title or author.

With a tangled love life, two attempts on the life of Harry Redman are made. Eventually a third attempt is made on him and Jany Donnaven while they are together.

About the Author
Born 1936 the author has had many jobs, mainly in accountancy of some form or another, and served five years in the RAF. Loving reading - mainly science fiction - he has always enjoyed writing - scribbling as some called it - producing many and varied ideas but no stories

An amateur dancer for many years he turned professional and took up full time teaching. This lasted for five years during which he met and married his first wife. Some years later he entered the civil service and during this time his marriage broke up when he came home from work one day to find that his wife had walked out on him after fifteen years. He never did find out why even though he still has the original letter she left behind.

Now twenty years into his second marriage he has no children of his own. His first wife didn't want any children and his second wife already had five when he first met her.

It was later in life when friends told him that he ought to try and have some of his stories published. In November 2003 Eddie printed and published a small collection of his own short stories - but under a different name.

He wonders how his second wife tolerates his varying moods and his passion for writing.

Suffering terribly from hay fever all his life it's marvellous for him to get indoors with pen and paper, typewriter, word processor, and now a computer, and shut himself away from the brilliance of the sunlight and the terror of unseen pollens.

About the Book
Harry Redman has, since childhood, a dream about what computers can really do but his life with Helen has buried his dream. When Helen leaves him the dream is revived and he sets up his own computer business to fulfil the dream. At the same time he embarks on a number of affairs and soon begins to receive anonymous letters telling him to 'leave her alone' although which 'her' he is supposed to leave alone is a mute point.

Someone sabotages his car and this appears to be a warning, although the incident could have been fatal.

His various girlfriends also begin to receive anonymous warnings telling him to 'leave him alone'.

Someone - possibly the same person, fire bombs his office while he is in there with w.p.c Oji Ojeela - the police having become involved.

His first girlfriend after Helen had left him is now getting married and invites Harry to her wedding, telling him to bring a friend. The wedding is being held near Sheffield. At the same time Harry receives a further threat to his life and the police consider that this might not be a coincidence. It is decided that Oji should be the friend to go with him. Nothing happens except that Harry and Ojin begin an affair.

After the wedding, Susie Carlyle, - one of Harry's girlfriends - is viciously attacked and a note is left - 'I told you to leave him alone.'

Later both Harry and Jany - yet another girlfriend - are attacked in her home. The incident had caused the police to put a watch on the home and the officer on watch was none other than Oji Ojeela. She comes to intervene but is stabbed in the stomach and descends into a coma.

Harry is able to bring Ojin from the coma.

The assailant is, in fact, Jany's youngest son. He escapes but it is later believed that he commits suicide.

His affair ceases as all his girlfriends become aware - although Harry doesn't see this - of the growing relationship between Harry and Oji.

Excerpts

They pressed together and he waited. 'I want- '

Her voice had become so quiet.

She was finally able to say it, 'I want to be the first in the field.'

'I think - ' he began.

'No,' she said 'we weren't alone. I want to be there in the field, alone with you, the first alone with you. Please. Let me open the gate into the field, and take you there.'

She took him to the bedroom where they began to gently undress each other.

Harry hadn't undone a bra strap for a long time and he fumbled before she made it easy by turning her back to him. When the bra fell away she leaned back into his chest and he held her breasts, cupping them gently, as he leaned to kiss the base of her neck, working up to her ear. She shivered and turned back to him, face to face, and her fingers worked around the top of his slips, slowing easing them down, down until he sprang free.

They fell onto the bed.

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Harry rarely received his post first thing in the morning. He was either hurrying too much or the post never came by the time he had left for work. So it was that he didn't receive the first letter on Tuesday morning. It languished on the doormat until he came home that evening and picked it up with the rest of the mail. As he sorted the envelopes, to eliminate the junk, the address caught his eye.
It was typed with no upper case letters.

Curious, he placed the rest of the mail on the table and slit the envelope open, taking out a single sheet of A4 paper folded in three. He unfolded the sheet and read the letter.

It was typewritten on a single plain sheet of paper. Typewritten? It could have been done on a word processor or some kind of office printer. It wasn't even a letter. It was a message.

There was no punctuation. It only needed a full stop and again, there was no upper case letter. Harry noticed this. He checked the envelope again. It was the same. No upper case letter. The very thing that had caught his eye in the first place.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

leave her alone
The words stared at him.

Leave who alone? Susie? Jany? Each of them knew there was another woman in his life. He had not kept that a secret from them. Harry didn't know if either of them knew the other, but he was sure that neither of them would do a thing like this

Helen? No, he had not heard from her at all.

Penny? No she was selling her apartment for Christ's sake! He checked the postmark. It was unreadable, as usual. Anyway, it was probably one of those central area marks, which wouldn't disclose where it had been posted.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He came off the motorway and was driving along the dual carriageway when the car started to veer to the left. He thought that was strange. Phil Oakley had serviced it only last week and it wasn't like him to miss something that needed, or might soon need attention.
He would take the car back when he reached home. If necessary he would hire a car for the next few days. The few days with Jany had been postponed too often.

Suddenly there were bangs from the front of the car. It nose dived to the left, hit the kerb and pin-wheeled. Harry felt the back of the car rising into the air, as the road spun around him. There was a tremendous crash of steel hitting concrete.

Thoughts flew through his mind in the couple of seconds it took the car to somersault. 'Shit! Some poor bugger's just written off his car,' he thought, as the sound of screeching tyres and braying horns followed the sound of the crash like weird unrelated echoes.

'You've done it now,' said the concrete lamp post, sitting broken and collapsed over the steering wheel. The car's facia seemed to slope upwards and away from him.

'No I haven't - I wonder who's crashed - someone won't- '

There were a lot of noises and flashing lights and the lamp post put out a hand and found his.

'Can you hear me?' it asked. 'Squeeze my hand if you can.'

Harry squeezed.

'Can you hear me?' it asked. 'Squeeze my hand if you can.'

Harry squeezed.

Can you feel my hand? It asked 'Squeeze if you can.'

Harry squeezed it.

'Good. Is there any pain? Squeeze if there is.'

There wasn't any pain. Stupid lamp post.

It asked again 'Can you still hear me?'

Harry squeezed.

He tried to sit up but couldn't. something was holding him down. He looked across, down towards his legs. He was wearing red trousers and the car was red. Strange. It used to be grey, to blend with the blue bodywork.

The lamp post shook a bit and said 'It's coming easy, easy.' Then it got out and vanished somewhere. A bright yellow fluorescent jacket replaced it. The jacket was holding his hand, not the lamp post.

'Can you still hear me?' it asked. The jacket had the same voice as the lamp post.

Harry's hand squeezed again.

The jacket said, 'We're going to get you out as soon as possible. Don't try to move. If there's any pain, squeeze my hand.'

Get me out? Harry looked around. Yes the car was red. His trousers were red. They shouldn't be. He had put on a navy blue suit this morning, he was sure. Then he noticed the gear change. It stuck up between his legs, just above his knees, like a grotesque, red penis.

That was when he began to laugh. His laughter rose pitch by pitch - tone, tone, semitone - and as he laughed the pain came. Great waves of pain washed over him, rising from his right leg, up through his hips and into the side of his chest. His laughter became screams. All he could do was grip the jacket's hand as hard as he could.

Something hit his arm.

Harry woke up in hospital.



 
 
A Better Place

To make the world a better place
It's not enough to wash its face.
You have to scour from head to foot
Both in and out and always put
A cleansing rinse designed to drain
The scum from the collective brain.

Remember burned in prejudice,
Remember hatred - things like this
Will need to soak in healing balm
To ease their pain, suffuse with calm.
When sorting out the parasite
That sucks the good and leaves the blight
To fatten on the weaker thing,
Consider those who need to cling.

Whilst sorting out the spots you dread
Be sure each blemish doesn't spread,
Nor flush out good along with bad
Destruction of the business cad
May leave the good without a job
But scour too deep and you may rob
The world of things you'd rather keep.
For as you stir earths mouldering heap
Beware, the domino effect
You might get more than you expect.

And so I find it sad but true
That many hold the cautious view
It's safer to leave well alone
So we continue to bemoan
The failure of the human race
To make the world a better place.

©Hugh Timothy
Wednesday, 3 September 2001

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE CARPET FITTERS TALE.

The day was hot and sticky. Not an ideal day for fitting carpets, with all the hauling, heaving and dustiness that goes with it. It gives a bloke a serious thirst. Dave had just finished the morning's work and decided that, as it was his birthday, he would treat himself to a ploughman's lunch at the Three Feathers.

Entering the pub he saw the bar was busy. Despite the crowds he decided that it was too hot to sit outside. The air conditioning was working very well. It almost felt cold so it was not surprising that the room was full. He eventually got served with his ploughman's and pint of ice-cold lager. He didn't usually drink when working but it was a special occasion. He picked up his order and looked around for somewhere to sit. His eye fell on a pretty young woman who seemed to be smiling at him. She was sitting at a table for two and the second seat seemed to be the only empty one in the room.

This was definitely feeling more like a birthday. Dave made his way across the room to the vacant seat hoping his luck would be in. Her smile broadened encouragingly as he approached. She had long blond hair and blue eyes. On reaching the table he returned her smile.

Despite feeling his question was stupid he asked, "Is anyone sitting there"

"Just my invisible friend" she replied, "but I'm sure she won't mind."

"Thanks" he said putting down his plate of food and his drink. He sat down. In an attempt to carry on the conversation he said, "Your friend didn't shriek."

"What?" said the girl looking confused as though her mind was elsewhere.

"Your invisible friend - I must have sat on her."

The girl leapt up and screamed, "HOW DARE YOU? No, I will not go to bed with you!" and picking up her drink, stormed off to the bar.

Dave stared after her in astonishment. But he was soon aware that all the eyes in the room were on him - looks of amusement, looks of disgust, looks of anger. He heard a voice behind him shout "Perv".

While he knew he had done nothing to deserve the girl's accusation, he felt himself reddening and the more he attempted to focus on his innocence, and try to show it in his demeanour, mouthing silently, "But I didn't, I didn't" the more his burning cheeks betrayed him. For a moment he was tempted to make a run for the door but that would have confirmed his apparent guilt to the onlookers and he realized that if he ran after the girl things could turn ugly.

Trying to look casual he turned to eating his lunch. Even the air-conditioning and his chilled lager did little to cool his embarrassment. Gradually though people lost interest in him and he felt a bit more comfortable. He had just finished his food and was downing the last of the lager when he became aware that the girl was returning.

"I'm most dreadfully sorry," she said as she reached the table. Then leaning towards him in a vaguely conspiratorial way continued "You see I am a student at the university and part of our work is to study the way people react to embarrassing situations"

A smile flickered across Dave's face, then he leapt up shouting for all to here, "£50 to got to bed with YOU? You must be joking" and he swept through the parting drinkers and out into the heat of the day.

© Kenneth Clelland
December 2001

 

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