Short Story
21st November, 2016
Sarah returned home from her meeting shortly after five on Friday. When she turned from locking the house door behind her she gazed about the wide entrance cautiously, listening for sounds of life.
The sun was only beginning to set and the modern, well-lit entrance of the large two story building was filled with a deep orange glow. Sarah felt a sensation of relief at unexpected calm inside and she kicked off her heels at the door and picked them, her pencil skirt stretching with the effort. She dumped her handbag on the side board beside the door.
‘Nico!’, Sarah called, ‘I’m home!’
She headed up the stairs, tempted to head straight for the fridge and the bottle of chilled Rose in the fridge that was waiting for her. First she had to check on Nico, then get out of this uncomfortable suit.
Nico hadn’t been staying with her long. A matter of days. The days felt like a blur since the incident the previous Friday. Gosh, was it a week already? At the top of the stairs she headed to the media room, but it was empty. No matter. Instead of finishing her search she changed direction to her bedroom, the master, where she stripped off her suit, slipped into a pair of comfortable shorts and a t-shirt. Sarah let her hair out of the tight braid she’d done in the early hours of the morning. Leaving the clothes in a pile she hurried to find Nico.
Not finding him upstairs she became somewhat alarmed and hurried back down the stairs calling, ‘Nico! Where are you?’
Sarah had known Nico for years. First he was the guy who served her coffee at the café around the corner from her law firm. Given the copious number of hours Sarah spent at the office, slaving away over her criminal cases, she frequented the café daily, sometimes more. Nico, the tall shaggy haired barista had been friendly, always remembering her name and order, always ready with a smile.
Then Nico became the friend. They’d bumped into each other at a bar in the same part of town one evening after work. He looked different without his hospitality uniform, but he had been just as charming, and he’d bought her a drink. He met her friends and they all seemed to like him, so she got his number and invited him out a few more times for drinks with her friends.
Within weeks Nico became the lover. It started with an alcohol fueled evening, full of laughter and flirting, and ended at her house. In the morning, as Sarah had stared at his clean-shaven young face, his unruly curls splayed like a crown around his head on the pillow, and she realized that for all their sharp witted, playful conversation, she had no idea about him. He looked in his late twenties, tall and lanky. Sarah had only recently turned 30 and it was unusual for her to be attracted to a younger man. But Nico was a joker and he could make her laugh. All the lawyers she met had lost their sense of humour years ago.
They’d slept together once again after that before Nico suddenly disappeared off her radar for a few months. She wasn’t sure if she’d been too busy, or if he’d avoided her. Working on cases it got like that, sometimes months disappeared during a case and she emerged on the other side wondering why people were asking where she’d been.
But suddenly, in the late hours of Friday night last week, he had become Nico the client.
He was not in the house. She went to the back door and pushed it open aggressively, almost running the door off its tracks. On the back deck two male faces turned to her in surprise from their place around her deck table.
Nico. Sarah breathed with relief. She smelled cigarette smoke. Nico didn’t smoke. The other face was unfamiliar to her. He was lounging on her furniture, cigarette in hand, an open beer bottle in front of him. He had a close shaved head, beard and large arms bursting through his cotton t-shirt. Nico was leaning on his knees, a bottle in front of him. He looked sad, but then he had looked sad since last Friday. None of his usual energy.
‘You’re home’, Nico said.
‘I am. Who are you?’, Sarah’s instinct was one of alarm at the sight of the stranger. How many times had she told Nico to keep his head down?
‘I’m Roman, I assume you’re Sarah. Hi there. Nice house’, the man murmured in a slightly off Australian accent. From Sydney or Melbourne, Sarah thought, lowering her eyebrows warily she stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
‘Roman’s another deserter’, Nico said by way of explanation.
Sarah crossed her arms, ‘What’s he doing at my house?’
Nico and Roman exchanged looks, until Nico looked down between his legs and said, ‘I invited him’
‘Nico, a word inside please’
Roman gave Nico a smirk, his dark eyes squinting with unabashed humour that made Sarah’s skin crawl. She waited as Nico took great effort to raise himself from his seat and walked heavily toward her. She opened the sliding door and the two of them went inside, closed the door behind them. She led Nico away from Roman’s sight, back to the front entrance. Nico leaned against the doorway to the loungeroom and crossed his arms.
‘I know what you’re going to say, but before you do, listen. Roman came to warn me’
‘Warn you? I’ve already warned you. You speak to no one. You came to me for help and I told you to keep your head down until we’ve worked out your case and you have your court hearing next week. And you invite that… whatever he is into my home!?’
‘He’s a deserter. Roman’s been out of the racket for months. He’s not…’
‘What was the warning?’, Sarah cut him off.
Nico’s voice was languid and heavy as he stared at Sarah and told her in a low voice, ‘Max has sent one of the boys to the station in Kedron to make a statement against me. They’ve told the cops everything and more. They lied to make sure I get put away forever. Roman can’t even tell me what they know, except the little rat has gone and done it. This afternoon’
Sarah just stared at him.
‘I don’t care what the fuck that gang of ridiculous drug dealers are doing, you don’t bring that criminal into my house and offer him beer!’, her blood was boiling.
‘Sarah, you don’t understand. It’s useless. I’ve got no case. I’ve got no defense anymore!’, his eyes became wide with panic.
Then, with sudden emotion he hit the side of the door and wailed, ‘He’s betrayed me.’
Poem
20th November, 2016
Once there was a young man who loved a young woman very much.
The young man acted with charm and the young woman’s heart he did touch.
Together the two of them imagined a life so large.
Twas so full and so real that the young man took charge.
With a carefully placed word and a ring of peridot he asked.
The young woman was smitten and in his want and his need she basked.
The dreams they imagined took shape and the struggle of life was filled with hope.
Although with empty pockets, their friends were few, they did more than cope.
Their love whispered quietly and they sang their feelings loud.
Away from home and drunk on dreams they danced within their own cloud.
This dance took them farther and farther from their abstinence,
Until a week from their union a new life sighed into existence.
The young woman clung to the young man as they declared their bond,
In front of their families the undoing brought joy into the beyond.
Through the misery and the mayhem, they clung to their dream.
And the new life whispered for them to believe.
Until the day of the destiny, when anguish brought their reality to a front with a scream.
For this was the day when the future was forgotten, and the imagined herein was no longer a dream.
Setting
16th November, 2016
Marom
The continuous hum of falling water floated up to the group as they descended. Everything was so vibrant. The rich green grass of the hill contrasted with the deep red colour of the dirt where well-worn tracks snaked their way down. Large red brown rocks created the platform of the bluff. The water came gushing down the creek and fell down a small waterfall into a dark and shining pool the size of a car, before it descended several metres beyond what the eye could see. On the far side of the creek the same red became green again as the next hill rose towards the clear blue sky.
Large trees arched their thick green branches over the abyss below the precipice. They sat in a cluster next to the rocks, creating a small oasis hidden within the valley of rolling pastures. Some of the rocks looked to have been created for the soul purposes of furniture, seats, a table, stairs. They were smooth and stained by the dirt of the hills. The air was crisper down here, the smell of fresh cow dung, rich soils mingled with the smell of moisture in the air.
The group became quiet and relaxed as they walked slowly down the paths, the heat of the day’s conversations already cooling in the oasis.
Characterisation
13th November, 2016
Tom was not your average London bloke. He had been raised in rural Britain in a close-knit family with one brother and one sister. His parents were unskilled but hard workers of modest means. They had sacrificed a lot for their children, but without spoiling them. Where other families spent money on nice cars and eating out, Tom’s parents drove a beat up on Volvo, had maintained a substantial garden, kept their own lambs to slaughter. They saved their money for music lessons and weekend sport. This gave all three children both the aptitude and physicality to be well balanced adults.
Tom’s sister Linda was now at college studying to be a doctor. His youngest brother had just finished school and embarking on a gap year volunteering in South East Asia before intending on pursuing a career in agriculture. But Tom, had gone out on his own. As the eldest he had learned drive and the reward of hard work early on and so when his first innovation had peaked the interest of several American investors, he didn’t stop there. He made his first million at 21 and by 29 he had an established development company of his own.
To look at Tom wasn’t much. He was short and thin, and had that pale freckly look of a locally grown Briton. His hair was mousy brown and unruly, often in need of a cut. Often, when meeting new business colleagues, he was mistaken for the intern. He dressed in clothes that were cheap and made him look like a boy, plain t-shirts and jeans that were often too loose. But Tom’s greatest inhibition was his confidence around women. He had none.
He surrounded himself with like-minded male staff. The only female he could work with was Helen, a middle aged, plump woman who managed his diary and appointments with an iron fist. Needless to say, Helen did not give Tom any more confidence for dealing with females of his own age group.
To relax Tom played music; the guitar, the piano or just listening with headphones in a quiet place. He jogged 10km every morning before work and he could not stomach strong flavours in his food. He didn't drink and he detested crowds.
