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    Medley
    Medley
    Medley
    Ebook109 pages1 hour

    Medley

    By Tarry Ionta

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Medley, as the title suggests, is a collection of entertaining short fiction. The stories were written over a period of some fourteen years, and range in genre from romance to the supernatural and science fiction. It is a kaleidoscopic miscellany, with no attempt made to organize the stories into their various categories.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTarry Ionta
    Release dateNov 22, 2010
    ISBN9781452370071
    Medley
    Author

    Tarry Ionta

    Born 1933 of Italian parentage. He served in the RAF and worked at various occupations before entering Glasgow University at thirty, to study Maths, Physics, and Astronomy. He completed one year before dropping out to become a telegraphist. Finally, completing his working life with British Telecom Finance Department. His Interests and hobbies comprise mainly of chess, and reading science fiction. He has also had a keen, practicing interest in computing and martial arts (Judo and Shotokan Karate) and music (Saxophone, Clarinet, and Piano - Over twelve years with City of Glasgow Military Band). Now retired and no longer active in those fields, he prefers to concentrate on writing. He has been writing since 1988, having written over fifty varied short stories, a few articles, novellas, novels, and a children's fantasy book. Several short stories have been published in anthologies and on the Internet. A few have also been short-listed in the WRITER'S NEWS monthly competitions. He continues to write.

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      Book preview

      Medley - Tarry Ionta

      MEDLEY

      by

      Tarry Ionta

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2010 ISBN 978-1-4523-7007-1

      License Notes

      This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to the owner and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      The art work on the cover of this book is by igor-ovsyannykov, and is in the public domain.

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

      Copyright 2002 by iUniverse

      iUniverse.com

      ISBN: 0-595-26479-4

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

      Contents

      The Photograph

      A Bird in the Hand

      All That Glisters

      And every dog his day

      Another place. Another time

      The Busker

      The Visitor

      The Last Straw

      Survival

      Time Exposure

      The Coming of Spring

      Last Chance

      Mightier than the Sword

      Scoop

      Reunion

      Turning Point

      Sauce for the Goose

      Blind Date

      Sandra’s Theme

      The Test

      The Photograph

      Should she open it, she asked herself? Only minutes before, it had lain in a corner of the attic covered in dust and cobwebs. How long had it been there, she wondered? Years no doubt, long since discarded and forgotten. For all she knew it could be as old as the house itself, or nearly so; placed there by the first tenants well over a hundred years previously. It certainly looked old enough.

      That was what had attracted her to the little cottage in the first place, its age, and air of tranquil timelessness. One look and she had known that no other house would do. Its ivy covered walls, neat, white painted fence and colorful flower beds, had beckoned to her irresistibly. She smiled to herself. The estate agent had earned his commission very easily that day.

      She brought her attention back to the little chest. It was not much bigger than a shoe box, of ornately carved wood, and very old. Hairline cracks covered most of its surface, and the varnish was faded and blistered. The hinges were so discolored and rusted that the screw heads were barely visible.

      So why did she hesitate? The cottage had lain vacant for several years. According to the agent, the previous tenants, a young couple with a child, had occupied it for less than three. And prior to that, it had been owned by several generations of the one family. The chest had been there for much longer than five years, she felt sure, so it could not possibly belong to the people she had bought the cottage from.

      The possibility of tracing the owners seemed highly unlikely. Judging by its age, the person it belonged to would, in all probability, be long dead by now. And in any case, in order to find out about it she would have to open it, and hope that the contents would give her some clue to its ownership. The box itself was no longer of any value, that much was clear from its condition, but the contents might be.

      But still she was reluctant. It felt as though she was about to open a grave, and desecrate the contents that had lain peaceful and undisturbed for so many years.

      ‘That’s silly,’ she muttered quietly to herself, dismissing a faintly ominous feeling. ‘It’s just an old discarded box, and possibly empty at that.’ It had made no sound when she shook it, but that was not conclusive. She thumbed the lid gently, but it did not move. Applying more pressure, it suddenly opened, the hinges snapping like rotten twigs. No going back now, she thought.

      Inside, she found a large sepia toned photograph jammed against the sides of the box. Raising the torch from the floor she shone it directly onto the image, and gasped. It was the portrait of a young woman, dressed in clothing that could only have been in vogue during the early part of the previous century. But what shook her was the face. It was a picture of herself. Not just like her, it was her in every respect. Removing it, she turned it over and was just able to read the faint inscription,

      To my beloved husband Edward, on our first anniversary—Elspeth.

      The handwriting was neat and feminine.

      But how is that possible? she puzzled, disbelievingly. If it was of an ancestor, how could it be so exactly like herself? Even the name was the same. And what were the chances that she should now occupy a house that had once belonged to distant relatives? And completely unknown to her, at that.

      She studied the facial contours, and could find no differences from those of her own, even down to the faint blemish on her right temple. The clothing and hairstyle were different, but the features were unmistakably her own.

      For days she puzzled over the find in the attic. In spite of trying to dismiss it as a peculiar coincidence, it became more and more disturbing. She went about the business of putting the cottage in order; decorating, moving furniture, and generally giving the interiors a more fashionable and modern look. But always at the back of her mind was the chest and its contents. Who was the woman in the photograph? What was the story behind it? Was it mere chance that had drawn her to the house? She knew that she would not be able to put it out of her thoughts until some of those questions had been answered.

      For the next few days Elspeth did all she could to get information about the cottage, and in particular, anything she could discover about her namesake and look-alike. She questioned the estate agent, the editor of the local newspaper, and even sought out the oldest member of the village community. But it was not until she visited the only antique shop that she made any real progress.

      When the previous owners of the cottage had taken up residence, they had cleared it of a number of items, including some old furniture and bric-a-brac Among these, there was a worn and faded old diary. Many of the pages were missing, and childish scribbles covered most of the remaining ones. It had belonged to an Edward Selby, that much was clear from the name inside the front cover. It was a worthless item that the shop owner had intended throwing out, but for some reason had been reluctant to do so, leaving it in a drawer where it had been found.

      With great excitement she had accepted the diary from the shop owner.

      Monday, August 12th 1903.

      The acquisition of the cottage has been a source of great joy to me, in spite of the loneliness of living alone. But now that I have found Elspeth, my happiness is complete. I plan to ask for her hand at our next meeting. I pray that she will not refuse me.

      The scribbles were in pencil, and of a much later origin. Possibly the work of the previous tenants’ child, she thought. But with care, she was able to rub out enough of the markings to be able to read the faded text beneath.

      Sunday, June 20th 1906.

      In spite of what have been three very happy years for me, I fear that all is not well. Lately, Elspeth seems to have grown distant from me, and continues to be more so with each passing day. All my efforts to keep her at home more often, have been to no avail. I blame her not for seeking company her own age, but she seemed so happy to begin with. Where have I failed her? I am distraught.

      There were a number of pages missing after that, but she continued to decipher as many of the remaining ones as she could. Those that followed gave testimony to the slow deterioration of a marriage that had seemed ideal to begin with, regardless of the large age difference between Edward and his wife.

      She found herself drawn into the emotional conflict, in spite of the disjointed glimpses that the diary allowed her to see. The last page with a decipherable entry was all that she needed to be able to complete the story. The handwriting was scrawled and uneven, quite different from the strong masculine hand of the first entry. It appeared to have been written by someone under a great deal of emotional stress.

      Friday, Jan 11th 1907.

      Elspeth has gone. With her leaving, there is nothing left for me. I have not the will to live without her, nor have I the courage to put an end to my despair. So I will wait, and pray for her return. I will not leave this house until she does.

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