Of Words and Water: 2014

Of Words and Water

2014

Published by Words and Water Group at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Words and Water Group

All rights reserved.

Find Of Words and Water 2013 at Smashwords.com:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/330936

Smashwords Edition, Licence Notes

This free ebook may be copied, distributed, reposted, reprinted and shared, provided it appears in its entirety without alteration, and the reader is not charged to access it.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

Foreword

Some people thought the theme of ‘water’ was tackled in a rather loose fashion in the 2013 collection; the elastic has perished further for 2014’s ‘many nations, one world’ theme… or has it?

The stories and poems here may not, at first reading, seem to fit this theme, but Words and Water Group contributors are actually meeting it on two counts; we are an international group, more than meeting the ‘many nations’ criterion, and we are working together to try and improve the lot of the people inhabiting this ‘one world’ we share. As for the stories and poems themselves, most of the characters were born on this one world, into at least one nation. I say ‘most’ since it’s hard to tether an author’s imagination, and some stories take us outside Earth’s confines. We have a couple of non-fiction pieces too, which have earned their place here since aspects of real life, and our reflections on those times in our lives, are just as fascinating as fiction.

Our members were born in and/or live in:

Australia

Canada

China

Denmark

Ecuador

England

France

India

Ireland

Russia

The Philippines

USA

The spelling is appropriate to the country of origin of the author, so you will see both UK English and US English.

This is once again a very rich collection, rich in imagination and the quality of the writing. My thanks go to all the contributors for once more helping me make my idea a reality. If you also want to say thank you to these authors then please do so by visiting

http://www.justgiving.com/Of-Words-And-Water

and making a donation. Every penny will go directly to WaterAid to help ensure everyone in our one world has access to clean water and safe sanitation.

Our aim in publishing this anthology is to spread the word about the sterling work being done by WaterAid, so even if you cannot afford a small donation, please still tell your friends and family to download a copy of this book, and ask them to spread the word further; wouldn’t that be amazing, to get exponential growth of knowledge about the problems some of our fellow humans are facing? Because we can’t fix a problem if we aren’t aware it exists.

I’d like to give additional thanks to the people who have helped maintain interest in OWAW 2013, and inch towards publication of OWAW 2014, with editing, proofing, invaluable suggestions, advice and moral support, and dealing with the advertising/social media stuff I’m so hopeless at. The Words and Water Group members have done all this as well as contributing their work, Vicky Durston and Sophie Cocks from the Environment Agency in the UK have helped spread the word, and Jessica Sutton from WaterAid ensured I didn’t contravene any of their ways of working; thanks, guys.

For full details of the work being done by WaterAid please visit their website: http://www.wateraid.org

Jay Howard (Editor)

June 2014

Submissions

If you would like to submit a short story or poem for Of Words and Water 2015 please send it to:

owaw2015submissions@yahoo.co.uk

The theme is ‘a helping hand’, but as always the interpretation of that theme is a loose one; you will be helping by becoming a contributor. You retain copyright of the story/poem, and there are no restrictions on where else you can publish it.

Contents

Barry Gray — You should get that tap fixed

Neel Kay — Sam's Guest

George Gould — The Moon She Miss a Piece

K.A. Krisko — The Name of the Dog

Annie Harmon — Damn Rubber Balls

Ryan Stone — Dragonflies and Raindrops

Charlton Daines — A Gift for Lily

Elizabeth Los — Sleep

Jaq D Hawkins — What Team Are You On?

Rohit Arora — Beneath the Shadows of Stars

Jason Parent — Something Alien

Sylvie Nickels — Crossing Bridges

Jay Howard — Moon River

K.A. Krisko — Finding Mandel

Raissa Falgui — Dreaming of the Sea

Kerry Dwyer — Agoraphobia

Barry Gray — Flood Tide

Gloria Ng — Roots to Water

Jason Parent — American

Lara Biyuts — Snowfall

Mark Bell — Winslow Homer Never Painted This

Sylvie Nickels — Daydreams

Angelica Pangan — The Raven

Steven Donoso — Between The Notes

Kerry Dwyer — A Few Things That Terrify Me

Ryan Stone — The Wisdom of Butterflies

Jay Howard — Popping the Cherry

You should get that tap fixed

Copyright Barry Gray

Through the kitchen window dawn is coming.

Like the tide across mudflats

it will flood the kitchen

Silence:

it’s early,

no radio,

no excited children,

no washing machine rehearsing the last rattling death throes of its final spin.

Now light will come to join the silence.

At the end of your chrome swan-neck a drop is

forming,

gathering,

growing,

bending the window sill,

folding in an image of the garden trees.

Drop by drop you take the growing day’s light,

swell it,

end it

and with a shiver slight,

drop it

on to the stainless steel.

A small drum sounds like a blunt bell’s peel.

Counting the seconds you practice this drill.

Liquid light,

shining water,

ringing steel;

until the next moon bright.

Then you will play in secret with its silver light.

~~###~~

Sam’s Guest

Copyright Neel Kay

Inspiration

I was very much inspired by the short story collection Nine Lives by Terry Tyler. One of the stories had a brilliant twist that I did not see coming.

~~###~~

Liva was there to help them. Or at least, that was what Sam had told Gwen. That was what that woman now told Gwen. I’m here to help you, darling, Liva said, her voice so sweet and sugary it set Gwen’s teeth on edge.

Darling? The bloody nerve of her! She wasn’t her darling. She didn’t even know the woman. She was just someone Sam had invited into their home. What was he up to?

Gwen closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. She did not need any help. She was perfectly fine. So she’d had a little accident, but it clearly wasn’t the end of the world. She could take care of herself, and she could take care of Sam too, thank you very much.

It’s going to be all right, Liva said as she placed a hand on Sam’s arm, leaving it there a little too long.

Sam shot her a tight smile, his eyes a little surprised.

Gwen gritted her teeth. She really took her liberties, didn’t she? What kind of a name was Liva anyway? Gwen immediately decided that she didn’t like her, and it didn’t go unnoticed. When Liva finally removed her hand from Sam and turned towards Gwen, she looked slightly uncomfortable and somewhat pale.

Victory!

Gwen smirked, left the room and slammed the door shut. I don’t need anyone’s help, she yelled. You can leave now.

When Sam joined her in the living room, Gwen was sitting in the window nook, staring at the rain outside and tapping her nails against the glass until Sam groaned: Stop it!

Gwen’s head jerked around. He didn’t love her any more. If he did, he wouldn’t be standing there, his hands curled up in tight fists, his jaw clenched and his shoulders so tense they almost reached his earlobes.

Sam, please, I don’t need any help. Why is she still here?

He walked out and flipped off the light switch, leaving Gwen alone in the dark. She sighed and leaned her forehead against the cool window. She’d let him be mad at her; she deserved his wrath after treating him so horribly of late. Gwen’s temper had been off the scales, making her throw plates and glasses after him. She’d even broken his favourite mug; the one with the moustache painted on it. She’d regretted it the second she’d done it and had watched him as he’d silently picked up the pieces and started to glue the fragments back together.

You found this mug in Monterey, he’d said.

Gwen had walked away, feeling guilty, and the knot in her stomach had grown to enormous proportions. She didn’t mean to hurt him, but she was just so unbelievably frustrated that she couldn’t control herself.

Gwen could hear them talking in the kitchen, although she couldn’t make out what they were actually saying. But she knew they were discussing her, agreeing on an approach. She got up from the nook and tip-toed across the dark room to the door. She didn’t even have to feel her way; she knew the place like the back of her hand.

The door creaked when she opened it. Gwen grimaced when the sound made Sam and that woman fall silent.

Gwen? Sam called out.

She closed her eyes and didn’t open them until they started talking again.

Does she do this a lot? Liva enquired, her tone low and urgent.

Sam exhaled loudly. All the time.

There was something in his voice that grabbed Gwen by the heart and stabbed it with knives. She swallowed, her throat thick and her eyes burning. From now on, she would treat him right, she promised herself. She’d try and control her temper. No, not just try. She had to pull herself together or he’d get rid of her, and she couldn’t bear being in this world without him. If only she could tell him. If only he’d listen to her.

Sometimes he’d press his palms against his ears while shaking his head. You’re driving me crazy, he’d say. I love you, but you’re driving me absolutely insane.

He loved her? Then why was that woman here? Why had he brought her into their home? Gwen tightened her jaw. A woman who obviously thought Sam was very attractive. Of course, Sam was gorgeous. No one believed that more than Gwen, but did Liva have to flaunt it right in front of her? As if she even stood a chance. And Sam certainly didn’t need her batting her eyelashes at him right now.

So what is the procedure? Sam sounded nervous, even a little hesitant. Maybe he was also beginning to think this was a bad idea, whatever this was.

At first, we just talk. Try to get her to listen.

Yeah, good luck with that, Sam scoffed.

Gwen slid through the door opening and walked across the hall until she was close to the kitchen door. There she peeked around the doorframe and saw Sam and Liva holding hands. A flash of fury shot through Gwen. What the hell was going on? They were actually standing face to face, their hands folded between them as if they were five years old and had just been asked to dance. It looked so stupid, yet so disturbing.

Get out, Gwen shouted. Get out! Get out! Get out!

Liva winced. She seemed fazed for just a second, but then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin in stubborn defiance. No, I will not get out, she said, her tone adamant. I’m here to help you and Sam, and I’m not leaving until you hear me out.

I think you should get your filthy hands off my man and get the hell out of my house. Gwen barged forward and dove right into where Sam’s hands were locked in Liva’s.

They stumbled apart, Liva gasping and Sam turning away, rubbing his forehead. Why are you making it so hard? he whispered as if he didn’t want anyone but Gwen to hear it.

Sam, you have to be strong, Liva said to his back. Sam!

Leave him alone, Gwen barked. She walked over to him, kissed his neck and nuzzled the back of his hair. He really needed a haircut. He was starting to look like a castaway; his beard black and thick, his hair wild and all over the place.

Fine, Liva said as she walked into the hall.

Gwen was close on her tail, nudging her. Yes, get out.

But Liva didn’t go anywhere near the front door. Instead, she picked up her bag and pulled out a mobile phone. This is actually worse than I’d expected, she said, her eyes serious on Sam as he joined them. He just nodded.

Sam? Gwen exclaimed. Please, don’t. But she was losing him, she could feel it, and it was tearing her apart.

I’m calling my partner, Liva continued. We need his help.

~~~

Sam made coffee. He’d always been more of a coffee person than a tea person. Gwen loved that about him. He drank it from his glued mug that Gwen had smashed. It was still his favourite.

They had all moved to the living room. Gwen had found her place in the nook by the window, once again gazing out at the rain, feeling somewhat calmer, yet a bit disheartened, and an overwhelming feeling of defeat was settling heavily on her shoulders.

Sam sat on the sofa, his back rigid and his eyes fixed on some invisible point in the middle of the room, while Liva walked around slowly. She blew on her coffee and studied the photographs on the walls.

You’ve been around, she said.

Sam turned his head and blinked. What? Yes. Those two are from New Zealand. We went there last year.

And this one? Liva pointed at a picture of Sam and Gwen in front of a waterfall.

That’s Iceland. Golden Falls or Gullfoss in Icelandic.

It’s beautiful.

Gwen rolled her eyes. Are we doing polite chit chat now? I like you much better when you shut up.

Liva drank her coffee, ignoring Gwen as she continued along the photographs from Egypt, Japan and the US west coast.

Gwen had loved driving along the Pacific. That had been the most fantastic trip ever, especially the two weeks they’d spent in Monterey Bay. They had been so happy then. She gazed at Sam. He certainly wasn’t happy now; trashed would be a much more appropriate adjective to describe him. It destroyed her seeing him like this, but she was the cause. She could put an end to his sufferings, but it meant that she had to let him go. With all they’d been through together, how could she let him go?

Gwen glanced over at Liva who was now checking her watch. He should be here any minute. She shot Sam a comforting smile. He jumped when the doorbell rang just seconds later.

Gwen got up from the seat in the nook. She felt sick.

Liva’s colleague was an older man. He seemed friendly enough; shook Sam’s hand, smiled and introduced himself as George. He had an American accent. Gwen folded her arms over her chest and walked demonstratively upstairs.

She’s upset, George said.

She often is, Sam commented.

Any violence? George asked.

Yes, Liva answered. There’s been physical contact, and Sam, you said that she’d been throwing things after you?

Yes, but… Sam stumbled to a halt.

Don’t protect her, George interrupted him. You are not doing yourself or her any favours.

Sam didn’t answer, at least not verbally.

Gwen found her way into the bedroom and settled down on the bed. It hadn’t been made for days, weeks even. Sam’s scent was everywhere in the room. It made her chest tighten and the feeling of grief was weighing her down.

She had to say goodbye to him. She had to walk away. But where would she go? She was scared. What if she got lost?

The door to the bedroom opened, the light flicked on. George was in front, Liva directly behind him, and Sam was standing way back, his tired eyes moving slowly with George’s movements.

I can feel her presence in here, George said.

Gwen rolled her eyes and shook her head. That George was really one of the sharper tools.

Be careful, Liva warned him, touching his shoulder. This house is highly active. The paranormal energy is like nothing I have ever experienced before. It’s through the roof.

I know you’re angry, George said. He held his hands out in front of him as if he was expecting to feel her spirit.

Gwen sat up. The indentation in the mattress made both George and Liva gasp and exchange looks of astonishment. When Gwen got up from the bed and went to stand right in front of George, he was staring straight through her, his nostrils were flaring and his brow was getting sweatier by the second.

Sometimes, when someone dies as suddenly as you did, Gwen, they get angry, because they feel that their purpose in this world wasn’t fulfilled. You feel like you have unfinished business and you are frustrated that there’s nothing you can do about it. So you cling on to this world. You refuse to accept that you died.

Gwen started to phase out George. She didn’t want to listen to his theories. She didn’t want to be forced out of her home, out of Sam’s life, by a couple of strangers. No, she’d leave all on her own because she chose to, because now was the time. Actually, it was long overdue. She’d leave for Sam’s sake; he needed his peace of mind, time to heal and to move on.

Gwen left George with his ramblings and walked over to Sam. Her knees were trembling. I am sorry that I hurt you, she whispered as she leaned into him and breathed in his scent for the last time.

Sam looked down as if he knew she was there. She felt like his eyes were gazing into her eyes. Please, let me go, he whispered, his voice breaking.

Gwen nodded. Her chin wobbled. I will love you forever. And I will see you in the next world over when you… She swallowed and smiled, bittersweet. I will see you. Period. Goodbye, Sam, for this time.

Is it me or is the energy fading? George said, frantically searching for a cold spot with his hands flailing up and down in front of him.

No, it’s not just you, Liva smiled. She’s ready to go.

~~###~~

Author bio

Danish independent author of (mainly) fantasy. Born in 1976. Mother of two, wife (of one), reader of many. Love coffee, scarves and sea views.

http://www.neelkay.wordpress.com

The Moon She Miss a Piece

Copyright George Gould

Inspiration

A conversation with an old cowhand during my travels through the Brazilian backlands.

~~###~~

Doctor Spalding? He call me for work for him because I speak English good.

Oh, you think? Thank you, thank you, you very kind.

But you see, my friend, in this town, Nova Jerusalem, nobody more speak English. People is ignorant, like goats. You see goat? Give to him one book, what he do? He eats. Ha ha! But me, I like very much read: policials, romances, mysteriouses...

Where I learn? The doctor before, Dr Menezes, he help me. He have Speak English Today discs for the gramophone he borrow me. Everyday I listen and listen, and so I learn. Then he give me some few books: English and Americans. Oh, I do many works for him. I help