The house is so quiet

There's a mess in your bedroom.

Discarded packaging, stray lego,

Tissue paper covered in flowers and hearts drawn in bright, simple texta.

Against the wall, a beautifully detailed Fairy Door sits among the wreckage of it's creation.

Creative wreckage is a bit of a theme.

The kitchen looks like a cyclone went through it,

While spontaneously producing a tin full of chocolate chip cookies.

The lounge is full of paper and pencils.

The bathroom is still littered with face paints I don't want to clean up.

A few hours ago you came laughing and squealing out of there,

Your face covered in red and purple.

I thought you were a demon.

"No, Bubba, I'm a DRAGON girl!"

As soon as you said it I could see it.

I should have known,

You have the courage, fire and sheer reckless joy of one.

All weekend the house rang of it - that other-worldly glee.

Thuds on the wall as you practised hand-stands,

Cackles, pranks and wild stories as you played with your friends,

Plans and daydreams discussed over meals.

Even the quiet, hesitant staccato of you practising your reading,

And the soft snuffles as you drifted to sleep

Filled the house with a warm sense of purpose.

I love my time with you Sweetheart. 

Every moment of your crazy, caring, loving, exuberant self.

Whole weekends when, with me, you can just be you.

When you're allowed off your meds and your mind runs wild,

Like a puppy off its leash.

But they end, don't they.  

And you have to go.

Now Larry the Crawling Halloween Mummy lies motionless in the foyer.

He is sound activated after all.

And there's none of that in the house.

Not now.

And into that sudden, gaping absence, Grief pours with insidious enthusiasm.

Accusatory and acidic, He pulls open wounds only just beginning to heal from the last time.

He eats away at the echoes of laughing, running and playing

Just as fast as He can.

Spiteful little shit.

So.

I will sit here in my car, in the garage thank you very much.

Where I can play Solitaire on my phone,

And, through the rear-view mirror, still see the "I Love U" you wrote in the dust on the back window.

Weeks ago.

Can't bring myself to wash that off.

I don't want to go inside.  

Not tonight.  

Not tomorrow.  

Not until you come back.

There's no point really.

The house is so quiet.

To the tune of Sound of Silence...

 Hello dunny my old friend...

I've come to sit with you again...

'Cause some gas softly creeping,

Fluffed my doona while I was sleeping,

And the curry that was planted in my tum

Disturbed me some...

And brought me wind of violence...

My wife jumped out I was alone...

My sore tummy made me groan...

By the light of a bedlamp,

I saw my y-fronts were all warm and damp.

My eyes were crossed, and my bottom was on fire

My voice rose higher..

As I broke wind of violence...

Running naked down the hall,

Intestines shout their distress call.

I must evacuate my bowels some more.

Tho' my poor ringpiece is so red and sore.

And my wife yelled "If you're still crook you just stay there...

"...and don't you dare...

"Break more wind of violence..."

How long I'll be I do not know,

This curry seems to flow and flow...

So I sit here with my ring on fire,

Fearing this may be my funeral pyre.

With teary eyes and through clenched teeth I now rue

The vindaloo

That brought me wind of violence...

The Midnight Thief

A full moon gleamed in the deep dark sky,
Washing the landscape in blue.
The trees’ silhouettes were stark, deathly still.
Leaves and grasses speckled with dew…

My breath hung in clouds in the crispy night air
As I stood at the foot of those trees.
Marking the edge of a wood, quite enchanted,
They sighed softly, tho’ there was no breeze…

Creeping stealthily ’cross the quiet forest floor,
I eventually came to a clearing,
Where grey-green grass and purple-red flowers
Whispered words that were just beyond hearing…

Hiding silently here in this beautiful glade,
If I waited and watched patiently,
I might have been lucky, and caught a rare glimpse
Of creatures who exist magically!

In time I spotted the shimmering trail
Of translucent silk through the grass.
Worn by the faeries of myths, very ancient,
Over bodies like bright, liquid glass…

Their tinkling voices tickled my ears.
A sound unlike any I’d heard.
“If only I could capture just one!”
But really, the thought was absurd.

Still, as I watched and they played and danced,
Phosphorescent in moonbeams and starlight,
I held out my hands, barely daring to hope
That one might come close, and alight…

And then there she was! Wings outstretched;
Balancing with meticulous care,
To stand in the cup of my trembling hands
And fix me with a curious stare…

Oh she was lovely, this mythical sprite.
This exquisite miniature girl.
With hair that tumbled right down to her waist
In waves of silver, and pearl.

The eyes that met mine were so clear and so bright.
Tiny orbs of sapphire-blue crystal.
They twinkled with mischief, as many believe,
But also seemed searching, and wistful...

“Hello!” She said "What are you doing here?
“I’ve not seen a human before!”
I stuttered and stammered,
She giggled and laughed,
And sat in my hands to hear more…

Chin in her hands and elbows on knees,
She sat long after the others dispersed;
While we swapped tales of our so diff’rent worlds
In voices hushed and whispered.

Her time came to go and she slowly stood,
Then asked brightly if I would come with her.
I said I could not, and her smile disappeared,
So I said I would certainly miss her!

She jumped in the air and flew close to my face,
And I fell back with a start!
Then, treating my nose to a dainty kiss,
She flew off, taking with her my heart…

 

The Little Things

It was dawn.  A bright, cold winter’s day.  Martin rose with the sun, fed Onyx the cat, put on his jacket and scarf and headed off for the village.

 

Martin walked in the clear, new sunlight along the path by the river.  Where it was very shallow, he stopped and listened to the water gurgling and laughing over the rocks.  He watched the sunlight dance on the water.

 

Martin walked in to the village.  When he was near the bakery he stopped, closed his eyes and smelled the warm aroma of baking bread in a long, indulgent breath.

 

Martin went inside and bought a loaf, fresh and warm.

 

Outside, Martin wandered along slowly, looking down.  There were all sorts of minerals in the cement of the footpath.  They glittered as he moved.

 

Martin walked out to the house of Rubber the E Raiser and his wife, Tahoma.  He sat with them at their huge, ancient kitchen table.  Sunlight through the window splashed a square of gold on the rough woodwork.  It shone on the honey as Martin dripped it on his bread, making it look like the honey had its own light.  They ate the loaf of bread together with mugs of hot coffee.

 

Martin worked with Rubber out in his fields of E’s.  He stopped from time to time, just to feel the cool breeze blowing on his warm skin. 

 

After lunch, Martin sat with Rubber and Tahoma in a deep, comfy chair and pointed his feet, clad only in old socks, toward the fire.  After talking for a while, Martin snoozed in his chair, feeling the warmth of the fire on the soles of his feet.

 

After dinner, Martin began to walk home.  He could smell rain coming and put the hood up on his jacket.  The rain began soon after.  Martin took the long way home though.

 

It was raining steadily when Martin stood on top of the footbridge over the railway lines at the station.  It was dark.  The rain was only visible under the lights on the station’s only platform.  The station was a golden little oasis in the dark.  A huge tree was partly lit by the platform lights.  Diamonds slowly dripped from its leaves.

 

Martin arrived home.  He hung up his wet coat and fed Onyx the cat. 

 

He went to bed.  Onyx jumped on the bed and curled up at his feet.

 

As he drifted off to the sound of the rain on his roof, Martin thought surely he lived in the most beautiful place in the whole world.

 

He wondered, as he did a hundred times a day since he watched that train take Rebecca away, why anyone would want to leave…

A Sudden Departure

 

It was late in the autumn.  The days were getting shorter and the nights colder.  The first rain had arrived earlier in the morning, so it was a damp, cold and grey world Martin the B Keeper padded through.  His breath steamed.

 

Chilly as it may have been, there was a lovely warm spot in Martin’s chest – caused by the fresh-baked bread he had stashed inside his coat, to share with a certain someone.

 

Martin scrunched up the short gravel path to Rebecca’s front door.  Without knocking he called “Hello!” as he stepped inside and hung his coat on a hook behind the door.

 

There was no answer, so he wandered into the tiny kitchen.  Onyx the cat meowed a greeting and rubbed himself on Martin’s leg.  Martin dropped the bread on the newly smoothed wood of the kitchen table – he had helped Rebecca restore the old thing only a week ago.

 

On the table was a note.

 

Martin read the note.  He grabbed his jacket and began to run for the town.

 

 

Splashing through puddles on his way to the railway station, Martin kept wondering “Why?”

“Why would she have to leave?  Why must she go back to the City?  Why can’t she say when she will be back?  Will she be back?  What’s going on?”

 

He did not understand at all, but if he was fast enough he may get to the station before the train was gone…

 

Martin knew he had missed the train as he ran along the last section of the path.  He could hear it gathering speed and already some distance off.  He stopped on top of the footbridge and leaned on the railing, catching his breath. 

 

‘Becc was on the train, he knew it.  The platform was empty.  Through the thick old windows he could see the waiting room was empty too.  He stood on the bridge and watched the train, not understanding at all.

 

It was some time before the last carriage disappeared over the horizon.  Martin felt like there was a string or something tied from it to his chest. 

 

The train disappeared.

 

The string pulled tight, and tugged out a chunk of something from deep inside.

 

Martin sighed deeply and trudged back to Rebecca’s cottage.  It was exactly the same as he’d left it, but already it seemed colder and emptier.  He picked up Onyx the cat and stuffed him down the front of his coat.  He picked up the fresh loaf of bread.  He carried them both back to his own house; Onyx purring happily with his head poking out from the top of Martin’s jacket.

 

The cat was warm and soft on Martin’s chest as he walked, but underneath the new hole ached.

 

It ached a lot.

 

 

 

Autumn

 Martin The B Keeper made himself comfortable in a dusty old lounge chair and stretched bare feet toward the waning fire.  Behind him he could hear Rebecca, who had left the City to Catch Some Z’s a few months before, clearing the remains of the dinner they had made together.

 

It had been a very simple meal.  Nothing fancy, but it sat warmly in Martin’s full stomach like a hot water bottle on a cold night.  And it was indeed a cold night outside. 

 

He took a mental stroll through the day while watching flames flicker and dance over their hot coals.  A bright, frosty morning had seen Rebecca arrive on his doorstep with bread still warm from the bakery.  They ate it with honey and sipped scalding hot coffee before spending the rest of the morning tending to his B’s.  The afternoon was spent at the cottage Rebecca lived in, digging and planting and clearing and moving.  The things you do to a building when you decide that you might just settle there and make it a home.

 

They had dinner then, with Onyx the cat in constant attendance.  And now there was nothing to do but relax.

 

Rebecca came around his chair and handed him a glass.  Taking care not to spill her own, she bent and kissed him.  She tasted of Rebecca and port.  Martin wondered briefly if there would ever be a time he thought that taste was anything but delicious.  She curled up into the chair next to him.  Onyx leapt onto the chair and curled herself up on Rebecca’s lap.  Martin felt vaguely envious.

 

They chatted for a while about nothing much and sipped their port.  Before long Rebecca began to doze, her head resting on the seat’s high, round arm.  Martin watched her for a while.  Firelight flickered on her lightly freckled face and over the copper and gold of her red hair.  Then he went back to staring into the fire and cast his mind adrift in the warmth…

 

No flames danced in the fireplace – the coals glowed warm and ruby-red.  There was no sound.  Everything was still. Time drifted to a halt - and rested awhile.  A little snapshot of eternity was taken, framed and hung in the Hall of the Creator where all who viewed it smiled and said “This is good…”

 

There was a pop from the fire.  Time lurched back into motion.  Martin came to and, feeling eyes on him, turned to see Rebecca watching him.  Her eyes were soft and sleepy and partially hidden by wisps of her multi-shaded hair.  He felt the temperature of his blood rise a few degrees.

 

“Where were you…?” she asked him in a voice like warm flannel pj’s.

 

“Oh, I was just watching the firelight in my port glass, wondering if there is a whole other universe in there with people like us staring out and wondering if there is anything outside it, and if we’re not just the same…”  Martin spoke before his mind-to-mouth filter started working.

 

Rebecca snorted and shook her head, then caught him by the eyes again.  “You keep a lot of strange stuff in there, don’t you…” she stated, tapping her finger on his forehead.  “I like it though.” She added after seeing his expression change.  “I could spend a lot of time finding out what else is in there…”

 

“Hah.  I don’t know what is in there myself most of the time.” Martin wished his filter would kick in before he had to speak again.

 

“Well, in the meantime, I am going to bed.” Rebecca announced and started unfolding herself from the chair as Onyx leapt to the ground, meowing in offence at the disruption. 

 

“Oh.” Said Martin, beginning to rise.  “I guess I had better make my way home then.”

 

“Um…” Rebecca took his hand and moved close, leading Martin to hope no harm came to a body when its blood vapourised. “You don’t have really have to you know…”

 

“Oh.  Well then, in that case…”

 

And so Martin stayed the night with Rebecca, and they both slept very well indeed.

 

Eventually…

 

 

Plenty of Time

Martin and Rubber were sitting on Martin’s back porch.  It was a hot summer’s day and they were sipping ice cold drinks.  They watched Martin’s B’s humming around their hives.

“So,” Rubber said after a while “how did you like your holiday in the Big City?”

 

“I enjoyed it very much.” answered Martin.  “The City is a great place to visit, but I do not think I could live there.”

 

“Really?  How so?”

 

“Well,” Martin began “There were many things to see.”

 

“Yes.” said Rubber, taking out his pipe.

 

“…and there were many, many things to do.”

 

“Indeed.” said Rubber, packing his pipe with tobacco.

 

“…and so many people to meet…” Martin continued.

 

“That there were…” said Rubber, lighting his pipe with a match.

 

“Of course, there was all the different food, and more donuts than I have ever seen in my life!”  Martin’s eyes glazed over for a moment, recalling the multicoloured ranks of donuts in one bakery Rubber had taken him to.  It had been like a morning in heaven.

 

“But I think there was too much of everything.”  Martin said suddenly, coming back to the present.

 

“Ah…” Rubber said. He puffed on his pipe, and waited.

 

“People had so much food that most of them had forgotten how hard it is to grow it.  They no longer know how valuable it is.  Did you know, so many times it seemed people there would rather throw perfectly good food in the garbage than use it to feed someone who did not have enough?”

 

“That is true.” agreed Rubber “I have seen that myself.”

 

“…and there are so many things to have there that many people no longer knew the difference between ‘need’ and ‘want’.  Everywhere there were signs telling them how much they needed things.  Silly things.  That was very strange.  People wound up having so many things that they had to look after, find a home for, repair or replace.  It seemed like a full time job!” Martin concluded.

 

“Really?  You think so?” Rubber’s pipe had gone out.  He lit another match.

 

“I do.  And you know?  It was the same with the things to do!  Everyone had so many things to do and they worked so hard to do them that even the things that were supposed to be fun just made them stress.  Something is wrong when you have to play so many games that none of them are any fun.  That is very weird.  Do you know the worst thing though?”  Martin asked.

 

Rubber looked up, puffing his newly lit pipe and shaking out his match “Tell me the worst thing.” He said.

 

Martin leaned toward him and said quietly “It is the same with the people.”

 

“Whatever do you mean?” asked Rubber innocently.

 

“It is the same with the people.” Martin repeated.  “There are so many people there that most of them seem to have lost the value of people.  Hardly anyone seemed to know how valuable or hard a real friendship is.  They had so many people to choose from that someone could just pick a friend, and if there was some tiny, tiny little thing that went wrong, they just discarded that friend and tried to find another one.  They never fixed anything!  They never mended clothes.  They just threw them out and bought some more.  They never fixed broken things.  They just threw them out and bought some more.  If they found out a friend was broken, they just threw them out and tried to find another.  And everyone is a little bit broken.  No wonder so many of them seemed lonely.”

 

The two friends sat quietly.  Martin drank his drink, listening to his B’s.  Rubber puffed away on his pipe and leaned his head on the wall.  The sun was hot on his face.  He closed his eyes.  The air smelled of hay.

 

“There was one thing the City people did not have enough of though.”  Martin said eventually.  Rubber turned his head and opened his eyes.

 

“Oh yes?  What was that then?”

 

“Time.” answered Martin.  “Did you know, they have so little time that everyone is given a little Time Sharing Machine?  They called it a TSM.  If ever they want to do something, they have to type it into the TSM and the TSM would tell them if they can do at and when they can do it.  I asked lots of people if they wanted to have a donut and some coffee with me.  They would ask their TSM and then say ‘Sorry, I don’t have the time.’.  It would be very sad to have a machine tell you what you can and cannot do all the time.”

 

“It would.” Rubber agreed.  “And speaking of time…”  Rubber tapped his pipe on the step to empty the old tobacco “…it is time for me to go home.  Tahoma and I are going to cook up a big batch of C food.  Would you like to come over?  I have an old bottle of Port we could open after dinner…”

 

“Well…” began Martin “…I am not a very important person.  I do not have gold taps in my bathroom.  I do not have an important career meeting to go to.  I do not have lots of money and I do not own a million Things To Do.  But I do have plenty of time.”

 

Rubber laughed and slapped Martin on the back “That’s all we need!”

 

And so the two old friends strolled down the path to Rubber’s house, spending their time together…

 

 

 

 

Martin and the Wordsmith

 

Martin stood in his backyard.  He was watching words mill around in a pen he had built for them.  He had brought them all back from a trip to the City he made last year.

“I really cannot think of a use for any of these words.” He said aloud.

He took a box and carefully rounded up the stray words.

“Off to the Wordsmith we go.” Marin told them “Maybe he can make something of you.”

 

Martin set off to town, carrying his box of words. It was early in the autumn.  Trees alongside the road were turning colour.  There were yellows, browns and reds of all shades. 

 

In town, Martin headed for the Wordsmith’s Forge. Skrabel, the Wordsmith greeted him with a loud “Hello there Martin!”  He was a huge, strong man – well used to wrestling with difficult grammar and hammering out rough punctuation.  With his muscles, skills and tools he could straighten out the most twisted phrases.  He would surely know what to do with Martin’s City words!

 

“I have these for you, Skrabel.” Said Martin, sitting his box of words of the rough old counter.  “What can you make of them?”

“Hmmm…” rumbled Skrabel the Wordsmith.  “They’re a funny lot aren’t they…”

He pulled one of the smaller ones out. “LONELY…”  well, this one is easy.  A little work should make this one just Lovely…”

 

He reached for another.  “PETTY?  That’s rather small is it not?”  He laid it carefully aside.

“And what are these?” Skrabel cried as he tugged at two long ones “MANDATORY REDUNDANCY?”

“Those two are always together.” Martin commented, trying to be helpful.

“Well!” boomed Skrabel “I will have to do something with the first one, but I think I already have one of the others.  I will see what I can do.”

 

Skrabel emptied the box of words onto his counter.  “UNATTRACTIVE…” he observed, laying the last one down.  “Hmmm…  I think I can knock a couple of letters off him and he will be much better looking.  You leave these with me young Martin.  I’ll have some words you can really use when you come back.”

 

Later that day, Martin came by the Smithy.  He could hear Skrabel hammering away in his forge, giving some un-known word better definition.

“Hi!  Skrabel!” Martin called.

The hammering stopped and the enormous Wordsmith emerged from the red heat of his forge.  “Ah!  Martin!” he boomed.  “I have something for you!”

Skrabel lifted a big bunch of words onto the counter.

“These ought to be more use to you!”

 

Martin looked over the words.  They were, indeed, much better than those he had brought back from the City.

“Thank you” said Martin “these are great!”

“Just wait.”  Skrabel held up a huge, stubby finger “I have one more for you…”

Carefully Skrabel lifted one more word, quite long, onto the counter.

“That is beautiful!” Martin observed.

“Correct!” said Skrabel with a grin.

 

Martin looked at the word thoughtfully “I think this should go to a Certain Someone.” He said to himself.

“Ah, and we all know who that Certain Someone is, do we not?” Skrabel said, overhearing.

Martin went a little red.  “Maybe.” was all he said.

“Well, you say Hello to the young lass for me when you see her.  On your way, young Martin!”  Skrabel waved one massive hand as he disappeared back into his forge.

 

Martin collected his words and went on his way.

 

“Oh, hello Martin.” Said Rebecca when she answered a knock at her door “Are you coming in?”

“Hello Rebecca. Yes I am.” Martin answered, and he came in.

Onyx the cat jumped lazily from a window sill and rubbed first against Rebecca’s leg, then against Martin’s.  Then he padded over to a patch of sun and curled up on the floor.

 

“What have you got there?” Rebecca asked, indicating Martin’s box of words.

“Oh, these are some words that Skrabel the Wordsmith made up for me.” Martin put the box on the kitchen table.  Rebecca moved to peek inside.  Sunlight rippled over her long red hair.  It reminded Martin of the autumn leaves on the trees.

 

He quickly covered the box.  “There is a surprise.” He explained.

Martin carefully opened the box while Rebecca tried to peek.

“I thought I would give this one to you.” He told her as he pulled out a long-ish word.

“Oh, it is beautiful!” Rebecca’s eyes shone.

“Correct!” said Martin happily.

 

Rebecca tried it on.

 

“It is you.” Was all Martin had to say.

 

“Thank you Martin,” Rebecca began “but I have nothing to give you in return.”

“Oh, that is okay.” Martin waved a dismissive hand “If I was supposed to get something in return it would not be a present, it would be a trade.  And this is a present.”

 

Rebecca smiled “You are a lovely man Martin.” She said as she walked around the table to him “So here is a present to you, from me.”

Standing on her toes, Rebecca gave Martin a kiss.  For a long moment, Martin’s whole world was the warmth of her against him, the smell of her hair and her skin, and the taste of her mouth.

 

And for that, Martin had absolutely no words at all.

Martin and the City God

One day, Martin the B Keeper and his good friend Rubber the E Raiser were in the city.

“Let’s go and visit the City God!” said Rubber.

“Really?” asked Martin, his voice muffled by a mouthful of hot jam donut.  “You can really visit a god here?”

“Yes, you can.” Said Rubber.  “He lives in that building at the end of the street.”

The building at the end of the street was the tallest in the whole city.  Martin was sure the top of it touched the clouds.

 

They walked together to the end of the street.  Martin stood at the base of the huge building and looked straight up.

“It looks like it is falling over!”  He cried.

“That is just an optical illusion.” Rubber reassured him.  “All tall buildings do that.”

“Oh.” Said Martin.

 

They walked through the enormous glass doors that opened all by themselves.  Inside it was very quiet.

“What is this god’s name?” whispered Martin as they walked on a white marble floor between rows of tall pink marble columns.  Their footsteps ticked and echoed in the quiet.

“His name is Share X. Change.” Rubber whispered back. 

“What’s the ‘X’ stand for?”

“Shhh.  We are coming to the Inner Sanctum.  You will see him speak.”

They went on in awed silence, and entered the Inner Sanctum.

 

Many people were there, but all you could hear was the occasional shuffling of feet.  Everyone stood.  There were no chairs or seats.  They were staring at a huge screen.  Martin stared too, watching the great god Share X Change speak.

 

Share made no sound when he spoke.  His words flowed across the big black screen in glowing red letters and numbers.  Martin could not understand any of it but he watched all the same, fascinated to see what a god might say.

 

After a time, Rubber tapped Martin on the elbow, and they turned and strolled quietly back down the colonnade.  Both seemed sunk in their own thoughts.

 

 

“Rubber…” Martin began, after they had found a café and bought hot coffee and iced donuts (for there is nothing in the world Martin loved more than donuts).

“Mmm?” said Rubber, sipping coffee through a mouthful.

“What does the god Share X Change do?  Is it like his name?  Does he share?”

Rubber thought for some time.  “Sort of.” He said finally.

 

“People bring to the god their money.  They will sell their belongings and bring the god the money they make.  They bring to him their hopes and their dreams and their families and they ask him to make them rich with things.”

 

“And is that what he does?” asked Martin.

“Sort of.  It is not that simple.” Rubber answered.

“Why not?”

“Well.” began Rubber “First you must learn the language Share speaks.  It is a code.  If you do not know how to read what he says, Share will take all you give him.

“Then you must learn to interpret what Share has said.  If you do not know exactly how and when to give him your money, Share will take all you give him.”

 

“Oh.” Said Martin.  “Is he always like that?”

“Oh no” said Rubber.  “Sometimes, when he is Riding the Bull, Share is generous with everyone, and gives to everyone who comes to him.  But sometimes he is Riding the Bull and it Crashes, and he must Ride the Bear.  Then he takes from everyone who comes anywhere near him.”

“Then why doesn’t everyone come to him when they see him on the bull?” Martin asked.

“Ah!  That is because no-one can actually see the great god Share riding the bull.  They can only tell if he is riding the Bull when he begins giving money to everyone.  They can only tell if he has crashed the Bull and is Riding the Bear when he takes money away from everyone.”

 

“So, you could bring everything you have to this god and give it to him and he might just take it all away or he might be very generous and you can never really know what he will do even if you learn the language he speaks and learn what he means when he speaks it?

“Doesn’t sound like a very fair god to me.” Martin decided.  “I do not think I will offer any of my money to this god.”

 

“No, nor will I.” said Rubber before muttering quietly “…ever again…”

 

And the two old friends ate their donuts and sipped their coffee, comfortably sunk in their own thoughts...

 

The River Picnic

 

The great river tracked its way along the valley floor, flowing between ranks of thick, lush trees and, briefly, between the old stone buildings that made up a small village.  There it donated the tiniest fraction of its power to an ancient waterwheel.  In truth, the river did not even notice the loss.  It glittered like snake scales under the bright sun, shimmering in silvers and blues and greens.

 

Fed from the mountains, it was deep and fast.  It was always cold, no matter how hot the weather, and today was a very hot day.  In the middle of the afternoon, the town was dozing lethargically, baking in a hot summer oven.

 

A little further downstream the river curled around a cluster of huge old willows.  Thick grass grew on the banks.

 

There was a blanket.

 

There were the remains of a picnic on and around it.

 

People lay around in various states of repose…

 

Maring and Rebecca lay on the grass in the sunshine.  Their bodies were still damp and tingling after a dip in the freezing cold river.  Their clothes felt like they had been sitting in the baker’s ovens while they swam.

 

Rubber the E Raiser and his wife Tahoma sat at the river’s edge, dangling their feet in the water and staring idly at the glimmering ripples around their legs.

 

Scrabble the Wordsmith was a gently snoring mountain of well-fed belly in the dappled shade of an old willow.

 

Serif, Rubber and Tahoma’s son who minded his P’s and Q’s on a farm over the hill from his parents, sat against the old willow’s trunk, whittling at a piece of old wood.

 

“Oh, this really is the life…” sighed Rebecca, stretching languidly in the soft warm grass.

“Right you are Miss Becky.” Agreed Rubber, who smiled and nudged Tahoma with his shoulder.  “Nout to do but sit and make sure the river gets watched for the afternoon…”

“Aye!” Tahoma piped up “…and kill the fish with your smelly old feet!”.

“Yours may smell my dear” began Rubber in a well rehearsed retort “but my feet are clean and pure as the snow.”

“Hah!” Tahoma tried, almost successfully, to push Rubber into the river.

 

 

“There was never anything like this in the city.” Rebecca said to Martin as Rubber and Tahoma descended into the good natured bickering they were famous for.

 

“No?  Why not?” Martin asked

“Never any time.  You could never just lie around doing nothing.  You couldn’t just recklessly spend time like this.  It was far too ‘valuable’.”

 

Martin was quiet for a while.  Then he pushed himself up on one elbow.

 

“’Becc?” he began, eventually “What did you do in the City?”

“Haven’t I said?” she asked after a short pause.

“No.”

“Oh.” Another pause. “I was in the… hospitality industry.” She said finally.

“Okay.” Said Martin “Is that something you might do here?”

“No.” Rebecca said quickly.  “No, I will find something else to do here.”

“Fair enough.” Said Martin, guessing correctly that it was time to change the subject.

“Well, in the meantime you can just spend time…”

“Yes.” Rebecca agreed, feeling relieved.

“…and maybe sometime you would like to help me with my B’s?”

“Yes, I would like that.”

 

Martin lay back on the grass and covered his eyes against the sun’s glare, feeling very content.  Rebecca lounged next ho him and sighed, relaxing.  He could feel her shoulder just touching his.

 

Under the huge old willow, Scrabble regarded the pair with one open eye for a few more seconds, then shifted to a more comfortable position and drifted thoughtfully back to sleep.

 

They all lazed around the river for the whole afternoon, making sure it was watched properly.

 

Just spending time.

Catching Z's

 It was late in the summer.  The day was hot and humid and heavy, like living in an old oven.  Even Martin’s Bs were quiet.  There was nothing to do.

 

Martin was bored.

 

He closed all his curtains to keep out some of the heat.  It made his house warm and dim.  Then we wandered out the front door and down the lane to the house of his friend Rubber the E Raiser.

 

Rubber’s house was very quiet.  Martin tapped softly on the door.  There was no answer.  He padded quietly around the back and peeked into the living room.  Rubber and his wife Tahoma were fast asleep in their chairs.

 

Martin left them to their snoozing and headed up the trail by the river.  Just outside the town, Martin tapped on the door of a small cottage.  There was no answer.  Peering through the kitchen window, Martin spied Onyx, the owner’s black cat, sleeping in a shadowy corner of the kitchen floor.

 

No-one else was home.

 

Martin sighed and decided to walk home across Rubber’s fields of Es, which were not far away.

 

Along the way Martin passed a huge shady tree.  There was a figure lying on the cool green grass in the tree’s vast shade.  Martin wandered curiously over the see who it might be.  The figure turned out to be a girl with long red hair, lying on her back, hands clasped over her stomach, her eyes closed.  Martin knew that when they were open, they were of the deepest blue.  He wondered briefly if anyone in the world looked so pretty.

 

The girl opened her eyes.  “Oh, hello Martin.” She said sleepily.  “I was just catching some Z’s.”

 

“Hello Rebecca.” Said Martin.  “I told you this was a fine place to catch them!”

 

“Mmm, yes.  You were right.”

 

“May I catch some Z’s with you?” Martin asked.

 

“Certainly you may.” Rebecca said, patting the grass next to her.  “There are plenty to go ‘round!”

 

Martin lay down next to Rebecca and closed his eyes.  He folded his hands over his stomach.  His shoulder touched hers.  It was lovely and warm.

 

“What do you do with the Z’s after you catch them?” Martin asked eventually.

 

“I put them in jars for my friends in the City.”  Rebecca answered, her eyes closed again.  “They never have enough time to catch their own.  Their TSMs never allow it.”

 

“Their Time Sharing Machines?” said Martin.  “I know what they are.  The little machines that tell the City people what they must do and when they must do it.”

 

“Sometimes they are called Organisers.” Rebecca added.  “When I came up here I threw mine away.  It did not like that at all.”

 

“I have never had an Organiser.” Said Martin.

 

“You are very lucky.” Rebecca informed him.

 

The two new friends lay on the warm grass under the shade of the huge tree and spent a lazy afternoon, eyes closed, hands folded over their stomachs and shoulders touching (for this is the best way for catching Z’s).

 

 

Martin Meets Someone

 It was a very hot summer’s day.  Martin had been in his backyard, building a new hive for his B’s.  Soon after he came inside for a drink, there was a knock on the door.

 

Martin strolled to the door and opened it.  A very pretty girl he did not know was standing in the sun.  Her long straight hair was very red.

 

“Hello, I am Martin.” Said Martin.

 

“Hello, I am Rebecca.” Said the girl.  “I have been walking and it is very hot.  May I have a glass of water?”

 

“Of course.” Said Martin.  “Come in.”

 

Rebecca followed Martin into his kitchen.  He poured her a glass of cold water and put in some ice.  Then he made another for himself.

“We can sit on the back step if you like.  It is cooler there.” He suggested.  Rebecca agreed.  They sat on the back step.

 

“What are they?” asked Rebecca, pointing out Marin’s B hives.

 

“Oh, they are my B hives.” He answered.  “They are for my B’s.”

 

“Oh.” Said Rebecca.  She sipped her drink.

 

“Where are you from?” asked Martin, after he had crunched an ice block.

 

“I am from the City,” Rebecca answered “but I have moved here.  I live just outside the town with Onyx.  He is my cat.  He is black.”

 

“I have been to the City!” Said Martin “I went with my friend Rubber.  He is an E raiser.  We went to the market and to the beach and to Share X. Change the City God and I ate a lot of donuts.”

 

Rebecca laughed.  Martin thought he would do anything to hear that sound again.  “Yes, I am sure you did.” She said, her corn-flower blue eyes bright with amusement.

 

“Why did you move here?” Martin asked, mainly to make her talk again so he could listen to her voice some more.

 

Rebecca sighed “I wanted to catch some Z’s.” she said.  “There is never enough time to do that in the City.  I got so tired doing everything I had to do there and all I wanted to do for ages was catch some Z’s.  So here I am.”

 

“I know some great places to catch a few Z’s.  I could show them one day if you like.” Martin offered.

 

Rebecca smiled “That would be lovely.”

 

They sat on the back step and talked some more.  Martin fetched more iced water.  Rebecca talked about the City.  Martin told her all about the little town, and Rubber’s farm, and his Bs.  Sometimes they just sat quietly, drinking their drinks and listening to the hum of the Bs.

 

The sun began to fade.

 

Rebecca stood up and stretched.  “I must go home and feed Onyx.” She said.

 

Martin stood as well and they went inside.

“Thank you for the drinks and for a lovely afternoon.” She said when they reached the front door.

 

All at once Martin spoke “Did you know that once a butterfly landed in my hand?  It was very beautiful.  It rained a bit so I held a hand over it and then the wind blew I held my hand next to it so it was sheltered and could stay as long as it liked but I didn’t hold it too tightly to make it stay or I would have crumpled it and then it would not be beautiful anymore and that was the whole reason I wanted it to stay so I was sad when it flew away but happy because it had stayed as long as it liked…”

 

Rebecca cocked her head to one side.  Her hair fell over one eye.  The other looked at him quizzically.  Martin went red.  “Um, This afternoon has been a bit like that…” he said, suddenly embarrassed.

 

Rebecca smiled.  “You are a very sweet man,” she said “but I am not like your butterfly.”

 

“Oh.” Said Martin, cursing himself for having said something so silly.

 

Then Rebecca gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.  She smelled of orange and vanilla.  “Unlike your butterfly, I did not get to stay as long as I liked.” She said.  She walked to the front gate, waved once, then headed back toward the town.  The sun was setting fast.  To Martin it seemed she was taking the light and the colour away with her.

 

Martin sat on his back step in the warm dusk, listening to his Bs settle down for the night.  With his head full of the afternoon he had spent with Rebecca, Martin ate a whole box of donuts, but none of them tasted as good as her name…

 

Martin and the Beach

 

It was a warm night. 

 

Outside, the air smelled like Spring.  Martin the B Keeper and Rubber the E Raiser were feeling restless.  They decided to go for a walk.

“Let’s walk to the beach!” said Martin.

“Lead the way Martin.” Said Rubber.

 

They took Rubber’s dog, Wingdings.

 

They walked down the main street of town to the beach.  After all the lights of the street the beach seemed dark and cool.  Martin and Rubber walked along the sand, right next to the water so they could hear the waves lapping near their feet.  Wingdings ran off ahead, sniffing at everything.

 

Martin and Rubber walked until they came to the docks.  The docks were lit up, bright as day.  An old, narrow pier ran out to sea near the docks.  They wandered out to the end.

 

They could see a huge ship from there, all red and white in the flood lights.  Its nose was raised high, and trucks drove in and out of its mouth on its long metal tongue.  People were standing around on the decks.  Sometimes Martin and Rubber could hear them talking, but it was too far away to know what they were saying.

 

Rubber took his old pipe out of his coat pocket, stuffed it with tobacco, lit it and leaned on the piers rickety railing.  Soon sweet pipe smoke mixed with the smell of salt and sea.

 

Martin watched the ship.  “I wonder where it is going?” he said, mostly to himself.

“Could be anywhere.” Said Rubber, puffing on his pipe.

They both watched the ship, thinking about the exotic, far away places it might be going.

 

“Maybe it is going to Casablanca.” Rubber said after a while.

“Where is Casablanca?” asked Martin, tasting the new word on his tongue.  It tasted warm, like spice.

“Morocco, I think.”

“Morocco…” Martin thought that word tasted like coffee.  Coffee and spice. An exotic place indeed!

 

The two friends stood at the end of the old pier and watched the ship in silence, thinking their own thoughts.  Rubber refilled his pipe and puffed away.

 

In time, the trucks stopped driving in and out of the big ship.  Crewmen shouted orders, and machinery creaked and hummed.  The ship pulled its tongue into its mouth and its nose came down.  There was a deep rumbling as the engines started and, with three loud blasts of its foghorn, the ship left the dock and began turning out to sea.

 

People on the decks waved.  Martin and Rubber waved back, and watched until ship became a little bundle of lights in the darkness.  Then they called Wingdings and walked back along the beach, and home.

 

Back at the house Martin, Rubber and Rubber’s wife Tahoma sat in big old armchairs and drank hot chocolates.  Rubber talked about all the different places he had been to before he became an E Raiser.

 

Later, Martin drifted off to sleep in his bed, and dreamed of coffee and spices and places far, far away…