Author: maleghast (Page 28 of 35)

“Here it is at last.”

These were the words that accompanied my father dropping the paper on the breakfast table in front of me.

I looked up and caught the headline:

‘IRA Announces formal end to conflict’

I nodded and went back to eating. There was nothing to say. In the end it was what we all wanted, on both sides of the argument, most people just wanted to get on with their lives, for their kids to be safe. The old hatreds were dying out, and even where they were hanging on, like ticks on a dog, the truth was that even the most hard line soldiers were losing their stomach for it.

“Is that all y’re goin’ ta say?”

“Yes, Da.”

I could feel his eyes burning into my head, almost hear him trying to decide whether or not to start something with me about it, and then it came;

“Those bastards took yer Ma, and even then we won. Do you know what this means son? It means we’re right, we’re better.”

I looked up into his eyes;

“No, Da, it means that less boys will grow up without their Ma. That’s what it means.”

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

—

This Ficlet was inspired by the English Front Page of Wikipedia reminding me that on this day 3 years ago (28/07/2005) the Provisional IRA officially announced the end to it’s use of pursuit of armed conflict in the effort to achieve a United Ireland.

“Get up! You’re sleepin’ when there is a party goin’ on out here, man! Get up!”

That was woke me at six a.m. Todd is a great guy; friendly, generous, fun. The thing is he had taken quite a few drinks by the time he got to six in the morning and he wanted everyone else to be up still too.

I shot out of bed like there was a fire or something; scared out of sleep. I followed the sounds out of the room I was staying in and wandered into the living room to find Todd holding forth on the joys of Absinthe and exhorting other, bleary eyed people to have fun.

“There you are. Come and have a drink!”

He motioned to the empty seat by the table and pointed at a shot of Absinthe that was sitting there, waiting for me like a little green devil. I knew that I had more than a skinful before I had crashed out at half one. I knew that I should not, under any circumstances, take the shot. I looked at him and was about to say ‘no thanks’ when the green fairy took me by the hand and explained that I needed to have more fun…

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

The fog was sitting on the line as they drove up the hill towards the Martello Tower. Franklin loved the way that it always sat at a predictable height, the warm air and the cold bay conspiring to shroud the headland in a soft white blanket, safe from the world.

Jenna pulled the car into the side of the road and they headed up to the tower on foot. It was a long standing tradition of homecoming that they had kept since leaving for college. On the first day that they were both back in town they would head up to the Martello and blaze one up and tell each other the whole truth about everything that happened since the last time they had said their goodbyes at the bus station.

They found somewhere to sit, and Jenna pulled a loose joint out of her glasses case. She put it into her mouth, reversed, to gently wet the paper and make the joint burn slow, then turned it back and lit it, the zippo that she had always used sheltered by her left hand.

Franklin could feel himself being at home; it had been a long road.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

David backed away, on instinct he wanted to be further away from the ape. The open jaws, the sharp pointy canine teeth seeming to glisten in the bright light. There was an anger in the creature’s eyes that he could never remember having seen before in the otherwise docile beast’s behaviour.

Backing away was not helping, however. The ape started to advance quite quickly in fits and starts, not as if it were trying to catch up with David, but simply as if to maintain the distance between them. This was completely out of character, as far as David was concerned. He started to look around for why it might have come on.

He could not see any young that might have come along since had last been in that part of the jungle. Looking around the clearing he could not see any blood or evidence of injury, and the the ape was moving apparently effortlessly, not as though she were injured.

Then it dawned upon him; she may have been attacked by a human since he was last here. He hoped not; that would be most inconvenient.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

—

This Ficlet was inspired by the following image:

Photo by dboy (on Flickr)

The heat was what suprised him most. It had been a traditionally chilly July morning at Heathrow, but when he stepped off the plane in Newark he was struck by how much warmer it really was.

Now, standing by the exit of Terminal A at Newark Liberty International Airport he looked out at the crazy over-sized cars and the comings and goings and realised that the movies and television really did not lie; America really does look that way.

A small group of fellow travellers were swapping airline war stories;

“And then they told me the delay was due to poor weather conditions! Do you see any goddamn bad weather?”

“Oh I know. The last time I flew [deleted] they lost my bags. I was travelling for work and I could not change my clothes for thirty-six hours! I mean that’s not service, right?”

He smiled. It was good to be on holiday, to not have a care in the world. So his connecting flight was delayed; it did not really matter.

He wandered back into the terminal, into the bar and sat down.

“Sam Adams, please.”

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

“In nomine Patri, Fili, Spiritus Sancti, Amen.”

The small gathering of people mumbled their echo, and then began to walk away from the hole in the ground.

Ophelia was rooted to the spot, gripping the Incan necklace in her hands, willing them all to leave so that none would see her cast it into the dark cleft, to rest with Alonso’s body in this foreign ground.

Why had they come here? How had he persuaded her that the risks of the Peruvian jungle were worth taking?

She was crying now. The tears had begun to fall, silently, as the last footsteps disappeared out of earshot. She walked slowly to the edge of her husband’s grave and sank to her knees at the head end. There he was, bound in strips of cloth, as his will had requested. No coffin to keep him from the land he had loved so much. As she droped the golden necklace, sobs wracked her small frame and then a scream of pain forced its way out. She collapsed in the soft mud.

All at once she started; all around there were eyes in the jungle, watching her.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

—

This Ficlet was inspired by the contribution of a Place, an Item and an Activity on Livejournal by snorkel_maiden. They were; Peru, a Ceremonial Golden Necklace, a Burial.

In that moment he felt as though he could die on the next day and feel happy. Whenever he tried to explain it to anyone later the words sounded so corny, so meaningless, but in that moment, that place, that time, he had felt so complete, so utterly whole. In all the times that he had made love, had sex and even fucked both before and after, with her, with others, nothing had felt so utterly perfect as the moment he had slid inside her that morning.

They had locked their gaze, they were holding each other close. They were apart, and then they were one. Neither of them moved for a long, ineffable moment, and then their mouths had met and as the heat from their kiss had mixed with the heat from between their legs, their bodies had begun to move with a will and purpose all of their own. First fast and frantic and then slow and tender and then everything all at once. Neither of them could tell whether they had been locked together for seconds or minutes; moving, feeling and all the while staring into each other.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

“Is that really him?”

Looking through the peep hole into the small bare cell Jacob could not believe that he was finally in custody.

“Yeah, Jacob, it’s him. We took so long to find him and now that he’s here I can’t believe it myself.”

“I’ve heard the stories, but I’ve always assumed that he would, you know, look evil. He just looks like someone’s old dad; tired and infirm. Are we really sure?”

Werner just nodded, and then shook his head.

On the other side of the door Eli turned his face away from the door and smiled to himself. Did they not realise that he could hear them through the peephole; after all it was just a hole in the door. Already he was starting to see how he might at least cheat the death penalty if he played his hand properly.

His thoughts turned back to the killing times; the days when he had been empowered and encouraged to give full reign to his pleasure in dealing death. His smile widened. He knew that no one would ever understand the pleasure he took in it; it did not matter now.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

—

This Ficlet was inspired by the final capture of Radovan Karadžić on the 21st of July 2008, as reported on the English Front Page of Wikipedia.

You can find out about him here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Radovan_Karad%C5%BEi%C4%87

Clearly the above story is a fiction based on the widely accepted, but as yet unproven (in court) allegations that Radovan Karadžić is a war criminal; this story is in no way meant to be prejudicial nor is it meant to indicate that he is guilty before he has been tried.

“…take you down to the other side…“

The dub-step thundering out of the speakers as he threw the shifter up into third was having more than a little of the desired effect on his driving. Even under normal circumstances, when his stress was low or at least under control he did not play that CD in the car, but tonight was different.

He had been at home, just relaxing, watching a couple of the shows he had bought on DVD ; spending time just with himself. When the phone rang he assumed it would be one of his mates wanting to whine about Chelsea (again), or his sister looking for tech support. He did not even look at the display, just thumbed the green phone button and put it to his ear;

‘Hey, Jed here…”

“I need your help. I would not have called, but I can’t call anyone else.”

He could hear the fear in her voice; the timbre of utter despair edging its way in to make itself known as well.

“What’s happened?”

“I can’t… Not on the phone. Just come to Paul’s and bring some cash, please? A Ton, yeah?”

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

“Oh yeah and anyway there is a comfort in a place that you know so well you can see it in your mind’s eye when you are not there.”

I nodded; I understood what Luke was saying, but I still felt that he had misunderstood my question.

“I know it’s good to visit your family home, but I’m not really talking about that. What I mean when I ask ‘can you ever really go home?’ is not whether or not you are actually able to visit the place, or whether or not it is a pleasant or even bearable experience. I’m asking you if it is possible to still have the same relationship to your parents and siblings as you did when you were a child?”

He nodded back to me, and then sat for a moment, clearly thinking about what I had asked, as if he had never really thought about it before.

“I suppose it is about what that word ‘home’ means to you. For me it is a little bit about the people and the place, but it is more about support, acceptance and love and I can still find all of that from my family. So I can and do ‘go home’.”

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.