Widow Margaret
The small teacup was an inherited piece. It clinked gently as her guest stirred with a sterling spoon, another heirloom.
"I see you went for the formal treatment," he smiled.
Nervously, Margaret smoothed imaginary wrinkles in her evening dress. She'd never worn it out of the house; a little black number bought for the late husband's business dinners. She put it on sometimes, just to mourn lost opportunities to dress up. She rarely mourned the man long gone.
"Tell me about your late husband." His smile was gone, but amusement animated his expressive face. A well-trimmed beard framed angular jaw. Just a dash of salt danced with the pepper of his facial hair, appearing again at the temples. He could have been forty, or he could have been seventy. If seventy, he carried it like a Hollywood superstar. If he was forty, it was the perfect balance of having lived a reckless youth that turned wiser with age. Completing his likeness to Hollywood royalty, his confidence and charm reminded her of Clooney. A boy and a man, and all the more handsome for it.
She startled at his demand, taken aback. He liked his little games, having already known about her husband. He knew the pain of loss was still fresh, even if years old.
"What would you like to know?" Her voice almost didn't shake.
"Sir." He spoke it casually, as he began to sip his tea.
She blushed. "What would you like to know, sir?"
"Are these fig newtons?" He gestured at the polished silver tray she'd sat out for today's meeting.
"They're apple."
"Like Eve?" He chuckled, taking one and nibbling.
"I suppose so, sir. Do you like them?" She hazarded a shy smile.
"They're delightful, Maggie. And so are you!" His rich baritone lifted her spirits with the praise, and her smile broadened. "But stop stalling."
"He was a bastard, sir. A right bastard. But he's all I had."
"Go on."
"When you asked me, all those years ago, and I said yes, I thought things would get better."
"Well, now, Maggie. Let's keep this about him, not us. Focus."
Turning a deep shade of crimson, she fidgeted with the hemline of her dress that had stayed closeted since being purchased. "He beat me, sir. He called me names, claimed I was broken because I was barren. I gave him no heirs, and I gave him no pleasure, he said to me. Almost every day."
"Even on the day that you killed him?" He said it with a smile, sitting down his teacup. "This was excellent tea, Maggie. I have to say, I think the secret is your heavy cream."
Her heart stopped.
"I didn't kill him, sir. You did."
Silence filled the little living room of her one-bedroom walk-up. It was all she could afford, after the estate was settled. The house in Brent had been the first thing to go, so now she had a flat in Harrow.
She was the first to break under the deafening quiet.
"Would you like some more tea, sir?"
"I'd like you to admit it, Maggie. Confess."
"But...sir. Sir, I didn't lift a hand against him! You know that!" She clutched the hem in both fists.
He laughed. "Maggie, why did you call this meeting with me?"
"I'd like to renegotiate terms." She shocked herself by not stammering.
His eyes widened in genuine amusement, and he leaned back on the small sofa. Gesturing to her to continue, he listened.
"When we last spoke, you told me I could be free. You let me believe that you had the solution to my problems. You swore that no man would ever raise another hand to me."
"And, Maggie, has a man raised a hand to you since our conversation?"
"No, sir, that's just it. No man has so much as touched me since Harry...died."
"That's a shame, Maggie. You're a lovely woman." As he complimented her, he placed a hand on her knee. He gave a friendly, if slightly flirtatious, shake.
Her heart skipped a beat at the touch.
"You promised me freedom, but look at where I am. I'm nearly living in squalor, sir!"
"Ah, Maggie. You rule here. This is yours. Your domain. You are the master of everything around us. Is that not enough?" He grinned, and she found his wink disquieting.
"I'm grateful for what I have, but, sir, I used to have so much more."
"And you were forsaken, Maggie. Unappreciated. Undervalued. Abused. Disrespected and disillusioned. So you cast off your chains and chose to fly!" He laughed, delighting in the retelling of an old tale.
"But, sir, all I've done is fall."
He grew serious, and the dark look that clouded his face scared her more than a little.
"You chose to jump. Some of us were thrown. Be grateful for the time you have left. You still have much life to live, and it could be worse. Far worse. You'll know soon enough how well you have it here."
It could have been her imagination, but she was relatively sure she could see wisps of steam rising from his skin.
"So our agreement, then..." she trailed off, surprised she had the courage to speak at all in the face of his flared temper.
"It stands. As written. I've kept my end, to the letter."
"What of a man?"
He regarded her from across the couch.
"I told you they'd never raise a hand to you again."
"But I didn't realize that meant I'd never be touched for the rest of my life!"
He smirked.
"Maggie. You can have a night with me."
Her heart stopped. Longing, fear, disgust, hope, dread, and lust all competed within her, tightening her chest and making it hard to breathe.
She whispered, "At what cost?"
She knew it wasn't her imagination when his eyes briefly glowed red, then returned to normal.
"It's already in the contract, my sweet. You really should read the fine print."
Fire Wood
Jonathan Wood was the woodcutter of his village, every day he would go into the woods and find the best trees. He would spend hours just cutting and cutting, many times, overwhelmed by the joy of his job, he would cut more than he could carry. One evening, he encountered a tree with red leaves and wood as black as ink. The tree wasn't there yesterday, neither had he ever seen such a tree. Doing what he does best, he struck it with his axe. The blade stabbed deep and with ease. It felt more like human flesh than wood. When he removed the axe it was covered in blood. There were people who would pay a great fortune for such rarity. He gave it another stab and an apple fell from it, but he had no interest in the red fruit. He only thought about what goods the tree would bring him: "With you, I'm going to buy drinks to my mates," chop. "I'm going to give to the poor," chop. "And I'm going to buy a pet companion." chop. The tree collapsed. It gave him such glee that he jumped to commemorate, but before his feet landed on the ground the tree burst into flames. He desperately looked for a way to put it out. But it was too late- the tree was down to ashes. "My tree!"
"Your tree?" Said a short man in a cloth made of lizard skin that hid his face.
"Yes, I found it." Said Jonathan.
"Well, I planted it, so it's mine." The man approached the apple, but Jonathan quickly grabbed it.
"This land belongs to every man," said Jonathan. "What grows here belongs to the first man to cut it or kill it." Pulled up his axe.
"I see," his wrinkly hand reached his pocket. "I'm a fair man, how about if I make you a deal." He took out a golden dusty bell. "I'll trade you my broken bell for your apple."
"Broken?" Said Jonathan.
"Yes, its tongue has fallen. It no longer makes a sound. I now only use it to put out candles."
The bell seemed gold, no point in asking, surely the man wouldn't be honest. But again, it's just an apple. "Deal." They shook hands on it, swapped items and each went on their own way.
For the first time in ten years, Jonathan came back from the woods without timber. It was too late to ask his merchant friend the bell's value. It was time to end the day- he put out the bedroom's candle with the bell.
The next morning, Jonathan picked up the bell to uncover a spark beneath it. He brought his face closer to check- a gold tear, in the shape of the flame, resting on top of the candle. Confused with this gift, he took it with the bell to his friend.
The merchant told him the bell was worthless: "The apple would've tasted nice, you should have kept it instead. That gold tear, on the other hand, I'll pay you well for that." And he did, more than Jonathan's weeks' earnings. "Where did you find this piece of gold?"
Jonathan was a clever man and knew when to keep a secret. "Lucky find in the woods, I guess."
"Be careful then. Don't you know about last night's fire?" He told Jonathan about the mysterious fire, it burned during the night and it suddenly stopped this morning. Trees are to Jonathan what paper is to a writer, but his excitement couldn't be overwhelmed by this tragedy.
Back home, he pulled out his bell, and his eyes looked into a sea of opportunities. He had the key to his impossible dreams, which he was determined to use to unlock his new life.
Jonathan went back home, he lit a candle and killed it with the bell, but when he removed the bell there was only a tiny grain of gold.
He lit another candle and put it out with his bell, but he didn't remove it. He waited- hoped it would cede more gold. He saw from the window a black cloud over the woods, the bright flames could be seen swallowing the green valley. He picked the bell and the bright distant flames died out.
"The bell creates fires... I would cut them anyway, this is quicker. I'll no longer be a slave of my passion and live with only pennies in my pockets."
He spent his money on his friends, helping them as much as he could. Soon after, new friends came, and then more, but every conversation sounded the same "Can I ask you for a favour?" Even his old friends conformed with the crowd. From then on, he only spent his fortune on him. He had several parties with only him and well-paid women. It was a daily challenge to spend all of the gold, he was afraid jealous people would steal it. If there was any gold left by the end of the day, he would spend it all on alcohol. He felt disgusted with himself every time he woke up oblivious about the previous day, many times with a woman and a bottle beside him. He always promised to himself that he would never again be corrupted by greed- a promise never kept.
One morning, Jonathan found strength to fight his greed; he looked at the bell on the candle- tried to resist the urge to pick it up, knowing only an empty pleasure would come from it. Woefully, he was too weak, grabbed the bell and was surprised to find no gold.
The chains of greed were broken.
This new liberty overwhelmed him, he travelled with his axe to the forest- returning to his passion.
The flames of grief burned his heart when he saw it: a sunless sea of black dust. He collapsed like timber onto his knees, breathed the air of ashes, and rested in the silence of the emptiness he seeded.
A Mother’s Love
Oh baby mine, what can I do?
The darkness has a hold of you-
Bubonic plague, remove the child-
Unloose the babe you have defiled!
Delivery of lifelessness
Is what you left as I confess
A ghost is all that you may see,
However, with eternity
Amazing secrets are revealed.
The truth released is not concealed,
And I am here to challenge Death-
Return my child the gift of breath,
For I am pressing in to steal
The life you take and as I heal
An infant, come and wrestle me-
Oh Death, I offer openly-
Return the fullness of his health,
And I will garnish you with wealth.
You cannot bargain with a ghost?
Contentious fool, you choose to boast?
Unfortunate that you decline.
Remorse shall be your concubine!
The baby you have come to kill
I cannot pass into your will.
Prepare to meet a different fate-
Relinquish him from heaven's gate!
Unhallowed beast, a robe adorned
Is nothing to a woman scorned
For fury of a hellish Saint
Enrages black, the color, quaint,
About your body, nothing new.
Oh yes, my god, I know the view-
A mass of skeletons connive
Unless, of course, I did survive
To cling to life, a purpose, serve
The baby who does not deserve
To forfeit life at your behest-
Oh really, now I pass the test?
And what, I wonder, willingly,
Consider you eternally?
Oh, God above does not agree,
And though a pagan and a tree
Consist of who I used to be,
Destruction of this devilry
Enlists a mother, riddled plea-
Corrupting sickness now must flee!
Away and haunt us here no more-
The child my heart and soul adore
Escapes your grip as in a word,
Resists the measure he has heard,
For Odin's sake, the ravens fly,
Insisting that no child shall die-
Oh Death, take me and haul me off-
No longer shall my baby cough!
Around him, see my light engage,
And though your grimace full of rage
I cannot see in skull bound teeth,
I feel your presence like a wreath
About my neck hung like a noose-
Away! My child is free; is loose!
The measure of the rising sun
Ensures me now your wrath is done
For we are fading in the light,
And as we go, I win the fight.
A baby coos; a nurse maid calls,
So long, sweet boy, your mother falls
As Death and I disperse beyond,
Forever know we have a bond.
A knight arriving joins the fray;
Enables you for brighter days.
Unknown dimensions call me north,
And still I linger back and forth.
A mother's love can conquer all,
So as I pass beyond the wall,
The mark upon your heart I give
Repels the plague that you may live.
Remember me and do not grieve-
I smile as Death and I must leave.
Oh baby mine, forget me not.
A corpse may wither, stink, and rot,
However love is never far-
A simple thought and where you are
So, too, am I- now rest my dear,
And never worry, fret, or fear
Or delve into the realm of strife.
I leave you with the gift of life ...
Canine Copulation
The hound dog did this all night long-
He barked and howled a horrid song
Until I rose with no relief
And suffered from my sleepless grief.
The matter was a simple sport-
The neighbors were at odds, of sort
And one had such a lovely thing
In heat that made the hound dog sing!
The morning I arose to find
The lonely doggies bump and grind
Because I had released the noose-
The night before, I turned them loose
As wanton lust was made to do,
I sat and watched the hound dogs screw.
The neighbors called the cops on me,
But I just used fatigue, my plea,
And nothing filed and nothing charged-
The two dogs loved and in I barged
To find a place my heart could keep
As after weeks, I got some sleep ...
