Short fiction #44 “Galahs”
An Australian parrot called a Galah
The flock of galahs must have numbered three hundred, perhaps even as many as four hundred. Their pink breast feathers were shining brilliantly in the evening sun as they wheeled together as one against the deep blue sky. Their screeching could be heard many hundreds of metres away, and as they flew overhead, the flapping of so many wings sounded like a wave washing over me.
With much squawking and flapping of wings the flock settled on the powerlines near our driveway. Several of them couldn’t decide where to sit and they began circling around the others looking for a spot to perch.
The setting sun accentuated the beautiful pink feathers as they began to quieten and settle. A few noisy individuals spoiled the calm evening air.
A passing cyclist disturbed the flock which ebbed and flowed as one on its way the settle for the night in the trees up the hill from our home.
Peace at last.
All rights reserved. Copyright 2015 Trevor W. Hampel
Notes: although I have classed this under “fiction”, an incident like this actually happened to me about 5 years ago which prompted me to write this piece as a writing exercise. Above I have posted a recent photo of a Galah.
You see more photos of birds and read more about them on my other site Trevor’s Birding here.
Short fiction #43 “The Proposal”
The Proposal
Doris sat like a stone statue on the park bench. She’d been waiting now for over an hour, wondering when David would arrive for their date. She was starting to feel cold; the sun had almost set and there was a chill in the breeze. She had not dressed adequately.
She looked at the young couples walking arm in arm across the grass, along the paths and around the lake. Several couples were lying in the few sunny spots still available; at least one couple was in an amorous embrace. Far too passionate for public display she had been thinking, but her eyes could not stray far from staring at them. She longed to have a passionate embrace from a loving man.
David seemed to be the perfect answer: tall, dark, handsome – actually he was none of those things, but she loved to fantasise. There was no harm in dreaming. Besides, he was good looking, almost handsome. David wasn’t dark either; in fact, he was almost grey all over his considerable head of hair. Distinguished; that would be a better description. And tall – he was barely a centimetre taller than her, and she had never been called tall. ‘Squirt’ her brother had unkindly referred to her when they were growing up all those years ago.
Finally she saw David limping towards her. ‘What happened to you?’
‘You wouldn’t believe it.’
‘Try me.’ She stared at his leg as he gently rubbed a sore spot. ‘I might just be convinced.’ He didn’t see the smile on her face.
He groaned. ‘I can’t believe the day I’ve had.’ He paused, as if gathering his thoughts.
‘Try starting at the beginning,’ she said. ‘It sounds like it might be an interesting story. Something for us to laugh at in our old age.’ She giggled nervously. The withering scowl in response told her it was time to shut up and listen.
‘I was trying to sleep-in after the long movie I watched last night,’ he went on, ‘but the late cup of tea I made myself had other ideas.’
Picturing the situation she wanted to laugh, but caught her automatic reflex just in time. ‘Mmm…’ It was best to let David go on with the account. She didn’t want to hinder the flow of his story.
‘In my hurry to get out of bed my feet got tangled in my underwear.’ He sighed. ‘I’d carelessly left them on the floor just where there was a distinct possibility of potential tripping.’ With dramatic arm movements he attempted to demonstrate how he went sprawling across the bedroom floor. ‘No harm done really, except for badly bruised knees and a pair of glasses smashed on the wardrobe.’
‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘That’s not good.’
‘Not good?’ he said. ‘It went downhill from that point on. I managed to find my way to the bathroom without an accident and back again to the bedroom without further incident.’
‘That’s good.’
‘No – it gets better – or worse. I knew I had a spare pair of glasses in the chest of drawers. Upended every drawer on the bed and couldn’t find them. Took me an hour to put everything back again.’ David gave a deep sigh. ‘Managed to find something suitable to wear and made it out to the kitchen. When I went to get the milk out of the fridge I saw my spare glasses on top of the fridge. Have no idea how they got there, but finally I could see again. After a fashion.’
‘That’s good.’ Doris covered her mouth with her hand, determined not to giggle, and certainly not laugh. ‘So all that drama made you late for our date?’
‘No – that was just the beginning.’ He rubbed his knees, then his elbows and finally he gingerly felt his head. ‘Mid morning I had to walk down to the pharmacy to get my blood pressure medication. Stopped at the newsagent next door instead. I wondered why the girl laughed out loud. No respect from today’s youth.’
Doris realised that her shoulders were ready to give away the fact that she was also on the verge of laughing. ‘So she kindly directed you safely to the pharmacy?’
‘Yes – and no.’ David frowned at the memory. ‘She took me to the door like she was leading a two-year-old, patted me on the shoulder and said, “There ya go, dear.” I hate being patronised by young people in shops.’
‘Me too. My butcher calls me darling. Hate that.’
‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘I forgot that there are two steps up into the pharmacy. Made the first one, missed the second – and over I went.’ He gingerly rubbed his chest. ‘Think I’ve possibly broken a rib or two.’ He watched young couple who were still caressing passionately. ‘They were very good in the pharmacy. The young girls there helped me up, sat me down and took care of my script and all. Good service.’
‘So all of that made you late?’
‘No. As I came out some fool had left his dog tied to the rubbish bin. With these old glasses I didn’t see the lead and over I went again, this time cracking my head on the bench seat next to it. Gave me a whacking headache.’
‘So, did you go to the doctor to get checked out for concussion?’
‘No way. You need to be on death’s door to get to see the doc – and then you have to wait at least three weeks. No – I went home. And I made it without further incident, thankfully.’
‘That’s good.’ Doris was beginning to shake. She wasn’t sure whether it was from the cold – or suppressed laughter.
‘That’s not the end of it,’ he went on, ‘for lunch I wanted to heat up the leftover sausages from last night but instead of setting the microwave for 2 minutes, I pressed 20 instead. Burnt them to charcoal.’
‘That’s no good. What did you do then?’
‘Had to deal with the fire brigade.’
‘What? Why?’
‘The smoke automatically set off the fire alarm which alerted my neighbour. When he saw the smoke billowing from my kitchen window he called the brigade. I sure had some explaining to do.’ He paused.
‘But the firemen understood, I hope.’
‘Yes – they were great. I was that aggressive woman who caused all the problems.’
‘So there was a fire woman in the crew?’
‘No. She was the television news reporter. Another rude young upstart.’
‘So all that held you up and made you late.’
‘But that’s not the end of it. When I went out into the garden to check whether the vegetables needed watering, I tripped over the hose. My helpful neighbour had tried to use it on the house before the firies came, and he just left it there. Of course I didn’t land on the lawn – I had to land in the fish pond. Got soaked all over. If I’d drowned I’d have sued my neighbour.’
‘So you then had to change into fresh clothes.’
‘That’s right. And because I’d sorted through my chest of drawers in the morning while looking for my spare glasses I had trouble finding things. I’d been far too systematic.’
‘I know the feeling. Did the same with my pantry a few weeks ago,’ added Doris. ‘It was all neat and tidy but I couldn’t find a thing. Then I couldn’t find my glasses either. I found them three weeks later behind two tins of baked beans.’
David turned and looked Doris in the eyes. He gently leaned over and kissed her with a long and passionate kiss.
‘I think we should get married,’ he suddenly announced. ‘We seem so suited to each other.’
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2015 Trevor W Hampel.
You can read more of my short stories here.
Short fiction #42 “The hovering shape”
The hovering shape
Ursula screamed.
It was the sudden movement in the shadows in the corner of the room that shocked her. Her scream echoed down the corridor, alerting John that something was amiss. He dropped the book he was reading on the table and hurried towards her. She stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the shape hovering by the drawn curtains. Wide-eyed with quivering lips she was suddenly aware of John pressing close to her.
‘What is it?’
‘There – in the corner.’ She pointed with a shaking hand.
He peered towards the spot where she was pointing. ‘Can’t see any…’ he gently pushed her aside and calmly walked across to the shape. ‘Here boy,’ he said softly. With a waggling tail the mysterious shape morphed into a black dog as it came into the light coming from the corridor.
‘Meet Luther,’ said John as he rubbed the dog’s head. ‘I brought him home for you as a surprise. He was an abandoned animal. I got him from the Animal Welfare League. Why anyone would abandon such a friendly dog beats me.’ The dog raised itself until its paws rested on John’s chest. It tried to lick his face.
‘Surprise?’ You call that a surprise? Blasted animal nearly gave me a heart attack. Next time you do something like that – at least give me a warning!’
All rights reserved. © 2015 Trevor W. Hampel
Read more of my short stories here.
Short fiction #41 “The empty chair”
The empty chair
The rain showers continued to sweep across the sky every five to ten minutes. It wasn’t rain, just brief scudding showers. The piercing cold wind that gushed through the landscape with every shower kept many people encased in their inner worlds, people like Jack.
Jack sat comfortably in his large chair, softened and contoured by his body from many hours on many days over more than five decades. He could see the clouds racing over the low hills just to the west of his small, comfortable cottage. The rain splattered briefly against the glass. He put down the novel he was reading, resting it on the crowded coffee table at his elbow.
Jostling for a place on this low table was a motley collection of mugs, perhaps nine or ten, brown, green, one black, chipped, old, stained from many cups of tea. Next to the mugs was an eclectic collection of books threatening to topple to the floor at the slightest nudge; several novels, a much used Bible with a grimy cover, two books on Christian philosophy, a small atlas, and an assortment of books of varying size, colour and topic. Perched on top was today’s newspaper, drooped languidly over the books and held somehow from slipping to the floor. A partly completed cryptic crossword faced the ceiling.
Jack looked at the dark clouds coming his way. He felt at peace, and so pleased he didn’t have to wander outside today. He hugged his faithful old jumper closer. The flames from the fire in front of him flickered and curled. He turned his attention from cloud watching to fire watching. The hypnotic dancing of the flames made him drowsy; he’d drift off to sleep at some point late in the afternoon, when the warmth of the flames and the tiredness of his eyes from reading lulled him gently to sleep.
He smiled. ‘So this is what retirement is all about,’ he declared to the empty room. ‘How long has it been? Ten, twelve years or so? I never seem to get bored, or regret leaving work.’
The memories of work surged back into his mind. He had enjoyed his many decades of teaching but he missed the children and working with his colleagues on a daily basis. He certainly didn’t miss the many meetings, the long hours of planning and preparation late into the evenings and the countless hours of marking books and papers. Now he had the time to read all those books he had accumulated over the years. He also had the time to just stop and think, or just relax and not only smell the roses in his wonderful garden but to also just sit and watch the birds, the butterflies and the bees.
He glanced out the window again. The dark clouds looming darkened the room even more. ‘Rain coming, by the look of it.’ He turned back to the fireplace, and then to the empty chair next to it. Despite his feelings of peace and contentment, this empty chair darkened the room more than the coming clouds. It brought a saddening chill to the room.
The chair had remained empty now for six lonely years.
Since Alice left him.
He still visits her grave occasionally.
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2015 Trevor W. Hampel
Read more of my short stories here.
Short fiction #40 “The Meeting”
The Meeting
Jane thought she was the first one there. She hesitated at the door. Did she have the right time for the meeting? Was it the right day? She had a habit of getting times and/or days mixed up.
In one classic example she had been an hour early catching the bus to keep an appointment in the city. The bus she should have taken had crashed, killing several on board. She felt relief – and a little pang of guilt. What if God had meant her to take the correct bus, and He had meant for her to die? What if now, as a result of that mistake, she was no longer in God’s will?
She couldn’t entertain that thought because it sent her head spinning. The logical extension of that was thinking about all those little decisions one makes every day. What if even one of them was not according to God’s perfect will for her life? Did that mean everything else was suddenly out of kilter? She blocked her mind of such thoughts, consoling herself with the thought that God had given her a free will to choose. All she had to do was to be prayerful, especially when confronted by big, important and life-changing decisions. That gave her a peace that calmed these troubled thoughts rolling around in her head.
Back to the situation facing her. She hadn’t seen anyone coming in from the car-park. She peered through the door; the lights were on. Good – someone was already in the building. She tried the door; it swung open easily and she juggled her way through it, balancing her briefcase, a few extra books she’d picked up at the last moment, her lunch box and the essential bottle of water.
The air in the entrance foyer was much warmer than the crisp, frosty air outside. Her heels clicked like gunshots on the hard floor. Jane continued along the corridor leading from the foyer, glancing briefly at the garish posters of coming events lining the walls. She stopped at the door announcing that it was the ‘Conference Room.’ She pushed open the door with her back, still trying to maintain some semblance of balance with the unwieldy load she was carrying.
She spun around to face the front of the room. She froze. Busily arranging items on the conference table was someone she hadn’t seen in years. Jeff looked up, surprised as she was.
‘Jane,’ he said. ‘How good to see you. How long has it been? Three? Four years? Or has it been longer?’ Arms outstretched, he was striding quickly over to where she stood glued to the floor.
‘Jeff,’ she croaked. ‘It’s been a while.’ The words almost choked her. How could she forget that momentous weekend in Sydney? Images flashed into her memory; scenes, thoughts and feelings she had tried to suppress in the intervening years.
Jeff’s outstretched arms embraced her, enclosing her in that unwelcome manner of a loathed relative. He gave her a generous kiss on both cheeks which by now were deeply flushed. It was not so much that his hug was unwelcome; it was more of a mixture of surprise, delight and discomfort knowing that all the stuff she carried prevented her returning the hug. Annoyingly, a small part of her desperately wanted to reciprocate, but a surging wave of anger made her just want to slap his face.
‘Let me help you.’ Jeff manoeuvred her gently towards another nearby table and helped her to unload. Always the gentleman, he helped as she took off her coat.
‘Thanks. I never thought you’d be here,’ she stammered. ‘Why are you here?’
‘Simple. The conference coordinator John is quite sick and couldn’t make it here today, so – ta da – you have me.’ He spread out his arms and Jane thought he was going to give him another hug.
She stepped back a little, nervously adjusting her top.
‘I must admit I was delighted – and a little surprised – when I saw your name on the list of participants. So what have you been up to?’
Ignoring his question she blurted out, ‘What happened to you after that weekend in Sydney? I never heard from you again, yet you knew exactly how I felt?’
Her outburst stunned him momentarily. His eyelids flickered a little and he took a deep breath. ‘Well, I know you must be disappointed, but you know how it is?
‘No I don’t!’ She knew she was getting in deeper than she had planned if they should ever meet again. ‘I don’t know how things could change so drastically from what we agreed to on parting.’
‘You don’t understand,’ he said. ‘I thought that…’ Before he could finish his sentence the door swung open and two more conference participants came into the room. ‘Welcome. Please settle in, get your name tags and make yourself a coffee.’ He turned back to Jane. ‘We will talk later.’ A warm smile and he turned back to welcoming more people into the room.
Jane felt like she had been dangling over the edge of a cliff with only Jeff’s firm hand-grip between her and certain catastrophe. Now it was more like just a fingernail holding her there. Jane found a seat towards the back of the room. Within minutes the room filled with chatter and movement until all settled down to listen. Jeff attended to the normal house-keeping announcements before introducing the keynote speaker. Jane saw the lips moving, but she didn’t take in more than a few words. She saw the images on the screen, but they were meaningless blurs.
Morning tea and lunch were crowded walls of noise. She longed to take Jeff into another, quieter place and continue their talk, but other people kept him occupied. Midway through the afternoon she saw him check his phone. She watched as he leaned over and whispered to someone before leaving the room.
She never saw him again.
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2015 Trevor W. Hampel
Read more of my short fiction here.