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I adjust the bandana so it covers my nose and mouth as my horse strides across the border. The plaintive wail of a trumpet plays in my head as I watch the rising sun cast long, human like shadows of the cacti across the arid landscape.
I know my quarry is out there somewhere. The money is good enough on this one to merit the risk of crossing into Mexico but I need to find him quickly and get back with my bounty.
Continue reading “Distance – by Ian”July.
The morning light started to seep itself through the closed blinds, like an unwelcome visitor, reminding me of the end to the night. I looked around the unfamiliar room. The clothes in a heap on the floor, of which only half were mine. The hanging pictures of the unknown smiling groups of friends seemed all to be looking at me, but their smiles seemed like judging smirks. The naked man who was snoring next to me with his unwanted hand grazed across my bare chest.
I gently slid it off, as not to wake him and sat up, kicking my feet off the bed and firmly planted them on the bare wooden floor. I tried to get my bearings as I felt the oh too familiar headache of a hangover start to pound in my head like a children’s brass band playing the national anthem, and none of them were in key! Continue reading “David by Michael Mann”
A girl stands by her parents’ car at the gates to the air base. They’re all looking for someone. The air is hot and smells of dust and pine needles. The road is lined with shops selling brass and carpets and souvenirs for the US airmen posted overseas. When this family return home, they will bring with them a carpet too big for any of the rooms in their house, a lantern and several dolls in traditional dress.
They flew into Turkey six months ago, just the girl, her sister and her mother, following her father. At first, they lived in a flat in a tower block. On each floor, the balconies were dark brown, curving out from the main tower. If you lay on the floor, there was a gap of about an inch. The girl would lie there until she felt dizzy, watching the busy traffic.
I sip my café com leite while watching two very pretty young women walk towards the harbour. They smile and wave to me, posing provocatively. I am tempted, but shake my head on this occasion. They mock me with false disappointment.
I call over to them: ‘Maybe later.’
‘Maybe never if you don’t take your chances,’ shouts the taller one.
The Jardim da Praça Ferreira de Almeida is awash with early evening sun. It’s raining lilac flowers from the jacaranda tree above my table. Few tourists are abroad and I savour the tranquil quietness between planes approaching the airport a short distance along the coast.
Continue reading “Typo – Steve Luckham”‘C’mon bruv I’m starving. What you doing in there?’
‘I’m ready.’
‘It’s good to see you after so long. Give me a hug man.’
‘Is it alright if we just leave?’
Continue reading “The Host – by Ian”