The short stories - extracts ↓
(Posted between June 2022 and July 2023.)
01. Emily
By R Howell
Word Count: 3419
A blight on settlements the world over, a particular unsavoury subset of multi-coloured murmurations had gathered in restless twitter about the town's main feeding hole to scrat around for scandalous titbits. Unerringly sensing that disturbing something haunting an old man's steps some flapped and warbled as he passed them by. "Why did that Fred never marry?"
But disappointingly there was no juicy answer from the others in the flock to pick over, just a hurriedly whistled, “Oh, him? He’s old news. Let him be.”
Except, they were wrong.
Download PDF: Emily by Raymond Howell
02. A Stone Fell
By R Howell
Word Count: 8025
Maybe worms had wriggled through the soil too much, or it just needed a change. Who knows. Whatever it was, a clod about the size of an elephant's foot suddenly and silently decided to let go of the grassy bank it had held onto for centuries.
A hairs crack appeared around it. Then with a virtually imperceptible tremble the clump shifted slightly to the right.
Then without due pomp or applause or gasps it fell.
There were no leaps or little bounces to celebrate the start of its once in an eon journey either. The clump simply rolled once and broke into many small pieces. Gravity always ready to poke around at lose things jumped in to send the pieces trickling down the bank's long curving slope before abandoning them at the river's edge. The soil was unimportant, merely the inconsequential shy heralds of an imminent change. As far as gravity was concerned the main prize lay elsewhere.
03. The Determined Builder
By R Howell
Word Count: 6445
The spinneys evocative, splendidly rich earthy air, zinged with magical incantations. Gently in ethereal play, the aromas assaulted Gladys's welcoming nostrils as she followed old familiar paths. Without the slightest regret for overindulging, her usual restrained habits were cast carelessly aside as she greedily and dizzily imbibed the air.
The richly delicious, kaleidoscopic tangs caressing her hungry lungs stirred a whole host of memories. From the many secret folds of her stout and robustly forward-looking spirit, they came out-a-dancing to fill her mind to overflowing. From there they passed on down to her almost flat, time-worn ageing feet, urging them on to take a lighter beat.
Download PDF: The Determined Builder, by Raymond Howell
04. She From The Sea
By R Howell
Word Count: 2864
I'm sitting lone and lonely, desperately so on this my seat, a weather-worn rock, staring out at the shrinking sea separating me and so many others from their dreams. A sea that knows me not at all, though if it could it would take my pathetic body and maul it upon the rocks for sure.
I’m still half wondering, should I let it?
But like so many decisions in my life, I got this one wrong. I was late so instead of deep surging swells the tide is just a gentle lick around my feet and not up to my knees or even as expected, higher… to smother me complete.
Download PDF: She, From The Sea, by Raymond Howell
05. Tommo Of The Wood
By R Howell
Word Count: 2163
Tom, Tommo to his mates, his gang, his life support system, sat miserably down upon the stunned and weeping stump of a newly felled tree. Only recently it had stood so regally, so innocently and he guessed happily in the little wood. Just like me in this once tree-studded realm, playing without embarrassment or restraint or care for historical accuracy. Or so his shell-shocked smirk relayed to no one but his lonely spirit that sagged with the realisation that it had no say in this world of adults prey. Or of businesses slay and their thoughtlessly driven possessive narcissistic need to impose decay.
Download PDF: Tommo Of The Wood By Raymond Howell
06. What If One Pops Up
By R Howell
Word Count: 5744
Perched on a very rare antique and priceless Louise XIIII, or so the police report suggested, two-seater piano stool, that was once the prized possession of someone incredibly famous until in a surreptitious midnight exchange it became hers, Edna bobbed sparrow-like before her beloved laptop greedily devouring the internet's latest news headlines.
Usually for Edna, it was a case of, ‘the more salacious the better’ but the news item she was scrolling through with such prima-donna aghast set her exclaiming excitably and squeakily, “Oh, no!” Which in a see-sawing passage through her thin lips nudged a faintly worrying “Hmmm…” to rise from her sister Edith’s throat. Was this to be one of Edna’s infamous dramatic head-in-the-cloud moments where she dashes outside and does something silly without any thought for her slowing abilities? She seriously hoped not. There was a casserole to put in the oven, the indoor plants to finish watering and with her slight headache she was in no mood to suffer unwanted attentions from idiot busybodies.
Download PDF: What If One Pops Up By Raymond Howell
07. Unicorns Live In Flowers
By R Howell
Word Count: 19968
Young Lucy St. Clair, aged seven, with her cute home-styled pixie hair cut, an ever quick smile and wonder-lit eyes, was returning home after playing happily as she always does down in her private 200-acre wood.
While the ancient wood nestles very nearly contentedly down at the side of her parent’s farm and official documents and bills and other such boring things state that the wood belongs to it, others, far wiser and older than humans would, if ever asked, suggest something very differently. Regardless of any quarrels of ownership that may or may not have arisen over the centuries, this wood has thankfully largely escaped human axes and other unwanted violations.
That extremely rare occurrence is not down to luck, nor is it an accident.
Every morning and on most evenings, including Christmas and birthdays and after completing her chores, Lucy with the unerring instinct of an investigative bee would head off to visit her special flower. It grew in only one place, a bed of green, red, orange and brown leaves dropped by the trees to bless the soil and provide shelter in winter for many creatures. It liked it there, for it never popped up anywhere else. The plant's chosen spot was near to the edge of the wood, close to a sprawling ancient oak, and just a little to one side of a fairy ring. It is also where the day's sunlight plays the most and the rain, when it falls, is the gentlest. Out of all the plants in what she calls her garden it remained in flower the longest. Whenever she is pushed to think about it, she is unable to recall a single day when its trumpet-like flower of purest white, filled with tall elegantly curved stamens, which she firmly believed were little unicorns rearing in greeting, was not there waiting for her.
08. Kate - My Bottom Draw Heroine
By R Howell
Word Count: 6399
Ghostly memories of my childhood summer holidays visit often. But not as poltergeists. Well, mostly not. They are like trusted companions whose company I welcome and enjoy. It is happily confessed too that the child within the adult is not ashamed to embrace their once younger self. He with the runny nose, unbrushed hair who dressed deliberately in a way certain to embarrass the parents. How can I ever be ashamed of that? Besides, the adult me would not be here today without him. To a significant degree, neither would I be here in my present position if it were not for a special someone whose spell that younger self willingly and gladly fell under. Or as I recall those times with a smile, willingly threw himself under...
Download PDF: Kate, My Bottom Draw Heroine, by R Howell
09. Espe, The Town That Never Rests
By R Howell
Word Count: 2851
Night draws in.
Suddenly, hundreds of fake moons flicker on to thrust thin silver fingers out to strangle the dying twilight to make room to pay homage to the drawing in of night.
Those statement-ranks of expensive bespoke streetlamps spread their gaudy but cold, white-silver light up and down the maze of hallowed pathways threading vein-like through the affluent commercial part of this town that never truly sleeps. Where it prises out the lonely, calls to the hungry, arouses the inquisitive while encouraging the criminal low and criminal high and those in-between uneasily disguised in floral shirts and paisley ties, or short skirts that flash thighs to raise sighs and low t-shirts to confuse the eyes but always and all with fingers itching to take punters for a ride.
Moths are the first to answer the ancient pull.
Download PDF: Espe, The Town That Never Truly Sleeps, by Raymond Howell
10. The Multiverse's Troubadour
By R Howell
Word Count: 1657
As the singer's last evocative note faded from the air but not from his heart Philip sighed heavily, "Oh to hear her singing live once more. If only..."
“You’re right about that”, a gentle voice agreed. “Her voice has fallen silent and that is breaking our hearts too.”
“What!” Philip shouted shock, while jumping up from a swivel chair he generally positioned more-or-less centre of his sparsely furnished room, where not even spiders can spin undetected for long. “Who said that? Where are you hiding! Show yourself!” As if there was anywhere in the room for anyone to hide.
11. At Twenty Three
By R Howell
Word Count: 1670
Twenty-three-year-old Maisie, is a nagging cat, who yes, occasionally sits, or lazes upon a mat, although it is believed she has never yet worn a conical, or a flat, or a corkscrew hat, or starred in a musical - now that's a fact.
She is just a cat who is not pure black, and lives indoors and occasionally snores. And whose nose is sprinkled with a few grey hairs, dotted randomly, like freckles, not placed in silly pairs, so unlike her long whiskers which she grooms with care.
She is a cat who simply sits and stares, through a window or into Niama’s eyes, as she prepares…, her food, as if issuing her a dare, 'get that lovely grub into my bowl you dear, and don’t mush the jelly - do you hear, do you hear?’ Or so Niama imagines her softly revved Rolls Royce engine purr to say.
12. A Child's Broken Drawing
By R Howell
Word Count: 1848
Daily, stories concerning the sexual abuse of young children and women by personnel in the United Nations Peace Keeping forces operating in the DRC briefly crossed an academic's desk. Then like a round-robin file, they were passed on to another and so on, until one-day curiosity stirred her conscience and she held back a file. Reading it more attentively she recalled a similar situation involving UN Forces elsewhere in the world causing her to wonder, surely, there's a paper in this for me?
So, with her universities backing she began investigating the claims.
Download PDF: A Childs Broken Drawing, by Raymond Howell
13. The Water Shortage
By R Howell
Word Count: 2093
"Oh Nigel you and the flat stink." Helen grumbled as she walked into the front room unexpectedly, startling Nigel at his deck where he had just been putting the last touches, or as some observers might suggest, the bleak touches to the next month's edition of his internet magazine, Death To The Planet's Enemies.
“And what’s with the dirty dishes all over the floor” she nagged while picking several up, only to find there was no room for them on the table because it was crowded with the rest of their dirty dinner service and used Tupperware.
Download PDF: The Water Shortage, by Raymond Howell
14. The Camera Shy Volcano
By R Howell
Word Count: 1899
The late summer's azure sky shimmered hazily above a group of tourists clustering like excited gannets on a thickly wooded slope admiring what the local guide had promised earlier that morning "will be a stunning once in a lifetime view." She had certainly not misled them. Neither were her innocently duplicitous words to be proved wanting.
From their vantage point high above the shrinking forest they could see the blue-green sea nibbling away at the land on one side while on the other, little farms and villages crawling across the landscape where trees had once marched slowly, but determinedly onwards. Or rather as the locals say in their songs, ‘now fleeing the forward march of the distant cities’, which to the tourist’s eyes daubed the colourful tropical skyline with ugly shades of menacing grey.
15. Wendy and The Lunchtime Wood
By R Howell
Word Count: 2845
Her white blouse was as blindingly bright as unsullied snowflakes before they inexorably descend to suffer soil's corruptive molestations. As she squeezed into the space at my side afforded by the narrow corridor the material gently billowed from her slender form. It was like a light cotton-wool cloud floating through an otherwise pristine clear blue sky, as suggested by her modest yet alluring skirt. It was of a light and dark blue tartan pattern, touched here and there with white, and created from a light shiny material that suggested sunshine, rather than the expected thick cloying winter of worsted wool. Her shoes and stockings were not noticeable then because her youthfully lithe but gentle movements distracted my attention away from considering such fine detail.
16. Abigaia
By R Howell
Word Count: 3352
(Warning. There are uncomfortable words in the full story)
Abigaia, or Abi to her friends when once they spoke, which was rare these days she reflected sadly while entering the house she never thought to visit again. So few of the old gang left she figured as she wandered through the dusty fusty bare rooms of her childhood home, shortly after the house clearers had efficiently done their job. She had not asked to keep a single thing. Well, it can't be taken to where I'll be going, can it, she reflected. Although neither sadly, nor angrily as reason would suggest she ought. Defeated might be a better description, but she simply refused to go and dwell in that maudlin place until she had to.
17. The Oldest Living Tree in 2082
By R Howell
Word Count: 2514
"Here we are Nigel." The forester said brightly. Thereby breaking the deep cloying, sticky spiderweb-like silence enwrapping their laboured steps.
It was not the sort of quietness that can and did settle companionably while he and his son wended through ranks of uniform trees growing around them much like sugarcane, straight and even, lichen and moss free, in the plantation-forest he managed.
No, not that sort of silence.
18. Wrong Answers
By R Howell
Word Count: 3024
"That was a fine fishing trip," James said, acknowledging the framed photo displayed so proudly on Alan's desk. It was much like the one he had on his own. Except in his version, they were not on a jetty and Alan was not beaming while holding a huge carp. Instead, they were stood before Alan's boat, full of bright expectations and gentle boasts.
"Yes it was", Alan replied with a light tease. "You can see I caught the big one that day James but what did you catch?" He chuckled, "Oh... Yes, I remember now. Nothing, zilch, not even a minnow."
19. Id Live
By R Howell
Word Count: 993
But I can’t write that," Paul protested. "It’s…"
But as the bacteria Richard had just released into the laboratory air took effect Paul’s objections evaporated and he fell silent. But not to brood. To marvel.
Richard, monitoring Paul’s reaction did not laugh at, or take pride in causing his friend’s sudden silence. When he subjected himself to the bacteria earlier that morning he was also almost immediately overcome by a sense of disbelief and wonder as he felt something awful leaving him. ‘Can it really be this easy to solve humankind’s issues?’ He had wondered then and since.
Download PDF: The ID Lives by Raymond Howell
20. The Unexpected Retirement
By R Howell
Word Count: 3024
"Yes, you're right, Simon. I do keep thinking one more good deal, and then I'll retire. Joan's been getting onto me a lot lately about it. Retire Malcolm, let's explore the country while we can. And I must admit the idea is appealing."
“It’s all well and good Joan saying things like that, but can you afford to retire Malcolm,” Simon his boss and friend wondered. “These are hard times you know. And personally, I think you’re a few years off retiring yet. Now go and be your brilliant self…” he said patting Malcolm’s back, which was as close to a hard push as he dared give. “...and convert that client. We seriously need their portfolio.”
21. I Can't Wait
By R Howell
Word Count: 2771
Reluctantly, but accepting it was a necessary step in the story he was living, not as a character, but as its author, eleven-year-old Adrian climbed carefully onto his meticulously made bed. If viewed, not as a bed, but as a birthplace of dreams, this font-of-fantasy resembled a precisely crafted birthday cake. The white under-sheet was pulled tight with neatly tucked corners while the duvet's Superman pattern was properly aligned and crease-less - exactly how Adrian liked it, but not on a conscious level. It spoke to his bullying Id. Mother has done this right. For their innocent part, the pillows were as white as icing and uniformly plumped and nicely smoothed off. Some might feel a twinge of pity before they spoilt such a look, but not this little man. He needed the space to sit in. So away those pillows went. But not too far for he had need of them.
Download PDF: I Cant Wait, by Raymond Howell
23. Rosy
By R Howell
Word Count: 1601
What can ever be said about Rosy that can truly bring her to life, especially to those who never knew her? I believe my limited vocabulary is simply not up to the task. I guess it could be said that she was fantastic. But that is too weak an idea for my liking. And she was not a conventional beauty either, and yet she was one of the most beautiful people I have ever met. I am talking in the past tense because that is where she is. Time as it does has moved on to an extent that a chasm has opened between us. A wide-throated chasm, one that can never be crossed, or certainly if so, then not safely.
24. La Maison De Désespoir
By R Howell
Word Count: 9098
The taxi slowly nudged into a square full of shabby B&B's which ordinarily the driver would have turned away from quickly. But he had a young passenger to satisfy and a wife to feed. He had driven halfway around the square when the passenger said, "Here Mate. This is where I need to be."
The spoken words did not reflect the passengers flight or fight instincts that arose in full splendour as he peered through the taxis window. They loudly suggested the very opposite. Need to Mike, yes, want to be, no.
But he had no choice.
25. A Women's Revenge
By R Howell
Word Count: 7979
"You like her, don't you?" Corinne teased in her shrewd way as the doorbell announced that our customer, a young lady, a mid-teen actually, Amanda, was leaving the off-license I manage with or should that be, in spite of, Corinne's assistance. Which mostly leaves me dizzy, or confused, but mainly breathless and not because I smoke too much.
And joyful most times too.
Oh yes, and in frequent need of a cold shower.
26. Those Dreams
By R Howell
Word Count: 912
Oh, the sheer joy of rolling into a bed with crumpled sheets and the way they welcome and enwrap this tired body in their gentle folds. And pillows comfortably indented with the shape of last night's doze, so ready to warmly accept my head in further repose. It is like I left the bed merely for a momentary spell to relieve cramps in toes, or for a sprinkle or a mouthful of water - those sort of things that annoyingly happen, you know.
Or I've risen suddenly because of that Claxton which sounds off inside heads to announce, "The host is abed and slipping into sleep."
27. Bernard The Hedgehog
By R Howell
Word Count: 912
"Why do you call yourself Bernard De Hedgehog?" A rather pompous visiting Hoopoe once asked Bernard. "Surely De in French means 'of'? So you silly prickly plain thing, how can you possibly be... Bernard of Hedgehog?"
Download PDF: Bernard De Hedgehog by Raymond Howell
28. Silently Loud Screams
By R Howell
Word Count: 1126
My Jean means the world to me. As I once did to her. But now she no longer knows me.
I might be a stranger in her new world but I still know and love my Jean and it’s crippling to see her this way, covered in tubes and flanked by monitors, lost to herself and all her friends. And to me too. Her husband, her once lover, friend, companion, nurse and now the guardian of her shell.
Download PDF: Silently Loud Screams by Raymond Howell
29. आशा - Asha
By R Howell - June 2023
Word Count: 4028
It was yet another relentless summer of dry bones, dying loams, sickening goats, crawling barren soil and ponds without a float, in a land ablaze with physical and social war, a land so empty of hope, a land taken by craze.
Through it all, footsteps firm and strong but soundless fall, heralding a promise of much to all. And will gladly give it to, if those watchers of that approaching her ever care to properly look above their anger to properly note that special she without a shawl. If they could ignore that defiance to their rule and stop awhile to listen with open heart to her sweet melodious voice, they might hear it flow as bright as once waterfalls now sadly dried and lost to nature’s pull. If they do ever care to listen well to her non-binding spell, she will gladly bless them all.
Download PDF: आशा - Asha, by Raymond Howell
30. The Rabbit
By R Howell - June 2023
Word Count: 3931
A rabbit with the not-so-usual name of Dug was happily doing what a domestic rabbit so often does - eating.
Although it is not all he does and Dug is not his original name.
It used to be Digger until a cheeky rat happened along. “Digger, aye” the rat chortled as he read the rabbit’s name painted clumsily in red on the door frame. “Stuck in there you ain’t a Digger in the present tense are ya? You’re more a Dug past tense!” And that is how the rabbit got the name he uses, Dug Past Tense. Which conveniently nicely shortens to Dug.
Download PDF: The Rabbit, by Raymond Howell
31. Immortal Blue
By R Howell - June 2023
Word Count: 5168
Living halfway up a mountain can be lonely. It's worse still when the dwelling is draughty, but other than that, it makes a perfect hideaway. Such a place is also ideal for concealing secrets where in this case it has served an individual, one peculiar in manner and habits, very well for an extraordinarily long time. Although Blue, the occupier, if he ever had a human friend to converse with might blow exasperatedly, "But it's a bugger of a job getting seawater up here."
Download PDF: Immortal Blue, by Raymond Howell
32. Immortality And The Inquisitive Boy
By R Howell - June 2023
Word Count: 5300
An awestruck but quietly issued sigh, "Oh, to be immortal," passed an inquisitive boy's lips to be followed immediately by an internally ringing, 'Imagine all the things I could do if I was...'
That long, slow, sigh struck the air in a gush of emotions while the immortal-super-hero’s film the boy watched in the local cinema inexorably, punch and kick by toothy smile and flirty pose climbed towards its thrilling climax, only for the final moments to be spoilt by scenes of sloppy kisses, over-white smiles and insincere acting shamelessly splattered with hints of a sequel.
Download PDF: Immortality And The Inquisitive Boy, by Raymond Howell
33. Tenichi's Streaming Scream
By R Howell - July 2023
Word Count: 3082
The last wispy strands linking Tenichi's fragile spirit with his mind finally let go. Only a compelling need for his soul to scream and scream, "My Mai, My Mai, My Children, My Children" stopped him from turning into one of the tribe's legendary invisible people. Crashing blindly through the thick forest, driven by panic, fear and bitter tears the staggered fall of his bare feet drummed no happy beat, where joy once guided them so sure and fleet along those secret paths known only to the creatures and his fellow hunters, which he could follow so easily with baby toes but now stumbled along, hindered and tripped by despairs throes.
Download PDF: Tenichi's Streaming Scream by Raymond Howell
34. Off To Uni
By R Howell - July 2023
Word Count:2200
Rejoiner: This very short story came about after listening to a section of an autobiography called the Gap Year written by a member of The Birmingham Writers Group which was about his gap year in the 60's. The story ended as he and his girl friend set off to University together. Naughtily, I took the liberty of moving the story onto a conclusion not included in the reading.
My gap year that had started with so much promise but gave very little back during its time hit the sweltering sun of July where it sat basking on the beach for a little too long... Until that heat-hazed unimaginable September that lay so tantalisingly in the background, like a distant sea skulking far beyond the horizon while I, Gregg, lazed on a beach in a blissful dream state and almost forgot about it until it came crashing in with a Titan's roar.
Download PDF: Off To Uni - After A Gap Year, by Raymond Howell
35. The Fly, The Dawn and War
By R Howell - Dec 2023
Word Count:938
A four minute read
The roots of an inky solemn night, broken only by the spotted pulse of faraway light, glimmered faintly grey as it entered the twilight of its day.
Then, as if the rising breeze had scooped up dew to wash the stain away, pale-yellow tints emerged in a tremulous display, before deepening into the golden tips of heaven’s heraldic rays.
While humans prepared for war.
Download PDF: The Fly The Dawn and War
45. An Addict's Family life
By R Howell
Word Count: 6271
Brassic. Partied out. Full of I'm it struts. Glowing from a long weekend of smoking, snorting and injecting a festival of mind-altering substances. Fidgety too after being in the easy company of a bunch of uninhibited chicks and like-minded mates. Simon or Chicken-Scratch as he was known to both police and friends, was finally heading home. "Got to get off for a reload." He told the party. "Gotta see er indoors and get money and a change of gear."
Into the face of his mate’s worry about the dealer he owed, he laughed. “I’ll be alright. I’m invisible. I’m a ghost me. Those pillocks, Bill and Ben the enforcement men, can’t touch me. I’ll see ya at that party later on.”
46. Aunty
By R Howell
Word Count: 5828
(The Characters in this one are borrowed from The Ann Stories)
A tall self assured lady of indeterminate age strode purposefully down the ex-vestibule, past the long rows of sour faced saints lining each side which the present occupiers, The Sanctuary did not have the heart to remove though they have considered adding a splash or two of cheerful colour to their cheeks, and on through the double swing doors at the end which regardless of how many times they are adjusted, twice that very morning alone, they still clattered loudly to a close behind her.
Ignoring the noise she strode on and through the old nave passing the small cubicle like rooms where rows of pews once sat, until turning right at the old altar now adorned with a couple of spare fluffy pillows, leaflets and empty plates…
47. Secret Soil
By R Howell
Word Count: 8742
"You know Lori Appleton still asks about you?" Tippi, my younger sister by four years asked almost as soon as I answered the phone when it exploded into unexpected life one peaceful, and nearly very happily so, Saturday lunchtime seventeen years ago.
And just as the home-made tomato soup with cheesy croutons and a side serving of crusty herby bread was about to be served too! I had been looking forward to that.
But in her way instead of stating her purpose and ending the call quickly as I would want, she proceeded to chat idly as if it was an everyday thing between us, rather than our first conversation in thirty years. Or so I rapidly calculated. Maybe even longer, I can reflect now in the welcomed safety afforded by the distance of time.
I was sorely tempted to snap, 'how the heck would I know that!
48. That's When I Died
By R Howell
Word Count: 2456
I was asleep.
Then suddenly I wasn’t.
Why I awoke I had no idea.
My bladder was not calling.
The throat so often raw from snoring was for once calm, although I did cough several times. Of course, that encouraged an alarming erg, cancer!
But then before I could fall further into an aged-ones morose self-pitying reflections, such as why was I liberally dowsed in Johnson’s Baby Power as a child, and come to that as a young teen too and other such concerns, from the corner of my bleary eye I spotted a strange ‘thing’ hovering near to my bed.
Did I jump? No.
Scream? No.
Poop myself… No, gratefully.
I did what any rousted from a deep sleep, sight-challenged person faced with an anomaly, or the sudden blooming of a cataract would have done. I rubbed my tired disbelieving eyes, thought what the... and squinted while loudly passing wind and fumbling in the dark for my glasses.
50. Before The Love Note
By R Howell
Word Count: 2100
A chat with shadows on a bright but coldish day.
Part 1
Despondent, I lowered my creaky, woebegone frame down onto the cold pavement outside the post office on the High Street.
It’s my spot, where I rest my weary back against bike railings, the place I call home. It is not where I contemplate god though. That he/she presence deserted me a long time ago. Although, I do look up and say hi now and then, just in case. But so far no giant Blake-like finger has parted the clouds. And no voice has boomed, “it’s his turn for a spot of luck”, so I guess it’s true, he/she and I are not pals anymore.
As I narrowly miss plonking my butt down on a large gob of discarded chewing gum my temper rebelled. It wanted me to shout. Oi! I’m no different to you! How would you feel if my ragged shoes were to traipse dog muck across your floor? Well!
I didn’t. How could I? I have no voice because no one will listen. As I watch your legs pass, I feel the urge to cry, I am, I want to love, I want to be loved, I want to matter. But I don’t. Because the only answer I’m likely to receive is an official tug. Along with the words, come with me you’re under arrest for disturbing, or more realistically, offending the peace. So I am cowered into quietly accepting fate. Where I mourn because I know the taking away of my voice is the final insult. As is killing free speech and the binding of freewill is for you. Which those in authority continue to do.
So, as I said, this place is home, kind of.
51. The Love Note
By R Howell
Word Count: 9362
Like at the start of so many stories, but less so in reality, the sun was shining while the wind was little more than a teasing lick. Optimism stirred my ever-present hunger. It was time to hurl my worthless self at humanity's feet, to ask for mercy. Or more correctly, for help but for a homeless person they go hand-in-hand.
On this particular morning, I slung my usual cardboard sign around my neck upon which, tongue in cheek, I had scribbled ‘poor writer needs support’. It was not a lie, not really, leastwise I don’t think so. It was a misdirection. I have written things. Which if I recall rightly the last was a letter to the tax man begging for leniency. But I jest, I wasn’t begging. I was demanding. But that was in another life - while the other part of my cardboard sign was blazingly true. I do need support.
Plus a few other shorter stories. You called My Name, Ardour So quickly Lost, Edmund Get In Here, plus oodles of modern verses by Raymond Howell.
And then of course there are The Ann Stories and Uma - The Little Flower Of India, again by Raymond Howell.
Updated:- July. 2023
Comments please to ray@theannstories followed by .co.uk
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