Tag: pregnancy

Fiction: Prisoners

Posted on by bryon

Horace knew he was being a coward and berated himself for it. But the thought of what he was leaving behind set his feet moving toward London’s navy docks.

“An’ where are you going at this early hour, young man?” a man’s voice boomed.

Horace spun to his right.

“Shush, Evan! People are trying to sleep.”

“Notably the people you’re sneaking away from,” the old man said.

Horace grimaced but didn’t contradict Evan Smith. “That’s none of your concern.” He started walking up the street again and wasn’t surprised to find Evan tagging along.

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Fiction: Released from the Morgue

Posted on by bryon

The seating hostess led Emily and her mother, Amelia, to a booth. In due course, a waiter took their luncheon order and delivered drinks and salads. When he disappeared again, Amelia opened the conversation.

“I am growing weary of that measured look you’ve been giving me since we met outside, Emily. You have something on your mind. May I know what it is?”

“Do you know what the Herald has been doing over the course of the last several years, Mother?”

“That’s a rather oblique answer to my question. No, I don’t believe I do know what the Herald has been doing. Does it have anything to do with your unusual mood?”

“Indeed it does,” Emily said. “The Herald, bless its editor, has been steadily working to put all its past issues – the newspaper’s morgue, as it’s called – online. They’ve gotten at least as far as 1957.”

Amelia swallowed a forkful of arugula dressed with raspberry vinaigrette. “Have they?” A silent moment passed, and Amelia sighed. “Dear, if there is some point to be made here, please make it. I’m too old to play guessing games.”

“Nothing about that year rings a bell?”

“That was the year the Russians launched their Sputnik, as I recall.”

“And you launched something else.”

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Fiction: Reindeer Games

Posted on by bryon

She was the sexiest reindeer at the Memorial Day festival.

Cori wore a brown crop top, brown short shorts, and high-topped suede boots. This would have been sufficient to draw plenty of attention. But she also wore a green sash with sleigh-type bells sewn onto it every few inches that jingled when she walked. The end of her nose was painted black, and she wore a headband with felt antlers attached.

Many people stared at and after her, but not many spoke to her. When they did, it was to ask the obvious question: “Why are you dressed like a reindeer on Memorial Day?”

She would smile and say, “I’m looking for someone.”

Cori wasn’t sure the person she wanted to find would be at the festival, but it was her best chance. So she walked through the crowds of families and friends scouting for a face she hadn’t seen since February.

Then she got the break she needed.

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Fiction: Correspondence

Posted on by bryon

Welby —

So deucedly sorry to do this to you, rushing off like a fox with hounds baying aft, but you know how I am.

You have told me you’ve paid the last of my gambling debts you intend to, and I admit you’ve been more than generous in that area. And you fixed that little misunderstanding between myself and the museum over that damaged painting — which I maintain I was not to be blamed for. Oh, and that jeweler’s concerns over the diamond brooch that somehow slipped into my pocket at his establishment. Along with various incidents at the club. But I sense I’ve come to the end of much of your kindness, and that’s only too easy to understand.

Thus, I am asking for nothing more than your forbearance as I toddle quietly and quickly away from London for some unknown length of time. Oh, and for the £100 I’ve liberated from the company safe for expenses. (No safe is safe from me, ha!)

But, you see, there’s a matter of the young woman I’ve been seeing — I believe I’ve introduced you to Beatrice — and her unborn child, which she insists upon a stack of Bibles is my doing. Now, it may be or it may not be, but she’s talking the most hideous rot about marriage and family. To be frank, it’s deeply unsettling.

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