comes in like the fog

Tears spill over my cheeks as I stare at the putty-coloured walls. My home, my family, all gone in the fire. My skin will heal, but now I live here, in this dreadful place.

I see something move out of the corner of my eye and hold my breath. They say there’s a cat lives here, but the only people who see it are those about to die. 

An orderly appears and chides me. “Sheila, crying won’t help anyone. Why don’t you go play bingo?”

“Is Alice going to play?”

I peer across the room to see if my roommate’s eyes are open. She’s slept a lot lately. 

“I’ll get your cane.” The orderly leaves. 

Alice’s hand gestures in the air.

“What’re you doing?” I sound shrewish. It happens when you’re old. You lose the nuance of tone. 

Alice murmurs, “Kitty kitty.”

When the orderly returns, I gesture with my chin. “Thinks she sees a cat.”

The orderly’s eyes widen. She turns and stares a moment at Alice whose eyes have closed again. Her lips look blue.

She dashes to the door and yells at the desk, “Get the cart! Call Alice’s family.”

A nurse brings in a cart and the orderly gets me up. 

“Let’s get you to bingo while Joe helps Alice.”

It smells like disinfectant and peas in the hall. As I lean on the rail to walk down the stairs, I hear a purr.

A small grey tabby sits on the step.

I smile. “Kitty.”

------

Microfiction created for an NYC Midnight challenge

Cuthbert's Cafe

Written in response to an NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge, 2021.

In 1963 Halifax, cafe owner Kerry Cuthbert bears witness to the effects of urban renewal in her neighborhood and worries about her business. Meanwhile, her new young cook, Milton has dreams of challenging his social strata.

*****

“Milton!” 

Kerry’s sharp eye caught one of her good cornflower blue soup bowls going out the door in the brown hand of her baker. Through the front window she spied a wagging tail. Was that boy feeding the mangy stray dog out of one of her good soup bowls?

Kerry came out from behind the counter, and pulled on Milton’s shoulder. He was kneeling, letting the dog lap water from the bowl. 

“I’m sorry, missus, he was thirsty. He got abandoned when his people moved. Besides, this bowl was chipped, see?”

Sure enough, there was a large chip out of the rim. Kerry sighed. “How’d it get chipped, Milton? Those bowls aren’t cheap! You got to take care washing them.” 

“It was chipped when it came to the kitchen!” he protested. 

She looked out the door, past him, rubbing her forehead. It was early, the sun barely up and the far side of Gottingen was still mostly in shadow. The recently opened library nearby showed a few lights. Time was, this part of the street would have been a little more lively by now. Storekeepers stopping in for a coffee and chat on their way to work. Some of the office girls indulging in a doughnut. 

Milton headed back into the kitchen, his slim body pulling in on itself as he  passed her. The stray dog snuffled and slunk away up the road. 

She gazed after the mongrel, at the jutting empty space up the street. Maisie’s house had been one of the last to come down, and now her friend lived all the way out in Rockingham. They’d barely finished clearing the debris. City Hall said this was part of a bold plan to modernize Halifax. “Public good.” She harboured quiet doubts. 

“Hello, Kerry!” Edna was waving as she ran across the street from the library. “Can I get a quick cup of tea?” Edna had been ducking over daily for a ‘quick cup of tea’ for the last two weeks. Kerry suspected she was checking on her protege. 

Sure enough, she peeked behind Kerry, and whispered, “How’s he doing?”

“He’s fine, a real help. Thank you again, for recommending him. Mind you, he was giving the old stray dog water out of one of my good bowls, but he’s doing well otherwise. He’s got some fine hustle, Had the place swept and mopped before I got here this morning.”

“Oh, I’m so glad! I know that boy’s going to go places someday, you watch. He told me when he read about Dr. King’s speech last week, how it made his heart glow to hear parts of it. Said he has a dream too. Asked if I thought he could be an alderman someday. Imagine!”

“Well, I guess that’s something. Might be worth a chipped bowl, even.” 

“Morning, Miss Cuthbert,” a fellow in a hardhat called out as he and another man strolled in and slid into a booth. The work crews were a rough lot, but they were keeping her going. She passed them a menu. “I would love a fried egg sandwich with some ham on it, ma’am. And a good, strong cup of coffee.”

The other man piped up, “Just coffee and a doughnut for me, please.” 

She called the order back to Milton, and he remembered to check white or brown bread. He was cheaper than her last cook had been, for sure, and maybe smarter too. 

She brought the workers their coffee and a small jug of cream. 

As she rounded the end of the counter, Milton was preparing a fresh pot of coffee and chatting with Edna. Edna slid him a newspaper. 

“Milton, you’re my kitchen help, you shouldn’t be out here.” Kerry glanced back at the two customers. 

“Sorry, ma’am, I just wanted to help.” The young boy was bashful. He took the newspaper back into the kitchen. Edna looked at her, worry creasing her brow. 

“You haven’t gotten any … comments on having Miton here, have you?” Her eyes slid toward the workers. 

Kerry briskly shook her head, “No, no, there’s been none of that.”

Grabbing a small plate holding a fresh doughnut, she collected the sandwich offered by Milton, and dropped these at the men’s booth. She topped up their coffee, noting, “Fine weather for working, still, I guess.” 

“Sure is, ma’am. I expect it’s going to be noisy hereabouts for a while.” He sounded apologetic. 

“Dusty too, I imagine,” smiled Kerry. She headed back to the counter where Edna was calling out school-related questions to the kitchen window.

Milton passed her out a dozen fresh muffins, and she filled the display case, passing one to Edna, who picked off small bits and put them into her mouth, savouring each. 

“What a cook, am I right? I told you!” She closed her eyes and chewed.

Edna added, “Milton told me the word in Africville is that the city is intent on making his folks move. There’s rumours that’s what the housing those fellas are building is for.” 

One of the men had approached the counter to ask for some catsup. 

“Well, moving more folks back into the neighborhood would be a blessing, that’s for sure,” said Kerry. “Business could pick up a bit more.” She passed the glass bottle to the man.

“Thanks,” he nodded. “I don’t expect the folk moving in those places will be buying meals here. Not a nice respectable place like this.” He nodded.

Kerry saw Milton catch her eye through the window to the kitchen.

At 8:45 am, Milton called out that he was heading to school and would be back at lunchtime. She looked out the door to see the stray dog waiting for him. He pulled some crusts from his pocket, probably collected from a returned plate, and gave them to the mutt. The two marched up Gottingen Street, heads held high, as bulldozers roared to life nearby. The wind blew a few leaves loose. Fall was in the air.

#northend #africville #stephensonreport

This Tide Lifts Us All

It was early enough that the dust still glittered in the last rays of sunset through the windows. We picked out a good table, off to the side, sheltered by the bathroom wall. We could stash our stuff in the corner when the time came for dancing, and not worry that some buzzkill would steal our warm jackets. 

Danny was acting weird about his new pants because he thought they were blue-green and I'd made the mistake of calling them turquoise. I hoped that more people would arrive soon to distract him. So far there was only us and what looked like a table of out-of-towners sharing a pitcher. 

"This is like a goddamn library," Danny hissed. It was preternaturally quiet. When the DJ came bustling in smelling like snow and American cigarettes, it made us start. Soon, though, he had tossed on a Cake song and a few more groups had trickled in. 

Audra had insisted we be sure to get here early. She'd come to our apartment at 3 am on mushrooms, crooning about the golden triadic harmonics of the universe and the melting faces in my ficus and promising to be at the show early was the only thing that got her to leave. I wondered if she had slept at all. 

I was keen to see Delmore Leonard again. He was a well-known local musician and his first solo album had seen me through my last break up. I clung to the upbeat, happy music like a spar. I hadn't heard anything about the new album whose release was being celebrated tonight, except the occasional woo from Audra about all the meditation they had done in the studio recording it, and how hypnotic it was. 

The opening band were a trio of chirpy young women wearing bumble bee stripes and singing songs that poured from them like tea from antique pots, honey-sweet and smooth. The music even lightened Danny's mood and he waved over the server to order a Heineken. The server winked when he dropped the beer and waved away Danney's money, putting him in an even better mood. 

The Bee Girls didn't have really danceable melodies, so we remained at the table, swaying and people watching. When Audra dashed over and splashed down next to Danny, it was like someone had suddenly dropped bourbon in our tea... or maybe acid. 

"I am so glad you're here!!"

"You woke us up in the middle of the night to make sure we were coming." 

She began fiddling with Danny's hair, pushing it against the part. "You are going to be blown away. This album is...." she squeezed her eyes shut in wordless ecstasy. I was mesmerized by her large amber pendant swinging between her breasts. The Bee Girls continued to sugar the air. 

"I've got to go get ready. Come to the front! It will be wild. I promise."

As she zipped across the room to the stage door I helped Danny settle his hair.

"Audra's got the crazy eyes... think she's still shroomed up?" Danny asked.

"Nah, she's got too much energy for straight shrooms I'd say. She is definitely on something!"

The Bee Girls gathered their mandolins and tambourine and floated off the stage, and Delmore began setting up. A clean stage - three mikes, one for him, and one each for Audra and Joscelyn, the other singer. A percussion section. And that was it. Interesting. 

The servers were circulating with large trays of small glasses. Two of these glasses were dropped to us, with a wink for Danny again, who had by now forgotten all about his pants. 

"What's this?" I asked the server, but he was already gone.

Danny shrugged at me. "Communion?" 

We sniffed the glasses. I had once had mead at a D & D festival. It kind of smelled like that. Well, the server had brought it, so it probably wasn't roofied. Everyone else was drinking theirs as we looked around so we toasted and sipped some.

Delmore came to his microphone. "Hey everyone! Enjoy a sweet taste of sunshine, on us!" Everyone held their glasses aloft and we all finished them off. 

"Guess their record company advance is huge," Danny murmured.

We stashed our stuff in the corner and took our spot in front of the stage between Delmore and Audra as the band took their places. 

Ash was doing percussion with them, a surprise. He caught my eye and smiled, which made me smile. I hadn't seen him in a few weeks and the last time... the memory of his warm breath on my neck caught me by surprise and I felt my pulse all over my body.  

Then the music started. Audra and Joscelyn, both with their long blonde hair flowing down, stood, arms out and began a breathy harmonizing. Delmore, his dark goatee startling under his high cheekbones, joined in with the sounds they were making and then began singing. I realized he was looping the harmonies, so they layered and built. 

One time my friend Heather and I had been body surfing at Lawrencetown Beach, and suddenly the tide had surged deep under us and dragged us both by the feet out toward the open ocean. It took long moments of hard struggle to bring us back to land, and all the while, the ocean pulled and pulled. 

The sound was like that. My conscious mind found its footing gone. I was being pulled into an ocean of mutual awareness, and I wasn't strong enough to stand against the tide. As the music swelled, the lights seemed to change, and move. I was looking at the server behind the bar, who winked at me. I was looking at Joscelyn, somehow from right in front of her, and then I was looking at myself from stage. I was caught in a looping spiral that sent my awareness from person to person in the place. I was in love with a blonde man behind me, and then I was thinking about my sick grandmother; I was zoning on how cool my hand felt entwined with Sarah's, then feeling Mohinder's strong chest behind me, then aware of all of this at once, and looking at the crowd through Delmore's eyes, feeling my breath forming this mystical chord with the other singers. 

What was in that drink?

The sensation merged into oneness, and for almost a full minute, I was everyone and everyone was me and we were one, and breathing in unison, inhaling joy and sending love into the universe. And then the harmonies ebbed and I found myself retreating, reaching out still for the connection, but then alone, bewildered, in my own head. I was drenched. I clutched Danny's hand, and the hand of the man on my right. None of us let go. In the moment of silence following the song, Audra and Joscelyn clutched their matching pendants, moved to join arms with Delmore. Then Delmore said, 

"This harmonic joining is new, and this is how we can move forward together. My friends, my loves, my others... this is how we were meant to live."

I couldn't imagine anything more comforting than his voice.

"We will dance this evening, and join again before we part. But now that you know this is how it can be, I'm asking you to join with us. Follow us. Let us move across this earth and spread this joy."

Then he started playing another song, and I started dancing. Everyone was dancing, even the servers. Even the bouncers. A small part of my brain thought, the drink will wear off and this will be the best dream-high you have ever had, so be sure to remember it. Another part of my brain thought, you are forever changed. 

After two hours of dancing, hugging strangers, sharing water and just vibing at a continuously joyous level, the band moved into the layered harmonics again, and again, we shared each others' consciousness. This time, I could recognize more of the darker parts of people's minds. The depression, the self-doubt, the anger, that lay under the open, loving area we shared. As we joined, each of us began weaving healing, or maybe planting seeds is the right metaphor. We worked to pull these darker thoughts up, into conscious balance. It is a weird thing to explain in words. We knew that the harmonics worked by mixing different notes, and it was like that, in psychological terms - the more we pulled the dark parts in and blended them as well, the deeper and richer the joining.

As the last notes ended, we all instinctively came together into a huddle in the middle of the dance floor, touching as many others as we could. When Delmore invited us to join him on the buses he had waiting outside no one hesitated. 

This convoy will now spread out. Each of us will learn to brew the opening mead. Those of us who can sing will learn the joyous harmonics. Some of us will make clothes, some of us will make food. Some of us will drive. I have been charged with finding more amber crystals. We each have a role to play in bringing this world home. When we get to your town, be sure to get to the show early. 

This tide lifts us all. 

Gold, Jerry!

So, my microfiction "Devil's Tools" place 9th in my group, meaning I moved on in the NYC Midnight Microfiction contest! YAY! This is the follow up. My assigned genre was comedy, action was buying lottery tickets, and word was "copy". 

***

Ad copywriters spend our lives chained in the Word Mines, digging for gold. 

That nugget for our latest idiot client, a lottery? 

"Something VIRAL!" Fool’s gold.

Jerry and I hunkered down in a sweaty bodega, bought a mittful of scratch tickets, and started panning for inspiration.

“Scratch Bazingas!…” tried Jerry. 

“You buying more?” asked the hopeful clerk.

“Scratchmania!” 

Jerry muttered,  “It’s better than working.” 

“... not bad!”

Three anvil icons appeared under my thumbnail. A million dollars? 

“HOLY SHIT!”

“No profanity,” sighed Jerry. 

I hugged him, kissed the clerk. “SEE YA SUCKERS!” 

I hightailed out. 

Jerry lit up: “That’s it!”

Unceded

Offered with humility to people whose suffering I can't begin to comprehend, whose history I am only just learning, whose ancestors mine harmed and benefited from the harming of.

****

Unceded But seeded  With colonizer men building brick homes Raping the land Rapeseed, precious naming Blocking, trapping, Wrapping the First Peoples in swaths of settlement

Unceded 

But seeded 

With Bibles flung into the wild,

Relentlessly paced, chased, erased

(Rendered unchaste by word or deed)

Mother Earth needs become Mother Mary

Jesus Glooscap

Trickster Lucifer

Unceded

But seeded 

With others brought from other lands,

Brought in chains, bonds, ties and obligations,

Come from the South, free but

Cast out. Neglected, detested,  

Rewarded for loyalty 

With mud and rocks,

Sticks and stones.

Unceded 

But seeded

With “moral” men molding minds

with whips, women withholding water and food,

Cutting hair, cutting off ties,

Cutting out words

Bleaching souls and 

Bending knees

And burying mistakes.

Unceded

But seeded 

With generations of hate, 

Denial, violence and defiling,

Women missing, children dead

Shrugs and crosses, 

Shaking heads

Praying hands

Preying beds.

Unceded,

But seeded. 

Unseen now seen.

Alienation turned to

 Reconciliation?

Reedsy Submissions: Four Lights and Rave On

Check out my most recent stories at Reedsy:

https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/author/charlene-boyce/

Rave On is my favourite thing I have written thus far. 

I had submitted Four Lights, but I chose to remove it to edit a part I was not comfortable with. 

Four Lights is pasted below. 

****

Four Lights

Genevieve wondered how long it was before the people of Egypt felt okay having parties after all the firstborns died.

Now that the pandemic had receded sufficiently to allow gatherings of more than 10 people, a party was called for. Or so Iris said, and Iris had a way of making her ideas contagious. This time her idea was to make up for three Halloweens lost to the pandemic in the form of an Ostara gathering.

"No Ouija board. Crystal ball sure, but I draw the line at Ouija!" 

Iris rolled her eyes. She stashed the board under the tv cabinet and began dumping chips and party mix into various fancy serving bowls she had produced from the attic. 

"Did you dust those?"

"GEN - A - VIVE!" Iris punched her name out in staccato syllables. "I swear, you think I'm a plebe." Which was a very Iris response in that it didn't at all answer the question.

Genevieve was arranging her devilled eggs when the doorbell began. People arrived alone or in pairs. They crept in, trying to be inconspicuous. The effects of the long-time gathering limits and the culture of neighborhood-tattletale enforcers were fresh scars.

Mid-century lounge music swayed through the air.... was that Sammy Davis Jr? It seemed a bizarre contrast to the skulls-and-spiders decor Iris had chosen. Genevieve sighed. No matter how many times she explained Ostara was about balance, fertility and rebirth, Iris clung to this childhood image of witches. Surreptitiously tucking blooming flowers around the skulls and over the spiders, Genevieve made her way from the dining room to welcome the guests. 

Everyone had arrived. Thirteen people and one baby in one room felt uncomfortably crowded. Genevieve had to propel herself forward to embrace her guests, remind herself that it was okay now. Hattie and Han were unusually quiet. Tessa had ridden in with Belle and Zoe and complained vociferously about Zoe's inability to focus on the road. Terry was still sawdusty, hammer slung from his pants. Varain and Syl were in full dashiki splendor. Andrescu looked so tiny in his suit and tie, hunched over his snake-carved cane.  Lola and Jim bounced little Feria, their pandemic baby, the first in the coven. 

Iris jumped up, eyes sparkling. "Let's light the candles and prepare the space!" 

Genevieve caught Tessa's eyes rolling and repressed a smile. Iris was new to the craft and so bloody eager. Everyone was looking forward to a simple catch up visit... Iris wanted pomp, and circumstance, and action.

"Let's let folks catch their breath first, hm?"

Genevieve set Iris to getting cocktails while she prepared tea for Andrescu, Lola and Tessa. Conversations started rippling across the room, nearly always prefaced with, "I feel like I haven't done anything worth talking about..." 

Pent-up emotions spilled out. The pandemic had marked each. Belle and Zoe had wound up dog-sitting six large animals when three different neighbors went into hospital. They acted out various mishaps the giant beasts had caused. Varain and Syl had had to move after their landlord died. Sparks nearly flew from Syl as she described trying to pack and move with three day's notice during lockdown. 

Tessa had been forced to work six to seven days a week as nursing home staff quit. Her hips killed her, she sighed, but she had lost ten pounds!

Gentle Hattie, gray faced and fragile, had lost three aunts, her daughter and her mother in the Forest Acres outbreak just two months into the pandemic. Her voice quavered as she spoke her daughter Tamsyn's name. Han held her hand and hovered protectively.

Two hours later, the table was emptied of hummus, cheeses, eggs and chips, and the guests were emptied of stories. Everyone had heard about Tamsyn's final gasping breaths. Belle and Zoe had shared several recipes for fermenting things, and Feria had cooed, cried and pooped. Now Feria napped and the adults gathered at the table with a bit more solemnity. Iris tossed salt at the cardinal points, butterflied around the room with smoking sage.

Genevieve appeared with straws to choose the order of invocation. Iris laughed outright at this old-fashioned tradition, ready to somehow employ a random number generator, but Genevieve overrode her. With the four blessing openers chosen, they entered the circle.

Varain lighted the first candle, his dark fingers snapping the match alight. He smiled at Syl warmly. "A light for our love."

Andrescu lit the second, his wrinkled brow creased with focus. "A light for our path into the future." He softly patted Feria's head.

Iris had been chosen for third, which made Genevieve worry a little, but hers was not bad: "A light for the joy of being alive." 

Hattie was last. "A light..." she paused and tears rolled over her cheeks. Genevieve longed to squeeze her hand, but she was across the table. "A light for the DEAD." 

The last candle flared impossibly high, and the music cut off mid-note. 

Iris shrieked, jumped to her feet. 

"WE ARE HERE," her mouth shaped, and her voice sounded like a hellish choir. Wind filled the room but the candles did not blow out. Everyone froze... everyone except Andrescu. 

He rose from his seat, hands aloft, emanating power. His wrinkled hands worked furiously, tracing runes the rest were too young to remember. His 91 years now felt not like frailty, more like deep strength.

"I place my hold upon you!" he boomed, in a deep, loud voice. "Who comes to our summons, and what do you bring?"

Genevieve felt faint. She was not prepared for this. Goddess knows how long it was since this sort of thing had happened. Not in her 12 years with this coven, for sure. Thanks be to the good powers that they had Andrescu!

Iris stood very erect, stared, unblinking, still. 

"We who were lost at Forest Acres are come. Why were we invoked? Who are you to summon us?"

Hattie rose as if levitated. "Mother. I know you are there, I have felt you with me. It's Hattie."

Iris's face seemed to gently age, and her voice was now single. "Hattie, my love. You must let me go. I travel with all and they are not harmless. Release me. I love you."

Andrescu kept his hand aimed at Iris but turned his eyes to Hattie. "You are dragging these souls here. Hattie. You must let them go." 

Hattie was flushed. "Mom? Is Tamsyn there? Tamsyn?" 

Iris's voice was higher now. "Mother. I am so strong now. I can walk. I can run!" Iris hopped in place, seeming about to fly off.

"Tamsyn, my darling. Forgive me. The hospital had no space. I had no choice but to send you to Forest Acres."

"Mother!" Impatient now. Iris's foot stomped. "I am happier now! Father, help her understand!" She paused. 

"Wait. That isn't... you aren't guilty about that." She paused. Iris's blank eyes bore into Hattie who sunk back into her seat.

"That's not it at all, is it?"

Hattie cried softly "No, no no no no..."

Iris glided around Varain and Syl to Hattie's side, as Han tried to insert himself.

She looked into his eyes and her own widened. "You are not my father." 

Terry pushed away from the table at this. "You said--!" he blurted at Hattie, but Tamsyn-who-was continued, "But that isn't it, either is it, mother?"

"Tell them. Tell Grandmother and her sisters why they died. Tell them."

Hattie clutched Iris' hand, crying. 

"I was the carrier, wasn't I, mother? And you knew. I was sick when I went in... sick with the virus. And you sent me to a home full of old, susceptible people. YOU KNEW!"

Andrescu visibly paled. One of his oldest friends had died at Forest Acres. 

"Hattie, can this be so?"

Hattie wailed, ripped at her clothes. "I thought that she would be safer there! They could treat her!" 

Han had backed up. "Hattie...."

"I didn't think it would spread so fast! Mother, Aunties, forgive me!"

Iris shrieked again, with the chorus of voices, as wind rushed through the room. The candles blew out then. Iris fell back into a chair. 

Genevieve rushed to her side, felt her pulse. Belle and Zoe brought a cool cloth, while Han and Terry held a quiet, intense conversation. Jim checked on Hattie, who had fallen unconscious. Lola rocked Feria. Varain and Syl helped Andrescu to the sofa. Tessa brought a pitcher of exceptionally strong mojitos and everyone had a shot.

Iris eventually became coherent and was upset she remembered nothing. 

It was midnight, and as the clock "bonged" its first stroke, Andrescu rose and strode across the room to Hattie. With a voice not his own, he said, "Heather, my child. You are forgiven."

Hattie was wonderstruck.

"Ostara blesses you. This is the time for renewal." He took Han's hand and placed it on Hattie's, pressing them together.

"New beginnings." 

And Hattie, forty-five years old, touched her swelling belly in wonder.  

Devil's Tools

Nothing comes back from Lavery Road but the wind. Folks talk hushed about old Ma Lavery. Older’n dirt. Meaner’n badgers. Family all gone.  Fever? I ask. Nope. Disappeared. 

Pastor says visitin’s a Christian duty. He don’t, but I oughta.

Rotten apple doll rockin’ on the porch, shufflin’ cards.  “Playin’ cards is Devil’s tools.” 

Shiny black bean eyes. Clawed hand pokes out. “Cut.”  Shakes the deck. Afeared, I snatch a hot handful. 

“Queen,” she wheezes. 

“Miz Lavery…”  Card’s gettin' hotter.  

Ma laughs. Winks at the queen of diamonds. I stare back, burnin’, trapped. 

She fans the cards, checkin’ the family.  Shuffles. 

****

Written for the 100-word Microfiction Competition, NYCMidnight, May 2021.