WritersShowcase

Oh the groaning of the greasy/sleazy front line, I can tell you bruv I hated it and I was afraid. My head down and moving fast I weaved my slippery trail across the deserted vastness of the decrepit air terminal . The dragoons did their job and our choreographed feints pulled away any possible attackers. One of the my doubles and I swapped smocks on a misdirect and I dropped out of formation. My pulse raced as I scanned for foes, there was no one and they left me to suffer alone at the gate.

The terminal terminal was the very icon of the broken promise. The shiny bits long ago lost their lustre and the walls wept with foul stains. No ready meals, no flashy ‘zines proclaiming the virtues of distant shores this was the no man’s land of a public place where the haves might gather, dangerous, lonely and sad.

After long minutes a few others arrived, presumably more confident than I that they would not be detained. One of them was a pretty polly of the first rank, oii vey. Not to look that was the thing, don’t be a panting puppy. A classic vidi on the com that was it, laughing happy very fizzy then it hit me, polly was a plant. Cutting eyes, she knew what she saw and was clearly going for a flank. Those eyes, she was well equipped for the job let there be no doubt.

Finally the shake down, I was brilliant blue let me tell you bruv, not a wee hinky. They wanted me, oh verily, but they had nada and perhaps thought they would be rid of me this way so they let me board my hushing missile straight to hell, or out of it depending on your perspective.

We were the only two in the areoket’s flight lounge you saw that coming m-m. No way was I going for the bait though, let her do her job, earn her nicker that’s what I say. She did it well enough, let me watch my silly vidi then when the nervy sizzle had faded low she made her approach.

Very funny vidi that. Oh yes, oldie goldie, I told her the title but she showed no interest in that line. She moved right over, mind if I join? I hate these take-offs, always think we’re going to…

I don’t like them either, I lied I thrive on the Gs, its the landings I don’t like. For good reason too, we’ll be going much slower and they can see you coming and take leisurely aim. The take-offs are very safe really none has been hit and only two have had technical problems chai/mai? I didn’t say that personally I’d rather die by the hand of a foe than by a failed gasket, but an anonymous enemy striking from afar has no power and no honour so it would make no real difference.

I didn’t recognize her and there was little to suggest that she could afford the astronomical fair for lounge access on such a long arc. I held her gaze, no sign of recognition. No sign that she had been living in a cave though, always more interesting when they play that way, and she was a steady competitor. Let her have a tiddy/bitty of what she wants, but give her only what I want to give, always best practice chai/mai?

Returning home to tend to recently passed father’s affairs.

A decent gambit, appear vulnerable, elicit sympathy, now she moved closer and her feminine purpliness washed me, she had my attention well and truly. Listening/caring that was me bruv. So very sad, you’re very strong, I had ready phrases. Only now that she was close did I mark that she was not young, difficult to say but a resignation about her face that showed her age even if the were no lines.

I wanted to talk and she laid the field perfectly. So I began at what could pass for a beginning, when I met our pater familis, how he greeted me with warmth and kindness. All my anxieties wiped away in an instant.

Walking up to that medieval gatehouse and stating our business before the dragoons, certain of denial, so many years of hopes and efforts hinged on that moment. Being sped along the central patrol road and seeing a lean figure in a sarong working the long rows of a vegetable patch under the jasmine sun focus and awareness written in his very stance. As we approached the figure stopped and stood tall rippling his abdomen and spine to stretch after stooping with the hoe and instantly I knew this to be him, I recognized my body in the shape of his. The square line of the shoulders and the barrelled chest and belly mirrored that of the alert falcon sitting on its stave perch behind him to the right, he was much leaner than I and I felt a twingie crinckle of shame chai/mai?

The driver slowed and stopped before him and the moment of truth was exactly that, a moment only. As soon as I lit his stern countenance whispered and I knew he understood me for what I was, a bit of him and a bit of my ma’s sweet song.

He embraced us both and welcomed us as family. I struggled for strength as she wept of relief. Introductions were made, your ma, if crispy at first, soon was clucking contentedly, showing off her gardens and glad to have an attentive audience.

I skipped over how he crushed me to the earth and breathed invective in my ear when I spoke sharply to my dutiful servant. If you ever speak that way to your mother or any other woman your very memory will be erased from the story of time. Oh those burning words were seared into my mind chai/mai? The difficult to hear bits about how I was treated to a stone cell I omitted in favour of the shiny bits about how he restored my ma’s faith in herself. How quickly he sussed her ability with food and set about making much of it. Giving her that restaurant in the village to make over as her own creation. Perhaps you didn’t fully appreciate how much of a transformation this was in my own perception of her, from waitress and doormat to chef and demanding leader, I hadn’t given her due respect and I was made to pay.

Never have those drear first months on the farm been discussed, perhaps you well know my trials. Lying flat below the floor of that hateful cell, my best friend was a spider that enjoyed a corner to the left of my head. How I envied his freedom and was thankful that he chose to stay near me when he could have picked a nice corner by the high window and taken the sun and the breeze as I so wished to do.

They were not to show that they were impressed but they were weren’t they though chai/mai? The steely tang of an unbending will, that I would lie in filth, lower than the worms that crawl through the earth, just to make my myself known, I would endure anything before I showed one tooth of a simpering cur. His patience is immense but not boundless, he broke our impasse with his damp cloth. Any indignity, no problem, but there can be no iron will without breath. He only had to leave that cloth on my mouth for a little while and I was ready to apologize for being born.

No I told her none of that, perish the thought I spun a tale of sunshine and lollipops chai/mai? One big happy family, its nuclear core in the big house, the staff and the dragoons in their cottages; the villagers outside the keep, all working together each with a job to do and content to have a wise and benevolent leader.

Don’t ask why I was helping with his image problem but even then in my exile I was devoted to the idea that his vision was in fact clear and sound. Every time I question his tactics and hate him for his cold determination he has revealed just enough to bring me back aboard and now I guess I don’t need any more convincing. He was giving me his worst and I was still faithful.

Never did she give any indication of knowing of whom I spoke but neither did she ask so I understood that she was enticing me to be at ease and spin my tales.

So I went on as we sped through the tearing stratosphere. I spoke of my education, being assigned a dragoon that spoke to me only in his native tongue so I had to pick it up quickly or be lonely chai/mai? For the first time being given responsibility and held to account, up before dawn to warm-ups and meditation, cleaning the kennels, the stalls and the mews, feeding the menagerie along the way. The morning’s lessons from sir and the afternoon’s exercise and study. She was very interested in his methods, how not. The vidis old and new, then his history lesson on the subject portrayed and how it’s story was manipulated by tellers, then his analysis of what it all meant, critical thinking was at the core of each lesson. I told her how he set up problems that he knew would tempt me: design a game, plan a trip, and build a shed. Chemistry, physics, biology, mechanics, language, economics, politics, drama, religion; he tied it all together and impressed upon me that I should know these things if I were to make my own way in life.

She asked few questions but eased me closer until my head was resting in her lap reclining on the plush banquette and I was letting my mouth run freely. The air hostess assigned to us brought a tray of savouries and sweets and two bottles of aqua frio then left us in peace chai/mai?

I guarded the things she cannot know, otherwise I felt confident that she would somehow understand. Most know, of course, of his philosophies and she showed no surprise when I began to speak of my initiation. No I would not tell her the secrets of manhood but those other practicalities, of the months long journey around the territory from the coast up our grand river’s gorge, up and over Mazama, through the gentle forest and out into the vast desert. She could know how hard it was for me to walk even part of the day at first and how by the third week I had become lean and was near exhausted. I didn’t detail my challenges with my first goat, or speak of my dragoon guards. Just a boy on a pilgrimage to become a man, how he himself would show up at intervals and give me a nugget of knowledge that would make my passing easier. How to start a fire, how to build shelter, path-finding, tracking and hunting, how to shuffle along at double speed leaving minimal sign he taught me how to be a man chai/mai? She had heard of such things before doubtless, his tribalist anti-dogma has been much maligned by the ruling dynasty as well you know.

She petted my head and cooed.

Certain things I cannot tell even you, without giving the game away chai/mai? I faced the demon in the desert and though I was nearly killed, in the end I was victorious and I escaped the fear of death. The hardest thing was that last goat though, the dragoons weren’t to speak to me and he was my only friend. Too slow, if I went the entire way at goat speed I’d still be there chai/mai?.

Moved off the subject of initiation to the day our dear da came and told me I would be making a trip. It was time for me to gather the earth of my birthplace so I could honour Bagwan properly. I would go alone chai/mai?

How he showed up with everything I would need according to his plans. His personally designed clothes and bags, the things that he knew would tempt me – the three vintage cameras each spec’d to its individual lens, the pristine sunglasses from the era of my earliest days which have changed the way I see the world. A-a, I didn’t mention the gift I am meant to deliver, not a silly kidde, not me.

She asked about the com, didn’t miss that trick with her sharp sighing eyes. Chai, he made that too. Not that I let on all it can do, just a fancy com with latest tech. I ran through some of its surface features, the uplink, the vidi system, like that chai/mai? Then I asked her to open her port so we could swap links. Pam, I had not yet asked her name, I gave her mine and the dime dropped.

Oh she said, of course you are. An act you say, your cynicism has a long reach bruv, but I wanted to be convinced she was just a civvie have. Sexy and available in a slightly maternal way, then like a sharp slap it hit me chai/mai? With her jet hair, sloe eyes and slightly flattened button nose one who knew neither could be forgiven for mistaking her with my very own ma.

Not wanting to provide fodder to any prospective psychoanalysts such as your very self bruv I put aside any thoughts of the hundred click club. This was not easy as she was giving me all chiming green lights chai/mai? Not easy to be discrete either though as we were the only two in the lounge and the air hostess was sitting just out of sight but likely with-in hearing of anything above a smoky low murmur.

Could she have been eaves dropping you would ask. She couldn’t have heard much and not my name surely as I leaned close to whisper tartly in her very ear chai/mai?

Pam took the reigns and spoke of her home on the large island to the south in the eastern sea. Her father had been a humble craftsman in a small village barely scraping by with his extended family to feed. Then one day a strange traveller from the west came and asked if he could stay in the village chai/mai? The village had no guesthouse and the headman, who was unkind and unwise told the visitor that there was no where for him to sleep, expecting that as a traveller from the west he would be expecting a bed in his own room and would go away appalled when he saw that none in this village slept on beds and the headman would lose face. Her father offered in deference to the headman rather than to the traveller himself that he would welcome the visitor into his humble home. The headman didn’t like be contradicted but it occurred to him that the annoyingly naÔve carpenter would be taken down a notch in the village when his poor shack was inspected and rejected by this falang.

The visitor however did not reject the shack, quite the contrary he put down his pack in the corner on the woven bamboo floor above the packed earth where the goats and chickens were penned in protective custody during the dangerous nocturne and did not pick it up again for a moon cycle. He slept there in the room next to her father and his wife and his parents and his younger brothers and his children, he helped with the daily tasks and worked on the language so that he could ask questions through out the day. People came to gather around him when he was being silly or singing songs or playing games but they tended to drift away when he was feeling inquisitive. He would stumble along with their language asking about things that just were and didn’t merit talking about, some things that might be embarrassing or politically difficult or that they realized that they didn’t understand well themselves because they had never thought to question what they were taught to do by their elders. Her father always had time for the falang though and they became great friends.

The falang learned hunt with the men and do the manly things but he did not rest in the afternoon with the men he went to help the women with their work in the fields and tending the animals and washing the clothes and preparing the food. In the late afternoon he would play with the children and laugh and sing with them and in the evening he would tell them stories of strange lands and other times and also stories about their own land and the present time. When the small children went to sleep he would stay up with some of the older children and teach them lessons in reading and writing and help them to prepare lessons for the younger children to be conducted in the morning when the men were out hunting.

The headman didn’t like the children learning but he knew the falang was popular and had power so he left the village and was never seen again. Her father became headman and after the falang left he became the head carpenter for a company that the falang set up to supply the west with furniture from the east.

He and the falang became very rich and the village was now an education centre for local craftsmen sound familiar chai/mai?

Story time was over and we reclined on the banquette to let the remaining hour of the arc slip by in an earthy embrace.

The landing was hitchless the pilot swung wide left and then with a half roll twisted right as he passed through the most dangerous altitudes and brought us down with a cushioning hop, very skilled, just like we do in the gliders chai/mai?

We hugged at the gate, tetchy chai/mai? I wanted to float easy and follow her skirt to a protected island retreat, but must keep to it. She offered an invitation, for the future, my smile had a pained twist and she read it plain. I’ll be in touch.

The foetid tropical funk embraced me and loaded my gaping pores with dank density. Pole’ pole’ I ambled along languid corridors of lino, revelling in anonymity, real or perceived. I exited to the taxi rank and beheld a roaring specimen, a potential sibilant me thinks. Just then he steps up to the driver of one of the standing benzies and asks for the very district of my own intentions. I was just heading that way, possible to share. You’re very welcome.

The driver made to take my bags, mai/chai kup. Koon ben Thai chai/mai, kup? Mai/chai ben Lao kup. Jan he proffered a hand. Xan, I gave him mine. We both smiled briefly at the nuanced difference in our names. He opened the rear off-side door with his right hand and gestured an invitation to enter with his left.

What was I doing you’re screaming, I somehow trusted his gestalt. Did I mention he had one eye ohming brown and one eye tweeing blue chai/mai?

The benzie crept steadily along, the throngs of cyclists parting and darting like a school of fish with a shark in their midst. The streets were teaming with life in a way that was utterly unfamiliar but also comforting chai/mai? All along the way there were carts and stalls and negotiations and meetings and haulings and hawkings.

You just arrive? No, saw someone off. You travelling? No, I manage a guesthouse in the traveller’s district. Nice place? Very. Possible vacancies? There was when I left but it often fills up.

He flicked open his com and spoke a name, J and Joe. Any rooms left? The number one? Save it, I’m on my way there.

Best room in the house if you want it. I’d certainly have a look korp koon kup.

We passed a flower market by a canal, a large plaza with a commanding statue of a dragoon guard astride a magnificent beast of an unholy size, then down a long boulevard lined with chintz and buzzy twinkling lights. At each intersection there was either a statue or large portrait of a rather unassuming looking man in spectacles from another time. Who is that? The king, one thing to remember while you’re here is that the king is taken most seriously and you should never make jokes about him or speak any ill of him, the penalty on the books is death though that is rare long term incarceration is not. Right, the king is a good man and a flawless leader. It makes it a little easier that that is pretty much true, he loves his people , does his best for them and he is a wise and educated man. Okay then, most interesting chai/mai?

When we arrived at the district for travelling youths the human density increased still further.

They pressed so close to our rolling benzie that I feared for their wee toesies chai/mai? The shabby buildings with their over

Shrieking/bright signs hung over sighing/dusty awnings were each of them open at ground level with shops and eateries and tavernas spilling out cheap chairs and tables into the very street. Carts and stalls lined the sidewalks so that all of the hundreds of golden youths had to wend and weave their way along betweens the various obstacles stationary and in motion. The whole of the lane was a pulsating dance of ecstatic revelry and I wanted to be a part of it. I was beginning to understand why our da thought I would like this place.

Jan told the driver to stop and we emerged for our air-con cocoon into the amber air and tangy roar of competing sound systems, bleating horns, and shouting voices.

Immediately an swishing androgyne youth interrogated me. Can I ponce a fag? How you enjoy your free time is up to you, leave me out of it. I disengaged to follow Jan’s back as he darted quickly between stalls hung with clothing and into a passageway that led through two buildings to a back alley lined with more shops and small eateries. We turned right and went along where the alley passed a courtyard restaurant and became even more narrow, then right again and we entered a narrow passage to the courtyard of an ancient wooden house that must have dated to the first days of the city chai/mai?

Jan greeted the assembled group sitting at a few tables under small trees and quickly ducked into the office off to the left. He spoke a woman that I couldn’t see and soon re-emerged with a strange looking key, right this way. We crossed the small courtyard and up three wide steps onto a narrow veranda, he opened the door to a simple room with a large bed standing in the centre under a sheer net draped from a hoop attached to the pull cord of a ceiling fan suspended from the high ceiling. There was a bench under a large shuttered window at the foot of the bed, a simple wardrobe and desk on the far wall and a single shelf on the wall at the head of the bed. This was one of the very first rooms rented to travellers in this district back when it was just a quiet residential neighbourhood near the palace. Same furnishings? Someone left the net but otherwise exactly the same. I’ll take it.

He handed me the key. Bathroom’s down the hall to the back.

I set my bag on the bench and unpacked my clothes into the wardrobe, set out my toiletries and pocket clutter on the shelf, gathered some fresh clothes and my towel, hung my secure net under the mattress and loaded it with such things as I did not wish to carry and could not afford to lose. I took out my tin of tea and removed the security seal sniffed a few pouches and separated out one of the specials and two of the decoys which I put in a small tin which went into the shoulder-bag. Then I tucked in the bottle of soap and toothbrush and paste, sat on the bench and took off my boots and slipped on my sandals, right a wash.

Out on the veranda I flashed a smile at the group sitting at the tables and turned left to the centre of the house where an open hallway led past some other rooms and a staircase to the upper floor and at the cool back of the building had two bathrooms one to the left and one to the right. I ducked into the one at the left. A large room for what it contained. A porcelain trough with footpads at the far wall with a spigot pouring into a large bucket with a smaller handled pot sitting across the rim. Near to the door was a simple wooden chair next to a large urn under another spigot high on the wall with another pot hung on the side by an iron S-hook. There were three hooks on the wall opposite the urn on which I hung my clothes. I draped my towel over the chair back, set my soap on the chair and tested the water in the urn with a few fingers, mossy cool. I ladled out a pot full and poured it slowly over my head, the verdant life of it rinsing out the humid ooze of the tropical air. I scooped and poured, scooped and poured for several minutes before using the chartreuse mint soap to restore my pores to their normal capacity.

Completely refreshed I was ready for anything chai/mai? I dressed in my fresh clothes that sir himself had provided. Thin jet roar/black sarong and a basso profundo/red smock with a belt from the same material as the sarong, these things had looked strange at home but they were perfectly suited to this senescent land chai/mai?

I cleaned my teeth and then gathered my things and returned to my room.