The Written Word Group

  His flashing teeth hit you as soon as you saw him. Laughing, happy, a twist of the head. A big smile, black jacket, tight jeans, Nike's. A red scarf, mischief in movement. Eyes big, alert,….. alive. He played guitar. So where were the spiders? Ziggy classics a Billy specialty. Borrowing a guitar to busk. Generating cash for beer to smooth talk easy girls. All girls came easy to Billy. Saw him in a restaurant with twelve girls, and he still left them to check out some-more. Confident. So sure,….. always so sure. I warned him about stealing from a restaurant we dish-washed in. Rat-faced on expensive wine. Piss-eyed on cheap kitchen brandy. There we worked long happy hours, exhilarated by the warm afterglow. He moved down South, got married. Had a kid and thought he was happy. No money no happy. Too young to die young. Fell in with the Gallic wrong crowd. Smoked pot dropped acid got bitter. Owed a living by someone. You perhaps? Said he didn

She was dead,  clearly very dead.   He had to work hard to keep his expression devoid of the exhilaration bubbling up inside. Just a couple of hours earlier they had both climbed into the boat, carrying a wicker picnic basket and a cool box.   He steered the little craft effortlessly out towards the open sea, cut the engine and sat back to savour the glass of champagne she proffered him.   “We did it! We did it, we can happily toast our success now.  To us!” “Yes, the takeover went smoothly in the end”.   she replied, but didn’t lift her glass.  “And now, James, I want a divorce”. The words sank in slowly.  Like hell you do, he thought, over my dead body - or more probably yours.  Neither of them noticed the black clouds rolling in.   The storm erupted suddenly and with a breathtaking violence, whipping up the sea into a swirling cauldron, rain falling in a tropical torrent and the black sky ripped asunder by lightening.  She clung desperately to the sides of the boat while he attempte

It was Sunday morning when Pablo woke up with a pounding headache  and his stomach feeling tender.  He had gone f or a siesta after arriving from lunch with his mum, sister, cousin, and aunty.  He had no idea how long  he had slept. It was quiet around the house, he could hear  the birds singing their usual morning songs outside, indicating it was dawn.   He was baffled that he’d slept so many hours. He could remember feeling tired and with the desire to sleep. He also recalled going for lunch with everyone at midday. The day before, the family had planned to go to Valparaiso for lunch. It was a warm sunny day in early summer, the fresh marine breeze helped build an appetite. Valparaiso, famously known  for its variety of restaurants offering delicious seafood dishes. Auntie Dora often visited ‘La Caleta’ in Valparaiso to have lunch with her colleagues, so she knew which restaurants offered the best fresh seafood in order to avoid seafood poisoning, an unpleasant condition to have.   T