Inspiration, Maybe – Volume Two

50 photographs, 50 stories, of which there is one of the 50 below.

They all start with –

A picture paints … well, as many words as you like.  For instance:

And, the story:

Have you ever watched your hopes and dreams simply just fly away?

Everything I thought I wanted and needed had just left in an aeroplane, and although I said I was not going to, i came to the airport to see the plane leave.  Not the person on it, that would have been far too difficult and emotional, but perhaps it was symbolic, the end of one life and the start of another.

But no matter what I thought or felt, we had both come to the right decision.  She needed the opportunity to spread her wings.  It was probably not the best idea for her to apply for the job without telling me, but I understood her reasons.

She was in a rut.  Though her job was a very good one, it was not as demanding as she had expected, particularly after the last promotion, but with it came resentment from others on her level, that she, the youngest of the group would get the position.

It was something that had been weighing down of her for the last three months, and if noticed it, the late nights, the moodiness, sometimes a flash of temper.  I knew she had one, no one could have such red hair and not, but she had always kept it in check.

And, then there was us, together, and after seven years, it felt like we were going nowhere.  Perhaps that was down to my lack of ambition, and though she never said it, lack of sophistication.  It hadn’t been an issue, well, not until her last promotion, and the fact she had to entertain more, and frankly I felt like an embarrassment to her.

So, there it was, three days ago, the beginning of the weekend, and we had planned to go away for a few days and take stock.  We both acknowledged we needed to talk, but it never seemed the right time.

It was then she said she had quit her job and found a new one.  Starting the following Monday.

Ok, that took me by surprise, not so much that it something I sort of guessed might happen, but that she would just blurt it out.

I think that right then, at that moment, I could feel her frustration with everything around her.

What surprised her was my reaction.  None.

I simply asked where who, and when.

A world-class newspaper, in New York, and she had to be there in a week.

A week.

It was all the time I had left with her.

I remember I just shrugged and asked if the planned weekend away was off.

She stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, hands around a cup of coffee she had just poured, and that one thing I remembered was the lone tear that ran down her cheek.

Is that all you want to know?

I did, yes, but we had lost that intimacy we used to have when she would have told me what was happening, and we would have brainstormed solutions. I might be a cabinet maker but I still had a brain, was what I overheard her tell a friend once.

There’s not much to ask, I said.  You’ve been desperately unhappy and haven’t been able to hide it all that well, you have been under a lot of pressure trying to deal with a group of troglodytes, and you’ve been leaning on Bentley’s shoulder instead of mine, and I get it, he’s got more experience in that place,  and the politics that go with it, and is still an ally.

Her immediate superior and instrumental in her getting the position, but unlike some men in his position he had not taken advantage of a situation like some men would.  And even if she had made a move, which I doubted, that was not the sort of woman she was, he would have politely declined.

One of the very few happily married men in that organisation, so I heard.

So, she said, you’re not just a pretty face.

Par for the course for a cabinet maker whose university degree is in psychology.  It doesn’t take rocket science to see what was happening to you.  I just didn’t think it was my place to jump in unless you asked me, and when you didn’t, well, that told me everything I needed to know.

Yes, our relationship had a use by date, and it was in the next few days.

I was thinking, she said, that you might come with me,  you can make cabinets anywhere.

I could, but I think the real problem wasn’t just the job.  It was everything around her and going with her, that would just be a constant reminder of what had been holding her back. I didn’t want that for her and said so.

Then the only question left was, what do we do now?

Go shopping for suitcases.  Bags to pack, and places to go.

Getting on the roller coaster is easy.  On the beginning, it’s a slow easy ride, followed by the slow climb to the top.  It’s much like some relationships, they start out easy, they require a little work to get to the next level, follows by the adrenaline rush when it all comes together.

What most people forget is that what comes down must go back up, and life is pretty much a roller coaster with highs and lows.

Our roller coaster had just come or of the final turn and we were braking so that it stops at the station.

There was no question of going with her to New York.  Yes, I promised I’d come over and visit her, but that was a promise with crossed fingers behind my back.  After a few months in t the new job the last thing shed want was a reminder of what she left behind.  New friends new life.

We packed her bags, three out everything she didn’t want, a free trips to the op shop with stiff she knew others would like to have, and basically, by the time she was ready to go, there was nothing left of her in the apartment, or anywhere.

Her friends would be seeing her off at the airport, and that’s when I told her I was not coming, that moment the taxi arrived to take her away forever.  I remember standing there, watching the taxi go.  It was going to be, and was, as hard as it was to watch the plane leave.

So, there I was, finally staring at the blank sky, around me a dozen other plane spotters, a rather motley crew of plane enthusiasts.

Already that morning there’s been 6 different types of plane depart, and I could hear another winding up its engines for take-off.

People coming, people going.

Maybe I would go to New York in a couple of months, not to see her, but just see what the attraction was.  Or maybe I would drop in, just to see how she was.

As one of my friends told me when I gave him the news, the future is never written in stone, and it’s about time you broadened your horizons.

Perhaps it was.


© Charles Heath 2020-2021

Coming soon.  Find the above story and 49 others like it in:

‘The Devil You Don’t’ – A beta reader’s view

It could be said that of all the women one could meet, whether contrived or by sheer luck, what are the odds it would turn out to be the woman who was being paid a very large sum to kill you.

John Pennington is a man who may be lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. He has just broken up with Phillipa Sternhaven, the woman he thought was the one, but relatives and circumstances, and perhaps because she was a ‘princess’, may also have contributed to the end result.

So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?

That is a story that slowly unfolds, from the first meeting with his nemesis on Lake Geneva, all the way to a hotel room in Sorrento, where he learns the shattering truth.

What should have been solace after disappointment, turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

He suddenly realizes his so-called friend Sebastian has not exactly told him the truth about a small job he asked him to do, the woman he is falling in love with is not quite who she says she is, and he is caught in the middle of a war between two men who consider people becoming collateral damage as part of their business.

The story paints the characters cleverly displaying all their flaws and weaknesses. The locations add to the story at times taking me back down memory lane, especially to Venice where, in those back streets I confess it’s not all that hard to get lost.

All in all a thoroughly entertaining story with, for once, a satisfying end.

Available on Amazon here: https://amzn.to/2Xyh1ow

Mistaken Identity – The Final Editor’s Draft – Day 19

This book has finally reached the Final Editor’s draft, so this month it is going to get the last revision, and a reread for the beta readers.

Jack finally gets to spend those moments with Rosalie that were so tantalisingly close before he left.

The question is, would he dared to do so if it had not been for the events that had just occurred. There always seems to be an element of danger that spurs people on to do things they might not necessarily do if life had not taken a particular turn.

But, it was everything he expected, and more.

Of course, as advised yesterday, there are problems, not of their making but of the intrepid Maryanne, who reveals herself now as an agent working for an organisation that is equally after the package that Jack’s mother had left in Rosalie’s safekeeping.

And ironically it is Rosalie who captures Maryanne in the act of trying to steal it.

So, if an effort to keep it from everyone Rosalie agrees to leave with the package and tell no one where she is. Not until Jack decided what he was going to do with it. One possibility is to use it to get his mother back, but like all ransom exchanges, it never turns out the way it’s supposed to.

So, Maryanne is going to have to come up with a convincing plan to get Jack onside, but the lies and deception are not a very good start in forming trust.

It’s an interesting premise, and beyond the raw writing, I fear it will need some more work to get it where I want it to be.

More tomorrow.

In a word: Port

So, I wonder if it’s true, any port in a storm, except perhaps Marseilles.

Or, if you are a lothario-type sailor, you would have a girl in every port.

Yes, the most common definition of a port is a place where ships dock.

And, while talking of ships we don’t call the sides left and right, we call them port and starboard.  Just in case you didn’t know, port is on the left side of the ship when facing forward.

And of course, ships have portholes, i.e. windows, traditionally round and rather small.

It could be an alcoholic drink, imbibed mostly after dinner with coffee and cigars, though no one seems to smoke cigars anymore.

There is still coffee, for now.  No doubt sometime in the future someone will link it to death and dying, and it will fall out of favour, like sugar, weedkillers and asbestos.

The best port seems to come from Portugal, strange about that.

You can port a program (app in phone speak) from one platform to another, which basically means from Android to Apple IOS, but not without a reasonable amount of work.

It can also be an outlet plug on a computer that accepts cables from other devices (USB) and many years ago, a printer port, and a serial port.

In certain places in the world a port is a child’s schoolbag, a definition I was not aware of until we moved to a different state.

I’m still having a problem with it 30 years on.

An excerpt from “Sunday in New York”

Now available on Amazon at:  https://amzn.to/2H7ALs8

Williams’ Restaurant, East 65th Street, New York, Saturday, 8:00 p.m.

We met the Blaine’s at Williams’, a rather upmarket restaurant that the Blaine’s frequently visited, and had recommended.

Of course, during the taxi ride there, Alison reminded me that with my new job, we would be able to go to many more places like Williams’.  It was, at worst, more emotional blackmail, because as far as Alison was concerned, we were well on our way to posh restaurants, the Trump Tower Apartments, and the trappings of the ‘executive set’.

It would be a miracle if I didn’t strangle Elaine before the night was over.  It was she who had filled Alison’s head with all this stuff and nonsense.

Aside from the half frown half-smile, Alison was looking stunning.  It was months since she had last dressed up, and she was especially wearing the dress I’d bought her for our 5th anniversary that cost a month’s salary.  On her, it was worth it, and I would have paid more if I had to.  She had adored it, and me, for a week or so after.

For tonight, I think I was close to getting back on that pedestal.

She had the looks and figure to draw attention, the sort movie stars got on the red carpet, and when we walked into the restaurant, I swear there were at least five seconds silence, and many more gasps.

Even I had a sudden loss of breath earlier in the evening when she came out of the dressing room.  Once more I was reminded of how lucky I was that she had agreed to marry me.  Amid all those self-doubts, I couldn’t believe she had loved me when there were so many others ‘out there’ who were more appealing.

Elaine was out of her seat and came over just as the Head Waiter hovered into sight.  She personally escorted Alison to the table, allowing me to follow like the Queen’s consort, while she and Alison basked in the admiring glances of the other patrons.

More than once I heard the muted question, “Who is she?”

Jimmy stood, we shook hands, and then we sat together.  It was not the usual boy, girl, boy, girl seating arrangement.  Jimmy and I on one side and Elaine and Alison on the other.

The battle lines were drawn.

Jimmy was looking fashionable, with the permanent blade one beard, unkempt hair, and designer dinner suit that looked like he’d slept in it.  Alison insisted I wear a tuxedo, and I looked like the proverbial penguin or just a thinner version of Alfred Hitchcock.

The bow tie had been slightly crooked, but just before we stepped out she had straightened it.  And took the moment to look deeply into my soul.  It was one of those moments when words were not necessary.

Then it was gone.

I relived it briefly as I sat and she looked at me.  A penetrating look that told me to ‘behave’.

When we were settled, Elaine said, in that breathless, enthusiastic manner of hers when she was excited, “So, Harry, you are finally moving up.”  It was not a question, but a statement.

I was not sure what she meant by ‘finally’ but I accepted it with good grace.  Sometimes Elaine was prone to using figures of speech I didn’t understand.  I guessed she was talking about the new job.  “It was supposed to be a secret.”

She smiled widely.  “There are no secrets between Al and I, are there Al?”

I looked at ‘Al’ and saw a brief look of consternation.

I was not sure Alison liked the idea of being called Al.  I tried it once and was admonished.  But it was interesting her ‘best friend forever’ was allowed that distinction when I was not.  It was, perhaps, another indicator of how far I’d slipped in her estimation.

Perhaps, I thought, it was a necessary evil.  As I understood it, the Blaine’s were our mentors at the Trump Tower, because they didn’t just let ‘anyone’ in.  I didn’t ask if the Blaine’s thought we were just ‘anyone’ before I got the job offer.

And then there was that look between Alison and Elaine, quickly stolen before Alison realized I was looking at both of them.  I was out of my depth, in a place I didn’t belong, with people I didn’t understand.  And yet, apparently, Alison did.  I must have missed the memo.

“No,” Alison said softly, stealing a glance in my direction, “No secrets between friends.”

No secrets.  Her look conveyed something else entirely.

The waiter brought champagne, Krug, and poured glasses for each of us.  It was not the cheap stuff, and I was glad I brought a couple of thousand dollars with me.  We were going to need it.

Then, a toast.

To a new job and a new life.

“When did you decide?”  Elaine was effusive at the best of times, but with the champagne, it was worse.

Alison had a strange expression on her face.  It was obvious she had told Elaine it was a done deal, even before I’d made up my mind.  Perhaps she’d assumed I might be ‘refreshingly honest’ in front of Elaine, but it could also mean she didn’t really care what I might say or do.

Instead of consternation, she looked happy, and I realized it would be churlish, even silly if I made a scene.  I knew what I wanted to say.  I also knew that it would serve little purpose provoking Elaine, or upsetting Alison.  This was not the time or the place.  Alison had been looking forward to coming here, and I was not going to spoil it.

Instead, I said, smiling, “When I woke up this morning and found Alison missing.  If she had been there, I would not have noticed the water stain on the roof above our bed, and decide there and then how much I hated the place.” I used my reassuring smile, the one I used with the customers when all hell was breaking loose, and the forest fire was out of control.  “It’s the little things.  They all add up until one day …”  I shrugged.  “I guess that one day was today.”

I saw an incredulous look pass between Elaine and Alison, a non-verbal question; perhaps, is he for real?  Or; I told you he’d come around.

I had no idea the two were so close.

“How quaint,” Elaine said, which just about summed up her feelings towards me.  I think, at that moment, I lost some brownie points.  It was all I could come up with at short notice.

“Yes,” I added, with a little more emphasis than I wanted.  “Alison was off to get some study in with one of her friends.”

“Weren’t the two of you off to the Hamptons, a weekend with some friends?” Jimmy piped up, and immediately got the ‘shut up you fool’ look, that cut that line of conversation dead.  Someone forgot to feed Jimmy his lines.

It was followed by the condescending smile from Elaine, and “I need to powder my nose.  Care to join me, Al?”

A frown, then a forced smile for her new best friend.  “Yes.”

I watched them leave the table and head in the direction of the restroom, looking like they were in earnest conversation.  I thought ‘Al’ looked annoyed, but I could be wrong.

I had to say Jimmy looked more surprised than I did.

There was that odd moment of silence between us, Jimmy still smarting from his death stare, and for me, the Alison and Elaine show.  I was quite literally gob-smacked.

I drained my champagne glass gathering some courage and turned to him.  “By the way, we were going to have a weekend away, but this legal tutorial thing came up.  You know Alison is doing her law degree.”

He looked startled when he realized I had spoken.  He was looking intently at a woman several tables over from us, one who’d obviously forgotten some basic garments when getting dressed.  Or perhaps it was deliberate.  She’d definitely had some enhancements done.

He dragged his eyes back to me.  “Yes.  Elaine said something or other about it.  But I thought she said the tutor was out of town and it had been postponed until next week.  Perhaps I got it wrong.  I usually do.”

“Perhaps I’ve got it wrong.”  I shrugged, as the dark thoughts started swirling in my head again.  “This week or next, what does it matter?”

Of course, it mattered to me, and I digested what he said with a sinking heart.  It showed there was another problem between Alison and me; it was possible she was now telling me lies.  If what he said was true and I had no reason to doubt him, where was she going tomorrow morning, and had she really been with a friend studying today?

We poured some more champagne, had a drink, then he asked, “This promotion thing, what’s it worth?”

“Trouble, I suspect.  Definitely more money, but less time at home.”

“Oh,” raised eyebrows.  Obviously, the women had not talked about the job in front of him, or, at least, not all the details.  “You sure you want to do that?”

At last the voice of reason.  “Me?  No.”

“Yet you accepted the job.”

I sucked in a breath or two while I considered whether I could trust him.  Even if I couldn’t, I could see my ship was sinking, so it wouldn’t matter what I told him, or what Elaine might find out from him.  “Jimmy, between you and me I haven’t as yet decided one way or another.  To be honest, I won’t know until I go up to Barclay’s office and he asks me the question.”

“Barclay?”

“My boss.”

“Elaine’s doing a job for a Barclay that recently moved in the tower a block down from us.  I thought I recognized the name.”

“How did Elaine get the job?”

“Oh, Alison put him onto her.”

“When?”

“A couple of months ago.  Why?”

I shrugged and tried to keep a straight face, while my insides were churning up like the wake of a supertanker.  I felt sick, faint, and wanting to die all at the same moment.  “Perhaps she said something about it, but it didn’t connect at the time.  Too busy with work I expect.  I think I seriously need to get away for a while.”

I could hardly breathe, my throat was constricted and I knew I had to keep it together.  I could see Elaine and Alison coming back, so I had to calm down.  I sucked in some deep breaths, and put my ‘manage a complete and utter disaster’ look on my face.

And I had to change the subject, quickly, so I said, “Jimmy, Elaine told Alison, who told me, you were something of a guru of the cause and effects of the global economic meltdown.  Now, I have a couple of friends who have been expounding this theory …”

Like flicking a switch, I launched into the well-worn practice of ‘running a distraction’, like at work when we needed to keep the customer from discovering the truth.  It was one of the things I was good at, taking over a conversation and pushing it in a different direction.  It was salvaging a good result from an utter disaster, and if ever there was a time that it was required, it was right here, right now.

When Alison sat down and looked at me, she knew something had happened between Jimmy and I.  I might have looked pale or red-faced, or angry or disappointed, it didn’t matter.  If that didn’t seal the deal for her, the fact I took over the dining engagement did.  She knew well enough the only time I did that was when everything was about to go to hell in a handbasket.  She’d seen me in action before and had been suitably astonished.

But I got into gear, kept the champagne flowing and steered the conversation, as much as one could from a seasoned professional like Elaine, and, I think, in Jimmy’s eyes, he saw the battle lines and knew who took the crown on points.  Neither Elaine nor Jimmy suspected anything, and if the truth be told, I had improved my stocks with Elaine.  She was at times both surprised and interested, even willing to take a back seat.

Alison, on the other hand, tried poking around the edges, and, once when Elaine and Jimmy had got up to have a cigarette outside, questioned me directly.  I chose to ignore her, and pretend nothing had happened, instead of telling her how much I was enjoying the evening.

She had her ‘secrets’.  I had mine.

At the end of the evening, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I was physically sick from the pent up tension and the implications of what Jimmy had told me.  It took a while for me to pull myself together; so long, in fact, Jimmy came looking for me.  I told him I’d drunk too much champagne, and he seemed satisfied with that excuse.  When I returned, both Alison and Elaine noticed how pale I was but neither made any comment.

It was a sad way to end what was supposed to be a delightful evening, which to a large degree it was for the other three.  But I had achieved what I set out to do, and that was to play them at their own game, watching the deception, once I knew there was a deception, as warily as a cat watches its prey.

I had also discovered Jimmy’s real calling; a professor of economics at the same University Alison was doing her law degree.  It was no surprise in the end, on a night where surprises abounded, that the world could really be that small.

We parted in the early hours of the morning, a taxi whisking us back to the Lower East Side, another taking the Blaine’s back to the Upper West Side.  But, in our case, as Alison reminded me, it would not be for much longer.  She showed concern for my health, asked me what was wrong.  It took all the courage I could muster to tell her it was most likely something I ate and the champagne, and that I would be fine in the morning.

She could see quite plainly it was anything other than what I told her, but she didn’t pursue it.  Perhaps she just didn’t care what I was playing at.

And yet, after everything that had happened, once inside our ‘palace’, the events of the evening were discarded, like her clothing, and she again reminded me of what we had together in the early years before the problems had set in.

It left me confused and lost.

I couldn’t sleep because my mind had now gone down that irreversible path that told me I was losing her, that she had found someone else, and that our marriage was in its last death throes.

And now I knew it had something to do with Barclay.

© Charles Heath 2015-2020

Sunday In New York

A to Z Blog Challenge – April 2024 – U is for UFO

There was very little that interested me at school.

I used to think that all I wanted to be was a scientist, even when I had no idea what that meant, and that school was nearly 12 years of distraction.

As I got older and the various branches of science were brought to my attention, I started to think it was going to be too hard.

Botany, biology, chemistry, physics, and then each again part of something else, or a name that loosely held together a lot of other branches.

I was not interested in trees, animals, or humans.  I didn’t like the idea of exploring elements or minerals.   I wanted something big that few had seriously studied, that might have potential for a groundbreaking discovery.

Then I went to the space exhibition at the Smithsonian, and I was sold.

Like a great many others, I watched all the science fiction television shows like Star Trek or Star Gate, read books, and pondered over the possibility of there being other people out there in an endless universe.

After all, only so much could be conjured up by the writer’s imagination, and I spent a lot of time and effort investigating what was possibly right and what was definitely wrong.

That research managed to disprove a lot of the imaginary parts but left a few that might have the distinct possibility of being true, and in one instance, a large number of writers went back to a single piece of so-called evidence.

A place in a mountain range in Peru where there were caves with drawings that could be detected as actual sciences and their spaceships, and over the years, the number of sightings of UFOs.

According to some, it was a meeting place because most sightings were of multiple sets of lights.  Of course, there were photographs, but the thing with photography was that they could be faked.

I was going to have to see it for myself.

Hiking camping and living in rough terrain was second nature.  I was an outdoors person and a lot of the research required going to remote and sometimes dangerous places.  Aliens, it seemed, didn’t like urban areas.

I was going by myself, but in conversations with a fellow UFO enthusiast, one of the sceptics I often butted heads with, in internet forums, asked if she could come along for the ride.

Her reason was to provide a counterbalanced view.  She didn’t believe in UFOs or aliens.

I thought about it.  The fact I disagreed with her views, and we argued might have made it sticky at times, we had a strange sort of rapport in everything other than aliens.  I did say it was not for the faint-hearted, but she took that to mean not for girls and simply made her more determined.

She was going whether I liked it or not.

I shrugged.  That last video meeting, up till now the only way we’d met. was almost a fight.  I guess when I ended the call, I was going to finally meet her in person.

That was three days later at Lima’s Jorge Chavez International Airport.  I arrived the day before and had arranged accommodation, and then went to the airport to greet her.

I was not sure what to expect.  I’d seen her face over time, but that was about it, and being hopeless with faces was worried I might not recognise her.  It didn’t matter, she recognised me.  As it turned out, she was almost nothing like what I imagined.

“Peter Jacobson, I presume?”

It had to be the same day some football team was arriving back home, the waiting area was packed with fans, and it was going to be impossible to find her.  And, typically, they came out first, and the crowd went wild.  It was inevitable that I would miss her.

“Jennifer?”

“The same.”  She saw me looking at the crowd, now chanting.  “I would have to pick the same plane as the national football team.  It’s nice to meet you in person. You seem less professor-ish.”

I took that as a compliment, though with her I could never be quite sure.  What I could see was she was a hugger, which wasn’t a bad thing.

Given the nature of my studies and work, I didn’t have a lot of time for a relationship, and although I had girls as friends, there had never been one I could call a girlfriend.  Jennifer was the one I’d known off and on the longest.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”  I was practical because the next few days were going to be difficult, and seeing her, she seemed to me to be more accustomed to less vigorous pursuits.

She had labelled me as sexist once or twice for reasons I couldn’t understand, but now I think I could, and realised it the moment she frowned at me.

“Tell you what.  When we get back to the hotel, we’ll square off and see who wins.  I know who I’m betting on.”  Her tone had an edge to it, not the best way to start an expedition.

I shrugged.  This girl was going to change my attitude and a lot more before we were done.  “I’m sorry.  I guess there’s a bit too much of my father in me.  It’s no excuse, though.  I’ll try harder to be less of a moron.”  I held out my hand.

She took it.  “We make a great pair.  I’m overly prickly, taking offence about everything.  Most men think I’m a model, and the rest hit on me. You’re the only one so far who hasn’t.”

I could see even now that she was attracting attention.

“I’m hoping that’s a compliment.”

She smiled.  “It’s going to be fun.”

I thought it was going to be anything but fun.

Jennifer, I soon discovered was one of those people who was easy to get along with, and in another sense, it was easy to misinterpret the easy-going and almost flirty manner as something else  She was one of those touchy-feely types, and I was, to a certain extent, uncomfortable with.

I didn’t want to be misinterpreted but knew eventually I would because it was inevitable.  I was to a certain extent a standoffish and reserved sort, or so I had been told.  I tried to explain this and became tongue-tied, something that had never happened to me before.

She thought it amusing.

It was when I finally realised she was also very beautiful, and when we went out to dinner, she attracted a lot more attention, something she didn’t seem to notice or perhaps deliberately ignored.

It was just something else that concerned me, but it would not be for very long.  Where we were going, she would be completely wrapped up, and no one would be able to tell who or what she was.

The next day, we were heading for Cusco in the mountains where we would be staying with a friend I’d met on the internet and who had told me about the significance of the area.

He dropped us off at the start of the walking track that would take us 2km up into the mountains, to a place where there was a plateau about the size of 12 football pitches, reputed to be a UFO landing site.  We arranged to meet him back at the drop-off point in 4 days.

It took the better part of that first day to Trek up the side of the mountain and reach the edge of the plateau which when first sighted looked as though it could definitely be a landing site for large craft.

Winter was not far away, it was covered in patchy snow but soon it would be completely covered.  It would also be very cold, and I was thankful the real cold had not yet set in.

We set up our tents in a sheltered area at one end.  I had to admit I was surprised when Jennifer had shouldered her pack for the Trek and then made it to the top.  She had stamina and determination.

We cooked dinner and had hot drinks, then rugged up and went to bed.  It was dark early, and the wind had picked up.  The skies were cloudy, but a clear sky was expected the next day.

A rather strange noise woke me, and instead of pitch-black darkness, there was an odd eerie glow that was bright enough to be seen threw the tent material.

I put on the outer layer of clothing and put my head outside the tent flap.  Above us, quite some distance up in the sky was a bright light.  It was too big to be a star or a planet.

I would have said it was the landing lights of a passing plane, but it was too low, there was no sound, and it was not moving.

“You saw it too?” Jennifer put her head out and was looking upwards.

“I saw a light shining through the tent.”

“What do you think it is, without stating the obvious.”  She gave me one of her sceptical looks.

It suddenly moved sideways, slowly, then did a wide circle to come back to the original position.

It could have been anything.  I wanted it to be a UFO,

“Perhaps some local with a large drone with powerful LEDs making it appear that it’s a UFO.”

She smiled.  “I’ll make a sceptic out of you yet.  I mean, if this place had been cited as one where odd events occur, you have to ask why aliens come here all the time and not other places as well.”

The light suddenly went out, and we were shrouded in darkness.

“Well, that was exciting,” she said.

Fully awake now and needing to stretch, I got out of the tent and stood up.  Jennifer joined me.

“Coffee?”

The cold was seeping through the layers and a hot drink would help.  She nodded, looking up at the sky.  It was clear and now the focal point had gone, there were stars.

I lit the camp stove and put the kettle on.

Suddenly there was a humming sound and instinctively looking up I could see where stars had been a blackness.

Something was blotting out the stars.

Then a few seconds later bright lights came on, not the sort that were a single or several searchlights but hundreds in a very large circle, slowly descending a short distance from us.

At a guess, it was an aircraft about the size of a football field. Now visible side on, it was about eight or ten stories tall, with rows of pale light indicating the levels, and the shape more or less a dome.

I looked sideways at Jennifer, and she seemed awestruck.

“Unless the Peruvian government is secretly experimenting with a new form of aircraft, this has to be a UFO,” I said.

“It’s not possible.”

We watched it come down and then settle on the surface about three or four hundred yards from us.  The main lights went out and a new yellow set around the base replaced them giving the whole area an eerie glow.

“And yet something is over there,”

She came over and took my hand in hers.  “We can’t stay.  Who knows what is in that thing.  How do we know it’s friendly or dangerous.  Do you really want to find out?

It seemed we would not have a choice.  I felt a slight tingling sensation and then lost consciousness.   My last thought was, whoever or whatever it was, they didn’t want any witnesses.

When I woke I was standing, still holding Jennifer’s hand, but inside a large room with no furniture, windows or anything.  Just walls and doors.

Seconds later a man suddenly materialised in front of us, a man dressed in a sort of outfit ancient monks used to wear.  A man who looked very much like us, though with less refined features.

He looked like he was trying to speak, or marshall his thoughts.

Perhaps overawed or suffering from the effects of whatever they did to us, I went with “You’re obviously not from this place?”

His expression changed, perhaps one of recognition.  “No.  Perhaps not.  Why are you here?”

Odd question.  He or someone else on board had transported us here.  Or did he mean here as in the plateau?

“We were expecting you,” I said. We weren’t but I thought it was a good response.  I could see Jennifer was simply stunned.

“That is not possible.  We had troubles and set down to make fixes.”

“Why here?”

“One of many ports in what you call the universe.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“Many times.  Sorry, the problem is fixed.  We must go.  Perhaps we will meet again.”

He slowly disappeared, we got tingly again, and then nothing.

It was light outside when I woke.  The sun was out, it was quite warm, and there was no sign of the patchy snow.  It was like prewinter had turned into summer.

Jennifer was beside me, slowly waking too.

“What happened?” She asked.  She’d also realised the change from the night before.

Coming up over the ledge was my friend and several others.   When he saw us, he came running.

“Peter, Peter, you’re alive.  We didn’t know what happened to you.”

He hugged me then Jennifer.

“What do you mean.  We were here the whole time.”

‘”No.  You disappeared.  When I came back four days later you were not there.  We came looking for you. Found your camp, and nothing else.  It’s been almost a year.  Where have you been?”

©  Charles Heath  2024

“Trouble in Store” – Short stories my way: Revisiting the first section

First drafts are always a little messy.  The words spill out onto the page, and any or all of them are rarely perfect.  Sometimes you get lucky, but most of the time you don’t.

That’s why there’s revision or by the more dreaded name, editing.

Editing conjures up a lot of different images in my mind, from completely re-writing, to cutting the Mss down in size.  Or where you discover the main character’s name has changed from Bill to Fred after a bad night.

Usually, though, as stories progress, they go through several rewrites, and sometimes because of what follows.  It depends on how long a period the story is written.  Some of mine take days, others quite a lot longer.

This is the rewrite of the first section of the short story I’m undertaking, adding some new details:

Jack was staring down the barrel of a gun.

He had gone down to the corner shop to get a pack of cigarettes.

He had to hustle because he knew the shopkeeper, Alphonse, liked to close at 11:00 pm sharp.  His momentum propelled him through the door, causing the customer warning bell to ring loudly as the door bashed into it, and before the sound had died away, he knew he was in trouble.

It took a second, perhaps three, to sum up the situation. 

Young girl, about 16 or 17, scared, looking sideways at a man on the ground, then Alphonse, and then Jack.  He recognized the gun, a Luger, a German relic of WW2, perhaps her father’s souvenir, now pointing at him then Alphonse, then back to him.

Jack to another second or two to consider if he could disarm her.  No, the distance was too great.  He put his hands out where she could see them.  No sudden movements, he tried to remain calm, and his heart rate was up to the point of cardiac arrest.

Pointing with the gun, she said, “Come in, close the door, and move towards the counter.”

Everything but her hand was steady as a rock.  The only telltale sign of stress was the beads of perspiration on her brow.  It was 40 degrees Fahrenheit in the shop.

Jack shivered and then did as he was told.  She was in the unpredictable category.

“What’s wrong with your friend?”  Jack tried the friendly approach, as he took several slow steps sideways towards the counter.

The shopkeeper, Alphonse, seemed calmer than usual, or the exact opposite spoke instead, “I suspect he’s an addict, looking for a score.  At the end of his tether, my guess, and came to the wrong place.”

Wrong time, wrong place, in more ways than one Jack thought, now realizing he had walked into a very dangerous situation.  She didn’t look like a user.  The boy on the ground did, and he looked like he was going through the beginnings of withdrawal.

 “Simmo said you sell shit.  You wanna live, ante up.”  She was glaring at Alphonse. 

The language, Jack thought, was not her own, she had been to a better class of school, a good girl going through a bad boy phase. Caught in a situation she was not equipped to deal with.

© Charles Heath 2016-2024

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 55

This story is now on the list to be finished so over the new few weeks, expect a new episode every few days.

The reason why new episodes have been sporadic, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritizing.

But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.

Things are about to get complicated…


We took the underground to Lancaster Gate and parted company before crossing the road and going into Hyde Park.  Severin had designated the meeting place as the rotunda, as he called it, in the Italian Gardens.

It was dark, although there was adequate lighting, which made it a good cover for anyone else skulking nearby.  And making it easier for Jennifer, who sensibly dressed in black, to scout.

It took my time heading slowly towards the stone building.  I was deliberately early so he might not be there yet.  In the intervening time I could hear the odd comment from Jennifer, as she looked over the various suspects who were also taking in the aesthetic beauty of the gardens, which would look so much better in daylight.

Oddly enough in all the times I’d been to Hyde Park, these gardens had never been a point of visiting, such was the allure of the pedal boats on the Serpentine.

I did a slow circuit of the building and saw three people seated inside.  Two women, together, and a man on one side.  It could be him.

“I think he’s already here, just going to check.”

“Nothing stirring out here, so far.”

“Keep alert.”

It was odd hearing a voice almost in my head as if she was next to me.

I came up to the seat in full view of the person sitting on one end of the bench, so as not to alarm them.  I could feel their eyes on me as I sat down.  If it was him, he would talk to me.  I was not going to talk to him.

Something else I noted, there was no direct line of fire from anywhere hidden, so if there was an assassin out there, he would have to do it in the open.  Severin had scouted the place earlier.

“You alone?”  The man spoke after about three, or four minutes.  I’d seen him look around, checking for himself I was not followed.

“As far as I’m aware.”

I moved a little closer.  He was talking very softly.

“What happened to Maury?”

“Tortured and murdered by Dobbin I believe.  If he knew where the device was, he didn’t give up its location.”

“He wouldn’t.   Dobbin you say?”

“As far as I can tell.  He was running O’Connell, but you knew that already.”  To save time dancing around the truth, and lessen the time being a target I added, “Everyone believes O’Connell is still alive.  He didn’t have the device when I searched him.  Who shot him?”

“Not us.  If he is alive Dobbin must have usurped our cleaners, and spirited him away, which means it’s likely Dobbin has the device.”

“He doesn’t.  He co-opted me into his section.  O’Connell appears to have done a runner from him too.  Did you know O’Connell was on mission to pick up the device from an intermediary?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know that Anna Jacovich was there too?”

“Then you know what’s on the device?”

“I wish I didn’t.  Or that you two were security guards at the Laboratory where Erich stole the data.  What took so long for him to decide to sell it?

“When he was fired by the company after they lost the military contract.   He had no intention of selling it, just getting it into the hands of the public so they would be forced to stop.”

“Except he was killed, and Anna decided she needed an escape plan.”

“Which O’Connell provided by wire transfer.  The money’s gone, and the data didn’t arrive.  It’s still out there.”

“Who was you boss in all this?  Monica?”

“Who.  No.  It’s….”

I heard the phutt sound of a bullet passing through a silencer, and just caught the edge of the barrel retracting from behind one of the pillars.  No need to check him, he was dead, still sitting upright as if nothing had happened.

I got out of the seat and moved towards where the gun had been, trying not to alert the other two sitting on the other side, facing the other way, fortunately.

When I reached the outside, there was no one.  A quick scan in the darkness, my eyesight hampered by going from light to dark making images blurry at best.

Then I heard a thunk, and a triumphant “Gotcha.”

I hoped that was Jennifer with the shooter.

© Charles Heath 2020-2023

Mistaken Identity – The Final Editor’s Draft – Day 20

This book has finally reached the Final Editor’s draft, so this month it is going to get the last revision, and a reread for the beta readers.

How many of us would ever get caught up in a dangerous situation in a lifetime?

How many of us have skeletons in the closet that we don’t know about?

I had been thinking about it a lot when I discovered my mother’s previous boyfriend, the man who was the love of her life.

Then, in terms of coming up with an idea for a story, what if she had a child by him that we didn’t know about, a half-brother or sister.

There were many ways of putting a spin on this premise.

Then, in the back of my mind, I remembered a story an acquaintance at works was once telling us over morning tea, that a friend of a friend had a mother who had a twin sister and that each of the sisters had a son by the same father, without each knowing of the father’s actions, both growing up without the other knowing of their half-brother only to meet by accident on the other side of the world.

It was an enormous coincidence.

And we all wondered what the sisters had planned as retribution for the man who had lied to them both.

Of course, it could also be said that they could have spoken to each other long before it came to that, but like a lot of families, small problems become much larger ones when allowed to fester and cause almost unhealable rifts. It had in this case.

Sometimes the backstory can be just as interesting as the story itself.

More tomorrow.

NANOWRIMO – April 2024 – “The One That Got Away” – Day 25

Well, that wasn’t what was expecting.

There has to be a motive, means and opportunity.

In any investigation, suspects can have the means and the opportunity, but often it’s hard to find a motive.

And until you start scratching below the surface, there can be a point where the perpetrator can begin to believe they’ve got away with it.  Especially when there are so many other convenient suspects.

The first clue, if it could be called that, is that Agatha was slowly poisoned.  It was not something she would be overly aware of, other than the perpetual fatigue, nor was it a poison that would show up in the run-of-the-mill blood tests.

You have to be looking for a very specific substance, and even then, it’s difficult at best, because it is often used for heart troubles.

Fatigue is generally treated as fatigue.  Doctors do not often look beyond the obvious and prescribe something they believe will fix the problem.  That, of course, is rest.

The thing is, what happens to Agatha was not meant to be part of the ‘punishment’.  She was simply supposed to be removed from her position of running her charity, to take time away while others ran it, using the organisation as a cover for another purpose.  Once.

Words today, 1,804, for a total of 45,914