Category Archives: books

young offender (Part 1)

The clear, sharp bark of a fox pearced the rural solitude. A blackbird sang and a magpie screeched from the uppermost branch of an ancient oak . The tree stood close to the 18th-century farmhouse, it’s boughs almost touching the building’s sandstone walls.

Jennifer Lewes stood at the open living room window, drinking in the fresh Yorkshire air. She was, Jenny thought lucky to have secured the property at a knock-down price. The previous owner had gone bankrupt and wishing to make a quick sale, in order to clear debts, had accepted her first offer.

Jenny turned from the window at the sound of heels clacking on the kitchen’s stone floor,

“I’m bored shitless” her cousin, Luan said.

“Why not go for a walk down to the village? I need some groceries. You could pop into the shop and buy them for me”, Jenny said.

“Don’t wanna do that. There’s nothing in bloody village cept old people. I wanna go back to London. There’s sod all ere”, Luan said, kicking the legg of the kitchen table.

“Don’t do that Luan, it’s an antique”, Jenny said, swallowing down the anger which she felt welling up in her.

“You don’t care about me. All you cares about is things”, Luan said raising her right foot to kick the table again.

Jenny moved in front of the girl, before she could put her intention into action. Luan glared at Jenny and before she had time to react raked her nails across her face.

Jenny raised her right hand. Trembling with emotion she glared at her cousin.

“Go on, I dares ya”, Luan said.

For several minutes the girl and the older woman stood toe to toe, fists clenched, attempting to stir the other out. The grandfather clock struck 10 am. The sound caused Jenny to recollect herself. What the hell was she doing, a woman of 25 raising her hand to a 15-year-old girl. Jenny let her arm drop,and reaching for a piece of kitchen towel began to wipe away the blood which flowed from a scratch above her right eye.

“One more outburst like that and I’ll be straight on the phone to your probation officer. Mrs Maddox can take care of you. You remember what the magistrate said, “this is your last chance. If you come before the court again you will, in all probability be sent to a young offender’s institution”. Is that what you want Luan? Well is it?” Jenny said.

Luan began to cry quietly. Despite her tough demeanour the thought of a young offender’s institution terrified her. She had heard tales of girls being driven to suicide as a result of bullying by other inmates. Stories of physical and sexual abuse made Luan feel sick to the pit of her stomach.

“Sorry Jen”, she said, looking up with tear filled eyes into the face of her older cousin.

“OK, we’ll go to the shop together and, if you can behave maybe go for a trip into Leeds afterwards. It’s not London but it’s a city and we can look around the shops”, Jenny said.

Luan’s face brightened, “I can go by meself. Give me the bus fare”, Luan said.

“You must think that I was born yesterday young lady”, Jenny said.

“I aint gonna do anything”, Luan said.

“I’m not taking the chance. The last time you went to court it was for shop lifting. Either we go to town together or you don’t go at all”, Jenny said.

Luan’s face fell.

“Well what is it to be young lady?” Jenny said.

“Suppose I aint got no choice. I’ll go with ya”, the girl replied, her face a mask of disappointment.

Epitaph On An Army Of Mercenaries By A E Housman

I like the unsentimental nature of this poem which never fails to bring a smile to my lips:

 

 

“These, in the day when heaven was falling,

 

The hour when earth’s foundations fled,

 

Followed their mercenary calling,

 

And took their wages, and are dead.

 

Their shoulders held the sky suspended;

 

They stood, and earth’s foundations stay;

 

What God abandoned, these defended,

 

And saved the sum of things for pay.”

Dark Angel By K Morris On Calamities Press

I am delighted that Calamities Press has accepted another of my poems, “Dark Angel” for publication. For “Dark Angel”, which first appeared on my blog, newauthoronline.com please visit the following link (http://calamitiespress.com/2014/11/02/dark-angel-poetry-by-kevin-morris/).

Halloween

Halloween is just so much hokum, a trick designed to part the gullible from their money. The fansy dress industry does well. Fake blood and vampire’s fangs fly off the shelves while kids pester the neighbourhood with Trick Or Treat.

At the dead of night we are not so sure. What is that shadow which keeps pace as we walk home from that Halloween Party? That unearthly scream setting the hairs on the back of your neck astir is, surely a cat yowling for it’s mate, isn’t it? You quicken your pace just in case.

Cutting through the churchyard will knock 5 minutes off your journey. In the brightness of day you would have no hesitation so why now do you hesitate to enter? The dead after all can not hurt you, “tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil”.

You enter the churchyard resisting the almost overwhelming temptation to glance over your shoulder. Laughter in the darkest corner of the graveyard. Oh sweet Jesus why did I walk through here. Logic tells you it is merely an amourous couple who, unable to contain their desire have chosen this place to satiate their lust but, still you run blindly tripping over gravestones until at last the gate is reached. Locked! Desperately you climb, trousers rip on the gate’s spiked top, you are beyond caring. You jump down on the other side and with heart racing run the last few hundred yards to home.

Come the bright morning you laugh at yesterday’s escapades. My imagination ran riot but still, somewhere deep in your subconscious the nagging doubts remain.

Early Morning Call

The below is dedicated to the person who rang me at halfpast 2 this morning from a withheld number.

 

—

 

 

Why do you ring me at halfpast two? Tell me, please do.

The sound of my mobile echoing around, dragging me from sleep profound.

I answered the phone, no one there, cursing inwardly I return to my lair.

Whoever you are, whatever you do, refrain from calling me at halfpast two!

The Affair

Richard felt that familiar frisson as he pulled Julie close. The smell of her hair, scented with jasmine sent his pulse off the scale. He never tired of gazing into those blue eyes, they held oceans of desire in which he could swim forever.

The illicit nature of the affair was, Richard thought part of it’s attraction. His girlfriend, Susie sat in the room next door watching television, blissfully unaware of the betrayal which was taking place virtually under her nose. The thought of his girlfriend catching him in the act made Richard feel sick with fear and desire.

Richard was addicted. He had reached that stage in his addiction in which the only way to deal with his feelings of guilt was to drown them by plunging ever deeper into the inviting waters of lust. Fully immersed, Richard gave way with desperate abandon to his desires. Julie had no limits, they had engaged in acts which Susie would never entertain in a thousand years.

“I love you, I love you” Julie moaned as Richard’s hands explored her perfect body.

She was his ideal girl. They never argued. Julie’s perfectly manicured nails, her immaculately styled long brown hair and those ideally proportioned breasts (not to big and not to small) where just as Richard desired them to be.

Richard knew that he could never become bored with this beautiful girl and, in the extremely unlikely event that their relationship became stale he could always purchase another of the increasingly life-like sexbots which the mid 21st century had to offer.

Why risk sexually transmitted diseases when one could have your perfect virtual girlfriend made to order? No danger with a virtual girl of her becoming jealous of your other partner. Julie would be making no calls in the dead of night, there would be no incriminating texts for Susie to discover on Richard’s mobile. It was, he thought the perfect solution, an affair without guilt accept, for some unaccountable reason Richard’s conscience gnawed away at him.

“You’re a bloody doll. Well a highly developed one but still a damn doll. This means nothing. Absolutely nothing” Richard whispered in Julie’s ear so as not to be overheard by his girlfriend next door.

Was it a trick of the light or where Julie’s eyes swimming with tears?

 

—

 

Susie sat, her head pillowed on Jon’s shoulder. Softly she traced his strong jawline.

“I love you Susie”, Jon said, gently taking her face in his hands and planting a tender kiss on Susie’s lips.

Guilty desire welled up in Susie. Richard was in the room next door, what if he where to come in and see her in the arms of another man. He would never forgive her. Lust and common sense contended in Susie’s breast. Then, as is so often the case hot lust triumphed over staid rationality.

With a moan Susie grasped Jon to her. “It’s only a sexbot” Susie thought as she released the great tide of desire pent up inside her.

Anthology To Raise Money For Guide Dogs – An Update And A Request

This post is by way of an update on the anthology to raise money for the Guide Dogs for the Blind Association (GDBA), the UK based charity which trains dogs for the blind without receiving any financial support from the government. Thus far I have received contributions from the following people:

Sue Vincent – http://scvincent.com/

Kev Cooper – http://kevs-domain.net/

Anju – http://cupitonians.wordpress.com/ and

Sally Cronin – http://smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com/

 

Many thanks to Sally, Kev, Anju and Sue for their contributions. Thanks also go to Dave Higgins who is editing the anthology free of charge and to everyone who has offered to provide a story, poem or other contribution. The anthology is still in need of contributions. If you can provide a poem, story or other animal (preferably dog related but it doesn’t have to be) content then please do get in touch. You can contact me by e-mail at newauthoronline (at) gmail . com (the address is rendered in this manner to try and defeat spammers).

 

Kevin

Blackbird

The singing of a blackbird stops me dead in my tracks. Enraptured by his music I stand wallowing in beauty.

The cloak of evening softly creeps over the land. His music continues and still I stand.

“Are you OK?” a voice, as from another world asks.

“Yes” I reply.

The magic broken I go on my way.

He, later to family perhaps,

“I saw a strange man today. He stood, head cocked, listening to I know not what”.

Beach

I see you, bare feet leaving traces in the damp sand.

Lost in beauty, you watch the gulls as they wheel and cry.

The salt sea caresses your sun kissed skin.

The birds continue to scream overhead.

The sceen overpowers, your tears mingle and are lost in the great atlantic.

In my dreams I glimpse you, a girl walking along the beach.