http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/ online fiction Sat, 06 Apr 2013 13:07:36 +0000 en hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3.1 It's a fiery hot summer, and sixteen-year-old Jesse Wright is on the run. An oddly gifted boy, he arrives in a new city where the direction of his life is about to change. He's hungry and lonely and desperate - and beset by visions of a stranger who is being brutally tortured. And then there are Jesse's own memories of a fire ... L. Lee Lowe yes L. Lee Lowe l.lee.lowe@gmail.com l.lee.lowe@gmail.com (L. Lee Lowe) Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License Y.A. Fantasy Novel Young Adult, Teen, Fantasy, Novel, Fiction, YA, Speculative Fiction, Ebook , Literature http://lleelowe.com/wp-content/plugins/powerpress/rss_default.jpg http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-forty-two/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-forty-two/#comments Wed, 20 May 2009 08:50:45 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=132 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-forty-two/feed/ 0 Sarah is heading for the corn circle. It’s a warm golden afternoon, the first after a grey start to October, and the sidewalk cafés and playgrounds are beginning to fill. She comes often to the park. On most days she wheels the pushchair along the g... Sarah is heading for the corn circle. It’s a warm golden afternoon, the first after a grey start to October, and the sidewalk cafés and playgrounds are beginning to fill. She comes often to the park. On most days she wheels the pushchair along the gravel paths she and Jesse walked that very first afternoon. Today she has a book tucked into the net along with the usual baby paraphernalia, also an old waterproof camping sheet. If the grass isn’t too damp, she’ll stretch out on the ground, get through that chapter for history. She missed some school last year, but not much. There had been private tutoring, and with her marks she was allowed to sit most of her exams late. The rest she’ll be able catch up, in the end she’ll finish with her year. These are modern times—a single parent, a teenager, shouldn’t have to suffer. Her parents know how to exploit the system. And in school she wears her motherhood like a badge of honour, a test passed. October is a country month, one of the best. Maybe at the weekend Meg will drive them to Gran’s. Some of the apples will be ready for picking, fragrant bunches of lavender hang under the eaves—Gran has bought almond oil this year for infusing—and there’s always jam to be made. The sweet, sharp tang of quinces simmering in the kettle will permeate the whole cottage. Sarah smiles to remember how she and Peter used to fight over the scrapings. The baby needs country air—Sarah, even more so. At five months the baby still sleeps in Sarah’s bed, wanting only a nice long suck to settle. It isn’t quite so easy for Sarah. She’s been dreaming of Jesse again, though never as vividly as the night the baby was born and lay next to her in that tiny cot. The path ahead is thronged with people, which Sarah doesn’t mind as long as she can find a quiet corner. After the fire, she needed months to be able to walk into a crowded room without beginning to shake. And she still avoids large enclosed spaces like shopping malls, the school auditorium. She hasn’t been to the cinema since that one time with Jesse. And she’s just begun her first dance class a few weeks ago, though she’s not keen to perform onstage again. Occasionally she meets with someone from school for a coke or bit of TV, but mostly she prefers to be on her own. Having a child has changed her in more ways than she could have ever imagined... having had Jesse... Aside from teachers and exams, there isn’t much she has in common with the old crowd, even Katy. But she misses Thomas, who left for New York at the beginning of term. Talk has died down, yet the fire still smoulders in everyone’s memory; the fire, and the boy who set it, and Mick. Sarah was insulated from the gossip for a while—her parents sent her for six weeks to her grandmother in Norway—but upon her return she soon got wind of what was being said at school, and her rage was cataclysmic. It took three blokes to pull her off the girl. With her mum’s help, Sarah has come to understand that, deep down, she’s angry at Jesse (and herself), not the stupid kids who have no idea what they’re talking about. She doesn’t really blame them any longer—well, not much—when she thinks about it rationally. They all know someone who died in the fire. Why should they doubt Mick’s version of the story? Finn has done his best, but everyone knows of his vested interest in defending the boy. There was an official inquiry into the actions of Howell’s elite team, which resulted in a few dismissals, a few reprimands, but not much else—certainly no prosecutions. Sarah continues to avoid Mick, not that he seeks her out. And of course, together with Gavin, he flatly denies the rape. Jesse was right all along—she should have gone to the police straightaway, when it would have been possible to submit to a few simple tests. Might things have turned out differently? The fire... Jesse...? ‘I know you don’t want to believe he’s dead, L. Lee Lowe yes 21:48 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-forty-one/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-forty-one/#comments Wed, 20 May 2009 08:40:33 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=130 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-forty-one/feed/ 0 In the drive Jesse revved the motorbike, its trademark *pop pop . . . pop pop* ripping through the predawn silence. A light went on next door, and as the police came rushing out to their patrol car, Meg and Finn on their heels, In the drive Jesse revved the motorbike, its trademark *pop pop . . . pop pop* ripping through the predawn silence. A light went on next door, and as the police came rushing out to their patrol car, Meg and Finn on their heels, a curtain twitched in the magistrate’s house across the road: breakfast fodder, a tasty alternative to granola; more chew. Meg wanted to jump into the car and follow, but Finn dissuaded her. ‘He’ll look after Sarah,’ he avowed, not entirely sure that he could refrain from interfering if given the chance. It was one thing to trust Jesse—another, to watch him in action. Don’t make me regret this, Finn muttered fiercely under his breath, half-hoping the lad could read minds as well. Sarah clung to Jesse’s back. He drove slowly, wobbling a bit, weaving back and forth to give the police, and Sarah, the impression that he couldn’t quite manage the big bike. Why else wouldn’t he just speed away? At one point he even mounted the pavement, then after tearing up a section of neighbour’s lawn, wrestled the Harley back onto the road. Once convinced the officers had seen Sarah under the streetlamps, Jesse gunned the engine and rode downhill in the direction of the river. Neither wore helmets, so that Sarah’s hair streamed behind her like a banner in all its glory—a call to arms. The air was fresh and cool, and Jesse would have enjoyed sharing the road, and the ride, with Sarah under other circumstances. Now all he could think of was how to make it to a bridge fast enough to elude his pursuers, but not too fast to outrun them entirely. He didn’t trust his skill on tight turns or against unexpected hazards, though he was grateful for the instruction Finn had given him. ‘We’ll make a biker of you yet,’ Finn had said. He’d even talked of buying a second Harley. Meg had laughed at that, calling Jesse the perfect pretext. Finn had always meant to take a lengthy motorcycle trip across the States and Canada. Another of those things they wouldn’t get to. Finn’s gun was tucked into Jesse’s waistband. Jesse maintained a steady pace, riding through first one, then another roundabout, then several somnolent traffic lights. Until now they had kept to residential streets, and aside from one couple returning late from a party—the man was unsteady with drink and singing loudly—and a black jogger whose teeth flashed in appreciation as they passed, there was no one on the roads. At the next junction Jesse was forced to slow, for an all-night bus was just making a right turn directly across their path. Jesse hit the horn and swerved round the bus, nearly skidding as he caught sight of a police car approaching, lights flashing, from the opposite direction. Sarah dug her hands into his waist. She shouted something that Jesse couldn’t make out. The bus driver braked, sounded his horn, and flipped a vulgar gesture. The police car switched on its siren at the same instant as Jesse regained control of the bike. He rode hard past the police, heart pounding, but either they were lucky or the driver slow-witted, for they were halfway down the block before the police car made a U-turn. Now there were two vehicles chasing them, and Jesse thought he heard another siren start up in the distance. But it wasn’t far to the river. The sky was lightening ahead of them. A new dawn, Sarah told herself bitterly. She tightened her hold on Jesse. His back was rigid with tension, and she could feel his heart thudding against his ribcage. Her own heart was beating almost as wildly, not just in fear of the outcome of this mad escape, but because she’d ridden pillion more than enough with her father to recognise that Jesse was nervous and uncertain on the bike. On that last manoeuvre he’d clamped way too hard on the front brake. He was usually so sovereign, so *natural* in the way he moved and swam and skated—and made love, she thought with a smile—in short, in nearly everything he did, L. Lee Lowe yes 27:29 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-forty/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-forty/#comments Wed, 20 May 2009 08:28:05 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=128 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-forty/feed/ 0 ‘Is that you, Jesse?’ - Jesse whirled at Meg’s voice. He had drawn the curtains as soon as he’d come into his room and draped a blanket over the window for extra safety before switching on a light. His shower had been brief but blistering. ‘Is that you, Jesse?’ Jesse whirled at Meg’s voice. He had drawn the curtains as soon as he’d come into his room and draped a blanket over the window for extra safety before switching on a light. His shower had been brief but blistering. Working quickly, he’d packed his rucksack, written a letter to Finn and Meg about Peter, and a short note to Matthew, and printed out a few lines of Shakespeare for Sarah, now folded under her pillow. Then he’d erased all his files from the laptop. On second thought he’d formatted the hard disk. When he’d finished, he turned out the desklight, lit a cigarette, and sat down to wait. Meg would forgive him this once for smoking in the house. Jesse had gone to the window to look out when he heard Meg speak. ‘Don’t put on the overhead light,’ he said. She came into the room and shut the door. Jesse checked the curtains and blanket, felt his way to the bedside table, and moved his lamp to the floor before switching it on. He sat down on the bed, and Meg pulled out his desk chair and turned it to face him. There were lines of fatigue bracketing her eyes and mouth from the long hours of emergency duty. She took in the rucksack propped by the door, the neatness of the room. It already looked empty, unoccupied. Her eyes searched his. ‘The police are looking for you,’ she said. ‘They said the house was dark and no one answered the bell. I told them I’d call as soon as I knew anything.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘Sometimes it helps to be a member in good standing of the professional classes.’ ‘I’m only waiting to say goodbye to Sarah and Finn. Do you have any idea when they’ll be back?’ ‘Finn rang me to say they’re on their way. They were making sure your body didn’t turn up.’ Jesse nodded. He’d be able to get away before the sun rose. ‘Where will you go?’ Meg asked. Jesse was grateful that she didn’t try to argue with him, talk him out of leaving. He shrugged. ‘I’ve got a few ideas,’ he said, ‘but the less you know, the less you can reveal.’ ‘We don’t live in a police state,’ she protested. ‘That’s not what—whom—I’m thinking of,’ he replied. ‘You don’t want *anyone* looking for you, do you?’ ‘It’s best that way. You know it yourself. Sarah—’ Jesse stopped, unable to go on. Meg was silent for a long while. The fire lay between them, burning as though it hadn’t been extinguished, consuming their lives. But neither of them spoke of it. ‘I think you’re wrong, Jesse,’ Meg said at last. ‘It’s not that she won’t love others someday. But—’ Jesse reached over and with his fingertips gently silenced her. ‘Please, Meg. Haven’t I got feelings too?’ He could feel her lips tremble under his touch, and she blinked her eyes rapidly until he dropped his hand. ‘All right,’ she said. They both heard the car pull into the drive. Jesse rose, smoothed the bed, and hoisted his rucksack to a shoulder. ‘It’s safest to talk in the basement. In the darkrooms, where nobody can look in.’ She followed him downstairs. In the hallway Sarah clung to Jesse without saying much except his name, over and over again. Then she went to wash her face and hands while Meg made a pot of extra-strong coffee and some sandwiches. In the darkrooms Finn found them folding chairs, which they positioned round one of the mounting tables. Finn spiked all but Jesse’s coffee generously with whiskey, and Jesse stirred four heaping teaspoons of sugar into his own mug. He gulped most of it straightaway, mindful that he needed the energy and not caring if he scalded his tongue. He wasn’t hungry but forced down a sandwich. Now he was drinking his second mug more slowly, wondering if he should ask Meg to let him have a flask for the road, inhaling the potent steam. But the rich smell of the coffee did not quite drive away the other, more acrid odour. Sarah’s clothes and hair and skin still reeked of smoke, Finn’s as well. L. Lee Lowe yes 17:56 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-nine/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-nine/#comments Wed, 20 May 2009 08:20:12 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=126 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-nine/feed/ 0 A few hours afterwards Jesse was seriously annoyed with himself for letting Sarah drag him to this party. ‘It’s not really a club,’ she’d said, ‘just an end-of-the-holidays sort of thing, all my mates will be there, Katy, everyone, A few hours afterwards Jesse was seriously annoyed with himself for letting Sarah drag him to this party. ‘It’s not really a club,’ she’d said, ‘just an end-of-the-holidays sort of thing, all my mates will be there, Katy, everyone, you’ll get to meet a lot of people, please come.’ He knew she longed to go, and knew she wanted to take his mind off Nubi’s death, and Daisy’s, so he’d given in. She kissed him then, and he buried his hands in her electric cloud of hair. For a moment it had felt so good—so real, so free, so safe—until his memories flooded back. The air was dense, filled with smoke, and the stink of spilled beer and sweating bodies, and the cloy of perfume and aftershave and hair gel, all mixed together with another, more sinister smell. Jesse tried to put a name to it, but all he could think of was desperation. These kids were driven, frantic to escape the senselessness of school and parents and money, lots and lots of money. He lit a cigarette then stubbed it out after a drag or two. For the first time in weeks an iron band had started to tighten around his temples, and his vision was even a touch blurred. If he didn’t leave soon, there was a good chance he’d be sick. Jesse fought his way through the throng and the brutal pulse of the music. Sarah was dancing with a tall, older-looking bloke in battered jeans and a soft leather vest. His hair was long and straight and black, his eyes the jet and tilt of the Orient, and he had a thin nose, even thinner lips, and a very studied stubble, as if he were a French film star slumming for fresh young blood. Jesse realised that most women would find him extremely good-looking—sexy, Jesse supposed grimly. His heart began to pound as he saw how Sarah danced, and how this character watched her. She should never have worn that silvery spandex top; the heat had pasted it to her skin like a cheap swimming costume, every detail of her anatomy on public display. As Jesse approached, the would-be film star moved in very close and with a faint smirk pinched one of Sarah’s nipples hard enough for her to gasp, lose her chill, and take a step backwards. But she didn’t leave. Don’t get angry, Jesse told himself. Keep a low profile. There’s no problem. Jesse gave the man a small nudge. His face paled greenly, and he put a hand up to his head. Without a word he turned and pushed towards the edge of the dance floor, stumbling and bouncing off gyrating bodies, then staggering on again like an eccentric billiard ball, finally coming to rest by lurching against one bloke who grabbed him and from the expression on his face seemed to be swearing violently. It was hard to tell from here. A few steps away from Jesse, Sarah watched as her future superstar vomited on the spot, splattering not only the lad who’d caught him, but his girl as well, who jumped back and retched visibly, shuddering with disgust. Her bare belly and navel piercing were now splashed with puke. The band continued to play, and the strobes flashed in nauseating spasms of colour. Sarah rounded on Jesse. ‘You didn’t have to do that! I was perfectly all right.’ Sweat broke out on Jesse’s forehead. He was overtaken by a fit of shivering so strong that he had to clench his teeth to keep them from chattering. Her anger forgotten, Sarah took his arm. ‘You’re ill.’ He nodded, unable to speak. He leaned heavily against Sarah, who led him slowly towards the small brightly-coloured tables scattered like confetti at the fringes of the room. Jesse floundered more than once, nearly dragging them down. When she finally had him seated, she examined his face in dismay. His eyes were ringed in black, and his skin the colour and texture of old suet, and slick with sweat. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. ‘Stay here,’ Sarah told him rather unnecessarily. ‘I’ll be right back. I’m going to fetch some cold water for you.’ He spoke without opening his eyes. ‘Wait. L. Lee Lowe yes 21:29 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-eight/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-eight/#comments Wed, 20 May 2009 08:05:25 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=124 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-eight/feed/ 0 Finn cancelled his long-scheduled trip to New York over Jesse’s protests. ‘So I won’t sell as many books. Who cares? We won’t be going hungry, not with a doctor in the family.’ - Finn’s joking did nothing to mask the worry at the back of his eyes. Finn cancelled his long-scheduled trip to New York over Jesse’s protests. ‘So I won’t sell as many books. Who cares? We won’t be going hungry, not with a doctor in the family.’ Finn’s joking did nothing to mask the worry at the back of his eyes. Together he and Jesse dug a grave near Nubi’s favourite spot under the walnut tree, hacking and finally sawing through limb-thick roots in grim determination. Meg and Sarah joined them when the hole was deep enough. No one said much while Nubi was buried, Jesse least of all. The last spadeful of soil in place, Jesse went right off to the unfinished job of clearing away the sundial, whose destruction Finn wasn’t quite inclined to classify with broken windows; however, it was clear to everyone that Jesse was in no condition to be questioned closely. Soon afterwards he retreated not just to his room, but to a place where even Sarah couldn’t reach him. Though he didn’t lock her out physically—they still spent the nights together—his skin, his breath, his thoughts became so cold that it hurt to touch him. It felt like a car handle on winter days in Norway—put your naked fingers to it, and you left part of your own skin behind. When Finn asked about enemies, Jesse looked at him blankly, as though he didn’t understand the words. And when Finn persisted, Jesse shrugged. ‘I already know who it is. I’ll deal with him.’ Disquieted, Finn tried to probe for more information, but Jesse turned back to his weeding without a word. For that was all he seemed able to do—hours and hours of labour, hard physical labour, long into the night. Sarah thought he was trying to sweat away the pain. He hardly ate, and he wouldn’t shower, as if he welcomed the smell of his own sweat—as if its very rankness proved something. After discussing the situation with Meg, Finn rang Matthew on Thursday. There too something was wrong—Jesse had not been to the boathouse in days—but Meg thought Matthew might be able to carry some of Jesse’s grief. ‘Matthew has a way with strays, we all know that,’ she said. And though Matthew was stiff on the phone, bluntly declining to answer any of Finn’s questions, he did turn up a few hours later. Even more laconic than usual, he made straight for the garden where he found Jesse forking over the compost heap. After about twenty minutes Finn suddenly remembered some tools he desperately needed from the shed, but Matthew flicked him such a severe look from under his black cap that Finn withdrew without even bothering to open the shed door. Sarah added a few choice words of her own about nosy, meddling parents before leaving for a dance class. In another hour or so Matthew came into the kitchen where Finn, having relinquished all pretence of repair work, was hovering over a mushroom risotto and a salad he was preparing. They exchanged a couple of pleasantries but Matthew refused to stay for supper, and refused even more firmly to divulge what he and Jesse had talked about. ‘Give him time,’ was all he’d say. Finn bit back a sour comment about Meg’s influence when he saw Matthew attempt, and fail, to mask his sadness. He left, however, with a promise to return soon. On Friday Jesse still ached when he woke. Mornings he felt as if someone had beaten him soundly in the night with the handle of his spade, though the soreness in his muscles did little to disguise the deeper ache. He groaned softly, and Sarah’s eyes flew open. This time, however, he stared at her with unguarded, festering eyes, then crawled into her arms. She said nothing, held him close. The smell of lavender gauzed them both. Later he showered and dressed in clean clothes. Finn was hanging out a load of laundry on the rotary clothesline when Jesse joined him. Finn fished out some white cotton knickers. ‘I keep trying, but Meg just gives them away,’ Finn said laconically. ‘Gives what away?’ ‘The lacy red camisoles and thongs I buy her.’ ‘Yeah, right. L. Lee Lowe yes 16:13 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-seven/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-seven/#comments Wed, 20 May 2009 07:57:35 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=122 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-seven/feed/ 0 Jesse woke all at once, as though someone had tossed a bucket of cold water over the bed. For a moment he was unable to move, his first conscious thought of Sarah. He shifted his gaze from the elongated rhomboid of moonlight which fell across the flo... Jesse woke all at once, as though someone had tossed a bucket of cold water over the bed. For a moment he was unable to move, his first conscious thought of Sarah. He shifted his gaze from the elongated rhomboid of moonlight which fell across the floor through the half-drawn curtains and soon could make out Sarah’s shape, her deep-sleep breathing. His eyes searched every corner of the room. Other than the gooseflesh which puckered his skin, all seemed normal. He pushed aside the duvet, careful not to jostle Sarah, and padded to have a look from the window. The garden was still, the night showed no sign of imbalance. But his skin continued to tell him something was wrong. He pulled a jumper over his head and carried a pair of jeans out with him into the passage, shutting the door quietly behind him. In the kitchen he fed Nubi a handful of dog biscuits and let him out into the garden. He’d found nothing amiss in the house. Meg and Finn were sleeping soundly, there was no sign of an intruder. Jesse opened the fridge and took out a bottle of milk, then poured himself a generous amount and drank it down. After stowing the glass in the dishwasher, he held out his hand. It was steady, and the icy prickling feeling, as if it were sleeting under his skin, had disappeared. Perhaps just a bad dream, after all. He went to the open doorway and peered out. ‘Come, Nubi,’ he called softly. He heard the dog snuffling from the direction of the shed. He called again, louder. How long did Nubi need to piddle anyway? He whistled once, then listened. It sounded as though Nubi had found something to eat. Another mouse? Damn that dog! He’d chomp anything he could fit his jaws around. Jesse was about to step out into the garden when the phone in the kitchen rang. He whirled and stared at the handset. It rang again. Not the private signal. His eyes shifted to the clock. Three-twenty. Who the hell was calling at this time? Or a wrong number? The display gave nothing away: *anonymous call*. Don’t pick it up. All his instincts were screaming at him now. It continued to ring. Finn or Meg would hear if the caller persisted. Before Jesse could stop himself, he had the phone in his hand, then against his ear. ‘Jesse?’ The sensation along his skin was back, only this time the sleet had turned to needles of driving snow, and the wind was gusting. ‘Jesse?’ The voice repeated—cold, disembodied, unfamiliar. He cleared his throat. Suddenly he realised that in the brightly lit kitchen he could be seen through the window and open door. ‘Who is this?’ he asked. A laugh. An ugly knowing laugh. A laugh that made him shut his eyes and hold his breath, to keep from melting the phone on the spot. ‘Fireboy, listen real good. Nobody messes with my hands—with me. Hear that, cunt. *Nobody*.’ Again that laugh. And then Jesse was left listening to the wind howling across the shattered and jagged edges of the night. ‘Jesse.’ Jesse swam upwards towards the light, the water rippling above his head. ‘Jesse.’ He broke the surface and opened his eyes, blinked. His eyelids were gummy. Early morning sunlight flowed into the room, warm and golden. Finn was standing just over the threshold, door ajar. He put his finger to his lips and beckoned. Memory flooded into Jesse’s mind, and with a quick glance at Sarah, he slid out of bed and followed Finn into the passage. Jesse leaned back against the closed door in his boxers and T-shirt, first rubbing the sleep from his eyes, then combing his fingers through his hair. ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘Come downstairs,’ Finn whispered grimly. On the floor near the fridge, Nubi lay in a pool of vomit, foam flecking his nostrils and muzzle. There were several other puddles scattered throughout the kitchen—dark urine, undigested chunks of meat floating in more vomit, malodorous diarrhoea. When Jesse crouched at the dog’s side, L. Lee Lowe yes 4:35 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-six/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-six/#comments Wed, 20 May 2009 07:53:37 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=120 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-six/feed/ 0 At Siggy’s Jesse stopped just inside the doorway. The music surrounded him like a conversation of gossipy magpies, village women at the borehole drawing water for the day’s washing. Notes spilled from the tenor sax in a voluble chatter—an old woman’s... At Siggy’s Jesse stopped just inside the doorway. The music surrounded him like a conversation of gossipy magpies, village women at the borehole drawing water for the day’s washing. Notes spilled from the tenor sax in a voluble chatter—an old woman’s... L. Lee Lowe yes 11:54 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-five/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-five/#comments Wed, 20 May 2009 07:28:47 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=118 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-five/feed/ 0 Why did you stop with Gavin’s hands? Think of what else the bastard deserves. - Jesse told his inner voice to shut up. Destroying Red hadn’t been quite the success he’d hoped. There was a kind of internal bleeding, Why did you stop with Gavin’s hands? Think of what else the bastard deserves. Jesse told his inner voice to shut up. Destroying Red hadn’t been quite the success he’d hoped. There was a kind of internal bleeding, a seepage that continued to affect his thoughts. And sometimes he wondered... Suppressing a sigh, he picked up his book and flipped back to the beginning of the chapter, which he’d apparently read without remembering a word. He was alone in the house, Sarah having gone to the airport to meet Katy, who was returning from the States for the start of term. After ten minutes Jesse looked up from the page to wipe a few beads of sweat from his upper lip. The description of the Border Collie loping along a canal towpath was so vivid that Jesse could smell the steam rising from the damp earth, could feel himself getting short of breath as he struggled to keep up. For a moment he considered ringing Matthew again, but their last conversation had been very difficult. ‘Matthew, you know how—’ he’d tried to say. Matthew had cut him off. ‘Not now. Not yet.’ And Jesse had glanced down at Nubi, sprawled nearby with his tender underbelly exposed. ‘OK,’ Jesse had muttered into the phone. ‘I understand.’ An hour or so later, Jesse gave up on the book. He rose and stretched, then went to the kitchen for a glass of milk and a sandwich, which he carried with him into the garden. Seated on the edge of the sundial, he quickly finished the baguette, sharing it with Nubi. The dog was particularly fond of the Italian rosemary salami Finn had taken to buying lately, though curled his canine lip at mustard. I should have made several, Jesse thought, but the still, hazy air was too soporific, and he too indolent, to get up and head back for the fridge. Sarah was right. He was going to get fat if he kept eating like this, Nubi too. He could hear the dog stalking through the raspberry canes near the compost heap, probably in search of another snack. Idly Jesse pulled out the top and spun it in the air. After watching it for a moment, he caught it deftly in his left hand. Purple, he decided, and grinned as it changed colour. Yellow. He continued to toss it up, each time higher, each time a different colour, each time with a different spin. Kid’s games. Well, why not? Nubi skirted Jesse with something tasty between his teeth and lay down near the pool. Jesse glimpsed the limp tail hanging from Nubi’s mouth, jumped up mid-spin, and growled, ‘What have you got there, you clod? Give it here.’ The top struck the gnomon with a ringing note, turned blue once more, and fell into the water on the far side. The battle over the field mouse was short, expedient, and decisive. Nubi gulped down his catch before Jesse was able to prise open his jaws. Not the best way to enjoy a delicacy, yet better than nothing. Jesse didn’t see it that way. He scolded Nubi with a brief but colourful harangue, then resumed his seat. The water level in the pool, quite shallow to begin with, had sunk in recent weeks, and Jesse made a mental note to top it up from the hosepipe in the evening. He gazed at the sundial, whose bronze face dazzled him so that he could hardly make out the gnomon, much less its shadow, and he was forced to blink and look away. The gnomon was sharp and lethal as a pike. He still hadn’t met Ursula, but her sundials had come simultaneously to fascinate and repel him in the same way as might a medieval instrument of torture—time’s rack. A small pale spider launched itself across open space from a spent dandelion in the grass, catching Jesse’s eye, and he had to smile—so sure of its trajectory, its destination. Or content to trust itself to chance? Questions, always questions... He bent down and snagged the spider on his finger, watched it scamper over his skin so lightly that he couldn’t tell if he felt its legs or only imagined the sensation. *Warm and salty, a little rough, L. Lee Lowe yes 16:21 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-four/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-four/#comments Wed, 20 May 2009 07:11:28 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=116 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-four/feed/ 0 Jesse set the top spinning before him in the air, sent it out to a place of hypercomplex snow, and willed its instantaneous return. As the thin coating of ice melted against his skin, he would have been hard-pressed to describe the sensation in his fi... Jesse set the top spinning before him in the air, sent it out to a place of hypercomplex snow, and willed its instantaneous return. As the thin coating of ice melted against his skin, he would have been hard-pressed to describe the sensation in his fi... L. Lee Lowe yes 10:28 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-three/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-three/#comments Wed, 20 May 2009 07:04:10 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=114 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-three/feed/ 0 Sunday before dawn. It must have rained earlier—the air was damp and chill, with the raw green-tea smell of more to come. Sarah checked her alarm: five o’clock. No point tossing and turning any longer. She donned a fleecy jumper and tried reading; ... Sunday before dawn. It must have rained earlier—the air was damp and chill, with the raw green-tea smell of more to come. Sarah checked her alarm: five o’clock. No point tossing and turning any longer. She donned a fleecy jumper and tried reading; she tried listening to music; and finally, gazing out the open window, she tried listening for the first drops of rain but heard only the birds, the wind, the house, her fear... listening for footsteps. ‘Where’s Jesse, by the way?’ Meg asked. ‘Still sleeping?’ Sarah looked at her father in alarm. He read the appeal in her eyes. ‘He hasn’t come home,’ Finn said quietly. Meg looked up. ‘What do you mean? Where is he? At Matthew’s?’ Finn shook his head. ‘We don’t know,’ he said. ‘I rang Matthew. He doesn’t seem to be feeling well. He didn’t want to speak. Jesse was there last night but left after a short while.’ Meg studied Sarah’s face, then poured another cup of coffee, her eyes falling on the late roses Jesse had cut yesterday. ‘I like their smell,’ he’d said when teased about his fondness for flowers, and gardening. ‘Don’t worry,’ Meg said. ‘He’s all right. He’ll be back.’ She smiled an odd smile, one which Sarah didn’t recognise. ‘Jesse can look after himself.’ Sarah pushed back her chair. The air in the kitchen, despite the open window, was suddenly stifling. She walked to the back door and opened it, breathed in the smell of unshed rain. Nubi slunk out into the garden. The sky was grey, a bleak liverish sky. The letter had arrived under just such a dark ceiling of cloud two years ago. Had time suddenly twisted out of shape like those incomprehensible hypercubes they’d done in maths? The phone rang. Sarah spun round, then sagged against the doorframe when she realised it was the signal for Finn’s private line. Finn popped a piece of bacon into his mouth and turned the gas low under the frying pan. ‘I’ll get it, then we can eat,’ he said. He snagged another piece of bacon, licked his fingers with a wink at Meg, and left the room, shutting the kitchen door behind him. ‘Come and sit down,’ Meg said. ‘It’s probably one of those interminable discussions with New York. Those people seem to keep hospital hours, they even work on Sundays.’ ‘You don’t think it could be Jesse, do you?’ Sarah couldn’t stop herself from asking. ‘Not that line. Sarah, about Jesse, I hate to lecture you but—’ ‘Then don’t!’ snapped Sarah, gesticulating and sloshing some of her coffee. She fetched a sponge from the sink. After mopping up the spill, Sarah opened the newspaper to the film reviews. Meg knew better than to sigh. A recent issue of the *Journal of the American Academy of Child & Adolescent Psychiatry* on hand for such contingencies, she flipped to an article on antidepressant use among psychiatrists. Both Sarah and Meg looked up from their reading when Finn returned. His face was grim and set, ashen. Meg moved quickly to his side and laid a hand on his arm. ‘What is it?’ she asked gently. ‘A fire,’ Finn said. He turned his eyes on Sarah, who rose abruptly, knocking over her chair, who wanted to look away but couldn’t. ‘A fire,’ he repeated. His words came to Sarah from a great distance. A rushing sound, the roar of a furnace door opening, of flames rising, swaying no she felt the hot wind tearing at her, tearing away her skin her flesh her... ‘Jesse,’ someone cried, and her mother was holding her and she was fighting her fighting to remain upright to remain conscious, she had to hear, to *know*... ‘I need a cup of coffee,’ Finn said. He sat down stiffly, like an old man, and stared into the mug Meg placed before him on the table without drinking. Ayen had spoken in a tight cracked voice, so different from her usual cultured vowels that he needed to ask twice who was ringing. At first Finn thought her angry, but soon realised that it was fear distorting her speech. L. Lee Lowe yes 27:46 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-two/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-two/#comments Wed, 20 May 2009 06:32:14 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=112 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-two/feed/ 0 The skatepark was crowded. Everybody was out, determined to snaffle a share of the few leftover evenings before the new term began. Jesse had brought Nubi, but the dog soon chased first one, then a second skater into a nosedive. The skatepark was crowded. Everybody was out, determined to snaffle a share of the few leftover evenings before the new term began. Jesse had brought Nubi, but the dog soon chased first one, then a second skater into a nosedive. And when the third skater, who narrowly missed losing a tooth, limped off spitting blood and threats, Jesse tied the dog to a post with some threats of his own. Nubi bellied down with his head on his paws, pretending remorse. Jesse snorted and issued a further string of warnings while Sarah watched with an appreciative grin. In the large central freestyle area Jesse tested his skateboard with a number of simple manoeuvres. Despite its responsiveness, he wondered if smaller wheels would give him more pop—he’d been browsing through the skater magazines Finn had also bought. Jesse hoped the board would work him hard. When he skated, he didn’t have to think. Although Sarah was wearing a scruffy pair of cut-offs and shapeless T-shirt, she attracted a lot of attention. As a dancer she was used to it, Jesse supposed, but he found himself becoming more and more irritated by the sort of looks she was getting. It wasn’t admiration of her skating tricks, for she could handle the board just enough to get up some speed, and not much more. She wasn’t beautiful; she wasn’t baring her tits—which were pretty small anyway—or half her arse; she wasn’t even wearing any makeup. But there was something they liked. Maybe the way she moved: the air shimmered around her, and tiny prisms dusted her skin with light. Sarah would never go near the immense maw of the towering three-level halfpipe, far higher and steeper than the one in Hedgerider Park, nor the other features that made Jesse drool: a massive street course, elbowed vert walls, a clover bowl, even a full-radius concrete pipe five metres in diameter. Jesse didn’t know where to begin. In the end he approached the halfpipe, where some radical skating was going on. Jesse leaned on his upended board and feasted. There seemed to be a friendly battle taking place between three skaters. He watched one lad in particular, soaking up every detail of his technique. He moved with a dancer’s grace and fluidity, and an exultant power which left Jesse slightly breathless. When the skater floated switch ollies over the top of the huge halfpipe, his body seemed to obey some higher law than gravity: a law which the skater himself had forged in defiance of his own physical limitations, in defiance of time and space itself. His face was incandescent with ecstasy. Jesse looked over at Sarah, who was sitting cross-legged on a concrete bench. She waved at him, and he smiled somewhat distractedly in response before taking his turn at the halfpipe. And it was just as before. The instant he stepped on the board, he knew exactly what to do. He didn’t have to think about it; his body—or his skater’s soul—did it for him. Effortlessly he skated into that place where every basket drops through the hoop, where every note shatters crystal, where every wave lasts for ever; where a beacon lights the dark wood, and nothing can go wrong. He was boundless. He was kwakabazillion. The blokes really seem to like your Sarah. Or is it Sarah who likes a rough sort of bloke? Red’s remark, sudden and sardonic, propelled Jesse out of the zone and into realtime. Equilibrium torpedoed, he capsized with a sickening, bone-jarring crash into the halfpipe, bouncing and flailing as he rolled to the bottom. He was lucky that Sarah had insisted on borrowing a helmet for him. ‘I don’t need it,’ he’d said. Now he lay unmoving, winded, intent on placating the pain. After a few minutes he was able to wonder whether he’d broken anything. Nope, said Red. Now get up. One of the other lads in the halfpipe whipped to a halt right next to Jesse, helped him to his feet, removed his helmet, asked if he was OK. It was the stunning skater he’d been watching before. L. Lee Lowe yes 22:25 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-one/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-one/#comments Wed, 20 May 2009 06:17:24 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=110 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty-one/feed/ 0 Sarah and Jesse took a bus as far as the river, then walked in the direction of the docklands. It had turned hot again, one of those late summer days when it seemed that school, and winter, could be postponed indefinitely. Sarah and Jesse took a bus as far as the river, then walked in the direction of the docklands. It had turned hot again, one of those late summer days when it seemed that school, and winter, could be postponed indefinitely. The air felt Mediterranean—dry and heavy and faintly laced with a smell reminiscent of sweet oranges. Even now, with the sun already sinking, the glare off the water smudged the colours so that the opposite bank had the look of a watercolour thrust into a portfolio before it had quite dried. Not a cloud in sight, the hue of the sky a mere premonition of blue. ‘Ben finally texted. They’ll be back tonight, we can have the board tomorrow,’ Sarah said. ‘Or do you want me to try someone else?’ ‘Tomorrow’s fine. Anyway, it’s too hot to skate.’ ‘Where are we going?’ ‘A secret,’ Jesse said, his eyes gleaming. ‘Your secrets have a habit of biting back.’ At a solitary willow, Jesse stooped to pick up a handful of small stones lying scattered about. He stepped to the river’s edge and skipped them lazily, one by one, across the water. His movements were spare and graceful, though Sarah knew that years of practice lay behind that kind of perfection. Her chest ached to watch him. He was like one of Finn’s photographs, startling and beautiful and addictive: the more you look, the more you want to look, and the more you find. She thought she could never get enough of him. When the last ripple had smoothed out, he continued to stare into the depths of the river. Sarah wondered what he was thinking. His face had an odd look about it, as though he were watching something only he could see. The colour of his eyes had intensified to a rich gentian blue like the little bulbs which carpeted her grandmother’s garden in early spring. Believe me, the factory’s no place for her. She’ll be bored out of her mind. Scared, too. It’s none of your business. Your business is my business. Get used to it. Look, just back off, will you. All our meals are going to be joint ones from now on. No side dishes. Go away and read a good book. There must be something in your archives. It might improve your language skills. Funny. Very funny. While you look for an exciting place to shag. I mean it. Shut up. On second thought, maybe I’m going to enjoy this. Did I miss a feature performance last night? I’ve always wondered what it felt like. Books and films are no substitute for the real thing, are they? And you people do go on about it so. I can throw in some special effects. What would you prefer? Eerie, so she can get all shivery and grab you straight off? Stormy—driving thunder and lightning to set the tempo? Or a sweet rolling meadow and meandering stream and balmy breezes, a hint of violin? Jesse snarled and whipped his head around. ‘Come on,’ he hurled at Sarah, who gaped at him with only a second or two to register the change in his eyes, now the colour of fungus, before he was gone. Someone had flung open a trapdoor into a cellar full of spiders. She caught up with him by the derelict factory, near a gap in the chainlink fence where he’d stopped to wait. ‘It’s beautiful inside,’ Jesse said. ‘I’d like to show you.’ ‘Why were you running?’ The attempt at a smile, then he gestured for her to follow. The darkness closed round them like a fist. The little pocket maglite cut no more than a thin gash of light through the murk, insufficient to reach from one end of the main factory hall to the other. Jesse swung the torch in a slow arc, surprised by how different everything seemed with Sarah at his side—not cavernous or derelict at all, but sculptural, a modern art gallery for their own private enjoyment. ‘It’s like walking through a dreamscape,’ Sarah whispered. ‘Do you do this often? Wander into abandoned buildings?’ ‘Sometimes. I like exploring places where no one else goes.’ They began a careful circuit of the hall. L. Lee Lowe yes 15:14 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty/#comments Wed, 20 May 2009 06:08:59 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=108 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirty/feed/ 0 And wakes to a world in flames. - Jesse hisses and narrows his eyes to slits, and the fire shrinks to a blowtorch sun, just rising over the horizon. His head is pounding, his spit tastes coppery. Shutting his eyes again, And wakes to a world in flames. Jesse hisses and narrows his eyes to slits, and the fire shrinks to a blowtorch sun, just rising over the horizon. His head is pounding, his spit tastes coppery. Shutting his eyes again, he travels swiftly through his body. Aside from a certain ache in his right shoulder, which has probably taken the brunt of his fall, he can find no real damage. He licks some caked blood from his lips. The sand is dry, fine, and surprisingly cool beneath his cheek. He needs to pee and, worse, he needs a drink. Cautiously he lifts his head for a better look. The golden light of a new day before the clock takes hold. The sun drapes a gently undulating ribbon, rose and orange and bronze, across the glossy swell of water stretching endlessly before him. A thin grey line, smudged like charcoal, shows him where sailing ships once dropped off the rim of the world. Jesse realises that the pounding he heard is not in his head at all, but waves breaking against a beach. It’s loud, much louder than imagined. He can smell the salt on the freshening breeze which nuzzles his face. Seabirds swoop and screech and dive the entire length of the shoreline, fishing for breakfast, and a few stand on their stalky cartoon legs in the shallows and eye him with undisguised disdain, or just curiosity. He eyes them back. Rubbery tangles of what first seemed to be a mess of plastic dumped by some tanker or container ship glisten green and dark red and grey and inky blueblack: seaweed. Bleached driftwood lies scattered like clean-picked bones among shells so various and plentiful that Jesse can only draw one conclusion: no human foot has ever stomped or oystered here. Untouched, he thinks with pleasure—*new*. So this is the sea. About ten metres behind him a solitary ash tree towers over the dunes—*his* ash, he supposes. He has a suspicion that ash trees don’t normally thrive at the coast. There is no figure hanging in the tree nor lying anywhere in sight, only a jagged dead bough not far from the trunk. And a sphinx crouching atop a slope covered in thick tufts of grass and profuse yellow-flowering, spiky shrubs. The sphinx stares at him without moving, without blinking. She’s waiting for him. There is no doubt whatsoever in his mind about this; he knows it instinctively, in that same part of his being which gives him fire. He rises and stretches, testing his shoulder, which twinges in response but will do. Then treading cautiously among the shells, he walks to the water’s edge to relieve himself. He marvels at how good it feels to stand with his bare feet in the icy water—it’s shockingly cold—and pee. He’s a bit surprised that the sea isn’t warmer, for the air is mild and summery despite the teasing gusts of wind. It’ll be hotter, certainly, when the sun rises high overhead. At last the sea: he’s tempted to swim, but zips his jeans instead and turns to survey the dunes. He’s desperately thirsty. Finding water takes precedence over any other actions. There are a number of tidepools and even a stretch of saltmarsh fringed by tall reeds but nothing which tokens a freshwater source. He studies the sphinx, who seems prepared to wait indefinitely. She must drink; perhaps she knows of a stream or pond nearby. He digs in his jeans to see what he has about him: the top, a crumpled cigarette packet and his lighter, keys, a folded note, a condom in its foil packet (he grins a little, remembering the boy scout motto: even in Paradise he’d be prepared). Not much to facilitate survival, though he’s very pleased by the presence of the top and the cigarettes; the lighter too, since he can’t take alternative means of starting a fire for granted. But where is his knife? Hunger is already beginning to pluck at his belly. Once he finds water, he’ll need to eat. He has no idea how long he’ll have to spend here. Or even if time flows in the same way with which he’s familiar. L. Lee Lowe yes 23:40 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-nine/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-nine/#comments Wed, 20 May 2009 00:18:19 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=106 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-nine/feed/ 0 About two in the morning Jesse abandoned the attempt to sleep. The voice in his head was quiescent, undoubtedly aware of the human need for nightly oblivion. There was no reason to think that Red would invade his dreams, About two in the morning Jesse abandoned the attempt to sleep. The voice in his head was quiescent, undoubtedly aware of the human need for nightly oblivion. There was no reason to think that Red would invade his dreams, yet whenever Jesse felt himse... L. Lee Lowe yes 21:49 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-eight/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-eight/#comments Wed, 20 May 2009 00:00:23 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=102 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-eight/feed/ 0 Jesse tripped over the skateboard on the way to the kitchen. Finn and Nubi heard the crash and the swearing, and came running. They, dog and man, scrimmaged in the doorway. Nubi tried to run between Finn’s legs and Finn landed on his backside, Jesse tripped over the skateboard on the way to the kitchen. Finn and Nubi heard the crash and the swearing, and came running. They, dog and man, scrimmaged in the doorway. Nubi tried to run between Finn’s legs and Finn landed on his backside, clipping Nubi as he fell, while the dog yelped and skittered away. For a few minutes the hall looked like a football pitch after a foul. Finn got to his feet and glared first at the dog, then at Jesse. ‘You’re not supposed to use it in the house, you know,’ Finn snapped. Finn had just spent about seventeen sleepless hours in the air, plus long and tedious sessions in airports; he was stiff, tired, hungry, hungover, and in an altogether lousy mood (one of his cases was still circling the globe); and moreover he knew that he shouldn’t have left the skateboard near the staircase. Jesse untangled his legs from the board and got to his feet. He rubbed his elbow where he’d cracked it against the floor. ‘Good morning to you, too,’ Jesse said. They bared their teeth at each other in a way that suddenly reminded Finn of arguments with his own father. He grinned apologetically. ‘Sorry, that was supposed to be a surprise for you.’ ‘Oh, it was a surprise all right,’ Jesse said. This time they both grinned, and Finn came over and gave Jesse a huge hug. ‘Welcome back,’ Jesse said. ‘We’ve missed you.’ ‘You can’t imagine how glad I am to be back.’ ‘Had any breakfast yet?’ ‘No, I’ve just got in. Meg seems to be at work.’ ‘Sarah’s still curled up in bed with that funny early morning let-me-sleep-scowl of hers, so why don’t I get us something to eat while you have a shower? More like brunch, though.’ ‘Sounds great. Is there any bacon?’ Finn asked. He stooped, picked up the skateboard, and leaned it against the wall, wheels facing outwards. He straightened slowly and gave Jesse a searching look, lips pursed. Jesse coloured up. ‘I see. So that’s how the wind blows, does it?’ ‘I don’t want to hide anything from you,’ Jesse said. ‘It would be a little hard, wouldn’t it, under the same roof?’ ‘Then you mind?’ Finn sighed. ‘To be honest with you, I don’t know. I have the feeling I’m supposed to act all fatherly and concerned, but either I’m too damned wrung out or... I like you, Jesse, you know that. More important, I *trust* you. It’s just that she’s so... you’re both so...’ ‘Young,’ Jesse finished for him. ‘Yeah, I knew you’d say that.’ Finn and Jesse looked at each other without speaking, neither quite certain how to proceed. Nubi approached Jesse and licked his hand. Jesse remembered the way the dog had cowered last night when he and Meg had first let themselves into house. It had taken a good deal of coaxing, and finally a bone, to get Nubi out from under Meg’s desk. Finn gestured towards the dog. ‘You seem to inspire devotion in quite a lot of hearts. I wonder how you do it. You’re not even that good-looking.’ A yawn wide enough to crack his jaw, and the last of the tension. ‘Come on, I’m going to get out of these filthy things. Go and start the coffee.’ The coffee was hot, the eggs fried, and the bacon crisp by the time Finn came into the kitchen, his beard still dripping a bit. He had donned a fresh pair of jeans and one of his infamous T-shirts. In his hands he held a carton of cigarettes, which he tossed down on the table. ‘If you’re going to smoke the damned things, then at least do so at duty-free prices.’ ‘Actually, I was thinking of stopping,’ Jesse said. ‘Meg been at you?’ ‘Well, she doesn’t say anything...’ ‘Tell me about it. When we first moved in together, she’d go round the flat emptying ashtrays and opening all the windows, even in the dead of winter. But never a word of reproach.’ While Finn ate, he glanced at Jesse from time to time. There was something about his eyes—not the colour, changeable though blue could be. A new intensity, maybe? Or sadness? Whatever it was, L. Lee Lowe yes 19:12 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-seven/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-seven/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 23:49:24 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=100 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-seven/feed/ 0 ‘Jesse.’ The whisper barely reached the threshold of his hearing. - Startled, Jesse came to an abrupt halt just beyond the fountain. - ‘I didn’t mean to alarm you,’ Meg said. - ‘What are you doing here?’ - ‘Jesse.’ The whisper barely reached the threshold of his hearing. Startled, Jesse came to an abrupt halt just beyond the fountain. ‘I didn’t mean to alarm you,’ Meg said. ‘What are you doing here?’ ‘I know you sometimes like to walk by yourself,’ Meg said, ‘but you shouldn’t be in the park alone tonight.’ ‘Why?’ he asked, disquiet sharpening his voice. Had it been a mistake to leave Nubi behind? There were nights when his own mind felt like a dog hurtling against its chain; nights when only solitude gave him back some measure of himself. Sarah tried to understand but he could see it hurt her, the way he’d get up, dress, and slip away. The need to be invisible was like any other compulsion, despised but inescapable. ‘Why?’ At first it seemed Meg wouldn’t answer. She looked at him the way a blind person might: seeing beyond the mere play of light on the skin of ordinary, everyday things. Then an expression of intense compassion settled over her face. Her eyes retrenched their focus. ‘The night is porous. Colours are seeping through,’ she said. Jesse stared at her. ‘I don’t understand.’ ‘There are no words,’ she said. ‘It’s too strange. Like trying to describe the colour of milk to a blind person.’ A noise behind them made them both start. Jesse wheeled, peering into the pools of darkness. There was everywhere to hide. Meg glanced at the sky. The stars had begun to drift, then blur: smears of cold white light. ‘Give me the top,’ she said quickly. ‘It will connect us.’ As Jesse handed it her, his father stepped from the trees. ‘So. Have you finally come to beg for forgiveness?’ He was naked and enormous, even taller and broader than Jesse remembered. His skin gleamed with an alabaster phosphorescence, faintly green, and his chest and arms were hard and cut with muscle. There was no grey in his hair, not on his head, not on his torso, not on his groin. Jesse sought to avert his gaze as a cry of revulsion froze in his mind. ‘Murderer,’ his father said. Jesse flinched. Don’t look, he told himself. Close your eyes and he’ll disappear. But he couldn’t turn away, no more than he could have resisted all those years ago. Jesse’s father threw back his head and roared with laughter. As if on signal other figures detached themselves from the night—his mother, his grandmother, Emmy. They glided forward and encircled Jesse and Meg. Their mouths opened but no sound issued from their throats. Jesse watched as their noose tightened. No, he thought, not Emmy. She mustn’t see this. ‘Murderer,’ his father repeated, eyes glittering. ‘Patricide.’ Mute and despairing—hadn’t he always known that he’d have to confront his past one day, to atone for what he’d done, to *pay*—Jesse repeated the words to himself: murderer murderer murderer yes parricide yes He deserved what his father had done. *Jesse.* Something was happening to the figures of his family. They were ageing like ripening cheese, their flesh growing softer and more yellow, almost runny. Jesse could hardly stomach the sight but neither could he look away. A few drops of flesh began to drip from his grandmother’s outstretched arm. The process accelerated. A thick blob fell from his mother’s breast to land with a splat on the ground. As if to catch a snowflake, Emmy stuck out her tongue, which began to run over her lips and down her chin. Only his father was unaffected. *Jesse.* The obscenity that was his father grew even more menacing. God no, not again. Jesse shivered with fever or cold—no longer could he distinguish between them. A slurry of red dimmed his vision. He tried to block out the avalanche of memory, but it bore down on him with callous disregard, inevitable as tomorrow. For those who had tomorrow. Murderer. His father’s voice. Or his own? ‘Please,’ he whispered at last. ‘Please—please—please—plleeeaaaassssse...’ Jesse shuddered at each mocking thrust. L. Lee Lowe yes 18:00 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-six/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-six/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 23:39:34 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=98 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-six/feed/ 0 Jesse had gone to his room for a shower while Sarah slept. Her nightmares were beginning to ease off; sometimes he spent a few hours on his own with a book, sometimes went for a long walk with Nubi. The night city read like a story yet to be written. Jesse had gone to his room for a shower while Sarah slept. Her nightmares were beginning to ease off; sometimes he spent a few hours on his own with a book, sometimes went for a long walk with Nubi. The night city read like a story yet to be written. Despite his sleeplessness, there hadn’t been a migraine—not even a headache—in weeks. He was standing barefoot before the wardrobe when he began to smell smoke. The computer murmured softly to itself. They never turned it off, not since a technician had been knocked unconscious by a jolt of current strong enough to land him in the hospital unit for three days when he’d depressed the power button. It was one of the things Ayen had failed to mention to Finn. The standby function still worked in a vague simulation of sleep, but only a few people knew that the computer seemed to turn it off and on at will. Ayen sometimes wondered, a trifle uneasily, what would happen if the power supply to the building were interrupted. Their backup systems were multiple and excellent, so it was unlikely. A zigzag pattern in red and orange sprang up across the wall monitor, then just as quickly faded. Jesse gasped, dropped the socks he was holding, and shut his eyes, reaching blindly for the wardrobe door. Lights pulsing hotly to music. A thick rank fug—cigarettes, dope, beer, sweat, more cigarettes. Mick has his arms round a girl, his hands slick. The girl is young, way too young, younger even than Sarah, and there’s a cold lake of dread under her mask of makeup and sophistication. She’s loaded. Mick grinds his body against hers, halfway there already. A pulse begins to beat in Jesse’s temple. No way, he thinks. The scene flickers under the strobe: on off on off on off. Rough, familiar hands hold his head. It hurts. God, how it hurts. A hot charge of red and yellow flames. This time no hands will hold him. He whips his head round and breaks loose. Rage like a piston drives him across the room. He wrests Mick from the girl, throws him down, kicks him viciously in the groin. Mick screams and writhes in pain. The bass shrieks some ugly coruscating chords. Jesse kicks Mick again. Most of the couples don’t notice, though a few close by fall back and stare at Mick’s contortions. The girl moves forward uncertainly. What’s wrong, Mick? she asks. Are you OK? Jesse bends down close to Mick’s head and says, I told you I’d be watching. The pattern flares again across the screen: redorangered lines bleeding into one another, leaving behind a wake, an afterimage of pain. Shaking badly, Jesse clutched the wardrobe door till his nausea subsided, then stumbled into the bathroom and leaned over the toilet. But the relief of vomiting wouldn’t come. A few dry heaves, some bitter spit, and sweat cold on his face and chest. He continued to shiver. Open the window, he told himself. You need some fresh air. Slowly he straightened. It was difficult to will his movements. He was dizzy, and his eyes weren’t focusing properly. The toilet tank, the shelf piled with fluffy white towels, the framed photograph of a seascape, the shower stall—he couldn’t hold them in place, they doubled in front of him, slid apart, blurred. He squinted, trying to bring the world back into true. His head felt insubstantial, disconnected from the rest of his body. With fumbling hands he closed the toilet lid, sank down upon it, and lowered his head between his knees. He remained there until the need to pee, and sudden overwhelming thirst, brought him to his feet. He found that he was able to stand now, if unsteadily, and to see. After drinking from the tap he raised his eyes to the mirror. His pupils were dilated, his skin an underwater greenish white. He was afraid, deathly afraid—more afraid than he could remember since the fire. The night was quiet—chilled silken water, and the world despatched. Was the house still standing? Or had it disappeared as well? And he alone, L. Lee Lowe yes 11:22 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-five/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-five/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 23:33:54 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=96 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-five/feed/ 0 On the way home from their picnic Jesse let himself be talked into a film evening, though he’d far prefer to read; he was beginning to need some time alone. Sarah agreed to make a huge bowl of buttered popcorn—*not* the microwave sort—in exchange for ... On the way home from their picnic Jesse let himself be talked into a film evening, though he’d far prefer to read; he was beginning to need some time alone. Sarah agreed to make a huge bowl of buttered popcorn—*not* the microwave sort—in exchange for ... L. Lee Lowe yes 16:25 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-four/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-four/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 21:32:46 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=94 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-four/feed/ 0 Sarah flew through a corner of Jesse’s vision, arms outstretched and midriff gaping. As bright as the kite overhead, her hair streamed gaily behind her. Sunlight brought out its reds and golds and coppers, which seemed to gleam just for him. Sarah flew through a corner of Jesse’s vision, arms outstretched and midriff gaping. As bright as the kite overhead, her hair streamed gaily behind her. Sunlight brought out its reds and golds and coppers, which seemed to gleam just for him. He lifted his head to watch her. She plunged across the uneven ground, leaving behind the memories that lay each night in ambush. He still slept in her room despite finding it ever more difficult to remain. Just last night she’d woken around two, only slipping back to sleep once he sat down at her side. There was no persuading her to talk to Meg, or at least one of those hotlines, and he noticed that she seemed to be getting thinner. Now that he thought about it, she’d only taken a slice of cucumber and a cube of cheese from their picnic. He looked at her plastic plate: the cheese nibbled on by a beetle, not a person. He frowned. Had she eaten any breakfast this morning? He could only remember a cup of coffee. And she still showered more often than she ate. ‘Sarah,’ he called out, ‘come and have some lunch before the ants get it.’ ‘Not hungry,’ she threw back over her shoulder. She sped on towards a stand of beech trees to her right. Seeing her run, hearing her laugh made Jesse want to jump up and chase her; quickened his pulse like a rush of dazzling words. But his belly was too full. The afternoon sky was splotched with thick white clouds harried by an invisible border collie. They scudded above the trees in anticipation of fresh pastures. Summer had peaked; Jesse could feel the descent into autumn beginning—his favourite season. He hadn’t decided whether to visit the school Matthew had suggested, even whether to stay. Jesse lay back and closed his eyes, listening half to the sounds that Sarah and Nubi were making, half to the soothing buzz of insects, and the rustle of the leaves, and the murmur of the stream in the near distance. Sarah flopped down next to him. ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Hey back,’ he said with a slow lazy grin, cracking only one eye. Nubi was nowhere in sight. He’d probably caught scent of a rabbit or badger. ‘The kite’s tangled in a tree,’ Sarah said. Jesse groaned. ‘Come on, help me get it down.’ ‘Later.’ ‘I want to fly it some more,’ Sarah said. Jesse squinted up at her. ‘Then you’d better keep away from the trees.’ ‘It wasn’t my fault. The wind’s quite strong.’ ‘That’s right. Blame it on something that can’t argue back.’ Sarah hugged her knees. ‘Odd that you say that. I could swear the wind was singing to me.’ ‘Oh yeah? Well, I hope it was a lullaby. Now let me sleep a bit.’ ‘You’ve already slept. I heard you snoring.’ ‘I don’t snore!’ Jesse protested indignantly. Sarah raised his T-shirt and began to tickle his belly. ‘Stop that,’ he said. She ignored him. Jesse wasn’t very ticklish, but he felt uncomfortable at her touch. He grasped her fingers and held them tight in his left hand, almost too tight. ‘Don’t,’ he said. Sarah bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.’ Jesse continued to hold her hand but said nothing. ‘Jesse—’ He shook his head but still didn’t release her hand. A cloud slid across the sun. Sarah shivered. Slowly Jesse sat up and stared at her. Her eyes were troubled. Jesse felt a great wave of sadness. In another life, he thought. ‘Don’t fall in love with me, Sarah. I’m nothing like you imagine.’ ‘You were a young boy.’ ‘That’s not what I mean.’ She tried to pull her hand away. He could see the shame that darkened her eyes before she turned her head aside. He’d spoiled the carefree mood of the afternoon. ‘It has nothing to do with those scum,’ he said. ‘I don’t even think about them, and neither should you.’ ‘Every night I feel their hands on me, their—’ She stopped. Chisel-scarred hands clamped his head like the unyielding jaws of a vice. For all he strained and twisted, L. Lee Lowe yes 6:35 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-three/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-three/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 21:26:25 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=92 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-three/feed/ 0 ‘I’ve brought you something,’ Jesse said. - Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a miniature snowdome no bigger than an egg. Unlike the usual plastic souvenirs, the dome was surprisingly heavy. He shook it, ‘I’ve brought you something,’ Jesse said. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a miniature snowdome no bigger than an egg. Unlike the usual plastic souvenirs, the dome was surprisingly heavy. He shook it, and the delicate ballerina inside was sur... L. Lee Lowe yes 22:16 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-two/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-two/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 21:15:07 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=89 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-two/feed/ 0 A day later Jesse came into the sitting room to find Finn hanging up a set of photographs mounted behind glass. - ‘They’re of Peter,’ Finn explained. ‘I thought it’s time to display some again.’ - ‘Sarah said you’d destroyed all the photos.’ - A day later Jesse came into the sitting room to find Finn hanging up a set of photographs mounted behind glass. ‘They’re of Peter,’ Finn explained. ‘I thought it’s time to display some again.’ ‘Sarah said you’d destroyed all the photos.’ ‘Prints, but not the negatives. I may have been sectionable but not quite that out of my mind.’ In the photo Jesse found most riveting, a thin angular-looking boy with brilliant green eyes and red hair a fraction lighter than Meg’s was seated on the rim of the Andersen sundial, a large sketchbook across his lap. He was smiling directly into the camera. Even on paper his skin glowed, warm and golden. About sixteen, he looked utterly at ease with the world. He looked clever. He looked as though he laughed a lot but knew how to listen. He looked the sort of person you’d like for a friend. For a boyfriend; he was beautiful—as beautiful as Liam. Finn interrupted Jesse’s reverie. ‘When I get back from overseas, we’re going to have to sit down and talk about some things.’ ‘Like?’ ‘Like school.’ ‘Whatever for?’ Finn gave him one of his Viking looks till Jesse felt himself begin to squirm. ‘Yeah well,’ he retorted, ‘I didn’t know they registered pupils anonymously.’ In response Finn merely raised an eyebrow and returned to his picture hooks. That evening Finn left on his trip, and the next few days passed quietly. On Tuesday Jesse worked with Matthew on the longboat for the afternoon, and on Wednesday, having borrowed Finn’s card, made a quick trip to the library for some new reading matter (sneaking in a book about men who rape, and another about the treatment of sexual trauma). Otherwise, aside from short walks with Nubi, he kept close to the house. He couldn’t persuade Sarah to accompany him anywhere. For hours at a time she would lie on Jesse’s floor with a book or Peter’s top. They played chess. Often Jesse would look up to find her eyes resting on him. When her hands clenched, he prised them open and rubbed her palms until the gouge marks faded. But she didn’t cry. Her bruises were slowly fading, and would leave no external traces of her ordeal. There were nightmares. Ever since that first night, Jesse had gone unasked to her room and sat with her until she drifted into a fitful sleep. Sometimes he read aloud to her, his beloved Shakespeare; sometimes he made up extravagant adventures of heroines and dragons and bold quests; and sometimes he said nothing at all. Although he knew he could share the bed, he slept on the floor. Meg didn’t intervene, nor did she mention the purple shadows gathering under Sarah’s eyes. Only once did Sarah venture as far as the garden, and that for less than ten minutes. She spent a lot of time dusting and polishing and hoovering—even their weekly cleaner made a tart comment. And the water bill would be enormous, if Sarah continued to shower so long and so frequently. On Friday Meg had a day off. Jesse and Sarah did the washing up together, while Meg went to check her email and make a phone call. Once they’d finished, Jesse headed for the garden to smoke, and Sarah trudged upstairs to get ready. Meg had been uncharacteristically adamant that Sarah accompany her on a visit to her mother, a longish trip by car. ‘Gran’s very upset that you haven’t been to see her in months.’ After a protracted and prickly argument Sarah had acquiesced, though not with good grace. Meg’s mother lived in the country, in a small cottage surrounded by geese and flowers. ‘My mother has a passion for sunflowers,’ she’d said to Jesse. ‘She talks to them all the time.’ She’d laughed when asked if they replied, but Jesse had not been joking. Perhaps Meg’s gifts ran in the family. Meg and Sarah set out within twenty minutes and would not return till evening; they were taking Nubi with them for a good romp in the adjoining meadow. Jesse planned to check out some secondhand bookshops, walk along the river, L. Lee Lowe yes 21:11 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-one/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-one/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 21:02:59 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=87 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty-one/feed/ 0 ‘I need some exercise,’ Finn said, laying down his trumpet. ‘A walk, Jesse?’ - ‘We could go for a run along the river, if you want to work up a sweat,’ Jesse said. - ‘After eating?’ asked Finn in horror. - Sarah moved a piece. ‘Check,’ she said, ‘I need some exercise,’ Finn said, laying down his trumpet. ‘A walk, Jesse?’ ‘We could go for a run along the river, if you want to work up a sweat,’ Jesse said. ‘After eating?’ asked Finn in horror. Sarah moved a piece. ‘Check,’ she said, a bit smugly. Jesse was teaching her to play. Jesse shook his head without glancing at the board. ‘Have another look. I’ll let you replay the move, since it’s your first game. But only this time.’ He rose and stretched luxuriously, turned to Finn. ‘Let’s do the washing up, then I’ll go with you.’ A fleeting frown. Carefully offhand he asked Sarah, ‘OK with you?’ Sarah bit her lip and stared down at the game. And continued to stare till the silence threatened to attract Finn’s attention. ‘What about our game?’ she finally asked. ‘Have you moved?’ Sarah indicated the board. ‘Better?’ ‘Leave it set up and we’ll go over it later. Mate in three moves.’ Sarah scowled at the chessmen. ‘Don’t let it discourage you, Sarah,’ Finn said. ‘I’ve been playing for years, and I haven’t got the better of him yet. He’s competition standard.’ ‘And you’re bothering to play with me.’ When Jesse flashed his quirky smile, she added, ‘Aren’t there more rules? I thought chess was like maths, impossibly complicated.’ ‘Give it a few more games,’ Jesse said. ‘Simplicity is the most complex of all.’ ‘You’re a good influence on her,’ Finn said. ‘She’s always refused to go anywhere near the game.’ Finn winked, and Jesse looked away, reddening, while Sarah glared at her father. Finn’s refusal to take Nubi had seemed odd; now his purposeful stride aroused Jesse’s suspicions even further. The late afternoon sun was still strong, the sky clear and bright. Jesse could feel residual midday heat radiating from the pavement. He had no trouble keeping up with Finn, despite the gruelling pace the older man set. When they came to an unobtrusive dark blue Vauxhall, parked before a row of small shops, Jesse wiped his brow and eyed Finn speculatively. ‘Where are we going?’ Jesse asked. ‘Get in,’ Finn said, opening the rear door and nodding to the driver. ‘Let it be a surprise.’ Half an hour later, they drew up at a small airfield just outside the city limits. Finn dismissed the driver and led Jesse towards a small squat structure set off a distance from the central cluster of hangars, buildings, and control tower. ‘Ever been in a helicopter?’ Finn asked. ‘No,’ Jesse replied. ‘Not even a plane.’ But he was certain that the half-dozen models perched on the tarmac like sleek metallic dragonflies were fully as up-to-date and powerful as they looked. ‘Wait here,’ Finn said, and went into the building. He was gone for perhaps ten minutes. He returned with two bottles of mineral water and accompanied by a man wearing mirrored sunglasses and carrying a slim black briefcase and clipboard. Finn performed the introductions. Smile and handshake perfunctory, the pilot barely glanced at Jesse, who drank while the two men exchanged a few words in a foreign language—Dutch or Afrikaans, maybe. Not German. ‘You can board,’ the pilot said in English, indicating the nearest aircraft. ‘I’ve already preflighted.’ Finn and Jesse clambered into the helicopter, a CEO’s silver and white perk with navy racing stripes. It seated four, and Finn chose to ride next to Jesse in the rear of the cockpit. As they fastened their seatbelts, Jesse thought how small the interior was. The white leather seats were well padded and comfortable, elegant even, but they were sandwiched between the back wall, the pilot’s seat, and the bubble windows. It felt like a child’s toy. Was this thing really going to fly? The pilot walked slowly around the helicopter, giving it an exterior checkover. He crouched and fiddled with a skid, then examined the tail rotor. One of the ground crew approached, and they spoke for a short while. Finally the pilot was satisfied, L. Lee Lowe yes 30:52 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 20:49:12 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=84 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twenty/feed/ 0 For two days Jesse watched Sarah conceal her bruises from the family, but when she gasped as he brushed against her side accidentally, he lost his temper. - ‘If you won’t let Meg have a look at you, then go to a clinic!’ he snapped. For two days Jesse watched Sarah conceal her bruises from the family, but when she gasped as he brushed against her side accidentally, he lost his temper. ‘If you won’t let Meg have a look at you, then go to a clinic!’ he snapped. ‘You might have some broken ribs or internal injuries.’ ‘No,’ she said, turning away from him. ‘And what if you’re pregnant?’ ‘Wrong time of month. Now back off. I’m OK.’ He grasped her by the arm and swung her round. Again she stifled a cry of pain. ‘You are not OK. Any idiot can see it. And your parents would too, if they weren’t so busy. And mostly if you didn’t hide away all of the time. They’re going to notice sooner or later, you know.’ Sarah folded her arms across her chest and refused to speak. ‘In fact, Meg already has, I reckon. She’s been asking some questions.’ ‘You haven’t said anything?’ Sarah asked in alarm. He shook his head. ‘I still don’t understand why you won’t tell them.’ ‘Finn will murder Mick and his mate.’ ‘Nonsense. Rapists belong in gaol. He’ll go to the police.’ ‘You don’t know him the way I do. After Peter died, he went mad. Literally raving mad for a while. Haven’t you ever wondered why there are no photos of Peter in the house? Finn tore up every single one.’ ‘Then tell Meg. She’s a psychiatrist, for god’s sake!’ ‘That makes it worse. You should’ve seen her play shrink with Peter. I bet if they’d left him alone, he’d be here right now. Or at least alive.’ ‘Maybe. And maybe you’re blaming the wrong people.’ With a sharp intake of breath Sarah reached for her plait and began to twist it round her finger. She turned away from Jesse’s unsettling gaze. He’d never understand, she thought. The worst mistake I’ve made. Maybe I’ll ever make. *Damn right, Seesaw*, she could almost hear Peter say. *I wanted help. I wanted to come back.* Would Jesse be here if Peter had returned? He’d always been a great one for secrets, Peter had, though it had first become excessive in secondary school, and really excessive after his friendship with Daniel, which her parents hadn’t much liked. Especially Finn, and once the questions started up Peter would flatly refuse to divulge where he was going and what he was doing. But even way back when she’d been too little to say her own name, she’d call herself *Sasa*, and it had stuck, and one day Peter had turned it into *Seesaw*. ‘Because you’re always seesawing about,’ he’d said with a sparkle in those brilliant green eyes of his—with his lazy smile—teasing her about her constant skipping and twirling and leaping and dancing. She remembered falling on him with her small furious fists, and his tickling her in revenge. It had been so like Peter to make it straightaway *our secret*, which came to be part of their own private code. Would she trade Jesse for Peter if she had the choice? She shivered, then lay down gingerly on the bed. ‘I’m a bit tired,’ she said, closing her eyes. Her face was paler than usual. ‘You need a doctor,’ Jesse repeated helplessly. He began to pace back and forth before the window, his bare feet making very little noise. Matthew was one matter, but to help Sarah would be to open a Pandora’s box about which he was deeply uneasy. Sarah could be treated by any competent GP and would almost certainly heal within weeks, at most a month or two. There was no need to interfere. And he would be putting himself in a position of real vulnerability. He didn’t want to be anyone’s medicine man, not the Andersens’, not even Sarah’s. He was debating with himself whether to speak openly with Finn about Sarah’s condition when a soft noise like a kitten’s mewling, abruptly cut off as its neck was snapped, made him swing round. Sarah had changed position; she was now lying on her side, legs drawn up and hands gripped between her knees. Her eyes were still shut, her lips thin slashes of bloodless flesh, her brow rigid and puckered. L. Lee Lowe yes 8:35 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-nineteen/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-nineteen/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 20:46:20 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=82 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-nineteen/feed/ 0 The floor of Mick’s bedroom. Mick and Gavin smoking in the next room. The music still audible but no longer booming. Mick had told her she was welcome to bath. He’d opened the large wardrobe with a smile, ‘Borrow what you like. The floor of Mick’s bedroom. Mick and Gavin smoking in the next room. The music still audible but no longer booming. Mick had told her she was welcome to bath. He’d opened the large wardrobe with a smile, ‘Borrow what you like.’ As if nothing were the matter. Drowsily Sarah drifted into a snowy landscape where she huddled under the boughs of a tall pine sheltering her from the heavy flakes, which blinded her whenever she ventured to escape. Better to remain—the cold had ceased to be painful. Slowly, in fact, a delicious lethargy began to invade her mind. Here she could sleep. Here she could dream. But her body had its own urgency—eventually it roused her. In slow motion she levered herself upright. She licked her lips, which were caked with dried blood. It hurt to breathe, and it hurt to move, but Sarah knew that she needed to get herself out of here before she could begin to think about what had happened. She hugged her ribs for a long time, shivering and unable to budge. There seemed to a roadblock between her brain and her muscles. Every time she told herself to get up, her numb legs wouldn’t obey. Only after she massaged them roughly did the pins-and-needles diminish and she trust herself to stand. She leaned on the laughter from the next room like a crutch. Just get home, she told herself over and over again. Much as the prospect of wearing Mick’s things sickened her, she could hardly leave in what was left of her own clothes. She knew that you were supposed to go straight to the police without washing. An examination, tests. They should be stopped, a voice in her head told her. But it was small and weak and came from a great distance. As if the law ever meant anything to people like Mick. His parents had plenty of money. How could she tell anyone what they’d done? Don’t think about it. Think about going to the toilet, cleaning yourself up, getting dressed somehow, walking downstairs, then out the front door. Step by step. But there was no way she could make it home in a bus, or even as far as the bus stop. She had her mobile, if they hadn’t wrecked it. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the sighing of the wind, a thick drifting of snow, and a single blackbird. She was so cold again. For a moment she considered ringing Finn, then discarded the idea. His rage would be colossal, and incalculable. She sometimes wondered if her father were capable of murder—those fights with Peter, the months afterwards. If Finn ever learned what she’d done... Was this her punishment at last? She’d hoped that by helping Jesse— Jesse. Oh god, Jesse... Sarah closed her eyes and pressed a fist to her mouth, hard against her teeth, but she couldn’t hold in the ragged cry as they drove and drove again, cleaving her life, her self-respect, her *soul*. Now the blood ran red and hot and thick in her veins. It beat back the snow. Her mind shrieked: kill them kill them kill them kill them *kill them* There was no bolt of lightning. No avenging angel. No earthquake which sundered the ground beneath their feet. Sarah could hear more laughter from the next room. No matter how open her parents were—how understanding—there was no way she could tell her father this. Not even if she sent him a letter from another continent. And most of all, she couldn’t bear for Jesse to know. Once, after hours and hours of effort, she hadn’t been able to manage a very difficult ballet sequence and had been reduced to tears. Her teacher had reminded her of Agnes de Mille’s famous words: it never becomes easy to dance; it becomes possible. Sarah had finally mastered the steps; and she would somehow find a way to conceal what they’d done from Jesse. Slowly she dragged herself to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. There were fewer bruises than she expected, and none above her breasts. The face which looked back at her was strangely unchanged, which shocked her. L. Lee Lowe yes 20:58 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-eighteen/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-eighteen/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 20:26:26 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=80 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-eighteen/feed/ 0 and a small winged dragon curls herself into a ball as a foot comes down and kicks her and her cries slice through his head into a jumble of limbs and grunts while wake up he tells himself it’s a nightmare of pounding music and slick bodies dancing wri... and a small winged dragon curls herself into a ball as a foot comes down and kicks her and her cries slice through his head into a jumble of limbs and grunts while wake up he tells himself it’s a nightmare of pounding music and slick bodies dancing writhing with the hot smell of sweat running shrieking into the flames and their screams always the screams wake up before they die this time wake up wake up wake Jesse gasped and tore open his eyes. ‘No don’t,’ he said, his voice cracked and peeling. He lay still while the images from his dream loosed their stranglehold. He’d been sweating, and heavily; he could feel the sheet sticking to his skin. Then he shuddered and held his breath—this was more than sweat he smelled. Jesse found Finn at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee, a dictionary, scribbled sheets of paper, and a scattering of pens at hand, and his laptop open in front of him. He looked up as Jesse came into the room. ‘You’re awake,’ Finn said. ‘How’s the cold? Still feel feverish?’ ‘Where’s Sarah?’ ‘She’s gone to an exhibit in the city,’ Finn said, disconcerted by the abruptness of Jesse’s manner. ‘Call her mobile.’ Finn stared at him. ‘Now!’ Jesse’s urgency was beginning to affect Finn. He rose and fetched the phone from the worktop, punched a couple of keys. He listened for a moment. ‘It’s ringing,’ he said. Then he frowned. ‘She picked up, but we were disconnected.’ ‘Try again,’ Jesse said. Finn pressed redial and let it ring for a while. ‘Unavailable.’ They looked at each other. ‘Tell me what this is about,’ Finn said. Jesse put a hand to his head. Suddenly he needed to sit down fast. He pulled out a chair and sank into it, lowered his head to the table. Finn came over to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘What is it, Jesse? Dizzy?’ ‘Sarah’s in trouble. What are we going to do?’ Jesse muttered. ‘How do you know?’ Jesse raised his head. Finn was shocked by the look on Jesse’s face. He’d seen that kind of despair before, in far too many places. In the mirror. ‘While I was sleeping—’ Jesse floundered, unable to formulate a coherent explanation. He grimaced as though Thor were using his skull for hammer practice. ‘I don’t know how I know. I just do,’ he finished lamely. It was becoming a familiar refrain. ‘I’m going to ring Meg.’ ‘Meg. Yeah, ring Meg. I hadn’t thought of that. She’ll know if something’s happened to Sarah, won’t she?’ Finn hesitated. Jesse’s faith in Meg’s abilities, though touching, was misplaced. A mind like Meg’s couldn’t be switched on and off like a light bulb. ‘It doesn’t always work like that, you know,’ Finn said. Some colour had returned to Jesse’s face. ‘Stop wasting time. Ring her!’ To his surprise Finn reached Meg at once. She listened, then asked to speak with Jesse. The conversation was very one-sided, Jesse answering mostly in monosyllables. In the meantime Finn used his own mobile to try Sarah again. He’d feel much better if he knew that she was really all right. Which was not only unnecessary but clearly obsessive, wasn’t it? He reminded himself that anxiety was contagious. Sarah had only switched off her mobile. He’d done the same a thousand times over while in a meeting or during a shoot. Jesse had known about kwakabazillion. ‘Meg wants to speak to you,’ Jesse said. He handed Finn the telephone. Jesse had got his face under control, but not his eyes. Finn thought that Jesse would never be able to mask the depth of feeling to be plumbed there. ‘Finn?’ Meg’s voice broke into his thoughts. ‘Give Jesse two nurofen and see that he goes back to bed. I’ll be home as soon as I can get away.’ ‘There’s nothing the matter, is there?’ Finn felt compelled to ask, even though Jesse hadn’t left the room, was in fact watching him from the window to which he’d retreated, squinting as if the light were blistering his optic nerve. L. Lee Lowe yes 13:32 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-seventeen/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-seventeen/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 20:15:44 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=78 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-seventeen/feed/ 0 Sarah’s mate Thomas dug into the bowl of popcorn. - ‘What a boring movie,’ he said. - Sarah switched off the TV. ‘We could try a round of charades.’ - Thomas snorted and pelted her with a piece of popcorn. She threw him a kiss in return. Sarah’s mate Thomas dug into the bowl of popcorn. ‘What a boring movie,’ he said. Sarah switched off the TV. ‘We could try a round of charades.’ Thomas snorted and pelted her with a piece of popcorn. She threw him a kiss in return. Jesse fr... L. Lee Lowe yes 17:32 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-sixteen/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-sixteen/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 20:04:33 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=76 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-sixteen/feed/ 0 Pleased by Nubi’s quick recuperation, the vet removed the splint. - ‘What a clever lad. He’s broken all the rules,’ she said, scratching Nubi behind his ears and feeding him a handful of treats. ‘If it weren’t patently impossible, Pleased by Nubi’s quick recuperation, the vet removed the splint. ‘What a clever lad. He’s broken all the rules,’ she said, scratching Nubi behind his ears and feeding him a handful of treats. ‘If it weren’t patently impossible, I’d swear he’s grown younger as well.’ Finn was about to joke about Jesse’s magic touch when he got a glimpse of Jesse’s face. ‘Let’s not bother cooking just for the two of us,’ Finn said as they left the surgery. Sarah had another evening class and Meg was on duty at the hospital. ‘There’s a place near the boatyards I think you’ll like. We’ll see if Matthew’s around. He can join us.’ ‘What about Nubi? He’s not allowed in a restaurant, is he?’ ‘Don’t worry about it.’ ‘Hairy Spider’s place?’ Matthew asked when they removed the scraper forcibly from his hand. ‘OK, why not? I suppose my ears can take it for once.’ He went to clean himself up. ‘Hairy Spider?’ Jesse asked. ‘That’s just our nickname for Siggy. The owner.’ Finn grinned but refused to elaborate. Matthew left Daisy in the boathouse. ‘She’s used to it. Terrific deterrent. Nobody likes to tangle with a wolf. They’ve got no idea that she’s really a marshmallow, do they, sweetheart?’ he said, addressing the last to Daisy. Finn was regarding Matthew with a strange glimmer in his eyes. ‘You’re looking even stronger than last time. You’ve put on some weight. That new treatment is working wonders.’ ‘Yeah, well, it’s still early to speak of remission. But I’m hungry all the time. Mind you, I’m not complaining.’ ‘I should hope not,’ Finn said, and left it at that. But Jesse noticed that Finn kept stealing sidelong glances at Matthew as they headed past the commercial boatyard into a warren of small shops and cobbled lanes crowded with street vendors. Jesse could hear live music reeling them in like a good fisherman, slow and steady, as they turned into a sunny courtyard. Both Jesse and Nubi stopped in astonishment, Nubi’s nose quivering, Jesse’s flaring with equal delight. Every centimetre, every millimetre of ground except for a narrow paved walkway was covered with herbs, some that Jesse recognised and many that he didn’t. Scents dense enough to taste—to spread onto a piece of fresh bread. Slow hypnotic riffs swelled over them—a saxophone was playing hoarsely, achingly. The fine hairs on Jesse’s neck stirred. The music died away as they approached the door. The restaurant was large and clean and plain, with white plastered walls, a flagged floor, and only a few well-chosen photos of music instruments—not musicians—for decoration. It looked as if they might be Finn’s work, for Jesse could hear the luminous black-and-white instruments begin to sing as soon as his eyes lit on them. They took possession of a table near the front, where a drum kit and some music stands were set up. A bass waited on its side, a clarinet and trumpet on a chair, and a tenor sax in a stand, but there was no sign of the musicians. After a few minutes, a huge barrel of a man walked out of the kitchen carrying a tray—Siggy, Jesse guessed straightaway. He had a dark tangled beard shot with grey, eyebrows like black loofahs, and a head of kinky hair that charged below his shoulders, tied back with what seemed to be a pipe-cleaner. When he spied Finn and Matthew, he shoved the tray at a young waiter, barked ‘the three po-faced gits near the bar,’ and came rushing over to them, laughing raucously and shouting hello. Jesse understood why they called him a spider: his arms and legs freewheeled wildly as he moved, so that it looked as if he had eight limbs—or even twelve—instead of the usual contingent. ‘You’re going to lose customers if you keep on insulting them, Siggy,’ Finn said by way of greeting. ‘That’s why I’m the businessman an’ you’re the bleedin’ artist,’ bellowed Siggy in return. ‘You don’t understand a thing about runnin’ a good chop-house. The more you kick ’em in the cahones, L. Lee Lowe yes 9:25 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-fifteen/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-fifteen/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 19:56:17 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=74 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-fifteen/feed/ 0 ‘Ready for your first lesson?’ Finn asked. - ‘Lesson?’ Jesse looked puzzled for a moment, then grinned. ‘It’s not too wet, is it?’ - ‘Just a shower. A bit trickier, but you’ll be fine. The thing is, over the next few weeks I’m going to be away a ... ‘Ready for your first lesson?’ Finn asked. ‘Lesson?’ Jesse looked puzzled for a moment, then grinned. ‘It’s not too wet, is it?’ ‘Just a shower. A bit trickier, but you’ll be fine. The thing is, over the next few weeks I’m going to be away a lot, off and on, so I thought we ought use whatever time we can find.’ Jesse glanced down at his jeans, his shoes. ‘I haven’t got any rain gear.’ ‘Come down to my office.’ Sarah had been joking only about the chains. The black leather outfit fitted almost perfectly, as if Finn had measured him in his sleep. ‘I feel—’ Jesse stopped, searching for an adequate description. ‘I feel like a sleek black panther.’ ‘Feels good though, doesn’t it?’ ‘Better than I thought it would. Much better.’ Finn regarded Jesse’s feet sceptically before passing him a pair of boots. ‘Try these on. They’re the only spares I’ve got, but it doesn’t look as if they’ll fit.’ Jesse unlaced one of his trainers. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t manage to screw his foot inside. He was reminded of Cinderella’s ugly stepsisters. Finn must have been thinking the same thing. ‘Just as I guessed. Forget the glass slipper. We’ll have to get you some proper manly boots.’ ‘I’ve got big feet,’ said Jesse, wriggling his toes in relief. ‘Immaterial. They only start charging extra when your feet approach yeti measurements.’ Jesse was quiet for a moment. ‘Did you buy all this stuff for me?’ Finn shuffled some papers on his desk, his face suddenly inscrutable. Finn’s money made Jesse uncomfortable. Not because Finn had it. Not because Jesse didn’t like accepting it (though he didn’t). But because Jesse noticed that he minded accepting it less and less. ‘They belonged to Peter?’ Jesse asked, realisation dawning. ‘Yes.’ They looked at each other, then Finn patted Jesse awkwardly on the shoulder. ‘Go on, get ready,’ Finn said. ‘Take the blue helmet by the front door and leave the black-and-silver one for me. I’ll meet you at the garage. I need to make a phone call before we start.’ ‘Where are we going? I’m not old enough to drive, you know.’ Finn didn’t succeed in hiding his smile. ‘You’ll see,’ was all he’d say. Jeans in hand, Jesse headed for the stairs, then remembered that he’d taken his cigarettes from his pocket while changing and left them on Finn’s desk. ‘Sorry, I forgot my—’ Jesse began, as he opened the office door. Finn was holding a pistol in his hand. Their eyes locked, then Finn sighed and gestured for Jesse to enter. ‘Please shut the door,’ Finn said. He stowed the gun in a desk drawer before explaining. ‘I wish you hadn’t seen that, but it can’t be helped now.’ He tugged at his beard. ‘I suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing with a firearm.’ ‘Yeah, you could say that.’ ‘I need it for my work.’ ‘As a *photographer?*’ With some difficulty Jesse refrained from a nasty crack about photo shoots. ‘Some of the places I go are dangerous.’ Finn chewed his lower lip for a moment, his eyes on Jesse. ‘OK, it’s obvious you’re not convinced. Let’s just say that photography isn’t my only work.’ ‘You mean—’ ‘I mean,’ Finn interrupted, ‘that I can’t and won’t talk about it. For a lot of reasons. And I’m relying on you to do the same.’ Jesse ran swiftly upstairs, two at a time. Outside his room he came face to face with Sarah, who was carrying the satchel she used for dance classes. She averted her gaze and walked on past him, then spun round, her eyes chasing the colour of thunder, her voice accusing. ‘Did my father give you those biking clothes?’ He nodded. Sarah tightened her lips and strode off. Peter’s Harley gear was the one thing Finn had refused to pack up or give away. Now Jesse was prancing around in it. Well, not prancing... he didn’t prance. Not like some, who flaunted themselves at every opportunity. Jesse danced without taking a single step. L. Lee Lowe yes 30:09 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-fourteen/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-fourteen/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 17:07:28 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=69 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-fourteen/feed/ 0 Jesse raised his head, but it took him a few moments to bring the room into focus, the place and time. He was kneeling at Nubi’s side. From the doorway Meg was watching them, her face pale and shadowed in the light spilling from the hallway. Jesse raised his head, but it took him a few moments to bring the room into focus, the place and time. He was kneeling at Nubi’s side. From the doorway Meg was watching them, her face pale and shadowed in the light spilling from the hallway. He remembered now. He’d turned off the kitchen lights to make it easier to concentrate. He laid his head on Nubi’s flank and breathed. He breathed. ‘You’re a healer, aren’t you?’ Meg asked. He was unable to speak. Meg crossed the room and crouched at his side, waiting quietly until his face had lost its mottled, watery green tinge. Then she rose again, switched on the overhead lights, and pulled out a chair for him. ‘Come, you need some tea.’ She gazed at him. ‘Some sugar.’ ‘Is there any chocolate?’ ‘I’ll fetch a box of the Swiss pralines.’ Jesse shook his head. ‘Leave them. It’d be a shame, I’d eat the lot without even tasting them.’ She smiled. ‘I’ve got a small stash of my own.’ She put the kettle on to boil and left the room. Jesse looked over at Nubi, who was dozing on his blanket. A more complicated break than the kestrel’s, so he was likely to sleep for a while yet. Jesse sighed; he abhorred sedatives. Not even Matthew’s medication had affected him like this. Then he grinned to himself—maybe an allergy? While he ate and drank, Meg sat with her own thoughts till he’d recovered enough for the trembling in his muscles to cease. ‘Have you done any healing?’ he asked. ‘My gift is different.’ She paused and broke off a piece of chocolate for herself, then pushed the chocolate bar back across the table. ‘There’s not much left. Eat it all,’ she said. ‘I was going to do spaghetti for supper, but if you can’t wait, I’ll make you something now.’ Jesse grimaced. The thought of food made him queasy. ‘No, just this. Sarah’s promised to bring me some chocolate,’ then added in an undertone, ‘I think.’ ‘So she knows?’ He shook his head. ‘Only that I had a craving for chocolate.’ A few coarse grains of demerara were scattered near the sugar bowl. Jesse prodded them with a fingertip. An ant would see what? Large craggy chunks of grit? A gift of the Great God Ant? An ecstatic chance? He brought his finger close and stared at the crystals clinging to his skin. He tried to imagine what it would be like not to wonder, not to have a life in his head. It was a damned lonely business, this noisy shuttered skulling. Yet without it... He licked his finger. ‘How did you know I can heal?’ he asked. ‘Because I can follow you in a bit.’ ‘You’re always talking in riddles!’ he said crossly. ‘Would you prefer an equation? You, of all people?’ He shrugged. ‘Empathy is not always a gift, you know. Sometimes it’s overwhelming... terrifying. And mostly it’s just frustrating.’ ‘Are you warning me off?’ Jesse asked with an edge to his voice. Then he ducked his head and muttered, ‘Sorry.’ ‘Don’t apologise, I’ve been known to throw things after some of my worst—well, Finn likes to call them *trips* to provoke me.’ ‘Yeah, I’ve been wondering whether you use any of the hallucinogens in your little black bag.’ Nonplussed, she stared at him for a moment. Then she chuckled. ‘Compared to you, I’m something like an ant asked to follow Shakespeare. It can crawl between the pages. It can trace the path of the printer’s ink. And it can certainly be crushed if you slam the book shut.’ With the edge of her hand she swept the sugar together into her palm, a movement as sweet and cruel as a sonnet. ‘But it will still find its way to the sugar from far off, won’t it?’ She brushed the crystals off into the sugar bowl. Jesse felt a crawling sensation along his skin. To hide his disquiet, he broke up the rest of the chocolate and ate it piece by piece, in between sipping his tea. Psychiatrists’ tricks, he tried to tell himself, but wasn’t reassured. Meg went to the back door and opened it, L. Lee Lowe yes 12:58 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirteen/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirteen/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 17:02:47 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=67 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-thirteen/feed/ 0 One token knock, then Sarah marched into Jesse’s room carrying a mug of tea, a book, and an air of mischief. - ‘Wake up, lazybones.’ She settled on the edge of the bed and held out the mug. ‘Come on, drink up.’ - One token knock, then Sarah marched into Jesse’s room carrying a mug of tea, a book, and an air of mischief. ‘Wake up, lazybones.’ She settled on the edge of the bed and held out the mug. ‘Come on, drink up.’ Jesse groaned artfully and burrowed further under the covers. Sarah was having none of that. She set the mug down on the bedside table, and with a giggle that hinted at practice, pounced on precisely the right spot to induce a muffled roar. Jesse thrust his head out from under his duvet, pulled her down onto the bed, and began to tickle her till she begged for a truce. They lay next to each other companionably while Sarah caught her breath. ‘Pass me the tea,’ Jesse said as he winched himself into a sitting position, resigned to foregoing his lie-in. It was still a lot better than waking up stiff and hungry on a piece of cardboard. A whole lot better. Had it really been less than a week since he’d slept under a bridge? ‘I’ve brought up Finn’s copy of Rilke.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘It’s in German, so I thought you could find that poem for me. Autumn Day, you said.’ Rather than take the book, Jesse quoted softly, *‘He who is alone now, will remain alone... will wander the streets restlessly...’* His voice trailed off, and for a moment he was still, gazing into his mug. Then he looked up to find her eyes on him. ‘I’ll write out a translation for you, if you’re interested.’ While he drank, Sarah tilted her head and regarded him critically. ‘Don’t you want me to trim your hair?’ she asked. He raised an eyebrow so she added, ‘I’m good at it, honestly. Katy and I do each other’s all the time.’ Jesse squinted at her hair in return. Wild tendrils were already escaping from an elastic. ‘Is that supposed to be an argument for or against?’ he asked. Sarah snorted. ‘Why are you so anxious to hack at my head with a scissors anyway? A Delilah complex?’ ‘You’re having lunch in the city with Finn. Have you forgotten?’ ‘So?’ he asked, an expression of studied innocence on his face. ‘Well, your hair is just a little—’ She broke off with a glare when she realised that he was teasing her. ‘Right, go around looking like a savage for all I care.’ ‘Shall I show you savage?’ At the ensuing sounds Nubi, who’d been ignoring the banter up till now, rose and shook himself, padded over to them. His kindly face looked so puzzled that both Jesse and Sarah began to laugh again. ‘Do you want to me to take him for a walk this afternoon?’ Sarah asked. ‘While you’re in the city buying out all the shops? I’ve got nothing to do till my evening dance class.’ ‘What time is it now?’ Jesse asked. ‘Just gone ten. ‘I haven’t slept this long in ages.’ He thought back to his weekends at Mal’s house. On Saturdays he’d been expected to wash the car and sweep the path by noon. *They* had dozed while he fixed Sunday breakfast before church. Though to be fair, Angie had always cooked a bang-up Sunday dinner—a roast, and pudding too. She worked long hours, he remembered with a flicker of guilt. He was beginning to wonder why he’d resented her quite so much. And she’d taken his side against Mal sometimes—not often, but it mustn’t have been easy to do. Go and feed Nubi,’ he said, ‘while I brush my teeth. Then fetch your infamous scissors. But I’m warning you, any blood drawn will be taken out in kind.’ ‘Just wait and see. You won’t recognise yourself.’ ‘That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.’ Grinning, Sarah took the mug from his hand. Their fingers brushed, and both of them suddenly fell silent. Sarah could hear his breathing. She could feel the heat rising from his pores and smell his brackish night musk. They stared at each other. Jesse made a small sound at the back of his throat, a sound very much like soft rain. Like Peter, Jesse had wonderful eyes. Her family had spent most holidays in Norway, often at her grandmother’s country house. L. Lee Lowe yes 22:24 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twelve/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twelve/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 16:50:27 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=65 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-twelve/feed/ 0 The sun was hot on Jesse’s shoulders as he walked along the river. It had the same decisive quality as Finn’s arm—it knew its worth, it knew what it had to offer. Jesse quickened his step. He was already hungry, but the lightness was a gift. The sun was hot on Jesse’s shoulders as he walked along the river. It had the same decisive quality as Finn’s arm—it knew its worth, it knew what it had to offer. Jesse quickened his step. He was already hungry, but the lightness was a gift. Thin-beaten as gold leaf, his bones stretched and pulled his flesh into new, daring dimensions. For the first time in months he was not thinking about his next meal, not looking over his shoulder for shadows. The tiny boatyard was crammed between a much larger operation on one side and a riverside pub on the other. At the entrance Jesse stopped and drank from his water bottle, then combed back his hair with his fingertips, tugged his T-shirt into shape, and wiped his hands on his jeans. This must be the place Sarah meant. A lone man was at work on an ancient narrowboat, scraping down its hull, while a Siberian husky with startling blue eyes lay nearby in the shade of a beach umbrella. Thin to the point of emaciation and completely bald, the man laboured at his task with a concentration that lit the air around him with a frail glow which brightened when his attention sharpened and then faded again soon afterwards, though never entirely disappearing. He wore only a pair of stained green trousers and sturdy trekking sandals, and his sweat-streaked torso was covered by a mass of tattoos. Jesse watched him for a time, and if the man were aware of the scrutiny, he gave no sign. Jesse couldn’t take his eyes from the images on the man’s skin, for they were composed of words—lines and lines of words—rather than pictures; a kind of living book or journal, which from his vantage point Jesse was unable to read. The man had only one arm. At last Jesse roused himself to approach. The man left off scraping and observed him without a single word. The dog rose from its belly but showed no other signs of alarm. Working on the boat was the sort of thing Jesse liked to do—strenuous enough to release tension, yet with an ebb and flow that left his mind free to drift. Up close, Jesse could see that the man was at most in his early twenties. It had been his air of utter self-containment that had made him appear older—and something in his face, a fine silvering of pain like the patina of weathered teak or poplar. Jesse recognised only one quotation on the man’s skin—biblical; most of the other tattoos were unfamiliar poems, perhaps composed by the man himself. Jesse tried to read one spectacular text done in reds and oranges and purples, and arranged in a spiral around the man’s navel, but it was difficult to make out all the words without craning, and he didn’t like to appear too nosy. Though the man must surely be used to it by now. The man waited until Jesse stood right before him. He was neither friendly nor unfriendly, simply patient. Observant. Jesse came to a halt and cleared his throat, uncertain whether to offer his hand or his purpose. ‘I’ve written them myself,’ the man said. ‘Best to get that out of the way, I find.’ ‘I expect that’s what most people ask.’ ‘Not at all. The few who inquire want to know why I’ve chosen words rather than pictures.’ The man mopped his forehead with a paisley zandana from his pocket. ‘Are you Matthew?’ Jesse asked. ‘You must be the lad Finn sent. Come inside,’ he said. ‘I’ll make us a cup of tea.’ Inside proved to be the cool interior of a rather large shed. Matthew set a kettle of water to boil over an electric ring. ‘All the amenities,’ he said, pointing to a small refrigerator. Jesse’s eyes lit up at the sight of the chocolate gateau Matthew produced. He cut off a thick slice and handed it to Jesse on a plate, then extended a jug of assorted cutlery. ‘Go ahead,’ Matthew said. ‘Milk?’ Jesse nodded. He was becoming used to Matthew’s clipped accents, rather abrupt manner. There were two folding chairs and a small but handsome wooden table. Jesse took one of the seats and began to eat. L. Lee Lowe yes 10:17 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-eleven/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-eleven/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 16:44:01 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=63 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-eleven/feed/ 0 Sarah chased her father out of the kitchen with an egg whisk. - ‘Jesse and I will tidy up. I know you’re dying to get to work.’ - Finn eyed the small pool forming at Sarah’s feet, then chewed his bottom lip without looking directly at Jesse. Sarah chased her father out of the kitchen with an egg whisk. ‘Jesse and I will tidy up. I know you’re dying to get to work.’ Finn eyed the small pool forming at Sarah’s feet, then chewed his bottom lip without looking directly at Jesse. ‘Well—’ ‘Go on, we’ll take care of it,’ Jesse said, reaching for the roll of paper towels. ‘I’m OK,’ he added firmly. The dishwasher was midway through a cycle, chortling ghoulishly to itself. Nubi had taken one look at the machine and retreated again to the garden. Who knew what it might eat next? Sarah tossed the whisk into the sink. ‘Let’s just rinse the breakfast things. We can stack them on the worktop till the dishwasher’s empty.’ ‘These few dishes?’ Jesse scoffed. ‘It won’t take us more than ten minutes. I don’t fancy leaving the kitchen untidy.’ Sarah could tell from the set of his shoulders that he would do it alone if she refused. And she didn’t care for the impudent glint in his eyes. Think her spoilt, did he? She began to run hot water into the sink, then went to the table to collect plates and mugs. ‘Come down when you’ve finished, and I’ll give you the laptop,’ Finn said from the doorway. ‘Laptop?’ Sarah asked. ‘Not your spare?’ ‘I told Jesse he could use it.’ ‘Finn! I’ve asked you and asked you!’ ‘You know the new PC’s always available,’ Finn said. ‘Yeah right. When Mum’s not hogging it, you mean.’ ‘I don’t want to cause any problems,’ Jesse said. ‘No problem, Jesse,’ Finn said. Sarah flounced to the sink and began to crash plates and mugs together, her plait swinging with petulance. Bloody male bonding. Jesse wouldn’t answer any of her questions about his weird talents, but she bet he’d told Finn plenty. ‘Hold on,’ said Jesse, ‘let me wash. You can dry.’ Finn beat the classic hasty retreat while Sarah and Jesse argued over who was more likely to break things. Once they’d settled the issue, they worked quickly and well together, though the air still held a few more charged particles than strictly necessary. It didn’t take them long to finish. Sarah was filling ice cube trays when Jesse balled the J-cloth he’d been using to wipe the tabletop and tossed it into the sink, just missing the tip of her nose. ‘Jesus! Now my T-shirt’s soaked,’ Sarah exclaimed. ‘I’d hate to see you with a basketball.’ ‘If I’d intended to hit you, I would have.’ Arms akimbo, she glared at him for a moment. ‘Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?’ Then, poised on the cusp of a grin, she raised an eyebrow. ‘Or maybe you did that on purpose. Like Kevin would have, to highlight my nipples.’ Jesse coloured and bent to pick up a stray piece of eggshell, then straightened with an apologetic gesture. ‘Sarah, please don’t be cross with me. I wish you hadn’t seen that business with the fire, but you have, and I can’t change it. It’s just not something I’m ready to talk about.’ Her expression softened. ‘Maybe when you know me better.’ ‘Maybe.’ He looked round for a broom. ‘We ought to do the floor. It’s full of crumbs and dog hair.’ ‘Later. It’s too nice to stay indoors.’ The doorbell rang. ‘Go fetch the damn laptop while I see who it is,’ Sarah said. Jesse was busy in the office for twenty minutes while Finn cleared some old files and explained how to operate the computer. Jesse listened politely, though it was all patently obvious. Finn’s model was a little outdated, but perfectly serviceable, or would be once Jesse made a few modifications. Climbing the stairs from the darkroom, Jesse heard low voices and Sarah’s laugh from the direction of the sitting room. Talk slowed to a halt as Jesse entered the room. Mick, Kevin, and Tondi were clustered in a knot around Sarah. There was an awkward pause. ‘Look who’s here,’ drawled Mick, his eyes travelling from Jesse’s bare feet to his tousled hair. Mick winked at Sarah, but his eyes were cold. ‘You didn’t tell us you had company. L. Lee Lowe yes 16:36 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-ten/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-ten/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 16:30:01 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=59 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-ten/feed/ 0 Sarah appeared in the kitchen just in time to peer over Finn’s shoulder at the frying pans. - ‘Where did you find all that bacon?’ she asked. ‘You can’t have been to the shops already.’ - ‘Under a bag of chips that’s split its guts. Sarah appeared in the kitchen just in time to peer over Finn’s shoulder at the frying pans. ‘Where did you find all that bacon?’ she asked. ‘You can’t have been to the shops already.’ ‘Under a bag of chips that’s split its guts. Somebody’s going to have to defrost that deep freeze before we need an axe—or a flame-thrower.’ Finn’s gaze rested on Jesse for a moment as he handed Sarah two plates of scrambled eggs and mushrooms. ‘What are you doing up so early anyway?’ He made Nubi sit for his share of bacon. ‘Turn over a new branch?’ ‘Leaf, you mean. As in book.’ ‘Nope. Forest, maybe, for the amount of paper you’d need.’ Even Nubi seemed to grin. Sarah snorted and tossed her plait over her shoulder. ‘It’s too early for bad jokes.’ Finn brought Jesse a heaped plate, then sat down and tucked into his own breakfast. It was only after he’d eaten several rashers of bacon and a thickly buttered slice of toast, heavy with jam, that he paused for breath. ‘I’ve really missed good home-cooking.’ ‘You’re going to put back all those pounds within a week,’ Meg said drily. ‘Now don’t start with that again.’ Finn turned to Sarah. ‘Heard from Katy yet?’ ‘An email a few days ago.’ ‘How’s it going?’ Finn asked. ‘Not too bad. Hot.’ Sarah explained to Jesse. ‘Katy’s one of my best mates. She’s working on an Indian reservation in Arizona for the summer holidays.’ ‘Native Americans,’ Finn said. ‘Navajo, in this case.’ Meg glanced at her bare wrist, then up at the clock. ‘Don’t forget your watch.’ Finn said. ‘It needs to be repaired.’ ‘What have you done? Taken a sledgehammer to it?’ Sarah asked. ‘Just a minor adjustment,’ Meg shot a warning look at Finn, who was about to make one of his comments. ‘Look, I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry.’ She addressed Sarah. ‘I’ve left a shopping list and some money. Could you pick up the things we need for supper? We’re going to barbecue. I’ll be back by eight.’ A smile. ‘Truly.’ ‘OK.’ Sarah buttered a piece of toast. ‘Anything else?’ ‘Tell your father when you go out, and don’t forget your mobile.’ Sarah made a face at her mother. ‘I mean it, Sarah Louise Andersen. You must be the only teenager in the country whose ear is not permanently affixed to the phone.’ ‘Think of how much I’m saving you. I ought to get more pocket money.’ No stranger to such comments, Meg wiped her fingers on her napkin and laid it at her place. She turned to Jesse, her voice level, her eyes gentle. ‘Do I need to say goodbye?’ Jesse ducked his head, go and stay chasing round and round in his mind like cat and dog, round and round again. He looked over at Nubi, whose opinion couldn’t have been more obvious: maybe you prefer a bridge, but I’ll take a clean mat and bacon any day. And I’d like another chance at that stuck-up, pampered feline who’s begging to be taught a little respect. Finn intervened. ‘Leave the boy, Meg. He and I have got a few things to sort out.’ After breakfast Finn sent Sarah off to the newsagent by bike. ‘Jesse and I will tidy the kitchen,’ he said. When she scowled, he added, ‘Well, you can always do the dishes at supper if you’re feeling slighted. And I think Meg mentioned something about the downstairs loo. A good scrub, wasn’t it?’ Sarah snorted at her father’s perfidy but left the two of them alone. ‘She’s a good kid,’ Finn said after she’d gone. ‘She’ll give us enough time to talk.’ Jesse said nothing. ‘More coffee?’ Finn asked. Jesse shook his head. Finn poured himself another mug, then added cream and a hefty amount of sugar. ‘Meg’s always after me to leave off the sweet stuff,’ he despaired. ‘Just this once.’ Jesse’s lips twitched. He pushed back his chair. ‘I’ll start the washing up.’ ‘Afterwards,’ Finn said. ‘This won’t take long.’ Now was the opportunity. Jesse played with the crumbs on his plate, considering how to explain. L. Lee Lowe yes 18:40 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-nine/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-nine/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 16:19:57 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=56 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-nine/feed/ 0 Jesse woke to a pale skin forming across the sky. He liked to sleep with open window and open curtains and open nightscape, not that he believed his dream soul wandered to other realms—he’d leave that to the sociologists and shamanic freaks. Jesse woke to a pale skin forming across the sky. He liked to sleep with open window and open curtains and open nightscape, not that he believed his dream soul wandered to other realms—he’d leave that to the sociologists and shamanic freaks. And no sane person wanted to go where his dreams often took him. But tonight the storm seemed to have washed his mind clean; he couldn’t recall a single dream. He glanced towards the window. The rain had stopped, and the air smelled warm and sweet, like the day’s first milking. He’d leave right after breakfast. Hot water, a soft clean bed, and food—always food—how easy it was to become seduced by comfort. That photograph. Jesse’s thoughts skidded towards it, though he wrenched the steering wheel and tried to apply the brakes—a mistake, as any driver could have told him. He recalled reading that certain cultures wouldn’t submit to photographs: the camera stole their souls. There was a kind of magic in it, he had to admit—the blank sheet of paper floating in a chemical bath, then the image gradually materialising, summoned forth from some incorporeal dimension. But the little girl had not been coaxed to surrender her soul; it had been wrest from her by fire before Finn had ever set eyes on her pitiful corpse. Now wide awake, Jesse sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, ran his hands through his hair. He wanted to see the photograph again. It was not a good idea—he knew that. But maybe if he steered into the skid... Nubi made a half-hearted attempt to accompany Jesse, but curled up on the mat at the whispered command to stay. Someone must have trained him, and Jesse wondered what stories the dog might recount. At least the Andersens would treat him kindly or, Jesse trusted, find him a good home. Nubi’s eyes invited soppy metaphor as the two of them, dog and boy, regarded each other for a moment before Jesse slipped barefoot from the room, admonishing himself sternly that he couldn’t possibly manage with a pet. The house was still. Jesse had no trouble making his way to the cellar stairs, where he paused before descending. Not even a snore. The house could easily have been empty. Jesse shut the cellar door behind him carefully, and with the handrail as guide, groped his way in the dark. Once satisfied that nobody was in the darkrooms, he’d switch on the light. It would have been simple enough to knock or call out. He couldn’t have explained why he didn’t want Finn to know about his sudden impulse. It felt like a guilty secret, pocket change stolen from a parent’s wallet. Jesse found the book straightaway. Finn had left it on his desk, as though he himself intended to open it in the morning. If anything, the photograph was worse than Jesse remembered. Emmy had been about the same age when she died—a guess, it was hard to read the glossy corpse. One look, then he thrust the book aside. He longed to tear the page out, rip it into pieces. He leaned over Finn’s desk, grasping the wooden edge with both hands, gripping until his muscles cramped. He could feel the memories rising, his blood roaring, a river in spate which threatened to burst its banks and engulf him in flame. A hot wind blowing ashes off the roof. He’s running through the garden towards the door, sobs keening in his ears. Jesse, she cries. Jesse! He swallowed, forcing back the vile taste in his mouth. Had he only imagined the stench of burnt meat and charred bone? He could never be certain. It felt like memory. He reached for the book again and stared at the photograph. He had never got to see Emmy. If there had been anything left to see. He splayed his hand across the page, closed his eyes, fingered the sharp edge of the paper. It won’t change anything, he told himself. You can tear it out of the binding, but not out of your head. But he knew that unless he left, and soon, he might not be able to check himself. His fingers tightened on the paper, L. Lee Lowe yes 5:36 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-eight/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-eight/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 16:17:40 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=54 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-eight/feed/ 0 The darkroom occupied most of the cellar—though in this case the word *darkroom* was doubly a misnomer, for it comprised some six interconnecting rooms, brightly lit and each with its own function. In the printing room Finn demonstrated the red safety... The darkroom occupied most of the cellar—though in this case the word *darkroom* was doubly a misnomer, for it comprised some six interconnecting rooms, brightly lit and each with its own function. In the printing room Finn demonstrated the red safety lights, then explained the more arcane pieces of equipment. The office seemed as much sitting room as workplace, with its comfortable leather sofa and armchair, bookshelves, refrigerator, and ultra high-tech espresso machine which could probably produce rocket fuel in a pinch. Cameras, lenses, and filters lay everywhere; several tripods were stacked in a corner. ‘Don’t you do most everything on computers nowadays?’ Jesse asked. Finn smiled. ‘A certain amount, of course. But I prefer the old-fashioned methods. More subtlety, more depth of expression.’ ‘May I have a look at some of your work?’ ‘No need to be polite. Sarah hates it if I try to convert her friends.’ ‘I really like what I’ve seen upstairs.’ ‘OK. How about a coffee first?’ Jesse nodded, and Finn gestured towards the sofa. ‘Espresso or cappuccino?’ Finn asked. ‘Uh... cappuccino, I suppose.’ Jesse watched as Finn played with his machine. The heady smell of coffee soon filled the room. Jesse accepted the overlarge cup that Finn passed him, added several spoonfuls of sugar, and took a cautious sip. One cup should be OK. He was getting to like their bitter brew. It was a little like the Andersens themselves—potent, best in small doses. Finn rummaged in one of his storage cupboards. ‘Here,’ he said, tearing open a packet of shortbread. ‘Secret supply.’ He patted his stomach. They drank their coffee and crunched their way through the biscuits in companionable silence. When they had finished, Finn handed Jesse a large book, the kind that people bought as Christmas or birthday presents. ‘One of my last projects. I know it’s a coffee-table thing, but I did enjoy doing the photographs.’ Jesse slowly turned the pages while Finn fiddled with the computer on his desk. ‘Do you mind if I check my email?’ Finn asked. ‘I need to do a bit of catching up.’ ‘Fine with me.’ Finn returned to his monitor, while Jesse continued to study the book on his lap. It was demanding, provocative—unexpected. He wondered whose coffee tables it would grace. The photographs were brutal: mutilated bodies, acts of violence, slaughterhouse scenes juxtaposed with sensuous objects—a flower, a stone, a breast. There were abstract elements in most of the photographs, and many of the colours had been manipulated. Some pictures were monochromatic, some in black-and-white, others in full colour. Jesse turned back to check the title of the book: *Transitions*. There was no text. One photograph made his heart race: a little girl lying naked on a fold of black velvet. More than half her face was burnt away to the bone, and there were huge blackened craters along most of her body. A glistening seashell had been placed between her thighs, obscuring whatever remained of her genitals. In colour it might have been horrendous, but in black-and-white it shimmered with an otherworldly light. Jesse closed the book. He looked around the room. The air was cool, the light artificial. It was impossible to tell whether it was still raining, whether in fact it was night or day down here. A faint hum from the fridge and computer were the only sounds he could detect, aside from Finn’s breathing. Even the shadows in the corners of the room didn’t stir. To take something like that and make it beautiful—his gut twisted at the thought. What kind of man was Finn? A husband, a father, *a nice guy*. He would never throw stones at a dog, never beat his daughter, never murder anyone. Jesse closed his eyes, but the image waited behind his lids. He could feel the skin on his face grow clammy. Jesse shoved the book onto the sofa and stood up. ‘I feel sick,’ he said. L. Lee Lowe yes 17:51 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-seven/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-seven/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 16:09:32 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=52 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-seven/feed/ 0 ‘May I come in?’ - Jesse nodded. The knock hadn’t come as a complete surprise, though he’d hoped to leave unobtrusively. He’d already changed back into his own things and packed his rucksack. Sarah’s mother must have ironed his freshly washed cloth... ‘May I come in?’ Jesse nodded. The knock hadn’t come as a complete surprise, though he’d hoped to leave unobtrusively. He’d already changed back into his own things and packed his rucksack. Sarah’s mother must have ironed his freshly washed clothes, for he’d found them neatly folded on the bed; she’d even mended a hole in the pocket of his jeans. His thank-you note lay on the desk. Meg closed the door behind her, something which Jesse couldn’t make out cupped in her right hand. In the dim light her face hovered like a bright flame above a long taper. Her white jeans and shirt shone. Jesse glanced at the window. He’d been so engrossed in his churning thoughts that he’d not noticed the change. ‘A storm’s coming,’ Meg said. The wind was rising, drawing a heavy curtain of cloud across the sky and masking the last twilight. The air crackled with energy. Meg moved towards him and extended her right arm, pearly as the inner skin of an onion. As Jesse reached for the object in her hand, their fingertips brushed. Cool bluewhite tongues flowed across his fingers and up his arm. With an oath he took a step backwards. He waved his arm, and drops of fire splashed onto the floor. His heart began to pound. Wildly, he tried to shake off the flames. They splattered around him. He whirled in panic, thinking to douse them, smother them... anything. In the corner an emaciated, naked lad is lying on a mattress with his arm across his face. His long reddish hair is matted and filthy, his body not much cleaner, and he’s shivering violently. ‘Jesse,’ Meg said, ‘please stay. It’s not a good time to leave.’ At the sound of her voice the figure disappeared, as well as the flames. Jesse spun back round to Meg, who was bending to retrieve whatever she’d brought with her. ‘Who are you?’ Jesse cried. Meg went to the doorway and switched on the overhead light. ‘It’ll rain soon,’ she said. ‘A thunderstorm, I think. Where will you go? We’re far from the city centre. Wait at least until morning.’ Slowly Jesse swivelled and examined every corner of the room. All was empty and bright—no deep shadows. ‘Did you see him?’ he asked, his voice urgent. ‘Nobody sees what anyone else sees.’ ‘Don’t give me that meaningless drivel!’ ‘I can’t help you if you won’t allow me to.’ ‘I haven’t asked for your help, and I don’t want it.’ But even to his own ears his protest sounded petulant, childish. He averted his eyes, shocked by the sudden welling of tears. Because of course she was right. Where would he go in the middle of the night? in the middle of a thunderstorm? He swallowed, gagging at the coppery taste. ‘There’s absolutely no shame in accepting help,’ Meg said. Gingerly he seated himself on the bed and clasped his hands between his knees, bowing his head. He tried to think. Meg waited a few minutes, then came and stood nearby without crowding him. No matter how grim, he’d always been able to see the irony in a situation. So Meg knew how to handle a troubled adolescent, did she? Of all the places for him to end up... But then she smiled, her eyes compassionate, and he felt the warmth of her empathy. It wasn’t just a job for her. Maybe. ‘Here, I’ve brought you this.’ Nestled snugly in her palm was a blue wooden top, a child’s toy the size of a large chestnut. Jesse accepted it with misgiving. He’d almost expected some kind of handout—clothes, enough money for a meal or two, a referral card, all nothing he’d accept. But a top? What the hell was he supposed to do with a top? And this from a shrink? Vampires, all of them, feeding off other people’s tainted blood. Playing their little games. ‘Do you mind if I sit down?’ Meg asked, indicating the desk chair. ‘My eyeteeth are of normal length.’ Jesse caught his breath. He raised his eyes to Meg’s, which contained nothing more than an amber gleam of laughter. And yet... He gestured for her to sit, L. Lee Lowe yes 14:52 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-six/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-six/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 15:56:30 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=48 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-six/feed/ 0 ‘You’re not eating,’ said Sarah’s mother. - The three of them were sitting in the kitchen at a battered wooden table, probably a family heirloom. A jug with sweet peas scented the room. - ‘Jesse?’ Sarah’s mother prompted. - ‘I’m not very hungry, ‘You’re not eating,’ said Sarah’s mother. The three of them were sitting in the kitchen at a battered wooden table, probably a family heirloom. A jug with sweet peas scented the room. ‘Jesse?’ Sarah’s mother prompted. ‘I’m not very hungry, Mrs—’ He broke off, realising that he didn’t know their surname. ‘Andersen. But please call me Meg.’ He glanced at Sarah. ‘We had a late meal.’ ‘That reminds me,’ Meg said. ‘Thomas rang. You forgot your mobile again.’ ‘Oh shit. I was supposed to meet him in the afternoon,’ Sarah said. ‘He was going make his famous coconut ice cream cake.’ ‘He was very nice about it, considering he’d gone to all that trouble,’ Meg said. Sarah flushed. ‘I got the message.’ Hurriedly she finished the food on her plate and reached for seconds. For such a slender girl, she ate a lot. Nor did she pretend about it. She chewed with gusto—like most things she did, Jesse suspected. Was Thomas the boyfriend? ‘At least try some,’ Sarah said, her mouth around a large forkful of salad. Jesse took a bite of his quiche. The pastry was rich and flaky—obviously homemade. Sarah’s mum was a good cook. He wished he had more appetite, but his headache, which had toyed with him off and on all day, was now scratching impatiently at the door. It was one of the reasons he had, in the end, gone back home with Sarah. He simply couldn’t face another night on the street. ‘Aren’t you on duty tonight?’ Sarah asked her mother. ‘Not till tomorrow.’ Sarah saw the question in Jesse’s eyes. She was about to explain when her mum’s slight frown checked her. The *not yet* was as clear as if Meg had spoken the words aloud. ‘I’ll ring Thomas, then how about some TV?’ Sarah asked. ‘Or sleep.’ Meg’s eyes rested on Jesse, who found it very difficult to interpret her thoughts—not that she hid them from view, for her gaze was direct and candid. No, it was far more like watching a school of fish whose iridescent scales flashed just below the surface, yet which slipped away as soon as you tried to lower the net. Meg pushed back her chair and crossed to the electric kettle, filled it at the tap, and switched it on. ‘I’ll make you some tea,’ she said to him. ‘Yuk,’ said Sarah. ‘Not that dreadful stuff.’ But Jesse would be glad to drink it, anything at this point to avoid a migraine; nightmares. Then a bath and bed: he shivered with pleasure at the thought of an entire night in comfort and safety. To sleep as long as he liked... As Meg handed him the mug of herbal tea, she let her hand rest on his shoulder for a moment. Unprepared, he camouflaged his reaction with a neck roll, almost smoothly enough to fool her that his muscles were stiff. A small crease puckered her brow. Sarah’s voice cut across the open waters between them like the fierce carved prow of a longboat. ‘Are you’re OK? You’re very pale.’ Tomorrow. He would leave first thing tomorrow. He could feel the weight of Meg’s solicitude bearing down on him like a second ship. Why were they bothering with him, a complete stranger? Nobody just took some kid in off the street. He liked them, but well-meaning people were often the most dangerous sort. With the nasty ones you knew where you stood, had no compunction about dealing with them. But those fools who imagined they knew what was best for everybody else, who were only doing it *for your own good*—if he heard that phrase one more time—they were the ones to watch out for. You wanted a little relief, you wanted to trust them, and then wham! rammed by a bloody frigate. And the self-righteous never forgave. ‘What’s the matter?’ Sarah persisted. ‘Drink your tea, Jesse,’ Meg said. ‘I’ve added some honey for energy. Then get a good night’s sleep. There’ll be time enough to talk tomorrow.’ At least she hadn’t said that things would look different in the morning, Jesse thought. And then he understood that Meg had reproved Sarah, L. Lee Lowe yes 10:42 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-five/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-five/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 15:38:22 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=44 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-five/feed/ 0 Tondi’s body glistened with sweat, her meagre clothes clinging to her skin. When she offered to lend Jesse her skateboard, he mumbled his thanks and kept his head low as she came close, too close. Let her think that he was embarrassed or overcome or ... Tondi’s body glistened with sweat, her meagre clothes clinging to her skin. When she offered to lend Jesse her skateboard, he mumbled his thanks and kept his head low as she came close, too close. Let her think that he was embarrassed or overcome or whatever. With her board tucked under one arm he approached the ramp. They wanted to humiliate him, Sarah’s friends. They were practised skaters with lots of tricks and manoeuvres. At the skater plaza he’d watched them first on the concrete flat and ramps, then on the steps and rails and ledges, now on the half-pipe. All except Tondi, who skated well but kept in the background. The lads launched themselves from the top of the ramp straight into the air. They hung there, defying gravity, then twisted and flung themselves right back down. Impossible. Only they did it. No one in his right mind started there. ‘Come on,’ called the tallest bloke—Mick?—who had gelled blond hair, hot and taunting eyes. ‘It’s easy, give it a try.’ Jesse knew it wasn’t easy. He wiped his hands on his jeans. He was beginning to be seriously annoyed with himself. At school he’d learned early on to keep a low profile, not to be drawn into lose-lose situations. What did he care what these stupid apes thought of him? He raised the board, about to toss it down in contempt. Sarah would be back any moment now. She’d never expect him to start with the half-pipe. The sun had slid towards the trees, glazing the leaves with a shiny eggwash of light, as golden as his grandmother’s Easter loaf studded with sultanas and almonds. He could taste Mick’s mockery. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the packet of cigarettes that Sarah had bought him. He dropped the board on the patch of grass in front of him and put his left foot on the deck, testing its spring. It felt comfortable, right. Jesse lit a cigarette. His mind went back to Sarah’s words: *stop running*. Sarah rode into sight on Kevin’s board, Nubi racing alongside her. Though she’d obviously given it some practice, she wasn’t a skater like these four. Jesse could see that straightaway. Plait frisking behind her, she swerved through the last curve and came laughing to a sudden halt in front of him. She flipped her board up, catching it in one hand. Nubi dropped down at Jesse’s feet, panting. ‘Don’t you want to try?’ she asked. Tondi came sauntering over, Kevin right behind. He was carrying a bulging carrier bag, and his muscles bulged under his tan. Jesse was sure that the cut-off T-shirt he was wearing cost as much as it took to feed a third-world family for a month. Three months. ‘Refreshments,’ Kevin said with a smirk. No doubt he was underage. He called to Mick and Don. ‘Hey, take a break. Lager’s here.’ Kevin and Tondi sprawled on the grass. Sarah glanced at Jesse, and he caught the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. Good. He’d agreed to go skateboarding—not to be taken down. Defiantly, he turned on his heel to study the ramp. Mick and Don joined the others, both having worked up a sweat. Mick stripped off his too-tight tank-top, wiped his face ostentatiously, and stretched out with his arms behind his head, midriff ridged and bare and bragging. Sarah flicked her plait over her shoulder. Brushing damp scallops of hair off her forehead, she took a step backwards. Mick could stand a shower, she thought, a little surprised at her own disgust. She used to admire the view as well as the next girl. Her eyes wandered towards Jesse, who was holding himself stiffly, his back proud and inaccessible under the old T-shirt. He was tall, but not too tall, lean to the point of hunger. He probably had more growing to do; he certainly needed feeding. Although his muscles were as well-defined as Mick’s—his hair as blond, his shoulders fully as broad—there was something more understated, less showy about Jesse. Subtler, somehow. Even his skin, though tanned, L. Lee Lowe yes 17:37 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-four/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-four/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 15:29:09 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=40 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-four/feed/ 0 ‘Here. You’ve been dying for a cigarette, haven’t you?’ Sarah asked, laying a packet and some matches in front of Jesse. - ‘Thanks but no thanks,’ he said. ‘Don’t buy me stuff.’ - ‘Let’s get one thing straight,’ Sarah said, taking her seat again. ‘Here. You’ve been dying for a cigarette, haven’t you?’ Sarah asked, laying a packet and some matches in front of Jesse. ‘Thanks but no thanks,’ he said. ‘Don’t buy me stuff.’ ‘Let’s get one thing straight,’ Sarah said, taking her seat again. ... L. Lee Lowe yes 25:32 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-three/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-three/#comments Mon, 18 May 2009 11:36:53 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=28 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-three/feed/ 0 Sarah had bought the dog a sturdy leather collar and lead. ‘He’s going to need a tag and chip, his shots. And what about his name?’ - ‘I told you,’ Jesse said. ‘It’s not my dog.’ - ‘He is now,’ she said. ‘What do you want to call him?’ - Sarah had bought the dog a sturdy leather collar and lead. ‘He’s going to need a tag and chip, his shots. And what about his name?’ ‘I told you,’ Jesse said. ‘It’s not my dog.’ ‘He is now,’ she said. ‘What do you want to call him?’ Jesse shrugged. There wasn’t much point thinking up a name unless Sarah’s family would be willing to adopt a stray. ‘How about Anubis? We did Egyptian mythology last year in school.’ No way, thought Jesse. Even if he named the animal—temporarily, mind you—it would be Harry or Jinx. Simple, ordinary, doggy. The dog tugged on the lead, anxious to keep moving. They’d walked down the hill from Sarah’s house and were now in another part of the city. The townhouses were neat, upmarket, with little front gardens, geranium-filled window boxes displayed like medals on a war hero’s chest, and brightly painted doors and window frames. Sarah indicated a narrow lane almost hidden between two brick dwellings. ‘Come on, I want to show you something.’ She led him along the cobbled way towards a small stone chapel which had been converted into a residence and workshop. A stone bench curved round the base of a towering chestnut tree. Mounted on the scrolls of the wrought iron gate was an exquisitely hand-lettered sign: Sundials, it said. They stopped and leaned on the fence while Jesse studied the pieces, each bathed in the astringent green light. Once again he could smell the flush of lavender on Sarah’s skin. ‘Brilliant, aren’t they?’ Sarah asked. ‘They’re wonderful,’ Jesse said. ‘Who makes them?’ ‘A friend of my mother’s. She’s not here at the moment, or we could say hello.’ Jesse pointed to a gilded greenslate sundial mounted on a plinth and set some distance from the others. ‘That’s the only one standing in the sun.’ ‘Ursula’s partner wanted to remove the tree so visitors could appreciate the sundials better, but Ursula wouldn’t hear of it. Most of these are only display pieces, though I think one or two might be current orders.’ ‘Sundials have to be calibrated for a specific site in order to be accurate.’ ‘You do read a lot, don’t you?’ He appeared not to hear. ‘Isn’t she afraid someone might steal them?’ ‘They’re far too heavy.’ ‘Anyone could hop over this fence and vandalise them.’ ‘More tempting stuff to go after, I suppose.’ She gave him a sideways glance. ‘Do you always expect the worst?’ ‘It’s best to be prepared.’ Automatically he groped in his pocket for a cigarette, but came up only with an empty matchbox. ‘You smoke?’ Sarah asked, more observant than Jesse was used to—more, perhaps, than he cared for. ‘Sometimes. Did Ursula make the one in your garden?’ ‘Yeah. My mother spent hours arguing with her about the design. She can be a right pain in the you-know-what sometimes—my mum, I mean.’ ‘Your mother’s a very interesting woman.’ ‘That’s what everyone says,’ Sarah said drily. Jesse turned his gaze away from the sundials. ‘There are many different kinds of gifts,’ he said, then shook his head and ran his hand back and forth over the scrollwork on the gate. ‘Sorry, that was really dumb of me. I hate such platitudes.’ He continued to rub at the metal with a fingertip, his whole attention concentrated on erasing his words. ‘It’s OK. I genuinely admire her. Like her, too. It’s just that...’ ‘Yeah, I can imagine.’ Sarah studied his face for a moment without speaking. When he wasn’t frowning, his features had the soft look of an old pair of jeans, familiar and comfortable and worn. Like someone you might have known forever. Even his eyes, when they shed their brittle layer of mica, turned the colour of her favourite stonewashed denim. There was no stubble on his face, but she could tell that he’d soon be shaving. He turned his head and met her eyes. Caught off guard, she flushed. ‘Look, I didn’t mean to compare you to your mother,’ Jesse said. ‘Or to pry.’ ‘Oh yeah?’ L. Lee Lowe yes 21:20 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-two/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-two/#comments Mon, 18 May 2009 09:48:41 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=20 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-two/feed/ 0 At first they walked back towards the Old Bridge in silence, which was exactly how Jesse wanted it. But the girl had the kind of energy that, like the river itself, would not easily be diverted. - ‘My name’s Sarah.’ - ‘Jesse, At first they walked back towards the Old Bridge in silence, which was exactly how Jesse wanted it. But the girl had the kind of energy that, like the river itself, would not easily be diverted. ‘My name’s Sarah.’ ‘Jesse,’ he offered in exchange for the forthcoming meal. ‘Where did you spend the night?’ Jesse shrugged. ‘You look like you’ve slept under a bridge.’ He gave her a mocking half-smile and pointed towards the Old Bridge. She was shocked but tried to conceal it. Studying her surreptitiously, he wondered exactly how old she was. With such an expressive face it was hard to tell. She wouldn’t make a good liar: that smile would give her away, those eyes. There was something about her... Just before they passed under the bridge, Sarah stopped and gazed up at the stone parapets. ‘Not a good place to sleep,’ she said. ‘There’s worse,’ Jesse said. ‘I don’t like it.’ ‘Why? It’s a handsome structure. Look at the curved coping stones above the spandrels and wing walls. And the projecting courses at road level. All good solid features typical of the period.’ Sarah was astonished. ‘You know a lot about it.’ ‘Not really. Just from my reading.’ She indicated the stone dogs guarding both ends of the parapets with bared teeth. ‘They scare me.’ ‘They’re only statues.’ ‘Maybe...’ She shook her head. ‘There are too many legends about this bridge. It’s supposed to be unlucky. That’s why a lot of people won’t use it. You wouldn’t get me to spend a night here, alone, for anything.’ Jesse teased her. ‘How do you know I was alone?’ She blushed easily. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean... I mean, I didn’t mean to...’ A futile attempt to hold back a peal of amusement. ‘I’m getting myself all twisted up over nothing, aren’t I?’ He liked her willingness to laugh at herself. ‘I was alone.’ ‘All the more reason to find someplace else to sleep.’ ‘I can look after myself.’ Her eyes took him in from head to foot, not missing much. ‘Listen, it’s really not a good place to hang out—not alone, and especially not at night. There’ve been several murders underneath the bridge. Just last year someone found the body of a man who’d been beaten to death and left on the bank.’ ‘All old buildings—or bridges—have their history.’ ‘Not like this one,’ she persisted. ‘My mother says some places are imbued with spiritual energy.’ ‘Ghosts?’ he scoffed. ‘No...*no*, nothing like that. More like a fingerprint, a kind of emotional charge because a person—or maybe an animal—burnt so strongly that everything, even stone, remembers.’ Her clear gaze unsettled him, as if she understood a secret about him. Her scent sprang out at him, clawing at the base of his throat. His grandmother had hung large bunches of lavender in the kitchen to dry, but he’d never met a *girl* who liked it, a girl like this, and that unsettled him even more. Go, he told himself. Just turn around and leave. There are worse things than hunger. His stomach growled in disagreement, loud enough for her to hear. He hitched his rucksack higher on his shoulder and rubbed his midriff; caught her grin. He could never resist the absurdity of a situation, even his own. His lips twitched, then turned up at the corners. On the other side of the bridge the dog plunged into the river, paddled in exuberant circles for a few minutes, then bounded back to Jesse and shook itself vigorously. ‘Shit!’ Jesse exclaimed. ‘My clothes were disgusting enough already.’ He glared at the dog. But Sarah was looking back at the bridge, unable to let it go. ‘It reeks of evil.’ ‘That’s a bit strong, I should think.’ ‘Don’t be so sure. One of my mum’s—’ She hesitated, then started again. ‘One of my mother’s acquaintances killed herself there not too long ago. She threw herself into the river and drowned.’ Jesse heard the faint emphasis on *acquaintances*. He wondered what she wasn’t telling him, L. Lee Lowe yes 20:57 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-one/ http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-one/#comments Mon, 18 May 2009 09:36:45 +0000 admin http://lleelowe.northernlightsmultimedia.net/?p=18 http://lleelowe.com/mortal-ghost/mortal-ghost-chapter-one/feed/ 0 Every night Jesse lies down to sleep with fire. This time, screams and a dark chord burning. *This time*, the beam falls before his hair ignites. - Jesse woke with a start, his heart thudding. It took him a moment to remember where he was. Every night Jesse lies down to sleep with fire. This time, screams and a dark chord burning. *This time*, the beam falls before his hair ignites. Jesse woke with a start, his heart thudding. It took him a moment to remember where he was. Something in his rucksack was digging into his cheek. Wincing, he shifted on the piece of cardboard that was his mattress. The solid blocks of stone at his back, rough and lichen-crusted, made good sentries but poor bedfellows. His neck was sore and kinked, his muscles cramped, and he had pins-and-needles in the arm he’d been lying on. He needed to pee. The dream again. Fingering the handle of his knife, he looked about him. Just after dawn, and the air smelled fresh and clean, with a dampness that hinted at rain. His sleeping bag felt clammy, and the grass along the riverbank glistened with dew. Water lapped close by, a sound from his past, and he could hear the noisy riverbirds scolding his sluggishness. There was no help for it. Wait too long and somebody would appear. Shaking off the last whorls of sleep, he unzipped his sleeping bag and crept out. He stretched, then made a few circles with his head, grimacing as the vertebrae in his neck rasped like the sound of Mal crushing eggshells in his fist—one of his least offensive habits. A couple of knee-bends till Jesse’s bladder protested. He glanced round once more, for he didn’t like to leave his things unattended for even a moment—on the street, a moment’s inattention could mean the difference between a meal and hunger, between safety and a vicious beating/mutilation/rape, between survival and annihilation. He grabbed his rucksack, thrust his knife inside, and sidled barefoot down the grassy riverbank until he came to an overgrown bush. After relieving himself, he knelt at the river’s edge and rinsed his hands, then splashed cold water into his face. Not exactly clean, but it helped remove the film of sleep and dross from the morning. Distastefully, he ran his wet fingers through his hair. He needed a good wash—failing a long hot punishing shower then at least a swim in the river. Later maybe—first he would have to eat. He kneaded the skin above his waistband; he’d lost weight again, he supposed. Hunger never quite retracted its claws: on the rare occasions when he had a full belly, there was always the next meal to worry about. It would be another long day. From his rucksack he removed his battered water bottle and trainers. After slaking his thirst he capped the bottle and considered his next move. He always tried to find a new kip each night, and if he got lucky he might be able to locate an abandoned warehouse or garage or even an allotment shed. The docklands looked promising, although there would probably be others with the same idea. Still, it was a largish place. He kept away from the squats. He wanted nothing to do with anyone else. Jesse rummaged for the currant bun he’d kept back last night, then shook out his sleeping bag, formed it into a compact roll, and stored it in his rucksack, followed by the bun and his water bottle. After slipping into his trainers he wedged the cardboard between one of the bridge’s massive stone abutments and a clump of wild briars, just in case he was obliged to return tonight. It was still barely light, and except for a boat in the distance—a barge, from the long squat shape—and the birds and jazzing whirlybird insects and occasional frog, Jesse had the river to himself. He made his way along the bank in the direction of the city centre. There was a thin opaque haze over the water which the sun would soon burn away. Though overcast now, with a likelihood of rain, Jesse could tell that it would be hot later on, hot and humid. Good swimming weather. Usually the river was well trafficked, but he had yet to see anyone else swim. Of course, he always chose a secluded spot. When hunger gnawed at him, L. Lee Lowe yes 16:32