101 Words

I phoned my Aunt Elizabeth upon hearing that Patrick, my gangster Uncle, had been murdered. Elizabeth, usually quite flighty and fragile, was remarkably composed, though she had no notion how she would survive financially. “Don’t worry, Stephen. Patrick visited me this morning and told me that all would be well.”

I didn’t believe in ghosts, but if she conjured up a way to be reassured, so be it. Unlike her I had no idea how things would work out—until that evening when Patrick visited me. “Sorry, kid. You have to take care of Elizabeth now. Better do it. Or else!”

The shiny cheeks of the pudgy man bulge as he grins. Another year. He’d spent every day planning for this. Planning efficiency, invisibility. He knows every house, person, backstory. Some may say he’s a stalker, a creep, a criminal.

His icy eyes glimmer as he thinks of the big night. The things he sees, creeping in those houses. The people he sees. Their innocent, peaceful, sleeping faces. They have no idea what he does. They all trust him.

The door creaks open and he drops his victim-list.

“Santa, you coming? Christmas approaches!” Santa nods and grins. Not even his elves know.

“Granddad has shut himself in the conservatory.”

“What?”

“The door’s locked. If he doesn’t have his insulin soon he could die.”

“Where’s Julia? She has a key.”

“No idea. I’ve tried her mobile but she isn’t answering.”

We hurried out to the garden and looked through the conservatory window. Granddad was in his armchair apparently asleep, surrounded by all his ferns. We banged on the glass but he didn’t stir.

Luckily the fire brigade came quickly and we got to Granddad in time.

But I couldn’t shake off the fleeting impression that I’d glimpsed a female form lurking behind those ferns.

Guido’s massive weight was literally killing him. Extreme obesity taxed his heart and stressed his lungs. He had tried many diets, but lacked discipline.

It was time to appeal to a greater power. His mother insisted he visit an ancient religious relic. It was said to possess the miraculous ability to grant your most passionate wish. Guido struggled down the cathedral aisle with the other pilgrims.

At his turn, Guido looked to the heavens and made his plea.

As they shuffled away, his mother said, “You did it.”

“Yes.” Guido couldn’t tell her he had wished for a box of cannolis.

After resting on my oars in the lifeboat, I watched the ferry sink beneath the waves of the Luzon Strait. The lost included a crew of twelve—not counting the ship’s sole white officer—and three hundred passengers. The waves quenched the blazing light.

I had spotted the flames belching from the engine room during my midnight watch. Instead of sounding the alarm, I quietly lowered the only sea-worthy lifeboat and rowed away.

Now persona non grata in the civilized world, I am forced to find a new ship with a Sultan in the Malay States. A captaincy is possible.

The stone looked ancient. The embedded sword did not. Arthur glanced around to see if anyone was watching. He needed to return to the tournament soon else Sir Kay would box his ears.

Without bothering to read the STONE’S inscription, Arthur gripped the sword, and yanked with all his strength. It popped free and he fell on his ass.

“Excuse me, but that’s my sword.”

Merlin had taught him how to understand the trees, birds, and fish. Never had he mentioned speaking rocks.

“Forgive me.” He replaced the sword and scrambled to find another. Kay’s boxing bruised his ears for weeks.