Flicker by Clive Martyn

Mike shivered nervously in the cold of the bathroom as his heart pounded in his chest.

He looked at Shelly's sleepy, tousled reflection briefly before concentrating again on the corner of the mirror where he last saw it.

"Do you see it? Do you?"

"Baby, come back to bed! I can't see anything."

There was another flash. A black flicker. Another shape in the mirror.

"There! Did you see it?"

She shook her head and lifted her hair up high whilst stretching. She yawned loudly.

"Maybe you hit your eye or something? Maybe you're just tired," she said sounding unconcerned and slightly annoyed at being dragged out of bed.

She pulled Mike's head around gently, away from the mirror, down to face her. Her small hands felt very warm on his skin. She looked into his eyes and gently smoothed his eye-lids with her delicate fingers.

She stared at him for a few seconds, squinting as she tried to adjust to the bright lights.

"Can't see anything, honey," she patted his cheek as if he was a five year old scared of the dark.

"Come to bed."

"Shelly - I can see something. Something in the mirror." He pointed at the mirror angrily.

"You need to get some sleep, babes, you have been working too hard." She walked back down the hallway and he could not help but watch her walk away. The T-shirt she was wearing hardly covering the top of her long shapely legs.

He rubbed his eyes for the tenth or twentieth time. Perhaps he did need to sleep, he thought.

Mike turned back to the mirror and waited for the flicker out the corner of his eye. As the seconds wore on, his heart slowed and he eventually smiled wryly at himself. Just my imagination, he thought, there is nothing there.

He turned on the cold tap and ran the cool water through his hands before lifting them up to his face. As he stood up, he saw it again in the mirror. Watching.

***

The day before the funeral, the last thing Shelly wanted to do was return to the flat. She definitely did not want to go back into the bathroom, where she had found Mike's body, lifeless on the floor, but there were several things she needed to pick up. Mike's family were too busy with the funeral arrangements to help her out - besides she did not like to impose.

Walking quickly she grabbed her best suit out of the wardrobe and lingered on the threshold of the bathroom, staring at the spot she had found him. Shaking her head to dismiss the horrible image, she grabbed some toiletries, shoved them in a bag and was just turning to leave when she saw something out of the corner of her eye.

Two brief flickers in the mirror.

"Please Santa" by Clive Martyn

Father Christmas looked up at his office door, his large heart skipping a beat. The constant sound of hammers, sawing and happy singing, the sound of the workshop in full swing, was missing. The Elves were quiet.

The naughty-nice list sheets floated to the floor from his lap as he struggled out of his chair as quickly as he could. He poked his head through the doorway.

All the Elves had gathered around Epifanio, his head mail sorter.

Several Elves looked up at him, tears in their eyes.

He stepped out into the workshop and walked over, the crowd of Elves parting to give him space.
“What do you have there, Epifanio?” he said, his deep, rich voice echoing around the silent workshop.

“A letter, sir,” he said meekly, his cheeks wet with tears. The small Elf passed the slightly damp white sheet of paper up to him.

Father Christmas adjusted his gold spectacles and looked down at the neat, hand written letter.

Dear Santa

Thank you for my presents last year. I loved the XBOX game. I still play it.

Mummy doesn’t know I am writing to you – please don’t tell her! Please, please, please Santa can you help?

My friend James says you can do anything, that you are magical and can get anything.

This year please DO NOT send me anything I have LOADS already. But can you send my mummy a new baby?

I have been thinking for a long time. I have something called cancer and am very ill. I have gone all yellow and am very tired. Mummy cries ALOT, she tries to hide it but I can tell.

When I am gone I think Mummy would like a new baby to make her smile again. But can this one not have any genetics or wrong stuff? Can it be perfect?

Thank you Santa.

Love

Peter Beck

Father Christmas felt as if his heart had moved up to the base of his throat, and his eyes misted up. He coughed and folded the letter neatly in two.

“Thank you Epifanio for bringing this to my attention.” He said, his voice thick with emotion.

He looked around at all the Elves who were all looking at him expectantly and coughed again to clear his throat.

“Back to work, my friends, not long until Christmas!”

He walked back to his office and sat back in his chair lost in thought. Several times he read and re-read the letter, unsure of what to do. For a while he used his magic snow globe to watch Peter and his mother as they prepared as best they could for Christmas.

Eventually he began design a new machine for the workshop, sketching down the components and parts. When Agathe, who led the Elf engineering team arrived answering Father Christmas’ call, he found the big man surrounded by piles of crumbled paper and empty pens.

Father Christmas passed over the designs and sat back in his chair, his back aching from leaning over his desk.

“Can we build it Agathe? Build it in time for Christmas?”

“Well... er.... what is it, Sir?”

He smiled, “Build it, Agathe, and I’ll show you. ”

***

On Christmas Day Peter woke, slowly, groggily, to find his mum on his bed. She was wiping tears out of her eyes.

“Mummy, don’t cry, I feel good today!” he said sadly.

“These are happy tears, Peter, very happy tears!” She leant forward and cuddled him.

With a sly smile, he asked, full of wonder and amazement, “Do you have a baby in your tummy?”

His mother laughed, “Silly goose – no! What a funny thing to say! No!"

With a wide grin she said "You remember we talked about Dr Freeman and trying to find you a new liver? Well the Doctor called this morning first thing – they have one! He said it was a miracle! An identical match, which he said was like one in a twenty billion.”

Peter just looked up his mother’s smiling face, tears coming to his eyes as well. “Am I going to get better?” he said quietly.

She nodded, hopeful for the first time in a very long time.

“This is the best Christmas present ever!” She said and they just lay in Peter’s bed, crying with joy.

***

Father Christmas checked on Peter several times over the next few decades.

The Liver machine had been very difficult to fabricate and it had been touch and go whether it would work at all. Making a baby would have been a lot easier but Father Christmas knew that Peter Beck’s mother would not want a perfect baby boy for Christmas – she already had one of those.

"A Single Grain of Sand" - a poem by Clive Martyn

Each moment in time is unique,
Never touched, never seen before,
It is a grain of sand -
A single grain of sand,
Etched with your feelings,
Wants and desires,
Memories of that second -
That single second.
Unique - just to you.

Everything we are,
Everything -
Is just a handful of these,
Held tightly over the sea.
Slowly falling away,
Sliding through fingers,
Leaving little but small ripples,
In a dark, unforgiving sea.

You cannot save time,
No matter how hard you try.
No matter how hard you clench your fist.
It will slide away, slip into the sea.
The past is done,
The future unknown,
All we have is the moment -
A single grain of time.

Should we fill that moment with regret,
At what we have lost?
What has gone before?
Or fill it with dreams of what might be?
Or just appreciate it?
And be happy,
That now- this moment in time,
Right now...
We are still here.

"Love does not stop" by Clive Martyn

“I’m hungry, Kayleigh.” Davey said banging his small feet against the side of the hole.
She stopped digging and looked up at him, smiling grimly. He was covered in the thin, red dirt she had been shovelling, some of which had combined with his perpetual runny nose to make a mud moustache. He would need another bath.
Sweat dripped down her face making her eyes sting, blinking she glanced up at the cloudless sky. The sun was now high above them.
“I suppose it is lunch time,” Kayleigh said sighing and throwing down the spade. She clambered out of the hole, grabbing hold of Davey’s thin arm when he offered it. Once out, she stood and looked back at the hole with her arm around her brother.
She hoped it was deep enough.
“Have you seen the van?” He said pointing over the road. A large white removals van was parked at the Peter’s old place.
“Damn,” she muttered under her breath. She looked down at Davey, who was looking up at her, and smiled.
“I think we have some oreos left,” she said.
“Can we have the milk too?”
“Okay.”
They sat on the porch and ate the last of the food.
“Kayleigh?”
“Yes, Davey?” she said.
“Do we have much money left?”
She shook her head; little swirls of red dust fell from her long, lank blonde hair, “No. We’ve used the last of it. ”
“What are we going to do?” He said, never far from tears the last couple of days.
“I’ll look after you, Davey. You know that. I’ve got a plan,” she said quietly, stroking his cheek.
“Someone’s coming!” he said, scooting back towards the darkness of the house.
She looked up and a middle-aged couple were walking towards the fence that divided the Peter’s property from theirs. They waved as they approached, wide grins on their faces. They were wearing matching plaid shirts and jeans.
“Howdee!” The man called.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Kayleigh whispered, glancing over to the dark window to her left, the curtains drawn tightly.
“Hi!” she called and got up quickly to meet them at the fence, she didn’t want them to get too close to the house.
The man pushed back his cowboy hat and smiled kindly. “Hey little lady – my name is Burt Smithson. This is my wife, Daisy-Jane. We’re your new neighbours.”
“Hi, my name is Kayleigh,” She said, trying to hold a fake smile in place.
“Hi,” Daisy-Jane said. She looked momentarily younger when she smiled, “Are your parents around?”
Kayleigh looked down at her feet. “No Maam – they’ve both passed on... a few years back.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Daisy-Jane said, sympathy evident in her eyes.
Burt leaned down so they were on the same level and said quietly, “I’m really sorry to hear that Kayleigh. Who looks after you now?”
“Nana,” she said looking back at the darkened window.
“Is she around, now, Kayleigh, we sure would love to say hi.”
“No, sorry Mrs Smithson. Nana’s laying down with a headache.”
“And who’s this young man?” Burt said smiling as Davey look Kayleigh’s hand.
“Davey.” He said quietly.
“Quite a big hole you are digging there, you two. Making a fort or something?”
Kayleigh turned to the house. “Sorry Mr Smithson – Nana’s calling us. We’ve got to go. See ya.”
“Good ears on you, girl – I didn’t hear her.” Burt said, smiling at them both.
As they approached the house, Davey whispered, “Can’t we tell them, Kayleigh? Please?”
“We can’t tell anyone, Davey, they would split us up – you know that, we have discussed this loads.”
He snivelled, wiping his crusty nose.
“Go put the TV on, Davey,” she said pushing him towards the lounge. She watched as he turned it on. He flicked through the channels, pausing on the news channels and a feature about a missing person in the next town over.
“Find some cartoons, Davey. No more bad news, please.”
She headed down the corridor to Nana’s locked door. She pushed aside the blankets that was keeping the smell inside and twisted the key in the lock.
Holding her sleeve over her nose, she walked in. She quickly lit the scented candles she had arranged around Nana’s bed, the glow illuminating the blankets that covered Nana’s body. The smell was getting worse and something was slowly staining the blankets.
She sat on the floor, next to the bible she occasionally read. She was quiet for a while staring at her hands.
“I miss you, Nana. I miss you so much.” She said, tears quickly coming to her eyes as they only did in this room.
“I’m trying to be strong for Davey, Nana. But it is so hard. So hard.” She cried for a while allowing herself to let go – allowing herself to be 13 again.
She wiped her eyes. “Thank god for Davey’s coin jars but we are out of food now and money.” She was quiet again for a while. “I know what you would say Nana... how cross you would be... but I bumped into Mr Jones at the supermarket. He has offered me twenty dollars to clean his house tonight.” She paused, knowing how furious Nana would have been, her even being alone with the man, “I know he’s a bit creepy especially when he stares at me but he isn’t really the devil – like you always said. He’s offered to pick me up and bring me back. He’s moved to Cloverdale now. Anyway he’s going to be here after Davey’s bedtime. Then when I’m back... I will... I will bury you, Nana, I promise you. Davey chose a lovely spot.”
Over the next few hours, Kayleigh tidied the house and put Davey to bed after his bath. Thankfully he fell fast asleep; even though his stomach was rumbling. She had time to put her hair into bunches and clean herself up.
She heard a car horn outside. He was here. She left a note by Davey’s door, just in case he woke up and opened the door.
Mr Jones was stood by his car - a low red sports car - his greasy long hair pushed behind his ears.
He leered at her, making her skin goosebump – he was so creepy when he stared at her like that. He licked his lips with a thin snake-like tongue. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she needed the twenty dollars and it was just a bit of cleaning – it would soon be over.
“Come on, babes – get in.” He opened up the passenger door.
From behind her, she heard slow, heavy footsteps.
“Shit... Davey get your bottom back into bed!” she called out.
The door opened and Nana shuffled out leaning on her cane. Her skin was leathery and black, but it was her. White, squirming maggots dripped from her nose and mouth.
Kayleigh fell backwards, landing in the yard. The entire back of Nana’s floral dress was stained a murky brown and the stench of her rotting flesh filled the night air.
“Kayleigh Kristina Roberts, you foolish girl, get in the house... NOW!”
She sounded the same as she had before she died, but her voice felt like it was inside Kayleigh’s head.
Kayleigh looked at Mr Jones, who was stood rooted to the spot, his jaw hung open.
She looked back at her Nana and ran into the house.
She closed the door, shaking uncontrollably. She heard a car try and start but fail.
Within seconds there was a brief yell and the sound of Nana’s cane hitting something, again and again. She watched as a small white maggot wiggled across the carpet.
After some time, the smell of Nana returned strongly and in Kayleigh’s head she heard Nana again, but in a more gentle tone.
“The Smithson’s are good people, Kayleigh, Daisy-Jane has wanted children for so long. You and your brother will be happy with them... and safe.”
“Nana!” she sobbed, her cheek against the door.
“I will always love you both. Always.”
Kayleigh cried until she fell into a dreamless, exhausted sleep.

***

Kayleigh woke up the next morning, her back and legs aching due to her awkward position against the front door.
Sleepily she walked down the hall. Nana’s room was empty, even the smell had gone.
Squinting against the bright morning sun, she walked into the yard.
Mr Jones’s car was still there but the hole had been completely filled in.
Kayleigh showered, changed into her best clothes and got Davey dressed into his.
She ignored his questions, simply hugging him when he asked where they were going.
Once Kayleigh was happy with the way they looked. They crossed the road towards the Peter’s place holding hands.
Davey smiled when they smelt the pancakes wafting through the air.
She looked down at him and smiled, matching his grin, “It is going to be okay.”

"Murder in my heart" by Clive Martyn

I wait.
Patiently in the wardrobe.
The clothes smell of you.
Distracting. Familiar.
The gun feels heavy. Alien.
You walk into the room.
Laughing. An alien sound.
He follows. Grinning.
Now? I wonder.

I watch.
He lifts you tenderly
You kiss for the longest time.
Anger. Fury.
My blood races. Pain.
You lead the way to our bed.
Giggling. At me?
But he stops.
Now? I wonder.

I listen.
Not here - it's not right, he says.
He's long gone, you say.
Hatred boils.
I can't do it, he says,
I love you, you know that.
Smiles. Understanding.
But not here? She says.
Now? I wonder.

I hesitate.
Not here, he whispers.
The way you look at him.
Love? More than lust.
You glow with him.
You never looked at me like that
And he reflects it back.
I look at the gun.
Now? I wonder.

I hate myself.
You kiss. Leave.
Hand in hand. True love.
I wish I had loved you like that.
And you, me back.
There is just emptiness now.
Where the rage had been.
Emptiness and regret. Tears.
You will be okay.

So will I.

"Red Barn" by Clive Martyn

The scrawled note simply said “5 o’clock – Red Barn”.

I knew what it meant though. Danny had thrown down a challenge, meet him at the Red Barn at 5 o’clock and get beaten up or forever be chicken. I looked back at him sat in the back row, his meaty fists tapping menacingly on his desk to some beat only his Neanderthal brain could hear. He was staring at me with those pig-like eyes of his, whilst his self-styled ‘crew’ were making some quiet, whispered joke, probably at my expense.

“Turn around, Gertz!”

“Sir,” I said turning around, inwardly cringing at the sound of my surname which made the back row giggle.

Jeffrey, my only friend who’s skinny frame and thick glasses made him as much a target as me - an overachiever in every class that Danny was failing - shook his head at me silently. He wanted me to tell. I looked away, embarrassed from noticing his eyes filling up with tears.

I folded the note carefully and put it in my pocket; turning my attention back to Mr Warner’s equations. As he droned on I tried to ignore the coldness which had embraced my spine.

The Red Barn was a two storey broken barn in the middle of an abandoned orchard just outside of town. It had a dark reputation probably invented by previous owners to prevent mischief and apple thieves but still apart from the occasional foray to pick apples from the edges of the property, I had avoided the Red Barn – slightly fearful of it. Perhaps I was a chicken?

The hours drifted by in a daze, I avoided everyone in between class and hurried home when finally the bell rang.

Mum was reading a book when I walked in and did not look up, simply muttering “Good day, sweetie?”

She did not question or even see my nod – too engrossed in a fictional life much more interesting than this one. She preferred a reality where men did not run out on their pregnant wives, where there is a white knight for every hard working single mother to take her away to those exotic places she only knew from the TV.

I grabbed some food and went up to my room. In the safe environment behind the curtains, free from the eyes of people who would judge me and mock me, I let my fears out, sitting on the edge of my bed. Bent over, my tears dripped down onto my shoes. Fear had made my stomach into a tight hard ball and even though I had brought food up to my room I could not eat. I felt so alone.

I watched the clock as it slowly turned. As it approached 4 – I got up and changed into jeans and a T-shirt. Moving made me feel slightly better, distracting me from what I knew was waiting at the Red Barn.

I left the house at 4.30, Mum barely noticing me going. The walk out of town did not take long, especially as I was lost in thought, wondering why I did not follow the whispered advice of Jeffery. Tell Mr Warner, he had said; but that would be worse than being a chicken and bailing.

Before I knew it I could see the gnarled, moss covered apple trees and the broken fence that surrounded the orchard.

I squeezed through a hole between two fence posts; following a path a generation of children had used. In the shade of the first tree I stood for a moment breathing, feeling my nerves increase and the blood pulse through my veins - Danny was stronger and bigger than me, why was I doing this?

The road back into town was on the other side of the fence now – a road to safety, back home to Mum and my room.

But I knew I had to face Danny now or my life would be hell forever. I had to prove I wasn't chicken.

I walked through the overgrown grass towards the centre of the orchard. After a while the Red Barn came into view. It was covered in peeling paint and sun-bleached wood; years ago it stored a season’s worth of apples but now like the rest of the property it had been left to rot.

I could see Danny and his crew stood around the entrance to the barn, they were all stood quietly staring at something inside. My heart began to pound in my chest, seeing the fat bully stood there. I waited for the jeers and taunts but they did not come; no one reacted or turned as I walked around the stump of the last apple tree.

Balling my hands into fists, I walked towards them, my head held high. Confusingly, three of the ‘crew’ ran away as I approached, heading the way I just walked. Danny and the rest just stood there, staring into the grey, musty darkness of the barn.

“Hey?” I called out nerviously.

Jason, a slightly Indian looking boy, turned to me with his mouth wide open and pointed at the barn.

The first thing I saw were two pairs of feet, pale white feet, swaying in the wind. One male, the other obviously female with painted nails. The feet were about ten feet off the ground. My eyes moved upwards and I tried to comprehend the image of the naked couple, thick rope nooses around their necks, hanging from the rafters of the barn.

My gaze was drawn guiltily to the woman, her thin but pert breasts and the dark hair between her legs.

Even in death, she had a beautiful face framed by black curly hair.

The other person had died with his eyes wide open and his tongue pointing out - I looked away focusing on the moss climbing up the edges of the wood; the sight of death up close making my empty stomach churn.

Danny took a step through the entrance.

One of the bigger boys in Danny’s crew, Corey, and probably the only one who was confident to stand up to him said ”No Danny – don’t!”

Danny ignored him and moved deeper inside, his eyes fixed on something on the floor. I leaned forward to see past him and I could see on the floor under the swinging feet, on a blanket spread across the bare wooden floor, two neatly folded piles of clothes - one of which had a fat wallet on top of it.

A couple more of the ‘crew’ backed off and ran, leaving just me and Corey.

Danny moved further into the darkness, I could see his eyes fixed on his prize on the floor. Somehow he was managing to ignore the naked bodies above his head.

I was so intent on watching him that I did not see Corey follow the rest of the crew.

“Danny – don’t do it!” I called out, realising that only I was left to stop him, to talk sense.

I could see him mouth the words “Chicken!” with an annoying smirk on his face.

He had moved close enough to the pile of clothes to stretch out and reach for the wallet, which he did with a pudgy hand.

Above me, a raven swooped down onto the roof of the barn with a scrabble of claws and a flap of wings. In the silence of the barn, the sound was magnified a hundred times.

Danny looked up, terrified by the sound.

As the raven settled the silence came back quickly, but instead of going back to the wallet, Danny carried on staring up at the roof.

"Danny?" I whispered urgently. He didn't look around and just stood between the two bodies looking up.

I moved closer to the entrance, so I could look up into the rafters too.

"Danny?" Fear bubbled up my throat making my voice high pitched and squeaky but still Danny didn't turn around. He didn't mock me either as he normally did.

I took a step forward into the gloom of the barn, to see what he was looking at.

Between the two bodies was an empty third noose.

Slowly Danny began to unbutton his shirt, his back to me. His eyes fixed on the rope above him.

"Danny? Please, Danny?" I said, backing into the light, away from him and the two bodies.

I looked up again at the woman, noticing her dark, dark eyes for the first time, staring down from above. My already heavy breathing became more strained and frantic - I could not remember her eyes being open before.

Danny took his shirt off and folded it neatly on the floor between the two other piles. I watched paralysed as his hands went to his belt.

The raven screeched - the sound cutting through my frozenness, my inaction. I turned and without looking back I ran until I couldn't run any more.

***

When I went back to school, after the funeral, after Danny's dad burnt down the Red Barn, after all the police interviews and the local press gave up ringing Mum every day... surprisingly no body called me chicken.

(Original Story by Clive Martyn, Copyright 2009)

(Original image from the photocollection of Maren Wryn, Copyright 2009)

"Each Room Whispers Your Name" by Clive Martyn

Our house used to be full of love,
Happiness and friendship -
Laughter was a common sound.
Then slowly - things changed,
Whether it was you or me,
I do not know, but coldness,
Replaced that warmth.
Arguments, shouting,
Moments of darkness,
And loneliness - together.

You were sad - depressed,
I knew, but still did not expect,
You to leave - to find our house, empty.
In my heart I thought it would be me,
The one to go,
Make good on my threats,
Now I am alone,
In the house that was ours,
And every room reminds me,
Of what I have lost.

Photographs look down at me,
From every corner,
Happy moments - holidays in the Sun,
You looking full of life and love,
Me grinning foolishly - happy,
Glimpses of you - every where,
Reminders of what I have lost,
And how far we have fallen,
Each room whispers your name,
I listen - and miss you.