Fruit of the Spirit

By Gregory P Knowles

At the heart of Fruit of the Spirit, Greg Knowles’ debut collection of short stories, are the most basic of human characteristics – love, peace, joy, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control – characteristics fundamental to human existence and yet so difficult to cultivate and sustain within the human spirit.

A paranoiac brother suspicious of the intentions of his sister’s psychologist friends struggles to find love; a shell-shocked soldier newly returned from Iraq and struggling to adjust to city life finds not peace; and a dying teenager’s gift to her grief-stricken father alternates between giving joy and stealing it away.

A son whose life has become one of bitter frustration finds patience in the most unlikely of places; a teen struggling with the meaning of love finds kindness in an aunt shunned by the rest of her family, and a young woman, certain that her looks will provide all she requires in life, finds herself trapped between the ambiguous attentions of the perfect man and the virtuous goodness of the imperfect.

A life of disappointment for the father of a dying girl leaves him grasping and reveals the tenuous nature faith that is not thought through; a young man shunned by his peers and ridiculed by his father discovers success through the gentleness of an elderly Scottish woman; and a wayward son’s eagerness for riches over family proves that lack of self-control can lead down paths best avoided.

In nine wonderfully crafted stories, Greg Knowles shows that even the finest of virtues can have a dark side – but when properly applied, can salve the deepest of wounds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gregory P Knowles
• Release date: Nov 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311985743

Gregory P Knowles

Gregory P Knowles is a freelance writer from the bottom end of our planet - Auckland, New Zealand. As most authors will be aware, a freelance writer is a person who gets paid, per word, per article or perhaps! So, to cover the cost of his mortgage and purchase luxuries, such as food, Greg works as a technical writer and web-content writer, squeezing in the more creative stuff when he gets a spare moment.Greg's first book, Fruit of the Spirit, a collection of short stories, was published in 2014.His first full length novel, Believing in Rita, was published in 2016.Be sure to look out for Seven Deadly Sins, Greg's next collection of short stories, due out soon.

Book preview

fruit of the spirit

greg knowles

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Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Greg Knowles.

Cover Design by James, GoOnWrite.com

Excerpt from The Night Is So Lonely.

© 1959 – Gene Vincent and Clifton Simmons.

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Better to write for yourself and have no public,

than to write for the public and have no self.

Cyril Connolly

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fruit of the spirit

CONTENTS

Love – Blind Date

Peace – Missing in Action

Joy – A Stoneful of Memories

Patience – Patient Restoration

Kindness – Kind of Surprised by Aunt Claire

Goodness – Sara’s Dream

Faithfulness – Jack and Jed and Cassie and Me

Gentleness – Sticks and Stones

Self-Control – Going Home Straight

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About the Author

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Other works by Greg Knowles

Blind Date

The love story

I should never have made the call. I know it won’t work out. It never works out. The last one didn’t. Neither did the two before. That’s the problem when my sister sets me up on a blind date with one of her friends. They never work out.

Sasha is a psychologist. A shrink. A fully-fledged mind-bender. So are most of her friends. And they all sound fine over the phone. They speak in that slow, reflective way that sucks you in and draws you out and dares you to delve deep into your inner-self before forcing you to regurgitate more of your past than you actually intend them or anyone else to know.

One phone call is all it takes and, next thing, you’re sitting in some fancy French restaurant with a complete stranger. Then, before you even notice, it’s happening; what others would consider normal conversation has been replaced by a well-rehearsed speech designed to coerce you into revisiting some childhood trauma, as if you’re still somehow haunted by it.

They stop short of actually pulling out a pad and taking notes, of course, but nothing escapes them. You can see them soaking up every word. Processing, they call it; assessing, calculating, analysing, probing for information. Leaning forward to draw you in and then, at precisely the right moment, tossing out an unexpected, And how did that make you feel?

It’s not unlike fishing. The evening may leave them without so much as a nibble, but there’s also the stirring anticipation of landing the big one. That’s why they talk quietly, casting carefully baited lines. Calculated lures, like, So, do you enjoy your work? Or, What do you do in your spare time?

You need to recognise all such enquiries for what they really are—hooks. Carefully baited hooks expertly thrown out as an enticement. Swallow one and you’re trapped. There can be no getting away. They play you like only an experienced fisherman can. They lean back while you strain to pull away and then, the moment you relax, they whip forward and reel furiously. Drawing you in with another question. Dragging you closer with a carefully positioned, I see, or a perfectly enunciated, Aha. By this time you know you’ve been hooked but it’s too late. Escape is impossible.

That’s why concentration is absolutely vital. And it’s not limited to what you say either. Even the way you sit is under scrutiny. Body language. Must not fold arms—it’s a sure indication you’ve got something to hide. Do not put hands on head—the ultimate sign of arrogance. Look directly into her eyes—even the briefest mid-sentence sideways glance will convince her you’re lying or, at the very least, harbouring deep-seated self-confidence issues.

So much to think about just for the sake of pleasing my sister.

This latest one sounded much the same as all the others. Amie. With an ‘ie.’

She’s working on her doctorate, Sasha had been quick to inform me. Would suit you down to the ground. Someone up there on your level. Smart, very smart.

My PhD is in Organic Chemistry, I keep reminding Sasha. But she never hears. She makes out like it’s a crime to be approaching 30 and still single. She was married at twenty-three, a mother by twenty-four and onto husband number two by the time she was twenty-seven. Now they live with one of those ‘open relationships.’ I’m pretty sure that’s new-age speak for, We’re not happy with what we’ve got, but we simply lack the energy required to move on.

I guess it’s some sort of compensation-thing that drives her to vicariously pour so much of her energy into these attempts to sort out my life; a life I’m completely happy with so long as I’m left alone.

All this explains why, even before I entered the restaurant, I knew I was making a mistake. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to have phoned Amie back and sniffled and coughed, and hacked and wheezed into the receiver.

I’d have only been delaying the inevitable, though. Within hours of finding out, Sasha would have been back on the phone insisting that I take down another name and phone number; forcing me to swear on my life that I would make contact within the next couple of days.

I can’t believe how many young, single female psychologists there are out there. But, then, that’s their problem. They need to loosen up. I mean, what guy wants to go through life being psycho-analysed?

So, here I am. Determined to say nothing, and to give away even less. Being mindful of how I sit and doubly cautious about the use of my hands. Allowing her to order her own drink – white wine – before I order mine – beer.

Of course, that means I’m now wondering whether I should have ordered something more refined and not so predictably working class. And I’m trying to work out what she’s thinking or, more importantly, what she thinks I’m thinking.

Amie’s pretty. Gorgeous, some might say. Certainly not what most people would picture when they hear the word psychologist, but I’ve been through all this before. I know their strategy. The blond hair and make-up. The black dress, short at