Slices Of Life

By R K Smith

In these twenty short stories, people face challenges with optimism, determination, and the confidence all problems can be handled. Creativity, perseverance, and connection to others let the characters prevail and grow. In one, a man reluctantly attends a memorial service for an unremarkable colleague, only to discover he wasn't so ordinary after all. In another, a boy with Asperger's dreads disruption to his routine on the first day of school but finds his new teacher is similar and those fears might be unjustified.

From the woman who finds unexpected support when told she has inoperable, terminal cancer to the boy who overcomes a classroom invader, the stories range from heart-warming to inspiring. All are uplifting as they show ordinary people surmounting life's difficulties.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R K Smith
• Release date: Jan 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9780978048549

R K Smith

R.K.Smith writes monthly for One Thousand Trees, a wellness magazine. Each month, it has a topic such as gratitude or friendship which he uses a prompt for writing a fictional story incorporating that theme as a major focus.His life has included diverse experiences such as running children's camps in Lebanon and various parts of Canada, working in factories, teaching college, and so on. The wide variety of people encountered in such settings underlies his ability to create believable people and situations. He has won awards with his short stories and has also published three novels.

Book preview

Slices of Life

a collection of short stories

Slices Of Life

by R.K. Smith

Copyright © R.K. Smith 2014

All rights reserved

Smashwords Edition

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This book is available in print at One Thousand Trees

Editing and Pre-Press

words ... along the path

a branch of One Thousand Trees

These stories are works of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Contents

Foreword

Preface

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Ordinary Hero

The Bouncer

Learning Curve

Salvation

Infinite Gratitude

Completion

Tedium Trumps Trouble

Routine Matters

Bounce Back

Unintended Consequences

A Serendipity Bush

Vive La Difference

An Angel to the Rescue

Perseverance

The Bigger Picture

The Yellow Brick Road

A Smorgasbord Of Support

Achievement in Silence

Life and Death Impact

180°

Afterward

About The Author

Other Works By This Author

Foreword

I was delighted when Bob first asked me to work with him on this collection of stories. Bob’s stories have been included in my magazine, One Thousand Trees, for several years now, and I look forward each month to receiving a new addition!

Bob’s words flow effortlessly, it seems, and his stories are always captivating, heartwarming and inspiring. Just what writing is supposed to be!

Often we get caught up in the busy-ness of our daily lives, and we don’t take the time to be quiet, to sit still, to observe. Bob’s stories provide us with the time to do just that ... to find a quiet corner somewhere and be transported into another time, another place, another life.

It is my hope that, through your reading of the stories in this book, you will be motivated to think about, and possibly share, your own.

Lisa Browning

Preface

So why call it Slices Of Life? Two reasons:

First, many years ago I read an article lamenting the absence in so much writing of ordinary people doing ordinary things. Secondly, I am not by any stretch a poetry-person but one of the only snippets I remember is a few lines by Adrienne Rich -

I have to cast my lot with those

Who age after age, perversely

With no extraordinary power

Reconstitute the world.

Real change comes from the lives of ordinary people, facing problems with imagination, determination, and connection to others.

The world we inhabit is far from perfect, but think back five hundred years to slavery, the rate of child mortality, the ways women, minorities, and poor people were treated - and so on. Society has improved since then and I think that is due to ordinary people making their own lives better. Multiply those tiny changes a billion times.

So that’s what I write - stories about regular people dealing with adversity with creativity and skill. Slices Of Life.

Acknowledgments

First, I want to thank Lisa Browning of One Thousand Trees. For over a year, she has been including one of my stories in the monthly magazine she creates. This collection followed from that, with her reading a number of my stories, then choosing some and recommending an order. Five of them previously appeared in her magazine.

Secondly, I want to thank Geoff Nelder. In 2012, I participated in an international multi-round writing competition (The Whittaker Prize) which he judged. I found his comments extremely helpful and revised a number of the stories based on his comments. Bounce Back, included here, subsequently won a competition. Three others are also included in this collection.

Thirdly, I want to thank John Wilks, who organized The NOT The Whittaker Prize in 2013. A number of writers participated, and we read and scored each other’s work. So thanks to all of them too, as four of those stories – revised of course – are included here.

Finally, I must thank Sharon Harrison. She read original drafts, identifying places which needed more detail, serious clarification or over-all strengthening. Without her, these stories would be much less. She also is a superb copy editor, and identified typos and misspellings, those things which significantly hurt or even destroy an otherwise good story.

Everyone I have ever known has had some impact on my writing, but these people in particular.

Errors are all my own.

Introduction

Enough already with the superheroes, superstars, and supernatural characters!

Most of us are ordinary people, leading regular lives. But we are all the heroes of our own existences and they aren’t unexciting.

In this collection of short stories, there is no one with X-Ray vision, no Hollywood idol, no vampire. Instead, there is a man who reluctantly attends a memorial service for an unremarkable colleague and discovers he wasn’t so ordinary after all. A girl whose mother recently died reconnects with her father who is lost in grief. A woman discovers support from school friends who seem to have grown apart as adults.

Positive and optimistic, these stories affirm the strength, creativity, and thoughtfulness we all have.

I hope you enjoy them.

Bob Smith

To Aniela

The zest for life should never disappear.

You are a great reminder.

Ordinary Hero

I’m rather embarrassed to admit now we drew lots to see who would clean out William’s office and go to his Memorial Service and when my name came up, I felt like I had lost.

It’s not that any of us disliked him, but he wasn’t really part of our work team. He was the only person on the floor with an enclosed office. The next three floors above all had private spaces, but we in the call centre had only cubicles separated by beige cloth barriers. Except William. He didn’t do the same kind of work as us, and had the only door. I’m not sure whether it was the sound of our voices which would have distracted him, or the sound of his treadmill which would have driven us crazy, but the powers-that-be decided he should have a separate workspace.

Occasionally I envied him the privacy, but most of the time I thought the isolation simply wouldn’t be worth it.

He was a very ordinary-looking man, at least a decade older than the oldest of us, who were all under thirty. He had slightly-thinning muddy brown hair in a non-descript cut, no facial hair or scars to make him stand out, and he wore undistinguished clothes – either an out-of-date greyish plaid jacket with a simple blue or black tie, or else a baggy green track suit when he was using his treadmill. I couldn’t tell you his eye colour. I would have recognized him on the subway platform, but only because I had worked with him for four years. Anyone trying to pick him out of the crowd exiting a train by using just his description would probably have seen forty or fifty people who matched it.

Mr. Wallace from the top floor came and told us William had died. It wasn’t a surprise to him because William had advised him three weeks ago that he had an inoperable brain aneurysm. None of us was close enough to William that he might have told us too, and he had seemed absolutely normal, though I must admit no one ever paid particularly close attention to him.

He had always had occasional headaches, but went to the doctor when they increased in frequency and severity, Mr. Wallace said. The doctor sent him for a CT scan and that’s what they discovered, and it was confirmed by an angiogram. I thought that was a heart thing, but maybe it’s more. Mr. Wallace continued, A specialist told him the aneurysm had ballooned and it was only a matter of time until it burst. William seemed quite okay with the fact it was inoperable and would likely cause his death. Mr. Wallace shook his head sadly, then continued, I reminded him he had some vacation time left so if he wanted to take it, he should. ‘No,’ he told me. ‘I want to continue with my regular life.’. Mr. Wallace frowned again, then added, I thought it was rather sad that he had no dreams to fulfil, no bucket list. Then he walked towards the elevator.

William’s office was always neat and orderly so I wasn’t dreading the task, at least not because I thought it would be difficult. When I went in, I was struck by the scent of cinnamon, which I should have expected. William always stopped at the Cinnabon outlet at the Eglington subway stop on his way to work. He bought four cinnamon rolls which he brought to the office. Then he carefully sliced them so they would last all morning. He didn’t set an alarm to remind himself to eat a piece every half hour like clockwork, but he must have had some kind of internal timing mechanism because if you went into his office for some reason, you could judge what time it was by how many slices were left. If I had eaten four buns every morning like him, I would be as big as a house, but he wasn’t. They also made his office quite aromatic with their odour and I guess it permeated everything because I could still smell it.

The only out-of-place thing in his office was the treadmill. At any time of the day, if you went to see him, that’s where you might find him. It was a treadmill desk, with a small flat surface in front where he could prop up whatever he was reading and keep a pad of paper for jotting notes. His job was to review the insurance policy applications we drummed up before they went upstairs, and he could identify problems as easily while walking on a treadmill as when sitting. He didn’t have the physique of a weight-lifter, but under those faded green bottoms must have been legs of steel. I’m sure his heart was strong too. That exercise wouldn’t have helped the aneurysm though. And brain exercises are for things like memory and thinking speed, not strengthening blood vessels.

Everyone else had photos of children or a partner on their desks, and often kid-art of vibrant primary colours taped to a filing cabinet side or pinned to the cubicle wall itself. On William’s desk was one of those electronic frames that changes pictures every so often. I switched it on out of curiosity, wondering what he wanted reminders of since he had never talked about a family. A brother from Vancouver had visited once, but I don’t think they were close. There was no strain to their conversation, but it was pretty superficial, no camaraderie or any of the jocular banter between siblings who have some kind of emotional connection. More like kids in The Simpsons than in The Brady Bunch. When Mr. Wallace called the brother, he was out of the country, but I wasn’t sure he would have come immediately anyway. It was more likely we would see him later, when it was convenient for him.

All the photos were of spectacular settings and a few included William. I realized they were all places he had visited, though he never talked about vacationing. I knew they were all spots that would involve walking or hiking, which I’m sure his legs and heart were up to. I easily recognized the Grand Canyon and Great Wall Of China. Gros Morne National Park in Newfoundland too. It might not be as recognizable to most people but when I was a kid, I