Anthology One

By M. S. Lewis

From an award winning author, a collection of short stories that will make you laugh and make you cry. Some humorous, some emotional, a collection of stories that you wont be able to put down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M. S. Lewis
• Release date: Sep 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311091642

M. S. Lewis

Mark is a confident and proficient leader who specialises in management, leadership, planning, preparing and delivering a range of programs in a variety of settings, specifically through the outdoors and within the expedition arena. For the last twenty plus years he has worked in and around the extreme expedition arena and when at home in the South Wales valleys has worked within secondary and post compulsory education, training and mentoring on Welsh Assembly initiatives and gaining his recognised teacher status. He is passionate about his work, gaining a great deal of satisfaction and fulfillment in helping people develop and supporting them to reach their full potential and career aspirations. He considers himself to be patient, motivating and friendly with an aptitude for working with others. He has been determination to succeed in whatever he does.In 1997 he was the first Welsh man and the youngest person in the World to summit Mt Vinson in Antarctica. Mark works with developing leaders, existing leaders and groups of leaders. Predominantly he help them get the best from themselves and achieve their potential. His specific area of expertise is pushing leaders to achieve their best whilst under extreme pressure, out of their comfort zones such as in the great outdoors or as part of customised expedition. This provides them with experience and tools to bring back into their workplace.Mark has a son called Joshua who is Marks entire focus. Mark has co-authored the series of books called The Adventures of Joshua.

Book preview

Anthology One

M. S. Lewis

Anthology One

First Published 2014

M. S. Lewis

Copyright © 2014 M. S. Lewis

www.markslewis.me

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1500104375

The right of M. S. Lewis to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Design & Patents Act 1988.

All these stories are fiction and are in no way representative of any person, living or passed.

All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the conditions that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Edited by M. Gallagher, K. O’Brien & L. Shiner

Thanks to;

Hoppy, Steve, Andrea, Jane, Janine and Kelly for keeping me sane

Contents

Chapter 1 Morning

Chapter 2 The Right Reverend

Chapter 3 The Banker

Chapter 4 Shergold

Chapter 5 The Old Man

Chapter 6 Time

Chapter 7 Just Another Day

Chapter 8 Chaos

Chapter 9 El Carmesí Sueño

Chapter 10 The Devils Eye

Chapter 11 Isabelle Buttercup

Chapter 12 Ned Willis

Author Information

Chapter 1

Morning

Startled awake - the alarm went off, as it does every day. I wearily opened my eyes whilst my arm fumbled around for my watch, the culprit. Once I had located the watch hanging over one of the bars that makes up my headboard, my fingers pressed a button, wrong one. Another button, wrong one, finally the third one at last and the chirping stopped.

I lie in my bed slightly confused as to where I am and what is happening. Another sound - Beep… Beep… Beep…

Bloody hell that’s the battery powered tabletop alarm clock shrieking through my ears at my brain. I throw back the duvet and I am trying to open my eyes as the not-so-warm air in my room rapidly replaces the warmth of the Tog 12 duvet. My arms are now flapping like giant paddles trying to hit the clock. Eventually my left limb makes contact with the clock and silence prevails. It is now that I realise my eyes are open but it is so early. I know this because it is still dark outside. Everything seems so quiet.

I draw back the navy blackout curtain but the room only changes from black to charcoal as the dawn struggles to waken as well. I look out of my window onto the path running past where I live and it is empty. Hmm, maybe I am up too early, I ponder, as I double-check the clock, whilst releasing my watch from the headboard and strapping it onto my left wrist. But no, it is definitely time to be awake.

On my chair next to my bed are my jeans and jumper, which I removed, last night and folded neatly there ready for this morning. My brain is now beginning to function. I open my cupboard and remove today’s underwear and a fresh t-shirt. I get dressed in the gloom.

I glance at my watch, it has only been five minutes since I was rudely awakened by my alarm duet. I pick up my towel, wash kit, and head off to the bathroom. Normal morning routine kicks in to my muddled brain. After peeing, I fill the sink with a mixture of 70% hot water and 30% cold. Once I have checked the temperature I lower my face into the water, coaxing it into my tired eyes. It stings initially but presently I feel myself waking up properly. I stand up and look in the mirror. At least I can see myself properly now, albeit a haggard mess!

I leave the water in the sink and take out my shaving gel. I apply the smooth cool substance to my bristly face. I dip my razor into the water and start carving through the gel to reveal smooth skin below. The menthol in the gel certainly helps with the waking process and I finish.

I take out my toothbrush and apply some Sensodyne Sensitive toothpaste to the bristles. I vigorously attack the stinking cavern of morning breath, urging the paste to clean the stench of decay away. Finally I am done. I clean up the mess from the sink and put all of my things back into the small blue wash bag. I pick up my towel, pat my face dry a final time, and leave the bathroom.

After returning my towel to its drying place behind my door in my room, I place the wash kit back upon the small shelf. Everything is back where it belongs. I pick up my door key and head out, ensuring that the door automatically locks behind me. I walk out into the fresh air, the cold reminds me of my freshly shaven face. Its dry outside as I walk with purpose. I don’t have far to go so I didn’t bring a coat today. I’m regretting this as the wind whips harshly through my clothes as though I were walking naked.

Ahead of me is my goal. I open the door to the brightly lit room and approach the white glossed counter. I’m aware of the low buzzing of the category two fluorescent lights illuminating the room. I look across the counter and see a man - John Peters.

Morning Mr Peters, I chirp and offer a wry smile. Without looking up, he replies

Cheers Lew.

I hate the fact that he feels he has the right to call me Lew when that is not my name. I would never call him ‘Pets’, but I suppose that is his prerogative. I walk back out of the room into the grim light. The cold hits me again, how I wish I had brought that jacket. I weigh up in my mind if I have time to go back to my place and get a coat. I decide after a cursory glance at my wristwatch that I do. I hurry back, passing colleagues as I go with the repeated cursory ‘morning’ greeting. I share facilities and accommodation with a couple of hundred other people in similar circumstances to me, but I would not call any of them friends.

I reach the door to my building and grab the handle. It is icy to the touch. I pull it open and enter the relative warmth of the building. I turn right into my wing and, removing my key from my pocket, I open my door and enter my home. I select my 65% wool and 35% nylon jacket, which is heavy and thick. I know that it will shield me against the wind. I look around trying to remember where my hat and gloves are, eventually finding them in with my fleece jumpers on my shelf. I pull on my jacket and button all four buttons including the collar one. My fleecy hat I pull snugly onto my head, covering my ears and, picking up my key, I exit my home and the building back into the cold morning air. I put my hands into my wind-stopper gloves to conserve what warmth I have left.

The walk to work is short, however I take my time walking along the edge of the road. There are woods to my left and buildings to my right. I love the contrast, woodland leading to open fields and beyond on one side and ram-shackle buildings carefully constructed to minimise open areas and maximise accommodation and work space on the other. As I walk, I look around me taking in everything. I love the environment. Some may hate it, but I relish it. As I approach my work building, I’m aware that all the lights are off. However, I approach the semi glazed wooden door and try to open it. This is futile. Its five-lever mortise lock is doing its job and that door is not opening. I try the door again because part of my brain cannot comprehend why it isn’t open. Its open every day that I come to work normally so why won’t it open today I ponder. I decide to head back to the main office to ask if everything is okay and whether my boss is sick or away and I have not been informed.

I take a different route from the one I used to get here. This one meanders through buildings, past well-maintained flowerbeds, a small chapel on my left and eventually to the Main Office. Again, the stark brightness of the office lights hit me as I approach the counter. This time Pippa James is there. She looks up as I approach and offers a half-smile, which is neither friendly nor otherwise. I ask her, after some basic pleasantries, if Simon my supervisor is in today as there is no one in my work place yet. She replies that today they are short staffed and that none of the work places is open. I ask her what should I do then (In my head, I was slightly perplexed as I now have to think for myself and I have not done a lot of that in a while). She smiled, warmly this time, and said for me to go off and relax, and if I was needed they would call form me over the tannoy system.

I exited the main office building for the second time that day and