Madness and Riddance: Madrid Writers' Club Anthology

By David Nevin

In this collection we witness one passenger’s reaction to rising panic in the subway written by Sue Burke, a young boy's experience of sharing his home with his ageing grandmother by Christopher W. Nelson, a drug aided caper of a failing band by Joseph Candora before visiting Thailand in the midst of wartime bureaucracy by Douglas Clark. Four poems of sensuous frustration and want by Celia Wilde bring us to a short story of sex without attachment by Cath Lyle followed by the film script this short story inspired written by Clive Hiley. Patricia Fox relates a story of maternal struggles with strained relationships, and in “Sam at 42”, Tony OG shares a tale of disconnection and disappointment. In the final story in our collect Anne McMillan writes of marital breakup and unseen outcomes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Nevin
• Release date: Jul 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311062437

David Nevin

David Nevin is an Irish born writer living in Valencia, Spain. In 2012 he founded the Madrid Writers' Club and upon moving to Valencia in 2016 founded the Valencia Writing Factory. He is currently writing his third novel.

Book preview

To all those that helped plant the seed for the

Madrid Writers’ Club

and to all those that have since then

given it wings.

Madness and Riddance:

Madrid Writers’ Club Anthology Nº 2

Madness and Riddance: Madrid Writers’ Club Anthology 2

Copyright © David Nevin and the respective authors 2016

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof, in any form.

First Edition: 2016

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the authors’ imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

Cover image by David Kelly - www.dnkelly.com

Introduction

They Sing in the Subways

Smolder

Crisis Mode

Re-entry

Sleep, Dead Husband, Blanket of Insanity, Cheaters

Mechanical

Mechanical Script

No Friends Detected

Sam at 42

What’s Mine is Yours

Author Bios

Introduction

Welcome to the second anthology of the Madrid Writers’ Club. This volume investigates the themes of Madness and Riddance.

The Madrid Writers’ Club was founded in 2012 with the mission of helping writers achieve their writing goals. The club has run over 200 writing workshops and formed a vibrant community of English language writers in the heart of Spain. I’m proud to say that together we’ve created an atmosphere of mutual learning, support and respect where our writing and friendships flourish and grow.

In this collection we witness one passenger’s reaction to rising panic in the subway written by Sue Burke, a young boys experience of sharing his home with his ageing grandmother by Christoper W. Nelson, a drug aided caper of a failing band by Joseph Candora before visiting Thailand in the midst of wartime bureaucracy by Douglas Clark. Four poems of sensuous frustration and want by Celia Wilde bring us to a short story of sex without attachment by Cath Lyle followed by the film script this short story inspired written by Clive Hiley. Patricia Fox relates a story of maternal struggles with strained relationships, and in Sam at 42, Tony OG shares a tale of disconnection and disappointment. In the final story in our collect Anne McMillan writes of marital breakup and unseen outcomes.

My thanks to all the writers for their trust and patience in getting this our second anthology together. Our thanks to Andrew Critchley, one of the clubs early members for the title and getting the ball rolling on this volume.

David Nevin

Founder of the Madrid Writers’ Club

For more information our email is [e-mail]

Our website is at: www.madridwritersclub.com

They Sing in the Subways

By Sue Burke

The total darkness frightened Benny, but the snarling voices frightened him more. The Madrid subway train had stopped suddenly, and the lights went out ten minutes earlier – he thought it had been ten minutes: he’d forgotten his watch. At first the passengers merely grumbled, but now the jagged tone of anger cut their words. Everyone seemed to be arguing. Forty or fifty frightened, irate people in a small space might do anything.

Too much time has passed, a woman shouted. She added something Benny couldn’t catch. Her voice was rough, perhaps from old age or too many cigarettes.

The lights have never gone out before, a man near Benny said quickly, with authority.

What if another train collides with us? the woman shouted. They were in the last car in the train.

We can smash open the doors, another man said.

And what? someone answered. We’re right next to a wall. We can’t get out. We’re trapped.

Benny was breathing too fast, and without ventilation, the air was growing heavy and humid. In grade school, if he couldn’t avoid bullies, he tricked them. But he had no tricks here. He was alone, just an American taking his sophomore college year abroad, and he’d only been in Madrid for three months. He had no cowardly distractions for a crowded foreign subway car. Unless... He took a deep breath.

Louder than necessary, in his best Spanish, he said, In New York, when subway cars stop, people sing to pass the time. He hoped his American accent would give his words a ring of truth. In fact, he had no idea what New Yorkers did. He’d never been there.

A woman said, disbelieving, In New York, they sing? Sure.

A few people muttered. Then the arguing resumed.

Benny stood next to the doors. If there was a panic, if people did try to escape, he would be trampled and crushed, or thrown out into the dark against the tunnel walls. He really didn’t know a thing about Madrid or what to do. And people who did know what was happening were angry and afraid, and they were shouting louder and louder.

But from around the middle of the car, someone began to clap a complicated rhythm. The arguments slowly died down. A man sang in the harsh, vibrating voice of flamenco. Benny couldn’t make out all of the words, something about a long cold road to visit a lover. He tried to imagine the singer: a handsome young man in a scuffed leather jacket with dark hair curling past his shoulders, the wild romantic that Benny would be if Benny were handsome and could sing. A few people began clapping along.

The song ended. The man paused and sang a ballad. Two or three people joined in the refrain.

Then the car became silent. Benny began to breathe too fast again. The air was heavier than ever.

More flamenco! he shouted into the darkness.

The wild romantic sang again with more enthusiasm, and other voices joined in. A pair of feet stamped on the floor next to Benny. The woman next to him was dancing. Her arm brushed against him as she whirled.

Olé, he shouted. He tried clapping with the song, was hopelessly out of rhythm, and gave up. He hoped she hadn’t noticed. Perhaps