Gender Mender, or the Shiner's Bible

By Lucy Macbeth

This short-story is a combination of unsolved homicide, adventure, humor, and human friendships, with just a tad of the supernatural percolating in the background for good measure. The use of dialogue with each character adds a unique voice to the story; none of the main characters are identified by gender, and no gender pronouns are used as they interact. Indeed, it becomes evident that gender is irrelevant to the plot, to the development of the characters, or to the story as a whole. While the adventure unfolds. the reader is left with a deepening wish to keep learning further nuances about each of the characters, and continue the enjoyable odyssey to it's unpredictable conclusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lucy Macbeth
• Release date: Mar 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463878088

Book preview

Gender Mender, or the Shiner’s Bible

By Lucy Macbeth

Copyright 2019 Lucy Macbeth

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Gender Mender, or the Shiner’s Bible

About the Author

Acknowledgements

I have benefitted greatly in the creation of this story by the backing of my spouse, Lindy, whose wholehearted support inspired me to put ideas onto paper.

Prologue

In this story, two pairs of friends meet in a coastal town for some surfing, partying and relaxation. But a local homicide casts a shadow over the festivities. Unravel the mystery as the four friends get entangled in a web of intrigue.

Gender Mender, or the Shiner’s Bible

Terry’s tummy pressed the warm wood of the dock, fingers fluttered through crisp brine that emanated an intermittent pungency into the light shifting breeze. Life was to relax, maybe meet for margaritas, maybe take a nap. Some time lazily passed in which the breeze picked up and sidled shoreward.

A rotten rancidity mixed with weedy sea smell overwhelmed. Terry rose, palmed nose, looked down across the jetty. A menagerie of squawking seabirds hovered, dove, plucked, rose around something orange squashed between the dock and the moored sailboat. Terry walked 30 feet and, drawing nearer, recognized the crested orange mass to be a floater coat; harder to see and to recognize beneath a wet mop of hair and the hovering scavenging hoard was the head squished sideways that poked from the coat. Terry walked further forward, froze at the nearer site of plucked bloated flesh and empty eye-socket, the white of bone and the grimace of lipless teeth and gum. Terry swooned, the sun hot like a hammer, vomited the inescapable wretch of decay, walking backward, doubled over, eyes fixed forward as only white wings stayed in view.

The end of the pier was a serene bustle of French fries, fish and chips, tourist tans and sunburns going from shop to shop; a lot of cranky kids were eating ice cream to keep them quiet for heat exhausted parents, themselves bickering and fussing over sunscreen, hats and sandy wet beach towels. Terry skirted the main drag and opened the door to cool curtained air-conditioning, drank lemonade from a pitcher in the fridge, watched part of a game show before passing out into a pile of pillows, stirring fitfully to cacophony of bird sounds.

It was dusk when Chris opened the door, turned a light on and prodded Terry’s shoulder. Hey, you awake - didja get too much sun today - I haven’t seen you since breakfast, you look beat.

Yeah I guess so, I started overheating so I came back for a rest and some shade. What time is it anyway?

It’s 6:30.

Wow, I was really out of it.

When did you come back here?

I dunno, around 3:00 I guess.

Well, hey do you feel like going out for a bite. I met these cool people at the grill while I was having lunch. They just pulled up in this giant motorhome looking for the hotspots - took them half an hour to park the thing.

Motorhome? How old were they?

Oh, they were like about our age -they were laughing about it - belonged to one of their grandparents - that’s why they could hardly drive it.

I dunno - I gotta take something - my head’s pounding - when were you going?

Oh, I can wait here with you for a while - no set time really.

Okay, I’ll see how I feel in a bit. Terry settled back into the cushions; Chris settled into a gin and tonic.

The end of the pier was barricaded with police cars nose to nose and two cops waving back the ensuing melee that forms at the site of a potential tragedy. People hollered questions, birds pecked and clucked about in similar fashion - their white feathers glowed garish red in emergency lights that stretched to the dark horizon. Down the short hill to the beach drive Chris said, Wow, wonder what’s going on here. Terry’s guts churned with gruesome recall and resistance to retelling earlier events. "I