God of Drunks

By Annette Siketa

During a stag dinner, a married man makes a startling confession. But is it only the booze talking?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Annette Siketa
• Release date: Nov 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005043148

Annette Siketa

For those of you who have not yet made my acquaintance, my name is Annette Siketa, and I am totally blind. Were you aware that most blind and visually impaired people are extraordinarily perceptive? To sighted people, this ability must seem like ESP, and I suppose to a certain extent, it is. (I'm referring to the literal meaning of Extra Sensory Perception, not the spooky interpretation.) To compensate for the lack of vision, the brain and the other four senses become sharper, so that we can discern a smell or the identity of an object. I promise you there's no trickery involved. It's simply a matter of adapting the body to ‘think’ in another way.Being blind is no barrier to creativity. Like most things in this world, life is what you make of it, and after losing my sight due to an eye operation that went terribly wrong, I became a writer, and have now produced a wide variety of books and short stories, primarily of the ghost/supernatural/things that go bump in the night genre.So, how does a blind person write a book? On the practical side, I use a text-to-speech program called ‘Jaws’, which enables me to use and navigate around a computer, including the Internet, with considerable ease. Information on Jaws can be found at www.freedomscientific.comOn the creative side...well, that’s a little more difficult to explain. Try this experiment. Put on your favourite movie and watch it blindfolded. As you already ‘know’ the movie – who does what where & when etc, your mind compensates for the lack of visualisation by filling in the ‘blanks’. Now try it with something you’ve never seen before, even the six o'clock news. Not so easy to fill in the blanks now is it?By this point you’re probably going bonkers with frustration – hee hee, welcome to my world! Do not remove the blindfold. Instead, allow your imagination to compensate for the lack of visualization, and this will give you an idea of how I create my stories. Oh, if only Steven Spielberg could read my mind.

Book preview

THE GOD OF DRUNKS

By Annette Siketa

Copyright © 2021 Annette Siketa.

No part of this book may be manipulated, transmitted, or altered by any method or manner whatsoever. All rights reserved. Please respect the authors’ rights. Only through honesty can the insidious practice of illegal copying be curbed.

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The God of Drunks.

The stag dinner proceeded in the usual manner. The men, many of whom had known each other since their schooldays, ate well, drank too much, and stirred up a plethora of memories.

George, do you remember the day we skipped class and went to Brighton with those two shop girls?

No. He pointed to the 'man of the hour'. It was Richard, not me. George pushed a bottle in the enquirer's direction. Here, Peter, have another drink and then you might remember better.

George Egan was not as drunk as the others. But then, he had a good reason to embrace sobriety. It's strange how things turn out, he said. You have decided not to marry, and then you meet a girl at a friend's house and you're hooked.

That is exactly my case, said Richard. At least you have no cause for complaint. Your wife is charming, pretty, and amiable.

It is true I have a good wife, but I married her against my will.

Nonsense.

"I was thirty-five and had no more idea of marrying than joining the navy. And then I was invited to the wedding of my cousin, Simon Telford in Wales. It was a grand affair. The ball began at five o'clock in the evening and we were still eating at eleven.

"I had been paired off with a Miss Desmond, the daughter of a retired Colonel. She immediately took possession of me, clinging to my arm and making me dance when I told her I couldn't. I don't deny that she was very pretty, but she bored me to death and I was determined to ditch her as soon as I could.

"Towards midnight, the women retired upstairs to their beds while the men stayed downstairs to smoke and drink. Now, Simon is the son of the local squire. Both were very popular, and so as a mark of respect, the locals decided to celebrate the marriage in a field near the house.

"A bonfire was lit, fiddlers played, and farmers and girls alike danced and sang with no restraint. Casks of beer and cider flowed like a stream, and there was a plentiful supply of food. It was