Tall Tales and Short Yarns

By Thomas Bolsover

In the dark and apocalyptic days of the Covid-19 pandemic lockdown around the world, worry, anger, and frustration inspired fervent emotions to people from all walks of life. We are all uniquely different, with an equally different approach to dealing with the ensuing isolation and the fury and rage associated with it. The one common ground for all of us is human adaptability. The author drew upon the wonder of that element as inspiration to write "Tall Tales and Short Yarns".

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350907049

Book preview

SPECULUM PRINCIPUM

¹

Mirror Mirror to the Soul

Looking glass, looking glass,

What of the image this day,

Will it reflect a false glance

Of delusions that stay?

How far will you go

Without empathy

And eyes wide shut to a foe

Contempt with apathy.

What is to be done

With what is seen,

To what end of the tongue

Is a worthiness to redeem?

Please if you would

Show what used to be,

The proud essence of what stood

The soul that was once me.

Not a groom of false pride,

Nor one of fake charm,

As it is the bride

Of a heart to be harmed.

I pray you will, I pray you must,

Image words with euphonic consonance

With face to be one that is kind and just,

Not to be one of harsh dissonance.

REFLECTION*AWARENESS*PRESENT*PAST*FUTURE*REDEMPTION

A poem by Thomas Bolsover

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1. The Complete Roman Empire by Michael Sommer P46, the start of a genre of writing dating from 370 BC, Xenophon and the education of Cyrus, (Latin: Specula Principium), through Early, Middle, High, Late Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Wikipedia/London Library medieval genre of Speculum Historiale some of which include manuscripts by Vincent Beauvais, c1235-64, translation by William Caston, c1480, for King Edward IV of England 1461-70, 1471-83, and The Prince" by Niccolò Machiavelli (C1513).

TALL TALES AND SHORT YARNS

Story One

Abbey

Chapter 1

Raymond Goth is extremely perplexed. The very thought of losing Abbey—his Abbey, runs shivers down his spine. As an older man, he always thought he would go first.

Raymond is a person of pattern, a number kind of guy. The world made sense that way. But not now. Not with Abbey being so gravely ill.

Abbey is so thin and peaked. And, although some features of youthful resemblance remained, the vigour, and essence of life is being sapped away from her. Drained by a hideous disease. One without a face, hidden within.

Deep melancholy overwhelm Raymond as all hope quickly relinquishes to despair and he juxtaposes thoughts of Abbey as a small mouse, running, and scavenging around, nibbling, just trying to survive. Timid and afraid, it understands that to a predator, it is food.

Raymond conjures an image of a ruthless predator like a lion in his mind as it captures its prey. To devour it, tearing it apart, and consuming it piece by piece, sometimes still alive. The lion will not stop feeding until it is full, and even when full, it will remain on guard over the bloody spoils and entrails to feast upon later. Never in fear of being preyed upon. Nor of being food to another. The carnivorous and cunning greed over its victim is in perpetuity. Never to release it.

Abbey has become the mouse. A mouse in the jaws of a lion! Even the fight—flight response of the prey inevitability succumbs once it is in the jaws of a hungry animal.

As Raymond struggles with a sense of helplessness, he tries in vain to think of the happier times they had together. They would often sit silently together on the front porch on a summer’s evening. As unspoken words burgeoned in their minds, the mutually warm, silent sentiment existing between them, compelled their hearts to coalesce as one—and that was enough.

Chapter 2

Raymond is a first generation Canadian and British descent, and has just turned sixty years old. As junior senior, he is methodical in his ways and unaccustomed to the turbulent decline of Abbey’s health. Stressed, his once jet-black hair is now prominent with salt and pepper around his ears, neck and bushy eyebrows. His full, tall, slender, and healthy figure completes the image. It is a stark contrast to that of the one he loves.

Abbey is pedigree Scottish stock. Her features are, or were, pretty, at least a semblance of it. Her eyes are inquisitive with a wisdom beyond her years. She was once of full figure. But now she is just skin and bones. Her beautiful blond wavy hair is falling out. She is sick. Both vomit and excrement are oozing from what is left of her. She yearns for release. Raymond stands by, relentless in his denial of the inevitable.

I can’t let you go, Raymond whispered out loud. We have to fight, Abbey; please fight as hard as you can.

Abbey tries to raise her head. She is so weak. Unable to make a sound, and yet, the signal she projected is for mercy.

If she could talk, she would say, Let it be over. Please let it be over. Help me find peace. If you love me, let this end. Let me go.

Raymond struggles with thoughts of being without her.

Please Abbey, stay with me. You know I love you; I will take care of you, I promise, he tearfully pleads.

Abbey’s response is remiss and inattentive.

If she were able, she would say, Please, Raymond, help me go; just let me go. If you love me, let me go.

Raymond understands with grave reluctance. He knows what he must do. The clinic said to just take her home and make her comfortable for as long as possible. As long as possible is now over. There is no one to help, and they are on their own. He must overcome the pain of being deprived of her with the need of what has to be done.

In desperation, Raymond thinks, God forgive me, but I have an idea. I think it might be the gentlest way. A way to find peace for you, Abbey.

The house has an attached garage. He could make a comfy little bed for her there. Warm, soft and secure.

I could even put some things she loves around her. It would make her feel loved and not alone. He thought.

And then, if he were to just close the door, start the car engine… and wait.

Chapter 3

The stage is now set. It is early in the fall and late at night. In the double-car garage, there is one car parked inside the space towards the outside wall, and another empty space close to the inside door that connects the garage to the house. Quietly, Raymond closes the double door shut. Abbey is then carefully, and lovingly, laid to rest on a soft cot-like bed in the empty space. He makes Abbey warm and comfortable. Then he starts the car and enters the house through the adjoining self-closing door between the house and the garage.

"Oh, my God, please forgive me. Help me