© 2007 MG Coleman
Made by Serif
By Martin Coleman
{This is just a story I dragged from my files to test the ‘Critique’ page on the web. It’s maybe too long at 3,500 words, but have a look and feel free to comment}
Jeremy drops his toothbrush back into its slot and picks up the china cup, filling it under the running water, before swilling the last of the toothpaste from his mouth and spitting it into the sink.
He turns off the tap and checks his teeth in the mirror with some satisfaction; the
hugely expensive dentist has given him a brilliant white smile, but sadly this is
the last part of his body he can feel proud of. The face that looks back at him,
beyond the teeth, is podgy at best, with great jowls hanging below his face like
untidy sails and he is very glad that there is no longer a full-
He knows he can’t really complain; the home he and Maureen live in is large and expensively
furnished, located on an acre of land in a secluded village. His Merc sits in the
garage, alongside Maureen’s Audi, as a symbol of his success. All-
He's always put his increasing weight down to his job -
Taking some exercise in the gym would help. But the thought of having his bouncing,
uncontrolled body watched by all those super-
He has made his way up the corporate ladder by not showing any weaknesses and he
can easily imagine the ribbing he could get if his colleagues got a look at his half-
Jeremy has learnt, like all good execs, to use all his attributes to their best advantage,
even his weight "problem" -
He picks up his pyjama bottoms and surveys the huge bulk of his stomach. It’s been a long time since he last looked down and was able to see his wedding tackle. He’s not sure if he would be able to see it even if he were aroused.
And this sums-
Maureen is very understanding, and careful not to make too big a deal of it, especially after the time she suggested he see their doctor for something to “pep him up” – he is sure she was suggesting Viagra.
Anyway, he is convinced he read an article somewhere that basically said a man needed to be able to see his genitals to get aroused… So that was that!… Either he loses a huge amount of weight or accepts a limp future. Given the effort required to lose weight, life without sex seems the easier (softer?!) option.
But tonight's conversation with Maureen comes back to haunt him. From her first words he knew she was about to discuss their love life (or lack of it)…
********************
"Jeremy, would you mind putting the paper down so we can have a chat?" Maureen says with some hesitation in her voice.
Here we go again, Jeremy thinks, his stomach tensing in anticipation. He folds the paper up slowly.
It's been over a month since Maureen suggested that they see a doctor about their
"little problem". That time he had lost control and yelled at her "why don't we tell
the whole bloody world?" She'd backed-
The trouble is it isn't "their" problem, it's "his". And it's not like he hasn't tried to overcome it, but the harder he tries the worse it seems to get; just thinking about sex depresses him now.
He knows he still loves Maureen very deeply, her vivaciousness compliments his more restrained demeanour perfectly. He can also remember a time when he couldn't keep his hands off of her. Then, it was HER who gently pushed HIM away when she wasn't in the mood. It's ironic really, now he can't "perform" it seems to be the only thing she really wants.
"Of cause, my love" He replies, but can't keep the slight edge out of his voice.
"Jeremy, you know I don't want to hurt you,"
"Uhm"
"But you have to understand that I have needs and it's been a long time since we
-
For a second he is sure that she is about to confess to an affair, but her eyes are looking straight at him and there is no guilt in them, just concern.
Her beauty and softness tug at his heart and he finds he doesn't want to argue anymore.
"I know, but I've had a really hard day" he lies
"I don't mean tonight, but we've got a free weekend for a change and I was wondering
if we could try some small things -
"Alright, we'll see." Jeremy stammers, as he feels the hot flush of embarrassment rise to his cheeks.
Maureen sees the signs and just says "Thank you" and then gets up "Would you like a cup of tea before bed?"
***************************
And that had been it, no tears or arguments -
He struggles into his pyjama bottoms and leaves the en-
Maureen is already curled up under the heavy quilt in the King sized bed they share. Jeremy reaches the bed and goes through the difficult task of hauling his bulk onto the high mattress with as much dignity as possible, before flopping down on his back, breathing hard even from this small exercise.
Maureen rolls over and kisses him lightly on the cheek “Turn off the lamp, love. It’s been a long day and I need my beauty sleep”
Jeremy smiles to himself knowing that beauty sleep is the last thing Maureen needs; she has nearly perfect skin especially for someone 53 years old. “Sweet dreams, my dear” he says as he turns off the lamp and settles back into the bed.
Almost immediately, he can feel the effects of the Stilton and Port he'd had just before coming to bed. He puts his hand out onto the bedside table and picks up the antacids that he keeps there, without turning on the light. The packet crackles and Maureen rolls over, “You alright?”
“Just a bit of indigestion” he tells her and washes away the chalky taste with water from the glass that Maureen brings to bed for them each night. The water tastes bitter. "Is this water fresh?"
"Yes. I couldn't get our usual bottle so I had to buy another one. Is it alright?" her voice sounds overly concerned.
"Just tastes a bit funny. It's probably one of those with lemon in it."
"I'm sorry, I won't buy that one again"
"It's OK. I just wasn't expecting it. Goodnight"
"Sweet dreams"
Jeremy pats his pillow and settles down to sleep. He sinks deeply into the bed and pillow, “one benefit of being overweight” he thinks to himself with a smile.
After a few minutes he can feel a familiar itching in his shoulders and across his back. He is sure that the new sheets are causing this, but Maureen has assured him they are 100% cotton like all their other sheets. Knowing from experience that it will go away once he has settled, he scratches briefly at one of his shoulders before turning over onto it and taking his back away from the irritation.
As he starts to drift off, his mind starts to kick in with a host of silly little
issues -
He knows he can't deal with these things tonight, they're not even that important, but the more he tries not to think of them the more they prey on his mind.
He's just getting them under control when Maureen's words seep in -
It's going to be one of those restless nights…
Tiredness and the Port finally start to have an effect, but as his breathing slows ready for sleep, there is a slight tickle on the top of his left foot. He rubs it quickly with his right foot, hardly aware of doing it.
It happens again, but this time on the top of his right foot.
Suddenly he is wide-
Not just any spider, but a huge, hairy one.
Jeremy throws the quilt back and rolls out of bed. Fumbling for the lamp, he knocks it over in his haste and has to resort to switching on the very bright overhead lights.
“What’s up?” Maureen says blearily, not happy at being woken so abruptly.
“There’s a spider in the bed.” Jeremy half shouts, only just suppressing his panic.
“Where?” Maureen asks, still in bed and unconcerned.
Jeremy knows that Maureen has never been worried by spiders and has no problem with picking them up in her hands and putting them outside.
But for Jeremy it's a very different story. If Maureen is out and a spider ventures into the house it generally results in its death from something similar to World War 3.
Maureen understands Jeremy's arachnophobia well, so she goes through the full rigmarole of checking the quilt, including giving it a good shake, looking under the bed and moving the smaller furniture near the bed to prove that there isn’t a spider. After ten minutes she finally convinces Jeremy to get back into bed and he reluctantly turns off the lights.
He lies awake for sometime, his heart pushing the blood through his veins too fast for him to sleep.
As he begins to settle, a thought occurs to him that makes him smile -
*****************
Jeremy wakes with a jolt, eyes wide open -
His body is tense trying to extract any sound out of the darkness when a floorboard
creeks somewhere off in another part of the house, causing him to jump -
The rational part of his mind assures him that there is unlikely to be anyone in the house, especially with the alarm system this place has, but a deeper part won’t give up the idea that someone uninvited is creeping around.
Jeremy takes a few slow, deep breaths, careful not to wake Maureen. This helps to settle him but he knows that it will be sometime before he can fall asleep again. His skin still feels prickly after the incident with the spider (real or imaginary!).
He is not the sort of person who gets up just because he can’t sleep, especially considering the effort required getting in and out of bed. So he lies on his back and lets his mind wander.
When issues at work start to make him tense and worrisome, he decides it’s time to turn over and rolls his large frame carefully to face Maureen, who is little more than a blur.
He closes his eyes and tries counting sheep but he feels emotionally strung-
Suddenly Jeremy is aware of a finger touching him very lightly on his left thigh.
It runs slowly upwards, the pressure never changing, just enough not to tickle. As
it approaches the top of his thigh the sensation vanishes and reappears again this
time low on his right thigh, moving leisurely upwards again. He thought Maureen was
asleep but obviously not! The touching is so unexpected -
The thought suddenly hits him that maybe Maureen doesn’t realise he is awake; maybe she has even done this before while he has been asleep! This thought seems very erotic to him in the quiet of the night and he becomes almost painfully erect by it.
“No point wasting the moment” he thinks as the finger finally goes all the way to
his crotch, causing him to tense with lust-
He reaches over to stroke Maureen’s face, something she always used to enjoy, but his hand lands on the back of her head and he realises with a jolt that she is facing away from him. The finger is still gently rubbing his crotch as he runs his own hand down Maureen’s arm to find that she has her hands in front of her and nowhere near his body.
His breath catches hard in his throat as he chokes back a scream. Quickly he puts his hand down between his own legs, groping around for something that may account for the sensations he has been enjoying. But there appears to be nothing there and he realises the feeling has also vanished.
He rolls onto his back to calm himself.
His heart is hammering in his chest and his skin has gone clammy-
"No-
"It's just the quilt rubbing against me…
"Maybe I just dreamt it…"
His rational mind keeps saying to him. But he is struggling to control his fears.
…Then quite distinctly he hears his name “Je-
Even with his eyes wide open the darkness smothers him, pinching off any hope he
has of keeping terror at bay. The moon has finally gone down causing the small crack
of weak light from the curtains to fade to the deep blue-
For the first time in his life he experiences the tight, claustrophobic panic that
embodies a fear of the dark -
A feeble whimper escapes his lips as he tries to call out; his tongue is little more than a limp, dry slug in his mouth.
Maureen is snoring gently next to him, oblivious of the danger.
“Je-
Lying on his back, he lets his eyes roam uselessly around the room trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. “If I can’t see him then surely he can’t see me” he reasons, but knows instinctively this is not true.
“Je-
Both his hands are gripping the top of the quilt and in an act of childish terror Jeremy pulls it over his head and lies there quivering, his heart pounding in his ears so loud that it feels as though it will deafen him.
"Please… go away!" he whispers between infantile sobs.
A faint glow can now be seen through the quilt and Jeremy stiffens in desperation, clinging to the forlorn hope that whoever, whatever, is out there will just leave.
“Je-
From the depths of his childhood, Jeremy suddenly grasps what is waiting for him – a GHOUL, hideous and evil, waiting to fulfil his long forgotten nightmares.
"Is Je-
He desperately wants to close his eyes, but fear and a warped curiosity prevent him.
Above the quilt top he can see the glow, dull and silvery, slowly exposed as his hands are forced down.
All of a sudden he is face-
"BOO…" and a foul breath hits Jeremy.
"No…please…no…" he sobs, unsure if his heart can take the strain and almost praying it can't so this horror will end.
"Let me…PLAY… with …you" each slow word cuts at Jeremy
"…please go away…"
"I'll…TOUCH…you"
"Noooo…."
"You'll…LIKE…it…"
"No, no, please, noooo"
Jeremy feels the finger again, rubbing slowly towards his crotch and despite his fear he feels himself becoming aroused again.
"No more…please…" he cries, trembling uncontrollably but unable to stop this violation.
"You…do…LIKE…it…don't you?"
"Oh God, NO!…" His heart is about to burst.
The Ghoul moves its head closer and the foul smell envelops Jeremy.
"Maybe…you'd prefer…something… ELSE…"
Jeremy sees a hand form above his chest, the fingers thin and aged through countless centuries, and knows that one of those fingers has already touched him intimately. But as the hand touches his breast he knows the intimacy is only just beginning. Cold sweat now covers his body, which is rigid with fright. The hand slips unhindered beneath his skin and he feels the rough, icy fingers wrap gently around his thudding heart as if to still the fear within. Pulsating screams come from all round him…
ARH…ARH…ARH…
BURR…BURR…BURR
…The alarm blares out its wakeup call into the room. Jeremy instinctively reaches over and turns it off with one groping hand.
He sits up, heart pounding, wide-
He lies back and becomes aware that the dream has affected him in more ways than he had realised. “So this is what they mean by “scared stiff”” he thinks and rolls over towards Maureen, snuggling up behind her and putting his arm over to cuddle her.
“That’s nice” comes the sleepy reply from Maureen, then, more clearly, as she wakes
up to feelings she thought were long over “Ooo -
She can also feel his heart racing and assumes he's been having an erotic dream.
A sly smile creeps over her face. "So those drops the doctor gave me have done the trick." She thinks, "I'll just have to put them in his Port next time so he doesn't notice the taste."
THE END
From our correspondent in Amman , Jordan
In recent years much of the archaeology undertaken in the Holy Land has been
aimed at attempts to verify the Old Testament. Two scholars, one American and
one Israeli have been prominent in the work. The American, Bill Widemark is
from the University College of South Wisconsin. The Israeli, Moshe Ashkenazy
works in the quaintly named School of Battles at Megiddo University.
Until recently, they have used as the basis of their work, the text of the Old Testament as we in the West have understood it…..basically the “King James” version. In the early days of their partnership Professor Ashkenazy was said to believe that the translation of the “King James” passing through various languages ( Hebrew, Greek, Latin and English ) might carry inaccuracies in itself.
He would have preferred to work directly from the Hebrew of the “Torah” but
he was persuaded to compromise. ( Some cynical persons attributed his pliability
to the fact that the finance for the work was coming 5 to 1 from Wisconsin.)
Excavations had been continuing now for some 5 seasons and to be frank the
results have been disappointing. No one expected sensational and identifiable artefacts to be dug up. As Bill Widemark, with some sadness, put it to journalists at a press conference a year ago “ No young David’s harp and no Goliath’s armour as yet, boys. Don’t expect a second Tutankamun here !” He was right. So far the results have failed even to turn up convincing masonry where it was reasonable to expect it. For example, the collapsed walls found at the assumed site of Jericho clearly did not date from Biblical times.
After the Press Conference, the disheartened scholars suspended expensive
physical site work and decided to look at a wider range of sources.
As most Christians know ….but many choose to ignore …..the Bible as it
has come down to us, came into being when the Early Fathers of the
Church met at the Council of Nicea, ( in modern Turkey) in the 5th Century
AD. At their Council they had before them a much larger number of texts
than appear in both Testaments and indeed, the Apocrapha. The Fathers
then selected for inclusion those texts they considered suitable. Some of
the rejected texts are the source of famous “biblical” stories which
in fact appear nowhere in the Bible ……for example “Susannah and the Elders
” and “Judith and Holofernes”. It would appear that the Early Fathers
were a little nervous at having too many wronged, feisty or strong-
Widemark and Ashkenazy gathered together all these texts and even included in their studies several others that have come to light in very recent times. One they found was completely unknown before they produced it at another of their press conferences. It is called the Book of Shelag: it was immediately dismissed as spurious by every other biblical scholar.
I am not going to attempt to retell the story in the language in which it is written. Modern English vernacular will be adequate. This is briefly what Shelag tells us.
Shelag is the leader of one of the Twelve Tribes of Israel, who led by Moses , escaped from slavery in Egypt only to wander for 40 years in the Sinai. As Shelag opens, Moses is sinking fast. He has, once again, given some contradictory instructions as to the route to be followed. These have led to yet another month wasted in circular wandering. Moses has retired to his tent and the disgruntled leaders of the Tribes are sitting in the darkness drinking a last cup of malted manna ( No, really ! This is best translation that the Hebrew experts can offer). Suddenly, a nearby bush bursts into flames and a throat is heard being cleared.
“Oh, Mercy. Here we go again ! “ mutter the 12 leaders.
“ I heard that” says Yahweh “ and I haven’t forgotten about that Golden Calf yet but this is what you must do. Your wanderings are over. In the next three days you will make a litter of the rich materials with which I will supply you. On the third day you will place Moses on the litter carry him to the top of this mountain just north of here. Mount Nebo it is called. There you will set down the litter. I will then manifest myself to Moses alone. I will show him the Promised Land and he will show you your final route and then I will take him unto me.”
The Twelve did as they were bidden but the journey up the mountain took much longer than expected. The litter was extremely heavy; and worse, Moses had insisted on taking the Tablets of the Law with him and being an old man, he needed to “disappear behind a boulder” very frequently and by the time the party arrived at the summit the light was almost gone …..only a few rays from the setting sun clearly indicated the west. The old man scrambled from the litter, and supported on either side, appeared to be listening to a voice he alone could hear. After a few moments, Moses turned his back to the west and extending his arms before him, cried
“There! There, my children. There, where the sun rises , lies the land of Canaan that the Lord has promised Israel. From here eastwards unto the
very sea….All shall be thine, O Israel !”
The old man thereupon collapsed and could not be revived. The Twelve stood silent in amazement. They had always believed their destination lay between the River Jordan and the western sea but now with their leader of 40 years gone from them, it would be up to them to lead the Children of Israel the last few miles. By then the light was completely gone and it was impossible to descend the mountain in darkness. They spent a cold and cheerless night at the summit.
As the dawn broke, Shelag and his companions looked towards the east. The prospect was not pleasant. All they could see was desert and bare mountains. Of greenery and water there was not a trace. To the west they could see the streams, lush valleys and pleasant villages that the younger Moses had promised would fall to their army. The longer they looked the more they became convinced that Moses had misunderstood the words of the Lord and they said one to another
“Brethren, we Twelve must now lead Israel and we alone know what has happened this night. Let us lead our people to the west where we have
always believed Canaan to lay. If we are wrong, Yahweh will surely speak again unto us.”
It was not practical to carry the lifeless body of Moses down the mountain unsecured to the ornate and heavy litter. They decided to tip the litter down the northern face of the mountain and as the Tablets were too heavy to carry other than on the litter, they too were tipped down the mountain……They felt they knew…only too well… every single line of the Commandments the stones contained ! As the litter and the Tablets fell, they started a minor landslip and were buried from the sight of those looking down from the summit. Carrying the body of the old man on their shoulders, the Twelve set off down the mountain. The new leaders told the people that Canaan, with it’s milk and honey, would be their new home and the years of conquest would now begin. Yahweh spoke not another word.
Widemark and Ashkenazy had not been surprised at the reaction of scholars to the Book of Shelag and it did not provide them with any motives for new excavations elsewhere in modern Israel. Nevertheless, they believed Shelag did provide one new possible site, outside Israel, where a dig might be worth while and the Jordanian Tourist Board, who are the “owners” of Mt. Nebo, raised no objection. As far as was known no one had ever looked seriously at Mount Nebo and certainly not at that loose, unsafe scree below the north face of the summit. Work commenced some 3 months ago. Access has proved very awkward but the extensive use of modern climbing equipment has made the removal of areas the loose debris, safe, if very slow.
The Team have been extremely tight lipped as to any “finds” their search
has produced but it is understood that several lengths of worked cedar
wood have been unearthed and taken to Tel-
Whatever the truth of these rumours….what is true is that those biblical scholars and archaeologists who howled with derision when the text of the Book of Shelag was first published have now fallen completely silent and are declining to give journalists even the briefest of interviews. One further rumour has leaked out. Workmen who have been actually engaged in bringing items back up the cliff face have spoken of small irregular pieces of engraved stone being retrieved. These fragments are said to carry wording, in a very ancient Hebrew script, in which the words “Thou shalt n ….” are repeated several times and others have carried such part words as “kil…”, “stea…..”, “adulte….” and “false witn…”
The academic communities of several nations seem to be “holding their breath” for the moment on these issues but fellow correspondents in the world’s capitals advise me that the major governments and religious hierarchies have become extremely interested in what has been discovered. The CIA, MI 6, Mossad and their various Arab counterparts are all said to be “on the case”. Those in Washington , who subscribe to the theory of “Intelligent Design” are said to be considering the possibility that God’s true intention was that the Israelites were meant to turn right towards the present day oilfields of the Arab lands and that their left turn into present day Israel was a dreadful human mistake. The possibility of a land swap ..Israel for the Arabs and Arabia for the Israelites….is being seriously discussed but, so far, both the principal parties seem to be finding both doctrinal and practical objections to the proposals.
1770
Francis’s novel.
piece on ties.