Thank you – a comparison to Salinger and Twain, will make me walk tall for weeks.
Glad you enjoyed it. I’m particularly peased that you followed the thought’s of the Lummox, it was quite hard to try to be him while writing it.
The item you were looking for was deleted.
Short Story / Mysterious Ways
It was all God’s fault, really. Jaff said it was my mate Gazza, from the pub, who was to blame, but it wasn’t. It was all about when I opened my eyes, and that was down to God.
Gazza’s been my mate for ages, ever since little school. He’s a year older than me and says I need looking after, and he’s always up for a laugh. That’s why we always got on so well, I think. I’m too serious and quiet, everyone says so. Gazza makes me do stuff I wouldn’t usually do. Opens my eyes, he says. When you think about it, that’s funny, really. Though maybe not to laugh at.
Like, there was this bloke that ripped him off when he bought a pair of new trainers, down the market. Gazza told me all about it, and it was a real shitty trick, so we found out where the bloke’s lock-up was and Gazza helped me lever up the door. It was half rusted away anyway and like Gazza said, big lad like me, no problem, eh? Anyway, we got in and Gazza sorted through the stuff and got what the bloke owed him. Then he said to teach the bloke a lesson and chuck on some petrol and light the rest. So I did.
It went up straight off, with a big soft “whuuuump”! God, I was shitting myself! I thought it would burn the whole street down. It was so hot and bright, awesome. That’s when Gazza saved me, because I was stuck watching this great blaze, frozen to the spot. It was huge and hot, the air blew off it like a dragon’s breath and the flames danced and span, and sparks glittered up and faded away into the dark. Big ones, little ones, all sorts. It made me think of when my Dada was still with us, and when he died. Anyway, Gazza called me a bloody great dickhead and slapped me, and said we had to run. So we did.
One night down the pub, Gazza told me about God showing people signs. I mean, I knew about God before, but not the way Gazza explained it. I can’t really remember most of it, now, and Gazza’s smarter than me, loads smarter. But it’s important that we do what God wants. I know that, I suppose everybody knows that. Its just, how do you know what He wants? Gazza said that God could make signs. He said that’s how he knew that all these Pakkies and Arabs were all bastards. He said they just come over here to take over, and make us do what they want. He says that can’t be right ‘cos God gave us this place, and gave them their place, so why should they come here?
He was always on about this sort of stuff, and he had loads of mates who said the same. I didn’t like them much, they always laughed at me. They said I was just thick and said stuff about my Dada. One of them said probably my Dada was glad he was dead, so he didn’t have to live with a big, stupid dickhead like me anymore. That got me mad, and I picked him up to throw him out the pub, but hit me in the face with his head, so I smashed him into the doorpost a few times, and it got all covered in blood, and some of his teeth fell out, and Tom, he’s the landlord, said to put him down, and he wasn’t worth it, so I did. Tom told me to go home, but I wasn’t barred and could come back tomorrow. Then the bloke said he would get me, and Gazza said not to, that he shouldn’t pick on me and it wasn’t my fault, and that I was a useful lad.
I didn’t understand all this stuff about Pakkies and Arabs being bad. Like, old Mr Azi who runs the little shop down the corner. He’s always nice to me, lets me have some of the stuff cheap when it’s got too old to sell. Fruit and that; maybe a bit of bread. He’s nice. His son’s OK too, but he’s a bit weird. He’s always praying, not just Sunday, but every day, loads and loads. I told him once that it was stupid, that God could hear you even if you just spoke in your head. He wasn’t nice to me after that, he said I was a stupid, ignorant unbeliever and did not have a clue about anything. Then his daughter said not be nasty to me, so she was nice, and he just laughed and said OK, maybe God liked a joke too, and he was sure I was a good joke.
Anyway, Gazza said he could show me, about God’s signs; and to come out of the pub and go for walk with him down the street. It was cold and dark out of the pub, and it was raining, just a bit. So the pavements were all wet and orange-shiny in the streetlight. I only had a shirt on, ‘cos I left my jacket in the pub, and it started to feel damp. I told Gazza that I wanted to go back, but he said that we had to wait for a sign from God that would show me how bad these Pakkies and Arabs and stuff were. We had to walk up the street and stand outside St. Thomas’s.
I like St Thomas’s. I go there on Sundays. It’s all high inside, with a dusty smell all mixed in with polish and flowers. It’s quiet in there, and you can just stop thinking and say the words in your turn and not worry about anything. I always sit right at the front, but at the side, on my own. I sit beside the great, long woollen picture on the wall. Mam helped make that picture, before I was born she says, and Dada helped to hang it up. I used to go with my Dada, but then he died. That was a bad time. Mam said he’d gone to be with God, that God needed him. I used to think that was mean of God. After all, we’d only had Dada for a little while and God would have him for ever; but Mam said that when we got to be with God we would have Dada back for ever, and we would all be friends again then.
When we got to outside St. Thomas’s, Gazza said we both had to close our eyes and ask God to show us a bad person, then when we opened them the first person we’d see would be a bad person. He said once we shut our eyes we had to keep them tight shut, honour bound, till we felt God tap us on the shoulder. So we did.
It seemed ages, and my shirt was getting really wet and sticking to me, and I had my eyes so tight shut I could see little flashy whirly patterns. They were all bright like the sparks in that fire at the lock-up, and they just whirled around and I got interested watching them appear and spark and fade and come back again. I must have nearly been asleep when I felt God tap me on the shoulder. He must have tapped Gazza first because when I opened my eyes all I could see was Gazza, and he was pointing with his arm. Then when I looked where it pointed I could see young Mr. Azi, the one that said I was a joke. He was just going into the shop, which was right on the other side of the road.
That’s when I had the brainwave. I thought I could close my eyes again and ask God to show me a good person this time. So I did. I closed my eyes and looked to Heaven to ask him. Almost straightaway, he tapped me on the shoulder again. Well, actually, it was Gazza who tapped me this time, I felt his arm move, and he said “Come on, Lummox, look!”, but it was God really. He must have got Gazza to tap me quick, just when I was looking up; and so I saw her. Jaffa. Old Man Azi’s granddaughter. Only she didn’t like being called Jaffa, said it was like an orange, and just say Jaff. She was looking out the front window, upstairs. I thought that must be her room, because she was just stood there in a sort of nighty thing. The room was dark, but the light from the street lamp shone through the window and I could see her clear as anything.
I had to look away quick, because I could see right through the nighty, and I could see her tits and her tummy. But that must have been OK, really, because it was God made me look just then. So I looked up again, and she smiled right at me for a second and then she must have heard her dad come in the shop, so she disappeared. I was sad that she disappeared, because she had really great tits. They were all round and stood out from her tummy and chest, and I could even see her nipples, they stood out too. I felt a bit strange about seeing her like that. It made me want to touch her.
Anyway, just then Gazza said “Did you see him, Lummox?” So I said I had, because I had, but I didn’t say anything about seeing Jaff. I just wanted to keep that private. I know what he’d have said. He’d be stupid and ask about her tits and call them Chapel hatpegs, and that wouldn’t be right. She was beautiful, and nice.
Then he says, “That proves it, dun’t it? Must have been God showing you a bad person, that’s what you asked, weren’t it?” So I just nodded and never said about asking the second question, and never told him that God had made him tap my shoulder just at the right time to see a good person.
The next night I was walking to the pub when I saw Jaff in the street. She was just sort of hanging around and seemed bored, but when she saw me, she smiled. It was great that smile. It sort of started with her eyes, then her mouth and then just flew all over her face. It made her look like she was just a kid, even though we had been to Copple Street School in the same class and she was the same age as me and we’d left three years ago. I didn’t know what to say to her, so I said I was glad I’d seen her last night because it meant she was a good person. She laughed at me, then, but it was a nice laugh. She just said I was a silly thing, of course she was a good person; and I was a good person too. So I said I was sorry I’d stared at her tits, even though they were nice, and I was going say that it was God that had made it happen, but she just looked frightened and said to shut up. So I did.
She went quiet for a bit, then she said did I really like them? So I said, “Yes”, and she said that she thought I was really nice, and she didn’t mind, but not to tell anyone, so I promised. Then she said that her dad was going to take her home and that she was going to get married. I thought she meant the shop at first, but she said I was big silly, and that she had to go on an aeroplane. She was going to go in month’s time and be married to this old man that she had never seen. She was scared, I could tell. So I put my arm round her to say I was on her side, but she got scared more, and said I mustn’t touch her. People might see and her whole family would hate her for being a whore. I said that was just silly because I’d seen whores down by the railway station and they were all really bad people my mam said, and I must never talk to them. I told her she couldn’t be a whore because I knew she was a good person, but she said her dad wouldn’t think so.
I didn’t know what to do again, so I just looked at her and said that he was wrong. Then I said if she didn’t want people to see us talking maybe I could come to the shop and talk to her. She looked at me real close, then and said maybe that wasn’t a good idea and if anyone ever found out she would get real bad trouble. I thought maybe she didn’t like me after all, so asked her, and she said of course she liked me. Then she said come round later. Her dad and granddad were going out in a bit and I could come round the back door and no-one would see. Come after nine she said, and I was so happy and I said “Great – it’s a date!”, which is what I’d heard Gazza say to Anna who works in the pub. It sounded clever and it rhymed like poetry, so I said it; but Jaff just looked at me funny again and said not to get my hopes up. I didn’t really know what she meant, so I just said “OK”. Then I said, “See you later, alligator”. My mam said that to me when I was little, and she said her mam said it to her dad, and he said, “In a while, crocodile”. I thought that was clever and rhymy as well, and Jaff must have thought so to because she laughed and said I was a hopeless case. I probably am, ‘cos everyone says that. I don’t care, not really.
Anyway, I went to the pub for a bit, and she went back to the shop. Gazza was there, like always and he said it was my round so I bought him a beer, and just an orange juice for me. I don’t like drinking much, it makes my head go funny, and I get sick, but Gazza said I had to have a vodka in it and he told Anna to put one in, and make it a large one, and she did. I didn’t want to have it, but Gazza said I shouldn’t be such an old woman and not be serious all the time and have a laugh. So I drank it. Then he bought a round and he got me the same again. He was talking about how he wanted to go and teach the Pakkies a lesson, and we should go round the shop and sort them out. I said I felt sick and wanted to go home, and anyway they weren’t there tonight, and he said how did I know and I just said that I did. Thinking back, probably, it was silly to say that. But anyway, I said it.
I did feel a bit sick really, but I had to go talk to Jaff, so I said, “See you, mate”. I thought Gazza would say to stay, but he just said “Yeah, OK”. Then he went to talk to some of his other mates, the ones that laughed at me, and I went to see Jaff.
It was raining again, and when I was walking I suddenly thought that my jacket was still in the pub. It’d been there all night and I’d forgot it again, and mam would be cross. I thought about going back for it but then the clock on St Thomas’s struck nine, so thought “Sod it!, and kept on towards Jaff’s shop. When I got there the wooden gate into the back entrance wasn’t shut properly, like it usually was, and I just pushed it and it opened and I walked up the passage between Jaff’s shop and the house that was built next to it. They were joined on at the upstairs, but downstairs was like a short tunnel to get round the back. There were two gates at the end, one to the left into Jaff’s place, and one into the yard behind the house next door. I pushed Jaff’s gate open, and then I could see her in the kitchen, through the window. She was by the gas cooker, and she’d put a kettle of water on, it was one of those old ones that whistle. We used to have one, but after Dada died Mam got a new electric one and it was loads easier, and it turned itself off and everything.
She looked really pretty through the window, she had this long yellow dress on, sort of wrapped round her, and her skin looked dark and smooth, and her hair was dark and wavy down to her shoulders. I went and tapped on the back door, and I could see her make a little jump and then she disappeared from the window and the door opened and she said to come in, quick, and had anybody seen me?
I said to her not to be scared, and that no-one had seen me, and I gave her a quick hug to make her feel better. I liked giving her that hug, and she was all soft and warm, but she put her hand up on my chest and said to stop, and that I was all wet, but she didn’t sound cross. Then she said to come in and go through into the back room, and stand by the fire to dry off. So we both went in. Her house smelled different to mine and Mam’s. Ours always smelled of cabbages and tatie peelings, and hers smelled like take-away Indian. I thought hers smelled nicer than ours, and said that I liked it, and she laughed. I liked it when she laughed, and that smile blazed all over her faced.
She didn’t say anything, though, and I couldn’t think what to say, then I suddenly thought about what she’d said about getting married so I asked who the man was. She stopped smiling then, and I thought she was going to be cross, but she just said she didn’t know who he was, and that she hated her dad, and she didn’t want to go, and she was so scared. I wanted to cry for her, she looked so sad and lost. But, I didn’t; I hugged her again instead, and this time she just put her arms right round my neck and squeezed me so tight. I could smell her hair and it tickled my chin, and I could feel her tits pushing into my tummy. It was funny, because I felt really sorry for her, but I really liked holding her and she smelled so nice and she felt soft but sort of muscly as well. We were just stood there when the kettle started to whistle, louder and louder, and she just kept hanging on to me and not taking any notice and I didn’t know what to do.
It seemed like ages that we just stood there, with the kettle screaming away, and then Jaff seemed to sort of wake up, and she let go of me and said to wait there, and she went back into the kitchen.
That’s when Gazza turned up. She must have just taken the kettle off and its scream had nearly faded when I heard the back door open. I heard her give a sort of shout, she sounded scared, and I got worried then, ‘cos I thought it was her dad come back and he’d say she was a whore because I was alone with her. But then I heard Gazza’s voice, it sounded hard and loud, and he said “Don’t shout at me, bitch.” Then he said “Maybe you need a lesson in how to talk to a real man?” Then I heard a sound like when the butcher slapped a piece of meat on the counter and the kitchen door just banged open and Jaff came through holding her face and Gazza followed straight after.
He stopped fast when he saw me, and then laughed. But not like it was a joke, he sounded different. He said, “Lummox! You big old beast. What’re you doin’ here?” He looked like he was smiling, but he wasn’t, not properly. It was just showing his teeth, really.
I said I was just talking to Jaff, and he had to leave her alone. I was getting a bit angry by then, ‘cos I was sure he’d hit her and she was a good person and he really shouldn’t do that. I said to him he should go away, back to the pub. He just laughed again, and said “Fuck off, Lummox. If you’re shagging her then why not both of us?”
I thought what I should do, but couldn’t think of anything and then Gazza reached out and pulled at Jaff’s yellow dress, and tore the top of it, and she screamed. I couldn’t bear that scream. It was like the kettle, but sounded hurt and scared and lots louder. I stepped over and pushed Gazza away and put my arm round Jaff and said to Gazza for him to fuck off, and he wasn’t my mate anymore and he better go now or I’d get mad.
I know I do stuff when I get mad, and Mam says I must always walk away and they’re not worth it, same as Tom down the pub says. But I forget, sometimes. Like when Dada hurt Mam that night. He did that sometimes, but he couldn’t hit me anymore ‘cos I’d got too big, and he tried once and I hit him back, so he didn’t anymore. I hit him that night as well, to stop him hurting Mam.
Anyway, when I said to Gazza for him to stop he stepped back and opened the kitchen door again. I just thought he was leaving to go back to the pub, but he shouted out, “In here, boys!” Then suddenly two of his mates from the pub appeared. One was the bloke I’d smashed into the doorpost. He had a cricket bat with him and he just came at me with it lifted over his head, and I knew he was going to bash me with it. So I kicked him, right in the goolies, and he went smack down on the carpet. That’s dirty fighting, Mam says, and its not fair, but I didn’t think bashing with a cricket bat was fair either, so bollocks to it. Jaff was screaming again, and all tears and crying were mixed in with the noise and it was horrible. I shouted at them all to go away and then I grabbed the other one and just chucked him back into the kitchen. He wasn’t that big and he really flew in the air and he looked so funny with his eyes all wide open like he didn’t know what was going on, and he landed right on top of the cooker and slid off the other side.
Jaff must not have turned the gas ring off, ‘cos this blokes trousers were suddenly on fire, and I could see orange and yellow flames start to dance up his legs. Then he started to scream and he ran back into the room. He had on this plastic rain top, and the flames danced all the way up his trousers when he moved and this plastic thing started to melt and then it caught fire too. It smelled really bad.
That’s when it got all confused. The bloke on the floor, the one who had the cricket bat, got fire on him and he tried to get up, but must have fallen on the settee. Next thing was that was on fire too, and everybody was shouting and Gazza was swearing at me and saying I was fucking moron.
I was mad at them all, but I was getting a bit scared of the fire. Fire’s funny. It’s all amazing, and so pretty to watch, and makes your head go “Wowowowow!” and you get a good feeling, but at the same time if you’re real close then its so fucking hot it’s unreal, and it burns and hurts.
I wanted to get out of the place, but Jaff said we had to put the fire out, and to get some water from the kitchen. I wanted to, but Gazza pulled out a knife and said that the fucking place was going to burn. He said if I tried to get water he’d stick me with the knife. He was shouting, and the other two were screaming and trying to get through into the front shop part, and Jaff was screaming that we had to put it out and my head was just bursting with all of it. Then the doorway to the kitchen started to burn, there was like a curtain hanging behind it and that started to smoke then these red flames just licked away at it and went up to the ceiling, which was these white foamy tiles, and they started to give off a nasty smell and thick black smoke that blew and rolled all over the place. It got thick so you couldn’t really see and the taste got right to the back of your throat and made it all tighten up and I couldn’t breathe, and went all dizzy.
Jaff had fainted and just lay on the floor, and then Gazza said the only way out was through the shop, where the other two had gone. I bent over to pick up Jaff and that’s when he said to leave her, and that the bitch deserved to burn, that it was all her fault.
I didn’t understand at first. I thought he can’t mean it, Jaff’s good and nice. Then I remembered that I’d never said to him about the night we stood outside St Thomas’s with our eyes closed, and that God had showed me a good person as well as a bad person. Mam had always told me that I must never hurt a good person, and that good people helped each other, and I was a good person. She often said I was a good person, and even after I stopped Dada she said I was good. Dada was bad sometimes, she said, he didn’t mean to be and I mustn’t blame myself. It was all God’s will and he had taken Dada to be with him so he wouldn’t hurt us any more.
That’s when I suddenly realised how clever God really was. When I’d closed my eyes first off and said for God to show me a bad person when I opened my eyes, the first person wasn’t really Jaff’s dad. That’s who God had shown Gazza, but He’d shown me someone else. The first person I’d seen had been Gazza.
So I just punched him, real hard, right on the side of his head and he fell over.
I can’t really remember how we got out of the place. There was fire everywhere now. Gazza’s mates must have set bits of the front shop on fire when they went that way to get out and it was all choking and hot and I got a flame in my hair but I managed to rub it out, and Jaffs yellow dress was all brown singes and little holes with black edges, and covered in smudges from the smoke.
When we got out the other two were already rolling on the wet floor in all the puddles and screaming. I put Jaff down on the floor and went back to the door to see if Gazza was coming. I was going to give up when suddenly he appeared and said “Thanks, mate. I knew you’d wait and come back”.
That’s when I thought of Dada again. About when we had that fight and God came and took Dada to where he would be safe and we would be safe, and then when we went to see God we’d all be friends again.
So I hit Gazza again and knocked him into the fire, and he never came out again.
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malapropist reviewed Version 1 -
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Solid piece with a good voice. Recommend adding a few details up front to give Gazza and the narrator some physical description. Since this narrative style is expository, a few details throughout will break it up nicely.
The main arc of the story is fleshed out well and connected, and the opening line is revealed nicely at the end of the piece. A couple of the things I was less confident about:
“Hulking out”: The reveal on p. 13 that the narrator sometimes has violent episodes comes up too conveniently. It immediately lets us know that Gazza and his mates don’t have a chance, which deflates tension. It also turns what should be a liability into an asset, as he uses his rage to save the day. That’s fine, but the character is also often worried about controlling his temper. Doesn’t make sense if he only pummels bad guys. For someone to remember to control his temper as much as the narrator claims he needs to, he would have to act inappropriately at some point. Whether that’s shown in scene or just referred to, the main character should have an episode where he beat the crap out of someone undeserving. Yeah, he killed his dad, but he’s already made peace with it to some extent, even if it isn’t fully revealed to the reader. He needs a little guilt for something and the possibility for being out of control.
Relationship with Gazza: I’m not clear on why the narrator hangs out with Gazza. He mentions that Gazza is smart, but there’s little kindness. The fight on page 2/3 doesn’t quite cut it. Gazza telling some guy to knock it off after the narrator beat the crap out of him doesn’t seem all that helpful or kind. Gazza doing something kind for the narrator early in the story and in scene would be more effective than the narrator just telling us that he and Gazza were mates. It doesn’t have to be big, but it should be something the narrator finds touching.
The relationship with Mr. Azi might need another look. The narrator says something offensive and Mr. Azi gets angry, but then Jaff smooths everything over and they’re friends again. I think having Mr. Azi stay angry might be a better move. Even though there’s a lot of tension between Gazza and the narrator, and some sexual tension between Jaff and the narrator, the narrator is never really at odds with anyone until the end. He sets some guy’s stuff on fire and he beats up someone at a bar, but when he’s being confronted by a man yelling at him, nothing happens. I’m not recommending that he beat up Mr. Azi, but give him more reason to think Mr. Azi might be “the bad person” god showed him and make it a little more uncertain what the narrator would do if he saw Mr. Azi again. It’ll give the relationship with Jaff a little more of a potentially disastrous feel. The redemption in the end might be a little more earned, and the character’s epiphany will be more valid if his relationship with other important characters is ambiguous.
Jaff seems a little flat. It’s not terrible, but I was bored by her sob story because I’ve seen it so often. Maybe spend a little time tailoring her circumstances so that her story is a little more personalized or unique.
I’m not crazy about the last line. I think leaving it open ended would be great. The small paragraph preceding it pretty much lays down his intentions, so a final line that was a bit more subtle or that stopped the split second before the narrator hit Gazza would probably resonate even better. Think about letting the reader finish the story.
This is really strong. Hope it gets picked up somewhere. Good luck.
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RPierce reviewed Version 1 -
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“I thought hers smelled nicer…faced.” – Only thing wrong here is faced, no biggie. And please excuse paraphrasing, just want to let you know where things are without copying entire paragraphs.
“I couldn’t bear that scream. It was like the kettle, but sounded hurt and scared and lots louder.” -This is an excellent image, and I liked how you set it up earlier.
“I know I do stuff when I get mad….to stop him hurting Mam.” – You are an excellent purveyor of detail (and you do it without “listing”, which I hate (listing, that is), and is why I tend to leave a lot of detail out. One of my flaws), but I think perhaps, with this paragraph, you could take a note from my book, cut it, and keep the scene moving. Its basically telling us what you are about to show, that Lummox is capable of violent action when it is necessary.
“It got thick so you couldn’t really see and the taste got right to the back of your throat and made it all tighten up and I couldn’t breathe, and went all dizzy.”-You go from “You” and “Your” to “I”. I suppose you could argue that’s how Lummox would tell this story, but it seems a bit, eh, off kilter.
All in all an excellent read, and I really enjoyed my time spent rummaging through Lummox’s thought processes. Your writing stayed in character throughout, and never once got grating, disinteresting or pretentious. It kind of reminded me of Twain’s “Huck Finn” and Salinger’s “Catcher in the Rye”, with the way you use dialect and humor to tell what would otherwise be a dark, heavy handed tale, given the subject matter.
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