VERONICA MARIE'S BOOK REVIEW - 29 APRIL, 2011

The Long Firm by Jake Arnott
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This an amazing read.  Jake Arnott takes the reader deep into the seedy underbelly of 60's London... "lairy" blokes getting "aggro" in dark dives... Mad Harry, a gangster's gangster ("I'm not gay, I'm homosexual!") with a thing for the soft, young gay-boys out looking for danger, and trying to make a dishonest dollar honest... bent coppers dipping their greedy paws in for a share.


The Long Firm is a collection of five stories, with intertwining characters and new faces in each "chapter".  Each chapter brings people and events to their inevitable conclusion, not predictably, but with a certainty and finality that makes one wonder if those poor souls lives were really about choices, or if their destinies were foretold long ago, and all they can do is let the "fates" do as they must, because... "our wills are not our own... we are shaped and ruled by forces we are barely capable of understanding, and virtually powerless, to change."  Do we really have no control?  Does society make us what we are, and when it sees the truth, turns a blind eye and deaf ear?


THE LONG FIRM was another recommendation from my dear friend, Paul D Brazill... and, I will say this once again...


You will not go wrong with one of Paul's recommendations!  Thank you, Paul.


And... Thank you, Mr Arnott... for a superb story!


View all my reviews

Free eBooks at Planet eBook - Classic Novels and Literature

Free eBooks at Planet eBook - Classic Novels and Literature

ↄↄↄↄↄↄ BEAMRIDERS OF THE NIGHT ↄↄↄↄↄↄ

Who you were before is unimportant...

The past is past... dust in the wind... no more.

You have come to me... and I to you... two becoming one... 

You are mine... my Cytherea... and I…your Sappho.

Two stars racing across the night sky... chasing the dawn...

Two spirits… riding the moonbeam’s ethereal glow.

And when morning's light brings us back to earth...

Consummation on white satin... lovers entwined... as before.

Our lives now… more than the sum of all things…

As your fate is mine...  so then, my fate is yours.

Destiny is not a dream... we are beamriders of the night...

Moonlit souls with gossamer wings.

POST-QUAKE DEVASTATION IN JAPAN

The earthquake in Japan, now reported as a 9.1 and not an 8.9, and the after-shocks which followed, has been incredibly devastating.  The imagery coming out of Japan is almost too much to comprehend.  Below are a couple of quick ways you can help...

Text REDCROSS (all one word) to 90999, to donate $10 to the Red Cross.  The charge will appear on your phone bill.

Text JAPAN or QUAKE to 80888, to donate $10 to the Salvation Army.  The charge will appear on your phone bill.

Thank you.

PATTI ABBOTT'S 'SCARRY NIGHT' FLASH FICTION CHALLENGE: PENANCE

Quelques choses ne sont pas toujours noires et le blanc.

PENANCE

Article in the Hartford Herald – July 17, 2007

In what is hoped by many to be the final chapter in the case of the UNH coed who was kidnapped in the late summer of 2005, and tortured and raped over a six month period of time, a grand jury, for the second time, has declined to bring murder indictments against the woman known only as Jane Doe.

Victims-rights advocates hailed this as a victory for victims of sexual assault everywhere, reiterating their position that “charges should never have been filed in the first place, given the circumstances, and that this was clearly a case of self-defence.”

~***~

London – Summer 2009

Crime

Steel-tipped stilettos tap a beat on the sidewalk.  Ignoring the “look left” admonition on the roadbed, I walk out into the street, focused on the white and blue sign across the road.  Black Audi honks angrily.  “Bitch!”  The epithet acknowledged with a raised finger.  Camden Town… New York City… Portland; drivers speak the same language.    

Two teen girls walk out as I approach the bank door.  Sharp inhalation… a too loud whisper… “… you see her arm?  Bloody mess…”  I turn as they pass by.  The redhead turns and looks back… our eyes meet… blood rushes… her face the color of her hair now.  Her eyes avert and head dips in shame.  Trace of sadness… I turn and open the door… remind myself… I don’t mind… I don’t mind…

The interior of Barclay’s smells and sounds like a hundred other banks I’ve been in, the only difference here is the accented voices.  Pretending not to notice the arm - you can see it in her eyes - the dark-haired young clerk smiles as I approach her window.  The smile slowly slips as she reads the note I hand her.  Eyes look down, then dart to the left and back to me.  A barely perceptible shake of my head, grim determination on my face.  She quietly fills the large envelope with banknotes.

A week later, as has been custom for the past two years, a local charity receives a large envelope in the post.    

~***~

Paris

Punishment

Dropping keys and purse on the small table in the foyer, I walk in to the parlor.  She is sitting on the white leather sofa...  a tall, mocha-skinned woman, completely naked except for a pair of white sheer stockings and garter belt.  A pair of five- inch orchid stilettos adorns her slender feet.

The woman turns her head as I enter the parlor.  I stop, returning her gaze… we take measure of each other.    After a few moments, she tilts her head slightly, motioning to a spot on the carpet in front of her.  A small black leather whip lies coiled on the sofa cushion. 

Wordlessly, I disrobe and kneel on the plush carpet in front of her.  She spreads her legs apart and I move in closer… scent of cinnamon and musk rising up.  She picks up the whip, uncoiling it in her hands.  I lean forward, placing my hands on the warm flesh of her upper thighs.  My head dips down… sound of braided leather slicing the air…

~*~

Later that night, in bed with Charrlote… her voice rising up in the quiet… “So, ma chere… how did you find Mistress Emeline?”  I sit up and turn to face her.  “Satisfactory.”   A pause… “Do you think me odd, Charrlote?  What I do?”

“We all do our emotional penance in our own way, Veronique… I do not judge.”  She pulls the camisole over her head, revealing her naked breasts.  Smiling, she reaches for mine.  I put my hand on her arm, stopping her.  Slender fingers touching me… “I really don’t mind the scars” she says.

Charrlote draws me into her arms… the silk sheets pull us down into their embrace.

~***~

Portland – Autumn 2009

Home… Not Home

The turn of the century stone building in downtown Portland looms in front of me.  Entering the lobby… street sounds hush as the door closes quietly behind me.  Dark-paneled walls echo the beat of the steel-tipped stilettos on the hardwood floor.  Gloved finger presses the elevator button.  Second floor – attorney – broken promises.  Third floor – physical therapist – broken bodies.  Fifth floor – psychiatrist - broken minds.

Dr. Kay sits back in her chair… I stand at the tall window across the room, looking out at the night lights of the city.  She continues… “Bank or dominatrix?”  The good doctor knows me well.  “Both.”  I reply. 

“Veronica… what happened… none of that was your fault… why do you still punish yourself?”  Why do you keep asking me questions to which we both know the answer?  I think to myself, looking out at a full moon.

Turning away from the window, tears pricking the back of my eyelids… “I don’t mind the scars… really… I don’t.”

~finis~

23 February 2011

Veronica Marie Lewis-Shaw

OKAY... IT'S NOT IAMBIC PENTAMETER

This started as a bit of a joke.  While following a thread on a Facebook post, I added a couple of lines.  A friend (jesting)  informed me that poetry should rhyme... so, the next afternoon on the train ride home, I wrote "A GIRL" and "SUMMER'S EVE".  These are for you, David Bevins - look...they rhyme!!.   

"REMEMBER ME" was written some years, about a very special person who came into my life for only a very short time, but whom I will remember always.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A GIRL

From Nantucket,

There once was a lass.

While walking one morn,

Upon a hill she did come.

A mound carpeted,

In dew speckled grass.

Placing foot on verdant green,

The girl did slip and fall;

Landing on her bum.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

REMEMBER ME

Tell me no.

Tell me now.

Tell me final.

Tell me I must go.

Tears in my eyes,

A longing ache in my heart.

Words you whisper in my ear,

Sounding more like breathless sighs.

Will you remember me?

Tell me these were more than stolen moments.

When we lay in each other’s arms,

Our beating hearts saying more than words ever could.

Say you will…  Remember me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SUMMER’S EVE

Soft summer breeze,

Caressing her neck,

Like a lover’s kiss.

Warm rays of golden sunset,

Slip beneath the dusky horizon.

Honeysuckle perfume,

Riding on the wind.

Fireflies dance in their flickering lights.

Nature’s beauty and splendor,

Thrilling her heart with graceful ease.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I WONDER...

I WONDER…

By Veronica Marie Lewis

I wonder...

A young woman sits at the table across from me at the Food Court. She seems lost in a moment, and has a smile on her face that can only be described as blissful.

I wonder… what makes her so happy? One of her purchases, perhaps? I see on her table, bags from Bath & Body Works, Ann Taylor, and that oh-so-familiar pink-striped bag that doesn’t even need the store’s name printed on it. I know, whenever I have one of those little bags in my hand, I have a BIG smile on my face!

Or, did you get some new aromatherapy candles at Bath & Body Works, and can’t wait to get home and relax in a nice, hot bubble bath with your new candles? I’m tempted to ask her if she has tried the Black Currant Vanilla, my personal favorite, but I don’t want to interrupt her reverie.


I wonder…


A perfect summer day! Two young children at the zoo - twins I think to myself, racing ahead of their mother, across the green expanse of the Concert Lawn toward the elephant exhibit. The sound of their laughter and the shrieks of joy, tell a story.

I wonder… did they enjoy the polar bears as much as I do? Of all the animals at the zoo, the polar bears are my favorite! Did they look at the polar bear’s feet and wonder at the strength and grace in those huge paws? Were their eyes filled with awe as they watched the polar bears diving for fish; those enormous mammals swimming with the grace of a fish?

I wonder… did they marvel in wonder at the bright, beautiful colors of the Lorikeets in the aviary? Did they want to reach out and touch those colored feathers? Were their little button noses wrinkled in disgust at the smells of the monkey cage one moment, and then in the next, laughing with glee at the antics of its inhabitants?


I wonder…


Fall has come once again to the City of Roses. Tina and I are sitting on a bench along the Eastside Esplanade, taking in the autumn colors amidst the cityscape. An elderly couple approaches, holding hands and walking with a familiar stride that bespeaks of their years together. Their faces radiate love and happiness.

I wonder… what is your secret? How long have you been married… twenty years? 30? 40? More? Did you discover long ago, something that I have yet to learn? Do your hearts still sing every time you gaze into one another’s eyes? Do you wake up every morning to the thought “… I love this person lying next to me even more today than I did yesterday”

I wonder… when you see young couples like Tina and I, do you yearn to be young again? Or, has the journey that brought the two of you to where you are today, been so wonderfully, marvelously incredible, that you wouldn’t trade it for anything? Does it all really come down to these three words – Live… Laugh… Love? Is that your secret?


I wonder…


An old man - one of this city’s all-too-many homeless - sits huddled on the sidewalk, dressed in tattered clothing that can’t possibly keep out winter’s chill, hopelessness and dejection carved into his face. A hand held out… in hope?

I wonder… what are his circumstances? What brought him here… to the streets? Did he used to be a successful computer engineer, whose company merged with another and out-sourced their work, putting him out of a job? Did some big, heartless bank take away his home with one hand, and with the other, take a billion-dollar bailout from the government? Or, does he have a drug or alcohol problem that, over the years, took away his job, his dignity, his family, his life? And society, in its head-long rush to over-achieve and accumulate, cast him aside, tossed away like an empty Starbuck’s cup?

I stop in front of the man and reach in my purse for something to give him. He looks up at me and as our eyes meet, I realize that he is not that old… in his 40’s maybe. I had first taken him to be much older, judging from his appearance.

I wonder… how long has he been out on these streets? How does he still have hope for his fellow man, even while they have given up on him?

Pulling the glove from my hand, I pick some bills from my wallet, offering them to him. As he reaches across the gap between us to accept them, I have a sudden urge to touch his hand, to offer more than just money, to offer a little human contact. All day long people veer around him, anxious to avoid any contact.

I wonder… is it just romantic conceit on my part to think that a brief touch is going to bridge that gap, that it will make up, in some small measure, for society’s shunning him? Will that touch keep him warm at night?

As the man takes the money from my hand, I press my fingers against the dry flesh of his hand and offer up a small smile. He tries to smile back, but I think he has forgotten how. In a cracked voice, he speaks… “Thank you.” Two words… filled with gratitude and sincerity. I realize he is not just thanking me for the money, and I am overcome. A huge lump has suddenly filled my throat and I am unable to speak. I can only nod and give a little smile, my eyes welling with tears.

I wonder… at the capacity of the human heart. Here is a person who has literally nothing, and yet, with two simple words, has given me something I will keep and remember always. A moment in time, where another person has touched my heart…

...and given me hope.


I wonder…


Veronica Marie Lewis
February 28, 2010
Portland, Oregon