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Friends.

by choille 

Posted: 22 March 2006
Word Count: 476
Summary: This was a challenge hard and this is a bit mushy, but went all local on it.


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The blind man knew it was the post van because of its leaky silencer and the squealing slip of its fan-belt. By the time Hugo the Post had carried the heavy packages up to the open door, Niall had clanked the kettle back on the hob, set out the teapot and mugs.
‘Tis yerself Hugo, the very man I prayed would come to help me with my predicament. Come away in and have a cup. See, the kettle is singing for you.’
‘How are you today Niall? I have these 3 thick envelopes here and a card from Florida from your Jessie. My now wouldn’t that’d be grand? I can feel the heat from the picture on the front.’

The two men sat sipping tea as Hugo opened the mail and read out his friends news: two rejected manuscripts, one possible acceptence, with a list of amendments required, and the postcard from Niall’s daughter.

‘The wummin, where I’m doing the readings, wants me to “spruce up”. Bloody cheek, but there you have it.’ Niall stared unseeing into the distance. His friend not having understood asked him to repeat slower, so he could follow his lips.

Hugo forgetting, nodded in understanding, ‘We’ll hit the town, get you new stuff, visit the barbers. Dinnae fash yerself. Nae problem, but I have a favour to tak in exchange.’
The deaf postie took from his pocket a Jew’s harp, placed it in his mouth and plucked a haunting melody. Moving his jaw to oscillate the notes.
Naill lent back in his chair and saw the river and lochs, the mountain range and gorge, the soaring, hesitant flight of the sea eagle.

Hugo laid the harp down on the dirty, deal table and looked to the poet, awaiting his comment.

After a while Naill said, ‘I went the walk along the Struie when you played. It had all the details, the colours, the sounds, the fresh wind. I could even smell the peats stacked to dry. It was a grand journey you took me on.’

Hugo replied, ‘When you had me type out your Ode To Anchellach, I sat down and made that up as I reread it through, following your words with my harp clamped a’tween my jaw. I heard the sounds in my head from the pictures you drew with your words. What would we be, God, where would we be, if with a heart full of hate and a mind twisted wi' spite we hadn’t made that bomb that melted your eyes and pierced my ear drums? Would we be deid? Would we be prisoners or soidjers fighting fer a cause we had no mind fer?’

The blind man replenished their cups with a wee dram of malt, held his cup aloft and pronounced, ‘Only the Devil knows, but this I know fu’ well, we’d still be friends.’













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Comments by other Members



crowspark at 19:13 on 23 March 2006  Report this post
This is wonderful Caroline! Love the idea of the Jews harp playing deaf postie and the mutual exchange of poetic 'vision'.

After a while Naill said, ‘I went the walk along the Struie when you played. It had all the details, the colours, the sounds, the fresh wind. I could even smell the peats stacked to dry. It was a grand journey you took me on.’


Grand journey indeed. I wanted to be there drinking the malt and smelling the air.

Naill lent back in his chair and saw the river and lochs, the mountain range and gorge, the soaring, hesitant flight of the sea eagle.


I'm going to have a wee dram of Ledaig to round off your wonderful flash.

Bill

choille at 20:24 on 23 March 2006  Report this post
Cheers Bill,

Thanks for reading and your kind comments. Wondered if the deaf Jew's harp player was a bit disbelievable.

Enjoy your dram.

All the best

Caroline.

crowspark at 21:22 on 23 March 2006  Report this post
You would get the vibration straight through the jaw so it might just work!

choille at 22:07 on 23 March 2006  Report this post
That's exactly what I thought, coz it does hum inside your head when you play one.

Prospero at 05:52 on 25 March 2006  Report this post
This is excellent Caroline.

If I may, 'Oscillate' rather than 'osilate'

What would we be, God, where would we be, if with a heart full of hate and a mind fu o’ spite we hadn’t made that bomb that melted your eyes and pierced my ear drums? Would we be deid? Would we be prisoners or sidjers fighting fer a cause we had no mind fer?’


A wonderful evocation of the regret they feel for their act of violence. A sad poignancy here.

Well done

John

choille at 14:59 on 25 March 2006  Report this post
Cheers for reading Prosps,

Thanks for reading and your kind comments and also the typos.

Much appreiciated
Many Thanks
All the best
Caroline.

sazzyjack at 22:29 on 25 March 2006  Report this post
Wonderful Caroline!
This is a very poignant piece of writing, brilliantly portrayed.
Loved it!
Saz

choille at 22:38 on 25 March 2006  Report this post
Cheers Saz for reading.

Glad you liked it.

All the best.
Caroline.

Anj at 07:30 on 29 March 2006  Report this post
Caroline,

This is fanastic, not the least bit sentimental but very moving. Loved the symbiosis between Nial and Hugo.

Wonderful

Andrea

darrenm at 12:14 on 29 March 2006  Report this post
Hi Caroline,

Yeah, I enjoyed this too. Congratulations on winning. Great characters, great description of scenery as usual.

I think you do dialect really well, just enough to make the voice real, but not so much that it's hard to understand, well done.

Hugo the Post? You have a little thing about postman? I think we had John the Post in one of your other stories!

Darren.

choille at 17:13 on 29 March 2006  Report this post
Cheers Anj,

Thanks for reading and your kind comments.It's sometimes hard to tell if you've gone a bit maudlin and sentimental.

All the best

Caroline.

choille at 17:22 on 29 March 2006  Report this post
Thanks Darren,

Kind of you to say so. I like writing in dialect, but it does reduce the market I suppose.

Funnily enough, or not, our relief Postie is deaf and dumb. I didn't know until he came to the door when our mail box had expired with age and he'd written me a note hoping that I didn't blame him as it had collapsed when he put the letters in. It took me an embarrasing wee while before I realised he couldn't speak nor hear although he can lip read.

Cheers for taking the time to read and comment.

All the best

Caroline.

Dreamer at 02:05 on 31 March 2006  Report this post
Hi Caroline,

This is wonderful.
from the pictures you drew with your words
this is what I always find you do so well. I love the images you conjure up and the two characters are great. As others have said I love the dialect. (In fact I have started a little file when I keep snipets of it to inspire me for when I write chapters involving the Fraser Highlanders.)

Glad to hear you won. This is well deserved.

I have an intersting annecdote involving a Jew's harp which I read only yesterday. It was while reading a book doing research for my book that I read about an Irish trader named William Johnson who after trading with the Indians, who habitually drank until they were insensible when they arrived at a trading post, would, instead of cheating them when they were out cold, would have all their items they had traded for stacked in a neat pile and when they revived he would give them each a Jew's harp and teach them how to play then sit back and laugh with them at their efforts.

Funny that I should read this the ver next day and find a Jew's harp figuring prominently in your story considering I have not read about one before.

Anyway, brilliant flash, well done.

Brian.

choille at 23:28 on 02 April 2006  Report this post
Cheers Brian,

Glad you enjoyed it. When I was at primary we were penalized/belted for talking in dialect.Recently there has been a long overdue resurgence in Scots. Started by the upsurge in respect for Scots literature which is somewhat missing from history. I think we are getting a bit above ourselves with the national identity thing, but it is good that there is now a huge growth in Scot's writing out there and mags that are actively seeking stories. The recent series on BBC Scotland with Carl McDougal has been fantastic. He was a guest speaker at an Arvon course I went on 2 years ago.

I would love to see this happening in each region of the UK as there is such a diversity of tongue that is being lost to the BBC type received pronounceation.

Funny that with the Jew's harp, but the coincidence thing seems to follow us.

Thank you for reading and the very kind comments.
Awra best
caroline.


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