Prologue to my debut novella-The Tower.

THE TOWER  http://goo.gl/dbdCHy 

The End

He viewed the horror before him, numb, the whites of his eyes accentuated by his blackened face. He couldn’t see her. The pain of his injury hit home as he grabbed at his bloodied left thigh, the other leg pinned down, but by what? At first he didn’t recognise it as a body but touching it left him in no doubt. He struggled free and stared at the corpse. Was it her? He turned and vomited, his insides, threatening to follow through. He wiped his mouth and turned the lifeless body over. Tears of selfish relief fell freely. Not her. His frantic eyes searched around, but amongst the all encompassing carnage it was impossible to make sense of anything, let alone a face in the crowd. He called her name, bewildered at the scene; the chaos bore no resemblance to what had been. His mind was unable to fully comprehend the new landscape as he balanced upon a pile of smouldering ruins. ‘What have we done?’He called her name again and again, each time louder than the last.
The tumultuous event shocked the world at 8:45am BST on July 4th 2040. The dream which so many had held in their hearts as the hope for future generations now lay in the charred wreck. The greed of man, as always, had only brought tragedy. Neither the reason nor those responsible was important now; many of those who had held that dream were. But they were lost…She was lost.

The Headmaster- By Harry Alexiou- Bits n Pieces winners challenge- MAY 2013

Jamie sat biting his nails, the hard wooden chair hurting his backside. Fifteen minutes had passed since he’d arrived. He listened to the boom of the headmaster’s voice as he berated another student. Then it was silent. From the quiet angst came a sharp whip and snap. Jamie jumped. Through the door followed a low, pained yelp, too afraid to reach higher.  The whipping sound came five times more until low sobs emanated from within. Jamie stared at the deep brown mahogany door and observed the polished brass handle slope down as a tearful student emerged, rubbing his behind. The young lad avoided eye contact as he hurried past his classmate.

The panelled door was held ajar by the greying, bespectacled headmaster, his bushy eyebrows covering the top part of his glasses frame.

“Come in young man, I haven’t got all day.”

“Yes sir, sorry sir.”

Jamie entered and shrunk back a little at the gloom. The heavy, green velour curtains held with gold braided tiebacks framed the only portal of light in the room. More dark mahogany lined the walls, home to numerous large portraits of well respected predecessors. He wanted to run, to leave this evil boarding school his parents had dumped him in.

“Sit boy...Jamie is it?”

“Yes,” he whispered as he sat.

“Speak up boy! I can barely hear you.”

“Yes sir!”

“From what I see Jamie, you've had numerous...shall we say run-ins... with your teachers and been sent to the deputy three times for disciplinary measures.

“Yes sir.” Jamie glanced out through the open French windows as a starling landed on the railing of the balcony. The sound of the headmasters voice droned on somewhere in his mind. The bird fluttered off, farther and farther until it settled in the trees at the edge of the playing field. He wished he could fly, far away.

“Are you listening to me boy!”

The jolt from his daydream set his heart thumping as he stared wide eyed at the monster in front of him. He knew what was coming and could do nothing to prevent it.

“We have a reputation to uphold here at Willoughby Heights and the likes of you cannot be allowed to run amuck and tarnish our good name. Do you know why you are here?”

Jamie hesitated as he glanced down at his shoes, “Yes, yes sir. I said a rude word.”

The Head leaned forward and slapped an open hand on the desk, “Not only did you say a rude word but you made a mockery of the Queen’s English!” he stood, walked to the French window and sucked in a deep lungful.

“Defenestration Jamie, the word you so casually defiled, do you know what it means?”

“No Sir,” he said, and threw an anxious look at the cane, propped up against the desk. The Head still stood at the window looking out, his gown tails flapping like Superman’s cape.

“It means- to throw something or someone out of a window.”

Something inside of Jamie’s mind snapped like the cane striking bare flesh. Could the headmaster fly like Superman? In a blink he was possessed by a deep uncontrollable urge. He ran forward and threw himself at the monster. The cry for help was brief as the headmaster plunged from the first floor to the gravelled courtyard below.

“Defenestration sir...I like that word.”

“The River” By Harry Alexiou-

Looking at the reflection in the water of the man standing behind her, she rippled the water with a deft touch. He disappeared, as he had done on the previous nineteen occasions.

“What do want from me?” No reply came.

Melissa was alone; her voice calm, but her inner-self trembled, aghast with fear. Delicate tears spilled onto perfect, velvety cheeks as she fought the demons refusing to let her be.

He’d deserved to die and she thought it was the end of him, wanted it to be. She could no longer bear the nightly arguments culminating in pitiful screams and heart wrenching sobs. Melissa dared not leave her room to check on her mother; what if he turned on her too. The battered and bruised face, come morning, told her all she needed to know about her father. Mother had said not to make a fuss, “It was just daddy’s way,” she’d said, through accepting tears.

Melissa would never forget the day he died, the day the house fell silent, a beautiful silence which he would never, ever, break.

“Let’s leave your mother to do the house chores, he demanded, “The river’s running real fast today, let’s go take a look.”

“But I have lots of homework daddy.”

“Goddamn it Melissa, you need fresh air, now come with me!”

“Okay daddy,” her stomach, knotted with fear as she pulled on her favourite pink jacket and matching Wellington-boots.

She followed him out the back door toward the river, his work-boots stomped the leaves underfoot as he hurried off, leaving her to follow the alcohol trail emanating from his every pore. The river had always been her quiet place, to escape from the shouts and cries, but today he’d wanted to go there. She hated how he treated mother and wanted, with all her heart that he leave them and go far, far away and never come back. Melissa knew this could never happen.

“Come on, stop dawdling kid!”

“I’m going as fast as I can daddy.”

He stopped and turned, glowering, “What did you say!”

Melissa froze, eyes wide and open mouthed, the words trapped. The rushing of the not too distant river, the only sound she could hear above the thumping of her heart.

“I’m sorry” she whispered.

“Lucky for you I'm in a good mood girl.” He turned and forged ahead. “Keep up!”

She trotted along trying to keep up with the long, purposeful, strides of her father. The fallen branch was well concealed but just proud enough to halt her progress and she fell to the ground gashing her knee. Melissa dared not scream out as she spat out dead leaves and earth, recovering to her feet, so he wouldn't notice. She looked at the sleeve of her favourite jacket, ripped in two places, and then the tears came, in quiet floods, her grazed knee forgotten. Heartbroken, she hurried to catch up but the moment of epiphany which overtook her shifted her focus to something altogether more pressing than her torn jacket. All at once she knew what to do as she glared at her father, who now stood at the water’s edge. He beckoned for her to hurry up then turned to face the river, fists on hips. She picked up the pace, her unblinking eyes bore into his back as she charged at him, a child possessed.

The impact had been harder than she'd expected; she bounced back to the ground and watched him struggle for balance, his arms flailing as he tipped awkwardly into the raging torrent. She stood, gasping for air, just in time to see his head strike a large boulder, his body no longer fighting for life as it hurtled down river smashing into another boulder. Transfixed, she watched him disappear and suppressed an unexpected urge to call for help. He was gone, forever gone.

Melissa shook herself from the flashback. She was sure he wasn't coming back but her deep seated fear remained as she stood and turned back toward the house. She'd be back again tomorrow, just to check one more time.

‘HOPE AND DESPAIR’ BY Harry Alexiou. (Winning entry for Aug 2012 ‘Writers’ group-LinkedIn) now part of the anthology of selected works available Jauary 2013...http://professorlimn.blogspot.com

It was nearing the end of the hottest summer since records began and Andreas searched for lizards by the dried out river bed. The Akamas National Park located on the north-western peninsula of Cyprus was his playground; it hadn't always been. One year ago the invading forces had overrun his home and all the others in the village. Hundreds of displaced villagers were now spread around the southern, unoccupied, part of the island, some with relatives and some in temporary housing. Mother had told him, every day since,that soon they would return. His papa was still missing, probably held prisoner they’d told him. He held the box close ensuring the lid was firmly closed; it was the only item he’d managed to grab when they’d fled the village. The oak box had been made by his father, a carpenter, and intricately decorated with lizard carvings. Why had his papa said that he would catch them up as they’d fled? He couldn't understand why he’d lied. His mother had regularly visited the now divided city of Nicosia to ask about his father but always came back with that look in her eyes, drained of hope and full of despair. It always took her a couple of days to recover and to lift her spirits again; she always told him that he was her reason for going on and that she would keep trying to bring papa home.

Andreas was deep into the wooded area when a huge gecko caught his eye stopping him dead in his tracks. The creature froze. Andreas held his breath, unblinking, in his standoff with the wary reptile. The lizard moved one eye then the other; its tongue came out and sensed its surroundings. All of a sudden the creature ran off at lightning speed. Andreas was confused, he’d been so still. Then he felt it. The earth shook beneath his feet causing him to lose balance. He fell heavily grazing his head but still managed to keep hold of his box.

The shaking continued and he screamed for his mother. He lay on the ground and covered his head; he wanted it to stop and started to cry, but the shaking persisted. A cracking of branches and clattering of stones caused him to look up at the hillside just in time to see the football sized rock hurtling toward him. He dropped his box and rolled over with inches to spare. 

The rumbling stopped suddenly and he lay face down in the dirt, afraid to move. He lifted his gashed hands and cautiously raised his head, now covered in a layer of fine dust. The first thing Andreas searched for was his box and he sat up scanning the immediate area. It was nowhere to be seen so he stood up, still expecting to be thrown violently to the ground again. With tears still streaming down his face he searched frantically until he spotted it, a short distance ahead of him. He ran to it forgetting the earthquake and collapsed to his knees, not because of the shaking ground beneath, but because of the crushed box in front of him. He stared at it for a good while, numb to his core. Andreas picked up the pieces, and put them in a small pile, his eyes still moist; he started to dig a hole with a large flat stone which had tumbled down the hillside. The gathered pieces of the smashed box were placed into the hole and Andreas slowly covered them over. Still kneeling, he closed his eyes and recited a prayer in a low whisper. He opened his eyes and looked to the sky…‘Farewell Papa’.