Short Stories

Breathing Machine: a memoir stopped here (Carol Major)

 

In December 1999 the earth spun toward a great shadow marking the end of a millennium and those who relied on mechanical timekeeping began to stack tinned goods into cupboards, terrified the world as we knew it might end. But I have never been concerned about storing food. Instead I helped my disabled daughter move into her own flat. I painted the floor with Grip Guard, organised a handyman to attach a steel bar to the door. My daughter would be able to hit the bar with her electric wheelchair and get in all by herself. A wet Christmas followed, a wet Boxing Day and then we watched the old millennium clap shut on TV. The world didn’t end as the clock struck twelve. Chaos waited, moved at its own speed.

 

Mentaloon

I am here in Malaysia with Hugh. I know we will fight. This is because he is the son of the last British Advisor in the State of Kedah and I am the daughter of a Glaswegian house painter, that upstairs downstairs thing. My mother was in service, the small humiliations of using the back door and wearing a silly white cap. And don’t get me started on colonialism, although Hugh says I’m mistaken. It wasn’t like that at all…..

Mrs Linden’s Puppy

In Sydney’s inner west, nine-year old Crisanto is following Mrs Linden and Earl. He has been watching them for the last three days, ever since Earl turned up in his class and Mrs Linden turned up at the school gate. Mothers don’t collect Year Five boys but Crisanto thinks it might be okay because Earl wears hearing aids and because his new Australian father told him that Mrs Linden wasn’t Earl’s mother any more. She was just trying to squeeze money out of the government and her ex-husband to set herself up in a house. She’d taken Earl out of a home for simpletons where his father had put him. It’s where Earl really belonged…….