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Fae Critical State

Fae Critical State

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Fae Critical State

Lunghezza:
274 pagine
3 ore
Pubblicato:
Nov 7, 2020
ISBN:
9780473552107
Formato:
Libro

Descrizione

Kerry O'Brien wrote, Expression. My Cancer: A Gut Feeling published by Five House Publishing in 2019. Kerry's bowel cancer memoir has had over 600 downloads to date. In contrast, this story is fae fiction, written in the time of world natural disaster events, health, economic and social crisis 2020. Terminally ill Kerry explores interaction between nature and human nature: good and bad, right and wrong, past and present, reputation and character, life and death.

Pubblicato:
Nov 7, 2020
ISBN:
9780473552107
Formato:
Libro

Informazioni sull'autore

Kerry O' Brien lives with her partner, travelling in a house bus, in New Zealand. She has two adult daughters. A graduate from Massey University she spent many years working in the agricultural and horticultural industry. She has previously self-published a novel under a pseudonym and had a short story published in an anthology.

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Fae Critical State - Kerry O'Brien

Publisher

Fae Critical state

Kerry O’Brien

Copyright

Copyright © 2020 by Kerry O’Brien & Five House Publishing.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the author and the publisher.

Except, for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Published in New Zealand.

First Publication, 2020

ISBN Epub: 978-0-473-55210-7

ISBN PDF: 978-0-473-55212-1

ISBN Mobi (Kindle): 978-0-473-55211-4

Five House Publishing

New Zealand

https://fivehousepublishing.com/

To Ro, with love.

Rarotonga 1964.

SATURDAY

Pathological pursuit

I leave biting. Aotearoa. Winter coldness. Seeking July. Warmth. Bring it on. Blissful. Tropical. Ten days away. From Antarctica. Chill. Being pragmatic. Pleasure seeker. I have shouted myself. Single carefree. Life-break. In the heavenly. Cook’s. Our currency. Same.

I fly over. Pacific Ocean. Air New Zealand. Economy class. Ticket. Costing high-season. Fortune. For me. Over-priced air travel. At this time of year. Is pure. Exploitation. Riding winter blues. Christmas time. I can understand. All that celebrating. Is worth skimming. Scamming.

I ask myself. What is driving? This foolish travel idea. Island romance. Fanciful whim. The need. To get rapidly. Laid. Whatever. I am on. Love luck. Mission.

I booked holiday. Anticipating. Body blaze action. Wanting to exhibit. Extreme exuberance. Irrational behaviour. Disrupting my present. Sorry life. Going skyward. Just to play. Panky. My unsettled state. Not typical. Questioning. Justifying. Why I should be. Contemplating. Such an expensive. High risk. Social activity. Far from home. Privileged. I am not destitute.

How? Self-made. Modest fortune. Solid state. Ground money. Rock minerals. Metals. Gem stones. I am my own. Executive. I manage myself. Always have. Socially. Economically. It makes sense. Even for someone asset. Loaded like me. To travel third class. In the back. Tail end. Business class has advantages. But this is not. Business trip. My smart earned money. Is not going to pay. The wage of some. High flyer. CEO. Or contribute. To generous company dividends. Personally. I don’t have volatile liquid. Gas. Fossil fuel shares. Anything to do with. Inflammables. Tourism. Adrenalin. Based industry. Can go. Kapok. Any minute. Wily. Anything mechanical. To do with air. Water. Fire. I know to financially. Avoid. Unstable earth elements. Avoid anything that grows. Particularly pine. Care free. Nature spirits. Always have the last. Laugh.

This week. I am leisure-roving. Package deal. Passenger. Without inflight meal. Option. I don’t waste. Money. On invisible things. Comfort. Or nonessential. Filler food.

My existence. Up in airspace. Mercifully. Linked. Aero dynamically. Not that I am. Scientifically. Physics know-all. But I know a thing. Or three. In plainer English. Uplift.

I prefer. Simple words. Not complex words. Saying the same thing. I’m not fussed. Grammatically. Spelling. Sentence length. I like getting across. Bullet points. Precise meaning.  

This is nothing. New. Apparently. I have always been. This way. Short. Curt. Blunt. Anti-lyrical. It suits me well. Let’s me get on. With what is. Important. Not that I am. Thick. Or lazy. Or purist. Average. Hypocritically. Long economic words. To me are purple prose. Ornate. Ultimate quintillion. Lingo about profit. Especially acquisition. Appeal. I like their wealth. Positivity. Ricocheting effect. On my well-being. Libido. I am attracted. To well-paid. Mathematicians. Having money. Multiple orgasm. Equates. Satisfaction. Quadrillion would be ideal. Not like. Crushes.

So who secretly am I?

Morgan L. Fae. Hybrid. Descendent. Irish faerydom. Cork. Hollow hills. Ex-Pagan.

Building biography. Ditching old English. For new. Un-waste wordy. Text talker. Filler words such as ‘and’. Small fry words. For example. ‘A’. Usually unnecessary. Lots of words. Demanding. Linking. Abrasive words. Wasting breath. Energy. Apart from ‘or’. I’m usually. Thinker. Not an epic talker. Unless riled. Okay. So not that good. At listening. Sometimes. I try to act. Interested in. Mundane things. Weather updates. Proud parenting. Anecdotes. Menu planning. Not anti-social. Just socially distant. Probably unlikeable.

Contrarily. For many years. Singular. Number language. Has fascinated me. Not restricted alphabet. Banged up. Long winded. Sentences. With mixed speech sounds. Pouty vowels. Spelling snobs. I prefer numerical. Equations. Answerable. Mathematically. Net worth. Mantra. Value for money. Favourite saying.

Facts.

No ifs. Buts. Maybes. Unless it is estimate models. For monetary forecast. Or unofficial. Pandemic death rates. From nasty. Virus. Bacteria. Fungi.  

Yes. I am. Bit phobic. Death fear. Burning. In fever. Hell fire. Or drowning. In killer microbial pool. Or struck down. Bankrupted. Broken hearted.

Dire thoughts. Prevail. Overweight plane. Stalls. Plummeting. Due to gravity. With no engine. Power. Gliding ability. Kills. My already shaky. Equilibrium. Lack of personal control. Upholding suspension. Disconcerting. I want to grab. Throttle. Take charge. Override autopilot. Check. Aviation fuel gauge. Normally I am. Boss. It is hard. Difficult handing over. My life care. To people. In power uniforms. Negative spiral.

To counter potential. Morbidity. Overlaid. With misconceived. Hunger. I tipple. My full plastic wine glass. With practiced lip. Tongue sensitivity. I let fruity bitter. Taste buds. Shock. Zealot. If I am patient. We will become in tune. Alcohol and I. Coupled. Perpetual motion. Where I am. In regard to height above. Sea level. Will become. Irrelevant.

I am seated. Next to the window. I wipe down. Touchable areas. Disinfectant wipe.

‘Seriously.’

The young. Banal woman. Next to me. Face scorns. I’ve met her sort. Before. Opinionated. She knows nothing about. Mathematical. Models. Predictions. Fatal bugs. Copulating.

‘Airline seats. Harbour infectious disease. Ask Naomi.’

I place. Riddled cloth. Into the empty. Sick bag. Zoonotic. Scourges. Hunting humans. Purge. I have no intention. Reading inflight advertisements. Promo. File pouch. Contaminant.

I check. Blind. Works. It does. Adjusting. Overhead. Cold blasted air. Shooting. Sideways. Face whacked. Not surprisingly. I don’t small talk. With my unfriendly. Flighty neighbour. She looks away. When our eyes meet. My glazed eyes. Glare. Perceived. Crazy eyes. Presumably.  Because there are yellow flecks. Around iris. Golden hazel. Reality. I genetically inherited. Tinge. From my immoral. Immortal father. His Satanist eyes. Were described. By my maternal grandmother. As shifty.

My voice-free phase. Began. Few hours ago. No well-mannered. Thanks. To the airport. Uber driver. When I handed. Over exorbitant. Fuel taxed fare ride. Traffic jam. On Auckland congested. Motorway. My mother would be. Horrified. She tried hard. Installing. Respectability. Good manners. They count for nothing. To me. It doesn’t always pay. Politeness. In my experience. Happy-go-unlucky.

My demeanour. Sour. Before I boarded. This capsule. In the international terminal. Sober lip-glossed. Red lips. Unsmiling. At anyone. Let alone uttering. Appreciation. To grog. Duty free retailer. Chilly. Enticing shop window. Reflection. Showed sad. Dejected. Aging woman. Me. Morgan.

In this high air speed. Moment. Sulking. I can’t help noticing. Greedy. Passenger syndrome. Repugnant. I feel disgusted. That everyone around me. In this congested. Cabin. Look like they are enjoying. Meaty meals. Cooked. Smell of death. This sets off. Travel sick. Nausea. Dead flesh. Not an empty stomach. Being slushed. With vineyard. Acidity.

I hope I don’t need. To reopen. Contaminated bag. Spew forth.

Leaning forward. I peek. Leftward. Furtively. Not that they notice. Engrossed. In the back-of-seat movie. Dribble. Morons.

I analyse. Passenger plastic fork. Knife technique. For something geometrically. To do. Angle puzzler. Some people. Don’t seem to mind. Eating off blades. Chopped up calories. Forkless. Surely. They would be happier. Having cash flow. Not squandered earnings.  Unnecessary. Fibre. Certainly not. Full stomach. Fermenting. Airline factory food. Likely to be expelled. Air pockets. Or tongue slashed. Gluttony. Maybe these homely. Looking people. Who I have never. Seen before. Are just eating. For the sake of it. A bad habit.

For goodness sake. Flight time. Three hours. Why on earth did I choose? This seat number location. I am hemmed in. Between. Clueless seat mates. Watching. Jaws move. As I scull. Pick-me-up drink. It’s funny. How some folk. Gnash food. Calculated manner. Before swallowing. I count twenty. To forty rhythmic chewing motions. Mastication. In other word. For those people who like. Impressing others. With their show-off. Vocabulary.

Snap out of it. Morgan. These people are not. Your concern.

Perhaps exercise will. Divert. Express train. Miserable thoughts. If I could be bothered. I would partake. Aisle gymnastics. To reduce thrombosis. Clots. I would have to push. Past legs. Hand baggage. Be mannered.

‘Excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me.’

But no. Even temptation. Finding. Fellow. Fae on board. Who could work out with me. Impossible task. I only do sharp. Efficient routines. Mathematical exertion. Energy patterns. Based on those around me. I would have to abort. Mission. These travellers. Disordered people. The sort who would get. Side tracked. By crying child. Stopping to offer. Unwelcome advice. Cringing parents. Personally. I am only interested. Straight up. Down used-cutlery people types. Easier to guide.

Okay. So I am feeling a bit. Uptight. I probably look tight. Pale. Jittery. Cruising engine noise. Happy sounding people. Grating. Psyche. To reduce risk. Disgraceful. Impending panic attack. A mind altering picture. Anything graph-like. Will do. My aim. Dilution. Presently unpleasant. Predicament. Distraction. Is the mindful key. I block my ears. With both hands. Try to concentrate. Sea bird migration patterns. Fail.

It’s best I take another. Swig. Calm remedy. Sideways. Glance.

My seat-mate looks. Like classical musician. Or literary scholar. It’s the way. She holds her head. Stiffly. As though violin. Restrained. By the neck. Or she has read. Doubled over too many. Hardbacks. Foreign.

Oh. Give me break. So what that she has better. Posture. Than me. I am older. I have carried. More burdens. I am not lame. She appears. To be poor. She has that hungry look. About her. Not much chewing. A lot of swallowing. She would have been better off. Buying few cheap. Snacks.

Not really meaning. To be judgey. I am. Loaded. Because I didn’t. Waste time. Taking violin lessons. Or buying books. Freely available. From libraries. I remind myself. I only listen to buskers. Never pay. Superstar tickets. Have only ever bought. Used paperbacks. About bear markets. Quite thrifty. Really.

I shut. Scratchy eyes.

Here I am. Ungrounded. When I think about it. I don’t think this has ever. Been a problem. Before. Not properly knowing. Myself. Playing theatrical parts. When required. Trapeze.

Perhaps I am. Unique. Rather than. Unusual. I don’t know anyone else. Apart from myself. Who googles. Scientific stuff. As hobby. Survival tactics. It pays. To be knowledgeable. Experimental. About variety. Potential harmful things. Big things. Invisible little things. Males. Currency.

I don’t watch. Scripted. Game shows. Learning trivia. Living is no game. To be taken lightly. Over the years. I have honed. Senses about how to. Decipher. Living well. Intuition. I abide by the golden rule. Pi. I am not talking. About pasties.

Once as kid. I was given. An illustrated encyclopaedia. My mother was fed up with. All my questions. About iron pigments. Red rocks. I didn’t want to know. Anything. About pony club horses. Constrained. Hard bits. Or toile tutus. I have always been. Curious. About what makes things. Tick. Even way back then. Making sense. Out of nonsense. Has always been. Important.

My rested eyes. Reopen. I must remain. Spatially aware. In case. Attacking. Air raids. Playing chicken. Dodging cannons.

Protecting. Gifted core. Multi-grained personality. Complex. Layered in self-absorption. Rational. Most people I know don’t have to think. For themselves. They are fed. Edited stories. That they fall for. I prefer. Logical reality.

Multi-Morgan. Not surprisingly. I give most printed media. Purposeful miss. Photo shoot. Fluffing. Speculation. Celebrity nonsense. All those decimated trees. All those soiled. Flick through. Germy fingers. Pages at the magazine rack. Ugh.

Sip. Flight mode. Breaching. Human rights. I recheck deep pocket. Phone. It’s still there. Still blank.

I prefer instant. Online timelines. I always move. Forward. Exit. Option at hand. I discard. Crud. There are only. Few reputable. Subscription. Journalist outfits. I regularly wipe. My tablet clean. Enemies. Hang around.

I book mark. Science favourites. To watch later.

Science balances. Fluid fantastical genotype. Solid. Chemistry. Biology appeals to my unorthodoxy. Basics. Bases. Substances. All organisms stimulate me. Bonding. Only multiple peer reviewed papers. With graphs-charts-limited science spoke. Will do. Ones that define in summary. Not being dumb. I understand. Research. Can be flawed. Even fraudulent. Modern medicine too can sometimes. Be overrated. Toxic.

Critical thinking. Is important. To me.

Yes. I also have an interest. Social science. People folly. Human Race. Psychiatric case studies. Court records. It pays to be wised up. About humans. Their idiosyncrasies. There are lots. Funny people about. These people on plane. Have particular. Distrustful look about them. Dirty halos. Blue recessive eyes. Personality disorders. Cultural conundrum is widely reported. Condemned. Mutilation. Disconnection.

No. I am not registered. Pet owner. I don’t buy. Companionship. Nor do I visit expensive. Council owned zoos. Safari parks invaded. Children with childish parents.

How maddening this is. Talking to myself. Within myself. Even for quiet fae. My fata voice tone. Flat. Even inside my head. The Others are on mute. My unworldly voices. Them. Must be affected by altitude. Radar. Usually electrical charges. Promote internal chatter. Fridges. Fluorescent lights. Wi-Fi. Current lines. Positive. Negative. They all speak to me.

Right now. I don’t feel. Entertained at all. By anybody. Actually bored stiff. Hollywood safety reel. Not even remotely. Entertaining. For disguised doom. I am not easily. Amused. Come to think of it. Usually. I am more. Seriously inclined. Frivolity is acting. Immature. I grew up young.

To be frank. I am just thirsty. Don’t worry. I am keeping. An eye. Exit door. In case some nutter tries. Air jumping. Undiagnosed. Odd chaotic behaviour.

When she wasn’t looking. I borrowed my neighbours. Filthy knife. Half covered. In mashed potato. Meaty gravy. That will do. As defensive weapon. If I get myself into. Code red panic situation. My former therapist. Said. Always have back- up. Anti-anxiety plan.

‘Excuse me. Could I have. Heated towels. Refreshment top up. Please.’

My manicured. Index finger. Points. To the mobile. Drinks cabinet. He looks perplexed. Do I have to explain? To the attendant. That even though I have not. Eaten. I do need to wash.  Hands. Microbes are everywhere. Crowds of them. Sanitary flouters. There is no complimentary. Alcohol based. Hand sanitizer.

Actually this food. Avoidance thing. Currently. Affecting me. Has nothing to do. With this damn aircraft. While some folk. Gorge themselves. With carbohydrates. Or sugar to subdue sadness. Or fear. I adopt. Fasting approach. Moods. Should not be fed. Only drowned. Water is probably recommended. But I read somewhere. That plane water. Quality. Is dubious. Indeed. I am sometimes. A liar. The plane itself. Is not helping. My current level of digestive agitation. I shut my eyes again. So I don’t look. At the exit door. Damn. Air strikes.

‘Why did you steal my knife?’

She. Temporary neighbour. Talks oddly. Her mouth full. Well-cooked lamb chop. There are muscle pieces. Stuck between. Perfectly. Positioned teeth. Braced.

Her faltering splatter. English. Jolts me back. Present tense. I study. Accuser. I look at the disposable knife. Jutting. Out my ‘in front of the knees’ holder. Out of place.

‘That knife. That is not really. Knife. Is not my knife. If I had kleptomania. It would be hidden. Like a secret. But here it is. In open view. In safe keeping. How can it be stolen? This common property utensil. Is useless to you. Anyway. It is not well. Serrated. You are holding that chop. With your unclean hands. Whereas for me it may be. Beneficial. In an emergency for stabbing. Someone. The likelihood. Of deranged terrorist. Low. But not unheard of. These days hijacker. Unlikely. The cleaners will discard. Their useless. Cutting knife. After we have landed.’

Some people like to make. Trouble. She doesn’t understand. Kiwi accent. She doesn’t respond. People. Prone to outburst.

Her hostility. Ignored. I have better things. Than maintaining. International relations. To consider. Pressing problems. Computer flight malfunction. Current. Major worry. Rarotonga. Is not very big. Island. I studied. Runway configuration. Before take-off. Hoping. Captain. Has knack. Landing gently. They usually have.

Also troubling me. Lacking general appetite. I pride myself. Being curvy. Eating lately has become. Disordered. I haven’t felt like. Eating much. For days. Exception being. Basic poached eggs. Not even an egg. On buttered toast. Just an egg upside. In pan. Filled with boiling water. Not free range. Caged. Less expensive. Also quality stamped. Apart from yolk colour. I can’t tell. Obvious difference. I prefer big browns. To puny white shells. I have had one bad experience. With rotten egg. Only once. Bad eggs float. There was no egg. Offered on the plain plane menu. Not even scrambled. Or fried. This is not a good omen. For my intended romantic week. I fear. Limited choice.

While I sit here. Bristling. I must be shrinking. Enzymes. Metabolically sucking. Stomach fat. As I worry about. Everything. Usually. Lipid dissolving thoughts. Please me. I prefer my bust. Bigger. Than my waist. I am not dieting. I don’t binge. Only eat supermarket meals. On special. Occasionally. Speaking. Trending fads. I am not. Vegetarian. But am picky about what veg. I buy. Ones that give me wind. Are given wide berths. Like broccoli. Unfortunately. That is all they serve. Undercooked. On planes. It does appear. That I have lost. My appetite. Myself. Screwed.

Hung heads. Are so hideous. I blush. Slightly. Embarrassed. This is uncharacteristic. Me feeling a bit down. Sorry-self. Now dominates. Dig deep.

Messed up foodie attitudes. Whisked with low self-esteem. Is threatening to gag. Self-confidence. I am struggling. To cope. With my slight. Imperfections. If I can hold myself together. For the next few days. I know I will come. Right. My ‘out there’ persona will be. Restored. I need to feel. Alive again. I need to feel. Whole. Never wholesome. Half-caste faeries. Are no angels. Buck-up self.

In this particular. Minute. Up in the clouds. In another dimension. I am bit worried. I will self-destruct. My self-portrait. Human sob-bomb. Is disturbing. Lock the hatch.

Damn it. This must be caused. By chemical deficiency. Saturated naughtiness.

Nothing. Is making sense. In better circumstances. I am on to it. Onto everything. Day to day existence. Has become. Tiresome. I cannot concentrate on. Anything. I cannot think of constructive things. Such as balance sheets. Or

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