Readers of this blog (and stories and novels) know that I’m fascinated by Roman culture and mythology, and antiquity in general.
So naturally, when my publisher put out the call for short stories on the theme of the Merit of Care, I came up with a story that revolved around those themes. This one does not involve Felix, but I still think you’d enjoy it. I include below the opening scene.
Interestingly, I wasn’t the only one to involve old gods with care and compassion. Doug Lumsden (whose work I adore), has also written a story with the same conceit — but leading in a completely different direction!
Anyway, below is the opening scene from my story, to pique your curiosity and fire your imagination.
Dawn came late at winter. The old man pushed his wheeled walker into the hall, turned the lights on, and began laboriously shuffling across the floor towards the other end, nudging the walker an inch after straggling inch.
“And here we have the main entertainment area,” a prim woman in her late fifties said as she entered some time later. “It’s where we hold bingo, sing-alongs, and families can visit their relatives. Well, those who have visitors; it’s a rare occurrence these days. But this is the main day-area for those not bedridden, and where we try to herd them all the better to keep an eye on them.”
The younger woman following her looked around the hall, trying to absorb everything with her large, dark-brown eyes. Her black frizzy hair was tied in a queue, and the nametag on her crisp new nurse’s uniform read ‘Cassandra Miller,’ though she preferred everyone call her Cassie.
“And that, in a nutshell, is Mountain View Home for the Elderly. Any questions?”
“No, Ms. Mead. Will you introduce me to the residents?”
“Pfft. It’s not like they’ll remember you as soon as you walk out of the room. ISN’T IT RIGHT, MR. APOLLINARIS?” The older woman turned to the elderly man inching his walker across the hall.
Apollinaris didn’t even turn his head, just stared ahead at the door at the other end. Wisps of white hair floated around his bald pate as he clenched his toothless gums in determination to continue step by stumbling step.
“See?” said Mead. “Mr. Apollinaris has this routine, where he turns the lights on in the morning, shuffles across the hall, and turns it off from the other end in the evening. Drives me batty, but at least he gets some exercise. Well, as much exercise as he can handle; he has to stop and sit on his walker to rest more often than not. They’re all like that, minds lost to time. If you let them, they’ll talk your ear off. Sometimes they can get quite difficult. We suffer the harmless quirks, but you’ll do well to smile, wave, and ignore any of their outlandish requests.”
“Don’t worry, Ms. Mead.” Cassandra ran her hands down her shirt to smooth her outfit. “I’ve had frisky gentlemen before and can handle them all quite gently but firmly.”
“Oh, it’s nothing like that. They’re mostly senile and have no clue what they’re talking about, and you can never be sure what’s going to come out of their mouths next. It’s their dementia speaking, and best to simply pay them no mind. Even the ones still ambulant, don’t let them fool you. The other residents, those who won’t leave their beds, are at least easier to manage. Anyway, stick to the schedule and get along with your tasks, and you’ll do just fine. Now come along and I’ll show you where the pool is. Some of our residents, Naphtali in particular, are enjoying aqua-aerobics classes.”
Cassie cast a last look around the hall. Apollinaris put the brakes on his walker’s wheels and sat down, wheezing but still staring ahead at the other side. A couple sat by a window, she knitting a small vest and he painting storm clouds in watercolours. Two men sat at a table playing checkers. A lone man tinkered with an old radio, its parts arranged on the table in front of him and a walking cane leaning against his chair. And a woman with vacant eyes slowly ate porridge, droplets of which dribbled on her chin.
“Ms. Miller!” came a cry from the corridor. Cassie hurried out to follow Mead.
Intrigued? You can find out what happens next — as well Douglas Lumsden’s different interpretation of old gods, plus anything from artificial intelligence to interstellar travel — in In Takes A Village: An Optimistic Anthology Speculating About The Meaning Of Care, now available on Amazon (kindle and paperback), Barnes & Noble, Kobo, or the retailer of your choice in both eBook and paperback.
FELIX THE FOX MYSTERIES 