The suicide

David G O'Sullivan

The phone rang on Tom’s desk. He sat there in front of his computer and let it go on for a long time. The sound cut into him, the persistent tune repeating and repeating.

“Hello?” he said picking it up.

“Tom? This is Mike. Can you head out to 12 Kitchener Road, we have had a report of a man hanged from a tree up on the hill.”
“A suicide?”
“Yes it looks that way. He’s a young man by the name of Simon McDouglas. Local school teacher, twenty-eight years old.”

“Shit, Okay.”

Tom took the car out, making sure his camera was in the locked box in the trunk. He drove out slowly, not wanting to go to the job. Kitchener Road is a steep road that winds up into the hills. Tom had been there six months ago, another suicide, a fifteen year old boy hanged himself from…

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The old street

David G O'Sullivan

In the evening when the sun is low and casting the pink of days end into the sky

when the lights first come on in the street

and the lights seem bright and warm with welcome

You think how pretty everything looks bathed in the light

what a change it is after a bright day.

You walk quickly down to buy a drink

before the stores close

and you see the day go and the dark settle in comfortably.

Where are the people you thought would always be your friends?

They are a long way away, working, settling down with their families

you are still in the old neighborhood

but you know everything and where it all goes

you were happy for the first years, slowly it’s changed

now, it feels a little small, sometimes as you fall asleep

you fell the depression of everything being the same and unchanging.

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The protests kill Simon

David G O'Sullivan

The protesters moved down the street, pinned on each side by police and police barricades. Simon stood by the Capitol waiting for them to pass but they stopped and began to chant and crowd about the building. This is where they were going to stop and Simon cursed them. All he wanted was to move from the building to the offices across the road so he could finish his work and go home.

Simon put his hand in his pocket and made sure he had his keys. They weren’t there. He could not remember where he put them.

“You…” a policeman said coming up the stairs toward him. “Do you work in there?”

“Yes,” Simon answered without thinking.

“You had better get back inside, these protests are becoming ugly. They’re looking to attack people like you.”
“Like me?”
“People who work in this building.”
‘I have to get across the street”

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David G O'Sullivan

The library was dark, the only windows were small and outside the sun had fallen behind some heavy clouds. Martin crossed the thick red carpet looking at the shelves full of books, the colors of the spines, the sharp clear titles, the dazzling thoughts of so many stories awaiting his discovery. Three people apart from him stood about reading and moving books about. No one stood at the sales desk.

Martin stopped before a large bookcase of self help books. He looked at the meditation section and ran his finger over the books, feeling the difference between hardcover, softcover, ridged spine and curved. There was a ladder near him and he looked to the high shelves well out of reach. There were more books high up and they looked like books on discovering sexuality and better ways to find intimacy. The sexier books were higher. Martin moved the ladder and propped it comfortably…

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Harper Lee’s Go Set a Watchman and Ghostbusters

David G O'Sullivan

A few years ago I named my pet goldfish Atticus. I grew up reading ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’ and I thought that my pet goldfish was like the fictional character, a strong individual who stood up for what he believed in. After hearing that Atticus is now a racist I had to flush that bastard.*

Atticus Finch is revisited in the new release from Harper Lee. In Go Set a watch, man, (I left the space on purpose because I like the title when said in a hippy voice, man) Atticus or so I’ve heard, becomes a raving lunatic who engages in racism, immoral acts and other lewd behavior of a 72 year old.

People say oh no! this will ruin my life, or they say great! it shows he is a human with flaws and decaying brain cells. But I say, gently, it is neither. It is fiction.


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Running fast asleep

David G O'Sullivan

The rain had soaked the field

the grass was green but deceptive

one foot on the earth out there

and you would sink in

three, four inches

into mud

and water that rushes forward to fill your short boot.

She winked at me on the door step

or I thought she did

it may have been the low sun that flashed through the window

my eyes fall down her body

right down to her legs, thin and shapely

I imagine her breasts

firm and pointed under her purple shirt.

There is nothing to do on the afternoon

after the interview, the conference and talking to the booksellers.

So I take a walk through the city

this isn’t the city

everyone talks about

it’s a city that is hardly ever mentioned

except when the football team does well

or there’s a riot.

I wander the back lanes that look like the lanes in…

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Snapshot of

David G O'Sullivan

He holds the letter she sent him

he folds it carefully and puts it back in the envelope

he puts it to his nose, but there is no scent

and shuts it into the drawer of his desk.

She stands on the boat

and looked out at the ocean

the waves leap like lazy fish

and she dreams of a country covered in green forests

They sit in their car and cry

their daughter died last night

today the clouds gather

and it rains

He stands in the busy city street

and looks at all the faces

he cannot stand to face the world today

but in bed his fears control his mind.

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