Rainbow snippet - Pack up your troubles
Jul. 1st, 2018 07:43 pmHere's an excerpt from the second story, Hallowed Ground, in the Pack Up your Troubles anthology.
The shells kept falling, on and off. Now closer, now further away. And while I managed to grab a bit of sleep in between them – I’ve always had the ability to drop off at will – the padre was as stiff as a board. In my profession, you get to see plenty of men at the extremity of their life, men who want to find some solace before they go to their long home. It’s not quite the absolution of the confessional, divesting themselves of a secret they’ve carried a long while. You get to recognise the look they wear. The padre must have known that look, too, from his profession. I wondered if he also knew he had it plastered all over his face then, and whether he was hoping I’d take the hint.
“If you can’t sleep, at least try to relax,” I whispered. “It’ll be a long time till dawn and it’ll go no faster if we worry ourselves through it. Have faith.” I hoped he could see my grin, especially if he thought his number had come up. What was it he wanted to get off his chest?
“I have faith. I didn’t realise how easily frayed it could get under such circumstances.” He sounded as if he was trying to be chipper, hiding a deep fear. I’d heard that tone of voice in others, too.
“Nip of whisky help?”
“No. Keep it for when we really are in extremis.” He managed a laugh with that. “I suppose you’re used to this sort of situation?”
“Not exactly. I normally spend the night under some sort of cover.” I had passed long hours similarly, but I didn’t want to admit the fact. He’d have asked questions and it didn’t make for an edifying tale.
He was quiet for a while, and I almost dozed again, but a still, small, unsteady voice, which I bet he never used from the pulpit or lectern, said, “Have you ever had the feeling these will be your last hours?”
“No. Never.” It was an honest answer. I’d heard of men being sure they were “for it” and that prophesy coming true the next day, but my belief was that the feeling contributed to the outcome. Maybe if they’d convinced themselves that the end was nigh, they were more reckless in action or something like that. Psychology had never been my strongest suit.
More excerpts linked at Rainbow snippets.
The shells kept falling, on and off. Now closer, now further away. And while I managed to grab a bit of sleep in between them – I’ve always had the ability to drop off at will – the padre was as stiff as a board. In my profession, you get to see plenty of men at the extremity of their life, men who want to find some solace before they go to their long home. It’s not quite the absolution of the confessional, divesting themselves of a secret they’ve carried a long while. You get to recognise the look they wear. The padre must have known that look, too, from his profession. I wondered if he also knew he had it plastered all over his face then, and whether he was hoping I’d take the hint.
“If you can’t sleep, at least try to relax,” I whispered. “It’ll be a long time till dawn and it’ll go no faster if we worry ourselves through it. Have faith.” I hoped he could see my grin, especially if he thought his number had come up. What was it he wanted to get off his chest?
“I have faith. I didn’t realise how easily frayed it could get under such circumstances.” He sounded as if he was trying to be chipper, hiding a deep fear. I’d heard that tone of voice in others, too.
“Nip of whisky help?”
“No. Keep it for when we really are in extremis.” He managed a laugh with that. “I suppose you’re used to this sort of situation?”
“Not exactly. I normally spend the night under some sort of cover.” I had passed long hours similarly, but I didn’t want to admit the fact. He’d have asked questions and it didn’t make for an edifying tale.
He was quiet for a while, and I almost dozed again, but a still, small, unsteady voice, which I bet he never used from the pulpit or lectern, said, “Have you ever had the feeling these will be your last hours?”
“No. Never.” It was an honest answer. I’d heard of men being sure they were “for it” and that prophesy coming true the next day, but my belief was that the feeling contributed to the outcome. Maybe if they’d convinced themselves that the end was nigh, they were more reckless in action or something like that. Psychology had never been my strongest suit.
More excerpts linked at Rainbow snippets.