FlashFlood: Flight Path by Mandy Huggins

FlashFlood: Flight Path by Mandy Huggins: Beyond the pier I watch two men as they repaint the end wall of the new apartment block a startling orange.      ‘It’s the geese,’  explai...

The Last of Michiko

 

 The Last of Michiko was Highly Commended in the 2015 Bare Fiction Prize

 

Every evening Hitoshi kneels on a blue cushion in the doorway that leads out to the garden. He leaves the shoji screens open regardless of the weather, and stays there until long after the sun has set. His heart knows that Michiko will never return, but his stubborn head finds reasons to postpone acceptance of the fact.

The wind chimes jingle softly through the house, as gentle as her voice, and in the sudden breeze they mimic her laugh. Hitoshi presses his face into a pink kimono, inhaling her faint scent. At his side stands a jar of her homemade adzuki bean paste, as sweet and red as her lips. He has rationed it carefully, but now this final jar is almost empty.

The day’s post is propped up against the screen, and Hitoshi reaches for the bills and a letter from his daughter. She writes each week and always asks him to go and stay. Sometimes he thinks he will, but the trip to Tokyo seems like such a long journey now, and the city blinds him. There are no distances; everything is too densely packed, too close to see. And what about Michiko? He couldn’t risk her returning in his absence.

His son lives nearer, but when Hitoshi sees the car pull up he stays out of sight and doesn’t answer the door. He is saving them from the words that neither can bear to say. His son was the last to see Michiko; he watched the dark water snatch her away as though she were a brittle twig. When Hitoshi imagines it he pictures her hair floating upwards like the darkest seaweed, her skin so pale it appears as blue as the sea.

And though he has tried not to, he blames his son for failing to save her.

Some evenings Hitoshi thinks he hears a faint knocking, but when he goes outside the narrow street is always empty. He peers into the darkness for a moment; remembering the clack of wooden geta on the cobbles, glimpsing the soft light of the lantern outside the noodle shop. He imagines the warmth inside; the kind face of Koko as she pours the sake, and his friend, Wada, sitting at the counter waiting to mull over the old days. But Hitoshi always goes back inside and sits alone again in the dark.

Tonight there is no knocking, but just after seven o’clock he hears the doorbell. When he opens the screen, his neighbour, the young widow Emiko, stands beneath the light cradling a jar in both hands.

‘I found this in the cupboard, Hitoshi-san, the last of Michiko’s bean paste.’

As he takes the jar, Hitoshi stumbles under the weight of its significance. He looks up at Emiko as she backs away, and when their eyes meet she pauses. He bows, and gestures her inside, apologising for his rudeness. She steps past him, her kimono sweeping the tatami like a new broom, and the wind chimes fall silent.

Mandy Huggins
The Last of Michiko was Highly Commended in the Bare Fiction Prize for Flash Fiction 2015, as chosen by Richard Skinner.

ANDY KERSHAW - CLECKHEATON LITERATURE FESTIVAL

We had a great night at the Town Hall on Sunday for the final event of Cleckheaton Literature Festival 2016.

A big thank you to my friend, Andy Kershaw, for agreeing to coming back for a second year running. 

The evening was hosted by Martin Webster, who posed a variety of questions to Andy that we came up with between us. I have to admit that my favourite questions was one of my own - which was 'If you couldn't be Andy Kershaw, who would you like to be?'

Andy's answer was exactly as I hoped - Bruce Springsteen of course! :-)

CLECKHEATON LITERATURE FESTIVAL - ALISON LOCK - AUTHOR TALK - MAYSUN AND THE WINGFISH

‘Following the destruction of her beloved valley, Maysun encounters the spirit of the GrandOmma and embarks on a journey to bring the Wingfish – and harmony – back to her homeland. She must face the dangers of the Ruba forest alone, haunted by the memory of her encounter with Barco, the unwitting bringer of danger…’

We welcomed back Alison Lock to Cleckheaton Literature Festival this afternoon for the launch of her fantasy novel, Maysun and the Wingfish.

This is Alison’s first novel; developed from her prize-winning short story, Swarm. She was struck by the beauty of one image she had created; that of the flying fish - the wingfish - and wanted to take the idea further.

Alison was joined by her publisher, Dr Teika Bellamy, from Mother’s Milk Books, who talked at length about how she had combined her scientific background and editing skills to ensure that the world Alison created in MATW was consistent, cohesive, and adhered to the laws of physics as we know them.

Teika had previously published a piece of Alison’s work about motherhood, so when she struggled to place MATW - despite encouraging feedback from editors - Alison decided to approach Teika.

Dr Bellamy was immediately struck by the empathy of the main character, and the themes of collaboration, caring for other creatures, and the benefits of working together as a society, which all combined to make MATW a good fit for Mother’s Milk Books.

She loved Alison’s poetical and lyrical writing, but felt that her world building needed expanding. They worked together for approximately eighteen months before the book was ready for publication, and in that time the world of MATW was repeatedly questioned and revised until everything fit together. The biology, physics, and evolutionary considerations all had to match reality whilst sustaining the dream throughout the novel.

Alison read some beautiful passages from the book, and we were all immediately immersed in the vivid world she had created. She talked about how she is an intuitive writer, rather than one who develops characters or detailed plots in advance, but acknowledged that writing MATW had made her realise how lucky she was to have an editor who had so much input from the early stages - unusual in today’s publishing climate.

You can buy Maysun and the Wingfish from Mother’s Milk Books:

www.mothersmilkbooks