Sunday, February 27, 2022

Is the Reverend Dead? Ch 3 (a mystery inspired by remote island life)by Leanne Dyck

chapter two: Mrs. Hazelton believes that Reverend Paulson is dead, but Ms. Matthews insists that he's just resting. Who's right?

                            photo by ldyck                            

Is The Reverend Dead?

Chapter Three


Poor Reverend Paulson’s demise weighs heavy on my shoulders.

The minute I walk into my house Mr. Wiggles runs over to greet me. “Meow.” Somehow he can always tell when I’m upset. He rubs up against my leg. I pour a little milk into his bowl, a rare treat.

His long, pink tongue laps it up. It’s somewhat comforting to see him so content, but the image of the Reverend lying lifeless on the floor comes back with full force.

I carry my heavy, old aching body down the hall into our bedroom. Arthur is still wrapped in the covers. When I enter the room, he rolls over and smiles. “How was church?”

I slip off my Sunday dress and hang it in the closet. “I think the Reverend is dead.”

Arthur starts to laugh. Then he reads my face. “What do you mean, you think?”

“I saw him fall. He was on the floor.” I sit on the bed to remove my nylons. “I felt for his pulse but it wasn’t there, but young Ms. Matthews said she found it.”

Arthur climbs out of the covers to sit beside me.

I stare at the closet but my mind is too full to focus on anything. “She used her thumb to take his pulse.”

“You can’t do that. There’s a pulse in your thumb.”

“I know. That’s what I told her, but she didn’t… No one heard me. They all just left. Do you think I should phone the police?”

“Of course, you should.”

We sit there together for a while, Arthur holding my hand.

“Well, enough of this,” I tell him. “I’ll prepare lunch and then make that phone call.” And that’s what I do.

A young, soothing, female voice answers. “Tiny Islands Police Department. What is the nature of your call?”

“I’d like to report a murder.”

“Animal or human?”

“Human.”

“Murdering or murdered?”

“Pardon me?”

“Has the killing already happened or is it currently taking place?”

“Already happened,” I tell her.

“Just a minute please.”

I’m sure the music is meant to comfort me, but it’s rock and roll—so it doesn’t.

I hear breathing on the opposite end of the line. She’s transferred me to a policeman. “Hello?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to report a murder.”

I know. You were just talking to me. Remember? Phone back this afternoon. Two constables will be on Plumper Island to investigate further at that time.”

Phone back? I’m reporting a murder and she wants me to phone back? Surely, I’ve misheard her. “Pardon me, I thought you just told me to—.”

“Phone back this afternoon.” She hangs up.


                                                                 photo by ldyck 

Chapter Four



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Wednesday, February 23, 2022

Is the Reverend Dead? (a mystery inspired by remote island life)Ch 2 by Leanne Dyck

chapter one:  Mrs. Hazelton is attending church--as she faithfully does every Sunday--when she witnesses Reverend Paulson fall from the pulpit. Is the Reverend dead? 

photo by ldyck

Is the Reverend Dead?

Chapter Two

Mr. Blue hoists himself up to stand. “What happened?”

Mrs. Blue pulls her husband down to sit beside her. “Did you fall asleep, again?” she scolds. Reverend Paulson just fell from the pulpit.” She grins, seemingly pleased that she’s up to speed.

Ms. Matthews charges up the aisle. “I’m sure he’s fine.” A mere sixty, she quickly claims the distance from her pew to the pulpit. “Please move aside, Mrs. Hazelton,” she directs me. “I was a nurse.”

She’s the head of the Woman’s Auxiliary and the altar guild and… It’s a long list. And now she thinks she’s next to God. She thinks she can make a dead man live.

“No, he’s not fine,” I argue.

“He’s fine.”

“Not fine.”

“Fine.”

“Not.”

“Is.”

She ignores me and knees beside the corpse. “Reverend Paulson? Are you okay? We’re all so worried about you.” She gently shakes him. “Yoo-hoo, Reverend?” Her voice becomes shrill. “Reverend Paulson, you’re scaring us. It’s time to wake up now.” She shakes him a little more vigorously. He doesn’t move or make a sound. That doesn’t surprise me. After all, he is dead. She cradles his right arm in her lap. The first three fingers of her right hand move from his wrist to his elbow. Not satisfied, she repeats the process, searching his left arm for a pulse. “Sometimes pulses can be rather weak,” she explains.

“Yes, especially when the person you’re examining is dead,” I tell her.

“Ah, there it is.” She puts her thumb on his neck.

“You can’t do that,” I tell her.

Faint but there.”

“Faint? He’s dead. You have a pulse in your thumb. You’re feeling your own pulse.”

“What’s that?”

“I said, you can’t—.”

She frowns at me and holds her index finger in front of her lips. She bends over and puts her ear to his lips. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

I feel as if I’m at a seance.

She leaves the Reverend and claims the pulpit. “Rumours of Reverend Paulson’s death have been highly exaggerated.”

“What do you mean exaggerated? He’s dead, I tell you. Dead.”

She cups her hand over the microphone, glares at me, and nods at the Blues. “Please, Mrs. Hazelton.”

“But he’s—.”

“Just resting,” she speaks, loudly, into the microphone.

Mr. Blue stirs in his pew. “No, I’m awake.”

As if signalling an airplane, I wave at Ms. Matthews, pick up Reverend Paulson’s arm and let it fall back onto the floor. “Resting?”

“Reverend Paulson is a sound sleeper."  She looks directly at the Blues, “He told me to you that he’s sorry but he had rather a late night preparing this Sunday’s sermon.” Her hand hovers over the Reverend’s glass but she doesn’t pick it up. “And he did a fine job, don’t you agree?”

“As always,” Mrs. Blue says.

“Yes, of course. As always.” Ms. Matthews agrees. “And so he was just too exhausted to go on. He told me that we should continue without him. So let’s proceed, shall we? This Sunday’s final hymn is...”

The organist starts to play. The Blues begin to sing. Young Ms. Matthews’ strong voice fills the church. “We are one in the spirit.”

Still singing, Ms. Matthews leaves the pulpit.

I rush over, as quickly as I can with my sore hip, to the microphone. “Please, everyone, you must listen to me.”

Now she’s at the wall that holds all the do-daddies for lights and sound and everything.

“The Reverend is—.”

She sweeps her hand over something, like a witch casting a spell, and turns off the sound system.

“Dead,” I say into a dead microphone. My pronouncement is drowned in music.

Ms. Matthews sways as she sings. She’s dancing in church. The hussy. The Blues follow her down the aisle and out of the church.

“Miriam,” I call to the organist. “Miriam, you have to help me.”

She closes the lid of the piano with a thud and leaves the church without even looking at me.

“Please, God. Please… I can’t...”

As if in answer to my prayers, the floorboards creak. Ms. Matthews has re-entered the church.

Of course, she has. She just didn’t want to work the Blues or Miriam into a lather. So she waited until they left and now we’ll solve this mystery together.

“I’m so glad you’re back.”

She heads straight to the pulpit and picks up the Reverend’s glass.

“What are you doing? You can’t take that.”

“I’m the president of the altar guild. I’m in charge of the Reverend’s glass.”

“But it’s evidence.”

“Evidence of what?”

“Reverend Paulson was poisoned. Smell it. It’s foul.”

She looks at me like I have two heads. “It may smell foul to you but it’s not poison. It’s whiskey.”

                                                                        photo ldyck


Chapter Three


Read this...

9 Ableist Tropes in Fiction I Could Do Without by Margaret Kingsbury

I highly recommend this article to everyone--writers and readers.



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Sunday, February 20, 2022

Is The Reverend Dead? (a mystery inspired by remote island life) Ch 1 by Leanne Dyck

 Is The Reverend Dead? is an unconventional mystery inspired by remote island life. I plan to share a chapter every Sunday and Wednesday until Sunday, April 17--Easter Sunday.


Photo by Jack Lewis

Banners by Jeanne Lewis

Cross by a Mayne Island glass artist

Is The Reverend Dead?

Chapter One

The church looks much the same every Sunday. Two milk-white candles in polished brass candle holders stand on either side of the communion table. It’s the first Sunday in Lent. A purple cloth covers the table.

Everyone likes Christmas, with its tinsel and carols and gift exchanges. But I’ve always preferred Lent. Christmas-Christians delight in filling their heads with sugar plum dreams of what they’re going to get, but my eyes are wide open carefully considering what I’m going to give up for 40 days.

What will it be this year? Eating chocolate? Playing cards? Listening to music? My mind drifts from one possibility to the other until Revered Paulson leaves the vestry, slamming the door behind him—signaling the organist to stop playing. Like a squirrel gathering nuts, he draws my attention. He paces back and forth in front of the communion table and I know he means business. The candle flames dance in the breeze and I pray there won’t be a fire. I visualize flames catching hold of his robe and snaking up until—. I shove that sinful thought out of my mind.

As I’m going deaf in my left ear, I’ve been forced to move from my usual pew by the door to a pew directly in front of the pulpit.

Reverend Paulson wraps his fingers around the lip of the pulpit, leans forward, and peers at us, his parishioners. From the look on his face, I know he isn’t pleased by what he sees. He is God’s Bloodhound, sniffing out sin. They try to hide in their Sunday best. It doesn’t matter. Reverend Paulson can’t be fooled. He’ll track down the sinful, drag them to the sacred fire, and purify them.

“Sinner.” Reverend Paulson points his index finger like a gun. Despite his advancing years, he’s still an imposing man. “Sinner!” He roars again. He hammers a fist onto the pulpit. Over the years his fist has beaten a groove into the oak pulpit’s smooth surface. “Why have you come to his sacred place?”

“For mercy,” the chant begins. “Save us.”

“God is eternally powerful. He uplifts the righteous and crushes the sinful under his heel.” Bang down goes his fist. “Why should He spare you?” Reverend Paulson sips from his glass. He carefully sets it back down beside his open weathered leather-bound Bible.

“Over and over again he calls to you. Time and again he offers you His sacred Word.” Bang.

“Have you accepted Jesus Christ as you Saviour? He is calling to you. Will you answer him? Sinner, will you repent?" Bang. "He is hanging, bleeding on the cross. Sinner, do you feel regret for what you have done?" He raises his arm, fist coiled, swings back but his voice falls to a whisper, “Sin—.” His fist misses its mark. He teeters back and disappears behind the wall-like pulpit. We all hear him fall. I leap from my pew. As quickly as I can with my sore hip, I race to his side. Black robe rumpled, white hair tousled, motionless, he lies on the floor. Fearing the worst, I search for a pulse. He’s… He’s… De… Has he been poisoned? I find his glass by his Bible and sniff. Oh, the smell. It has to be poison. I search for a suspect but only find worried face after worried face.


photo by ldyck

Chapter Two


Can we reclaim the term 'literary fiction'

--An interview between Roz Morris and Imogen Clark



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Sunday, February 13, 2022

Dear Evelyn by Kathy Page (historical fiction, romance) Published by Biblioasis

 Set mainly in England, Dear Evelyn is about a man Harry Miles and his two greatest loves--Evelyn (Hill) Miles and poetry.

"More than anything, he was a husband." (p. 242)


Buy this Book

From an Independent Bookstore in

Canada

United States 


Dear Evelyn

Kathy Page

Biblioasis

2018

Rogers Writers' Trust of Canada Prize winner

305 pages

Born shortly after the First World War, Harry is the second son of Albert and Adeline Miles.

Adeline tells baby Harry: "'You're a good listener. You'll be good to your wife. You'll know what she wants.'" (p. 16)

Harry credits winning a scholarship to a prestigious school to changing his life.

In Mr. Whitehorse's classroom, thirteen-year-old Harry is introduced to a life-long passion and constant companion--poetry. 

Six years later, when Harry is nineteen, he meets Evelyn Hill in the library. She drops the novel she's reading Rebecca and he stoops to pick it up.

"'Evelyn! The sound of the word, the feeling of it in his mouth was almost a kiss.'" (p. 47)

Harry and Evelyn fall in love and remain together through the horrors of war, through the pleasures and challenges of raising a family, through... Until...

I was charmed by Harry and Evelyn's old-fashioned courtship. But I believe Dear Evelyn would have benefitted if more attention had been paid to transitions. For example, Harry and Evelyn are newlyweds and then suddenly become a family of three. No mention is made of Evelyn's pregnancy or the child's birth. Blink and the baby was there. Salt Spring Island resident, author Kathy Page is gifted at depicting characters at different stages in their life. And... And the end... Wow! I know it will remain with me for a while.


'I, a slow reader, will never get to all the words I long to read, but I will relish the onces before me' -from an article--Slow Readers, Let's Leave Shame Behind--by Cristi Donasa

 

 

photo by ldyck

On this blog in February...


Wednesday, February 16
A tribute to my grandpa

Sunday, February 20
Short Fiction
Is the Reverend Dead?

Inspired by remote island life, this 17-chapter short fiction piece is set in the time of Lent leading to and including Easter. It's not your usual cozy mystery.

I plan to share two chapters of this story every week--every Sunday and Wednesday--until Easter Sunday--April 17.

Sharing my author journey...

In the Acknowledgements, Kathy Page writes: "I am particularly grateful to my father for

Sunday, February 6, 2022

Reading Picture Books (short story, children's story) by Leanne Dyck

This short story was inspired by something I witnessed in a bookstore. 

I have a longer writing project that I'm working on. I do. But life isn't letting me work on it. And so I dug out another project that I've been working on for a couple of years. I dug it out and reworked it and it became this...

photos by ldyck

Books were here and books were there and books were everywhere in the bookstore. Emma sat in a cozy chair, turning pages very slow--

"It's time to go, Honey," Grandma called in a sing-song voice.

"Please, Grandma, just one more book."

"Okay, my little bookworm."

Emma pulled two books from the shelf. Before Grandma could say anything, Emma explained, "Even though these look like two books they're really only one because they're both about a dog."

Grandma sighed and then she chuckled and then she waited for Emma to turn the last page of the last book. "Now we have to go."

A book whispered to Emma, Look at me. The book jumped off the shelf and into Emma's hand.

"Your mother is waiting, young lady." Grandma used her we-have-to-go-NOW voice.

The book held on to Emma's hand and refused to let go.

"Okay, I'll buy that book for you," Grandma said.

And she did. And when she did, Emma said, "Thank you for the book, Grandma."


Hand-in-hand, Grandma and Emma left the bookstore, walked through the mall, and went into the food court. 

Emma saw Mom sitting at a table. 

"There she is," Emma called and "Hi" and kept running to Mom.

"Sorry, we're late. Somebody's nose got stuck in a book," Grandma said.

"Not my nose, Grandma. It grabbed hold of my hand and just won't let go. So, so--" Emma opened the bag. "Look at this." She pulled the book out of the bag and showed Mom a picture. "And look at this." She showed her another picture. "And this." Emma kept showing Mom pictures until there were no more pictures in the book. "Your turn," Emma told Mom, "You can read the book to me now." 

And so Mom read the book.

After lunch, Mom kissed Emma goodbye and Grandma asked, "What would you like to do now, Emma?"

And Emma said, "I want to go to the bookstore."

"Of course you do." Grandma sighed and then she chuckled and then she followed Emma back to the bookstore.


This story was inspired by a visit to Bolen Books in Hillside Mall.

Written on January 25, 2022


photo by ldyck

On this blog in February...

Wednesday, February 9
Author Reading
The poem and how I wrote it.

Sunday, February 13
Book Review
Dear Evelyn
Kathy Page
A romance to celebrate St. Valentine's Day

Wednesday, February 16
Author Reading
Suggestions, please

Sunday, February 20
Short Fiction
Is the Reverend Dead?
Inspired by remote island life, this 17-chapter short fiction piece is set in the time of Lent leading to and including Easter. It's not your usual cozy mystery.

I plan to share two chapters of this story every week--every Sunday and Wednesday--until Easter Sunday--Sunday, April 17.

Sharing my author journey...

I've been encountering a lot--at least two. Is that a lot? I guess for me it is--of online articles on Writer's Block lately. For example...

Thursday, February 3, 2022

Book Review: Away (historical fiction) by Jane Urquhart, published by McClelland & Stewart

 "Esther O'Malley Robertons...was told a story at twelve that calmed her down and put her in her place. Now, as an old woman [82 years old in June 1982], she wants to tell this story to herself and the Great Lakes." (p. 3)

It's a story brimming with mysticism, adventure, romance. It's a family legend that hides a three-generation-old secret. To tell the story, to hear the story is to ensure the survival of a culture.

"Everything began in 1842,...on the island of Rathlin which lies off the most northern coast of Ireland." (p. 4)



Buy this Book

From an Independent Bookstore in

Canada

United States

Away

Jane Urquhart

published by McClelland & Stewart

published in 1997

356 pages

Jane Urquhart is one of my favourite authors. Away is one of my favourite books. The prose reads like poetry; the transitions are as smooth as a calm sea. I savored the story. I desired to see, hear, taste each word, each scene. I read carefully--fearful that I would miss something.

As a writer, my goal is to study the writing craft as I read a captivating story. Away floats my boat.


photo by ldyck

On this blog in February...

Wednesday, February 2
World Read Aloud Day
The world will be celebrating reading aloud and so will I. My blog article will feature advice on how to read to your child(ren) and stories about reading aloud.

Sunday, February 6
Short Story
Reading Picture Books
Emma loves to look at books and that's all she wants to do, but Grandma doesn't want them to be late for lunch.

Wednesday, February 9
Author Reading
Suggestions, please
I am forever grateful for your amazing--and at times, surprising--suggestions. Please keep them coming.

Sunday, February 13
Book Review
Dear Evelyn
Kathy Page
A romance to celebrate St. Valentine's Day

Wednesday, February 16
Author Reading
Suggestions, please

Sunday, February 20
Short Fiction
Is the Reverend Dead?
Inspired by remote island life, this 17-chapter short fiction piece is set in the time of Lent leading to and including Easter. It's not your usual cozy mystery.
I plan to share two chapters of this story every week--every Sunday and Wednesday--until Easter Sunday--Sunday, April 17.




Yesterday, I started listening to... 


And I look forward to listening to more this week.


No make-up, hair pulled back. I'm not hiding behind anything--but my glasses--in this selfie.


Are you still hiding?

Last Christmas I re-watched a music video for Wham's song Last Christmas. In the video, George Micheal plays a guy pining for his ex-girlfriend.

Years ago, when I watched the video for the first time, I remember swooning over George. I thought he was so cute!

Re-watching the video I still thought George was cute (although, arguably, he was cuter with short hair). However, the strongest emotion I felt was sadness.

Wednesday, February 2, 2022

World Read Aloud Day by Leanne Dyck

 I cared for children in daycare centres as an Early Childhood Educator for over fourteen years. The bond I formed with the children in my care warmed my heart. These bonds were enhanced through my love of books. That's why, when I heard about World Read Aloud Day, I knew I wanted to participate.

image from the LitWorld website

For 13 years, World Read Aloud Day has called attention to the importance of sharing stories by challenging participants to grab a book, find an audience, and read-aloud! The global effort, created by the non-profit LitWorld and sponsored by Scholastic, is celebrated annually in over 173 countries and is all about bringing people together through the shared connection of reading aloud in all our communities. -the Scholastic website

How to read to children 

When we think of reading to infants and young children many questions arise. In this article, I answer three of the most commonly asked questions. 

Short stories about the joys of reading to children...

A Bedtime Story

Storytime

As a dyslexic, it's not easy for me to read aloud. Here's my story...

My Life with Letters part one and part two

And if you would like to hear me read more of my stories...

Readings by Leanne Dyck