"A Misplaced Homecoming"

As Jack Delaney walked the five minutes to his ex wives house, he felt the beginnings of a rain shower. He approached the door, knocked, and felt the old familiar tightening in his chest.

She came to the door. "You know you don't need to knock, you can just come in." she said.

"That's OK" he replied, "I don't like to just walk in, you know, unannounced."

He took his shoes off as he stepped in and handed her the bag off oranges he had picked earlier that morning. "Here, a gift" he said as he handed them to her. She took them and said thanks.

He said hi to the boy who was playing with Lego bricks on the floor. His son was concentrating hard on putting together what looked like some kind of space ship and hadn't noticed him enter.

He went over and kissed him on the head, then asked if her parents had got away OK.

"Yeah, no problems. They left at two on the dot as usual. You know what dad's like."

He replied with a weak smile, but didn't say anything.

"Do you want a tea"? she asked."No. I just came to give you the oranges and say goodnight, but, thanks anyway".

He sat down on the floor beside the boy and watched him stick the finishing pieces onto the space ship.

"Looks great kiddo", "Thanks", the boy replied without looking up.
He stood up and watched her as she worked in the tiny kitchen, making dinner.


He had been in this same house only the day before. He knew she would be out as it was a Saturday. He had a key and would come over and do odd jobs for her occasionally, when she was at work and the boy was at school.

Walking around the empty house his head was filled with images from the past, when they had lived here as a family. He had walked up the stairs to her bedroom. He sat on the bed and remembered vividly for a moment the day they had bought it. How different things had been then. A different time, different city, different lives. He touched the pillow where she slept and lay down. He felt tired, old, empty. Getting up, he saw a picture he had made for her out of magazine clippings when their son had been born. He picked it up and rubbed the dust of the frame and put it back. Then he went down stairs and left, locking the door behind him and putting the bottom bolt in place so she wouldn't know he had been there.

As he got up she stopped what she was doing. "Have you eaten today?" she asked.

"Sorry?" he replied, pretending he hadn't heard her.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?"

"No, I better go, I've got stuff to do".

He went to say goodbye to the boy who was now sitting at the dining table looking at a toy catalog, but stopped and stood for a moment.

He turned back and looked at her. She was bent over trying to find something in one of the cupboards.

"Can you believe we were once in Love with each other?" he said.

She looked at him and he saw a slight nervous smile appear around her mouth. She didn't say anything. He continued, feeling his breath quickening, "I mean, can you believe how we couldn't bear to be apart, to be away from each other, how much in love we were"?
She looked away. "What is it? Do you need to talk?" she asked.

They looked at each other for a brief moment. He felt his stomach drop and he purposely exhaled and took a sharp breath. "No, no I don't want to talk. What is there to talk About?" She stood in silence looking at him.

He turned to the boy and said goodnight, asked him for a kiss, put on his shoes and went to leave. He heard her say something as he opened the door, but he wasn't listening and didn't reply. He closed the door lightly and stepped out onto the path that led to the street.

By now the rain was coming down heavy. He wrapped his coat around him, noticing the bottom button was missing, and started walking home.

By anthony MONAGHAN

"The Critic" by A. Monaghan

He stands at the mirror and doesn't like what he sees, hates it and turns away. After a few minutes he drops his shoulders and turns back and faces himself, looks himself in those grey green eyes for a long time and sees nothing.

He rubs his coarse chin, picks up the toothbrush and starts to clean his teeth. The water brings a sharp pain to the broken tooth, the decaying tooth, a thought passes through his mind "You deserve this pain, this decay. You deserve THIS".

He begins the routine, washing his hands. The icy water is a shock, he starts to turn on the hot water tap but turns it off again. "You don't deserve hot water, You don't deserve warmth or comfort. You're a bastard, you're a drunk, you're a waste. You don't deserve anything"!

He washes his face in the cold water and as he rinses he sees his sons tiny toothbrush in the cup on the edge of the sink, "You're a bad father, you're a failure, a shit, a selfish, impatient asshole, not a man, not a person, you're nothing"

He rubs his face dry and feels a familiar wave of heavy remorse settle on his chest. He sighs loudly, turns off the light and moves towards the bedroom. Their is a weight now in his stomach, a ball of pure black hate. Hate for this bed, hate for this night, hate for this body, hate for this life. "You are unlovable, you are ugly, unbearable. You'll be alone forever, live alone, die alone and it's all you deserve".

"Stop...stop"! he says out loud, and then, "Just stop" in a quiet, defeated voice. He turns out the light and gets into bed, staring into the darkness and the silence for a long time. Finally he closes his eyes and allows himself to sleep.