Christopher Tjaart McLea

What is she wailing about this time? The old coot. Always sitting on the porch rocking in her old chair. Her hair all twisted and mangled like the weeds in her overgrown vegetable patch. Suffering from severe neglect. It needs the touch of a sane mind, I'm afraid. What grows now in that once oasis of nourishment? Just the remnants of a life once lived well. Every time I come to drop off her mail, she starts her sorrowful lament. It is almost too much for me to handle, this senile old gal. She starts calling out to her husband, "Henry, why did you leave me. You left me here all alone." She keeps repeating the same things like a mantra. "Why did you leave me, Henry? Was I not enough for you? I gave you the best years of my life. You just tossed it all away to be with her, your little mistress, your little whore. But I have forgiven you Henry. Just come back to me, I miss you so" I must confess I feel really sorry for the old gal. I remember when Henry and her wou...

Daddy, can we go to the zoo today? Ag, please daddy. Ag, please. You always say you will take me but you're always busy with work. In the week I'm back with mom and Steve. It's back to school and she always says no. Ag, please daddy. I know you work very hard but I come here every weekend and we just stay at home and watch T.V. together. I get bored. I want to see an African elephant. So big and majestic. It's huge gray ears flapping. It's stomping feet as it runs on the plains. It's trunk spraying water on it's back as it plays in the river. Ag, please daddy can we go. Otherwise, I have to ask Steve to take me. No, I'll take you. I mean I have a lot of work to finish off but you are right. We have to get out of the house a bit. Besides it's a Wednesday. I have the day off. Not that many people at the zoo today. I'll finish my work this evening when you are watching cartoons. After lunch we take the subway to the zoo, okay son. It's only a fe...

A dark sack emerges from the mother gazelle and drops to the ground. The mother gazelle consumes the placenta sack and exposes the frail little calf, still soaked and shivering in the calm African breeze. The calf tries to get to its feet. There are predators waiting all around you for an easy kill, an easy meal. The mother is now staring out watching the world around. Eyes fixed on the swaying grass ahead. It doesn't even notice the stumbling calf trying to get to its feet. The little calf tumbles this way and that way like a it's trying to walk on stilts. Eventually it manages to get up and with some support from the mother it is ready to suckle for the first time. It is a rare comfort. Almost in no time at all the little calf is off on its way, shadowing its mother, hiding in the grasses. Sometimes playing with the other calves. Life is fun among the young calves, and then a rustle in the distance. All the adult gazelles stretch their necks, stare upwards, trying to captur...

A man came to sit besides a stranger on a bench. They nodded in unison as they both noticed each other's presence. On the one side of the bench sat a smartly dresses man in a suit and trench coat clutching a paper bag probably containing some kind of wrapped sandwich. The man was probably in his late forties or early fifties. Graying on the sides, his dark blonde hair wafted in the light breeze. He stared ahead over the rippling waters of the lake towards the ducks playing in the autumn light. His eyes seemed to gloss over as he stared away in the distance, not moving a muscle, not a hint of an expression. Beside him sat another gloomy figure. This old frail figure has submitted to the shear weight of time. Everything about him seemed crushed and battered, bruised and put back together too many times. He was cleanly kept, well shaven but a lifetime of tattooed narratives were bellowing up from his chest and cleaving their way up his neck and towards his throat. His hair was shaven ...

The night was twisting its way past the fluorescent lights of a corridor situated in a nondescript building. The motel manager was doing his round checking to see all was in order when he abruptly stopped at the door at the end of the passage. He tilted his head slightly towards the door, like a dog does to get a certain acoustic advantage. He could hear a commotion coming from inside the room. It sounded like a woman's voice shouting, squealing and a rather loud thumping sound. At first he passed it off as just the usual sound that might erupt from the vintage orange and avocado clad rooms on a regular old Saturday night. But this was different. There was something quite desperate and disturbing about the woman's voice and the thumping was sound was surprisingly loud and erratic. The motel manager crept a bit closer, tentatively placing his eyeball over the keyhole of the door. His hunch seemed correct. There was definitely something strange going on inside the room. He could ...