Kevin Liddie, M, ‘Mildred, You No Easy’ (fiction)
About the Author – Kevin Liddie has been writing poetry and short fiction since childhood – most memorably, at age 8, writing a prayer for a priest dying of cancer. Today, he is a pastor, salesman, and avid reader. He has done stints in acting including dramatic presentations. His poetry has been read on the radio and in church. His motto is ‘life is an adventure, so live it’. This is his first entry into a writing competition.
About ‘Mildred, You No Easy’: The story was inspired by personal observations and scenes from his favourite beach Fort James Beach, Antigua.
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‘Mildred, You No Easy’
“Heh, those raindrops look like tears,” said John Mink as he walked toward Fort James beach.
It felt as if he had been walking for hours, though it had only been 10 minutes since he left his one-room wooden house. The rain eased the heat a little, but to John, they were the same. Rain or shine, he trekked to the beach every day.
Today’s walk was sluggish, as he conversed with slow-poke Mildred. “Yes,” she said. “The rain reminds me of tears as well and remind me of when I cried when I broke my big toe.”
John had his usual possessions – the fishing rod and an old crocus bag, but today was special because he had some pepperpot and fungee that his neighbor had left for him. It smelled just like the pepperpot and fungee his ex-wife used to cook.He could not wait to eat it, sitting on the edge of his favourite cannon, looking over the water.
Mildred was chatty. She asked John if his ex-wife used celery to season the meat for the pepper pot and when was the last time he saw the children.
John could feel the blood rumbling through his body. Mildred and her big mouth. She knew he preferred to think about his ex-wife, not talk about her. On top of that Mildred was such a hypocrite. She had never liked his ex-wife. At first the marriage was peaceful, then Mildred turned up the heat. I created a rift and constant arguments became the norm as Mildred was extremely jealous.
“I don’t want to talk about her, and I don’t want to talk about the children with you.
He was marching, now. He was pissed and as usual when he got angry, the Creole, that his socialization and education had repressed, erupted.”Me say me no want talk about them, you def.” A litany of expletives proliferated the air. People who lived nearby came out to see what the commotion was all about.
“Mildred me ah go knock you if you nah hush you mouth” screeched John.
Calm yourself, calm yourself” cried an impassioned Mildred.
His story of loss had always been the tipping point of John’s outrage and again, Mildred’s interference was the catalyst that re-surfaced these memories.
He felt his heart pounding. Oh, he was on a roll now … the people in his peripheral vision began to disappear … he was caught up in the memories.
Fort James was in sight. But the promise of fishing in peace was gone.
Mildred would not shut her mouth. She, too, was on a roll.
“Don’t blame me because your wife left you,” she screamed. “You know, John, it’s your fault that she left you. You are to blame. Look at you now. You still cannot control your anger. That’s how you got in trouble in the first place.
Whap!
John hit Mildred in her mouth.
She screamed at him again, “You are such a loser!”
He gave her another blow. This time Mildred was on the ground.
An audience gathered, watching the man on sand beating and talking to himself.
The rain began to pour and they scattered leaving the deranged man with the fishing rod and crocus bag by himself.
This is one of the winning entries in the 2021 Wadadli Youth Pen Prize Challenge. Please respect each writer’s copyright.
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