A Hole in the Pavement Read online

Norris gave a silent thank you to the hole in the pavement, then called a cab and waited outside while she changed. He tried not to think of anything in case it ruined the glow of new adventure and the taste of this heroic person that was him but not him. She emerged when the taxi arrived, her hair wet and wild about her lovely face, and he ushered her into the car and slid in beside her.

  The taxi drove off. Silence. Norris had no idea what to say and worse, his mind seemed to have turned somewhat soggy due to her close proximity. Back to reality number one. Goodbye shining knight. Hello bumbling clown.

  Thankfully she broke the silence. “Where’s your bow tie today?”

  “Oh. I thought you might… I mean, I decided to try something different today.” The fact that she even noticed he normally wore bow ties warmed his heart.

  “I like the bow ties, they’re cute.”

  “Really?” He hoped he didn’t seem excessively delighted, but her admission calmed his stomach and that was something to be grateful for.

  She nodded, and almost smiled, but not quite.

  “What do you…”They both started together then stopped. “You speak,” he said, filling the embarrassed silence that followed.

  “I just wondered what you like to do in your spare time.”

  “I collect model cars.”

  “Really? My Dad used to do that. I love them.”

  Norris raised his eyebrows. He would never have picked her for someone who liked model cars.

  “Which is your favourite?” Her apparently genuine interest surprised him.

  He smiled. “My maroon 1947 Ferarri 125S. Only one ever made it to the road and it was destroyed in a race. The real sized car, of course, not the model. A replica sits at the entrance to the Museo Ferrrari Galleria. It’s fully functional and…” He almost clapped his hand over his mouth to stop from boring her stupid. But she said it was fascinating and he believed her. He almost invited her to see his model, almost, but not quite.

  He deserved ten stars for the conversation he had with Georgia in the taxi. Talking to her wasn’t as scary as he thought it would be, but when she left the cab, his heart grew heavy. Would he ever get to sit so close to her again? Her perfume lingered behind her, leaving him with a disturbing mix of pleasant memories and an acute sense of loss.

  *

  Norris spent most of that evening either reliving the morning or reading a book to stop reliving it, then dreamt about Georgia most of the night and woke with her name on his lips. It occurred to him while washing his breakfast dishes, that he still hadn’t seen her smile.

  At precisely seven forty three, Norris stood just inside his door ready for work. He’d already straightened his favourite bow tie twice and had patted down the wayward lock of hair so many times that it was now flatter than the rest of his hair. He took a deep breath, ignored the squeezy feeling in his gut and opened the door. He should have just enough time to get to Georgia’s house and make sure that she didn’t fall in the hole again.

  He arrived outside her house with time to spare, but there was no hole, just a rough patch in the pavement. He would be no knight in shining armour today after all, and what would she think of him standing there with no excuse? Should he go home and come out at the usual time? What if she saw him walking the wrong way? His stomach squirmed and the prickly heat at the back of his neck told him that he’d be bright red in a few seconds. What a dithering fool he was.

  Suddenly, he jolted downwards. The hole had appeared beneath him. He frowned. Now this was really bad. How could he help stop her falling into the hole when he was in it himself? A suffocating wave of disappointment washed over him. The pavement dropped further and he lurched down again. What would he say to her now? What words could get him out of this embarrassment? None that he owned. The hero he’d hoped to be dissolved, leaving a shy little boy powerlessness to help even himself.

  With a nasty clunk, the hole dropped even deeper and Norris’s nose drew level with the edge of the pavement. His eyes peeked over the edge, but his brain felt so fuzzy, that he might as well have been a million miles away. It must be nearly seven forty five. What was he going to do? His palms sweated at the thought of her finding him there.

  A pair of bright red high heels stepped in front of his eyes. Norris blinked and swallowed. His stomach was playing with his breakfast in a most alarming way. Nevertheless, he raised his eyes past the shapely calves and looked into Georgia’s warm eyes.

  “Norris, I’m so glad to see you,” she said. “I wanted to thank you for helping me out yesterday. I let my worries get on top of me and fell into a bit of a hole. I really appreciate you cheering me up.”

  “It was nothing,” he replied, pulling back from the edge a little. No point getting dirt in his mouth.

  ‘No, it was really kind.”

  Perhaps he was a little bit of a knight in shining armor after all. The ground jolted up as if a lift had taken him up a floor.

  “Shall we walk to the bus stop together,” she asked.

  Norris’s eyes widened. She wanted the knight, not the little boy, so that’s what he’d be. The ground lurched back to normal level so fast that he almost fell over. She smiled, a brilliant charm that lit up her face and splashed colour into Norris’s world. Its golden droplets seeped through his skin, infused him with their glow and warmed him from the inside out. His heart swelled so much, he felt as if it might burst through his chest.

  ‘‘I’d love to”, he replied, trying not to sound over enthusiastic, and as they walked off, he added, “Have you noticed the Jasmine in the air? It’s like warmth and sunshine in a perfume.”

  She nodded, her eyes sparkling. “And the magnolia leaves look like a carpet of snow,”

  Norris made a mental note to buy some gold stars.

  *

  They sat together on the bus that morning. Norris phoned the council as soon as he got to work and by that afternoon they’d filled all the holes. The workmen did such a good job that if Norris hadn’t known better, he could have sworn there had never been holes there at all.

  ###

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  A Matter of Perception

  ‘A Hole in the Pavement’ is one of the stories from ‘A Matter of Perception,’ a collection of urban fantasy, paranormal romance and magical realism stories by Tahlia Newland. This entertaining, heart-warming and thought-provoking collection includes ‘The Drorgon Slayer’s Choice’ where Julia meets a descendant of the gods and might get to keep him if she can convince his boss that she’s no danger to his freedom; ‘The Boneyard’, the eerie semi finalist in the Aussiecon 4 fantasy/scfi competition of 2010, where Ellen must choose between death or a half life amongst murderous sirens; ‘Mistril’s Mistake’ where Damien faces Eleanor in a battle of light in a desperate attempt to avoid his mistress’s punishment for a spell gone wrong; ‘Not Me, It Can’t Be’, where Nona faces death in an ancient temple but dreams of a modern cancer patient; and finally, in ‘The Rose Coloured Glasses,’ Sally discovers a man that may or may not be a wizard.

 

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  Praise for ‘A Matter of Perception’

  “A great writer, not too many can write such variety of stories…very imaginative and quirky. I think you've got a great mix of stories, with a variety of 'moods' which should appeal to anyone who likes fantasy.” Alannah.

  *

  “Tahlia's tales were vivid and rich. Her characters are deeply real, as if she is writing about people she knows, not making up individuals. They learn deep and vital lessons in each of the stories. I thoroughly enjoyed all the stories, especially the daring honesty of her emotions. Tahlia has a unique, charming style that is bold, honest, and thrilling. I feel like I know her after reading her work.” Kate Policani

  *

  “Any fan of fantasy, magical realism, or just a really gripping tale, will find this collection of stories compelling and entertaining.” Melissa.

 
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  “If I had to pick a favourite, I think it would be ‘Not Me, it Can't Be.’ I found that such a lovely and surprising tale juxtaposing seemingly different life experiences, only to find a poignant commonality between them. Newland's structuring of the story is very effective and the wording throughout so graceful.

  Newland's vibrant descriptions of magical combat in ‘Mistril's Magic’ are engaging to visualize, the crime-scene beginning such a hook, and I liked how on-the-fence I felt about Damien by virtue of Eleanor's sympathies for him. ‘A Hole in the Pavement’ and ‘The Rose Coloured Glasses’ are both so sweetly romantic with a magical realism that readers can actually identify with, for no matter how ‘superhuman’ the characters' experiences might be, these are really tales of the very human vulnerabilities within--and interactions between--us all.

  In addition to her beautiful writing, imaginative worlds, and well-crafted characters, Newland does well with parcelling out back-story, definitely leaving questions in my mind that made me want to keep reading for the answers. And I'm so impressed with how concisely she concludes each of these stories on just the right note.

  Overall, ‘A Matter of Perception’ is a very appropriate title for this anthology's content, as Newland's collection of stories provokes her readers to question their perceptions alongside her characters.” The Fallen Monkey.

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  An excerpt from ‘Mistril’s Mistake’, from A Matter of Perception.

  “You were right to be concerned about this murder, Mistril,” Eleanor said. “I discovered things they aren’t telling the press; different coloured burns and bruises in the main centres of her body, broken limbs, and dented walls as if she had been flung about. The police have no idea what it is.”

  “The marks of a practitioner who has lost his purpose,” Mistril muttered. She looked grim, her tiny ancient body seemingly more frail and stooped than usual. But the frailty was an illusion; the ninety-year-old woman was as tough as a fit and healthy thirty year old.

  “She was Damien’s ex-girlfriend.” Eleanor sighed and shook her dark curls. Damien and she had trained together. They’d been lovers until he’d tried to gain control over her. Eleanor had fought him off, but he’d kept at her, using a mix of lights to try to bend her will. Mistril had endeavoured to temper his desire for mastery over others, explaining how it would distort his powers and twist his mind, but he’d paid no attention.

  Eleanor caught him using his magic for what Mistril would call “unsavoury purposes”. She threatened to tell their mistress if he didn’t stop. She got his answer when he magnetised a non-practitioner, made her his girlfriend and moved out.

  She had feared for the girl. With no training, she would be as helpless as a fly caught in a spider’s web. What would stop him from doing what he wanted with her? Given the nature of his dark experiments, Eleanor didn’t doubt that he had more in mind than sex.

  She’d been tempted to spy on him but he’d disappeared, and neither she nor Mistril had seen or heard of him for six months, until they read about the murder.

  “He must be stopped,” Mistril said. “The madness of power craving has infected his mind. Seek him out and when you find him, call me. And be careful; after this, we do not know what he is capable of.”

  *

 

  About the Author

  Tahlia Newland is an avid reader, extremely casual high school teacher and occasional mask-maker, She lives in an Australian rainforest south of Sydney, and after creating and performing in Visual Theatre shows for 20 years is now a bone-fide expatriate of the Performing Arts. She’s married with a teenage daughter and loves cats but she doesn’t have one because they eat native birds. Her aim in writing is to challenge readers to look more closely at the nature of their world, their mind and their perception.

  If you would like to be notified of new releases by this author please send an email to Tahlia at [email protected] the words ‘subscribe to the newsletter’ in the subject line.

  Visit her weblog at https://tahlianewland.com

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  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my beta readers Colleen, Lindy, Kimberley, Julie and Alannah for their willingness to help out and for their helpful comments, and to Sandra Newland for editing without charge. Also to my darling husband for his super-critical eye and creative suggestions, and to both him and my daughter for putting up with me when I’m lost in a fantasy world and forget to cook dinner. Also to all of those writers whose blogs I visit for helpful advice and encouragement, and to the wonderful people who read my work and support me. This offering to the world is dedicated to your happiness.