Volume 2 Issue 1 - The Family Issue

Back CoverASHLEY NEWTON

Front CoverASHLEY NEWTON

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CONTENTS4

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The Last SupperKYLE CLIMANS

SupportAIKO M.

FamilyASHLEY NEWTON

DaughterKYLE CLIMANS

FREELITMAGAZINEEditor-in-ChiefAshley [email protected]

ContributorsKyle Climans, Aiko M., Ashley Newton, Jessica Newton

ColophonFree Lit Magazine is a non-profit literary magazine committed to the acces-sibility of digital literature for all readers. Our mis-sion is to form an online creative community by encouraging writers, art-ists, and photographers to practice their passion in a medium that anyone can access and appreciate.

[email protected]

Next IssueThe Masks IssueMarch 2016

Family It’s not always about being blood relatives. Sometimes family is made up of intangible groups of individuals who may come and go throughout the course of your life.

Perhaps it’s a best friend you’ve known for many years. Maybe it’s a family you join somewhere along the way. Regardless of what kind of family you belong to, the sentiments of love still matter and make up the foundation of a strong support system.

Those you choose to spend your time with while making incredible memories are your family. Certain people can be considered part of your family when you live too far from relatives. It’s all about the peo-ple that make you feel at home and love you no mat-ter what. Cherish these people. They’re your biggest fans; the ones who wear the big foam #1 fingers and want nothing but the best for you.

Your family is what you make it.

Ashley Newton Editor-in-Chief

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The Last SupperKYLE CLIMANS

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“More wine, my lord?”

Absalom looked up at his servant, “No thank you, Meshullam. See that my brothers

have had their fill.”

Meshullam bowed and moved on to the next man at the grand table, carrying a case of the best wine that Absalom could find.

Inside the great hall, a long table had been set. Upon this table, a wide array of vari-ous foods lay for the royal guests. Absalom, glorious prince of Jerusalem, had reached out to his brothers and half-brothers, inviting them to this grand banquet.

All of them had come. Shimea, Shobab, Elishua, Ithream, Nathan, Nogah, Eliada, and all the rest of the great King David’s sons. Even those sons by his concubines were in at-tendance. Absalom had invited them all, making sure to invite Amnon first.

Amnon, being the eldest son of David, and his heir apparent, was rightly seated at the head of the table. Absalom had demurred to his half-brother and, being the third oldest son, sat at his left.

“So, Absalom!”

Absalom looked up, to where Amnon held court. He had drained two cups of wine already, and was at present gorging himself upon a tender haunch of beef.

“You do us all honour, little brother!”

Absalom smiled, inclining his head at the compliment, “I only mean to do right by my family, Amnon.” “I’ll drink to that!” Amnon said, laughing. He raised his cup, looking expectantly at another of Absalom’s servants. The man – known as Zeev – dutifully filled the prince’s cup.

Absalom turned to his left. Solomon was seated there. He was a younger brother, but considered a very intelligent man. Rumours abounded that he was highly favoured by their father, despite his more distant place in the line of inheritance. Absalom had never liked him, but on this occasion, he was determined to be gracious.

“Do you eat well at my table, Solomon?”

“Very much so, Absalom, though my mind is not at rest.”

“Has it ever been?” Absalom joked, but beneath his honeyed voice, and his merry temperament, a shadow of a doubt crossed his mind as he looked at this solemn youth.

“You have been reclusive for some time now, brother. These past two years you have seemed unlike yourself. And I have seen you with father even less than with any of us.”

Absalom inwardly cursed Solomon’s observant remarks, but he kept his demeanour careless.

“Now now, Solomon. You speak as if you have been watching me all day and night. And what place should these accusations have on this night together? Eat hearty and be thankful for our plenty.”

Solomon nodded politely, speaking no more of Absalom’s behaviour. Instead, he asked a simple question.

“Tell me, how is Tamar?”

For the briefest of moments, Absalom’s good cheer broke, and a flash of anger ap-peared in his eyes.

“Absalom!”

She shrieked his name, even as he appeared from his chambers, having been sum-moned by Meshullam.

She staggered towards him. Her clothes had been ripped to pieces, held together only by her own hands. Her beautiful face was scarred by scratches and bruises.

The sight made Absalom ill. He and Tamar had not been close during their child-hood, but as they’d grown, he had become protective of her. Now she was here, sobbing his name in ragged gasps.

The story came out slowly. She’d been lured to his private chambers by talk of feel-ing ill. He had pounced when they were alone, deaf to her pleas. He had overpowered her, and after he was done, he had thrown her out of his house.

“Who?” Absalom asked, hot tears of rage blinding him, “Who was it?”

“She is well, Solomon. These past two years have been good to her. She has been able to find some peace after what happened to her.”

Solomon nodded sympathetically, “Good. Has she said anything about who dishon-oured her?”

Absalom shrugged, “If I knew who had done that to her, I would make sure he 5

would suffer before I sent him to his rightful place in Hell.”

Solomon looked concerned, but said no more. He turned, instead, to another helping of food and wine.

Absalom nodded to Zeev, “Bring in the dancers!”

A group of musicians entered, playing a lively tune as a troop of beautiful women began to dance around the table. The sons of King David cheered, their bellies already full with good food and better drink.

Amnon applauded loudest of all. Even as he continued to feast, he drunkenly leaned forward and clapped Absalom on the shoulder, “Truly, brother, you are a great host!”

Once again, Absalom nodded his thanks smiling sweetly. Pretending to sip from his full cup, he watched Amnon’s hands go astray as the women danced within his reach. Could it be that this letch would be king of Israel one day?

“Amnon is my son. My first son.”

Absalom stared at his father. King David had seemed a humble, unassuming man in his youth, until he had slain the mighty Goliath in battle. From there he had become King of Israel. But now his face was lined, and his hair was greying.

None of it mattered to Absalom in that moment, however. He was fixated on his fa-ther’s refusal to bring justice to a rapist.

“Where is the King’s law? What does the word of David mean if justice is not dealt to Amnon?”

He roared his accusation so that all Jerusalem might hear him, or so he hoped.

David, however, refused to be backed into a corner by his own son. He stepped for-ward, eyes flashing a fire that had no doubt been seen when the giant Goliath had fallen before him.

“Absalom, I would be accursed if I were to put Amnon to death! By God’s judgment and mine own!”

“This is not God’s judgment,’ Absalom replied furiously, “this is your weakness!”

David struck his son across the face.

“I have struck you, my son, yet I still love you. I shall deal with Amnon, but I will have a father’s mercy towards his child. I love all my children, and if that love is weakness, so

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be it.”

Absalom glared at him, “Tamar is a desolate woman in my house. Do you love her?” Ignoring David’s protest, he turned and walked out of the hall.

It was the last thing he said to his father for two years.

Absalom’s thoughts were suddenly broken by a loud chant that his brothers and half-brothers had begun. They all stared at him while thumping their fists on the table.

“Speech! Speech! Speech!”

However, Absalom did nothing. He sat and waited until Meshullam approached him.

“All is ready, my prince,” he whispered.

Absalom nodded, slowly got up, and raised his glass.

“A toast, my beloved brothers!”

The men all cheered and raised their glasses. The hall went silent as they awaited what the toast would be.

Absalom paused a moment, and spoke again.

“I wish to honour the family that I love. The family that I would die for. The family for whom I would break the laws of men and our Lord in Heaven!”

The smiles began to fade from the brothers’ faces. Solomon, the only guest who was still sober, sat upright in his chair and gazed up at Absalom with a look of growing compre-hension.

Absalom ignored him, and turned to face Amnon. The man lounged in his chair, so inebriated that he could barely raise his cup for the toast.

“To our sister, Amnon. To Tamar.”

It took a moment for Ammon to realize what Absalom had said. Then his eyes wid-ened, and he attempted to sit upright again.

Absalom turned to Meshullam and Zeev, his trusted grooms, and nodded once. Both men reached within their tunics, drew their daggers, and fell upon the drunken Amnon.

Amnon’s screams were almost drowned out by the shouts of surprise from his half-

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brothers. They were all too drunk to do anything, however, and the daggers in Zeev and Meshullam’s hands flashed up and down, each turning redder with every strike.

His breathing turning ragged, Amnon reached a bloodied arm to his younger broth-er, screaming for mercy. Absalom remained standing, doing nothing, his handsome face contorted in cold fury.

Finally, Amnon breathed his last breath. His head fell, propped up by his shoulder, even as his blood formed a wide puddle beneath his chair.

Absalom looked back at the other horrified guests, “Tell our father that in his ab-sence, I have found his son guilty of incest and rape. Now I must go. Tamar and I have de-cided to visit our mother’s homeland of Talmai.”

He looked over the faces staring at him. None, not even Solomon, seemed prepared to stop him from leaving. They simply sat, silenced by the cruel murder of Amnon.

Absalom beckoned to his servants as he strode out of the hall, never once looking back.

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SupportAIKO M.

I find it very difficult in life to have a family’s support in a lot of the choices I make as a person. Whether it be friendships, relationships, or when I am physically attacking myself, no matter what, my family always has my back. Recently I went through a tough break-up, and I was mixing sad emotions together while adding fuel to the fire in my heart. I didn’t feel compatible with the most of the world, and I was also blaming myself for mak-ing the wrong choices, while putting myself down. A lot of close friends (who are like my family) and my mother, comforted me, and told me I would be okay, and that I would get through it. At the same time though, I had a couple of close friends who questioned my actions from the break-up. They ended up playing the blame game with me, and made me feel like I had to clarify myself again to these people, when they should be backing me up, and trying to cheer me up. I wasn’t sure if I was the victim, or the perpetrator because playing a blame game takes up all my energy, and mentally, emotionally and physically breaks me down.

Throughout half of my life, I have kept so many secrets, and so many emotional pains in my heart, that I would shield myself from people. This year I couldn’t do it anymore. I am still in love with the person that I am not in the relationship with anymore, but what pains me is the trust and friendship I lost with the person. I felt like I got slapped in the face, because I wish he manned up, and told me straight up what was going on, versus having to find out about it on Christmas Eve. I was super lucky though. Why? As I state, my close friends are like family, they ARE family. One of my best friends came to my rescue, she sent her boyfriend out to help me, and he was there to support me. She came in after, and I was bawling non-stop. I couldn’t breathe, I felt like I was having a heart attack, and she just hugged me close. She let me cry it out, and I am still crying about it. She was with me the entire time, and I thank her with every breath I take for being there, and sticking to my side.

I thank the support I received from family. Without them, I am not sure if I would still be living or letting myself go and do drugs. I don’t even know if I would become a her-mit, or avoid the world altogether, and be one with the world. What I do know now is that I received the love, support, trust and care from family, and close friends. Nothing could take that away from me, because that is like a protection charm to ward off predators. I am eternally grateful, even if I still close myself off at times, or act empathetic about it. I am not good with emotions much, but I am glad that family sticks around for me. I am glad that family has never really failed me, but has held my hands tightly, and brought me to be the better person I am.

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FamilyASHLEY NEWTON

Wherever my head can rest in safetyIs the place I want to call homeSometimes it is far away From where I, at times, wish to beBack there, with my family

Wherever I can turn corners and find loveIs the place I want to call homeSometimes it is all around meA gentle reminder of what I still haveEven if the love is scattered around the world

But now I go homeAnd the heat has been kept offMy bed is coldThe room is darkNo one’s here but meI still feel the safety and love with meEven though I feel aloneIt’s my home away from home

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DaughterKYLE CLIMANS

“Marlene?”

The elderly lady looked up from her armchair, “Yes?”

“You have a visitor.”

Marlene frowned, “I wasn’t expecting a visitor today.”

“Are you not feeling well? You don’t have to see them if-”

“No, of course I’m fine, I won’t turn anyone away. Please, let them in.”

A young woman of about thirty entered the room. She had long brown hair which rested on her shoulders.

“Hello,” she said.

Marlene paused, looking at those cheerful blue eyes, the toothy smile. Where did she know this woman from?

Suddenly, it clued in.

“Estelle!” She exclaimed, “Darling, I almost didn’t recognize you! What did you do to your hair?”

“I grew it out, I suppose,” Estelle replied, still smiling.

Marlene pointed to a nearby chair, “Well don’t just stand there, sweetie, come sit down!”

Estelle sat down on the chair, as delicately and poised as though she were a bird. It really had been a while since she’d seen her, Marlene thought.

“How have you been, my dear?”

Estelle shrugged, “I’ve been about the same. Though I’m seeing someone new.”

“Oh that’s wonderful!” Marlene exclaimed, clapping her hands together, “Who is she? What does she do?”

“Her name’s Tiffany. She’s a sculptor making props for movies and television.”

“Ooh, has she introduced you to any stars yet?” Marlene giggled.

Estelle smiled and shook her head, “Not yet, but I keep asking, so maybe she’ll give in one day. How about you?”

“Oh this place never changes, dear. But they do give us lots of games to play. I’ve recently discovered that I’m very good at cards. Now don’t tell anyone, but we had a secret game night where we played for money. I must have won two hundred dollars by the time we called it quits!”

Estelle laughed, “That’s great, what will you spend the money on?”

“Oh I haven’t decided yet. Maybe some Christmas gifts for them. It wasn’t about the money for me, anyway. I was just so happy that we could all get together and have some fun. Life doesn’t always let us do that,” Marlene commented.

Estelle nodded slowly. She suddenly looked as though she was remembering some-thing and she reached into the handbag.

“By the way, I brought this for you,” she said.

Marlene gasped for joy as she beheld the ornate seashell. Bright colours covered the shell in complicated swirls, and shone as though made of glass.

Marlene held the shell to her ear, smiling at Natasha as she did so, “Thank you, my dear. That’s very sweet of you to bring such a wonderful gift!”

Estelle simply smiled back, even as she brought out something else from her bag, “Ialso brought a deck of cards.”

Marlene laughed aloud at that, “You’ve got guts, Esty! I just told you about my win-ning streak, didn’t I?”

Estelle shrugged, “I’ll take my chances.”

Marlene stood up, started to make for the table, but then paused.

Estelle looked at her, puzzled, “Something wrong?”

Marlene turned to Estelle and nodded, “Yes, I should tell the front desk to extend your parking time so you aren’t charged.”

Estelle froze for the briefest of seconds, opening her mouth as if to say something, but she said nothing.

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Marlene didn’t notice, as she was already dialing the main desk. After they picked up, she spoke in a loud voice, as though she were unsure the people on the other end wouldn’t hear her, “Hello! Yes, my daughter Estelle’s car is parked in the lot downstairs, she signed in for a visit. Can you just extend her time, please?” There was a pause, and then Marlene thanked them for her help and hung up.

Smiling, she turned back to Estelle, “Well that’s done. Let’s play some cards, my dear!”

Later, when Marlene fell asleep. Natasha slowly left the elderly lady where she lay, snoozing in her comfortable armchair.

She crept out of the room, quietly closed the door behind her, and went to leave for the exit. As she re-entered the lounge, she noticed that Kent was no longer sitting behind the desk. He must be on his lunch break, Natasha thought worriedly. The woman sitting there now was someone she didn’t recognize at all. This might be a bit awkward.

She approached the desk, “Hello, I’m here to sign out, please.”

The receptionist looked up, “Oh, are you the lady who came to see Marlene Thomp-kins?”

“Yes,” Natasha replied.

“There seems to be an inconsistency here. Your signature and car are both very dif-ferent from an older file we have on record.”

Natasha decided not to beat around the bush, “Alright, I should explain, I’m not her daughter, Estelle. My name’s Natasha.”

The receptionist looked puzzled, “But then-”

“-I don’t know how long you’ve been working here, but Marlene’s daughter hasn’t visited her for a few years, now. Marlene’s condition means she doesn’t remember that, so it’s easier for her.”

The receptionist nodded slowly, “So, how do you know her?”

“She was my favourite high school teacher, and I owe her a lot.” Natasha replied. The explanation felt too simple, but Natasha didn’t feel it appropriate to relay a lifetime’s worth of experience to this overly curious person.

Natasha thought briefly of the other receptionist who knew of this arrangement. Kent had been satisfied with a simple explanation, and anyway, he considered it a relief that

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someone visited the poor Marlene. Estelle certainly wasn’t doing that, for reasons Natasha would neither know nor understand.

Thankfully, the receptionist decided not to press the issue. She shrugged her shoul-ders and wished her a good day. Relieved, Natasha left the building.

As she left for her car, her cell phone rang. It was Tiffany.

“Hi sweetheart, it turns out we’re done early today, so I’ll be home for dinner,” Tif-fany said.

“That’s great!” Natasha replied.

“How have you been?”

“I went to see Mrs. Thompkins today.”

“Oh? How was she?”

“She seemed alright,” Natasha suddenly felt a lump rise in her throat as she thought of her teacher, who could look at her former student and mistake her for her child. How she took such joy from having people she cared around her.

“Hello?” Tiffany asked, confused by the sudden silence.

Natasha found her voice again, “Sorry, I’m just really happy we can have an evening together, babe.”

“Me too. See you in an hour!” A beep on the other end indicated that she’d hung up.

Natasha took another moment to compose herself. She kept thinking back to that smiling woman, who had calmly listened to her questions about why she thought of girls instead of boys. She had always greeted her cheerfully in the halls of high school, and had hugged her at the graduation ceremony. And now when Natasha came to visit her in this retirement home, her face still lit up, Marlene’s smile defied the forces of age and sickness, and she embraced Natasha as a daughter.

Maybe, Natasha thought as she started to drive out of the parking lot, it wasn’t such a strange notion after all.

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ASHLEY NEWTON

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JESSICA NEWTON

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