Open Wounds by Douglas Skelton sampler

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First published 2016 isbn: 978-1-910745-33-5 The paper used in this book is recyclable. It is made from low chlorine pulps produced in a low energy, low emissions manner from renewable forests. Printed and bound by Bell & Bain Ltd., Glasgow Typeset in 11 point Sabon by 3btype.com The author’s right to be identified as author of this work under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 has been asserted. © Douglas Skelton 2016
5 December 2002 funerals in the sun didn’t feel right to him – even a bloodless winter sun that hung low over the trees and glinted off the hard, frosted ground. There should be clouds, he thought, and rain. People should be hiding under umbrellas, not squinting against the light as they waited to file into the crematorium. There weren’t many of them. Some wouldn’t dare show up – not after what happened. Those who had were the ones who really cared, who mourned. There would be no religious element to the proceedings. There would be a memorial stone placed after the brief ceremony, but it carried merely a name and dates. Simple. To the point. No other inscription, because what could you say? Gone too soon? Sleeping with angels? To hell with that. He’d say a few words, for he was his closest friend. Who else would do it – Rab McClymont? No way. Big Rab wasn’t even there, which was telling. He didn’t like funerals anyway. He always said he’d been to enough to last a lifetime. Caused a few, too. Some of the faces were familiar, others weren’t, which was no surprise. They had been close mates, but for ten years they had moved in different worlds. To an extent, anyway. He smiled slightly, but it was a rueful smile. They had been pals but were so very different. One was quiet – shy, even – the other talkative, outgoing. One was dark, the other blond. But they both had bad memories. The Life left scars that never healed, lesions that continually seeped poisons to taint the blood, to shadow the mind, to murder sleep. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned. First there was pleasure, then shock. Vari. He hadn’t seen her in years. She was still beautiful, even with her eyes brimming with tears as she greeted him by name. They hugged, held each other for a long time, then broke. He looked for
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Page 11 and 12: open wounds 9 Davie McCall said not
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Page 17 and 18: open wounds 15 him cut or his legs
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Open Wounds by Douglas Skelton sampler

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