Welcome to the Watch RWISA Write Showcase Tour!
Thanks for joining me. The purpose of the blog hop is to feature nineteen
talented RWISA authors and offer a sample of their work. The RWISA (Rave
Writers - Int'l Society of Authors) is an elite branch of the outstanding Rave
Review Book Club, featuring the best of the best in writing.
It's my pleasure to feature the work of Robert Fear.
Afternoon cycle ride by Robert Fear
Ibiza, May 1977
As I set out on my cycle
ride, the streets of Es Cana were busy with pale-faced holidaymakers exploring their
new surroundings. I almost collided with a couple who looked the wrong way as they
crossed the road.
The hire bike was a boneshaker, and as I headed
out of town to the west, the road surface was uneven. The ride became rougher,
and I swerved to avoid potholes. Shocks vibrated through the handlebars and I lost
my grip twice. Despite this, the breeze in my face and the sun on my back felt
good.
Roads twisted and turned as I followed the coast
around Punta Arabi and through the outlying villages. I passed pine tree
fringed sandy beaches and caught glimpses of the sea. New tourist developments
dotted the coastline, in between the traditional houses, shops and bars.
After a while I came to the dusty main road
that ran from the north of Es Cana. Cycling westwards towards Santa Eulalia I soon
found myself in the main square where I had changed buses when I first arrived from
Ibiza Town in April.
My parched throat led me in search of a drink.
Opposite the Guardia Civil offices, I spotted Fred’s Bar and decided it was a
good place to quench my thirst. With the bike propped against an outside wall, I
walked into the gloomy interior and blinked after the bright sunshine.
At the bar I ordered a draught beer. As I stood
and sipped it, I glanced around and saw groups of men sat at the wooden tables.
English was the main language being spoken, and the newspapers were days-old copies
of The Sun. I felt out of place amongst the rustling of papers and whispered
conversations.
Chalked on a board was a small menu of English
food. I ordered Shepherd’s Pie with my next beer.
‘Take a seat at that corner table and I’ll bring
it over in a few minutes,’ commanded the gruff Yorkshire voice from behind the
bar. I assumed that was Fred.
‘Cheers mate,’ I smiled and walked over to the
seat he had indicated.
Sat on the hard, wooden chair I placed my drink
on the table.
I looked up and saw a man limping from the
bar. A large glass of whisky and ice almost slipped from his hand. Without a
word he slumped down opposite me. He shouted greetings to others but ignored me.
His voice was slurred, and he had a distinct American accent.
My food arrived, and I dug into it with a vengeance.
The cycle ride had given me a good appetite. As I polished off the plate, my table
companion burped and glanced towards me. I smiled at him and he grinned,
‘Looked like you enjoyed that.’
‘Yes, it was great,’ I replied, ‘have you tried
it?’
‘No man, I’m not into food much, I prefer this
stuff,’ he slurred and pointed to his drink.
He pulled out a pack of Camel cigarettes, flipped
back the top and offered me one.
I accepted it and gave him a light. We both
took a deep drag on the rough taste and exhaled plumes of smoke. He moved closer
and I could make out a mass of scars on his face and arms.
‘Do you live in Santa Eulalia?’ I asked, ‘you
seem to know lots of people here.’
‘Yea man, been here ages now. Came to Ibiza
in ’73. I’ve got a small apartment just outside the town, overlooking the sea.’
I looked at him with curiosity, ‘so you work
here then?’
He threw back his head and laughed. All eyes
turned in his direction as the raucous laugh subsided into chuckles.
‘No man, I’m pensioned off from the Army. I
was in Vietnam. Halfway through my second tour I got blown to smithereens and was
lucky to survive. They shipped me to the States, filled my body with metal and stitched
me up. I was in hospital for months and still go there twice a year for check-ups.’
My jaw dropped, and I looked at him with a
new respect. He continued,
‘The climate here helps my aching bones,
and the booze is cheap. I’ve made friends, although most of them think I’m crazy.
I suppose I am sometimes!’ he mused.
‘Did you want another drink?’ I asked him,
to break the momentary silence.
‘A large bourbon, with water and ice would be
great, thanks man.’
Back at the table I clinked my glass against
his. ‘Salut!’
We chatted a while longer and I told him about
the work I was doing. His eyes glazed over. He nodded as I talked, but I sensed
his mind was elsewhere.
‘I have to go now,’ I said, as I stood up and
offered my hand.
‘Nice talking to you man, all the best and hope
to see you again.’ He gave me a weak handshake from his seated position.
‘Yes, me too, my name’s Fred.’
‘I’m Michael, or Mike, also known as Mad Mike
by my friends. Take care on your ride back to Es Cana.’
He waved over as I headed out of the door.
The bike had fallen over, but it was still
there. I had not thought to secure it two hours before when I entered the bar. I
figured it was safe parked opposite the police station.
With a slight wobble I set off along the main
road towards Es Cana. A car came straight at me and I had to swerve. Out of
habit, I had started out on the left-hand side of the road. With a wrench of
the handlebars I switched to the right and just avoided a collision.
That could have been nasty!
****
Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH
"RWISA" WRITE Showcase Tour today!
We ask that if you have enjoyed Robert Fear's writing, please visit his Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of his writing, along
with his contact and social media links, if he's turned you in to a fan.
We ask that you also check out his books in the RWISA or RRBC
catalogs. Thanks again for your support and we hope that you will follow each
member along this amazing tour of talent. Don't forget to click the link below
to learn more about Robert Fear.
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