Stephen Livingstone 1,500 words

87 New Devonshire Sq,

Salford, Gtr Manchester
M74BH
07516421921
Steliv@hotmail.com

MAITU

Stephen Livingstone

HAJO VOIGT BLEW HIS NOSE and a tooth fell out. It sat on

his tongue behind his startled expression: another tooth. He

retrieved the tooth with his handkerchief and placed it in his
pocket, for no other reason than politeness. He tongued the
fresh gap between his front teeth, pondering which direction to
take next; before him a birch hollow, to either side, the woods
thickened with alder and redwood, waterholes shimmered under the
beating sun. It all looked so unfamiliar in the daylight.

"Cochon, which way did you say to the bogs?" Hajo patted
his pockets, in search of his compass. He turned, and seeing he
was alone, cursed under his breath, before retracing his steps

in search of Cochon. Why did he bring Cochon along? The idiot.

His meth addiction had robbed him of his sense of pleasure. Hajo
liked that, a new creature, an emotional eunuch. It made him
liked that, a new creature, an emotional eunuch. It made Maitu
him 1

dependable in a way. Or was it only pity? Did he really believe

she could help him?

He staggered uphill as far back as the snag tree they had

passed only moments earlier. Breathless, he wiped the sweat from
his brow and looked about for sight of Cochon's red chequered
shirt.

"Cochon! Cochon!"

No response. Only the hum and vibrancy of insect life. He

must have returned to the hotel not so dependable after all.

Hajo stood a moment in indecision, wondering whether to return

himself. Sweat clamped his shirt to his large frame; flies
assailed his ears and eyes with almost menacing intent, and
without Cochon he wasn't sure of the way. But his body was
growing weaker each day; he felt he was running out of time so
he pressed on alone.

On his return to the birch hollow, Hajo spotted a flash of

red through a clearing and, beating his way through the
undergrowth with his cane; he climbed a small mount, where to
his relief he found Cochon. "I thought you had deserted me, you
fool!" He laughed, shaking Cochon's neck with a mock grasp, "I
didn't take you for a piker. Stay close, it's a long way back."
 Maitu 2

Cochon, unresponsive, stood as if rooted; his nostrils

dilated, breathing fiery and staggered. Hajo could see something
was wrong in his sunken, anaemic eyes. He followed his gaze to a
red doe drinking from a waterhole at the foot of the mount.
After quenching her thirst, she shook her neck and gazed up at
the two men. Cochon sprang to life, swiping Hajo's cane he
marched towards the doe with purpose, screaming bloody
obscenities. Seeing her would-be assailant, the doe scampered
forth in fright, before bolting away into the woods. Cochon
returned, and throwing the cane to the ground in a show of
anger, said: "When you saw the Mother, was she crying? Think!"

"I don't think so," said Hajo, avoiding Cochon's eyes. "No,
I'm certain she wasn't. What of it anyway? What's happened?"

Cochon grinned, showing his wide, toothless junky mouth

and, looking to Hajo knowingly, said: "Well, before you got
here, that doe walked right up to me. Real graceful. Just where
you're standing there. Slowly, as I put out my hand; she knelt
on her front legs and looking up at me, like this. She cried

like a woman, Hajo. A human woman. I never felt such a rush!"

"And your first thought was to run down there and bash her
with a cane? You profane dog! A most holy, and fatidical
with a cane? You profane dog! A most holy, and fatidical Maitu 3

messenger, driven away like a mangy cur! Oh, I should never have
brought you along Cochon. That was a mistake I'll live to
regret!" Hajo lifted his cane and motioned to strike out at him.
Seeing Cochon wince, he resisted the urge; his expression

relaxed a little. "In any case, it means we're getting close. At

least now you've witnessed something of what I have. Maitu is
merciful, she'll receive and heal you but we must find her
before sundown."

"It's not too far, we head northwest, we'll come to an old

frame-house, it's about a kilometre from there." Cochon doused
his head with water from his flask and, drinking of it greedily,
smacked his lips, eyes wide-open and smiling: "So it was all
true. Maitu is really gonna heal me, isn't she?"

And so, the two men resumed their journey to the tourbieres
of Caniveau-Pierre.

****************************
 Maitu 4

ON THE OUTSKIRTS of Poitou-Charentes, a small, vibrant

fishing village overlooks the Bassin d'Arcachon and, located on
its southerly decline as the terrain retreats to hilly
woodlands there stands a Merovingian church; historically, the
purlieu of the penitential Order of Servites.

The progress of ages, since recast the church as a

functioning hotel: Hotel Mere de la Souffrance. An unusual name,

but a one in keeping with its heritage. Its courtyard once
austerely moss-covered, now bustled with the animation of life.
Its once solemn and tenebrous transept, cheerfully remodelled as
a reception area. Extensions had been made to its wings, and a
porous stone pediment, raised in its honour, overlooked the rose
gardens with the words: "Li quens Rollands se jut desuz un
pin..."
Yet, something of its spirit remained. Visitors sought out
the church-hotel for its famed 'halfway-house' reputation of
servicing addicts wishing to avoid a public scandal. Others,
simply preferred its easy atmosphere, for it helped detract from
the severity of their addictions, and the familiar authoritative
structures of their withdrawals. They were treated no
differently to other guests. In fact, the services and programs

offered were made available as if en gratis. Only the addicts,

half-mockingly referred to themselves as, "the derelicts of the
half-mockingly referred to themselves as, "the derelicts Maitu
of the5

earth." It's success rate was quietly hailed.

It was here, on one blustering Autumn eve, Hajo arrived in

a rickshaw from La Rochelle. Singing merrily:

"Adieu, my sweet lovely Nancy,

a thousand times adieu.

I am going across the ocean, love,

to seek for something new..."

Much to the overtaxed driver's relief; Hajo unloaded, paid

his fare and bid him joyful farewell. Wrapping his woollen
overcoat close against the biting winds, he approached the
hotel. On the portico steps his fat, drunk, uncertain legs
buckled with each misstep, as he trailed behind an overstuffed
valise. His eyes fixed on the crack of a cornice, then to a
varicoloured lancet; finally they settled on the great pediment
with its imposing unintelligible words.

"What is this?" He asked himself, "Here for confession?"

Hajo turned to scuttle off in search of a quiet spot to repose.
For Hajo, was an unfortunate sot, whose memory, drifts with each
successive drink, further into the constellation of vague,
emotional landscapes. He was saved, however, by a young blue-
liveried porter who, much to his amusement, espied all this from
liveried porter who, much to his amusement, espied all this from
Maitu 6

the double-barred entrance. He whistled, catching Hajo's

attention and with warm welcomes that cut through the bracing
the winds, relieved him of his luggage. He escorted Hajo within,
as one would lead the blind.

Hajo was overwhelmed to tears by the sight before him. The

bright, warm reception area full of faces, sitting, conversing
at small cafe tables; rich cupolaed walls decorated in

colourful, non-representational art. And the beautifully

arranged flowers that en-wreathed the front desk.

"I feel good now. I feel happy," inhaled Hajo with a smile,
"A moment ago a great chasm threatened to swallow... I'm here

for confession. No, not confession! I've resolved to rid myself

of this affliction. For, Selene... Poor Selene. Ah! How good the

flowers smell. I always did like chrysanthemums."

Hajo checked-in, in a blurred haze of unrestrained laughter

and joy. He had noticed a group of loud, boisterous men, playing

cards by the entrance. He was ambling towards them to ask if

perhaps they knew Gin Rummy; thumbing a cigar in his inner

pocket, lumping his valise drunkenly behind.

When suddenly, a hand arrested his arm, "Mr Voigt, I

presume?"
"Hajo, please."

"Albaine, a pleasure." The two men shook hands. Albaine

 "Albaine, a pleasure." The two men shook hands. Albaine
Maitu 7

waved to a bellboy, who quickly tagged and swept away Hajo's

luggage. "I'm the resident nurse. We've confirmed your

registration. Your board has been paid for in full; you needn't
worry about anything so long you're here. We hope you'll find

your stay satisfactory, and I'm confident you will."

"Yes, my wife gifted it, in her will. It's just... I didn't

expect it to look so unusual - at least on the outside. So like

a church."

"Ah-ha, yes, well structurally, it is a church. It's the

first thing our residents notice. But you'll find its interior
is quite modern. We have plenty of recreational, therapy,

canteen, even special, and private rooms here. I'm sure, in

time, you'll appreciate them all - especially our gardens. Now,

if you'll follow me to the triage room?"

"Triage?"

"The Medical room.

 Maitu 8

"

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