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    Vectors
    Vectors
    Vectors
    Ebook20 pages20 minutes

    Vectors

    By David Naismith

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Do you ever wonder if there is a similitude that exists in the lives spent on this earth? What is this thing we call "life" - are there hidden connections between seemingly disparate entities, metaphysical threads that bind the multitude of difference animating the flesh and spirit of this world? Is there some kind of pattern in the chaos, some secret, shared destiny played out over and over through the clockworks of time? These are questions Old Pete never once asked in his long life. But on one quiet autumn night, a man, a herd of deer, and a pack of wolves will play out a story of sorrow, sin, and synchronicity that will leave the reader thinking about their own life for a long time to come.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDavid Naismith
    Release dateNov 12, 2017
    ISBN9781370028047
    Vectors
    Author

    David Naismith

    David Naismith is a writer and artist who works in a multiple of media. He lives in Nova Scotia, Canada. Connect on Facebook!

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      Book preview

      Vectors - David Naismith

      VECTORS

      By David J Naismith, copyright 2017

      A wind was circling, high in the sky, a movement unfelt to those below, an idea not yet realized. Down on the ground, Old Pete Price regained consciousness in long, grey grass beside an equally ancient cottonwood tree. Black, gnarled limbs glared at him from latticed heights. A metallic rasping of crickets filled his ears, and from somewhere in the approaching dusk, an owl softly hooted. Spitting out a little earth, the man staggered to his feet, leaning on the tree for support.

      He could taste nothing but rye, hot brown and in his pores. Swaying, he straightened out his threadbare Harris tweed coat, and then Old Pete gazed down the quiet country road to his left. The sun was setting there, in the west, and when he looked to the east, he could see the cold cloud front building for tomorrow's storm. He brushed away some leaves clinging to his sleeve, thrust his hands into empty pockets, and began shuffling down the hazy lane. Little puffs of dust rose from his creaky feet.

      Old Pete was halfway through his plan. His eye followed a bat as it flitted across the road, and he thought about part two. Part one, which had involved drinking a forty and a half of Five Star, had been suitably accomplished. He stopped to dislodge a pebble from his shoe. As he leaned over to do this, he lost his balance and sprawled heavily to the ground in the middle of the lane. He cursed loudly and rolled onto

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