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    Bali James -The Stories Book One
    Bali James -The Stories Book One
    Bali James -The Stories Book One
    Ebook87 pages1 hour

    Bali James -The Stories Book One

    By Bali James

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    About this ebook

    Bali James is only too happy for you to enjoy her work whilst on the train in the midst of the daily commute, or perhaps lounging poolside in the dead heat of August. Her only objective is to connect with you. With this intention she wrote stories that are both concise and thoroughly engaging.
    The Stories Book One highlights the choices we make and the effect of such decisions that we may not have taken into consideration. These narratives are told in a style that intend to speak to the reader in a manner that is completely relatable yet at the same time captivating in their unique tone. The stories are both concise and thoroughly engaging, a fictional, fantastical ride.
    Bali James-The Stories Book One is a visual, cross-cultural, exciting, and often, humorous portrayal of one person’s interpretation of the complex world she unflinchingly embraces.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBali James
    Release dateMar 30, 2016
    ISBN9781311674883
    Bali James -The Stories Book One
    Author

    Bali James

    Bali James is best described as a Creative Professional. Originally from the UK, she now resides in Los Angeles, CA.

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      Book preview

      Bali James -The Stories Book One - Bali James

      Bali James

      The Stories Book One

      Bali James

      Copyright © 2016 Bali James

      All Rights Reserved.

      No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions please contact: Balij3212@gmail.com

      ISBN: 978-1523735822

      ISBN: 1523735821

      1. James, Bali. 2. Fiction. 3. Culture. 4. Cosmopolitan 5. International.

      6. Communication.

      Library Of Congress Control Number: 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

      Cover Design by QJS Design Studio

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

      Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

      For Maximillian and Andrew

      Acknowledgements

      I appreciate you Vincent, my brother and friend. Thank you for always being so generous with your encouragement. Next comes you know who.

      Table of Contents

      Acknowledgements

      1. Olivia

      2. Jeffrey the Minotaur

      3. Maria on the 720

      4. Valentine

      5. The Georgian on Pennybridge Road

      6. Better With Tino

      7. Bricklayers and Vagabonds

      8. Le Chien

      9. De Vergeten

      10. Bond

      Glossary

      About the Author

      Olivia

      Pitfalls and Choices

      1

      OLIVIA

      The woman, who sat in the seat directly in front of me this afternoon on The Metro, had the whitest hair I had ever seen. She wore a black trenchcoat, oversized, tortoiseshell glasses and resounding, red lipstick. Her hair was thick and rested slightly tousled on her shoulders; it resembled a painter’s white, high gloss, even in tone and saturation. I found it mesmerizing. I was tempted to approach her and ask what colour her hair had been in her youth. I imagined—blonde, however, I couldn’t imagine asking such an impertinent question. She sat next to a tall, slender African man who spoke with a French accent. His hair was a heap of immaculately kept dreadlocks, thick and hanging down to the small of his back, not a grey strand in sight. He too wore a black trenchcoat with a burgundy and blue, paisley silk scarf tied high around his neck. The two were complete contrasts, though they complimented each other perfectly. I wondered where they were going and if perhaps I might tag along.

      Hi, my name is Bali. May I join you?

      I was looking for stories, stories that do not exist in LA so I returned home, back to where I come from. I walk the bustling city streets and soak up all they have to offer. I ride The Tube purposefully at peak hours so I can feel connected to the intensity that lies beneath the concrete.

      ***

      It was late morning when I spotted the magnetic couple again. My days are free to flow as I please, so I followed them. They disembarked at the end of the line all the way in the suburbs. They then hailed a taxi outside of the train station and that’s when I lost them.

      I stayed in the immediate vicinity for the next couple of days. The town was quaint, brimming with cafés and historical places of interest short distances away.

      I was on an aimless, morning stroll when I ran into the white-haired lady again. She had hurt her ankle and was sitting perched curbside with one shoe resting in the gutter, gazing at her swollen, purple foot. I was so excited at the prospect of making contact that I initially froze when I spotted her. Admittedly I had stayed around in the hopes of running into the intriguing couple though I hadn’t necessarily expected to.

      Hello, I said as I approached then bent down next to her. Are you hurt, can I help you?

      Oh it’s entirely my fault, she said. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and carelessly stumbled over some sort of protruding object. I’m afraid all I can muster is a hobble. I live close by; perhaps I might lean on you the rest of the way."

      My name is Bali, I said extending my hand.

      "Oh how delightful. My name is Olivia and considering my current state I am certainly very happy to meet you."

      I almost revealed how I had first noticed her with her companion on the train but thought it best not to. Following an elderly couple clear across town for no apparent reason was a particularly bizarre thing to do and best not spoken of.

      I carried Olivia on my back to her home. She was a tiny bird, a delicate little thing; by my guess in her late sixties, well kept, void of any stuffiness. In fact, I detected a trace of the East End in her dialect. Having acknowledged to myself that my behavior had been somewhat eccentric, I was now at a loss for conversation and felt rather self-conscious. It was Olivia who broke the ice.

      It’s so nice of you, Bali, to come to my rescue. Do you live around here? I don’t remember ever seeing you.

      I informed Olivia that I now lived in Los Angeles and was home on an extended stay.

      Oh LA, she crooned. All that glitter and glam and endless sunshine. You’re a lucky girl Bali.

      I know, I said, I just forget that sometimes.

      I didn’t want to assume Olivia was retired as she had a definite vigour and youthfulness about her, so I asked instead how she spent her days and she casually mentioned that she slings hash. Naturally I imagined that she owned a diner.

      Close by to Olivia was about a mile

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