Goodbye Paul!

Translated by Wendy Cross

It was November. It was cold; below the seasonal average, the weather forecast said. The wind swept the dead leaves along in gusts. The sky was a cold, clear blue. Really not the weather to be put into a coffin, I said to myself...I was off to the funeral of Paul Caron, a colleague of mine. Paul was a lad from the North district, a great buddy, straightforward, no hidden side to him, uncompromising and honest. A big guy, with broad shoulders, slightly bent, who everybody liked, even those who had crossed swords with him. He said what he had to say, sometimes a bit abruptly, but always politely

© Short Édition - All Rights Reserved

You might also like…

Short Fiction
Short Fiction

Chaim's Golem

Avra Ma.

I got the idea from one of your old stories. Building golems out of river mud and whatnot. Except I didn't want a golem. I just wanted you back by my side.Peddling clayware in the sweltering heat ... [+]

Short Fiction

Dragon Fire

Marièke Po.

Bibop was a little dragon with orange scales. He had been living on Grey Mountain with his mother since he'd been born. That was already nearly a hundred years ago. A hundred years old, that's when ... [+]