Covert Novelist

Home » Short Stories » Critical Error » Critical Error (3)

Critical Error (3)


Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,672 other followers

Eilea Martin was currently employed by Golden City Life Travel Agency, a job she thoroughly enjoyed, working for a fabulous boss.  She loved the nine to five shift, which meant she was home with the kids. No, they weren’t perfect, they had their moments, however, she had no room for complaint.

Christina had recently turned sixteen.  She was a beautiful young woman.  Her shoulder-length dark brown hair, rich brown eyes, long lashes and snow white skin, were just the beginning.  At five foot eight, with a slim curvy figure, the world was her oyster; nothing would hold her back, for she was a strong, determined young woman.

Having broken all the stereotypes, the first girl to enter a mechanics class at the Senior Secondary School, and one of a handful determined to fly for the Air Force, she certainly wasn’t the usual run-of-the-mill young woman.  The yearbook was full of pictures and stories pertaining to their racing trips and successes. She’d been over the moon when, while driving the drag car on their fourth such trip, they won first place.

She chuckled, remembering the conversation with her in which she’d said she would never watch her race because she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her injured.  When the time came, and they required a chaperone, she’d agreed anyway and it had turned into a thrilling if exhausting experience.

Andrew was thirteen.  Need she say more?  While a little more dependent than Christine,  he generally took a “you first” attitude.  Whether motivated by self-preservation or fear, she wasn’t altogether sure, but time heals all ills.

He had inherited some problems with his eyes which created depth perception problems and made reading difficult.  He was the butt of hurtful mean-spirited teasing at school that amounted to abuse.  It started in the fourth grade and escalated.

Eventually, he learned how to handle the bullies.  And when he couldn’t, well, his big sister could.  They knew how tough she was, and they weren’t about to cross paths with her.

Andrew had always been a demonstrative child, tender, loving, caring, and expressive, with a very mature sense of humor.  Whereas other children, Christina included, never caught innuendo or abstract humour, Andrew always had.  Even as a very small child, Eilea was amazed at his comprehension.

Eilea loved working at the travel agency.  Her job enabled contact with a variety of people from around the world, from a mixture of lifestyles. Some interesting and wonderful people all with one thing in common; they were here for a good time!  They were coming to experience all that the Island had to offer.  Seasoned travelers prepared in advance for their upcoming trip to ensure accommodation and activities were lined up so upon arrival, they were prepared to enjoy.

Often many not only exchanged information on the local area but eagerly divulged information about their homes including what the terrain, weather, social and political climates were like.  Eilea was an armchair traveler in more ways than one.

Visitors frequently sent postcards and little letters of appreciation for her hard work in delivering the information and assistance they required.  Hence, the problem that had brought her to Carrot Park this morning, sitting on a park bench, staring up at the blue skies and asking herself what she had done or who she could have wronged.

Although she assured her clients that gifts were thoughtful but unnecessary, the work was a reward in itself, it didn’t make much difference.  They sent gifts anyway.  Consequently, she’d received a diverse variety of gifts; from dinner and drink invitations to cards and letters of gratitude to the offer of a place to stay should she travel to their country (complete with guide of course).  She was surprised and secretly delighted by her client’s thoughtfulness. She made a point of sending thank you cards in response.  That’s how it had begun. It had all started several weeks ago.

That’s how it had begun several weeks ago.  At first, she hadn’t paid much attention to it.



  1. Looks like you repeated the last few lines. Did you do that on purpose?


  2. Sheryl says:

    l-o-v-e this.


  3. Sheryl says:

    I’ve started reading this again from the beginning since I let so much time go between. I still love it.


    • That excites me, Sheryl, seriously. Your thoughts matter to me. I enjoy exchanging just a few words each day. It is one of the reasons I’m here. I love writing, experimenting, learning, but I love being able to chat with others about everything really. Thank you so much and yes, I really want to know what you think. Some have mentioned it dragged on, but I’m not sure. There are so many individuals to consider and they are the story, not just by-standers as it were.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: