And you will find me brother

From the window of the hospital, the only view were snow flurries killing off hopes of an early Spring.

‘Look at me.'

His eyes opened but remained cold.

’Doctor, can he hear me?’

’Yes, he’s fully conscious.’

Tom reached down to shake a shoulder: ‘Dad…Dad, tell the truth, please.’  A rasping sigh was all he got.

The doctor reached over and touched Tom's arm, ‘I am sorry but I need you to leave now.’

‘Look, I'm  his only son, and the bastard is going to be honest for once.’

From the bed, a soft laugh and a whisper of, 'No you ain't was all he got as final words.

Outside snow made roads silent and took away the colour of life.

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By moonlight did we meet

The long moon had made faerie woods where we walked to the sound of owls. It was a night to remember until I kissed you.

I could had ran and it would have been love but I didn't, so your knife slashed my throat. They say you drowned in blood but we know I had just made you hungry.

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A Missed Opportunity

Filla bent down to wash her hair in the spring. To amuse her Ombi cheekily shouted to a passing white woman, ‘Longapela winim!’

Lady Southfields, asked the guide, ‘I'm sorry, what did he say?’

Looking at the ground, he replied, ‘Erm...him saying you looking good.’

She turned, rolled her eyes and smiled at Filla before continuing her walk.

Ombi laughed and trust his body to and fro before shouting, ‘Pilai wantaim meri?’

Lady Southfields would indeed but she preferred softer flesh.

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And a light shall call to you

140 character story – drop by to Grandma's Goulash to leave your own

When dark even stars lie

In the Terror, vans crossed Moscow with the purged. Each van bright with painted food as lies to keep hope alive. 

We bathe the Centre for Reviving Youth in faces of the newly shorn. The living  are told it’s they we purify, not the dead. Immoral images again giving hope.

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For the King is a Lion when Rats rule

Royalty hath assented Laws on me. No dirty paws shall sully my face with thank-you scrawl.

'Dad, the new desk is wobbly.'

From the other room, Jeff snapped,'Alice, now, or no X-Factor.' That brought him creaking silence.

Yet later, he found just a bare desk: 'Alice...Alice'

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Freedom is a price worth paying

It was Miss Brown's final show and tell.

‘I have the  bestest yellow-headed rag-doll.’

’With less of the attitude, young lady.’ After forty years kids were still a pain, she thought.

'Miss, my mom told that St George woulda been beat by you.'

Her first and last slap was worth life on stale bread and twice dipped tea bags.

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