The Room

The Room

By Peter Woodgate

One hand on the doorknob

The latch I then slide

As bravely I open

And survey the inside.

A fire in the grate

A soft rug on the floor

A guard in the hearth

But what is this for?

My gaze wanders aimlessly

Searching around

My heart remains chilled

For this room lacks the sound.

Of the voice, that once, could right all wrongs

Soothing my troubled brow

And a smile that would say everything is ok

That was then, but alas, not now.

She has gone, my light, my saviour

I stand alone in this room we would share

I try to remember the good times

a vision of her standing there.

But despite the flame, it isn’t the same

This room where I stand and stare,

A stark realization of what now remains

just some boots and a hat on the chair.

Copyright Peter Woodgate

A Kiss

A Kiss

By Shelley Miller

Why oh why must she persist
In pouting lips that charm a kiss

from him?
It only makes her hunger

for his roaming hands to wander

limb to limb.

Why oh why will she not see
The joys of love are ephemeral and he knows,
His touch is in her mind and when

it's open wide she blossoms like a rose.

It's beautiful, it has no end,
His kiss will keep on leading her astray,
But his smile is so inviting and he knows
She'll stay with him another day.

Copyright By Shelley Miller

Flamingo Podnyalsya Ch 4

Flamingo Podnyalsya Ch 4

CHAPTER 4

By Phil Miller

Chris had been an IT consultant for a large American communications company and was very good at what he did. His IQ was 135 and there was absolutely nothing he did not know about computers. For most people, a career in this industry would have been just fine, but not for Chris. He wanted more and knew the only way to get what he wanted was to work for himself; find a niche market.

That was when the problems started. There had been a recession and people were losing their jobs left, right and centre. Sara was in a permanent state of existential angst and it was affecting their relationship. They had been trying for a baby but it was proving difficult so they decided to consult a gynaecologist and were both devastated when told that Sara was infertile. After many clinical appointments and discussions on courses of treatment, they opted for IVF, which proved very expensive and which soon burned a hole in their bank balance.                             

Things were looking grim. But then Chris spotted an article in the Telegraph appertaining to the lack of polygraph testers in the UK and the government’s legislative proposal to adopt polygraph testing within the British justice system with it being written in statute within the next three years. He researched the field of Polygraphy extensively and was hooked. He opted for an intensive three-month course in California, and when finished, he would be a fully-fledged member of the highly prestigious American Polygraph Association; a licence to print money.   
                        

Sara didn’t want him to go but, after a lot of heated debate and soul searching, the decision was made, and Chris left for the sunshine coast. He spoke to Sara every day for the first month but the calls started to drop away so much so that halfway through the course they were only talking about twice a week.

It was during his seventh week of training that he met Mika. She had been accompanying her husband while he attended a venture capital, technological, innovation and social media world conference, and exhibition in the San Francisco Bay area of Northern California. The American Polygraph Association had decided the event would be an opportunity to advertise their unique business; good practise for the students. That is when Chris first set eyes on Mika. She looked stunning in her green velvet backless dress which revealed a large tattoo of a multi-coloured dragon. She was nonchalantly walking around when she spotted the sign above stand 516 that read, “COULD YOU DETECT A LIE, BECAUSE WE GUARANTEE TO.”

She walked slowly over to Chris and stood staring at him before lifting a small lipstick from her handbag and applying it.

“Can you really catch people out with this machine, if they lie?”

“That’s the idea,” Said Chris, feeling rather hot under the collar. “Would you like to try it?”

“Yes please, could be fun.” She sat down at the small table. “I suppose you’re going to strap me up to something now.”

“Nothing harmful, just a few leads to some of your fingers and some straps around your body.”

“Go on then.” She laid her hand on the table and Chris took up the cardio-sphygmograph. He had set this up over 100 times during the last six weeks but at this moment he couldn’t function properly. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He gently attached the galvanograph to her fingertips.  He felt a surge of natural electricity surge through him as he felt her beautiful soft skin. His heart began to race. Sara flashed through his mind. He hadn’t felt like this for a long time. Every now and then Mika caught him staring at her and laughed. Next, the cuff. As he slid it on her arm his eyes caught hers and he felt chemistry between them. He stepped away and reached for the tube-like band. “I’m just going to wrap this around your body.”

As he stepped towards her, she lifted her right leg and pointed her foot at him. “Could you take my shoes off for me, my feet are aching.” Chris licked his dry lips and looked around to see if any of his fellow students or tutor were on their way back from their walkabout, then knelt down and removed her shoes and placed them under her chair. He gripped the table leg to help himself up and couldn’t help looking at her perfectly formed body. He felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Time just froze for a moment as she sat staring seductively at him.

“I’ve got a proposition for you.” She said, “How would you like to earn an easy 10 grand?”

The next six months were a whirlwind for Chris and Mika was the storm driving it. She had sophistication about her. She was beguiling, beautiful, cunning and alluring.   

After convincing Mitch that she needed to visit her sick friend in New York, she booked a hotel a few blocks from where Chris was staying. The first night they spent together she emptied her bag onto the queen-sized bed and produced a pocket guide Kama Sutra, chopped some lines and pounced on him like a lioness. Chris couldn’t get enough of it; the Charlie and her. She was insatiable. If Sara found out, that really would be the end.

It was Wednesday morning at The Piers Hotel. After he’d cleaned the mirror and did a visual sweep for any loose wraps, Chris made his way to Luigi’s greasy spoon for a fry up. After a bit of banter with the staff, he sat quietly staring at his large cappuccino. He started to get anxious again. “What the fuck should I do? Time to get out. Get out of this mess. Come on, pull yourself together man. Jesus! 9.30!, Sara!  Got to call Sara. Did I even speak to her yesterday?” He took out his 11 pro max and saw a missed call, so sat working out his next move. “Come clean. End it. Just tell the truth. No, get some help.” He never really talked about his feelings; just like his father, an emotional fish. That was half the problem. They needed to talk. His heartfelt heavy as he hit speed dial but, just as he connected, a text came through. It was Mika.

“ Meet at Purdey’s, Friday, at 8pm. Bring your little box of tricks with you, 5k for 2 hours work. Don’t be late xx.” He replied, “ok!” and disconnected the call just as Sara answered, then switched off his phone. He needed time to think. 

Sara knew how busy Chris could get but was excited to tell him the good news. She was pregnant. It had been a bittersweet moment: finding herself with child but knowing that her daughter will grow up motherless for most of her life. She thought for a moment about video calling him but changed her mind. Her heart ached and she felt dizzy. Depression came over her like never before and she fought hard to hold the tidal wave of tears back. “Can’t let Chris see me like this. Tell him to his face. Can read him then, read him better than anyone.”

Purdey’s Farm was a dilapidated old farmhouse on the outskirts of Upminster, Essex.  It belonged to one-eyed Bob. Bob used to control all the bouncers in and around the West End. If anything needed sorting then he was your man. He was a one-eyed giant standing at 6” 8” and 28 stone.  He lost his eye in a fight with a Romanian Gypsy King. Bob lost his eye; the king lost his life. The fight was over a debt; winner takes all kind of bet.

The gates to the farm were always open but rarely did anybody venture in uninvited. The main house was a gutted roofless ruin. The yards, back and front, were full of old rusted cars, caravans, smashed up boats and mounds of old cable ready for stripping. There was a barn at the back of the house with open fields beyond which were flanked by ancient woodland. Piles of logs were stacked under a corrugated lean-to at the side of the barn with an abundance of coal next to it. A pile of old cables lay in the open. The burning always took place on the weekend and the acrid smoke lingered on for days.

Chris pulled up on time. It was dark and damp and a light fog stretched out beyond the fields. The gravel under the wheels reminded him of home and how proud he had felt when he and Sara had moved into their first home. He stepped out of his old 4x4 range rover with his kit case and walked up to the solid black iron door. He rang the bell and after a few minutes, a metal plate dropped to reveal a familiar face, followed by the sound of bolts being drawn. The door creaked open.

“Hello darling, come in.” She stood with a wicked smile on her face. She wore a black all in one overall, the type builders use when they are expecting to get dirty and what looked like surgical gloves.  Chris entered, head down.

Mika bolted the door behind them. It had just started to rain. She led him through to another door which led down to the basement where sat a tall imposing man with a heavily bruised face. He was gagged and his hands were cuffed to a bolt eye firmly fixed to a very old heavy workbench. Standing in the corner was another man. He stood by another smaller table on which lay a curled up leather pouch. A large vodka bottle and four glasses stood next to it.

“Mr Flicka, I would like to introduce a good friend of mine, Mr Kaspersky. Kas for short.” She walked over to the battered captive. “This is your subject. May I introduce mister Moreau.”

Copyright Phil Miller

Haibun – Air formation

Haibun – Air formation

By Robert Kingston

“We watched as they took to the sky in groups, then counted them as they returned one by one, some not returning at all.” These were words spoken of our air force in the Second World War. The effects on people's lives the world over is something many of us carry in our thoughts each day and on each day of remembrance. This for me was made all the more poignant today as I watched the largest flock of crows I have ever seen take to the sky, heading north-west, only for a short while later to return heading south-east. On their return the formation had changed, to a lesser number, a few more followed, then odd ones following a little later.

a flock of crows
in formation trace the past
shadows of heroes

Copyright By Robert Kingston

Celby, Guardian of the Portal.

Celby, Guardian of the Portal.

By Len Morgan

I am Celby, I'm eight, but kinda small for my age. I have a yella comb on my head, bright and fluffy. Moma says that means I have a special talent. My little sister Souli is only five but is far ahead of me at writin an sums, that's her talent because she has a purple comb.  I am a mind speaka like Ganpa.  Moma is purple like Souli, Popa has a black comb his talent is for building stuff.  Ganpa now has a fuzzy white comb with no fur on it. Moma says that's because he's old and wise, and should always be heeded.

 

On my seventh birthday, I received my speaka's medal when Ganpa tested my talent.

Ganpa took me through the portal, "now young Celby, I want you to tell me what that snail is thinking."

"You mean the funny shellikie thing with horns?"

"That's the one."

"She's looking at the leaves on the wild lettuce, they looked so tasty, but the plant is so far away, and she moves so slowly.  She wishes she had legs like the field mouse or wings like a bird."

"And what is the field mouse thinking?"

"He wishes he had a fine shiny shell to live in, like the snail, then he wouldn't have to build a nest."

"Very good.  You have shown me you are a true mind speaka, now I would like you to plant an idea in the mind of miss snail."

I thought very hard, then told her there are lots of tasty leaves much closer if you just look for them. She stopped and sampled a daisy leaf. "Did I do good Ganpa?"

"Excellent!  There are two rules you must promise to obey before you will be allowed to stand guard on the Portal to our world.

One, never look into the eyes of a Slowgie, If you do you'll let them into our World, then all kindsa mischief will follow. 

Two, never venture beyond the walls on either side!  If you do you will be trapped in the Slogie world and may never be able to return.  Do you hear my words boy?" 

I nodded, "yes Ganpa."

"Heed my words!" He sounded real serious.

Soon my life changed forever cause I disobeyed one of his rules.

.-...-.

Emily was nine years old and went to St Winifred's Junior School. Each day Janice, her minder, took her along the same route to school: along the A13, passing under the viaduct between Stamford Hill and Tilberry. The A13 is a dual carriageway; the two concrete walls supporting the viaduct protected a hidden garden, unlike any existing outside. There were shrubs, grasses, flowering plants, and ferns even in winter. Each day as they drove past, the wind would bounce off the walls, bringing a sweet-scented balmy perfume into the car, but they would whizz by so fast. They went past in a fraction of a second, so Emily always wound the window down before they reached the viaduct, just to enjoy it. Then, one day they were caught in traffic and crawled slowly past that tiny hidden place. Emily saw dragonflies, shrews, and a feral cat lounging on a rock by a small pool, it was waiting for small creatures and birds it could pounce on. She thought it was the most beautiful place she had ever seen. 

.-...-.

Ganpa was the guardian of the Portal.  It was his job to see that nothing disturbed the peace beyond the entry point.  I had been assisting him for a few weeks.  I went to call him at home one morning and found him still abed.

"Celby, I am feeling unwell, you will have to stand guard alone today."

"Of course Ganpa," I felt proud to be asked.  It is a ceremonial office but I was still looking forward to my first duty alone, as guardian of the portal between the Paece and the Slowgie worlds.  I had assisted Ganpa, as part of my training, but never before stood guard alone.  But, as I entered the Slowgie world I sensed something had changed, something was wrong.  I had been on duty for thirty minutes. Usually, the cars would pass from right to left in that time.  Cars are silly slow-moving boxes with Slowgies sitting like statues inside them. We can see them but, they are in another time slice, and we move too fast to register on their senses. They don't even know that we exist. But, today the cars were not moving at all. 'It can't harm' I thought, 'just a quick peek' so I looked into the open window of the nearest car.

It was dark inside, and it took a while for my eyes to adjust. Then I saw them.  A pair of bright blue eyes, 'No,' I thought and looked away. But it was too late! Our eyes met and our minds synched. Her memories and experiences flooded into my mind... 

.-...-.

"Oh my goodness," said Emily seeing a shock of stark yellow hair. The tawny eyes gazing back at hers held a look of foreboding. The small creature looked like an elf from one of her school books. 

"I'm not an elf, I'm Celby, guardian of the portal." I backed away from the door as she opened it and stepped out.  She was real tall, about four feet, twice my height, and her hands head and body were all larger than mine.

"My name is Emily." 

"Yes, I know you, Emily Rushmore." 

"You know?" she said.  "How do you know, and how can you talk without moving your lips?  What are you?" 

"I'm a Paece, and you're a Slowgie!"

"No, I am not!  I'm human." 

"We call you Slowgies..." 

"Why?  That sounds rather rude." 

"Look!" I pointed to the statue-like figure in the front seat of her car. 

Emily opened the passenger door expecting Janice to turn and scold her for getting out on the dual carriageway. But, she sat silent and stiff. Emily reached out to touch her face, it was cold and hard. "Janice, are you ok?" 

"See?" I said in triumph. "She's okay but time goes slower for her, and would have for you if I hadn't broke Ganpa's first rule. I'm sure gonna get it for that!" 

"Don't tell him about it, how would he know anyway?" 

"Oh! He will know, he always does; he was once a yella like me." 

"It's so nice here; would you show me around your garden Celby, please?" 

She took my hand in hers and squeezed it gently, "then I'll return to the car, and drive off to school.  What harm would it do?" She walked over to the pool, made to stroke the cat, it didn't move, it felt like stone. Then she turned to the tiny shrew and picked it up, it was like a plastic model, she looked into its eyes, they were glazed, she placed it back where the grass still bore its imprint.  Then seeing the cat, ready to spring, she moved it to safety.

"Were not supposed to interfere like that," I said. 

"It's only one meal, and that tiny shrew may have a family to feed."

"The cars are moving again," I said. 

"Does that mean I'll have to go back to the car?" 

I nodded, "our time doesn't extend beyond that wall, if you let the car go you may never get back inside." 

"Will I be able to visit you again?" 

"If you leave your window open, and I am the guardian on that day, I could let you back in." 

"Do we still have a little time?" 

I nodded, "we have about ten minutes." 

She gazed at the dark patch in the centre of the glade and moved towards it. "Is this the portal to your world?"

"You can't go there!" I said. 

"Why not?" she asked, moving closer. "It seems to be a pale misty space, then it changes into a tunnel of light, but I can't see through it."

"Please!" I threw my arms up in front of her pushing on her waist. "They will know I broke the rules if you enter. I'll talk with Ganpa and maybe on another visit..." 

"When I leave here it will seem like a dream. How will I know your world truly exists?" 

I took my Speaka's medallion from around my neck and slid it onto her wrist, it was a perfect fit. "Look upon this and you will remember." 

Emily bent down and kissed me on the cheek, so I smiled and gave her a hug. A small tear formed in her eye. "It's been so nice visiting Celby."

"We'll meet again Emily, I promise." I helped her into the car, and closed the door.

"Don't forget your promise Celby." 

 "Just time for one more thing," I said opening the front passenger side door.  Right at the top of Janice's purse was a bright red lipstick. "I've done this before," I said, painting a bright red blob on the tip of Janice's nose.  I closed the car door, and smiled when I heard Emily's giggling in the rear, she'd seen my trick through the rearview mirror. 

I gazed deep into her eyes, blinked, and looked away.  The link was broken; she froze. 

But, I could see she was still a gigglin.  "heh heh!"

Copyright Len Morgan

A Breathing Space Part 2 & Last

A Breathing Space Part 2 & Last

By Janet Baldey

Every Saturday, Sue visited her Mum. Fran had lived in London all her life and refused to leave her tiny two-up, two-down even though Kate continually nagged her to sell up.

‘London prices would pay for a lovely little cottage near us. You know your chest is bad, the fresh air would do you the world of good.’

But Fran always refused, ‘I’d be lost amongst all those fields. London suits me, I was born here and I’ll die here.’

Sue was torn between the two. She loved her Mum and liked having her nearby but she realised her sister was right. The Cornish wind would buy her Mum extra years. Especially now, she thought as she boarded the 205 bus.  Like the ticker-tape parades her Mum had told her about, snippets of news whirled into her living room whenever she switched on the box. The devil now had a name. It was called Coronavirus, or COVID-19 and there was no cure.  It began with a dry cough and high temperature and in many cases ended in death with the elderly being most at risk.

The world was gripped by panic The Diamond Princess, a huge cruise ship was quarantined just off the coast of Japan and heartrending ‘help us’ messages from its passengers flooded the internet. Britain recalled all its nationals as countries hunkered down; airports were closed and aerial views showed planes littering the runways like discarded toys.

As Sue rang her mother’s doorbell, she wondered if she would be able to persuade her mother to leave the city.  Her expectation was low. Fran could be as stubborn as a mule super-glued to the floor on occasions. As she prepared lunch, she practised her opening salvos.  Fully occupied, she was slicing tomatoes when a loud squawk made her knife slip. “Damn,” she muttered, sucking her finger.

“What’s up, Mum?”  Abandoning the salad, she returned to the living room where both Maisie and her Mum was staring at the television.

“Did you know all the schools are closing? An’ we’ve all got to self isolate for three months. Three months….” Her Mum’s voice trailed away as she took in the implication. “Does that mean you won’t be allowed to come and see me?”

Sue swallowed.   Her Mum had clearly left it too late to leave London and it was her 80^th birthday soon.  She tried a weak joke. “Happy Birthday, Mum,” she said. Nobody laughed.

They stared at the screen as the briefings continued and more facts emerged.  The first cases had occurred in England.   All pubs and restaurants were to be closed with only essential shops remaining open. Millions of people would lose their jobs and the Treasury was working on schemes to help those in need. Grave- faced politicians warned of dire consequences should self-isolation be ignored. Non-cooperation could result in thousands of extra cases. The NHS would be overwhelmed and people would die in corridors.

Sue felt her Mum’s arm slide around her. “Best have a cuddle while we still can” she said.

As they huddled together Sue looked at the shining crown of Maisie’s head. With panicking mothers in mind, the government had taken pains to emphasise that children were the least affected, with the exception of those with underlying health issues. Sue thought of Maise’s asthma and fear twisted her stomach.  She couldn’t wait to get home and bar the door behind them.

After Maisie had gone to bed, Sue looked around her tiny flat that threatened to become their prison for the next three months. She had no idea how to keep her lively seven year old occupied. Four small rooms and no balcony.  Even at this early stage, she felt its walls closing in on her.  Just then her mobile vibrated and a picture of Kate flashed onto its screen.  Warily, she picked it up.

‘Kate….is anything wrong?’

         ‘Not at this end. We’re fine; I just wanted to talk about Maisie.’

Sue’s pulse quickened. Kate rarely phoned and if she was concerned it was not good news.  It wasn’t just her being worry-guts.  Maisie really was at risk.

‘I’m worried Kate. London is at the epicentre,’ her voice wobbled.

‘That’s why I’m ringing, love. Pete and I have had a chat. How would you feel about Maisie coming to stay with us for a bit? She’d be safer here.’

Sue almost dropped her phone and for a moment, couldn’t speak. She’d not expected this.  With Kate’s metallic voice quacking in her ear, she struggled to think.  Eventually, she realised her main emotion was one of relief.

‘Are you sure?’ she said at last.

‘Absolutely, and I think we’d better come and pick her up as soon as possible.  They might start stopping long-distance travel.’

After Kate rang off, Sue went into Maisie’s room and stood looking down at the small figure sprawled across the bed. As usual, she had kicked off her covers and Sue’s hand shook as she re-arranged them. Would Kate think to do that tomorrow night?  Kate wasn’t used to children; would Maisie’s incessant chatter get on her nerves? Would Maisie be homesick?  Tears threatened as she bent down and brushed her daughter’s cheek with her lips. She longed to hold her tight but knew she mustn’t wake her. When she finally crawled into bed she lay staring into the dark, her brain a hamster’s wheel endlessly circling with questions, the uppermost being ‘had she done the right thing’?

The flat seemed dead after Maisie left. Although full of furniture, its rooms echoed.  Sue picked things up, put them down again and ended up slumped in her chair, staring at the telly, waiting until she could escape into sleep.

The days limped by as she tried to keep herself busy; she turned out cupboards, re-arranged furniture and cleaned and polished until surfaces dazzled.  All the time, her heart ached for her former routine,  all the old familiar tasks that formerly she’d considered chores.  She yearned for the past. She didn’t like the ‘new normal’. Even her job gave her little satisfaction.  Like thousands of others, she was now working from home, staring at a screen all day, with only the occasional tinny ‘phone call breaking the room’s sterile silence.

Although she telephoned Maisie every evening, her feelings were mixed when she rang off. She was truly glad Maisie was happy but deep down in her darkest thoughts an imp prodded her with jealous fingers, ‘she doesn’t miss you a bit,’ it said. It also plagued her with thoughts about Kate. ‘Maybe your sister’s life was not as perfect as you thought. Maybe she had always wanted a little girl like Maisie and now she has one.’  Sue did her best to ignore that imp and during the day she succeeded but at night her dreams turned into nightmares. 

Outside, April taunted the incarcerated by turning spring into summer.  Sunny days followed sunny days until Sue could bear it no longer. Throwing a coat over her melancholy she decided to go for a walk. One hour she was allowed and one hour she would take.

As soon as she stepped outside she felt her spirits lift and by the time she reached the park she was almost happy.  A breeze, soft as baby’s breath, soothed her skin and when she saw bare branches being clothed by blossom she remembered that life was worth living.  After all, her mother was well, she still had a job and Maisie was happy. There were lots worse off and she felt ashamed of her misery, the shreds of which were now being blown away by the warm spring wind.

She turned her face up to the sky amazed by its brilliance. Emptied of droning planes, it was so quiet.  And so blue, pre-plague its colour had never been this intense.  There was also birdsong where before there’d been the grinding of gears. The air smelled sweeter too.  Maybe this was the upside of the virus. Maybe this was what the planet had been pleading for - a breathing space.

Suddenly, something hard smashed into her and she fell to the ground, her face a rictus of agony. Hot blood poured from her nose and into her mouth threatening to choke her. Its cloying taste sickened her and she started to retch.

‘Are you all right?’

Strong hands pulled her upright and held her steady. Through eyes blurred by pain she saw a man’s face, close to her own, and she gasped in horror.

Immediately he stepped back and held up his hands.

‘It’s OK. I’m not contagious.’ He shrugged. ‘I couldn’t leave you lying on the ground. You walked into that thing with a hell of a thwack.’

‘I did what?’  She followed his gaze and saw a lamp-post smeared with her blood. Instantly, her pain was forgotten as shame took its place. ‘Oh, my Lord…..’

‘I saw you walking straight towards it but was too late. You’d better get home. Do you live far away?’

‘Not far,’ she mumbled.

‘Okay. Well I think I’d better follow you to make sure you make it. Don’t worry, I’m not a stalker.’

As she turned towards home, she was conscious of him keeping pace with her. She thought of her rat’s tails and bloody face. ‘I must look a wreck! How could I have been so stupid?’

After that, she saw him often in the park. Usually, they just smiled and waved but sometimes, at a safe distance, they walked side by side and chatted.  She learned his name was Terry and also discovered that she liked him and that every time they met, that feeling grew. She wondered if he was married and caught herself searching his hand for the glint of gold. When alone, she thought of him often, remembering the slant of his smile, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he laughed and the sound of his voice.  Sometimes she caught him looking at her and wondered if he felt the same. 

As the weeks passed she learned more. Terry was also a widower with a young son called Joe and that he did feel the same way.  Whenever they parted, she thought of the old wartime song…We’ll meet again….’ It seemed to fit somehow.

Months went by and at last, her deepest wish was granted.  Scientists, slaving away unseen, discovered an antidote and Coronavirus slunk back into its lair. Maisie returned and Sue married her man in the park. They bought a house in the suburbs where they raised their family and began the long sweet journey towards a gentle death.

***

My story should have ended there for I am sure you will have realised that I am Sue. But as is so often the case, when you think you have everything, it’s snatched away.

 Mankind has a short memory and greed is a powerful tool, the pillage of the planet continued and the virus came back. Not the same but even more deadly, with an estimated mortality rate of 98%

This morning, Terry died and the stink of death is everywhere. All communication is down so I can’t contact Maisie. She was visiting her Aunt Kate but I doubt if Cornwall will save her this time.

While I still have strength, I will post my story in a bottle, for there will be survivors and maybe they will take notice of its message.

MOTHER NATURE IS A JEALOUS MISTRESS. SHE NURTURES THE PLANET AND CARES NOT FOR MANKIND.

Copyright Janet Baldey

MICROCOSM

MICROCOSM

By Peter Woodgate

Barry studied the moon. It was in the third quarter, partially lit by the sun, it’s craters were highlighted magnificently by the shadows that swept across its surface.

    Barrie’s mind began to wander. He thought about the planet he lived on, the moon, the star that gave life to it all and indeed, out beyond the Solar System to the vastness of space. “How strange,” he thought, “everything was designed around circles or circles within a circle.”

How vast was The Universe? And was there an end to it? How small was the tiniest particle and could we know there was not something even smaller? He thought back to when the tiny atom was assumed to be the smallest particle and, when this was subsequently split, the chaos it caused. Barry then thought about subatomic particles, the nucleus and the electrons and how that made up a tiny solar system of its own then, deciding it was becoming incomprehensible.  He moved the telescope 70 degrees to the left to study some stars in the Milky Way.

    Browsing through this sector, Barry paused as the star Betelgeuse came into view. “That’s odd,” he thought, as he drew back from the eyepiece and rubbed his eye, “must be something on the lenses. He carried out an auto-clean of the lenses that formed part of the giant mirror telescope and took another look through the eyepiece. It was still there, a big red glow just to the left of Betelgeuse.

    Barry turned to his wife Angela who was busy on the spectrometer. “Come and have a look at this Darling,” he shouted excitedly, “there is something really strange here.”

Angela sighed, stopped what she was doing and sidled over to where Barry was, once again, peering through the giant scope.

“I hope this is not one of your ploys to get me over for a cuddle,” Angela laughed as she stroked the back of Barry’s neck, “after all,” she continued playfully, “you are a married man.”

    Angela and Barry were both astrophysicists and, since marrying two years previously had decided, literally, to spend the rest of their lives together. It was for this reason they had volunteered to work together at the isolated observatory on the summit of Mount McKinley.

The work was often tedious and boring but they managed to spice things up a bit by pretending they were illicit lovers.

    “No Darling,” Barry remarked, “I’m serious, have a look at this.” He stepped aside to allow Angela to look through the eyepiece.

“What am I looking for exactly?” queried Angela.

“Look to the left of Betelgeuse,” replied Barry, “what do you see?”

“Looks like a red smudge,” Angela hesitated, “perhaps there is something on the lens.

“No there isn’t Ange, I’ve had them auto-cleaned, and that red mist or whatever is definitely cosmic. 

Angela stepped back from the eyepiece, “how long has it been there? The Astronomical Federation will have to be informed.”

“I carried out a full survey on this quadrant three days ago,” Barry replied, “it certainly wasn’t visible then. I will send a report to them straight away.

    Barry forwarded all the data and awaited the reply. It didn’t take long and he read it to Angela. “It seems they will be making an independent investigation but want us to continue monitoring the situation.”

“What do you think?” Angela asked anxiously as she gave Barry a hug, “is it anything serious?”

“I don’t know,” Barry spoke softly, “but we will need to monitor this continually.” Angela sighed disappointedly as she made her way to the kitchen to fetch refreshments. She hated sleeping alone and was not looking forward to the sessions that lay before them. Angela returned shortly after with a meal courtesy of the auto chef and sat down opposite Barry.

“It’s going to be awfully lonely,” she looked at Barry with sadness in her eyes; Barry shook his head, “sorry darling there’s not much else we can do, hopefully, it won’t be for long.”

    The next few days were rather traumatic as they slept and observed in eight-hour shifts sharing only the occasional meal together. Earth’s Astronomical Federation had sent a couple of messages through saying that they believed it to be a distant Supernova which would dissipate in time. Barry, however, was not convinced. Not only was it spreading in all directions, it appeared to be heating up the atmosphere at an alarming rate. The external thermometer had shown a rise in temperature of two degrees in three days. He knew that this could not be normal as at this time of the year it should be decreasing.

    It was at their next meal together that Barry looked at Angela and whispered, “you do know that I will always love you Darling, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” replied Angela, “what’s brought this on?” she sighed as she gave Barry a big hug. “I think we are going to face Armageddon darling, that red mist or whatever will swallow us up. It’s getting larger and hotter by the day.” Angela did not say anything; she just looked at Barry with a tear in her eye.

    It was another three days before the Federation of Astronomical Affairs acknowledged that a problem existed. Unfortunately, it was now far too late for any evacuation from Earth.

The red cloud had, by now, swallowed up Betelgeuse and the rest of the stars in that quadrant and calculations had revealed their own Solar System would be obliterated within a week.

They would, of course, die of oxygen starvation before being vaporized.

    Barry and Angela lay on their bed naked, their arms around each other. Their mouths were open but no breathing was heard, their eyes wide and staring saw nothing.

Their faces were the last thing each had seen before darkness overcame them and were now oblivious to the fiery blast that swept their planet and everything on it into eternity.

11

God looked at the charred remains of the galaxy he had just destroyed and shook his head.

“I had great expectations for this creation,” his voice thundered with minatory authority.

“Why oh why had mankind defied and ignored what I had placed in front of them?”

“Why had they fragmented my laws with individual autonomy and taken my name in vain?”

“They gave me no choice; I had to end it before they destroyed themselves.”

God reached out and discarded the charred remnants of the Milky Way leaving a miasmatic vapour in its place. Then, turning his attention to the Horsehead nebula, where he commenced his next creation.

“It should only take a few billion years,” he muttered to his son who was seated by his side, “so prepare yourself.”

God’s son did not reply but took note of the destination of his next assignment, thinking,

“I hope my father's next creation is not made in his own image.”

Copyright Peter Woodgate