Books I've Read 04

By Jane Scoggins

THE CONCLUSION OF A CENTURY

THE CONCLUSION OF A CENTURY ~ (1/1/2000)

By Peter Woodgate 

Dawn breaks with breathtaking beauty,

a golden glow from mountain to moorland,

the sun’s rays settle on earth’s loveliness

illuminating superior civilizations of the world.

 

City after city awakes

to find affluence squandered,

veiled by exhausted pyrotechnics

and urinated merriment.

 

Last night’s celebrations

lie in the gutter,

crushed and discarded,

sunlight shimmering from twisted shapes.

 

Deep into war-torn territories

the morning sun glistens

on a child’s tearstained cheek

and the barrel of a gun

with a magazine of death

contributing wealth,

to superior civilizations of the world. 

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate

 

 

CHASING THE DRAGON

By Phil Miller

Be still, don’t move, can you see him there?

Clinging to reeds, waiting for the moment

To swim for the weeds, his mate awaits

In warty blouse, so cute she thinks is

This Great Crested Newt, whose dance

Entrance with grace and flair

His magnificent tail filling the air

With pheromones, to start a love affair.

 

© Phil Miller.

Len's Diary Excerpt (3) 1999

Len’s Diary ~ Balance II ~ (003) 27/07/99

By Len Morgan

His first glimpse told him she was the one.  She was the most beautiful woman, he’d ever seen.

Her lean whipcord body displayed her incredible strength, and reflexes like a coiled spring.  Her skin was smooth and dusky, her dark eyes missed nothing, and her short-cropped dark hair revealed her utilitarian upbringing; for everything a purpose.  He took in her body harness, totally functional with straps rings and pockets for specific purposes.  Her arm & leg protection moulded & studded all designed to protect the wearer.  Sheathed at her side was a short bone-handled stabbing sword ready for immediate use.

“He’s mine!”  She announced with authority in a quiet husky voice.

He realised that she was referring to him.  He gazed, without fear, into her dark obsidian orbs, for what seemed like an eternity – barely a millisecond passed in reality – their minds touched.  He showed her love.  She revealed her insatiable desire to rule the universe.  Nothing seemingly would satisfy her voracious appetite, she wanted it all!

“And then?” he asked in his gentle kindly voice.

She answered with a strange feral stare.  In that instant, she changed.  She’d digested his words but had no answer.  Realisation dawned.  Lacyndra took the naked young man into her arms, embracing him – the Universe on pause – her Thaal army stood like statues, no help for her there.  She fastened a collar around his neck attaching a thin virtually unbreakable leash testing its tensile strength with a tug.  She stood back to gaze at his slim youthful frame his golden shoulder-length hair. Momentarily, she became lost in his jewel-bright tawny eyes.  Those dilated pupils that sought to swallow her up.

He wants me more than I want him?  Inconceivable!

On reflection she removed the collar; he took it from her hands and replaced it around his neck.  Dropping to his knees before her, he removed her chain mail loin covering and buried his face in her glistening black fur, steeped in the scent of her desires.  His gaze traversed her glistening form; that of a transformed killing machine.

He would give himself to her, and she would be his, and they would be one.

She gazed down into those deep tawny pools and realised she was lost.  Accept his gift and she gained everything.  Kill him and the Universe was hers, but as he said, what then?

She unsheathed her sword and sliced through the collar.  A gift, freely given, accepted and returned in kind.

They consummated their alliance – in between time – the Universe alone bore witness.

Morlen had finally atoned for his mentor’s callous act…

 

Copyright Len Morgan

 

 A LIFE BEYOND

 by Richard Banks

It was on her birthday that Ava spoke the notion about going to Ludon. It would be OK, she said, no one lives there any more. How do you know, I thought but did not say. If I had we would only have quarrelled and this was not the time or place. Like most of us around the campfire, she had drunk too much beer. In the morning, thoughts of Ludon would likely be forgotten.

         Kolo appears not to have heard her. He throws a log on the fire and says we should sing Ava the birthday song, so we do three times. Joy gives her a rabbit’s foot for good luck. I also have a gift, a neck chain I once found in the ruins of an old tumbled down place where people use to live. There’s some writing on it which I tell her says Ava, but I don’t know. Only Wanda reads. She has a book. It is, she says, a book of days, days that have numbers and names. We too have names which she writes in the book on different pages. Each page is a day and the day that has our name on is our birthday. Each morning she turns the open page to the next until she reaches the end of the book, then she starts again. This she tells us is a year.

         Kolo, who is head man, says that Wanda is the keeper of time and that, providing we have the book, Spring will always follow Winter. We keep it safe from the wind and rain. Wanda says that once there were many books. This her grandmother told her. When Wanda dies, and she is old beyond memory, no one will know the secret of the words. Kolo throws another log on the fire, the last one he says. While the fire burns, the roaming dogs keep their distance and we can see each other in the dark.

         The village prospers, our numbers increase. Kay and Heny who died in the winter have been replaced by four healthy children, two boys and two girls. Soon they will be weaned and, like the rest of us, feeding on the corn we grow and the beasts we hunt. Those of us who are hunters know the woods like the back of our hands and every type of creature living there. The women and children tend the field and gather the fruit that hangs from trees and bushes. We eat well. The woods are our woods and no other tribe comes near. There are two that we know off from their camp fires many miles to the north and west. Once some of them came close enough to be seen, but only once. Like the dogs, they keep their distance, as do we.

         The last of the beer is drunk and the uneaten meat and bones were taken to the edge of the village and thrown down in a heap for the dogs to devour. We go back to our huts, Ava with me to the one I built two summers ago when she left her father’s hut. She said we would have many sons but so far her belly is empty of child. If none come soon I will return her to her father and take another wife. A man must have sons.

         We lie beneath the hides she has stitched together. In winter our bed will have more coverings and we will cling to each other for warmth, but for now the air is warm and there is little need for covers. In the next hut Mal and Viv are also in their bed, loud and lusty in their linking. Mal has chosen well, he already has a son. At last, they are quiet and the only noises to be heard are those of the night-time creatures. The beer was strong and all I want to do is sleep.

                                                                        *****

         I wake up to find the door is open and the sun shining in my eyes. A hazy figure stands in the doorway. At first, I think it is Ava but she is lying by my side. I shade my eyes and see Kolo. He tells me to get up and bring my bow. I am needed for a hunting party. Ro-be, who should be going is unwell from the beer. “Now!” he says, impatient to be off, “the other men are waiting.” I get up and put on the belt that holds my knife and axe. There is no need to dress, the sun is hot and clothes will only slow us down. We must be as free as the beasts. When they run we must chase them, as best we can. I take my bow and quiver from the wall and join the other men outside.

         We set off, pausing at the river to drink and wash our faces. The water is no more than knee-deep and we wade across into the woods and check the pits we have dug. There are six. In the fourth one is a cow, legs broken from the fall. It is loud in its pain. Kolo drops down onto its back and slits its throat. The body we cut it up into pieces small enough to be carried back to the village on spits. Two men do this; a third guards what they can not carry, until they return. While he waits he will make good the thin covering of leaves and branches that hides the pit. The rest of us press on to the other pits but the coverings there have not been broken.

         We continue on to a clearing in the woods through which a small stream flows. Although there are many such streams this is a favourite place for drinking. We go to the tree line and lie down in the grass. We are not long in waiting. A deer comes with two fawns. She is sharp-eyed, smelling the air for the scent of other beasts, but we are downwind. We watch for Kolo’s signal and when he gives it we rise up and let off our arrows, but none find their mark. They flee, and for an hour no other creatures come. When they do, we are in luck, a flock of sleep. Gathered together, drinking at the water’s edge, they are too big a target to miss. Two fall and the rest race back into the woods. We run forward, one is still alive and I end its pain quickly with my knife. As is our custom Kolo dips his finger in the blood of the sheep I killed and makes a cross on my forehead. The man who kills a man-horse or bull will also drink its blood so that he takes into himself the strength and spirit of such beasts, but no one drinks the blood of a sheep. Its woolly hide, however, is much favoured for warm clothing in winter which while no longer than sixty days can sometimes cause the rain to freeze and lay white upon the ground.

         We return to the village where we strip the meat from the skins and give everyone their share. Women and children get less than the men and the men who hunt, more than those who don’t. There is also bread and fruit. No one goes hungry. We are busy in our work. If not, our bellies would be large.

         Kolo takes me to one side. “What is this about going to Ludon?”

         I tell him that Ava was silly with the drink and that neither of us will be going, even if we knew where it was. 

         He sighs. “The old story. Everyone has it, told by their mother who heard it from their mother, and them from mothers long before. One story but never quite the same. Most talk of a great sickness that killed the people of that place, others of a high rising of the sea that drowned it and all those within. Some say there was both. Others that there was more than one sickness, that it came and went many times. Still, others that the place was called Norwic or Colches. Best you stay here where life is good and there is much to eat and drink. No sickness here;  in another place, who knows. If you leave you can never come back.”

         This is the most I have ever heard him say. I give him my blood oath that we will be staying. He watches me cut both my arms and let the blood trickle down towards the ground. He catches some in the palm of his hand and with his tongue, takes it into his mouth.

         He smiles. “We are brothers,” he says, “everyone here is a brother. We work together, stay together, we live by most-men laws.” He smiles again and changes the subject. “How are the chickens that Ava tends?”

         I answer that since we built the pen in which they live they lay many eggs.

         “Yes,” he says, “it is better than before when we roamed the forest for their nests. The pen was Ava’s idea, was it not?”

         I say, “yes.” Everyone knows that why does he ask?

         He comes to the point. “When Wanda sleeps the unwaking sleep we will need a wise woman to take her place, to keep the book that turns the night today and makes the seasons turn. Ava has been chosen. From tomorrow she will live in Wanda’s hut learning the secrets that only Wanda knows. Your coupling tonight will be the last. Tomorrow you will pick another wife, maybe one that suits you better makes you many sons. You like Cora, don’t you? I see the way you look at her. She is wide of hip and quiet of mouth. She will suit you well. Her father knows you want her and will say yes. He is of the Council. This is a good match.”

         I agree. How can I not?

         I go home to tell Ava, but she has been talking to Wanda and already knows. In the morning she gathers up the things that are hers and takes them to Wanda’s hut. I speak with Cora’s father and take her back with me. She couples well but burns the mid-day meal. In the afternoon she goes foraging with the other women and I cut wood with Wil and Hal. The sun shines hot upon us and the sweat upon our bodies turns to salt. We go to the river, drink, and cool ourselves by swimming with the fishes. We are as one with earth, stream and sky. Long may it be.   

Copyright Richard Banks     

 

Another Day in Purgatory.

By Bob French

I skipped breakfast, knowing that it would be the usual eggs, bacon, sausage and baked beans, in favour of a strong cup of sweet black coffee, then sauntered over to Herby, a battered old Humber Pig, an armoured personnel carrier, that had saved our skins on numerous occasions during the past four months, to inspect the petrol bomb damage she had sustained two nights ago. 

          As I surveyed the scared and bubbled paintwork under the ark light, Driver Alexander, ‘Spud’ to the rest of the platoon, and my vehicle engineer, stuck his head out of the side hatch.

          “Much damage Spud?”

          “Nothing a spot of paint won’t fix Boss.  Problem is we only got yellow and red paint.”

          I nodded and made a mental note to speak to the battalion Quartermaster, turned, and bumped into Gus Harrison, my platoon sergeant.

           “Got a problem?”

          “Not really Boss.  Just wanted to ask if we should take young Ashford on the raid.  As you know he’s only been with us for three weeks and hasn’t stepped outside the compound yet?”

          I quickly brought the image of the young blond haired nineteen year old from Cornwall to the front of my mind.

          “Have you had a word with Corporal Smith whose been putting him through his paces?”

          “Yeh, he’s fit enough but as for holding it together when it gets serious, Smiddy and I are not sure.”

          I pondered for a second.

          “Corporal Smith is with the decoy team, so get him to take Ashford along; give some a little slack, but tell Smith to keep an eye on him. He’s got to learn someday.”

          As I moved towards the briefing room I noticed that shadows were starting to form as the sky was just starting to take on the tinge of dawn; another fine day in this God-forsaken war torn province where religious hatred going back hundreds of years and now seem to be a way of life for everyone.

          From the darkness off to my right ‘Spooks’ or Staff Sergeant Eddie McAlister of the Intelligence Corps suddenly appeared; a steady hand and a veteran of the troubles of Belfast.

          “Morning Eddie. Everything ready?”  It was a question I knew the answer to before I had asked it.  His nod confirmed my concern. 

          As I struggled to take one last drag of the damp stubby I subconsciously looked up at the wet corrugated high tin walls and the wire mesh that was the roof over our compound.  This small fortress off Gibson Street, behind the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast had been home for the twenty-five men in my platoon for the past four months.  It was our last week of the tour and I had this nagging feeling that something was going to go wrong today.

          The briefing room was already full of cigarette smoke and men as ‘Spooks’ and I entered, bringing the jibes and friendly banter to an instant silence.

          “Morning lads.  Right, let’s make this quick. Our task this morning is to assist the Green Tops, The Royal Ulster Constabulary, in making an arrest of a known bomb maker on the corner of Springfield Road and Cupper Street off the Falls Road.“

          My intro was interrupted by the groans from the platoon and I casually waved them to silence.  “We all know that this is a bad area to operate in, so eyes all round OK.”  I let the chatter die down.

          “Now we have done this sort of thing dozens of times with the Green Tops, but let’s not get complacent.  Remember those three poor sods from B Company last week that had to be medevacked back to Woolwich minus some of their arms and legs having been caught in a booby-trapped pit of a so called ‘clean house.”  Instantly I recalled my sergeant’s words to me on my very first tour in the province; a lifetime ago; “Trust no bugger.”

          I then turned to Spooks who was pinning a large street map of north Belfast onto the notice board. His crisp cockney accent bringing silence to the room.

          “Right lads, listen up. Corporal Jenkins and four men will deploy in a Land Rover to Hammond Street, here, as his finger taps a place a few streets away from a map pin that indicated the target house, at 05:25 hours, where you will report to Sergeant Flynn of 35 Det of the Green Tops.  Many of you’ll know of Flynn’s reputation, so keep out of his way.  This is a decoy mission so listen to what he wants you to do.”  A murmur went around about mad man Flynn.

          “Sergeant Harrison will take Herby and six men and report to Inspector Liam O’Connor and his team at the corner of Wentworth Street, here at 05:25 hours.”

          His finger tapped a junction very close to the map pin; nobody commented. It was getting serious.

          “The target house is situated here at the junction of Springfield Road and Cupper Street.  This is a known IRA area so bloody well be sharp.  You know what will happen if you are late?”  Laughter ran through the room as they recalled what had happened to a young Grenadier Guards Lieutenant who had rolled up ten minutes late for a hit and had to be Medevac back to Woolwich with a broken nose.      “Remember the moral of the story…”  And everyone recited back to Spooks.  “Don’t be late.”

          “Lastly, Boss, Evans, Jones and George will cover the rear of the target house.”  I smiled as I knew I was in good hands. The battalion rugby team’s front row; animals to a man. 

          “Your task is to apprehend anyone who flees the target house.  Remember, no one gets away got it?”  His threat was aimed at everyone in the room.

          As the men of my platoon started to get dressed into their equipment, Spooks quietly came up on my side.

          “Boss, I have just been informed that F Troop may be on the ground.  It appears they also have a target of interest.”  I nodded slowly. That’s the last thing I needed, I thought, was to have the boys from Hereford wandering around the area.

          “If you’re challenged, your password is ‘Wembley’ and his should be Clacton’ got it?” 

          It was still dark when I drove Evans, Jones and George through the back streets off the Falls Road.  As I drove under the railway bridge I thought I saw someone quickly step back into the shadows of a door-way and cursed. It would take just one phone call and the whole show could turn to rat shit. 

          Once I had found the empty garage that Spooks and told me about and hid the land rover, we quietly started to make our way through the narrow alleyways and paths of Belfast towards the laying up position, some fifty yards behind the target house, using the dim light of dawn to move whenever possible, and waited.

          The fine rain had increased and the wind had picked up as daylight gradually increased and I felt my body crave for a cigarette but knew it would be a dead giveaway.  No Irishman in his right mind would stand in the wind and rain smoking a cigarette. 

          Time seemed to drag until 05:30 hours, when I heard the commotion over at Hammond Street.  Seconds later there came a splintering crash and Inspector O’Connor’s bellowing voice cutting through the silence of the dawn as he forced himself and his team through the remains of the front door and up the stairs of the target house.

          Lights instantly came on in nearby houses; curtains were edged back and people in dressing gowns started to come out into the street to see what all the noise was about. Angry voices were starting to be raised and I knew that this was always the worst time and thought of Private Ashford and how he was copping.  Anything could happen and I hopped that Sergeant Harrison and the boys could handle it.

          We held our position for about five minutes when suddenly Jones saw a figure sprinting down one of the narrow back paths and without warning, jumped up and sprinted after him.  I suddenly felt sorry for whoever that man was once Jones had got hold of him.  As Evans chuckled, having read my thoughts.

          George put his finger to his lips, silencing the huge Welshman.  Then it happened.  A tall thick-set man came sprinting around the corner.  George simply stood, took three quick steps toward him and hit him with a rugby tackle right in his stomach.  The man went down like a rag doll and before he knew what was happening, George had rolled him over and handcuffed and hooded him.

          After a while the man seemed to recover and began to struggle and threaten George.  Even I knew you had to be mentally disturbed to give Mark George any lip, but to my surprise, George had knelt down beside the man and spoke quietly into his ear.  After that, the man was as good as gold.

          “Ay Mark, you should have been one of those councillors who elps people with their anger management.”  George grunted.  Not impress with Evan’s observation.

          My team and I were to remain in position until 05:40 hours, then quietly withdraw with anyone we had taken.  It was then that Jones came back through a narrow passage from behind us with the man he’d chased in tow, handcuffed and breathing heavily. There was blood all over his face.

          Mark George looked up and grinned.  “Fall over did he Jonesy?” Which brought a chuckle from us all.

          “Time to withdraw lads. Make sure our two guests are prepared to come with us without making any noise.” As we started out back towards the garage a man dressed in jeans and an old black overcoat suddenly appeared from one of the dark alleyways off to our right and stood in my path and spoke with a strong Geordie accent.

          “Sorry Boss. But I’ve got to take this one off your hands.”  He nodded toward the tall lean man that George had felled and nodded.  Although I was prepared, this man’s sudden appearance put the fear of God into me.

          I frantically tried to remember the passwords.  What was going through my mind was the response Spooks had told me, ‘if you give him the wrong password, you’ll probably be taken out by a sniper who will be watching over the repossession.

          “Wembley.”

          The man smiled and quietly said ‘Clacton.’

          I turned to Mark George and nodded. “Hand him over George and be quick about it, I want to be out of here asap.  I will explain everything later.”

          George pushed the tall lean man towards our intruder who grinned, whipped off the hood and spun him around and cut his plastic bonds.

          “You alright, Dave.  Think you got away with it?” The tall man nodded, turned to me and George and winked.  Then they were gone, faded into the shadows where they lived and worked.

          That night in the platoon bar I explained to George, Jones and Evans who the stranger who had spirited away the man George had felled was.

          “He was from F Troop of the SAS, probably working as a mole inside the IRA. 

          As young Ashford started singing at the top of his drunken voice I grinned at Corporal Smith; another war hero. We had three days to go, then back to England and a well-deserved rest; till the next time.

 

Copyright Bob French

Len's Diary Excerpt (2) 1999

 

Len’s Diary ~ Balance I ~ (2) ~ 02/06/99

by Len Morgan

“Kill her!  Do it now!” Anthrax commanded.

“No!” he answered tearfully, “She’s…she’s so beautiful.”

“That’s the test boy!  How can you ever hope to become a wizard of the first order if you can’t act dispassionately?” Anthrax shook his head despairing of his acolyte.  “Love, beauty, good and evil are meaningless; just words…  Where the guardianship of the Universe is concerned, what is the life of one triple winged dragonfly?” He gave Morlen a contemptuous oblique glance, and – CRUSHED HER – with the power of his mind.

Two disembodied wing fluttered to the ground and:

THE UNIVERSE SHOOK!