ALCOHOLIC

By Peter Woodgate 

SO, here I am, waking

On a sad, sad Sunday morning.

I hear the rain drumming

On the windows they’re calling.

 

Grey skies await as I slowly climb

From my bed and lazily shower,

If I am to combat this “God Awful Day”

I will need every ounce of my power.

 

God gave us this day to rest, I am told

So that we could worship his might,

But Sundays, to me, when everything stops

Merely heightens the sadness I fight.

 

I look at the slab sunk in the earth

And imagine Beth’s once smiling face,

I hope, that perhaps, she is smiling still

Away from this cold dreadful place.

 

I then think of cats and the way that they play

With birds and with mice, they have caught,

It appears that God has similar traits

Which oppose the things we are taught.

 

Although I am sad, I carry a guilt

And of this am certainly sure,

My pain is nothing compared to those

Sufferings that Beth bravely bore.

 

It 's Sunday evening and I’m down the pub

Supping a tipple or two,

Maybe it’s three, or four, even five

And then I hear voices on cue.

 

“Oh, that is Bob, he’s an “alky” you know,

A complete waste of space should you ask,

I hear what they say but don’t want to play

And hide behind carrying a mask.

 

I know that I drink and know I get drunk

Repeatedly, seems I’m insane,

But it helps me to dream and then it would seem

I am walking with Beth once again.

 

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate

 

Cheilin Saga ~ 17

 Cheilin Saga ~ 17  Progress

By Len Morgan

   Six months on from that clandestine meeting a dozen high-ranking officials and army officers were forced, by overwhelming evidence of corruption or incompetence to resign.   More than three times that number of minor and middle ranking officials were retired, resigned, or committed suicide because of revelations that came to light. 

 During that period the general state of the Empire improved steadily.   The replacements were not chosen from their subordinates.  Nobody stepped up into their master’s shoes.   This, more than anything, served to break the chain of corruption. 

 The new officials were carefully selected, from men of principal, recommended through trusted sources who called him Dan.   Their presence was felt immediately, a further stream of underlings were dismissed or demoted and, things really started to improve. 

 However a lot of bitterness and resentment had built up following the change of emphasis.  Surely the Emperor understood, it was argued, that to persuade men of talent to forsake their clan, and forgo considerable power, position, and wealth, there had to be some means of compensation open to them.  

Daidan II had understood and accepted that the greasing of palms was a cheap and effective, way of accomplishing this; it helped to smooth away opposition.    

Daidan III would have none of it and made a point of listing the names, of men who were sympathetic to this view, for future investigation.

.-...-.

The State of readiness:

Aldor saw the look of concern on Dan’s face, as he entered the private apartments.   All was not well.

“What news from the front Aldor?” he asked forgoing the usual small talk.

“They have amassed a hundred thousand to our opposition of twenty-five but we can call upon a further fifty thousand at short notice.”

“It must be costing me a fortune to maintain such a standing army,” said Dan.

“The majority are in training, to defend the empire, and therefore supported by their home provinces.   But, it will start to cost when or if an invasion begins.   I imagine that their logistics must already be hurting them, they are stripping the countryside of Bluttland just to feed that many troops.  They can’t keep them there inactive for long.  They are relying on crossing and foraging food on our side of the Stalbech River.” 

“So, when do you estimate they will attempt to land on the Cheilin side?”

“They will have to make a move within the month; the Conjunction is of particular significance to their plans.   Otherwise, we will be safe for at least another seven months, and they would have to stand down their force or face a famine.”

.-…-. 

  It was just a week before the new race season and Dan was awaiting the official Games opening ceremony, on ‘C20’, like an eager child.   He would not allow the self-interests of a petty minded minority group to spoil his big day.   He would be starting the early races and did not intend to miss any part of the proceedings.  

A steward arrived with a message addressed to Dan that had been delivered to a side door, by a grubby street urchin.   He opened it a feather fluttered to the floor. The smile left his face to be replaced by a look of concern.   He scrawled a quick reply on the reverse and instructed the steward to pay the child to deliver it back to its originator.   His anticipation of the lead in days had been totally ruined.   He was angry with Aldor for sending the message.   His timing was completely off.   There was a banquet arranged in honour of the Games Contestants today, and he would still have to meet them and wish them well as though nothing had happened. 

.-…-. 

Earlier that morning Kalle, a member of Aldor's intelligence-gathering team, had noticed Bordek in the company of a man he knew very well, it was Hestor, one who was close to the Emperor.   He was a trusted advisor, and should not have any legitimate business with a low life of Bordek’s ilk.   What could they be discussing so intimately sitting in a screened corner booth of the infamous Black Gryphon Tavern?   They left separately, Bordek first with Hestor following, fifteen yards behind.   Kalle took up station a further fifteen yards back.   They negotiated the bustling morning traffic which traditionally accompanied the lead in to race days.   They made their way down ‘N1’ towards ‘C16’ continuing on towards ‘N2’, where the bustle began to lessen, and the crowd thinned appreciably.   Kalle followed maintaining the same gap appearing to be, part of a small family party, in a festive mood.   Bodek took an unexpected detour into a side alley, between two houses, and turned to wait for Hestor to catch up.   As Kalle and the family party passed the alley, the two men had already covered half the distance between her position and the fence separating the houses on ‘C16’ from those on ‘C15’.   To follow would forewarn them they had been observed, and indicate a pursuit was in progress.   Kalle could not afford that, and so elected to walk by, detaching from the group after carefully establishing there were no observers, across the street, watching for signs of pursuit.   By the time Kalle returned, the two men had vanished.   An intensive search of the alley eventually revealed a touch-sensitive fence panel that led through into a twin alley, on the opposite side of the fence, leading into ‘C15’.   However, when Kalle eventually came out on to ‘C15’, it was obvious her targets were long gone.   Kalle waited in the shadows for an hour, hoping they would return by the same route, then accepting it would not happen, she returned to Base to report what she saw as her failure and warn other street operatives of the back doorway between ‘C15’ & ‘C16’.   There would be a watch placed on it to observe how frequently it was used and by whom.

 (To be Continued)

Copyright Len Morgan

A Haiku from Me…

by Robert Kingston

 

Yarmouth beach

donkeys and children return

to full size

 

The poem is amongst the editor's choices at the haiku foundation. based on a prompt on donkeys.

People can read her interpretation and other poems at the link below.

 

Rob Kingston

 

https://thehaikufoundation.org/haiku-dialogue-finding-peace-and-contemplation-in-the-great-outdoors-with-curious-donkeys/

 

 RED TAPE!

By Rosemary Clarke

Red Tape will snake inside
Countries it will divide
It can leave you all alone
In danger and far from home.
Words are used by ignorant kind
Who of the rest say 'never mind'.
'We are sorry' ties us all
While they write this, nations fall.
'We are sorry' is so cruel
Let's banish the Red Tape rule!
Learn to think of all as 'us'.
Get rid of this Red Tape fuss!
learn to listen, learn to care
For EVERYONE
EVERYWHERE!
Cut the Red Tape let all be free
Concentrate on you and me.

 

Copyright Rosemary Clarke

SUNSET  ~  (2nd & Last)

by Richard Banks

From now on the Luminary would be the conduit of a knowing sun that informed every word and deed, and Bennie, the vessel through which all solar revelation would be received.

         That Bennie had no say in this became unimportant to the point of irrelevance when he learned the going rate for his priestly duties. Not only did he have money to burn but he was installed in a magnificent temple built in the shape of an Apollo rocket where he lived in a penthouse suite with twelve priestesses recruited from the Lucky Dollar Dance Hall. Defining their own remit as all day sunbathing and the partaking of communion wine Bennie found them not unappealing but a puzzling addition to an already puzzling situation.

         His mounting concern that Big Jack would soon be wanting his first solar revelation was fortunately shared by Marlene, one of the Priestesses, who declaring herself possessed of psychic powers made Bennie an offer that was the only one on the table. In return for promotion to Chief Priestess and a commensurate increase in salary she would provide Bennie with at least two revelations a month and organise the temple rituals that she confidently asserted would soon be the best show in town. When it came to a hustle there was, she said, no one better than herself and if Bennie was agreeable to her proposition she would allow him to anoint her all over with Malibu 50.

         The deal done and the ceremony completed in just under a day Marlene set to work with a reforming zeal that surprised everyone but herself. Having once provided the eye candy for a conjuror of honeyed words and sleight of hand she adapted the same formula to the daily rituals of the temple that soon acquired a large and mainly male congregation. The lightly attired priestesses pranced expressively to the amplified anthems of a Ziggy Stardust tribute band and Bennie followed on with the sermons and revelations that Marlene had written. As the music reached a frenzied crescendo and heady scents rushed out of the air conditioning system the cosmic spirits announced their presence in the brightest and most colourful light show that had ever been seen by people still possessing the power of sight. Dazzled, deafened, and befuddled by the fortified properties of the communion wine the congregation found that in the subsequent laying-on of hands by the Priestesses their persons were less laid-on than their wallets.

         Although Big Jack never attended temple services he was well aware of what was going on. As far as he was concerned the Priestesses could do what they liked, they usually did and could be relied on not to push things too far, all that mattered to him were the solar revelations that he confidently expected would soon be flowing through Bennie.

         On receipt of the first, ‘that the Sun loved the Universe, especially all the Earthlings,’ Big Jack was pleased, if not surprised, that this was so, but after several more greetings of good intent plus a homily that ‘wealth was a burden best left in church’ he became increasingly impatient for the great truths that would reveal the secrets of the universe and the intangible powers that shaped and guided it.

         It was a tall order that had Marlene desperately searching for answers on the science shelves of the local library. Finding that the books they held raised more questions than answers she returned to the temple where her streetwise instincts told her that a problem delayed was the next best thing to a problem solved. If Big Jack wanted a big revelation that’s what he would get, on a pillar of stone full of strange writing that would take Bennie at least a month to decipher.

         The pillar acquired, and suitably inscribed, it suddenly appeared mid-service in the arms of Bennie who, moments before, had been enveloped in a fiery cloud that reminded some on-lookers of a maritime distress flare.

         While Big Jack’s joy at this momentous event was only too evident his usual impatience soon got the better of him and he demanded a full transcript in two weeks. If Bennie couldn’t do it there were folks in the university who could said he, adding ominously that if this deadline was not reached then, “heads would roll.” Uncertain as to whether this was a colourful figure of speech or a serious threat Bennie and Marlene gave urgent consideration to what Big Jack might want the pillar to say. Deep thought was required and although neither of them was fully up to this challenge they were agreed that their translation must be particularly appealing to him. He would, they decided, become the ruler of the world, a world transformed by the arrival of the Solar Host who would light up Earth with their divine light and banish every harsh thought and deed. Even better, Big Jack would be transfigured into a Solar Being and ride through the skies of his domain in a golden chariot drawn by four snow white stallions.

         Informed of this on deadline day his initial enthusiasm soon gave way to a series of questions that required the clarification of further revelations. When was all this going to happen? he asked. Riding about in the sky seemed all very grand but what was to become of his business empire while he was ruling the world. And what about the rules? What were they to be? Should he start writing them now or would they be in the small print of future revelations. If he was going to be ready he needed the answers now, not the day before it happened.

         Reasoning that each question answered would give rise to half a dozen more, the next revelation received by Bennie attempted to reassure Big Jack by saying that all would be revealed in time and that nothing needed to be done until then. The message, received through the ether rather than on a pillar, was a severe disappointment to Big Jack who immediately demanded a meeting to sort things out. On being told that the Chief Spirit was far too busy to make the long journey to Earth, Big Jack taking inspiration from something he had once heard about mountains and Mohammed decided to force the issue by making an unannounced visit to the celestial world. While Bennie's first impulse was to say ‘are you nuts’ he wisely refrained from doing so; nevertheless the thought remained in his mind and, reinforced by Big Jack’s conviction that the trip would only take a week, the correlation between nuts and Jack coalesced into a definite fact.

         At two am the following morning a loud knock on the metal door of the temple announced the arrival of Big Jack with a great deal of luggage and a man called Buzz who, he said, was going to be their driver. The temple had been built in the shape of a rocket for the very good reason that it was a rocket, and as the weather was fine and showing a starry sky there was no better time than now to be starting off. And so it was, as they say, that Big Jack, Bennie, Marlene and twelve others were blasted into space never to return.

         But in a world of alternative truths the one most agreeable to Bennie and Marlene is that it never happened, at least not to them, and that in their truth they took refuge in the cabinet once used by Marlene’s conjuror to make people disappear. That they reappeared during a show he was doing in Las Vegas was not only a great surprise to the conjuror, and the cause of the best reviews he ever received, but a helping hand that enabled them to board separate planes at the airport. Having escaped with all the hundred dollar bills he could stuff into a holdall Bennie wisely decided that a quiet life on the road was most likely to keep him out of further trouble.

                                          *****

         So, the story over, we now return to the beginning with Bennie peering out the window of his new camper van at a rainy sky over Glen Coe. Here he will remain until the next clear sky day when a sunset can be seen, photographed and posted onto his website that contains no reference to himself. Nowadays he also attends to his growing array of upward pointing devices that sometimes capture a familiar voice commenting with decreasing lucidity on the many wonders of inner space. The voice sounds happy and so is Bennie. In his sunset years, there are many sunsets still to come.

 

The End.

 

Copyright Richard Banks 

 MOONLIGHT ON WATER

By Rosemary Clarke

Moonlight on water, oh what a show!
I long to sink to the depths below
Where there's no cruelty or pain
And I might find some peace again.
Force myself stay away from pier
For death and me must not meet here.
I try to speak, it does not come.
My voice outside completely dumb.
Except to say 'I'm very well.'
While living in an endless Hell.
Others have troubles that I know
And so my own I do not show.
I walk outside to feel the air
And find I do not have a care.
I've lost myself, and so I'll give
So others like me have strength to live.
I cannot care much about me.
Moonlight on water's what I'll be.

Copyright Rosemary Clarke

 The Daydream

By Janet Baldey

It was a dark and stormy night…. Tommy sucked the end of his pen and tilted his head to one side.

         Yeah, that was good… Original.  Hey, it’s a doddle – this writing lark. Now what’s next…

         He stared at his sheet of paper; the purity of its smooth surface marred only by the black scrawl of his writing.  Puffing out his cheeks, he sighed and looked up again, his gaze wandering around the room.  At the far end, old Wilkie was beavering away writing the word PYTHAGORAS in large letters on the whiteboard.  Tommy snorted. Geometry – who needs it! 

         He thought about the English Lit writing competition. There was a cracker of a first prize – two tickets to the circus!  He wondered who to take with him – perhaps his Mum. He’d already sounded her out, doing his best to sound nonchalant. 

         “Doing anything next Wednesday, Mum?”

         She’d blinked at the unexpected question. Then, with an irritated toss of her head, she’d dismissed him and his query.

         “Since when do I go out in the evenings?”

         Well, perhaps he’d surprise her. Might cheer her up a bit, she’d been very crabby recently.  He thought about the other evening when he’d burned her saucepan making popcorn. She’d gone on and on…. he thought he’d never hear the last of it.  No wonder Dad had done a bunk.  His throat constricted and he swallowed, trying to ignore a sudden pain in the region of his heart. He would never have thought the old man had it in him. Fancy him running off with Mrs Harris from next door. An image flashed before his eyes of a woman with shiny blonde hair, narrow waist and a curvy bum that jiggled when she walked. He swallowed again, trying to ignore a pain of a different sort - he’d fancied her himself.

Tearing his thoughts away, he screwed up his face and dragged himself back to the job in hand. What had his English teacher advised?  “Be meticulous in your description.”

Suddenly, he was there. His body was bent double as he felt the full force of the gale lashing him with rain catapulted from the sky.  His face streamed and he licked his lips, tasting the salt laden wind as he forced himself on through narrow, cobbled streets following the shadowy figures of his companions as they snaked towards the shore. They were almost there when, with a tremendous crash, a bolt of lightning split the heavens and illuminated the scene. Tommy gasped. He could clearly see the stricken ship. Listing heavily to port, it was battling valiantly against the boiling sea whose white tipped waves were thrashing its sides and foaming across its decks. His feet crunched over the sand and now he could clearly hear the groaning of the vessel as it laboured towards them. Suddenly, the calm face of the moon appeared through a gap in the racing clouds and he fancied he caught sight of pale, despairing faces staring landwards.

There was no time to lose if they were to succeed. The group of men separated and ran towards the ocean. Despite hands numbed by the cold, they worked swiftly, placing colza lamps among the jagged rocks until their deadly surfaces gleamed with a beckoning yellow glow. Now, there was nothing to do but wait.

Very soon, the moan of the wind was lost in a grinding crash as the ship foundered and screams rent the air as bodies plummeted into the surf. The waiting men raced into the swell rescuing bobbing casks and wooden trunks, working against the tide threatening to sweep their booty out to sea. The waves rolled in and soon bodies were littering the beach. These were ignored save any showing signs of life until an upraised cudgel sliced through the air silencing them forever.

His muscles aching, Tommy was heaving free a heavy spar when out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a young woman staggering towards him. Her soaking dress was plastered to her shape, clinging to every voluptuous curve and around her slim neck was a heavy necklace of large and lustrous emeralds. Tommy’s mouth watered as he reached for….

There was an excruciating pain in his neck as his head was jerked backwards. His eyes flew open and he gasped. An inch in front of his nose, loomed the red and furious face of Mr Wilkinson. With horrified fascination, Tommy studied every open pore and whiskery bristle as the maths teacher leaned closer.

“Back from the Land of Nod, are we Thompson? I suppose it would be too much to hope for if you knew the answer to the question I just asked?” He raised his eyebrows.

Tommy blinked and looked desperately around the room. He was the centre of attention, all his mates had turned in their seats and were staring at him, their faces registering either pity or elation, depending on their natures.

“Er…”

“I thought not.” Abruptly letting go of Tommy’s hair, Mr Wilkinson straightened. Then he stilled, as a piece of paper caught his attention.

“And, what have we here?” With a delicate pincer movement of his fingers, he picked it up. He read its contents and a sarcastic smile wreathed his face. He turned towards the class and in a melodramatic voice intoned the words.

“It was a dark and stormy night…”

“What utter tosh!”

He crumpled Tommy’s incipient masterpiece into a ball and with a flick of his wrist sent it into the nearest wastepaper basket.

“Detention….my room…Six o’clock…Wednesday evening.”

Each crisp word shook Tommy to the core. “Oh no, not Wednesday.”

He drooped behind his desk as, one by one, the multicoloured lights lining the Big Top flickered and died.

Copyright Janet Baldey