mudflats

he watched the birds
come and go
on the mudflats
but his mind was dead

the piebald gypsy ponies
in the scrub
ignored him

a heron in a channel
that was trickling
with the turning tide
tilted its head
from side to side

but his mind was dead

people came and went
some said hello
some wore binoculars
statements of intent
to tick a birder’s box

and break the monotony
of their retirement years

there were waders
and noisy migrants
ducks and geese
little brown things
in the bushes
clouds that looked like

something

he couldn’t tell
he didn’t care
he could not hear
them calling

his mind was dead

but he heard the cuckoo
and almost smiled
remembering
something

The Mystery of Mary Bradley

Airman ‘Little Boy’ Bradley was very tired
Last night he had fought with his wife Mary
She desperately needed a vacation to Hawaii
He was desperately needed to fight the War on Whatever

Airman Bradley rubbed his tired little eyes
He blinked at the bank of screens in front of him
He tried to focus in on the day’s top secret mission
A group or two of terrorists in 🔲🔲🔲🔲🔲 or somewhere

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go to Hawaii
It was just that he didn’t want to go with Mary
For all she ever did was tan her bloated body
Or feed his earnings down the throats of Vegas slots

Bradley drank another insulated cup of black coffee
He was trained to be disconnected to the enemy
This disconnection spilled over into his private life
And the boredom filled his head like the caffeine

He spent too much time inside this metal container
Air-conditioned inside but blistering desert heat out
Life it seemed was an assault of extremes
Us and them and him and her and this and that

He guided the unmanned drone on its silent way
“Was always good at video games” he would brag
Flying over a beach, what was it he could see down there?
Was that a woman sunbathing, lying on the sand?

He banked his killing machine and circled around
Hand on his joystick and her life in his hands
His co-pilot was out of the room taking a piss
Airman ‘Little Boy’ Bradley tugged at his trigger

And watched his missile send sand, sea, flesh and bone
In a million ejaculating pleasurable projectile gifts –
He flew on – successfully completed his 100th official mission
Returned home late and found his wife Mary

had shot herself dead

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/mystery/

Priceless

YESTERDAY

Woke up
Had a shave
Lit a cigarette
Stubbed it out
Washed
Ate
Went out
Came home
Priceless.

TODAY

Woke up
Had a shave
Lit a cigarette
Stubbed it out
Washed
Ate
Went out
Came home
Priceless.

TOMORROW

Wake up
Have a shave
Light a cigarette
Stub it out
Wash
Eat
Go out
Come home
Priceless.

Home Schooling

I don’t like the smell of these candles! said Peter.

It’s all I could get hold of, his mother replied.

They smell of sick and dead things!

When is the electricity coming back on?

I don’t know Peter. When it can, I suppose.

 

Peter and his Mum sat huddled together,

Curled up under blankets on the comfy sofa,  

Watching the TV that would never work.

Not without electricity. The candle flickered,

A reflection in a screen of blankness.

 

When is Jane coming home? asked Peter.

Your sister has found a new home, mother replied.

Is it up in Heaven? asked Peter.

Yes dear, I’m sure it is. Mother smiled.

Did she take her arms and legs with her?

 

Outside the street was deserted,

Ominous thunder shook the world.

Peter imagined it wasn’t thunder.

He imagined his Dad up there somewhere,

Like Jane, but in a different way.

 

No school again tomorrow, said his Mum,

We have to go fetch water, find some food.

I’m hungry! said Peter, and bored!

I know, said his Mum, I know.

This game’s not fun anymore!

 

home-schooling