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!