fears and tears

fears and tears by Phil Burns

fears and tears by Phil Burns

he watches heads turn as she walks down the street
she has the prettiest legs and the prettiest feet
the more he watches the more his soul dies
she holds another man’s hand gazes into his eyes

when they had a quarrel he swore he’d not give in
now she is long gone it’s clear he didn’t win
he wonders why he stayed so stubborn so long
of course he now can’t recall who was right who was wrong

he is devastated a new man is now in her heart
while he softly collapses slowly crumbles apart
he stumbles alone through the east end of town
seeing only the shadow of her face looking down

he imagines he sees her eyes glistening tears
as he lies there unmoving in a future of fears

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Different – Friday Fictioneers

AnElephantCant claim to be normal
He tends to stand out from the crowd
His ears are gigantic
His trunk quite romantic
Until he trumpets then man that is loud

Once again it is Friday Fictioneer time.
With lovely Rochelle AWOL, AnElephant just gets to his wee tale.
The idea is to write a very short story, circa 100 words, based on this picture prompt (below).
That’s it.

Copyright – Madison Woods

Copyright – Madison Woods

Different

I have always known I am different.
Although Mother treats me just like the others, with warmth and love and understanding, I sometimes see the question even in her eyes.
My siblings, of course, tease me unmercifully, but less aggressively now that I am growing.
School is a nightmare.
Every day the same old stuff.
The bigger boys push me around, trip me, throw me to the ground.
I realise that it is not just how I speak, although that is a particular point of ridicule.
No, it is even more basic than that.
You see, I have only two legs.

Posted in Daft Rhymes | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Turkeys at Christmas

Turkey by AnElephantCant

Turkey by AnElephantCant

Turkeys at Christmas

Today I am going to tell you a story about a great big field full of turkeys.
This field is run, not very well, by Farmer Richboy.
He doesn’t care about the turkeys, but he knows that having them makes him and his chums very wealthy.
But he is upset now.
Some of the turkeys have found a new field, run by Farmer Youdecide, where turkeys actually get to set their own living standards.
This field is full of natural resources, good things for turkeys to eat, to build homes and lives.
It will let them take care of their young, the elderly and the sick as they believe is right.
Richboy does not like this, he says that farmyard birds are too stupid to understand things like that.
You may be surprised to know that turkeys are very democratic creatures, with strong social values.
They will not move to this new field unless the majority agree.
The choice is simple.
Go where all things are possible, where turkeys make their own decisions.
Or stay with Richboy’s steadily diminishing rations, under his austere rules, and with Christmas looming.
Some turkeys say, hmm, let’s just stay, we don’t know what the new place will be like.
Maybe Christmas won’t be so bad!
I have a message for each of those.
You are not a turkey.
You are chicken.

Posted in Other Fiction, Scottish Stuff, funny and serious | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Please Come In – Sunday Photo Fiction

AnElephantCant forget these old lamps
Although he hasn’t seen one in about 300 years
But when it is night
If he gets a fright
He turns it up to dispel all his fears

This is a weekly invitation to write a short piece of fiction (c. 150 words) based on a photo prompt (below) provided by Alastair.
Just click on the link to shine a light on some scary stories in response to this week’s excellent prompt.
But please cast an eye over AnElephant’s poorly lit piece first.

Copyright Al Forbes

Copyright Al Forbes

Please Come In

The woman at the door is wearing the clothes and the harassed look of an over-worked, underpaid, low-level government employee.
She is from the Child Protection Agency, with questions about a neighbour who has applied to foster a child.
He is delighted to help Ms Buchanan, a lovely lady.
But this poor woman is cold and damp, he invites her in for tea.
While she cradles her mug gratefully, he lights the lamp and peruses the form she has given him.
It is a cheap photocopy which she confesses is typical of her office conditions.
When it slips from his fingers he is amazed he cannot pick it up, cannot move his arms or legs.
Only his eyes.
She tells him suxamethonium is a fascinating drug, immobilising but not rendering unconscious.
In answer to the horrified question in his eyes, she smiles for the first time.
Because it is fun.
Then opens her shabby briefcase to show him an impressive selection of scalpels.

Posted in Daft Rhymes, Other Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

conflagration

conflagration by phil burns

conflagration by phil burns

he feels a spark the first time he sees her
on an icy cold Vancouver night
the January gloom dissipates now
her smile is as bright as daylight

the flames warm his heart without warning
he is never the fall in love kind
but the look in her eyes sends him reeling
in an instant he knows she’ll blow his mind

the fire she lights overwhelms him
never before has his life been so good
but he overlooks one tiny factor
a furnace devours so much wood

the inferno lasts only a short time
the passion burns out in a flash
her radiance like the a glorious sunset
leaves him discarded in a grate full of ash

Posted in Daft Rhymes, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Back Roads – Friday Fictioneers

AnElephantCant drive a big van
And he is hopeless at parking a truck
He just points his nose
In the direction he goes
And leaves the rest up to good luck

Once again it is Friday Fictioneer time.
With lovely Rochelle directing the traffic, a heavenly highway of tall tale tellers drives us to distraction.
And AnElephant tries to keep off the kerb.
The idea is to write a very short story, circa 100 words, based on this picture prompt (below).
That’s it.

Copyright-Roger Bultot

Copyright-Roger Bultot

Back Roads

I love the back roads.
Much more relaxing than the busy highways.
My deliveries aren’t urgent, so I prefer to meander.
I enjoy the countryside, the trees, the wild flowers, the little creatures.
I have a crossbow.
So sometimes I get a rabbit, a squirrel, even a small deer, for the pot.
This is a bit illegal in some places, so I use home-made bolts.
Untraceable.
And that’s a good thing.
Because not everything I shoot is for eating.
Out there in the sticks I often see a farm cat or a working dog.
Or a kid on a bike.

Posted in Daft Rhymes, Friday Fictioneer | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 23 Comments

No Question

Our Next PM by Phil Burns

Our Next PM by Phil Burns

No Question

I have a friend, a lady I have known for over 30 years.
I love her dearly, like a sister.
She is intelligent and articulate.
She is easily among the top ten most caring, compassionate people I know.
And she is voting No.
I ask her why.
She does not answer.
I ask her why she wants to dismantle the National Health Service.
She says she doesn’t.
I ask her why she wants to fund the useless obscenity of Trident.
She doesn’t.
I ask her why she wants our involvement in more wars like the illegality of Iraq and the folly of Afghanistan.
She doesn’t.
I ask her why she wants to eradicate the small but crucial support given to the elderly.
She doesn’t.
I ask her why she wants to support the Anglicisation of the Scottish Education system.
She doesn’t.
I ask her to give me one positive reason, so that I can understand her.
She either can not or will not.
I don’t want to argue with you, she says.
I promise her I won’t say anything.
No response.
I ask her please to email me.
No response.
I really want to know why you feel this way.
No response.
I repeat.
This is my friend who is intelligent and articulate.
She is easily among the top ten most caring, compassionate people I know.
And she is voting No.
Does she really want to condemn our grandchildren to a life of futility under David Cameron or, much worse, his successor in waiting, Boris Johnson, with his well-documented contempt for all things Scottish?
In alliance with UKIP?
The stuff of nightmares?
No.
So why?
Is it just moral cowardice?
The famous Scottish cringe?
Help!

Posted in Life and stuff, Scottish Stuff, funny and serious | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments