Perfect Family Tales And Other Trivia

The art of the short-story writer is that of the cartoonist. It is the magical craft of creating entire worlds with a few simple strokes of a pen. Tales told by an idiot? Maybe! But my tales are also a mix of reality and fantasy; truth and lies; some based on my own family; others, not. Readers must guess which characters are real; who are inventions - and who are an amalgam of both. Please draw the boundaries for yourself.

Friday, 7 November 2014

‘When Wee Willie Winked’

Only connect’ – E M Forster

 

Wee Willie winked as he 

shoved Ann away.

What a thrill; such joy:

the stabbing, the plunging

in the back and neck –

seven times one.

Something which in ancient days

only Brutus would have done.

William.Cornick

 

So fine and dandy:

the hacking, the gloating,

the getting caught.

In prison he’d be clothed,

fed, never have to work or study –

especially Spanish –

‘Yo también! – same here!’ -

a language he’ll loathe

forever – or so he’ll tell

his victim in the

never-never.

 

----------

Gennady.Kernes

 

Gennady’s smile was grim.

So strange that he, a

modern Jewish Caesar,

should share the reaper’s nod

with England’s newest

saint on Yom Hashoa

Israel’s Holocaust Day.

 

Et tu, Bruté? Who betrayed

him with a kiss?

 

Ann.Maguire

Bare hours before Ann fell dying,

a nameless gunman shot Gennady,

Kharkiv, Ukraine’s mayor,

as he made his morning run.

 

A great job; money well won,

grunted the nameless, faceless

killer, striking his target’s

back, lungs, liver.

 

Dark.Souls.II

But as he scythed the flimsy

silence of the mild April hour,

he, the cold professional,

could not fight the frenzied

wails of a multitude of

frozen infant souls, now

seventy-three years gone.

 

But not quite forgotten:

Nazi giants, seeming

seven-foot tall, had thrown

the children headlong,

kicking, screaming

into nearby pits;

hoarding, with banal bureaucracy,

precious ammo for far

bigger things.

 Drobytsky Yar

 

This is how our

worlds collide: a ceaseless

dissonance of bangs.

Then come the whimpers.

Natalie Wood

(© Natalie Irene Wood – 07 November 2014)

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