Page 4

Life Ending

Nailing him to the wall he placed the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger. Charging out into the street, some guy was strafing the crowd. Ramming a grenade into its housing, pumping the grip and letting rip, the shop shuddering as the explosion cleared its lower floor. Further down and the fluid, oiled motion, remained unhindered as two blokes leapt from a nearby second storey to land painfully amongst the other bodies.

More and more people lay dying or dead, a scream and shouts, signs of more action.

A broken door, a young girl and an enemy lying bitten and scratched to death, the body of the victor clearly showing her tormentors actions and her ferocious defence. Now carrying his weapon another heroine left to continue the fight outdoors.

Children lay with calm looks as though nothing happened, their position telling otherwise. Flames tear through a nearby doorway into the street taking more with them. Smashed glass, and a mini war-zone, scorched bodies lay about. More noise from inside, a din, a disaster. Gun shots, men inside, six, seven, eight, all dead not buried. No explosion but still a building collapses crushing all inside.

Another stands aboard a craft of foreign design, surveying the scene, not knowing where or when. Directing and controlling yet still unsure.

Among the rubble the other stirs, sees and strides on.

The girl attacks, silent, speed, death. Short, sharp pain. Onward, not caring, not anymore.

More and more cryout unheard, no-one to help or save since all are dead. More silent explosions, the sound is deafening in its silence. Much too little left but still fighting to win what is not yours since it has already gone, life, love, sanity. A different site, a different place, the same goal, the same end. Who will win this war?

The foreigner still stands, oblivious.

They approach, another silence and another pile of rubble, but the foreign craft, this time plunges, wreckage, flame, death, but still there is movement. Combination of their thoughts, their aims, their lives. Their union brings down all. The foreigner dies, they leave, the end.


Stand and Develop!


The above text is copyrighted to James A. Branthwaite

© 1994

Mad Mole Enterprises
Copyright 1999-2006