My Brother's Keeper.
June 27, 2017
October 10, 2016
Angels And Demons.
October 5, 2016
I Will Listen.
October 4, 2016
September 17, 2016
August 13, 2016
The Ghost of Veterans House.
July 7, 2016
July 3, 2016
Son of a Witch.
June 18, 2016
They lie a bit.
June 7, 2016
My Grandad’s old school held an exhibition in remembrance week, focusing on all the old pupils who had fought in the armed conflicts of our country. I...
"REMEMBER LAST NIGHT." A short story.
November 11, 2014
May 22, 2016
Tommy is a war veteran twenty three years old, signed for queen and country, at seventeen feeling bold.
At eighteen had to go to war the dirty enemy foil, the politicians smirk and lie it’s really over oil.
Tommy doesn’t know ‘bout oil just fighting for his mates, desert conflicts of the age decide the planet’s fates.
He doesn’t want to kill, just wants to earn a crust, a beer or two along the way explore his wanderlust.
Tommy never saw the dead knows of Flanders fields, thinks he’ll live forever unbowed ‘til his body yields.
He meets an IED, that blows his world apart, his best friend down, legs gone, breaks this poor veteran’s heart.
Tommy has no visible wounds all are in his head, when he sleeps they come on strong images of the dead.
The army says, ‘man up’, we’ll help you get on through it, then cast aside this wounded man no more considered a true fit.
Tommy works the nightshift for barely minimum wage, wonders why he can’t relate to friends of his own age.
He knows how to fight, so does, rage fuels his pride, soon enough he’s broken down ends up on the inside.
Tommy serves his sentence looks around for help, the army throws him to the wind, him they truly skelp.
He ends up on the street sleeping in a bag, passers by hear him cry under his black flag.
Tommy spends his birthday sheltering under a vast tree, cries out with fear in the night he’s only twenty-three.
Dark forces come for him, see only a broken man, break him once again, don’t see the proud guardsman.
Tommy says, ‘where are you now all you politicians, with your promises to stand by me by your own admissions.
A house and love too much to ask when you’ve served your country, I fought for you in deserts far where there’s not but one tree.’
Tommy packs his meager belongings staggers on his way, his warrior heart still beats a bit, fight another day.
He meets a girl his own fair Sue, love he hopes will heal, goes back to the night shift, provide his love hearts meals.
Tommy has a child, fair of mind and full of grace, he guards her cot, stands alone, loves her tiny face.
Through the night he guards, he’ll stand there until the end, because if he shuts his eyes he sees, his old dead friend.
Tommy talks to the dead they walk the edges of his vision, flashbacks rule his world, clear as television.
Sees the enemy everywhere hiding round every corner, hides at home, never out, his lost love gone he mourns her.
Tommy walks the streets alone his family all gone, head bowed, shoulders slumped, lonely in the dawn.
Cannot see a way out, no longer walking tall, he thinks of the end stay no more finally end it all.
Tommy meets a good angel in his casualty, ‘listen hard young man this will set you free.
What you have cannot be seen it comes at you by stealth, you have an illness like any other but it affects your mental health.’
Tommy talks at last someone listens to his lonely shouts, in therapy setting free all his pain and doubts.
Slowly heals, grows a bit, occasionally wakes clammily, but time heals therapy cures, bringing back his family.
Tommy strides the streets again not fearful of every corner, his little girl clutches his big hand of pitfalls he can warn her.
When she’s grown he will tell her of his sad condition, with luck she’ll find words of care within his premonition.
Tommy says it loud and sworn, ‘if we have to war, help out our warriors, especially when their mind is torn.
Don’t abandon them now, to leaders cruel ambitions, educate about mental health and the lying politicians.