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
They called it shell shock long ago,
mind locked rigid nowhere to go.
And call it PTSD now,
same effect you wonder how.
Arthur Radleigh walks the stairs,
has the answers thinks no one cares.
Lived in Veterans house these years,
seen the cries and tears and fears.
If still alive he’d be two hundred and twenty,
seen the bad times and times of plenty.
All the wars from Waterloo,
to techno devils and bomber crews.
Screaming battles; and all such,
the human mind only take so much.
Arthur has his demons true,
just like her and him and you.
Has his own particular dream,
knows what makes him loudly scream.
‘Teeth’ he says a ghostly smile,
‘stolen on the Waterloo mile.
Not mine but all come from the dead,
big pliers get them out of their heads.
Soldiers killed and left to rot,
their teeth valued at that spot.
Dentists came from far and wide,
take the teeth stem the tide.
Of rotten teeth throughout the land,
dentures made go hand in hand.
Real ivory from soldiers dead,’
the scream stuck fast in Arthur’s head.
Because he was left to die,
stripped and buried hear no cry.
Dug himself out the earth,
made for him his second birth.
Taken in by local peasants,
so the teeth he took as presents.
For his new family,
ivory will set them free.
One penny a tooth at a time,
working through the dirt and slime.
Pull them out the soldiers heads,
make sure first they’re good and dead.
Foot on forehead holding fast,
Hammer, chisel then a blast.
Through the jaw, blood and bone,
get the ivory take it home.
Dentists advertised their wares,
Waterloo ivory help repair.
Could you put them in your mouth?
stop your mind from going south.
Arthur had a perfect set,
taken from the mouths of dead.
The soldiers spirits filled his head,
all the time wished he was dead.
And then upon a lonely spot,
In Surrey’s woods he carefully shot.
Himself through perfect gleaming teeth,
his time on earth was oh so brief.
Twenty five and feeling sad,
was the time when just a lad.
Couldn’t live with his demons,
all the nightmares he was dreamin’.
Of battle cries and horses charge,
of screams and groans death written large.
Of prizing teeth out of pale gums,
to the sound of distant guns.
Napoleon met his Waterloo,
Arthur Radleigh met his too.
Died alone and full of fears,
body left for all the years.
Upon a lonely spot undiscovered,
turned to earth and never mothered.
A hundred years, passed and where,
a stately house was built right there.
Veterans House rose on the spot,
where Arthur took his final shot.
Soon became a sanctuary,
hundreds of shell shocked soldiers freed.
A home from home for the wounded,
shell shocked recovered they all soon did.
The story told across the ages,
veterans written upon the pages.
That politicians and history wrote,
young soldiers forgotten forever smote.
Minds akimbo on an industrial scale,
forever altered on wars unfair trail.
And as the treatment centre grew,
Arthur watched with mind renewed.
From earthly slumber through the years,
the soil had washed away his tears.
Now he stood proud and faithful,
became the wounded’s guardian angel.
Prowled the halls of Veterans house,
quieter than the quietest mouse.
Guarded those who suffered shock,
gently watched the wounded flock.
Sometimes at dawn nurses saw,
footsteps damp upon the floors.
Not the usual patient’s routes,
Arthur never owned any boots.
Damp rags showed his lonely path,
Arthur on his own warpath.
Guard his fellow veterans true,
hope with help their senses renew.
And if you hear a ghostly clatter,
It’s just Arthur’s teeth a chatter.
Ghostly voices in his head,
his mouth filled with the teeth of dead.
So if you work at Veterans house,
and in dead of night hear a mouse.
Remember this it’s not a mammal,
It’s the soldier who dealt in tooth enamel.