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Tea for Two

  Tea for Two   The Schloss had survived virtually unscathed, a cold, damp erection in the centre of the forest, the moat green and stagnant, turrets overlooking extensive, overgrown grounds. Back in the day, marauding invaders had tried to overthrow the aristocratic owners and been shot and killed, or covered in boiling oil from those same turrets, or locked in the dank dungeons, never to be seen again.   It had taken him six months to get the place into some sort of order. It had been commandeered by the Gestapo, due to its location and the occupants had not been as respectful to the building as they might have been. It had required a deep clean, from top to bottom. The complete inability of Gestapo intelligence to use a dustbin and clean a fireplace should not have surprised him but it offended his sense of smart professionalism. The paintings and furnishings had been unearthed from the deepest of the cellars along with the best of the wine. Even now it was bar...

A Christmas Gift

"What do you get the man who has everything and wants nothing?" asked the Son, the Saturday before Christmas. His sisters looked up from their respective ipads "Socks?" suggested sister number one. "Are we talking about Father?" asked sister number 2. Son nodded. "Then I can't help you." "What did you get him?" Son asked curiously, hoping for inspiration. "Not telling you. It would spoil the surprise." Son sighed. He had no idea what to buy Father for Christmas. He wanted to get something special. Father didn't really like the opera or music, ballet or theatre, so tickets to a performance were out. He hated dressing up in his best clothes so cufflinks and tiepins were also not an option. Besides, Uncles and Aunts weighed in with those, when they were stuck for ideas. Father had boxes of the things he never wore. He had enough ties and socks and, besides, those things were so impersonal. "What about his best friend...

A distant dream

Fluffy clouds and moonlight walks. Peaceful streams where no-one talks. The quiet woodlands, singing songs. Relaxing hymns, for which I long. The darkness closes around my head. My heart beats fast, sensing dread. The noises off, disturb the peace. Artificial sounds that do not cease. And in there lies the distant dream. Always too far to jump across the stream. The distant dream, a memory kept. Never resolved as I slept.

The Lines

A line should be straight. Point A to B - they said. Not this one. It twists and it turns, There seems no end To the suffering. A line should be clean. Easy to navigate. Not this one. The walls are high Brown and damp Dark and dim. A line should be safe. No danger to be seen. Not this one. Death hangs on every corner Rats scurry. Men scream. A line is a dream. A straight solution. Not this one. The gas flares burst The shells burst. The noise sings. A line is drawn. A boundary, a fence. Not this one. The call goes forth Over the top. And the line is gone.