Reckless Riding

"You might think that but I couldn't possibly comment..." echoed through my mind as she raved, and raved, on and on and on about some idiot who had overtaken her on the left only to immediately turn right.It was a few days later when I heard that the police had arrested her and sent her down for 'reckless riding.' Apparently, the 'idiot' had crashed after the turn, and ended up in a private ward in the People's Hospital.

Seven Days

In seven days we'll be on he mountain, pristine alpine forests, fresh air, clear running streams and mineral springs! Fish, and birds, and small wild game! And Wood! Wood to burn! Only seven more days, what could possibly go wrong?

Prime Suspect

The Accountant was seated in a yellow pool of light. Rats nibbled on her ear lobes, there was no other movement. Motorbikes passed mindlessly by paying little or no attention - it was somebody else's problem. That somebody turned out to be me. She was the girlfriend reported missing a few days ago by her family and now, I was the Prime Suspect. I stepped sideways and took another photo.

The Crooked Letter

"Papi, Why is the sky blue?" Rachel asked. She was lying on her back in the shallow meadow, bits of grass and catkins clinging to her green and white checked frock and pinafore. Nearby sat her father on a fold up stool, under the weaping arms of an ancient willow tree, emptying the picnic hamper they'd packed earlier that morning. "Papi, Papi! Why is the sky blue?" Her father smiled and answered ryely, "Because 'Why' is a crooked letter that can't be straightened, Sweety. Come here and help me with the sandwiches and chicken."

The Retired Elite

The throaty, throbbing roar of a dozen panheads devoured the tinkling of bellbirds waging war over nesting territory, and spread through our township as the sun rose into the pale grey of early morning. I was walking briskly as four of, "The Great Hairy Unwashed" arrested me with a growl of implied threat, "Where do you think you're going, Old Man?" "Back to my camp," I replied, "You can follow if you like? I care not." They laughed with mirthless, cock-sure glee, and herded me forward with their bikes. They had no idea; and few knew of this, out of the way, high country, enclave. Or, that behind its painted facades, it's paintball, lasertag and mythbuster clubs, lived a retired elite; former members of a nation's once proud volunteer militias. The alarm had finally been sounded, and like the peel of the start of some boxers' bout, the game was on, now it was time for some fun.

The Water Carrier

"Hummel, Hummel!" yelled Dirk as he ran across the street to join me. "Morrs, Morrs!" I chorused in reply. "Who do you think will win the match today?" I asked, as we continued to jog the crowded path that flanked the edge of Hamburg's Binnenalster. "St. Pauli, of course!...?..." shreiked Dirk, as he stumbled and fell down, stone lined, stairs and into the water, disappearing under the bow of the docking 'Saselbek.'

Hot!

Hot! 53 degrees Celsius, in the shade, and a thunderous torrent, falling from the sky. Hot! Too hot, even to stand out in the rain! Hot! The sweat pools in every fold of my skin: I cannot move and my electricity supply has inexplicably stopped.