C22 (Lachlan J. McDougall)

 Fire in the Sky
image by Lachlan J. McDougall

Mr Bradfield
 
 
Mr Bradfield walked into the room with a calm, collected air. He surveyed the scenes of destruction with the cold detachment of a career criminal.
“I understand there has been some work here?”
“Yes sir, a little of the top but with some room to spare.”
Well, well, well,
It’s that time of year again and we’ll all have a slice of the pie.
Mr Bradfield took of his glasses and began to clean them on his shirtsleeve.
There is something about this that feels well sinister.
I have never thought much about it myself, but I suppose for you I can make an exception. Well, well, well… Have another sherry on me, it’s about time we made it in the air.
A thousand youth burning with the intensity of a thousand suns; we might not have much time to spare.
It’s a difficult time for many of us here at the academy what with the Christmas cheer and all the so-called goodwill towards men.
Give me death, give me destruction, we will see what this world has to offer.
 
Colonel Greenaway could not hear the word ‘death’ uttered in his presence. He was shit-scared of the concept and would not allow a single thing to stand in the way of his immortality. But you see, the only inoculation against death is death itself.
You need a shot of live virus to build up immunity.
So get out there and put yourself in harm’s way.
Mr Bradfield was immune to hanging, electric chair, and parachuting mishaps.
Nothing short of total destruction.
 
We can hear the children now swaying in the wind. Another few years and we’ll have the area completely clean. We are wiping out the unbelievers with a special kind of magic. Blink and you’ll miss it. Shark skin suit we have on right now for something really special (imagine: tailing someone in a white trench coat…)
Mr Bradfield put his glasses back on and flicked the switch. The bomb went off without a hitch.
 
 
Finding the Right Words
 
 
Fetid air///swamp gas///nothing but weeds
I have something to tell you,
But I cannot find the words.
 
Perhaps,
There are no words
And everything we have left is images.
 
Learn to talk with images and
There will never be a misunderstanding.
Except, of course, for the blind.
 
And they are among us.
Here and there.
No. I am not talking about the physically blind;
 
They can see the picture words well enough.
But your utilities,
They are being shut off.
 
And now there is nothing left
But
Silence.
 
 
—Lachlan J. McDougall