Summer Shorts
The harsh light from the outside the window permeated the almost translucent beer, making it look more like a pint of urine than a quality import. The same light was casting the rest of the bar into almost hellish darkness, only the few faces peeing out were blinking like freed souls wondering what to do next. The glass was spun slowly, at just the right speed to induce contemplation.
What would you say if I told you I was a psychopath?
Laughter. Don’t be funny! You’re not a psychopath. That Saddam Hussien, he’s a psychopath.
I think he has a point. The west shouldn’t try and police the world, it’s the only one we’ve got, and no one elected America God’s representative on earth. The only thing to fight that, I am afraid, is an antichrist.
You saw that on the news, and anyway, it doesn’t matter. He’s in the desert somewhere, and we’re here.
Yes, we are, aren’t we?
What’s wrong with you? No need to be surly.
I told you, I’m insane. Fucking bonkers, loonaroony. Wacko. You know, like, Ee! Ee! Ee!
A shadow enacted thrusting a knife into the tabletop.
Again, a giggle. You’re funny.
No, I’m serious. You know what serious is, you insipid bitch?
Oh, fine. I’m going to leave now.
Sure you are. Go and watch TV. Read about how people you are never going to meet are trying to have a baby with someone’s cousin who’s actually a dog. Go on then.
She went on then.
The glass was half empty.
The grass waved in the wind, looking like an ocean. It was just as timeless, just as distant. There was nothing for hundred of miles around.
The horse thundered forward, sweating, panting and almost stumbling. It was nearly dead with the effort, but the person on it’s back was going to ride it right into the gates of hell. The rider looked back over her shoulder, peeling her eyes against the orange glare of the setting sun. High above, three jets flew in formation. She grunted as she fell forward off the horse, rolling into stillness beside the exhausted beast. She looked up into the infinite blue of the sky, wondering what stars were shining onto her that she couldn’t see. The horse breathed it’s last, and the eyes dimmed. I’m sorry, she said, feeling the world collapse into the grassland. Alone now, free, forever.
The triple trails cut the sky in half, and she shrunk from the noise of their passage. When all was silent but for the whisper of the wind, she stood up and screamed defiance.
There comes a time, old men say, when a man must prove his worth. Standing before the small group of frightened boys, William knew his time had come. His worth was measured by these five, by the hope dancing like a candle behind their eyes.
‘Come on then,’ he said.
They walked out of the doorway into the night. The chill air stuck their clothes to them, making them shiver. Breeze tickled their ankles. They crept forward, the sweeps of the light painting the clouds.
‘Now,’ said William, ‘run.’
They stopped creeping, feeling strangely euphoric. And they ran. They ran even as the shouts came from behind them. They ran from the savage barking of raktors being unleashed. They ran as the whine of charging rifles filled the air. And each and every one of them had a smile, a grin on their face. Escape, William had told them, was easier than they thought. And he had been right.
