flash fiction, flashfiction, microfiction, short story, Uncategorized

One-Man-Band On The Run

maltings

I’m a oneman band, when the crowds are tough, a oneman marching band.  I’ve had more coins thrown at me by the afternoon cathedral drunks than dropped into my hat.  I’m an unloved oneman band.

The bass-drum’s my Achilles’ heel.  I’m old school, I don’t think it’s right to perform to backing tapes like seems to be the norm nowadays, but can I keep a beat? Can I fiddle!

I practice at home, foot, pedal, foot, pedal, ’til the neighbours bang on the walls.   They’re better percussionists than me, I should rope them into the act.

The precinct on a Saturday, rain curtaining off the eaves. A couple of Community Support officers look over as they pass, but they don’t seem too interested. Them and everyone else.

Can’t wait to go home today, before I mould.  My harmonica suddenly makes the most godawful squawk when I blow.  I blow harder.

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flash fiction, flashfiction, microfiction, short story

‘The Slider’

slide

 

Harry’s sat at the top of the slide, refusing to come down.   I’m not even sure that he could if he wanted, having got up there.   I’ll have to fetch a broom, try pushing from behind.  I don’t think the hose’d be powerful enough.

What a forlorn sight, leaves drifting down around him, some settling on his head.  He swipes off a large yellowed maple.  “I’ve got better things to be doing, young Harry,” I tell him.   “The hall needs clearing before Assembly tomorrow, and the teachers have blocked their loo again!”, which gets me a smile.  “I’m sorry, Mr Brown,” he mumbles, trying to tuck that smile away.  I take one last bite and hand up my Double Decker for him to finish, and he reaches down with his trunk to take it.  I can’t wait for the day when he starts to fight those little bastards back.

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