Homeless children playing football with cans.”
50 Word Stories – Outfoxed
“Did you see that fox watching the chickens?”
“He was licking his lips.”
“Is that all you’ve got to say? He could ruin us, you know!”
“Oh, do explain.”
“What do you mean, he’s full?”
“I fed him dad’s dinner an hour ago.”
Chasing dreams instead of food
Racing down the stairs
There were reasons for our languor, our permanent malaise. We discussed them like all good parents would but never found a satisfactory answer. If there was one? Sat on our porch, we even cuddled one tangerine sunrise whilst watching the yard; it lit her twisted bike like a burnt memory.
Lost in a swirl of endless beginnings, we closed our eyes and prayed.
“Hold on!” cried Pete.
Around and around, we span.
“This is it!” bellowed Maureen.
With pops as of a punctured bubbles, we all tumbled onto the carpet.
“Where’ve you been this time?” asked mum.
“Everywhere,” we laughed.
Without reason or regret, we hid behind the broken buildings. They had to come!
The hours passed like slugs in a foot race, slow, slow, slower. Would they come?
Midnight clouds crackled with the contained might of the universe, a pulsing, throbbing, sentient sky. Was it them?
They dropped from heaven like liquid gold, their great, white wings clasped tight, their metallic forms glittering. They were here.
We watched the host like the naughty children we were, unmoving, silent as the void. We'd done it.
The angels stood, wiped the crumbs from their mouths, opened their wings wider than oceans and leapt back into eternity. The last one winked.
Daily: children playing football with bricks.