Michael Forester's Blog, page 11

Blog post 44: Sometimes They Don’t Come Back – Part 4

          The child stirs but does not wake. Mercifully she rolls over, turning her face away from him. With the removal of the pressure of her head the enamel ore comes away easily and he glides quietly backwards with it in his arms and down to the carpet. He rises again, […]

Blogpost 43: Sometimes They Don’t Come Back – Part 3

            He waits a moment to reassure himself that the household is still sleeping, then turns his attention back to his ascent. Just before the top of the stairs he dons his oxygen mask (probably unnecessary at this altitude, but standard procedure for all structures above ground level, and anyway, […]

Blogpost 42: Sometimes They Don’t Come Back – Part 2

He checks his FP again. He can’t remember the last time he’s made a mistake, but he checks anyway. ‘There are old pilots and there are bold pilots,’ as the old mess hall cliché goes, ‘but there are no old, bold pilots.’ Almost noiselessly he glides forward over the tiled floor, ingrained with dirt transferred […]

Blogpost 41: Sometimes they don’t come back – Part 1

There’s a full moon tonight, and a sky full of stars, but they’re hidden behind a dense bank of cloud. He’s waited close to the drop point, concealed behind a tree since before 23.00 hours with nothing to read but the Flight Plan – or FP as everyone calls it. Transport was running ahead of […]

Blog post 40: The March of the Darkness Bearers

                  When the world enters its Netherdeath, silence will seep from the fissures of Edenspring to pool like venous blood from an odious battle wound.   Then will come the Darkness Bearers.   They will march from the land that some call ‘East,’ whereof the Fathers write […]

Blogpost 39: Genghis: An Obituary

                This is the obituary Of Genghis, my beloved flea A member of my family Whose passing was calamity.        Now Genghis hatched a tiny flea As little as the eye could see but nonetheless would grow to be A special flea, a prodigy. He grew into maturity […]

Blogpost: The Gnat in Galoshes

Have you ever thought how posh is The gnat in his galoshes? Then remember how much dosh is represented when he sloshes Through the snow. And consider how much tosh is Often spoken of galoshes when the gnat sits down and noshes and when he –  oh my gosh! Is that the time? Then I […]

Blogpost 37 : The Fly With the Sty in His Eye

I once did espy From the side of my eye A little black fly As he flew through the sky And that poor little fly Had a sty in his eye.   “Would you like me to try,” I said to the fly, “To put balm on that sty At the edge of your eye? […]

Blog Post 36 Bull’s Christmas Shopping

  Bull went into the shopping mall, His Christmas presents to buy A clock for Aunt Maude, A teapot for Claude And a kite for his nephew to fly.   But Albert the sheep With considerable cheek (But on Bull, well, he always relies) Had asked for a comb and some hair gel and foam […]

Bored With The Game

Christmas Day 3.57pm   Marylebone Station is looking post-apocalyptic. No one around; the wind whipping sheets of newspaper and drink cartons in and out of the corners. Even the junkies and the winos are sleeping somewhere better than this. I can hardly blame them, with the snow falling steadily since before noon. God only knows […]