Parade

The parade marched, danced, and pranced down Main Street, the entire town joining in a festive orgasm of delight. The inclusive nature of the procession meant that everyone was assigned to one of several variegated assemblies. There was a troop of cheerleaders, sports teams, amateur acrobats, and dancing animal costumes. Strangely, everyone was carrying their own tuba, and the deep blasts rebounded off the stone edifices and pavement majestically.

Upon reaching one end of the town, the entire cavalcade turned about and headed in the opposite direction. This continued ad nauseam until everyone was dead.

The Pied Piper strikes again.

What Made Me Cry...

It wasn’t your lifeless body accompanied by sympathy cards and my childhood stuffed animal, not your workplace name tag displayed in your shirt pocket, not the sermon praising your altruism, not the incense that uplifted our prayers, not as a pallbearer guiding you to your resting place.

It was the blasts of a three-volley salute followed by the silence of two soldiers that lifted the flag off your casket and with precision folded it into a perfect triangle, and my realization that if you didn’t survive war and didn’t start a family, I wouldn’t be standing here missing you, Dad.

From Guest Contributor Charles Gray

Platero And I: The Hunt

You will be pleased to know, Platero, that the Earl has decided to no longer conduct or permit hunting parties on his estate.

You and all the other animals of the village will no longer be startled by loud blasts of old guns, nor will the smell of gunpowder hang over the fields for days like an autumn mist.

I will certainly miss that delightful and wonderfully spiced pie the Earl brings me every year.

Ramiro, the old poacher, chuckled as he confided in me: "That recent obligation to wear fluorescent vests while hunting was too much for the Earl."

From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé Suys (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.