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Voodoo Pin-Cushion

Dreamchild ~ Bang Sangho

The Path up to the Plateau of Hilly Fields had always troubled him; ever since he’d started cycling in the area. He would reach the plateau gasping for breath and on one or two occasions the spectre of his death had entered his head and filled him with fear.
Over the years his speed and ease of ascent had increased with his fitness, and while the spectre sometimes loitered, he became less concerned with the possible effects of over-exertion on his body.
On the pleasantly cool but sunny autumn day of his passing, he reached the plateau with bearable effort and was some distance past the summit of the path when he noticed the edges of his vision flickering with luminescent urgency. The impact of the path against his left side was curiously numbing and he watched the clouds skittering against the impossibly indigo East Anglian sky.

Tom and Sam were crossing the plateau with the child-construct they’d chosen to christen Bingo, when the bicycle clattered down ahead of them.
Tom, who had done the First-Aider course at work, did his best to apply CPR on the prone cyclist while Sam called 999 on her phablet and Bingo ran around chittering with inquisitive innocence in the raised level of excitement.
Three hours later, after all the furore had died down, the ambulance gone and the police completed their questions, a ravenous Tom and Sue took Bingo home and, over a take-away dinner scattered with the Crunchy banana bits that Bingo insisted were part of her dietary requirements (as suggested by Parental Guidance Directive 732 of Apr 2027), discussed their afternoon of drama.
“And you wonder,” said Tom in conclusion, “why I don’t exercise.”


Tales for an attention deficit world



This post first appeared on The Far Queue, please read the originial post: here

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