The Hollow

 

“Been near a month I reckon” spoke Mrs. Battersby
Holding her hat as she steered her cart
“Troops are advancing on the front” I heard on the wireless spoke Mr. Harrisburg
The wind let out a distant cry
A paper blew past down the street
Children were heard around the corner
It had been a few days since the air raid siren wailed her banshee scream

Strange thing, no rain but lightening
Moving cloud to cloud like a Jacob's ladder
A far off thunder
A sinister crack
Signs foretold of the Devil
Townsfolk murmured
“Run along children, stay off the streets” Lollipop Jack spoke as he hurried them across

Beneath his blankets, scarred
His eyes dry with tears
The noise inside his head
A fear that gripped tight
A fear slowly taking hold

The screen of the telly, the speakers crackled as the program was done for the day

Thoughts in his head scrambled
Images of black n white stood still
Images of heads raised to the sky
A mushroom cloud
A light by an open window
A candle lit to lead the way
A headless rider screams “their coming”
Battles rage on
Battles that grow quiet
Lost, lost and alone on a desert
Looking for an oasis
Looking for someone to hold
To feel, touch
So far from Home