Monday, 27 June 2011
Lolos was lost on the mudflats on the Pointeso estuary. He rested against the white pole whilst looking up at the orange wind sock fluttering in a north easterly direction.
Noise from above.
‘Bang! Bang! Bang!’
Lolos was thrown back into the mud as a Delta jet flew overhead – making contact with the military targets out to sea.
Overcome with fear, he proceeded to shout at the skies in a state of frenzied panic, the whites of his eyes gleaming in the mid – morning sun.
The jet pilots continued their aerial assaults oblivious to the lost canine quivering two hundred feet below.
Sunday, 26 June 2011
The Breckindale moon.
Marcia stood at the tip of Breckindale hill and looked down into the town below, orange lights flickering in Tracker town She scanned the skies and felt a sense of impending doom overcome her senses. Marcia tuned her radio in to the latest football match on Sporting radio.
Pundit 1: ‘well Brian, The moon has been missing now for the past 3 nights, and still rather peculiarly, may I be so bold as to add, nothing appears to have changed. No tidal waves, severe changes in the weather, psychological outbreaks…nothing’.
Pundit 2: ‘Well, that’s all very good my man, but we’ve had a big game tonight – do you think the Delta manager was right in his refusal to take off his tired players at the end of the first half?’
Pundit 2: ‘Aye, he’s got to start looking at that really – I mean…’