Blast-off
The rocket stood majestically on its launching pad. People hurried hither and thither on their various errands. The organiser of this complicated scheme walked nervously backwards and forwards. "Zero plus sixty seconds", a calm voice said. There was hardly a wind on this cool night and the full moon shed an eerie glow on people and objects on the ground.
"Zero plus fifty".
I wondered just how calm that person was.
"Zero plus forty".
My! how time had flown in the last few weeks.
"Zero plus thirty".
It seemed like yesterday the preparations began.
"Zero plus twenty".
Nobody moved or made a sound.
"Zero plus ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, zero, lift off!"
The rocket rose and sped off into the night, its fiery wake clearly showing. Then the unbelievable happened. It lurched! Yes, it distinctly lurched! It cartwheeled over and began to descend, leaving behind a trail of flame. It crashed with a great flash.
"What a swizz!" said Tom. "It cost me half a crown too!" as the bonfire burned merrily and his mother handed round treacle-toffee.
Con-fuse-us.
An interpretation
There was an atmosphere of unrivalled peace by the river. It was late August, the time when the heat of late summer lulls everything into drowsiness. The river wound easily along its course, a course that had remained unchanged since the river first made its way to the sea. At the place where our incident occurs, it did not exceed ten yards in width and gentle grassy slopes led down to the water's edge. At three o'clock in the afternoon the trees at the top of the westerly slope cast long shadows towards the water and dotted about the slopes were hawthorn bushes. There was music in the air, the music of nature. The choral chirping of crickets supporting the merry solo of an occasional finch, and the discordant cry of the jackdaw all blended together with the orchestration of the river to make the overture of August. Nothing moved, nothing except the occasional bobbing rabbit, or a majestic trout soaring out of its element for a few seconds before plunging back into the water.
Only one man was there. He lay face downwards in the deep grass under the shade of a hawthorn bush, one arm spread out in front of him, the right concealed beneath his body. He should have been intoxicated by all around him, but for some reason he was alert: alert perhaps for some mortal danger. He remained still for about half an hour; then, suddenly, the whole pattern of the valley changed.
First came the unmistakable sounds of motor vehicles screeching to a stop on the far side of the trees, doors being slammed shut, and finally some harsh words of command. Our man began to stir. He stood and slowly, cautiously, backed towards the river, in his right hand an ugly, black Luger pistol. A rabbit behind him leapt away in fright, and high above the raucous voice of a jackdaw let out a warning. He did not notice this as his mind concentrated on whistling, and the bark of dogs coming through the trees. He reached the river and lowered himself into the water. It came up to his waist as he waded to the shelter of a hawthorn overhanging the water's edge. Almost simultaneously with his finding a hiding place men in black uniforms and steel helmets, accompanied by alsatian tracker dogs, left the trees, and with intent approached the river. The dogs, reaching the water's edge, could no longer follow our fugitive's trail, and the man who was in command cursed. In his apparent fury he turned on the soldier nearest to him, and applied all the blame of our man's gaining the safety of the water on the unfortunate wretch. Dejectedly, the troops began to file back up the slope to the woods. In relief, and to get a better view of them leaving, our man leaned out far round the edge of the bush. He slipped and hit the water with a splash. The last retreating soldier turned, ran down some yards, raised his sub-machine gun, and fired. The staccato cracks brought his black-shirted companions back to the bank in time to see our man's body floating down-stream leaving behind it a revealing red-tinted wake. Jubilantly they returned from whence they came.
There was an atmosphere of unrivalled peace by the river. It was late August ....
J.M.T.S., V.Lit.